CHAPTER SIX.
A PIECE OF DECEIT THAT WAS NOT CARRIED OUT.
For a few minutes neither of us spoke. Uncle Joe seemed to be astoundedand completely taken off his balance. He put on his glasses and tookthem off over and over again. He laid down his pipe and rubbed hishands first and then his face with his crimson silk handkerchief, endingby taking off his glasses and rolling them in the handkerchief, flippingthem afterwards under the bench all amongst the broken flower-pots. Andall the time I felt a prey to the bitterest remorse, and as if I haddone something so wicked that I could never be forgiven again.
"Oh, uncle! dear Uncle Joe," I cried passionately. "I am so--so sorry."
"Sorry, Nat!" he said, taking my outstretched hands, and then drawing meto his breast, holding me there and patting my back with both his hands."Sorry, Nat! yes, that's what I felt, my boy. It was such a pity, youknow."
"Oh, no, Uncle Joe," I cried, looking down at my work. "It washorrible, and I've been more ashamed of it every day."
"Have you, Nat, my boy?" he said. "Oh, yes, uncle, but I kept on hopingthat--that somehow--somehow it would come better."
"That's what I've been hoping, my boy," he said, "for you did try veryhard."
"Yes, uncle, I tried very, very hard, but it never did come better."
"No, my boy, you are quite right; it never did come any better, but Ihoped it would when you put on its head."
"So did I, uncle, but it only seemed to make it look more ridiculous,and it wasn't a bit like a bird."
"No, my boy, it wasn't a bit like a bird," he said weakly.
"Then why did you say it was capital, uncle?" I cried sharply.
"Well, my boy, because--because I--that is--I wanted to encourage you,and," he cried more confidently, "it was capital for you."
"Oh, Uncle Joe, it was disgraceful, and I don't know what aunt wouldhave said."
"I don't know what she will say now," said my uncle ruefully, as hegazed down at Humpty Dumpty's wreck, where it lay crushed into the dust."I'm afraid she'll be very cross. You see I half told her that itwould be done to-day, and I'm afraid--"
"Oh, uncle, why did you tell her that?" I said reproachfully.
"Well, my boy, you see she had been remonstrating a little about ourbeing out here so much, and I'm afraid I have been preparing her for asurprise."
"And now she'll be more cross than ever, uncle," I said, picking up thebird.
"Yes, my boy, now she'll be more cross than ever. It's a very bad job,Nat, and I don't like to see you show such a temper as that."
"I'm very sorry, Uncle Joe," I said humbly. "I didn't mean to fly outlike that. It's just like Jem Boxhead at our school."
"Does he fly out into tempers like that, Nat?"
"Yes, uncle, _often_."
"It's a very bad job, my boy, and I never saw anything of the kindbefore in you. It isn't a disease, temper isn't, or I should think youhad caught it. You couldn't catch a bad temper, you know, my boy. Butdon't you think, Natty, we might still manage to put Humpty Dumptytogether again?"
"No, uncle," I said, "it's impossible;" and I know now that it was animpossibility from the first, for my hours of experience have taught methat I had engaged upon a hopeless task.
He took out his crimson handkerchief, and reseating himself upon the tubbegan wiping his face and hands once more.
"You've made me very hot, Natty," he said. "What is to be done?"
"I don't know, uncle," I said dolefully. "But are you very cross withme?"
"Cross, my boy? No. I was only thinking how much you are like my poorsister, your dear mother, who would go into a temper like that sometimeswhen we were boy and girl."
"Please, uncle," I said, laying my hand upon his arm, "I'll try veryhard not to go into a temper again like that."
"Yes, yes, do, my boy," he said, taking my hand in his and speaking veryaffectionately. "Don't give way to temper, my boy, it's a bad habit.But I'm not sorry, Nat, I'm not a bit sorry, my dear boy, to see thatyou've got some spirit in you like your poor mother. She was sodifferent to me, Nat. I never had a bit of spirit, and people havealways done as they pleased with me."
I could not help thinking about my aunt just then, but I said nothing,and it was Uncle Joe who began again about the parrot.
"So you think we could not put Humpty Dumpty together again, Nat?"
"No, uncle," I said despairingly, "I'm sure we could not. It's all somuch lost time."
"There's plenty more time to use, Nat, for some things," he saiddreamily, "but not for doing our work, and--and, my boy, after your aunthas let us be out here so much, I'm afraid that I dare not tell her ofour failure."
"Then what's to be done, uncle?" I said.
"I'm afraid, my boy, we must be very wicked and deceitful."
"Deceitful, uncle?"
"Yes, my boy, or your aunt will never forgive us."
"Why, what do you mean, uncle?" I said.
"I've been thinking, my boy, that I might go out somewhere and buy agrey parrot--one already stuffed. I dare not face her without."
I felt puzzled, and with a strong belief upon me that we were going todo a very foolish thing.
"Wouldn't it be better to go and tell Aunt Sophia frankly that we havehad an accident, and spoiled the parrot, uncle?"
"Yes, my boy, much better," he said, "very much better; but--but I darenot do it, Nat, I dare not do it."
I felt as if I should like to say, "I'll do it, uncle," but I, too,shrank from the task, and we were saved from the underhanded proceedingby the appearance of my aunt at the tool-house door.
My unfortunate attempt at restuffing poor Polly made me less a favouritethan ever with Aunt Sophia, who never let a day pass without making someunpleasant allusion to my condition there. My uncle assured me that Iwas in no wise dependent upon them, for my mother's money gave ampleinterest for my education and board, but Aunt Sophia always seemed toignore that fact, so that but for Uncle Joe's kindness I should havebeen miserable indeed.
The time slipped away, and I had grown to be a tall strong boy offifteen; and in spite of my aunt's constant fault-finding I receivedsufficient encouragement from Uncle Joe to go on with my natural historypursuits, collecting butterflies and beetles, birds' eggs in the spring,and stuffing as many birds as I could obtain.
Some of these latter were very roughly done, but I had so natural a lovefor the various objects of nature, that I find the birds I did in thosedays, rough as they were, had a very lifelike appearance. I had only toask my uncle for money to buy books or specimens and it was forthcoming,and so I went on arranging and rearranging, making a neatly writtencatalogue of my little museum in the tool-house, and always helped byUncle Joe's encouragement.
I suppose I was a strange boy, seeking the companionship of myschool-fellows but very little, after my aunt had refused to let any ofthem visit me, or to let me go to their homes. I was driven thus, as itwere, upon my own resources, and somehow I did not find mine to be anunhappy life; in fact so pleasant did it seem that when the time camefor me to give it up I was very sorry to leave it, and felt ready tosettle down to aunt's constant fault-finding for the sake of deartender-hearted old Uncle Joe, who was broken completely in spirit at myhaving to go.
"But it's right, Nat, my boy, quite right," he said, "and you would onlybe spoiled if you stayed on here. It is time now that you began tothink of growing to be a man, and I hope and pray that you'll grow intoone of whom I can be proud."
Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in the Eastern Seas Page 6
