CHAPTER IV. TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF BURGLAR.
I have spoken of my pistol. During the early part of our residence atRudder Grange I never thought of such a thing as owning a pistol.
But it was different now. I kept a Colt's revolver loaded in the bureaudrawer in our bedroom.
The cause of this change was burglars. Not that any of these unpleasantpersons had visited us, but we much feared they would. Several houses inthe vicinity had been entered during the past month, and we could nevertell when our turn would come.
To be sure, our boarder suggested that if we were to anchor out a littlefurther at night, no burglar would risk catching his death of cold byswimming out to us; but Euphemia having replied that it would be ratherdifficult to move a canal-boat every night without paddle-wheels, orsails, or mules, especially if it were aground, this plan was consideredto be effectually disposed of.
So we made up our minds that we must fasten up everything very securely,and I bought a pistol and two burglar-alarms. One of these I affixed tothe most exposed window, and the other to the door which opened on thedeck. These alarms were very simple affairs, but they were good enough.When they were properly attached to a window or door, and it was opened,a little gong sounded like a violently deranged clock, striking all thehours of the day at once.
The window did not trouble us much, but it was rather irksome to haveto make the attachment to the door every night and to take it off everymorning. However, as Euphemia said, it was better to take a littletrouble than to have the house full of burglars, which was true enough.
We made all the necessary arrangements in case burglars should make aninroad upon us. At the first sound of the alarm, Euphemia and the girlwere to lie flat on the floor or get under their beds. Then the boarderand I were to stand up, back to back, each with pistol in hand, and fireaway, revolving on a common centre the while. In this way, by aiminghorizontally at about four feet from the floor, we could rake thepremises, and run no risk of shooting each other or the women of thefamily.
To be sure, there were some slight objections to this plan. Theboarder's room was at some distance from ours, and he would probably nothear the alarm, and the burglars might not be willing to wait whileI went forward and roused him up, and brought him to our part of thehouse. But this was a minor difficulty. I had no doubt but that, if itshould be necessary, I could manage to get our boarder into position inplenty of time.
It was not very long before there was an opportunity of testing theplan.
About twelve o'clock one night one of the alarms (that on the kitchenwindow) went off with a whirr and a wild succession of clangs. For amoment I thought the morning train had arrived, and then I woke up.Euphemia was already under the bed.
I hurried on a few clothes, and then I tried to find the bureau in thedark. This was not easy, as I lost my bearings entirely. But I found itat last, got the top drawer open and took out my pistol. Then I slippedout of the room, hurried up the stairs, opened the door (setting off thealarm there, by the way), and ran along the deck (there was a cold nightwind), and hastily descended the steep steps that led into the boarder'sroom. The door that was at the bottom of the steps was not fastened,and, as I opened it, a little stray moonlight illumed the room. Ihastily stepped to the bed and shook the boarder by the shoulder. Hekept HIS pistol under his pillow.
In an instant he was on his feet, his hand grasped my throat, andthe cold muzzle of his Derringer pistol was at my forehead. It was anawfully big muzzle, like the mouth of a bottle.
I don't know when I lived so long as during the first minute that heheld me thus.
"Rascal!" he said. "Do as much as breathe, and I'll pull the trigger."
I didn't breathe.
I had an accident insurance on my life. Would it hold good in a caselike this? Or would Euphemia have to go back to her father?
He pushed me back into the little patch of moonlight.
"Oh! is it you?" he said, relaxing his grasp. "What do you want? Amustard plaster?"
He had a package of patent plasters in his room. You took one and dippedit in hot water, and it was all ready.
"No," said I, gasping a little. "Burglars."
"Oh!" he said, and he put down his pistol and put on his clothes.
"Come along," he said, and away we went over the deck.
When we reached the stairs all was dark and quiet below.
It was a matter of hesitancy as to going down.
I started to go down first, but the boarder held me back.
"Let me go down," he said.
"No," said I, "my wife is there."
"That's the very reason you should not go," he said. "She is safe enoughyet, and they would fire only at a man. It would be a bad job for her ifyou were killed. I'll go down."
So he went down, slowly and cautiously, his pistol in one hand, and hislife in the other, as it were.
When he reached the bottom of the steps I changed my mind. I could notremain above while the burglar and Euphemia were below, so I followed.
The boarder was standing in the middle of the dining-room, into whichthe stairs led. I could not see him, but I put my hand against him as Iwas feeling my way across the floor.
I whispered to him:
"Shall we put our backs together and revolve and fire?"
"No," he whispered back, "not now; he may be on a shelf by this time, orunder a table. Let's look him up."
I confess that I was not very anxious to look him up, but I followed theboarder, as he slowly made his way toward the kitchen door. As we openedthe door we instinctively stopped.
The window was open, and by the light of the moon that shone in, we sawthe rascal standing on a chair, leaning out of the window, evidentlyjust ready to escape. Fortunately, we were unheard.
"Let's pull him in," whispered the boarder.
"No," I whispered in reply. "We don't want him in. Let's hoist him out."
"All right," returned the boarder.
We laid our pistols on the floor, and softly approached the window.Being barefooted, out steps were noiseless.
"Hoist when I count three," breathed the boarder into my ear.
We reached the chair. Each of us took hold of two of its legs.
"One--two--three!" said the boarder, and together we gave a tremendouslift and shot the wretch out of the window.
The tide was high, and there was a good deal of water around the boat.We heard a rousing splash outside.
Now there was no need of silence.
"Shall we run on deck and shoot him as he swims?" I cried.
"No," said the boarder, "we'll get the boat-hook, and jab him if hetries to climb up."
We rushed on deck. I seized the boat-hook and looked over the side. ButI saw no one.
"He's gone to the bottom!" I exclaimed.
"He didn't go very far then," said the boarder, "for it's not more thantwo feet deep there."
Just then our attention was attracted by a voice from the shore.
"Will you please let down the gang-plank?" We looked ashore, and therestood Pomona, dripping from every pore.
We spoke no words, but lowered the gangplank.
She came aboard.
"Good night!" said the boarder, and he went to bed.
"Pomona!" said I, "what have you been doing?"
"I was a lookin' at the moon, sir, when pop! the chair bounced, and outI went."
"You shouldn't do that," I said, sternly.
"Some day you'll be drowned. Take off your wet things and go to bed."
"Yes, sma'am--sir, I mean," said she, as she went down-stairs.
When I reached my room I lighted the lamp, and found Euphemia stillunder the bed.
"Is it all right?" she asked.
"Yes," I answered. "There was no burglar. Pomona fell out of thewindow."
"Did you get her a plaster?" asked Euphemia, drowsily.
"No, she did not need one. She's all right now. Were you worried aboutme, dear?"
"No, I tr
usted in you entirely, and I think I dozed a little under thebed."
In one minute she was asleep.
The boarder and I did not make this matter a subject of conversationafterward, but Euphemia gave the girl a lecture on her careless ways,and made her take several Dover's powders the next day.
An important fact in domestic economy was discovered about this time byEuphemia and myself. Perhaps we were not the first to discover it, butwe certainly did find it out,--and this fact was, that housekeepingcosts money. At the end of every week we counted up our expenditures--itwas no trouble at all to count up our receipts--and every week theresult was more unsatisfactory.
"If we could only get rid of the disagreeable balance that has tobe taken along all the time, and which gets bigger and bigger like asnow-ball, I think we would find the accounts more satisfactory," saidEuphemia.
This was on a Saturday night. We always got our pencils and paper andmoney at the end of the week.
"Yes," said I, with an attempt to appear facetious and unconcerned, "butit would be all well enough if we could take that snow-ball to the fireand melt it down."
"But there never is any fire where there are snow-balls," said Euphemia.
"No," said I, "and that's just the trouble."
It was on the following Thursday, when I came home in the evening, thatEuphemia met me with a glowing face. It rather surprised me to see herlook so happy, for she had been very quiet and preoccupied for the firstpart of the week. So much so, indeed, that I had thought of orderingsmaller roasts for a week or two, and taking her to a Thomas Concertwith the money saved. But this evening she looked as if she did not needThomas's orchestra.
"What makes you so bright, my dear?" said I, when I had greeted her."Has anything jolly happened?"
"No," said she; "nothing yet, but I am going to make a fire to meltsnow-balls."
Of course I was very anxious to know how she was going to do it, but shewould not tell me. It was a plan that she intended to keep to herselfuntil she saw how it worked. I did not press her, because she had so fewsecrets, and I did not hear anything about this plan until it had beencarried out.
Her scheme was as follows: After thinking over our financial conditionand puzzling her brain to find out some way of bettering it, shehad come to the conclusion that she would make some money by her ownexertions, to help defray our household expenses. She never had made anymoney, but that was no reason why she should not begin. It was too badthat I should have to toil and toil and not make nearly enough moneyafter all. So she would go to work and earn something with her ownhands.
She had heard of an establishment in the city, where ladies of limitedmeans, or transiently impecunious, could, in a very quiet and privateway, get sewing to do. They could thus provide for their needs withoutany one but the officers of the institution knowing anything about it.
So Euphemia went to this place, and she got some work. It was not a verylarge bundle, but it was larger than she had been accustomed to carry,and, what was perfectly dreadful, it was wrapped up in a newspaper!When Euphemia told me the story, she said that this was too much for hercourage. She could not go on the cars, and perhaps meet people belongingto our church, with a newspaper bundle under her arm.
But her genius for expedients saved her from this humiliation. She hadto purchase some sewing-cotton, and some other little things, and whenshe had bought them, she handed her bundle to the woman behind thecounter, and asked her if she would not be so good as to have thatwrapped up with the other things. It was a good deal to ask, she knew,and the woman smiled, for the articles she had bought would not make apackage as large as her hand. However, her request was complied with,and she took away a very decent package, with the card of the storestamped on the outside. I suppose that there are not more than half adozen people in this country who would refuse Euphemia anything that shewould be willing to ask for.
So she took the work home, and she labored faithfully at it for abouta week, She did not suppose it would take her so long; but she was notused to such very plain sewing, and was much afraid that she would notdo it neatly enough. Besides this, she could only work on it in thedaytime--when I was away--and was, of course, interrupted a greatdeal by her ordinary household duties, and the necessity of a carefuloversight of Pomona's somewhat erratic methods of doing her work.
But at last she finished the job and took it into the city. She did notwant to spend any more money on the trip than was absolutely necessary,and so was very glad to find that she had a remnant of pocket-moneysufficient to pay her fare both ways.
When she reached the city, she walked up to the place where her work wasto be delivered, and found it much farther when she went on foot than ithad seemed to her riding in the street cars. She handed over her bundleto the proper person, and, as it was soon examined and approved, shereceived her pay therefor.
It amounted to sixty cents. She had made no bargain, but she was alittle astonished. However, she said nothing, but left the place withoutasking for any more work. In fact she forgot all about it. She had anidea that everything was all wrong, and that idea engrossed her mindentirely. There was no mistake about the sum paid, for the lady clerkhad referred to the printed table of prices when she calculated theamount due. But something was wrong, and, at the moment, Euphemia couldnot tell what it was. She left the place, and started to walk back tothe ferry. But she was so tired and weak, and hungry--it was now an houror two past her regular luncheon time--that she thought she should faintif she did not go somewhere and get some refreshments.
So, like a sensible little woman as she was, she went into a restaurant.She sat down at a table, and a waiter came to her to see what she wouldhave. She was not accustomed to eating-houses, and perhaps this wasthe first time that she had ever visited one alone. What she wantedwas something simple. So she ordered a cup of tea and some rolls, and apiece of chicken. The meal was a very good one, and Euphemia enjoyed it.When she had finished, she went up to the counter to settle. Her billwas sixty cents. She paid the money that she had just received, andwalked down to the ferry--all in a daze, she said. When she got home shethought it over, and then she cried.
After a while she dried her eyes, and when I came home she told me allabout it.
"I give it up," she said. "I don't believe I can help you any."
Poor little thing! I took her in my arms and comforted her, and beforebedtime I had convinced her that she was fully able to help me betterthan any one else on earth, and that without puzzling her brains aboutbusiness, or wearing herself out by sewing for pay.
So we went on in our old way, and by keeping our attention on our weeklybalance, we prevented it from growing very rapidly.
We fell back on our philosophy (it was all the capital we had), andbecame as calm and contented as circumstances allowed.
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