AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL.
It was really the princess who saved aunt Dorcas's home from destruction. Had she not seen Dan Fernald, as he made his way through the orchard, the barn would most likely have been in a blaze before Joe or Plums were aware of the fact.
Thanks to her warning, Joe saw the smoke before the fire gathered headway, and when he arrived on the scene, the flames had but just fastened upon the side of the barn.
Plums, aroused to something like activity by the knowledge of danger, followed Joe with remarkable promptness, and the amount of water thus brought by both was sufficient to extinguish what, a few moments later, would have been a conflagration.
Not until he had pulled the charred sticks from beneath the end of the barn, and assured himself every spark had been drowned out, did Joe speak, and then it was to relieve his mind by making threats against the would-be incendiary.
"It's all well enough for a woman like aunt Dorcas to tell about doin' good to them what tries to hurt you, for she couldn't so much as put up her hands. If you keep on forgivin' duffers like Dan Fernald, you're bound to be in such scrapes as this all the time. What he needed was a sound thumpin', when he begun talkin' so rough to aunt Dorcas; then he wouldn't dared to try a game of this kind. When I get hold of him again, I'll make up for lost time."
"I'll bet he's somewhere 'round here, watchin' out, an' when he sees this game didn't work, he'll try somethin' else."
"Not much he won't. I know pretty near where he is, an' I'm goin' to make him—"
At this moment the voice of the princess could be heard in vehement protest against thus being left alone, and Joe was forced to defer his punishment of the amateur detective until a more convenient season.
"Stay here, Plums, an' watch for Dan, while I go and get the princess. He went among them trees over there, so's to have a reserved seat while the house was burnin'; but he's got to come out some time."
"Don't stay away too long, for I ain't certain as I'd dare to tackle him alone,—you see I'm too fat to be much of a fighter."
A certain quaver in Plums's voice told that he was afraid to be alone even while Dan was a long distance away, and Joe thought it extremely comical that any one should fear the amateur detective.
The princess did not object to taking a walk, fortunately for Master Plummer's peace of mind, and, in a short time, the three were patrolling the grounds, Joe carrying the little maid whenever she insisted upon such service.
At noonday, a certain amount of food was brought out on the lawn in front of the house, and, even while the boys ate, they continued their self-imposed duty of guarding the premises.
Then the princess wanted to sleep, and Joe sat by her side, while Plums kept watch from the windows, or walked rapidly around the buildings.
So far as Dan was concerned, they might as well have amused themselves according to their own fancies, for he never showed himself after having sought refuge in the grove.
When the excitement consequent upon the attempt to destroy aunt Dorcas's home had subsided in a measure, the boys began to speculate upon the reasons for the little woman's hurried departure, but could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion as to what it might be she hoped to accomplish.
"Of course she could do a pile of beggin' off for a feller, 'cause anybody would have to listen to her; but when the lawyers are willin' to pay a hundred dollars for either one of us three, I don't believe she can do very much by talkin'," Joe said, reflectively, as he summed up the situation according to his belief. "I expect she'll be terribly disappointed when we see her again, 'cause she counts on straightenin' things out in a jiffy."
"Do you s'pose Dan Fernald will hang 'round here till he gets a chance to do her some mischief?"
"As soon as aunt Dorcas gets back I'm goin' to skirmish through them trees, an', if he's there, it won't take more'n three minutes to make him sick of this part of the country."
The boys were yet discussing what should be done to Dan to prevent him from attempting to work more mischief, when a covered carriage, drawn by two horses, whose harness was resplendent with silver, and driven by a coachman in livery, turned from the highway into the lane leading to the cottage.
"Hi, Joe!" Plums cried, excitedly. "See the swells what are comin' to visit aunt Dorcas!"
"They want to ask the way somewhere, an' seein's we couldn't even tell 'em where the post-office is, I guess we'd better keep kind er shady. Now the princess is awake! We'll have to show ourselves, 'cause she's bound to make a noise," Joe added, as the little maid clambered upon his knee.
"I'm goin'—Say, aunt Dorcas herself is in that funny rig!"
"What are you givin' me?" and Joe leaned forward eagerly, in order to have a better view.
"It's her, dead sure! There! Look at that! What do you think, now?"
It was, indeed, as Master Plummer had said.
Aunt Dorcas was getting out of the carriage, assisted by a gentleman who spoke to the driver in such a manner as one would expect from the owner of the equipage, and immediately behind the little woman could be seen a younger lady.
"I wonder if aunt Dorcas thinks them swells would help two chumps like us out of our scrape!" Joe exclaimed. "If she does, her head ain't—"
"Papa! Papa!" the princess screamed in delight, as she pounded on the window with her tiny fists, and instantly the gentleman left aunt Dorcas to alight from the vehicle as best she could, while he ran at full speed up the sharp ascent to the house.
"I'll be blowed, if aunt Dorcas hasn't found the princess's folks!" Joe cried, as an expression of bewilderment came over his face. "That dude is comin' in, an' we'd best leave."
Followed by Plums, Joe ran out of the kitchen door, just as the gentleman came through the main entrance of the cottage, and the boys heard a wild scream of delight from the princess.
Master Potter threw himself, face downward, on the grass near the garden, and Plums seated himself by his comrade's side, asking again and again how it was aunt Dorcas had so readily found the princess's parents.
"When we first come here, I didn't think she 'mounted to very much, 'cause she was so little an' kind er dried up. Then, when she struck out so heavy prayin', I begun to think there might be more to her than I'd counted on. But now,—why, Joe, little as she is, aunt Dorcas has done more'n all the cops in town put together. When we told her the princess had lost her folks, what does she do but go right out and hunt 'em up, an' don't look as though she'd turned a hair doin' it."
Joe made no reply.
"Didn't she hump herself, when we showed her that advertisement? She was jest like a terrier after a rat, an' bossed me 'round till, as true's you live, I run more'n half the way over to Mr. McArthur's. Then how she jumped on him when he begun to ask questions! If I only had somebody like aunt Dorcas to look out for me, I wouldn't have to work so hard."
Joe remained silent; but Plums was so intent on singing aunt Dorcas's praises, that he failed to pay any especial attention to the fact that his comrade had not spoken since they knew the princess's parents had arrived.
"Joseph! George!"
"Here we are, aunt Dorcas," Plums replied.
"Come into the house this very minute, both of you."
"Come on, Joe; I s'pose we've got to go. The dude wants to thank us for lookin' after the princess."
"You can go; I sha'n't," Joe said, with difficulty, as if he were choking, and Plums gazed at him in surprise.
"Joseph! George! Where are you?"
"Out here by the garden, aunt Dorcas. Joe won't come in."
"Go on by yourself, an' leave me alone," Master Potter said, angrily, still keeping his face hidden from view.
"It can't do any hurt to have one look at the dudes, an' seein's how there's nothin' else goin' on, I guess I'll take the show in."
Then Master Plummer sauntered leisurely towards the cottage, and Joe, believing himself alone, began to sob as if his heart were breaking.
He failed to hear aunt Dorcas as she came swiftly out through the shed door and kneeled by his side. Not until she spoke did he think there was a witness to his grief.
"JOE, BELIEVING HIMSELF ALONE, BEGAN TO SOB AS IF HIS HEART WERE BREAKING."
"Josey, my poor boy, are you grieving because Essie's parents have found her at last?"
Joe tried to speak, but could not, and the little woman continued:
"You should rejoice because the sufferings of that poor father and mother are at an end. Try to imagine their distress when the dear child was missing, and they could not know whether she was alive or dead. Think of them, as they pictured her alone in the streets, wandering around until exhausted, or falling into the hands of wicked people who would abuse her. Fancy what their sufferings must have been as compared with yours, when you know that she will receive even better treatment than we could give her. It is wicked, Josey, my boy, to grieve so sorely, for a mother's heart has been lightened of all the terrible load which has been upon it for so many days."
Then aunt Dorcas patted the small portion of cheek which was exposed to view between the bandages, and in many a loving way soothed the sorrowing boy, until he suddenly sat bolt upright, wiping both eyes with the sleeve of his coat, as he said, stoutly:
"I'm a bloomin' idjut, aunt Dorcas, that's what I am, an' if you'd turn to an' kick me, I'd be served nearer right than by havin' you pity me."
"You're very far removed from an idiot, Joseph, and I am glad to know your heart is still so tender that you can feel badly at the loss of a dear little child like Essie,—Esther is her name. Now, Josey dear, don't you want to know why those lawyers tried to find you?"
"Have you been to see them, too?" Joe cried, in surprise.
"Yes, indeed, dear. In the paper you took from Dan Fernald was another advertisement directly below the one referring to you, and it was concerning a little child who had been lost in the vicinity of the Grand Central Station. The same names were signed to it, and on seeing that, I believed I understood why so much money would be paid for information concerning you."
"I s'pose it's all straight enough, aunt Dorcas; but I can't seem to make out what you mean."
"Nothing can be plainer, my child. Little Essie was left in charge of a nurse at the station, and when the foolish woman missed the baby, instead of making immediate inquiries, she spent her time fainting. Not until nearly eight o'clock that evening did the poor mother learn of her terrible loss, and then detectives were sent out at once. The boy at the fruit store, on being questioned, as was every one else in that vicinity, described the baby he saw in your arms, and told the officers your name. You had disappeared, and the only thing left was to offer a reward for information as to your whereabouts."
"Then they didn't think I'd done anything crooked?"
"If by that you mean 'wrong,' they didn't. It was the only clew they had to the child; but on the following day it was learned you had been seen with George, and then his name appeared in the advertisement. After that, some of the newsboys from around City Hall Square brought word that Dan Fernald was with you, and a reward was also offered for knowledge of his whereabouts. You see, Josey dear, if Mr. Raymond—that is the name of Essie's father—could find either of you three boys, he was reasonably certain of getting news regarding his baby."
"Then I ran away from nothing, did I?"
"Yes, Josey dear, you did what many older persons than you have done, and what God's Book tells us the wicked do,—fled when no man was pursuing."
"Well, I have been a chump!"
"Do you mean that you've been foolish?"
"I s'pose that's what you'd call it. I'm a reg'lar jay from Jayville, an' yesterday mornin' I let that bloomin' imitation detective scare me!"
"Those wiser than you might have misconstrued that advertisement, Joseph; but this shall teach you that there is nothing to fear when your conscience is clear. Meet trouble half-way, and it dwindles into mere vexation. Now, dear, I want you to come into the house with me and meet Mr. and Mrs. Raymond. They know how kind you have been to Essie, and wish to thank you."
"Well, they can't thank me for takin' care of the princess, an' I only wish she'd never had a father and a mother, for then I could have kept her all the time."
"Won't you come to please me, dear?" and aunt Dorcas laid her hand on the boy's arm affectionately.
"When you put it that way, I'll have to go," and Joe rose slowly to his feet.
"Of course you want to see Essie before she leaves?"
"Are they goin' to take her right away?"
"Certainly, Joseph. Do you fancy that poor mother could go away without her?"
Joe made no reply, and, linking her arm in his, aunt Dorcas led him in through the shed, but before they had reached the cottage Plums came towards them at an unusually rapid rate of speed, crying, excitedly:
"The dudes have gone, aunt Dorcas. They've gone, and that very same swell carriage is comin' here to-morrow mornin' to take me an' Joe an' you into the city to see the princess."
"Gone?" aunt Dorcas exclaimed, in surprise.
"Yes; I told 'em Joe was kind er grumpy 'cause princess was goin' away, an' the boss said perhaps it would be better if they took a sneak. He left a letter in the front room for you,—wrote it on a card he got out of his pocket."
It was plain to be seen from the expression on aunt Dorcas's face that she was disappointed; but she repressed her own feelings to say to Joe:
"Perhaps it is the best way, dear, for it would have caused you still more sorrow to say good-bye to Essie. Now you will have time to grow accustomed to the loss before you see her again."
Plums was in such a state of delirious excitement, owing to the fact that he was to reënter New York like a "reg'lar swell," that it seemed impossible for him to behave in a proper fashion.
He danced to and fro, as if active movement was his greatest delight, and insisted on bringing to aunt Dorcas the card which Mr. Raymond had left, even while she was making her way as rapidly as possible to the front room.
The message to the little woman read as follows:
My Dear Miss Milford: I understand that the lad who has been so kind to Essie does not wish to see her just at present; therefore, perhaps it is better we go at once, and without ceremony. Will you yet further oblige me by coming to my house to-morrow? The carriage shall be here about ten o'clock. Very sincerely yours,
Edward Raymond.
"There is no reason why we shouldn't go, dear?" aunt Dorcas asked Joe, after reading the message aloud.
"There's Dan Fernald cuttin' across the orchard, down towards the road! Now's our time to catch him!" Plums shouted, before Joe could reply to aunt Dorcas's kindly words, and in another instant the two boys were in hot pursuit.
Aunt Dorcas, believing they were trying to catch the amateur detective in order to punish him for what had been said during the morning, cried shrilly for them to come back; but her words were unheeded, because unheard.
Master Fernald was not in condition for a race, owing to his having travelled to and fro a goodly portion of the day in search of revenge, and the chase was soon ended.
In attempting to climb over the orchard fence into the road, he tripped, fell, and, before it was possible to rise again, Joe was on his back.
"I'll have the law on you if you dare to strike me!" Dan cried, in accents of terror, and Joe replied, disdainfully:
"Don't be afraid, you bloomin' duffer. I ain't goin' to hurt you now, 'cause I feel too good. I'm only countin' on showin' what kind of a detective you are, an' tellin' what'll happen if you hang 'round here an hour longer."
"I'm goin' to New York an' have the perlice on your trail before dark to-night," Dan cried, speaking indistinctly because of Joe's grasp upon his throat.
"I'm willin' you should do that jest as soon's you get ready. It won't bother me a little bit, 'cause aunt Dorcas told the story this mornin', an' the man what put the advertisement in the papers has been out here. Now, you listen to me, Dan Fernald, and perhaps after this you'll give over your funny detective business. All them lawyers wanted of me was to find out where the princess was, an' if, instead of runnin' away, I'd flashed myself up on Pine Street, there wouldn't have been any trouble. I ought'er black both your eyes for tryin' to set fire to aunt Dorcas's barn; but somehow I can't do it, 'cause she don't like to have fellers fight. Now you can get into New York an' fetch your perlice."
Joe released his hold of Master Fernald; but the latter was so astonished by the information given, that he made no effort to rise.
"Is all that true, or are you foolin' me?" he asked, after a time.
"Say, the best thing you can do is to come up an' talk with aunt Dorcas. It would do you a heap of good, Dan, an', come to think of it, you've got to go."
Master Fernald was not as eager to visit the cottage now as he had been, for he understood that Joe was speaking the truth, and the prospect of meeting the little woman, after all he had said and attempted to do, was not pleasing.
"Don't let up on him," Plums cried, vindictively. "He's to blame for this whole racket, an' ought'er be served out a good deal worse'n aunt Dorcas will serve him."
Dan struggled manfully, but all to no purpose. His late friends were determined he should visit the woman he had intended to wrong, and half dragged, half carried him up the lane, until they were met by aunt Dorcas herself, who sternly asked why they were ill-treating a boy smaller than themselves.
"It's Dan Fernald, aunt Dorcas," Plums said, as if in surprise that she should have interfered. "It's the same feller what wasn't goin' to show you the paper till you'd 'greed to board him the balance of the summer, an' in less than a half an hour after you went away he set the barn afire. We thought it would do him a heap of good to talk with you a spell."
"Let him alone, children. If he doesn't wish to speak with me you must not try to force him. Suppose you two go into the garden a little while, and leave us alone?"
This did not please Plums, for he had anticipated hearing the little woman read Master Fernald a lecture; but he could do no less than act upon the suggestion, and as the two went slowly towards the barn, Master Plummer said, regretfully:
"It's too bad we couldn't hear what she had to say, after I told her about his settin' the barn afire."
"Look here, Plums, you'd been disappointed if she'd let you listen. She ain't the kind of a woman that would rave, an' scold, an' tear 'round; but when she gets through with Dan Fernald, he'll feel a mighty sight worse than if she'd knocked his two eyes into one."