CHAPTER XIIHostesses and Guests
Mike affected to be greatly embarrassed by the question of Nora Friestone. He swallowed what seemed to be a lump rising in his throat, grinned in a sickly way and then asked as if much distressed:
“Do ye insist on me answering yer quistion?”
“I do,” she replied, with an expression of tremendous solemnity.
“Then I’ll hev to own that I’m the champion post office robber in Maine. It was mesilf that plundered three offices, each a hundred miles from the ither, on the same night and burned up an old man, his wife and siven children that vintured to dispoot me will. I’ve been in the bus’ness iver since the year one and me home is Murthersville at the head of Murthersville Creek in Murthersville County.”
Rising from his chair, Mike bowed low.
“I thrust I have answered yer quistions satisfactorily, Miss.”
“You couldn’t have done better—hello, Jim!”
This salutation was to a big gawky boy, who slouched through the door, with the announcement:
“Wal, I’m ready: what shall I do?”
“Who’s yer frind?” asked Mike of Nora.
“He comes round each morning to take out and place the things on the porch in front and brings them in again each evening”
“Jim,” said Mike, addressing the gaping youngster, “ye’re discharged fur to-night. I’m doing yer job for the avening, but you git your wages just the same.”
With which Mike thrust his hand into his trousers pocket and drew out one of the three silver quarters there, handing it to the boy, who was too mystified to understand what it meant.
“Yaws,” he said, with a silly grin, looking at the coin and then clasping it tight; “what do yuh warnt me to dew?”
“Go right home to yer mommy andgive her that quarter to save up fur ye. Don’t git gay on the road and buy a horse and wagon.”
“Yaws, but—uh—I don’t understand what yuh am drivin’ at.”
“Ye don’t understand anything in this wurruld and by yer looks niver will.”
“He means, Jim,” interposed Nora, “that he will bring in the things to-night for us, but you must come round in the morning and set them out again. That’s plain enough, isn’t it?”
“Yaws—but what did he give me so much money fur? I hain’t done nothin’ to earn it; I don’t understand it.”
“We all know that. Come wid me, James.”
As Mike spoke, he slipped his arm under that of Jim and walked to the door, not pausing until they stood on the porch.
“Now, James, tell me where ye live.”
“Yaws, what fur?”
“’Cause I asked ye; out wid it!”
The lad pointed a crooked finger down the street to the left.
“Now, see how quick ye can git thar.Don’t look back, and whin ye tumbles over the doorsill, tell yer mither ye won’t have any wurruk to do here until to-morrer mornin’.”
“Oh, yaws, I understand—why didn’t ye say so afore?”
“’Cause ye wouldn’t have understood if I did. Off wid ye!”
And to make sure of being obeyed, Mike gave him a push which caused his dilapidated straw hat to fall off. He snatched it up and broke into a lope, as if afraid of harm if he lingered longer in the neighborhood of such strange doings.
“Now, Miss Nora, if ye’ll tell me where ye want these things placed, I shall be honored by carrying ’em in fur ye.”
Mike stood in the front door and looked down the big store to Nora, at the rear, who called:
“Set them in the back part of the room right here where I’m standing.”
“How can I put ’em there, if ye stand there?” asked Mike.
“I expect to get out of your way.”
“Oh, yaws,” remarked the youth, mimickingJim, who had shown so much mental bewilderment.
The task was easy. There were picks, shovels, rakes, hoes, spades, pails, ice cream freezers, toy wagons with gilt letters, coils of rope and the various articles displayed by most village or country stores to attract custom. These were carried in by the lusty Mike, a half dozen at a time, and set down somewhat loosely at the rear, Nora making a few suggestions that were hardly needed.
While this was going on, the mother employed herself in locking the safe for the night. It will be remembered that in addition to the stamps and money belonging to the government and to herself, a liberal amount was already there, the property of one of the leading citizens of Beartown, who was glad to entrust it to the keeping of the honest widow.
“I think,” said the daughter when Mike had completed his work, which took only a few minutes, “you have earned your supper.”
“Ah, now what reward can equalthe light of yer blue eyes and the swate smile that shows the purtiest teeth in the State of Maine?” was the instant inquiry in return.
The mother had just finished locking the safe, and, standing up, she laughed in her gentle way and said:
“Surely you have kissed the blarney stone, Mike.”
“I would have done the same had the chance been mine, which it wasn’t. Is there any more play that ye call wurruk which I can do fur the likes of ye?”
“Nothing more, thank you. Nora and I will now close the store and attend to preparing supper.”
“And I’ll bring me frinds to enj’y the same.”
So Mike bade them good night for a brief while, and strode down the road to find Alvin and Chester, whom, as you know, he met on their way to look for him. The three lingered and chatted, with the view of giving mother and daughter time in which to make ready the evening meal.
Following a common fashion of the times,the veteran Carter Friestone, in building his store and home, made the second story the living room of the family. It could be reached by the stairs at the back of the regular entrance, being through a narrow hall where visitors rang a bell when they called.
The upper front apartment served for parlor and sitting room, and was neatly furnished, one of the principal articles being a piano. This was a birthday present to Nora, who was gifted with a naturally sweet voice and received instruction from the schoolmistress of Beartown. At the rear was the kitchen and dining room, with two bedrooms between that and the parlor, facing each other across the hall.
Nora answered the tinkle of the bell, and Alvin and Chester were introduced to her under the light of the hanging lamp overhead. The little party found the mother awaiting them at the head of the stairs.
“Supper will be ready in a few minutes,” she said. “Nora will entertain you in the parlor until I call you.”
The girl escorted them to the front room, where all sat down and chatted with the cheery good nature proper in such a party of young folks. Mike was at his best, and kept all laughing by his drollery. Nora’s merriment filled the room with music. Michael had given his name soon after his entrance into the store, but insisted that the way to pronounce it was “Mike,” not “Michael.”
“I never knew such a funny person,” said Nora, after one of his quaint remarks. “Mother and I took to him from the first.”
“I find it’s a common wakeness whereiver I go,” said Mike gravely.
“We find him fairly good company,” said Alvin. “He seems to have been born that way and we can hardly blame him.”
“He tries our patience very much,” added Chester, “but we have learned to bear the affliction.”
“I wish you all lived in Beartown,” said Nora impulsively, “and that Mike would call to see us every day.”
“Whisht, now,” said he, lowering his voice. “Whin I strolled through the townon me arrival, I was so chaarmed I began hunting fur a house and property to buy fur me home. I sthruck the right spot and made an offer to the owner of the same. I think we’ll come to tarms, being there’s only a difference of a thrifle of five or six thousand dollars in the price.”
Mrs. Friestone now appeared with word that supper was waiting, and all passed into the kitchen and dining room. Of course she presided, Nora acting as waitress whenever necessary. Alvin and Chester complimented their hostess on the excellence of the meal, while Mike was so extravagant in his praise that they protested. Alvin told the particulars of their trip in the launch from home to Wiscasset and return, omitting of course all reference to Stockham Calvert that would give a hint of his profession and his purpose in making what looked like an aimless ramble through this portion of Maine. The Captain was assured that his boat would not be disturbed where it lay moored under the bank, and he and Chester gave no further thought to it.
The group lingered long at the table, and at the close of the meal Nora preceded them to the parlor, were she excused herself in order to help her mother in washing the dishes and clearing away things. The work was finished sooner than the friends expected, and the happy party gathered in the parlor.
The presence of the musical instrument made its own suggestion, and the lads insisted that Nora should favor them with a song or two. She had the good taste to comply after a modest protest, and gave them a treat. Her voice, as I have said, was of fine quality though rather weak, and she sang several of the popular songs of the day with exquisite expression. She was so warmly applauded that she blushed and sang again until it was evident to all she was tired.
“Now,” said she as she rose from the stool and looked at Mike, “you must sing for us, for I know you can.”
“Certainly, Mike, show them what you can do in that line,” joined Alvin, and Chester was equally urgent.
He objected and held back, but when Mrs. Friestone joined in the request he rose reluctantly and went to the instrument.
And straightway came the surprise of the evening.
CHAPTER XIIIAn Incident on Shipboard
Among the passengers on one of the most magnificent of ocean steamers that crossed the Atlantic during the summer of which I have made mention, was a famous prima donna coming to the United States to fulfil a contract which would net her many thousand dollars. This notable artist who possessed a most winning personality as well as great beauty was easily the most popular passenger aboard the steamer on that memorable trip across the ocean.
One evening this lady was strolling over the promenade deck under the escort of her brother. The night was unusually calm, with a bright moon in the sky. The mighty throbbing structure glided over the sleeping billows as across a millpond, and all were in fine spirits, for they were nearing home, and that dreadful afflictionmal de merhad troubled only the abnormally sensitive.Neither the brother nor the prima donna had felt the slightest effects.
The two were chatting of many things, but nothing of any importance, when she suddenly stopped with an exclamation of surprise.
“Listen!” she added when they had stood motionless for a few seconds; “do you hear that?”
“I do; it is wonderful.”
It was the voice of some one singing “Mavourneen,” that sweet Irish melody which has charmed and will always charm thousands. It came from the second class section, which was separated from the first by two gates. These marked the “impassable chasm,” so far as the less favored were concerned, though of course the first class passengers were free to wander whither they chose.
The lady and gentleman walked to the barrier and looked across.
“There he is!” said the man, in a low tone.
“Where?” asked his companion, with eager curiosity.
“To the right, in front of that group which has gathered round him.”
“I see him now. Why, he is only a boy.”
“A pretty big one. But hark!”
They ceased talking that they might not lose any of the marvellous music. Others gathered near until more than a score were listening near the bridge. Many more paused in different parts of the deck, and even the grim captain high up on the bridge expressed the opinion that the singer’s voice was “infernally good.”
The singer was modest, for when he discovered the number of listeners he abruptly ceased nor could any coaxing induce him to resume the treat.
“Louis,” said the prima donna, after the silence had lasted some minutes and the various groups began dissolving, “I want you to bring that boy to me.”
“Why, my dear, he is a second class passenger.”
“What of that? He has a divine gift in his voice. I must meet him.”
Louis shrugged his shoulders, but he was used to the whims of his brilliantsister. He strolled through one of the gates while she awaited his return. He soon appeared, walking slowly, in order to keep pace with a big boy behind him, who, it was evident, moved with deep reluctance. Louis led him straight to the lady, who advanced a step to meet him.
“I wish to shake hands with you,” she said in her frank, winning manner, “and to tell you how much we all enjoyed your singing of ‘Mavourneen.’”
The confused lad doffed his cap and bowed with awkward grace.
“It was mesilf that feared I was disturbing yer slumbers, which if it be the fact I beg yer pardon fur the same.”
“Disturbing our slumbers! Did you hear that, Louis?”
And the artist’s musical laughter rang out. More soberly she asked:
“Will you tell me your name?”
“Mike Murphy—not Michael as some ignorant persons call it—and I’m from Tipperary, in the County of Tipperary, and the town is a hundred miles from Dublin—thank ye kindly, leddy.”
“Are you alone?”
Mike was standing with his cap in hand where the moonlight revealed his homely face and his shock of red hair. His self-possession had quickly come back to him and his waggishness could not be repressed. He glanced into the beautiful face before him and made answer:
“How can I be alone, whin I’m standing in the prisence of the swatest lady on boord the steamer, wid her father at her elbow?”
How the prima donna laughed!
“Louis, he thinks you are my father, when you are my twin brother! It’s delicious.”
“It may be for you, but not for me,” he grimly answered, though scarcely less pleased than she over the pointed compliment to her.
Addressing Mike, the lady said:
“You have a wonderfully fine tenor voice: do you know that, Mike?”
“I donow, since yersilf has told me, though ye make me blush.”
“Are you travelling alone?”
“Yes, Miss; I’m on me way to jine me dad and mither, which the same live in the State of Maine, of which I suppose yersilf has heerd.”
“Have you had any instruction in music or the cultivation of your voice?”
“The only insthrumint on which I can play is the jewsharp, and folks that hear me always kindly requists me to have done as soon as I begin. As to me v’ice, the cultivation I’ve resaved has been in shouting at the cows when they wint astray or at the pigs whin they broke out of the stye.”
“How would you like to become an opera singer, Mike?”
He recoiled, and, though he knew the meaning of the question, he asked:
“And phwat does ye mane by ‘opera’?”
“Ah, you know, you sly boy. I am sure that after a few years of training you can make your fortune on the operatic stage.”
The assurance did not appeal to Mike. He must find some excuse for declining an offer which would have turned the heads of most persons.
“It is very kind of you, leddy, and I’msorry I can’t accipt, as Terence Gallagher said whin the mob invited him out to be hanged.”
“And why not?”
“Ye see, me dad, if he lives long enough will be eighty-odd years owld, and me mither is alriddy that feeble she can hardly walk across the floor of our cabin, and I am naaded at home to take care of the two.”
“Well, let that go for the present. I wish you to come and see me to-morrow at ten o’clock. Will you do so?”
“How can I refoos?” asked Mike, who would have been glad to back out. “Who is it that I shall ask fur whin I vinture on this part of the boat?”
She gave him her name, thanked him for the meeting and bade him good night. Mike donned his cap and returned to his acquaintances, to whom he told a portion of what had taken place.
Dressed in his best, his obdurate hair smoothed down by dousing it in water and threading a brush many times through it, and spotlessly clean, Mike with many misgivings crossed the bridge the next morninginto the more favored section of the steamer. He did not have to make inquiries for the lady, for she stood smilingly at the end of the first class promenade awaiting him. She extended her dainty gloved hand, and the lad, who had braced himself for the ordeal, had shed most of his awkwardness. The brother kept in the background, having been ordered to do so, but he amusedly watched the two from a distance, as did a good many others.
The prima donna conducted Mike straight to the grand saloon and sat down before the superb piano. Others sauntered into the room to listen and look and enjoy.
The frightened Mike hung back.
“Stand right here beside me,” she said with pleasant imperiousness. “I will play the accompaniment while you sing ‘Mavourneen.’”
“I’m that scared, me leddy, that I couldn’t sing a word.”
“Tut, tut—none of that. Come, try!” and she struck several notes on the instrument.
Mike’s voice was a trifle uncertain atfirst, but she knew how to encourage him, and soon the tones rang out with the exquisite sweetness that had charmed the listeners the evening before. When with many doubts he finished, he was startled by a vigorous handclapping that caused him to look round. Fully fifty men and women had gathered without his suspecting it. He bowed and was turning to walk to a chair, when the lady stopped him.
“You are not through yet; I must test your voice further. Can you sing any other songs?”
“I have thried a few.”
“Name them.”
“I can’t ricollect them at this moment, but there’s ‘Oft in the Stilly Night’ and——”
“That will do; it is one of Tom Moore’s prettiest. Are you ready?”
And the fast increasing audience applauded to the echo. Other pieces followed until the prima donna allowed him to rest. Then sitting down beside him, she said:
“As I told you last night, you have a fortune in your voice. If you can arrange to leave your feeble parents to the care ofothers, you can soon earn enough to keep them in comfort all their lives. If you can come to Boston or New York when I sing there, you must not fail to call on me and to attend the concert. Here is my card.”
She had already written a few lines upon the pasteboard which made it an open sesame to the possessor to any and all of her concerts. Mike thanked her gratefully, and had to promise to come to see her again before the steamer reached New York, and to think over her proposal. He kept his promise so far as calling on her again, not once but several times before she bade him good-by on the pier.
But, as I have said, there was nothing in her plan that appealed to the Irish youth. The modest fellow never told of the occurrence to anyone, nor did he give it more than a passing thought in the weeks and months that followed. The brother of the prima donna imparted the particulars to his intimate friend Gideon Landon, the wealthy banker, and in this way I am able to relate the incident on shipboard.
CHAPTER XIV“The Night Shall be Filled with Music”
The prima donna who grew so fond of Mike discovered several interesting facts about him, aside from his marvellous tenor voice. He had the talent of improvisation. When they became well enough acquainted for him to feel at ease in her presence, he sang bits of melody that were his own composition. She was delighted and encouraged him to cultivate the gift. Of course he knew nothing about playing any instrument, but under her instruction he quickly picked up the art of accompanying himself on the piano. The music which he sang was of the simplest nature and the chords suggested themselves to his ear.
Another peculiarity of the lad was that, despite his exuberant, rollicking nature, he had no taste for humorous music. When she asked him to sing a lively song, heshook his head. He not only knew none, but had no wish to learn any. His liking was for sentiment and tenderness of feeling. Moore’s melodies were his favorites and he knew few others. At the last meeting of Mike and the lady she gave him a fragment of verse which she had cut from a paper and asked him to compose a melody for it. He promised to try.
With this rather lengthy explanation, and the fact that neither Alvin Landon nor Chester Haynes had ever heard him sing, though both had noticed that his voice was peculiarly clear, you will understand the surprise that awaited them when he walked to the piano and reluctantly sat down. The hoarseness which followed his shouting when marooned on White Islands was gone and his notes were as clear as a bell.
Every one expected a mirth-provoking song when he placed his foot on the pedal and his fingers touched the keys. Even Widow Friestone smiled in anticipation, while Alvin and Chester feared that in his ignorance of true singing his attemptswould become comical to the last degree. The listeners glanced significantly to one another, while he was bringing out a few preliminary notes.
Suddenly into the room burst the most ravishing music from the sweetest voice they had ever heard.
“The harp that once through Tara’s halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory’s thrill is o’er,
And hearts that once beat high for praise,
Now feel that pulse no more.”
With the same bewitching sweetness he sang the remaining stanza, and then paused with his fingers idly rambling over the keys, as if in doubt what next to do.
There was no applause. Not a person moved or seemed to breathe. Then Alvin and Chester looked wonderingly at each other, as if doubting their own senses. Whoever imagined that Mike Murphy was gifted with so wonderful a voice? It seemedas if they were dreaming and were waiting for the spell to lift.
It would have been affectation on the part of Mike to pretend he was ignorant of the effect he had produced. He had seen it too often in the past, and he knew the great songstress on the steamer would not have said what she did had there not been good basis therefor. So, without seeming to notice the hush—the most sincere tribute possible—he sang the old favorite “Mavourneen,” and at its conclusion “Annie Laurie,” with a liquidity of tone that was never surpassed by throat of nightingale.
At its conclusion he swung round on the stool, sprang up and dropped into the nearest chair, looking about as if doubtful of the reception that was to attend his efforts.
Nora was the first to rally. She uttered one ecstatic “Oh!” bounded across the floor, threw her dimpled arms about his neck and kissed him on the cheek.
“You darling! You sing like an angel!”
“Nothing could be sweeter,” added the smiling mother. Mike gently kissed thegirl on her forehead, and did not release her until she drew away.
“Ye’re very kind. It’s mesilf is glad me efforts seemed to plaise ye, though I’m in doubt as to the Captain and second mate.”
Alvin walked silently across the floor and reached out his hand.
“Glad to know ye,” replied Mike, with a grin, looking up in the face that had actually turned slightly pale. “What is yer name, plaise?”
Chester joined his chum.
“Mike, Alvin and I were silent, for we didn’t know what to say. You have given us the surprise of our lives. I am no singer and never can be, but I would give a hundred thousand dollars, if I had it, for your voice. Alvin makes some pretensions. He is the leader of his school quartette, but he can’t equal you.”
“Equal him!” sniffed the Captain. “If Mike ever shows himself where our quartette is trying to sing, I shall make every one shut up to save ourselves from disgrace. As for Mike, we’ll give him the choice to sing for us or to be killed.”
Chester asked reprovingly:
“Why didn’t you let us know about this before?”
“Ye didn’t ask me, and what could be the difference if ye didn’t find it out? Ye wouldn’t have larned the same if Nora and her mither hadn’t insisted that I should entertain them, as I tried to do.”
“You are a queer make-up,” replied Alvin, with a laugh.
“Since ye are the leader, Captain, of yer quartette at school, it’s up to ye to obleege the company wid something in their line.”
Nora added her entreaties.
“We know you can do very well, Alvin, though of course not half so well as Mike, fornobodycan do that,” was the naïve argument of the miss.
“No, sir,” said Alvin emphatically, and, assuming deep solemnity, he raised his hand. “I vow that I will never, never sing in Mike’s presence. I can stand a joke as well as most persons, but that is the limit. Here’s Chester, however. He will be glad to give Mike a few lessons.”
The fun of it was that Chester could notsing the chromatic scale correctly if his life were at stake. He was not rattled by the request.
“Mike, can you play the accompaniment to ‘Greenville’?” he asked.
“How does it go? Hum the same fur me so I can catch it.”
Chester stood up and “hummed,” but without the slightest resemblance to any tune that the others had ever heard.
“That gits me,” commented Mike, “as Teddy O’Rourke said whin the p’liceman grabbed him. If ye’ll sthrike in I’ll do my best to keep wid ye.”
“No, sir; I decline to play second fiddle to anyone,” and Chester resumed his seat as if in high dudgeon.
At this moment Nora asked of Mike:
“Did you ever make up music for yourself?”
“I have tried once or twice, but didn’t do much.”
“Oh, please sing us something of your own.”
“A leddy on the steamer that brought me over give me some printed words oneday wid the requist that I should try to put some music to ’em. I furgot the same till after she had gone, but I’ll make the effort if ye all won’t be too hard on me.”
(This was the only reference that Mike was ever heard to make to the incidents recorded in the previous chapter.)
And then the Irish lad sang “The Sweet Long Ago.”
CHAPTER XVA Knock at the Door
Alvin easily caught the swing of the bass and sang when the chorus was reached. Mike barely touched the keys, bringing out a few faint chords that could not add to the sweetness of his voice. Mrs. Friestone sat motionless, looking intently at him until he came to the last words. Then she abruptly took off her glasses and put her handkerchief to her eyes.
The sweet long ago! Again she saw the handsome, sturdy youth when he returned from the war for the defence of his country, as brave, as resolute, as aflame with patriotism as in his earlier years, but with frame wrenched by painful wounds. Their lives were inexpressibly happy from the time she became a bride, and their maturer age was blessed by the gift of darling Nora. Existence became one grand sweet dream—more happy, more radiant and more aforetaste of what awaited them all in the great beyond. That loved form had vanished in the sweet long ago, but the memory could never fade or grow dim.
It was the song that brought back the picture with a vividness it had not worn for many a year. The tears would come, and Nora, glancing at her mother, buried her face in her own handkerchief and sobbed. Alvin and Chester sat silent, and Mike, turning gently on the stool, looked sympathetically at mother and daughter.
“Thank you, Mike,” came a soft, choking voice from behind the snowy bit of linen, and the brave lad winked rapidly and fought back the tears that crowded into his honest eyes.
It was not strange that the effect of Mike Murphy’s beautiful singing of the touching songs brooded like a benison throughout the evening. Even Nora, when asked to favor them again, shook her head.
“Not after Mike,” she replied, her eyes gleaming more brightly through the moisture not yet dried.
It was impossible for the Irish lad torestrain his humor, and soon he had them all smiling, but there was no loud laughter such as greeted his first sallies, and the conversation as a whole was soberer and more thoughtful. Alvin and Chester told of their school experiences, and finally Mike related his adventure when marooned on the lonely island well out toward the Atlantic and his friends found him after they had given him up as drowned.
So the evening wore away until, at a seasonable hour, the head of the household said that when they wished to retire she would show them to their room. Just then Mike had his hand over his mouth in the effort to repress a yawn. Nora laughingly pointed at him.
“In a few minutes he’ll be asleep and will tumble off his chair.”
“I’m afeard ye’re right, as I replied to me tacher whin he obsarved that I was the biggest numskull in Tipperary County. Come, Captain and sicond mate—ye won’t forgit, Miss Nora, that I’mfirstmate of the battleshipDeerfut.”
The girl went to the kitchen from whichshe speedily returned, carrying a hand lamp, which she gave to her mother. She nodded to the lads, who followed her to the door of the apartment assigned them for the night. They entered behind her as she set the light on the stand and turned about.
“I think you will find everything as you wish.”
“It couldn’t be itherwise, whin it’s yersilf that has provided the same. Be that token, we’re getting more than we desarve.”
“Nothing could be finer,” added Alvin, glancing round the lighted room. “It’s as neat as a pin and we shall sleep the sleep of the just.”
The three had noticed when in the parlor the portrait suspended in the place of honor. The blue uniform, the military cap resting on one knee, and the strong, expressive face told their own story. It was the picture of Captain Carter Friestone, taken many a year before, when in the flush of his patriotic young manhood. A smaller picture was on the wall of the bedroom of mother and daughter.
The chamber which the lads entered was graced with two small, inexpensive pictures of a religious character, a pretty rug covered most of the floor, the walls were tastefully papered and there were several chairs, to say nothing of the mirror, stand and other conveniences.
Not only was the broad bed with its snowy counterpane and downy pillows roomy enough for two, but a wide cot had been placed on the other side of the neat little room for whoever chose to sleep upon it.
That which caught the eye of the three was a musket leaning in the far corner. Chester stepped across, and asking permission of Mrs. Friestone, picked it up and brought it over to where the light was stronger. He saw it was a Springfield rifle, but the lock and base of the barrel were torn into gaping rents.
“I suppose this belonged to the captain,” said Chester inquiringly. The widow nodded her head.
“And it did good service—that is certain,” added Chester, with his companionsbeside him scrutinizing the weapon. “But it seems to have been injured.”
She smiled faintly.
“Carter brought it home from the war, declaring it was better than when new. He put a double charge in one Fourth of July morning, forgetting that the weapon was much worn from many previous firings. It exploded at the lock and came very near killing him. But,” she added, with a sigh, “it is very precious to me.”
“I am sure of that,” said Chester as he reverently carried the gun back to the corner.
The good woman kissed each lad on the forehead. When she thus saluted Mike, who was the last, she placed her thin hand on his head, and said with infinite tenderness:
“I thank you for what you did to-night.”
“I beg ye don’t mintion it——”
Mike stopped abruptly, and pretending to see something interesting in the old rifle, hurried across the room to examine it more closely.
“Good night and pleasant dreams,”called the lady as she passed out, noiselessly closing the door behind her.
It having been agreed that Mike should use the cot, the three prepared for retiring, the mind of each full of the experience of the evening. Both Alvin and Chester wished to speak of the extraordinary voice of Mike, but neither did, for they knew he would prefer they should not. He could not help knowing how greatly he had been favored by nature, and disliked any reminder.
The wick of the lamp was turned down and blown out by Alvin, after glancing around and noting that his companions were ready. Through the raised window, opening over a broad alley, the cool wind stole. It so came about that for several days and nights, including the one of which I am now speaking, the leading cities of the country, embracing even Boston, were suffering from one of the most intense heat waves that ever swept like a furnace blast over most of the States in the Union. But in favored southern Maine it was ideally cool. You could stand a thin coveringat night, or you could cast it aside. You were equally comfortable in either situation.
Our young friends ought to have sunk into a sound sleep within a few minutes after lying down, but they did not. Something was on their minds, and the singular fact of it was that the thoughts of each were identically the same, though as yet not a hint had been dropped by anyone.
It was Mike who abruptly spoke:
“I say, Captain, are ye aslaap?”
“I ought to be, but I was never wider awake.”
“How about the second mate?”
“The same here,” was the reply from that individual.
“I wish to obsarve that I’m engaged just now in thinking, byes.”
“Thinking of what?” asked Alvin.
“’Spose them post office robbers should pay this place a visit.”
“What in the world put that in your head?”
“Didn’t the same thought come to ye, Captain?”
“I must admit it did.”
“And how is it with the second mate?”
“It has troubled me, too, Mike.”
“But I can see no real cause for misgiving,” added Alvin.
“We know theWater Witchis somewhere in the neighborhood,” remarked Chester, to which his chum replied:
“What could attract them to a small office like this? They hunt for bigger game.”
“There’s a good lot of money in the safe downstairs,” said Mike. “’Twas mesilf that obsarved one of the leddy’s callers gave her twinty-five hundred dollars, which she put away. Where could the spalpeens make a bigger haul?”
“But how should they know about it? They didn’t see it done,” said Alvin.
“Hist, now! From what me eyes told me, the same being anither chap called and would have lift more, had he not been afeard of me eagle eye that was on him.”
“What of that?”
“Doesn’t it show that it’s the practice in Beartown wid some of them as has lotsof money to lave the same wid the leddy? Thim chaps are prying round and it would be aisy fur ’em to larn the fact.”
“We should have seen something of them if they were in this village.”
Alvin felt the weakness of this statement, for such unwelcome visitors would be too shrewd to expose themselves to discovery when it was possible to avoid it. All three might have been in Beartown for hours without drawing attention to themselves and without giving Mike, during his earlier visit, a glimpse of them.
Speculating in this manner, Alvin and Mike came to the belief, or rather hope, that their good friend was in no danger of a burglarious visit. Chester would not be convinced, but expressed the hope that they were right.
“I shall make bold to remind Mrs. Friestone in the morning of the risk she runs and advise her to cease accepting any outside deposits.”
Chester was the last to fall asleep. It was a long time before he sank into slumber, but by and by he glided into the realmof dreams. He had no means of knowing how long he lay unconscious, when he gradually became aware of a peculiar tapping somewhere near. A moment’s listening told him that someone was knocking on the door.