"What _shall_ we do?"
"She's an old harpy," declared Joel; "mean, horrid, old thing!"
"Oh, stop, Joel!" cried Polly, quite horrified.
"Well, she is," said Joel vindictively, "to come before we'd got back to
school."
"Well, don't say so," begged Polly, having hard work to keep back her
own words, crowding for utterance. "Mamsie wouldn't like it, Joey."
Joel, with this thought on his mind, only grumbled out something so
faintly that really Polly couldn't hear as she ran out into the hall.
"Oh, Jasper!"
"Polly, did you know? What _can_ we do?" It was impossible for him to
conceal his vexation. And Polly lost sight of her own discomfiture, in
the attempt to comfort him.
"And father--it will just make him as miserable as can be," said Jasper
gloomily. "And he was so happy over the beautiful time we were going to
have this evening." He was so vexed he could do nothing but prance up
and down the hall.
"Well, we must make him forget that she is here," said Polly, swallowing
her own distress at the change of all the conditions.
"How can we, Polly?" Jasper stopped for a minute and stared at her.
"I mean," said Polly, feeling that it was a very hopeless case after
all, "that we mustn't show that we mind it, her coming back, and must
act as if we forgot it; and then that will keep him happy perhaps."
"If you only will, Polly," cried Jasper, seizing both of her hands, "it
will be the best piece of work you ever did."
"Oh, I can't do it alone," exclaimed Polly, in consternation. "Never in
all this world, Jasper, unless you help too."
"Then we'll both try our very best," said Jasper. "I'm sure I ought to;
'twould be mean enough to expect you to go at such a task alone."
"Oh, you couldn't be mean, Jasper," declared Polly, in horror at the
very thought.
"Well, I should be if I left you to tackle this by yourself," said
Jasper, with a grim little laugh. "So Polly, there's my hand on it. I'll
help you."
And Polly ran back to pick up her ribbons and dress for dinner, feeling
somehow very happy after all, that there was something she could do for
dear Grandpapa to help him bear this great calamity.
Tom Beresford, meanwhile, withdrew from the great hall when Johnson
ushered in the tall, stately woman and her French maid, and took shelter
in the library. And Mrs. Whitney, coming over the stairs, saying, "Well,
Cousin Eunice, did you have a pleasant journey?" in the gentle voice Tom
so loved, gave him the first inkling of the relationship. But he
wrinkled his brows at Joel's exclamation, and his queer way of rushing
off.
"You know journeys always tire me, Marian. So that your question is
quite useless. I will sit in the library a moment to recover myself.
Hortense, go up and prepare my room," and she sailed into the apartment,
her heavy silk gown swishing close to Tom's chair.
"Who is that boy?" she demanded sharply. Then she put up her lorgnette,
and examined him closely as if of a new and probably dangerous species.
Tom slipped off from his chair and stiffened up.
"It's one of Joel's friends," said Mrs. Whitney, slipping her hand
within the tall boy's arm. "The boys are at home from school for a
week."
"Joel's friends," repeated Mrs. Chatterton, paying scant attention to
the rest of the information. Then she gave a scornful cackle. "Haven't
you gotten over that nonsense yet, Marian?" she asked.
"No; and I trust I never shall," replied Mrs. Whitney with a happy
smile. "Now, Cousin Eunice, as you wish to rest, we will go," and she
drew Tom off.
"My boy," she said, releasing him in the hall, to give a bright glance
up at the stormy, astonished face above her, "I know you and Joel will
get dressed as rapidly as possible for dinner, for my father will not
want to be annoyed by a lack of promptness to-night." She did not say,
"because he will have annoyance enough," but Tom guessed it all.
"I will, Mrs. Whitney," he promised heartily. And, thinking he would go
to the ends of the earth for her, to be smiled on like that, he plunged
off over the stairs.
"I've seen the old cat," he cried in smothered wrath to Joel, rushing
into his room.
Joel sat disconsolately on the edge of his bed, kicking off his heavy
shoes, to replace with his evening ones.
"Have you?" said Joel grimly. "Well, isn't she a--" then he remembered
Mamsie, and snapped his lips to.
"'A,'" exclaimed Tom, in smothered wrath, as he closed the door. "She
isn't 'a' at all, Joe. She's 'the.'"
"Well, do be still," cried Joel, putting on his best shoes nervously,
"or you'll have me saying something. And she's visiting here; and Mamsie
wouldn't like it. Don't, Tom," he begged.
"I won't," said Tom, with a monstrous effort, "but--oh dear me!" Then he
rushed into his own room and banged about, getting his best clothes out.
"Shut the door," roared Joel after him, "or you'll begin to fume, and I
can't stand it, Tom; it will set me off."
So Tom shut the door; and with all these precautions going on over the
house, all the family in due time appeared at dinner, prepared as best
they could be to bear the infliction of Mrs. Chatterton's return.
And after the conclusion of the meal, why, everybody tried to forget it
as much as possible, and give themselves up to the grand affair of the
evening.
And old Mr. King, who had been consumed with fear that it would have a
disastrous effect on Polly and Jasper, the chief getters-up of the
entertainment, came out of his fright nicely; for there they were, as
bright and jolly as ever, and fully equal to any demands upon them. So
he made up his mind that, after all, he could put up with Cousin Eunice
a bit longer, and that the affair was to be an immense success and the
very finest thing possible.
And everybody else who was present on the eventful occasion, said so
too! And it seemed as if Mr. King's spacious drawing-room, famous for
its capacity at all such times, couldn't possibly have admitted another
person to this entertainment for the benefit of the poor brakeman's
family.
And Joel, who wasn't good at recitations, and who detested all that sort
of thing, and Van, for the same reason, were both in their element as
ticket takers. And the little pink and yellow squares came in so thick
and fast that both boys had all they could do for a while--which was
saying a good deal--to collect them.
And everybody said that Miss Mary Taylor had never played such a
beautiful overture--and she was capable of a good deal along that
line--in all her life; and Phronsie, sitting well to the front, between
old Mr. King and Helen Fargo, forgot that she ever had a hurt arm, and
that it lay bandaged up in her lap.
And little Dick, when he could lose sight of the fact that he wasn't
next to Phronsie instead of Helen Fargo, snuggled up contentedly against
Mother Fisher, and applauded everything straight through.
And old Mr. King protested that he was perfectly satisfied with the
whole thing, which was saying the most that could be expressed for the
quality of the entertainment; and he took particular pains to applaud
Tom Beresford, who looked very handsome, and acquitted himself well.
"I must," said Tom to himself, although quaking inwardly, "for they've
all been so good to me--and for Joel's sake!" So he sang at his very
best. And he played his banjo merrily, and he was encored and encored;
and Joel was as proud as could be, which did Tom good to see.
And Percy--well, the tears of joy came into his mother's eyes, for it
wasn't easy for him to learn pieces, nor in fact to apply himself to
study at all. But no one would have suspected it to see him now on that
stage. And Grandpapa King was so overjoyed that he called
"Bravo--bravo!" ever so many times, which carried Percy on triumphantly
over the difficult spots where he had been afraid he should slip.
"If only his father could hear him!" sighed Mrs. Whitney in the midst of
her joy, longing as she always did for the time when the father could
finish those trips over the sea, for his business house.
Polly had made Jasper consent, which he did reluctantly, to give his
recitation before she played; insisting that music was really better for
a finale. And she listened with such delight to the applause that he
received--for ever so many of the audience said it was the gem of the
whole--that she quite forgot to be nervous about her own performance;
and she played her nocturne with such a happy heart, thinking over the
lovely evening, and how the money would be, oh, such a heap to take down
on the morrow to the poor brakeman's home, that Jasper was turning the
last page of her music--and the entertainment was at an end!
Polly hopped off from the music stool. There was a great clapping all
over the room, and Grandpapa called out, "Yes, child, play again," so
there was nothing for Polly to do but to hop back again and give them
another selection. And then they clapped harder yet; but Polly shook her
brown head, and rushed off the stage.
And then, of course, Grandpapa gave them, as he always did, a fine party
to wind up the evening with. And the camp chairs were folded up and
carried off, and a company of musicians came into the alcove in the
spacious hall, and all through the beautiful, large apartments festivity
reigned!
"Look at the old cat," said Tom in a smothered aside to Joel, his next
neighbor in the "Sir Roger de Coverley." "Isn't she a sight!"
"I don't want to," said Joel, with a grimace, "and it's awfully mean in
you, Tom, to ask me."
"I know it," said Tom penitently, "but I can't keep my eyes off from
her. How your grandfather can stand it, Pepper, I don't see."
And a good many other people were asking themselves the same question,
Madam Dyce among the number, to whom Mrs. Chatterton was just remarking,
"Cousin Horatio is certainly not the same man."
"No," replied Madam Dyce distinctly, "he is infinitely improved; so
approachable now."
"You mistake me," Mrs. Chatterton said angrily, "I mean there is the
greatest change come over him; it's lamentable, and all brought about by
his inexplicable infatuation over those low-born Pepper children and
their designing mother."
"Mrs. Chatterton," said Madam Dyce--she could be quite as stately as Mr.
King's cousin, and as she felt in secure possession of the right in the
case, she was vastly more impressive--"I am not here to go over this
question, nor shall I discuss it anywhere with you. You know my mind
about it. I only wish I had the Peppers--yes, every single one of them,"
warmed up the old lady,--"in my house, and that fine woman, their
mother, along with them."
XX THE CORCORAN FAMILY
And on the morrow--oh, what a heap of money there was for the poor
brakeman's family!--four hundred and twelve dollars. For a good many
people had fairly insisted on paying twice the amount for their tickets;
and a good many more had paid when they couldn't take tickets at all,
going out of town, or for some other good reason.
And one old lady, a great friend of the family, sent for Polly Pepper
the week before. And when Polly appeared before the big lounge,--for
Mrs. Sterling was lifted from her bed to lie under the sofa-blankets all
day,--she said, "Now, my dear, I want to take some tickets for that
affair of yours. Gibbons, get my check-book."
So Gibbons, the maid, brought the check-book, and drew up the little
stand with the writing-case upon it close to the lounge, and Mrs.
Sterling did a bit of writing; and presently she held out a long green
slip of paper.
"Oh!" cried Polly, in huge delight, "I've never had one for my very own
self before." There it was, "Polly Pepper," running clear across its
face. And "Oh!" with wide eyes, when she saw the amount, "twenty-five
dollars!"
"Haven't you so?" said Mrs. Sterling, greatly pleased to be the first in
one of Polly's pleasures.
"Oh!" cried Polly again, "twenty-five dollars!" And she threw herself
down before the lounge, and dropped a kiss upon the hand that had made
all this happiness for the brakeman's poor children.
"Well now, Polly, tell me all about it," said Mrs. Sterling, with a glow
at her heart warm enough to brighten many a long invalid day. "Gibbons,
get a cricket for Miss Mary."
"Oh, may I sit here?" begged Polly eagerly, as Gibbons, placing the
little writing-case back into position, now approached with the cricket;
"it's so cosey on the floor."
"Why, yes, if you don't wish the cricket," said Mrs. Sterling with a
little laugh, "and I remember when I was your age it was my greatest
delight to sit on the floor."
"It is mine," said Polly, snuggling up to the sofa-blankets.
Mrs. Sterling put out her thin hand, and took Polly's rosy palm. "Now
begin, dear," she said, with an air of content, and looking down into
the bright face.
So Polly, realizing that here perhaps was need for help, quite as much
as in the poor brakeman's home, though in a different way, told the
whole story, how the two clubs, the Salisbury School Club and the boys'
club, had joined together to help Jim Corcoran's children; how they had
had a big meeting at Jasper's house, and promised each other to take
hold faithfully and work for that object.
"We were going to have a little play," observed Polly, a bit
sorrowfully, "but it was thought best not, so it will be recitations and
music."
"Those will be very nice, I am quite sure, Polly," said Mrs. Sterling;
"how I should love to hear some of them!" It was her turn to look sad
now.
"Why--" Polly sat up quite straight now, and her cheeks turned rosy.
"What is it, my child?" asked Mrs. Sterling.
"Would you--I mean, do you want--oh, Mrs. Sterling, would you like us to
come here some time to recite something to you?"
Mrs. Sterling turned an eager face on her pillow.
"Are you sure, Polly," a light coming into her tired eyes, "that you
young people would be willing to come to entertain a dull, sick, old
woman?"
"Oh, I am sure they would," cried Polly, "if you would like it, dear
Mrs. Sterling."
"_Like it!_" Mrs. Sterling turned her thin face to the wall for a
moment. When she looked again at Polly, there were tears trickling down
the wasted cheeks. "Polly, you don't know," she said brokenly, "how I
just long to hear young voices here in this dreary old house. To lie
here day after day, child--"
"Oh!" cried Polly suddenly, "it must be so very dreadful, Mrs.
Sterling."
"Well, don't let us speak of that," said Mrs. Sterling, breaking off
quickly her train of thought, "for the worst isn't the pain and the
weakness, Polly. It's the loneliness, child."
"Oh!" said Polly. Then it all rushed over her how she might have run in
before, and taken the other girls if she had only known. "But we will
come now, dear Mrs. Sterling," she said aloud.
"Do," cried Mrs. Sterling, and a faint color began to show itself on her
thin face, "but not unless you are quite sure that the young people will
like it, Polly."
"Yes, I am sure," said Polly, with a decided nod of her brown head.
"Then why couldn't you hold some of your rehearsals here?" proposed Mrs.
Sterling.
"Shouldn't we tire you?" asked Polly.
"No, indeed!" declared Mrs. Sterling, with sudden energy, "I could bear
a menagerie up here, Polly," and she laughed outright.
Gibbons, at this unwonted sound, popped her head in from the adjoining
room where she was busy with her sewing, to gaze in astonishment at her
mistress.
"I am not surprised at your face, Gibbons," said Mrs. Sterling cheerily,
"for you have not heard me laugh for many a day."
"No, madam, I haven't," said Gibbons, "but I can't help saying I'm
rejoiced to hear it now," with a glance of approval on Polly Pepper.
"So, Polly, you see there is no danger of your bringing me any fatigue,
and I should be only too happy to see you at your next rehearsal."
"We can come, I am almost sure," said Polly, "those of us who want to
rehearse at all. Some of us, you see, are quite sure of our pieces:
Pickering Dodge is, for one; he spoke at his last school exhibition. But
I'll tell the others. Oh, thank you for asking us, Mrs. Sterling."
"Thank you for giving your time, dear, to a dull old woman," said Mrs.
Sterling. "Oh, must you go?" She clung to her hand. "I suppose you
ought, child."
"Yes," said Polly, "I really ought to go, Mrs. Sterling. And you are not
dull, one single bit, and I like you very much," she added as simply as
Phronsie would have said it.
"Kiss me good-bye, Polly," said Mrs. Sterling. So Polly laid her fresh
young cheek against the poor, tired, wasted one; hopped into her jacket,
and was off on happy feet.
And the others said "Yes," when they saw Polly's enthusiasm over the
plan of holding a rehearsal at Mrs. Sterling's; and Jasper proposed,
"Why couldn't we repeat the whole thing after our grand performance, for
her sometime?" and, before any one could quite tell how, a warm sympathy
had been set in motion for the rich, lonely old lady in the big, gloomy
stone mansion most of them passed daily on their way to school.
Well, the grand affair was over now, and a greater success than was ever
hoped for. Now came the enjoyment of presenting the money!
"Grandpapa," said Polly, "we are all here."
"So I perceive," looking out on the delegation in the hall. For of
course all the two clubs couldn't go to the presentation, so committees
were chosen to represent them--Polly, Clem, Alexia, and Silvia, for the
Salisbury Club, and Jasper, Clare, Pickering, and Richard Burnett for
the boys' club; while old Mr. King on his own account had invited Joel,
Percy and Van, and, of course, Tom Beresford.
"My! What shall we do with such a lot of boys?" exclaimed Alexia, as
they all met in the hall.
"You don't have to do anything at all with us, Alexia," retorted Joel,
who liked her the best of any of Polly's friends, and always showed it
by sparring with her on every occasion, "only let us alone."
"Which I shall proceed to do with the greatest pleasure," said Alexia.
"Goodness me! Joe, as if I'd be bothered with you tagging on. You're
much worse than before you went away to school."
"Come, you two, stop your quarrelling," said Jasper, laughing. "A pretty
example you'd make to those poor Corcoran children."
"Oh, we sha'n't fight there," said Alexia sweetly; "we'll have quite
enough to do to see all that is going on. Oh, Polly, when do you suppose
we can ever start?"
"Father has the bank-book," announced Jasper; "I saw him put it in his
pocket, Polly."
Polly gave a little wriggle under her coat. "Oh, Jasper, isn't it just
too splendid for anything!" she cried.
"I'm going to walk with Polly," announced Clem, seizing Polly's arm,
"so, Alexia Rhys, I give you fair warning this time."
"Indeed, you're not," declared Alexia stoutly. "Why, I always walk with
Polly Pepper."
"And that's just the reason why I'm going to to-day," said Clem, hanging
to Polly's arm for dear life.
"Well, I'm her dearest friend," added Alexia, taking refuge in that
well-worn statement, "so there now, Clem Forsythe."
"No, you're not," said Clem obstinately; "we're all her dearest friends,
aren't we, Polly? Say, Polly, aren't we?"
"Hush!" said Jasper. "Father's coming."
"Well, I can't help it. I'm tired of hearing Alexia Rhys everlastingly
saying that, and pushing us all away from Polly."
"Do hear them go on!" exclaimed Tom Beresford, off on the edge of the
group. "Does she always have them carrying around like that?"
"Yes," said Joel, "a great deal worse. Oh, they're a lot of giggling
girls; I hate girls!" he exploded.
"So do I," nodded Tom. "Let's keep clear of the whole lot, and walk by
ourselves."
"Indeed, we will," declared Joel. "You won't catch me walking with girls
when I can help it."
"Well, I wonder which of those two will get your sister, Polly, this
time," said Tom, craning his long neck to see the contest.
"Oh, Alexia, of course," said Joel carelessly; "she always gets her in
the end."
But Joel was wrong. Neither of the girls carried off Polly. Old Mr. King
marched out of his reading-room. "Come, Polly, my child, you and I will
walk together," and he waited on her handsomely out, and down the walk
to the car.
Tom and Joel burst into a loud laugh, in which the others joined, at the
crestfallen faces.
"Well, at least you didn't get her, Clem," said Alexia airily, coming
out of her discomfiture.
"Neither did you," said Clem happily.
"And you are horrid boys to laugh," said Alexia, looking over at the
two. "But then, all boys are horrid."
"Thank you," said Tom, with his best bow.
"Alexia Rhys, aren't you perfectly ashamed to be fighting with that new
boy?" cried Clem.
"Come on, Alexia," said Jasper. "I shall have to walk with you to keep
you in order," and the gay procession hurrying after old Mr. King and
Polly, caught up with them turning out of the big stone gateway.
And then, what a merry walk they had to the car! and that being nearly
full, they had to wait for the next one, which luckily had only three
passengers; and Mr. King and his party clambered on, to ride down
through the poor quarters of the town, to the Corcoran house.
"Oh, misery me!" exclaimed Alexia, looking out at the tumble-down
tenements, and garbage heaps up to the very doors. "Where _are_ we
going?"
"Did you suppose Jim Corcoran lived in a palace?" asked Pickering
lazily.
"Well, I didn't suppose anybody lived like that," said Alexia, wrinkling
up her nose in scorn. "Dear me, look at all those children!"
"Interesting, aren't they?" said Pickering, with a pang for the swarm of
ragged, dirty little creatures, but not showing it in the least on his
impassive face.
"Oh, I don't want to see it," exclaimed Alexia, "and I'm not going to
either," turning her back on it all.
"It goes on just the same," said Pickering.
"Then I am going to look." Alexia whirled around again, and gazed up and
down the ugly thoroughfare, taking it all in.
"Ugh, how can you!" exclaimed Silvia Horne, in disgust. "I think it's
very disagreeable to even know that such people live."
"Perhaps 'twould be better to kill 'em off," said Tom Beresford bluntly.
"Ugh, you dreadful boy!" cried Clem Forsythe.
"Who's fighting now with the new boy?" asked Alexia sweetly, tearing off
her gaze from the street.
"Well, who wouldn't?" retorted Clem, "he's saying such perfectly
terrible things."
Pickering Dodge gave a short laugh. "Beresford, you're in for it now,"
he said.
Tom shrugged his shoulders, and turned his back on them.
"What did you bring him home for, Joe?" asked Alexia, leaning over to
twitch Joel's arm.
"To plague you, Alexia," said Joel, with a twinkle in his black eyes.
"Oh, he doesn't bother me," said Alexia serenely. "Clem is having all
the trouble now. Well, we must put up with him, I suppose," she said
with resignation.
"You don't need to," said Joel coolly, "you can let us alone, Alexia."
"But I don't want to let you alone," said Alexia; "that's all boys are
good for, if they're in a party, to keep 'em stirred up. Goodness me,
Mr. King and Polly are getting out!" as the car stopped, and Grandpapa
led the way down the aisle.
When they arrived at the Corcoran house, which was achieved by dodging
around groups of untidy women gossiping with their neighbors, and
children playing on the dirty pavements, with the occasional detour
caused by a heap of old tin cans, and other debris, Mr. King drew a
long breath. "I don't know that I ought to have brought you young people
down here. It didn't strike me so badly before."
"But it's no worse for us to see it than for the people to live here,
father," said Jasper quickly.
"That's very true--but faugh!" and the old gentleman had great
difficulty to contain himself. "Well, thank fortune, the Corcoran family
are to move this week."
"Oh, Grandpapa," cried Polly, hopping up and down on the broken
pavement, and "Oh, father!" from Jasper.
"Polly Pepper," exclaimed Alexia, twitching her away, "you came near
stepping into that old mess of bones and things."
Polly didn't even glance at the garbage heap by the edge of the
sidewalk, nor give it a thought. "Oh, how lovely, Alexia," she cried,
"that they won't have but a day or two more here!"
"Well, we are going in," said Alexia, holding her tightly, "and I'm glad
of it, Polly. Oh, misery me!" as they followed Mr. King into the poor
little house that Jim the brakeman had called home.