Crab-tree Staff Presented by Benj. Franklin To Gen. Washington; Now In The State Department Library At Washington.CRAB-TREE STAFF PRESENTED BY BENJ. FRANKLIN TO GEN. WASHINGTON; NOW IN THE STATE DEPARTMENT LIBRARY AT WASHINGTON.
Washington was made the presiding officer of the convention. For four months it met from day to day, engaged in the great work of forming the Constitution under which we are now governed. There were many long and earnest debates; and the members felt the importance of the work upon which they were engaged. At last, the Constitution was formed. It was not satisfactory to everybody, but the members all agreed to sign it and recommend it to the country for adoption. George Washington, as president of the convention, was the first to set his name down; and there is a tradition that as he took the pen in his hand he arose from his seat, considered a moment, and then said:
"Should the States reject this excellent Constitution, the probability is that an opportunity will never again be offered to cancel another in peace; the next will be drawn in blood."
Washington, as president of the convention, was directed to draw up a letter, stating what the convention had done, and send it with the Constitution to Congress. This he did. He was not entirely satisfiedwith the Constitution, as he wrote to Patrick Henry: "I wish the Constitution which is offered had been more perfect; but I sincerely believe it is the best that could be obtained at this time. And, as a constitutional door is opened for amendments hereafter, the adoption of it, under the present circumstances of the Union, is, in my opinion, desirable."
He said at first that he should not say anything for or against the Constitution. If it were good, it would work its way; if bad, it would recoil on those who drew it up. Perhaps he thought it was not becoming in those who discussed its parts and finally signed it, to do anything more than send it out and leave the people to do what they would with it. But he could not keep silent long. Everybody was debating it; the principal members of the convention were defending it; there was danger that it would not be adopted, and soon Washington, in his letters, was using arguments in support of it. There is no doubt that his name at the head of the paper did a great deal toward inducing people to accept it. It was more than a year before enough States had adopted the Constitution to make it the law of the land, but as time went on, and it was more certain that the new government would go into operation, the question arose as to who should be the first President of the United States. It can hardly be called a question; at any rate, it was answered at once by all. Every one named Washington, and his friends began to write to him as if there could be no doubt on this point. The most distinguished advocate of the new Constitution, Alexander Hamilton, who had been one of Washington's aids in the war, wrote to him:
Sugar-bowl Belonging to a Dinner-set Presented to Martha Washington by General Lafayette.SUGAR-BOWL BELONGING TO A DINNER-SET PRESENTED TO MARTHA WASHINGTON BY GENERAL LAFAYETTE.
"I take it for granted, sir, you have concluded to comply with what will, no doubt, be the general call of your country in relation to the new government. You will permit me to say that it is indispensable you should lend yourself to its first operations. It is to little purpose to have introduced a system, if the weightiest influence is not given to its firm establishment in the outset.
Washington was by no means elated at the prospect. On the contrary, he was extremely reluctant to be President. He was not old; he was fifty-seven years of age when the election took place, but his hard life as a soldier had broken his constitution, and the cares and anxieties he had undergone had made him feel old. "At my time of life," he wrote to Lafayette, "and under my circumstances, the increasing infirmities of nature and the growing love of retirement do not permit me to entertain a wish beyond that of living and dying an honest man on my own farm. Let those follow the pursuits of ambition and fame who have a keener relish for them, or who may have more years in store for the enjoyment." He was perfectly sincere in saying this. He knew that some people would not believe him, and would assert that he was only saying all this to get the credit of humility; but his best friends believed him, and to one of these he wrote: "If I should receive the appointment, and if I should be prevailed upon to accept it, the acceptance would be attended with more diffidence and reluctance than ever I experienced before in my life. It would be, however, with a fixed and sole determination of lending whatever assistance might be in my power to promote the public weal, in hopes that, at a convenient and early period, my services might be dispensed with, and that I might be permitted once more to retire, to pass an unclouded evening, after the stormy day of life, in the bosom of domestic tranquillity."
There never was any doubt about the people's choice. Every vote was cast for Washington.
(To be continued.)
Bears Eating Corn: "This Was Really Thoughtful of Farmer Jones, Eh?"BEARS EATING CORN: “THIS WAS REALLY THOUGHTFUL OF FARMER JONES, EH?”
"Dear Toddlekins," said little Trot,"May I talk to you a while?""Why, yeth, of courthe," said Toddlekins,With a bashful little smile."Now, Toddlekins," said little Trot,"If we should meet a bear"——"Good graciouth me!" said Toddlekins,"You give me thuch a thcare!""If we should meet a bear," said Trot,"Would you let me save your life?""Oh merthy! Yeth!" said Toddlekins,"But I willnotbe your wife!"
"Dear Toddlekins," said little Trot,"May I talk to you a while?""Why, yeth, of courthe," said Toddlekins,With a bashful little smile.
"Now, Toddlekins," said little Trot,"If we should meet a bear"——"Good graciouth me!" said Toddlekins,"You give me thuch a thcare!"
"If we should meet a bear," said Trot,"Would you let me save your life?""Oh merthy! Yeth!" said Toddlekins,"But I willnotbe your wife!"
A
dark, solemn-looking place it was, and although Fred and I were as dauntless explorers as Stanley or Greely, our courage began to ooze away as we looked in at the gloomy flume from which issued the cold and sluggish water. We had come upon the ruined archway of an old mill, still standing with crumbling walls above the slow-moving waters of its former busy tail-race. The low, dark archway was overhung with birch, witch-hazel, and thimbleberry; and as we peered into its blackness, suggestions of dragons and serpents, castle-dungeons and witches' caverns and monsters' dens came into our minds already sufficiently full of wild, boyish fancies and strange imaginings.
The Entrance to the Flume.THE ENTRANCE TO THE FLUME.
Fred "double dared" me to go in, and I was foolish enough to think that no boy of spirit could refuse a "double dare." So, cutting weapons from the sapling birches, we stepped into the cold and repulsive-looking water. B-r-r-r!—what a shiver it gave us!
It was late in the afternoon. The shadows that lay in the deep ravines along the mountain-side looked strange and weird; and as we stepped within the gloom of the archway, a blue heron, gaunt and ungainly, with its twisted neck and long, dangling legs, flew down the creek, uttering its harsh and dismal cry.
Neither Fred nor I was feeling remarkably lion-hearted; the call of the heron had brought our hearts almost into our mouths; and just then, as we stood hesitating and peering in, something moved in the darkness beyond us, and a black object that seemed, as Fred said, "as big as an eagle" flung itself out of the shadows full into our startled faces.
Panic-stricken, we turned to fly. The bottom of the pool was slippery, the roof of the archway was low; Fred's feet flew up, my head received a sudden bump, and both of us went down in six inches of water.
With a shriek of terror from each valiant explorer thus stricken down by the magic spells of the goblin of the den, we scrambled to our feet, dripping and disheartened, and made for the light; and as we did so we caught a glimpse of our assailant skimming away in the twilight—neither goblin, witch, nor monster, but only a harmless and equally frightened black bat.
The Crafty Crab“THE CRAFTY CRAB”
There once was a crafty young CrabWho always went round in a cabHe wished no one to sayThat he walked the wrong wayBut his coachman the secret did blab
A
mong boys and girls there is a constant demand for new games, and many are invented every year, which are in fashion for a few months and then disappear altogether.
But almost every successful game is an adaptation of some old amusement that was enjoyed centuries ago. Tennis, base-ball, marbles, and many other common sports have been played for ages, in one form or another, while most games of cards can be traced back to the sixteenth century.
Many games which seem very simple and hardly worthy of the name require, in reality, considerable skill and dexterity. This is especially true of the game of Morra, which is played enthusiastically in Italy by persons of all ages.
Almost any day, in walking along a Roman street, a little group may be discovered gathered about a pair of Morra-players. From the noise and excitement, a foreigner would conclude that a quarrel of some sort was going on; but if he pause and join the company, he will see that the chief actors are all interested in the progress of the game, and that the loud screams which the players give at brief intervals are nothing more dangerous than the simultaneous calling out of numbers. He will also see that their eyes are fixed too earnestly on each other to notice the increasing crowd of spectators, and that both have their left hands constantly raised, and that at each shout the right hands are thrown violently forward. This is the old, old game of Morra which is referred to by Cicero, and other writers of his day. On many ancient monuments are found carvings which represent Morra-players. It was played on the banks of the Nile in the time of the Pharoahs; and in spite of its simplicity it is still a standard amusement around the Levant.
Perhaps some of the boys and girls on this side of the water would like to try it; but I shall warn them that, although it seems easy enough, it will require considerable practice to become at all proficient in it.
The two players are placed opposite each other, and simultaneously each throws out the right hand with some of the fingers extended, while the rest are doubled over the palm, at the same instant shouting out the sum of the fingers which he guesses are extended on his adversary's hand and his own. Of course, knowing how many he has put up himself, the only point is to guess the number of his adversary and instantly add it to his own, a process which requires some practice and experience, as an experiment will soon show, beginners often making amusing mistakes; as, for instance, saying "ten!" when they themselves have only one or two fingers up, or "four!" when the whole hand is extended.
If both guess correctly, or incorrectly, neither makes anything, but if one happens to hit the right number when his adversary misses, he scores one, by extending one finger on the left hand, which is held up constantly, that no unfair count may be recorded. The game is usually five, but sometimes "double morra" is played, the score being ten. In this case, at the end of the first five, the hands are brought together with a slap, to indicate that the second half is begun. This slap is also given at the completion of an ordinary game.
The great point is to play as rapidly as possible and exactly in unison, as otherwise an opportunity is given for unfair advantage.
A very old Latin proverb describes an honest man as, "Trustworthy enough to play Morra in the dark"; and it is a very good description, for one who has no honor about trifles can never be trusted in graver matters.
nce more in the boat's stern with his steering paddle, Perce Bucklin gazed eagerly over the bobbing heads of the twins, who were rowing, and reported his observations, as they approached the castaway on the back of the "Old Cow."
"It's nobody I can make out," he said, when near enough to recognize, as he believed, any person he knew. "But that isn't a yachting-cap he has on; it's a handkerchief tied around his head. The sun on the water dazzles me or I —— Boys," he suddenly exclaimed, "it isn't a man! It's a boy!"
And he shouted, "Hello, there!"
The castaway returned the hail, and as the boat came nearer, cried out:
"That you, Perce Bucklin?"
Then Perce uttered an ejaculation of the greatest astonishment:
"Boys, it's Olly Burdeen!"
"No!" "Jingo!" "You don't say!" exclaimed the twins, who wouldn't believe him until they turned their heads and saw for themselves.
"Hullo, Olly!" called Moke.
"How did you ever get there?" asked Poke.
"Pull, boys!" said Perce impatiently, as they held their oars while looking around. "He must have been aboard the yacht,"—for as yet Olly made no answer. He was in fact too much agitated with joy and gratitude, after his long hours of suffering in mind and body, to make any coherent explanations.
The dory came dancing over the waves.
"Where's the yacht?" Perce demanded.
"I don't know anything about any yacht," answered the miserable, happy Olly, stepping down to the water's edge to meet his deliverers.
"Hasn't the Susette been lost?" Perce inquired.
As he was still some little distance away, and the waves were dashing on the rocks, all Olly understood was something about the Susette being lost.
It gave him a shock, with which, however, came a gleam of consolation. Mr. Hatville, then, had not returned home.
I will do Olly the justice to say that he could not under any circumstances have rejoiced at such a disaster as the wreck of the yacht; yet it was some comfort to think that the loss of the watch had not yet been discovered.
"I haven't heard of it!" Olly said in a shaky voice.
"Then how in the world did you get where you are?" inquired Perce, and as Olly was too much overcome by his feelings to answer at once, he continued: "We concluded you must have been aboard of the Susette. Where's the best place to take you on?"
"Right here," said Olly. "But I've a boat, too, around on the other side. I'd like to save that."
"A boat!" Moke exclaimed. "Then why in the name of common sense——"
"Why didn't you go ashore?" cried Poke.
"It leaks, and I haven't any oars nor anything to bail with. It was all I could do to get over here in it, without sinking. I was on the "Calf's" back till the waves began to break over it this morning."
Here a sob caught poor Olly's voice, at the recollection of all he had gone through.
"On the 'Calf'!" said Perce. "How did it happen? But never mind about that till we get you out of your scrape."
The dory pulled around the "Old Cow," while Olly scrambled over the back, picking up on his way the second thwart, which he had used to paddle with, and afterward in making his signals of distress.
On the seaward side was a cleft in the rock, into which he had propelled his dory on the top of a wave, and where, leaping to the ledges, he had held it by the painter while the wave went out. There it was still, jammed high up in the chasm, where the buffets of the tide had left it.
Olly alone could never have got it out without waiting for the next tide to help him; it was all his companions could do to loosen and lift it from those rocky jaws. This they did, after effecting a landing on the little islet; while Olly, who acknowledged himself half starved, ate some of the provisions they had brought, and between mouthfuls told hissurprising story.
One very important particular, however, he took care not to mention, so that no light was thrown upon the mystery of the watch which had found its resting-place in Perce Bucklin's pocket.
It would be hard to say whether this was a disappointment or a relief to the finder. He had so fully persuaded himself that there was some connection between the watch picked up on the beach and the human being cast on the rock, that he could not easily give it up, even after discovering who that human being was.
True, Olly was not a very probable owner of such a timepiece. Yet that was not an impossible thing; at any rate, he might know something about it. Perce was anxious to solve the riddle, even if it should be at his own cost; for he had no wish, as I have said before, to keep what belonged to another.
"I didn't know you in that suit of clothes, Olly," he said, as they were getting the boat out of the crevice, "and with that handkerchief on your head! I never saw such a change in anybody,—did you, boys?"
"He looks as pinched as if the lobsters had been nipping him," said Moke.
"And as blue about the gills as a turkey-gobbler," said Poke.
"I lost my hat overboard last night," said Olly, "I tied on my handkerchief this morning after I got tired of waving it. I thought you would be more apt to see the board. Wasn't I missed? Wasn't anybody looking for me?"
"No," Perce replied. "The young lady with the nose—the tall one—said you went with the yachters."
"She!" exclaimed Olly, who still had feelings left that could be hurt by such evidence of Amy Canfield's utter indifference to him. "She knew better than that."
"Mrs. Murcher knew better," said Perce. "She thought you had gone home to show your new suit to the folks. Did the boarder make you any other present?"
"Wasn't that enough?" returned Olly, munching a cold boiled egg.
"It will do for a beginning," said Perce. "But with such a suit as that, it seems as if you ought to have a handsome—watch-chain; needn't mind about any watch," he added with a laugh, intending thus to make a jest of his remark if Olly didn't take it in earnest.
Poor Olly tried to smile with his pinched, empurpled face; at the same time casting down his eyes in some alarm, to see what there was about his dress to put such a notion into Perce's head.
"Olly doesn't feel like joking," observed Moke.
"Neither would you, I guess!" exclaimed Olly, glad to change the subject. "All night on the rocks except when I was paddling or swimming for my life. No fire, not a mouthful to eat, not a wink of sleep! I got wet through a second time, getting over here from the 'Calf,' in a sinking boat. I can't tell you how it made me feel, boys, to see your fire on the beach last night, and again this morning! Why didn't you see me? I tried the handkerchief, and then the board, but I thought you never would look!"
"We were too far off," said Poke.
"We were too busy minding our own business," said Moke.
"That reminds me, the seaweed is waiting for us," said Poke. "Hurry up, boys!"
Perce was the last to leave the island; and he himself got wet up to his waist by a wave, in preventing the boat from being dashed upon the rocks after the others were aboard.
He did not care for a little salt water himself. But he thought of the watch in the pocket of his trousers. That, however, would probably not be much hurt by a few additional drops after what it had been through already. As far as he was concerned, the mystery had not been cleared up, at all, as he had expected it would be, by the rescue of the castaway.
If Olly had frankly told his entire story, how gladly would Perce have taken the treasure-trove from his pocket and held it out to him, exclaiming: "Here is your watch, boy!" gladdening his eyes with the sight. But as it was, both were silent on the subject which now filled both their minds.
Olly had already learned from his companions that their only reasons for thinking the yacht had been wrecked, was the fact of its not having returned the night before, and the appearance, that morning, of a human form on the outlying rock,—excepting always the very private reason in Perce Bucklin's trousers-pocket.
Mr. Hatville was then most likely still undrowned; and now that his own life was saved, Olly began to study how he should shirk the responsibility of his guilty borrowing,—in his troubled thoughts looking every way except the right way, and inventing plausible fictions, where nothing would avail like the simple truth. He sat in the stern of his companions' dory, leading his own in tow by the painter; dejected and silent, and more than once thinking he would watch for a chance, when nobody was observing him, to drop overboard the watch-seal and the fragment of chain which he still carried in his vest.
Long before the rescuers and the rescued reached the shore with their leaky boat in tow, the excitement among Mrs. Murcher's boarders in regard to the yacht had been allayed by a telegram. The adverse wind of the evening before had caused the Susette to put into Portland; whence some of the party were to return by rail that morning.
The Castaway Returned the Hail, as the Boat Came Nearer.“THE CASTAWAY RETURNED THE HAIL, AS THE BOAT CAME NEARER.”
So said the message; in consequence of which, interest in the unknown individual on the back of the "Old Cow" languished somewhat, until the arrival of the little party on the beach. Then it went up to the bubbling point again; and there was the liveliest effervescence of curiosity to know how Olly Burdeen, the faithful, unromantic chore and errand boy, had met with so wonderful an adventure.
Accompanied, or preceded, by those who had gone down to see him disembark, he mounted with slow, miserable, anxious feet the piazza steps.
There all the other ladies came out eagerly to meet him, and pressed around, marveling and questioning; and Mrs. Murcher, flushed from her molding-board, held up both her doughy hands.
"Why, Olly! wherehaveyou been?" said one.
"In his new suit of clothes!" said another.
"The first time he ever wore them!" exclaimed a third.
And one laughed; the one of all whom Olly most dreaded to have see him in that plight.
It was not an ill-natured laugh by any means; and she would have helped it if she could. But Amy Canfield had a merry disposition. And Olly after his night of terror and fatigue, still oppressed with a horrible anxiety, humbled, drooping, rolling his distressed eyes in fear of encountering Mr. Hatville's, with the handkerchief still on his head and his new clothes torn at the knees,—it must be owned that Olly did look ridiculous.
"Why, Amy!" said Mrs. Merriman, "howcanyou laugh?"
"It's so funny!" replied the tall brunette; "and I'm so glad he is rescued," she added, discreetly. "We all were so anxious, thinking the Susette had gone on the rocks; and it was only our Olly after all."
"Whathashappened to you, Olly?" cried Mrs. Murcher, amazed to the end of her doughy fingers.
"I just went out to take a little row, last evening," murmured the forlorn Olly. "I lost one oar; it got tangled in the kelp, and a wave wrenched it out of my hand. Then I broke another, and the wind blew me off shore."
"And you've been all night on the 'Old Cow'?" said the good landlady.
"Worse than that," said Olly. "I was on the 'Calf.' And a part of the time in the water. I guess if anybody had been there on the 'Calf's' back in my place—alone—such a night!—waiting for the tide to rise and cover 'em—I guess they wouldn't have thought it much of a joke!" AndOlly's voice broke.
"It must have been terrible, Olly! Do forgive my laughing!" said Amy, relenting. "How did you get to the 'Old Cow'?"
Olly faltered forth more of his wretched story, which was listened to with many an expression of surprise and sympathy, for he was rather a favorite with Mrs. Murcher and her lady boarders.
He had wished to go directly home to Frog-End, and had tried to induce the boys to carry him over in the ox-cart. But they were in haste to resume their work, which had been too long interrupted already; and they could not see why he should object to returning to the boarding-house.
After all, he thought to himself, the dreaded inquiry regarding the watch might as well be met first as last.
The kindness he met with made him feel more miserably remorseful and apprehensive than ever, for he knew that it was lavished upon him because his friends were still ignorant of what might at any minute now come to their knowledge.
He was really worn out with the long, fearful strain on his mind and strength, and he was quite willing to accept Mrs. Murcher's advice that he should go at once to bed and "take something hot."
The nucleus of the boarding-house was, as we have said, an old farm-house, which accounted for its not very sightly situation, there in a hollow of the hills. Besides the spacious addition, the original building remained, and at the end of the upper corridor was the old attic, with two or three steps descending to the door.
Olly's room was there, and there he was soon in bed, with ample leisure to think over the terrible part of his experience which was happily past, and the part which was unhappily to come.
He had not ventured to ask about the yachting party, lest something concerning the watch should come out. But he had accidentally overheard some one speak of the Susette having run into Portland. Everything else was uncertain. But, thankful for a reprieve however brief from the impending catastrophe, he ate the steaming gruel Mrs. Murcher brought him, sank into a state of stupor, and was soon rehearsing in dreams his dire adventures.
He was having a distressing conversation with a dog-fish of enormous size. The monster came up out of the sea, and resting its elbow on the "Calf's" shoulder, and its face on its hand,—a face and attitude grotesquely suggestive of Mr. Hatville,—accused Olly of having one of that gentleman's eyes in his pocket, although there were two spectral eyes as big as watches in the speaker's head, at the moment. The dispute was growing frightfully loud, when Olly cut it short by kicking the dog-fish, or Mr. Hatville, or whoever it was, back into the sea, and immediately woke.
It is generally a very good way to get out of trouble, to wake, and find it a dream. But that did not serve Olly's turn this time. The voice was still heard, louder and louder, not in the sea, as he had fancied, but behind the door which separated his garret from the corridor.
"I paid two hundred and forty dollars for that watch, and fifteen dollars for the chain, let alone the seal, and I want to know who has them!"
It was Mr. Hatville's voice pure and simple, without any fishy element about it. At the same time a good pair of boots, such as no dog-fish ever wore, were tramping excitedly across the floor. Poor Mrs. Murcher's anxious, protesting voice was heard in reply, but not loud enough for Olly to make out the words.
"I hung it up when I was changing my clothes, and then went off and forgot it!" burst forth the male voice again. "But I supposed it would be safe here. I didn't know you had thieves in your house, Mrs. Murcher!"
"I haven't, sir! unless they are among your own friends," the landlady answered, in a higher key than before. "I don't believe it is stolen. It must be somewhere!"
"Of course it's somewhere!" the boarder retorted—"somewhere in some rogue's keeping. I'd like to see the fellow who dared to lay hands on it—the best time-keeper I ever saw! Stem-winder; chronometer movement; heavy, fine gold case! I had it regulated down to the finest point; it was losing only about a second and a half a month."
Other voices here joined in; the corridor appeared to be filling with boarders, all excited by the news of Mr. Hatville's loss.
"No," said that gentleman; "I wasn't at all anxious about it; only, when I found we couldn't get back last night, I was vexed to think it would run down. I wouldn't have had that happen for five dollars. Where's Olly?" he demanded. "Hemust know something about it."
Olly trembled in his bed. He would have preferred just then to take his chances with a whole school of dog-fishes, of the largest size, rather than confront the wrathful owner of the watch.
"I don't think he knows anything about it,"said Mrs. Murcher, now quite near Olly's door. "He has been away all night; he has had a terrible time out at sea—in the sea—and on the rocks. Don't disturb him! He's fast asleep."
"If he hasn't slept for a week, and can't sleep again for a fortnight," cried Hatville, "I'll have him up and see if he knows anything about that watch."
"Let me speak to him!" said Mrs. Murcher. "You've no idea how weak and tired and worn out he is. I've got him into a perspiration, and now if it is checked, I shall expect nothing in the world but that he will have a fit of sickness, and may be never get over it."
"It ought not to check an honest boy's perspiration, to tell what he knows about my chronometer," Hatville muttered, while Mrs. Murcher, stepping down the two or three stairs that led to the old attic, opened Olly's door.
"Sh!" she whispered gently, motioning Mr. Hatville back. "He's so sound asleep! It's such a pity to wake him, poor boy! But I suppose I must."
Oily lay with his back toward her, with his head and face covered by the sheet. His perspiration hadn't ceased, by any means; he felt that he was fast dissolving in a clammy feeling of abject fear.
"He's in such a beautiful, dewy, childlike, innocent sleep" said the motherly Mrs. Murcher, laying her hand softly on his brow. "Just the thing he needs; better than all the medicine in the world!" She was tempted to add, "or than all the watches!"
Still Hatville did not relent. Without strongly suspecting Olly of taking the watch, he was yet determined to pursue his investigations, even if he broke the most beautiful, dewy, childlike, innocent slumber on earth.
"Shake him!" he said.
So Mrs. Murcher shook, gently at first, then more and more vigorously, saying, "Olly! Oliver! Olly Burdeen! Oliver Burdeen!" more and more loudly in his ear, until he suddenly sprang up with a muttered cry.
"Stop that boat! stop that—— she's running on the 'Old Cow'! Oh, boys!—where am I?"
And, appearing to recognize Mrs. Murcher's presence for the first time, he rolled up his eyes and sank back with a groan on the pillow.
"He's delirious!" whispered the landlady.
"He's dreaming," replied the boarder.
"Olly! Wake up a minute! What's become of my watch?"
"Watch?" repeated Olly, still disguising his real fears in a well-feigned fictitious terror. "What watch? I thought I was in the water again!"
His voice trembled, though not altogether from that more remote cause which he desired to impress upon the minds of spectators.
"My watch, which I left hanging in the case beside my bureau when I went yachting yesterday," said Hatville, as much imposed upon as the sympathizing Mrs. Murcher herself. "What has become of it?"
"Your watch?" Olly repeated, with a bewildered air, as if beginning dimly to comprehend the question. "How should I know? I've been away. I've been wrecked. Haven't they told you?"
"You haven't the watch,haveyou?" exclaimed the landlady.
"His watch? Mr. Hatville's? Of course I haven't! What should I have his watch for?"
The brunt of the inquiry thus met, Olly felt that he was acting his part very well, and took courage. Then somebody in the corridor whispered to Mr. Hatville, who immediately asked:
"What boy was that who came here to the house for you last evening?"
"Boy? I don't know of any boy!" said Olly.
"You remember, Amy; you showed him upstairs," said Mrs. Merriman.
"I know the one you mean; one of the Frog-End boys!" exclaimed Mrs. Murcher. "He said he and some friends of Olly's were camping on the beach, and they wanted him to join them. It can't be thathetook it!"
"Who showed him upstairs? You, Amy?" cried Hatville.
It was a moment of fearful suspense to Olly, who remembered what Perce had said of coming to invite him to their picnic, and learning that he had either sailed in the yacht or gone home to show his new clothes. He stopped breathing to hear Amy's reply, in clear, silvery tones, from the farther end of the corridor.
"Yes; I showed him up, and pointed out Olly's room. Mrs. Murcher thought Olly was there, trying on his new clothes."
"But he wasn't," said Mrs. Murcher. "And the boy came downstairs again in a very few minutes."
"Where was he during those few minutes?" Mr. Hatville demanded. "Did you watch him, Amy?"
"I? No, indeed! Why should I take the trouble to watch him?" cried Miss Canfield.
"What was to prevent his going into my room," Hatville inquired, "and taking the watch?"
"Nothing that I know of." The silvery accents faltered. "I don't know but I am to blame, Mr. Hatville!"
"Oh, no! It wasn't your business to watch strangers who gain admission to the house," said Hatville.
"But I did something which I see now was very indiscreet," Amy exclaimed. "It was growing quite dark in the passage, and I opened the door of your room to let in more light. I knew you were not there, and I had no idea your watch was. I am very sorry."
'Shake Him,' Said Mr. Hatville.“ ‘SHAKE HIM,’ SAID MR. HATVILLE.”
"You are very frank," replied Hatville. "But don't blame yourself. Of course, you had no idea of putting temptation in the way of a rogue."
"No; and I can't believe he was a rogue—such a fine, honest-looking face as he had!" Amy exclaimed. "But I had no business to open your door."
Olly overheard this conversation with strangely mingled feelings of envy and remorse, of fear and guilt. How admirable was Amy's prompt confession of her fault, and how readily it was forgiven! Why couldn't he have had a little of her courage, owned his folly, and thrown himself upon Mr. Hatville's mercy! His implied denial had now cut him off from that only noble course; and he saw no way to disentangle the web in which he had involved both himself and his friend.
"Wasn't it the same boy who came here again this morning?" asked Mr. Merriman. "He had discovered Olly on the 'Old Cow,'—though nobody knew it was Olly; and he came to get oars and a spy-glass."
"Yes," said one of the other ladies; "and he came upstairs to look from the windows. He might have gone into your room then, Mr. Hatville."
"But if he had stolen the watch the night before, would he have shown his face here againthis morning?" argued the landlady, who had been too much bewildered by what had occurred in her house, to take much part in the previous conversation.
"He might have done just that thing," Hatville replied, "in order to brazen it out, and make a show of innocence. But most likely he saw the chronometer then, and, having had time to think about it, he watched for a chance to take it this morning, when it was supposed I might have been lost in the yacht."
That seemed very probable; and Mrs. Murcher was obliged to admit that there had been no other stranger about the place, to her knowledge, except the messenger who brought Mr. Hatville's telegram. He, however, had not got out of his buggy.
"That same boy is on the beach now, gathering seaweed," said Mrs. Merriman. "At least, he was there a short time ago."
"That's good news!" cried Hatville, gayly. "Who'll go with me and point him out? We'll interview this seaweed-gatherer, who does a little side business in other people's watches!"
And Olly could hear his boots departing in haste through the corridor and descending the stairs. One or two ladies went with him to identify the supposed culprit; while others remained to discuss this last exciting revelation.
"Such a bright, interesting boy!" said one; "I shouldn't have believed it of him!"
"I thought him a young hero!" cried another, "to leave his work and start off to the rescue!"
"Well!" said a third, "I thought so, too. He certainly organized the whole thing; and it seems strange to me that he should have shown so much zeal to save the life, perhaps, of the very person whose watch he had just taken!"
"You can't tell much from a boy's looks, or his actions either, as to what he may do when exposed to temptation," was the rather severe rejoinder of the first speaker.
"Not unless you know him pretty well," added one of the others.
"As we know Olly, for instance," observed some one else. "I actually believe Mr. Hatville at first suspected he had taken it."
"Absurd!" "Preposterous!" "Nonsense!" chorused all together. All which Olly overheard with feelings which can hardly be imagined by anybody not actually suffering what he suffered then.
Had the lady boarders spoken harshly or suspiciously of him, he might have hardened his heart. But their kind words made him bitterly regret that he had not kept his good reputation by frankly owning the fault, which, if discovered now, must convict him of dishonesty.
And to a boy like him,—not a bad boy at heart, by any means, as I trust you all understand,—it was a terrible thing to know that another was accused of downright theft, in consequence of his own foolish and cowardly conduct. And that one a friend,—a friend, too, who had just rescued him from danger and distress! Poor Olly almost wished he had been left to perish; that he had never reached the back of the "Old Cow," or been seen or heard of again.
All this he kept to himself, and lay with his face turned to the wall, thinking of the probable result of the charge against Perce Bucklin, and of retribution falling upon himself; when Mrs. Murcher came and pulled the coverlet carefully over his shoulder, and shut the door again gently as she went out, leaving him, as she supposed, to sleep.
"Of course they can't prove anything against Perce," he tried to console himself by thinking; for he was utterly ignorant of the astounding evidence that was to free him from the last shadow of suspicion, and fix the guilt on his friend.
(To be continued.)