be afraid.”
“That is good of you, and kind. Never let on; treat us always as if we were twins.”
“You can depend on us,” said Aunt Betsy, “but it won’t be easy, because now that I know you ain’t you don’t seem so.”
Luigi muttered to himself with satisfaction: “That swindle has gone through without change of cars.”
It was not very kind of him to load the poor things up with a secret like that, which would be always flying to their tongues’ ends every time they heard any one speak of the strangers as twins, and would become harder and harder to hang on to with every recurrence of the temptation to tell it, while the torture of retaining it would increase with every new strain that was applied; but he never thought of that, and probably would not have worried much about it if he had.
A visitor was announced—some one to see the twins. They withdrew to the parlor, and the two old ladies began to discuss with interest the strange things which they had been listening to. When they had finished the matter to their satisfaction, and Aunt Betsy rose to go, she stopped to ask a question:
“How does things come on between Roweny and Tom Driscoll?”
“Well, about the same. He writes tolerable often, and she answers tolerable seldom.”
“Where is he?”
“In St. Louis, I believe, though he’s such a gadabout that a body can’t be very certain of him, I reckon.”
“Don’t Roweny know?”
“Oh, yes, like enough. I haven’t asked her lately.”
“Do you know how him and the judge are getting along now?”
“First rate, I believe. Mrs. Pratt says so; and being right in the house, and sister to the one and aunt to t’other, of course she ought to know. She says the judge is real fond of him when he’s away; but frets when he’s around and is vexed with his ways, and not sorry to have him go again. He has been gone three weeks this time—a pleasant thing for both of them, I reckon.”
“Tom’s rather harum-scarum, but there ain’t anything bad in him, I guess.”
“Oh, no, he’s just young, that’s all. Still, twenty-three is old, in one way. A young man ought to be earning his living by that time. If Tom were doing that, or was even trying to do it, the judge would be a heap better satisfied with him. Tom’s always going to begin, but somehow he can’t seem to find just the opening he likes.”
“Well, now, it’s partly the judge’s own fault. Promising the boy his property wasn’t the way to set him to earning a fortune of his own. But what do you think—is Roweny beginning to lean any toward him, or ain’t she?”
Aunt Patsy had a secret in her bosom; she wanted to keep it there, but nature was too strong for her. She drew Aunt Betsy aside, and said in her most confidential and mysterious manner:
“Don’t you breathe a syllable to a soul—I’m going to tell you something. In my opinion Tom Driscoll’s chances were considerable better yesterday than they are to-day.”
“Patsy Cooper, what do you mean?”
“It’s so, as sure as you’re born. I wish you could ‘a’ been at breakfast and seen for yourself.”
“You don’t mean it!”
“Well, if I’m any judge, there’s a leaning—there’s a leaning, sure.”
“My land! Which one of ‘em is it?”
“I can’t say for certain, but I think it’s the youngest one—Anjy.”
Then there were hand-shakings, and congratulations, and hopes, and so on, and the old ladies parted, perfectly happy—the one in knowing something which the rest of the town didn’t, and the other in having been the sole person able to furnish that knowledge.
The visitor who had called to see the twins was the Rev. Mr. Hotchkiss, pastor of the Baptist church. At the reception Angelo had told him he had lately experienced a change in his religious views, and was now desirous of becoming a Baptist, and would immediately join Mr. Hotchkiss’s church. There was no time to say more, and the brief talk ended at that point. The minister was much gratified, and had dropped in for a moment now, to invite the twins to attend his Bible class at eight that evening. Angelo accepted, and was expecting Luigi to decline, but he did not, because he knew that the Bible class and the Freethinkers met in the same room, and he wanted to treat his brother to the embarrassment of being caught in free-thinking company.
Chapter V.
Guilt and Innocence Finely Blent
(A long and vigorous quarrel follows, between the twins. And there is plenty to quarrel about, for Angelo was always seeking truth, and this obliged him to change and improve his religion with frequency, which wearied Luigi, and annoyed him too; for he had to be present at each new enlistment—which placed him in the false position of seeming to indorse and approve his brother’s fickleness; moreover, he had to go to Angelo’s prohibition meetings, and he hated them. On the other hand, when it was his week to command the legs he gave Angelo just cause of complaint, for he took him to circuses and horse-races and fandangoes, exposing him to all sorts of censure and criticism; and he drank, too; and whatever he drank went to Angelo’s head instead of his own and made him act disgracefully. When the evening was come, the two attended the Free-thinkers’ meeting, where Angelo was sad and silent; then came the Bible class and looked upon him coldly, finding him in such company. Then they went to Wilson’s house and Chapter XI of Pudd’nhead Wilson follows, which tells of the girl seen in Tom Driscoll’s room; and closes with the kicking of Tom by Luigi at the anti-temperance mass-meeting of the Sons of Liberty; with the addition of some account of Roxy’s adventures as a chamber-maid on a Mississippi boat. Her exchange of the children had been flippantly and farcically described in an earlier chapter.)
Next morning all the town was a-buzz with great news; Pudd’nhead Wilson had a law case! The public astonishment was so great and the public curiosity so intense, that when the justice of the peace opened his court, the place was packed with people and even the windows were full. Everybody was flushed and perspiring; the summer heat was almost unendurable.
Tom Driscoll had brought a charge of assault and battery against the twins. Robert Allen was retained by Driscoll, David Wilson by the defense. Tom, his native cheerfulness unannihilated by his back-breaking and bone-bruising passage across the massed heads of the Sons of Liberty the previous night, laughed his little customary laugh, and said to Wilson:
“I’ve kept my promise, you see; I’m throwing my business your way. Sooner than I was expecting, too.”
“It’s very good of you—particularly if you mean to keep it up.”
“Well, I can’t tell about that yet. But we’ll see. If I find you deserve it I’ll take you under my protection and make your fame and fortune for you.”
“I’ll try to deserve it, Tom.”
A
