hour was over, with a flush on his face that betokened pleasure as well as
hard work. And Rachel began to skip around for very joy. She was really to
be a little student, Mr. Henderson had said. Not that Rachel really knew
what that meant exactly, but the master was pleased, and that was enough,
and all of a sudden, when she was putting up some dishes in the
keeping-room closet, she began to sing.
Mrs. Henderson nearly dropped the dish she was wiping.
"Why, my child!" she exclaimed, then stopped, but Rachel didn't hear her,
and sang on. It was a wild little thing that she had heard from the hand
organs and the people singing it in the streets of the big city.
Just then old Miss Parrott's stately, ancestral coach drove up. The
parson's wife hurried to the front door, which was seldom opened except for
special company like the present.
"I heard," said Miss Parrott, as Mrs. Henderson ushered her in, "that you'd
taken a little girl out of charity, and I want to see you and your husband
about it."
"Will you come into his study, then?" said Mrs. Henderson. "Husband has
gone out to work in his garden, and I will call him in."
Miss Parrott stepped into the apartment in stately fashion, her black silk
gown crackling pleasantly as she walked, and seated herself very primly, as
befitted her ancestry and bringing-up, in one of the stiff, high-backed
chairs. And presently the parson, his garden clothes off and his best coat
on, came in hurriedly to know his honored parishioner's bidding.
"I will come to the point at once," said Miss Parrott, with dignified
precision, as he sat beside her, and she drew herself up stiffer yet, in
the pleasing confidence that what she was about to say would strike both of
her hearers as the most proper thing to do. "You have taken this little
girl, I hear, to educate and bring up."
"For a time," said the minister, hurriedly.
"Very true, for a period of time," said Miss Parrott throwing her
black-figured lace veil, worn by her mother before her, away from her face.
"Well, now, Pastor, it is not appropriate for you to do this work, with
your hands already overburdened. Neither should you bear the expense----"
"But I don't," cried Parson Henderson, guilty now of interrupting. "Mr.
King pays me, and well, for teaching the little girl until she will be
ready for the district school. You see, she has never been in a schoolroom
in her life, and it would be cruel to put her with children of her own age,
when she is so ignorant. But she is singularly bright, and I have the
greatest hopes of her, madam, for she is far above and beyond most children
in many ways."
But Miss Parrott hadn't come to hear all this, so she gave a stately bow.
"No doubt, Pastor, but I must say what is on my mind. It is that I have for
some time wanted to do a bit of charity like this, and Providence now seems
to point the way for it. I would like to take the child and do for her. Let
her come to you here, for lessons, but let me bring her up in my house."
There was an awful pause. Parson Henderson looked at his wife, but said
never a word, helplessly leaving it to her.
"Dear Miss Parrott," said Mrs. Henderson, and she so far forgot her fear of
the stately, reserved parishioner as to lay her hand on the black-mitted
one of the visitor, "we were given the care of the child by Mr. King, who
rescued her from her terrible surroundings, and we couldn't possibly
surrender this charge to another. But I will tell you what we might do,
husband," and her eyes sought his face. "Rachel might go down now and then
to spend the day with Miss Parrott. Oh, your beautiful house!" she broke
off like a child in her enthusiasm. "I do so want her to be in it
sometimes." She turned suddenly to the visitor.
Miss Parrott's old face glowed, and a smile lingered among the wrinkles.
"And she must pass the night occasionally," she said. There was a world of
entreaty in her eyes. "I think so," said Mrs. Henderson, "but we must leave
that to Rachel."
And Rachel, in the keeping-room closet, was trilling up and down some of
the jigs her feet had kept time to when she, with the other tenement-house
children, had run out to dance on the corner when the organ man came round,
all unconscious of what was going on in the study.
"What's that?" cried Miss Parrott, starting. The conference was over and
she was coming out of the pastor's study, to get into her ancestral
carriage.
"That's Rachel singing," said Mrs. Henderson.
Old Miss Parrott gasped:
"Why, my dear Pastor, and Mrs. Henderson, can the child sing like that?"
"This is the first time she has tried it," said the parson, who had no ear
for music and was sorely tried when expected to admire any specimens of it.
"But I dare say she will do very well. She is a very teachable child."
"Very well!" repeated Miss Parrott quickly. "I should say so indeed. Well,
I will send for the child on Saturday to pass the day and night with me,
and then we shall see what we shall see."
With which enigmatical expression, she mounted her ancestral carriage; the
solemn coachman, who had served considerably more than a generation in the
family, gathered up the reins, and the coach rumbled off.
"Oh, what an awful old carriage!" exclaimed Rachel, running to the window.
"It looks as if its bones would stick out."
"It hasn't got any bones," said Peletiah, viewing it with awe, "and she's
awful rich, Miss Parrott is."
"I don't care," said Rachel, running back to her work and beginning to sing
again, "her carriage is all bones, anyway."
XIV
"CAN'T GO," SAID JOEL
"Joel--where are you?" Frick Mason raced in, to encounter Polly in the wide
hall. "Oh, dear me!"--not pausing for an answer--"all the boys are waiting
for him outside. Please tell him to hurry, Polly," for Joel's friends
always felt if they could only get Polly on their side, they were sure of
success, and he shifted his feet in impatience.
"I don't know in the least where Joel is," said Polly, pausing in her run
through the hall. She had promised Alexia to be over at her house at nine
o'clock, and there it was, the big clock in the corner stated plainly, five
minutes of that hour. "Oh, dear me! I wish I could help you," and she
wrinkled up her brows in distress.
Frick sat down on one of the big, carved chairs and fairly whined:
"I've chased and chased all about here, and no one knows where Joel is.
Polly, do find him for me," and he began to sniffle.
"Oh, I can't," began Polly impatiently, then she finished, "Dear me! Why, I
don't know in the very least where Joel is, Frick!--not the leastest bit in
the world."
"Oh, yes, you can find him," said Frick, sniffling dreadfully, and
beginning to wheedle and beg. "Do, Polly." He seized her gown. "The boys
can't do anything without Joel, and they've sent me for him."
"And I'm sure I can't do anything"--Polly shook her gown free--"so there's
no use in asking me to stand here and talk about it, Frick Mason. And just
look at that clock--two minutes of nine." She pointed tragically up to the
big clock. "And I promised to be at Alexia's--" The last words came back to
him as she disappeared out to the veranda and down the steps, racing off as
hard as she could.
Frick got off from his chair, took three or four steps hopelessly, then
stiffened up.
"I'm going to find him," he announced to himself, and turning down the
angle, he knocked at the first door on the left.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Joel, unlocking the door and opening it.
"Oh, you're here." Frick seized him on both sides, wishing he had twice the
number of hands to employ; then he tried to run in, but Joel shook off the
grasp, pushed to the door, only leaving the scantiest space to allow of
conversation.
"You can't come in," he said steadily.
"Hold on! don't shut the door," cried Frick, pressing up closely and still
endeavoring to get a good grasp on some of Joel's clothing. "Ow! you 'most
smashed my nose, Joel Pepper."
"You must take your nose away then," said Joel decidedly, "for I'm going to
shut the door if you scrouge so."
"Well, let me come in," said Frick, struggling violently. "Say, Joel, don't
shut the door."
For answer Joel slammed to the door, and the key clicked in the lock.
"I said I'd do it, if you scrouged and pushed, and I must," he answered,
with the air of a man performing his duty. "This is my Grandpapa's
writing-room, and you mustn't come in, Frick Mason."
Frick slid down to the floor and laid his mouth alongside the crack, with
the feeling that his message would be more impressive delivered in that
way, since he was not to be admitted to the apartment to give it in due
form.
"The boys want you, Joel; they're all waiting for us outside. Hurry up."
Having delivered it, Frick got up to his feet in a hurry, confident that
the door would be flung wide, to let Joel come hopping out in delight, and
not choosing to be run over in the process.
"Can't go," said Joel, in muffled accents, on the other side of the door.
"What?" roared Frick, not believing his ears.
"Can't go," repeated Joel. "Go right away from this door."
"What did you say?" Frick slid to the floor again and beat his hands on the
polished surface. "Say, Joel, we want you to come. We're all waiting for
you, don't you understand?" He kept saying it over and over, under the
impression that if he only repeated it enough, the door would open.
"And I say I can't go," declared Joel, in a high, wrathful key. "If you
don't go away and let this door alone, I'll come out and pound you."
"We're going to the pond," said Frick, exactly as if responding to the most
cordial request to furnish the plan. "We've got Larry's boat, and Webb is
going to take his father's, and----"
"Ow--go away!" roared Joel, in an awful voice.
"And we're going to take our luncheon and stop at Egg Rock, and----"
The door flew open wildly, and Joel leaped out over Frick, flattened on the
floor.
"Didn't I tell you to let me alone?" cried Joel, on top of the messenger,
and pommeling away briskly, "Say, didn't I tell? Say, didn't I tell you?"
The noise all this made was sufficient to bring Jane, who didn't stop to
drop her broom.
"My goodness me, Master Joel!" she said, running down from the
stair-landing, "what are you doing?"
"Pommeling him," said Joel cheerfully, and not looking up.
"Well, you stop it this minute," commanded Jane, waving her broom over the
two figures, for by this time Frick had managed to roll over and was now
putting up quite a vigorous little fight in his own defense.
"I can't," said Joel; "I promised him."
"Oh, dear me!" cried Jane, bringing her broom down smartly on as much of
the surface of either boy as was possible. "I'll scream for Mrs. Fisher if
you don't stop, you two boys. I will, as true as anything!"
"Oh, no, you mustn't, Jane," said Joel. His brown fists wavered in the air
and described several circles before they fell at his side; seeing which,
Frick slipped out from underneath him and began to belabor Joel to his
heart's content. "You mustn't, Jane," howled Joel.
"Now will you come." he cried. "Say, hurry up, Joe, we're all waiting. Come
on!" His nose was quite bloody, and a dab here and there on his countenance
gave him anything but a pleasing expression.
"Ugh!" cried Jane, with a little shiver. "You boys get right straight up
from this floor, or I'll tell Mrs. Fisher."
Joel seized her apron string and howled:
"Jane, don't!"
"Yes, I will, too, Master Joel," declared Jane, twitching away the string;
"for such carryings on, I never see. Oh, here's Mr. King; now he'll take
care of you both," and she skipped upstairs, broom and all.
It was useless to try to slip away unperceived, for old Mr. King bore down
upon them along the hall in his stateliest fashion.
"Dear me! what have we here?" as both boys slunk down as small as possible.
"Why, Joel!"--it was impossible to convey greater astonishment in his
tone--"I thought you were steady at work."
"So I was," cried Joel, stung to the quick; and jumping to his feet, he
fairly beat the old gentleman's arm with two distressed little palms, "and
he made me come out. I said I would pound him, and I had to. Oh, Grandpapa,
I had to," and he pranced wildly around the tall, stately figure.
"Keep quiet, Joe," said the old gentleman, with a restraining hand; "and,
Frick, get up. Oh, dear me!"--as Frick obeyed, bringing his interesting
countenance to view, by no means improved by his efforts to wipe off the
smears. "What have you boys been about?"
"He wouldn't come out," said Frick, rubbing violently all over his round
cheeks, "and the boys sent me for him, and they're waiting now," he
finished, with a very injured air.
"Eh--oh! and so they sent you for Joel?" said the old gentleman, a light
breaking over his face.
"Yes, sir," said Frick, with a final polish to his countenance on the cuff
of his jacket sleeve, "and won't you please make Joel hurry up and come
out, sir? We've waited so long."
"And is that the way you respond to your invitations, my boy?" said
Grandpapa, with a grim smile. "I shouldn't think you'd receive many at this
rate. So you fell upon him because he asked you to go somewhere, eh?"--with
a keen glance into the black eyes.
"No, sir." said Joel, "but he wouldn't go away, and I told him if he
didn't, I'd come out and pound him. So I had to."
"Um--now let us see," said the old gentleman, reflecting a bit. "So you
kept on at the door, eh, Frick?"
"Yes, sir," said Frick, giving up his countenance as a bad job. "I had to,
'cause the boys are waiting, you see, sir. Won't you please make Joe hurry
up and come?"
"Well, now, Frick, I really believe you better go out and tell those boys
that when Joel gets ready to join them, he'll make his appearance.
Good-bye, Frick." Grandpapa waved him off sociably, and Frick, not exactly
understanding how, or why, found himself on the other side of the big front
door, in the midst of the waiting company from which he had been picked out
as messenger.
"I wouldn't make such a promise again, if I were you, Joel," observed old
Mr. King, gathering up the small, brown hand in one of his own; "it might
be a little awkward to keep it, you know. Now, then, here we are,"--turning
in at the writing-room. "Well, say no more, but fly at your task," and he
seated himself in the big chair before the writing-table and took up his
pen.
Thus left to himself, Joel went slowly over to the set of shelves in the
alcove, from which Frick's summons at the door had called him. There were
several volumes on the floor, and a blank book and some sheets of paper,
showing clearly Joe's favorite method of setting to work on making lists,
while sprawled on the carpet with all his paraphernalia around him. He
threw himself down amongst it all, prowled around for his pencil, which,
suddenly dropped when he had deserted his task, had taken the opportunity
to roll off by itself. Now it added to his discomfiture by hiding.
"Plague take it!" He scowled, a black little frown settling on his brow.
"Where is it?"--prowling around frantically on the carpet, with hasty
hands.
"What is it, Joe?" Old Mr. King, though apparently very busy over at the
writing-table, seemed to be quite well aware of everything that went on in
the alcove.
"I've lost my pencil," announced Joe, in a dismal voice.
"Oh, well, that's not so bad as it might be," said the old gentleman; "come
over and get another, and by and by you can find your own."
Joel advanced to the writing-table and put out a hand for the pencil, which
the old gentleman laid within it, but not before he had taken a good look
at the chubby face above it.
"So Frick and the boys wanted you, eh?" asked Grandpapa carelessly. "Going
somewhere, maybe?"
"Yes," said Joel, not looking up, "they are going to the pond."
"Oh, really?" said old Mr. King. "And you said no, eh, Joel?"
"Yes," said Joel.
"I suppose you didn't want to go, eh, Joel?" said the old gentleman
carelessly, and playing with his paper knife.
Joel's black eyes flew wide open, and he raised his head to stare into
Grandpapa's face.
"Oh, yes, I did, awfully."
"Then why didn't you go?" asked Grandpapa, just as carelessly, and giving
the paper knife an extra twirl or two.
Joel took his gaze off, to regard the pile of books over on the alcove
floor.
"Oh, your work?--is that it, Joel?" asked the old gentleman. "So you
thought you'd rather stay and finish your hour on it, eh, my boy?"
Joel squirmed uneasily. "I hadn't rather," he said at last, "but I'd got
to."
"Eh?" said old Mr. King.
"I said I'd work an hour and not stop," said Joel, as something seemed to
be required of him, the old gentleman waiting for him to finish.
"You mean you'd made the bargain to do this work and you couldn't back
out?" said Grandpapa.
Joel looked up and nodded quickly.
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, yes. Well, now, I mustn't hinder you from your work"--old Mr. King
turned briskly to his writing again--"or I shall be as bad as Frick--eh,
Joel?" and he laughed gayly. "Now trot back and go at your task again."
So Joel, fortified with his pencil, marched back to sit on the floor in the
alcove and take up his interrupted work, and Grandpapa's pen went
scratching busily over the paper, and nothing else was heard except the
buzzing of a big fly outside the window, venting his vexation at his
inability to get in.
Meanwhile Frick and the knot of boys had drawn off in astonishment and
dismay at the failure of their plan to get Joel Pepper into the delightful
expedition.
"What was he doing?" demanded more than one boy.
"I don't know," said Frick; "I couldn't get in."
"Oh, now I know; he's got some secret," said Larry Keep, and he whirled
around in vexation and snapped his fingers.
"Maybe it's a flying-machine," suggested another boy.
"Phoo! he couldn't make that in his grandfather's writing-room," said
Larry, in derision, yet he looked anxious. Suppose Joel Pepper were really
busy over such a splendid thing as that and hadn't told him. "Guess
something else."
"I can't think what it is," said Frick, sitting down on the curbstone to
become lost in thought--an example to be speedily followed by all the boys,
till finally there was a dismal row of them, without a thought remaining of
having the expedition on the pond, since Joel Pepper wouldn't come with
them.
XV
UP IN ALEXIA'S PRETTY ROOM
Polly was having a bad half-hour with herself, despite all the attractions
up in Alexia's pretty room.
"It's no use," she cried, throwing down the little brush with which she was
whisking off the dainty bureau-cover. The girls were "setting up" the
various adornments that were plentifully strewn about, an occupation that
Polly dearly loved, and that Alexia as dearly hated. "I must go home."
Alexia, down on her knees, with her head in the closet, grumbling over the
shoe bag, whose contents were in a chronic state of overflow, pulled it out
suddenly.
"Why, Polly Pepper!" she exclaimed, in an injured tone. One eye was draped
by a cobweb, gained by diving into the closet's extreme corner after a
missing slipper, gone for some weeks; and in other ways Alexia's face
presented a very unprepossessing appearance. "You said you'd help me with
my room this morning."
"Oh, yes, I know," said Polly hurriedly, and running over to Alexia; "but
you'll let me off, won't you?--for I've something on my mind. Oh, dear me!"
Alexia hopped up to her feet, the slipper flying off at a tangent, and ran
all around Polly Pepper, gazing at her anxiously.
"I don't see anything. Oh, what is it?" she cried.
"You see, the boys wanted to find Joel, and I--" began Polly, twisting her
fingers.
"Bother the boys!" exclaimed Alexia, interrupting. "Is that all? They are
everlastingly wanting to find Joel. Well"--with a sigh of relief--"we can
go back to work again. Why, I must say, Polly, you scared me 'most to
death. Oh, dear me! I wish I had let Norah sweep this old closet when she
does the room. It's dirty as can be. If Aunt knew it--" The rest of it was
lost, as Alexia was down on her knees again, her head back in the closet,
with the hope of unearthing more slippers and shoes.
"Alexia, do come out," cried Polly, pulling her gown smartly; "I must speak
to you."
"Can't," said Alexia, rummaging away. "There, I've gone and knocked down my
blue silk waist! Do pick it up, Polly; it 'll get all dirt, and then won't
Aunt scold!"
As if to make matters worse, a voice out in the hall was heard:
"_Alexia?_"
"Misery me!" cried Alexia, scuffling out backward from the closet, the blue
silk waist on her head where it had fallen, and in her sudden exit nearly
overthrowing Polly Pepper. "Here comes Aunt. Shut the door, Polly--shut
it"--scrambling with both hands to get the waist off, while a hook caught
in her light, fluffy hair. And Miss Rhys being too near the door for any
such protection as Alexia suggested, in she walked.
"What in the world!" She lifted both hands. "Alexia Rhys, is it possible! I
concluded not to go down-town, and came back, and to think of this--playing
with your best silk waist!"
"I'm not playing," declared Alexia, in a sharp key, tossing back from her
head as much of the waist as she could, "and it hurts awfully"--twitching
angrily at the hook.
Polly sprang to her assistance.
"Wait a minute, and I'll get you out," she said.
"And I won't wait," cried Alexia loudly; "it's bad enough to be hooked to
death with a horrid old ugly waist, without being scolded to pieces by your
aunt."
"Oh, Alexia!" exclaimed Miss Rhys, "to call that beautiful waist an ugly
thing!"
"And I'll pull every spear of hair out of my head, but I'll get the thing
off. Ow!"--as she began to put her threat into execution.
"Do be still, Alexia," begged Polly, trying to push aside the nervous
fingers.
"I won't be still," cried Alexia, casting up a pale eye full of wrath on
the side next to Polly, and giving another twitch. "I guess if you'd been
hooked up by a horrible old thing, and your aunt came in and scolded you
terribly, you wouldn't wait. Ow! Oh, dear me!"
"Then," said Polly, standing quite still, "since you won't let me help you,
I'm going home, Alexia."
"Oh, don't," cried Alexia, and she dropped her hands to her side in a
flash, the blue silk waist dangling to her head by its hook. "I'll let you
help whatever you want to, Polly," she mumbled meekly.
So Polly set to work, Miss Rhys slipping out of the room. Although Alexia's
nervous fingers were now not in the way, still, it wasn't easy to
disentangle the hook from the thick, fluffy hair, wound in as it was.
"You've tangled it all up," said Polly, bending over it with flushed face,
her fingers working busily, "and it's all in a snarl. Dear me! do I hurt?"
"No, never mind," said Alexia; "'tisn't any matter. Don't go home, Polly."
She held her fast by the gown.
"No, of course not," said Polly; "at least not until I get this hook out of
your hair. There--oh, dear me! I thought it was quite free. Well, anyway,
now it is!" She held up the blue silk waist with a triumphant little
flourish, over her own head. "It must be awful to have something fastened
to you like that," she said, sympathetically, as she placed the waist on
the bed with a sigh of relief.
"Well, I guess you'd think so," assented Alexia decidedly; "it's too
perfectly awful for anything. It pulls like a big vulture with his talons
holding your hair." She hopped to her feet and shook herself in delight,
her long, light braids flying out gayly. "Well, I am glad that Aunt has
gone"--looking around the room, and drawing a long breath.
Polly Pepper stood quite still over by the bed.
"Well--heigh-ho--come on," cried Alexia, dancing over to seize her arm;
"let's have a spin." But Polly didn't move.
"Come on, Polly," cried Alexia, with another tug at her arm.
"No," said Polly, "I can't, Alexia."
"What in the world is the matter?" cried Alexia, dropping her arm to stare
at her.
"I think your aunt--" began Polly.
"Oh, Aunt!" interrupted Alexia impatiently. "You're always talking about
her, Polly Pepper, and she's everlastingly picking at me, so I have a
perfectly dreadful time, between you two."
"Well, she is your aunt," said Polly, not offering to stir.
"I can't help it." Alexia, for the want of something better to do, ran over
and twitched the table cover straight. "And I know she's my aunt, but she
needn't pick at me all the time," she added defiantly. She looked
uncomfortable all the same, and ran about here and there trying to get
things in their places, but knocking down more than were tidied up. "Why
don't you say something?" she cried impatiently, whirling around.
"Because I've nothing to say," replied Polly, not moving.