CHAPTER XII

BOTTLED DIVILS

Abner was awakened early the next morning by light footsteps upon the stairs and low whisperings. He did not hear his wife's voice, but supposed that she was downstairs seeing that the cats were "put out," and that the back door was fastened. He expected that a tempest would soon burst in the quiet house, and that in a few minutes he would be called sharply to account. He did not mind Jess, but he did shrink at the thought of what his wife would say about the mutilated pillow-slips, and the putting of two dirty street urchins in a clean bed. As he thus lay and listened for the storm to break, he cherished for an instant the hope that in some way Tildy had fallen so much in love with Mrs. Ikey Dimock that she had stayed with her all night.

Abner had little time, however, for such meditations, for a shriek of fear and astonishment presently fell upon his ears. Then hurried footsteps approached his room, and Jess appeared in the doorway.

"Daddy! Daddy!" she called.

But Abner made no response. He was apparently sleeping the sleep of the just.

"Daddy!" Again came the appeal, this time more urgent than before.

Still Abner made no reply.

For a few seconds Jess stood uncertain what to do. Then she crossed the room, laid her hand upon her father's shoulder, and shook him gently.

"Daddy, daddy, wake up!" she urged.

"Hey, what's that?" Abner cried, starting suddenly up as if from a sound sleep. "Who are ye, an' what de ye want?"

"It's me," Jess replied. "Come quick; there are two people in my bed."

"Two people in ye'r bed! Nonsense. Ye'r luney."

"But I tell you there are," Jess insisted.

"See here, Jess, de ye think I'm a fool? G'long to bed. What's happened to ye, anyway?"

"Please, daddy, don't talk that way. Come and see for yourself."

"Where's ye'r mother?" Abner suddenly asked.

"Why, isn't she home?" Jess asked in surprise.

"Home! Guess not. I'd surely know it if she was."

"But she left before we did," Jess explained.

"She did! How's that? Didn't yez come in the same car?"

"No, you see——" Jess hesitated, and then stopped.

"I see, I see," and Abner nodded. "Ye needn't explain."

Deep in his heart Abner was pleased that his wife was not present at this awkward moment, but he wondered what had become of her. Although Jess worried about her mother, she was anxious to change the subject which might lead to embarrassing questions.

"Won't you tell me about those boys in my bed?" she asked. "Surely you must know where they came from."

Abner chuckled, and just then Belle appeared in the doorway.

"You do know," Jess insisted. "You're laughing. I know you are. Come, confess everything."

It took Abner some time to relate his experience with the waifs of the night, and when he was through he ordered the girls off to bed.

"Yez kin sleep together," he told them, "unless yez want to set up an' watch them beauties in there. I guess yez both'll find some Social Service work to do in the mornin'."

"But what about mother?" Jess anxiously enquired. "I'm afraid something has happened to her."

"An' so yez didn't come with her, eh?"

"No," Jess somewhat reluctantly replied. "Mother left in Mrs. Dimock's car ahead of us."

"An' you two walked, I s'pose? My, yez must be fond of walkin' all the way from Glucom at this time of night. Fer the good of ye'r health, no doubt. More Social Service idea, eh? I've heard of sich cases before. Tildy used to be fond of walkin' before we was married. Said she liked it, 'specially when a man was along."

"Don't make fun of us, daddy," Jess pleaded. "It is no time for joking when mother may be lying injured somewhere along the road."

"She can't be between here an' town, or you'd have seen her," Abner reasoned. "But mebbe yez didn't, fer there's a time in life when young people are blind an' deaf, so I understand."

"Don't you think we had better go and look for mother?" Jess insisted.

"Oh, she'll turn up safe an' sound, never fear. Ye couldn't lose Tildy. Anyway, if Mrs. Ikey's chafer has run away with her, he'll soon bring her back. So git away to bed now, fer I'm most awful sleepy."

There was no more sleep, however, for Abner after the girls had left. He was much concerned about his wife, and he lay there trying to imagine what had happened to her. At length he rose, dressed, and went downstairs. Closing the door between the kitchen and the dining-room, he lighted the fire, and prepared a cup of coffee.

"I kin allus think better an' work better," he had often said, "when I've had a cup of coffee. It's as stimulatin' to me as the yell of an en-gine is to Jerry."

He next visited the trap he had set the previous evening, and a smile overspread his face when he saw three large rats securely captured, and vainly trying to escape.

"Good mornin', me beauties," he accosted. "How de yez like ye'r new quarters? Rather cramped, I admit, but yez'll be a darn sight more cramped than that before I'm through with yez. But if yez behave ye'rselves as decent rats should, mebbe yez'll have fine new quarters fer ye'r pranks, but not as wholesome, perhaps, as this hog-house."

He then went into his little workshop adjoining the woodhouse, and set earnestly to work. The sun creeping in through the dust-covered window found him giving the finishing touches to a stout tin-lined box.

"There, I guess that'll hold 'em," was his comment, as he stood and viewed his handiwork. "Them holes ought to let in enough air to keep 'em alive an' in good fightin' condition. Now fer some fun."

Jess came downstairs early, and hearing a peculiar noise in the workshop, went out to ascertain what was the matter. She was surprised to see her father tieing a thick cord about a strong wooden box. He was panting heavily, and the perspiration was streaming down his face. One of his fingers was bleeding, and he was muttering a strange conglomeration of words.

"For pity sakes! What are you doing?" Jess exclaimed. "And what have you in that box?"

"Divils; that's what I've got."

"Devils!"

"Yep. Divils bottled up in rats. Three of 'em, an' they're straight from hell."

"Oh, daddy, don't talk that way," Jess protested. "You make we shiver."

"Shiver, eh? Guess ye'd shiver in earnest if ye had one of them critters at ye. Ye'd think there was a two-foot icicle slippin' down ye'r spine. Look at that!" and Abner held out his damaged finger.

"What, did the rats do that?"

"Sure. Git me a rag, will ye, and tie it up? Then I must be off."

"Where are you going, daddy?"

"To look fer ye'r mother, of course."

"But where?"

"Guess I'll go to town first. I want to take them rats along. Mebbe the Dimocks know somethin' about Tildy. They'll know, anyway, what's happened to that chafer an' the car."

After the finger had been carefully bandaged, Abner went to the barn, harnessed Jerry, hitched him to the wagon, and drove up to the back door. Jess watched her father with considerable curiosity as he placed the box in the bottom of the wagon.

"What in the world are you going to do with those rats?" she enquired.

"Jist a little tradin', that's all."

"But I never heard of people trading in rats, daddy."

"Ye didn't, eh? Well, this is jist an exchange of country rats fer town rats, that's all. But, there, I must be off. Keep a sharp eye on them kids when they wake, an' don't let 'em raise ructions. G'long, Jerry."

Abner made a record trip to town that morning. Having hitched his horse to the usual post, and with the box under his arm, he sauntered into the waiting-room, peered through the ticket-office window and saw the agent reading The Live Wire.

"Say, Sam," he accosted, "are ye busy?"

"Not especially," was the reply. "What can I do for you, Mr. Andrews?"

"When does the express team go out, Sam?"

"Not until late this afternoon. Got something to send?"

"Sure. Jist see how much this'll cost, will ye?" and Abner motioned to the box. "It's fer Lawyer Rackshaw."

"Why not drop it around there yourself, Mr. Andrews? It might not be delivered until late, and, besides, you will save the express charge."

"Oh, the time don't signify. In fact I'd rather it got there a little late. An' as fer the expense, that doesn't cut any ice."

When this matter had been settled, the agent looked curiously at Abner.

"How's your wife?" he enquired.

"Me wife! Ain't she all right? Why de ye ask?"

"Haven't you seen this morning's paper, Mr. Andrews?"

"Naw. But what's it sayin' now, I'd like to know?"

"Here it is," and Sam handed him his copy. "There, look at that. It says that your wife met with an auto accident at Twin Creek while running away from home with Isaac Dimock's chauffeur."

Abner's bronzed face turned a peculiar hue as he quickly seized the paper and fixed his eyes upon the big staring headline:

"A SUSPICIOUS AFFAIR"

His hands trembled so violently that it was difficult for him to read. Sam, watching, expected him to burst forth in wild language. In this, however, he was mistaken, for when Abner had finished reading the article, he folded up the paper and shoved it into his coat pocket.

"I'll pay ye fer this, Sam," and he threw down a coin as he spoke.

"Keep your money," the agent replied. "I'm through with it, anyway. And say, Mr. Andrews," he continued, "I'm really sorry for you."

"I know ye are, Sam, an' I thank ye fer ye'r sympathy. Be sure an' send that box this afternoon."

Without another word Abner turned and left the waiting-room. Sam watched him from the window as he strode along the platform, and headed up town.

"I wonder where he's bound for now?" he mused. "I wouldn't like to be that chauffeur who ran away with his wife, nor the man who wrote that article, for that matter. My, I never saw such a look upon any man's face before. It sent the chills down my spine."