Читать книгу The Rushton Boys at Rally Hall: or, Great Days in School and Out - Davenport Spencer - Страница 5

It was no wonder that both were startled, for the little group coming up the walk showed that something far out of the ordinary had happened.

It was a surprise in the first place to see Aaron Rushton at all, as, contrary to his usual custom when he paid a visit to Oldtown, he had not notified them that they might expect him.

But to see him in such a plight as this was altogether beyond their experience. He was prim and precise in every detail of his clothes, and his sense of personal dignity was very strong. Neatness was a passion with him, and, in his regulated bachelor existence, this had grown upon him with the years.

But now, as he walked between the two boys, he presented an appearance that was almost grotesque. He was without his hat, which had floated down the stream and had not been recovered. His hair was plastered down on both cadaverous cheeks, his shirtfront was a mass of pulp, and his wet clothes clinging closely to him brought into full relief every bony angle of his figure. One leg of his trousers was torn from the knee to the ankle. His feet sloshed in his shoes with every step, and a wet trail marked his progress from the gate to the porch.

On each side of him walked one of the boys, Fred staggering under the weight of a big suit case, while Teddy carried nothing but a guilty conscience. But probably his burden was the heavier of the two, and he would gladly have changed loads with his brother.

Under other circumstances, the pair on the veranda would have been unable to restrain their laughter. But Aaron was not a man to take a joke, and, besides, they did not know as yet but that he had received some hurt more serious than a wetting.

They hurried down the steps to meet him.

“Why, Aaron, what on earth has happened?” asked Mr. Rushton, as he grasped the clammy hand of his brother.

“Can’t you see?” snarled Aaron ungraciously. “I’ve been in the river. It’s a wonder I’m here to tell you that much.”

“In the river!” gasped Mrs. Rushton. “How did you get there?”

“How do you suppose?” growled Aaron. “Think I went in swimming with my clothes on? I fell in, or rather, I jumped in to save my life, when Jed Muggs’ horses ran away.”

“Ran away!” exclaimed Mr. Rushton. “I never heard of their doing anything like that before. What made them run away? Did you get hurt?”

“Nothing but my feelings and my clothes,” said Aaron. “But if you want to know what made them run away, ask that precious son of yours there.” And he shot a vicious glance at Teddy, who colored as the eyes of his father and mother turned toward him.

“Teddy!” exclaimed Mrs. Rushton. “What did he have to do with it?”

“What didn’t he have to do with it, you mean. He had everything to do with it. He hit one of the horses with a baseball–aimed deliberately at him, mind you–and the horses took fright and ran away. They came within an ace of killing the driver, and, as it is, you’ll have a pretty penny to pay for the damage to the coach and horses. As for me, I might have been killed in the smash-up, if I hadn’t had the gumption to jump before we came to the bridge.”

“Oh, Teddy,” moaned Mrs. Rushton, “how could you do a thing like that?”

“Go into the house, sir,” commanded his father sternly. “I’ll attend to your case later.”

Teddy obeyed with alacrity, glad to escape for the moment from the sharpness in his father’s voice and the sadness in his mother’s eyes.

His despondency was lightened somewhat by the savory smells from the kitchen. He made his way there, to see what they were going to have for supper. It was behind the regular time, and he was ravenously hungry.

Appetizing odors came from the dishes, already taken up and ready to be conveyed to the dining-room.

“Um-yum,” he gloated. “Chicken–and green peas–and strawberries–and peach pie. Bully!”

The colored cook, Martha, who was whipping up some cream for the strawberries, turned and saw him.

“Laws sakes, honey, wut’s keepin’ the folks? I’se just tuckered out tryin’ to keep things hot.”

“It’s Uncle Aaron,” explained Teddy. “He’s just come.”

“Umph,”, sniffed Martha, none too well pleased. She had no liking for unexpected company, and least of all for Uncle Aaron, whom she disliked heartily.

Martha was an old family servant, who had been with Mrs. Rushton from the time of her marriage. She was big and black and good-natured, although she did not hesitate to speak her mind at times when she was ruffled. She was devoted to her master and mistress, and they, in turn, appreciated her good qualities and allowed her many privileges, letting her run her end of the house largely to suit herself. Long before this she had come to regard herself as one of the family.

She had dandled and crooned over the boys as babies, and, as they had grown up, she had become almost as fond of them as the parents themselves. They always knew where to get a doughnut or a ginger cake when they came in famished, and, though at times they sorely tried her patience, she was always ready to defend them against any one else.

And the one reason more than any other why she detested their Uncle Aaron was because he was “allus pickin’ on dem po’ chillen.” That the “pickin’” was only too often justified did not weigh at all in Aunt Martha’s partial judgment.

“Here dey cum, now,” she said, as she heard footsteps in the hall. “Get out of my way now, honey, and let me serve de supper. Goodness knows, it’s time.”

“I tell you what it is, Mansfield,” Aaron Rushton was saying, “you’ve simply spoiled those boys of yours. You’ve let the reins lie loose on their backs, and they’re going straight to perdition. And Agnes is just as bad as you are, if not worse. What they need is a good hickory switch and plenty of muscle behind it. If they were my boys, I’d let them know what’s what. I’d put things in order in jig time. I’d show them whether they could run things as they liked. They’d learn mighty quick who was boss. I’d – ”

“Yes, yes, Aaron, I know,” said his brother soothingly. “I feel just as bad about this as you do, and I’ll see that Teddy pays well for this mischief.”

“Mischief!” mimicked Aaron angrily. “That’s just the trouble with you folks. You excuse everything because it’s simply ‘mischief.’ Why don’t you call it crime?”

“Now, Aaron, that’s too much,” cried Mrs. Rushton, bristling in defence of her offspring. “It was an awful thing to do, of course, but Teddy didn’t realize – ” then, seeing the retort trembling on Aaron’s lips, she went on hastily: “But go right up to your room now, and get a bath and change your clothes. Mansfield will get you some things of his to put on, and I’ll have supper waiting for you when you come down.”

And Aaron, still rumbling like a volcano, was led to the upper regions, where the splashing of water shortly after told of a bath more grateful than the involuntary one he had taken an hour before.

Mrs. Rushton, with tears in her eyes, turned to Fred, in the lower hall.

“It’s just awful,” she said. “Tell me, Fred, dear, how it all happened.”

“Uncle Aaron makes too much of it, Mother!” exclaimed Fred, who had had all he could do to keep still during his uncle’s tirade. “Of course, it might have been a bad accident. But you know just as well as I do that Teddy wouldn’t have done it for all the world, if he had thought anybody would get hurt. The boys were teasing him about hitting the ball straight, and, as luck would have it, Jed’s team came along just that minute. It just struck Teddy that here was something to aim at, and he let fly. Of course, there was only one chance out of ten of hitting the horse at all, and, even if it had hit him, it might have only made him jump, and that would have been the end of it. But everything went wrong, and the team ran away. Nobody felt worse about it than Teddy. If you’d seen how white he looked – ”

“Poor boy!” murmured Mrs. Rushton softly. Then, recollecting herself, she said a little confusedly: “Poor Uncle Aaron, I mean. It must have been a terrible shock to him. Think what a blow it would have been to all of us, if he had been killed!”

“Sure, it would!” assented Fred, though his voice lacked conviction. “But he wasn’t, and there’s no use of his being so grouchy over it. He ought to be so glad to be alive that he’d be willing to let up on Teddy. I suppose that all the time he’s here now he’ll keep going on like a human phonograph.”

“You mustn’t speak about your uncle that way, Fred,” said his mother reprovingly. “He’s had a great deal to try his temper, and Teddy is very much to blame. He must be punished. Yes, he certainly must be punished.”

“There’s one thing, too, Mother,” went on Fred, determined to put his brother in the best light possible, “Ted might have lied out of it, but he didn’t. Uncle Aaron put the question to the boys straight, or rather he was just going to do it, when Teddy spoke up and owned that he was the one who hit the ball.”

“Bless his heart,” cried Mrs. Rushton delightedly, pouncing on this bit of ammunition to use in Teddy’s behalf when the time came.

Fred went to his room to wash and brush up, and a few minutes later the family, with the unexpected guest, were gathered about the table, spread with the good things that Martha had heaped upon it.

Last of all, came Teddy. Usually, he was among the first. But a certain delicacy, new to him, seemed to whisper to him to-night that he would do well not to thrust himself obtrusively into the family circle. Perhaps, also, a vague desire to placate the “powers that be” had made him pay unusual attention to his face and nails and hair. He was very well groomed–for Teddy–and he tried to assume a perfectly casual air, as he came down the stairs.

Martha caught sight of him from the kitchen, and shook her head ominously. She had heard enough to know that storm signals were out.

“Dat po’ chile!” she mourned, “he sho am goin’ like a lam’ to de slo’ter!”