Part 7

Jess came downstairs early, and hearing a peculiar noise in the workshop, went out to ascertain what was the matter. She was surprised to see her father tieing a thick cord about a strong wooden box. He was panting heavily, and the perspiration was streaming down his face. One of his fingers was bleeding, and he was muttering a strange conglomeration of words.

"For pity sakes! What are you doing?" Jess exclaimed. "And what have you in that box?"

"Divils; that's what I've got."

"Devils!"

"Yep. Divils bottled up in rats. Three of 'em, an' they're straight from hell."

"Oh, daddy, don't talk that way," Jess protested. "You make we shiver."

"Shiver, eh? Guess ye'd shiver in earnest if ye had one of them critters at ye. Ye'd think there was a two-foot icicle slippin' down ye'r spine. Look at that!" and Abner held out his damaged finger.

"What, did the rats do that?"

"Sure. Git me a rag, will ye, and tie it up? Then I must be off."

"Where are you going, daddy?"

"To look fer ye'r mother, of course."

"But where?"

"Guess I'll go to town first. I want to take them rats along. Mebbe the Dimocks know somethin' about Tildy. They'll know, anyway, what's happened to that chafer an' the car."

After the finger had been carefully bandaged, Abner went to the barn, harnessed Jerry, hitched him to the wagon, and drove up to the back door. Jess watched her father with considerable curiosity as he placed the box in the bottom of the wagon.

"What in the world are you going to do with those rats?" she enquired.

"Jist a little tradin', that's all."

"But I never heard of people trading in rats, daddy."

"Ye didn't, eh? Well, this is jist an exchange of country rats fer town rats, that's all. But, there, I must be off. Keep a sharp eye on them kids when they wake, an' don't let 'em raise ructions. G'long, Jerry."

Abner made a record trip to town that morning. Having hitched his horse to the usual post, and with the box under his arm, he sauntered into the waiting-room, peered through the ticket-office window and saw the agent reading _The Live Wire_.

"Say, Sam," he accosted, "are ye busy?"

"Not especially," was the reply. "What can I do for you, Mr. Andrews?"

"When does the express team go out, Sam?"

"Not until late this afternoon. Got something to send?"

"Sure. Jist see how much this'll cost, will ye?" and Abner motioned to the box. "It's fer Lawyer Rackshaw."

"Why not drop it around there yourself, Mr. Andrews? It might not be delivered until late, and, besides, you will save the express charge."

"Oh, the time don't signify. In fact I'd rather it got there a little late. An' as fer the expense, that doesn't cut any ice."

When this matter had been settled, the agent looked curiously at Abner.

"How's your wife?" he enquired.

"Me wife! Ain't she all right? Why de ye ask?"

"Haven't you seen this morning's paper, Mr. Andrews?"

"Naw. But what's it sayin' now, I'd like to know?"

"Here it is," and Sam handed him his copy. "There, look at that. It says that your wife met with an auto accident at Twin Creek while running away from home with Isaac Dimock's chauffeur."

Abner's bronzed face turned a peculiar hue as he quickly seized the paper and fixed his eyes upon the big staring headline:

"A SUSPICIOUS AFFAIR"

His hands trembled so violently that it was difficult for him to read. Sam, watching, expected him to burst forth in wild language. In this, however, he was mistaken, for when Abner had finished reading the article, he folded up the paper and shoved it into his coat pocket.

"I'll pay ye fer this, Sam," and he threw down a coin as he spoke.

"Keep your money," the agent replied. "I'm through with it, anyway. And say, Mr. Andrews," he continued, "I'm really sorry for you."

"I know ye are, Sam, an' I thank ye fer ye'r sympathy. Be sure an' send that box this afternoon."

Without another word Abner turned and left the waiting-room. Sam watched him from the window as he strode along the platform, and headed up town.

"I wonder where he's bound for now?" he mused. "I wouldn't like to be that chauffeur who ran away with his wife, nor the man who wrote that article, for that matter. My, I never saw such a look upon any man's face before. It sent the chills down my spine."

*CHAPTER XIII*

*THE JOY-RIDE*

The party was a complete revelation to Mrs. Andrews. She enjoyed herself more than she had expected, and the time passed most pleasantly. It was a wonderful change to her whose life for long years had been of a most humdrum nature. The Dimocks exerted their utmost to make her feel perfectly at her ease, and introduced her to several women of her own age with whom she had delightful conversations.

But her greatest happiness was to watch Jess and Belle, and to note the attention they received. They had plenty of admirers, but she especially liked two young men who were agreeable to her, and talked in such an affable and gentlemanly manner. But of the two, Thane Royden was her choice. He was the young surveyor, so Jess laughingly explained, who had tried to steal their gravel hill, and who had so narrowly escaped a terrible death at her father's hands. He paid special attention to Jess, and this met with Mrs. Andrews' silent approval.

The other, Billy Lansing, centred his attention upon Belle, and endeavored to keep her entirely to himself. But a girl of Belle's disposition could not easily be cornered, and the fact that she was the Attorney General's daughter made her in great demand. This was not at all to Billy's liking, and he became sulky whenever Belle danced with others. Billy was an auto agent, and had not been long at Glucom. But during his short stay he had aroused considerable interest by his fondness for parties, his boastful proclivities, and his fascination for the fair sex.

As the night wore on, Mrs. Andrews became tired and longed to go home. She said nothing to Jess, however, but the latter was quick to notice the weary expression upon her mother's face, and felt it was her duty to go home with her. But Mrs. Dimock would not listen to the idea of Jess and Belle leaving at such an early hour, and suggested that Mrs. Andrews should go alone.

"We have a most reliable chauffeur," she explained to Jess, "and he will take good care of your mother. We have had him for only a week, but have found him most trustworthy."

It did not take Mrs. Andrews long to get ready, and then she had to wait about half an hour for the car to make its appearance. Mrs. Dimock was surprised and apologized, however, for the delay, explaining that no doubt the man had been asleep. When at length the auto arrived at the front door, Jess accompanied her mother to the car and saw that she was safe on board.

"Don't be too late in coming home," was Mrs. Andrews' parting instruction. "I will leave the back door open. And see that you don't let the cats in."

For about a mile the car sped smoothly on its way. Then it began to gather speed, and at times surged dangerously near the ditch. Never had Mrs. Andrews undergone such an experience. Auto-riding was a novel sensation for her, anyway, and she had often remarked about the reckless driving of so many people. But to be alone in the heart of night, on a rough road, and with an unknown man in charge, was most disturbing. As they sped forward, she clutched the side of the car with grim desperation. Every bump lifted her clear of the seat, and so frequent were the bumps that she was in the air most of the time. She was terrified lest any minute she should be tossed out of the car among the rocks by the side of the road.

Her only hope now lay in the near approach to her home. She accordingly breathed a sigh of relief when the car, bounding around a curve in the road, brought her in sight of the river gleaming silvery white beneath the light of the rising moon.

Such a hope, however, was of short duration, for instead of the car slowing up as it reached the Andrews' house, it increased in speed and dashed by like a whirlwind. With a piercing scream Mrs. Andrews tried to arrest the chauffeur's attention. But in vain. He paid no attention to his agitated passenger, but bounced her more furiously than ever.

Mrs. Andrews was now certain that the driver was either drunk or mad, and her consternation increased. She started to lean forward in an effort to grasp the chauffeur by the shoulder, but no sooner did she attempt to rise than she was flung in a confused heap against the side of the car. And there she remained, clutching desperately at anything on which she could lay her hands. She tried to think, but the wild gyrations of the auto made any calm meditation out of the question. Such was her position, which rendered her helpless and speechless. She was at the mercy of a reckless driver, all the time being borne farther and farther away from home. Uphill and down, and over long stretches of level road the car raced, swaying and bounding more than ever, so the unhappy woman thought.

So far Mrs. Andrews had sustained no serious injury. The bruises she had received upon her hands and body were not noticed, owing to her intense excitement. But when an extra heavy lurch pitched her violently against the side of the car, her nose came into sudden contact with the door. Fear was at once replaced by a burning anger, and with a spring, worthy of a tigress, she was upon the chauffeur in an instant. With a vise-like grip she seized him by the hair and jerked his head back so violently that it was a wonder his neck was not broken. With a startled yell the chauffeur released his right hand from the wheel and caught his assailant by the wrist in a frantic attempt to tear away from the tightening grip, while with the other he endeavored to steer the car. But as his eyes were gazing skyward instead of along the road, this was a most difficult performance.

The outcome of this would have been most disastrous had not the auto just then struck a small newly-made bridge, heaped up with mud. It reared suddenly astern, like a balky mule, and sent Mrs. Andrews forward right on top of the chauffeur. Letting go his hair, she grabbed him about the neck in a last desperate effort to save herself from destruction. Half-choked and bewildered by this unexpected embrace, the chauffeur attempted to keep the car in the middle of the road. He succeeded in reducing the speed, but so excited did he become that his nerve deserted him, with the result that the auto swerved suddenly into a shallow ditch to the right, plowed its way through a mass of tangled bushes, and crashed into a big tree.

All this happened so quickly that for a few seconds the chauffeur was completely dazed. But it was otherwise with Mrs. Andrews. Her senses were keenly alive, and her anger intense. She was now an antagonist of no inferior metal. Leaping from the car, she seized a dead fir bough lying near, and made for the chauffeur. The latter saw her coming, and his senses suddenly returned. With a yell he bounded from the seat, and started to spring from the auto. But in doing so his foot tripped, and he plunged headlong among the mass of bushes. With hands and face scratched, and clothes torn he made frantic efforts to extricate himself from his painful and humiliating position. But no sooner did he lift his head than he was furiously belabored by the angry woman standing before him.

"For God's sake, let up!" he implored. "You'll kill me."

"Kill you, eh?" was the reply. "Isn't that what you tried to do to me! Take that, and that, you villain."

"I was only in fun," the culprit explained, as he vainly attempted to dodge the rain of blows.

"Fun! Queer fun, you brute. But it isn't such fun now, is it?"

The stick was again about to fall, when with a howl the chauffeur reeled back, tore his way through the bushes, and reached the shelter of the dark woods beyond. From here he watched the irate woman, fully expecting her to follow. To him she seemed unusually large and menacing as she stood there drawn to her full height, the stick still in her hand, and her eyes searching the darkness of the forest.

For about a minute she remained in this position, though it seemed much longer to the trembling chauffeur. At length she turned and looked up and down the road. Hesitating only for an instant, she moved swiftly away, clutching the stick more firmly than ever, so as to be ready for any emergency.

Not until the chauffeur was certain that she was some distance away did he venture forth. Going cautiously to the auto, he brought from beneath the seat a half-drained bottle of whiskey. Holding it up in his hand, he looked in the direction Mrs. Andrews had taken.

"Here's to ye'r health, ye old she-cat, an' may the devil take me quick if I ever try to play any pranks upon the likes of you again."

Placing the flask to his lips, he drained the contents with much relish, and with a curse hurled the bottle among the trees. Then curling himself up in the back seat, and pulling over his body a heavy robe, in a few minutes he was fast asleep.

*CHAPTER XIV*

*SURPRISED AT HERSELF*

After the chauffeur's ignominious retreat Mrs. Andrews was uncertain what to do. The place was strange to her, and she had no idea how far she was from home. She looked up and down the road, but not a sign of a human habitation could she behold. The only spark of hope was a break in the forest a short distance ahead, and thinking that there might be a house near, she hastened forward. She had not advanced far when a light to the left attracted her attention. This was encouraging, so keeping steadily on, she ere long reached a gateway. The light came from a house over in a cleared field, and with this to guide her she soon reached the building and rapped upon the door. It was opened by a woman, who stared in amazement at the night visitor. A slight cry of fear also escaped her lips, for Mrs. Andrews presented a somewhat formidable appearance. Her hat was lop-sided, her hair dishevelled, her clothes covered with dust, and her face strained and defiant.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" the woman in the door asked.

"I want the police," was the curt reply.

"The police!"

"Yes. An attempt has been made upon my life, and I only barely escaped. Oh, it was terrible!"

"Isn't that awful!" and the woman held up her hands in fear, at the same time glancing anxiously around. "But there are no policemen here."

"I know that. But isn't there a telephone somewhere near? I must send word to town at once and have that villain arrested."

"We have a telephone at our store," the woman explained. "My husband would phone for you, if he knew about your trouble."

"Don't you live here?".

"Oh, no. I live about half a mile up the road."

"Well, then, go at once and phone for the police," Mrs. Andrews ordered.

"I can't do that very well now," was the reply. "I'm looking after a sick woman, and it would not do for me to leave."

"A sick woman! Here?"

"Yes. It's Mrs. Denton, poor soul. She's had a hard time of late, and the strain has been too much for her, and so she took to her bed last week. The women around here have taken turns staying with her. I do not know what will become of her."

"Is she very ill?" Mrs. Andrews asked.

"I'm afraid so. It is a nervous breakdown. I am going to take two of the children for a while, but what will happen to the other three the Lord only knows. But dear me, I've been keeping you standing here all this time. Come in and rest yourself, for you must be tired out after your trying experience."

The room into which Mrs. Andrews was ushered was the kitchen. It was spotlessly clean, and a fire was burning in the stove.

"She's in there," the woman whispered, pointing to a door on the left. "The children are upstairs."

Mrs. Andrews at once removed her hat, arranged her dishevelled hair, and brushed some of the dust from her dress. When she had accomplished this, she announced her intention of remaining with the patient.

"But I don't mind staying," the woman informed her.

"Perhaps not, but I want you to go and phone to the police. Tell them that Isaac Dimock's chauffeur ran away with Mrs. Abner Andrews, of Ash Point, and nearly killed her by running the auto into a ditch. You will do that, won't you? I hope it will not be too much trouble."

"Oh, I don't mind going," the woman replied.

"But----" Here she hesitated, and lowered her voice as she glanced toward the bedroom. "I don't like to leave her."

"Can't I look after her as well as you?" Mrs. Andrews asked.

"Perhaps so. But you might not altogether understand her. She's greatly worried about her children, and she's afraid they'll starve. It's necessary to keep cheering her up and telling her that they'll be all right."

"H'm, I guess you can leave that to me," Mrs. Andrews replied. "I'm used to odd people, so you go along and telephone for the police. I don't want that rascal to escape."

The woman at once obeyed, and when she returned several hours later it was broad daylight. She was surprised to find Mrs. Denton asleep, and Mrs. Andrews preparing breakfast for the children.

"How did you do it?" she asked, as she peeked into the bedroom.

"Do what?"

"Get her to sleep?"

"Oh, that was no trouble. I simply told her that her children would be all right; that you were to take two and that I would be responsible for the others."

"What! Do you mean to take three?"

"Certainly. What else is there to do? I shall look after them until some other arrangement is made. You phoned to the police, I suppose?"

"Yes, and they said the matter would be attended to at once."

"That is good," and Mrs. Andrews gave a sigh of relief. "I must go home now, and I wish to take these children with me. Is there anyone you can get to drive us?"

"My husband will," the woman replied. "He is going to town right after dinner, and will be glad to take you and the children along."

During the rest of the morning Mrs. Andrews found plenty to do in tending the sick woman and looking after the children. Nevertheless, the time passed all too slowly. She was anxious to get home, and yet she dreaded going back with the little ones. She wondered what Abner would say. She knew very well what she would have said had he done such a thing. She was really surprised at herself, and almost repented of her hasty action as she sat silently in the waggon that afternoon. Where would she put the children to sleep? Where was the food to come from for such an increase in the family? For months there had just been herself and Abner, and they had lived very simply. Since Belle's arrival they had fared more sumptuously than ever before. But now with three extra mouths to feed, making seven in all to provide for, it would mean a hard struggle. "I have been a fool," she told herself, "and have let my heart run away with my head."

It seemed a long time to Mrs. Andrews before she reached home. When the team at last stopped in front of the house she was surprised to see two little boys perched upon the limb of an apple-tree near the back door. Who could they be, and what were they doing there? Her attention was diverted by the sudden appearance of Jess and Belle from the house, who bore down upon her, and bombarded her with a stream of questions before she had time to alight from the waggon.

"For pity sakes! Give me time to breathe," Mrs. Andrews gasped. "It will take me a whole day to answer all your questions. Come, help these boys down."

Instead of at once obeying, Jess and Belle looked at each, other in consternation. Then they stared at the children.

"What's the matter?" Mrs. Andrews demanded. "Haven't you ever seen boys before? They won't bite."

"Whose are they?" Jess found voice to ask.

"They're ours now; that is, for a time, anyway."

"And are we to keep them, mother?"

"Certainly; until Mrs. Denton gets better."

"But we have two already," and Jess turned and looked toward the lads perched upon the apple-tree.

Mrs. Andrews also looked, and it was upon her face that an expression of consternation now appeared. Intuitively she realized that something unusual had taken place during her absence.

"Are they here to stay?" she demanded.

"It seems so," Jess replied.

"Where's your father?"

"He left home this morning in search of you, and we haven't seen him since."

For a few minutes Mrs. Andrews sat perfectly still, staring straight before her. Then she roused to action, sprang from the waggon and fairly dragged down the children. Thanking the driver for his kindness, she headed straight toward the house without once looking back. Jess and Belle rounded up the boys and marched them to the back door. By this time the two urchins of the night were down from the tree, eager to make friends with the new-comers. Leaving the five in the yard, the girls followed Mrs. Andrews into the house. Seating herself upon a chair in the kitchen, the troubled woman began to fan herself furiously with a copy of _The Family Herald and Weekly Star_. Her face was a study. An expression of anger and consternation was depicted there, her lips quivered and she was evidently making a great effort to control herself. Seeing this, Jess' sympathy was aroused, and stepping quickly forward, she placed her arms lovingly about her mother's neck.

"There, mother dear," she soothed, "don't feel so badly. There has been some mistake, I am sure."

"Mistake! How could there be any mistake? Your father must have planned to bring these boys here while I was away."

"Oh, no, he didn't," Jess explained. "They dropped upon him last night." Then she related the story as her father had told it to her the night before.

Mrs. Andrews said nothing for a while when Jess was through, but sat lost in thought.

"I wonder why Abner hasn't come back," she at length remarked. "He has had plenty of time to hunt for me all over town."

"Perhaps he is afraid to come," Jess suggested.

"Afraid to come!" Mrs. Andrews exclaimed in astonishment.

"Yes, afraid of what you might say."

"Oh, I see," and Mrs. Andrews looked meaningly at her daughter. "I guess we're quits, then, for I was really afraid to meet him."

A merry ringing laugh from Belle followed this candid confession. The humorous side of the situation had appealed to her from the moment of Mrs. Andrews' arrival with the three boys. There was nothing tragic about it to her, as she had no idea of the straitened circumstances of the Andrews' household. It had never dawned upon her what a struggle Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had made to eke out a precarious living from their gravel hill of a farm, and to keep Jess at the Seminary. Had she known this, and what an addition of five children would mean, she would have seen nothing amusing in the situation. It was as well, however, that she did not know at this critical moment, for her merriment dispelled the clouds, causing Jess to laugh, and the semblance of a smile to lurk about the corners of Mrs. Andrews' mouth.

"Well, I never!" the latter declared. "I believe that's just what's keeping Abner away. I always knew he was afraid of my tongue, but I never imagined it would cause him to run away from home."

"And were you really afraid to come home, mother?" Jess laughingly asked.

"Oh, of course not afraid. Though I must confess I had serious qualms of conscience as to what I had done. You see, when I promised Mrs. Denton to take the children I let my heart run away with my head."

"What do you mean, mother?"

"Well, I should have carefully considered what we should do with the boys, where we could put them to sleep, for instance. Perhaps it would have been better if I had come home first and talked the matter over."

"It's lucky you didn't, mother. You never would have brought those boys had you known there were two here already, would you?"