Chatterton by replying to Jasper before finding the basket, knocked over
one of the small silver-topped bottles with which the dressing table
seemed to be full, and before she could rescue it, it fell to the
floor.
"Go out of this room," commanded Mrs. Chatterton, with blazing eyes. "I
ought to have known better than to call upon a heavy-handed, low-born
country girl, to do a delicate service."
"I didn't mean--" began poor Polly.
"Go out of this room!" Mrs. Chatterton, now thoroughly out of temper, so
far forgot herself as to stamp her foot; and Polly, feeling as if she
had lost all chance in her future encounters with Mrs. Chatterton, of
atoning for past short-comings, went sadly out, to meet, just beside the
door, Jasper, with amazement on his face.
"Oh, Polly, I thought you were never coming." Then he saw her face.
"That old--" he said under his breath. "Polly, don't ever go into her
room again. I wouldn't," as they hurried off downstairs.
"She won't let me," said Polly, her head drooping, and the brightness
all gone from her face. "She won't ever let me go again, I know."
"Won't let you? Well, I guess you'll not give her a chance," cried
Jasper hotly. "Polly, I do really wish that father would tell her to go
away."
"Oh, Jasper," cried Polly, in alarm, "don't say one word to Grandpapa.
Promise me you won't, Jasper."
"Well, father is tired of her. She wears on him terribly, Polly," said
Jasper gloomily.
"I know," said Polly sadly. "And oh, Jasper, if you say one word, he
will really have her go. And I was so bad to her, you know," and the
tears came into Polly's brown eyes.
"Well, she must have been perfectly terrible to you," said Jasper.
"Polly--Jasper--where are you?" came in old Mr. King's voice.
"Here, father," and "Here, Grandpapa," and Clare running up the steps,
the little party was soon in the carriage.
"Promise me, Jasper, do," implored Polly, when Grandpapa was explaining
to Cathie about the great actor they were to see, and Clare was
listening to hear all about it, too.
"Oh, I won't," promised Jasper, "if you don't wish me to."
"I really wouldn't have you for all the world," declared Polly; and now
that this fear was off from her mind, she began to pick up her old,
bright spirits, so that by the time the carriage stopped at the theatre,
Polly was herself again.
Jasper watched her keenly, and drew a long breath when he saw her
talking and laughing with Grandpapa.
"You are going to sit next to me, Polly," said the old gentleman,
marshalling his forces when well within. "And Jasper next. Then, Cathie,
you will have a knight on either side."
"Oh, I can't sit between two boys," cried Cathie, forgetting herself in
her terror.
"I won't bite you," cried Clare saucily.
"I will see that Clare behaves himself," said Jasper.
"You'll do nicely, my dear," said Mr. King encouragingly to her; then
proceeded down the aisle after the usher. So there was nothing to do but
to obey. And Cathie, who would have found it a formidable thing to be
stranded on the companionship of one boy, found herself between two, and
Polly Pepper far off, and not the least able to help.
"Now, then," said Jasper, taking up the program, "I suppose father told
you pretty much all that was necessary to know about Irving. Well--" And
then, without waiting for a reply, Jasper dashed on about the splendid
plays in which he had seen this wonderful actor, and the particular one
they were to enjoy to-night; and from that he drifted off to the fine
points to be admired in the big playhouse, with its striking
decorations, making Cathie raise her eyes to take it all in, until Clare
leaned over to say:
"I should think you might give Cathie and me a chance to talk a little,
Jasper."
"Oh, I don't want to talk," cried Cathie in terror. "I don't know
anything to say."
"Well, I do," said Clare, in a dudgeon, "only Jasper goes on in such a
streak to-night."
"I believe I have been talking you both blue," said Jasper, with a
laugh.
"You certainly have," said Clare, laughing too.
And then Cathie laughed, and Polly Pepper, looking over, beamed at her,
for she had begun to be worried.
"The best thing in the world," said old Mr. King, "was to turn her over
to those two boys. Now, don't give her another thought, Polly; she'll
get on."
And she did; so well, that before long, she and Clare were chatting away
merrily; and Cathie felt it was by no means such a very terrible
experience to be sitting between two boys at a play; and by the time
the evening was half over, she was sure that she liked it very much.
And Polly beamed at her more than ever, and Jasper felt quite sure that
he had never enjoyed an evening more than the one at present flying by
so fast. And old Mr. King, so handsome and stately, showed such evident
pride in his young charges, as he smiled and chatted, that more than one
old friend in the audience commented on it.
"Did you ever see such a change in any one?" asked a dowager, levelling
her keen glances from her box down upon the merry party.
"Never; it was the one thing needed to make him quite perfect," said
another one of that set. "He is approachable now--absolutely
fascinating, so genial and courteous."
"His manners were perfect before," said a third member of the box party,
"except they needed thawing out--a bit too icy."
"You are too mild. I should say they were quite frozen. He never seemed
to me to have any heart."
"Well, it's proved he has," observed her husband. "I tell you that
little Pepper girl is going to make a sensation when she comes out,"
leaning over for a better view of the King party, "and the best of it
is that she doesn't know it herself."
And Clare made up his mind that Cathie Harrison was an awfully nice
girl; and he was real glad she had moved to town and joined the
Salisbury School. And as he had two cousins there, they soon waked up a
conversation over them.
"Only I don't know them much," said Cathie. "You see I haven't been at
the school long, and besides, the girls didn't have much to say to me
till Polly Pepper said nice things to me, and then she asked me to go to
the bee."
"That old sewing thing where they make clothes for the poor little
darkeys down South?" asked Clare.
"Yes; and it's just lovely," said Cathie, "and I never supposed I'd be
asked. And Polly Pepper came down to my desk one day, and invited me to
come to the next meeting, and I was so scared, I couldn't say anything
at first; and then Polly got me into the Salisbury Club."
"Oh, yes, I know." Clare nodded, and wished he could forget how he had
asked one of the other boys on that evening when the two clubs united,
why in the world the Salisbury Club elected Cathie Harrison into its
membership.
"And then Polly Pepper's mother invited me to visit her--Polly, I
mean--and so here I am"--she forgot she was talking to a dreaded boy,
and turned her happy face toward him--"and it's just lovely. I never
visited a girl before."
"Never visited a girl before!" repeated Clare, in astonishment.
"No," said Cathie. "You see, my father was a minister, and we lived in
the country, and when I visited anybody, which was only two or three
times in my life, it was to papa's old aunts."
"Oh dear me!" exclaimed Clare faintly, quite gone in pity.
"And so your father moved to town," he said; and then he knew that he
had made a terrible mistake.
"Now she won't speak a word--perhaps burst out crying," he groaned
within himself, as he saw her face. But Cathie sat quite still.
"My papa died," she said softly, "and he told mamma before he went, to
take me to town and have me educated. And one of those old aunts gave
the money. And if it hadn't been for him, I'd have run home from the
Salisbury School that first week, it was so perfectly awful."
Clare sat quite still. Then he burst out, "Well, now, Cathie, I think it
was just splendid in you to stick on."
"Do you?" she cried, quite astonished to think any one would think she
was "just splendid" in anything. "Why, the girls call me a goose over
and over. And sometimes I lose my temper, because they don't say it in
fun, but they really mean it."
"Well, they needn't," said Clare indignantly, "because I don't think you
are a goose at all."
"Those two are getting on quite well," said Jasper to Polly. "I don't
think we need to worry about Cathie any more."
"And isn't she nice?" asked Polly, in great delight.
"Yes, I think she is, Polly," said Jasper, in a way that gave Polly
great satisfaction.
But when this delightful evening was all over, and the good nights had
been said, and Mother Fisher, as was her wont, had come into Polly's
room to help her take off her things, and to say a few words to Cathie
too, Polly began to remember the scene in Mrs. Chatterton's room; and a
sorry little feeling crept into her heart.
And when Mamsie had gone out and everything was quiet, Polly buried her
face in her pillow, and tried not to cry. "I don't believe she will ever
forgive me, or let me help her again."
"Polly," called Cathie softly from the next room, "I did have the most
beautiful time!"
"Did you?" cried Polly, choking back her sobs. "Oh, I am so glad,
Cathie!"
"Yes," said Cathie, "I did, Polly, and I'm not afraid of boys now; I
think they are real nice."
"Aren't they!" cried Polly, "and weren't our seats fine! Grandpapa
didn't want a box to-night, because we could see the play so much better
from the floor. But we ought to go to sleep, Cathie, for Mamsie wouldn't
like us to talk. Good night."
"Good night," said Cathie. "A box!" she said to herself, as she turned
on her pillow, "oh, I should have died to have sat up in one of those.
It was quite magnificent enough where I was."
XXII PICKERING DODGE
"Jasper!"
Jasper, rushing down the long hall of the Pemberton School, books in
hand, turned to see Mr. Faber standing in the doorway of his private
room.
"I want to see you, Jasper."
Jasper, with an awful feeling at his heart, obeyed and went in. "It's
all up with Pick," he groaned, and sat down in the place indicated on
the other side of the big round table, Mr. Faber in his accustomed seat,
the big leather chair.
"You remember the conversation I had with you, Jasper," he said slowly;
and picking up a paper knife he began playing with it, occasionally
glancing up over his glasses at the boy.
Jasper nodded, unable to find any voice. Then he managed to say, "Yes,
sir."
"Well, now, Jasper, it was rather an unusual thing to do, to set one
lad, as it were, to work upon another in just that way. For I am sure I
haven't forgotten my boyhood, long past as it is, and I realize that the
responsibilities of school life are heavy enough, without adding to the
burden."
Mr. Faber, well pleased with this sentiment, waited to clear his throat.
Jasper, in an agony, as he saw Pickering Dodge expelled, and all the
dreadful consequences, sat quite still.
"At the same time, although I disliked to take you into confidence,
making you an assistant in the work of reclaiming Pickering Dodge from
his idle, aimless state, in which he exhibited such a total disregard
for his lessons, it appeared after due consideration to be the only
thing left to be done. You understand this, I trust, Jasper."
Jasper's reply this time was so low as to be scarcely audible. But Mr.
Faber, taking it for granted, manipulated the paper knife a few times,
and went on impressively.
"I am very glad you do, Jasper. I felt sure, knowing you so well, that
my reasons would appeal to you in the right way. You are Pickering's
best friend among my scholars."
"And he is mine," exploded Jasper, thinking wildly that it was perhaps
not quite too late to save Pickering. "I've known him always, sir." He
was quite to the edge of his chair now, his dark eyes shining, and his
hair tossed back. "Beg pardon, Mr. Faber, but I can't help it. Pickering
is so fine; he's not like other boys."
"No, I believe you." Mr. Faber smiled grimly and gave the paper knife
another whirl. And much as Jasper liked him, that smile seemed wholly
unnecessary, and to deal death to his hopes.
"He certainly is unlike any other boy in my school in regard to his
studying," he said. "His capacity is not wanting, to be sure; there was
never any lack of that. For that reason I was always hoping to arouse
his ambition."
"And you can--oh, you can, sir!" cried Jasper eagerly, although he felt
every word he said to be unwelcome, "if you will only try him a bit
longer. Don't send him off yet, Mr. Faber."
He got off from his chair, and leaned on the table heavily.
"Don't send him off?" repeated Mr. Faber, dropping the paper knife,
"what is the boy talking of! Why, Jasper--I've called you in here to
tell you how much Pickering has improved and--"
Jasper collapsed on his chair. "And is it possible that you haven't
seen it for yourself, Jasper?" exclaimed Mr. Faber. "Why, every teacher
is quite delighted. Even Mr. Dinsmore--and he was in favor of at least
suspending Pickering last half--has expressed his opinion that I did
well to give the boy another trial."
"I thought--" mumbled Jasper, "I was afraid." Then he pulled himself
together, and somehow found himself standing over by Mr. Faber's chair,
unbosoming himself of his fright and corresponding joy.
"Pull your chair up nearer, Jasper," said Mr. Faber, when, the first
transport having worked off, Jasper seemed better fitted for
conversation, "and we will go over this in a more intelligent fashion. I
am really more pleased than I can express at the improvement in that
boy. As I said before"--Mr. Faber had long ago thrown aside the paper
knife, and now turned toward Jasper, his whole attention on the matter
in hand--"Pickering has a fine capacity; take it all in all, perhaps
there is none better in the whole school. It shows to great advantage
now, because he has regained his place so rapidly in his classes. It is
quite astonishing, Jasper." And he took off his glasses and polished
them up carefully, repeating several times during the process, "Yes,
very surprising indeed!"
"And he seems to like to study now," said Jasper, ready to bring forward
all the nice things that warranted encouragement.
"Does he so?" Mr. Faber set his glasses on his nose, and beamed at him
over them. The boys at the Pemberton School always protested that this
was the only use they could be put to on the master's countenance.
"Well, now, Jasper, I really believe I am justified in entertaining a
very strong hope of Pickering's future career. And I see no reason why
he should not be ready for college with you, and without conditions, if
he will only keep his ambition alive and active, now it is aroused."
"May I tell him so?" cried Jasper, almost beside himself with joy. "Oh,
may I, Mr. Faber?"
"Why, that is what I called you in here for, Jasper," said the master.
"It seemed so very much better for him to hear it from a boy, for I
remember my own boyhood, though so very long since; and the effect will,
I feel sure, be much deeper than if Pickering hears it from me. He is
very tired of this study, Jasper," and Mr. Faber glanced around at the
four walls, and again came that grim smile. "And even to hear a word of
commendation, it might not be so pleasing to be called in. So away with
you. At the proper time, I shall speak to him myself."
Jasper, needing no second bidding, fled precipitately--dashed in again.
"Beg pardon, I'd forgotten my books." He seized them from the table, and
made quick time tracking Pickering.
"Where is Pick?" rushing up to a knot of boys on a corner of the
playground, just separating to go home.
"Don't know; what's up, King?"
"Can't stop," said Jasper, flying back to the schoolroom. "I must get
Pick."
"Dodge has gone," shouted a boy clearing the steps, who had heard the
last words. So Jasper, turning again, left school and playground far
behind, to run up the steps of the Cabot mansion.
"Pickering here?"
"Yes." The butler had seen him hurrying over the stairs to his own room
just five minutes ago. And in less than a minute Jasper was up in that
same place.
There sat Pickering by his table, his long legs upon its surface, and
his hands thrust into his pockets. His books sprawled just where he had
thrown them, at different angles along the floor.
"Hullo!" cried Jasper, flying in, to stop aghast at this.
"Yes, you see, Jasper, I'm played out," said Pickering. "It isn't any
use for me to study, and there are the plaguey things," pulling out one
set of fingers to point to the sprawling books. "I can't catch up. Every
teacher looks at me squint-eyed as if I were a hopeless case, which I
am!"
"Oh, you big dunce!" Jasper clapped his books on the table with a bang,
making Pickering draw down his long legs, rushed around to precipitate
himself on the rest of the figure in the chair, when he pommelled him to
his heart's content.
"If you expect to beat any hope into me, old boy," cried Pickering, not
caring in the least for the onslaught, "you'll miss your guess."
"I'm hoping to beat sense into you," cried Jasper, pounding away,
"though it looks almost impossible now," he declared, laughing. "Pick,
you've won! Mr. Faber says you've come up in classes splendidly, and--"
Pickering sprang to his feet. "What do you mean, Jasper?" he cried
hoarsely, his face white as a sheet.
"Just what I say."
"Say it again."
So Jasper went all over it once more, adding the other things about
getting into college and all that, as much as Pickering would hear.
"Honest?" he broke in, his pale face getting a dull red, and seizing
Jasper by the shoulders.
"Did I ever tell you anything that wasn't so, Pick?"
"No; but I can't believe it, Jap. It's the first time in my life
I've--I've--" And what incessant blame could not do, praise achieved.
Pickering rushed to the bed, flung himself face down upon it, and broke
into a torrent of sobs.
Jasper, who had never seen Pickering cry, had wild thoughts of rushing
for Mrs. Cabot; the uncle was not at home. But remembering how little
good this could possibly do, he bent all his energies to stop this
unlooked-for flood.
But he was helpless. Having never given way in this manner before,
Pickering seemed determined to make a thorough job of it. And it was not
till he was quite exhausted that he rolled over, wiped his eyes, and
looked at Jasper.
"I'm through," he announced.
"I should think you might well be," retorted Jasper; "what with scaring
me almost to death, you've made yourself a fright, Pick, and you've just
upset all your chances to study to-day."
Pickering flung himself off the bed as summarily as he had gone on.
"That's likely, isn't it?" he cried mockingly, and shamefacedly
scrabbling up the books from the floor. "Now, then," and he was across
the room, pouring out a basinful of water, to thrust his swollen face
within it.
"Whew! I never knew it used a chap up so to cry," he spluttered.
"Goodness me!" He withdrew his countenance from the towel to regard
Jasper.
"How you look!" cried Jasper, considering it better to rail at him.
Whereupon Pickering found his way to the long mirror. "I never was a
beauty," he said.
"And now you are less," laughed Jasper.
"But I'm good," said Pickering solemnly, and flinging himself down to
his books.
"You can't study with such eyes," cried Jasper, tugging at the book.
"Clear out!"
"I'm not going. Pick, your eyes aren't much bigger than pins."
"But they're sharp--just as pins are. Leave me alone." Pickering
squirmed all over his chair, but Jasper had the book.
"Never mind, I'll fly at my history, then," said Pickering, possessing
himself of another book; "that's the beauty of it. I'm as backward in
all of my lessons as I am in one. I can strike in anywhere."
"You are not backward in any now," cried Jasper in glee, and performing
an Indian war dance around the table. "Forward is the word henceforth,"
he brought up dramatically with another lunge at Pickering.
"Get out. You better go home."
"I haven't the smallest intention of going," replied Jasper, and
successfully coming off with a second book.
"Here's for book number three," declared Pickering--but too late. Jasper
seized the remaining two, tossed them back of him, then squared off.
"Come on for a tussle, old fellow. You're not fit to study--ruin your
eyes. Come on!" his whole face sparkling.
It was too much. The table was pushed one side; books and lessons, Mr.
Faber and college, were as things never heard of. And for a good quarter
of an hour, Pickering, whose hours of exercise had been much scantier of
late, was hard pushed to parry all Jasper's attacks. At the last, when
the little clock on the mantel struck four, he came out ahead.
"I declare, that was a good one," he exclaimed in a glow.
"Particularly so to you," said Jasper ruefully. "You gave me a regular
bear-hug, you scamp."
"Had to, to pay you up."
"And now you may study," cried Jasper gaily; and snatching his books, he
ran off.
"Oh, Pick," putting his head in at the door.
"Yes?"
"If the lessons are done, come over this evening, will you?"
"All right." The last sound of Jasper's feet on the stairs reached
Pickering, when he suddenly left his chair and flew into the hall.
"Jap--oh, I say, Jap!" Then he plunged back into his room to thrust his
head out of the window. "Jap!" he howled, to the consternation of a fat
old gentleman passing beneath, who on account of his size, finding it
somewhat inconvenient to look up, therefore waddled into the street, and
surveyed the house gravely.
Pickering slammed down the window, leaving the old gentleman to stare as
long as he saw fit.
"I can't go over there to-night, looking like this." He pranced up to
the mirror again, fuming every step of the way, and surveyed himself in
dismay. There was some improvement in the appearance of his countenance,
to be sure, but not by any means enough to please him. His pale blue
eyes were so small, and their surroundings so swollen, that they
reminded him of nothing so much as those of a small pig he had made
acquaintance with in a visit up in the country. While his nose, long and
usually quite aristocratic-looking, had resigned all claims to
distinction, and was hopelessly pudgy.
"Jasper knows I can't go in this shape," he cried in a fury. "Great
Caesar's ghost! I never supposed it banged a fellow up so, to cry just
once!" And the next moments were spent in sopping his face violently
with the wet towel, which did no good, as it had been plentifully
supplied with that treatment before.
At last he flung himself into his chair. "If I don't go over, Jap will
think I haven't my lessons, so that's all right. And I won't have them
anyway if I don't tackle them pretty quick. So here goes!" And presently
the only sound to be heard was the ticking of the little clock, varied
by the turning of his pages, or the rattling of the paper on which he
was working out the problems for to-morrow.
"Oh dear me! Jasper," Polly exclaimed about half-past seven, "I don't
believe Pickering is coming."
"He hasn't his lessons, I suppose," said Jasper. "You know I told him to
come over as soon as they were done. Well, Polly, we agreed, you know,
to let him alone as to invitations until the lessons were out of the
way, so I won't go over after him."
"I know," said Polly, "but oh, Jasper, isn't it just too elegant for
anything, to think that Mr. Faber says it's all right with him?"
"I should think it was," cried Jasper. "Now if he only keeps on, Polly."
"Oh, he must; he will," declared Polly confidently. "Well, we can put
off toasting marshmallows until to-morrow night."
About this time, Pickering, whose lessons were all done, for he had, as
Mr. Faber had said, "a fine capacity" to learn, was receiving company
just when he thought he was safe from showing his face.
"Let's stop for Pickering Dodge," proposed Alexia, Clare having run in
for her to go over to Polly Pepper's, "to toast marshmallows and have
fun generally."
"All right; so we can," cried Clare. So they turned the corner and went
down to the Cabot mansion, and were let in before the old butler could
be stopped.
Pickering, whose uncle and aunt were out for the evening, had felt it
safe to throw himself down on the library sofa. When he saw that John
had forgotten what he told him, not to let anybody in, he sprang up; but
not before Alexia, rushing in, had cried, "Oh, here you are! Come on
with us to Polly Pepper's!" Clare dashed in after her.
"Ow!" exclaimed Pickering, seizing a sofa pillow, to jam it against his
face.
"What _is_ the matter?" cried Alexia. "Oh, have you a toothache?"
"Worse than that," groaned Pickering behind his pillow.