Jacks Ward | Page 5

by the
luckless Jack. As has been said, he was engaged in constructing a boat,
the particular operation he was now intent upon being the excavation,
or hollowing out. Now three-legged stools are not the most secure seats
in the world. This, I think, no one will deny who has any practical
acquaintance with them. Jack was working quite vigorously, the block
from which the boat was to be fashioned being held firmly between his

knees. His knife having got wedged in the wood, he made an unusual
effort to draw it out, in which he lost his balance, and disturbed the
equilibrium of his stool, which, with its load, tumbled over backward.
Now, it very unfortunately happened that Aunt Rachel sat close behind,
and the treacherous stool came down with considerable force upon her
foot.
A piercing shriek was heard, and Aunt Rachel, lifting her foot, clung to
it convulsively, while an expression of pain disturbed her features.
At the sound, the cooper hastily removed his spectacles, and, letting
"Dr. Kane" fall to the floor, started up in great dismay. Mrs. Harding
likewise dropped her sewing, and jumped to her feet in alarm.
It did not take long to see how matters stood.
"Hurt ye much, Rachel?" inquired Timothy.
"It's about killed me," groaned the afflicted maiden. "Oh, I shall have to
have my foot cut off, or be a cripple anyway." Then, turning upon Jack
fiercely: "You careless, wicked, ungrateful boy, that I've been wearin'
myself out knittin' for. I'm almost sure you did it a purpose. You won't
be satisfied till you've got me out of the world, and then--then,
perhaps"--here Rachel began to whimper--"perhaps you'll get Tom
Piper's aunt to knit your stockings."
"I didn't mean to, Aunt Rachel," said Jack, penitently, eying his aunt,
who was rocking to and fro in her chair. "You know I didn't. Besides, I
hurt myself like thunder," rubbing himself vigorously.
"Served you right," said his aunt, still clasping her foot.
"Shan't I get something for you to put on it, Rachel?" asked Mrs.
Harding.
But this Rachel steadily refused, and, after a few more postures
indicating a great amount of anguish, limped out of the room, and
ascended the stairs to her own apartment.

CHAPTER III
JACK'S NEW PLAN
Aunt Rachel was right in one thing, as Jack realized. He could not find
horses to hold every day, and even if he had succeeded in that, few
would have paid him so munificently as the stranger of the day before.
In fact, matters came to a crisis, and something must be sold to raise
funds for immediate necessities. Now, the only article of luxury--if it
could be called so--in the possession of the family was a sofa, in very
good preservation, indeed nearly new, for it had been bought only two
years before when business was good. A neighbor was willing to pay
fifteen dollars for this, and Mrs. Harding, with her husband's consent,
agreed to part with it.
"If ever we are able we will buy another," said Timothy.
"And, at any rate, we can do without it," said his wife.
"Rachel will miss it."
"She said the other day that it was not comfortable, and ought never to
have been bought; that it was a shameful waste of money."
"In that case she won't be disturbed by our selling it."
"No, I should think not; but it's hard to tell how Rachel will take
anything."
This remark was amply verified.
The sofa was removed while the spinster was out, and without any hint
to her of what was going to happen. When she returned, she looked
around for it with surprise.
"Where's the sofy?" she asked.
"We've sold it to Mrs. Stoddard," said Mrs. Harding, cheerfully.

"Sold it!" echoed Rachel, dolefully.
"Yes; we felt that we didn't need it, and we did need money. She
offered me fifteen dollars for it, and I accepted."
Rachel sat down in a rocking-chair, and began straightway to show
signs of great depression of spirits.
"Life's full of disappointments!" she groaned. "Our paths is continually
beset by 'em. There's that sofa. It's so pleasant to have one in the house
when a body's sick. But, there, it's gone, and if I happen to get down, as
most likely I shall, for I've got a bad feeling in my stummick this very
minute, I shall have to go upstairs, and most likely catch my death of
cold, and that will be the end of me."
"Not so bad as that, I hope," said Mrs. Harding, cheerfully. "You know
when you was sick last, you didn't want to use the sofa; you said it
didn't lay comfortable. Besides, I hope before you are sick we may be
able to buy it back again."
Aunt Rachel shook