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Mr. Potter was very miserable indeed on the edge of his chair, and twirling his hat dreadfully; and for the first moment after the handsome old gentleman spoke to him, he had nothing to say.
Old Mr. King was asking him for the third time, “You found out all about poor Jim's family, eh?”
At last he emerged from his fit of embarrassment enough to reply, “Yes, sir.”
“Now that is very good,” the old gentleman cried approvingly, and wiped his face vigorously after his effort, “very good indeed, Mr. Potter.”
Hiram Potter now followed up his first attempt to find his voice; and trying to forget the handsome surroundings that had so abashed him, he went on now quite glibly.
“You see, sir, there's six of 'em—Jim's children.”
“Dear me!” ejaculated old Mr. King.
“Yes, sir, there are.” Mr. Potter's hat began to twirl uneasily again. “And the wife—she ain't strong, just got up from rheumatic fever.”
“That's bad—very bad,” said Mr. King.
“Those three boys of his are good,” said Mr. Potter, brightening up a bit in the general gloom; “and the biggest one says he's going to be a brakeman just like his father. But the mother wants 'em all to go to school. You see, that's what Jim was working for.”
“And the girl who wanted to play on the piano?” broke in Polly eagerly. Then she blushed rosy red. “Oh, forgive me, Grandpapa, for interrupting,” and she hid her face on old Mr. King's arm.
“I was just going to ask about that girl, myself,” said Grandpapa promptly. “Tell us about her, Mr. Potter, if you please.”
Hiram Potter set his hat carefully on the floor beside his chair. It was his Sunday hat, and evidently that, with his best clothes which he had donned in honor of the occasion, were objects of great care. He scratched his head and thought deeply. “Well, now, you see, sir,” he said slowly, “that's almost a hopeless case, and I wish, as sure as I sit here, that girl hadn't neverthought of piano music. But it's born in her, the mother said; the girl's grandfather was a musician in the old home in Germany, and so she can't help it. Why, she's just so crazy about it, she'll drum all up and down the kitchen table to make believe that——”
“Oh Grandpapa!” cried Polly in the greatest excitement, and hopping up and down by his side, “that's just as I used to do in the little brown house,—the very same way, Grandpapa, you know.”
“Yes, she did, father,” cried Jasper, bobbing his head scarcely less excited, just as if old Mr. King hadn't heard the story many times.
Mr. Potter, for want of something to do to express his amazement, picked up his hat, stroked it, and set it down again, staring with all his might.
“So you did, Polly; so you did, my child,” cried Grandpapa, taking her hands in both of his, and looking down into her shining eyes; “well, well, to be sure. Now, Jasper, get the tablet, and write down the address of Jim's family as quickly as you can, my boy.”
So Jasper ran over to the library table, and brought back the tablet and pencil hanging to it; and pretty soon Jim's home was all describedthus: “Mrs. James Corcoran, 5 Willow Court—third house from Haven Street.”
“It's kinder hard to find,” observed Mr. Potter slowly, “because Willow Court runs into Haven Street criss-cross, and this number isn't on the house; it's got rubbed off; but if you follow up No. 3, and come up carefully, why, there you'll be where No. 5 was.”
“Oh dear me!” said Mr. King. “Well, you may describe the house, for I am going down there to-morrow, and I certainly do not wish to waste my time walking about.”
Polly and Jasper looked so very decidedly “Oh, may we go too?” that the old gentleman added quickly, “And my young people will accompany me,” which really left nothing more to be desired at present.
“Well, it's a yellow house,” said Mr. Potter, thinking very hard, “that is, it is in spots, where the paint is on; and it's low, and runs down to the back, and sets sideways. But I tell you how you'll know it. She's got—Mrs. Jim Corcoran has—the greatest lot of flowers in her window. They're chock full, sir.”
“I shall know it, then,” cried Polly in great satisfaction.
“I think there's no danger, sir, but what we will find the place all right.” Old Mr. King was fumbling in his pocket in great perplexity. “It never would do,” he decided, pulling his hand out. “No, I must contrive to send him something. Well, now—hem—Mr. Potter,” he said aloud, “and where do you live? Quite near, I presume?”
“Oh, just the other end of the town, sir,” said Mr. Potter. “I live on Acorn Street.”
“Acorn Street?” repeated Mr. King, wrinkling his brows, “and where may that be, pray tell?”
“It's over at the South End, sir; it runs off from Baker Street and Highland Square.”
“Oh yes, yes,” said the old gentleman, without much more idea than before.
“I know where it is, father,” said Jasper. “Dear me! You've had to take a good bit of time to get all this information, Mr. Potter.”
Mr. Potter looked down busily on the carpet, trying not to think how tired his feet were, saving some car-fare for their owner.
“Well, now what number?” The old gentleman seeming to desire his whole address, that was soon given too,—“23 Acorn Street, South End.”
“And I suppose you have a family?” went on the old gentleman, determined to find out all there was to it, now he had commenced.
The little clerk began to hem and to haw, behind his hand. “No, sir, I haven't; that is, yes, I have considerable—I mean my four sisters, sir; we all live together.”
“Oh—ah!” replied Mr. King. “Well, now thank you very much, Mr. Potter; and as your time is valuable, and should be paid for,”—he tucked a bill within the nervous hands.
“Oh, I couldn't take it, sir,” cried Hiram Potter, greatly distressed.
“But it's your due. Why, man, I shouldn't have asked you to take all this trouble, and spend so much time after I've found you had so far to go.” Mr. King was really becoming irate now, so that the little clerk didn't dare to say more. “Bless me! Say no more—say no more!”
The little clerk was too much frightened to think of another word; and finding that the interview was considered closed, he picked up his hat, and in some way, he could never remember how, he soon found himself out of the handsome house, and skipping off nimbly in the fresh air, which quite revived him.
“I could offer him only a trifle,” old Mr. King was saying, “only what might repay him for his trouble and time to-night. But I shall speak to Fraser about him to-morrow, Jasper. That agent of mine is, curiously enough, in want of a clerk just at this time, and I know this little man can fit in very well, and it will get him away from that beastly office. Four sisters—oh my goodness! Well, Fraser must give him enough to take care of them.”
“Oh, how fine, father!” exclaimed Jasper with kindling eyes. “And then the girl that wants to learn to play on the piano.”
“Oh dear me, yes!” Old Mr. King burst into a merry laugh. “I must look after that little girl, or Polly won't speak to me, I am afraid. Will you, Polly, my child?” He drew her close to him, and kissed her blooming cheek.
“I am so very glad you are going to look out for her, Grandpapa,” she cried, “because you know I did feel so dreadfully when I used to drum on the table in the little brown house,” she confessed.
“I know—I know, child.” Grandpapa's face fell badly, and he held her very close. It always broke him up to hear the Peppers tell of the hardtimes in the little brown house, and Polly hastened to add brightly, “And then you came, Grandpapa dear, and you made it all just beautiful—oh Grandpapa!” and she clung to him, unable to say more.
“Yes, yes, so I did—so I did,” cried the old gentleman delightedly, quite happy again, and stroking the brown hair. “Well, Polly, my girl, it isn't anything to the good times we are always going to have. And to-morrow, you and I must go down to see after poor Jim's family.”
“And Jasper?” cried Polly, poking up her head from old Mr. King's protecting arm; “he must go too, Grandpapa.”
“And Jasper? Why, we couldn't do anything without him, Polly,” said the old gentleman in such a tone that Jasper threw back his head very proudly; “of course my boy must go too.”
And the next day, Pickering Dodge, who thought he had some sort of a claim on Jasper for the afternoon, came running up the steps, two at a time. And he looked so horribly disappointed, that old Mr. King said, “Why don't you take him, Jasper, along with us?”
Jasper, who would have much preferred to goalone with his father and Polly, swallowed his vexation, and said, “All right;” and when he saw Pickering's delight, he brightened up, and was glad it all happened in just that way after all.
“Now see here,” said old Mr. King suddenly. They were turning out of Willow Court, after their visit, and Thomas had a sorry time of it, managing his horses successfully about the old tin cans and rubbish, to say nothing of the children who were congregated in the narrow, ill-smelling court. “Why don't you boys do something for those lads in there?” pointing backward to the little run-down-at-the-heel house they had just left.
“We boys?” cried Pickering faintly. “Oh dear me! Mr. King, we can't do anything.”
“'Can't' is a bad word to use,” said the old gentleman gravely, “and I didn't mean that you all alone should do the work. But get the other boys interested. I'm sure you can do that. Phew! Where are the health authorities, I should like to know, to let such abominations exist? Thomas, drive as fast as you can, and get us out of this hole;” and he buried his aristocratic old face in his handkerchief.
Pickering looked over at Jasper in great dismay.
“We might have our club take it up,” said Jasper slowly, with a glance at Polly for help.
“Yes, why don't you, Jasper?” she cried. “Now that's what I'm going to propose that our club of Salisbury girls shall do. We're just finishing up the work for a poor Southern family.”
“You've had a bee, haven't you,” asked Pickering, “or something of that sort? Although I don't really suppose you do much work,” he said nonchalantly, “only laugh and play and giggle, generally.”
“Indeed we don't, Pickering Dodge,” cried Polly indignantly, “laugh and play and giggle, the very idea!”
“And if you say such dreadful things I'll pitch you out of the carriage,” cried Jasper in pretended wrath.
“Ow! I'll be good. Take off your nippers,” cried Pickering, cringing back down into his corner as far as he could. “Goodness me! Jasper, you're a perfect old tiger.”
“Take care, and keep your tongue in its place then,” said Jasper, bursting into a laugh.
“And we work—oh, just dreadfully,” declaredPolly with her most positive air. “We cut out all the clothes ourselves. We don't want our mothers to do it; and sew—oh dear me!”
“You ought to see our house on club day when Polly has the bee,” said Jasper. “I rather think you'd say there was something going on for those poor little Southern darkies.”
“Well, I don't see how you can work so for a lot of disgusting pickaninnies,” said Pickering, stretching his long figure lazily. “The whole bunch of them isn't worth one good solid afternoon of play.”
Polly turned a cold shoulder to him, and began to talk with Jasper most busily about the club of boys.
“Yes, and oh, Jasper, let's have one meeting of all you boys with us girls—the two clubs together,” she cried at last, waxing quite enthusiastic.
“Yes, let us,” cried Jasper, just as enthusiastic; “and oh, Polly, I've thought of something. Let's have a little play—you write it.”
“Oh Jasper, I can't,” cried Polly, wrinkling her brows.
“Oh, yes, Polly, you can,” cried Jasper; “if it's one half as good as 'The Three Dragons and the Princess Clotilde,' it will be just fine.”
“Well,” said Polly, “I'll try; and what then, Jasper?”
“Why, we'll give it for money—father, may we, in the drawing-room? And perhaps we'll make quite a heap to help those boys with. Oh Polly!” He seized both of her hands and wrung them tightly. “Oh, may we, father, may we?”
“Eh—what's that? Oh, yes.” The old gentleman took down his handkerchief. “Dear me! what a mercy we are where we can breathe!” as Thomas whirled them dexterously past a small square. “Whatarethe health authorities about, to allow such atrocious old holes? Oh, yes, my boy, I'm sure I'd be delighted to have you help along those three lads. And it's really work for boys. Polly's going to start up something for the girl.”
“How perfectly fine!” exclaimed Jasper and Polly together, now that the consent was really gained. Then they fell into such a merry chatter that Pickering, left out in the cold, began to wriggle dreadfully. At last he broke out:
“Yes, I think it would be fine too,” trying to work his head into the conference, where Polly and Jasper had theirs together buzzing over the plans.
But nobody paid him the slightest attention; so he repeated his remark, with no better success.
“I should think you might turn around,” at last he said in a dudgeon, “and speak to a body once in a while.”
“Why should we?” cried Jasper over his shoulder. “You don't think it's worth while to work for any of those people. No, Polly, we'll let him severely alone.” Then he fell to talking again, busier than ever.
“Yes, I do,” cried Pickering in a high, wrathful key, “think it's worth while too, so there, Jasper King!”
“Oh, he does, I do believe, Jasper,” cried Polly, looking at Pickering's face.
“Why, of course I do,” said Pickering.
“And so we must let him into the plans.” So Polly turned around to draw Pickering in, and old Mr. King leaned forward in his seat, and the committee of ways and means got so very busy that they didn't even know when Thomas turned in at the big stone gateway, until Polly looked up and screamed out, “Why, we are home! Why, wecan'tbe!”
“Well, we are, Polly, my child,” said old Mr.King, getting out to help her with his courtliest air. “We've been gone just three hours and a half, and a very good afternoon's work it is too. For Jim's children will care twice as much for what you young folks are going to do for them as for anything I may do. Yes, Polly, they will,” as he saw her face. “And I'm sure if I were in their places, I'd feel just the same way.”
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“Now, children,” hummed Phronsie, pausing in the midst of combing her doll's flaxen hair, “you must keep still, and be very good; then I'll get through pretty soon,” and she bowed to the several members of her numerous family set up in a row before her, who were awaiting their turn for the same attention. Then she took up the little comb which had dropped to her lap, and set herself busily to her task again.
Alexia looked in at the door of the “baby-house,” as Phronsie's little room devoted to her family of dolls, was called. “Oh my goodness me!” she exclaimed, “don't you ever get tired of everlastingly dressing those dolls, Phronsie?”
Phronsie gave a sigh, and went patiently on with her work. “Yes, Alexia, I'm tired sometimes; but I'm their mother, you see.”
“And to comb their hair!” went on Alexia, “Oh dear me! I never could do it in all thisworld, Phronsie. I should want to run and throw them all out of the window.”
“Oh Alexia!” exclaimed Phronsie in horror, “throw them all out of the window! You couldn't do that, Alexia.” She tightened her grasp on the doll in her arms.
“Yes, I should want to throw every one of those dreadful dolls out of the window, Phronsie Pepper!” declared Alexia recklessly.
“But they are my children,” said Phronsie very soberly, trying to get all the others waiting for their hair to be fixed, into her arms too, “and dear Grandpapa gave them to me, and I love them, every single one.”
“Well, now, you see, Phronsie,” said Alexia, getting down on the floor in front of the doll's bureau, by Phronsie's side, “you could come out with me on the piazza and walk around a bit if it were not for these dreadfully tiresome dolls; and Polly is at school, and you are through with your lessons in Mr. King's room. Now how nice that would be, oh dear me!” Alexia gave a restful stretch to her long figure. “My!” at a twinge of pain.
“Does your arm hurt you, Alexia?” asked Phronsie, looking over her dolls up to Alexia's face.
“Um—maybe,” said Alexia, nursing her arm hanging in the sling; “it's a bad, horrid old thing, and I'd like to thump it.”
“Oh, don't, Alexia,” begged Phronsie, “that will make it worse. Please don't, Alexia, do anything to it.” Then she got up, and went over with her armful of dolls to the sofa, and laid them down carefully in a row. “I'll fix your hair to-morrow, children,” she said; “now I'm going away for a little bit of a minute,” and came back. “Let's go down to the piazza,” she said, holding out her hand.
“You blessed child, you!” exclaimed Alexia, seizing her with the well hand, “did you suppose I'd be such a selfish old pig as to drag you off from those children of yours?”
“You are not a selfish old pig, Alexia, and I like you very much,” said Phronsie gravely, trying not to hit the arm in the sling, while Alexia flew up to her feet and whirled around the room with her. “And, oh, I'm so afraid you'll make it sick,” she panted. “Do stop.”
“I just can't, Phronsie,” said Alexia; “I shall die if I don't do something! Oh, this horrid old arm!” and she came to a sudden standstill, Phronsie struggling away to a safe distance.
“Papa Fisher would not like it, Alexia,” she said in great disapproval, her hair blown about her face, and her cheeks quite pink.
“Oh dear me!” Alexia, resting the sling in the other palm, and trying not to scream with the pain, burst out, “It's so tiresome to be always thinking that some one won't like things one does. Phronsie, there's no use in my trying to be good, because, you see, I never could be. I just love to do bad things.”
“Oh no, Alexia,” said Phronsie greatly shocked, “you don't love to do bad things. Please say you don't;” and before Alexia could say another word, the tears poured down the round cheeks, wetting Phronsie's pinafore. And although she clasped her hands and tried to stop them, it was no use.
“There now, you see,” cried Alexia, quite gone in remorse. “Oh, what shall I do? I must go and get Mrs. Fisher,” and she rushed out of the room.
Phronsie ran unsteadily after her, to call, “Oh Alexia!” in such distress that the flying feet turned, and up she came again.
“What is it, Pet?” she cried. “Oh dear me! What shall I do? I must tell your mother.”
“I will stop,” said Phronsie, struggling hard with her tears, “if you only won't tell Mamsie,” and she wiped her cheeks hard with her pinafore. “There, see, Alexia,” and tried to smile.
“Well, now, come back.” Alexia seized her hand, and dragged her up the stairs. “Now I'm just going to stay up here with you, if you'll let me, Phronsie, and try not to do bad things. I do so want to be good like Polly. You can't think how I want to,” she cried in a gust, as she threw herself down on the floor again.
“Oh Alexia, you never could be good like Polly,” said Phronsie, standing quite still in astonishment.
“Of course not,” said Alexia with a little laugh, “but I mean—oh, you know what I mean, Phronsie. I want to be good so that Polly will say she likes it. Well, come on now, get your horrible old—I mean, your dolls, and—”
“I wish very much you wouldn't call them dolls, Alexia,” said Phronsie, not offering to sit down; “they are my children, and I don't think they like to be called anything else.”
“Well, they sha'n't hear it, then,” declared Alexia decidedly, “so get some of them, andbrush their hair, just as you were doing when I came in, and I'm going to read aloud to you out of one of your books, Phronsie.”
“Oh—oh!” Phronsie clapped her hands in glee. Next to Polly's stories, which of course she couldn't have now as Polly was at school, Phronsie dearly loved to be read to. But she suddenly grew very sober again.
“Are you sure you will like it, Alexia?” she asked, coming up to peer into Alexia's face.
“Yes, yes, Pet, to be sure I will,” cried Alexia, seizing her to half smother her with kisses. “Why, Phronsie, it will make me very happy indeed.”
“Well, if it will really make you happy, Alexia,” said Phronsie, smoothing down her pinafore in great satisfaction, “I will get my children.” And she ran over to the sofa, and came back with an armful.
“Now what book?” asked Alexia, forgetting whether her arm ached or not, and flying to her feet. “I'm going down to your bookshelf to get it.”
“Oh Alexia,” cried Phronsie in great excitement, “will you—could you get 'The Little Yellow Duck'?”
As this was the book Phronsie invariably chose when asked what she wanted read, Alexia laughed and spun off, perfectly astonished to find that the world was not all as blue as an indigo bag. And when she came back two steps at a time up the stairs, Phronsie was smiling away, and humming softly to herself, while the hair-brushing was going on.
“She had a blue ribbon on yesterday—Almira did,” said Phronsie, reflecting. “Now, wouldn't you put on a pink one to-day, Alexia?”
“I surely should,” decided Alexia—“that pretty pale pink one that Polly gave you last, Phronsie.”
“I am so very glad you said that one,” said Phronsie, running over on happy feet for her ribbon-basket, “because I do love that ribbon very much, Alexia.”
“Well, now then,” said Alexia, as Phronsie began to tie up the pink bow laboriously, “we must hurry and begin, or we never shall see what happened to this 'Little Yellow Duck.'”
“Oh, do hurry, Alexia,” begged Phronsie, as if she hadn't heard the story on an average of half a dozen times a week. So Alexia propped herself up against the wall, and began, and presentlyit was so still that all any one could hear was the turning of the leaves and the ticking of the little French clock on the mantel.
“Well, dear me, how funny!” and Polly rushed in; then burst into a merry laugh.
“Polly Pepper—you home!” Alexia tossed “The Little Yellow Duck” half across the room, flew to her feet again, and spun Polly round and round with her well hand.
“Yes,” said Polly, “I am, and I've been searching for you two all over this house.”
“Take me, Polly, do.” Phronsie laid down Almira carefully on the carpet, and hurried over to Polly.
“I guess I will. Now then, all together!” and the three spun off until out of breath.
“Oh dear me!” Polly stopped suddenly. “I never thought of your arm, Alexia. Oh, do you suppose we've hurt it?” It was so very dreadful to think of, that all the color deserted her cheek.
“Nonsense, no!” declared Alexia, “that spin put new life into me, Polly.”
“Well, I don't know,” said Polly critically; “at any rate, we mustn't do it any more. And we must tell Papa-Doctor about it as soon as he gets home.”
“Oh, what good is it to worry him?” cried Alexia carelessly. “Well, Polly, tell all the news about school,” as they hurried downstairs to get ready for luncheon.
“We must tell Papa-Doctor everything about it, Alexia,” said Polly in her most decided fashion, putting her arm carefully around Alexia's waist; and with Phronsie hanging to the other hand, down they went, Polly retailing the last bit of school news fresh that day.
“And, oh, Alexia, Miss Salisbury said we are not to have the picnic until you get quite well; she said so in the big schoolroom, before us all.”
“Did she, Polly?” cried Alexia, immensely gratified.
“Yes, she did.” Polly stood on her tiptoes at the imminent danger of going on her nose, and pulling the other's down, to get a kiss on the long sallow cheek. “She said it very distinctly, Alexia, and all the girls talked about it afterward.”
“Well, she's a dear old thing,” exclaimed Alexia, with remorseful little pangs at the memory of certain episodes at the “Salisbury School,” “and I shall try—oh, Polly, I'll try so hard to be nice and please her.”
Polly gave her two or three little pats on her back.
“And don't you think,” cried Polly, flying off to brush her hair, and calling back through the open door, “that the boys are going to have their club meet with ours. Just think of that!”
“Oh Polly!” Alexia came flying in, brush in hand. “Youdon'treally mean it!”
“I do. Jasper just told me so. Well, hurry, Alexia, else we'll be late,” warned Polly, brushing away vigorously. “Yes, Phronsie,”—for Phronsie had gone off for Jane to put on a clean apron,—“we're ready now—that is, almost.”
“When—when?” Polly could hear Alexia frantically asking, as she rushed back into her room, which was next to Polly's own.
“Oh, just as soon as you are able,” called Polly. “Now don't ask any more questions, Alexia,” she begged merrily. “Yes, Mamsie, we're coming!”
That afternoon, Percy and Joel were rushing back to school from an errand down to the village, and hurrying along with an awful feeling that the half-past-five bell in the big tower on the playground would strike in a minute.
“Hold on,” called Percy, considerably in the rear; “how you get over the ground, Joe!”
“And you're such a snail,” observed Joel pleasantly. Nevertheless he paused.
“What's that?” pricking up his ears.
“I don't hear anything.” Percy came up panting.
“Of course not, when you're puffing like a grampus.”
“What's a grampus?” asked Percy irritably.
“I don't know,” said Joel honestly.
“Well, I wouldn't say words I didn't know what they meant,” said Percy in a patronizing tone, and trying not to realize that he was very hot.
“Well, do keep still, will you!” roared Joel. “There, there it is again.” He stooped down, and peered within a hedge. “Something's crying in here.”
“You'll get your eyes scratched out, most likely, by an old, cross cat,” suggested Percy.
Joel, who cared very little for that or any warning, was now on his knees. “Oh whickets!” he exclaimed, dragging out a small yellow dog, who, instead of struggling, wormed himself all up against his rescuer, whining pitifully.
“He's hurt,” declared Joel, tossing back his stubby locks, and patting the dog, who stopped whining, and licked him all over, as much of his face and hands as he could reach.
“Oh, that dirty thing—faugh! How can you, Joel Pepper!” cried Percy in distress.
But Joel didn't even hear him, being occupied in setting the dog on the ground to try his paces.
“No, he's not hurt, after all, I guess,” he decided, “but look at his ribs,—he's half starved.”
“I don't want to look at them,” said Percy, turning his back, “and you ought to let him alone; that bell will ring in half a second, Joel Pepper!”
“True enough!” cried Joel. “Come on, Perky,” this being the school name of the older Whitney, and he picked up the dog, and shot off.
“What are you going to do with that dog?” yelled Percy after him. But as well talk to the wind, as Joel arrived hot and breathless at the big door long before him.
Luckily for him, none of the boys were about; and Joel, cramming the dog well under his jacket, plunged up the stairs, and down the hall to his room.
“Joe!” roared two or three voices; but heturned a deaf ear, and got in safely; slammed to the door, and then drew a long breath.
“Whew!Almost caught that time,” was all he had the wind to say. “Well, now, it's good Dave isn't in, 'cause I can tell him slowly, and get him used to it.” All this time he was drawing out his dog from its place of refuge, and putting it first on the bed, then on the floor, to study it better.
It certainly was as far removed from being even a good-looking dog as possible. Having never in its life had the good fortune to hear its pedigree spoken of, it was simply an ill-favored cur that looked as if it had exchanged the back yard of a tenement house for the greater dangers of the open street. Its yellow neck was marked where a cruel cord had almost worn into the flesh, and every one of its ribs stuck out as Joel had said, till they insisted on being counted by a strict observer.
Joel threw his arms around the beast. “Oh dear!” he groaned, “you're starved to death. What have I got to give you?” He wrinkled his forehead in great distress. “Oh goody!” He snatched the dog up, and bore him to the closet, then pulled down a box from the shelf above.“Mamsie's cake—how prime!” And not stopping to cut a piece, he broke off a goodly wedge. “Now then, get in with you,” and he thrust him deep into one corner, cramming the cake up to his nose. “Stay there on my side, and don't get over on Dave's shoes.Whee!”
The dog, in seizing the cake, had taken Joel's thumb as well.
“Let go there,” cried Joel; “well, you can't swallow my thumb,” as the cake disappeared in one lump; and he gave a sigh for the plums with which Mamsie always liberally supplied the school cakes, now disappearing so fast, as much as for the nip he had received.
The dog turned his black, beady eyes sharply for more cake. When he saw that it wasn't coming, he licked Joel's thumb; and in his cramped quarters on top of a heap of shoes and various other things not exactly classified, he tried hard to wag his stump of a tail.
“Whickets! there goes that bell! Now see here, don't you dare to stir for your life! You've got to stay in this closet till to-morrow—then I'll see what to do for you. Lie down, I tell you.”
There was a small scuffle; and then the dog,realizing here was a master, curled himself on top of some tennis shoes, and looked as if he held his breath.
“All right,” said Joel, with an approving pat. “Now don't you yip, even if Dave opens this door.” Then he shut it carefully, and rushed off down to the long dining-room to the crowd of boys.
Joel ate his supper as rapidly as possible, lost to the chatter going on around him. He imagined, in his feverishness, that he heard faint “yaps” every now and then; and he almost expected to see everybody lay down knife and fork.
“What's the matter with you?” He was aroused by seeing the boy next to him lean forward to peer into his face. And in a minute he was conscious that on the other side he was just as much of an object of attention. He buried his face in his glass of milk; but when he took it out, they were staring still the same.
“Ugh! stop your looking at me,” growled Joel.
“What's the matter with you, anyway?” asked the other boy.
“Get away—nothing,” said Joel crossly, and bestowing as much of a kick as he dared on the other boy's shin.
“Ow! There is too.”
“You're awfully funny,” said the first boy, “you haven't spoken a word since you sat down.”
“Well, I ain't going to talk, if I don't want to,” declared Joel. “Do stop, Fletcher; everybody's looking.”
But Fletcher wouldn't stop, and Joel had the satisfaction of seeing the whole table, with the under-teacher, Mr. Harrow, at the head, making him, between their mouthfuls, the centre of observation. The only alleviation of this misery was that Percy was at another table, and with his back to him.
David looked across in a worried way. “Are you sick, Joe?” he asked.
“No.” Joel laughed, and began to eat busily. When he saw that, David gave a sigh of relief.
Mr. Harrow was telling something just then that seemed of more than common interest, and the boys, hearing Joel laugh once more, turned off to listen. “Yes,” said the under-teacher, “it was a dog that was—”
“Ugh!” cried Joel. “Oh, beg pardon,” and his face grew dreadfully red, as he tried to get as small as possible on his chair.
“It's a dog I used to own, Joel,” said Mr.Harrow, smiling at him. “And I taught him tricks, several quite remarkable ones.”
“Yes, sir,” mumbled Joel, taking a big bite of his biscuit; and for the next quarter of an hour he was safe, as the funny stories lasted till back went the chairs, and the evening meal was over.
To say that Joel's life was an easy one till bedtime, would be very far from the truth. Strange to say, David did not go to the closet once. To be sure, there was a narrow escape that made Joel's heart leap to his mouth.
“Let's have Mamsie's cake, Joe, to-night,” said David in an aside to him. The room was full of boys; it was just before study hour, and how to tell David of the dog, was racking Joe's powers of mind.
“Ugh!—no, not to-night, Dave.” He was so very decided that although David was puzzled at his manner, he gave it up without a question. And then came study hour when all the boys must be down in “Long Hall,” and Joel lingered behind the others. “I'll be down in a minute.” He flew over to the closet, broke off another generous wedge of Mamsie's cake, stifling a second sigh as he thought of the plums. “You haven't eaten my half yet,” he said as the dog swallowedit whole without winking. “Keep still now.” He slammed to the door again, and was off, his books under his arm.
And after the two boys went up to bed, David was too tired and sleepy to talk, and hopped into his bed so quickly that long before Joel was undressed he was off to dreamland.
“That's good,—now I haven't got to tell him till morning.” Joel went over to the other bed in the corner, and listened to the regular breathing, then tiptoed softly off to the closet, first putting out the light. “I know what I'm going to do.” He got down on all-fours, and put his hand out softly over the pile of shoes, till he felt the dog's mangy back. “I'm going to take you in my bed; you'll smother in here. Now, sir!” The dog was ready enough to be quiet, only occupied in licking Joel's hands. So Joel jumped into his bed, carrying his charge, and huddled down under the clothes.
After being quite sure that he was really to remain in this paradise, the dog began to turn around and around to find exactly the best position in which to settle down for the night. This took him so long, interrupted as the process was with so many lickings of Joel's brown face,that it looked as if neither would get very much sleep that night; Joel, not averse to this lengthy operation, hugging his dog and patting him, to his complete demoralization just as he was about to quiet down.
At last even Joel was tired, and his eyes drooped. “Now go to sleep”—with a final pat—“I'm going to call you Sinbad.” Joel, having always been mightily taken with Sinbad the Sailor, felt that no other name could be quite good enough for his new treasure. And Sinbad, realizing that a call to repose had actually been given, curled up, in as round a ball as he could, under Joel's chin, and both were soon sound asleep.
It was near the middle of the night. Joel had been dreaming of his old menagerie and circus he had once in the little brown house, in which there were not only trained dogs who could do the most wonderful things,—strange to say, now they were all of them yellow, and had stumpy tails,—but animals and reptiles of the most delightful variety, never seen in any other show on earth; when a noise, that at once suggested a boy screaming “Ow!” struck upon his ear, and brought him bolt upright in his bed. He pawed wildly around, but Sinbad was nowhere to be found.
Top
The whole dormitory was in an uproar. “Ow!help—help!” Mr. Harrow, having gone out after dinner, had retired late, and was now sound asleep, so another instructor scaled the stairs, getting there long before Mrs. Fox, the matron, could put in an appearance.
In the babel, it was somewhat difficult to locate the boy who had screamed out. At last, “In there, Farnham's room,” cried several voices at once.
“Nightmare, I suppose,” said the instructor to himself, dashing in.
But it was a real thing he soon saw, as a knot of boys huddled around the bed, where the terrified occupant still sat, drawing up his knees to his chin, and screaming all sorts of things, in which “wild beast” and “cold nose” was all that could be distinguished.
JUST THEN SOMETHING SKIMMED OUT FROM THE CORNER.JUST THEN SOMETHING SKIMMED OUT FROM THE CORNER.
“Stop this noise!” commanded the instructor, who had none of Mr. Harrow's pleasant but decided ways for quelling an incipient riot. So they bawled on, the boy in bed yelling that he wouldn't be left alone.
Just then something skimmed out from the corner; the boys flew to one side, showing a tendency to find the door. Even the instructor jumped. Then he bethought himself to light the gas, which brought out the fact that there certainly was an animal in the room, as they could hear it now under the bed.
“Boys, be quiet. Mrs. Fox's cat has got up here, probably,” said the instructor. But the boy in the bed protested that it wasn't a cat that had waked him up by thrusting a cold nose in his face, and jumping on top of him. And he huddled worse than ever now that it was under him; yet afraid to step out on the floor.
Even the instructor did not offer to look under the bed, when Joel Pepper rushed in, his black eyes gleaming. “Oh, it's my dog!” he cried.
“It's Joe Pepper's dog!” cried the whole roomful, nearly tumbling over each other.
“And when did you begin to keep a dog, Joel Pepper?” hurled the instructor at him, too angry for anything, that he hadn't impressed the boys with his courage.
But Joel was occupied in ramming his body under the bed as far as possible. “Here, Sinbad,” and he presently emerged with a very red face, and Sinbad safely in his arms, who seemed perfectly delighted to get into his old refuge again. David had now joined the group, as much aghast as every other spectator.
“Do you hear me, Joel Pepper?” thundered the instructor again. “When did you get that dog?” This brought Joel to.
“Oh, I haven't had him long, sir,” he said, and trembling for Sinbad, as he felt in every fibre of his being that the beast's fate was sealed, unless he could win over the irritated teacher. “He's a poor dog I—I found, sir,” wishing he could think of the right words, and knowing that every word he uttered only made matters worse.
“David,” cried the instructor, catching Davie's eye, down by the door, “do you know anything about this dog?”
“No, sir,” said David, all in a tremble, and wishing he could say something to help Joel out.
“Well, now, you wait a minute.” The instructor, feeling that here was a chance to impress the boys with his executive ability, looked about over the table where Farnham's schoolbookswere thrown. “Got a bit of string? No—oh, yes. “He pounced on a piece, and came over to Joel and the dog.
“What are you going to do, sir?” Joel hung to Sinbad with a tighter grip than ever.
“Never mind; it's not for you to question me,” said the instructor, with great authority.
But Joel edged away. Visions of being expelled from Dr. Marks' school swam before his eyes, and he turned very white.
David plunged through the crowd of boys, absolutely still with the excitement. “Oh Joel,” he begged hoarsely, “let Mr. Parr do as he wants to. Mamsie would say so.”
Joel turned at that. “Don't hurt him,” he begged. “Don't, please, Mr. Parr.”
“I shall not hurt him,” said Mr. Parr, putting the cord about the dog's neck, and holding the other end, after it was knotted fast. “I am going to tie him in the area till morning. Here you, sir,” as Sinbad showed lively intentions toward his captor's legs, with a backward glance at his late master.
“Oh, if you'll let me keep him in my room, Mr. Parr,” cried Joel, tumbling over to the instructor, who was executing a series of remarkable stepsas he dragged Sinbad off, “I'll—I'll be just as good—just till the morning, sir. Oh,please, Mr. Parr—I'll study, and get my lessons better, I truly will,” cried poor Joel, unable to promise anything more difficult of performance.
“You'll have to study better anyway, Joel Pepper,” said Mr. Parr grimly, as he and Sinbad disappeared down the stairway. “Every boy get back to his room,” was the parting command.
No need to tell Joel. He dashed through the ranks, and flung himself into his bed, dragged up the clothes well over his stubby head, and cried as if his heart would break.
“Joel—Joel—oh, Joey!” begged David hoarsely, and running to precipitate himself by his side. But Joel only burrowed deeper and sobbed on.
And Davie, trying to keep awake, to give possible comfort, at last tumbled asleep, when Joel with a flood of fresh sorrow rolled over as near to the wall as he could get, and tried to hold in his sobs.
As soon as he dared the next morning, Joel hopped over David still asleep, and out of bed; jumped into his clothes, and ran softly downstairs.There in the area was Sinbad, who had evidently concluded to make the best of it, and accept the situation, for he was curled up in as small a compass as possible, and was even attempting a little sleep.
“I won't let him see me,” said Joel to himself, “but as soon as Dr. Marks is up”—and he glanced over at the master's house for any sign of things beginning to move for the day—“and dressed, why, I'll go and ask him—” what, he didn't dare to say, for Joel hadn't been able, with all his thinking, to devise any plan whereby Sinbad could be saved.
“But perhaps Dr. Marks will know,” he kept thinking; and after a while the shades were drawn up at the red brick house across the yard, the housemaid came out to brush off the steps, and various other indications showed that the master was beginning to think of the new day and its duties.
Joel plunged across the yard. It was awful, he knew, to intrude at the master's house before breakfast. But by that time—oh, dreadful!—Sinbad would probably be beyond the help of any rescuing hand, for Mr. Parr would, without a doubt, deliver him to the garbage man to behauled off. And Joel, with no thought of consequences to himself, plunged recklessly on.
“Is Dr. Marks up?” he demanded of the housemaid, who only stared at him, and went on with her work of sweeping off the steps. “Is Dr. Marks up?” cried Joel, his black eyes flashing, and going halfway up.
“Yes; but what of it?” cried the housemaid airily, leaning on her broom a minute.
“Oh, I must see him,” cried Joel, bounding into the hall. It was such a cry of distress that it penetrated far within the house.
“Oh my! you outrageous boy!” exclaimed the housemaid, shaking her broom at him. “You come right out.”
Meantime a voice said, “What is it?” And there was Dr. Marks in dressing gown and slippers looking over the railing at the head of the stairs.
“Oh Dr. Marks, Dr. Marks!” Joel, not giving himself time to think, dashed over the stairs, to look up into the face under the iron-gray hair.
The master could scarcely conceal his amazement, but he made a brave effort at self-control.
“Why, Pepper!” he exclaimed, and there was a good deal of displeasure in face and manner; somuch so that Joel's knees knocked smartly together, and everything swam before his eyes.
“Well, what did you want to see me for, Pepper?” Dr. Marks was inquiring, so Joel blurted out, “A dog, sir.”
“Adog?” repeated Dr. Marks, and now he showed his amazement and displeasure as well. “And is this what you have interrupted me to say, at this unseasonable hour, Joel Pepper?”
“Oh!” cried Joel, and then he broke right down, and went flat on the stairs, crying as if his heart would break. And Mrs. Marks threw on her pretty blue wrapper in a dreadful tremor, and rushed out with restoratives; and the housemaid who shook her broom at Joel, ran on remorseful feet for a glass of water, and the master's whole house was in a ferment. But Dr. Marks waved them all aside. “The boy needs nothing,” he said. “Come, Joel.” He took his hand, all grimy and streaked, and looked at his poor, swollen eyelids and nose, over which the tears were still falling, and in a minute he had him in his own private study, with the door shut.
When he emerged a quarter-hour after, Joel was actually smiling. He had hold of the master's hand, and clutched in his other fist was a note,somewhat changed in appearance from its immaculate condition when delivered by Dr. Marks to the bearer.
“Yes, sir,” Joel was saying, “I'll do it all just as you say, sir.” And he ran like lightning across the yard.
The note put into the instructor's hand, made him change countenance more than once in the course of its reading. It simply said, for it was very short, that the dog was to be delivered to Joel Pepper, who was to bring it to the master's house; and although there wasn't a line or even a word to show any disapproval of his course, Mr. Parr felt, as he set about obeying it, as if somehow he had made a little mistake somewhere.
All Joel thought of, however, was to get possession of Sinbad. And when once he had the cord in his hand, he untied it with trembling fingers, Sinbad, in his transport, hampering the operation dreadfully by bobbing his head about in his violent efforts to lick Joel's face and hands, for he had about given up in despair the idea of ever seeing him again.
“He's glad to go, isn't he, Joel?” observed the instructor, to break the ice, and make conversation.
But no such effort was necessary, for Joel looked up brightly. “Isn't he, sir? Now say good-bye.” At last the string was loose, and dangling to the hook in the area wall, and Joel held the dog up, and stuck out his paw.
“Good-bye,” said Mr. Parr, laughing as he took it, and quite relieved to find that relations were not strained after all, as Joel, hugging his dog, sped hastily across the yard again to the master's house.
Dr. Marks never told how very ugly he found the dog, but, summoning the man who kept his garden and lawn in order, he consigned Sinbad to his care, with another note.
“Now, Joel,” he said, “you know this payment comes every week out of your allowance for this dog's keeping, eh? It is clearly understood, Joel?”
“Oh, yes, sir—yes!” shouted Joel.
“Perhaps we'll be able to find a good home for him. Well, good-bye, Sinbad,” said the master, as Sinbad, with the gardener's hand over his eyes, so that he could not see Joel, was marched off, Dr. Marks from the veranda charging that the note be delivered and read before leaving the dog.
“Oh, I'm going to take him home at vacation,” announced Joel decidedly.
“Indeed! Well, now, perhaps your grandfather won't care for him; you must not count too much upon it, my boy.” All the control in the world could not keep the master from smiling now.
“Oh, I guess he will.” Joel was in no wise disturbed by the doubt.
“Well, run along to breakfast with you, Pepper,” cried Dr. Marks good-humoredly, “and the next time you come over to see me, don't bring any more dogs.”
So Joel, in high good spirits, and thinking how he would soon run down to the little old cobbler's where the master had sent the dog, chased off across the yard once more, and slipped in to breakfast with a terrible appetite, and a manner as if nothing especial had happened the preceding night.
And all the boys rubbed their eyes, particularly as Joel and Mr. Parr seemed to be on the best of terms. And once when something was said about a dog by Mr. Harrow, who hadn't heard anything of the midnight tumult in the dormitory, and was for continuing the account ofhis trained pet, the other under-teacher and Joel Pepper indulged in smiles and nods perfectly mystifying to all the other people at the table, David included.
David, when he woke up, which was quite late, to find Joel gone, had been terribly frightened. But chancing to look out of the window, he saw him racing across the yard, and watching closely, he discovered that he had something in his arms, and that he turned in to the master's house.
“I can't do anything now,” said Davie to himself in the greatest distress; yet somehow when he came to think of it, it seemed to be with a great deal of hope since Dr. Marks was to be appealed to. And when breakfast-time came, and with it Joel so blithe and hungry, David fell to on his own breakfast with a fine appetite.