as she looked at Mr. Clemcy and Miss Salisbury, she began to have an
uneasy feeling at her heart. "I won't go to school to Miss Anstice," she
declared passionately. Then she began to plan immediately. "I'll get
mother to let me go to boarding school."
"And I'll go with you," exclaimed Lucy radiantly. All this was in stage
whispers, such a buzz going on around them that no one else could
possibly catch a word. And so in just about two minutes, they had their
immediate future all planned.
"Well, you better get up out of that chair," said Lucy presently, and
picking at Silvia's sleeve.
"I guess I'm not hurting the chair," said Silvia, squinting sideways at
the high, carved back. "They asked us in here,--at least _he_ did."
"Well, he didn't ask us to sit down," said Lucy triumphantly.
"And if he's going to marry her," said Silvia, in a convincing whisper,
"I guess I can sit in all the chairs if I want to."
"Hush!" warned Lucy, "here comes Miss Anstice."
Miss Anstice, with her front breadth all stained with jelly cake and
marmalade, was wandering around, quite subdued. It was pitiful to see
how she always got into the thickest of the groups to hide her gown,
trying to be sociable with the girls. But the girls not reciprocating,
she was at last taken in tow by Miss Ophelia, who set about showing her
some rare old china, as a special attention.
Now, Miss Anstice cared nothing for rare old china, or indeed, for
relics or curiosities of any sort; but she was very meek on this
occasion, and so she allowed herself to be led about from shelf to
shelf; and though she said nothing, Miss Ophelia was so enchanted by her
own words and memories, as she described in a fluent and loving manner
their various claims to admiration, that she thought the younger Miss
Salisbury quite a remarkable person.
"Show her the Lowestoft collection, sister," called Mr. John Clemcy,
from across the apartment, and breaking off from his animated discussion
over an old Egyptian vase, in which Miss Salisbury had carried herself
brilliantly.
"I will, Brother John," assented Miss Clemcy, with great affability.
"Now here," and she opened the door to its cabinet, "is what will
interest you greatly, I think."
Suddenly, a crash as of breaking porcelain struck upon the ear. Every
one in the old room jumped, save the persons who might be supposed to be
the most interested--Mr. Clemcy and his sister. Their faces did not
change.
Miss Salisbury deserted the Egyptian vase. "Who," she demanded, hurrying
to the centre of the apartment, a red spot on either cheek, "has done
this?"
Mr. John Clemcy followed her. "Do not, I beg," he said quietly, "notice
it."
"Notice it! after your extreme hospitality--oh! which one of my scholars
can have forgotten herself enough to touch a thing?"
The groups parted a little, just enough to disclose a shrinking figure.
It was Lily, whose curious fingers were clasped in distress.
"She is very young," said Miss Clemcy softly, as Miss Salisbury detached
her from the group, and passed into another room, crying as if her heart
would break.
Mr. John Clemcy then came up to his sister and her visitor. "Your sister
must not take it so to heart," he said.
Miss Anstice was worn out by this time, what with her gown, and now by
this terrible thing that would bring such discredit upon their school;
and besides, it might take ever so much from their savings to replace,
for Lily was poor, and was a connection, so they perhaps would have to
help her out. She therefore could find no words at her command, except,
"Oh dear me!" and raised her poor eyes.
Mr. John Clemcy searched her face intently, and actually smiled to
reassure her. She thought he was looking at her gown; so she mumbled
faintly, to draw off his attention, "I am afraid it was very valuable."
He didn't tell her it was one of the oldest bits in his collection; but
while Miss Clemcy slipped off, and quietly picked up every piece of the
broken treasure, he turned the conversation, and talked rapidly and
charmingly upon something,--for the life of her, Miss Anstice never
could tell what.
And he was still talking when Miss Salisbury brought back Lily by the
hand, red-eyed and still sniffling, to stumble over her pleas for
pardon. And then, the storm having abated, there were instant
preparations for departure set in motion. And Mr. Kimball and his
associates helped them into their vehicles, Miss Clemcy's beautiful old
lace showing off finely on the great porch as she bade them good-bye.
"It is real, I guess," declared Silvia, looking closely from her seat
next to Lucy. "And, oh dear me, isn't this too horrible, what Lily
Cushing has done?"
Mr. John Clemcy helped the ladies in, Miss Anstice putting forth all her
powers to enable her to ascend the steep steps without disclosing the
front breadth of her gown. Despite her best endeavors, she felt quite
sure that the keen eyes of both brother and sister had discovered every
blemish.
Miss Salisbury sank back in her seat, as the barge rolled off, quite in
despair; for she knew quite well that the broken vase was one of the
gems of the collection.
"Oh, see the lovely rainbow!" The girls' spirits rose, now that they
were once more on the move. What was one broken vase, after all? And
they began to laugh and talk once more.
"Oh dear!" Polly Pepper glanced back. "Alexia, this will just about kill
our dear Miss Salisbury!" she exclaimed.
"Well, I'm clear beat," Mr. Kimball was saying to himself, as nobody
paid attention. "You might knock me over with a feather! To think o'
that old _ree_cluse that won't know nobody, him nor his sister, an' is
so hifalutin' smart, a-bustin' out so _po_lite all of a suddint."
XVI NEW PLANS
"Polly," said Jasper, "could you come into the den?"
"Why, yes, Jasper," she cried, in surprise at his face. "Oh, has
anything happened?"
"No," he said, but the gloomy look did not disappear. "Oh Polly, it's
too bad to ask,--were you going to study?" with a glance at her armful
of books.
"No--that is, I can do them just as well after dinner." Polly dropped
her books on the hall chair. "Oh, what is it, Jasper?" running after him
into the den.
"It's just this, Polly, I hate to tell you--" He paused, and gloom
settled worse than ever over his face.
"Jasper," said Polly quite firmly, and she laid her hand on his arm, "I
really think you ought to tell me right away what is on your mind."
"Do you really, Polly?" Jasper asked eagerly.
"Yes, I do," said Polly, "unless you had rather tell Mamsie. Perhaps
that would be best, Jasper."
"No, I don't really think it would in this case, Polly. I will tell
you." So he drew up a chair, and Polly settled into it, and he perched
on the end of the table.
"You see, Polly," he began, "I hate to tell you, but if I don't, why of
course you can't in the least understand how to help."
"No, of course I can't," said Polly, clasping her hands together
tightly, and trying to wait patiently for the recital. Oh, what could it
be!
"Well, Pickering isn't doing well at school," said Jasper, in a burst.
It was so much better to have it out at once.
"Oh dear me!" exclaimed Polly, in sorrow.
"No, he isn't," said Jasper decidedly; "it grows worse and worse."
"Dear me!" said Polly again.
"And now Mr. Faber says there isn't much hope for him, unless he picks
up in the last half. He called me into his study to tell me that
to-day--wants me to influence him and all that."
All the hateful story was out at last. Polly sprang out of her chair.
"You don't mean--you can't mean, that Pickering will be dropped,
Jasper?" she cried as she faced him.
"Worse than that," answered Jasper gloomily.
"Worse than dropped!" exclaimed Polly with wide eyes.
"To be dropped a class wouldn't kill Pick; so many boys have had that
happen, although it is quite bad enough."
"I should think so," breathed Polly.
"But Pick will simply be shot out of the school," said Jasper
desperately; "there's no use in mincing matters. Mr. Faber has utterly
lost patience; and the other teachers as well."
"You don't mean that Pickering Dodge will be expelled?" cried Polly in a
little scream.
"Yes." Jasper nodded his head, unable to utter another word. Then he
sprang off from the table-end, and walked up and down the room, as Polly
sank back in her chair.
"You see, it's just this way, Polly," he cried. "Pick has had warning
after warning--you know the teachers have a system of sending written
warnings around to the boys when they fall behind in their work--and he
hasn't paid any attention to them."
"Won't he pay attention to what the teachers write to him, Jasper?"
asked Polly, leaning forward in her big chair to watch him anxiously as
he paced back and forth.
"No, calls them rubbish, and tears them up; and sometimes he won't even
read them," said Jasper. "Oh, it's awful, Polly."
"I should say it was," said Polly slowly. "Very awful indeed, Jasper."
"And the last time he had one from Herr Frincke about his German, Pick
brought it into the room where a lot of us boys were, and read it out,
with no end of fun over it, and it went into the scrap-basket; and he
hasn't tackled his grammar a bit better since; only the translations
he's up a trifle on."
"Oh, now I know why you wouldn't go to ride with me for the last week,"
cried Polly, springing out of her chair to rush up to him, "you've been
helping Pickering," she declared, with kindling eyes.
"Never mind," said Jasper uneasily.
"And it was splendid of you," cried Polly, the color flying over her
cheeks. "Oh Jasper, I do believe you can pull him through."
"No, I can't, Polly." Jasper stood quite still. "No one can pull him
through, but you, Polly."
"I!" exclaimed Polly in amazement. "Why, Jasper King!" and she tumbled
back a few steps to stare at him. "What _do_ you mean?"
"It's just this way." Jasper threw back his hair from his hot forehead.
"Pick doesn't care a bit for what I say: it's an old story; goes in at
one ear, and out at the other."
"Oh, he does care for what you say," contradicted Polly stoutly, "ever
and ever so much, Jasper."
"Well, he's heard it so much; perhaps I've pounded at him too hard. And
then again--" Jasper paused, turned away a bit, and rushed back hastily,
with vexation written all over his face. "I must speak it: I can't help
him any more, for somehow Mr. Faber has found it out, and forbids it;
that's one reason of the talk this morning in his study--says I must
influence him, and all that. That's rubbish; I can't influence him."
Jasper dashed over to lay his head on the table on his folded arms.
"Polly, if Pick is expelled, I--" he couldn't finish it, his voice
breaking all up.
Polly ran over to lay a hand on his shaking shoulders.
"What can I do, Jasper?" she cried brokenly. "Tell me, and I'll do it,
every single thing."
"You must talk to him," said Jasper, raising his head. It filled Polly
with dismay to see his face. "Get him in here; I'll bring him over and
then clear out of the den."
"Oh Jasper!" exclaimed Polly, quite aghast. "I couldn't talk to
Pickering Dodge. Why, he wouldn't listen to me."
"Yes, he would," declared Jasper eagerly; "he thinks everything of you,
Polly, and if you'll say the word, it will do more good than anything
else. Do, Polly," he begged.
"But, Jasper," began Polly, a little white line coming around her mouth,
"what would he think to have me talk to him about his lessons?"
"Think?" repeated Jasper, "why, he'd like it, Polly, and it will be the
very thing that will help him."
"Oh, I can't!" cried Polly, twisting her fingers. Then she broke out
passionately, "Oh, he ought to be ashamed of himself not to study; and
there's that nice Mr. Cabot, and his aunt--"
"Aunt!" exclaimed Jasper explosively. "Polly, I do believe if he hadn't
her picking at him all the time, he would try harder."
"Well, his uncle is different," said Polly, her indignation by no means
dying out.
"Yes, but it's his aunt who makes the mischief. Honestly, Polly, I don't
believe I could stand her," said Jasper, in a loyal burst.
"No, I don't believe I could either," confessed Polly.
"And you see, when a boy has such a home, no matter what they give him,
why, he doesn't have the ambition that he would if things were
different. Just think, Polly, not to have one's own father or mother."
"Oh Jasper!" cried Polly, quite overcome. "I'll do it, I will."
"Polly!" Jasper seized her hands, and held them fast, his dark eyes
glowing. "Oh Polly, that's so awfully good of you!"
"And you better run right over, and get him now," said Polly, speaking
very fast, "or I may run away, I shall get so scared."
"You won't run away, I'll be bound," cried Jasper, bursting into a merry
laugh, and rushing off with a light heart. And presently, in less time
than one could imagine, though to Polly it seemed an age, back he came,
Pickering with him, all alive with curiosity to know what Polly Pepper
wanted of him.
"It's about the play, I suppose," he began, lolling into an easy-chair;
"Jasper wouldn't tell me what it's all about; only seized me by the ear,
and told me to come on. Draw up your chair, Jasper, and--why, hullo!
where is the chap?" swinging his long figure around to stare.
"Pickering," began Polly; and the den, usually the pleasantest place in
all the house, was now like a prison, whose walls wouldn't let her
breathe, "I don't know what to say. Oh dear me!" Poor Polly could get no
further, but sat there in hopeless misery, looking at him.
"Eh--what? Oh, beg pardon," exclaimed Pickering, whirling back in his
chair, "but things are so very queer; first Jasper rushes off like a
lunatic--"
"And I am worse," said Polly, at last finding her tongue. "I don't
wonder you think it's queer, Pickering, but Jasper does so love you, and
it will just kill him if you don't study." It was all out now, and in
the most dreadful way. And feeling that she had quite destroyed all
hope, Polly sat up pale and stiff in her chair.
Pickering threw his long figure out of the easy-chair, rushed up and
down the den with immense strides, and came back to stand directly in
front of her.
"Do you mean it, Polly?" His long face was working badly, and his hands
were clenched, but as they were thrust deep within his pockets, Polly
couldn't see them.
"Yes," said Polly, "I do, Pickering."
He stalked off again, but was back once more, Polly wondering how she
could possibly bear to tell Jasper of her failure, for of course
Pickering was very angry; when he said, "Polly, I want to tell you
something."
"What is it?" Polly looked at him sharply, and caught her breath.
"I won't drag Jasper down, I tell you, with me. I'll get through somehow
at school. I promise you that. Here!" He twitched out his right hand
from its pocket, and thrust it out at her.
"Oh Pickering Dodge!" exclaimed Polly in a transport, and seizing his
hand, it was shaken vigorously.
"There, that's a bargain," declared Pickering solemnly. "I'll get
through someway. And say, Polly, it was awfully good of you to speak."
"It was awfully hard," said Polly, drawing a long breath. "Oh, are you
sure you are not vexed, Pickering? Very sure?" And Polly's face drooped
anxiously.
"Vexed?" cried Pickering. "I should rather say not! Polly, I'm lazy and
selfish, and good for nothing; but I couldn't be vexed, for 'twas
awfully hard for you to do."
"I guess it was," said Polly. Then she gave a little laugh, for it was
all bright and jolly again, and she knew that Pickering would keep his
word.
And that evening, after Jasper and she had a dance--they were so happy,
they couldn't keep still--in the wide hall, Jasper burst out suddenly
with a fresh idea.
"Polly," he said, drawing her off to rest on one of the high, carved
chairs, "there's one more thing."
"Oh, what is it Jasper?" she cried gaily, with flushed cheeks. "Oh,
wasn't that spin just delicious?"
"Wasn't it?" cried Jasper heartily. "Well, now, Polly," flinging himself
down on the next chair, "it's just this. Do you know, I don't believe we
ought to have our play."
"Not have our play?" Polly peered around to look closely into his face.
"What do you mean, Jasper?"
"You see, Polly, Pick was to take a prominent part, and he ought not
to, you know; it will take him from his lessons to rehearse and all
that. And he's so backward there's a whole lot for him to make up."
"Well, but Pickering will have to give up his part, then," said Polly
decidedly, "for we've simply got to have that play, to get the money to
help that poor brakeman's family."
Jasper winced. "I know; we must earn it somehow," he said.
"We must earn it by the play," said Polly. "And besides, Jasper, we
voted at the club meeting to have it. So there, now," she brought up
triumphantly.
"We could vote to rescind that vote," said Jasper.
"Well, we don't want to. Why, Jasper, how that would look on our two
record books!" said Polly in surprise, for Jasper was so proud of his
club and its records.
"Yes, of course; as our two clubs united that evening, it must go down
in both books," said Jasper slowly.
"Yes, of course," assented Polly happily. "Well, now, you see, Jasper,
that we really _can't_ give it up, for we've gone too far. Pickering
will have to let some one else take the part of the chief brigand." For
the little play was almost all written by Polly's fingers, Jasper
filling out certain parts when implored to give advice: and brigands,
and highway robberies, and buried treasures, and rescued maidens, and
gallant knights, figured generously, in a style to give immense
satisfaction.
"And the play is so very splendid!" cried Jasper. "Oh dear me! what
ought we to do, Polly?" He buried his face in his hands a moment.
"Pickering must give up his part," said Polly again.
"But, Polly, you know he has been in all our plays," said Jasper. "And
he'll feel so badly, and now he's got all this trouble about his lessons
on his mind," and Jasper's face fell.
Polly twisted uncomfortably on her chair. "Oh dear me!" she began, "I
suppose we must give it up."
"And if we gave it up, not altogether, but put it off till he catches up
on his studies," suggested Jasper, "why, he wouldn't be dropped out."
"But the poor brakeman's family, Jasper," said Polly, puzzled that
Jasper should forget the object of the play.
"Oh, I didn't mean that we should put off earning the money, Polly,"
cried Jasper, quite horrified at such a thought. "We must do something
else, so that we can sell just as many tickets."
"But what will it be?" asked Polly, trying not to feel crushed, and
sighing at the disappearance of the beautiful play, for a time at least.
"Well, we could have recitations, for one thing," said Jasper, feeling
dreadfully to see Polly's disappointment, and concealing his own, for he
had set his heart on the play too.
"Oh dear me!" exclaimed Polly, wrinkling up her face in disdain.
"Jasper, do you know, I am so tired of recitations!"
"So am I," Jasper bobbed his head in sympathy, "but we boys have some
new ones, learned for last exhibition, so Pick won't have to take a
moment from his lessons. And then we can have music, and you will play,
Polly."
"Oh Jasper, I've played so much," said Polly, "they're all tired of
hearing me."
"They never would be tired of hearing you, Polly," said Jasper simply.
"Every one of us thinks you play beautifully."
"And tableaux and an operetta take just as much time to rehearse," mused
Polly, thinking very hard if there wasn't something to keep them from
the dreaded recitations.
"And I just loathe an operetta or tableaux," exclaimed Jasper, with such
venom that Polly burst out laughing.
"Oh Jasper, if you could see your face!" she cried.
"I shouldn't want to," he laughed too; "but of all insipid things, an
operetta is the worst; and tableaux--the way Miss Montague drilled and
drilled _and_ drilled us, and then stuck us up like sticks not to move
for a half-hour or so, nearly finished me."
"So it did me," confessed Polly. "And besides, it would take a great
deal more time to go through all that drilling than to rehearse the
play."
"Of course it would," said Jasper, "so tableaux, thank fortune, are not
to be thought of. I think it will have to be recitations and music,
Polly."
"I suppose so," she said with a sigh. "Oh Jasper!" then she sprang off
from her chair, and clapped her hands. "I've thought of the very thing.
I believe Mr. Hamilton Dyce would tell some of his funny stories and
help out the program."
"Capital!" shouted Jasper; and just at this moment the big front door
opened, and the butler ushered in Miss Mary Taylor and Mr. Dyce.
Polly and Jasper rushed up to the visitors, for they were prime
favorites with the young people, and precipitated upon them all their
woes. The end was, that they both promised beautifully to do whatever
was wanted, for Miss Mary Taylor sang delightfully.
"And Pickering is safe, Polly, for I know now he'll go through the last
half," cried Jasper as they ran off to study their lessons for the next
day.
XVII PHRONSIE
And after that, there was no more trouble about that program, for as
luck would have it, the very next day a letter came from Joel, saying
that Dr. Marks had given them a holiday of a week on account of the
illness of two boys in their dormitory, and, "May I bring home Tom
Beresford? He's no-end fine!" and, "Please, Mamsie, let me fetch Sinbad!
Do telegraph 'Yes.'"
And Mother Fisher, after consultation with Mr. King, telegraphed "Yes;"
and wild was the rejoicing over the return of Joel and David and Percy
and Van, and Tom; for Mother Fisher was ready to receive with open arms,
and very glad silently to watch, one of Joel's friends.
"And to think that Sinbad is coming!" cried Polly, dancing about. "Just
think, Phronsie, Joel's dear dog that Dr. Marks let him take to the
little cobbler to keep for him!" And she took Phronsie's hand, and they
spun around the hall.
"I shall get him a new pink ribbon," declared Phronsie breathlessly,
when the spin was over.
"Do," cried Polly. "Dear me! that was a good spin, Phronsie!"
"I should think it was," said Ben. "Goodness me! Polly, Phronsie and you
made such a breeze!"
"Didn't we, Pet!" cried Polly, with a last kiss. "Oh Ben and Jasper, to
think those boys will be here for our entertainment!"
"I know Tom is made of the right stuff," Mamsie said proudly to Father
Fisher, "else my boy would not choose him."
"That's a fact, wife," the little doctor responded heartily. "Joel is
all right; may be a bit heedless, but he has a good head on his
shoulders."
The five boys bounded into the wide hall that evening--Joel first; and
in his arms, a yellow dog, by no means handsome, with small, beady eyes,
and a stubby tail that he was violently endeavoring to wag, under the
impression that he had a good deal of it.
"Mamsie!" shouted Joel, his black eyes glowing, and precipitating
himself into her arms, dog and all, "See Sinbad! See, Mamsie!"
"It's impossible not to see him," said Ben. "Goodness me, Joe, what a
dog!" which luckily Joel did not hear for the babel going on around.
Besides, there was Phronsie trying to put her arms around the dog, and
telling him about the pink ribbon which she held in her hand.
"Joe," said Dr. Fisher, who had been here, there, and everywhere in the
group, and coming up to nip Joel's jacket, "introduce your friend.
You're a pretty one, to bring a boy home, and--"
"I forgot you, Tom," shouted Joel, starting off, still hanging to his
dog; "oh, there you are!" seeing Tom in the midst of the circle, and
talking away to Grandpapa and Polly.
"As if I couldn't introduce Tom!" sniffed Percy importantly, quite
delighted at Joel's social omissions. "I've done it ages ago."
"All right," said Joel, quite relieved. "Oh Phronsie, Sinbad doesn't
want that ribbon on," as Phronsie was making violent efforts to get it
around the dog's neck.
"I would let her, Joel," said Mother Fisher, "if I were you."
"But he hates a ribbon," said Joel in disgust, "and besides, he'll chew
it up, Phronsie."
"I don't want him to chew it up, Joel," said Phronsie slowly, and
pausing in her endeavors. And she looked very sober.
"I'll tell you, Phronsie." Mrs. Fisher took the pink satin ribbon that
Phronsie had bought with her own money. "Now, do you want mother to tie
it on?"