Paul Prescott's Charge Read online

  XXVII.

  MR. MUDGE'S FRIGHT.

  Squire Newcome sat in a high-backed chair before the fire with his heelson the fender. He was engaged in solemnly perusing the leading editorialin the evening paper, when all at once the table at his side gave asudden lurch, the lamp slid into his lap, setting the paper on fire,and, before the Squire realized his situation, the flames singed hiswhiskers, and made his face unpleasantly warm.

  "Cre-a-tion!" he exclaimed, jumping briskly to his feet.

  The lamp had gone out, so that the cause of the accident remainedinvolved in mystery. The Squire had little trouble in conjecturing,however, that Ben was at the bottom of it.

  Opening the door hastily, he saw, by the light in the next room, thatyoung gentleman rising from his knees in the immediate vicinity of thetable.

  "Ben-ja-min," said the Squire, sternly,

  "What have you been a-doing?"

  Ben looked sheepish, but said nothing.

  "I repeat, Benjamin, what have you been a-doing?"

  "I didn't mean to," said Ben.

  "That does not answer my interrogatory. What have you been a-doing?"

  "I was chasing the cat," said Ben, "and she got under the table. Iwent after her, and somehow it upset. Guess my head might have knockedagainst the legs."

  "How old are you, Benjamin?"

  "Fifteen."

  "A boy of fifteen is too old to play with cats. You may retire to yourdormitory."

  "It's only seven o'clock, father," said Ben, in dismay.

  "Boys that play with cats are young enough to retire at seven," remarkedthe Squire, sagaciously.

  There was nothing for Ben but to obey.

  Accordingly with reluctant steps he went up to his chamber and wentto bed. His active mind, together with the early hour, prevented hissleeping. Instead, his fertile imagination was employed in devisingsome new scheme, in which, of course, fun was to be the object attained.While he was thinking, one scheme flashed upon him which he at oncepronounced "bully."

  "I wish I could do it to-night," he sighed.

  "Why can't I?" he thought, after a moment's reflection.

  The more he thought of it, the more feasible it seemed, and at length hedecided to attempt it.

  Rising from his bed he quickly dressed himself, and then carefully tookthe sheet, and folding it up in small compass put it under his arm.

  Next, opening the window, he stepped out upon the sloping roof of theell part, and slid down to the end where he jumped off, the height notbeing more than four feet from the ground. By some accident, a tub ofsuds was standing under the eaves, and Ben, much to his disgust, jumpedinto it.

  "Whew!" exclaimed he, "I've jumped into that plaguy tub. What possessedHannah to put it in a fellow's way?"

  At this moment the back door opened, and Hannah called out, in a shrillvoice, "Who's there?" Ben hastily hid himself, and thought it best notto answer.

  "I guess 'twas the cat," said Hannah, as she closed the door.

  "A two-legged cat," thought Ben, to himself; "thunder, what sopping wetfeet I've got. Well, it can't be helped."

  With the sheet still under his arm, Ben climbed a fence and runningacross the fields reached the fork of the road. Here he concealedhimself under a hedge, and waited silently till the opportunity forplaying his practical joke arrived.

  I regret to say that Mr. Mudge, with whom we have already hadconsiderable to do, was not a member of the temperance society.Latterly, influenced perhaps by Mrs. Mudge's tongue, which made his homefar from a happy one, he had got into the habit of spending hisevenings at the tavern in the village, where he occasionally indulgedin potations that were not good for him. Generally, he kept within thebounds of moderation, but occasionally he exceeded these, as he had doneon the present occasion.

  Some fifteen minutes after Ben had taken his station, he saw, in themoonlight, Mr. Mudge coming up the road, on his way home. Judging fromhis zigzag course, he was not quite himself.

  Ben waited till Mr. Mudge was close at hand, when all at once he startedfrom his place of concealment completely enveloped in the sheet withwhich he was provided. He stood motionless before the astounded Mudge.

  "Who are you?" exclaimed Mudge, his knees knocking together in terror,clinging to an overhanging branch for support.

  There was no answer.

  "Who are you?" he again asked in affright.

  "Sally Baker," returned Ben, in as sepulchral a voice as he couldcommand.

  Sally Baker was an old pauper, who had recently died. The name occurredto Ben on the spur of the moment. It was with some difficulty that hesucceeded in getting out the name, such was his amusement at Mr. Mudge'sevident terror.

  "What do you want of me?" inquired Mudge, nervously.

  "You half starved me when I was alive," returned Ben, in a hollow voice,"I must be revenged."

  So saying he took one step forward, spreading out his arms. This was toomuch for Mr. Mudge. With a cry he started and ran towards home at thetop of his speed, with Ben in pursuit.

  "I believe I shall die of laughing," exclaimed Ben, pausing out ofbreath, and sitting down on a stone, "what a donkey he is, to be sure,to think there are such things as ghosts. I'd like to be by when hetells Mrs. Mudge."

  After a moment's thought, Ben wrapped up the sheet, took it under hisarm, and once more ran in pursuit of Mr. Mudge.

  Meanwhile Mrs. Mudge was sitting in the kitchen of the Poorhouse,mending stockings. She was not in the pleasantest humor, for one of thepaupers had managed to break a plate at tea-table (if that can be calledtea where no tea is provided), and trifles were sufficient to ruffleMrs. Mudge's temper.

  "Where's Mudge, I wonder?" she said, sharply; "over to the tavern, Is'pose, as usual. There never was such a shiftless, good-for-nothingman. I'd better have stayed unmarried all the days of my life than havemarried him. If he don't get in by ten, I'll lock the door, and it shallstay locked. 'Twill serve him right to stay out doors all night."

  Minutes slipped away, and the decisive hour approached.

  "I'll go to the door and look out," thought Mrs. Mudge, "if he ain'tanywhere in sight I'll fasten the door."

  She laid down her work and went to the door.

  She had not quite reached it when it was flung open violently, and Mr.Mudge, with a wild, disordered look, rushed in, nearly overturning hiswife, who gazed at him with mingled anger and astonishment.

  "What do you mean by this foolery, Mudge?" she demanded, sternly.

  "What do I mean?" repeated her husband, vaguely.

  "I needn't ask you," said his wife, contemptuously. "I see how it is,well enough. You're drunk!"

  "Drunk!"

  "Yes, drunk; as drunk as a beast."

  "Well, Mrs. Mudge," hiccoughed her husband, in what he endeavored tomake a dignified tone, "you'd be drunk too if you'd seen what I'veseen."

  "And what have you seen, I should like to know?" said Mrs. Mudge.

  Mudge rose with some difficulty, steadied himself on his feet, andapproaching his wife, whispered in a tragic tone, "Mrs. Mudge, I've seena sperrit."

  "It's plain enough that you've seen spirit," retorted his wife. "'Tisn'tmany nights that you don't, for that matter. You ought to be ashamed ofyourself, Mudge."

  "It isn't that," said her husband, shaking his hand, "it's a sperrit,--aghost, that I've seen."

  "Indeed!" said Mrs. Mudge, sarcastically, "perhaps you can tell whose itis."

  "It was the sperrit of Sally Baker," said Mudge, solemnly.

  "What did she say?" demanded Mrs. Mudge, a little curiously.

  "She said that I--that we, half starved her, and then she started to runafter me--and--oh, Lordy, there she is now!"

  Mudge jumped trembling to his feet. Following the direction of hisoutstretched finger, Mrs. Mudge caught a glimpse of a white figurejust before the window. I need hardly say that it was Ben, who had justarrived upon the scene.

  Mrs. Mudge was at first stupefied by what she saw, but being a womanof courage she s
peedily recovered herself, and seizing the broomfrom behind the door, darted out in search of the "spirit." But Ben,perceiving that he was discovered, had disappeared, and there wasnothing to be seen.

  "Didn't I tell you so?" muttered Mudge, as his wife re-entered, baffledin her attempt, "you'll believe it's a sperrit, now."

  "Go to bed, you fool!" retorted his wife.

  This was all that passed between Mr. and Mrs. Mudge on the subject. Mr.Mudge firmly believes, to this day, that the figure which appeared tohim was the spirit of Sally Baker.