haven't; that is, yes, I have considerable--I mean my four sisters, sir;
we all live together."
"Oh--ah!" replied Mr. King. "Well, now thank you very much, Mr. Potter;
and as your time is valuable, and should be paid for,"--he tucked a bill
within the nervous hands.
"Oh, I couldn't take it, sir," cried Hiram Potter, greatly distressed.
"But it's your due. Why, man, I shouldn't have asked you to take all
this trouble, and spend so much time after I've found you had so far to
go." Mr. King was really becoming irate now, so that the little clerk
didn't dare to say more. "Bless me! Say no more--say no more!"
The little clerk was too much frightened to think of another word; and
finding that the interview was considered closed, he picked up his hat,
and in some way, he could never remember how, he soon found himself out
of the handsome house, and skipping off nimbly in the fresh air, which
quite revived him.
"I could offer him only a trifle," old Mr. King was saying, "only what
might repay him for his trouble and time to-night. But I shall speak to
Fraser about him to-morrow, Jasper. That agent of mine is, curiously
enough, in want of a clerk just at this time, and I know this little man
can fit in very well, and it will get him away from that beastly office.
Four sisters--oh my goodness! Well, Fraser must give him enough to take
care of them."
"Oh, how fine, father!" exclaimed Jasper with kindling eyes. "And then
the girl that wants to learn to play on the piano."
"Oh dear me, yes!" Old Mr. King burst into a merry laugh. "I must look
after that little girl, or Polly won't speak to me, I am afraid. Will
you, Polly, my child?" He drew her close to him, and kissed her blooming
cheek.
"I am so very glad you are going to look out for her, Grandpapa," she
cried, "because you know I did feel so dreadfully when I used to drum on
the table in the little brown house," she confessed.
"I know--I know, child." Grandpapa's face fell badly, and he held her
very close. It always broke him up to hear the Peppers tell of the hard
times in the little brown house, and Polly hastened to add brightly,
"And then you came, Grandpapa dear, and you made it all just
beautiful--oh Grandpapa!" and she clung to him, unable to say more.
"Yes, yes, so I did--so I did," cried the old gentleman delightedly,
quite happy again, and stroking the brown hair. "Well, Polly, my girl,
it isn't anything to the good times we are always going to have. And
to-morrow, you and I must go down to see after poor Jim's family."
"And Jasper?" cried Polly, poking up her head from old Mr. King's
protecting arm; "he must go too, Grandpapa."
"And Jasper? Why, we couldn't do anything without him, Polly," said the
old gentleman in such a tone that Jasper threw back his head very
proudly; "of course my boy must go too."
And the next day, Pickering Dodge, who thought he had some sort of a
claim on Jasper for the afternoon, came running up the steps, two at a
time. And he looked so horribly disappointed, that old Mr. King said,
"Why don't you take him, Jasper, along with us?"
Jasper, who would have much preferred to go alone with his father and
Polly, swallowed his vexation, and said, "All right;" and when he saw
Pickering's delight, he brightened up, and was glad it all happened in
just that way after all.
"Now see here," said old Mr. King suddenly. They were turning out of
Willow Court, after their visit, and Thomas had a sorry time of it,
managing his horses successfully about the old tin cans and rubbish, to
say nothing of the children who were congregated in the narrow,
ill-smelling court. "Why don't you boys do something for those lads in
there?" pointing backward to the little run-down-at-the-heel house they
had just left.
"We boys?" cried Pickering faintly. "Oh dear me! Mr. King, we can't do
anything."
"'Can't' is a bad word to use," said the old gentleman gravely, "and I
didn't mean that you all alone should do the work. But get the other
boys interested. I'm sure you can do that. Phew! Where are the health
authorities, I should like to know, to let such abominations exist?
Thomas, drive as fast as you can, and get us out of this hole;" and he
buried his aristocratic old face in his handkerchief.
Pickering looked over at Jasper in great dismay.
"We might have our club take it up," said Jasper slowly, with a glance
at Polly for help.
"Yes, why don't you, Jasper?" she cried. "Now that's what I'm going to
propose that our club of Salisbury girls shall do. We're just finishing
up the work for a poor Southern family."
"You've had a bee, haven't you," asked Pickering, "or something of that
sort? Although I don't really suppose you do much work," he said
nonchalantly, "only laugh and play and giggle, generally."
"Indeed we don't, Pickering Dodge," cried Polly indignantly, "laugh and
play and giggle, the very idea!"
"And if you say such dreadful things I'll pitch you out of the
carriage," cried Jasper in pretended wrath.
"Ow! I'll be good. Take off your nippers," cried Pickering, cringing
back down into his corner as far as he could. "Goodness me! Jasper,
you're a perfect old tiger."
"Take care, and keep your tongue in its place then," said Jasper,
bursting into a laugh.
"And we work--oh, just dreadfully," declared Polly with her most
positive air. "We cut out all the clothes ourselves. We don't want our
mothers to do it; and sew--oh dear me!"
"You ought to see our house on club day when Polly has the bee," said
Jasper. "I rather think you'd say there was something going on for those
poor little Southern darkies."
"Well, I don't see how you can work so for a lot of disgusting
pickaninnies," said Pickering, stretching his long figure lazily. "The
whole bunch of them isn't worth one good solid afternoon of play."
Polly turned a cold shoulder to him, and began to talk with Jasper most
busily about the club of boys.
"Yes, and oh, Jasper, let's have one meeting of all you boys with us
girls--the two clubs together," she cried at last, waxing quite
enthusiastic.
"Yes, let us," cried Jasper, just as enthusiastic; "and oh, Polly, I've
thought of something. Let's have a little play--you write it."
"Oh Jasper, I can't," cried Polly, wrinkling her brows.
"Oh, yes, Polly, you can," cried Jasper; "if it's one half as good as
'The Three Dragons and the Princess Clotilde,' it will be just fine."
"Well," said Polly, "I'll try; and what then, Jasper?"
"Why, we'll give it for money--father, may we, in the drawing-room? And
perhaps we'll make quite a heap to help those boys with. Oh Polly!" He
seized both of her hands and wrung them tightly. "Oh, may we, father,
may we?"
"Eh--what's that? Oh, yes." The old gentleman took down his
handkerchief. "Dear me! what a mercy we are where we can breathe!" as
Thomas whirled them dexterously past a small square. "What _are_ the
health authorities about, to allow such atrocious old holes? Oh, yes, my
boy, I'm sure I'd be delighted to have you help along those three lads.
And it's really work for boys. Polly's going to start up something for
the girl."
"How perfectly fine!" exclaimed Jasper and Polly together, now that the
consent was really gained. Then they fell into such a merry chatter that
Pickering, left out in the cold, began to wriggle dreadfully. At last he
broke out:
"Yes, I think it would be fine too," trying to work his head into the
conference, where Polly and Jasper had theirs together buzzing over the
plans.
But nobody paid him the slightest attention; so he repeated his remark,
with no better success.
"I should think you might turn around," at last he said in a dudgeon,
"and speak to a body once in a while."
"Why should we?" cried Jasper over his shoulder. "You don't think it's
worth while to work for any of those people. No, Polly, we'll let him
severely alone." Then he fell to talking again, busier than ever.
"Yes, I do," cried Pickering in a high, wrathful key, "think it's worth
while too, so there, Jasper King!"
"Oh, he does, I do believe, Jasper," cried Polly, looking at Pickering's
face.
"Why, of course I do," said Pickering.
"And so we must let him into the plans." So Polly turned around to draw
Pickering in, and old Mr. King leaned forward in his seat, and the
committee of ways and means got so very busy that they didn't even know
when Thomas turned in at the big stone gateway, until Polly looked up
and screamed out, "Why, we are home! Why, we _can't_ be!"
"Well, we are, Polly, my child," said old Mr. King, getting out to help
her with his courtliest air. "We've been gone just three hours and a
half, and a very good afternoon's work it is too. For Jim's children
will care twice as much for what you young folks are going to do for
them as for anything I may do. Yes, Polly, they will," as he saw her
face. "And I'm sure if I were in their places, I'd feel just the same
way."
X JOEL AND HIS DOG
"Now, children," hummed Phronsie, pausing in the midst of combing her
doll's flaxen hair, "you must keep still, and be very good; then I'll
get through pretty soon," and she bowed to the several members of her
numerous family set up in a row before her, who were awaiting their turn
for the same attention. Then she took up the little comb which had
dropped to her lap, and set herself busily to her task again.
Alexia looked in at the door of the "baby-house," as Phronsie's little
room devoted to her family of dolls, was called. "Oh my goodness me!"
she exclaimed, "don't you ever get tired of everlastingly dressing those
dolls, Phronsie?"
Phronsie gave a sigh, and went patiently on with her work. "Yes, Alexia,
I'm tired sometimes; but I'm their mother, you see."
"And to comb their hair!" went on Alexia, "Oh dear me! I never could do
it in all this world, Phronsie. I should want to run and throw them all
out of the window."
"Oh Alexia!" exclaimed Phronsie in horror, "throw them all out of the
window! You couldn't do that, Alexia." She tightened her grasp on the
doll in her arms.
"Yes, I should want to throw every one of those dreadful dolls out of
the window, Phronsie Pepper!" declared Alexia recklessly.
"But they are my children," said Phronsie very soberly, trying to get
all the others waiting for their hair to be fixed, into her arms too,
"and dear Grandpapa gave them to me, and I love them, every single one."
"Well, now, you see, Phronsie," said Alexia, getting down on the floor
in front of the doll's bureau, by Phronsie's side, "you could come out
with me on the piazza and walk around a bit if it were not for these
dreadfully tiresome dolls; and Polly is at school, and you are through
with your lessons in Mr. King's room. Now how nice that would be, oh
dear me!" Alexia gave a restful stretch to her long figure. "My!" at a
twinge of pain.
"Does your arm hurt you, Alexia?" asked Phronsie, looking over her dolls
up to Alexia's face.
"Um--maybe," said Alexia, nursing her arm hanging in the sling; "it's a
bad, horrid old thing, and I'd like to thump it."
"Oh, don't, Alexia," begged Phronsie, "that will make it worse. Please
don't, Alexia, do anything to it." Then she got up, and went over with
her armful of dolls to the sofa, and laid them down carefully in a row.
"I'll fix your hair to-morrow, children," she said; "now I'm going away
for a little bit of a minute," and came back. "Let's go down to the
piazza," she said, holding out her hand.
"You blessed child, you!" exclaimed Alexia, seizing her with the well
hand, "did you suppose I'd be such a selfish old pig as to drag you off
from those children of yours?"
"You are not a selfish old pig, Alexia, and I like you very much," said
Phronsie gravely, trying not to hit the arm in the sling, while Alexia
flew up to her feet and whirled around the room with her. "And, oh, I'm
so afraid you'll make it sick," she panted. "Do stop."
"I just can't, Phronsie," said Alexia; "I shall die if I don't do
something! Oh, this horrid old arm!" and she came to a sudden
standstill, Phronsie struggling away to a safe distance.
"Papa Fisher would not like it, Alexia," she said in great disapproval,
her hair blown about her face, and her cheeks quite pink.
"Oh dear me!" Alexia, resting the sling in the other palm, and trying
not to scream with the pain, burst out, "It's so tiresome to be always
thinking that some one won't like things one does. Phronsie, there's no
use in my trying to be good, because, you see, I never could be. I just
love to do bad things."
"Oh no, Alexia," said Phronsie greatly shocked, "you don't love to do
bad things. Please say you don't;" and before Alexia could say another
word, the tears poured down the round cheeks, wetting Phronsie's
pinafore. And although she clasped her hands and tried to stop them, it
was no use.
"There now, you see," cried Alexia, quite gone in remorse. "Oh, what
shall I do? I must go and get Mrs. Fisher," and she rushed out of the
room.
Phronsie ran unsteadily after her, to call, "Oh Alexia!" in such
distress that the flying feet turned, and up she came again.
"What is it, Pet?" she cried. "Oh dear me! What shall I do? I must tell
your mother."
"I will stop," said Phronsie, struggling hard with her tears, "if you
only won't tell Mamsie," and she wiped her cheeks hard with her
pinafore. "There, see, Alexia," and tried to smile.
"Well, now, come back." Alexia seized her hand, and dragged her up the
stairs. "Now I'm just going to stay up here with you, if you'll let me,
Phronsie, and try not to do bad things. I do so want to be good like
Polly. You can't think how I want to," she cried in a gust, as she threw
herself down on the floor again.
"Oh Alexia, you never could be good like Polly," said Phronsie, standing
quite still in astonishment.
"Of course not," said Alexia with a little laugh, "but I mean--oh, you
know what I mean, Phronsie. I want to be good so that Polly will say she
likes it. Well, come on now, get your horrible old--I mean, your dolls,
and--"
"I wish very much you wouldn't call them dolls, Alexia," said Phronsie,
not offering to sit down; "they are my children, and I don't think they
like to be called anything else."
"Well, they sha'n't hear it, then," declared Alexia decidedly, "so get
some of them, and brush their hair, just as you were doing when I came
in, and I'm going to read aloud to you out of one of your books,
Phronsie."
"Oh--oh!" Phronsie clapped her hands in glee. Next to Polly's stories,
which of course she couldn't have now as Polly was at school, Phronsie
dearly loved to be read to. But she suddenly grew very sober again.
"Are you sure you will like it, Alexia?" she asked, coming up to peer
into Alexia's face.
"Yes, yes, Pet, to be sure I will," cried Alexia, seizing her to half
smother her with kisses. "Why, Phronsie, it will make me very happy
indeed."
"Well, if it will really make you happy, Alexia," said Phronsie,
smoothing down her pinafore in great satisfaction, "I will get my
children." And she ran over to the sofa, and came back with an armful.
"Now what book?" asked Alexia, forgetting whether her arm ached or not,
and flying to her feet. "I'm going down to your bookshelf to get it."
"Oh Alexia," cried Phronsie in great excitement, "will you--could you
get 'The Little Yellow Duck'?"
As this was the book Phronsie invariably chose when asked what she
wanted read, Alexia laughed and spun off, perfectly astonished to find
that the world was not all as blue as an indigo bag. And when she came
back two steps at a time up the stairs, Phronsie was smiling away, and
humming softly to herself, while the hair-brushing was going on.
"She had a blue ribbon on yesterday--Almira did," said Phronsie,
reflecting. "Now, wouldn't you put on a pink one to-day, Alexia?"
"I surely should," decided Alexia--"that pretty pale pink one that Polly
gave you last, Phronsie."
"I am so very glad you said that one," said Phronsie, running over on
happy feet for her ribbon-basket, "because I do love that ribbon very
much, Alexia."
"Well, now then," said Alexia, as Phronsie began to tie up the pink bow
laboriously, "we must hurry and begin, or we never shall see what
happened to this 'Little Yellow Duck.'"
"Oh, do hurry, Alexia," begged Phronsie, as if she hadn't heard the
story on an average of half a dozen times a week. So Alexia propped
herself up against the wall, and began, and presently it was so still
that all any one could hear was the turning of the leaves and the
ticking of the little French clock on the mantel.
"Well, dear me, how funny!" and Polly rushed in; then burst into a merry
laugh.
"Polly Pepper--you home!" Alexia tossed "The Little Yellow Duck" half
across the room, flew to her feet again, and spun Polly round and round
with her well hand.
"Yes," said Polly, "I am, and I've been searching for you two all over
this house."
"Take me, Polly, do." Phronsie laid down Almira carefully on the carpet,
and hurried over to Polly.
"I guess I will. Now then, all together!" and the three spun off until
out of breath.
"Oh dear me!" Polly stopped suddenly. "I never thought of your arm,
Alexia. Oh, do you suppose we've hurt it?" It was so very dreadful to
think of, that all the color deserted her cheek.
"Nonsense, no!" declared Alexia, "that spin put new life into me,
Polly."
"Well, I don't know," said Polly critically; "at any rate, we mustn't do
it any more. And we must tell Papa-Doctor about it as soon as he gets
home."
"Oh, what good is it to worry him?" cried Alexia carelessly. "Well,
Polly, tell all the news about school," as they hurried downstairs to
get ready for luncheon.
"We must tell Papa-Doctor everything about it, Alexia," said Polly in
her most decided fashion, putting her arm carefully around Alexia's
waist; and with Phronsie hanging to the other hand, down they went,
Polly retailing the last bit of school news fresh that day.
"And, oh, Alexia, Miss Salisbury said we are not to have the picnic
until you get quite well; she said so in the big schoolroom, before us
all."
"Did she, Polly?" cried Alexia, immensely gratified.
"Yes, she did." Polly stood on her tiptoes at the imminent danger of
going on her nose, and pulling the other's down, to get a kiss on the
long sallow cheek. "She said it very distinctly, Alexia, and all the
girls talked about it afterward."
"Well, she's a dear old thing," exclaimed Alexia, with remorseful little
pangs at the memory of certain episodes at the 'Salisbury School,' "and
I shall try--oh, Polly, I'll try so hard to be nice and please her."
Polly gave her two or three little pats on her back.
"And don't you think," cried Polly, flying off to brush her hair, and
calling back through the open door, "that the boys are going to have
their club meet with ours. Just think of that!"
"Oh Polly!" Alexia came flying in, brush in hand. "You _don't_ really
mean it!"
"I do. Jasper just told me so. Well, hurry, Alexia, else we'll be late,"
warned Polly, brushing away vigorously. "Yes, Phronsie,"--for Phronsie
had gone off for Jane to put on a clean apron,--"we're ready now--that
is, almost."
"When--when?" Polly could hear Alexia frantically asking, as she rushed
back into her room, which was next to Polly's own.
"Oh, just as soon as you are able," called Polly. "Now don't ask any
more questions, Alexia," she begged merrily. "Yes, Mamsie, we're
coming!"
* * * * *
That afternoon, Percy and Joel were rushing back to school from an
errand down to the village, and hurrying along with an awful feeling
that the half-past-five bell in the big tower on the playground would
strike in a minute.
"Hold on," called Percy, considerably in the rear; "how you get over the
ground, Joe!"
"And you're such a snail," observed Joel pleasantly. Nevertheless he
paused.
"What's that?" pricking up his ears.
"I don't hear anything." Percy came up panting.
"Of course not, when you're puffing like a grampus."
"What's a grampus?" asked Percy irritably.
"I don't know," said Joel honestly.
"Well, I wouldn't say words I didn't know what they meant," said Percy
in a patronizing tone, and trying not to realize that he was very hot.
"Well, do keep still, will you!" roared Joel. "There, there it is
again." He stooped down, and peered within a hedge. "Something's crying
in here."
"You'll get your eyes scratched out, most likely, by an old, cross cat,"
suggested Percy.
Joel, who cared very little for that or any warning, was now on his
knees. "Oh whickets!" he exclaimed, dragging out a small yellow dog,
who, instead of struggling, wormed himself all up against his rescuer,
whining pitifully.
"He's hurt," declared Joel, tossing back his stubby locks, and patting
the dog, who stopped whining, and licked him all over, as much of his
face and hands as he could reach.
"Oh, that dirty thing--faugh! How can you, Joel Pepper!" cried Percy in
distress.
But Joel didn't even hear him, being occupied in setting the dog on the
ground to try his paces.
"No, he's not hurt, after all, I guess," he decided, "but look at his
ribs,--he's half starved."
"I don't want to look at them," said Percy, turning his back, "and you
ought to let him alone; that bell will ring in half a second, Joel
Pepper!"
"True enough!" cried Joel. "Come on, Perky," this being the school name
of the older Whitney, and he picked up the dog, and shot off.
"What are you going to do with that dog?" yelled Percy after him. But as
well talk to the wind, as Joel arrived hot and breathless at the big
door long before him.
Luckily for him, none of the boys were about; and Joel, cramming the dog
well under his jacket, plunged up the stairs, and down the hall to his
room.
"Joe!" roared two or three voices; but he turned a deaf ear, and got in
safely; slammed to the door, and then drew a long breath.
"_Whew!_ Almost caught that time," was all he had the wind to say.
"Well, now, it's good Dave isn't in, 'cause I can tell him slowly, and
get him used to it." All this time he was drawing out his dog from its
place of refuge, and putting it first on the bed, then on the floor, to
study it better.
It certainly was as far removed from being even a good-looking dog as
possible. Having never in its life had the good fortune to hear its
pedigree spoken of, it was simply an ill-favored cur that looked as if
it had exchanged the back yard of a tenement house for the greater
dangers of the open street. Its yellow neck was marked where a cruel
cord had almost worn into the flesh, and every one of its ribs stuck out
as Joel had said, till they insisted on being counted by a strict
observer.
Joel threw his arms around the beast. "Oh dear!" he groaned, "you're
starved to death. What have I got to give you?" He wrinkled his forehead
in great distress. "Oh goody!" He snatched the dog up, and bore him to
the closet, then pulled down a box from the shelf above. "Mamsie's
cake--how prime!" And not stopping to cut a piece, he broke off a goodly
wedge. "Now then, get in with you," and he thrust him deep into one
corner, cramming the cake up to his nose. "Stay there on my side, and
don't get over on Dave's shoes. _Whee!_"
The dog, in seizing the cake, had taken Joel's thumb as well.
"Let go there," cried Joel; "well, you can't swallow my thumb," as the
cake disappeared in one lump; and he gave a sigh for the plums with
which Mamsie always liberally supplied the school cakes, now
disappearing so fast, as much as for the nip he had received.
The dog turned his black, beady eyes sharply for more cake. When he saw
that it wasn't coming, he licked Joel's thumb; and in his cramped
quarters on top of a heap of shoes and various other things not exactly
classified, he tried hard to wag his stump of a tail.
"Whickets! there goes that bell! Now see here, don't you dare to stir
for your life! You've got to stay in this closet till to-morrow--then
I'll see what to do for you. Lie down, I tell you."
There was a small scuffle; and then the dog, realizing here was a
master, curled himself on top of some tennis shoes, and looked as if he
held his breath.
"All right," said Joel, with an approving pat. "Now don't you yip, even
if Dave opens this door." Then he shut it carefully, and rushed off down
to the long dining-room to the crowd of boys.
Joel ate his supper as rapidly as possible, lost to the chatter going on
around him. He imagined, in his feverishness, that he heard faint "yaps"
every now and then; and he almost expected to see everybody lay down
knife and fork.