Part 12

As the man said, "Yah! ha!" equally loud to every question, Joshua thought no harm could come from that quarter, and proceeded to open the blinds of the kitchen windows and make such preparations as he could for protecting the audience from the cold.

By half-past nine the kitchen, sitting room, north parlours, all bare of furniture, and the stairs were packed with standing people, and when, at a few minutes before ten, the auctioneer and the Northboro lawyer, Mr. Cole, who had made Aunt Jimmy's will, appeared together, they had to push their way into the house.

Mrs. Slocum had been on hand early, of course,--she always was,--and kept dropping mysterious remarks and pursing up her lips. She began by cheapening the entire place, saying the house was not in as good repair as she had been led to think, that the wall papers were frights, and that everything needed paint, that four thousand dollars would be a high price for the property, and she didn't know who'd buy it anyway. Then the next minute she was requesting those about her not to crowd up the stairs, as they might bend the hand rail, which would be just so much out of the pocket of whoever bought the house, adding that red Brussels carpet was her choice for the north room.

To the surprise of all, the two out-of-town Lane brothers, Jason and Henry, were not there. The "all in due time" policy that had always, and would always, keep Henry poor, caused them to start for the auction so late that the delay on the road caused by a broken trace detained them until nearly eleven, when they turned about and went home again so as not to be late for dinner.

After reading the description of the property and the cash terms of the sale, Joel Hill stood up on a soap-box that he might overlook the assembly and called out, "What am I bid, to start?"

There was complete silence for a few moments. Then the door opened, and Mr. Brotherton, one of Mr. Clarke's agents from Northboro, entered, causing a flutter of speculation as to what his presence might mean and making Mrs. Lane's heart thump painfully. Dr. Jedd and his wife, the minister and his lady, together with Mrs. Lane, who were occupying a bench that had been brought from the barn, and were the only people seated, looked at the stove in front of them, so that those who expected a bid from that quarter were disappointed.

Joshua Lane, hands behind him, leaned against the chimney front and gazed steadily at a wire that held the stove-pipe in place.

"What am I bid, to start?" repeated the auctioneer. Abiram Slocum, scanning the various groups with his ferret eyes, moved uneasily, moistened his lips, and, as his wife gave him a prod with her umbrella that exactly hit the "funny bone" of his elbow, jerked out, "Five hundred dollars."

"One thousand," said a clear, distinct, but unfamiliar, voice at the back of the room. There was a unanimous turning of heads and twisting of bodies toward the bidder, who proved to be Mr. Cole the lawyer from Northboro, who made a very impressive appearance, clad as he was in a handsome fur-lined overcoat and a shiny silk hat. As he was also often employed by Mr. Clarke, the mystery deepened.

Abiram Slocum gasped as if some one had poured a pail of water over him at this unexpected competitor, and then called, "One thousand two hundred and fifty."

"Two thousand," from the lawyer.

"Two thousand and fifty," shrieked Abiram.

"Why waste time with small change a cold morning like this?" called the auctioneer.

"Three thousand," said the lawyer.

"Three thousand three hundred," snapped Abiram, vainly endeavouring to get out of range of the faces and gestures his wife was making at him.

"Four thousand five hundred," jumped the lawyer, beginning to button his coat and draw on his gloves, as if the end were well in sight.

Abiram Slocum seemed bewildered, and glancing at his wife, failed to read her signal aright, and resorted to a hoarse whispering in the middle of which she shook him off and shouted with an air of triumph, "Five thousand dollars!"

Mrs. Lane was seen to moisten her lips nervously, and the colour in her cheeks deepened, but then by this time the wood-stove was sending forth red-hot air as only a sheet-iron stove working full blast knows how.

"Five thousand two hundred and fifty," bid the lawyer. Then followed an altercation between Mr. and Mrs. Slocum. Vainly the auctioneer rapped; they paid no attention, and upon the lawyer saying that any further delay would cause a withdrawal of his bid, the final "Going, going, gone, at five thousand two hundred and fifty dollars" was called, and it was not until fully twenty seconds after the final bang of the hammer that the Slocums came to, and Abiram fairly yelled, "Six--thousand--dollars!"

Of course it was too late, and the fault was nobody's but his own. He tried to protest and was actually hissed down, Laurelville folk preferring to see the property go anywhere so long as Mrs. Slocum was not mistress of the fruit farm.

"Name of buyer?" asked the auctioneer; "self or client?"

"Client," said the lawyer, slowly adjusting his eyeglasses and glancing at a slip of paper, while dead silence again prevailed, and the Slocums glared forked lightning at each other and the world in general.

"The purchase is made by Lauretta Ann Lane, as guardian for her son, Samuel Lane, and she is prepared to deposit the price in cash, pending searching of the title and transfer of deed."

There was a shuffle as the people, released from the strain, shifted from one numb foot to the other, and then cheers broke out, for above curiosity and all other feeling was one of joy that their kind, hard-working neighbour had in some mysterious way received what they firmly believed to be her due.

When the applause had subsided and the general handshaking ceased, Lauretta Ann Lane pulled a large new wallet from some mysterious place in her dress, and counting out eleven clean five-hundred-dollar bills held them toward the auctioneer, saying, "I'll trouble you for the change, please," adding in a low yet perfectly distinct voice to an irate figure who was elbowing her way out, and meeting many obstacles in so doing, "That change 'll come in right handy for new papers, paint, and furnishings that you said was needful, and I think a red Brussels carpet _would_ liven up that north room wonderful. That same was your choice, waren't it, Mis'is Slocum?"

How it all came about the village never discovered; for whatever the lawyer knew or _thought_, he kept it to himself and said the opposite, which is, of course, what lawyers are for.

Dr. Jedd was the only one who suspected in the right direction; for soon after the Lanes had moved into their new home, and curiosity had subsided, he was looking on the parlour mantel-shelf for the matches, and discovered the chopped remains of the pewter tea-pot reposing in a handsome china jar that was bought in New York. But Dr. Jedd only chuckled as the whole thing flashed across him, and he said to himself, "Surely enough, man proposes and woman disposes, and there's a various lot of human nature in woman, especially Aunt Jimmy, who was a blessed, good, spunky, old fool."

One final sensation was given the neighbourhood when it was found that, after the payment of the legacies and other charges against the estate, there was enough surplus to give the three Lane brothers over three thousand dollars each, legal allotment.

XIII

TELLTALE TROUSERS

As Mrs. Lane was hurrying home from the auction, that Lammy need not be kept in suspense a moment longer than was necessary, she bumped into Abiram Slocum, who was trudging moodily along the road. His wife had left the house first, and in her anger appropriated the cutter and gone home, leaving him to walk.

Mrs. Lane intended to go by without speaking, and merely gave a civil nod, but he would not allow it; his ugly mood must find vent in words, and as she passed he squared about, saying:--

"You've no cause to feel so hoity toity if yer _hev_ got the fruit farm; _there's underhand business been goin' on here in Laurelville, if the light o' truth was let in_. Moreover, it's time that husband o' yourn as Minstrator of that Irish O'More's debts should pay me the rent due; the fact of the furniture being burned don't release him a copper cent's worth, as he well knows. Tell him from me he'd best come down and settle up; ter-morrow I reckon to be at the tax office all forenoon, or"--with an evil sneer--"mebbe, as you seem to hold the purse, you'd like to pay the debt out of charity to the girl you bragged o' being fond of, to save her the name of pauper."

Mrs. Lane grew hot and cold by turns, and a torrent of words rose to her lips, but the thought of Lammy waiting so patiently checked her in time, and she merely said, "Yes, Abiram Slocum, you'll hear from us to-morrer."

As she reached the home gate, she saw Dinah Lucky, who was stationed at the window to give the first word of her return, and at the same time a wild-looking tawny head and a pair of big questioning gray eyes appeared above her fat shoulder, as Lammy steadied himself by the window-frame. Quick as a flash she pulled off her red knitted shawl and waved it joyfully, so that Lammy knew at least two minutes before she could have reached his room to tell him.

Once upstairs, she was obliged to begin at the beginning and tell him the story of the morning in every detail, holding his hand the while as if to convince him that she was real and what she told the plain truth.

Presently Dinah slipped downstairs, saying she would get the dinner and bring them both some upstairs, for she was sure "Missy Lane" must be clear tuckered out.

And so she was, though she had not realized it until that moment and sinking back in the homemade arm-chair, she closed her eyes in a state of perfect peace, and must have dozed, for she awoke with a start to hear Lammy say, "This sort of makes up for the Thanksgiving dinner I missed," and there upon the various chairs and the bedstand Dinah had spread a dinner tempting as only a coloured "born cook" knows how to make it, while the clashing of knives and forks below told her that Joshua and the boys were provided for (they had all staid at home from the shop to attend the auction) and that this afternoon at least was her own.

After dinner Lammy lay for a long time, looking at the wood fire flickering through the open front of the stove, planning how they would fix Aunt Jimmy's--or rather _his_--house, as his mother called it, and when they would move. Of course, Lammy wished to go at once--even a week seemed a long delay. Mrs. Lane hesitated, for she had thoughts of waiting until spring; yet, on the other hand, she could not well leave the house empty or travel up and down to tend the chickens. Aunt Jimmy's house was by far the easier to heat, and now as they must keep a hired man permanently, he could be put into their present house and everything settle down for a comfortable winter of work, rest, and planning, so she said, much to Lammy's joy, that she thought they could be in by Christmas and then make the improvements at their leisure.

"Yes, we can wait to paper the rooms--that is, all except Bird's," he added. "I'd like to have hers fixed up for her when she comes, white and a paper with wild roses--that's what she likes, and she made a pattern for one once and was going to send it to the wall-paper man when her father finished the red piney pattern, only he never did." And Lammy told his mother of Bird's hopes about her work, ending by taking the string that held the key from about his neck and saying:--

"Please unlock my lower drawer and give me Bird's bundle that her uncle would not let her take with her; if I can't see her, I can look at her things. I know she wouldn't mind, because I went back in through the cellar with her that last day and tied them up; only I didn't do it very well because there was no good paper and string. I'd like to fix them better and put up the paint-box by itself," he said, fumbling with the knots, as his mother, much interested, took a fresh sheet of paper from the press closet behind the bed.

As she reseated herself, the string broke, and the contents of the hastily made bundle were scattered about the bed. Lammy picked up the water-colour drawings carefully, one by one, and smoothed them out with the greatest care. There were a couple of dozen of them, besides those of the wild roses and the peony design, which Mrs. Lane at once recognized from its spirit, even though it was unfinished.

Suddenly Lammy cried out in delight, for there before him was a pen-and-ink sketch of Bird herself, much younger and happier than when he had last seen her, but still his little friend to the life.

"Oh, mother," he said, as soon as he had feasted his eyes on it, "do you think there could be any harm in putting this up on the mantel-shelf where I could look at it--just for a few days until we go to get Bird back?" And of course his mother assured him that there could be no possible harm. Then, completely satisfied, he laid the sheets of drawing-paper together again and prepared to make them into a neat, flat package.

"You've dropped this out," said his mother, reaching across the bed to pick up something that had slid down between the coverlid and the wall, and laid what seemed to be a letter in a long, heavy, brown manila envelope tied with pink tape in front of Lammy.

"I don't know what that is," he said, looking it over; "it must have been between the pictures when we pulled them out of her father's box, because those were all I saw when I made the bundle up. See, there's writing on this side," and holding it up to the light, for the winter twilight was setting in, he read slowly:--

"'Papers concerning the Turner Mill Farm Property,--to be recorded.' I wonder what that means."

Mrs. Lane's eyes fairly bulged, and great drops of sweat stood on her forehead as she answered: "Means? It means, Lammy Lane, that the Lord don't forget the orphan, and if Bird O'More _is_ in New York, he's lookin' after her business right here in Laurelville.

"The meaning of that letter is what Abiram Slocum burnt up his cross-road house to conceal, which he wouldn't hev done if it was of no account." And Mrs. Lane poured out her suspicions and ideas concerning the matter.

* * * * *

At the supper-table that night Mrs. Lane repeated Abiram Slocum's message to her husband, and he, rubbing his chin with a troubled air, replied, "Truth be told, Lauretta Ann, owin' to the burnin' of that furniture there isn't a cent left to pay that claim, and I do hate to have poor O'More held up as an insolvent around here for sixty dollars, 'count o' Bird. He was a good-natured, harmless sort o' feller, enjoyin' of himself as he went, very much like I'd be if you hadn't taken up with me, Mis'is Lane."

At this compliment Mrs. Lane blushed like a girl and murmured something about all men bein' the better for women's handling, provided it was the right woman, which Mis'is Slocum wasn't.

"Now as far as that sixty dollars goes, if it wasn't owed to 'Biram Slocum, I'd undertake ter pay it myself, so as to get the receipt and settle everything square up and clean billed, but, by jinks, it sticks me to pay that low-down swindler."

"Joshua Lane!" cried his wife, in a tragic tone, standing up and pointing her pudgy finger at him with such a jerk that it made him start as if it had been a bayonet, while she used the most grandiloquent language she could muster: "The estate of the late lamented Terence O'More does not owe Abiram Slocum a bent penny, and as to the receipt for the same, I'll hand it to you this time to-morrow night, leastwise if it doesn't blow a blizzard 'twixt now and then, or Mis'is Slocum turn 'Biram into pickled peppers by the sight of the face she wore home from the auction."

"Come now, Lauretta Ann," wheedled Joshua, "you ain't minded of paying it, be ye? I'd think twice--that I would."

"Pay!" snorted Lauretta. "Don't I tell you there's nothin' owed?"

"You're talkin' an' actin' enigmas and charades. Not thet it's anything new, but if I was you, I'd be mighty keerful how I baited 'Biram Slocum; he is too cute for most men, and he would take to the law for a heedless word jest now, he's that riled about the wardrobe story leakin' out and losing the fruit farm."

"That's all right, and don't you fret, Joshua; if there is any law called in, it'll be by me." And pump and quiz as he might, not another word could he extract from his wife upon the subject.

* * * * *

Early the next morning Mrs. Lane harnessed the "colt," which, though ten years old, still bore his youthful name, to the cutter, and after putting her egg-basket deep under the robe and depositing her satchel on top of it, turned up the hill road toward Northboro, waving her whip good-by to Lammy, who, seated in the big chair in his window, smiled at her, with his finger pressed to his lips, as if cautioning silence.

As the sleigh bells jingled and the "colt" loped easily along, Mrs. Lane leaned back as if the motion and jolly sound expressed her own feelings admirably, and the miles flew swiftly by.

When Northboro was reached, she drove to the stable where she always left her horse in unseasonable weather, but instead of carrying the familiar egg-basket into town, she stowed it away under the sleigh seat, and hanging her satchel securely on her arm, drew on her best gloves that she had brought in her pocket, and started up the main street at a vigorous trot. Coming to a gray stone building next the court-house, where many lawyers had offices, she read the various signs anxiously, and then spying that of Mr. Cole, opened the swinging outside door and climbed the two flights of stairs that led to it.

Mr. Cole greeted her pleasantly, for he had a very kindly feeling toward this generous-hearted woman; but when he heard her story and saw the legal-looking envelope, he became doubly interested. Untying the tape, he read the various papers through, one after the other, while Mrs. Lane watched his eagerness with evident satisfaction. When he had finished, he replaced the papers and tied them up deliberately before he said: "These papers appear to me to be of great importance to O'More's daughter, though exactly what they amount to I cannot tell until I see the dates of certain mortgages and transfers on record in Milltown. Fortunately the attorney, Mr. King, who drew up the papers before he went to California four years ago, has returned on a visit, and I am to meet him in court this afternoon."

"I suppose you know Bird hasn't anything to pay what Joshua says they call the retainment fee, but if a little money 'll help her get her rights, you may hold me good for it."

"That will not be necessary," said the lawyer, smiling, "for my client, Mr. Clarke, is as anxious to have the title to the Mill Farm cleared as you are, so in serving him I may be able to aid Bird. Slocum, the present owner, seems a slippery man at best. You know that the insurance company, for which I also happen to be the agent, withholds his claim because he gave the date of June 9 for his fire when it took place the 10th."

At this Mrs. Lane's eyes grew steelly bright, and she moistened her lips nervously. Then Mr. Cole put the papers in his safe and closed the door with its mysterious lock, and Mrs. Lane breathed a sigh of relief and, asking him to write as soon as he had news, either good or bad, went carefully down the shallow marble stairs of the office building, for elevators she would have none of.

Once more in the street, she spied a bakery and, going in, ordered a cup of coffee and half a custard pie, which she ate with relish and then returned to the stable for the "colt" without doing any of her usual market-day trading.

It was only half-past eleven when Mrs. Lane, coming down the hill road, saw Laurelville lying before her in the valley, and five minutes later when she hitched the colt in front of the town-house, throwing the coon lap-robe over him in addition to his blanket.

The selectmen had been in consultation, and were now standing outside, making holes in the snow with their boot toes and finding it difficult to break away, after the usual manner of rural communities. Mrs. Lane nodded pleasantly and asked if every one else had gone home to dinner.

"Mostly," replied First Selectman Penfield, "but Judge Ricker's in his office, I reckon, and Slocum, he's in the end room as 'cessor, waitin' for folks to swear their taxes, for which they appear to be in no hurry."

This was exactly the information Mrs. Lane wanted, and she walked directly down the corridor, this time firmly grasping the egg-basket and leaving the satchel outside.

Opening the door without knocking, she had entered, closed it, and seated herself opposite Abiram Slocum before he was aware of her presence, and do what he could, he was not able to control the slight start that her appearance gave him.

"Morning, marm," he said formally, putting his thumbs in the armholes of his vest and puffing out his cheeks with importance; "want to swear your taxes?"

"Not to-day; Joshua always attends to that. I've jest dropped in ter get that receipt for the O'More rent, as Joshua intends settling the matter up with Judge Ricker this afternoon."

"Very glad to hear it, Mrs. Joshua Lane; it saves me lots of trouble, and I hate to go to law unless required." And he drew a blank form from a desk, which he filled in, signed, and was about to hand across the table, when he suddenly withdrew it, saying, "Well, where are the sixty dollars?"

"They was paid you June the 10th."

"What!" shouted Abiram, really believing the woman to be crazy, and retreating behind the table.

"Just so; by that I mean all that good furniture you set fire to along with your house."

Slocum turned ghastly white and almost staggered, but quickly recovering himself, he sprang forward furiously, and for a moment Mrs. Lane thought he was going to strike her, but glancing out the window she saw that Selectman Penfield was below, and this reassured her.

"I'll have you arrested for slander as sure as my name's Abiram Slocum," he gasped, trying to get out the door in front of which she stood.

"I wouldn't be too hasty; if you wait, you will hear more to get up that slander claim on, mostlike. Jest you go back and set down while I have my say, and if you want witnesses to it, Judge Ricker will step in, I'm sure, or Mr. Penfield either; they are both real handy. As you said yesterday, _there's underhand business been goin' on in town if the light o' truth could be let in_, which I'm now doin'."

So Abiram hesitated, and sank back into the chair, casting an uneasy look at his visitor, who proceeded to state her case both rapidly and clearly.

"'Twas Friday, the 10th of June, you fired that house, though you did give into the insurance company 'twas the 9th." (Here again Slocum jumped, and his hands worked nervously.)

"The 10th was circus day, and most all the town had gone to Northboro. Likewise Lockwood's field-hands went, and so there were no men folks working up beyond four corners; this gave you a clear coast.

"You started for the circus with Mis'is Slocum and 'Ram; you turned back, giving it out you'd got important business at the Mill Farm. But you didn't go, and turned up before noon at the turnpike store, where you never trade. There you bought a new gallon can of kerosene, saying you was going up to the north lots to make a wash of it fer tent-worms in the apple trees. Now there ain't even a wild crab tree in the north lots--only corn-fields.