Hope and Have; or, Fanny Grant Among the Indians: A Story for Young People Read online

  CHAPTER VI.

  KATE'S DEFECTION.

  "Fanny Grant, you stole that money!" said Kate, as though she had madea great discovery.

  It was no discovery at all. She had been reasonably confident that thefive dollars, which Fanny acknowledged to be in her possession, hadbeen stolen, or, if not actually stolen, that it had been obtained ina manner entirely at variance even with a very low ideal of commonhonesty. She was willing to enjoy the good things which might bebought with the five dollars, but she was not disposed to bear theresponsibility of the theft, either as principal or accessory. If, whenthe day of reckoning came, she could make it appear that she did notknow the money had been stolen, she would escape the penalty and theodium of being a thief, or a receiver of stolen goods.

  Like many others, she could hold up her hands in holy horror at thecrime made public, while she was willing to wink at or compromise thecrime for her own benefit in the secret chambers of her own heart. Ifshe had been taught in ancient Lacedaemonia that it is not a crime tosteal, but a crime to be found out, she could not have been morefaithful to its base policy.

  Fanny heard the charge, but made no reply, pretending to be occupied inwatching the course of the boat.

  "You stole that money, Fanny Grant!" repeated Kate, with even moreemphasis, and more holy horror than before.

  "Well, what if I did?" answered Fanny, who was disposed to have herassociate as deep in the mud as she herself was in the mire; and sheknew that it would be impossible to deny the fact when she exhibitedthe great roll of bills in her pocket.

  "I didn't think you would steal money, Fanny."

  "You would yourself, if you got a chance."

  "No, I wouldn't; I'm bad enough, I know, but I wouldn't steal."

  "Yes, you would! You needn't pretend to be so good. You will never behung for your honesty. I know you."

  "Do you mean to say I would steal?" demanded Kate, not a littlemortified to be thought so meanly of.

  "I know you would. Who stole the strawberries the other day?"

  "That wasn't money," pleaded Kate.

  "It was all the same."

  "I wouldn't take money. I'm not a thief."

  "You flatter yourself."

  "I wouldn't. But, Fanny," she added, willing to change the subject, "Ishouldn't dare to go to New York city."

  "Why not?"

  "Something might happen to us."

  "What can happen to us?"

  "I don't know; but I'm afraid to go. What should we do with ourselvesfor a whole week?"

  "Have a good time; that's what we are going for?"

  "I can't go, Fan."

  "Yes, you can; and you must. You have got into the scrape so far, andyou are not going to leave me alone now. You promised to go with me."

  "But you did not tell me what you were going to do."

  "I have told you now; and if you attempt to back out, you shall bearhalf the blame."

  "I didn't steal."

  "I don't care if you didn't; you shall bear your share of the blame.You shall go with me."

  "What will my mother say?"

  "She will say you are a naughty girl, and punish you for what you havedone. If you go with me, she will be so glad to see you when you getback, that she won't say a word. She will find out what you are made ofthen; if you go back now, she will see that you are nothing but achicken at heart, and she will punish you, as you deserve to be fordeserting your friend."

  "My mother would feel awfully if I did not come back to-night,"continued Kate, thoughtfully, even sadly; and she was sincere now.

  "She will get over it."

  "She would feel dreadfully."

  "So much the better; the worse she feels the more glad she will be tosee you when you do go back."

  Kate saw that it was useless to reason with her companion on thispoint; besides, there was a certain sacred feeling in her heart whichFanny could neither understand nor appreciate, and she was unwilling toexpose it to the rude reproaches of one who seemed to have no heart.She was too timid, rather than too conscientious, to engage in such agigantic scheme of wickedness as that which Fanny had indicated; and wemust do her the justice to add, that the blessed influence of amother's love, stronger and deeper in her heart than principle,asserted its sway, and to give her mother a week of pain and anxietywas revolting to her.

  She was fully determined not to go to New York city, and to get home assoon as she could. But Fanny had so much to say about "backing out,"and "deserting her friend," that she deemed it prudent not to mentionanything about her resolution. She knew her companion well enough tobelieve that it would be useless to attempt to persuade her to abandonher brilliant scheme; and Fanny was so resolute and self-willed thatshe might find a way to compel her to go with her, whether she waswilling or not.

  "Do you want to know how much money I have got?" asked Fanny, after asilence of some minutes, during which Kate had been thinking what sheshould do.

  "I should like to know," replied Kate, who, however, was reallyindifferent after she had decided not to partake of the good thingswhich the stolen money could purchase.

  "You take the tiller then, and I will count it. Keep it just as it is,"said Fanny, resigning her place to her fellow-voyager.

  The boat was going along very easily with the wind on the starboardquarter, and did not need much attention. She was approachingPennville, and the cruise was nearly finished. Fanny took the roll ofbills from her pocket, and proceeded to count it. The notes were nearlyall "greenbacks," with a few small bills on the state banks. There weretwenties, tens, and fives, and the thief was almost frightened herselfwhen she ascertained the amount she had obtained.

  "One hundred, one hundred five, one hundred and ten," said Fanny, asshe counted the money; "one hundred and ten----"

  "Why, Fanny Grant!" cried Kate, horrified at the greatness of the sum.

  "Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty----"

  "They will send you to the state prison for stealing so much money!"added Kate, trembling as the large numbers were mentioned.

  "The more the better," replied Fanny, trying to keep cool, though shewas much agitated herself, as, measuring the crime by the amount of themoney, she realized how guilty she had been.

  She finished the counting; and the whole sum was one hundred andseventy-three dollars and eighty-five cents.

  "There is a great deal more than I thought there was," said she.

  "Why did you take so much?" asked the terrified Kate.

  "I didn't know how much there was."

  "You will have all the constables in the county after you beforenight."

  "And after you, too."

  "I didn't steal it."

  "Well, you were with me, and I will give you some of it."

  "I don't want any of it."

  "Don't you?"

  "No, I don't; I don't think it is fair for you to try to make it outthat I helped you steal the money, when I didn't, and when I didn'tknow anything about it."

  "You knew I had some money before you got into the boat. You arescared--that's all."

  "I am scared, and I wish I hadn't come."

  "I wish you hadn't, because you are so frightened; but now you havegone so far, you can't back out. You want to return to Woodville, andtell them I stole the money."

  "No, I don't."

  "I'm never going back to Woodville again. They have been talking aboutsending me to my uncle's, in Minnesota, and I'm not going to be sentthere."

  "What shall I do, then?" demanded Kate, awed and astonished at thedesperate purpose of her friend.

  "I will see that you get back home all right. Here is some money to payyour passage," added Fanny, counting out a portion of the bills.

  "I don't want that."

  "Very well," answered Fanny, putting the bills in her pocket; and shelooked so firm and so "ugly" that Kate was actually afraid of her.

  The Greyhound had nearly reached the pier at Pennville; but Fanny didnot intend to land at any public place,
and she ran the boat up to thebank of the river, a short distance above the village, grounding itlightly on a kind of beach she had chosen as a landing-place. Fannytook the boat-hook in her hand, and jumped ashore.

  "Now, Kate Magner, before we go any farther, we must come to anunderstanding. If you think you are going to leave me to bear all theblame, you are mistaken."

  "I don't mean any such thing," replied Kate.

  "Yes, you do; you mean to betray me."

  "No, I don't."

  "Why didn't you take the money I offered you, then?"

  "I don't want it."

  "You are in the boat, and I am on the land. If you don't take themoney, I will push the boat off, and she will carry you away--I don'tknow where."

  "Don't do that."

  "Will you take the money?"

  "Yes, I will," answered Kate, who was more afraid of the boat than shewould have been of a demon.

  "Take it, then," said Fanny, handing her the little roll of bills shehad taken from the package for this purpose. "There is twenty-onedollars."

  Kate took the money, and thrust it into her pocket.

  "Now we are both just the same. You have taken some of the money, andyou are just as bad as I am. You can't back out now, if you want to doso."

  This was only an expedient on the part of the resolute mistress of theexpedition to prevent her companion from deserting her, rather than toinsure an equal division of the punishment for stealing.

  "What shall we do now?" asked Kate, as she landed from the boat, whichFanny held with the boat-hook.

  "We will go up to the railroad station, and take the train for New Yorkcity."

  "But what are you going to do with the boat?"

  "I don't care anything about the boat. I have had all I want of her.But I think I will let the sails down, and fasten her to the bank. Ifthey should find her, she might betray us."

  Fanny lowered the sails, and fastened the painter to a stake on thebank. The two girls then started for the village, which was about aquarter of a mile below the place where they had landed. When they hadgone a short distance, they saw a man mending a boat on the bank of theriver. Kate took particular notice of him, for she was already planningthe means of her deliverance from the arbitrary sway of her companion.

  The two girls were very well dressed, and it was not an uncommon thingfor young ladies to manage their own boats on the Hudson; so, if theyhad been seen to land from the Greyhound, no notice was taken of thecircumstance. They were not likely to be molested, except by their ownguilty consciences. They walked directly to the railroad station, andascertained that the train would leave in half an hour. Fanny, anxiousto conciliate her associate, and accustom her to her new situation,invited her to a saloon, where they partook of ice-creams; but partialas Kate was to this luxury, it did not taste good, and seemed to beentirely different from any ice-cream she had ever eaten before.

  When it was nearly time for the train to arrive, Fanny bought twotickets, and they joined the crowd that was waiting for the cars. Kateseemed to be so fully reconciled to the enterprise, that her friend didnot doubt her any longer; she had no suspicion of her intendeddefection.

  "I am almost choked," said Kate, when the whistle of the locomotive washeard in the distance. "I must have a drink of water."

  "You have no time."

  "I won't be gone but a second," replied Kate.

  "I will wait here--but be quick."

  Kate went into the station-house, and passing out at the door on theother side, ran off towards the river as fast as her legs would carryher. She reached the outskirts of the village before she slackened herpace, and then, exhausted and out of breath with running, she paused toascertain if Fanny was in pursuit of her. No one was to be seen in thedirection from which she had come, and taking courage from her success,she walked leisurely towards the place where the Greyhound had beenleft.

  The man she had passed on her way down was still at work on his boat,and Kate, telling him such a story as suited her purpose, engaged himto sail the Greyhound up to Woodville. They embarked without anyinterruption from Fanny, and in a couple of hours she was landed at thepier from which she had started. Kate paid her boatman three dollarsfrom the money which Fanny had given her, and then walked up to themansion.

  She told Mrs. Green the whole truth, and gave her the eighteen dollarsremaining in her possession. She then went home to make peace with hermother, to whom also she told the whole story, blaming Fanny foreverything except her own truancy, and pleading that she had been ledaway in this respect.

  Mr. Long was still engaged in the search for Fanny, though the loss ofthe money in the closet had not been discovered till Kate appeared.