What Might Have Been Expected
F >> Frank R. Stockton >> What Might Have Been Expected[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
WHAT MIGHT HAVE
BEEN EXPECTED
By
Frank R. Stockton
New York
Dodd, Mead and Company
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright, 1874, by Dodd & Mead
Copyright, 1902, by Marian E. Stockton
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Harry Loudon Makes Up His Mind. 9
II. The Adoption. 15
III. Commencing Business. 21
IV. Kate, very naturally, is Anxious. 30
V. The Turkey-Hunter. 38
VI. Tony Strikes Out. 47
VII. Aunt Matilda's Christmas. 58
VIII. A Lively Team. 71
IX. Business in Earnest. 85
X. A Meeting on the Road. 97
XI. Rob. 103
XII. Tony on the War-path. 112
XIII. Cousin Maria. 118
XIV. Harry's Grand Scheme. 124
XV. The Council. 135
XVI. Company Business. 143
XVII. Principally Concerning Kate. 154
XVIII. The Arrival. 164
XIX. Constructing the Line. 172
XX. An Important Meeting of the Board. 181
XXI. A Last Resort. 189
XXII. A Quandary. 194
XXIII. Crossing the Creek. 202
XXIV. The First Business Telegrams. 210
XXV. Profits and Projects. 225
XXVI. A Grand Proposition. 237
XXVII. How Something Came to an End. 246
XXVIII. A Meeting. 253
XXIX. Once more in the Woods. 257
XXX. A Girl and a Gun. 264
XXXI. A Man in a Boat. 271
XXXII. Aunt Matilda's Letter. 277
XXXIII. Time to Stop. 286
------------------------------------------------------------------------
WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED.
CHAPTER I.
HARRY LOUDON MAKES UP HIS MIND.
On a wooden bench under a great catalpa-tree, in the front yard of a
comfortable country-house in Virginia, sat Harry and Kate Loudon
worrying their minds. It was all about old Aunt Matilda.
Aunt Matilda was no relation of these children. She was an old colored
woman, who lived in a cabin about a quarter of a mile from their house,
but they considered her one of their best friends. Her old log cabin was
their favorite resort, and many a fine time they had there. When they
caught some fish, or Harry shot a bird or two, or when they could get
some sweet potatoes or apples to roast, and some corn-meal for
ash-cakes, they would take their provisions to Aunt Matilda and she
would cook them. Sometimes an ash-cake would be baked rather harder than
it was convenient to bite, and it had happened that a fish or two had
been cooked entirely away, but such mishaps were not common. Aunt
Matilda was indeed a most wonderful cook--and a cook, too, who liked to
have a boy and a girl by her while she was at work; and who would tell
them stories--as queer old stories as ever were told--while the things
were cooking. The stories were really the cause of the ash-cakes and
fish sometimes being forgotten.
And it is no wonder that these children were troubled in their minds.
They had just heard that Aunt Matilda was to go to the alms-house.
Harry and Kate were silent. They had mourned over the news, and Kate had
cried. There was nothing more to be done about it, so far as she could
see.
But all of a sudden Harry jumped up. "I tell you what it is Kate," he
exclaimed; "I've made up my mind! Aunt Matilda is not going to the
alms-house. I will support her myself!"
"Oh, that will be splendid!" cried Kate; "but you can never do it!"
"Yes, I can," said Harry. "There are ever so many ways in which I can
earn money."
"What are you going to do?" said Kate; "will you let me help?"
"Yes," said her brother; "you may help if you can, but I don't think you
will be of much use. As for me, I shall do plenty of things. I shall go
out with my gun--"
"But there is nothing to shoot, now in the summer-time," said Kate.
"No, there isn't much yet, to be sure," said her brother, "but before
very long there will be partridges and hares, plenty of them; and father
and Captain Caseby will buy all I shoot. And you see, until it is time
for game I'm going to gather sumac."
"Oh! I can help you in that," cried Kate.
"Yes, I believe you can," said her brother. "And now, suppose we go down
and see Aunt Matilda, and have a talk with her about it."
"Just wait until I get my bonnet," said Kate. And she dashed into the
house, and then, with a pink calico sun-bonnet on her head, she came
down the steps in two jumps, and the brother and sister, together,
hurried through the woods to Aunt Matilda's cabin.
Harry and Kate Loudon were well-educated children, and, in many
respects, knew more than most girls and boys who were older than they.
Harry had been taught by his father to ride and to swim and to shoot as
carefully as his school-teacher had taught him to spell and to parse.
And he was not only taught to be skillful in these outdoor pursuits, but
to be prudent, and kind-hearted. When he went gunning, he shot birds and
game that were fit for the table; and when he rode, he remembered that
his horse had feelings as well as himself. Being a boy of good natural
impulses, he might have found out these things for himself; but, for
fear that he might be too long about it, his father carefully taught him
that it was possible to shoot and to hunt and to ride without being
either careless or cruel. It must not be supposed that Harry was so
extremely particular that there was no fun in him, for he had discovered
that there is just as much fun in doing things right as in doing them
wrong; and as there was not a boy in all the country round about who
could ride or swim or shoot so well as Harry, so there was none who had
a more generally jolly time than he.
His sister Kate was a sharp, bright, intelligent girl, rather inclined
to be wild when opportunity offered; but very affectionate, and always
as ready for outdoor sports as any boy. She could not shoot--at least,
she never tried--and she did not ride much on horseback, but she
enjoyed fishing, and rambles through the woods were to her a constant
delight. When anything was to be done, especially if it was anything
novel, Kate was always ready to help. If anybody had a plan on hand, it
was very hard to keep her finger out of it; and if there were
calculations to be made, it was all the better. Kate had a fine head for
mathematics, and, on the whole, she rather preferred a slate and pencil
to needles and spool-cotton.
As to Aunt Matilda, there could be no doubt about her case being a
pretty hard one. She was quite old and decrepit when the war set her
free, and, at the time of our story, she was still older and stiffer.
Her former master had gone to the North to live, and as she had no
family to support her, the poor old woman was compelled to depend upon
the charity of her neighbors. For a time she managed to get along
tolerably well, but it was soon found that she would suffer if she
depended upon occasional charity, especially after she became unable to
go after food or help. Mr. and Mrs. Loudon were very willing to give her
what they could, but they had several poor people entirely dependent
upon them, and they found it impossible to add to the number of their
pensioners. So it was finally determined among the neighbors that Aunt
Matilda would have to go to the alms-house, which place was provided for
just such poor persons as she. Neither Harry nor Kate knew much about
the alms-house, but they thought it must be some sort of a horrible
place; and, at any rate, it was too hard that Aunt Matilda should have
to leave her old home where she had spent so many, many years.
And they did not intend she should do it.
CHAPTER II.
THE ADOPTION.
When the children reached Aunt Matilda's cabin, they found the old woman
seated by a very small fire, which was burning in one corner of the
hearth.
"Are you cold, Aunt Matilda?" asked Kate.
"Lor' bless you, no, honey! But you see there wasn't hardly any coals
left, and I was tryin' to keep the fire alive till somebody would come
along and gather me up some wood."
"Then you were going to cook your breakfast, I suppose," said Harry.
"Yes, child, if somebody 'ud come along and fetch me something to eat."
"Haven't you anything at all in the house?" asked Kate.
"Not a pinch o' meal, nor nothin' else," said the old woman; "but I
'spected somebody 'ud be along."
"Did you know, Aunt Matilda," said Harry, "that they are going to send
you to the alms-house?"
"Yes; I heerd 'em talk about it," said Aunt Matilda, shaking her head;
"but the alms-house ain't no place for me."
"That's so!" said Kate, quickly. "And you're not going there, either!"
"No," said Harry: "Kate and I intend to take care of you for the rest of
your life."
"Lor', children, you can't do it!" said the old woman, looking in
astonishment from one to the other of these youngsters who proposed to
adopt her.
"Yes; but we can," said Harry. "Just you wait and see."
"It'll take a good deal o' money," said the old woman, who did not seem
to be altogether satisfied with the prospects held out before her.
"More'n you all will ever be able to git."
"How much money would be enough for you to live on, Aunt Matilda?" asked
Harry.
"Dunno. Takes a heap o' money to keep a person."
"Well, now," said Kate, "let's see exactly how much it will take. Have
you a pencil, Harry? I have a piece of paper in my pocket, I think. Yes;
here it is. Now, let's set down everything, and see what it comes to."
So saying, she sat down on a low stool with her paper on her knees, and
her pencil in her hand.
"What shall we begin with?" said she.
"We'll begin with corn-meal," said Harry. "How much corn-meal do you eat
in a week, Aunt Matilda?"
"Dunno," said she, "'spect about a couple o' pecks."
"Oh, Aunt Matilda!" cried Kate, "our whole family wouldn't eat two pecks
in a week."
"Well, then, a half-peck," said she; "'pends a good deal on how many is
living in a house."
"Yes; but we only mean this for you, Aunt Matilda. We don't mean it for
anybody else."
"Well, then, I reckon a quarter of a peck would do, for jest me."
"We will allow you a peck," said Harry, "and that will be twenty-five
cents a week. Set that down, Kate."
"All right," said Kate. And she set down at the top of the paper, "Meal,
25 cents."
The children proceeded in this way to calculate how much bacon,
molasses, coffee, and sugar would suffice for Aunt Matilda's support;
and they found that the cost, per week, at the rates of the country
stores, with which they were both familiar, would be seventy-seven and
three-quarter cents.
"Is there anything else, Aunt Matilda?" asked Kate.
"Nuffin I can think on," said Aunt Matilda, "'cept milk."
"Oh, I can get that for nothing," said Kate. "I will bring it to you
from home; and I will bring you some butter too, when I can get it."
"And I'll pick up wood for you," said Harry. "I can gather enough in the
woods in a couple of hours to last you for a week."
"Lor' bless you, chil'en," said Aunt Matilda, "I hope you'll be able to
do all dat."
Harry stood quiet a few minutes, reflecting.
"How much would seventy-seven and three quarter cents a week amount to
in a year, Kate?" said he.
Kate rapidly worked out the problem, and answered: "Forty dollars and
forty-three cents."
"Lor'! but that's a heap o' money!" said Aunt Matilda. "That's more'n I
'spect to have all the rest of my life."
"How old are you, Aunt Matilda?" said Harry.
"I 'spect about fifty," said the old woman.
"Oh, Aunt Matilda!" cried Harry, "you're certainly more than fifty. When
I was a very little fellow, I remember that you were very old--at
least, sixty or seventy."
"Well, then, I 'spects I'se about ninety," said Aunt Matilda.
"But you can't be ninety!" said Kate. "The Bible says that seventy years
is the common length of a person's life."
"Them was Jews," said Aunt Matilda. "It didn't mean no cull'd people.
Cull'd people live longer than that. But p'raps a cull'd Jew wouldn't
live very long."
"Well," said Harry, "it makes no difference how old you are. We're going
to take care of you for the rest of your life."
Kate was again busy with her paper.
"In five years, Harry," she said, "It will be two hundred and two
dollars and fifteen cents."
"Lor'!" cried Aunt Matilda, "you chil'en will nebber git dat."
"But we don't have to get it all at once, Aunt Matilda," said Harry,
laughing; "and you needn't be afraid that we can't do it. Come, Kate,
it's time for us to be off."
And then the conference broke up. The question of Aunt Matilda's future
support was settled. They had forgotten clothes, to be sure; but it is
very difficult to remember everything.
CHAPTER III.
COMMENCING BUSINESS.
When they reached home, Harry and Kate put together what little money
they had, and found that they could buy food enough to last Aunt Matilda
for several days. This Harry procured and carried down to the old woman
that day. He also gathered and piled up inside of her cabin a good
supply of wood. Fortunately, there was a spring very near her door, so
that she could get water without much trouble.
Harry and Kate determined that they would commence business in earnest
the next morning, and, as this was not the season for game, they
determined to go to work to gather sumac-leaves.
Most of us are familiar with the sumac-bush, which grows nearly all over
the United States. Of course we do not mean the poisonous swamp-sumac,
but that which grows along the fences and on the edges of the woods. Of
late years the leaves of this bush have been greatly in demand for
tanning purposes, and, in some States, especially in Virginia, sumac
gathering has become a very important branch of industry, particularly
with the negroes; many of whom, during the sumac season, prefer
gathering these leaves to doing any other kind of work. The sumac-bush
is quite low, and the leaves are easily stripped off. They are then
carefully dried, and packed in bags, and carried to the nearest place of
sale, generally a country store.
The next morning, Harry and Kate made preparations for a regular
expedition. They were to take their dinner, and stay all day. Kate was
enraptured--even more so, perhaps, than Harry. Each of them had a large
bag, and Harry carried his gun, for who could tell what they might meet
with? A mink, perhaps, or a fox, or even a beaver! They had a long walk,
but it was through the woods, and there was always something to see in
the woods. In a couple of hours, for they stopped very often, they
reached a little valley, through which ran Crooked Creek. And on the
banks of Crooked Creek were plenty of sumac-bushes. This place was at
some distance from any settlement, and apparently had not been visited
by sumac gatherers.
"Hurra!" cried Kate, "here is enough to fill a thousand bags!"
Harry leaned his gun against a tree, and hung up his shot and powder
flasks, and they both went to work gathering sumac. There was plenty of
it, but Kate soon found that what they saw would not fill a thousand
bags. There were a good many bushes, but they were small; and, when all
the leaves were stripped off one, and squeezed into a bag, they did not
make a very great show. However, they did very well, and, for an hour or
so, they worked on merrily. Then they had dinner. Harry built a fire. He
easily found dry branches, and he had brought matches and paper with
him. At a little distance under a great pine-tree, Kate selected a level
place, and cleared away the dead leaves and the twigs, leaving a smooth
table of dry and fragrant pine-needles. On this she spread the cloth,
which was a napkin. Then she took from the little basket she had brought
with her a cake of corn-meal, several thick and well-buttered slices of
wheat bread, some hard-boiled eggs, a little paper of pepper and salt, a
piece of cheese, and some fried chicken. When this was spread out (and
it would not all go on the cloth), Harry came, and looked at the repast.
"What is there to cook?" said he.
Kate glanced over her table, with a perplexed look upon her countenance,
and said, "I don't believe there is anything to cook."
"But we ought to cook something," said Harry. "Here is a splendid fire.
What's the good of camping out if you don't cook things?"
"But everything is cooked," said Kate.
"So it seems," said Harry, in a somewhat discouraged tone. Had he built
that beautiful fire for nothing? "We ought to have brought along
something raw," said he. "It is ridiculous eating a cold dinner, with a
splendid fire like that."
"We might catch some fish," said Kate; "we should have to cook _them_."
"Yes," said Harry, "but I brought no lines."
So, as there was nothing else to be done, they ate their dinner cold,
and when they had finished, Kate cleared off the table by giving the
napkin a flirt, and they were ready for work again. But first they went
to look for a spring, where they could get a drink. In about half an
hour they found a spring, and some wild plums, and some blackberries,
and a grape-vine (which would surely be full of grapes in the fall, and
was therefore a vine to be remembered), and a stone, which Kate was
quite certain was an Indian arrow-head, and some tracks in the white
sand, which must have been made by some animal or other, although
neither of them was able to determine exactly what animal.
When they returned to the pine-tree, Kate took up her bag. Harry
followed her example, but somewhat slowly, as if he were thinking of
something else.
"I tell you, Harry," said Kate, "suppose you take your gun and go along
the creek and see what that was that made the tracks. If it was anything
with fur on it, it would come to more than the sumac. I will stay here,
and go on filling my bag."
"Well," said Harry, after a moment's hesitation, "I might go a little
way up the creek. I needn't be gone long. I would certainly like to find
that creature, if I can."
"All right," said Kate; "I think you'll find it."
So Harry loaded his gun, and hurried off to find the tracks of the
mysterious, and probably fur-covered animal.
Kate worked away cheerfully, singing a little song, and filling her bag
with the sumac-leaves. It was now much warmer, and she began to find
that sumac picking, all alone, was not very interesting, and she hoped
that Harry would soon find his animal, whatever it was. Then, after
picking a little longer, she thought she would sit down, and rest
awhile. So she dragged her bag to the pine-tree, and sat down, leaning
her back against the tall trunk. She took her bag of sumac in her arms,
and lifted it up, trying to estimate its weight.
"There must be ten pounds here!" she said, "No--it don't feel very
heavy, but then there are so many of the leaves. It ought to weigh
fifteen pounds. And they will be a cent a pound if we take pay in trade,
and three-quarters of a cent if we want cash. But, of course, we will
take things in trade."
And then she put down the bag, and began to calculate.
"Fifteen pounds, fifteen cents, and at seventy-seven and three-quarter
cents per week, that would support Aunt Matilda nearly a day and a half;
and then, if Harry has as much more, that will keep her almost three
days; and if we pick for two hours longer, when Harry comes back, we may
get ten pounds more apiece, which will make it pretty heavy; but then we
won't have to come again for nearly five days; and if Harry shoots an
otter, I reckon he can get a dollar for the skin--or a pair of gloves
of it--kid gloves, and my pink dress--and we'll go in the
carriage--two horses--four horses--a prince with a feather--some
butterflies--" and Kate was asleep.
When Kate awoke, she saw by the sun that she had been asleep for several
hours. She sprang to her feet. "Where is Harry?" she cried. But nobody
answered. Then she was frightened, for he might be lost. But soon she
reflected that that was very ridiculous, for neither of them could be
lost in that neighborhood which they knew so well. Then she sat down and
waited, quite anxiously, it must be admitted. But Harry did not come,
and the sun sank lower. Presently she rose with an air of determination.
"I can't wait any longer," she said, "or it will be dark before I get
home. Harry has followed that thing up the creek ever so far, and there
is no knowing when he will get back, and it won't do for me to stay
here. I'll go home, and leave a note for him."
She put her hand in her pocket, and there was Harry's pencil, which she
had borrowed in the morning and forgot to return, and also the piece of
paper on which she had made her calculation of the cost of Aunt
Matilda's board. The back of this would do very well for a note. So she
wrote on it:
I am going home, for it is getting late. I shall go back by the same
road we came. Your sumac-bag is in the bushes between the tree and
the creek. Bring this piece of paper with you, as it has Aunt
Matilda's expenses on the outside.
Kate.
This note she pinned up against the pine tree, where Harry could not
fail to see it. Then she hid her brother's sumac-bag in the bushes and,
shouldering her own bag, which, by-the-way, did not weigh so many pounds
as she thought it did, set out for home.
CHAPTER IV.
KATE, VERY NATURALLY, IS ANXIOUS.
Kate hurried through the woods, for she was afraid she would not reach
home until after dark, and indeed it was then quite like twilight in the
shade of the great trees around her. The road on which she was walking
was, however, clear and open, and she was certain she knew the way. As
she hastened on, she could not help feeling that she was wasting this
delightful walk through the woods. Her old friends were around her, and
though she knew them all so well, she could not stop to spend any time
with them. There were the oaks--the black-oak with its shining
many-pointed leaves, the white-oak with its lighter green though
duller-hued foliage, and the chestnut-oak with its long and thickly
clustered leaves. Then there were the sweet-gums, fragrant and
star-leaved, and the black-gum, tough, dark, and unpretending. No little
girl in the county knew more about the trees of her native place than
Kate; for she had made good use of her long rides through the country
with her father. Here were the chincapin-bushes, like miniature
chestnut-trees, and here were the beautiful poplars. She knew them by
their bright leaves, which looked as though they had been snipped off at
the top with a pair of scissors. And here, right in front of her, was
Uncle Braddock. She knew him by his many-colored dressing-gown, without
which he never appeared in public. It was one of the most curious
dressing-gowns ever seen, as Uncle Braddock was one of the most curious
old colored men ever seen. The gown was not really as old as its wearer,
but it looked older. It was composed of about a hundred pieces of
different colors and patterns--red, green, blue, yellow, and brown;
striped, spotted, plain, and figured with flowers and vines. These
pieces, from year to year, had been put on as patches, and some of them
were quilted on, and some were sewed, and some were pinned. The gown was
very long and came down to Uncle Braddock's heels, which were also very
long and bobbed out under the bottom of the gown as if they were trying
to kick backward. But Uncle Braddock never kicked. He was very old and
he had all the different kinds of rheumatism, and walked bent over
nearly at right-angles, supporting himself by a long cane like a
bean-pole, which he grasped in the middle. There was probably no
particular reason why he should bend over so very much, but he seemed to
like to walk in that way, and nobody objected. He was a good old soul,
and Kate was delighted to see him.
"Uncle Braddock!" she cried.
The old man stopped and turned around, almost standing up straight in
his astonishment at seeing the young girl alone in the woods.
"Why, Miss Kate!" he exclaimed, as she came up with him, "what in the
world is you doin' h'yar?"
"I've been gathering sumac," said Kate, as they walked on together, "and
Harry's gone off, and I couldn't wait any longer and I'm just as glad as
I can be to see you, Uncle Braddock, for I was beginning to be afraid,
because its getting dark so fast, and your dressing-gown looked prettier
to me than all the trees when I first caught sight of it. But I think
you ought to have it washed, Uncle Braddock."
"Wash him!" said Uncle Braddock, with a chuckle, as if the suggestion
was a very funny joke; "dat wouldn't do, no how. He'd wash all to bits,
and the pins would stick 'em in the hands. Couldn't wash him, Miss Kate;
it's too late for dat now. Might have washed him before de war, p'raps.
We was stronger, den. But what you getherin sumac for, Miss Kate? If you
white folks goes pickin it all, there won't be none lef' soon fur de
cull'ed people, dat's mighty certain."