Chapter 4

An animal like this merited extra care. She was not to be put off like an everyday cat with saucers of milk and scraps of meat; she must have the choicest bits from the table.

"Mrs. McQuilken says the best-fed cats make the best mousers," said Edith.

"Is that so, Miss Edith? Then the mice here at Castle Cliff haven't long to live!" laughed good-natured Mr. Templeton, as he handed Zee's little mistress a pitcher of excellent cream.

Edith was very grateful to Mrs. McQuilken for this remarkable kitten. She had taken much pains with her pencil drawing of a cherub in the clouds, intending it as a present for the eccentric old lady.

"Do you suppose she'll like it, mamma? You know she's so odd that one never can tell."

Mrs. Dunlee was sure the picture would be appreciated. The cherub's sweet face looked like Eddo's, and the clouds lay about him very softly, leaving bare his pretty dimpled feet, and hands, and arms, and neck. On Friday afternoon Edith took the picture in her hand and knocked with a beating heart at the door of Number Five.

"Mrs. Me--McQuilken," said she, in a timid voice, on entering the room, "you're so fond of pictures that I thought I'd bring you one I drew myself. I'm afraid it's not so very, very good; but I hope you'll like it just a little."

Mrs. McQuilken was much surprised as well as gratified; and actually there were tears in her eyes as she took the offering from Edith's hand. She was a lonely old body, and never expected much attention from any one, especially from children.

"Why, how kind of you, my dear! It's a beauty!" she exclaimed, gazing at the cherub through her spectacles. She was a good judge of pictures. "That face is well drawn, and the clouds are fleecy. Did you really do it your own self--and for me? Thank you, dear child!"

Edith blushed with pleasure. She had by no means counted on such praise.

"I'll always be kind to old people after this," she thought. "I believe they care more about it than you think they do."

But here they were interrupted by the very loud mewing of a cat out of doors. They both ran downstairs to see what it meant.

"I do hope and trust it isn't my Zee," cried Edith in alarm.

But it was. They did not see her at first; she was in the back yard behind the hotel. It seems a pan of clams had been left standing on the back door-step; and Zee must have been frolicking about the pan, never dreaming any live creature was in it, when one of the clams, attracted by her black waving tail, had caught the tip of the tail in his mouth and was holding it fast!

This was pretty severe. Being only an ignorant bivalve, the clam did not know that what he had in his mouth was a very precious article, the "prize tail" of a beautiful cat. But having once taken hold of it, the clam was too obstinate to let go.

Poor Zee jumped up and down, and ran around in circles, mewing with all her might. What had happened she did not know; she only knew some heavy thing was dragging at her tail and pinching it fearfully. Every one in the back of the house was busy; no one but Eddo heard Zee's cries. He ran to the maid to ask "what made the kitty sing so sorry?" Whenever she mewed he called it singing.

The maid looked out then and threw down her mixing-spoon for laughing. It was an odd sight to see a cat prancing about, waving her plume-like tail with a clam at the end of it! Nancy was sorry for the kitten, but did not know how in the world to get off the clam.

"Take an axe! Take a hatchet!" cried Mrs. McQuilken.

And without waiting for Nancy she seized a hatchet herself, split the shell of the clam, and let poor kitty free.

When Kyzie got home from school, Mrs. McQuilken had just mended Zee's bleeding member with a piece of court-plaster. All the boarders were grouped about on the lawn and veranda talking it over. Mrs. Dunlee held in her lap a very forlorn and crumpled little bundle of kitty; and Edith and Eddo were crying as if their hearts would break.

"That beautiful, beautiful tail!" sobbed Edith.

"Don't be unhappy about it, darling," said Aunt Vi, "it will heal in time."

"I know 't will heal, auntie; but what I'm thinking of is, won't it be stiff? Aren't you afraid 'twill lose the--the--_expression of the wiggle?_"

No one even smiled at the question; everybody tried to comfort Edith. And right in the midst of this trying scene another event occurred of a different sort, but far more serious. It was little wonder that nobody once thought of saying to Kyzie:--

"Well, Grandma Graymouse, you promised to tell us to-night how you like your school."

The school was quite forgotten, and so was the injured kitten. It happened in this way: As soon as the kitten had been placed in a basket of cotton and seemed tolerably comfortable, Jimmy and "the little two" went along the road as they often did to watch for the stage. "The colonel" might be coming now at almost any time, to find the lost vein of the gold mine, and they wanted to see him first of any one. Lucy had her papa's watch fastened to the waist of her dress, and took great pleasure in seeing the hands move. This was not the first time she had been allowed to carry the watch, and she was very proud because papa had just said, "See how I trust my little girl."

Jimmy had Uncle James's spy-glass.

"Nate thinks the colonel won't come till to-morrow; but I expect him to-night. Let's go farther up," said Jimmy-boy.

They all climbed a little way and stood on a rock gazing down toward the dusty road. They could see the roofs of several houses, and Lucy asked why there was so much wire on them.

"Oh, that's to hold the chimneys on," was Jimmy's reply.

"How queer!"

"Not queer at all. I've seen lots of chimneys tied on that way."

Bab doubted this, but Lucy was proud to think how much Jimmy knew.

"Six minutes past five," said she, looking at the watch again. "It takes these little hands just as long to go round this little face as it takes a clock's hands to go round a clock's face. How funny!"

"Not funny at all," said Jimmy. "They're made that way. But be careful, Lucy Dunlee, or you'll drop that watch. I shouldn't have thought papa would have let you bring it up here. Did you tell him where we were going?"

"No, I never," replied Lucy with a sudden prick of conscience. "I didn't know we'd go so far. 'Twas you that spoke and said we'd go higher up."

"Well, you'd better let me take it, Lucy. I'm older than you are, and I've got a little pocket, too, just the right size to hold it."

Lucy hesitated, not wishing to part with the watch, and not at all sure that it would be safer with Jimmy than with herself. He was not a famous care-taker.

"I don't see why you want to get it away when papa lent it to me and it's fastened on so tight. How do I know papa would be willing?"

As she spoke, however, Jimmy was fingering the little chain to see if he could undo the clasp which held it to her dress.

"There, I don't believe you could have got it off, Lucy, you didn't know how."

"Why, I never tried--papa fastened it on himself--oh, Jimmy-boy, you will be so careful of it, now won't you?"

For the watch lay in his hand, and she did not know how to get it back again. When he had set his heart on anything Lucy usually gave up. Barbara looked on in disapproval as the big brother put the watch in his pocket.

It had long been Jimmy's unspoken wish to have a watch of his very own like Nate Pollard and various other boys. How rich and handsome the short gold chain looked! What a bright spot it made as it dangled down his new jacket. He gazed at it admiringly, while Bab and Lucy took turns in looking through the spy-glass.

"The stage is coming," they cried. Then they all started and ran down the mountain; but as the stage drove up to the hotel no colonel alighted, or at least, no one who looked like a colonel. Jimmy was playing with the short gold chain which made a bright spot on his jacket. He meant to restore the watch to its owner at dinner-time; but it was early, he was not going in yet. And there was Nate Pollard throwing up his cap and looking ready for a frolic.

"I stump you to catch me!" said Nate.

"Poh, I can catch you and not half try."

Jimmy-boy was agile, Nate rather heavily built and clumsy. But if Jimmy had suspected what a foolhardy project was in Nate's mind he would have held back from the race.

As it was, they both planted themselves against a tree, shouted, "One, two, three!" and off they started. No one was watching, no one remembered afterward which way they were going.

VIII

STEALING A CHIMNEY

The "knitting-woman" sat knitting in her chamber that looked up the mountain side, and thinking how the zebra kitten had suffered from her enemy, the clam. Mrs. McQuilken's own cats were most of them asleep; the blind canary was eating her supper of hemp-seed; and the noisy magpie had run off to chat with the dog and hens. The room seemed remarkably quiet. Mrs. McQuilken narrowed two stitches and glanced out of the window.

"Mercy upon us!" she exclaimed, though there was not a soul to hear her. "Mercy upon us, what are those boyoes doing atop of that house?"

In her astonishment she actually dropped her knitting-work on the floor and rushed out of the room crying, "Fire!" though there was not a spark of fire to be seen.

The "boyoes" were Nate and Jimmy. Nate had said to Jimmy just as they started on the race:--

"You won't dare follow where I lead;" and Jimmy, stung by the defiant tone, had answered:--

"Poh, yes, I will! Who's afraid?" never once suspecting that Nate was going to climb the ridge-pole of a house!

The house was a small cabin painted green, but there were people living in it, and nothing could be ruder than to storm it in this way, as both boys knew.

"Why, Nate why, _Nate_, what are you doing?"

"Ho, needn't come if you're scared," retorted Nate.

"Who said I was scared? But I'm not your 'caddy,' I won't go another step," gasped Jimmy.

Still he did not stop climbing. Hadn't Nate "stumped" him; and hadn't he "taken the stump," agreeing to follow his lead? Besides, Nate was already on the roof, and it was necessary to catch him at once.

Jimmy reached the roof easily enough and darted toward Nate with both arms out-stretched. But by that time Nate had turned around and begun to slide down another ridge-pole, shouting:--

"Here, my caddy, here I am; catch me, caddy!"

It was most exasperating. Jimmy saw that he had been outwitted. On the solid earth, running a fair race, the chances were that he could have beaten Nate. But was this a fair race?

"No, I'll leave it out to anybody if it's fair! Nate Pollard is the meanest boy in California," thought angry Jimmy, as he started to follow his leader down the ridge-pole.

At this moment something hit him just below the knee and held him fast. In his haste he had not stopped to notice that the chimney was of the very sort he had just described to Lucy--built of tiles and held on to the roof by wires. He was caught in these wires; and whenever he tried to move he found he was actually pulling the chimney after him! Nate, safely landed on the ground, called back to him in triumph:--

"Hello, Jimmy-cum-jim! Hello, my caddy! Where are you? Why don't you come along?"

Jimmy was coming as fast as he could. He lay face downward, sliding along toward the edge of the roof, and carrying with him that most undesirable chimney! What would become of him if he should fall head-first with the chimney on his back?

It was a rough scramble; but he managed to turn over before he reached the ground--so that he landed on his feet. The chimney landed near him, a wreck. Jimmy was unhurt except for a few scratches. But oh, it was dreadful to hear himself laughed at, not only by that mischievous Nate, but by half a dozen other boys and a few grown people, who had collected on the spot; among them the landlord and Mrs. McQuilken.

Not that any one could be blamed for laughing. Jimmy was a comical object. In carrying away a chimney which did not belong to him, he had of course torn his clothes frightfully and left big pieces sticking on the broken wires of the roof. A more "raggety" boy never was seen.

"Wouldn't he make a good scarecrow?" said the landlord, shaking his sides. "Jimmum, chimney, and all!"

It was necessary to tear his clothes still more in order to get them free from the tangle of wires. As the poor young culprit crept unwillingly back to the hotel all the cats, dogs, donkeys, and chickens in Castle Cliff seemed to combine in a chorus of mewing, barking, braying, and cackling to inform the whole world that here was a boy who had stolen a chimney!

What wretched little beggar was this coming to the house? No one thought of its being Jimmy Dunlee.

"We caught this young rogue stealing a chimney," said Mr. Templeton.

It seemed funny at first, and the Dunlees and Sanfords and Hales all laughed heartily, till it occurred to them that the dear child had been in actual danger; and then they drew long breaths and shuddered, thinking how he might have pitched headlong to the ground and been crushed by the weight of the chimney.

"But my little son," asked Mrs. Dunlee presently, when the child was once more respectably clad, and was walking down to dinner between herself and Aunt Vi, "but my little son, what could have possessed you to climb a roof? Was that a nice thing to do?"

"No, mamma, of course not. But 'twas all Nate Pollard's fault. Nate stumped me to it and I took the stump."

"What _do_ you mean?"

"Why, he said, 'You won't dare follow me,' and I said, 'Yes, I would.' And I never mistrusted where he was going. Who'd have thought of his climbing top of a house?"

"Why, Jamie Dunlee, you did not follow Nate without knowing where he was going?"

"Yes, mamma; if I _had_ known I wouldn't have followed. But you see he had stumped me and I'd taken the stump, so I was _obliged_ to go!"

"Obliged to go!" repeated Aunt Vi, laughing, "Isn't that characteristic of Jimmy?"

The little fellow felt guiltier than ever. When Aunt Vi used that word of five syllables it always meant that people had done very wrong, so he thought.

"Jamie," said his mother very seriously, "I am surprised that you should have promised to follow Nate without knowing where he was going! And you never even asked him where he was going! Is that the way you play, you boys?"

"No, mamma, it isn't. Nate makes you play his way because he's the oldest. He's just as mean! But I couldn't back out after I was stumped."

"Oh, fie! Backing out is exactly the thing to do when a boy is trying to lead you into mischief! But we'll talk more of this by and by."

As they entered the dining-room, Jimmy squared his shoulders and would not look toward Nate's table; and Nate, who had been severely reproved by his parents, never once raised his eyes from his plate. No one felt very happy. Jimmy's new suit was ruined; and Mr. Dunlee had already learned that it would cost ten dollars to restore the tile chimney. Nor was this all. While Jimmy was trying to console himself with ice-cream he suddenly thought of his father's watch! It must have dropped out of his pocket when he slid down the roof; but where, oh, where was it now? Was it still on the ground, or had some one picked it up? Joe Rolfe had been there, so had Chicken Little and a dozen others. He must go and look for that watch, he must go this minute.

"Mamma," he murmured, pushing aside his saucer of ice-cream, "may I--may I be excused?"

There was no answer; his mother had not heard him.

"Mamma," in a louder tone, "oh, mamma!"

"What is it, my son?"

Seeing by his unhappy face that something was wrong, she nodded permission for him to leave the table; and at the same time arose and followed him into the hall.

"Dear child, what is the matter?"

"Papa's watch," he moaned. "I'm afraid somebody will steal it."

As Mrs. Dunlee knew nothing whatever about the watch this sounded very strange. She wondered if Jimmy had really been hurt by his fall and was out of his head.

"Why, my precious little boy," said she, taking his hot hand in hers. "Papa's watch is safe in his vest pocket. Nobody is going to steal it."

Jimmy looked immensely relieved.

"Oh, has he got it back again? I'm so glad! Where did he find it?"

"Darling," said Mrs. Dunlee, now really alarmed. "Come upstairs with mamma. Does your head ache? I think it will be best for you to go right to bed."

But Jimmy persisted in talking about the watch.

"Where did papa find it? He let Lucy have it; don't you know?"

"No, I did not know."

"And I took it away from Lucy. I was afraid she'd lose it. And then,--oh, dear, oh, dear,--then I went and lost it myself!"

Mrs. Dunlee understood it all now. Jimmy's head was clear enough; he knew perfectly well what he was talking about. The watch was gone, a very valuable one. Search must be made for it at once. Without waiting to speak to her husband, Mrs. Dunlee put on her hat and went with Jimmy up the hill. He limped a little from the bruise of his fall and she steadied him with her arm as they walked.

IX

"CHICKEN LITTLE" AND JOE

The man and woman who lived in the green cottage had gone to a neighbor's to stay till their chimney should be fastened on again. There was no one in sight.

"Here's the place where I went up," said Jimmy, laying his hand on one of the ridge-poles. "And here's the place where I came down," pointing to another ridge-pole.

Mrs. Dunlee was stooping and looking around carefully. There was not a tuft of grass or a clump of weeds behind which even a small article could be hidden, much less a large bright object like a gold watch. She took a wooden pencil from her pocket and scraped the earth with it; but only disturbed a few ants and beetles. If the watch had ever been dropped here, it certainly was not here now. She and Jimmy turned and walked home in the twilight,--or as Mrs. McQuilken called it, "the dimmets," and poor Jimmy drew a cloud of gloom about him like a cloak.

They looked on the ground at every step of the way.

"There's a piece of chaparral over there. Did you go through that?" asked Mrs. Dunlee.

"No, I never, I'm sure I never. I walked in the road right straight along. Oh, mamma, if I've lost that watch 'twill break my heart. But I'll pay papa for it, you see if I don't! I'll save every penny I get and put it together and pay papa!"

Mrs. Dunlee did not reply for a moment; she took time to reflect. Jimmy was a dear boy, but very heedless. He had done wrong in the first place to take the watch from Lucy without his father's permission. He must be taught to respect other people's property and other people's rights. He must learn to think, and learn to be careful. Here was a chance for a lesson.

"Jamie," said she at last, "I am glad you wish to atone for the wrong you have done; it shows a proper spirit. I agree with you that if the watch isn't found you ought to give papa what you can toward paying for it. That is no more than fair."

"I want to, mamma, I just want to!" burst forth Jimmy. "I wish I was little like Eddo, before 'twas wrong for me to be naughty."

His mother took him in her arms and kissed him, for he was so tired and miserable that he could not keep the tears back another moment.

Friday night passed and most of Saturday; and though diligent search was made, the watch was not found.

"Poor papa!" said Kyzie. "He doesn't say much; but how sober he looks! Grandma Dunlee gave him that watch, Jimmy, when he was a young man; and he did love it so!"

"I know it. Oh, dear, how can he stand it?" responded jimmy, who had been deeply touched from the first by his father's forbearance. "Mr, Pollard punished Nate dreadfully, you know; but here's Papa Dunlee, why, he hasn't even scolded!"

Papa Dunlee was a wise man. He saw that his little son was suffering enough already; he was learning a hard lesson, and perhaps would learn it all the better for being left alone with his own conscience.

On Sunday afternoon the boy was very disconsolate, and Mr. Dunlee patted him on the head, saying:--

"Maybe we'll find the watch yet, my son. And anyway, I know Jimmum didn't mean to lose it."

Then he sat down to read, and Jimmy gazed at him reverently. The sunshine about his head seemed almost like a halo, and the boy thought of the angels, and wondered if they could possibly be any better than papa!

"Papa is the best man! Never was cross in his life. I should be cross as fury! I should shake _my_ boy all to pieces if he should carry off my gold watch and drop it in the sand!"

Monday morning came and the missing article did not appear. Everybody looked troubled. Edith walked about, carrying her lame kitten in a basket, and saying:--

"Zee is getting better all the while, but how can I be happy when papa's watch is lost!"

"Who knows but I shall be the one to find it?" returned Katharine with a mysterious smile, as she was leaving the house.

"You forgot to tell us, and we forgot to ask you, How do you like your school?" said Aunt Vi.

"Oh, ever so much, auntie. I'm making it just as old-fashioned as I can. I'm going to write Grandma Parlin this week and ask her if what I do is old-fashioned enough. Good-by."

Jimmy was waiting for her down the path.

"What makes you think you'll find the watch, Kyzie?"

"Oh, I don't know, myself, what I meant. I just said it for fun."

"Well, do you think Joe Rolfe has got it, or Chicken Little? That's what I want to know."

"Hush, Jimmy! Papa wouldn't allow you to speak names in that way. Somebody stole it, I suppose, but we don't know who it was."

Still Kyzie's face wore a stern look that morning. It was a thing not to be spoken of, but she had resolved to "keep an eye" on two or three of the boys, and see if there was anything peculiar in their appearance. Should one of them blush or turn pale when spoken to, it would be a sure sign of guilt, and she should go home and announce with triumph to her father:--

"Papa, I've found out the thief!"

The scholars all appeared pretty much as usual; raising their hands very often to ask, "May I speak?" or, "May I have a drink of water?" The little teacher had always wished they would not do so, but how could she help it? It was "an old-fashioned school," perhaps that was why it was so noisy. Whatever went wrong, Kyzie always said to herself, "Oh, it's just an old-fashioned school."

Nate Pollard and Jimmy sat to-day as far apart as possible, almost turning their backs upon each other. At the bottom of his heart Nate was truly ashamed of himself, though he would not have owned it. There were five new scholars, and Katharine wrote down their names with much pride. Best of all, some of the children really seemed to be trying to get their lessons.

She had never known Joe Rolfe to study like this. "Is it because he is guilty?" thought the little teacher watching him from under her eyebrows. She walked along toward him so softly that he did not hear her footsteps.

"Joseph!" she exclaimed, suddenly. Her voice startled him; he looked up in surprise.

"I'm glad to see you studying, Joseph."

Did he blush? His face was of a brownish red hue at any time, being much tanned; she could not be quite sure of the blush. But why did he look so sober? Children generally smile when they are praised.

She had been to Bab and Lucy and said, "How still you are, darlings!" and they had seemed delighted.

Next she tried Chicken Little. He certainly jumped when she spoke his name close to his ear, "Henry." Now why should he jump and seem so confused unless he knew he had done something wrong? She forgot that he was a very timid boy.

"Henry, what is the matter with you?" she asked, frowning severely.

She had never frowned on him before, for she liked the little fellow, and was trying her best to "make a man of him."

"What is the matter, Henry?"

By this time he was scared nearly out of his wits, and stole a side glance at her to see if she had a switch in her hand.