hand now, and was marching him back to the carriage at a pace much more
comfortable for all concerned. "What have you to tell us?" he was being
asked.
"I would have told you then," said the boy doggedly. He couldn't help but
show some suffering in his face, and Jasper, looking down to see its cause,
found one arm hanging in a very peculiar manner. "You've hurt your arm," he
said abruptly. "Frick, take care"--to the boy, not at all particular what
he took hold of if he only got a good grip.
"Well, he shan't get away," said Frick decidedly, nipping up the end of the
jacket nearest to him.
"How did you hurt your arm?" asked Jasper. Despite all his anxiety about
Joel, and an awful feeling that in some way an accident had occurred that
had enveloped them both, he looked into he face beneath him with real
concern.
"None of your business," the boy was going to say, but instead he turned
away his face, then brought it back, and defiance was written all over it.
"He sassed me, that old fellow in the carriage. Did you s'pose I'd tell him
after that?"
"He's dreadfully anxious," said Jasper, ignoring everything else. "You see,
Joel's been gone in all this storm, and we don't know anything in the world
where he is."
"I do," said the boy.
"Then, if you do"--Jasper stopped suddenly and brought his keen dark eyes
to bear on the rough, defiant face--"I just hope you will tell me. And I
know you will," he added, after a pause in which Frick fastened his gaze on
them both wildly, luckily without discovering any use for his tongue.
The boy swallowed hard, dropped his eyes for a moment, then looked up.
"He was out on the pond."
"Out on the pond!" echoed Frick, and his hand nipping the jacket-end fell
nerveless to his side.
"No one told you to speak," said the boy sharply, turning on him, "so you
shut up."
"But what was he doing out on the pond in such a storm?" asked Jasper. His
lips were white, but he didn't allow his eyes to waver, for it was better
to have the whole story before getting back to his father.
"It didn't rain till after we'd had the row," said the boy.
"Had the row?" It seemed an eternity to Jasper, for Joel perhaps even now
might be in peril, before the next question was answered, "What row?"
"Yes," said the boy, as if he were going to add, "Well, what are you going
to do about it?" The next moment, he had made up his mind to tell all there
was to tell. It wasn't exactly clear why, but he was giving the account in
a very few words, leaving it where it ended with his seeing Joel rowing off
down the pond.
And presently the two who had hopped out of the carriage, with the new boy
and the one who had thrust his head in over the door, were seated in the
brougham, and Thomas had turned his back on the city streets and was
driving off at a furious pace for Spy Pond.
Frick collapsed now and mumbled distractedly, "Oh, dear! now Joel's----"
what, he didn't trust himself to say. "And Larry's 'most killed, and----"
Jasper interrupted him sharply, "What do you say, Frick?" for it was the
first hint of anything gone wrong with any of the other boys.
Then out came that story to add to the general misery, and old Mr. King sat
very straight and kept saying, "Bless me! Tell Thomas to drive faster," and
"Oh, bless me!" again, as he glanced over at the boy.
But no Joel. They pranced, the horses did, shaking off the rain from their
wet manes, around as much of the pond as was adapted to carriages, and
Jasper and Frick got out and explored the rest, at least wherever Joel
would be supposed to put into port, the boy holding up the arm that
appeared not to be in its usual condition and going along, too, yet unable
to add any information to his original statement. At last: "Probably Joel's
gone home"--it was all Jasper could do to get the words out of his white
lips.
Without a word old Mr. King sank back, and waved his hand, which meant
"Yes," settling down amongst the cushions hopelessly, while their faces
were turned homeward.
"Hullo!" Unmistakably Joel's voice, and there he was, wet and dirty, and
waving frantically from a side street for them to stop, as he made his best
time to the corner.
Jasper threw wide the door. "_Joe!_" he cried. Thomas pulled up again,
the horses by this time having become so well accustomed to this method of
bringing up that they did it quite well, and there was a great to-do in the
coach.
"I've been calling and calling," panted Joel, blowing like a porpoise, and
running up with red cheeks, "and you wouldn't stop," he added in a very
injured way.
"Well, we didn't hear you, you beggar," cried Jasper. "Come, get in with
you"--putting out both hands to assist in the process. "Where have you
been, Joe?" for old Mr. King was beyond talking.
"I've been--" began Joel, glad enough to hop in; "why, where--" as his
black eyes fell on the boy in the corner.
Frick had tried to swarm all over him, but Joel put out an unsteady hand.
"I came to tell," said the boy, seeing he was expected to say something.
"Oh, don't," cried Joel involuntarily; "'tisn't any matter; I don't care."
"Well, it's all out, Joe," said Jasper affectionately, who couldn't stop
patting his back. Frick flew over to the opposite side and let Joel snuggle
up to the old gentleman. "I'm here, Grandpapa," he said happily.
"Oh, bless me! Yes, my boy!" said old Mr. King brokenly, and fondling the
little brown hands. "Well, we must get you home and out of these wet
clothes as soon as possible. I don't know what your mother will say. Oh,
dear me, Joe!"
"Pooh!" cried Joel, "I'm not wet."
"You're wet as a drowned rat, Joe," declared Jasper, bursting into a laugh,
which was such a relief to all concerned that in a minute it really seemed
like a pleasure excursion. But Joel pulled himself up.
"Oh, I'm going to see what's the matter with Jack's arm," and he leaned
over and put his hand on it.
"Nothing," said Jack, trying to pull it away, but Joel held on.
"Tis, too," he said. "You're going to have it fixed. Grandpapa, won't you
take him to Doctor Fisher's office? Please do."
At this Frick pricked up his ears. "Doctor Fisher isn't----"
"Frick," began Jasper desperately, "look out and see if it rains."
Frick stared in amazement, and even Joel bobbed his head over at Jasper.
"Why, doesn't it rain on your side?" he cried, his black eyes very wide.
"Never mind; do as I tell you," said Jasper, nowise disconcerted. So Frick
reported that it did rain; and then Jasper began to talk so fast that Joel
had no time to get in a word at all, although he tried with all his might.
"See here," he shouted at last, and his voice rang clear above every other
noise, "can't we take him to Doctor Fisher's office--can't we, Grandpapa?
Make Thomas turn about and take us there"--he fairly howled it now.
"And Doctor Fisher won't be there," screamed Frick, on just as high a key.
"Why not?"
It was impossible to stop the dreadful news of Larry's accident from coming
now. And in a minute Frick had it all out in a burst, quite unconscious of
Jasper's efforts, and well pleased at having something important to say.
"Larry's been run over by Mr. MacIlvaine's tallyho, and 'most smashed to
death."
XX
THE COOKING CLUB
"Oh, my goodness me!" Alexia gave a jump, then ran for the closet.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Polly, standing quite still in the middle of the room,
the lightning flash and the sudden peal of thunder coming without warning.
"Oh, I'm scared to death," cried Alexia, burrowing frantically; "come in
here, Polly Pepper. Are you killed?" she screamed.
"No," said Polly, "and I don't believe there'll be another as bad."
"Oh, come in here. Ooh!" cried Alexia, in muffled accents, as she huddled
up against the clothes.
"Oh, Polly!" It was Miss Rhys: her embroidery, cast aside at the sudden
storm-burst, was dragging behind her, and she was wringing her hands. "Did
you ever see anything so dreadful?"
"I don't believe there'll be another as bad," said Polly again, finding
nothing more of consolation to offer.
"And where is Alexia?" And without waiting for an answer, Miss Rhys
paced nervously up and down the room, still wringing her hands. "And
of course there will be more; there, there it comes," and she ran, the
embroidery-piece still hanging to her gown, into the closet.
"Oh, Aunt," cried Alexia, with a squeal, "you scared me 'most to death; I
thought I was struck!"
"Why, are you here, Alexia?" gasped Miss Rhys, when she could recover
herself enough to speak. "Well, this is truly a dreadful storm," and she
clutched her with shaking fingers.
"Yes, I am here," said Alexia. "Don't pinch so, Aunt--ow! My arm is all
black and blue, I know it is."
"It's no time to think of such little things, Alexia," replied her aunt
severely; "it may kill us both."
"Well, that's no reason I should be all pinched to death," grumbled Alexia,
forgetting the thunderstorm in her present discomfort and edging off as
well as she could. "The closet is dreadfully small, Aunt."
"It's quite large enough, I'm sure, to protect us," said Miss Rhys, hanging
tightly to her with trembling fingers. "Dear me! any minute may be our
last."
"Well, I'm not going to be smothered to death," declared Alexia, struggling
to work her way past her aunt.
"Alexia!" exclaimed her aunt.
"I'm going after Polly." Alexia out in the middle of the room flung her arm
around Polly. "Oh, misery!--where?" as a vivid flash seemed to hop right in
the window. "Oh, Polly, come!" She clutched her wildly.
"Where?" said Polly. "We can't get away from it, Alexia; it's just
everywhere."
"Oh, I don't care--anywhere--in the coal-scoop," cried Alexia, frantically
dragging her along. "I shall just die, Polly Pepper, and here you stand
like a stick."
"Well, there's just no use in running," said Polly, but seeing Alexia's
distress she suffered herself to be led, and downstairs the two girls sped,
and into the landlady's room, the first door to stand ajar.
"I'm coming in," announced Alexia, without ceremony, "for I'm scared to
death," and she dragged Polly Pepper after her. "Did you ever see such a
thunderstorm, Mrs. Cummings?"
"It is pretty bad," a voice answered. It wasn't Mrs. Cummings, as she had
hurried to oversee the maid close the windows through the house, but
another of the boarders, who, like Alexia, had selected this apartment for
a refuge.
"Oh, dear me!" Alexia sank down upon the sofa, being careful not to
relinquish her hold of Polly, and dragged a cushion over her face. "Is that
you, Mr. Filbert"--bringing out one eye to stare at him.
"I think so," said Mr. Filbert, a little thin old man sitting over in the
corner and leaning forward over his cane. He spoke cautiously, as if not
quite sure. "Yes, it _is_ a bad storm," he repeated decidedly. "Where
is your aunt?"
"She's up in the closet," said Alexia, pulling the sofa-cushion over her
own and Polly's face as well. "There, we can't see it at any rate, if we
are going to be killed."
"Up in the closet?" repeated Mr. Filbert.
"Yes. Oh, Polly, do you suppose it's lightening and thundering now?"--as
the two girls cuddled up closer together on the roomy old sofa, the cushion
crowded up over eyes and ears.
"I suppose so," said Polly, very much wishing she could say "No."
"Oh, dear me! I'm smothered to death," grumbled Alexia, "and I'm so
hot"--wriggling discontentedly.
"So am I," said Polly.
"What did you say? Your aunt was in the closet?" little old Mr. Filbert was
asking; and receiving no reply, he kept on.
"Oh, do hear him," whispered Alexia, back of the sofa-cushion; "he is so
tiresome, asking the same thing over and over."
"Well, do answer him," said Polly.
"I have, once," said Alexia.
"Is your aunt in the closet, did you say?" Mr. Filbert kept on, with the
impression that a reply would soon be coming if he only held up the
conversation at his end of it.
Alexia dashed down the sofa-cushion with a nervous hand. "I can't breathe;
let's get out, Polly," and she flew up, to sit quite straight. "Yes, my
aunt is up in the closet, Mr. Filbert. Whee! Oh, I am so scared, Polly
Pepper!"
"She'll be struck there quicker 'n any other place she could pick out,"
declared the little old gentleman positively.
Alexia hopped off from the sofa and ran on anxious feet to his chair.
"What did yon say, Mr. Filbert? and how do you know?" she cried, all in one
breath.
"The chimney closets always catch the lightning first," said Mr. Filbert
cheerfully; "you see, it----"
Alexia dashed off, ran through the hall and up to her own room. "Aunt,
Aunt," she cried, thrusting her head into the closet, "you'll be struck in
there, Mr. Filbert says so. Come out, Aunt."
There was no response, and Alexia, now in mortal terror, plunged into the
closet.
"Come, Aunt. Oh, my!" as a clap of thunder sent her plunging in headlong.
"Why, where--" for grope as she might, clear up to the end, among the
clothes and the shoe-bag, no Miss Rhys was to be found.
"Oh, dear, dear!" Alexia began to whimper, feeling all around the floor
with terror-stricken fingers. "Aunt, where are you? Oh, she's been struck
and she's dead, I know she is! Polly Pepper," she screamed, tumbling out of
the closet to rush to the head of the stairs, "come up and help me find
Aunt."
"Alexia!" Miss Rhys, concluding not to be left alone in the closet when the
two girls ran downstairs, had hurried out after them, and now appeared from
the hall corner where she had crouched. "Don't scream so."
"Oh, Aunt!" cried Alexia, throwing her arms around her, "you haven't been
struck, have you? Oh, do say you haven't."
"Why, of course not; don't you see I'm here?" said Miss Rhys. "There,
child, take care, you're mussing my lace collar," and she edged off from
the nervous fingers. "We'll go downstairs, I think, and stay with Mrs.
Cummings."
"If you're really sure you are not struck," said Alexia, eying her askance,
as if in considerable doubt, "we'll go; and Polly Pepper is there and that
tiresome old Mr. Filbert."
"If Polly is there, she must stay to luncheon," said Miss Rhys, gathering
up her skirts and preparing to descend the stairs.
"Oh, how fine!" exclaimed Alexia, hopping after, losing sight of the
thunderstorm in the delight of having Polly Pepper to herself for so many
hours. "Oh, Aunt, what's that tagging after you?"--catching sight of the
piece of embroidery dangling from her aunt's long figure.
"I see nothing," said Miss Rhys, turning around with her head over her
shoulder.
"Well, do stand still, Aunt," cried Alexia, "a minute."
"What is it?" Miss Rhys kept saying, trying to see for herself.
"Your centerpiece--oh, dear me!" Alexia by this time had it free, and burst
into a laugh as she held it up.
"Well, now, I expect I have dragged off my green floss," exclaimed her
aunt, in irritation. "I am quite sure of it."
"Well, 'twould be in the closet," said Alexia, who didn't relish offering
to go back, "'twon't hurt it to stay there a little while."
"I must find it," said Miss Rhys decidedly. And Alexia, wild to go down to
tell Polly Pepper she was to stay to luncheon, flew over the stairs,
leaving her aunt to get her green floss as she could.
"But I can't," said Polly, when Alexia had hugged her and danced around her
to her heart's content; "I must go home."
"Why, Polly Pepper, you can't ever go in this awful rain."
"It isn't going to rain much more," said Polly, running over to the window
to flatten her face against the pane.
"You'll be struck if you do that." Little Mr. Filbert looked after her in
disapproval. "The window is the worst place in a thunderstorm; you see,
it----"
"Oh, that's what you said about the chimney closet," said Alexia, in scorn,
"and there can't be two places that are the worst."
"Oh, Alexia," said Polly, looking back from the window.
"Well, he's so tiresome," said Alexia, putting her arm around her and
gazing out of the window; "that's just the way he goes on at the table
every single day. Oh, see it rain, Polly Pepper!"
"It's slackening," said Polly, peering up at the drops, that really were
beginning to fall with little spaces between. "And Mamsie will send for me
soon, I guess."
"Oh, well, it will begin again most likely," said Alexia. "I hope this
thunderstorm will last till ever so late this afternoon."
"Oh, Alexia Rhys!" cried Polly, in great distress, and whirling away from
the window, "don't wish that. Why, I must get home."
"Well, I do," said Alexia, bobbing her light hair till the fluffs settled
over her forehead, "for then you'd stay. You haven't been over here in ever
and ever so long, Polly Pepper," she said, in an injured voice, "and I've
got so very much to talk with you about."
"Well, let's talk now, then," said Polly, with a sigh, yet feeling quite
sure that she would soon be sent for to go home.
"Come over to the sofa then," said Alexia, So they ran over, and together
settled as far back into the corner as they could, pushing up one of the
cushions comfortably behind them.
"Well, now, you begin," said Polly.
"Oh, no--you," said Alexia, having no notion of doing the talking, for it
was always great fun to listen to Polly Pepper.
"Why, I thought you said you had ever so much to talk over," said Polly.
"So I have," said Alexia coolly, "we always do have; you know we do, Polly.
Well, now begin."
"But it's your place to begin first," said Polly decidedly, "because you
said you had something to talk over. So what is it, Alexia?"
"Well--" Alexia drew a long breath, cudgeling her brains, then burst out,
"We must think of something new to do now, Polly, since the garden party is
over."
"I know," said Polly. "How I wish we could get up something else, for our
fancy work is all done! Oh, wasn't it just gorgeous, Alexia"--with a
comfortable little wriggle.
"I should say it was," cried Alexia, "and didn't it sell, though!--and
everybody wished there was more, except my horrible old shawl."
"Why, Alexia Rhys!" Polly poked up her head where she had been nestling it
on Alexia's shoulder. "You know Mrs. Sterling sent for the shawl and gave
five dollars for it."
"Oh, that was because she knew it was so ugly that no one else would buy
it," said Alexia composedly. "Well, I don't care, so long as it's sold. I
was just tired to death of that old thing, Polly; I don't want to ever see
another shawl."
"Well, we shan't have another fair in a long while, I suppose," said Polly,
with a sigh, and laying her head down again.
"Not till next summer," said Alexia; "then, says I, for a garden party! You
know your grandpapa said he'd give you another, just as nice a one, then."
"But that's a whole year." said Polly disconsolately; "heigh-ho, it's so
very long to wait! Well, I suppose we must think of something else to do
now."
"Just for us girls," said Alexia.
"I don't know," said Polly slowly, looking up at her; "we ought to let the
boys come in."
"Oh, not those horrid boys," said Alexia impatiently; "they're forever
hanging around, and I like, once in a while, to have something by
ourselves."
"But it seems too bad to leave them out," said Polly soberly.
"Well, it would do them good to be left out sometimes," declared Alexia:
"they're so high and mighty, I'd just dearly love to take them down, and
say, 'Boys, you can't come into this.'" She tossed her fluffy hair till the
long, light braids flew out triumphantly.
"Why can't we have a cooking club?" suggested Polly, after a minute of hard
thinking.
"Ugh!" Alexia twisted up her face. "Oh, that's horrid," she said, with
another grimace. "Do you mean, learn to make things on the kitchen range?"
"Yes, and on the chafing-dish," said Polly, flying up to sit straight. "Oh,
it would be elegant, Alexia!" she cried, with glowing cheeks.
"Well, I can't learn," said Alexia, "so that's some small comfort, for I'm
in a boarding-house, and I guess the cook here would fly in a fit to see me
come into the kitchen."
"But you can come to our house and learn with me," said Polly, clasping her
hands, "and we'll make perfectly splendid things; just think, Alexia."
"What things?" asked Alexia doubtfully.
"Oh, little biscuits," said Polly, going back in her mind to the delights
of baking-day in the little brown house; "cunning little ones, you know;
you can't think how perfectly elegant we used to make them, Alexia."
"Oh, you had everything elegant in your little brown house," said Alexia,
twisting enviously in her corner. "Joel's never tired of telling of it. And
to think I wasn't there! Oh, dear me! I wish you would talk about it."
"Well, you can try now to make some biscuits. I'll show you how," said
Polly eagerly.
"And Polly--oh, goody!--now don't you see we won't have to ask the boys to
join this? A cooking club--the very idea!" Alexia hopped off from the sofa,
and stood in front of Polly, clasping her hands.
"Why, yes we will," cried Polly, hopping off too, and speaking very
decidedly; "the boys will like it just as much as we do."
"The boys like a cooking club!" screamed Alexia, standing quite still.
"Yes, indeed," said Polly. "Why, Jasper used to like our baking-days in the
little brown house, you know he did, Alexia, like everything."
"Oh, dear! yes, I know," said Alexia reluctantly.
"And beside, even if they don't make things, why, they can come to our
suppers, for we must of course get up some, of things we've learned to
make. Oh, it will be _such_ fun, Alexia!" Polly sighed and clasped her
hands.
"And I'll learn to make your cunning little biscuits," declared Alexia
suddenly, quite as if she had proposed the plan and pushed it along from
the very beginning, "and do let's have a club supper soon," she begged.
"There's a carriage coming," announced little Mr. Filbert, from his chair
in the corner.
"Oh, it's for me, I know," cried Polly, springing to the window. "Yes,
Mamsie has sent for me, Alexia. I knew she would!"
"Oh, dear me!" grumbled Alexia, awfully disappointed and racing after her.
"Why, you can't ever go in all this rain, Polly Pepper."
Polly burst out into a laugh. "Just look there," She pointed to the patches
of light in the sky gradually growing bigger and brighter. "It doesn't rain
a single drop! And, oh, Alexia, look, look--the rainbow!"
XXI
OF MANY THINGS IN GENERAL
But the cooking club with all its delights wasn't started yet for many a
day, for just as soon as Polly got home there was the whole story of the
morning's adventures of Joel and Larry's accident, to fill all her time and
thoughts.
And then Jack--why, of course, he must come in for a goodly share of
notice, for Joel insisted on making him a hero, to be willing to come and
tell Mr. King of his misdemeanor on the pond. And Doctor Fisher had said
the arm was in a bad way, the trouble being increased by all the running
about in the pelting storm that Jack had indulged in, and this made Joel
nearly frantic. Dear me! there was no time to think of cooking clubs!
And then after luncheon came a little note from Mrs. Sterling, brought by
no less a person than Mrs. Gibson herself, who, in her staid little black
bonnet and gray dress and white apron, waited for Polly's answer.
"No, Miss, I'll not sit down, if you please, as my mistress expects me back
at once."
"Dear Polly" (so the note ran), "will you run down this afternoon to talk
over a little plan for the Comfort committee. I suppose the boys have told
you about it. Bring Joel, too, for he couldn't come this morning when it
was proposed. Your friend, Pamela Sterling."
"Oh, goody!" exclaimed Polly, vastly pleased, and springing off. "Yes, I'll
come, Mrs. Gibson, please tell her, and right away; that is, when I find
Joel."
"I hope you'll be there soon," said Mrs. Gibson, the light of pleasure at
Polly's first words dying down a bit when she saw that Joel was to be
waited for. "Couldn't you come first?" she asked anxiously.
"Oh, I must find Joel," said Polly, "but I almost know where he is, and
we'll be over soon. Please tell her so."
She was already out in the hall, and Mrs. Gibson having obtained the best
she was likely to receive, departed to carry back the word to her mistress.
And Polly raced here and there without avail, for Joel was not so easily
found after all.
"Oh, Joel, where _are_ you?" cried Polly, racing along the hall. "Oh,
dear me! Percy, is that you?" as Percy, with Van at his heels, came near
running into her.
"Yes, it is," said Percy, coming to an abrupt stop, but Van ran past them.
"Hold on, Van," he cried, his face growing very red, "that's not fair, when
Polly wanted to speak to us."
"She didn't want to speak to me," said Van, making pretty quick time down
the hall.
"Oh, Polly, make him stop," begged Percy, twitching her sleeve; "he's going
up into Ben's room; it's not fair, for I was ahead."