CHAPTER XVI

_Ptolemy's Tale_

Four defiant, determined-looking Polydores came up the steps and bore

down upon us. Then Silvia as usual thought she saw land ahead.

"Oh, boys," she asked hopefully, "did your father send for you to meet

him here? And when is he going to take you home?"

"Didn't I tell you," I thundered at Ptolemy, "that you were not to

leave that house--"

"It left us," interrupted Emerald with a grin.

"Went up in smoke," added Pythagoras blithely, "ghost and all."

"Four minutes quicker," said Demetrius, "and it would have took father

and mother, too."

"Oh, is it the haunted house they are talking about?" asked Miss

Frayne joyfully. "What a story I'll have!"

Life to Miss Frayne seemed to be one story after another. Well, it was

certainly becoming the same way to us.

"Did the ghost set fire to the house?" asked Beth.

"What are you all talking about," demanded Silvia, "and how did you

know these boys were there? How long have you been here?" she asked,

turning to Ptolemy.

"I told you," I repeated angrily to the subdued boy, "not to leave.

Those were plain orders. If the house did burn up, you could have

stayed in your tent in the woods."

Ptolemy's lips twitched faintly.

"The house burned up and all our clothes and our stuff to eat, and our

bats and things, and father and mother went away and I didn't know

what to do, so--I came here. But we'll go back to our own house. We

have learned to cook. Come on, boys."

"You'll stay right here with me, son," and Rob's hand came down

intimately on Ptolemy's shoulder.

"It isn't likely we'll turn them out into the woods, when they haven't

a roof over their heads," declared Silvia, drawing Emerald to her

side.

"I think you are absolutely inhuman, Lucien," cried Beth. "I don't see

what has changed you so," and she proceeded to make room for

Pythagoras in the porch swing.

"Did the fire scare you?" asked Miss Frayne gently, as she put her

arms about Demetrius.

"Et tu, Brute? Well, I plainly see this is no place for an inhuman,

childless, married man," I said with a laugh, walking down the

veranda.

In the doorway I met Diogenes, who raised his chubby arms invitingly.

"Up, up, Ocean!" he begged sweetly.

I lifted him to my shoulder, and then turned and walked triumphantly

back to the family group.

"Now," I said, "here is the whole d-dashed family. And I propose that

each keep unto his charge the child he has now under his wing."

Miss Frayne quickly relinquished the dirty Demetrius. Beth shrank away

from Pythagoras.

As I seated myself still holding Diogenes, his brothers sprang toward

him in greeting, but he spat at one, kicked at another, and pulled the

hair of a third, although he patted Ptolemy's cheek gently.

"Now, we'll have this affair thrashed out," I declared in my most

authoritative, professional manner, and I then proceeded to explain to

Silvia the housing of the Polydores, and our strategies to keep their

arrival a secret simply on her account.

"Because you know," interpolated Beth, with a consideration for the

feelings of the young Polydores--a consideration they had never before

encountered--"we wanted you to have a nice rest."

Silvia looked quite penitent and remorseful for her seeming lack of

appreciation of our combined efforts. When I had answered all her

inquiries satisfactorily, Miss Frayne's curiosity regarding the

progeny of the eminent Polydores had to be fully relieved.

"And do you mean that the scribbling lady I saw at the table is really

the mother of these five boys?" she asked, unable to grasp the fact.

"Yes; and the father hereof is the man who explained the ghosts to you

so scientifically that you cannot remember what he said. Now, Ptolemy,

we'll hear your story of the fire and the whereabouts of your parents.

Take your time and tell it accurately."

"Well, you see we did just as you said to, and took the ghost out of

the window and went out to the woods early this morning so as not to

let the paper lady see us."

"Oh!" cried Miss Frayne, "am I the paper lady? I begin to see

daylight. Are these boys the ghost perpetrators, and were you in on

the put-up job?"

"You're a good guesser," I replied.

"And why wasn't I taken into your confidence?"

"For two reasons. First, because your friend Rob said you'd get better

results for copy--more inspirations and thrills, if you weren't behind

the scenes on the ghost business,--and then we didn't want to tell you

about the presence of the Polydores lest inadvertently you betray the

fact to my wife. Now, proceed, Ptolemy."

"After we were in the woods, I heard an automobile coming down the

lane, and I went up near the edge of the woods and peeked out behind a

tree, and pretty soon I saw father and mother come over the hill and

go in our haunted house, so I came up there and hid under the window

and heard mother say: 'What an ideal place to write this is. It looks

as if I might really get a chance to write unmo--'

"'--lested,'" I finished for him.

"I guess so," he allowed. "Well, she began writing, so I didn't go in,

but when father came outside I went up to him and told him you and

mudder were at the hotel and that we were all with you. He told me

they came up here to write an article for some big magazine about the

ghost. He hired an automobile down at Windy Creek to bring them up to

the house and the man was going to come back for them tomorrow

morning. I didn't let on the ghost was a fake, because I thought he'd

be so disappointed to have all his trouble for nothing, and he'd be

mad at me for swiping his skull. I told him a paper lady was coming

and then I went back to the woods. He went down with me to see the

boys, and he said he would come back and have lunch with us. Mother

doesn't ever stop to eat at noon when she is writing.

"He went back and talked to the paper lady and pretty soon he came

down and ate with us. I told him all about how we couldn't get any

girl to do the work for us and so we had been living with you, and how

Di got sick and mudder was all worn out taking care of him and came

down here to rest, and that you wouldn't cash the check, so I did and

was spending it and he said that was all right." Here Ptolemy flashed

me a most triumphant glance.

"He said you must be paid for all your expense and trouble, so he made

out a check and gave it to me and told me to make mudder a nice

present. He ain't so bad when he ain't thinking about dead stuff. When

he felt in his pocket for his check book, he found a letter he had got

yesterday and forgotten to open, so he read it then and found it was

from some magazine, and the man said he'd pay his and mother's

expenses to go to Chili and write up some stuff about--something. So

father said they must go at once."

"Not to Chili!" I exclaimed.

"Yes; we all went up to the house with him and I took mother's pencil

and paper away so she would have to listen. She was wild for Chili,

and I had to go and hunt up a farmer who had a machine to take them

down to Windy Creek. Father signed another blank check for you and

said you could board us with it or do anything you thought best.

"Then mother took a lot of papers out of her bag, some stuff she had

written and didn't get suited with, and she stuffed them in the stove

and set fire to them. Then we all went down to the lane to see father

and mother off and when we got back the house was on fire. The chimney

burned out."

"Guess mother must have written some hot stuff," said Emerald.

"It was burning so fast," continued Ptolemy, "that we didn't dast go

in to save anything and all our food and clothes and balls and bats

and fishing tackle are gone, and we didn't know what to do, or what to

eat, and so--we came here."

"You did just right, Ptolemy," I admitted. "I shouldn't have called

you down--not until I heard your story, anyway."

I held out my hand, which he shook solemnly, but with an injured air.

"Do you mean to tell me," asked Miss Frayne, "that your father and

mother went away without seeing the baby?"

Ptolemy flushed a little.

"You see," he explained apologetically, "mother gets woolly when she

writes and she's forgotten there's Di. She thinks Demetrius is the

youngest. She's mad about writing. If she sees a blank paper

anywhere, she ain't happy until she has written something on it, and

the sight of a pencil makes her fingers itch."

[Illustration: I held out my hand, which he shook solemnly, but with an

injured air]

"Take warning, Miss Frayne," I said, "and don't get too literary."

"Some day," resumed Ptolemy, "mother'll get the antiques all out of

her system and then she'll remember us."

I liked the boy's defense of his mother, and I began to see that Rob

was right in thinking there were possibilities in the lad, but it was

Silvia's influence that had developed them, for in the days when he

borrowed soup plates of us, there had been no redeeming trait that I

could discern.

And while I was recalling this, I heard Silvia saying to him kindly:

"And in the meantime, I'll be 'mudder' to you."

"So will I," chimed in Beth.

"I'll be a big brother," offered Rob.

"I'll be next friend, Ptolemy," I contributed.

Strange to say, my offer seemed to make the most impression on him. He

came to me and gazed into my eyes earnestly.

"I'll do just as you say," he promised.

"Where do we'uns come in?" asked Pythagoras, with one of his satanic

grins.

Miss Frayne saved the day.

"You all come in with me," she said, "and have lunch. I haven't eaten

since breakfast, and I understand there is warm ginger cake and

huckleberry pie. Aren't you hungry?"

"You bet," spoke up Pythagoras. "We only had coffee, peanuts, and

beans down in the woods, and father ate the beans and drank all the

coffee."

"We're out of the frying pan into the fire," said Silvia woefully,

when we were alone.

"I wish the Polydore parents had gone up in smoke," I declared.

"Then your last hope of getting rid of the children would have gone up

in smoke, too," argued Beth.

"No; in case of the demise of their parents, we could have turned them

over body and soul to the probate court," I informed her.

"We will fill out this blank check for any amount, Lucien," declared

Silvia, "that will induce a housekeeper to take charge of their house.

I shall keep Diogenes, though, until he is older."

"I wouldn't mind Ptolemy, either," I admitted. "I shall be interested

in seeing what I can make of him, and he hasn't a bad influence over

Diogenes, but I'll be hanged if anything would induce me to have 'Them

Three' Chessy cats running wild over us. They can live in their house

alone, or be put in a reformatory. We won't have them. We're under no

obligations, pecuniary or moral, to look after them."

"I think, Lucien, we might as well go home now. We've had a good rest

and a good time, and I am anxious to be back and see how Huldah is

getting on."

As Huldah had never mastered two of the three R's, we had not been

able to receive any reports from her.

"I'll tell you what we'll do," proposed Beth. "Rob and I will take all

the Polydores save Diogenes, and go home tomorrow and prepare the

house and Huldah for the overflow. Then you two can come on with

Diogenes the next day."

"Good idea, Beth!" I approved. "I'd hate to face Huldah, unprepared,

with the return of the Polydores _en masse_."

"I am glad," said Silvia, "that Huldah has been having a rest from

them for a few days."

Our Next-Door Neighbors · 第 16 / 20 章