Frank's Campaign; Or, The Farm and the Camp by Jr. Horatio Alger (short novels in english .TXT) 📕

“Come here, Pomp, and help me,” said Sam.

Pomp held aloof.

“She'll whip me,” he said, shaking his head. “She's an old debble.”

“Oh, you—you sarpint!” ejaculated the old lady, almost speechless with indignation.

“You can run away as soon as she gets out,” suggested Sam.

Pomp advanced slowly and warily, rolling his eyes in indecision.

“Jest catch hold of my hands, both on ye,” said Mrs. Payson, “an' I'll give a jump.”

These directions were followed, and the old lady rose to the surface, when, in an evil hour, intent upon avenging herself upon Pomp, she made a clutch for his collar. In doing so she lost her footing and fell back into the pit from which she had just emerged. Her spectacles dropped off and, falling beneath her, were broken.

She rose, half-provoked and half-ashamed of her futile attempt. It was natural that neither of these circumstances should effect an improvement in her temper.

“You did it a purpose,” she said, shaking her fist at Pomp, who stood about a rod off, grinning at her discomfiture. “There, I've gone an' broke my specs, that I bought two years ago, come fall, of a pedler. I'll make you pay for 'em.”

“Lor', missus, I ain't got no money,” said Pomp. “Nebber had none.”

Unfortunately for the old lady, it was altogether probable that Pomp spoke the truth this time.

“Three and sixpence gone!” groaned Mrs. Payson. “Fust my bunnit, an' then my specs. I'm the most unfort'nit' crittur. Why don't you help me, Sam Thompson, instead of standin' and gawkin' at me?” she suddenly exclaimed, glaring at Sam.

“I didn't know as you was ready,” said Sam. “You might have been out before this, ef you hadn't let go. Here, Pomp, lend a hand.” Pomp shook his head decisively.

“Don't catch dis chile again,” he said. “I'm goin' home. Ole woman wants to lick me.”

Sam endeavored to persuade Pomp, but he was deaf to persuasion. He squatted down on the snow, and watched the efforts his companion made to extricate the old lady. When she was nearly out he started on a run, and was at a safe distance before Mrs. Payson was in a situation to pursue him.

The old lady shook herself to make sure that no bones were broken. Next, she sent Sam down into the hole to pick up her bag, and then, finding, on a careful examination, that she had recovered everything, even to the blue umbrella, fetched the astonished Sam a rousing box on the ear.

“What did you do that for?” he demanded in an aggrieved tone.

“'Taint half as much as you deserve,” said the old lady. “I'm goin' to your house right off, to tell your mother what you've been a-doin'. Ef you was my child, I'd beat you black and blue.”

“I wish I'd left you down there,” muttered Sam.

“What's that?” demanded Mrs. Payson sharply. “Don't you go to bein' sassy. It'll be the wuss for ye. You'll come to the gallows some time, ef you don't mind your p's and q's. I might 'ave stayed there till I died, an' then you'd have been hung.”

“What are, you jawing about?” retorted Sam. “How could I know you was comin'?”

“You know'd it well enough,” returned the old lady. “You'll bring your mother's gray hairs with sorrer to the grave.”

“She ain't got any gray hairs,” said Sam doggedly.

“Well, she will have some, ef she lives long enough. I once know'd a boy just like you, an' he was put in jail for stealin'.”

“I ain't a-goin to stay and be jawed that way,” said Sam. “You won't catch me pulling you out of a hole again. I wouldn't have you for a grandmother for all the world. Tom Baldwin told me, only yesterday, that you was always a-hectorin' him.”

Tom Baldwin was the son of Cynthy Ann, and consequently old Mrs. Payson's grandson.

“Did Tom Baldwin tell you that?” demanded the old lady abruptly, looking deeply incensed.

“Yes, he did.”

“Well, he's the ungratefullest cub that I ever sot eyes on,” exclaimed his indignant grandmother. “Arter all I've done for him. I'm knittin' a pair of socks for him this blessed minute. But he sha'n't have 'em. I'll give 'em to the soldiers, I vum. Did he say anything else?”

“Yes, he said he should be glad when you were gone.”

“I'll go right home and tell Cynthy Ann,” exclaimed Mrs. Payson, “an' if she don't w'ip him I will. I never see such a bad set of boys as is growin' up. There ain't one on 'em that isn't as full of mischief as a nut is of meat. I'll come up with them, as true as I live.”

Full of her indignation, Mrs. Payson gave up her proposed call on Mrs. Thompson, and, turning about, hurried home to lay her complaint before Cynthy Ann.

“I'm glad she's gone,” said Sam, looking after her, as with resolute steps she trudged along, punching the snow vigorously with the point of her blue cotton umbrella. “I pity Tom Baldwin; if I had such a grandmother as that, I'd run away to sea. That's so!”