Andy Gordon

CHAPTER XXXV.

TOMMY’S PRANKS

Tommy Brackett may have been an angel in the eyes of an indulgent mother, but most people who had anything to do with him regarded him as a perverse and mischievous imp. He had always been a thorn in the side of the successive boys who had been employed by Mr. Brackett. The little boy was quite aware of his position as the son of the master of the house, and felt at liberty to tease and annoy his father’s hired boys in any manner that presented itself to his ingenious fancy.

As we already know, he had made a beginning with Andy at the very first meal of which the latter partook of at the farm, but somehow the experiment did not succeed. Instead of submitting, our hero had very coolly and composedly deprived him of the pin, which he had selected as a means of annoyance.

Tommy was rather surprised, but he was not disposed to give up at the failure of the first attempt. He was encouraged, indeed, by his mother taking his part against Andy, though she resented any trick upon herself.

Andy was naturally fond of children. Had Tommy been a well-behaved boy, he would have regarded him with favor and affection, but he very soon decided that any such feeling for his employer’s son was not deserved and would be thrown away.

One morning, as Tommy was wondering what he should do for amusement, his attention was drawn to the family cat, which was dozing in the yard, unconscious of danger.

“I’ll have some fun with you, puss,” said he. “Come along!”

He took the cat and drew her to the trough at which the cattle were accustomed to drink. Seizing the poor animal by the head, he thrust it into the water till the poor thing was near strangulation. Of course, she made her dissatisfaction known by shrill cries.

They attracted the attention of Andy, who was splitting wood only a few rods distant. Looking up, he saw the poor cat’s predicament, and became justly indignant.

“What are you doing there, Tommy?” he demanded, sternly.

Tommy looked up and answered with characteristic impudence:

“None of your business!”

“Stop hurting the cat!” said Andy, imperatively.

“Go on with your work and let me alone,” answered Tommy, preparing to plunge the cat’s head into the trough once more.

Andy’s answer was to drop the ax and rush to the trough. Seizing the boy by the collar, he forcibly took away the cat and said:

“You ought to be ashamed of your cruelty!

“How dare you touch me?” demanded Tommy, furiously, stamping his foot.

“It doesn’t require much daring, you mischievous little scamp!” said Andy.

“I’ll get my father to turn you away,” threatened Tommy.

“Just as you like,” said Andy, amused. “I am doing him a favor by staying; and he knows it.”

“I’ll get him to give you a flogging!” said Tommy, finding that the first threat had very little effect.

“If he would give you a sound whipping, it’s only what you deserve,” said our hero, going back to his work.

“He wouldn’t whip me. My mother wouldn’t let him!” said Tommy.

Andy laughed. He was disposed to think that the boy was only telling the truth, since Mrs. Brackett appeared to have her husband under her thumb, as he had already found out.

Tommy felt outraged by the thought that his father’s hired boy had dared to lay hands on him, and thirsted for revenge. If he had only been stronger than Andy, our hero would have stood a chance of a thrashing then and there; but, unfortunately for Tommy, his strength was not equal to his spirit.

“What shall I do?” he thought.

He waited till he got a few rods away, and picking up a pebble, threw it at Andy. It whizzed within a foot of our hero’s face.

Andy looked up, and saw the boy laughing with evident enjoyment.

“Did you fire that stone, Tommy?” he asked.

“Yes, I did.”

“What did you do it for?”

“I’ll do it again!”

And Tommy suited the action to the word.

Andy was upon him in a moment, and seized him as he was entering the back door.

“Ma!” yelled Tommy, at the top of his voice. “Come here! Henry’s murdering me!”

Mrs. Brackett rushed to the door, her hands covered with dough, and her indignation was intense when she saw her darling in the grasp of her husband’s hired boy.

“What’s all this?” she exclaimed. “Let go my child, you young ruffian! How dare you?”

“Mrs. Brackett,” said Andy, “Tommy has been firing stones at me. If you will make him stop, I shall let him alone.”

“You have no business to touch him, anyway! I’ll make you smart for it!” exclaimed the angry woman. “I presume you are telling lies about my poor child. Tell me all about it, Tommy. Did you fire a stone at him?”

“Yes; but he began it.”

“How did he begin it?”

“He took the cat away from me,” exclaimed the virtuous Tommy.

“Did you take the cat away from my boy?” demanded Mrs. Brackett, in a tragical tone.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How dared you do it?”

“Because he was teasing it. If I had not interfered, he would have drowned her. He was putting her head into the trough.”

“ ‘Tain’t so, ma! Don’t you believe him!” vociferated Tommy, with unblushing falsehood.

“I don’t believe it,” said Mrs. Brackett, forcibly. “I know he is telling lies about you, my angel!”

Andy was not in the least excited, but he was rather amused.

“You may believe it or not, Mrs. Brackett,” he said. “I only tell you that it is so.”

“Tain’t so! ’tain’t so!” yelled Tommy.

“Of course it isn’t,” said his mother. “I won’t believe any of that bad boy’s lies. Go back to your work, you young brute; and take care how you touch my darling boy again.”

“You had better advise him not to touch me again, Mrs. Brackett,” said Andy.

And, without waiting for an answer, he went back to his work.

Not a word was said to Tommy about what he had done, and he was emboldened to continue his persecutions.

Five minutes afterward, he went out into the yard again and shied a stone at Andy’s head.

Our hero was prepared. He sprang for Tommy, seized him, and drawing him to the trough, took a dipper of water, and dashed it into his face.

“The next time you’ll get something worse,” he said, coolly.

Tommy roared with anger and mortification, and again ran into the house, to complain to his mother.

She came out like an avenging fury, and began to revile Andy, and threaten all sorts of punishment when her husband got home.

“Do you expect me to stand still, and let Tommy throw stones at me?” asked Andy.

“I didn’t throw a stone,” denied Tommy.

“Of course you didn’t, my angel!” said Mrs. Brackett. “Henry Miller, when Mr. Brackett gets home, he shall whip you till you are black and blue.”

“Mrs. Brackett,” said an indignant voice behind her, “you are blaming the wrong boy. Tommy did throw stones at Henry, for I saw the whole transaction from my window. Henry treated him just as he ought to be treated. If he were my boy, I would give him a good, sound whipping.”

Knowing that Mr. Dodge had money to leave, Mrs. Brackett did not dare to reply as she wished to do.

“So you turn against my poor boy, too,” she said.

“I tell the truth about him,” said the old man, disgusted. “Had he treated me as he has Henry, I would make him suffer.”

Mrs. Brackett was white with anger, but she did not dare to show it.

“Come into the house, Tommy,” she said. “It seems you have no friends but your mother. Even your grandpa turns against you.”

“I thank Heaven he is not my grandson!” said Mr. Dodge, after mother and child had left the scene. “Henry, don’t let that little rascal impose upon you, or his mother either.”

“I won’t, sir,” assured Andy, firmly.

From that moment Mrs. Brackett positively hated Andy, and anxiously sought for some means of revenge.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

MR. BRACKETT’S DIPLOMACY

Mrs. Brackett took the earliest opportunity of informing her husband of the way in which Andy had abused poor Tommy, but he did not enter wholly into her feeling of resentment, not being quite so blind to the faults of his oldest cherub as Tommy’s mother.

He was still more disinclined to move in the matter when he learned that his father-in-law had taken Andy’s part.

“We’ve got to move slow, wife,” he said, cautiously. “We don’t want to stir up the old man.”

“Father ought to be ashamed to turn against his own grandson,” said Mrs. Brackett, indignantly.

“If we come to that, Tommy isn’t exactly Mr. Dodge’s grandson.”

“Well, it’s the same thing,” persisted his wife. “He seems to think more of this new boy than of poor Tommy.”

“It won’t do to make a fuss about it, Lucindy. We must be patient, and humor the old man. He’s seventy-five years old, and can’t live much longer.”

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the last five years,” grumbled Mrs. Brackett. “I don’t see, for my part, but he’s likely to live till you and I are in our graves.”

“Not as bad as that, Lucindy. I’m getting a little anxious to have him make a will. I don’t want him to die till he’s left the property to us, safe and sure.”

“It would go to us anyway, wouldn’t it, Jeremiah?”

“It ought to, but there’s those Eastern relations. They might claim it.”

“That would be shameful!” said Mrs. Brackett, warmly.

“So it would – so it would, Lucindy. I’ll tell you what, I’ll speak to the old man about it this very day.”

“I wish you would.”

“So you see we’d better not irritate him by scolding Henry.”

“I suppose you’re right, Jeremiah,” assented Mrs. Brackett, reluctantly; “but I was in hopes you would give him a good flogging.”

“It wouldn’t be politic, Lucindy, just at this time.”

“Is he going to abuse my poor darling without anybody’s interfering?” demanded Mrs. Brackett, discontentedly.

“No. I’ll speak to him about it.”

Accordingly, Mr. Brackett sought out Andy, and said:

“Henry, I hear there was some trouble this morning between you and Tommy.”

“Yes, sir. Did Mrs. Brackett tell you about it?”

“Yes. She is very angry.”

“I think I have more reason to be angry, sir.”

“She says you dragged him into the house by the collar, and afterward threw water in his face.”

“Did she tell you what Tommy did to me?” asked Andy.

“She said he was rather playful, and that you got mad.”

“He playfully fired stones at my head,” said Andy. “If he had hit me I should have been severely hurt. I don’t like that kind of playfulness.”

“I know he is a mischievous boy. Still, you should remember that he is a little boy, much younger and smaller than you are.”

“So I did, and for that reason I wouldn’t hurt him. I don’t think,” continued Andy, “I could make up my mind to hurt a little boy. But I can’t let him fire stones at me.”

“I guess there has been no harm done, but you must try not to provoke Mrs. Brackett. She can’t see any fault in Tommy, though I am not so blind.”

“I certainly shall let him alone if he will let me alone, and I won’t hurt him, at any rate. I will only defend myself if he tries to play any tricks on me.”

Mr. Brackett seemed to be satisfied, and Andy was disposed to think favorably of him, not being aware that he was moderate and reasonable because he did not think it politic to be otherwise.

Just at this moment Mr. Dodge came out of the house, and Mr. Brackett decided to attack him on the subject of the will.

“How do you feel, father?” he inquired.

“Very well, thank you, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, rather surprised at his son-in-law’s solicitude.

“You are remarkably well for a man of your age, as I was remarking ta Lucindy yesterday. By the way, how old are you, father?”

“Seventy-five years last birthday,” answered the old man, “but I don’t feel any older than I did fifteen years ago.”

“Just so! Still, you are older; but I suppose you’ve fixed things so you’ve no worldly anxieties?”

“I think I’ve got enough to carry me through, Jeremiah.”

“Of course you have, father; and more, too. You can’t begin to spend your income?”

This was said in an inquiring tone, but the old gentleman did not make any reply.

“It’s only prudent to make your will, father, for, of course, a man of your age may be cut off sudden. Death comes like a thief in the night,” added Mr. Brackett, utilizing one of the few passages of Scripture with which he happened to be acquainted.

“I dare say you are right, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, with a smile.

“You mustn’t think I am anxious on my own account,” said Mr. Brackett. “Of course, money’s a consideration to me, and I’m willing to have you fix things as you think best. But don’t you think you would feel better if you had things all fixed straight and sure on paper?”

“Perhaps you are right, Mr. Brackett,” said his father-in-law, with the same provoking smile, which Mr. Brackett was utterly unable to understand.

“I feel kinder delicate about speaking of it,” pursued Mr. Brackett, “but I thought I ought to do it. Folks are so apt to put off the important duty to the last.”

“By the way, Jeremiah, have you made your will?” asked the old man.

“I?” ejaculated Mr. Brackett, in surprise.

“Yes.”

“No; I can’t say I have.”

“You’d better think of it. You’re not as old as I am, but men younger than you die every day.”

“You don’t think I’m looking poorly, do you?” queried Mr. Brackett, nervously.

“Oh, no! And I hope I am not. Still, you may die before me.”

“That’s so, of course; but it ain’t hardly likely.”

“No; I hope you won’t. I hope you will live to be as old as I am.”

“I’ll tell you what, father,” said Brackett, cunningly, “I’ll make my will if you make yours.”

“I’ll think of it, Jeremiah,” said Mr. Dodge, politely.

“Confound the old man! I can’t get anything out of him,” said Brackett to himself. “I think he teases me on purpose. The idea of thinking he doesn’t need to make a will because I don’t! One thing’s pretty certain, though – he hasn’t made his will yet. If he should die without one, I will prevent them Eastern relations from hearing of it, if I can. I ought to have that property – and I mean to.”

Mr. Dodge smiled to himself when his son-in-law left him.

“Mr. Brackett thinks he is shrewd,” he said to himself, “but his shrewdness and cunning are of a very transparent character. What would he say if he knew that I have already made my will, and that his name is not mentioned in it? What would he say if he knew that my chief heir is at present in his employ, working for fifty cents a week? I suspect there would be a storm – in fact, a hurricane.

“Henry,” said the old man, to our hero, “has Mr. Brackett spoken to you about your little trouble with Tommy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was he angry?”

“No, he spoke very reasonably. I have no fault to find with what he said.”

“He isn’t quite such a fool as his wife, nor is he as ill-tempered. If I had given the Bracketts all my property, reserving none to myself, I should be in a bad position. Fortunately I was saved from such folly.”

“It strikes me,” reflected Mrs. Brackett, looking out of the kitchen window, “that father’s pretty thick with that boy of ours. If I had my way, I’d send him packing. He’s a low, artful boy, and if I were Mr. Brackett, I would send him off, if I had to do his work myself.”

Jeremiah Brackett, however, was by no means of his wife’s opinion. He appreciated the fact that Henry Miller – to use the name by which he knew him – was more faithful and a more steady worker than any of his predecessors, and he did not mean to part with him for any light cause, his wife’s prejudices to the contrary, notwithstanding.

Half an hour later, Andy was destined to a considerable surprise.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE TURNS UP

“Boy, does Mr. Brackett live here?”

Andy looked up from his work, and saw standing at a little distance a man, apparently about thirty years of age.

He started in amazement, for he had no difficulty in recognizing the younger of the two highwaymen who had so nearly robbed him of the money intrusted to him by the Misses Peabody. There are cases of remarkable resemblance, but Andy was a close observer, and he was satisfied this was not such a case, but that the companion of Mike Hogan stood before him.

Owing to his surprise, he delayed answering the question.

“Well, boy, what are you gaping at?” demanded the young man, impatiently. “Did you hear my question?”

“Excuse me, sir! Yes, Mr. Brackett does live here.”

“Is Mrs. Brackett at home?” continued the newcomer.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, pilot me in, then,” said the other, carelessly. “Are you Brackett’s hired boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, it seems to me he might get a smarter one.”

“I was smart enough to foil you once, Mr. Highwayman,” thought Andy; but he only answered, “Very likely he might.”

“Come, that’s candid! It makes me think better of you. Go ahead, and I’ll follow.”

“What does this robber want of Mrs. Brackett, I wonder?” thought Andy. “Ought I to warn her of his character?”

Mrs. Brackett was ironing in the kitchen, when Andy entered, followed by the stranger. She was not feeling very good-natured, and jumped to the conclusion that the intruder was a peddler.

“Henry,” said she, sharply, “what makes you bring a peddler into the house? You know I never have anything to do with them.”

Andy was going to plead in excuse that the stranger had inquired particularly for her, but he was spared the trouble.

“I must say, Lucinda,” said the young man, bursting out laughing, “that you give a curious reception to your only brother.”

“George, is it really you?” exclaimed Mrs. Brackett, laying down her flatiron, in surprise and joy.

“I reckon it is. How are you, old girl?”

Mrs. Brackett, who was really attached to her younger brother, advanced eagerly and imprinted a kiss on his cheek, and began to express her wonder at his sudden appearance.

Andy, concluding that his presence was no longer required, left the kitchen, and returned to work.

He, too, was full of surprise.

“It is strange enough that the man who tried to rob me should be the brother of my employer’s wife,” he soliloquized. “Of course, she can’t be aware of his mode of life.”

Was Andy called upon to inform her? He decided not, but if this man took up his residence for any length of time at Mr. Brackett’s house, he would feel compelled to watch him narrowly, lest he should fall into his old dishonest practices.

“He didn’t recognize me,” Andy reflected, with satisfaction. “If he had, he might have tried to do me an injury lest I should betray him.”

Meanwhile, the brother and sister were chatting together in the kitchen.

“What have you been doing, George?” asked Mrs. Brackett. “Why is it that you have been silent for so long?”