CHAPTER XX

UNDER SUSPICION

The kind of music that Abner expected to face when he reached home was wanting. Instead of a severe scolding, tirades, and a regular bombardment of embarrassing questions, he was received in a most gracious manner. The children flocked about him as he unhitched Jerry and put him in the stable. It was somewhat late and dinner was over, but Mrs. Andrews had his place set and everything hot in the oven. She even smiled as he entered the kitchen, a most unusual thing for her. But Abner thought that she watched him somewhat curiously and anxiously as he hung up his coat and hat. He could also feel her eyes upon him as he washed himself and brushed his tangled hair before the little mirror. He wondered what it all meant, though he made no comment, but at once took his seat at the table. After serving him, Mrs. Andrews sat down on the opposite side of the table, another remarkable thing for her.

"How are the kids gittin' along?" Abner at length enquired, more for something to say than anything else.

"Very well, I guess," was the somewhat absent-minded reply. "They seem to be having a good time."

Silence then ensued after this effort to start conversation, and Abner went on with his meal. But he was restless, and glanced occasionally out of the window. Once he stopped and listened intently. This Mrs. Andrews noted, and her face became grave.

"It's only the children," she explained. "The girls are playing with them near the barn."

"Say," Abner at length remarked, "has this change-of-heart bizness struck yez all, too?"

"Why, what do you mean?" his wife asked.

"But what has come over yez all, Tildy? This house seems strange. I ginerally got a reg'lar dressin' down, when I came home late fer dinner. I was so used to it that this peaceful reception is gittin' on me nerves. I'm like Jerry, an' can't stand things when they're too quiet."

"When did you experience a change of heart, Abner?"

"Last night when walkin' home with Zeb. He's the best hand at that I ever come across. He kin beat Billy Sunday all to bits. He put the punch into me, all right, an' I guess you must have got a touch of it too, Tildy."

"Maybe I have, Abner. But, you see, I'm feeling sorry for you after what you've gone through of late."

"An' ye don't blame me, Tildy?" Abner asked in astonishment.

"How can I? It wasn't your fault. I know you couldn't help it, and that is what worries me. But there, never mind that now. I have something to tell you. Abe Dugan wants to know if you will give him a hand this afternoon with that boat he's making."

"He does, eh? Well, I like his gall. Does he think I've got nuthin' to do?"

"But it's a dull day, Abner, and I want you to take back a pattern I borrowed from Mrs. Dugan this morning."

"So that's where ye were, was it? I thought ye had cleared out entirely."

"I merely ran over to get a pattern. I want to make some trousers for the boys, and as we have had no need for such a thing I knew that Mrs. Dugan would let me have hers. She's going to help me with the work."

"She is? Good fer her. I didn't know that she would stoop to sich things."

"Oh, yes, she's much interested in the boys, and is going to do all she can. But she wants that pattern back this afternoon, and if you won't take it, then I shall have to do so, though I have so much cooking to do since we have all those extra mouths to feed."

"An' more grub to buy, eh? An' where's the stuff to come from fer them pants, I'd like to know?"

"I am going to use some of your old clothes. I can make them over. The poor little boys are almost in rags."

Abner rose from the table, filled and lighted his pipe.

"Where's that pattern?" he abruptly asked.

"So you're going, are you, Abner?"

"Sure, I am. When ye rub me the way ye have to-day, an' when Mrs. Abe is goin' to help with them pants, I can't very well refuse to give a hand out on that boat. My, we're all gittin' mighty holy an' neighborly all of a sudden. Guess a change of heart must have struck all around. I wonder if it has affected Abe. He could stand a good dose of it."

Abner was really glad of an excuse to go to his neighbor's, as he had not seen him for some time. The building of a boat was of greater interest to him than splitting and piling wood down on the shore. He would find out, too, if Abe had heard anything about his experiences in town; how Joe Preston was getting along, and what people were saying about the affair.

It was about three in the afternoon when he reached the Dugan house, and he was informed by Mrs. Dugan that Abe had been called over to Joe Sanders to see his sick horse. Abe considered himself a specialist on animal diseases, and was much in demand.

"But you needn't mind Abe's absence," Mrs. Dugan told him. "You know more about boats than he does, so you can go right on with the work. The boat is there in the workshop. It is only just started."

Abner noticed that Mrs. Dugan eyed him somewhat curiously, although he paid little attention to it. Perhaps she had heard about his arrest, and wished to see what a man looked like who had been in jail. He was soon lost in the work upon the boat and forgot all about Mrs. Dugan's close scrutiny.

The workshop was adjoining the woodshed, which led off from the kitchen, and for an hour Abner worked away with no one to disturb him. About four o'clock, however, women began to come into the shop. Not all together, but one at a time. First there was Mrs. Bennett, who was anxious, so she said, to see the building of the boat. She asked a number of questions, and interfered with Abner. He treated her most courteously, however, remembering his peaceful ancestors. Then came Mrs. Hopkins. She, too, wished to see the building of the boat, and she had much to say about the time she used to sail on the river with her husband before they were married. Abner breathed a sigh of relief when she left, and wondered how many more women the house contained, and what in the world they were doing there that afternoon. He was not left long alone, however, for in a few minutes Miss Julia Tomkins, a maiden of uncertain age, came out and questioned him about the orphans he had taken into his house.

"I am so much concerned about those children," she informed him, "that I have lain awake at nights thinking about them. And I know others are, too, and we have met here this afternoon to make up clothes for them."

"An' so that's what ye'r doin', eh?" Abner asked, as he paused in the act of driving in a nail. "I was wonderin' what kind of a hen-party Mrs. Dugan was havin' this afternoon. How many more are there of yez?"

"There are about ten in all. It shows what an interest the women are taking in those children."

"Ten! Good Lord!" Abner ejaculated. "It's no wonder Abe cleared out. Are they all comin' to see me build this boat?"

"Does your head hurt you much to-day?" Miss Tomkins asked.

"Me head! Gee whiz, no! What makes ye think it does?"

"Because you look so worried."

"An' wouldn't anyone look worried with so many visitors? It's not me head but me hands that hurt. Look at that, now," and Abner held out his big rough left hand for inspection. "I sawed that finger twice when Mrs. Bennett was snookin' around here, an' I hit that thumb with the hammer when Mrs. Hopkins was gittin' on me nerves. If any more of them hens come I don't know what will happen. I'm feelin' rather dangerous, an' might lose me head altogether. So it's better fer 'em to stay away."

"You poor man," Miss Tomkins sympathized. "You have been badly treated. I shall see that you are not bothered by any more visitors. But——" Here she hesitated.

"But what?" Abner queried.

"Oh, I was just going to add that if you don't feel well at any time just call out, will you?"

"Call out! What fer?"

"For help, of course. If you feel an attack coming on you at any time, just let me know. I had an uncle who was subject to such spells, and I know more about them than most people. Now, be sure," and Miss Tomkins smiled most sweetly. "So few people understand such cases."

Abner stared at his visitor in amazement, and watched her as she walked away. Was Miss Tomkins going out of her mind? he wondered. He had heard that she often had queer notions, and did strange things. So an uncle of hers had been odd, too, and had spells, so she said. Ah, that accounted for it. It ran in the family. He resumed his work, but he could not forget Miss Tomkins' peculiar words and looks. Why had she spoken like that to him? and why had Mrs. Bennett and Mrs. Hopkins looked at him so curiously?

He had just raised the hammer to drive in a nail when his arm suddenly weakened and the blow fell upon the board instead. An idea had flashed into his mind with startling intensity. Did Miss Tomkins and the rest of the women think that he was off his head? He thought, too, of Tildy's looks and actions, and in a twinkling the whole thing was as clear as day. She believed that there was something wrong with his head, and she had arranged with Mrs. Dugan to have those women meet him there that afternoon, that they might talk with him and give their opinions.

The first feeling that came into Abner's heart was a strong resentment. He felt like walking right into the house and telling those women what he thought. This soon passed away, however, and a smile illumined his face. He remembered his peaceful ancestors, and what Zeb had told him. He became calm and went on with his work. But his mind was busy and he thought of more than the boat that afternoon. Several times he chuckled, and once he paused and gazed absently out of the dust-laden window. In half an hour he was in a great humor and would even have embraced Ikey Dimock had he happened along just then. He had what he considered a brilliant idea, and he was never satisfied until he had worked it out of his system by definite action.

Abner now was losing interest in the boat. He had something else on hand, and he was wondering how he could best put it into practice.

He was thinking of this when Mrs. Dugan came into the workshop, and invited him in to have a cup of tea. "We are all ready," she informed him, "and would like to have you with us. You don't mind a lot of women, do you?"

"Should say not," was the reply, "I'm used to 'em. But I ain't fitted up fer afternoon tea," and he glanced down at his clothes.

"Oh, you're all right, Mr. Andrews. It's not your clothes we're anxious to see, but you."

"I guess ye'r right," Abner thought. "I see through ye'r game. Yez want to see how I'll act, an' if I'm really luney? Well, yez'll have a chance, me hearties."

"You'll come, won't you?" Mrs. Dugan pleaded. "The women will be so disappointed if you don't."

"Sure, I'll go," and Abner laid down the saw, and followed the woman into the house.

They passed through the kitchen and into the dining-room, where the women were all gathered. They were talking in a most animated manner, but suddenly ceased and a dead silence ensued as Abner entered. Several nodded and smiled their welcome, but no one spoke.

"I've got him at last," Mrs. Dugan informed them. "He didn't want to come, but when I told him how anxious you all were to see him, he just couldn't refuse, could you, Mr. Andrews?"

"Should say not," Abner gallantly replied, "'specially when a hull bunch of women wish to look upon me handsome features, an' when they've somethin' good to eat. Tildy says I allus shine then."

"He's not luney," Mrs. Parker whispered to Mrs. Peters, who was sitting next her.

"He doesn't seem so," was the reply. "But, my! look what he's doing!"

Mrs. Dugan had offered Abner a chair, but instead of sitting down he stood upon it, and gazed around smilingly upon the astonished women.

"I allus like to stand in the presence of ladies," he explained. "But on an occasion sich as this, it is better fer me to stand as high as possible, so's yez all kin git a good look at me."

"My lands!" Mrs. Hepburn exclaimed, holding up her hands in horror. "What's going to happen next?"

"You can't eat standing up there, can you?" Mrs. Dugan asked, as she stood before Abner with tea and cake upon a tray.

"Sure, why not? It's good fer the digester. When I was runnin' the old Flyin' Scud an' had an attack of indigestion, I uster climb to the top of the mast an' stand there an' eat me meals. This is a cinch to that. No, thank ye, I won't have no cake or doughnut; I'll jist have a piece of ye'r dish-cloth instid. I got so used to that last night in jail, where they feed ye on sich things, that somehow I can't git along without it. Why, it gave me a real change of heart, the same as ye git at a revival meetin'."

By this time the women were pretty badly frightened. They were now sure that Abner was very much wrong in the head, but no one dared to move or say anything. Even Mrs. Dugan was nonplussed. Abner was now in his element, and he thoroughly enjoyed the diversion he was creating. He drank the cup of tea, and then stepped down softly from the chair. He placed the cup on the table, and looked around the room. A cold chill passed up and down the spine of every woman present. What in the world was the man going to do next? each asked herself. The excitement grew intense when Abner presently fixed his eyes upon Miss Tomkins, who was sitting like a statue, paralyzed with fear, as Abner walked straight toward her.

"Go away! go away!" she screamed. "Don't come near me!"

But Abner made no reply. He began to walk around her, and as he walked, Miss Tomkins began to revolve, chair and all. Three times Abner slowly made the circuit, and three times the damsel revolved, keeping her face to his. Then he paused, and looked at the rest of the women, who were standing huddled together at one end of the room.

"Don't git skeered, ladies," he soothed. "I was jist tryin' to see what kind of a heart Miss Julia has, or if she has any. But, blame it all, she wriggles so much I can't find out. I've heard it said that she was heartless as fer as young men are consarned, an' if that's so, then she needs a change of heart right off, if she ever expects to git married."

"You're crazy," Miss Julia retorted, forgetting her fear in her anger. "Get out of this room at once, you brute."

But Abner only smiled.

"Don't git excited, Miss. I'm here now, an' am in no hurry to go. I've got a word to say to these women. They seem to be somewhat uneasy. I guess they're all gittin' a change of heart by the look of things."

"They'll have heart failure, if you're not careful," Miss Tomkins warned. She was surprised at herself for her sudden burst of courage.

"Heart failure, eh?" and Abner viewed the women again. "My, that would be serious. Somethin' must be done."

He took a step toward them, and raised both hands above his head.

"Are yez ready to die?" he asked, in a deep voice. Screams followed this fearful statement, and several women hurried toward the door.

"No, ye don't git out yit," Abner declared, as he sprang forward, blocked the way, and stood with his back to the door. "Yez got me in here, an' yez think I'm luney. Now, I want to know if yez are all ready to die."

"No, we're not!" Mrs. Dugan replied, "and I'm surprised at you, Mr. Andrews, for frightening us this way. What in the world do you mean?"

Abner gazed at her for a few seconds, and then at the women behind her.

"Well, I was thinkin' if yez are not ready to die, an' if yez all are in danger of dyin' of heart failure, yez ought to have a change of heart right off. It might do yez a world of good. I've had it already, an' it makes me feel fine. Ask Tildy, an' she'll tell yez."

"Why, it was your wife who told us about you, and your strange actions," Mrs. Dugan explained. "She asked us all to meet you here, talk with you, and try to find out if anything is wrong."

"God bless Tildy!" was Abner's unexpected prayer. "I had no idea that she took sich an interest in me. Guess she's had a change of heart, all right. Now, set down, ladies, I want to say somethin'. There, that's more sociable," he added, when they were once again seated. "Now, look here, ladies, I don't want yez to go away with the notion that I'm luney. I was jist foolin' yez when I stood on that chair an' walked around Miss Julia. Yez thought mebbe I was crazy, but I was only havin' a little fun. Tildy is anxious about me 'cause I've got into trouble lately, an' a pretty bad mess it is over that Joe Preston affair. Then, I've got five little kids on me hands to clothe and feed. Dear knows, it's enough to turn any man's head. But my head's all right, as fer as the Lord made it right, though Tildy sometimes thinks He got tired before he was through. But that's neither here nor there. My head's as it 'tis, an' 'tis no 'tiser. That's all, ladies, an' so I bid yez good afternoon, an' thank yez kindly fer a very pleasant time. May yez all have a change of heart soon, an' think of me sometimes as I think of yez allus, yours most lovingly an' remarkably, Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint."

With his left hand pressed to his heart, he gave a profound, sweeping bow, and, turning, left the women puzzled and speechless.