Author: Oliver Optic
Category: Adventure
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CHAPTER VIII.
MISS LARRABEE'S LETTER.
If I did not get up as early as usual the next morning, none of mytyrants were stirring in season to abuse me for lying abed so late; forthey, like myself, had not retired until after midnight. The first thingthat came to my mind in the morning was the scene I had witnessed in thepost-office. The secret seemed to burn in my soul, and I wanted somemeans of getting rid of it. I actually pitied Ham, and would gladly haveavailed myself of any method of saving him from the crime--of saving himfrom himself, rather than from the penalty of the offence, for even thenthe crime seemed to me to be worse than the punishment, and more to bedreaded.
It was nearly breakfast time when Ham made his appearance, and Iimagined that he had found some difficulty in going to sleep with theburden of his crime resting upon his conscience. Squire Fishley did notappear till the family were just ready to sit down at the table. Helooked sleepy, stupid, and ashamed of himself, and Mrs. Fishley thoughthe must have taken cold. According to his custom, the senator said graceat the table, by invitation of his brother, who, however, never returnedthanks himself.
I could not help keeping one eye fixed on the distinguished man, for sounusual an event as saying grace in that house did not fail to make animpression upon me. I noticed that he cast frequent glances at me, andvery uneasy ones at that. Doubtless he felt that I could unfold a talewhich was not exactly consistent with his religious pretensions. But, inspite of all I knew, I did not regard him as a hypocrite. I did not knowenough about him to enable me to reach so severe a judgment. The shameand penitence he had manifested assured me he was not in the habit ofgetting intoxicated; and I was willing to believe that he had been ledaway by the force of circumstances a single time, and that the errorwould cure itself by its own reaction.
"It's rather chilly this morning," said Captain Fishley. "Buck, you maymake a little fire in the stove."
"It has cleared off pleasant, and it will be warmer by and by, when thesun gets up," added Mrs. Fishley, who always had something to say, onevery possible topic that could be introduced, whether she knew anythingabout it or not.
I went to the store. In the open stove were the tindered remains of theletter Ham had burned. The sheet of paper had been entirely consumed;but the envelope, which he had destroyed afterwards, was only halfburned. The right hand lower corner had apparently been wet, so that itresisted the action of the fire, and appeared to rise in judgmentagainst the mail robber. The piece contained part of the last name ofthe superscription, with a portion of the town, county, and state, ofthe address. Without any definite purpose in doing so, I put the remainsof the envelope in my pocket.
While I was making the fire, Miss Larrabee entered the store, and wentup to the counter appropriated to the post-office. Ham whistled YankeeDoodle, which was patriotic enough, but out of place even in the shop,and sauntered leisurely over to wait upon her. I was astonished to seehow cool he was; but I think the whistle had a deceptive effect.
"Has that letter come yet?" asked Miss Larrabee; and her anxiety wasvisible in the tones of her voice.
"What letter do you mean, Miss Larrabee?" asked Ham, suspending hiswhistle, and looking as blank as though he had never heard of it.
"Why, the letter I came for last night," replied the ancient maiden.
"For yourself?"
"Yes; the letter from Ethan's folks."
"I haven't heard anything about it before."
"Well, you was a standin' here last night when I axed your father forit," added Miss Larrabee, who thought the matter was of consequenceenough to have everybody take an interest in it.
"I didn't mind what you said. So many letters come here, that I can'tkeep the run of them."
"I've axed your father for't goin' on three times; and he said it wouldcome in last night's mail. It must have come afore this time."
"If it must, I suppose it has," replied Ham, taking a pile of lettersfrom the pigeon-hole marked L.
Having lighted the kindlings in the stove, I stood up to observe theconduct of Ham. He resumed his whistle, and examined the letters. Ofcourse he did not find the one he was looking for.
"None for Larrabee," said he, suspending the patriotic air long enoughto utter the words.
"Goodness gracious! There must be!" exclaimed the unhappy spinster."Have you looked 'em all over?"
"I have."
But Ham took down the L's again, and went through the pile once more.
"None for Larrabee," he repeated, and then, for variety's sake, whistledthe first strain of Hail, Columbia.
"But, Mr. Fishley, there must be a letter for me. Ethan writ me therewas one comin'; and he said it would be here by to-day, for sartain,"protested Miss Larrabee. "Mebbe it's got into some other hole."
"Well, to please you, I'll look them all over; but I don't rememberseeing any letter for you."
"I tell ye it must have come afore now," persisted the venerable maiden.
Ham whistled his favorite air as he went through all the letters in thepigeon-holes, from A to Z. He did not find it, and Miss Larrabee was indespair. She had made all her preparations to visit "Jim's folks," andhad intended to start that day.
"It's a shame!" exclaimed she. "I know Ethan sent the letter. Hewouldn't play no sech trick on me. Them mail folks ought to look out forthings better'n that."
"If it didn't come, it didn't," added Ham, consolingly.
"But I know it did come. Ethan must have put it in the post-office.'Tain't like him to say he'd do a thing, and then not do it. I almostknow he sent the letter."
At this point Captain Fishley and his brother entered the store, andMiss Larrabee appealed to him. The postmaster looked the letters oververy carefully; but, as there was none for the lady, he couldn't findany. He was very sorry, but he displayed more philosophy than thespinster, and "bore up" well under the trial.
"What on airth am I to do!" ejaculated Miss Larrabee. "Here I've got allready to go and see Jim's folks; but I can't go because I hain't got nomoney. When I set about doin' a thing, I want to do it."
"People sometimes make mistakes in directing their letters, and thenthey have to go to the dead-letter office," suggested Captain Fishley.
"Ethan didn't make no mistake. 'Tain't like him to make mistakes. Do youthink Ethan don't know where I live?"
"I don't know anything about it, only that the letter isn't here."
"Dear suz! What shall I do? When a body's made up her mind to go, it'sdesp'ate aggravatin' not to go."
At this trying juncture, Squire Fishley interposed, and, after someinquiries in regard to the responsibility of the parties, suggested thathis brother should lend the lady money enough to enable her to make herjourney.
"I'd be much obleeged to you, Captain Fishley, if you'd do it," saidMiss Larrabee, delighted with the suggestion. "I shan't be gone more'na month, and when I come back I'll hand it to you. That letter must cometo-day or to-morrow, and if you have a mind to, you can open it, andtake the money out. It will save me the interest."
"But suppose the letter has gone to the dead-letter office?" added thepostmaster.
"Sakes alive! I've got money enough to pay it, if the letter is lost.Why, Ethan's got more'n 'leven hundred dollars that belongs to me."
"All right, Miss Larrabee," replied Captain Fishley, as he took out themoney, and wrote a note for the amount.
The worthy maiden of many summers put on her spectacles, signed thenote, and counted the money. She was happy again, for the journey wasnot to be deferred. I think Ham was as glad to have her go as she was togo. I could not help watching him very closely after his father and thesquire left the store, to observe how he carried himself in his courseof deception and crime. I had never known him to whistle so much before,and I regarded it as the stimulus he used in keeping up hisself-possession.
"What are you staring at me for, Buck Bradford?" demanded he, as I stoodgazing across the counter at him.
"A cat may look at the king," I replied, stung by the
harsh words, afterI had cherished so many kind feelings towards him, though I forgot thatI had not expressed them, since the affray on the road.
"Do I owe you anything?"
"No, you don't owe me anything."
"Yes, I do. I owe you something on last night's account, and I'm goingto pay it too," he added, shaking his head at me in a threateningmanner.
I did not like his style, and not wishing to make a disturbance in thestore, I said nothing. I walked up to the stove, where I found that myfire was not doing very well, for my interest in the letter had causedme to neglect it. I put on some more kindlings, and then knelt down onthe hearth to blow up the fire with my breath. Captain Fishley and thesquire had left the store, and Ham and I were alone. I heard my youngesttyrant come from behind the counter; but I did not think anything ofit. While I was kneeling on the hearth, and blowing up the failingembers with all my might, Ham came up behind me, with a cowhide in hishand, taken from a lot for sale, and before I suspected any treachery onhis part, or had time to defend myself, he struck me three heavy blows,each of which left a mark that remained for more than a week.
I sprang to my feet; but the wretch had leaped over the counter, andfortified himself behind it. He looked as ugly as sin itself; but Icould see that he was not without a presentiment of the consequences ofhis rash act. I do not profess to be an angel in the quality of mytemper, and I was as mad as a boy of fifteen could be. I made a springat him, and was going over the counter in a flying leap, when he gave mea tremendous cut across the shoulder.
"Hold on there, Buck Bradford!" called he, as he pushed me back with hisleft hand. "We are square now."
"No, we are not," I replied, taking a cowhide from a bundle of them on abarrel. "We have a new account to settle now."
"We are just even for what you gave me last night," said he.
"Not yet," I added, leaping over the counter in another place; and,rushing upon him, I brought my weapon to bear upon his shoulders.
"What are you about, you villain?" demanded Captain Fishley, returningto the store at this moment.
He seized me by the collar, and being a powerful man, he wrested thecowhide from my grasp, and before I could make any successfuldemonstration, he laid the weapon about my legs, till they were in nobetter condition than I had left Ham's the evening before.
"I'll teach you to strike my son!" said he, breathless with excitement.
"He struck me," I flouted.
"No matter if he did; you deserved it. Now go to the barn, and harnessthe horse."
I saw the squire coming into the store. I was overpowered; and, with mylegs stinging with pain, I went to the barn.