"You're everlastingly teasing Polly to do things when she's tired to
death. So there, Percy Whitney."
"Oh, I'll tell the story," Polly said, hastily bringing her brown head
up, while Phronsie began to look troubled.
"I'd like to tell a story," said Tom Beresford slowly, where he sat just
back of the big rug.
All the young folks turned to regard him, and Van was just going to say,
"Oh, we don't want yours, Tom," when Polly leaned forward, "Oh, will
you--will you, Tom?" so eagerly that Van hadn't the heart to object.
"Yes, I will," promised Tom, nodding at her.
"Well, get down on the rug, then," said Jasper, moving up; "the
story-teller always has to have a place of honor here."
"That so?" cried Tom; "well, here goes," and he precipitated himself at
once into the midst of things.
"Ow! get out," cried Van crossly, and giving him a push.
"Oh Vanny!" said Polly reprovingly.
"Well, he's so big and long," grumbled Van, who didn't fancy anybody
coming between him and Polly.
"I might cut off a piece of my legs," said Tom, "to oblige you, I
suppose. They are rather lengthy, and that's a fact," regarding them as
they stretched out in the firelight. "I'll curl 'em up in a twist like a
Turk," which he did.
"Well, now," said Jasper, "we are ready. So fire ahead, Beresford."
Joel, who all this time had been regarding his friend curiously, having
never heard him tell a story at Dr. Marks' school, couldn't keep his
eyes from him, but regarded him with a fixed stare, which Tom was
careful to avoid, by looking steadily into the fire.
"Well, now, I'm not fine at expressing myself," he began.
"I should think not," put in Joel uncomplimentarily.
"Joe, you beggar, hush up!" said Jasper, with a warning pinch.
"Yes, just sit on that individual, will you, Jasper?" said Tom, over his
shoulder, "or I never will even begin."
So, Jasper promising to quench all further disturbance on Joel's part,
the story was taken up.
"I can only tell a plain, unvarnished tale," said Tom, "but it's one
that ought to be told, and in this very spot. Perhaps you don't any of
you know, that in Dr. Marks' school it's awfully hard to be good."
"Is it any harder than in any other school, Tom?" asked Mrs. Fisher
quietly.
Tom turned, to reply: "I don't know, Mrs. Fisher, because I haven't been
at any other school. But I can't imagine a place where everything is
made so hard for a boy. To begin with, there is old Fox."
"Oh Tom!" exclaimed Phronsie, leaning forward, whereat old Mr. King laid
a warning hand upon the well arm. "There, there, Phronsie; sit back,
child;" so she obeyed. "But, Grandpapa, he said there was an old fox at
Joey's school," she declared, dreadfully excited, and lifting her face
to his.
"Well, and so she is, Phronsie," declared Tom, whirling his long body
suddenly around, thereby receiving a dig in the back from Van, who
considered him intruding on his space, "a fox by name, and a fox by
nature; but we'll call her, for convenience, a person."
"She's the matron," said Percy, feeling called upon to explain.
"Oh!" said Phronsie, drawing a long breath, "but I thought Tom said she
was a fox, Grandpapa."
"That's her name," said Tom, nodding at her; "Jemima Fox--isn't that a
sweet name, Phronsie?"
"I don't think it is a _very_ sweet one, Tom," said Phronsie, feeling
quite badly to be obliged to say so.
"I agree with you," said Tom, while the others all laughed. "Well,
Phronsie, she's just as far from being nice as her name is."
"Oh dear me!" exclaimed Phronsie, looking quite grieved.
"But I have something nice to tell you," said Tom quickly, "so I'll
hurry on, and let the other personages at Dr. Marks' slide. Well,--but
I want you all to understand, though"--and he wrinkled up his
brows,--"that when a fellow does real, bang-up, fine things at that
school, it means something. You will, won't you?" He included them all
now in a sweeping glance, letting his blue eyes rest the longest on Mrs.
Fisher's face; while Phronsie broke in, "What's bang-up, Grandpapa?"
"You must ask Tom," replied Grandpapa, with a little laugh.
"Oh, that's just schoolboy lingo," Tom made haste to say, as his face
got red.
"What's lingo?" asked Phronsie, more puzzled than before.
"That's--that's--oh, dear!" Tom's face rivalled the firelight by this
time, for color.
"Phronsie, I wouldn't ask any more questions now," said Polly gently.
"Boys say so many things; and it isn't necessary to know now. Let's
listen to the story."
"I will," said Phronsie, feeling quite relieved that it wasn't really
incumbent on her to ask for explanations. So she sat back quietly in her
big chair, while Tom shot Polly a grateful look.
"Well, there are lots of chaps at our school," went on Tom--"I suppose
there are at all schools, but at any rate we have them in a big
quantity,--who are mad when they see the other boys get on."
"Oh, Tom!" exclaimed Polly.
"Yes, they are--mad clear through," declared Tom positively. "And it's
principally in athletics." Phronsie made a little movement at this word,
but, remembering that she was not to ask questions, for Polly had said
so, she became quiet again.
"They simply can't bear that a boy gets ahead of 'em; it just knocks 'em
all up." Tom was rushing on, with head thrown back and gazing into the
fire.
"Tom," said Joel, bounding up suddenly to take his head out of Polly's
lap, and to sit quite straight, "I wouldn't run on like this if I were
you."
"You hush up, Pepper," said Tom coolly. "I haven't said a word about
you. I shall say what I like. I tell you, it does just knock 'em all up.
I know, for I've been that way myself."
This was getting on such dangerous ground, that Joel opened his mouth to
remonstrate, but Polly put her hand over it. "I'd let Tom tell his
story just as he wants to," which had the effect of smothering Joel's
speech for the time being.
"I thought, Jasper, you were going to quench Joe," observed Tom, who
seemed to have the power to see out of the back of his head, and now was
conscious of the disturbance. "You don't seem to be much good."
"Oh, Polly's doing it this time," said Jasper; "I'll take him in tow on
the next offence."
"Yes, I have," declared Tom, "been that way myself. I'm going to tell
you how, and then I'll feel better about it." His ruddy face turned
quite pale now, and his eyes shone.
"Stop him," howled Joel, all restraint thrown to the winds, and shaking
off Polly's fingers.
Jasper leaned forward. "I'm bound to make you keep the peace, Joe," he
said, shaking his arm.
"But he's going to tell about things he ought not to," cried Joel, in an
agony. "Do stop him, Jasper."
Mother Fisher leaned forward, and fastened her black eyes on Joel's
face. "I think Tom better go on, Joel," she said. "I want to hear it."
That settled the matter; and Joel threw himself down, his face buried
in Polly's lap, while he stuck his fingers in his ears.
"I'm going to tell you all this story," Tom was saying, "because I ought
to. You won't like me very well after it, but it's got to come out.
Well, I might as well mention names now, since Joe has got to keep
still. You can't guess how he's been tormented by some of those cads,
simply because he's our best tennis player, and on the football team.
They've made things hum for him!" Tom threw back his head, and clenched
his fist where it lay in his lap. "And the rest of us boys got mad,
especially at one of them. He was the ringleader, and the biggest cad
and bully of them all."
No one said a word.
"I hate to mention names; it seems awfully mean." Tom's face got fiery
red again. "And yet, as you all know, why, it can't be helped.
Jenkins--well there, a fellow would want to be excused from speaking to
him. And yet"--down fell Tom's head shamefacedly--"I let him show me how
he was going to play a dastardly trick on Joe, the very day of the
tennis tournament. I did, that's a fact."
No one spoke; but Tom could feel what might have been said had the
thoughts all been expressed, and he burst out desperately, "I let that
cad take Joe's racket."
A general rustle, as if some speech were coming, made him forestall it
by plunging on, "His beautiful racket he'd been practising with for this
tournament; and I not only didn't knock the scoundrel down, but I helped
the thing along. I wouldn't have supposed I could do it. Joe was to play
with Ricketson against Green and me; and two minutes after it was done,
I'd have given everything to have had it back on Joe's table. But the
boys were pouring up, and it was hidden."
Tom could get no further, but hung his head for the reaction sure to set
in against him by all this household that had welcomed and entertained
him so handsomely.
"Has he got through? has the beggar finished?" cried Joel lustily.
"Yes," said Polly, in a low voice, "I think he has, Joel."
"Then I want to say"--Joel threw himself over by Tom, his arms around
him--"that he's the biggest fraud to spring such a trap on me, and plan
to get off that yarn here."
"I didn't intend to when I came," said Tom, thinking it necessary to
tell the whole truth. "I hadn't the courage."
"Pity you had now!" retorted Joel. "Oh, you beggar!" He laid his round
cheek against Tom's. "Mamsie, Grandpapa, Polly," his black eyes sweeping
the circle, "if I were to tell you all that this chap has done for
me,--why, he took me to the place where Jenk hid the racket."
"Pshaw! that was nothing," said Tom curtly.
"Nothing? Well, I got it in time for the tournament. You saw to that.
And when Jenk and I were having it out in the pine grove that night, Tom
thought he better tell Dave; though I can't say I thank you for that,"
brought up Joel regretfully, "for I was getting the best of Jenk."
Old Mr. King had held himself well in check up to this point. "How did
you know, Tom, my boy, that Joel and er--this--"
"Jenk," furnished Joel.
"Yes--er--Jenk, were going to settle it that night?"
"Why, you see, sir," Tom, in memory of the excitement and pride over
Joel's prowess, so far recovered himself as to turn to answer, "Joel
couldn't very well finish it there, for the dormitory got too hot for
that sort of thing; although it would have been rare good sport for all
the fellows to have seen Jenk flat, for he was always beating other
chaps--I mean little ones, not half his size."
"Oh dear me!" breathed Polly indignantly.
"Yes; well, Joe promised Jenk he would finish it some other time; and
Jenk dared him, and taunted him after the tournament. He was wild with
rage because Joel won; and he lost his head, or he would have let Joe
alone."
"I see," exclaimed Grandpapa, his eyes shining. "Well, and so you sat up
and watched the affair."
"I couldn't go to bed, you know," said Tom simply.
"And he would have saved us, Dave and me, if that Jenk hadn't locked the
door on us when he slipped in."
"Cad!" exclaimed Tom, between his teeth. "He ought to have been expelled
for that. And then Joe shinned up the conductor--and you know the rest."
Mother Fisher shivered, and leaned over involuntarily toward her boy.
"Mamsie," exclaimed Joel, "you don't know what Tom is to me, in that
school. He's just royal--that's what he is!" with a resounding slap on
his back.
"And I say so too," declared Mother Fisher, with shining eyes.
"_What_?" roared Tom, whirling around so suddenly that Van this time got
out of the way only by rolling entirely off from the rug. "Mrs.
Fisher--you _can't_, after I've told you this, although I'm no-end sorry
about the racket. I didn't want to tell,--fought against it, but I had
to."
"I stand by what I've said, Tom," said Mrs. Fisher, putting out her
hand, when Tom immediately laid his big brown one within it. At this,
Joel howled with delight, which he was unable to express enough to meet
his wishes; so he plunged off to the middle of the library floor, and
turned a brace of somersaults, coming up red and shining.
"I feel better now," he said; "that's the way I used to do in the little
brown house when I liked things."
XIX THE GRAND ENTERTAINMENT
"Ought we to, Mamsie?" asked Polly. Jasper and she were in Mrs. Fisher's
room, and they both waited for the reply anxiously.
"Yes, Polly, I think you ought," said Mother Fisher.
"Oh dear me! Phronsie can't have only a little bit of it," said Polly.
"I know it. But think, Polly, the boys have to go back to school so soon
that even if other people didn't care if it were postponed, they would
lose it. Besides, Tom is to be one of the chief people on the program.
No, no, Polly, there are others to think of outside of ourselves. You
must have your entertainment just as it is planned," Mrs. Fisher brought
up very decidedly.
"Well," sighed Polly, "I am glad that Papa Fisher says that Phronsie can
hear a little part of it, anyway."
"Yes," said her mother cheerfully, "and Helen Fargo is to sit next to
her. Mrs. Fargo is to take her home early, as she has not been very
well. So you see, Polly, it will all turn out very good after all."
"But I did so want Phronsie to be there through the whole," mourned
Polly.
"So did I," echoed Jasper. Then he caught Mother Fisher's eye. "But,
Polly, the boys would lose it then," he added quickly.
"Oh!" cried Polly, "so they would; I keep forgetting that. Dear me! why
isn't everything just right, so that they all could hear it?" And she
gave a little flounce.
"Everything is just right, Polly," said Mrs. Fisher gravely; "don't let
me hear you complain of things that no one can help."
"I didn't mean to complain, Mamsie," said Polly humbly; and she crept up
to her, while Jasper looked very much distressed.
"Mother knows you didn't," said Mrs. Fisher, putting her arm around her,
"but it's a bad habit, Polly, to be impatient when things don't go
rightly. Now run away, both of you," she finished brightly, "and work up
your program," and she set a kiss on Polly's rosy cheek.
"Jasper," cried Polly, with happiness once more in her heart as they
raced off, "I tell you what we can do. We must change the program, and
put those things that Phronsie likes, up first."
"That's so," cried Jasper, well pleased. "Now, what will they be,
Polly?"
"Why, Mr. Dyce's story of the dog," said Polly, "for one thing; Phronsie
thinks that's perfectly lovely, and always asks him for it when he tells
her stories."
"All right," said Jasper. "What next?"
"Why, Tom must sing one of his funny songs."
"Yes, of course. That will please her ever so much," cried Jasper.
"Don't you know how she claps her hands when he's rehearsing, Polly?"
"Yes; oh, I wouldn't have her miss that for anything, Jasper," said
Polly.
"No, indeed," cried Jasper heartily. "Well, Polly, then what ought to
come next? Let's come into the den and fix it up now."
So they ran into the den; and Jasper got out the long program all ready
to be pinned up beside the improvised stage, on the evening of the great
event, and spread it on the table, Polly meanwhile clearing off the
books.
"Let's see." He wrinkled up his brow, running his finger down the whole
length. "Now, when I make the new program, Mr. Dyce goes first."
Polly stood quite still at that. "Oh, Jasper, we can't do it--no, never
in all this world."
"Why, Polly,"--he turned suddenly--"yes, we can just as easily. See,
Polly."
"We can't spoil that lovely program that took you so long to make, for
anything," said Polly, in a decisive fashion. "Phronsie wouldn't want
it," she added.
"Phronsie isn't to know anything about it," said Jasper, just as
decidedly.
"Well, but Jasper, you can't make another; you haven't the time," said
Polly in great distress, and wishing she hadn't said anything about the
changes. "I didn't think there would have to be a new program made."
"Oh, Polly, I think we'd better have a new one," said Jasper, who was
very particular about everything.
"I thought we were going to have changes announced from the stage," said
Polly. "Oh, why can't we, Jasper? I'm sure they do that very often."
"Well, that's when the changes come at the last moment," said Jasper
reluctantly.
"Well, I'm sure this is the last moment," said Polly. "The entertainment
is to-morrow night, and we've ever so much to do yet. _Please_, Jasper."
That "please, Jasper," won the day.
"All right, Polly," he said. "Well, now let's see what ought to come
after Tom's song."
"Well, Phronsie is very anxious to hear Pickering's piece; I know,
because I heard her tell Mamsie so."
"Why, she has heard Pick recite that ever so many times since he learned
it for our school exhibition," said Jasper.
"And don't you know that's just the very reason why she wants it again?"
said Polly, with a little laugh.
"Yes, of course," said Jasper, laughing too. "Well, she must have it
then. So down goes Pick." He ran to the table drawer and drew out a big
sheet of paper. "First, Mr. Dyce, then Tom Beresford, then Pickering
Dodge," writing fast.
"And then," said Polly, running up to look over his shoulder, "Phronsie
wants dreadfully to hear Tom play on his banjo."
"Oh, Polly,"--Jasper threw back his head to look at her--"I don't
believe there'll be time for all that; you know the music by Miss Taylor
comes first as an overture. We can't change that."
"Why," exclaimed Polly in dismay, "we must, Jasper, get Tom's banjo in;
and there's Percy's piece. Phronsie wouldn't miss that for _anything_."
"Why, we shall have the whole program in if we keep on," said Jasper,
looking at her in dismay.
"Oh, Jasper, Papa Fisher says that Phronsie may stay in twenty minutes.
Just think; we can do a lot in twenty minutes."
"But somebody is bound to be late, so we can't begin on time. Nobody
ever does, Polly."
"We must," said Polly passionately, "begin on time to-morrow night,
Jasper."
"We'll try," said Jasper, as cheerfully as he could manage.
"And there's your piece. Why, Jasper, Phronsie told me herself that she
_must_ hear yours."
"Well, and so she told me that she'd rather hear you play your piece,"
said Jasper; "but you and I, Polly, as long as we change the program,
can't come in among the first."
"No, of course not," said Polly. "But, oh, Jasper," and she gave a sigh,
"it's too bad that you can't recite yours, for it is most beautiful!"
Polly clasped her hands and sighed again.
"Well, that's not to be thought of," said Jasper. "Now I tell you how
we'll fix it, Polly," he said quickly.
"How?" asked Polly gloomily.
"Why, we have twenty minutes that Phronsie can stay in. Now, let's mark
off all those things that she wants, except yours and mine, even if they
come beyond the time; and then we'll draw just those that will get into
the twenty minutes."
"Oh, Jasper, what a fine idea!" exclaimed Polly, all her enthusiasm
returning.
"Well, mark off half of 'em, and I'll write the others," said Jasper,
tearing off strips from his big sheet of paper. So Polly and he fell to
work; and presently "Pick," and "Tom" ("that's for the song," said
Polly), and "Banjo," and "Mr. Dyce," and "Percy," went down on the
little strips.
"Oh, and I forgot," said Polly, raising her head from her last strip,
"Phronsie wanted to hear Clare very much indeed."
[Illustration: "OH, I DO HOPE I SHALL DRAW THE RIGHT ONE, JASPER."]
"Well, we should have had the whole program with a vengeance," said
Jasper, bursting into a laugh. "Well, put him down, Polly."
So "Clare" went down on another strip, and then they were all jumbled up
in a little Chinese bowl on the bookcase.
"Now, you draw first, Polly," said Jasper.
"Oh, no, let us choose for first draw," said Polly; "that's the way to
be absolutely right."
So she ran back to the table and tore off two more strips, one short and
the other long, and fixed them in between her hands.
"You didn't see?" she asked over her shoulder.
"Not a wink," said Jasper, laughing.
So Polly ran back, and Jasper drew the short one. "There; you have it,
Polly!" he cried gleefully. "Oh, that's good!"
"Oh, I do hope I shall draw the right one, Jasper," she said, standing
on tiptoe, her fingers trembling over the bowl.
"They are all of them good," said Jasper encouragingly. So Polly
suddenly picked out one; and together they read, "Tom."
"Fine!" they shouted.
"Oh, isn't that perfectly splendid?" cried Polly, "because, you see,
Phronsie did so very much wish to hear Tom sing," just as if she hadn't
mentioned that fact before. "Now, Jasper."
"I'm in much the same predicament as you were," said Jasper, pausing,
his hand over the bowl. "If I shouldn't choose the right one, Polly!"
"They are all of them good," said Polly, laughing at his face.
"Oh, I know, but it is a fearful responsibility," said Jasper, wrinkling
his brows worse yet. "Well, here goes!"
He plunged his fingers in, and out they came with the strip, "Percy."
"Now, Jasper, you couldn't possibly have chosen better," declared Polly,
hopping up and down, "for Phronsie did so want to hear Percy speak. And
it will please Percy so. Oh, I'm so glad!"
"Well, I'm thankful I haven't to draw again," declared Jasper, "for we
can't have but three pieces beside the overture, you know. So it's your
turn now, Polly."
"Oh dear me!" exclaimed Polly, the color dying down in her cheek, "if I
shouldn't draw the right one, Jasper King; and it's the last chance."
She stood so long with her hand poised over the Chinese bowl, that
Jasper finally laughed out. "Oh, Polly, aren't your tiptoes tired?"
"Not half so tired as I am," said Polly grimly. "Jasper, I'm going to
run across the room, and then run back and draw suddenly without
stopping to think."
"Do," cried Jasper.
So Polly ran into the further corner, and came flying up, to get on her
tiptoes, thrust in her fingers, and bring out the third and last strip.
"The deed is done!" exclaimed Jasper. "Now, Polly, let's see who it is."
"Pick!" he shouted.
And "Pickering!" screamed Polly. And they took hold of hands and spun
round and round the den.
"Oh, dear, we're knocking off your beautiful program," cried Polly,
pausing in dismay.
"It hasn't hurt it any--our mad whirl hasn't," said Jasper, picking up
the long program where it had slipped off the table to the floor.
"Polly, you can't think how I wanted Pick to be chosen. It will do him
so much good."
"And only think, if I hadn't chosen him out of that bowl!" cried Polly,
in dismay at the very thought.
"Well, you did, Polly, so it's all right," said Jasper. "Now everything
is fixed, and it's going to be the finest affair that ever was," he
added enthusiastically; "and the best of it is--I can't help it,
Polly--that Mrs. Chatterton isn't to come back till next week," he
brought up in great satisfaction.
Mrs. Chatterton had gone to New York for some weeks, but was to return
to finish her visit at "Cousin Horatio's."
"And I am so glad too," confessed Polly, but feeling as if she oughtn't
to say it. "And isn't everything just beautiful, Jasper!"
"I should think it was!" cried Jasper jubilantly. "Just as perfect as
can be, Polly."
And the next afternoon, when the last preparations for the grand
entertainment were made, and everybody was rushing off to dress for
dinner, a carriage drove up the winding driveway. There were big trunks
on the rack, and two people inside.
Joel, racing along the hall with Tom at his heels, took one look. "Oh,
whickets!" he ejaculated, stopping short, to bring his feet down with a
thud.
"What's the row?" asked Tom, plunging up to him in amazement.
"That person." Joel pointed a finger at the carriage. "I must tell
Polly," and off he darted.
Tom, not feeling at all sure that he ought to wait to see "that person,"
wheeled about and followed.
"Polly," roared Joel, long before he got to her. "She's come!"
"Has she?" Polly called back, supposing he meant Alexia. "Well, tell her
to come up here, Joe, in my room."
Joel took the stairs two at a time, Tom waiting below, and dashed into
the blue and white room without ceremony.
"Polly, you don't understand," he blurted out; "she's come!"
Polly had her head bent over a drawer, picking out some ribbons. At the
sound of Joel's voice she drew it out and looked at him.
"Why, how funny you look, Joe!" she said. "What is the matter?"
"I guess you'd look funny," said Joel glumly, "if you'd seen Mrs.
Chatterton."
"_Not Mrs. Chatterton!_" exclaimed Polly aghast; and jumping up, her
face very pale, and upsetting her box of ribbons, she seized Joel's
arm.
"Tell me this very minute, Joel Pepper," she commanded, "what do you
mean?"
"Mrs. Chatterton has just come. I saw her coming up the drive. There's
Johnson now letting her in." Joel had it all out now in a burst, ready
to cry at sight of Polly's face, as the bustle in the hall below and the
thin, high voice proclaimed the worst.