A Case of Trespass by Lucy M Montgomery

Books at Bedtime by Calming Anxiety, a case of trespass by L Montgomery.

It was the fornoon of a hazy breathless day, and Dan Phillips was trouting up one of the back creeks with a cult in pond. It was somewhat cooler up in the creek than out on the main body of the water, and the tall birches and willows crowding down to the brim through cool green shadows across it, and shut out the scorching glare. While a stray breeze now and then rippled down the wooded slopes, wrestling the beach leaves with an airy pleasant sound. Out in the pond, the glassy water creamed in shimmied in the hot sun, and rippled by the faintest breath of air.

Across the soft pearly tints of a horizon, blurred the smoke of the big factory chimneys that were owned by Mr. Walters, to whom the pond and adjacent property also belonged.

Mr. Walters was a comparative stranger in Carlton, having recently purchased the factories from the heirs of the previous owner. He had been in charge long enough to establish a reputation for sternus and inflexibility in all of his business dealings. One or two of his employees, who had been discharged by him on what they deemed insufficient grounds, helped to deepen the impression that he was just an unjust and arbitrary man, merciless to all offenders. He was the intolerant of the slightest infringement of his cast-iron rules.

Dan Phillips had been on the pond ever since sunrise. The trout had risen well in the early morning, but as the day wore on, growing hotter and hotter, they refused to bite. And for half an hour, Dan had not caught one. He had a good-leash ring of them already, however, and he surveyed them with satisfaction as he rode his leaky little skiff to the shore of the creek.

"Pretty good catch," he solid-acquired. "Best I've had this summer so far." That big spotted one must weigh near a pound. He's a beauty.

There are good price over at the hotels now, too. I'll go home and get my dinner and go straight over with them. That'll leave me time for another try at the Marta sunset. Phew, how hot it is.

I must take LMA home a bunch and then blue flags, they're real handsome. He tied his skiff under the crowding alters, gathered a big bunch of purple flag lilies with a skill-key petals and started homeward, whistling cheerily as he stepped bristly among the firm carpeted wood path that wound up the hill under the beach and furs. He was a freckled, sunburned lad of 13 years. His neighbours all said that Danny was as smart as a steel trap, and immediately added that they wondered where he got his smartness from.

Certainly, not from his father. The elder Phillips had been denominated, shiftless and slack twisted by all who had ever had any dealings with him in his unlucky, aimless life. One of those in provident, easygoing souls who sit contentedly down to breakfast with a very faint idea where their dinner is to come from. And he had died.

No one had missed him, unless it were his patient's sad-eyed wife who bravely faced her hardlock and twiled unremittingly to keep her home for her two children. Dan, and a girl two years younger, who was as helpless a cripple suffering from some form of spinal disease. Dan, who was old and steady for his years, had gone manfully to work to assist his mother, though he had been disappointed in all his efforts to obtain steady employment. He was active and obliging, and earned many a small amount by odd jobs around the village, and by helping the cult and farmers in planting and harvest.

For the last two years, however, his most profitable source of summer income had been the trout pond. The former owner had allowed anyone who wished to fish in this pond. And Dan made a regular business of it, selling his trout at the big hotels over at Mosquito Lake. This, in spite of its unattractive name, was a popular summer result, and Dan always found a ready market for his catch.

When Mr. Walsh's purchased the property, it somehow never occurred to Dan that the new owner might not be so complessent, and his predecessor in the matter of the best-trouting pond in the county. To be sure. Dan often wondered why it was the pond was so deserted this summer. He could not recall having seen a single person on it save himself.

Still, it did not cross his mind that there could be any particular reason for this. He always fished up in the cool dim creeks, with long experience at all to where the best trout were, and came and went by a confinient wood path. But he had not thought of concealment in so doing, he would have cared had all the carlsons ever seen him. He had done very well with his fish so far, and prices for trout at the lake up went up every day.

Dan was an enterprising boy, and a general favourite with the hotel owners. They knew he could always be depended on. Mrs. Phillips met him at the door when he reached home. "See, mother," said Dan, exultantly, as he held up his fish.

"Just look at this fellow, will you? A pound if he's announced. I ought to get a good price for these I can tell you. Let me have my dinner now, and I'll go right over to the lake with them."

"It's a long walk for you, Danny," replied his mum, pittingly, "and it's so hot for you to go so far. I'm afraid you'll get sun struck or something. You'd better wait till the cool of the evening. You're looking real pain, and merely thin this while back."

"Oh, all right, mother," assured Dan, cheerfully. "I don't mind the heat a bit. A fellow must put up as some inconveniences. Wait till I bring home the money for these fish, and I mean to have another cat tonight.

It's you that's looking tired. I wish you didn't have to work so hard, mum. If I could only get a good place, you could take it easier." Sam French says that Mr. Walsus wants a boy up there at the factory, but I know I wouldn't do.

I ain't big enough. Perhaps something will turn up soon, though, when our ship comes in, mother, will have our good times. He picked up his flags and went into the little room where he's this delay. "See what I brought you," he said, as he thrust the cool, moist clusters into her thin, eager hands.

"Did you ever see such beauties?" "Oh, Dan, how lovely they are. Thank you ever so much. If you're going over to the lake this afternoon, will you please call up Mrs. Henry's and get these nutmeged uranium slips you promised me?

Just look how nice my others are growing. The pink one is going to bloom. I'll bring you all the uranium slips at the lake, if you like. When I get rich, Elemae, I'll build you a big conservatory.

I'll get every flower in the world for it for you. You shall just live and sleep amongst posies, as dinner ready, mother. Trouting's hungry work I tell you. What paper is this?"

He picked up a folded newspaper from the table. "Oh, that's only an old lake appetizer," answered Mrs. Phillips, as she placed the potatoes on the table and wiped her moist hot cheeks with the corner of a gingo naprim. Letty Mills brought it in around the past all this morning. It's four weeks old, but I kept it to read if I ever get time.

It's so seldom we see a paper of any kind nowadays, but I haven't looked at it yet. Why, Danny? What on earth is a matter?" For Danny, who had opened the paper and glanced over the first page.

Suddenly gave a choked, exclamation and turned pale, staring stupidly at the sheet before him. "See, mother?" he gasped, as she came up in alarm and looked over his shoulder, and this is what it read. "Anyone found fishing on my pond at Carlton after date will be prosecuted according to the law without respect of persons, June 1st, H. C. Walters." "Oh, Danny.

What does this mean?" Dan went and carefully close the door on Ella's main room before he replied. His face was pale and his voice shaky. "Mean?

Well, mother, it just means that I've been stealing Mr. Walters' trout all stammer, stealing them. That's what it means." "Oh, Danny. But you didn't know?"

"No. But I ought to have remembered that he was the new owner, and I should have asked him. I never thought, mother, what does prosecuted according to the law mean?" "I don't know, I'm sure, Danny."

And if this is so, there's only one thing to be done. You must go straight to Mr. Walters and tell him all about it. "Mother, I don't dare to. He's a dreadfully hard man.

Sam French's father says I wouldn't believe a word. Sam French's father says about Mr. Walters," said Mrs. Phillips firmly. He's got a spite against him because he was dismissed. Besides Danny, it's the only right thing to do.

You know that. We're poor, but we have never done anything underhand yet." "Yes, mother, I know," said Danny, gulping his fear bravely down. "I'll go, of course, right after dinner.

I was only scared at first. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll clean these trout nicely and take them to Mr. Walters and tell him that, if he'll only give me time, I'll pay him back every cent of money I got for all I sold this summer. The maybe he'll let me off, sings as I didn't know about the notice.

"I'll go with you, Danny. No, I'll go alone, mother. You needn't go with me," said Dan heroically. To himself, he said that his mother had troubles enough.

He would never subject to an added ordeal of an interview with a stern factory owner. He would be the lion in his own den himself if it had to be done. Don't tell Enemite anything about it, it would worry her and don't cry, mother. I guess it'll be all right.

Let me have my dinner now and I'll go straight off." Enemite his dinner rapidly, then he carefully cleaned his trout, put them in a long basket with rhubarb leaves over them and started with an assumed cheerfulness far from his real feelings. He had barely passed the gate when another boy came shuffling along, at all raw bone glad with an insinuating smile and shiftly cunning eyes. When you come anotted familiarly to Dan, hello, sonny, going over to the lake with your catch are you?

You'll fry up before you get there. There'll be nothing left of you but a crisp. No, I'm not going to the lake, I'm going up to the factory to see Mr. Walters. Sam French gave a long whistle of surprise.

Why, Dan? What's taking you there? You surely ain't the thinking of trying for that place are you? Walters wouldn't look at you.

Why, he wouldn't even take me? You haven't the ghost of a chance. No, I'm not going for that, Sam. Did he know that Mr. Walters had a notice in the lake advertiser that nobody could fish in his pond this summer?

Of course I did, the old skin-flin. He's too mean to live, that's what. He never goes near the pond himself. He's a dog, he's the manager, he is, dad says.

Sam, why didn't you tell me about that notice? Gracious, didn't you know? I suppose everybody did. And here I've been taking you for the cutest chap this side of sunset, fishing a way up in that creek with no one about to see you and cutting home with little woods on the slide.

You don't mean to tell me, you never saw the notice. No, I didn't. Do you think I'd have gone near the pond if I had? I never saw it until today and I'm going straight to Mr. Walters now to tell him about it.

Sam French stopped short in the dusty road and stared at Dan in undisguised amazement. Dan Phillips, he ejaculated, "Have you plumb gone out of your mind? Boy alive, you needn't be afraid that I'd peach on you. I'd too blame to go out to see anyone get the better of that old Walters.

Smartersy thinks himself, gee, dream of going to him and telling him you've been fishing in his pond. Why? He'll put you in jail. You don't know what sort of a man he is.

Dad says, never mind what your dad says, Sam, my mind's made up. Dan, you chump. Listen to me. That notice says, prosecuted according to the law.

Why, Danny, you'll put you in prison or find you all something dreadful. I can't help it if he does, said Danny Stoutley. You get out of here, Sam French, and don't be trying to scare me. I mean to be honest.

And how can I be if I don't own up to Mr. Walters that I've been stealing his trout all summer? Stealing? Viddle sticks, Dan. I used to think you were a chat with some sense, but I see I was mistaken.

You ain't done no harm. Walters will never miss them, Trout. If you're so dreadful, squeamish that you won't fish no more. Why, you needn't.

But just let them out of drop and hold your tongue about it. That's my advice. Well, it isn't my mother's then. I mean to go by hers.

You needn't argue no more, Sam, I'm going. Go then, said Sam, stopping short and disgust. You're a big fool, Dan, and serve you right if Walters lands you off to jail. But I don't wish you no will.

If I can do anything for your family after you're gone, I will. And I'll try and give your remains a Christian bureau. If there are any remains. So long, Danny.

Give my love to old Walters. Dan was not greatly encouraged by this interview. He shrank more than ever when the thought of facing the stern factory owner. His courage had almost evaporated when he entered the office at the factory and asked shakily for Mr Walters.

His in his office there replied the carc, but he's very busy, but to leave your message with me. I must see Mr Walters himself, please, said Dan firmly, but with inward trepidation. The clerks one himself impatiently from his slum. And I should Dan into Mr Walters' private office.

Boy to see you, sir, he said briefly, as he closed the ground glass door behind him. Dan, dizzy and trembling, stood in the dreaded presence. Mr Walters was writing at the table, covered with a business like litter of papers. He laid down his pen and looked up with a frown as the clerk vanished.

He was a stern-looking man, with deep-set grey eyes and a square clean shaven chin. There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh on his frame, and his voice a manor with those of the decided, resolute, masterful man of business. He pointed to a capacious leather chair and said concisely, "What is your business with me, boy?" Dan had carefully thought out a statement of facts beforehand, but every word vanished from his memory.

He had only a confused, desperate consciousness that he had a theft confess, and that he must be done as soon as possible. He did not sit down. Please, Mr Walters, he began desperately. I came to tell you, you'll notice.

I never saw it before, and I've been fishing on your pondled summer, but I didn't know, honest. I brought you all I caught today, and I'll pay back for them all sometime. An amused, puzzled expression, crossed Mr Walters' non-committal face. He pushed the leather chair forward.

Sit down, my boy, he said kindly. I don't quite understand this somewhat mixed up statement of yours. You've been fishing on my pond, you say, and didn't you say my notice in the advertiser - Dan sat down more compositely. The revelation was over, and he was still alive.

No sir, we hardly ever see an advertiser, and nobody told me. I've always been used to fishing there, and I never thought that, well, it was all right to keep on. I know I ought to have remembered and asked you, but truly sir, I didn't mean to steal your fish. I used to sell them over at the hotels.

We saw the notice today, mother and me, and I came right up. I brought you the trout I caught this morning, and if only you won't prosecute me, sir. I'll pay back every cent I got for the others, every cent, if you'll give me time. Mr Walters, past his hand, crosses mouthed, can seal something like a smile.

Your name is Dan Phillips, isn't it? He said it irreverently. And you live with your mother, the widow Phillips, down there, at Carlton Corners, I understand. Yes sir, said Dan, wondering how Mr Walters knew so much about him, and if these were the preliminaries of prosecution.

Mr Walters took up his pen and drew a blank sheet towards him. Well, Dan? I put that notice in because I found that many people who used to fish on my pond irrespective of the legal license, were accustomed to lunch or camp on my property, and did not a little damage. I don't care for trouting myself, I've no time for it.

Hard, however, I hardly think you'll do much damage. You can keep on fishing there. I'll give you a written permission so that if any of my men see you, they won't interfere with you. As for these trout here, I'll buy them from you at Mosquito Lake Prices, and we'll say no more of the matter.

How will that do? Thank you sir, Stammer Dan. He could hardly believe his ears. He took the slip of paper Mr Walters handed to him and roached to his feet.

Wait a minute Dan. How was it you came to tell me this? You might have stopped your depredations and I should never have been any the wiser. That wouldn't have been honest sir, Stammer, looking squarely at him.

There was a brief silence. Mr Walters thung meditively on the table. Dan waited wonderingly. Finally the factory owner said abruptly, "There's a vacant place for a boy down here.

I want it filled as soon as possible. Will you take it?" Mr Walters, me, Dan thought the world must be turning upside down. "Yes you.

You are rather young, but the duties are not hard or difficult to learn. I think you'll do. I was resolved not to fill that place until I could find a perfectly honest and trustworthy boy for it. I believe I have found him.

I discharged the last boy because he lied to me about something trifling, a small offense for which I would have forgiven him if he had just told the truth. I can bear with incompetency, but falsehood and deceit I cannot and will not tolerate," he said. So sternly that Dan's face paled. "I am convinced that you are incapable of either.

Will you take the place, Dan?" "I will if you think I can fill it, sir. I will do you my best." "Yes, I believe you will.

Perhaps I know more about you than you think. Businessmen must keep their eyes open. We'll regard this matter as settled in. Come up tomorrow at eight o'clock and one word more, Dan.

You have perhaps heard that I am an unjust and hardmaster. I am not the former and you will never have occasion to find me the latter if you are always this truthful and straightforward as you have been today. You might easily have deceived me in this matter, that you did not is the best and only recommendation I require. Take those trout up to my house and leave them.

That will do. Good afternoon." Dan somehow got his day self through the glass door and out of the building. The whole interview had been such a surprise to him that he was hardly sure whether or not he had dreamed it at all.

I feel as if I was some person else. He said to himself as he started down the hot white road that mother was right. I'll stick to her motto. I wonder what Sam will say to this.