Old Caravan Days, Page 2

  CHAPTER II. THE LITTLE-OLD MAN WITH A BAG ON HIS BACK.

  Grandma Padgett had prepared the noon lunch that very day, butscarcely expected to make use of it. On the western borders ofColumbus lived a cousin Padgett in such a country place as had longbeen the talk of the entire family connection. Cousin Padgett was amighty man in the city, and his wife and daughters had unheard-ofadvantages. He had kept up a formal but very pleasant intercoursewith grandma's branch; and when he learned at the State Fair, theyear previous, her son Tip's design to cast their future lots in theWest, he said he should take it very ill if they did not spend thefirst night of their journey with him. Grandma Padgett decided thatrelationship must claim her for at least one meal.

  Bobaday and Corinne saw Zene pause at the arched gates of thismodern castle, according to his morning's instructions. Corinne's.heart thumped apprehensively. It was a formidable thing to be goingto cousin Padgett's. He lived in such overwhelming grandeur. Sheknew, although she had never seen his grounds, that he kept twogardeners on purpose to take care of them. His parlors were coveredwith carpets in which immense bouquets of flowers were wrought, andhe had furniture not only of horsehair, but of flowered red velvetalso. I suppose in these days cousin Padgett's house would beconsidered the extreme of expensive ugliness, and a violation of alllaws of beauty. But it was the best money could buy then, and thatwas considered enough. Robert was not affected by the fluttering careof his young aunt. He wanted to see this seat of grandeur. And whenZene walked back down the avenue from making inquiries, and announcedthat the entire family were away from home, Bobaday felt a shock ofdisappointment.

  Cousin Padgett did not know the exact date of the removal, andpeople wrote few letters in those days. So he could not be blamed forhis absence when they came by. Zene limped up to his seat in front ofthe wagon, and they moved forward along the 'pike.

  "Good!" breathed aunt Corinne, settling back.

  "'Tisn't good a bit!" said Bobaday.

  And whom should they meet in a few miles but cousin Padgett himself,riding horseback and leading a cream-colored horse which he had beeninto the country to purchase. This was almost as trying as takingdinner at his house. He insisted that the party should turn back. Hiswife and daughters had only driven into the city that morning. CousinPadgett was a charming, hearty man, with a ring of black whiskersextending under his face from ear to ear, and the more he talked theless Corinne feared him. When he found that his kinspeople could notbe prevailed upon to return with him, he tied up his horses to thewagon in the wood-shed where Zene unhitched, and took dinner withgrandma Padgett.

  Aunt Corinne sat on a log beside him and ate currant pie. He wenthimself to the nearest house and brought water. And when a start wasmade, he told the children he still expected a visit from them, andput as a parting gift a gold dollar as delicate as an old three-centpiece, into the hand of each.

  Bobaday felt his loss when the cream-colored horse could no longerbe discerned in the growing distance. Grandma Padgett smiledpleasantly ahead through her blue glasses: she had received theparting good wishes of a kinsman; family ties had very strongsignificance when this country was newer. Aunt Corinne gazed on thewarm gold dollar in her palm, and wagged her head affectionately overit for cousin Padgett's sake.

  The afternoon sun sagged so low it stared into grandma's blue.spectacles and made even Corinne shelter her eyes. Zene drove farahead with his load to secure lodgings for the night. Having leftbehind the last acquaintance and entered upon the realities of thejourney, grandma considered it time to take off her Leghorn bonnetand replace it with the brown barege one drawn over wire. So Bobadaydrew out a bandbox from under the back seat and helped grandma makethe change. The seat-curtain dropped over the Leghorn in its bandbox;and this reminded him that there were other things beside millinerystowed away in the carriage. Playthings could be felt by anappreciative hand thrust under the seat; and a pocket in the sidecurtain was also stuffed.

  "I think I'll put my gold money in the bottom of that pocket," saidaunt Corinne, "just where I can find it easy every day."

  She drew out all the package and dropped it in, and, having stuffedthe pocket again, at once emptied it to see that her piece had notslipped through some ambushed hole. Aunt Corinne was considered aflighty damsel by all her immediate relatives and acquaintances. Shehad a piquant little face containing investigating hazel eyes. Herbrown hair was cut square off and held back from her brow by a roundcomb. Her skin was of the most delicate pink color, flushing to rosybloom in her cheeks. She was a long, rather than a tall girl, withslim fingers and slim feet, and any excitement tingled over hervisibly, so that aunt Corinne was frequently all of a quiver aboutthe most trivial circumstances. She had a deep dimple in her chin andanother at the right side of her mouth, and her nose tipped justenough to give all the lines of her face a laughing look.

  But this laughing look ran ludicrously into consternation when,twisting away from the prospect ahead, she happened to look suddenlybackward under the looped-up curtain, and saw a head dodging down.Somebody was hanging to the rear of the carriage.

  Aunt Corinne kneeled on the cushion and stretched her neck and eyesout over a queer little old man, who seemed to carry a bunch of somekind on his back. He had been running noiselessly behind thecarriage, occasionally hanging by his arms, and he was taking one ofthese swings when his dodging eyes met hers, and he let go, rollingin the 'pike dust.

  "You _better_ let go!" scolded aunt Corinne. "Bob'day, there'sa beggar been hangin' on! Ma Padgett, a little old man with a bag onhis back was goin' to climb into this carriage!"

  A QUEER LITTLE OLD MAN.]

  "Tisn't a bag," said Bobaday laughing, for the little old man lookedfunny brushing the dust off his ragged knees.

  "_'Tis_ a bag," said aunt Corinne, "and he ought to hurt himselffor scarin' us."

  "There's no danger of his doing us harm," said grandma Padgettmildly, after she had leaned out at the side and brought her blueglasses to bear upon the lessening figure of the little old man.

  Yet Corinne watched him when he sat down on a bank to rest; shewatched him grow a mere bunch and battered hat, and then fade to aspeck.

  The 'pike was the home of such creatures as he appeared to be. Theadvance guard of what afterwards became an army of tramps, was thenjust beginning to move. But they were few, and, whether they askedhelp or not, were always known by the disreputable name of "beggars."A beggar-man or beggar-woman represented to the minds of aunt Corinneand her nephew such possible enemies as chained lions or tigers. Ifan "old beggar" got a chance at you there was no telling in what partof the world he would make merchandise of you! They always suspectedthe beggar boys and girls were kidnapped children. While it wasdesirable to avoid these people, it was even more desirable that alittle girl should not offend them.

  Aunt Corinne revolved in her mind the remark she had made to thelittle old man with a bag on his back. She could take no morepleasure in the views along the 'pike; for she almost expected to seehim start out of a culvert to give her cold shivers with hisrevengeful grimaces. The culverts were solid arches of masonry whichcarried the 'pike unbroken in even a line across the many runs andbrooks. The tunnel of the culvert was regarded by most children asthe befitting lair of beggars, who perhaps would not object tostanding knee-deep in water with their heads against a slimy arch.

  "This is the very last culvert," sighed Corinne, relieved, as theyrumbled across one and entered the village where they were to stopover night.

  It was already dusk. The town dogs were beginning to bark, and thecandles to twinkle. Zene's wagon was unhitched in front of thetavern, and this signified that the carriage-load might confidentlyexpect entertainment. The tavern was a sprawled-out house, with anarch of glass panes over the entrance door. A fat post stood in frontof it, upholding a swinging sign.

  The tavern-keeper came out of the door to meet them when theystopped, and helped his guests alight, while a hostler stood ready tolead the horses away.

  Aunt Cori
nne sprung down the steps, glad of the change after theday's ride, until, glancing down the 'pike over their late route, shesaw tramping toward the tavern that little old man with a bag on hisback.