Read Ebook: The Independence Day Horror at Killsbury by Coolidge Asenath Carver Coolidge Cassius M Illustrator

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Ebook has 978 lines and 110106 words, and 20 pages

Later on his toilet was finished and a miniature George Washington stood before her looking up into her face with the Can't-tell-a-lie expression so dear to her heart.

"There, you may go now and get your kite. Ruth must have gotten the streamers all tied on by this time."

He ran to his sister's room, and she put the beautiful new kite that Ralph Norwood had made on purpose for him, into his chubby little hand and watched him in an ecstacy of admiration as he ran down through the garden and out into the big sunny field where he was going to make it fly.

Then she went into mamma's room; for they were going to take each of them a sweet, sweet bath and make everything ready for the beautiful home celebration. The table was to be loaded with refreshments that were truly refreshing for a hot day, and little Laurens was to have a birthday cake with eight roses circling around a tiny flag on a tiny staff made of a goose-quill in imitation of the famous one with which the American Declaration of Independence was signed.

The Reverend Dr. Normander and family were to be there and Ralph Norwood and his brothers. They would have music and singing and the children might play at fort-building out in the fragrant garden; but they would have no "nasty fireworks," as Mrs. Cornwallis called them.

She was a true Frenchwoman in her tastes, although truly American in education, and would not have the sweet smelling plot of ground on which she had spent so much of her spare time, turned into a pit of vile-smelling powder and brimstone. She resolutely maintained that she could show her intense patriotism in better, safer, and more odorous ways. And she did it to the entire satisfaction of everybody in Killsbury unless it might be Millionaire Schwarmer who came to his mansion on The Hill every Fourth of July, boomed his cannon and distributed free fireworks among the boys of the town, "in grateful remembrance," he said, "of the fact that he was born there."

Mrs. Cornwallis said to her husband that it was a pity he could not show his gratitude in more agreeable and useful ways, but she did not say so in public or brood over it in private. She was a very busy housewife and devoted mother and had no time to cultivate even the necessary grievances.

Mr. Cornwallis was in sympathy with his wife's opinions; but as yet it had not occurred to him that free fireworks, were any worse for the town than those that were regularly bought and paid for. As to the legal restrictions necessary with regard to the sale and manufacture of explosives for the celebration of our national day, he was beginning to be very outspoken.

THE ROUND ABOUT ROAD TO SCHWARMER MANSION.

There were two roads leading up to the Schwarmer Mansion from the town of Killsbury. One of them was called "The Straight Way" and the other "The Round About Road." The latter followed the steep declivity that led down to the river's edge and passed the big lot that belonged to the Cornwallis grounds.

"Guess I'd better take the 'Round About' with all that heavy baggage of yours, Mr. Schwarmer," said Captain Dan Solomon, the expressman at the station. "There's a loose board in the bridge on the 'Straight Way' that my filly don't exactly approve of."

"Just as you choose, Dan," replied Mr. Schwarmer. "It doesn't make a cent's worth of difference to me, most assuredly it doesn't. How long before you'll be around?"

"As soon as I can. Things are a little irregular today, you know."

"Certainly! certainly Dan! Independence Day is every dog's day, most assuredly it is; and business concerns are apt to move rather circuitously. Fons," he added, turning to a youthful looking lad at his side, "suppose we take 'The Round About,' since there's no carriage and we have to walk. We might as well make it worth while, you know. I haven't walked around that way for years, most assuredly I haven't."

Fons assented and they walked on at a brisk pace.

"How many of those patriotic packages have you, Fons?"

"If you mean my improvements on 'The Sacred Mandarin,'" laughed Fons, "I have enough yet to hold up the town, although I left a good sprinkling of them at every station and sowed them about six deep among the employees while you were hunting up Dan. I'm going to advertise in earnest this time."

"Well, I've got half a dozen. That will be enough. We won't be apt to meet more than one or two boys after we branch off if we do any. They didn't expect me on this train. Most assuredly they didn't; but they'll flock up to the gates in due time--by the time Dan gets there I reckon."

They went on, distributing fire-crackers and blank cartridges to every boy they met and every poor looking fellow also.

When they got to the Cornwallis lot Fons espied little Laurens in the distance flying his kite.

"Heigho! what gay little patriotic bird is that?" exclaimed Fons. "He's worth the ammunition."

Schwarmer stopped and put on his gold-rimmed magnifiers.

"That's little Laurens Cornwallis--the handsomest boy in Killsbury or the world, they say. You've heard me speak of the Cornwallis's, most assuredly you have. They are not eminently patriotic, I suspect, though they display the colors. We'll see how the eaglet stands affected toward his country this morning."

Schwarmer went to the fence and beckoned the boy to come to him.

Laurens came on a little distance but stopped when he recognized Schwarmer.

"Come on, my pretty" said Schwarmer, "I will give you a nice new box of powdered crackers to help you celebrate. You can make them go off without the aid of the fickle wind."

Laurens shook his curly head vigorously. "I don't want any. I told mamma I would not touch Mr. Schwarmer's fire-things." Then he turned and ran away from them as fast as his little legs could carry him.

"How's that for frankness?" sneered Fons as they moved on. "It beats you who are a professional, 'all the way to Buzzard's Bay,' as the boys say."

"Yes, and it looks rather dull for your trade, Fons," laughed Schwarmer rather derisively. "Perhaps you had better put your inventive genius into some other business. It's pretty poor encouragement when you can't even give away your productions. Most assuredly it is."

"It's doubtful policy to begin at the church door," said Fons. "More stars and stripes and fewer fireworks is the church idea. I never see such a boy as that--with a regular Sunday School look and eyes rolled up--without wanting to call him down. The most beautiful Laurens needs a giant firecracker and a dynamite cap and cane to bring him down to the proper altitude. They don't teach fire and brimstone in the churches now, so it's necessary for the youngsters to get a smell of it from the outside."

"A wheel of domesticity all around I should judge," laughed Fons. "Cornwallis is no business man."

"No, Fons--only a counter of other men's gains--no independent money-maker, so to speak. He would refuse to make money in your kind of business or mine either. He makes a terrible hullabaloo every time a little ragamuffin gets hurt with blank cartridges or toy pistols. He wants the manufactories shut down at once. He'd rather take the risk of having six youngsters starved to death, than to have one die of lockjaw."

"O no! not quite so bad as that, Fons."

"Yes, worse than that," continued Fons angrily. "Shut up our own manufactories and send abroad for Fourth of July fireworks! That's the kind of business fiend or fool he is--send to the English for things to celebrate our victory over them. Bah!"

"But we never have, Fons--that is to any ridiculous extent--any alarming extent, so to speak?"

Fons made no reply to Schwarmer's rather ragged reasoning, but when he got to the top of the hill he broke out:

"Excuse me. I'm going back to see if I can't put a little of the dare devil stuff into that all too goodish boy. I must have a little fun out of him anyway."

"Don't be gone long, Fons. You must be here when your patriotic stuffs are unloaded. I don't care to be near enough to smell powder if they should be handled too roughly or by the wrong end."

"It's the little idiot that sits down on my trade that will be likely to smell of the powdered beauties," laughed Fons sardonically.

"Have a care, youngster. You can't cut up here as you can in the city without having it known."

"O! it's only a little scare I'll treat him to. Boys like to be scared, you know. That's the secret of success in the money end of the Pyrotechnic business."

Before he got back to the Cornwallis lot, he saw the baggage-man coming up the hill.

After he had selected the things he wanted, he slipped a dollar into Dan's hand, saying, "you may go on now, but you'd better stay up with us today, you and your nag, and help us celebrate. The women folks didn't come and you haven't any of those 'pull backs,' Schwarmer tells me, so we can have a very free time."

Dan laughed and moved on. Fons carried his boxes to a shady nook on the steep bank just opposite the lot where Laurens Cornwallis was still flying his kite. After he had arranged them he stopped and looked at them with a satisfied air. Then he selected a thing with spiral stripes of red, white and blue.

"This will take the boy's eye at once," he said to himself as he climbed the hill to go to the Cornwallis lot. "I must have invented it for his kind of eye--a sort of Aaron's rod--yes, that's what I'll name it--a bible name. That will be ahead of King Pang's 'Sacred Mandarin.' It's just the ticker for a little Sunday school chub like Laurens."

When he got to the fence he saw that Laurens was having trouble with his kite.

"Providence permits again," he muttered as he jumped over into the lot.

"Hello there! my dear fellow," he called out. "I see Mistress Kite has gone back on you. They are always doing that sort of trick. I had about a hundred when I was your age. I know all about the pesky things. I can doctor it for you." He left Aaron's rod by the first tree he came to and went on.

"I'm afraid mamma wouldn't like to have me go out of the field."

"O you needn't be afraid. It's liberty day. She won't care, take my word for it. I'm older than you. Come on, you'll never have another chance to see my prettiest piece. I haven't but one left and when it's once let off there's an end of it; there it is leaning against the tree. Aaron's rod, I call it. Your Sunday school teacher has told you about Aaron's wonderful rod. Come and see how you like its namesake."

Fons started off with the kite in hand and Laurens still had the beautiful implements.

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