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“Oh dear me!” exclaimed Clem. They were all on the cars—the early train—going home; the governess, a middle-aged person who looked after the younger Horne children and who was going in to her sister's to pass the night, taking care of the party. “Now I've got to sit up till all hours when I get home, to get my lessons.”
Polly Pepper gave a comfortable little wriggle under her coat. “Isn't it nice Mamsie makes me get my lessons the first thing, before I play!” she said to herself for about the fiftieth time.
“So have I,” cried Lucy Bennett, echoing Clem's words.
“Well, I can't,” cried Alexia with a flounce, “because my aunt won't let me sit up after nine o'clock; that is, to study. So I have to get up early in the morning. Oh dear!” with a grimace at the thought.
“So do I,” said Amy Garrett. “Dear me!and I'm just as sleepy in the morning as I can be.”
Alexia yawned at the very memory of it. “Well, don't let's talk of it,” she begged. “Seems as if Miss Salisbury's eyes were all over me now.”
“I have Miss Anstice to-morrow,” said Amy, “and it's the day for her black silk gown.”
“Horrors!” exclaimed Alexia; and, “How do you know she'll wear the black silk gown to-morrow, Amy?” from the other girls.
“Because she said Professor Mills from the Institute is to be there to-morrow,” said Amy. “He gives the art lecture to our class. And you know the black silk gown will surely go on.”
“There's no help for you, you poor child,” cried Alexia, exulting that she never would be gathered into Miss Anstice's class, and that she just hated art and all that sort of thing, despite the efforts of Miss Salisbury's younger sister to get her interested. “Yes, that black silk gown will surely be there. Look out now, Amy; all you girls will catch it.”
“Oh, I know it,” said Amy with a sigh. “How I do wish I never'd got into that class!”
“Well, you know I told you,” said Alexia provokingly;“you'd much better have taken my advice and kept out of her clutches.”
“I wish I had,” mourned Amy again.
“How Miss Anstice can be so horrid—she isn't a bit like Miss Salisbury,” said Alexia. “I don't see—”
“She isn't horrid,” began Polly.
“Oh Polly!”
“Well, not always,” said Polly.
“Well, she is anyway when she has company, and gets on that black silk gown; just as stiff and cross and perky and horrid as can be.”
“She wants you all to show off good,” said Alexia. “Well, I'm glad enough I'm not in any of her old classes. I just dote on Miss Salisbury.”
“Oh Alexia, you worry the life out of her almost,” said Sally.
“Can't help it if I do,” said Alexia sweetly. “I'm very fond of her. And as for Mademoiselle, she's a dear. Oh, I love Mademoiselle, too.”
“Well, she doesn't love you,” cried Clem viciously. “Dear me! fancy one of the teachers being fond of Alexia!”
“Oh, you needn't laugh,” said Alexia composedlyas the girls giggled; “every single one of those teachers would feel dreadfully if I left that school. They would really, and cry their eyes out.”
“And tear their hair, I suppose,” said Clem scornfully.
“Yes, and tear their—why, what in this world are we stopping for?” cried Alexia in one breath.
So everybody else wondered, as the train gradually slackened speed and came to a standstill. Everybody who was going in to town to the theatre or opera, began to look impatient at once.
“Oh dear!” cried the girls who were going to sit up to study, “now isn't this just as hateful as it can be?”
“I don't care,” said Alexia, settling comfortably back, “because I can't study much anyway, so I'd just as soon sit on this old train an hour.”
“Oh Alexia!” exclaimed Polly in dismay, with her heart full at the thought of Mamsie's distress, and that of dear Grandpapa and Jasper. Phronsie would be abed anyway by the time the early train was in, so she couldn't worry. But all the others—“Oh dear me!” she gasped.
“Don't look so, Polly,” said Alexia, “we'll start pretty soon, I guess.”
The governess, Miss Baker, came over from the opposite seat to stand in the aisle. “I think we'll start soon,” she said. But her eyes looked worried.
“What is it—oh, Miss Baker, what is the reason we're stopping?” cried two or three of the girls.
“I don't know,” said the governess.
A man coming in from outside, where a lot of gentlemen were pouring out of the cars to investigate, furnished the information.
“Driving wheel broken,” he said, being sparing of words.
“Oh, can't we go out to see?” cried Alexia, hopping out of her seat. “Come on,” and she was prancing down the aisle.
“No, indeed,” said Miss Baker in displeasure, “and do you come directly back,” she commanded.
“Oh dear me!” grumbled Alexia to Sally, who had tumbled out after her, “she's worse than Miss Anstice—stiff, precise old thing!” She came slowly back.
“That a young lady under my care,” said Miss Baker, lifting her black gloves in amazement, “should so far forget herself as to want to runout on that track with a lot of men! Iamastonished.”
“There's a girl out there,” said Alexia, sinking into her seat crossly, and peering over Polly Pepper's head.
“And there's another,” proclaimed Sally triumphantly.
“Well, if they've forgotten themselves so far as to go out there under such circumstances, I shall not let any young lady in my care do it,” said Miss Baker emphatically.
So, swallowing their disappointment at not being allowed to see all that presented itself, the girls settled back and made themselves as comfortable as possible. Meantime almost everybody else poured out of their car. But it seemed to Polly Pepper as if she never could keep still in all this world. And she clasped her hands tightly together and hoped nobody would speak to her just yet.
“Polly,”—Alexia gave a little push, as she leaned over,—“isn't it perfectly dreadful to be mewed up here in this way? Say, Polly, do talk.”
“Go right away, Alexia.” Polly gave a little flounce, and sat quite straight.
“Oh dear me!” exclaimed Alexia in astonishment, and falling back.
“And I wish you would let me alone,” cried Polly, quite aghast at herself, but unable to stop.
“Oh dear me!” Alexia kept saying quite faintly, and rolling her eyes.
“Well, I'm glad Polly has made you behave for once,” said Clem, who never could forgive Alexia for getting Polly so much to herself.
Alexia stopped saying, “Oh dear me!” and sat quite still. Just then Polly turned and saw her face.
“Oh Alexia!” she cried, flying at her, when an awful bump, and then another much worse, and then a grinding noise, perfectly terrible,—and everybody who was left in the car, went tumbling out of their seats.
“Oh, we're run into!” screamed half a dozen of the girls. Miss Baker, who had been standing in the aisle, was down in a heap on the floor.
“Oh, oh!” Polly had her arms around Alexia and was hugging her tightly. “Are you hurt?” as they wriggled out of the bunch of girls into which they had been precipitated, up to their feet.
“N—no,” Alexia, tried to say. Instead, she wobbled over, and laid her head on Polly's arm.
“Girls—girls—Miss Baker!” called Polly, not seeing that lady, in the confusion of the other passengers, staggering along the aisle, her bonnet knocked over her eyes, and a girl on either hand to help her along. “Clem—oh, somebody help me! Alexia is hurt.” But nobody heard in the general tumult.
“Oh dear! Alexia, do open your eyes,” begged Polly, quite gone now with distress. “And to think I was so cross to her!” And she turned quite white.
“Dear, dear Alexia,” she cried; and because there was nothing else to do, she leaned over and dropped a kiss on Alexia's long face, and two tears dropped down as well.
Alexia opened her eyes. “That's very nice, Polly,” she said, “do so some more.”
“Aren't you ashamed!” cried Polly, the rosy color coming back to her cheek. And then, remembering, she hugged Alexia tightly. “Oh, I'm so glad you're not hurt, Alexia, so very glad!” she cried gratefully.
“Ow!” exclaimed Alexia, shrinking back.
“Oh, now you are hurt,” cried Polly. “Oh Alexia!” And she turned very white again. “Tell me where it is.” And just then some ofthe girls rushed up with the news, corroborated by the other passengers, that the down express had run into them,—been signalled, but couldn't stop in time, etc., etc.,—till Polly thought she should go wild before the babel could be stopped. “Don't crowd around so,” she cried hoarsely. “Alexia is hurt.”
“Alexia?” The noise, as far as Miss Salisbury's girls were concerned, stopped at once; and at last the other passengers were made to understand how it was. And Alexia, quite faint now, but having sense enough to hang to Polly Pepper's hand, was laid across an improvised bed made of two seats, and a doctor who happened to be on the train, one of the party going in to the theatre, came up, and looked her over professionally.
“It's my arm,” said Alexia, opening her eyes again; “it was doubled up someway under me. Oh dear me! I'm so silly to faint.”
“You're not silly at all,” cried Polly warmly, and holding her well hand, while her eyes searched the doctor's face anxiously. “Oh, is it broken?” they asked, as plainly as possible.
“Not a bit of it,” said the doctor cheerfully, feeling it all over again to make quite sure, whileAlexia set her teeth together, trying not to show how very much it hurt. “It's badly strained,—the ligaments are;—but fortunately no bones are broken.”
“Oh dear!” groaned Alexia. “Now why can't it be broken?”
“Oh Alexia!” cried Polly. And now the tears that had been kept back, were rolling down her cheeks. “I'm so happy, I can't help it,” she said.
“And the very idea, Alexia Rhys,” exclaimed Clem, “to wish your arm had been broken!” and she gave a little shiver.
“It hurts just as much,” said Alexia, trying to sit up straight, and making an awful face, “so it might as well be. And I've never been in a railroad accident. But a sprained arm isn't anything to show; any baby can have that—oh dear me!”
“Well, you better lie still,” counselled Miss Baker tartly. “Dear me! I little thought when I took charge of you young ladies that any such thing would occur.”
“She acts as if she thought we did it on purpose,” said Alexia, turning her face over to hide it on Polly's arm again, and wishing her ownneedn't ache so dreadfully. “Oh dear! such a time as we've had, Polly Pepper, with those dreadful Briggses,—I mean Mrs. Briggs,—and now to be all banged up, and this cross old thing to see us home! And now I never'll be able to get through the term, 'cause I'll have to stay at home with this old arm, and aunt will scold.” She was quite out of breath with all her woes.
“Oh, yes, you will,” cried Polly reassuringly, “I'll run over every day, and study with you, Alexia. And you'll soon be all well again. Don't try to talk now, dear,” and she patted the poor cheeks, and smoothed her hair. All the while she was trying to keep down the worry over the home-circle who would be thrown into the greatest distress, she knew, if news of the accident should reach their ears.
“Can't somebody telephone them?” she cried; “Oh, Miss Baker”—the doctor had rushed off to other possible sufferers—“and tell them no one is hurt;—I mean seriously?”
“There is,” said the governess, quite calmly; “a man has been killed.”
“Oh dear!”
“A brakeman,” Miss Baker hastened to add. “Don't be frightened. None of the passengers.”
“Now I know he was brave, and trying to do something to save us,” cried Polly, with kindling eyes.
“Yes,” said a passenger, coming up to their group, “he was running back with a lantern to signal the train, and he slipped and fell, and the express went over him. But it stopped just in time for us.”
“Oh the poor, poor man!” Polly was quite gone by this time, and Alexia forgot her pain in trying to comfort her.
“But suppose he had children,” cried Polly, “just suppose it, Alexia.”
“I don't want to suppose it,” said Alexia, wriggling. “Ugh! you do say such uncomfortable things, Polly Pepper.”
“I know it.” Polly swallowed hard, and held Alexia's hand tighter than ever. “Well, I won't talk of it any more.”
The governess, who had moved away a bit, now came back with vexation plainly written all over her face. “I must go and see if there isn't some way to get a message to Grandpapa King, Alexia,” said Polly. “I'll be back as soon as I can.” She dropped a kiss on the nearest cheek.
“Don't be gone long,” begged Alexia.
“I will go with you,” said the governess, stepping off after her.
“Very well,” said Polly, going swiftly down the aisle, to see below the car steps a crowd of passengers all in a tumult, and vociferating angrily. In the midst of them, Polly saw the face of the doctor who had just fixed Alexia's arm.
“Oh sir,” she began.
He looked up, and caught sight of the brown eyes. “Is the little girl worse?” And he sprang over toward her.
Polly, not stopping to think how furious Alexia would be, who was quite the tallest of their set, to be designated as a little girl, made haste to say, “Oh no, sir; but oh, could you tell me how to let my grandpapa and my mother know we are safe? Could you, sir?” Poor Polly, who had held up so bravely, was clasping her hands tightly together, and the brown eyes were full of tears.
“Well, you see,” began the doctor, hating to disappoint her, “it's a difficult matter to get in communication with them at once. We are only five miles out, but—”
“Five miles?” echoed Polly. “Oh then, some one can go to the nearest station, and telephone, can't they, sir?”
“To be sure; and that's been done. But your family, little girl—how can we reach them?”
“Oh, I can run,” cried Polly happily, “to the station myself, sir,” and she began to clamber down the car steps.
“Come back,” commanded the governess, lifting her hands in horror. “I never heard of such a thing. The very idea! What would your grandfather, Mr. King, say to such a thing, Polly Pepper?”
“Mr. who?” cried the doctor. “Stay, little girl,” seizing her arm. “Mr. who?” he demanded, looking up to the governess on the car steps.
“Mr. Horatio King,” she replied with asperity, “and you'd better be occupied with something else, let me tell you, sir, instead of encouraging his granddaughter to run off on such a wild-goose errand as this.”
“I certainly shall take pleasure in performing the wild-goose errand myself,” he said. “Now Polly, I'll send the message; don't you worry,” and he sped off down the track.
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And then somebody rushed in, saying, “We've another locomotive; now we're going!” And everybody else who was outside hurried into the cars; the new propelling power was attached to the other end of the train, and after a deal of switching, there they were at last—off on the way home!
Polly gave a long breath of relief, and clasped Alexia's hand closely. “Oh, by this time they know at home it's all right,” she cried.
The doctor came smilingly down the aisle. “Well,” he nodded to Polly. “Yes, it's all right,” he said. “I must really call you Polly Pepper now, for I know your grandfather, and Dr. Fisher—well there! indeed I know him.”
“Do you?” cried Polly with blooming cheeks, well pleased to find a friend at such a time.
“Yes, indeed. I'm fortunate enough to meet him in hospital work. Now then, how is our little friend here?” He leaned over, and touched Alexia's arm lightly.
“Oh, I'm all right,” she said.
“That's good,” in a gratified tone. “Now keep plucky, and you'll get out of this finely.” Then he sat down on the arm of the seat, and told such a funny story that no one supposed it could be the home station when the train came to a standstill, and he was helping Alexia out.
“There now—drop Polly's hand, if you please,” the doctor was saying; “I'll assist you.”
“But I don't want to,” said Alexia, hanging to it for dear life. “I want Polly.”
“I presume so,” laughed the doctor, “but I think it's best for me to help you.” Miss Baker and all the girls crowded up in a bunch. “Easy there,” he said. “Don't hurry so; there's plenty of time.” And he got between them and Alexia's lame arm.
And there, down by the car steps—Polly could see him as he waited for the stream of passengers to get out—was Jasper, his eyes eagerly searching every face, with an impatience scarcely to be controlled. And back of him were Dr. Fisher's big glasses, shining as the little doctor pranced back and forth, unable to keep still.
“There they are—there they are!” Polly exclaimed. “Oh, if we could hurry and let themknow we're all right!” But they were wedged in so, there was nothing to do but to take their turn and let the passengers in front descend.
“Jasper—oh, Papa Fisher!” At last Polly was out on the platform where she stood on her tiptoes and waved her hand.
“Are you all right?” asked Jasper eagerly, craning his neck to see for himself.
“Yes—yes!” cried Polly. And then presently they had her on either hand! “Oh, help Alexia,” she cried, turning back.
Dr. Fisher took one look through his big glasses. “Well, well, Pennell,” he exclaimed, “you here?” and he skipped over to them.
“I really believe so,” laughed Dr. Pennell.
“Dear me!” Little Dr. Fisher glanced at Alexia quickly.
“Nothing but sprained,” the other doctor said quickly. “Still, it needs careful attention.”
And then it came out that Alexia's aunt had heard a chance word dropped about the accident, and had run down to Mr. King's in her distress, so she was there awaiting them; and the fathers and brothers of the rest of the “Salisbury girls” took off their charges, much to the relief of the governess. So presently Jasper had his party allsettled in the carriage, Dr. Pennell saying, “Well, I resign my responsibility about that arm to you, Dr. Fisher.” He lifted his hat, and was off.
“Oh, wait!” cried Polly in great distress as Thomas was just starting off with a dash, “I must speak to him.”
“Polly—what is it?” cried Jasper. “Wait, Thomas!” So Thomas pulled up.
“I must—I must,” declared Polly. Her foot was on the step, and she was soon out.
“I'll go with you,” said Jasper, as she sped down through the streams of people pouring along the platform, to thread her way after the tall figure, Jasper by her side. “Dr. Pennell—oh, please stop.”
“Hey?” The doctor pulled up in his brisk walk. “Oh dear me! what is it?”
“Will you please tell me—do you know who the poor man was who was killed?” she gasped.
“Oh Polly,” cried Jasper, “was there some one killed?”
“Yes, he was a brakeman, Polly,” said Dr. Pennell.
“Oh, I know—but where did he live?” cried Polly, “and had he any children?” all in one breath.
“A big family, I understand,” said the doctor gravely.
“Oh dear me!” exclaimed Polly with a sorry droop to the bright head, and clasping her hands, “could you, Dr. Pennell, tell me anything more?”
“That's all I know about the poor fellow,” said the doctor. “The conductor told me that.”
“I'll find out for you to-morrow, Polly,” said Jasper quickly; “I'll run down to the railroad office, and get all the news I can.”
“And I'll go with you,” said Polly, “for I most know Grandpapa will let me. He was so very good to us all—that poor man was,” she mourned.
“Yes, Polly, there's no doubt of that,” Dr. Pennell said abruptly. “You and I maybe wouldn't be standing here if it were not for him.”
Jasper shivered, and laid hold of Polly's arm. “Well now, run along and get home,” finished the doctor cheerily, “and look out for that plucky little friend of yours, and I'll try and find out, too, about that brakeman, and we'll talk the thing over.” So Polly and Jasper raced back again down over the platform, clambered into the carriage, and away they went home to Grandpapa and Mamsie!
And Alexia and her aunt staid all night. And after the whole story had been gone over and over, and Grandpapa had held Polly on his knee, all the time she was not in Mamsie's lap, and Alexia had had her poor arm taken care of, and all bandaged up, Dr. Fisher praising her for being so cool and patient, why then it was nearly eleven o'clock.
“Dear me! Polly,” cried Mother Fisher in dismay, looking over at the clock—they were all in the library, and all visitors had been denied—“the very idea! you children must get to bed.”
“Yes—or you won't be cool and patient to-morrow,” said Dr. Fisher decidedly, and patting Alexia's bandages. “Now run off, little girl, and we'll see you bright as a button in the morning.”
“I'm not cool and patient,” declared Alexia, abruptly pulling down, with her well hand, the little doctor till she could whisper in his ear. “Oh, aunt does fuss so—you can't think; I'm a raging wild animal.”
“Well, you haven't been raging to-night, Alexia,” said the little doctor, bursting out into a laugh.
“Oh, hush, do,” implored Alexia, who wasn't in the slightest degree afraid to speak her mind,least of all to Dr. Fisher, whom she liked immensely; “they'll all hear us,” she brought up in terror.
“What is it, Alexia?” cried her aunt from the sofa, where Dr. Fisher had asked her to be seated, as it was well across the room. “Oh, is she worse?” she exclaimed, hurrying over nervously.
“There, now, you see,” cried Alexia tragically, and sinking back in her chair; “everything's just as bad as can be now.”
“Not in the least, Miss Rhys,” the little doctor said in his cheeriest tones, “only Alexia and I had a little joke all by ourselves.” And as he waited coolly for the maiden lady to return to her seat, she soon found herself back there. Then he went over to Mamsie, and said something in a low tone.
“Yes, Adoniram.” Mother Fisher nodded over Polly's brown head. “She ought to have a good night's sleep.”
“Polly,” said Dr. Fisher, leaning over her, “it's just this: that aunt of Alexia's—she's a good enough sort of a woman, I suppose,” wrinkling his brows in perplexity to find the right words, “but she certainly does possess thefaculty to rile folks up remarkably well. She sets my teeth on edge; she does really, wife.” He brought out this confession honestly, although he hated professionally to say it. “And Alexia—well, you know, Polly, she ought to be kept quiet to-night. So your mother and I—we do, don't we, dear?” taking Mamsie's hand.
“We certainly do,” said Mrs. Fisher, not waiting for the whole story to be told, “think it's best for you to have Alexia with you to-night.”
“Oh, goody!” exclaimed Polly, sitting quite straight in Mamsie's lap.
“You are not to talk, Polly, you know,” said Dr. Fisher decidedly.
“Oh, we won't—we won't,” promised Polly faithfully.
“You can have the red room, Polly,” said Mamsie, “because of the two beds. And now, child, you must both hop off and get into them as soon as you can, or you'll be sick to-morrow.”
So Polly ran off to bid Grandpapa good night. And then as he held her in his arms, he said, “Well, now, Polly, you and Jasper and I will take that trip down to the railroad station to-morrow.”
“Oh, Grandpapa!” cried Polly, clasping her hands, while her cheeks turned rosy red, “I am so very glad. We can go right after school, can't we?”
“School? Oh, you won't go to school to-morrow,” said old Mr. King decidedly. “Yes, yes, Mrs. Fisher, in just a minute—Polly shall go to bed in a minute. No, no, Polly, after such an excitement, school isn't to be thought of for a day or two.”
“Perhaps she'll be all right in the morning, father,” Jasper hurried to say, at sight of Polly's face.
“Oh, I shall—I shall.” Polly flashed a bright glance athim. “Please, Grandpapa, let me go. I haven't been absent this year.”
“And it's so awfully hard to make up lessons,” said Jasper.
“Make up lessons? Well, you needn't make them up. Bless me! Such a scholar as you are, Polly, I guess you'll stand well enough at the end of the year, without any such trouble. Quite well enough,” he added with decision.
Polly's brown head drooped, despite her efforts to look bravely up into his face. “Good night, Grandpapa,” she said sadly, and was turning away.
“Oh bless me!” exclaimed old Mr. King hastily, “Polly, see here, my child, well—well, in the morning perhaps—dear me!—we can tell then whether it's best for you to go to school or not. Come, kiss me good night, again.”
So Polly ran back and gave him two or three kisses, and then raced off, Jasper having time to whisper at the door: “I most know, Polly, father'll let you go; I really and truly believe he will.”
“I believe so too,” cried Polly happily.
And sure enough, he did. For the next morning Polly ran down to breakfast as merry as a bee, brown eyes dancing, as if accidents were never to be thought of; and Grandpapa pinched her rosy cheek, and said: “Well, Polly, you've won! Off with you to school.” And Polly tucked her books under her arm, and raced off with Jasper, who always went to school with her as far as their paths went, turning off at the corner where she hurried off to Miss Salisbury's select school, to go to his own.
“Oh, here comes Polly Pepper!” The girls, some of them waiting for her at the big iron gate, raced down to meet her. “Oh Polly—Polly.” At that a group of girls on the stepsturned, and came flying up, too. “Oh, tell us all about the awful accident,” they screamed. “Tell, Polly, do.” They swarmed all over her.
“Give me the books,” and one girl seized them. “I'll carry them for you, Polly.”
“And, Polly, not one of the other girls that went out to Silvia Horne's is here this morning.”
“They may come yet,” said Polly; “it's not late.”
“Oh, I know; we came early to meet you; well, Silvia isn't here either.”
“Oh, she can't come, because of her cousin,” said Polly, “and——”
“Well, I don't care whether she ever comes,” declared Leslie Fyle. “I can't abide that Silvia Horne.”
“Nor I,” said another girl, “she's so full of her airs and graces, and always talking about her fine place at Edgewood. Oh dear me! I'm sick of Edgewood!”
A little disagreeable laugh went around.
“Oh, I'll tell you of the accident,” said Polly; “come, let's sit down on the steps; we've ten minutes yet.”
“Yes, do, do,” cried the girls. So they huddledup together on the big stone steps, Polly in the middle, and she told them the whole story as fast as she could. Meantime other girls hurrying to school, saw them from a distance, and broke into a run to get there in time.
And Polly gave Alexia's love all round, as she had been commissioned to do.
“We'll go up to your house to see her,” cried Leslie, “perhaps this afternoon.”
“Oh, no, you mustn't,” said Polly. “I'm dreadfully sorry, girls, but Papa Fisher says no one must come yet, till he sends word by me.”
“I thought you said Alexia was all right.”
“And if her arm isn't broken I should think we might see her,” said a big girl on the edge of the circle discontentedly. She had private reasons for wishing the interview as soon as possible, as she and Alexia had quarrelled the day before, and now it was quite best to ignore all differences, and make it up.
“But she's had a great strain, and Papa-Doctor says it isn't best,” repeated Polly very distinctly, “so we can't even think of it, Sarah.”
“Polly? is that Polly Pepper?” exclaimed a voice in the hall.
AND SHE TOLD THEM THE WHOLE STORY AS FAST AS SHE COULD.AND SHE TOLD THEM THE WHOLE STORY AS FAST AS SHE COULD.
“Oh, yes, Miss Anstice,” cried Polly, hopping up so quickly she nearly overthrew some of the bunch of girls.
Yes, she had on the black silk gown, and Polly fancied she could hear it crackle, it was so stiff, as Miss Anstice advanced primly.
“I hear that there was an accident, Polly Pepper, last night, which you and some of the other girls were in. Now, why did you not come and tell me or sister at once about it?”
“Oh dear me! do forgive me,” cried poor Polly, now seeing that she had done a very wrong thing not to have acquainted Miss Salisbury first with all the particulars. “I do hope you will forgive me, Miss Anstice,” she begged over again.
“I find it very difficult to overlook it, Polly,” said Miss Anstice, who was much disturbed by the note she held in her hand, just delivered, by which Professor Mills informed her he should be unable to deliver his address that morning before her art class. So she added with asperity, “It would have been quite the proper thing, and something that would naturally, I should suppose, suggest itself to a girl brought up as you have been, Polly, to come at once to the head of the school with the information.”
Polly, feeling that all this reflected on Mamsie and her home training, had yet nothing to do but to stand pale and quiet on the steps.
“She couldn't help it.” The big girl pushed her way into the inner circle. “We girls all just made her stop. My! Miss Anstice, it was just a mob here when we saw Polly coming.”
“Sarah Miller, you have nothing to say until I address you.” A little red spot was coming on either cheek as Miss Anstice turned angrily to the big girl. “And I shall at once report you to sister, for improper behavior.”
“Oh dear, dear! Well, I wish 'sister' would fire old black silk,” exclaimed a girl on the edge of the circle under her breath. “Look at her now. Isn't she a terror!” and then the big bell rang, and they all filed in.
“Now she won't let us have our picnic; she'll go against it every way she can,” cried a girl who was out of dangerous earshot. And the terror of this spread as they all scampered down the hall.
“Oh dear, dear! to think this should have happened on her black silk day!”
“No, we won't get it now, you may depend,” cried ever so many. And poor Polly, with all this added woe, to make her feel responsible forthe horrible beginning of the day, sank into her seat and leaned her head on her desk.
The picnic, celebrated as an annual holiday, was given by Miss Salisbury to the girls, if all had gone well in the school, and no transgressions of rules, or any misdemeanor, marred the term. Miss Anstice never had looked with favor on the institution, and the girls always felt that she went out of her way to spy possible insubordination among the scholars. So they strove not to get out of her good graces, observing special care when the “black silk days” came around.
On this unlucky day, everything seemed against them; and as Miss Anstice stalked off to sit upon the platform by “sister” for the opening exercises, the girls felt it was all up with them, and a general gloom fell upon the long schoolroom.
Miss Salisbury's gentle face was turned in surprise upon them as she scanned the faces. And then, the general exercises being over, the classes were called, and she and “sister” were left on the platform alone.
“Oh, now she's getting the whole thing!” groaned Leslie, looking back from the hall, to peer in. “Old black silk is giving it to her. Oh, I just hate Miss Anstice!”
“Sarah, why couldn't you have kept still?” cried another girl. “If you hadn't spoken, Miss Anstice would have gotten over it.”
“Well, I wasn't going to have Polly Pepper blamed,” said Sarah sturdily. “If you were willing to, I wasn't going to stand still and hear it, when it was our fault she told us first.”
“Oh, no, Sarah,” said Polly, “it surely was my own self that was to blame. I ought to have run in and told Miss Salisbury first. Well, now, girls, what shall I do? I've lost that picnic for you all, for I don't believe she will let us have it now.”
“No, she won't,” cried Leslie tragically; “of that you may be sure, Polly Pepper.”
Top
And that afternoon Polly kept back bad recollections of the gloomy morning at school as well as she could. She didn't let Alexia get the least bit of a hint about it, although how she ever escaped letting her find it out, she never could quite tell, but rattled on, all the messages the girls had sent, and every bit of school news she could think of.
“Were the other girls who went to Silvia's, at school?” asked Alexia suddenly, and twitching up her pillow to get higher in bed, for Dr. Fisher had said she mustn't get up this first day; and a hard piece of work Mother Fisher had had to keep the aunt out of the room.
“I wouldn't go in,” Mamsie would say; “Dr. Fisher doesn't wish her to be disturbed. To-morrow, Miss Rhys.” And it was all done so quietly that Alexia's aunt would find herself off down in the library again and busy with a book, very much to her own surprise.
“I'll shake 'em up,” Polly cried; and hopping off from the foot of the bed, she thumped the pillows, if not with a merry, at least with a vigorous hand. “There now,” crowding them in back of Alexia's restless head, “isn't that fine?”
“I should think it was,” exclaimed Alexia with a sigh of satisfaction, and giving her long figure a contented stretch; “you do know just the best things to do, Polly Pepper. Well, tell on. I suppose Amy Garrett is perfectly delighted to cut that old art lecture.”
“Oh, Professor Mills didn't come at all,” said Polly. That brought it all back about Miss Anstice, and her head drooped suddenly.
“Didn't come? oh dear!” And Alexia fell to laughing so, that she didn't notice Polly's face at all. But her aunt popping in, she became sober at once, and ran her head under the bedclothes.
“Oh, are you worse? is she, Polly?” cried Miss Rhys all in a flutter. “I heard her cry, I thought.”
“No, I was laughing,” said Alexia, pulling up her face red and shining. “Do go right away, aunt. Dr. Fisher said Polly was to tell me things.”
“Well, if you are not worse,” said her aunt, slowly turning away.
“No,” said Alexia. “Polly Pepper, do get up and shut that door,” she cried; “slam it, and lock it.”
“Oh, no,” said Polly, in dismay at the very thought, “I couldn't ever do that, Alexia.”
“Well, then I will.” Alexia threw back the bedclothes with a desperate hand, and thrust one foot out.
“If you do,” said Polly, not moving from where she sat on the foot of the bed, “I shall go out of this room, and not come back to-day.”
“Shall you really?” cried Alexia, fixing her pale eyes on her.
“Yes, indeed I shall,” said Polly firmly.
“Oh, then I'm not going.” Alexia drew in her foot, and huddled all the clothes up over her head. “Polly Pepper,” she said in muffled tones, “you're a perfectly dreadful creature, and if you'd gone and sprained your arm in a horrible old railway accident and were tied in bed, I'd do just everything you said, I would.”
“Oh, I hope you wouldn't,” said Polly.
“Hope I wouldn't!” screamed Alexia, flinging all the clothes away again to stare at Polly out of very wide eyes. “Whatever do you mean, Polly Pepper?”
“I hope you wouldn't do as I wanted you to,” said Polly distinctly, “if I wanted something that was bad.”
“Well, that's a very different thing,” mumbled Alexia. “Oh dear me!” She gave a grimace at a twinge of pain in her arm. “This isn't bad; I only wanted that door shut.”
“Oh now, Alexia, you've hurt your arm!” cried Polly; “do keep still, else Papa-Doctor won't let me stay in here.”
“Oh dear, dear! I'll keep still,” promised Alexia, making up her mind that horses shouldn't drag any expression of pain from her after that.
“I mean, do sit up straight against your pillows; you've got 'em all mussed up again,” cried Polly. So she hopped off from the bed, and thumped them into shape once more.
“I wish you'd turn 'em over,” said Alexia: “they're so hot on that side.” So Polly whisked over the pillows, and patted them straight, and Alexia sank back against them again.
“Wouldn't you like me to smooth your hair, Alexia?” asked Polly. “Mamsie does that to me when I don't feel good.”
“Yes, I should,” said Alexia, “like it very much indeed, Polly.”
So Polly, feeling quite happy, albeit the remembrance of the morning still lay deep in her mind, ran off for the brush and comb. “And I'm going to braid it all over,” she said with great satisfaction, “after I've rubbed your head.”
“Well, now tell on,” said Alexia, as Polly climbed up back of the pillows, and began to smooth the long light fluffs of hair, trying to do it just as Mamsie always did for her. “You say Professor Mills didn't come—oh dear! and think of that black silk gown wasted on the girls. Well, I suppose she was cross as two sticks because he didn't come, wasn't she, Polly? Oh dear me! well, I'm glad I wasn't there,” she hurried on, not waiting for a reply; “I'd rather be in with this old bundle”—she patted her bandages—“Oh Polly!” She started up so suddenly that the brush flew out of Polly's lap and spun away across the floor. “Take care,” said Polly, “oh, there goes the comb now,” and she skipped down, recovered the articles, and jumped up to her post again. “What is it, Alexia?”
“Why, I've just thought—you don't suppose Miss Salisbury will appoint the day for the picnic, do you, while my arm is lame?”
The color in Polly's cheeks went out, and shewas glad that she could get well behind the pillows.
“Oh, no, Alexia,” she made herself say, “we wouldn't ever in all this world have the picnic till you were well. How could you think it, Alexia?”
“I didn't believe you would,” cried Alexia, much gratified, and huddling down again, without once seeing Polly's face, “but most of the girls don't care about me, Polly, and they wouldn't mind.”
“Oh yes, they do,” said Polly reassuringly, “they're very fond of you, most of them are.”
“Well,” said Alexia, “I'm not fond of them, so I don't really expect them to be, Polly. But I shouldn't like 'em to go off and have that picnic when I couldn't go. Was anything said about it, Polly?” she asked abruptly.
“Miss Salisbury or Miss Anstice didn't say a word,” said Polly, trembling for the next question. Just then Mother Fisher looked in with a smile. “Polly, you are wanted,” she said. “Grandpapa and Jasper are ready to go to the railroad station. I'm going to stay with Alexia and finish her hair just as I do for Polly.”
Alexia looked up and smiled. It was nextbest to having Polly, to have Mrs. Fisher. So Polly, happy to have a respite from Alexia's questions about the picnic, and happier still to be going to find out something about the poor brakeman's family, flew off from the bed, set a kiss on Alexia's hot cheek, and another on Mamsie's, and raced off.
“I'm coming, Jasper,” she called. She could see him below in the wide hall.
“All right, don't hurry so, father isn't ready yet. Dear me! Polly, you can get ready so quickly for things!” he said admiringly. And, in the glow of starting, he couldn't see that Polly's spirits seemed at a low ebb, and he drew a long breath as he tried to make himself believe that what he had noticed at luncheon wasn't really so at all.
And Polly, between Grandpapa and Jasper, tried to make them have such a good time that really it seemed no walk at all, and they were all quite surprised when they found themselves there.
“We must go up into the superintendent's room,” said Mr. King. So up the long stairs they went, the old gentleman grumbling at every step because there was no elevator, and at allother matters and things that were, as he declared, “at loose ends in the whole system.” At last they stood before the desk.
“Have the goodness,” began old Mr. King to the official, a short, pompous person who came up in the absence of the superintendent and now turned a cold face up to them, “to give me some information regarding a brakeman who was killed last night in the accident to the train due here at 7.45.”
“Don't know anything about him,” said the official in the crispest accents. He looked as if he cared less, and was about to slam down the window, when Mr. King asked, “Does anybody in this office know?”
“Can't say.” The official pulled out his watch, compared it with the big clock on the wall, then turned away.
“Do any of you know who the man was who was killed last night?” asked the old gentleman, putting his face quite close to the window, and speaking in such clear, distinct tones that every clerk looked up.
Each man searched all the other faces. No, they didn't know; except one, a little, thin, weazen-faced person over in the corner, at a highdesk, copying. “I only know that his name was Jim,” he said in a voice to match his figure.
“Have the goodness to step this way, sir, and tell me what you do know,” said Mr. King in such a way that the little man, but with many glances for the pompous individual, slipped off from his high stool, to advance to the window rubbing his hands together deprecatingly. The other clerks all laid down their pens to see the interview.
“What was his name—this brakeman's?” demanded Mr. King.
“I don't know, sir,” said the little, thin clerk. “Jim—that was all I knew him by. I used to see him of a morning when I was coming to the office, and he was waiting to take his train. He was a steady fellow, Jim was,” he added, anxiously scanning the handsome face beneath the white hair.
“I don't doubt that,” said old Mr. King hastily. “I don't in the least doubt it.”
“And he wasn't given to drink, sir,” the little, thin clerk cried abruptly, “although some did say it who shouldn't; for there were many after Jim's place. He had an easy run. And——”
“Yes, yes; well, now what I want to know,”said Mr. King interrupting the stream, Polly and Jasper on either side having a hard time to control their impatience, “is where this 'Jim,' as you call him, lived, and what was his last name.”
“That I don't know, sir,” said the little, thin clerk. “I only know he had a family, for once in a while when I had a minute to spare he'd get to talking about 'em, when we met. Jim was awful fond of 'em; that any one could see.”
“Yes, well, now what would he say?” asked the old gentleman, trying to hurry matters along. The pompous official had his eye on the clock. It might go hard for the little, thin clerk in his seedy coat, if he took too much time from office hours.
“Why, he had one girl who was crazy about music,” said the little clerk, “and—”
“Oh dear me!” exclaimed Polly. Old Mr. King heard her sigh at his side, and he cried, “Well, what else?”
“Why, I've heard Jim say more'n once he'd live on bread and water if he could only give his daughter a chance. And there were his three boys.”
“Three boys,” echoed Mr. King sharply.
“Yes, sir. I saw 'em round the train once or twice; they were likely chaps, it seemed to me.” The little, thin clerk, a bachelor with several unmarried sisters on his hands for support, sighed deeply.
“Well, now,” cried Mr. King, thinking it quite time to bring the interview to a close, “I'd take it quite kindly if you'd find out for me all you can about this Jim. A member of my family was on the train last night, who but for this noble brakeman might—might—bless me! There is my card.” The old gentleman pulled out one from his cardcase, then fell to wiping his face violently.
“What is your name?” asked Jasper, seeing that his father couldn't speak.
“Hiram Potter,” said the little clerk. The pompous official drew near, and looked over his shoulder at the card. “Oh! why—Mr. King!” he cried, all the pomposity suddenly gone. “I beg your pardon; what can I do for you, sir?”
“Nothing whatever, sir.” Mr. King waved him away. “Well, now, Mr. Potter, if you'll be so very good as to get this information for me as soon as possible and bring it up to my house, I'll be very much indebted to you.” With a bowto him, in which the official was nowise included, the old gentleman and Polly and Jasper went off down the stairs again.
“Finkle, you're caught this time; you're in a hole,” the brother officials sang out when the card had been displayed around the office. “I wouldn't want to be in your shoes,” said more than one.
Finkle tried to brave out the dismay he felt at having offended the powerful millionaire railroad director, but he made but a poor show of it. Meanwhile the little, thin clerk, slipping the precious card into his seedy coat pocket, clambered up to his high stool, his mind busy with plans to unearth all possible information concerning Jim, the brakeman, as soon as the big clock up on the wall should let them out of the office.
“Polly, my dear,” old Mr. King kept saying, as they went down the stairs, and he held her hand very closely, “I think this Potter—a very good sort of a man he seems to be, too—will find out all we want to know about Jim. I really do, Polly; so we won't worry about it, child.”
Nevertheless, on top of all the rest that was worrying her, Polly had a sorry enough time,to keep her troubles from showing on her face. And after dinner, when the bell pealed violently, she gave a great start and turned quite pale.
Jasper saw it. “I don't believe it's any bad news, Polly,” he hastened to say reassuringly, and longing to comfort, though he couldn't imagine the reason.
“Oh, where's Polly?” She heard the girls' voices out in the hall, and ran out to meet them. “Oh dear me!” she cried at sight of their faces that confirmed her worst fears.
“Yes, oh Polly, it's just as I said,” cried Leslie Fyle, precipitating herself against Polly. “Now, girls, keep back; I'm going to tell her first.”
“Well, we are all going to tell too, Les; that's what we've come for,” cried the others, crowding up.
“Oh, what is it?” cried Polly, standing quite still, and feeling as if she never could hold up her head again now that the picnic was lost through her.
“I shall tell, myself,” declared Sarah bluntly. “I'm the one, it seems, that made all the trouble, so it really belongs to me, I should think, to be the first speaker.”
Polly folded her hands tightly together, while the babel went on, feeling that if she didn't hear the dreaded news soon, she should fly off to Mamsie.
“Miss Salisbury said—” She could hear little scraps of chatter.
“I know—oh, do hurry and tell Polly.”
“Oh, and just think, Miss Salisbury——”
“And Miss Anstice—” Then some of them looked around and into Polly's face. “Oh my goodness, girls, see Polly Pepper!”
With that they all rushed at her, and nobody told first, for they all shouted it out together: “Polly, Miss Salisbury has given us our picnic!” and “Polly, isn't it too splendid!” and “Polly Pepper, just think how perfectly elegant! Our picnic, Polly—only think!” till the circle in the library popped out their heads into the hall.
“Jasper,” cried Polly, deserting the bunch of “Salisbury girls,” to plunge up to him with shining eyes, “we're to have our picnic; we truly are, Jasper, and I thought I'd lost it to all the girls.”
And just then Johnson advanced down the length of the hall. “It's a person to see you, sir,” he said to old Mr. King,—“says it's quiteimportant, sir, and that you told him to come. He's sitting by the door, sir.”
“Oh, it's Mr. Potter, I think,” said the old gentleman; “show him into the library, Johnson. Polly, my child. Bless me! I don't see how you stand it with these girls chattering around you every minute. Now be off with you,” he cried gaily to the group. He was much pleased at the success of his plan to find out about the brakeman, of which he felt quite sure from the appearance so promptly of the little clerk. “I have something quite important for Polly to attend to now; and I really want her to myself once in a while.”
“Yes, I must go, girls,” said Polly, turning a blooming countenance on them; “so good night. We won't have the picnic, you know, till Alexia is well,” she added decidedly.
“Oh, that's what Miss Salisbury said,” cried Leslie, turning back. “You see, I saw her after school—went back for my history—and I was to tell you that, Polly; only Sarah spoilt it all.”
“Never mind,” said Polly brightly, “it's all right now, since we are really to have our picnic.” And then she put her hand in old Mr. King's,quite bubbling over with happiness,—Jasper, just as jubilant, since Polly was herself again, on the other side,—to go in and meet the little, thin clerk, scared at his surroundings, and perched on the extreme edge of a library chair.