_John Takes a Tumble._
THEY had forgotten all about John, the man-of-all-work, but as the
flying wedge raced past his door it suddenly flew open and there on the
threshold stood the old man. He had been awakened by the noise of the
slamming attic door and very funny he looked in pajamas and pointed
cotton nightcap.
Moreover he had not paused to forage for his teeth, that always reposed
comfortably at night in a glass of water on his wash-stand.
In his pink pajamas and pointed nightcap, he somehow looked absurdly
like Peter Pan. A long and lean Peter Pan. A Peter Pan without any
teeth.
This unexpected apparition so terrified the twins, unable as they were
to progress as swiftly as the rest on account of their fancy clothes,
that after one demoralized glance at the ancient vision in the doorway,
they uttered a dismal squawk and hurled themselves unceremoniously over
the banisters and down the flight of stairs. Tumbling and rolling over
one another and bouncing like two rubber balls, down and down they
went, and finally disappeared in the open door of the nursery.
Neither did Bedelia stay to consider the order of her going. She fled
in disorder, dragging along the tiny cub, who, too sleepy either to
resist or to help himself, was whimpering shrilly.
Peter Pan himself brought up the rear, hopping along as nimbly as
the rest of them, but with his ideas concerning pajamas disorganized
forever.
Meanwhile the short-sighted old man on the upper landing knew not what
to believe, nor what manner of animal he was gazing upon.
“God bless my soul, but they looked like Sally’s bears!” he exclaimed.
In another moment the thought that possibly some trained monkeys had
escaped from the zoo and somehow effected an entrance into the house
flashed across his mind.
He advanced to the rail and peered over it in order to catch another
glimpse of the queer little figures now in full retreat. But being
very near-sighted and having, in his haste, forgotten his spectacles,
he miscalculated the distance, and in another moment was turning
somersaults down the stairs in the wake of the Teddy bears, until he
finally landed at the bottom with a lugubrious thump which for the
moment deprived him of consciousness, while Rough House, roused by the
commotion, added his shrill barking to the general confusion.
Now from the lower hall rose voices of Papa Doctor and mamma in
terrified inquiry, demanding to know what upon earth was the matter.
They were dreadfully astonished to find the house brilliantly lighted
from top to bottom and ringing with all sorts of unaccountable noises.
[Illustration]
As they received no reply they both rushed upstairs as fast as their
feet could carry them only to find poor old John extended in an
apparently lifeless condition on the landing, while in the nursery
Sally, her head under the counterpane, was sobbing wildly, too much
terrified to do anything but clutch Peter Pan, which smooth rascal
reposed beside her, the tip of his black nose sticking out perkily from
beneath the coverlet.
The whistle of the night watchman was now heard advancing along the
street and Papa Doctor made a dash downstairs to secure the man’s
services. In a few moments he came hurrying along and between them all
they got John back into bed and applied some restoratives that speedily
brought him to his senses. But he at once began to talk so wildly of
Teddy bears and organ grinders’ monkeys that Papa Doctor shook his head
and gravely declared it his belief that some sudden shock must have
turned the old man’s brain.
To be sure it might have been the fall, but as he could give no
explanation of how he came to fall beyond his oft-repeated declaration
that he had been chasing some queer animals that resembled Sally’s
Teddy bears, the family gave up in despair and Papa Doctor concluded to
remain for the rest of the night with his flighty patient.
John having been comfortably disposed of, the watchman proceeded to
patrol the whole house, but discovered nothing, not even an unhooked
window by means of which any marauder might have gained entrance.
The condition of things in the library clearly pointed to spite work,
as none of the costly volumes had been carried away, nor had any of
the plate been removed from the dining-room. The destruction of the
pretty curios from the cabinets in the parlor strengthened this theory.
The miscreant, however, had covered his tracks so cleverly that not the
smallest clue to his identity could be discovered.
Finally the baffled policeman retired from the scene, promising to
send some detectives from the station in the morning. Lights were
extinguished somewhat reluctantly and the family retired, with the
uncomfortable feeling that the marauder might again pop in through any
convenient keyhole to continue his depredations.
All this time Peter Pan had lain cuddled close to his little mistress,
rather scared at the unlooked-for turn affairs had taken.
His mental processes were slow ones, but he was beginning to comprehend
the fact that his nightly revels must, in the future, be conducted on a
somewhat more orderly basis.
There was no telling what might be the result of a rigid investigation
by the police.
Acting on this idea, he cautiously slid from bed and proceeded to
divest the twins of their ill-gotten finery, in which they had
serenely gone to sleep. This he rolled up and poked into the grate
behind the wood and kindlings that were laid ready for lighting. This
accomplished, he crept back into bed and was soon slumbering placidly,
his cold black nose thrust into the rosy palm of his little mistress.
Next morning the house was filled with detectives from the Central
Station, but the most careful investigations resulted in nothing
whatever. And the officers were obliged to give up the case as another
of the unsolved mysteries, and departed, leaving as a final bit of
advice that all the doors in the house be locked when the family
retired.
[Illustration]
Peter Pan, who all this time had been perched jauntily on the edge of
the ruined library table, was not at all disconcerted by this edict.
Being the very largest size of Teddy bear, it was quite possible for
him to reach the locks of the doors without any trouble whatever.
However, he concluded that it would be best to lie low for awhile
until the affair had blown over, with the result that the North family
enjoyed a hard earned peace for some time.
Bedelia, however, was secretly furious, and being the more crafty of
the two, resolved that she would not be governed, but would start an
expedition of her own as soon as a favorable opportunity presented
itself. This, however, was long in coming, as Peter Pan somehow scented
danger in the wind. His suspicions had at first been aroused by
Bedelia’s behavior when she discovered the loss of the pretty garments
with which she had decked the twins. Indeed, upon his refusal to tell
what he had done with them, her conduct had been far from wifely, in
that she smartly boxed his ears and had then promptly fallen into a fit
of hysterics, to calm which had required the united efforts of all the
toys in the nursery.
Following this she relapsed into a fit of the sulks, which made life
unbearable for every one concerned; all the time revolving in her
stubborn head the propriety of making another raid upon the chests in
the attic.
[Illustration]