The Princess and Joe Potter Part 18

"Are you countin' on stayin' 'round here?" Joe asked.

"Of course I am. How else would you fellers get out of the sc.r.a.pe, if I didn't?"

"Now, look here, Dan, there's no sense in anything like that. You ain't doin' any good, sneakin' 'round this house, 'cause, if the cops should come, how could you prevent their luggin' us off?"

"There's a good many ways that I might pull you through," Master Fernald replied, with an air of mystery. "If you knew as much about this business as I do, you'd be mighty glad to have me stay, 'specially when it ain't costin' you a cent."

"But I don't like to think of your bein' hungry, when it won't do the least little bit of good. Take my advice, an' go right back to the city."

"If I should do that, it wouldn't be two hours before you'd be in jail."

"We sha'n't go there any sooner if you leave us, an' it ain't jest square to aunt Dorcas."

"You can't give me points on detective business, Joe Potter, an' I've told the fellers in town that I'll look out for you. That's what I'll do, whether you like it or not," and, after a.s.suring himself, by stalking to and fro and gazing in every direction, that there were no enemies in the immediate vicinity, the amateur detective disappeared around the corner of the barn.

"It's too bad for Dan to act the way he's doin'," Joe said, with a long-drawn sigh. "I'm 'fraid, if aunt Dorcas gets a sight of him, we'll have to clear out."

"I don't s'pose it would do any good to ask her to let him bunk in with us, would it?" Plums said, hesitatingly.

"It would need big nerve, an', even if she was willin', he'd scare the hair off her head talkin' 'bout lawyers an' detectives hoverin' 'round."

Then Joe continued his interrupted work, and Plums a.s.sisted him by looking on, until the task was completed after which it became necessary to ask for further instructions.

Although aunt Dorcas could not perform the labour herself, she knew how gardening should be done, and under her directions, given during such moments as she could safely leave the kitchen, the ground was prepared in a proper manner by the time dinner had been made ready.

CHAPTER IX.

A FUGITIVE.

Plums enjoyed his dinner quite as much as if he had performed his full share of the gardening, and, when the meal was concluded, there came into his mind the thought that aunt Dorcas Milford's home was a most pleasant abiding-place.

Even though he was, so to speak, in temporary exile, he was exceedingly well content, save for the disagreeable fact that Joe had stated positively he should go back to Weehawken on the following day.

It seemed as if the thoughts of both the guests were running in the same channel, for Joe, after gazing a moment at aunt Dorcas's placid face, gave vent to a sigh of regret, and then looked out of the window, abstractedly.

"I s'pose we'd better get that garden planted this afternoon, if you've got the seeds, aunt Dorcas, an' even then we sha'n't be payin' for what we've had," Joe said, after a long pause, while the three yet remained at the table.

"Perhaps it will be as well to wait until to-morrow, and give the newly turned earth a chance to get warm," the little woman said.

"It seems as though we ought to do it to-day, if it would be jest as well for the garden, 'cause we don't count on your keepin' us for ever; an' after we leave here to-morrow it wouldn't be right to come back."

"I did think boys would be a dreadful nuisance around the house," aunt Dorcas began, as if speaking to herself, "but somehow I've felt real contented-like while you've been here, and it's a deal more cheerful with three at the table than to sit down alone."

"It's the first time I was ever in a house like this," Joe added, in a low tone. "It's awful nice, an' fellers what have a reg'lar home must be mighty happy."

"Where did you live in the city?" aunt Dorcas asked, after a pause.

"I knocked 'round, mostly. Twice I've bunked with some other feller in a room what we hired,--of course it wasn't anything like the one up-stairs, but payin' so high for a bed was a little too rich for my blood."

"But you had to sleep somewhere," aunt Dorcas suggested, her eyes opening wider, as she gained an insight into a phase of life which was novel to her.

The interest she displayed invited Joe's confidence, and he told her of the life led by himself and his particular friends in a manner which interested the little woman deeply.

It was not a story related for the purpose of exciting sympathy, but a plain recital of facts, around which was woven no romance to soften the hards.h.i.+ps, and there were tears in aunt Dorcas's faded eyes when the boy concluded.

"It seems wicked for me to be living alone in this house, when there are human beings close at hand who haven't a roof to shelter them," the little woman said, softly. "Why don't boys like you go out to the country to work, instead of staying in the city, where you can hardly keep soul and body together?"

"We couldn't do even that, if we turned farmers," Master Plummer replied, quickly. "n.o.body'd hire us."

"Why not?"

"I know of a feller what tried to get a job on a farm, an' he hung 'round the markets, askin' every man he met, but all of 'em told him city boys was no good,--that it would take too long to break 'em in."

"But what's to prevent your getting a chance to work in a store, where you could earn enough to pay your board?"

"I had a notion last year that I'd try that kind of work," Plums said, slowly, "an' looked about a good bit for a job; but the fellers what have got homes an' good clothes pick up them snaps, as I soon found out.

It seems like when you get into the business of sellin' papers, or s.h.i.+nin', you can't do anything else."

"Selling papers, or what?" aunt Dorcas asked, with a perplexed expression on her face.

"s.h.i.+nin'; that's blackin' boots, you know. Here's Joe, he sc.r.a.ped together seven dollars an' eighty-three cents, an' said to hisself that he'd be a howlin' swell, so what does he do but start a fruit-stand down on West Street, hire a clerk, an' go into the business in style. It didn't take him more'n two months to bust up, an' now he ain't got enough even to start in on sellin' papers, 'cause he spent it all on the princess."

"Who is the princess?" aunt Dorcas asked, with animation.

"She's a kid what he picked up on the street."

"Oh!" and the little woman looked relieved. "I thought, last night, when he spoke of the princess, that it was a child he meant."

"Why, didn't I tell you it was?"

"You said she was a kid."

"So she is, an' ain't that a child, or the next thing to it,--a girl?"

"Joseph, what does he mean? Who _is_ the princess?"

"She's a little girl, aunt Dorcas, who's lost her folks, an' I found her in the street. She hadn't anywhere to go, so I had to take care of her, 'cause a bit of a thing like her couldn't stay outdoors all night, same's a boy."

"And, even though having just failed in business, you took upon yourself the care of a child?"

"I couldn't do anything else, aunt Dorcas. There she was, an' somebody had to do it."

"You're a dear, good boy," and, leaning across the table, aunt Dorcas patted one of Joe's hands, almost affectionately. "Where is the little creature now?"