CHAPTER XX.FIRE!
“MISS PEPPER,” Mrs. Livingston Bayley called sweetly but insistently as Phronsie hurried by.
“I cannot stop now,” said Phronsie.
Mrs. Bayley reserved her anger, and picked up her novel, until her husband sauntered up. Then she turned on him furiously from her steamer-chair.
“Livingston,” she said, forgetting to drawl, “it is perfectly preposterous in Phronsie Pepper to go on so. I don’t see what Mr. King is thinking of to allow it.”
“Oh, I don’t have anything to do with Phronsie Pepper,” declared Mr. Bayley, in a very bad temper, and sitting down, after carefully adjusting the creases along his trousers legs, “don’t you know; so what is the use of pitching into a fellow, Celestine.”
“In all our conversation, I have observed you are always very cross if I allude to the Peppers in any way. It is extremely uncomfortable for me, Livingston, to have you assume such an attitude toward me.”
“Now, Celestine,” said Mr. Bayley, rolling a fresh cigarette“Now, Celestine,” said Mr. Bayley, rolling a fresh cigarette, “the Peppers are perfectly well able to take care of themselves.”
“Now, Celestine,” said Mr. Bayley, rolling a fresh cigarette, “the Peppers are perfectly well able to take care of themselves.”
“Now, Celestine,” said Mr. Bayley, rolling a fresh cigarette, “the Peppers are perfectly well able to take care of themselves.”
Mr. Bayley said something way down in histhroat, and got out of his steamer-chair for a turn or two on deck.
“Now, Celestine,” he said, coming back and rolling a fresh cigarette as he stood over her, “I want you to understand, once for all, that I’m not going to be drawn into collision with the Peppers, don’t you know. They are perfectly well able to take care of themselves; and I wouldn’t advise you to try it on, either.”
“She has no mother with her, or”—
“And you’ll be a mother to her. Celestine, that’s too good, don’t you know. Ha, ha, ha!”
“Your mirth is always as ill-timed as your other attempts at ideas,” remarked his wife angrily. “I repeat, Phronsie Pepper has no mother with her to advise her.”
“But she has old Mr. King; and he’s just the very—well, if you want to tackle him, go ahead.”
“I certainly shall speak to her,” said Mrs. Bayley with dignity.
“And when the old man gets through with you, perhaps you’d like to try your hand on her brother, Joel Pepper. But I don’t believe you will, Celestine, I give you my word for it.”
He tossed that cigarette overboard, it not having been rolled to suit him, and began on another.
“To think of that girl, with her beauty and advantages, taking up with a miserable old dowdy of a woman whom nobody knows a thing about, and spending all her time on her.”
“When she might be with you,” cut in Mr. Bayley, getting into his steamer-chair again, and leaning his elbows on his knees to assist him through his arduous labor.
“When she might be with me,” repeated Celestine calmly; “think what I could be to that girl,” she added complacently, and playing with her rings.
“She isn’t awake to those immense advantages,” observed her husband; “that is, don’t appear to be.”
“Well, I’ll make her, then,” declared Mrs. Bayley, setting her teeth hard together.
Mr. Bayley laughed softly to himself.
“Hush! here she comes,” said Mrs. Bayley under her breath. “O Miss Phronsie!” she smiled sweetly on her.
“Did you want to see me?” asked Phronsie. “I beg your pardon for not stopping.”
Mr. Bayley got out of his steamer-chair, and pressed it upon her elaborately. “Do sit down, Miss Phronsie,” begged his wife cordially.
“Thank you,” said Phronsie, “but I cannot, Mrs. Bayley.”
“You never give me any of your time,” said that lady, calling to her aid a reproachful look, an expression that had always brought down other victims, “and you know I have some claim upon you, as my husband is an old friend of your family.” She hadn’t meant to say this when she began, but for some unaccountable reason her supply of words seemed to give out.
As this required no answer, Phronsie did not give any, but remained silent, standing by the steamer-chair.
“You have sufficient time fornewfriends,” said the lady with emphasis; “I have seen you with an old woman on the deck several times the last two days.”
“She needs me,” said Phronsie quietly; “she is all alone.”
“Well, that is just it,” exclaimed Mrs. Bayley eagerly, welcoming her chance; and throwing back her head, she said rapidly, “do you knowI don’t think it is wise to take up with that old thing. Nobody knows who she is, and it’s an awful bore for you—wastes your time and all that. Now, let me give you a piece of advice, Miss Phronsie.”
“Thank you,” said Phronsie; “but my Grandpapa is here, you know, and my brother,” she did not finish, “to whom I can apply for advice.”
Mrs. Bayley colored angrily. “But they are men, and they don’t think. Now, there are some very desirable people on board here, and Mr. Bayley and I could put you in the way of making some of the best of friends—the very best.”
Mr. Bayley made a sudden movement, and said something to his wife of which “don’t you know” was all that came to the surface.
“And at any rate,” hurried on Mrs. Bayley, as she saw Phronsie’s face, “you might amuse me. I am awfullydesolée, Miss Pepper, and don’t know what to do with myself.”
Phronsie instinctively glanced at Mr. Bayley.
“Oh, he is no good!” exclaimed his wife petulantly; “all he thinks of is his cigarettes, and how soon he will be ashore to get to the horse-races.”
“Thank you,” said Livingston Bayley with abow, “much obliged, I’m sure. Miss Pepper, don’t look shocked; it’s all right, don’t you know, I’m quite used to it, only I didn’t think she’d ring up the curtain for your benefit.” And as Phronsie made her excuses and went back, he said, “Well, that’s number one, Celestine. Wonder if you’ll try it again, don’t you know;” and strolled off.
Phronsie was back, tucking up the steamer-rug over the thin little figure in the chair marked “Miss Pepper.” “Now,” she said gayly, “you are all comfortable, you are sure, Mrs. Benson?”
“Indeed, deary, I couldn’t be more so,” said the little old lady gratefully. “And now, don’t you stay with me any more, but just go and enjoy yourself. I saw you talking with some of your fine friends just now, and you’ve left them to come to me. And it worries me, Miss Pepper.”
“I do not want to go back,” said Phronsie; “and they are no special friends of ours.”
Joel came up just then, and brought a steamer-chair for Phronsie, and put her in it. He smiled at her and at old Mrs. Benson, but Phronsie looked up in his face quickly. “Joel,” she exclaimed as he bent over her, “what is it? Is Grandpapa all right?”
“Yes indeed; right and sound as a nut,” he said quickly. “He’s deep in his book, and won’t stir for an hour you may depend.”
Phronsie leaned back in her chair only half-satisfied, as Joel gave her another smile and hurried off.
He didn’t appear at dinner; and Grandpapa, who always ate his three meals a day on shipboard, and knew that Joel did the same, thought it odd. “Ah, Joel’s knocked over,” he said with a laugh, “now we’ll take him down, Phronsie, for being a poor sailor.”
Phronsie glanced across at his vacant place with a sigh; but she smiled cheerily to the old gentleman, and the meal went on, old Mr. King being in the best of spirits, and the life of the captain’s table.
At nightfall, as little Mrs. Benson slipped off to her stateroom, Phronsie parted with her at the door. “Now I know, deary, the Lord means me to see my old home once more. Seems as if I could smell the green grass;” she grasped the young girl’s hands eagerly, and there was a world of longing in her quiet eyes. “O Miss Pepper! there’s no grass like the green grass of old England,and there’s no sun like the sun that shines over old England. I’ve been hungry for it, dear,” her voice sank to a happy whisper; “but now I’m almost there.”
“Yes,” said Phronsie, happy in the other’s happiness, and feeling a little of her own dreadful load of suspense lifted; “we shall be in port day after to-morrow if all goes well.”
“Only one more day after to-morrow,” said the little old lady with a sudden cry of joy, “and I shall see my two boys. Praise the Lord! Well, will you kiss me good-night, deary, and forgive an old woman for keeping you standing so long?”
Phronsie bent over, and laid her fresh young lips on the withered cheek.
“Good-night, deary; and the Lord give you all you want.”
Phronsie went back to stay with Grandpapa on deck. It was a beautiful night, and he wanted nothing so much as to pace up and down proudly with her on his arm. “It passes my mind where Joel is,” he said after a little pause. “He’s not in his stateroom; I went there after dinner. Sly dog! I suppose he’s working off his seasickness somewhere, and hopes to keep it from us. Butwe’ll take the wind out of Master Joel’s sails—eh, Phronsie;” and he chuckled at the delight in prospect over laughing at Joel’s boast that he’d never been seasick in his life, “and nothing can make me seasick, sir!”
Bless the Lord, Phronsie“Bless the Lord, Phronsie,” he lifted his sea-cap reverently, “we’re almost there.”
“Bless the Lord, Phronsie,” he lifted his sea-cap reverently, “we’re almost there.”
“Bless the Lord, Phronsie,” he lifted his sea-cap reverently, “we’re almost there.”
“And now, child, I can’t say how thankful I am we’re nearly across. It’s been the longest voyage; can’t help but be, when one is anxious to have it over. But bless the Lord, Phronsie,” he lifted his sea-cap reverently and looked out into thebeautiful night, “we’re almost there. And, my child,” here he pressed Phronsie’s arm tenderly, “I can’t tell you how I feel, to see you bearing with the old man all these days, after what I’ve caused you. Oh, I can’t, Phronsie!” His voice broke, and Phronsie could feel the thrill that went all over him.
“Grandpapa,” she begged, and made him look into her face. “Why, how can you,” she cried brightly, “when we’re almost there? And you’ve borne up so well, Grandpapa dear.”
“To be sure—to be sure!” exclaimed the old gentleman, pulling up his stately figure to its greatest height; “well, where do you suppose that rascal Joel is?”
It was a good two hours after when Grandpapa said, “Good-night, dear,” and kissed her. Phronsie threw on her steamer-cloak, and sat down in her stateroom to wait for—she knew not what. But she must see Joel some way.
“I cannot ring for the steward, for Grandpapa will then hear me in the next room. O Joey, Joey! But I know he’s not sick,” went on Phronsie to herself—“by the way, he looked as if he didn’t want me to question him.”
Suddenly there came a little knock, and in an instant Joel was in the stateroom. Phronsie started to her feet, and took his hands.
“O Joey!” she cried, trying not to scream; for his face was black with grime, and drawn and haggard. “There, there, don’t try to tell me what has happened,” as he laid his head on her arm.
“Oh! I’ve tried my best—we all have,” said Joel with a convulsive effort, and raising his head, his face working dreadfully; “but it’s gained on us—the ship’s on fire, Phronsie! Hush! we can keep it from Grandpapa a little longer, maybe till morning. O Phronsie!” He held her so closely that she could scarcely breathe. “It broke out in the cotton waste this morning—must have been smouldering some time.”
“You have been helping?” asked Phronsie, as he paused unable to utter another word.
“Yes; took a hand at the pumps,” said Joel, thinking it unnecessary to relate that he had been at them ever since.
“Oh, my poor boy!” cried Phronsie, taking his face in her hands. “Joel, Mamsie would be glad.”
“Phronsie, I’m going back. It can be kept under, I think, from the worst, till morning. The people must not know, for all of us would be lost then in the row they’d make.” He was whispering hoarsely, and Phronsie laid her hand over his mouth, “Hush, dear, I know,” she said.
“There are life-preservers in your rooms,” Joel glanced quickly at hers, “and you know how to get them on if anythingsuddenlyshould happen?”
“Yes, Joey dear.”
“But I shall be back to you—never fear about that.”
“Yes, Joey.”