CHAPTER XIXLAURIE IS CORNERED
The following afternoon saw the boys, minus Kewpie, escorting Polly and Mae to thePequot Queen. Mrs. Deane had begged off. One mustn’t expect all April days to be fine, and this particular day proved it. It had showered off and on during the forenoon, and now, at half-past three, the rain was coming down hard and fast. The girls wore rain-coats over their Sunday gowns, and Ned and Laurie were draped in colorful yellow oilskins. Bob, in an old Mackinaw jacket, huddled under the dripping eaves of one of the two umbrellas. It seemed a particularly long way to thePequot Queenunder these circumstances, and it was a rather bedraggled quintet that at last filed into the cabin. Once there, however, discomforts were forgotten. A fire in the stove defied the dampness of the outside world; a kettle sang cozily; the white light that entered the open windows flashed on polishedsurfaces; and the bowl of flowers on the table added a cheerful note of color. And then there was the little hostess, all smiles of welcome and concerned murmurs over dripping coats and wet skirts.
The coats were laid aside quickly, and the visitors found seats, Polly and Mae occupying the same arm-chair, since there were but five chairs in the cabin and not even Laurie would have thought of sitting on Miss Comfort’s immaculate blue and white spread! The lack of a sixth chair troubled Miss Comfort considerably. Bob pointed out that even had she possessed such a thing there wouldn’t have been room for it and some one would have had to sit out on deck! And Polly and Mae assured in chorus that they didn’tmindsitting together, not onebit.
Miss Comfort was brimming over with pride and happiness. Everything was too wonderful for words! And sleep— She held up her hands in something almost like consternation. Why, she hadn’t slept the way she had slept last night for years and years! She had had her supper late because she had been so busy fixing things up, and then she had sat at the window there fora long time watching the lights on the water and on the further shore; and suddenly she couldn’t keep her eyes open a minute longer, it had seemed, and she had gone to bed and fallen right to sleep and slept and slept!
“It was so wonderful lying there and listening to the water lapping against the boat that I tried my best to keep awake. But I couldn’t. And then this morning when I awoke there was a beautiful fog and I could hear bells sounding and now and then a great, deep fog-horn on some boat. It was perfect! From my bed I can look out of the windows and see the river, and when the sun came out for a little while, quite early, it was beautiful!”
“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Laurie. “For myself, I never cared much for fog-horns, but maybe the kind they have here are different. I’m awfully glad you slept so well, though, and—and like it.”
“Like it! Oh, Mr. Laurie, I can never, never thank you enough for finding this beautiful home for me!”
“Oh, that wasn’t anything,” muttered Laurie.
“Why, Laurie Turner,” exclaimed Polly, “it was wonderful! The rest of us might havepassed this boat a thousand times and never thought of making it into a—an apartment!”
“Please, Polly dear,” Miss Comfort protested, “not an apartment! I want it just what it is, a boat—my boat. You don’t think, do you”—she appealed to Laurie—“that it would do to change the name? Of course thePequot Queenis very pretty, but I would so like to call it after grandfather’s ship there.” Her gaze went to the oil-painting on the wall.
“Don’t see why not,” said Laurie. “All we’d have to do would be to paint out the old name. What was your grandfather’s ship called, ma’am?”
“TheLydia W. Frye,” replied Miss Comfort raptly. “He named her after my grandmother. She was one of the New Jersey Fryes.”
Laurie had a slight fit of coughing, which he recovered from so abruptly, when he encountered Ned’s scowl, that he nearly choked. “A nice name,” declared Ned sternly. “I’m sure we could change the letters on the bow.”
“Oh, now I don’t believe I’d want you to go to all that trouble,” said Miss Comfort. “I’ll just call it theLydia W. Fryeto myself, and thatwill do quite well. Now I’m going to give you some tea.”
There were some cookies and sweet crackers with it, and for these the hostess apologized. She hadn’t had time to do any baking yet, she explained, and Brose had got these at the store for her last evening. To-morrow, however, she was going to get to work, for she had several orders that just had to be filled at once. It was after the first cup of tea—and it did seem that Miss Comfort’s tea was very, very different from any other tea, tasting, as Ned put it, liketeainstead of leather—that Laurie looked inquiringly at his brother and Ned nodded and the twins arose and stood with their backs to the door. Then Ned bowed and announced: “Original poetical composition by the Turner Brothers entitled—”
He paused and looked at Laurie. “Whatisit entitled?” he demanded. Laurie shook his head.
“We forgot to entitle it.”
“Entitled,” continued Ned, “entitled ‘Ode.’”
Polly clapped delightedly, and Bob inquired facetiously, “How much?” The twins bowed in unison, and Ned recited the first line and Laurie the second, after which they again alternated.
“OPequot Queen, your stormy voyaging ’s o’er.No more you’ll brave the wave’s and wind’s discomfort.Here, nestled ’gainst a peaceful, kindly shore,You’re parlor, bedroom, bath for our Miss Comfort!”
“OPequot Queen, your stormy voyaging ’s o’er.No more you’ll brave the wave’s and wind’s discomfort.Here, nestled ’gainst a peaceful, kindly shore,You’re parlor, bedroom, bath for our Miss Comfort!”
“OPequot Queen, your stormy voyaging ’s o’er.
No more you’ll brave the wave’s and wind’s discomfort.
Here, nestled ’gainst a peaceful, kindly shore,
You’re parlor, bedroom, bath for our Miss Comfort!”
Applause was loud and prolonged. The twins bowed repeatedly, their hands on their hearts, their eyes languishing gratitude on the appreciative audience.
“Why,” exclaimed Miss Comfort, with the tone of one making a surprising discovery, “it was poetry!”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Laurie defensively, “but we warned you!”
Miss Comfort looked a trifle puzzled until Polly laughingly assured her that she mustn’t mind Laurie, that he was always saying silly things. Whereupon the little lady said disapprovingly: “You mustn’t say that, Polly. I’m sure Mr. Laurie isn’tsilly. Sometimes I don’t quite understand him, my dear, but I’m sure he isn’tsilly!”
“You’re a perfect dear!” replied Polly rapturously.
Laurie had seized his cap and Mae’s umbrella.“Back in five minutes,” he said from the doorway.
“Hold on! Where are you going?” demanded Ned.
“Got to see Brose Wilkins a minute about—about something.”
“Well, make it peppy,” said Ned. “We’re not going to wait for you long, old son.”
Laurie’s five minutes was more like fifteen, but he returned at last and they said good-by and were almost on their way when Miss Comfort sent Laurie’s heart down toward his shoes. “Mr. Laurie,” she asked apologetically, “I wonder if you’d mind stopping in to see me for a minute to-morrow.”
“Why—why, no, ma’am,” stammered Laurie. “I’d be pleased to.” He exchanged meaning glances with Polly. Then Polly asked: “Why don’t you stay now, Laurie, if Miss Comfort would like you to? We’ll leave one of the umbrellas.”
Laurie viewed her in strong disapproval but accepted the situation. “I don’t need any umbrella, though,” he said sadly. “I’ve got my coat, and it isn’t raining so hard now.” He andMiss Comfort watched the others depart, and then she motioned to a chair.
“Won’t you sit down, please?” she asked. Laurie sat down, but on the extreme edge of the chair as though to lessen the space between him and the door. “You see,” Miss Comfort went on after a pause, “I’ve wanted to ask you ever since Wednesday how you were doing all this, but I didn’t like to when the others were around. Now I do wish you’d tell me, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Laurie gulped. “What—was it you wanted to know, ma’am?”
“Why, who has—has met the expense of all the changes and improvements you have made here, Mr. Laurie.”
“Oh,” said Laurie. “Oh! Well, you see, Miss Comfort, we haven’t done so much after all. Now, you take that hanging lamp. Mrs. Deane had that and wasn’t using it—”
“Yes, I know about the lamp,” interrupted Miss Comfort gently, “but there’s that sink and the awning and—and so many, many things.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Laurie glanced longingly at the doorway. “Well, now, you’d be surprised how little things like that cost. You take that stove-piping,Miss Comfort. Maybe you thought that was new pipe, but it wasn’t. It was second-hand. We just shined it up, you see!” Laurie waved an all-encompassing hand. “Same way with the other things—more or less.”
“That sink isn’t second hand, is it?” she asked.
“Well, no, ma’am, not the sink.” Laurie smiled engagingly. “But sinks aren’t expensive. I was surprised, honest, I was, ma’am, when we got the price on that! Why, seems like things don’t cost half what they did a couple of years ago!”
“Mr. Laurie,” said Miss Comfort firmly, sitting very straight in her chair and looking at him earnestly, “you shouldn’t try to deceive me. I know that you and the others have spent a great deal of money, and I’d feel horribly if I thought it was all yours. Now, please tell me.”
“Well—well, it’s like this. We did put in a few dollars, Miss Comfort, but not enough to mention, and we were so glad to do it that you oughtn’t to care a mite. Then—then two or three other folks, grown-ups, you understand, wanted to help out, and there was quite a good deal to be done, and so we took the money andpromised not to tell who’d given it. You see, Miss Comfort, they wanted to see you comfortable here. And they were folks who could afford to do it, you know. And so—well, that’s how it was,” Laurie concluded, observing Miss Comfort anxiously.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “If you promised not to divulge the names of the people who were so kind, I shan’t expect you to. After all—” But she stopped and was silent a moment. Then, “I’ve always said that I would never accept charity,” she went on musingly, “but—well, I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t any right to be proud. Then, somehow, this doesn’t seem so—so degrading. It seems more like—well, just kindness, don’t you think so?”
“Yes, I do,” agreed Laurie emphatically. “And that’s just what it is, ma’am.”
“I don’t feel about it as I would have a few years ago, anyhow,” said Miss Comfort thoughtfully. Then she smiled. “Thanks for telling me, Laurie. You don’t mind my calling you just that, do you? You’ve been so—so—Won’tyou have some more cookies?”
“No, ma’am, thank you.” Laurie felt thatafter going through the last few minutes he deserved a whole plate of cookies, but he resisted the temptation. Too many cookies weren’t good for a fellow who hoped—sometimes—to be a catcher!
He was so relieved at the outcome of the talk that he didn’t realize it was pouring harder than it had poured all day until he had turned into Ash Street. When he did, he gave up the idea of joining the others at the Widow’s and headed as straight as Orstead’s wandering streets would let him head for East Hall, arriving there extremely wet despite his oilskin coat. Sounds told him that many of the fellows had already returned, and at the head of the first flight he encountered Elk Thurston and his room-mate, Jim Hallock, coming down. Hallock said, “Hello, Nod,” and then Elk asked: “How’s the great pitcher coming on? Going to spring him on us pretty soon?”
Laurie said, “Not for another week or so, Elk,” and heard Elk laughing as he and Jim went down.
A little later, when Ned and Kewpie arrived in No. 16, Laurie held their undivided attention.
Monday morning and recitations once more. Monday afternoon and baseball practice again. Things went well on the field, for the candidates for the team had returned with renewed ambitions. Besides, there was a game with Benson High School two days later, and that was something to work for. Laurie managed to hit the ball on the nose every time he stood at the batting-net, and later on, in the five-inning practice game, he caught for an inning and, so far as he could discern, didn’t do so badly.
Back in No. 16 at half-past five, he found Kewpie awaiting him, Kewpie looking disheveled, weary, but triumphant. “I’ve got it!” he announced excitedly before Laurie was well through the door. “I’ve got the hang of it at last! That guy’s a corker, Nod, and he says I’ll know as much about it as he does in another month!”
“Restrain your enthusiasm, Kewpie,” urged Laurie. “No use telling the whole dormitory about it. These walls aren’t awfully thick, and I can hear Elk tramping around up-stairs like a hippopotamus right now.” But Laurie looked very much pleased and settled himself to hear Kewpie’s gladsome tidings. And when Ned camein a little later he heard them all over again, and after Kewpie had reluctantly torn himself away the twins agreed that, even allowing for a slight exaggeration of the facts as set forth by their late visitor, stock in the Association for the Reclamation of Kewpie Proudtree had advanced many points. The next afternoon the lady members of that association were also taken into the secret, and there was much rejoicing.
Polly and Mae learned the news at Bob’s tennis tea, for that long heralded affair was at last taking place. The court was finished and marked, the new creamy-white net was up, and, near at hand, a wicker table bore the paraphernalia of afternoon tea. Practice kept Laurie away until well after five, and Kewpie was missing for a time, too, but Ned and George Watson and Hop Kendrick and Hal Pringle and half a dozen other boys were there from the start. The gentler sex was represented by Polly, Mae, and Bob’s aunt, the latter presiding at the tea-table. Bob beat George Watson, 6 to 4, in an exhibition set, and then Mae and Hal Pringle played Polly and Hop Kendrick. After that there was tea and sandwiches and cake, and then Bob took on Hal andLee, and the set went to 9 to 7 before Bob finally broke through on Hop’s service and won. The court was all that Bob’s fondest hope had pictured. Mr. Starling arrived before the party broke up and went through three games with Mae to the delight of the audience, by that time swelled with the arrival of Kewpie and Laurie.
Benson won from Hillman’s the next afternoon, 13 to 7. The home team played rather ragged ball in the field, although the pitching of George Pemberton and Nate Beedle was satisfactory enough. Nate relieved Pemberton in the fifth inning, too late to prevent three runs that put the visitors well in the lead. Laurie saw the game from the bench, for Cas Bennett wore the mask from start to finish.
On Saturday afternoon Hillman’s met Tudor Hall School and played a much steadier game. The Blue dislodged the opposing pitcher in the third inning and put the game safely away with six runs. Later four more were added, and the total of ten was more than enough to win, even though Tudor Hall staged a rally in the first of the ninth and hit Croft, who had succeeded Pemberton in the seventh, to all corners of the fieldand got three runners across the plate before Pat Browne, in right field, pulled down a fly and ended the fracas. Again Laurie was a non-combatant, although Elk Thurston caught during the final two innings and behaved rather well during that hectic ninth.
The following afternoon Ned, as self-appointed secretary and treasurer, rendered an accounting of thePequot Queenfund, showing a balance in the treasury of $1.42. All bills had been paid, and the question of disposing of the balance came before the meeting. Kewpie’s suggestion was typical.
“Pay it to Miss Comfort,” he said, “and we’ll trade it out in cake!”
“It isn’t ours,” Ned reminded him sternly. “Besides it’s not for you to be thinking of cake, old dear.”
It was Polly’s suggestion that was finally adopted. They would give the vast sum to Brose Wilkins to be used for the purchase of flower-seeds for the boxes and beds. That momentous question settled, they set forth to call at thePequot Queen, or, as Laurie reminded them they should now call the boat, theLydia W. Frye.
April became May, and the Hillman’s School nine went on playing Wednesday and Saturday games, losing not quite as often as it won. Laurie twice donned the mask in contests and did as well, perhaps a bit better, than he had expected to. He did very well at receiving the ball from the pitcher, and he was remarkably steady at all times, but he was weak when it came to holding the runners on bases, his heaves to second being erratic, to say the least. At bat, however, he was improving fast, and when May was a fortnight old there was not much to choose between him and Elk Thurston as a catcher, although possibly the latter’s greater age and size inspired more confidence. Perhaps Coach Mulford thought so, for Elk was given more chances than Laurie behind the bat.
When Hillman’s went to play Benson, most of the school accompanied the team. Polly and Mae went, too, escorted by Ned and George Watson. Hillman’s won, but not until the tenth inning, and then by 3 to 2. Nate Beedle pitched fine ball that day. Hillman’s returned to Orstead tired but happy.
Just a week later Polly celebrated her sixteenthbirthday with a party attended by Mae, Ned, Bob, Kewpie, and, since the affair was held in the forenoon, Laurie. And, of course, Mrs. Deane was present. Miss Comfort had been invited and in lieu of her presence had provided a gorgeous birthday cake. Antoinette, wearing a new pink ribbon that exactly matched her pink nose and ears, and Towser, the cat, may also said to have attended. Polly received many presents and was very bright of eye and very happy.
The celebration continued in the afternoon when the entire party attended the game with Cole’s School, although, Laurie, of course, did not sit with the others in the stand but watched the nine tragic innings from the bench. Nate Beedle had a bad day; Croft, who succeeded him, was far worse; and Pemberton alone of the pitching staff showed any class. Pemberton got through the final two innings without allowing a hit, but the damage was already done. Cole’s won by the scandalous score of 16 to 3! Polly remarked, a trifle unreasonably, that she thought, since it was her birthday, Hillman’s might have won!
Rain caused the cancellation of the game withHighland the next Wednesday, and Laurie accompanied Kewpie on his mysterious pilgrimage to the home of Brose Wilkins. Those pilgrimages had been made daily, excepting Sunday for about a month now, and never once, rain or shine, had Kewpie sought to avoid them. Whatever it was that kept the two boys on the dilapidated Wilkins premises for more than an hour this Wednesday afternoon, it must have been something important, for the rain never ceased for a moment during that time, and, knowing Kewpie as we do, it seems fair to assume that only an important mission could have kept him from the snug window-seat of No. 15 East Hall on such a day.
Returning, their way took them within a few yards of thePequot Queen. The river beyond looked gray and sullen; the rain was falling steadily and remorselessly; the new paint of the transformed ferry boat gleamed with moisture. But from the smoke-pipe in the roof a cheerful trail of gray ascended, and at the windows the blue and white curtains shone cozily. Once they saw the small, erect form of Miss Comfort, white-aproned, pass a casement and, or so Kewpie solemnlyaverred, heard the sound of a faintly sung song. There was such an atmosphere of warmth and hominess and cheer about the quaint abode that Kewpie lagged noticeably and would have welcomed a suggestion from his companion that they stop a moment and say “Hello” to the occupant. But it was close to supper-time and Laurie went sternly on, refusing to notice Kewpie’s deep sigh.
They reached the entrance of the dormitory just as Ned got there. Ned carried his golf-bag and was very wet indeed. Laurie viewed him commiseratingly. “You poor forlorn fish,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve been playing golf a day like this!”
“Sure have,” answered Ned cheerfully. “Won, too. Had Peyton three up on the seventh, too, old son.”
“Well, you certainly are a nut! Didn’t either of you know it was raining?”
“Didn’t you?” countered Ned. “Look at your own shoes!”
“We,” replied Laurie with dignity, “were engaged in a sensible and important occupation, not merely amusing ourselves!”
“Were, eh?” Ned grinned. “What important part did you play in it?”
“I,” began Laurie, “contributed my—er—my—”
“He chased the ball,” chuckled Kewpie as he disappeared to No. 15.