Read Ebook: Little Grandfather by May Sophie

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Ebook has 735 lines and 29878 words, and 15 pages

"But, mother, I haven't heard him pass through the south entry,--have you? I always know when he goes into the bar-room by the quick little click of the latch."

"So do I," replied her mother; "but now I think of it, I haven't heard him to-night. I can't help hoping he is going to lie still."

"Love, I guess I'll go in and look at that child. He may have tossed the clothes off and got a little chilly."

Then she arose from her chair slowly,--she was so large that she always moved slowly,--took one of the candles, and went into the kitchen.

As she opened the bedroom door--Well, I cannot tell you; you will have to imagine that white, white face, pressed close to the pillow, that limp little figure, stretched under the coverlet, in awful stillness.

"O God, is it too late?" thought Mrs. Parlin. She saw the charcoal; she understood it all in an instant.

"Lydia, come quick!"

A low moan fell on her ear as she bent to listen. Thank Heaven, it was not too late! Willy could yet be saved!

Happy mother, receiving her precious one as if from the dead! Bewildered Willy, coming back to life with no remembrance of the dark river which he had almost forded, without a thought of the pearly gates he had almost entered!

Conscience-stricken "Liddy!" How she suffered when she found what she had done! Not that she made a scene by screaming and tearing her hair, as some ignorant people are apt to do at such a time. No; Liddy was a Quaker, and the Quaker blood is very quiet. She only pressed her hands together hard, and said to Mrs. Parlin,--

THE OX-MONEY.

Perhaps the shock had some effect upon Willy's habits, for after this he did not walk in his sleep for some time.

But one night, as the teamsters were drinking their cider, and talking about the well-beloved "Kellup," wondering why he should take it into his head to steal,--"as honest a man, they had always thought, as ever trod shoe-leather,"--the bar-room door softly opened, and in glided Willy, in his flannel night-dress.

The men were really glad to see him, and nodded at one another, smiling, but, as usual, made no remark about the child. They knew he could not hear, but it seemed as if he could, and they were a little careful what they said before him.

"Yes," said Mr. Parlin, going on to speak of Caleb, "I considered him an honest, God-fearing man, and trusted him as I would one of my own sons. If there was any other way to account for that money, I should be glad, I assure you,--as glad as any of you."

"Where has Kellup gone to?" asked Mr. Griggs.

"Gone to Bangor, they say."

All this while Willy had not seated himself in his little chair, but was walking towards the bar. After muttering to himself a little while, he went in and took from the shelf the old account-book. Mr. Parlin looked at the teamsters, and put his finger on his lips as a hint for them to keep still, and see what the child would do.

Willy felt in the account-book for the key, then glided along to the money-drawer and opened it.

"There, now, it isn't here," said he, after he had fumbled about for a while with his chubby fingers; "the book isn't here that had the ox-money in it. Caleb mustn't have that money; it belongs to my father."

The men grew very much interested, and began to creep up a little nearer, in order to catch every word.

"Money all gone," sighed Willy; and then, appearing to think for a moment, added, "O, yes; but I know where I put it!"

Breathless with surprise, Mr. Parlin and his guests watched the child as he pattered with bare feet across the floor to the west side of the room, climbed upon a high stool, and opening the "vial cupboard," took out from a chink in the wall, behind the bottles, a little old singing-book.

It was only the danger of startling Willy too suddenly that prevented the amazed father from snatching the book out of his hand.

"Yes, the ox-money is here," said Willy, patting the notes, which lay between the leaves.

Then he seemed to be considering for a space what to do; but at last put the singing-book back again in the chink behind the bottles, clambered down from the stool, and taking his favorite seat in the red chair, began to warm his little cold feet before the fire.

"Well, that beats all!" exclaimed Dr. Hilton, before any one else could get breath to speak.

Mr. Parlin went at once to the cupboard, and took down the singing-book.

"The money is safe and sound," said he, as he looked it over,--"safe and sound; and Caleb Cushing is an honest man, thank the Lord!"

"Three cheers for Caleb!" said Dr. Hilton.

"Three cheers for Kellup!" cried one of the teamsters.

And quite forgetting the sleeping child, the rest of the teamsters took up the toast, and shouted,--

"Three cheers for Kellup Cushing! Hoo-ra-a-ay!"

Of course that waked Willy, and frightened him dreadfully. Imagine yourself going to sleep in bed, and waking up in a chair in another room, in a great noise. It was the first time the little fellow had ever been roused from one of his "walking-spells," and they had to carry him away to his mother to be comforted.

He did not know that night what had happened; but next morning they told him that Caleb did not steal the money, and that papa had written a letter to beg him to come back.

"And how think we found out that Caleb didn't steal?" asked Stephen.

Of course Willy had not the least idea.

"Because you stole the money yourself!" replied the hectoring Stephen.

"Ah, but you did, little man! I'll leave it to father if you didn't!"

Willy stamped and kicked. He had a high temper when it was aroused, and his sister Love had to come and quiet him.

"You took the money in your sleep," said she. "You didn't mean to do it; you are not a thief, dear; and we love you just as well as we did before."

They all thought Willy must have had a dream about Caleb and the ox-money, or he would never have gone and taken the singing-book out of the drawer; but from that day to this he has never been able to remember the dream.

Caleb cried for joy when he received the letter, and fell on his knees,--so he afterwards told grandpa Cheever,--and thanked his heavenly Father for bringing him out of the greatest trial he had ever had in his life. He was very glad to go back to Mr. Parlin's, and everybody there received him like a prince. King George the Third, coming in his own ship from England, would not have been treated half so well; for the Parlins despised him,--poor crazy monarch,--whereas they now thought Caleb was the very pink of perfection. Even Seth begged pardon for his hasty judgment. Mrs. Parlin gave him "election cake," for supper, and some of her very best ginger preserves, and said she did not see how they could make up for the pain of mind he had suffered.

After this, when Willy told any improbable story, and insisted that it was true, as children often will, his mother had only to remark,--

"Remember Caleb! You said he wanted your father's money. Is this story any more reasonable than that?" and Willy would blush, and stammer out,--

I believe this was the only time that Willy ever did anything in his sleep that is worth recording. The rest of his adventures occurred when he was wide awake; so, you see, if he did wrong there was not so much excuse for him.

THE BOY THAT WORE HOME THE MEDAL.

The school-house was deep red, and shamed the Boston pinks, which could not blush to the least advantage near it. It stood on a sand-bank, with a rich crop of thistles on three sides, and an oak tree in one corner. There were plenty of beautiful places in town; but the people of Perseverance, District Number Three, had chosen this spot for their school-house, because it was not good for anything else.

It was the middle of September, but the summer term was still in session, because school had not begun that year until after haying. It was Saturday noon, and the fourth class was spelling. The children were all toeing a chalk-mark in the floor, but Willy Parlin scowled and moved about uneasily.

"Order there," said Miss Judkins, pounding the desk with her ruler. "What makes you throw your head back so, William Parlin?"

"'Cause there's somebody trying to tell me the word, and I don't want anybody to tell me," answered Willy, with another toss of his dark locks.

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