The Gold Brick Part 31

Jube took a heavy shot bag from his pocket, and opening it exhibited more gold than the selectman had ever seen in his life. The whole group of countrymen gathered around him, full of eager curiosity.

"I should think that satisfactory," said one of the speakers, addressing the selectman.

"No doubt on that point," was the answer; "but where on arth du they come from, I should raly like to know."

"Will you please tell us some way," said Paul, modestly. "It is much cold here, and Jube likes a fire too much."

"You want to know the road to Mrs. Allen's?"

"Yes, monsieur, that is the name!"

"Well, she lives over the hill."

"Which way we go, monsieur?"

"No, it isn't monsur, but Bungy that you're after."

"And that way, if you please?"

"Turn round that great willer tree on the corner, keep to the left of the white house back of it, and then go straight along. It's a brown house with a narrow door yard, and a s.h.a.g bark walnut tree standing at one end--you can't miss it, no how."

"Thank you," said the boy, lifting his cap with the grace of a little prince, "monsieur are much kind."

Jube also lifted his cap, and stood close by his master, a good deal puzzled and disturbed by the conversation that had been forced upon them.

The men who were left behind drew together in a group.

"It's a bad time for strangers to be asking the way to that house," said the selectman, looking after the travellers, "but one couldn't make them understand. With officers in charge, and that miserable girl lying at the point of death, as I may say, it will come hard on Mrs. Allen. I almost wish some of us had taken them home."

"Let them go," said the man addressed. "They bring good news from the son that was lost--poor woman, she will find that G.o.d does not altogether forsake her, though it is an awful trial she is going through."

With a parting salutation, so respectful from Jube, and so elegant from the boy, that the men stood quite confounded, the old negro and his charge pa.s.sed on up the hill.

"It's the first brown house," one of the little group called out, as soon as he recovered his power of speech, which, like those of any true New Englander, were not to be checked long by any condition whatever; "the first brown house, and ask for widder Allen."

The two strangers looked back, comprehending the gesture which accompanied these words, and, with another courteous salute, disappeared along a bend in the road.

"We've almost reached our journey's end, Jube," the boy said, in their native tongue, after they had walked some distance.

"Yes, little master," said Jube, in the same tongue, "that's the house I see now up yonder."

"I wonder if she is a kind woman?" the boy continued, his thoughts reverting to all the trouble and cruelty of the past months.

"I hope so, little master; it's a woman's nature, most times; and if she have a spark of goodness in her heart, it must come out when she see that blessed young face."

"Dave's mother ought to be kind and good, I am sure."

"Very nice man, that Master Rice; Jube will never forget him, never!"

With such broken conversation, they pursued their way, and soon reached the summit of the hill. Just before them was the old farm house which once looked so cheerful and pleasant, but now a quiet so profound pervaded the whole place that it seemed like a shadow deepening under the trouble which oppressed its inmates.

With his refined instincts and sympathies, the boy felt a peculiar restlessness creep over his mind as he approached the dwelling.

"How still it is, Jube," he said, unconsciously sinking his voice to a whisper, as they lingered for an instant by the gate; "it seems as if they were all sick or dead."

"Not that, little master," replied Jube, occupied with the reflection that his beloved charge had at last reached a place of tranquillity, and incapable of the vague emotions which agitated the sensitive nerves of the child.

He opened the gate, and held it ajar for the boy to pa.s.s through. Never once, in all their sorrow and confusion, had he forgotten the respect which was due to his old master's son.

"Go in, Master Paul; don't be afeard, Jube is with you yet."

"I am not afraid; I only feel sorry for these strange people; but why, I cannot tell."

Jube made no answer to the fancies which he could not comprehend; and, after that momentary hesitation, the boy pa.s.sed up the little garden path to the house, and waited, while the negro gave a quick, eager rap upon the door.

Mrs. Allen was occupied in the bedroom, and did not hear the summons, but it aroused the officer who sat over the kitchen fire, struggling with sleep and the dreary reflections to which the place and his duty gave rise.

"Come in!" he called, in a low voice; then, fearful of disturbing the sick girl, whom he had already begun to pity, in spite of the sin and guilt which he believed to be upon her, he rose from his chair, and walked to the door, starting in astonishment when he opened it, and saw the two strangers standing there.

Paul looked at Jube for a.s.sistance, and Jube looked back at him so helpless and confused, in his efforts to recall his very imperfect English, that the boy was obliged to depend upon his own courage and knowledge of the harsh tongue.

"Madame Allen live here?" he asked, while the officer, between astonishment at his grace and foreign accent, only stared the harder, instead of answering.

"Moder to Ma.s.ser Rice," added Jube, coming to his young master's a.s.sistance, and after successfully p.r.o.nouncing so much in his best English, he rushed into a flood of French, which completed the man's bewilderment.

"Land's sake!" he exclaimed. "What on arth does the critter mean--never heerd such a lingo in all my life!"

"_Chut!_" whispered Paul to his companion; "he doesn't understand you."

The recollection quite took Jube by surprise. He ceased at once, his mouth gaping wide, and the whites of his eyes displayed in bewildering astonishment.

"We wish Madame Allen," pursued the boy.

"De moder of her son," put in Jube, coming to his senses, and determining to a.s.sist his master by every means in his power.

"The widder Allen lives here," replied the man, "if you want her--the Lord knows she near enough crazy, anyhow," he continued, in a lower tone. "But walk in, walk in."

CHAPTER x.x.x.

THE WELCOME LETTER.

The guard left Paul and his black friend standing on the door step, and went toward the bedroom, calling, in a half-whisper,

"Here, Mrs. Allen, somebody wants you."