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"Maybe he might take a notion and run away," he explained. "He did it once, you say." "A good idea to hold him," said Mr. Woodward. "Have you finished hitching up?" "Yes, sir." "Have you room for him?" "I might put in another seat." "Do so. And hurry; the rain has slackened up a bit, and we may reach Darbyville before it starts again." The extra seat was soon placed in the carriage.
While I sat on the edge of a feed box, a form darkened the doorway, and Farmer Decker appeared. "Hello!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" "I took the liberty to come in out of the rain," I replied. "Have you any objections to my remaining until the shower is over?" "No, guess not. It's a mighty heavy one. Where're you from? Newville?" "No, sir, Darbyville." "Yes?
The woman who had been robbed was my only friend, and she was away. "Then you'll have to take him to the lockup, Parsons." This news was far from agreeable. It would be no pleasant thing to be confined in the Darbyville jail, not to say anything of the anxiety it might cause Kate. Besides, I wanted to follow up John Stumpy. I was certain I could do it fully as well as the constable.
That explanation was clear enough, and I could easily understand why John Stumpy had come to Darbyville, and how it was the merchant had treated him with so much consideration. "And there is another thing to tell you, Roger," put in the Widow Canby. "Something I know you will be greatly pleased to hear." "What is it?" I asked, in considerable curiosity.
This legal gentleman pushed matters so fast that on the following Monday all the papers necessary for Woodward's arrest were ready for execution. The officers came to Darbyville late in the afternoon to secure their man. They were told that Mr. Woodward had gone to New York on business. They waited for him the remainder of the day and all of the next. It was useless.
"Hi, there, Duncan Woodward!" I called out. "What are you doing in Widow Canby's orchard?" "None of your business, Roger Strong," replied the only son of the wealthiest merchant in Darbyville. "You are stealing her pears," I went on. "Your pockets are full of them." "See here, Roger Strong, just you mind your own business and leave me alone." "I am minding my business," I rejoined warmly.
And John Stumpy brought his fist down on the table with a bang. "Hold on; don't make so much noise," cried Mr. Aaron Woodward in alarm. "There is no use of rousing the household." "I don't care. Either you'll come down or I'll rouse the whole of Darbyville," cried the tramp, vehemently. "I haven't any money." "You can't tell me that." "It's true. Times are getting worse every day."
Your husband as was once sailed to Boston with me." "Oh, yes, I remember you. Will you come in?" "Thank you, reckon I will. I have no home now, and hotels is scarce in Darbyville. I only arrived this noon, and I've been with Kate ever since. I must hunt up a boarding-house to stay at. Do you know of any close at hand?" "Perhaps I do. Let us talk of that later on.
Uncle Enos grew greatly interested, and said he knew a lawyer in New York who might secure some good private detective who could take the case in hand. Finally it came half past eight, and putting on my hat, I started for Mr. Woodward's residence. Though outwardly calm, I was considerably agitated as I walked to Darbyville. Why the merchant had sent for me I could not surmise.
Kate and I were in the habit of attending church and Sunday-school over in Darbyville, but we shrank from doing so now. But Uncle Enos and I went to church, and despite the many curious eyes levelled at me, I managed to give attention to an excellent sermon. I noticed that the Woodward pew was empty, but then this was of common occurrence and excited no comment.
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