CHAPTER XXII
THE SIEGE IS RAISED
Though Phil was the besieged party, his position was decidedlypreferable to that of Pietro. The afternoon was passing, and he wasearning nothing. He finally uncovered his organ and began to play. A fewgathered around him, but they were of that class with whom money is notplenty. So after a while, finding no pennies forthcoming, he stoppedsuddenly, but did not move on, as his auditors expected him to. He stillkept his eyes fixed on Mrs. McGuire's dwelling. He did this so long asto attract observation.
"You'll know the house next time, mister," said a sharp boy.
Pietro was about to answer angrily, when a thought struck him.
"Will you do something for me?" he asked.
"How much?" inquired the boy, suggestively.
"Five cents," answered Pietro, understanding his meaning.
"It isn't much," said the boy, reflectively. "Tell me what you want."
Though Pietro was not much of a master of English, he contrived to makethe boy understand that he was to go round to the back door and tellMrs. McGuire that he, Pietro, was gone. He intended to hide closeby, and when Phil came out, as he hoped, on the strength of hisdisappearance, he would descend upon him and bear him off triumphantly.
Armed with these instructions, the boy went round to the back door andknocked.
Thinking it might be Phil's enemy, Mrs. McGuire went to the door,holding in one hand a dipper of hot suds, ready to use in case ofemergency.
"Well, what do you want?" she asked, abruptly, seeing that it was a boy.
"He's gone," said the boy.
"Who's gone?"
"The man with the hand-organ, ma'am."
"And what for do I care?" demanded Bridget, suspiciously.
This was a question the boy could not answer. In fact, he wonderedhimself why such a message should have been sent. He could only look ather in silence.
"Who told you to tell the man was gone?" asked Bridget, with ashrewdness worthy of a practitioner at the bar.
"The Italian told me."
"Did he?" repeated Bridget, who saw into the trick at once. "He's verykind."
"He didn't want you to know he told me," said the boy, remembering hisinstructions when it was too late.
Mrs. McGuire nodded her head intelligently.
"True for you," said she. "What did he pay you for tellin' me?"
"Five cents."
"Thin it's five cints lost. Do you want to earn another five cints?"
"Yes," said the boy, promptly.
"Thin do what I tell you."
"What is it?"
"Come in and I'll tell you."
The boy having entered, Mrs. McGuire led him to the front door.
"Now," said she, "when I open the door, run as fast as you can. The manthat sint you will think it is another boy, and will run after you. Doye mind?"
The young messenger began to see the joke, and was quite willing to helpcarry it out. But even the prospective fun did not make him forgetful ofhis promised recompense.
"Where's the five cents?" he asked.
"Here," said Bridget, and diving into the depths of a capacious pocket,she drew out five pennies.
"That's all right," said the boy. "Now, open the door."
Bridget took care to make a noise in opening the door, and, as itopened, she said in a loud and exultant voice, "You're all safe now; theman's gone."
"Now run," she said, in a lower voice.
The boy dashed out of the doorway, but Mrs. McGuire remained standingthere. She was not much surprised to see Pietro run out from theother side of the house, and prepare to chase the runaway. But quicklyperceiving that he was mistaken, he checked his steps, and turning, sawMrs. McGuire with a triumphant smile on her face.
"Why don't you run?" she said. "You can catch him."
"It isn't my brother," he answered, sullenly.
"I thought you was gone," she said.
"I am waiting for my brother."
"Thin you'll have to wait. You wanted to chate me, you haythen! ButBridget McGuire ain't to be took in by such as you. You'd better lavebefore my man comes home from his work, or he'll give you lave ofabsence wid a kick."
Without waiting for an answer, Bridget shut the door, and boltedit--leaving her enemy routed at all points.
In fact Pietro began to lose courage. He saw that he had a determinedfoe to contend with. He had been foiled thus far in every effort toobtain possession of Phil. But the more difficult the enterprise seemed,the more anxious he became to carry it out successfully. He knew thatthe padrone would not give him a very cordial reception if he returnedwithout Phil, especially as he would be compelled to admit that he hadseen him, and had nevertheless failed to secure him. His uncle wouldnot be able to appreciate the obstacles he had encountered, but wouldconsider him in fault. For this reason he did not like to give upthe siege, though he saw little hopes of accomplishing his object. Atlength, however, he was obliged to raise the siege, but from a causewith which neither Phil nor his defender had anything to do.
The sky, which had till this time been clear, suddenly darkened. In tenminutes rain began to fall in large drops. A sudden shower, unusualat this time of the year, came up, and pedestrians everywhere, caughtwithout umbrellas, fled panic-stricken to the nearest shelter. Twicebefore, as we know, Pietro had suffered from a shower of warm water.This, though colder, was even more formidable. Vanquished by the forcesof nature, Pietro shouldered his instrument and fled incontinently. Philmight come out now, if he chose. His enemy had deserted his post, andthe coast was clear.
"That'll make the haythen lave," thought Mrs. McGuire, who, though sorryto see the rain on account of her washing, exulted in the fact thatPietro was caught out in it.
She went to the front door and looked out. Looking up the street, shejust caught a glimpse of the organ in rapid retreat. She now unboltedthe door, the danger being at an end, and went up to acquaint Phil withthe good news.
"You may come down now," she said.
"Is he gone?" inquired Phil.
"Shure he's runnin' up the street as fast as his legs can carry him."
"Thank you for saving me from him," said, Phil, with a great sense ofrelief at the flight of his enemy.
"Whisht now; I don't nade any thanks. Come down by the fire now."
So Phil went down, and Bridget, on hospitable thoughts intent, drew heronly rocking-chair near the stove, and forced Phil to sit down in it.Then she told him, with evident enjoyment, of the trick which Pietro hadtried to play on her, and how he had failed.
"He couldn't chate me, the haythen!" she concluded. "I was too smart forthe likes of him, anyhow. Where do you live when you are at home?"
"I have no home now," said Phil, with tears in his eyes.
"And have you no father and mother?"
"Yes," said Phil. "They live in Italy."
"And why did they let you go so far away?"
"They were poor, and the padrone offered them money," answered Phil,forced to answer, though the subject was an unpleasant one.
"And did they know he was a bad man and would bate you?"
"I don't think they knew," said Phil, with hesitation. "My mother didnot know."
"I've got three childer myself," said Bridget; "they'll get wet comin'home from school, the darlints--but I wouldn't let them go with any manto a far country, if he'd give me all the gowld in the world. And wheredoes that man live that trates you so bad?"
"In New York."
"And does Peter--or whatever the haythen's name is--live there too?"
"Yes, Pietro lives there. The padrone is his uncle, and treats himbetter than the rest of us. He sent him after me to bring me back."
"And what is your name? Is it Peter, like his?"
"No; my name is Filippo."
"It's a quare name."
"American boys call me Phil."
"That's better. It's a Christian name, and the other isn't. Before Imarried my man I lived five years at Mrs. Roberts
on's, and she had a boythey called Phil. His whole name was Philip."
"That's my name in English."
"Then why don't you call it so, instead of Philip-O? What good is the O,anyhow? In my country they put the O before the name, instead of to thetail-end of it. My mother was an O'Connor. But it's likely ivery countryhas its own ways."
Phil knew very little of Ireland, and did not fully understand Mrs.McGuire's philosophical remarks. Otherwise they might have amused him,as they may possibly amuse my readers.
I cannot undertake to chronicle the conversation that took place betweenPhil and his hostess. She made numerous inquiries, to some of which hewas able to give satisfactory replies, to others not. But in halfan hour there was an interruption, and a noisy one. Three stout,freckled-faced children ran in at the back door, dripping as if they hadjust emerged from a shower-bath. Phil moved aside to let them approachthe stove.
Forthwith Mrs. McGuire was engaged in motherly care, removing a partof the wet clothing, and lamenting for the state in which her sturdyoffspring had returned. But presently order was restored, and the bustlewas succeeded by quiet.
"Play us a tune," said Pat, the oldest.
Phil complied with the request, and played tune after tune, to the greatdelight of the children, as well as of Mrs. McGuire herself. The resultwas that when, shortly after, on the storm subsiding, Phil proposedto go, the children clamored to have him stay, and he received sucha cordial invitation to stop till the next morning that he accepted,nothing loath. So till the next morning our young hero is provided for.
Phil, the Fiddler Page 22
