Chapter XIX: The Burglar

There was a mystery about the Captain’s visits to the big house. Up to the beginning of that week he had called on Tuesday and Friday evenings only, and had remained until after ten o’clock, joking, laughing and apparently enjoying himself. But now he came every night and seemed less talkative and more glum each time. Also his calls grew shorter and he went home as early as half-past eight. The sisters did not know what to make of it. It was pleasant and encouraging to have him come so often, but why didn’t he stay longer? Miss Tempy thought he must be worrying over the big contract.

She asked Clara for her opinion, but Miss Hopkins seemed very indifferent. She used to come into the sitting-room as soon as the work was done to listen to Captain Titcomb’s stories, but of late she had gone straight to her own room. The “old maids” did not urge her to remain; they liked to have the Captain to themselves.

On the afternoon of the previous Sunday Miss Tempy had taken a sudden notion to go over to the Methodist Chapel and attend the Sabbath School concert. The Chapel was on the road to Orham Port, a mile or more from the Allen home. Miss Prissy was not strong enough to go, and, in fact, thought the walk too long for her delicate sister, but Miss Tempy, having made up her mind, went. She would have been glad of Clara’s company, but the young lady had already gone out.

Miss Tempy had just reached the corner when she was surprised to see Captain Titcomb driving toward her in a buggy. She recognized the horse and carriage as being the best owned by Lem Mullett, the livery stable keeper. Also she noticed that the Captain looked particularly well-dressed, spruced up, she told Miss Prissy afterwards.

“Cap’n!” she called. “Cap’n Ezra!”

The Captain was then almost directly opposite, but he did not seem to hear or see her. Instead he whipped up the horse and drove by faster than ever.

“Dear me!” thought Miss Tempy. “He must be gittin’ absent-minded--workin’ too hard, I guess. Cap’n Ez--ra!”

It is doubtful if the Captain would have heard even then, but Jonadab Wixon was coming down the road, and he also began to shout. Hailed thus, fore and aft, the absent-minded one was obliged to heave to, and, when Captain Jonadab pointed out Miss Tempy, he turned his horse and drove back to where she was standing.

“Well, I do declare!” exclaimed the lady, smilingly conscious of a becoming new bonnet--one of the reasons for her desire to attend the concert, “I’m all out of breath callin’ after you. I don’t know what folks _will_ think!”

The Captain didn’t appear to care very much what folks might think. He was polite as usual, but seemed to be a trifle nervous and kept glancing up and down the road. Miss Tempy, unconscious of the nervousness, went gushingly on.

“What a lovely horse!” she cried. “I declare it must be a pleasure to ride behind him. I do so like to ride with a nice, gentle horse like that. Father used to take Prissy and me drivin’ with our Dexter when he was alive--father was alive, I mean--yes, and the horse, too, of course. I hope I haven’t kept you. Was you goin’ to see Bradley?”

“No, no,” was the hasty answer. “I was jest--jest drivin’ down the road a ways.” Then, perhaps noticing that his friend was headed toward the village, he added: “I had a little errand down towards the Port. You’re goin’ uptown, I see, else I’d ask you to jump in.”

“Why, how lovely,” exclaimed Miss Tempy. “I was goin’ to the Port, too; down to the Methodist folks’ concert. I only came this way ’cause I thought I’d stop at Mrs. Wingate’s and see if she wouldn’t go with me. Prissy was afraid the walk there and back would be too long for me, and, truth to tell, I was a little afraid of it myself. I didn’t expect to ride, and with you, Cap’n Ezra! It’ll be _such_ a treat, because I shall feel perfectly safe with you drivin’.”

The Captain did not answer immediately. He was busy with the buckle that fastened the reins together. But the silence was only momentary.

“Good enough!” he cried. “I’ll have you there in a jiffy.”

He sprang out, assisted the lady into the buggy, and then turned the horse’s head into the road leading up the hill.

“Why, you’re goin’ the wrong way,” Miss Tempy exclaimed. “You’re goin’ the wrong way, Cap’n Ezra!”

“Oh!” replied the Captain, cheerfully, “that’s all right. I thought we’d go ’round by the Neck road. It’s prettier that way.”

But Miss Tempy would not consent. She told Miss Prissy afterwards, “I felt as though I’d the same as begged him for a ride as it was, and I swan if I was goin’ to let him go miles out of his way jest for me.”

“No,” she protested. “No, Cap’n, I won’t hear of it. We’ll go the shortest road or I shall git right out.”

She stood up as she said it. The Captain looked at her determined face.

“Why, Tempy----” he began.

“No, I shan’t like it a bit, Cap’n Titcomb, if you don’t turn right ’round and go the way you was goin’.”

The Captain jerked at the rein with almost unnecessary vigor. The turn was made in a hurry. They wheeled back into the direct road to the Port and moved swiftly along it. Captain Titcomb did not say much, but as Miss Tempy talked continuously he had little opportunity.

“How nice the horse does go!” commented the lady. “You don’t have to cluck to him nor nothin’. Father used to find so much fault with our Dexter; said he had to shove on the reins so hard to make him navigate at all that he didn’t know’s ’twouldn’t be easier to haul the carryall himself. But then, father was so high-spirited that nothin’ less’n a race horse would do him. Who’s that waitin’ on the corner in front of Gaius Eldredge’s? Why, I do b’lieve it’s Clara!”

Captain Titcomb evidently did not see Miss Hopkins. At all events he looked the other way and chirruped to the horse. But Miss Tempy not only saw but intended to be seen.

“It _is_ Clara,” she declared. “I must speak to her. Clara! _Clara!_”

The young lady, who had been intently watching the approaching buggy, stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and waited until the equipage drew up. She was dressed in her new gown and jacket and certainly looked very pretty. She nodded to the Captain, whose face was redder than usual.

“How d’ye do, Clara?” said Miss Tempy, trying hard not to be patronizing. “I s’pose you’re takin’ a walk. You look reel nice. Where are you goin’?”

Miss Hopkins replied that she didn’t know just where she should go.

“Well, I hope you’ll have a pleasant afternoon wherever you go,” gushed Miss Tempy. “The Cap’n is takin’ me for a little drive. Isn’t this a beautiful horse?”

Here the Captain made his first remark since the carriage stopped. It was to the effect that he was taking Miss Tempy down to the Methodist Chapel. She had been going that way and it was a long walk.

“Oh!” said Miss Hopkins, sweetly, “is that all? I thought perhaps you were going to take her over to Harniss. It seems as if I remembered you saying you expected to go there to-day. Good-bye. I hope you’ll have a nice time.”

“Good-bye,” said Miss Tempy. “You needn’t hurry home on our account, Clara. Prissy’s well enough to help me do the dishes to-night. Clara’s a reel nice girl, isn’t she?” she added, turning to Captain Titcomb. “Do you know, I wonder that she hasn’t got a young man by this time.”

The Captain’s answer was a grunt and a crack of the whip that sent the buggy flying down the road in a cloud of dust. Miss Tempy began to fear she had made a mistake in calling her companion a perfectly safe driver. Certainly she had never in her life ridden as fast as she did for the next few minutes. They reached the little chapel long before the concert began. There she bade her escort an effusive farewell and went inside, but thoughts of the wondrous tale which she would tell Miss Prissy when she reached home kept her from paying the proper attention to the recitations of the infant class, or even to Superintendent Ellis’ address, which began, “Now, little children,” and ended with the pithy sentence, “The collection will next be gathered in.”

All through supper she talked of nothing but her “lovely long ride with Cap’n Ezra.” She didn’t mean to stray from the truth, but she couldn’t help exaggerating just a little, and a stranger might have been led to believe that the drive was arranged beforehand and that it lasted a good deal longer than it really did.

On that evening Captain Titcomb made the first of the short calls which were to continue during the week. Miss Tempy welcomed him enthusiastically, and her sister did her best not to appear jealous. Clara did not come into the sitting-room at all, nor, as has been said, did she do so during the following four evenings.

Bradley did not mention the trouble aboard the _Diving Belle_ when he reached home Friday night. He was even more silent than usual at the supper table. When the meal was over he suddenly exclaimed, “By George! Clara, I must beg your pardon. There was a letter for you in our box this morning and I left it aboard the schooner. I’ll bring it home to-morrow.”

“From your mother, most likely, Clara,” observed Miss Prissy. “How did you come to forget it, Bradley? Your mem’ry’s gen’rally so good.”

Captain Titcomb came about eight. He seemed really cheerful when he first arrived, but soon relapsed into the moody silence that had characterized his visits that week.

“Clara out in the kitchen?” he asked, after a while. “I noticed the light was burnin’.”

“No,” replied Miss Tempy; “she’s up in her room. She’s left some bread to rise and I guess she’s comin’ down to see it by and by. That’s why she left the lamp, I s’pose likely.”

As the big clock in the dining-room struck nine the Captain rose, announced that he must be going, and went.

Bradley retired soon after, and the sisters followed his example. The old house grew still. Miss Prissy was dropping into a comfortable doze when she felt herself clutched violently by the back hair.

“Ow!” she exclaimed, half-awake. “Let go! What on earth----”

“S-s-sh-h!” Miss Tempy breathed it frantically into her ear. “Don’t speak!”

“I won’t if you’ll let go of my hair. What’s the matter? Nightmare? I told you there was a limit, even to pepper tea.”

“Oh, _do_ be still! There’s robbers downstairs. I heard ’em!”

“Robbers fiddlesticks! Go to sleep!”

“Prissy Allen, I b’lieve you’d lay still if you was murdered in your bed, and----”

“Most likely I should. Where are they now--in the coal bin, same as last time?”

“No, in the dinin’-room or the kitchen. _Please_ call Bradley or I shall die; I know I shall!”

Miss Prissy groaningly sat up and listened. “It’s Clara seein’ to her bread,” she said, after a moment.

“It ain’t. Clara’s in her room, readin’; I saw her through the crack in the door. And Bradley’s in his room; I heard him breathin’. _Please_ git up!”

Miss Prissy got up quickly enough then. She, too, fancied she heard a faint sound in a room below. “’Tain’t burglars, whatever it is,” she whispered. “They wouldn’t come so early, and I don’t know what they’d expect to find worth stealin’ here anyhow!”

“Prissy Allen, how you talk! And our best teapot and the spoons hid right in the clock case!”

Miss Prissy said no more. She donned a wrapper and put on her slippers. Her sister was already similarly garbed. Then, Miss Prissy bearing the lamp, they tiptoed into the hall and on to the door of Bradley’s room.

“Bradley,” cautiously whispered Miss Prissy; “Bradley, will you git up, please? Tempy thinks there’s somebody downstairs.”

They heard Bradley chuckle sleepily. In a few moments he came out, dressed in jacket and trousers and blinking at the lamp. Clara, who had not gone to bed, had already joined them.

The procession moved. Bradley first; then Miss Prissy with the lamp; then Miss Tempy, who, as she said afterwards, was “too scared to go ahead and dasn’t go last.” Clara brought up the rear. They peered cautiously into the dining-room. It was empty.

“There!” exclaimed Miss Prissy; “I guess ’twas nothin’ but Tempy’s imagination, as usual. She----”

The words died on her lips. There came a sound from the kitchen--they all heard it--a rattling sound and the faint squeak of a door.

Bradley sprang to the coal hod and picked up the poker. It was the only apology for a weapon in sight. He started for the kitchen, but Miss Prissy seized him by the jacket and Miss Tempy threw both arms around his neck.

“Don’t you _stir_, Bradley Nickerson,” whispered the older sister. “Don’t you stir a step! S’pose he had a revolver.”

“Yes, or a dagger,” gasped the trembling Miss Tempy, whose ideas of robbers were derived mainly from her novels. “If you go near that kitchen I shall drop right in my tracks. Oh, Bradley, _please_, for _our_ sakes!”

Bradley tried to free himself, but it was hard work. He unclasped Miss Tempy’s arms from his neck, but she immediately seized him around the waist. It was a ridiculous situation. And suddenly he became aware of a cold wind blowing from the direction of the front hall.

“Is that front door open?” he whispered.

The horrified sisters turned to stare at the black tunnel of the hall. And then footfalls were heard on the walk--coming up the steps. Clara’s voice became audible; she was speaking in agonized whispers.

“Who----” began Bradley.

Clara appeared, clinging to the arm of Captain Eri Hedge. Captain Eri looked puzzled, but he grinned when he saw the tableau in the dining-room.

He told the story the next morning to his messmates, Captain Perez and Captain Jerry, about as follows:

“You see,” he said, “I’d been up to lodge meetin’ and stayed a little longer’n usual. I was comin’ home by the short cut, and jest as I got abreast the old maids’ house the front door bust open and somethin’ comes prancin’ down the walk flutterin’ and flappin’ its arms like a hen tryin’ to fly. Thinks I, ‘Has that speritu’list camp-meetin’ I went to last summer struck in?’ You see, I couldn’t imagine anything but a ghost havin’ the spunk to use the old maids’ front door.

“But the critter swooped out of the gate and bore down on me like a hawk on a June-bug. Then I see ’twas Clara Hopkins, scart pretty nigh to death.

“‘Oh, Cap’n Eri!’ says she. ‘Oh, Cap’n Eri!’

“‘The same,’ says I. ‘What’s the row?’

“‘Burglars!’ says she, makin’ fast to my arm; ‘burglars!’

“I had to laugh. I couldn’t help it. ‘Burglars at ten o’clock!’ I says. ‘Did they come to supper?’

“‘But they’re _there_!’ she says. ‘Everybody heard ’em; Bradley and all.’

“I couldn’t b’lieve ’twas burglars even then, but I knew if Brad Nickerson took any stock in it somethin’ was up. And the poor girl was tremblin’ like Peleg Myrick’s pup.

“‘All right, Clara,’ says I. ‘Let’s go in and shake hands with ’em.’

“So in we went. When we struck the dinin’-room there was Brad in the middle of the floor, lookin’ pretty toler’ble foolish, with Prissy moored to his coat-tails and Tempy with a clove hitch ’round his waist. All hands looked s’prised to see me, but no more’n I was to see them. ‘What is this?’ says I. ’Livin’ statues?’

“The old maids cast loose from Brad then and begun on me.

“‘It’s burglars,’ says Prissy.

“‘In the kitchen----’ says Tempy.

“‘And Bradley was goin’ right _in_ there----’

“‘At the risk of his _life_. And----’

“‘And, oh! we’re _so_ glad you’ve come, ’cause----’

“‘Hold on a minute!’ I says, holdin’ up both hands. ‘If this is a talkin’ race, let’s start even. What’s the row, Brad?’

“Brad, he kind of grinned. ‘Well,’ says he; ‘the ladies thought they heard someone in the kitchen, but I guess----’

“‘_Thought_ we heard ’em!’ busts out Prissy. ‘Why, you heard ’em yourself!’

“‘Yes,’ squeals Tempy. ‘And _I_ heard ’em, and Clara heard ’em. And that’s why you took the poker.’

“And now Brad, he held up _his_ hands, poker and all. ‘All right! all _right_!’ says he. ‘Now that we’re reinforced maybe we’d better go out and interview ’em. They might die of old age if we stay here much longer.’

“So he winked to me and the fleet got under way. Me and Brad led off, like a couple of tugs, and the women folks strung out behind like coal barges, holdin’ on to each other’s wrappers, and breathin’ hard.

“We opened the kitchen door and sailed in--that is, Brad and I did. The coal barges got in a lump, so’s to speak, in the doorway and stayed there. There was a lamp burnin’ side of a pan of dough on the table, but, jest as I expected, we was the only humans in sight.

“‘Looks’s if the burglars had got tired of waitin’ for us and got mad and gone home,’ says I. ‘Don’t know what they broke into the kitchen for, anyhow. I’ve _heard_ of a feller’s stealin’ a red-hot stove, but----’

“Brad looked puzzled, sort of. ‘I sartinly heard somethin’ movin’ out here,’ says he. ‘Most likely ’twas a stray cat, and it’s hidin’ ’round somewheres.’

“But jest then comes a whistle--a squeal, I mean--from the barges. Tempy’s deadlights were poppin’ out of her head, and she was p’intin’ a shaky finger at the floor. There was big muddy footprints all over it.

“Well, I own up I was set back two or three rows. Somebody had been there, that was sartin. I’ve seen cats with double paws, but no cats made them prints. A camel with the gout might have done it, if it took pains and trod heavy.

“‘Humph!’ says I, and Brad agreed with me.

“‘Humph!’ says I again. ‘It looks----’

“I was standin’ right in front of the door of the closet where the old maids kept their pots and pans. And jest then inside that closet bust out the most outrageous racket ever you heard. ‘Biffity! bang! thump!’ And then a coughin’ and sneezin’ like forty packs of thunder crackers.

“I ain’t a narvous man, gin’rally speakin’, but I got up and moved sudden. I didn’t exactly run, but I kind of glided over to the sink. Leastways I was backed up against it when I remembered to take an observation. The women grabbed each other and screeched. Brad, he turned sort of yeller ’round the gills, but he was the coolest one in the bunch.

“The bangin’ and barkin’ and sneezin’ in the closet kept right up to time. Whoever it was, he wasn’t shirkin’ his work none to speak of.

“‘Come out of that!’ yells Brad, makin’ a dive for the door.

“Afore he could reach it that door flew open of itself. Out comes somethin’ doubled up like a jackknife. It kind of pawed the air with its flippers and dove head first for the sink. I give it all the room it needed; didn’t want to be selfish.

“Hoo-rash-oo!” remarks the thing, as if it meant it, too. Then it shoved its head into the water bucket.

“The whole congregation was consider’ble shook up. Nobody felt like risin’ and addressin’ the mourners. The critter at the water bucket splashed and gurgled for a minute. Then it turned ’round. Its head and face was all streaks of red and brown and the water was drippin’ off its chin. Who was it? You’d never guess in a million years!

“I swan to man if it wan’t _Ez Titcomb_!

“‘Oh! it’s the _Cap’n_!’ squeaked Tempy, and went down in a heap.

“‘Hoo-rash-oo!’ says Cap’n Ez, sort of openin’ the conversation.

“‘Well!’ says I.

“‘For heaven’s sakes!’ says Brad.

“But Prissy stepped for’ard and took command. She didn’t looked scared any more; only kind of queer ’round the mouth and snappy ’round the eyes.

“‘Cap’n Titcomb,’ says she, ‘if you please, what were you hidin’ in that closet for? If you can stop sneezin’ long enough to answer, I should like----’

“‘Sneeze!’ hollers Ez, gittin’ ready for another explosion. ‘Sneeze!’ says he, kind of through his nose and wavin’ his hand desp’rate. ‘I guess maybe you’d sneeze if you’d upsot the spice-box right into your face’n eyes and had your moustache full of red pepper!’

“Seemed a likely sort of guess, when you come to think of it, but Prissy didn’t pay no attention.

“‘Why was you hid in that closet?’ says she.

“Well, sir! that was the fust time in my life that I ever see Ez Titcomb clean out of soundin’s. I snum! you could see he didn’t know what to say, and when _Ez_ gits that way things must be consider’ble mussed up. He fidgetted, and stuttered, and picked at his watch chain.

“‘Prissy----’ says he, and then he stopped. ‘Prissy----’ he says again, and shut up like a clam. ‘Prissy----’

“‘Well?’ says Prissy, in a sort of vinegar-on-ice voice.

“‘Prissy----’ says Ez. He looked at her and at Tempy and at Brad. As for Brad, there was a twinkle in his eye. Honest, he looked almost as if he was havin’ consider’ble fun out of the show.

“‘Prissy----’ says Ez once more. Then he let everything go with a run, and hollers, ‘Oh, thunder! what’s the use? Clara, you know what I come here for. Why don’t you tell ’em and be done with it?’

’Course we all looked at Clara then. She blushed up pretty red, but she answered prompt.

“‘I s’pose you come here to see me,’ says she, ‘though why you should hide I _don’t_ see.’

“‘’Cause I couldn’t see you no other way; that’s why! I’ve tried hard enough to speak with you for the last week, but you’ve cleared out every night ’fore I got the chance. I thought if I waited till you come to fix the bread, I’d be here and you’d _have_ to see me and hear what I had to say. So I come in the back door and waited. Then I heard Prissy speak in the dinin’-room and--well, I got rattled and hid in that da--that everlastin’ closet. That’s the whole fool yarn! There!’

“Prissy looked as if she was goin’ to say somethin’, but Clara cut in ahead of her. ‘Yes,’ says she; ‘but what you haven’t explained are your actions last Sunday. When a man asks the lady he’s engaged to to go out drivin’ with him, and then calmly ups and takes somebody else, why----’

“‘I wrote you how it happened,’ says Ez, pleadin’ like.

“‘I never got the letter,’ says Clara.

“‘One minute, if you please,’ breaks in Prissy, calm but chilly, like a January mornin’. ‘Let’s understand this thing. Cap’n Titcomb, are you and Clara, engaged to be married?’

“Ez swallered once or twice and looked ’round as if he was hopin’ somebody’d heave a life-line. But nobody did. Then he shoves his fists in his pockets, and says, ‘Why, yes; we--we are.’

“‘Well, I never!’ says Prissy.

“I didn’t say nothin’, neither did Brad, but I cal’late we both looked s’prised. Tempy, who’d been settin’ on the floor ever sence Ez was materialized--like one of the camp-meetin’ sperits--out of that closet, spoke up as if she was talkin’ in her sleep, and says she, ‘And it was Clara he was comin’ to see all this time!’

“‘Well!’ says Prissy. ‘Well, I must say, Cap’n Titcomb, that I think it would have been more manly if you’d come and seen Clara, instead of spendin’ your evenin’s with us, and lettin’ us think----’

“‘Come and _see_ her!’ bellers Ez. ‘Didn’t I try and come to see her? But every time I got to the kitchen door you or Tempy’d take me in tow and head for the settin’-room. I swan to man I ain’t had a chance to breathe, you watched me so!’

“Tempy started to say somethin’, but Prissy was skipper jest then. ‘Don’t say any more, Tempy,’ she says. ‘Now that we know the Cap’n is goin’ to marry our----’ I guess she was goin’ to say servant, but didn’t hardly dast to--‘our young lady friend,’ says she, ‘we’ll treat him as her comp’ny, not ours. Come, we ain’t wanted here.’

“And, helpin’ Tempy up, she took her by the arm and sailed out, all canvas sot and colors flyin’.

“Ez, he looked consider’ble like the feller that stole the hen’s eggs and forgot and set down on ’em.

“Brad didn’t speak. He jest looked sort of mournful at the partner and shook his head slow. I ain’t a mind reader, but I’ll bet he was thinkin’, same as I was, that, for a chap who had the name of bein’ the slickest kind of a ladies’ man, Ez Titcomb sartinly had upset the calabash _this_ time.

“And we went out and left him alone with his best girl.”