University of Virginia Library

9. IX.
FOOD FOR REFLECTION.

Very early on the following morning a dismal-faced,
middle-aged couple might have been seen riding away from
Josiah's house. It was the Ducklows returning home,
after their fruitless, their worse than fruitless, journey.
No entreaties could prevail upon them to prolong their

visit. It was with difficulty even that they had been prevented
from setting off immediately on the discovery of
their loss, and travelling all night, in their impatience to
get upon the track of the missing bonds.

“There 'll be not the least use in going to-night,” Josiah
had said. “If they were stolen at the bank, you can't do
anything about it till to-morrow. And even if they were
taken from your own house, I don't see what 's to be gained
now by hurrying back. You may just as well take it easy,
— go to bed and sleep on 't, and get a fresh start in the
morning.”

So, much against their inclination, the unfortunate owners
of the abstracted bonds retired to the luxurious chamber
Laura gave them, and lay awake all night, groaning
and sighing, wondering and surmising, and (I regret to
add) blaming each other. So true it is, that “modern
conveniences,” hot and cold water all over the house, a
pier-glass, and the most magnificently canopied couch,
avail nothing to give tranquillity to the harassed mind.
Hitherto the Ducklows had felt great satisfaction in the
style their daughter, by her marriage, was enabled to support.
To brag of her nice house and furniture and two
servants was almost as good as possessing them. Remembering
her rich dining-room and silver service and porcelain,
they were proud. Such things were enough for the honor
of the family; and, asking nothing for themselves, they
slept well in their humblest of bedchambers, and sipped
their tea contentedly out of clumsy earthen. But that
night the boasted style in which their “darter” lived was
less appreciated than formerly; fashion and splendor were
no longer a consolation.

“If we had only given the three thousan' dollars to
Reuben!” said Ducklow, driving homewards with a countenance
as long as his whip-lash. “'T would have jest set

him up, and been some compensation for his sufferin's and
losses goin' to the war.”

“Wal, I had no objections,” replied Mrs. Ducklow. “I
always thought he ought to have the money eventooally.
And, as Miss Beswick said, no doubt it would 'a' been ten
times the comfort to him now it would be a number o'
years from now. But you did n't seem willing.”

“I don't know! 't was you that was n't willin'!”

And they expatiated on Reuben's merits, and their
benevolent intentions towards him, and, in imagination,
endowed him with the price of the bonds over and over
again: so easy is it to be generous with lost money!

“But it 's no use talkin'!” said Ducklow. “I ha'n't
the least idee we shall ever see the color o' them bonds
again. If they was stole to the bank, I can't prove anything.”

“It does seem strange to me,” Mrs. Ducklow replied,
“that you should have no more gumption than to trust
bonds with strangers, when they told you in so many the
words they would n't be responsible.”

“If you have flung that in my teeth once, you have fifty
times!” And Ducklow lashed the old mare, as if she, and
not Mrs. Ducklow, had exasperated him.

“Wal,” said the lady, “I don't see how we 're going to
work to find 'em, now they 're lost, without making inquiries;
and we can't make inquiries without letting it be
known we had bought.”

“I been thinkin' about that,” said her husband. “O
dear!” with a groan; “I wish the pesky cowpon bonds
had never been invented!”

They drove first to the bank, where they were of course
told that the envelope had not been untied there. “Besides,
it was sealed, was n't it?” said the cashier. “Indeed!”
He expressed great surprise, when informed that it was

not. “It should have been: I supposed any child would
know enough to look out for that!”

And this was all the consolation Ducklow could obtain.

“Just as I expected,” said Mrs. Ducklow, as they resumed
their journey. “I just as much believe that man stole
your bonds as that you trusted 'em in his hands in an unsealed
wrapper! Beats all how you could be so careless!”

“Wal, wal! I s'pose I never shall hear the last on 't!”

And again the poor old mare had to suffer for Mrs.
Ducklow's offences.

They had but one hope now, — that perhaps Taddy had
tampered with the envelope, and that the bonds might be
found somewhere about the house. But this hope was
quickly extinguished on their arrival. Taddy, being accused,
protested his innocence with a vehemence which convinced
even Mr. Ducklow that the cashier was probably the
guilty party.

“Unless,” said he, brandishing the rattan, “somebody
got into the house that morning when the little scamp run
off to ride with the minister!”

“O, don't lick me for that! I 've been licked for that
once! ha'n't I, Ma Ducklow?” shrieked Taddy.

“And besides, you 'd took 'em with you, remember,”
said Mrs. Ducklow.

The house was searched in vain. No clew to the
purloined securities could be obtained, — the copies of the
“Sunday Visitor,” which had been substituted for them,
affording not the least; for that valuable little paper was
found in almost every household, except Ducklow's.

“I don't see any way left but to advertise, as Josiah
said,” remarked the farmer, with a deep sigh of despondency.

“And that 'll bring it all out!” exclaimed Mrs. Ducklow.
“If you only had n't been so imprudent!”

“Wal, wal!” said Ducklow, cutting her short.