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She gazed from him to David, still shaking her head helplessly. "Well, if I ever!" she exclaimed, when she came out of it.
"And I shall just run and tell his father not to," blubbered Joel, realizing if Jim was to be saved from that awful whipping, he must be the one to do it. "Where does he live?" he cried, emerging from his tears at the chance of action.
"Over there," answered the tavern-keeper's wife. "Well, if I ever!" pointing to a yellow house. She kept e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. this over and over, as she pursued her way to the house, thoughtfully swinging her dish-towel.
Joel, with David at his heels, ran off across the cow-pasture, tumbled over the fence, and followed the direction that Jim had taken and that Mrs. Green had pointed, leading to the dingy yellow house.
Long before they reached it, they could hear squeals that were not pleasant to hear, and that made them quicken their pace, to run around the house-place, and plunge almost into the face of an untidy woman who hurried to the door.
"What d'ye want?" she demanded, as the two boys stopped panting before her.
"Jim," gasped Joel.
"And his father," added little David, breathlessly
"They're both out there," said the woman, pointing with the hand holding the dish-towel, to the dilapidated woodshed. "He's gittin' a lickin', and Pa's a-givin' it."
The squeals were now so much worse that Joel gave a plunge that carried him to the woodshed door, and little David, his heart in his mouth at thought of Jim's father, followed as best he could.
Joel dashed in. "Oh, do stop!" he screamed.
Jim's father turned; he had a big stick in his hand. When little David saw it he shuddered and sat down helplessly on the woodshed floor, in among all the clutter and dirt. Jim, with his knuckles twisted into his streaming eyes, whirled around from under the big hand grasping his collar. When he saw Joel, he screamed worse than ever. "Don't let him kill me, Pa," he roared, huddling up to him.
Joel sprang up to a tall, big-shouldered man with a bearded face.
"Oh, sir," he cried, "please don't whip Jim any more--p'r'aps he didn't mean to push David over, I don't b'lieve. Don't whip him." He put out his little brown hand, and boldly seized the stick.
"Hey?" roared the big man. "Well, I'm beat all to smithereens,"
and his hand holding the stick dropped to his side. Jim stopped from sheer amazement, the roar dying in his throat.
"If you'll only let him go," said Joel, "I'd be much obliged, sir," remembering how Mamsie said he should be polite when asking a favor.
The big man grinned all over his bearded face. "I don't see but what I've got to, you ask me so pretty," he said, showing nearly every tooth in his head. "Well, Jim, you're let off for this time. I hadn't only just begun," he added to Joel, as he hung up the stick on a beam.
Jim bounded off, climbed a tree, and watched to see the boys go away.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "OH SIR,' HE CRIED, 'PLEASE DON'T WHIP JIM ANY MORE'"]
"What's your name?" asked his father, as Joel helped David to his feet, and they started off.
"Joel Pepper," he answered, "and this is my brother David. Say how do you do, Dave," he whispered, pulling his sleeve. But little Davie was too far gone in distress to speak, only to smile faintly. "And we live over in Badgertown in a little brown house," continued Joel, feeling that he ought to make up for David's silence.
"Oh!" said Jim's father.
"And we must go now," said Joel, keeping hold of David's jacket, "'cause you see Mr. Tisbett may be wanting us"--very desirous of getting away.
"Did ye come with Mr. Tisbett?" asked the big man.
"Yes, we did," said Joel. "Come on, Dave. We must go, sir. Good-by."
And pulling David along, he ran at a smart pace off toward the tavern.
Mr. Tisbett was standing on the porch, just starting for them, when the two boys ran up. And in front of him was the tavern-keeper's wife, telling the whole story as far as she knew it, the old farmer hitching forward his chair to catch every word. When the stage-driver saw them, he hemmed loudly, and made a sign for Mrs. Green to stop.
"Well, now, I s'pose," he drawled, "it's about time to hitch up them horses. Want to come and help, Joe and David?"
Joel gave a skip of delight and released Davie's jacket. "Oh, whickety--yes!" he cried. Little David did not answer, but smiled his pleasure, and the tavern-keeper's wife went into the house to get her bundle of cookies ready.
But just as they got to the barn Joel hung back suddenly. "I ain't goin' in," he said. Mr. Tisbett didn't hear him, but marched on. Little David stopped in perplexity.
"No, I can't," said Joel, growing very sober, "'cause I was naughty and went in. Mr. Tisbett doesn't know it. O dear me!"
"You can tell him," suggested David, thoughtfully.
"O dear, dear!" exclaimed Joel, just ready to cry, as he could hear Mr. Tisbett lift down the harness, and call out, "Stand still, there, Bill--good Jerry."
"Why, boys!" exclaimed the stage-driver suddenly, coming to the door, the harness in his hand. "What on earth's the matter?
I thought ye was jest crazy to come in, Joel," he added reproachfully.
Then Joel burst right out. "I've been naughty--and went in." And he flung himself across the threshold, shaking with disappointment at losing the best chance of the whole day.
Mr. Tisbett looked at Davie for explanation. So David, telling it as well as he could, got through with the story finally.
"I can't say that ye warn't naughty, Joel," said the stage-driver, slowly, "'cause ye were. But I'm a-goin' to let ye in, and besides, I need ye to help me with them horses," and Mr. Tisbett began to look very worried at once.
Joel sat very straight. "Oh, I'll help you, Mr. Tisbett," he cried joyfully. And in a minute they were all three in the big stall, and Joel was in the very midst of things, and even David forgot his fright enough to lend a helping hand, and to feel his importance, and presently the big black horses were led out of the barn, and harnessed into the stage-coach.
"Now, hop up!" cried Mr. Tisbett, when he had gone carefully around and around the big coach, to see that every strap and buckle was in place, and had got down on his knees to be quite sure the springs were all right. Then he gave David a lift up to the box, Joel clambering up on the other side. "We'll drive up to th' door," he said, "an' get th' pa.s.senger," for there was one woman going over to Badgertown.
"Oh, let me drive!" begged Joel; "just up to the door, Mr.
Tisbett," he implored.
"We don't want to be upset under folks' noses," said Mr. Tisbett.
"Land! I'd rather 'twould happen where there warn't no one to see, if 'twas going to."
"I wouldn't upset it for anything," promised Joel. "Please, Mr.
Tisbett."
But Mr. Tisbett sat down and gathered up the reins and drove round with such a flourish that it never had been surpa.s.sed, it seemed to the people on the tavern porch. And the one woman got in with her basket, and the tavern-keeper's wife ran down the steps and stood on her tiptoes and handed up to Joel the bundle of cookies, begging them to come again. And the old farmer said "Good day," and the woman with little sharp eyes, who had been was.h.i.+ng the dishes, hurried out, pulling down her sleeves, to see them off. And away they rattled, with faces turned toward home and Mamsie.
They had proceeded about a quarter of a mile, when Mr. Tisbett suddenly asked, "Want to drive, Joel? Come along over here," and he reached past David and took his hand. "Now, then, I'm goin'
to set in the middle a little spell," and before Joel could recover from his astonishment, he found the old leather reins in his brown hands. He was driving Mr. Tisbett's black horses!
XVIII
IN THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE