CHAPTER XVII.

CAMP MEETING.

When the train drew up at the station, Jack was relieved at seeing his tormentors take their places in a car far ahead of the one he and Aunt Nancy occupied.

He anticipated no slight amount of enjoyment from this ride behind the iron horse, and it would be sadly marred if he was forced to listen to such remarks as Bill Dean and his friends would probably make.

Aunt Nancy sat by the window with Louis in her arms, and Jack took the seat beside her, watching everything around with the most intense interest, for it was the first time he had ever journeyed so far on the cars.

The little woman would have spent considerable of the money received from the sale of the wheat in buying for her crippled escort such articles as the newsboy brought, in the hope of tempting customers; but for the fact that Jack prevented her by whispering more than once,--

"You've paid enough for me already in buyin' the railroad ticket, an' you must save some to get things for the summer boarders."

"Bless you, child, I ought to be able to take a little pleasure now and then without thinking constantly of how many pennies there are in a dollar."

"But this time, Aunt Nancy, you are not using it for yourself. If you want any of the stuff, why, it's only right you should have it, but don't buy anything for me."

Then the little woman whispered as she laid her hand affectionately on his shoulder,--

"It's a comfort to have you around, Jack dear, for you are always thinking of others and never of yourself."

"A crooked feller like me don't need as much as other folks, an' I'm sure I get more'n I deserve."

"That could never be, my child," Aunt Nancy replied; and Jack fancied she wiped a tear from her eye, but it might have been nothing more than a cinder.

Judging from Louis's expressions of delight, he would have been pleased had the journey continued all day, and even Jack was a trifle disappointed because the tenting grounds were reached so soon.

The place at which they disembarked was not a village, but only a grove of pine-trees bordering the ocean, with a broad strip of shimmering white sand between the foliage and the water.

It was a little settlement of canvas houses among the pines, the gleaming white showing vividly amid the sober green, and the dusty paths here and there resembling yellow ribbons laid on to complete the harmony of color.

Jack would have remained a long while silent and motionless gazing in delight at the scene before him, now and then raising his eyes to view the heaving emerald bosom of the sea beyond, but that Aunt Nancy was impatient to "settle down" before the morning services should begin.

"It looks pretty, I know, Jack dear, but we mustn't stand dawdling here, because there is considerable work for us to do. I'll carry the baby, and you see what can be done with the bundles."

The two were literally laden to the utmost of their strength, as they stepped from the railway platform.

Such generous supplies had the little woman brought for their bodily comfort that quite an amount of the belongings would have been left behind but for Deacon Downs, who kindly offered to take charge of the remainder of the goods.

In order to find Mr. Chick's tent it was only necessary to follow the party with whom they had travelled, and in a few moments the little woman was arranging her provisions in one corner of the huge tent which had been reserved for her use.

Jack hovered around helplessly.

He wanted to do something toward aiding Aunt Nancy, but camp life was so new to him he could do nothing more than watch her bird-like movements.

After pinning a towel around Louis's neck to avoid the possibility of soiling his white frock, the little woman gave him a small slice of bread and butter, offering some to Jack, but the latter was not hungry.

"If you don't care, I'd rather go down to the beach a little while."

"You shall do that later, Jack dear, but the morning services will commence very soon, and I want you with me then."

"Will it be a reg'lar meetin' where people preach an' pray like they do in a church?"

"Certainly, my child; and this is a church, for don't you remember it is said 'the groves were God's first temples'?"

Jack didn't remember anything of the kind, for his education had been so sadly neglected he could not read any but the smallest words, therefore made no answer, and as soon as Louis had satisfied his hunger the three went to the cleared space where the services were to be held.

Jack watched everything around him with intense interest, and, it must also be said, to such a degree that he failed to hear a single word spoken by the preacher.

Aunt Nancy sat with a look of devotion on her face, which to Jack was very beautiful.

After a time the boy saw the tears rolling down her cheeks, and listened to the words from the pulpit in order to learn what had caused such apparent sorrow.

The clergyman was speaking of those who keep the word, but not the spirit of God's laws, and he failed to find in the teaching anything which could distress the little woman.

When the sermon was concluded and the three were walking slowly through the grove, he understood better.

"It seemed as if the minister was talking directly to me, Jack dear," she said with quivering lips.

"I didn't hear him say anything that sounded like it, Aunt Nancy, an' I listened a good deal of the time."

"It was the passage about obeying the word but not the spirit which applied to my case. You see I didn't _speak_ a lie to Mr. Pratt, and might try to comfort myself with the idea I had not disobeyed the commandment; but the meaning of it is, I shouldn't deceive in the slightest manner."

"I wish we hadn't come here if you're goin' to think of that thing again."

"Again, Jack dear? Do you fancy it has ever been out of my mind?"

"I thought you'd kinder got over it."

"But I hadn't, and perhaps I was led to come here that I might realize even more fully what I have done."

"There isn't any need of that, Aunt Nancy"; and Jack began to look distressed. "Please put it out of your thoughts for a while, an' we'll go down on the beach."

"I can't, my child. You shall stroll around an hour, after which you must come back to the tent for dinner."

Jack hardly thought he ought to leave the little woman while she was feeling badly, but she insisted on his doing so, and he walked slowly away saying to himself,--

"I never knew religion hurt anybody; but I think Aunt Nancy has too much of it if she's goin' to fuss so over Farmer Pratt. It won't do to let her feel as she does, an' the whole amount of the story is I'll have to leave Louis here while I take the chances of gettin' into the poorhouse by explainin' things to him."

So deeply engrossed was he in his thoughts that no attention was paid to anything around until he was brought to a standstill by hearing a disagreeably familiar voice cry,--

"Hold on, Hunchie, we want to know where you left the old maid!"

Jack had halted involuntarily, and now would have moved on again in the hope of escaping from Master Dean and his friends, but they barred his way by closing in upon him.

There was a large crowd on the grounds surging to and fro, therefore the three boys had little difficulty in forcing Jack to move in this direction or that as they chose, by pretending the press was so great they could not prevent themselves from being pushed against him.

"We're goin' down for a swim," Bill Dean said as he linked his arm in the hunchback's, "an' it'll just about break our hearts if you can't come with us."

"I don't want to do anything of the kind. You know very well a crooked feller like me couldn't swim, no matter how hard he tried."

"We'll show you how, so don't be frightened"; and Bill motioned for Sam and Jip to force the intended victim along in the desired direction.

Jack knew perfectly well he could not struggle successfully against his tormentors, but at the same time he did not intend allowing them to take him away from the throng where he might find assistance if necessary.

"I don't want to go with you, and shall ask some of these people to help me if you don't go away."

"Then you'd only be makin' it all the hotter for yourself, 'cause we count on stayin' here the whole week, an' you can't be tied to the old maid's apron strings every minute of the time."

"I'll take my chances of that, so keep off or I'll make a disturbance."

Bill had good reason to believe the cripple would carry this threat into execution, and, not wishing to come in direct contact with the guardians of the peace, concluded to bring their sport to a close.

"Of course if you don't feel like comin' nobody's goin' to make you, so we'll say good by."

As he spoke he gave a quick twist of his foot in front of Jack, at the same instant Jip pushed from behind, and the result was the cripple fell forward on his face, in the gravel and sand.

The three boys were off like a flash, and as Jack rose to his feet after some effort, with dusty clothes and a bleeding face, his heart was filled with anger.

"If I was only strong enough I'd soon show them fellers what it is to pick on a fellow they thought couldn't help himself!"

He had hardly said these words when a man brushed past him with the air of one who feels he has a right to considerably more than half the road, and looking up quickly Jack saw Farmer Pratt.

For an instant he thought the man was pursuing him, and would have taken refuge in flight, had not the idea occurred to his mind that Mr. Pratt had come to camp meeting for the same purpose as Aunt Nancy.

"I'm foolish to think he's still chasin' after me," he said to himself, "though I s'pose he would take Louis an' me with him if he saw us."

Without knowing why he did it, Jack followed a short distance behind the farmer, as if it was necessary to retain him constantly in sight, and while doing so thought of Aunt Nancy's distress concerning the alleged lie.

Now surely would be a good time to sacrifice his own comfort in order to ease her mind by taking upon his shoulders the blame, and he ran forward intending, for an instant, to speak with the gentleman.

Then it occurred to him that it would be proper to consult the little woman first, and he turned back only to doubt again.

It might distress Aunt Nancy yet more to know the farmer was on the grounds, and Jack wished he knew of some one who could give him the proper advice.

Deacon Downs was the only person he could think of, and yet he ought not to tell him of what Aunt Nancy had done.

"I've got to settle this thing myself," he said as he turned resolutely in the direction of the tent, "and the next thing to do is to talk with Aunt Nancy herself. She knows more goodness than all these people put together."

His mind once made up, he was eager to reach the tent, and ran at full speed, arriving just as Deacon Downs summoned the occupants of this particular dwelling to dinner.

The little woman was acting as cook, a post of duty to which she had been elected each year because the remainder of the party knew she would perform the arduous labors without complaint.

To speak with her now would be to attract the attention of all, and Jack believed he should wait until a more convenient season.

Therefore he seated himself at the rough table around which all the others, save Aunt Nancy, were gathered, and tried unsuccessfully to appear as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Jack's face told of some trouble, however, and when the deacon had refreshed himself with a large cup of Aunt Nancy's Mocha, he asked in a severe tone,--

"Master Dudley, is it possible that after living with as good a woman as Sister Curtis, you allow your passions to tempt you into fighting? Don't you remember what Dr. Watts says about letting 'dogs delight to bark and bite, for 'tis their nature,' et cetera?"

Perhaps Jack might have understood the deacon's question, had it not been for the last word.

What an "et cetera" was he hadn't the slightest idea, and instead of replying sat staring stupidly at his plate until Aunt Nancy came forward and asked,--

"What is it about Jack? Has he been doing anything out of the way?"

"By the appearance of his face I should say he had. It is strange boys will fight in such a place as this!"

"Why, what _has_ happened to you, Jack dear?" the little woman asked anxiously as she lifted the boy's head by placing her hand under his chin.

Jack said nothing, and Aunt Nancy asked, as the crimson spots appeared on her cheeks,--

"Has William Dean been troubling you again?"

"I had rather tell you some other time," Jack replied in a whisper, as he slipped down from his seat at the table and went toward the scene of the little woman's culinary operations.

She followed him at once, and the good but rather inquisitive deacon craned his neck in vain to hear what passed between the two.

"It was Bill Dean; but don't say anything about it now, for I've just seen Farmer Pratt," Jack said in a low tone; and as Aunt Nancy started in surprise, a cry of distress came from Deacon Downs's lips.

At the moment Jack spoke, the little woman was in the act of removing the coffee pot from the stove, for fear its contents should boil over, when it fell to the ground.

Neither Aunt Nancy nor the hunchback paid any attention to this catastrophe; but the deacon was so angry he even threatened that Jack should not be allowed near the tent again.

It is doubtful if his words were heard by the two who were in such distress of mind.

Aunt Nancy led Jack to the rear of the tent, and there, where no one could overhear, he told the whole story, concluding by saying,--

"You have felt so bad I had a great mind to go right up an' tell him how it happened you acted a lie."

"But, Jack dear, then he might drag you off to the poor farm."

"I had rather do that than have you feel as you do about it. Louis could stay here, an' I wouldn't tell him where you were, no matter how hard he might try to make me."

"I should go to him myself and confess all," the little woman said after a pause.

"Then the chances are he'd get hold of both Louis an' me. If it is to be done, I oughter do it."

"I declare I don't know what is best"; and Aunt Nancy stood with clasped hands as if expecting Jack would advise. "It is only right I should atone in some way for that which I did; but the flesh is indeed weak when it comes to parting with either of you."

"Perhaps there might be some way for me to get clear, an' you'd feel so much better that I'd be contented to stay almost anywhere."

The little woman made no reply; she remained silent so long Jack began to be afraid she was ill, and as he stood watching her, the notes of a song of praise to the Maker rose high above the deacon's querulous tones, while mingling with it was the murmur of the surf as it rolled up on the beach, the whole forming a sort of melody which was soothing to the little hunchback.