The Second Christmas Megapack. Гарриет Бичер-Стоу

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СКАЧАТЬ Only a jinx of the most malevolent type could have prompted his hurried exit from a train to dodge an imaginary “bull.” Only the blackest of evil spirits could be responsible for this involuntary kidnapping!

      “Mate um wun! Mate um ’ippity stip!”

      The mittened hands reached for the wheel at this juncture and an unlooked-for “jippity skip” precipitated the young passenger into The Hopper’s lap.

      This mishap was attended with the jolliest baby laughter. Gently but with much firmness The Hopper restored the youngster to an upright position and supported him until sure he was able to sustain himself.

      “Ye better set still, little feller,” he admonished.

      The little feller seemed in no wise astonished to find himself abroad with a perfect stranger and his courage and good cheer were not lost upon The Hopper. He wanted to be severe, to vent his rage for the day’s calamities upon the only human being within range, but in spite of himself he felt no animosity toward the friendly little bundle of humanity beside him. Still, he had stolen a baby and it was incumbent upon him to free himself at once of the appalling burden; but a baby is not so easily disposed of. He could not, without seriously imperiling his liberty, return to the cottage. It was the rule of house-breakers, he recalled, to avoid babies. He had heard it said by burglars of wide experience and unquestioned wisdom that babies were the most dangerous of all burglar alarms. All things considered, kidnapping and automobile theft were not a happy combination with which to appear before a criminal court. The Hopper was vexed because the child did not cry; if he had shown a bad disposition The Hopper might have abandoned him; but the youngster was the cheeriest and most agreeable of traveling companions. Indeed, The Hopper’s spirits rose under his continued “goo-gooing” and chirruping.

      “Nice little Shaver!” he said, patting the child’s knees.

      Little Shaver was so pleased by this friendly demonstration that he threw up his arms in an effort to embrace The Hopper.

      “Bil-lee,” he gurgled delightedly.

      The Hopper was so astonished at being addressed in his own lawful name by a strange baby that he barely averted a collision with a passing motor truck. It was unbelievable that the baby really knew his name, but perhaps it was a good omen that he had hit upon it. The Hopper’s resentment against the dark fate that seemed to pursue him vanished. Even though he had stolen a baby, it was a merry, brave little baby who didn’t mind at all being run away with! He dismissed the thought of planting the little shaver at a door, ringing the bell and running away; this was no way to treat a friendly child that had done him no injury, and The Hopper highly resolved to do the square thing by the youngster even at personal inconvenience and risk.

      The snow was now falling in generous Christmasy flakes, and the high speed the car had again attained was evidently deeply gratifying to the young person, whose reckless tumbling about made it necessary for The Hopper to keep a hand on him.

      “Steady, little un; steady!” The Hopper kept mumbling.

      His wits were busy trying to devise some means of getting rid of the youngster without exposing himself to the danger of arrest. By this time some one was undoubtedly busily engaged in searching for both baby and car; the police far and near would be notified, and would be on the lookout for a smart roadster containing a stolen child.

      “Merry Christmas!” a boy shouted from a farm gate.

      “M’y Kwismus!” piped Shaver.

      The Hopper decided to run the machine home and there ponder the disposition of his blithe companion with the care the unusual circumstances demanded.

      “’Urry up; me’s goin’ ’ome to me’s gwanpa’s kwismus t’ee!”

      “Right ye be, little un; right ye be!” affirmed The Hopper.

      The youngster was evidently blessed with a sanguine and confiding nature. His reference to his grandfather’s Christmas tree impinged sharply upon The Hopper’s conscience. Christmas had never figured very prominently in his scheme of life. About the only Christmases that he recalled with any pleasure were those that he had spent in prison, and those were marked only by Christmas dinners varying with the generosity of a series of wardens.

      But Shaver was entitled to all the joys of Christmas, and The Hopper had no desire to deprive him of them.

      “Keep a-larfin’, Shaver, keep a-larfin’,” said the Hopper. “Ole Hop ain’t a-goin’ to hurt ye!”

      The Hopper, feeling his way cautiously round the fringes of New Haven, arrived presently at Happy Hill Farm, where he ran the car in among the chicken sheds behind the cottage and carefully extinguished the lights.

      “Now, Shaver, out ye come!”

      Whereupon Shaver obediently jumped into his arms.

      III.

      The Hopper knocked twice at the back door, waited an instant, and knocked again. As he completed the signal the door was opened guardedly. A man and woman surveyed him in hostile silence as he pushed past them, kicked the door shut, and deposited the blinking child on the kitchen table. Humpy, the one-eyed, jumped to the windows and jammed the green shades close into the frames. The woman scowlingly waited for the head of the house to explain himself, and this, with the perversity of one who knows the dramatic value of suspense, he was in no haste to do.

      “Well,” Mary questioned sharply. “What ye got there, Bill?”

      The Hopper was regarding Shaver with a grin of benevolent satisfaction. The youngster had seized a bottle of catsup and was making heroic efforts to raise it to his mouth, and the Hopper was intensely tickled by Shaver’s efforts to swallow the bottle. Mrs. Stevens, alias Weeping Mary, was not amused, and her husband’s enjoyment of the child’s antics irritated her.

      “Come out with ut, Bill!” she commanded, seizing the bottle. “What ye been doin’?”

      Shaver’s big blue eyes expressed surprise and displeasure at being deprived of his plaything, but he recovered quickly and reached for a plate with which he began thumping the table.

      “Out with ut, Hop!” snapped Humpy nervously. “Nothin’ wuz said about kidnappin’, an’ I don’t stand for ut!”

      “When I heard the machine comin’ in the yard I knowed somethin’ was wrong an’ I guess it couldn’t be no worse,” added Mary, beginning to cry. “You hadn’t no right to do ut, Bill. Hookin’ a buzz-buzz an’ a kid an’ when we wuz playin’ the white card! You ought t’ ’a’ told me, Bill, what ye went to town fer, an’ it bein’ Christmas, an’ all.”

      That he should have chosen for his fall the Christmas season of all times was reprehensible, a fact which Mary and Humpy impressed upon him in the strongest terms. The Hopper was fully aware of the inopportuneness of his transgressions, but not to the point of encouraging his wife to abuse him.

      As he clumsily tried to unfasten Shaver’s hood, Mary pushed him aside and with shaking fingers removed the child’s wraps. Shaver’s cheeks were rosy from his drive through the cold; he was a plump, healthy little shaver and The Hopper viewed him with intense pride. Mary held the hood and coat to the light and inspected them with a sophisticated eye. They were of excellent quality and workmanship, and she shook her head and sighed deeply as she placed them carefully on a chair.

      “It СКАЧАТЬ