LITMIR.BIZ

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en’s Anti-Gambling League. Sister Nell’s young man had called quite unexpectedly to take her for a long drive.

      Papa was at the office, as usual. It was Mary Ann’s day out. As for Emeline, she certainly should have stayed in the house and looked after the little girl; but Emeline had a restless nature.

      “Would you mind, miss, if I just crossed the alley to speak a word to Mrs. Carleton’s girl?” she asked Martha.

      “’course not,” replied the child. “You’d better lock the back door, though, and take the key, for I shall be upstairs.”

      “Oh, I’ll do that, of course, miss,” said the delighted maid, and ran away to spend the afternoon with her friend, leaving Martha quite alone in the big house, and locked in, into the bargain[1].

      The little girl read a few pages in her new book, sewed a few stitches in her embroidery and started to “play visiting” with her four favorite dolls. Then she remembered that in the attic was a doll’s playhouse that hadn’t been used for months, so she decided she would dust it and put it in order.

      Filled with this idea, the girl climbed the winding stairs to the big room under the roof. It was well lighted by three dormer windows and was warm and pleasant. Around the walls were rows of boxes and trunks, piles of old carpeting, pieces of damaged furniture, bundles of discarded clothing and other odds and ends[2] of more or less value. Every well-regulated house has an attic of this sort, so I need not describe it.

      The doll’s house had been moved, but after a search Martha found it away over in a corner near the big chimney.

      She drew it out and noticed that behind it was a black wooden chest which Uncle Walter had sent over from Italy years and years ago – before Martha was born, in fact. Mamma had told her about it one day; how there was no key to it, because Uncle Walter wished it to remain unopened until he returned home; and how this wandering uncle, who was a mighty hunter, had gone into Africa to hunt elephants and had never been heard from afterwards.

      The little girl looked at the chest curiously, now that it had by accident attracted her attention.

      It was quite big – bigger even than mamma’s traveling trunk – and was studded all over with tarnished brass-headed nails. It was heavy, too, for when Martha tried to lift one end of it she found she could not stir it a bit. But there was a place in the side of the cover for a key. She stooped to examine the lock, and saw that it would take a rather big key to open it.

      Then, as you may suspect, the little girl longed to open Uncle Walter’s big box and see what was in it. For we are all curious, and little girls are just as curious as the rest of us.

      “I don’t b’lieve Uncle Walter’ll ever come back,” she thought. “Papa said once that some elephant must have killed him. If I only had a key – ” She stopped and clapped her little hands together gayly as she remembered a big basket of keys on the shelf in the linen closet. They were of all sorts and sizes; perhaps one of them would unlock the mysterious chest!

      She flew down the stairs, found the basket and returned with it to the attic. Then she sat down before the brass-studded box and began trying one key after another in the curious old lock. Some were too large, but most were too small. One would go into the lock but would not turn; another stuck so fast that she feared for a time that she would never get it out again. But at last, when the basket was almost empty, an oddly-shaped, ancient brass key slipped easily into the lock. With a cry of joy Martha turned the key with both hands; then she heard a sharp “click,” and the next moment the heavy lid flew up of its own accord[3]!

      The little girl leaned over the edge of the chest an instant, and the sight that met her eyes caused her to start back in amazement.

      Slowly and carefully a man unpacked himself from the chest, stepped out upon the floor, stretched his limbs and then took off his hat and bowed politely to the astonished child.

      He was tall and thin and his face seemed badly tanned or sunburnt.

      Then another man emerged from the chest, yawning and rubbing his eyes like a sleepy schoolboy. He was of middle size and his skin seemed as badly tanned as that of the first.

      While Martha stared open-mouthed at the remarkable sight a third man crawled from the chest. He had the same complexion as his fellows, but was short and fat.

      All three were dressed in a curious manner. They wore short jackets of red velvet braided with gold, and knee breeches of sky-blue satin with silver buttons. Over their stockings were laced wide ribbons of red and yellow and blue, while their hats had broad brims with high, peaked crowns, from which fluttered yards of bright-colored ribbons.

      They had big gold rings in their ears and rows of knives and pistols in their belts. Their eyes were black and glittering and they wore long, fierce mustaches, curling at the ends like a pig’s tail.

      “My! but you were heavy,” exclaimed the fat one, when he had pulled down his velvet jacket and brushed the dust from his sky-blue breeches. “And you squeezed me all out of shape[4].”

      “It was unavoidable, Luigi,” responded the thin man, lightly; “the lid of the chest pressed me down upon you. Yet I tender you my regrets.”

      “As for me,” said the middle-sized man, carelessly rolling a cigarette and lighting it, “you must acknowledge I have been your nearest friend for years; so do not be disagreeable.”

      “You mustn’t smoke in the attic,” said Martha, recovering herself at sight of the cigarette. “You might set the house on fire.”

      The middle-sized man, who had not noticed her before, at this speech turned to the girl and bowed.

      “Since a lady requests it,” said he, “I shall abandon my cigarette,” and he threw it on the floor and extinguished it with his foot.

      “Who are you?” asked Martha, who until now had been too astonished to be frightened.

      “Permit us to introduce ourselves,” said the thin man, flourishing his hat gracefully. “This is Lugui,” the fat man nodded; “and this is Beni,” the middle-sized man bowed; “and I am Victor. We are three bandits – Italian bandits.”

      “Bandits!” cried Martha, with a look of horror.

      “Exactly. Perhaps in all the world there are not three other bandits so terrible and fierce as ourselves,” said Victor, proudly.

      “’tis so,” said the fat man, nodding gravely.

      “But it’s wicked[5]!” exclaimed Martha.

      “Yes, indeed,” replied Victor. “We are extremely and tremendously wicked. Perhaps in all the world you could not find three men more wicked than those who now stand before you.”

      “’tis so,” said the fat man, approvingly.

      “But you shouldn’t be so wicked,” said the girl; “it’s – it’s – naughty!”

      Victor cast down his eyes and blushed.

      “Naughty!” gasped Beni, with a horrified look.

      “’tis a hard word,” said Luigi, sadly, and buried his face in his hands.

      “I little thought,” murmured Victor, in a voice broken by emotion, “ever to be so reviled – and by a lady! Yet, perhaps you spoke thoughtlessly. You must consider, miss, that our wickedness has an excuse. For how are we to be bandits, let me ask, unless we are wicked?”

      Martha was puzzled and shook her head, thoughtfully. Then she remembered something.

      “You can’t remain bandits any longer,” said she, “because you are now in America.”

      “America!” cried the three, together.

      “Certainly. You are on Prairie avenue, in Chicago. Uncle Walter sent you here from Italy in this chest.”

      The bandits seemed greatly bewildered by this announcement. Lugui sat down on an old chair with a broken rocker and wiped his forehead with a yellow silk handkerchief. Beni and Victor

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