Alger Horatio Jr.
Mark Manning's Mission
CHAPTER XXXII.
JACK IS PURSUED
"Are you goin' to take me away to-day?" asked Jack, who wished to be assured that the dream was coming true.
"Yes, Jack, but I can't take you away as you are. I know a place near by where you can take a good bath. I will leave you then, and go round by myself and buy you some clothes. I can guess your size."
He led the way to a barber's shop which advertised baths, procured a ticket, and leaving Jack with strict injunctions to wash himself thoroughly, sallied out in search of an outfit for his young companion. That did not take long. He returned with two good sized bundles, and requested Jack to dress himself in them. When Jack emerged from the bath-room he was quite transformed. He was still thin, and his features looked pinched, but his dress was, in all respects, that of a boy belonging to a well-to-do family.
"Now I think I must have your hair cut, and you will do."
In truth, Jack's long, elf-like locks made his face appear even thinner than it really was.
"Don't you want to be shaved, too, young man?" asked the barber, jocosely.
"Perhaps he wants to be shaved," said Jack, pointing to Mark, with a smile.
Mark colored a little, realizing that he scarcely needed that operation any more than Jack.
"Now look at yourself in the glass, Jack!" said Mark.
Jack obeyed, and looked first bewildered, then pleased. He thought at first that he was looking at another boy.
"Is that me?" he inquired, almost incredulously.
"I think it is. Peggy wouldn't know you," answered Mark, with a smile.
"I don't want her to," answered the little boy.
Mark had forgotten one thing—a pair of shoes. As he scanned Jack critically, he noted the omission, and said, "Jack, we must go to a shoe store. It will never do for a young gentleman like you to wear a pair of shoes out at the toes and sides."
"They don't look very well," said Jack, with a downward look.
"As you may be taken for my son," said Mark gravely, "I want you to look well."
"You're only a boy!" said Jack, who was inclined to a literal understanding of what was told him.
"You wouldn't take me for twenty-five, then, Jack?"
"No, you're not that, are you?"
"Well, not quite."
They had not far to go to a shoe store, but it took some time to get fitted to a pair of shoes, on account of Jack's having a high instep. This delay came near wrecking their plans. Tim Roach, who usually passed his time in roaming about the streets, without any special occupation, caught sight of Jack as he entered the shoe store with Mark. He let his eye rest upon him carelessly at first, but his indifferent glance was soon succeeded by a look of the most intense amazement.
"My eye!" he exclaimed, "if that isn't little Jack dressed out like a prince! What's happened, I wonder, and who's that with him? I jest wish he'd rig me out that way."
Tim did not make himself known, but peered curiously in at the door of the store.
"I wonder whether Peggy knows about it?" he soliloquized. "I don't believe she does. Wouldn't she open her eyes to see the kid rigged out that way. I'd like to tell her."
Circumstances seemed to favor the gratification of this wish, for not many rods away he caught sight of Peggy and Lyman Taylor talking together.
"I'll go and tell her," he said.
We will precede him and relate what had taken place between the two schemers. Peggy had started out with the confident belief that Lyman had played her false, and meant to carry away Jack without her knowledge or consent. It did, indeed, look as if she were correct, for it must be remembered that she knew nothing of Mark's mission to Chicago, Lyman not having thought it necessary to tell her. She wanted to meet Lyman and "have it out with him," if she found any confirmation in her suspicions.
Lyman chanced to turn, and seeing Peggy with her eyes fixed on him, retraced his steps till he reached her.
"Do you want to see me, Peggy?" he asked.
"Yes, I wanted to see you, Mr. Lyman Taylor, and ask what you mane by tryin' to stale away the bye from me?"
Lyman stared at her in surprise.
"I don't know what you mean," he answered, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I thought it was understood that we would restore the boy to his grandfather if he would make it worth our while."
"And you didn't mane to take away the bye without my knowin' it?"
"Certainly not. Who told you so?"
"And you haven't told the bye about goin' back to his grandfather?"
"I haven't spoken a word to the boy on the subject."
"Then how did he know about it?"
"Does he know about it?"
Peggy then told her companion about what she had overheard Jack say in his sleep the night before. Lyman Taylor was surprised and alarmed, and these feelings were so evident on his face that Peggy acquitted him of any breach of faith.
"I don't understand it," he said, meditatively. "I have never spoken a word about the matter except in your room. Did you ask him about it?"
"I asked him when did he see you, and he said yesterday."
"He might have seen me, but I had no conversation with him."
"So he said."
"He told the truth. I don't think any harm is done, Peggy. He must have overheard what we were talking about when we supposed him asleep."
"That's true. Maybe he did."
"That won't interfere with our plans that I can see. I have written to my uncle and expect to hear from him in a few days. I will let you know what he says as soon as I get the letter."
Then it was that Tim Roach came up, looking preternaturally knowing.
"How are you, Peg?" he said. "Are you walkin' wid your beau?"
"Go away wid you! You're always botherin'."
"You'd orter see what I did jest now," said Tim, wagging his head.
"What did you see, then?"
"I seed your Jack rigged out like a prince in new clothes and a new hat. Didn't he look fine?"
"You saw Jack dressed that way?" gasped Peggy.
"Yes, I did."
"You're lyin' now."
"Wish I may die if I didn't."
"Where was he?"
"In Simpson's shoe store, pickin' out a nice new pair of shoes."
"How could the boy get all these things without money?" asked Lyman incredulous.
"There was a big boy wid him was buyin' the things."
"A big boy!" repeated Lyman quickly; "how old was he?"
"Maybe sixteen or seventeen."
An expression, full of dismay, overspread Lyman Taylor's face.
"It is Mark Manning!" he exclaimed. "Quick, boy, tell me where he is."
"In Simpson's shoe store."
"And who is Mark Manning?" asked Peggy bewildered.
"The boy his grandfather sent out here to find him. It's he that has been telling Jack about his grandfather. Quick, Peggy! we must go and stop him, or he'll take Jack away and leave us out in the cold."
The ill-matched pair hurried to the place indicated by Tim.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
MARK ELUDES HIS PURSUERS
Little Jack had been fitted with a pair of shoes, and Mark had settled for them, when the little boy chancing to look towards the entrance of the store, was almost paralyzed by the sight of Peggy and Lyman looking in at the window. His eyes were good, and he could read on Peggy's face a malicious exultation, which boded ill for him when he should again find himself in her clutches.
Mark, who had not seen them, noticed the fear upon the face of his little charge.
"What's the matter, Jack?" he asked.
"It's them!" answered Jack, hoarsely.
"Who's them?"
"Peggy—and the gentleman."
"Where are they?"
"Looking in at the winder."
Mark had his wits about him, and did not turn round. He wished Peggy and her confederate to think themselves undiscovered, while he rapidly considered what was best to be done.
Should he leave the store by the front door, Jack would at once be pounced upon by Peggy, and there would be a scene.
He might eventually recover Jack, but in the meantime the boy would be ill-treated, stripped of his good clothes, and perhaps carried out of the city. Just as success seemed assured, he was confronted by defeat.
What was to be done?
Mark was not a boy to give in, unless compelled to do so. An idea came to him.
"Jack," he said in a low voice, "don't look towards the window again. Don't let them know you have seen them."
"You won't let Peggy get hold of me!" said the boy in a trembling voice.
"Not if I can help it."
Turning to the salesman who had waited upon him, Mark said:
"There are some people at the door that I want to avoid meeting. Is there any back entrance to the store?"
"Yes," answered the clerk.
"Will you be kind enough to guide us to it?"
"Certainly."
"Don't look behind you, Jack, but come with me. Don't be alarmed!"
The salesman guided them to a door opening on a narrow street. Boxes of goods were so piled up, that this door could not be seen from the window into which Peggy and Lyman were looking.
"Where are they going?" Peggy asked.
"To look at some goods in the back part of the store," answered Lyman.
This reassured Peggy, who kept her position, feeling sure that Jack could not escape her when he came out.
"I'll sell his new clothes," she thought complacently. "I'll be in luck after all."
Once out of the store, Mark looked about him. He felt that it behooved him to get beyond the reach of Jack's pursuers as soon as possible. Circumstances favored him. Just at the head of the street, he saw a lady descend from a hack.
"Hurry up, Jack," he said. "We'll get into this cab."
The driver was about to drive away, after settling with his fare, when Mark hailed him.
"Are you unengaged?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Can you drive me at once to the Union Depot in Van Buren Street?"
"Yes, sir."
He dismounted from the box, opened the door for his next passengers, and they got in. Then resuming his place on the box, he drove rapidly away.
It so chanced that he passed by the front of the very store from which they had just emerged.
Little Jack stole a glance out of the window of the cab.
"There's Peg!" he said.
Following his example, Mark also caught sight of the two with their faces glued to the window, still looking in, unconscious that their prey had escaped them.
Mark smiled. He felt like a victor, and rather enjoyed the thought of having outgeneraled the fox.
"I hope they'll have a good time watching for us, Jack," he said.
The little boy still felt nervous.
"Do you think they'll catch me?" he asked.
"No, Jack, I think they'll get left this time."
The cab made its way rapidly through the crowded streets, and in a very short time drew up at the Union Depot.
Mark paid the driver, and accompanied by Jack, made his way to the ticket office.
"How soon will there be a train East?" he asked.
"In ten minutes."
"That will suit us, Jack."
He bought tickets, and, the cars being ready, they took their seats in a comfortable car of the Lake Shore and Michigan Railroad.
"If they should come here!" suggested Jack, nervously.
"They would have to run fast, if our train leaves on time. There is no danger, Jack. Even if they suspect that we have left the store, they wouldn't know where we are gone."
Still, even Mark felt relieved and reassured when the signal was given and the long train began to steam out of the depot.
"Wouldn't you like to go back and bid Peggy good-by?" he asked, jocosely.
"I hope I shall never see Peggy again," answered the little boy, shuddering.
"If you ever do, there won't be any danger of her doing you any harm. Your grandfather will take care of that."
In his hurry to leave the city, Mark had been compelled to leave his bill at the hotel unpaid, but his valise was left behind as security. At the first opportunity he telegraphed to the land-lord, promising to remit the necessary money, and asking him to hold the valise till instructed where to send it by express.
We will now go back to Peggy and Lyman, who were impatiently maintaining their watch at the window of the shoe store.
When fifteen minutes had passed, and Jack and Mark did not appear, they became alarmed.
"Where are they?" muttered Peggy. "It's long enough they are stayin'."
"You are right, Peggy."
Just then a policeman tapped him on the shoulder. He had been watching them for some time and their conduct seemed to him suspicious.
"What are you doing here, my man?" he asked, suspiciously. "You had better move on."
"We are waiting for some one to come out," answered Lyman.
"How long do you mean to wait? Is this woman with you?"
"Yes," answered Lyman, reluctantly, for he was not proud of his companion, whose appearance was hardly calculated to do him credit.
"Shure, my little bye has been shtole," she put in, "and he's in the store now wid the man that shtole him."
"Then you'd better go in and claim him instead of standing here and blocking up the sidewalk."
"I think I will follow your advice," said Lyman. "Will you be kind enough to stay here a minute, in case I need your help?"
"Very well; only be quick."
Lyman entered the store, and failing to see Jack and Mark, addressed one of the salesmen.
"Two boys were in here a short time since," he said; "one large one and one small one. Can you tell me where they are?"
It happened that the salesman addressed was the same one who had guided the boys to the back entrance. At least fifteen minutes had elapsed, and there would be no danger in telling the truth.
"They went away some time since," he answered.
"They did not go out the front door, for I've been there all the time."
"There's another door," quietly retorted the clerk.
"Where?" asked Lyman, in dismay.
"In the rear of the store."
"Sold, by thunder!" exclaimed Lyman, under his breath. "How long have they been gone?"
"Fifteen minutes. Were they friends of yours?"
"The small boy was my son," answered Lyman, unblushingly.
"And was the woman I saw with you at the window his mother?" asked the salesman, with a smile.
"Certainly not," answered Lyman, coloring with indignation. "The older boy has abducted him."
"Why didn't you come in sooner, then?"
"I wish I had."
Great was Peggy's dismay when Lyman told her what he had learned. She had fully decided to beat Jack soundly, and now she was baffled of her revenge. The two confederates spent the rest of the day in wandering about the streets of Chicago in search of Jack and his friend, but their search was in vain.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
MRS. MANNING'S HOUSE IS SOLD
It is now time to return to Pocasset and inquire how our old acquaintances are prospering.
It was still a matter of wonder what had become of Mark. Mrs. Manning gave no information, and no letters were received at the post-office which would throw light on the mystery. Mark, by arrangement, directed all his letters to Mr. Hardy, who inclosed and forwarded them to the Pocasset office. Tom Wyman, the postmaster's son, was puzzled to account for the letters received from New York by Mrs. Manning.
"They must be from Mark," said James Collins.
"They don't seem to be in Mark's hand-writing."
"He probably gets some one to direct them for him, so as to throw dust in our eyes."
This was the conclusion upon which the two boys finally settled.
Another cause of wonder was the hermit's visits to the city. Since he had heard that his grandson was living, he went up often to consult with Mr. Hardy. Family affection in him had not died out. It had only been dormant, and now it was thoroughly reawakened.
"I long to see my daughter's boy," he said. "It will give me something to live for. I tremble lest the cup of happiness should be dashed from my lips, just as my hopes are awakened."
"Don't be anxious, old friend. Your affairs are in good hands. Mark is only a boy, but he has far more discretion and fidelity than most men. Do you know what I have in view?"
"Well?"
"If he succeeds in this enterprise I propose, with his mother's permission, to take him into my office, and train him up in my business. I have hitherto employed boys simply as boys, but Mark is one whom I can train up for a responsible position. I am getting older every year, and when I am really old, I shall be glad to have a young man at my side upon whom I can shift the burden of my business. Do you think his mother would object?"
"Mrs. Manning is a sensible woman. I think she will be glad to have her son so well provided for. If it is necessary I will myself advise her to commit him to your charge."
At length a telegram came from Mark, and by good luck when Mr. Taylor was in the office of his agent. It ran thus:
"John Hardy, New York.
"I am on my way to New York with little Jack. Particulars when we meet.
"Mark Manning."
"There, old friend, what do you say to that?" asked John Hardy, triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you the boy would succeed? Was my confidence misplaced?"
"He had my confidence from the first," said Anthony, his face luminous with happiness, "but I knew he had an adroit enemy in my nephew Lyman. I didn't dare to expect that a country boy would be equal to the emergency."
"Now, you can go home with a light heart. In a day or two, your grandson will be with you. What are your plans respecting him? Shall you take him to Pocasset?"
"I don't think I can do better. He will need a woman's care, and I know of no one who will prove kinder than Mrs. Manning."
"She has this in her favor at any rate. She has brought up her own boy well. But will the house be large or comfortable enough?"
"I am not very particular for myself. You will judge that when you remember the cabin in the woods, where I spent several years. The house is small, however, but there is another vacant, much larger and handsomer, which I can buy or rent, already furnished. The owner and occupant died recently, and his heirs, living in a distant state, want to sell it. It has a handsome lawn and a garden attached. It stands near the house of Mr. Collins."
"Well, you are able to gratify your own taste in the matter. I will send Mark down as soon as he arrives."
When Anthony reached home, he found Mrs. Manning anxious and perturbed. The cause will require some explanation.
The small cottage in which Mark and his mother lived did not belong to them. They rented it from Deacon Brooks, an old farmer living just out of the village, at five-dollars monthly rental. For a special reason Squire Collins desired to possess it. He owned the lot adjoining, and it occurred to him that the two combined would make a desirable property. The house, which was a cottage, could be raised one story, and made much more commodious. In that case, it would easily command more than twice the rent. The foreman of the shoe-shop stood prepared to rent it of him, as soon as the alteration was made.
He therefore approached Deacon Brooks, with a proposition to purchase it.
"I don't know," said the deacon. "I never thought of sellin', but I can't say I'm opposed to it. I'm getting good rent from the widder Manning."
"There's no knowing, deacon, how long she'll be able to pay her rent," said the squire, nodding with a meaning look.
"Sho! you don't say! She ain't lost any money, has she?"
"She had none to lose. Her boy Mark has about supported her with his small earnings in the shop. But he isn't employed there any longer."
"I heard something of that. Did you discharge him?"
"Yes; he got too uppish—wasn't willing to obey orders. I was sorry to discharge him on his mother's account, but it was his own fault."
"Seems to me I haven't seen him round the village lately?"
"No; he has gone to the city on some wild-goose expedition. My boy James thinks he is blacking boots or selling papers. As to that I can't say, but it isn't likely he is able to help his mother much."
"I hear Mrs. Manning has a boarder?"
"Yes; it's the old hermit that lived in the woods. I believe he has a small pension from some relations, but it doesn't amount to much. Probably he doesn't pay more than two or three dollars a week board. That won't go far, eh, deacon?"
"You're right there, squire. It costs a sight to live. How much do you think my grocery bill came to last month?"
"I don't know," answered the squire, with a curious smile. The deacon had the reputation of being very close-fisted, and it was rather amusing to hear him speak of the cost of living.
"Fifteen dollars and sixty-seven cents," said the deacon, with the air of one who hardly expected to be believed.
"I believe you have six in family," said Squire Collins, with a smile.
"Yes, six, including the hired man."
"I pity your family," thought the squire, who, at all events, kept a liberal table.
"Yes, it costs a great deal to live," he added, "and, of course, the Widow Manning, though her family is small, can't live on nothing. When she finds she can't pay all her bills, she will probably begin by being remiss in her rent."
"That's so, squire! She's allus paid so far right up to the handle, though."
"When she had Mark's help; but as I told you he is not now in a condition to help his mother. Well, what do you say? Shall I have the house?"
Then commenced the bargaining. Both parties were sharp, but at length a conclusion was reached. Squire Collins agreed to pay eight hundred and fifty dollars for the cottage, five hundred to remain on bond and mortgage, at six per cent. In a day or two the necessary papers were made out, and then Squire Collins took a walk over to the cottage, to inform Mrs. Manning that the house had passed into his possession, and it would be necessary for her to find another home.
It might have been supposed he would feel some compunction, but he did not have much feeling or sympathy for the widow. The ill-feeling between Mark and his son had its effect upon him also.
