and the other members of the household kept up all the delights of the
season, so far as it concerned people outside of their family. But when
all the little and big white-papered gifts for her began to pour into
the care of the butler who attended the door, they were carefully
deposited in a little room off from the main hall, set apart for the
purpose, there to lie untouched until "we have _our_ real Christmas,"
she said.
And as it was arranged with Polly's gifts, so it was to be the order of
proceedings in regard to the presents of every other member of the
family; till the little room seemed fit to burst with richness, and even
Hobson despaired of getting much more in.
"We'll have to get some other place, and that's true enough," he said to
himself, with a sigh, and dumping down a huge box just left at the door.
Joel, racing along the hall at the sound of the arrival, panted, "What
is it? Oh, Hobson, who is it for?" all in the same breath.
"Hold on, Master Joel!" cried Hobson, and feeling of his arm gingerly,
after the eager pinch from Joel's fingers. "Well, it was for you, if you
must know," he said irritably. "But you can't go in," twitching the door
in alarm, and trying to turn the key.
"Oh! I will too; it was mine!" cried Joel, very hot and red faced, and
struggling to squeeze by the portly figure of the butler. "You've no
right to put me out," he fumed.
"Mrs. Whitney gave me this key," said the butler, puffing from his
exertions to keep Joel off with one hand, and to adjust the implement in
its lock with the other. "And I, O bless me," as it slipped from his
fingers and jingled to the floor.
"There,--goody,--O jumbo!" exclaimed Joel, pouncing on it where it fell
on the edge of the rug, then he slipped away from the big hand, and,
prancing off, shook the key high in the air in derision. "Now I can go
in whenever I like. Whoop it up! Yes-sir-ee!"
Hobson, beyond answering, made a dive in his direction, which Joel
quickly eluded, and, the bell ringing again, there could be no further
attempt to rescue the key, and Joel danced off, chuckling triumphantly.
And hopping through the back drawing-room on a short cut across to the
side hall, he rushed up almost into the face of a big figure sitting up
in state on one of the high-backed carved chairs.
"O dear me!" exclaimed Joel, backing out summarily.
"I am very glad to see you, Joel," said Madam Van Ruypen, with her best
smile on, "for I'm going to wait until Mrs. Whitney gets home," and
extending her hand.
Joel, forgetting his key, put hand and all into her black glove.
"Dear me," she said, looking at her palm, "what have we here, Joel?"
"It's a key," blurted Joel, recovering it quickly, "and I can't stay,"
feeling questions in the air, and he was for bolting out again.
"Indeed, you will stay," declared Madam Van Ruypen, coolly; "a talk with
you is the very thing I want! Sit down," and she pointed a black-gloved
finger over to an opposite ottoman. And Joel sat down.
"Now, my dear boy," she said as sweetly as if she had come expressly to
see him, and was quite sure of her welcome, "before your aunt comes
home, I want to talk with you."
"Oh, I'll go and put it back," said Joel, supposing it was all about the
key, and beginning to slide off from his ottoman.
"Put what back?" demanded the old lady with sharp eyes full on him.
"The key," said Joel, fumbling it first in one set of fingers, then in
the other. "I'll--" and he was on his feet.
"Sit down," said Madam Van Ruypen, pointing to the ottoman, and again
Joel sat down with a decided conviction that he didn't like afternoon
calls; and he gazed anxiously at the door to see if by any chance Aunty
Whitney would appear.
"You see, Joel, I depend on you," Madam Van Ruypen was saying.
Joel, all his thoughts on the little room off from the hall, and the
desire which now possessed him to get back the key into the butler's
hands before he could go with his story to Mother Fisher, sat and swung
his feet in dismal silence, every word of the old lady's falling on
heedless ears.
At last she stopped short and surveyed him with smart displeasure.
"You haven't heard a word I've said," she declared sharply.
"No'm," said Joel, promptly; and, coming to himself with an awful
consciousness that here was something dreadful to add to the matter of
the key that now began to quite weigh him down, he stopped swinging his
feet and sat stiffly on the chair.
"Well, do you come straight here," she demanded; and somehow Joel found
himself off from his chair, and over by the old lady's side.
"No, not there; I want you in front where I can look at you," and she
summarily arranged him to her liking. "There you are! Now, Joel,"--she
surveyed him as long as it suited her, Joel not taking his black eyes
from her face,--"do you know what I want this talk with you for?"
"No'm," said Joel.
"Well, I'll tell you; listen, now."
"Yes'm," said Joel, gripping his key tighter than ever.
"You'd much better give me that key," said Madam Van Ruypen, with a
sudden sharp look down at his clenched hand; "you are not attending at
all to what I am saying, Joel."
"Oh, no, no," cried Joel, quite alarmed, and thrusting his fistful back
of him. "O dear! Let me go, ma'am, _please do_!"
Instead of this request being complied with, Madam Van Ruypen leaned
over and calmly laid a black glove on his hot little fist. "Give it to
me at once," she commanded; "I'll keep it for you until I've said my
say."
"I can't," screamed Joel; "'tisn't mine. O dear me, I can't." Clapping
his other hand on his fist to hold it tighter yet, he wriggled away in
distress to stand in the middle of the floor, the old lady viewing him
with fast-rising choler; at last she arrived at the height of her
displeasure.
"Go away at once," she said coldly, "and send your brother David here.
He's a boy of sense, and the best one, after all, to deal with, seeing
Ben isn't home."
Joel, nearly blinded by the tears that now ran freely down his cheeks,
stumbled out to do as he was bidden, forgetting in his misery the key
still doubled up in his fist. But search high and low as he might, David
could not be found. And at last Joel, quite gone in distress, rushed
into Mother Fisher's room. There was no one in it, and Joel flung
himself down on the wide old sofa, and cried as if his heart would
break.
Meantime Madam Van Ruypen, despairing of Mrs. Whitney's return, and
despite her summons to servants, unable to find a trace of Joel or
David, swept out of the back drawing-room, got into her carriage, and
was driven off home in a very bad frame of mind.
And Joel sobbed on until he could scarcely see out of his eyes, and
still Mother Fisher didn't come. And the butler crossly set the other
Christmas gifts that kept arriving, in a closet under the hall stairs,
much too small a place for them, and everything was about as bad as it
could be.
A smart clap on the back brought Joel up, but he hid his face behind his
hands.
"Phoh! What are you crying for?" It was Van; and he was so delighted to
catch Joel in this plight that he chortled over and over, "Joe Pepper's
been crying!" and he began to dance around the room.
"I haven't," cried Joel, too wild to think of anything but Van's taunts,
and dashing his hands aside.
"Oh, what an _awful_ whopper!" exclaimed Van, coming quite close to peer
up into Joel's face, "and you don't know how you look,--just like that
baboon at the Zoo, with the little squinched-up eyes!" he added
pleasantly.
"I don't care--go 'way!" said Joel, crossly, and flapping out his hands,
regardless of anything but the wild desire to keep Van from a close
inspection. Something jingled as it fell to the floor.
"What's that?" cried Van, dancing away from Joel, and peering with
bright eyes on the carpet.
"It's nothing," screamed Joel, flying down in front of the sofa, and
pawing wildly along the carpet. "I tell you 'tisn't," he kept on
screaming. "Go 'way this minute."
"Oh, now I know you've got something that doesn't belong to you, and
you're keeping it secret from the rest of us." Van threw himself flat on
the floor and tried to crowd in between Joel and the old sofa.
"I haven't; it's mine, it's--it's--Go right away!"
But struggle and push as he might, Van somehow seemed to wedge himself
in; and Joel's poor eyes not allowing him to see much, it was just one
minute, when--"O goody!" The key was in Van's hand, and he was dancing
again in the middle of the room.
Joel sprang to his feet and tossed his stubby black hair off from his
forehead, "You give that right straight back here, Van Whitney!" he
shouted.
"Catch me!" cried Van. Then he swung the key tauntingly over toward
Joel. "Hoh, don't you wish you may get it, Joe Pepper, don't you, now?"
For answer Joel made a blind rush at him, and there they were, flying
around and around in Mother Fisher's room, Van now having all he could
do to look out for himself and keep away from Joel's sturdy fists,
without the care of keys. So he flung his captured prize as far as he
could over into the opposite corner. And hearing it land somewhere, Joel
released him, and ran blindly over where it appeared to strike. And as
Van followed quickly, there really didn't seem to be any chance of
recovering it, at least in peace, with another on its trail who had a
sharp pair of eyes in his head.
Joel turned suddenly, and before Van had the least idea what he was
about, he was seized and hustled off to Mother Fisher's closet, bundled
in, the door slammed to, the key turned in the lock, and there he was.
"Now," said Joel, drawing the first long breath, "I'll get that key easy
enough," and he rushed over to begin operations.
"_Let me out!_" screamed Van, in muffled accents, and banging on the
closet door.
"Don't you wish you may?" Joel, pawing and prowling frantically along
the floor, found time to hurl him this over his shoulder. Then he rubbed
his smarting eyes and set to work with fresh vigor, not paying any
further attention to Van's entreaties. At last, when it really seemed as
if that key had been possessed of little fairy legs and run off, Joel
pushed aside Mother Fisher's big workstand, a thing he had done at least
three times before, and there it was shining up at him where it had
hidden behind one of the legs!
"I've got you now," cried Joel, jubilantly pouncing on it. And this
time, not daring to trust it in his hands, he thrust it deep within his
pocket, and with never a thought of Van, who had stopped his cries to
listen to Joel, he tore out of the room, and down the stairs, three at a
time.
"Has any one seen Mamsie?" he cried of the first person he met, one of
the under servants passing through the back hall.
"Why, she's gone out with Mrs. Whitney," said the maid.
"Bother!" exploded Joel, dancing impatiently from one foot to the other.
"Yes, they've gone out making calls, I s'pose," said the maid, delighted
to think she had any news to impart.
Joel made a grimace at that, not having at any time a reason for liking
calls, and this afternoon with a positive aversion to them. And that
brought back Madam Van Ruypen unpleasantly to his mind.
"Has she gone?" he asked in a dreadful whisper; and clutching the maid's
arm, "has she, Hannah?"
"Ow!" exclaimed Hannah, edging off quickly. "Yes, I told you she had;
she and Mrs. Whitney, too. You don't need to pinch me to death, Master
Joel, to find out."
"Oh, I don't mean Mamsie," cried Joel, impatiently. "I mean _she_,--has
_she_ gone?" and pointing off toward the back drawing-room, "Say,
Hannah, has she?"
"Whoever do you mean?" demanded Hannah, glancing over her shoulder in
the direction indicated.
"Why, _she_," repeated Joel, stamping impatiently to enforce his words,
"Madam Van Ruypen, of course."
"I didn't know she was there," said Hannah, "I'll go and see," and she
started for the back drawing-room door.
"Oh, no, no," cried Joel, in a lively terror, and running after her, he
laid hold of her apron string; "I don't want to know, Hannah; I don't,
really."
"Why, you asked me," snapped Hannah, twitching away the apron string;
"there, now, you've mussed it all up," she added in vexation, and now
quite determined, if for no other reason than to spite Joel, to explore
the back drawing-room, she opened the door and went in.
Joel, seeing she had escaped him, fled precipitately and, not waiting to
restore the key to Hobson, a thing he had intended to do if he couldn't
find Mamsie, now considered out of doors to be the only safe place for
him. For of course Hannah would come for him to go back to Madam Van
Ruypen sitting in dreadful state to receive him. It sent cold chills
down his spine just to think of it! And he rushed madly along down by a
cross cut to the green wicket gate on his way over to Larry Keep's.
"Hullo! Well, you needn't knock a chap down," as some one bumped into
him.
"I didn't. 'Twas you knocked me."
"No such thing," said Larry, recovering himself, "and I was going for
you; and Van, too."
At mention of Van, Joel's face dropped, and all the color rushed out of
it. "O dear me, I forgot; he's in the closet."
"_In the closet?_" repeated Larry, his blue eyes opening their widest.
"Yes, I shut him up. Oh, come with me." In his distress he seized
Larry's arm, and together they raced, Joel far in advance, up to the big
house.
XII
VAN
Larry, keeping after Joel as well as he could, found him at the head of
the back stairs, and gesticulating wildly to "Hurry, you're slow as a
snail. Hush, she'll hear you!"
"Who?" cried Larry, breathlessly, as he gained his side.
"Never mind, come along." He hauled him on and into Mother Fisher's
room, dashing up to the closet, turned the key with a click, and flung
wide the door, "Why, he isn't here!"
"Who?" cried Larry, forgetting all about Van, and not knowing whom he
was expected to see.
Joel's teeth were chattering so that he couldn't answer. "He's got out,"
he managed to say.
"Who?" Larry crowded up closer and peered fearfully into the closet
depths.
"Why, Van," cried Joel, impatiently; "oh, well, he's got out some way.
Come on," and he turned to go.
"Van!" exclaimed Larry, faintly.
"Yes, I told you so. I shut him up."
"Oh, I thought you meant in your closet," said Larry, the mad race
remaining uppermost in his mind to the effect of crowding out other
things that now began to assert themselves. "Well, then, he's here now."
"Phoo, no, he isn't," declared Joel, waving his fingers convincingly;
"you can see for yourself. Somebody's let him out, and he's locked the
door to cheat me."
But Larry was not to be convinced. "He is, I know he is," leaning
forward the better to peer around within the closet.
"Take care," warned Joel, who had good reason to know Van's capabilities
along that line, "maybe he's hiding in the corner, and he'll tweak you."
At this Larry, who also had occasion to know Van quite well, bounded
back quite suddenly, saying, "I see a shoe sticking out," and pointing
to it.
"Oh, that's Mamsie's," said Joel, determined not to believe. Then the
moment he had said it he remembered that Mother Fisher's shoes were
always kept in the shoe-box over in the corner. "We'll give it a pull,"
he said, doing his best to speak carelessly, which Larry proceeding to
do, out came the leg attached which clearly belonged to Van. But it was
limp, and lay just where it was dropped with a thud on the closet floor.
Joel, with his heart thumping so he could hardly breathe, sprang into
the closet, twitched away Mother Fisher's long black silk gown, seized
Van where he lay under its folds, and got him outside to lay him flat on
the carpet.
"He's dead, I guess," said Larry, cheerfully.
"Get some water," screamed Joel, "and open the window;" meantime he
slapped Van's hands smartly together and called him to open his eyes,
and this not succeeding, he ran over to Mother Fisher's medicine closet,
rushed back, and in his trepidation emptied a whole bottle of something
all over the white face.
"That's no good," said Larry. The window now being open, he advanced
with a water pitcher whose contents he promptly distributed in the same
way. "See what you've done; that's castor oil."
[Illustration: "SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE; THAT'S CASTOR OIL."]
It was no time to cast criticisms upon each other, and Joel soon had a
cologne bottle, and Larry the ammonia, and in two minutes their united
efforts had Van sitting up in the middle of the floor with anything but
a pleased expression on his face, into which his usual color was slowly
creeping.
And just then in rushed Polly.
"Whatever in the world--" she began, stopping in sheer amazement.
"See what they've done," cried Van, in a towering passion, shaking his
head like a half-drowned rat, and he pointed to his clothes, from which
little streams of water were running off to join the pools on the
carpet. "_Tchee! Tchee!_ Get away," and he knocked the ammonia bottle
out of Larry's hand.
"O dear me!" cried Polly, "pick it up, do; don't let it get spilled," as
it spun off.
"Now I should just like to know what all this is about," she demanded
indignantly, as she joined the group.
"Well, I guess he'd have been in a tight fix if we hadn't--" began
Larry, recovering the ammonia bottle. Then he stopped short.
"Hadn't what? Go on," said Polly.
"Hadn't--hadn't--" Larry, not looking at Joel, floundered miserably.
"I'll tell you," said Van, wishing so much of the ammonia hadn't gone
into his mouth, and up his nose, and stopping to cough and splutter. "O
dear, wait a minute, Polly, I'll tell you!"
But Polly was fixing her brown eyes sternly on Larry and Joel, who stood
with his head cast down, and wringing his hands together miserably.
"Now, you two boys must just stay in this room," at last she said
decidedly, feeling quite sure there was nothing more to be gotten out of
them, "and sit there," pointing to the wide sofa, "till Mamsie comes
home, and--"
"No, no," howled Joel; "I'll tell, I'll tell, Polly. Don't make us sit
there."
"Yes, you must," said Polly, firmly, feeling that the responsibility
that had fallen upon her in Mother Fisher's absence quite weighed her
down, "and when Mamsie comes, she will have to know it all," and her
mouth drooped sorrowfully.
"'Tisn't any matter," said Van, getting up to his feet and giving a
final shake, so that the little drops flew far and wide, "I don't mind
it,--I'm all dry now."
"No, you are not," said Polly, guilty of contradicting, "Vannie, you're
just as wet as you can be," feeling of his jacket; "run off and get into
dry things as soon as you can. Yes, you two boys must sit there; at
least Joel, you must," pointing to the sofa again.
"I'm going to stay if Joel has to," declared Larry, after an awful pause
in which he had fully decided to cut and run. And down he sat by Joel,
who had flung himself in great distress on Mamsie's sofa.
Van started toward the door, took two steps, turned and rushed back to
lean over Joel, "I won't ever tell," he whispered, and ran out as fast
as he could go.
And Polly wiped up the carpet and put back the bottles and the water
pitcher, and tidied things up, the boys watching her out of miserable
eyes.
"Polly," came pealing over the stairs.
"Yes," called Polly, back again, pausing in her work long enough to add,
"don't come up, Alexia, I'll be right down;" but Alexia, following the
sound of her own voice, was already rushing into the room.
"Well, if I ever," she began, pausing by Polly's side. "What _are_ you
doing, Polly Pepper?"
"Oh, nothing much," said Polly, running off into the bath room with the
wet cloth; "I'll be through in a minute, Alexia."
"Oh, you two boys have been up to mischief," said Alexia, running her
pale eyes over the two culprits, "and now you've bothered Polly, and we
shan't have time to go down-town at all, and here we all are working
ourselves almost to death for our Christmas when Jasper and Ben get
home."
It was a long speech, and it had its effect, for the boys wilted
perceptibly. That is, Larry did; Joel already being in that state where
a greater degree of misery would not easily be noticed.
"It just passes me," said Alexia, provoked not to rouse them to reply,
"how you can act so. But then, you are boys. I suppose that's the
reason."
"I didn't act so," cried Larry, "and you've no right, Alexia, to scold
us. 'Tisn't your house, anyway," he took refuge lamely in that fact, and
he swung his feet in defiance.
"Well, somebody must scold you," said Alexia, "and no one else will,
unless I come over. Well, anyway,--Polly, where are you?"
"Here," said Polly, hurrying in,--"oh, don't, Alexia, say
anything,--they feel badly about it, whatever it is."
"Don't you know what they've been doing?" asked Alexia, with wide eyes,
and whirling around to stare at the boys.
"No," said Polly, "I don't, Alexia, but Mamsie'll make it right, for
they're going to tell her," and again she cast a sorrowful glance at
them.
"Well, come on," said Alexia, turning her back on the sofa and its
occupants; "I don't care in the least what they've done, so long as I
have you, Polly. Hurry up, Polly, and get on your hat."
"I can't go," said Polly, standing quite still, and not looking at the
boys this time.
"Can't go? why, Polly Pepper, you know you said the red-and-green holly
ribbon had all given out, and you must get some more so we could tie up
the rest of the presents this evening."
"Well, I can't go," said Polly, with a sigh. Then she folded her hands
and shook her head.
When Polly looked like that, Alexia always knew it was no use to beg and
plead, so now she turned on the boys.
"Now see what you've gone and done," she cried in a passion. "Polly
won't go down-town because you're keeping her home. And there we've all
had our Christmas put off (Alexia wouldn't hear to celebrating the
holiday until the Peppers could have theirs), and you two boys have just
gone and spoiled it all."
"Alexia--Alexia!" implored Polly.
"I will say so," cried Alexia, perversely, "they've upset all our nice
Christmas; and just think, Jasper almost killed, and--"
"Ow!" howled Joel, springing from the old sofa. He wavered a moment on
unsteady feet, then dashed out of the room.
Larry, left without any support whatever, concluded to sink down against
the sofa-pillow and bury his face in its soft depths.
"Oh, Alexia!" mourned Polly, but that one word was quite enough.
"O dear, dear!" gasped Alexia, wringing her long fingers together, "I
didn't mean--oh, what have I done?"
"I must go after him," said Polly, hoarsely, and springing past her to
the door.
"Let me, oh, let me," mumbled Alexia, plunging after her. "I'll go,
Polly."
"No, you stay here." Polly was off halfway down the stairs. Alexia
turned back to the sofa.
"I don't see why you boys always make such a fuss," she began, too
nervous to keep still, and twisting her fingers together.
Larry, having the sofa-pillow stuffed up all around his ears, could not
be expected to hear conversation. So Alexia, finding it all one sided,
began to rage up and down the room, alternately whimpering that she
didn't mean to say it, and blaming the boys for the whole thing. At
last, Larry, finding it necessary to get a wholesome breath of fresh
air, sat up straight and tossed aside the pillow.
"Oh, now you can hear me," cried Alexia, turning on him with sparkling
eyes; "you must confess, Larry, that you've been perfectly awful, both
of you boys, and made it just as bad as can be for everybody."
"I haven't been bad," retorted Larry, glaring at her, and pushing off
the hair from his hot face, "so there, now; I didn't do a single thing."
"Well, what's it all about, anyway?" cried Alexia, running over to him
to sit down by his side.
"What whole thing?" said Larry, edging off. "Go away, Alexia," and he
scrambled off to the sofa end, where he planted himself at a safe
distance.
"Why, you know just as well as I do," said Alexia, and hurrying to place
herself next to him as quickly as if he had invited her there.
"No, I don't," said Larry, with anything but a sweet countenance. "Do go
away, Alexia."
"Why, Larry Keep!" exclaimed Alexia, and her pale eyes were very wide,
"you must know; and now tell me all about it."
Larry, for answer, hopped nimbly over the sofa arm. "No, I won't. I
haven't anything to tell. Go away, Alexia."
"Oh, what an _awful_ boy," exclaimed Alexia, raising her long hands in
horror, "to get off this sofa, when Polly Pepper told you to sit here."
"She didn't either; she said Joel must," corrected Larry, defiantly. "So
there, now, Alexia Rhys!"
"Well, you know she meant you," said Alexia, "only she didn't exactly
like to make you, 'cause you don't live here."