CHAPTER XIX.

JACK'S PROPOSITION.

Jack called at Mr. Chick's house, saw that gentleman and got his promise to bury old crumple-horn at once, after which he continued on past Bill Dean's home, fearing no trouble from him since he was yet at the camp grounds.

On arriving at the store he found Mr. Treat alone, and was greeted with the question,--

"Hello! Here's Aunt Nancy's young man! How's the old lady after her trip to the grove?"

"She is well, but tired."

"I'll warrant that. When folks want to go off for a good time they invite Nancy Curtis, reckonin' she'll do whatever work there is without grumblin', an' they ain't far out of the way, either. Did the deacon get his full share of that Mocha she bought?"

"I don't know, sir; but I guess so, I didn't hear him findin' fault."

"Then you can count on his havin' been filled up; _he_ don't buy very much of that kind of coffee when it's him as has to foot the bills."

Jack had no interest in this subject, and changed it abruptly by saying,--

"Aunt Nancy's cow died this mornin'."

"Sho! How'd that happen?"

"Mr. Chick thought it must be old age."

"Well I reckon it was. That cow has been in the family quite a spell."

"It'll be hard on Aunt Nancy not to have the milk."

"I 'low you're 'bout right, sonny; it helped make up a good bit of the old woman's livin', an' she hasn't so much money but that a dollar makes a big difference."

"That's true, an' I've come to see if I can't help her out in some way."

"You?" and Mr. Treat looked up in surprise. "Why, I thought you hadn't any great amount of cash on hand."

"And I haven't; but I thought perhaps I might make a trade with you."

"Want to have a dicker of some kind, eh? Well, what have you got to show up?" and Mr. Treat selected from a pile of pine wood a convenient stick to whittle, as he assumed a more comfortable attitude preparatory to indulging in his favorite pastime of "dickering."

"I haven't got anything, sir; but thought there might be work I could do around here till I'd earned enough to buy Aunt Nancy another cow."

Jack stammered and hesitated until it was a positive pleasure both to himself and the storekeeper when the speech was finally ended.

"What can you do?" Mr. Treat asked thoughtfully as he fashioned with infinite care the bit of wood into a toothpick.

"Almost anything, sir. I'd be willin' to work very hard if I could get the job."

"Have you got any idea what the jobs 'round here might be?"

"It don't make any difference; I'm not afraid of bucklin' down to them."

"How much do you count on earnin'?"

"I want to get enough to buy a cow for Aunt Nancy."

"Do you know what one is worth?"

"No, sir."

Mr. Treat was silent for a moment as if revolving some very weighty matter in his mind, and said slowly,--

"I've got jest sich a cow as would suit Aunt Nancy; she's a good one, an' I wouldn't like to part with her for nothin'. Now, if you'd do the chores 'round here this summer, an' she would put in some of the money I owe for the wheat, we might strike a trade."

"But I don't want her to pay anything."

"Thought you could do it all yourself, eh?"

"I hoped so," Jack replied in a tone of disappointment.

"Why, I don't reckon you'd earn it in a year. I'd want forty dollars at the very lowest figger for my cow, an' it would take a mighty smart boy to git that much in twelve months."

Jack could no longer conceal his feelings, and, seeing he was pained because of the failure of his plans, Mr. Treat continued in what he intended should be a soothing tone,--

"I'd be willin' to allow you twenty dollars for a summer's work previdin' you'd board yourself at Aunt Nancy's. Then she'd only be called on to pay as much more, an' have twice as good a cow as the one that's dead."

"How long do you say the summer should last?"

"Well, I wouldn't be hard on you, an' we'd call it quits by the middle of November."

"How much of that time would it be necessary for me to stay in the store?"

"From five o'clock in the mornin' till nine at night, the same as is expected of other boys."

It was the last blow to Jack's hopes. His duty to Louis would prevent him from remaining in this section of the country such a length of time, and it was essential he should assist Aunt Nancy in order to pay her for the food he and Louis consumed.

"Well, what do you think of it?" Mr. Treat asked, as the boy stood irresolutely for a moment.

"I couldn't because I can't stay here as long as that, and, besides, I must do something for Aunt Nancy to earn our board."

"That's right, my boy. There's no harm done because we didn't make a trade; but it shows I'm willin' to help along all I can in a case like this."

"I'm much obliged to you," Jack replied faintly, and then he started up the road once more, walking decidedly faster than when he came.

He had counted on being able to ease the sorrow in Aunt Nancy's mind by buying for her a cow as good as the one she had lost.

He was revolving in his mind half a dozen plans by which the desired result might be attained, when a voice from the opposite side of the road caused him to halt.

"How's Aunt Nancy by this time?"

It was Mr. Souders who spoke, and because that gentleman had been so kind to him on the day when the sewing circle met at the little woman's house, he decided to tell him the whole story, not from any expectation of receiving assistance, but in order to relieve his mind.

Mr. Souders listened attentively to all he had to say, and then replied,--

"Treat was trying to swindle you. His cow isn't worth ten dollars, to say nothing of forty, an' he wasn't over an' above anxious to give you too much for your work. Let the matter drop a couple of days an' I'll see what can be done. We mustn't allow Aunt Nancy to suffer."

There was a world of encouragement in the gentleman's tones, and Jack felt as if half his troubles had already been removed.

"I'm willin' to do anything I can towards earnin' the money to buy one; but Louis an' I mustn't stay here till November, an' I don't want her to use her own money."

"That will be all right, my lad. Go home now, an' I'll see you later."

Jack's heart was quite light when he walked swiftly down the lane leading to the tiny house, but became heavy again when he saw the little woman's face.

It was evident Aunt Nancy was mourning deeply the loss of her pet, and the cripple felt that as yet he had nothing tangible to assuage her grief.

She looked up inquiringly as he approached, but he offered no explanation regarding his journey until the question had been asked directly, and then said hesitatingly,--

"I would rather not tell you, Aunt Nancy. I thought I might be able to do something, but it was a failure, an' the less we say about it the better."

"Jack dear," and the little woman was very grave, "when a boy can't tell his friends what he has been doing it looks as if there was something of which to be ashamed."

"But in this case there isn't, Aunt Nancy; cross my throat if there is."

"I believe you, my child, but would have much preferred if there had been perfect confidence between us."

Jack looked up in positive alarm.

The little woman's tone was so different from what he had ever heard before when she was addressing him, that he actually felt frightened.

"I'll tell you all about it," he said quickly; but Aunt Nancy held up her hand to prevent his saying anything more.

"If it is something which you wish to keep a secret from me I don't want to hear it."

Now Jack was distressed, for there could be no question but that he had displeased his best friend.

"Please listen to me, Aunt Nancy. I did say I wasn't going to tell you, because I thought perhaps you'd think I was meddlin'. That is, you might have thought so after I failed; but if the thing had gone through all right you'd been glad."

Then, disregarding entirely her gestures for him to remain silent, he told all the story save that relating to his interview with Mr. Souders.

It was yet possible old crumple-horn's place would be filled, but he believed it best not to raise any false hopes.

When he concluded Aunt Nancy took his face in her hands, bending his head over until she could kiss his cheeks, when she said in a tremulous voice,--

"Jack, you are a dear, good boy, and have been a blessing to me from the hour you first came into this house; but you must not think of taking any such load upon your shoulders. I would not have permitted it even had you been able to make a satisfactory bargain with Mr. Treat, and that is what no person has ever done before to my knowledge. It was not right to keep from me anything you wished to do, and it is proven in this case, for if I had known what you thought of attempting, I could have explained how useless it would be."

"It didn't seem so to me, Aunt Nancy, and I surely believed I could earn more than twenty dollars by working all summer."

"Not for such a man as the storekeeper. Now you will be obliged to walk over to Daniel Chick's twice each day for milk, and that will be more labor than taking care of poor old crumple-horn."

"Perhaps you may get another cow, Aunt Nancy."

"It is impossible, at least during this year. I spent more money at camp meeting than I could afford, and must now pay the penalty when the summer boarders come by being forced to buy both milk and butter. It will make a big hole in my earnings."

Now that there was no cow to care for, the work in Jack's particular department was very light, and, as he said to Aunt Nancy, it seemed as if he had hardly begun before the whole was done.

The walk to Daniel Chick's was not as pleasant as taking care of old crumple-horn, and besides, he would be forced to pass Bill Dean's house twice each day, a fact which caused him no little disquietude; but he said nothing regarding this to Aunt Nancy.

The following forty-eight hours passed very quietly on the farm.

The little woman was so thoroughly tired from her labors at camp meeting that she did not have the ambition to bustle around as usual, and the greater portion of her time was spent with Jack in the garden.

It is probable that no collection of vegetables ever received more care than was bestowed by these enthusiastic gardeners.

The smallest weed was detected and instantly pulled up by Aunt Nancy, while Jack loosened the ground around the roots of each tiny plant until it seemed certain they would be dwarfed.

Much to Jack's discomfort, hardly an hour passed when the little woman did not make some reference to Mr. Pratt, and constantly bewailed the fact that she failed to see him.

"But it wasn't your fault I couldn't find him, Aunt Nancy," Jack finally said.

"I suppose not; but yet it seems as if my cowardice had something to do with it."

"You know that couldn't be so, Aunt Nancy; but if you want me to I'll walk over to his house. It ain't so terribly far."

This proposition had the effect of reducing the little woman to silence, and during three or four hours Louis' guardian heard nothing regarding the man whom he had every reason to consider an enemy.

Late on the afternoon of the third day after he had talked with Mr. Souders, that gentleman's wife drove up, and instead of alighting to call upon Aunt Nancy, said quite sharply,--

"Samuel wanted me to drive over here for Jack."

"Why, what is the matter?" The little woman asked in alarm.

"Nothing very serious, Nancy Curtis, so don't begin to fret. Sam always was full of whims, an' I reckon this is one of 'em."

Jack fancied he knew what was wanted, and his heart was very light when he clambered into the wagon.

"I'll come right back," he cried, as the carriage rolled away, and Aunt Nancy sat looking at Louis as if speechless with astonishment.

"Is it about the cow?" Jack asked of Mrs. Souders, who sat stiff as a statue and quite as forbidding looking, holding the reins tightly in both hands, and paying no attention to the cripple.

She nodded her head, and Jack could not but wonder if she thought her breath too valuable to be wasted in words.

This was the extent of the conversation during the ride of ten minutes or more, and the hunchback felt decidedly relieved when it came to an end.

Mrs. Souders, silent and stern, was quite as disagreeable a companion as Mrs. Souders angry.

The cause of his having thus been summoned was, as he had hoped, a cow.

In the yard, with a halter on her head and a card tied to her horn, stood a meek-eyed animal which Jack thought a model of her kind.

Mr. Souders came from the shed as the hunchback alighted, and cried in his hearty, cheery voice,--

"What do you think of that, lad? Talk about Treat's cow; why, she can't hold a candle side of this one, and there was a big difference in the price."

"Is it for Aunt Nancy?"

"Sartin, an' I sent for you to lead her over to the little woman."

"But who's to pay for her?"

"That part of the transaction has been settled already, an' all you have to do now, is to take the creater away."

"But I wanted to do somethin' toward buyin' her."

"So you have, my boy. Can you read writin'?"

"Not very well."

"Then come here while I tell you what's on the card. I got one of Daniel Chick's daughters to fix it up so's it would be kerrect."

Then Mr. Souders, after wiping his glasses lest a single word should escape his attention, read the following:--

"TO AUNT NANCY CURTIS FROM JACK DUDLEY, TO WHOM THIS COW WAS PRESENTED BY SARAH SOUDERS, IN TOKEN OF HER REGRET FOR THE UNKIND TREATMENT WHICH HE RECEIVED AT HER HANDS."

"You see," Mr. Souders explained confidentially as he finished reading the inscription, "mother has been sorry about what happened over to Aunt Nancy's, jest as I said she would be, an' this is kind of a peace-offerin' to you, at the same time a good turn is done the old woman."

"Then no one else paid for the cow? Your wife did the whole thing?"

"I may have chipped in a bit; but that don't count. Its mother's present to you an' Aunt Nancy, an' I'm right glad of the chance to help the little woman along. She'd be in mighty hard lines this summer if she had to buy butter an' milk."

Jack hardly knew what to do or say.

He was delighted almost beyond bounds at being able to take the cow to Aunt Nancy, and at the same time it seemed necessary he should thank Mrs. Souders, but was at a loss to know how it was to be done.

"Where is your wife?" he asked after a pause.

"In the house, an' I reckon she's locked the door. Better not try to say anything to her. Mother's peculiar, an' flies off dreadfully sometimes, but her heart's in the right place, my boy, which makes up for a good many faults. Lead the creater home now, an' I'll venter to say you'll enjoy seein' Aunt Nancy dance when she knows its hers."

Jack would have attempted to thank Mr. Souders, but the gentleman prevented him by unfastening the cow's halter, and insisting that the animal be led away at once.