Little Men: Life at Plumfield With Jo's Boys
her memory alive by the simple magic of her innocence; these little men
were just learning to feel this power, and to love it for its gentle
influence, not ashamed to let the small hand lead them, nor to own their
loyalty to womankind, even in the bud.
CHAPTER XIV. DAMON AND PYTHIAS
Mrs. Bhaer was right; peace was only a temporary lull, a storm was
brewing, and two days after Bess left, a moral earthquake shook
Plumfield to its centre.
Tommy's hens were at the bottom of the trouble, for if they had not
persisted in laying so many eggs, he could not have sold them and made
such sums. Money is the root of all evil, and yet it is such a useful
root that we cannot get on without it any more than we can without
potatoes. Tommy certainly could not, for he spent his income so
recklessly, that Mr. Bhaer was obliged to insist on a savings-bank, and
presented him with a private one an imposing tin edifice, with the name
over the door, and a tall chimney, down which the pennies were to
go, there to rattle temptingly till leave was given to open a sort of
trap-door in the floor.
The house increased in weight so rapidly, that Tommy soon became
satisfied with his investment, and planned to buy unheard-of treasures
with his capital. He kept account of the sums deposited, and was
promised that he might break the bank as soon as he had five dollars,
on condition that he spent the money wisely. Only one dollar was needed,
and the day Mrs. Jo paid him for four dozen eggs, he was so delighted,
that he raced off to the barn to display the bright quarters to Nat, who
was also laying by money for the long-desired violin.
“I wish I had 'em to put with my three dollars, then I'd soon get enough
to buy my fiddle,” he said, looking wistfully at the money.
“P'raps I'll lend you some. I haven't decided yet what I'll do with
mine,” said Tommy, tossing up his quarters and catching them as they
fell.
“Hi! boys! come down to the brook and see what a jolly great snake Dan's
got!” called a voice from behind the barn.
“Come on,” said Tommy; and, laying his money inside the old winnowing
machine, away he ran, followed by Nat.
The snake was very interesting, and then a long chase after a lame
crow, and its capture, so absorbed Tommy's mind and time, that he never
thought of his money till he was safely in bed that night.
“Never mind, no one but Nat knows where it is,” said the easy-going lad,
and fell asleep untroubled by any anxiety about his property.
Next morning, just as the boys assembled for school, Tommy rushed into
the room breathlessly, demanding,
“I say, who has got my dollar?”
“What are you talking about?” asked Franz.
Tommy explained, and Nat corroborated his statement.
Every one else declared they knew nothing about it, and began to look
suspiciously at Nat, who got more and more alarmed and confused with
each denial.
“Somebody must have taken it,” said Franz, as Tommy shook his fist at
the whole party, and wrathfully declared that,
“By thunder turtles! if I get hold of the thief, I'll give him what he
won't forget in a hurry.”
“Keep cool, Tom; we shall find him out; thieves always come to grief,”
said Dan, as one who knew something of the matter.
“May be some tramp slept in the barn and took it,” suggested Ned.
“No, Silas don't allow that; besides, a tramp wouldn't go looking in
that old machine for money,” said Emil, with scorn.
“Wasn't it Silas himself?” said Jack.
“Well, I like that! Old Si is as honest as daylight. You wouldn't catch
him touching a penny of ours,” said Tommy, handsomely defending his
chief admirer from suspicion.
“Whoever it was had better tell, and not wait to be found out,” said
Demi, looking as if an awful misfortune had befallen the family.
“I know you think it's me,” broke out Nat, red and excited.
“You are the only one who knew where it was,” said Franz.
“I can't help it I didn't take it. I tell you I didn't I didn't!” cried
Nat, in a desperate sort of way.
“Gently, gently, my son! What is all this noise about?” and Mr. Bhaer
walked in among them.
Tommy repeated the story of his loss, and, as he listened, Mr. Bhaer's
face grew graver and graver; for, with all their faults and follies, the
lads till now had been honest.
“Take your seats,” he said; and, when all were in their places, he added
slowly, as his eye went from face to face with a grieved look, that was
harder to bear than a storm of words,
“Now, boys, I shall ask each one of you a single question, and I want an
honest answer. I am not going to try to frighten, bribe, or surprise the
truth out of you, for every one of you have got a conscience, and know
what it is for. Now is the time to undo the wrong done to Tommy, and
set yourselves right before us all. I can forgive the yielding to sudden
temptation much easier than I can deceit. Don't add a lie to the theft,
but confess frankly, and we will all try to help you make us forget and
forgive.”
He paused a moment, and one might have heard a pin drop, the room was
so still; then slowly and impressively he put the question to each one,
receiving the same answer in varying tones from all. Every face was
flushed and excited, so that Mr. Bhaer could not take color as a
witness, and some of the little boys were so frightened that they
stammered over the two short words as if guilty, though it was evident
that they could not be. When he came to Nat, his voice softened, for the
poor lad looked so wretched, Mr. Bhaer felt for him. He believed him to
be the culprit, and hoped to save the boy from another lie, by winning
him to tell the truth without fear.
“Now, my son, give me an honest answer. Did you take the money?”
“No, sir!” and Nat looked up at him imploringly.
As the words fell from his trembling lips, somebody hissed.
“Stop that!” cried Mr. Bhaer, with a sharp rap on his desk, as he looked
sternly toward the corner whence the sound came.
Ned, Jack, and Emil sat there, and the first two looked ashamed of
themselves, but Emil called out,
“It wasn't me, uncle! I'd be ashamed to hit a fellow when he is down.”
“Good for you!” cried Tommy, who was in a sad state of affliction at the
trouble his unlucky dollar had made.
“Silence!” commanded Mr. Bhaer; and when it came, he said soberly,
“I am very sorry, Nat, but evidences are against you, and your old fault
makes us more ready to doubt you than we should be if we could trust you
as we do some of the boys, who never fib. But mind, my child, I do not
charge you with this theft; I shall not punish you for it till I am
perfectly sure, nor ask any thing more about it. I shall leave it for
you to settle with your own conscience. If you are guilty, come to me at
any hour of the day or night and confess it, and I will forgive and
help you to amend. If you are innocent, the truth will appear sooner or
later, and the instant it does, I will be the first to beg your pardon
for doubting you, and will so gladly do my best to clear your character
before us all.”
“I didn't! I didn't!” sobbed Nat, with his head down upon his arms, for
he could not bear the look of distrust and dislike which he read in the
many eyes fixed on him.
“I hope not.” Mr. Bhaer paused a minute, as if to give the culprit,
whoever he might be, one more chance. Nobody spoke, however, and only
sniffs of sympathy from some of the little fellows broke the silence.
Mr. Bhaer shook his head, and added, regretfully,
“There is nothing more to be done, then, and I have but one thing to
say: I shall not speak of this again, and I wish you all to follow my
example. I cannot expect you to feel as kindly toward any one whom you
suspect as before this happened, but I do expect and desire that you
will not torment the suspected person in any way, he will have a hard
enough time without that. Now go to your lessons.”
“Father Bhaer let Nat off too easy,” muttered Ned to Emil, as they got
out their books.
“Hold your tongue,” growled Emil, who felt that this event was a blot
upon the family honor.
Many of the boys agreed with Ned, but Mr. Bhaer was right, nevertheless;
and Nat would have been wiser to confess on the spot and have the
trouble over, for even the hardest whipping he ever received from his
father was far easier to bear than the cold looks, the avoidance, and
general suspicion that met him on all sides. If ever a boy was sent to
Coventry and kept there, it was poor Nat; and he suffered a week of slow
torture, though not a hand was raised against him, and hardly a word
said.
That was the worst of it; if they would only have talked it out, or
even have thrashed him all round, he could have stood it better than
the silent distrust that made very face so terrible to meet. Even Mrs.
Bhaer's showed traces of it, though her manner was nearly as kind as
ever; but the sorrowful anxious look in Father Bhaer's eyes cut Nat
to the heart, for he loved his teacher dearly, and knew that he had
disappointed all his hopes by this double sin.
Only one person in the house entirely believed in him, and stood up for
him stoutly against all the rest. This was Daisy. She could not explain
why she trusted him against all appearances, she only felt that she
could not doubt him, and her warm sympathy made her strong to take his
part. She would not hear a word against him from any one, and actually
slapped her beloved Demi when he tried to convince her that it must have
been Nat, because no one else knew where the money was.
“Maybe the hens ate it; they are greedy old things,” she said; and when
Demi laughed, she lost her temper, slapped the amazed boy, and then
burst out crying and ran away, still declaring, “He didn't! he didn't!
he didn't!”
Neither aunt nor uncle tried to shake the child's faith in her friend,
but only hoped her innocent instinct might prove sure, and loved her all
the better for it. Nat often said, after it was over, that he couldn't
have stood it, if it had not been for Daisy. When the others shunned
him, she clung to him closer than ever, and turned her back on the rest.
She did not sit on the stairs now when he solaced himself with the old
fiddle, but went in and sat beside him, listening with a face so full of
confidence and affection, that Nat forgot disgrace for a time, and
was happy. She asked him to help her with her lessons, she cooked him
marvelous messes in her kitchen, which he ate manfully, no matter what
they were, for gratitude gave a sweet flavor to the most distasteful.
She proposed impossible games of cricket and ball, when she found that
he shrank from joining the other boys. She put little nosegays from her
garden on his desk, and tried in every way to show that she was not a
fair-weather friend, but faithful through evil as well as good repute.
Nan soon followed her example, in kindness at least; curbed her sharp
tongue, and kept her scornful little nose from any demonstration of
doubt or dislike, which was good of Madame Giddy-gaddy, for she firmly
believed that Nat took the money.
Most of the boys let him severely alone, but Dan, though he said he
despised him for being a coward, watched over him with a grim sort of
protection, and promptly cuffed any lad who dared to molest his mate or
make him afraid. His idea of friendship was as high as Daisy's, and, in
his own rough way, he lived up to it as loyally.
Sitting by the brook one afternoon, absorbed in the study of the
domestic habits of water-spiders, he overheard a bit of conversation on
the other side of the wall. Ned, who was intensely inquisitive, had been
on tenterhooks to know certainly who was the culprit; for of late one
or two of the boys had begun to think that they were wrong, Nat was so
steadfast in his denials, and so meek in his endurance of their neglect.