AT THE BROKER'S OFFICE
"This is Saturday morning, Gail, and Mrs. Grinnell says I can go to
Martindale with her if you will let me," said Peace, a few days after
their midnight conference. She might have added that she herself had
asked for the invitation, but for reasons of her own she made no mention
of this fact.
Gail looked up from the pan of yeast she was "setting," and hesitatingly
began, "Well--"
"I've wiped the dishes and fed the hens and dusted the parlor--"
"But I haven't swept the parlor yet," Gail protested.
"I can't help that. I have dusted," Peace answered, firmly. "If I had
waited until you got ready to sweep, Mrs. Grinnell would have been
gone."
Gail giggled in spite of her efforts to check the smile on her lips, and
then soberly said, "But what about the eggs?"
"I have delivered my bunch already."
"Why, Peace, those baskets weren't full! What will Mrs. Abbott think?"
"Oh, I fixed that all right. There wasn't time to do much hunting for
our own eggs, so I borrowed the rest of Mrs. Hartman."
"Peace Greenfield! What shall I do with you?" cried the older sister in
utter discouragement, dropping her hands from her pan of mixing in a
gesture of despair which scattered a cloud of flour over herself and the
impatient pleader.
"Let me go with Mrs. Grinnell," was the prompt reply. "I won't be in
your way all day, then; and while I am gone, the hens will have laid
enough eggs to pay back Mrs. Hartman. I borrowed only five. Twenty-eight
hens ought to be able to lay that many before I get back. The eight
biddies I bought with the rest of my melon money could do better than
that, Gail. Please say I can go!"
Perhaps it was the sight of the wistful little face, perhaps it was
visions of a quiet day in which to attend to housework that won the
desired permission; but at any rate Gail consented reluctantly, and
Peace danced away to find the kind neighbor and report the sister's
decision.
"My, but I'm glad," she hummed to herself as she scrambled into her best
dress and flew out of the door into the warm autumn sunshine. "I thought
she wouldn't let me go, and then I couldn't get the money. Oh, I am so
glad, so glad!"
"Where are you going?" demanded a grieved voice, as Allee came through
the barn door and caught a glimpse of her sister's best skirts under the
flying coat.
Peace stopped short in the path and thoughtfully sucked her finger as
she eyed the dirty pinafore and wistful face of this pet of the family.
"To Martindale," she said, briefly. "Come along! There isn't time to
clean up. We'll hide you under the lap robe. Mrs. Grinnell won't care.
Cherry, Oh, Cherry, tell Gail I have taken Allee with me! She ain't
_very_ dirty, and I'll keep her covered up out of sight. And now, Allee,
don't you say a word to anyone about it, but I _begged_ Mrs. Grinnell to
take me. I want to get some money to buy back that _mordige_ of ours
from old Skinflint. Mind you keep it secret!"
"I will," promised Allee readily, for with her Peace's very wish was
law.
"There is Mrs. Grinnell all harnessed and waiting. Hurry up! I had to
bring Allee, Mrs. Grinnell, 'cause I wouldn't be at home to amuse her,
and she might get into mischief," she explained as they arrived panting
and breathless beside the big, roomy carriage, and she saw the
questioning glance of the woman's eyes.
"Oh, I see," answered Mrs. Grinnell, smiling grimly. "But how about
Gail? Does she know?"
"Oh, yes, she knows by this time. I sent Cherry to tell her. There
wasn't time to change her dress, so we will have to keep her covered up
pretty well, 'specially as she's wearing her old play coat. Say, Mrs.
Grinnell, do you know some people named Swift and Smart who live in
Martindale?"
"There is a firm of brokers by that name on Sixth Street. Why?" she
demanded suspiciously, for when Peace asked such a question, it usually
meant mischief brewing.
"Oh, I just wanted to know if there were really people called that or if
Mr. Hardman was only teasing. He told me when I killed the hens that I
better go there and borrow money to buy new ones with."
"He was just tormenting you," the woman replied, severely. "I hope you
weren't thinking of doing such a thing?"
"Oh, no!" Peace exclaimed, the hopeful light in her eyes fading quickly.
"Haven't I already bought eight good hens of O'Hara with my melon money?
They lay better than our others do, too. That makes twenty-eight in all
now. But I don't see why Mr. Hardman told me Swift & Smart would give me
the money."
"He was playing smart himself, I guess. That firm is one of the biggest
of its kind in the city. They buy mortgages and such things; they
haven't time to spend on little loans."
"Oh," said Peace, but the glad light came back to the somber brown eyes
once more, and she bounced happily up and down on the leather cushion.
"That name seemed such a funny one to me, I couldn't forget it. Swift &
Smart--I wonder if it fits?"
"If it fits?" echoed her companion.
"Yes. S'posing Mr. Swift was slower'n molasses in January and Mr. Smart
was stupid as a stump, they would be as big misfits as I am, wouldn't
they? Now if grandpa could just have known the kind of a girl I was
going to be, I bet he never would have named me Peace. Faith says it
would have been more 'propriate if he had called me Pieces. I was just
thinking what if those _breakers_ were the same way."
"Brokers, my dear, not breakers. Well, I can't say how well the names
fit, for I don't know them except by hearsay; but I judge they must be
pretty smart whether they are slow or swift."
Peace giggled gleefully as if she appreciated the pun, and said
musingly, "I'd like to see for myself how well they fitted. The names
sound so funny. Do you go near their store today?"
"Why, yes, we are just across the street from it when we stop at
Darnell's Dry Goods Store, but they have an office and not a store,
child, and no one goes there unless they want to borrow money or
something of that kind. Here we are at Peterson's. Will you come in
while I do my trading?"
"Well, no," stammered Peace, her face flushing crimson under her
friend's searching gaze. "Allee is pretty dirty and we best sit right
here, don't you think?"
Mrs. Grinnell hesitated, puzzled at this unusual resolve on the part of
the children who liked nothing better than to wander through the big
department stores and admire the pretty things; then she replied grimly,
"Very well, but don't either one of you stir out of that buggy while I
am gone."
"No, we won't," they promised in angelic tones, and the woman left them,
still perplexed and somewhat ill at ease. Fearing that some mischief was
on foot she cut short her bargain-hunting tour in Peterson's store and
hurried back to her charges, only to find them sitting silent and erect
on the seat where she had left them, busy watching the bustling crowds
in the streets.
"Why," cried Peace, almost in dismay, "you weren't gone at all hardly!
You must be a quick shopper."
"Yes, in this case," laughed the relieved woman, climbing into the rig
and clucking at the horse, "but it may take me some time at the
Martindale Dry Goods Store, and probably longer yet at Darnell's. Do you
think you can wait patiently out here in the wagon?"
"Oh, yes, it's lots of fun watching the people go by. There was one man
back there so fat and _pusy_ that we wondered what would happen s'posing
he should stub his toe. I don't believe his head and feet _could_ hit
the sidewalk at the same time, and he'd just roll away like a ball,
unless someone helped him up, wouldn't he?"
Again Mrs. Grinnell laughed grimly as she remarked with some sarcasm,
"What great sights you do see! You will be a genius one of these days,
I'll warrant. This is the Martindale. Now don't get out of the buggy."
"S'posing she says that at the next store," thought Peace to herself,
but aloud she answered cheerily, "Don't you fret, Mrs. Grinnell." The
busy woman was gone fully half an hour that time and Peace was jubilant,
but she did not show her delight, and merely remarked, as Mrs. Grinnell
gathered up the reins once more, "How little time it takes you to buy
things! Gail and Faith tramp all day to find a pair of stockings, and
then like as not get cheated. It is perfectly splendid watching the way
folks crowd, better than seeing things in the store. I never knew before
how much fun it is. You just ought to have seen that lady in the purple
hat fool two men. One man was coming towards her and the other was just
behind her when they got jammed in the doorway there. The front man
jumped one way and the woman jumped the same way so he couldn't get by.
He hopped back in his first place, and she hopped back in hers, and all
the while the long feather on her hat was spearing the hind man in the
eye, but he kept hopping the same way the others did. I thought I should
screech before the woman got enough jumping and stood still so the men
could get past, and didn't they look mad and scowly! Mercy, is this
Darnell's? Well, you needn't worry about us one mite, but take all the
time you want. The horse is as good as gold, and I'm keeping Allee's
dirty dress out of sight."
"I'll be back as soon as I can," promised Mrs. Grinnell when she could
get in a word, and forgetting her usual parting admonition, she hurried
sway through the crowd into the store.
"Now," exclaimed Peace, all a-flutter the minute the broad back had
disappeared, "let's see where Swift & Smart live. There it is just
across the street, but we'll have to hurry, 'cause there is no telling
how soon she will be back. Here, wrap this lap robe around you to keep
your clothes out of sight, and give me your hand. Mercy! I should think
the p'lice would have certain streets for the nautomobiles and cars to
go on instead of letting 'em all jumble up that way. We didn't get hit
that time; don't wait for the next one to come, but run."
Dragging poor, frightened, stumbling Allee and the trailing robe through
the turmoil of the street, Peace managed to land on the opposite walk
without mishap, but how she ever did it was a marvel to the big, brawny
policeman shouting warnings to them as he tried in vain to reach the
little figures dodging so recklessly under horses' noses, in front of
flying automobiles and across the path of clanging bicycles.
"Are we all here?" gasped the blue-eyed tot when Peace had set her on
her feet once more and adjusted the dragging robe about her shoulders.
"Course! What did you think we left behind? I know how to get across
crowded streets. Here is the door. I wonder which is Smart and which is
Swift,--there are three men in the room."
She lifted the latch and boldly entered, then halted and took a careful
survey of her surroundings.
There were several desks in the office, all dreadfully littered with
papers and books, and at one of these sat a short, bald-headed man,
talking rapidly to a pretty, smiley-faced young girl, who scribbled
queer little scratches in a tablet. Beside another desk in the opposite
corner of the room were two men, both tall and gray and pleasant
appearing, but so much absorbed in their conversation that they did not
notice the children's entrance. Through a nearby door came the fitful
clicking of some machine, and Peace could see a second girl seated at a
table pounding a typewriter, while another man hurried to and fro from a
row of shelves to a big iron box against the wall. None of them,
however, paid any attention to their anxious little visitors, and Peace,
after waiting impatiently until she feared Mrs. Grinnell would be back
looking for them, stepped across the polished floor to the gray men in
the corner, shook the nearest one by the sleeve, and demanded, "Are you
Swift or Smart, or; both--I mean neither?"
"Now, Mr. Campbell," the man was just saying, but at this interruption
he broke off abruptly, glared at the small intruder and asked in quick,
sharp tones, "What do you want?"
"Some money," stammered Peace, much startled by his nervous,
half-irritated manner.
"Money! Well, I am afraid you have come to the wrong place," he said
decisively, mistaking the children for beggars.
"Why, I thought--" began Peace, with quivering lips.
"Will a quarter be enough?" interrupted the other gray man, looking down
into the troubled face with keen, kindly, gray eyes, which seemed
strangely familiar to the child.
"Now, Campbell!" expostulated the tall, nervous man. "They come here in
swarms some days. You wouldn't be so ready with your cash if you had to
deal with the number we do."
Without reply, the man called Campbell drew a silver coin from his
pocket and extended it toward trembling Peace, but she shook her head,
gulping out, "It will take heaps more than that. Old Skinflint has got
the _mordige_ on our farm and won't give it up. I want money enough to
buy it back, so's we can still go on living there."
"Oh!" shouted the sharp-voiced man, while Mr. Campbell pocketed his
silver again. "So you thought you would come here to get the money, did
you?"
"Mr. Hardman said you let people borrow money from you," whispered Peace
miserably, wishing she had never left her seat in the carriage. "He told
me that when I poisoned half our hens, but Mrs. Grinnell said you
didn't bother with such little things; and anyway, I have bought eight
new ones already, so we don't need hens so much as we do that _mordige_.
Is your name Mr. Swift?"
"No, I am the other fellow--Smart."
"Hm, I thought it would be like that."
"Like what?"
"Why, that your names wouldn't fit. I told Mrs. Grinnell I bet Mr. Smart
would be stupider than a stump and Mr. Swift would be slower than slow.
Is that bald-headed man Mr. Swift?"
For an instant the two men in the corner stared at her in sheer
amazement, and then both burst into a great roar of laughter, which
brought the whole office force to their feet. "Say, Swift, come meet
this young mortgage raiser," called the nervous partner. "If you ever
get conceited, just interview a child."
The bald-headed man rose ponderously and joined the group, studying
every feature of the children, as he demanded, in his most business-like
tone, "What is your name?"
"Peace Greenfield."
"Where do you live?"
"Almost at Parker."
"Almost?"
"Well, we have a farm and Parker isn't big enough to hold farms. It's a
nice place, though."
"How did you get here?"
"Mrs. Grinnell brought us in her wagon."
"Who is she?"
"The lady what lives on the farm right back of ours."
"Did she tell you to come and see us?"
"Oh, no! She said not to, but she doesn't know anything about our
_mordige_, so while she was in the store we hustled over after the
money."
"Who did send you?"
"Why, nobody. We came all by ourselves."
"Hm, I thought so. Is this _mordige_ money to buy candy and dolls with?"
"No, it ain't!" snapped Peace, thinking he was trying to tease her.
"It's to keep old Skinflint from taking our farm away, so that we will
have to live around at different places."
"Where are your father and mother?"
"The angels have got 'em."
"Oh! Then you are orphans. Who takes care of you?"
"We all of us take care of ourselves, but Gail is the play mother."
"How many are there in your family?"
"Seven with Towzer. He's a dog."
They questioned her until the whole pitiful story was told, and then
stood silently lost in thought, while Peace fidgeted impatiently,
watching Old Gray across the street, expecting any minute to see Mrs.
Grinnell put in appearance.
Finally Mr. Swift said, jestingly, "What security have you to offer?"
"Sickerity?" repeated Peace, wonderingly.
"Yes, when we loan money we have to have some security from the party.
They must own some property or something of value to give us so if the
money isn't paid back we won't lose anything."
Peace pondered deeply, then drew off a small, worn, gold ring which had
lost its "set," and laid it in the man's hand, saying, "That's all the
prop'ty I've got except eight hens which I gave Gail for those I
poisoned. It had a ruby in it once, but the old rooster picked it out
and et it. I used to have two bunnies, too, but last Christmas the
German kids ate Winkum and Blinkum all up."
Mr. Swift smiled, but shook his head gravely, as he returned the ring.
"I am afraid that won't be enough, Miss Greenfield," he began, when Mr.
Smart cut him short, "What is the use of fooling any longer, Swift? She
probably knows as much about such matters as your grandbaby. A kid her
age knows a lot about business. Give her a nickel and send her packing."
The genial Mr. Swift led the disappointed duet to the door and dismissed
them with the words, "I am sorry, but we deal only with grown-up men and
women. Call again when you are twenty-one."
As the door closed behind them, however, the other tall, gray man, who
had been a silent spectator of the scene, spoke reprovingly, "I think
she has told you the truth, Smart. She is one of the youngsters I was
just telling you about. I was afraid she would recognize me, but
evidently she did not. I certainly shall investigate, for I am much
interested. They have my wife and me by the heartstrings already and
some of these days you may hear that a whole family has been adopted by
the erratic Campbells. They are the children of that Pendennis minister
who fought such a splendid fight in the Marble Avenue Church some years
back, until he was forced to retire on account of his health. Well, I
must be going. Good-day!" He stepped outside the office, and looked up
and down the street for a glimpse of the children, but they were nowhere
in sight; so he hailed a passing car, and was whirled rapidly away
through the busy city.
In the meantime, poor, disappointed Peace had jerked Allee back across
the street, helped her into the buggy and had just got nicely settled
when Mrs. Grinnell bustled out of Darnell's Department Store, ready for
the homeward journey. She eyed the sober faces keenly for an instant,
undecided whether the frowns were due to impatience at her long absence,
or because of some childish quarrel, but soon forgot all about the
matter in planning how she should make up her new print dress, so the
return trip was made in absolute silence.
But Peace had by no means given up hope in the matter of the mortgage
and, feeling better after the warm dinner had been eaten, she wandered
away to the barn to hatch some other impossible plan. Finding Hope in
the loft sorting out rubbish to be burned, she threw herself on an old
bench behind the building, where the bright sunlight shone invitingly,
and here she was soon so completely wrapped up in her own thoughts that
she did not hear the sound of approaching steps, and was startled when a
firm hand caught her by the shoulder and a merry voice demanded, "Why so
pensive, little maid? That face would scare the tramps away."
"Oh, Mr. Strong," she cried, catching his hand and pulling him down
beside her, "we are in the worst fix you ever heard. I knocked old
Skinflint's bull's horn off pawing red rags in the raspberry patch so
Faith could have some sour jelly for her jelly rolls, and to pay me for
that he won't give us back our _mordige_. Gail cried and Faith cried and
we all cried. In a month we must break up this house and go to live with
different people unless we can get some money somewhere. I tried this
morning to borrow some in Martindale, but they wouldn't believe we
needed it. I know we do, 'cause Gail said so the night I hid in the
closet when she didn't know I was there."
She paused for breath, and Mr. Strong said cheerily, "Yes, dear, I know
all about it. Gail told me, but I think maybe everything is coming out
all right in the end. Don't you fret! But if I were you, I wouldn't try
any more to borrow the money--"
"How are we to get it, then? Gail doesn't know of anybody."
"Gail was meant for a little mother instead of a business woman. Now
that she has asked some of us older folks for advice, I think we can
manage matters beautifully. Gail is just a girl herself, you know. She
understands the situation a little better now, but the burden is too
heavy for her young shoulders. We must make it lighter, lots lighter.
She wants to go to college, and Faith wants music lessons, and Hope
ought to study drawing, and what would you like to study?"
"Pigs! I want a pig farm," was the unexpected answer. "Ain't baby pigs
the dearest things you ever saw?"
His shout of derision stopped her, and she sat twisting her brown hands
in hurt and embarrassed silence.
Her mournful attitude brought the young preacher to his senses, and he
pinched her cheek playfully, saying, "Oh, what a doleful face! See if we
can't make it smile a little. No? Why, Peace, this is the way it looks.
Supposing it should freeze that way." He drew his face down into a
comically mournful grimace, and Peace laughed outright. "I heard that
you won the prize at Annette's party for making the worst looking face,"
he continued, "but I didn't suppose it was as bad as that."
"That isn't half bad," cried Peace scornfully. "Why, I can make the
ugliest faces you ever saw."
"Bet you can't!"
"Bet I can!"
"Try it!"
Peace promptly bulged out her eyes, turned up her nose, and drew down
her mouth in a hideous grimace, following it up with other horrible
distortions; and then exclaimed, "How do you like that?"
"I can do as well myself," said the preacher.
"I don't b'lieve it! Let's see you do it!"
Mr. Strong laid aside his hat, rumpled up his shining black hair, and
went through some fearful contortions of face, which almost paralyzed
Peace for the moment. Then she screamed her delight, hopping about on
one foot, and shouting boisterously, "You win, you win, Mr. Strong! If I
can ever make faces like those, I shall be perfectly happy. Do you
s'pose I am young enough to learn? It must have taken you all your life
to do it so beautifully. Will you teach me how?"
On the other side of the fence something moved in the thick brush, and
there was a sound of a man's deep chuckle, but the two contestants in
the art of making faces were too much occupied to notice anything of
their surroundings, and the unknown watcher enjoyed this novel
entertainment for some moments.
At length the preacher said, "Well, Peace, I came over to see Gail.
Where can I find her?"
"In the kitchen, most likely. Come along; I will hunt her up."
The two strolled off toward the house, and a crouching figure in the
hazel thicket followed them until they entered the kitchen door, when it
dropped flat on the ground again and remained there alert and listening
during the conference in the little brown house.
When at last, as dusk was falling, the minister strode down the path to
the gate, a shabby, gray-haired man emerged from the shadows along the
roadside and hurried after him. Hearing footsteps so close by, the young
man halted, expecting to see some of his parishioners or acquaintances
of the village trying to overtake him, and was naturally somewhat
startled when accosted by a stranger.
"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Strong. "I thought it was someone who
wanted me."
"It is," replied the shabby man. "I take it that you are pastor of the
Parker Church,--Mr. Strong, I believe?"
"Yes, sir," answered the preacher, still a little bewildered.
"My name is Donald Campbell--"
"President Campbell of the University?" gasped Mr. Strong in surprise,
involuntarily looking down at the stranger's threadbare clothes.
"As you prefer. Oh, I am in disguise! I will make explanations as we
walk along if you can give me a few moments of your time. I should like
to interview you in regard to our late Brother Peter Greenfield's
family."