"He's got his trousers' pockets just _full_ of something!" exclaimed
Pete Laslie.
"And he's watching, _watching_!" put in another. "Didn't you see him
sitting off there by himself looking at us while we played ball?"
"Spying!" hissed Luke Musgrove over Billy Hastings's shoulder.
The children started and looked about apprehensively. Luke's words
always carried weight by reason of the fact that he had been two years
in the third grade and ought to know what he was talking about if he
didn't.
"Yes," chimed in Billy, coming close to Louise again and speaking in
his most dramatic tone. "Just you dare to draw a deep breath, and
he'll tell the Kaiser on you!"
Louise gasped--a short, a curtailed little gasp. Never till the Great
War should be over would she breathe from her diaphragm again!
"Oh-o-o-o, _Louise_!" from round-eyed Tinsie Willis.
"_What?_"
"You've left your book-satchel out there in the path! Just suppose he
were to come by and see it!"
There was a moment of consternation, of wild chattering, in which
everybody poked his head out to see, but nobody would venture far
enough to get the incriminating satchel.
Then Tommie Warren had an inspiration. Snatching a crooked-handle
umbrella from Ella Vaiden, he flung himself flat on the grass and
reached for the tell-tale satchel with the crook.
"It's a good thing Ella brought that umbrella!" exclaimed Tinsie. And
all looked at Ella, who stood up very straight in spite of the
low-dipping boughs. The next moment Louise had her beloved
book-satchel hugged close to her pounding heart.
"Sh-h-h!" suddenly came from a self-constituted sentinel.
"_What?_"
"_He's coming!_"
The crowd in the bushes stood tiptoe and breathless as the German spy
came down the hawthorn path.
He was a small lad--small for the third grade--with big blue eyes and
a shock of tawny hair. The Kaiser had not equipped him very well, for
there was a suggestion of poverty about his mended clothes. But, after
all, maybe those carefully darned places at his knees were only a part
of an adroit disguise. His pockets _were_ bulging, and with
knotty-looking somethings very suggestive of poorly concealed bombs.
He was not whistling, as a perfectly good American would have been,
but walked slowly and with his head down. It was very suspicious!
He passed.
"Let's get him now!" suggested Luke.
"Good!" exclaimed Billy. "Get some rocks!" And instantly all was
excitement, the uncensored noise of which reached the little German
and caused him to take to his heels.
In the confusion of the next few moments Louise scarcely realized what
they were about. But when they tore out of the bushes, snatching up
rocks as they went, and rushed after their flying prey, her heart
stood still. He was such a _little_ boy!
With the back of her hand pressed tight against the sobs that would
not be stifled, and with tears raining down her cheeks, the little
girl followed in the wake of the howling mob.
Then somebody rounded a hawthorn bush and came bang up against her. It
was Jimmie Fisher, a big, red-headed rock of strength, who could carry
lightly the heaviest book-satchels there were.
"What are you crying about?" he asked, after his first quick survey of
her.
"They--they are killing Rudolph Kreisler!" sobbed Louise.
"No," assured Jimmie, "he'll get home free. He lives just across
there. Are these your books?"
* * * * *
The next day matters only grew worse.
The whole atmosphere of the third grade had become electric with
suspicion of a certain little boy who, looking neither to right nor to
left, kept his wistful blue eyes bent on the task before him. When
Rudolph stood up at the singing of the Star-Spangled Banner, Luke
growled out that he was "just pretending." And when, from his seat
near the door, the German lad answered the knock of a visitor, Ella
Vaiden whispered audibly:
"See _that_? He wants to see _who's there_!"
In recitation Rudolph answered the questions put to him with
despicable German efficiency, but Luke missed with conspicuous
patriotism and went noisily foot.
But through it all Louise was doing her own thinking. She was a loyal
little citizen and loved her country with all her heart; but there
flowed through her veins the blood of a long line of Americans who
had been just and fair. The little girl was afraid of German
spies--afraid for her country--and Rudolph Kreisler's pockets did
bulge ominously. If Rudolph Kreisler _was_ a German spy, why he would
have to be dealt with, of course.
But if he wasn't----?
Louise wished with all her heart that Miss Barclay, the teacher, would
suspect this terrible smothered tragedy that was being enacted within
her class. Of course one's teacher, like one's mother, could solve
every problem; and Miss Barclay in particular could command the storms
of childhood to be still. If only Miss Barclay knew!
But in third-grade ethics it was "dishonorable" to "tattle," so Louise
was compelled to hold her peace and think fast. There were recesses
ahead in which covertly cruel things might happen, and an after-school
walk through a lonely park from which a real _little_ boy might not
get home free. Something must be done.
At first recess the boys and girls were, as usual, separated in their
play, but Louise--observing from afar--saw that the little German sat
by himself on the steps, and watched the spirited ball-play of the
others with keen alertness. Yes, it was very suspicious.
Big recess brought with it an unusual privilege that day. The
third-grade boys and girls were to be allowed to mingle together and
on the front lawn, in order to keep them from under the feet of
certain workmen who were making excavations through the
school-grounds.
This was all very thrilling, for it was from a tall staff on the front
lawn that their beautiful new flag was floating, and to-day they would
be able to see it close--to touch the pole with their very hands!
Then, too, it would be so remarkable to play with _boys_.
Louise pondered it all as the third-grade girls filed down to their
lunch-room. Rudolph Kreisler was not there, of course, but Rudolph
would be with them among the other boys at play-time. She would then
be able to watch him narrowly--to keep an eye on those bulging pockets.
All the other girls were chattering over their lunch, but Louise drank
her milk and ate her sandwich in thoughtful silence.
Presently a hand was laid upon her heavy curls and she looked up with
a start. The principal was smiling down at her.
"What are you thinking of, little tragedy queen?" he asked.
Louise blushed and tried vainly to reply.
The teacher serving the sandwiches answered the principal.
"Of 'the impossibility of all things,'" she said with a curious
sidewise smile.
The principal put his hand under Louise's chin and, tilting her head
back, looked deep into her eyes.
"You must run and play a great deal," he said, and passed on.
Then, when the last sandwich had gone the way of all good sandwiches,
they repaired to the front lawn.
It was all so wonderful--so green and cool and stately-looking. And
there, sure enough, was the great new flag, curling and uncurling in
the fitful wind--'way up against the sky!
The boys were already out on the green when the little girls were
marched down the steps and disbanded among them to enjoy the most
unusual privilege of joining in their games. Then, all suddenly a
great awkwardness came down upon the girls. How was one to play with
boys at recess? Of course _after school_ it came natural enough to
mingle with them, but this was not "after school"! It was most
embarrassing.
Louise found herself timid in the chaperoned recess-presence of Jimmie
and Billy and Luke, and began to back away toward the steps.
"Look out!" shouted Billy suddenly.
Louise jumped to "look out." Behind her, on the bottom step, sat the
German spy. She had nearly backed into him!
In the face of danger, embarrassment dropped away. The next moment
Louise had fled back to her countrymen and was listening, excited, to
their eager whispers.
"Rudolph Kreisler sits by himself--always by himself. Isn't that funny?"
"Just look at him _now_!"
"See him watching the flag?"
"Get that gleam in his eye? Look, quick!"
"Old rascal! He got home free yesterday--but just you wait!"
And so they stood apart from him and whispered.
The German spy dug his toes in the sand a little longer, then rose and
moved a few steps farther up.
Then Ella Vaiden declared that they were wasting time, and proposed
that they begin a game.
But nobody knew what to play.
"I'll tell you!" exclaimed Louise. "Let's play 'Under the Flag.'"
"What's that?" asked several.
"Why--why--" began Louise, inventing the game as she proceeded, "it's
this way: you go stand under the flag and look up at it till the wind
blows it out straight--and--and then you make a wish. If the flag
floats wide till you have finished, your wish will come true."
All were interested at once, and the game began. The fitful,
boisterous wind took an active part and the play became spirited.
Tinsie Willis was the first to come "under the flag," but she was so
excited she forgot to wish till the broadly floating banner had
wrapped itself about its staff and her opportunity was gone.
Then everybody began talking at once, and Mamie Moore piped up: "I'm
going to wish for a pair of shiny-bug slippers!"
Louise was shocked, and quickly explained that when one wished under
the flag it must be for something serious and from the very depths of
one's heart.
"Sure," supported Jimmie of the red head. "You can wish for shiny-bug
slippers under an umbrella!"
But Mamie couldn't then think of anything more serious than the need
of gilt slippers, and was promptly ruled out till her imagination
should come to her assistance.
Several boys took turns next, but they were so noisy and boisterous
that they came near spoiling everything.
Then Flora Archer took her place. Flora was a thoughtful little girl
who carried around in her eyes a deep, deep something people never
understood. With her lips close to the flagpole, she whispered her
message to it, and all the while the beautiful banner streamed out to
its farthest length.
Flora came back without speaking, and the children looked at her in
curious silence. But when the others were noisily choosing times
again, Flora slipped her hand into Louise's and whispered:
"I wished for our soldiers to win in the war, but for them not to be
cruel when they do."
"Yours, Louise!" exclaimed somebody.
And before Louise had time to examine the depths of her heart to see
what it was she most desired, a half-dozen pair of friendly hands
pushed her forward. It was no time to hold back--to spoil the game.
Louise mounted the green knoll from which the great flagpole rose.
But she did not at once look up. Her glance had accidentally lighted
on the lonely figure on the steps, and was resting there for a moment
in startled contemplation.
He was such a _little_ boy, and he seemed so--apart! But one must make
no mistakes where one's country was involved. _Were_ his blue eyes
"gleaming" with vengeful purpose? Or were they only full--of shining
tears?
"Look up! Look up!" the children called.
Louise threw back her head--threw it back so far that the familiar
scene about her became lost to her view and she beheld nothing but the
vision above. Amid the battling tree tops and against a threatening
sky the flag of freedom streamed out in all its rippling glory--red
for the courage of American hearts, white for the purity of purpose
they should harbor, and blue for truth, like that higher, farther
heaven above the gathering clouds. Now rippling, now curling,
wreathing, snapping, and now--straight out, fronting the coming storm!
"Quick! Quick!" the children shouted, as Old Glory floated free.
Suddenly the child stretched up her hands. It was not a wish, but a
prayer, that her young heart sent up to her country's flag.
"Help me to--play fair!" she whispered.
Louise saw her comrades only mistily when she came down the green
knoll again toward them.
Then all became babel again.
"It's my time next!" exclaimed Luke Musgrove, shouldering forward.
"Who said so?" demanded another.
"_I_ said so," answered the big boy rudely, and he strode to his place
against the flagpole. "I wish," he began in a loud, strident voice,
and without waiting for the wind to come hurtling across the green, "I
wish _to wring the neck of that German spy_!"
All eyes were quickly turned from the flag to where a little wide-eyed
boy shrank back in terror against the steps.
"Glory be!" shouted Billy Hastings. "Teacher's gone in--let's drag
Rudolph under the flag!"
Instantly the flame of persecution swept them, and they started after
the alien lad.
But at the foot of the steps somebody blocked the way. Louise Carey
had flung herself between.
"It's not fair, and you _shan't_!" she cried.
The astonished mob wavered in indecision.
"'Not _fair_?'" echoed Luke with a jeer.
"No," stormed Louise. "We didn't _ask_ him to come under the flag, and
you shan't _make_ him do it!"
"We'll see about that--" began Luke.
"_That we will!_" put in Jimmie Fisher, but it was not to Louise that
he spoke. He was talking to Luke, and he planted himself protectingly
in front of Louise and the little German, and faced the third-grade
bully. Never before in her life had Louise realized how beautiful was
a shock of bristling red hair.
The third-grade bully was growling now, but in a decidedly lower key.
"Now, then"--Jimmie was speaking to Louise this time--"you are bossing
this game. Say what you want done with that--that--" and he looked at
the frightened Rudolph.
Louise glanced up at the flag. It was floating now--broad and free
enough to cover all who might come.
"I am going to _invite_ Rudolph to come under our flag," she said.
The children gasped as Louise held out her hand to the little alien.
"Won't you come and be American with us?" she asked kindly.
The boy drew back a moment while his blue eyes searched her face for
whatever hidden cruelty might lurk beneath its seeming sweetness. Then
he smiled--a timid, but trusting smile--and rising, took her extended
hand.
But Billy Hastings called jeeringly: "He's a sneak! He's just doing it
to pretend!"
"He knows I'd drag him if he didn't come!" exclaimed another.
"Coward! _Coward!_" yelled Luke. "You're afraid to refuse!"
And then, all suddenly, something in the German lad flamed up. He
snatched his hand from Louise's. He stood to his full height with
blazing eyes, and cried:
"It's a lie!"
The sound of the school-bell broke the startled quiet which followed
the alien's spirited revolt.
"_Please_," pleaded Louise, "don't mind them! You've time yet to come
under the flag."
But Rudolph stood indignant, immovable.
"Get to your lines, children," and the principal's call-bell was heard
tapping above on the porch.
A group of boys came suddenly together into a tight bunch.
"We'll fix him after school," Louise heard them threaten. And she knew
that Rudolph heard it, too--knew by the sudden whiteness which swept
over his face.
The next minute the boys and girls were drawn up in parallel lines
ready to march into the schoolhouse. Louise was at the end of her
line and Rudolph Kreisler was the last on the boys' row. They were
opposite each other.
"Eyes front--march!" came the command, and the lines moved forward
with one impulse.
"Eyes front!" But to save her life Louise could not help stealing a
sidelong glance at Rudolph.
To her horror she saw the little alien slip quietly behind a rose-bush
and drop out of sight into the bricked-up area which furnished
window-space for the basement.
With a flash Louise remembered that those windows communicated
directly with the engine-room, and that the engine-room was directly
under the third grade.
"Pay attention, Louise," came from the porch, and Louise's startled,
dark eyes were turned to the front again.
When the children were seated in their room it developed that Miss
Barclay had been temporarily called away, and that a scared-looking
girl from the teacher training-class was in charge of the third grade.
The new teacher did not miss Rudolph, but the children did, and there
was smothered excitement in consequence.
Louise, who had not breathed a word of what she knew, sat grasping her
desk with both hands. Rudolph Kreisler had refused to come under the
flag! Of course they had taunted him, but the stark fact remained that
he _had_ refused. And then no human being had ever seen inside those
bulging pockets. Rudolph Kreisler, bulging pockets and all, was in the
engine-room, right under their feet!
And then a new fear suddenly laid its grip upon her heart. Suppose
that German boy should do something to the flag! She tried to shift
her position so that she could see out of the window, but found it
impossible.
"Oh-o-o, teacher!" Louise jumped at the sound of excitement in the voice
from behind her, but quieted somewhat when she realized that it was
Tinsie Willis who spoke. "Louise has left her hat on the front lawn!"
"Louise, go and get your hat," said the substitute, looking all about
the room to see which one of the many little girls might be the one
reported.
Louise rose from her seat with fear and trembling and left the room.
But the first glimpse of the out-of-doors dispelled her great new
fear--her flag was still there!
The stately lawn looked vast and awe-inspiring now that one had to
face its darkly waving greens all alone, but Duty called. She had left
her hat by the flagpole, and she now went timidly up to get it. She
mounted the green knoll. She looked up.
To play fair--to play fair! And yet, one must be loyal. One couldn't
let German spies go around with their pockets--Rudolph Kreisler was in
the engine-room right now!
Louise's grandfather and his father's father had died for their
country--would they know, 'way up yonder in heaven, if she of their
own blood were to turn coward at the test?
It was too poignant a risk. Louise took hep young life in her hands.
Down the green knoll and around the rose-bush, and she dropped into
the brick area right by the window which opened from the engine-room.
It was raised.
The little girl peeped in, with her heart swelling till she thought she
would smother. There was black dust on the floor and black soot on the
walls. And there in the centre rose the huge black demon engine. But no
crouching enemy was to be seen anywhere--he was hiding, of course!
She slipped through the window, past the great silent engine, and came
face to face with Rudolph Kreisler.
The die was cast now.
"Tell me," demanded Louise, choking with excitement and fear, "are you
a--a _German spy_?"
"No," said the astonished boy, "_no_!"
"Well, what _are_ you, then?" There was no backing down now; she was
going to have it out with him.
"I wanted to be--American," he said, his lips threatening to quiver.
"I--I thought I was." And he looked away.
One must know the truth when one's country was at stake. Louise drew a
quick breath.
"Well, what are you doing with your pockets full of bombs, then?" she
forced herself to bring out.
The little boy turned toward her again, and began slowly to draw out
the contents of those suspicious pockets. A mitt, a top, two balls, a
kite-string, a chicken-foot, a gopher, nails of various lengths, some
tobacco tags, and a grimy stick of candy were laid one by one on the
janitor's tool-bench, and the German spy stood with his pockets turned
wrong side out.
But one must have the _whole_ truth.
"What are you doing with balls and mitts when you sit on the steps all
the time?" the little girl demanded, but with decidedly less asperity
this time.
"I thought maybe they'd--let me play, sometime." Something rolled down
his cheek and splashed on the front of his jacket.
"_Won't_ they let you play?" choked Louise, blinking hard to clear her
suddenly clouded vision.
The boy shook his head.
"Well, why doesn't your mamma come and scold the teacher about it?"
she demanded in indignant sympathy.
"I haven't any mamma."
"Oh-o-o! Well, you have a papa, haven't you? Why doesn't _he_ do
something?"
"Father says those who are born here don't know how awful it is to
have to choose----" then he stopped.
"Doesn't your father hate Germany?" the little girl asked.
"Why, no," said the boy.
"Does he love America?"
"Yes," said the boy.
"Well! Well!" exclaimed the little girl. Then--"Do you know, Rudolph,
I'm sorry for your papa!"
But Rudolph did not answer this time. He merely turned aside till his
face was hidden.
Suddenly a remembered something gripped Louise.
"Rudolph," she said, "if you _are_ American, why did you refuse to
come under the flag?"
"I--I was going to--but they called me a 'coward,' and said I was
afraid to refuse," he answered huskily.
Louise found herself batting very heavy lashes again.
"I am so glad I came to you," she said, "because I never would have
known that you are not a German spy if you hadn't told me!"
"Lou-i-i-se!"
The two started at the call--it was in Tinsie Willis's high-pitched
voice. Evidently she had been sent to find the truant.
"Sh-h-h!" exclaimed Louise to Rudolph. "They are after me for staying
out so long. I must go."
"Those steps yonder lead to the front hall," said the boy. "Go up that
way."
"But you must come, too!" Louise exclaimed.
"I can't," replied the miserable child. "The boys are fixing to fight
me. When school is over I'll slip out and go home."
"But why wait? Why don't you go now?" asked the little girl, a strange
uneasiness coming over her.
"The police will get me if I go out on the street during school
hours," answered he.
"Lou-i-i-se!"
"I'm going," whispered Louise to Rudolph, "but _don't_ let the boys
catch you! Miss Barclay has gone--and--and--_don't_ let them catch
you, Rudolph!"
The next moment she glided up the dark stairway and came out into the
big hall.
Jimmie Fisher was emerging from the third-grade cloaking-room with his
hat and books.
"Father's leaving for France with a hospital unit," he explained
hurriedly, "and mother sent for me to tell him good-by." Then he
darted away.
Miss Barclay gone! And Jimmie gone! Had God himself deserted the third
grade?
* * * * *
When Louise crept back into the schoolroom--ahead of Tinsie Willis,
who was still searching for her--she found things very troublous
indeed. The children were naughty and restless, and the substitute
was--a substitute! The whole class had been told to stay in, and
Louise was promptly included in the sentence as soon as her tardy
little face appeared in the doorway.
But she did not cry or fling herself about, for she knew she had
remained out of the room overtime. Of course it had been for a high
purpose, but that she could not explain, so she merely assented
courteously and slipped into her seat. Her grandfather and his
father's father had laid down their lives for the right--if she did
not succeed in living through that dreadful half-hour of punishment,
she would be but another of her race to die for a high cause.
Matters grew worse, and now the wind and the sky took a hand. The
great trees outside began to battle fiercely together, and the sky
frowned, darker and darker.
Suddenly Louise--looking out of the window--saw Perkins, the janitor,
hauling down the flag! Was the Houston Street School surrendering to
the Germans?
For one unworthy moment Louise suspected Rudolph Kreisler again. But
she instantly afterward reminded herself that he had told her with his
own lips he wished to be American.
Then the heavens opened and the floods came. It was a terrible,
terrible afternoon, but children and substitute managed somehow to
live through it, and after so long a time the gong sounded for the
dismissal of school.
The children of the other grades marched out. Tramp--tramp--it sounded
terribly like a host in retreat!
Then quiet!--with the third-graders sitting silent in their seats,
trying to calculate how many thousand years it would take for that
long clock-hand to move half-way round the dial again.
Louise began wondering at just what point Rudolph Kreisler would steal
out of his hiding and break for home. The rain had stopped, and she
hoped and believed that the little German would make good his escape
before the third grade had finished serving sentence.