bothered by the people passing up and down so continually, and he began
to whine and run aimlessly about; I could hardly make him go on; and
when I took him in the cross streets, he wasn't any good at all. I felt
real discouraged. But just as soon as we turned into Twenty-third
Street, I could see that he'd struck something; for though he did a lot
of zigzagging over the pavement, he went ahead all the time: I tell you,
I was right at his tail at every turn. When we came opposite to where
Madison Avenue begins, if Major didn't cross over and strike off into
the park. Presently he gave a short, quick bark, and tore down a path. I
fairly _flew_ after him; up one path and down another we went like mad,
until we came to the fountain, and there, in the shade of a big tree,
just as cool and unconcerned as you please, were the runaways!
Kathie was seated off on one end of the bench, with her new parasol open
over her head, putting on all sorts of airs, while she gave orders to
Paul and Mädel, who were setting out some forlorn-looking fruit on the
other end of the bench; Alan was walking backward and forward dragging
his express waggon after him.
"Why, it's _Major_!" cried Alan, as the old doggie bounced on him and
licked his face.
"And _Jack_! hullo!" sang out Paul, turning round and seeing me.
"Oh, _lawks_!" exclaimed Mädel,--she'd caught that expression from
nurse, who always says it when she's frightened or excited,--and with
that she scrambled up on the bench and threw her arms round Kathie's
neck with such force that she knocked the parasol out of her hand, and
it slipped down over their heads and hid their faces.
[Illustration: "AND THERE, JUST AS COOL AND UNCONCERNED AS YOU PLEASE,
WERE THE RUNAWAYS."]
Of course I was thankful to see them, _very_ thankful; but at the same
time I must say I was provoked, too, at the cool way in which they were
taking things, when we'd been so frightened about them. "You mean little
animals!" I said, giving Paul's shoulder a shake. "There's poor Nonie at
home crying her eyes out about you, and here're you all _enjoying_
yourselves! What d'you mean by behaving like this?"
Instead of being sorry, if they didn't get saucy right away,--at least
the boys did. Judge jerked himself away from me. "If anybody's going to
punish us, _I'm not_ coming home," he drawled, planting his feet wide
apart on the asphalt pavement, and looking me square in the eye. "Nor
me!" chimed in Alan, defiantly.
The parasol was lifted a little, and Mädel peeped out. "Will Nora make
us go to bed right away?" she asked anxiously; "before we get any
dinner?"
Up went the parasol altogether, and Kathie slipped to the ground. "Oh,
Jack, is everybody awfully mad? and what'll they do to us?" she said,
and she looked just ready to begin weeping again. "'Cause if they are,
we'd rather stay here; we've got things to eat--"
"Yes, we've got lots of things," broke in Alan; "see," pointing to the
miserable-looking fruit on the end of the bench, "all that! Judge bought
it; we couldn't get the bank open, but the fruitman took it,--he said
he didn't mind,--an' let us have all these things for it; wasn't he
kind? We're going to have a party."
Well, for a few minutes I didn't know what to do,--I mean how to get
them to go home without a fuss. I could see that Paul and Alan were just
ready for mischief; if they started to run in different directions, I
couldn't catch both, and there were those dangerous cable cars not very
far away. Suppose the boys should rush across Broadway and get run over!
I suppose I could have called a policeman, and got him to take us all
home, but I knew that'd make a terrible fuss; Kathie and Mädel would
howl,--they're awfully afraid of "p'leecemen," as Alan calls them, and I
really don't care very much for them myself. At last I got desperate.
"See here, children," I said, "I've been sent to find you if I could,
and to bring you home, and I've _got_ to do it, you know. If you'd seen
how worried everybody was, and how poor Nonie cried for fear some tramp
had got hold of you--"
"I just guess not!" broke in Judge, defiantly; but all the same he
glanced quickly over his shoulder, and drew a little nearer to me.
"--or for fear you'd get hurt, or have no place to sleep in, you'd want
to go straight home this minute. You know this park's all very well for
the day-time; but when night comes, and it gets dark, what'll you do?
The policemen may turn you out, and where will you all go _then_?
Nannie is miles and _miles_ away from here by the cars, and how're
children like you ever going to get to her without money or anything?
And even if it were so you could get to her, what do you suppose
Nannie'd say when she found you had all _run away from home_?"
I said all this very seriously,--I tell you I felt serious,--and the
minute I stopped speaking Mädel slipped from the bench and slid her
little hand into mine. "_I'm_ going home," she declared.
"Perhaps I will, too, if Nora won't punish us," said Kathie,
undecidedly.
"I don't know if she'll punish you or not," I said; "but even if she
should, isn't that better than staying here all the time, and having
no dinner,--cook's made a lovely shortcake for dessert,--and no beds
to sleep in, and never coming home at all again?"
Kathie caught hold of my hand. "I'm ready," she said; "let's go now."
"Coming, boys?" I asked carelessly.
"Oh, I s'pose we'll _have_ to," answered Paul, sulkily, kicking the leg
of the bench; "and there's my money all gone!"
I was wild to get them home, but I had to wait as patiently as I could
while the boys piled the horrid old fruit into the express wagon--they
wouldn't have left it for anything--and harnessed Major to it with
pieces of twine they had in their pockets; then we started.
We passed the fruitman that had cheated Judge, and Phil said afterwards
that I ought to have stopped and made him give up the bank,--there were
nearly two dollars in it, besides the value of the bank itself, and he
had given the children about ten or fifteen cents' worth of miserable
stuff for it,--but I do hate to fight people, and besides, I was in a
hurry to get home, so I didn't notice him at all.
We went along in pretty good spirits--Major at the head of the
procession--until we got near home; then Kathie asked once or twice,
rather nervously, "What do you suppose Nora'll do to us, Jack?" and the
boys began to lag behind a little. As we turned off the avenue, into our
street, two people came down our stoop--we live near the corner--and
came toward us. One of them was an old lady, and I knew at once that I'd
seen her before, though I couldn't remember where. She was a little old
lady, and she stooped a good deal; her nose was long and hooked, and she
had a turn-up chin like in the pictures of Punch that we have at home.
Kathie saw the likeness, too, for she pulled my elbow and whispered:
"Oh, Jack, doesn't she look like Punch? Perhaps she's his wife."
The other woman was stout, and she helped the old lady along,--I think
she was a maid. As we got near them, the old lady fumbled for her
eyeglasses, put them on, and looked sharply at us. "Yes, yes, looks like
his father!" we heard her say; then, "Have we time, Sanders? I should
like to speak to them."
"Indeed, mum, we haven't time to stop," replied Sanders; "we've barely
time to catch the boat." Then they got into the hansom that was standing
at the curb, and were driven away.
Hannah opened the door, and the yell of joy that she gave when she saw
the children brought Nora flying to meet us. I couldn't help noticing
how bright and happy Nora looked, very different from when we had left
her, an hour or so before; and the way she met the children was also a
surprise to me. I knew she'd be glad to see them safe, but I thought
surely she would have given them a good scolding, too, or punished them
in some way; they deserved it, and I know they expected it. But she met
them as sweetly and affectionately as even Nannie could have; she gave
them something to eat,--it was long past our lunch hour,--and then she
walked them into the study and gave them a tremendous talking to. I
don't know whether it was the unexpected way in which she treated them,
or the talking to, or what, but they came out of the study looking very
subdued, and they certainly behaved better for the rest of the time
before we went in the country. And Nora was different, too, for that
time; she scarcely nagged, and she was more gentle,--so perhaps their
running away taught her a lesson as well.
In the mean time--while Nora and the children were in the study--Felix
came in, all tired out, and a little while later Phil; and weren't they
indignant, though, with those youngsters when they found they were safe
and sound!
All that afternoon Nora seemed very happy; we could hear her singing as
she went up and down stairs and about the house, looking after nurse and
the children. It was the same all through dinner-time,--she just bubbled
over with fun, and it was the pleasantest meal we'd had since the family
broke up. Now Nora isn't often like this,--in fact, very seldom; and
to-day we supposed it was because she was so glad the children had been
found; as Phil said, 'twas almost worth while losing the youngsters--as
long's we'd found them again--to have Nora so bright and pleasant. His
ill humour had all disappeared, and he and Nora just kept us laughing
with their funny sayings. But Fee was rather quiet; his tramp after the
children had tired him, and I guess, too, that he was thinking of the
evening, and wondering how he could keep Phil from going off with Chad.
After dinner I went out to feed Major; I tell you, we all think him the
wisest old doggie in New York! and I gave him the biggest dinner any
dog could eat. Just as I was coming through the hall to go on the stoop
where Phil and Felix were sitting, Nora ran down the steps and stood at
the open front door. "Come in the drawing-room, boys; I have something
particular to tell you," she said. "Come right away; better close the
front door,--it's a long story."
Fee got up slowly, but Phil hesitated. "I wonder if Chad will be round?"
he said.
"Oh, not to-night," answered Nora, quickly. "Why, didn't you hear him
say last evening that he was going out of town for two or three days?"
Fee's face lighted up, and he opened his big eyes at me,--I know he was
delighted; and it seemed to me that Phil's surprised "No! is _that_ so?"
did not sound very sorry.
"Oh, hurry in, _do_!" Nora said impatiently. "I've kept the secret all
the afternoon,--until we had a chance to talk quietly together,--and now
it is just burning my lips to get out. Come, Jack, you, too."
XVII.
NORA'S SECRET.
TOLD BY JACK.
Of course that brought us into the drawing-room in double-quick time.
Fee threw himself full-length on a lounge; Phil sat on a chair with his
face to the back, which he hugged with both arms; I took the next
chair,--the biggest in the room; and pulling over the piano stool, Nora
seated herself on that, and swung from side to side as she spoke to the
different ones.
For a minute she just sat and smiled at us without a word, until Phil
said: "Well, fire away! We're all ears."
"Who do you think has been here to-day?" began Nora.
Phil rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, and he and Felix both answered
very solemnly, and at the same moment:--
"The Tsar!"
"The President!"
"_Don't_ be silly!" said Nora, with dignity; then, "I suppose I might as
well tell you at once, for you never could guess,--_aunt Lindsay!_"
"No!" "Jinks!" "We _saw_ her!" exclaimed Felix, Phil, and I.
"Yes," said Nora, swinging herself slowly from side to side, and
enjoying our surprise. "And what do you suppose she came for?" Then,
interrupting herself, "But there! I'll begin at the very beginning; that
will be the best. Well, I had just told Dr. Archard good-bye--by the
way, he says nurse will be all right by to-morrow--and come in here for
a minute, when the bell rang, and Hannah ushered an old lady into the
room. Of course I knew at once that it was aunt Lindsay, though I hadn't
seen her for a long time; and I welcomed her as warmly as I could,
feeling as I did about the children,--I didn't tell her anything about
them, though,--and asked her to take off her things. But she said she
could only stay a very short time, and asked to see 'Nancy' and Felix.
"She sat in the chair you are in, Jack,"--Nora turned to me,--"and as
she's very small, she looked about as lost in it as you do. When I said
that Felix was out, and Nannie away in the Adirondacks with papa, she
looked _so_ disappointed. 'I knew your father was there,' she said, 'but
he did not mention that Nancy was with him. And so Felix is out! H'm,
sorry for that. Good children, good children, both of them!'"
"Doesn't know you, old man, does she?" put in Phil; and then he and
Felix grinned.
"Well," continued Nora, "she said she couldn't stay for lunch, but I
got her to loosen her bonnet strings and take a cup of tea and some
crackers. While she sipped her tea she said: 'I am _en route_ for my
usual summer resort, and have come a good deal out of my way to see my
godchildren. It is a disappointment not to meet them; but if Nancy is
with her sick father, she is doing her duty.' Then she asked about you,
Fee; your health particularly. After I had told her that you were as
well as usual, and as fond of study as ever, then she told me what she
had come on from Boston for. Felix, she knows all about your
disappointment in not going to college last fall,--who do you suppose
could have told her?--and she says--" Nora stopped and looked at us
with a teasing smile.
Fee was sitting up, and we were all leaning forward, eager for the rest
of the story.
"Oh, _go_ on!" cried Fee, quickly.
"Yes, out with it!" chimed in Phil.
"She says," went on Nora, slowly, lingering over each word, "that you
are to prepare yourself for examination to enter Columbia in the fall,
and she will see you through the college course. These are her very
words: 'Tell Felix that his father has consented that I shall have the
great pleasure and happiness of putting him through college. I wanted to
do it last fall, but Jack would not listen to it then. Tell the boy that
I shall enjoy doing this, and that he will hear from me about the last
of August.' Oh, Felix, isn't it _splendid_?"
[Illustration: "'HE WILL HEAR FROM ME ABOUT THE LAST OF AUGUST.'"]
"Perfectly immense--_immense!_" exclaimed Phil, landing on his feet in
great excitement. "Why, it's the _jolliest_, the _very_ best, the
_finest_ piece of good news that I could hear--simply _huge!_ _Blessed_
old dame! She's given me _the_ wish of my heart! Hurrah, old chappie!
after all we'll be at college together! _Oo-h-ie!_" And he threw his
arms right round Felix and just hugged him.
Fee's eyes were wide open, and so bright! they shone right through his
glasses; he leaned forward and looked anxiously from one to the other of
us, his hands opening and shutting nervously on his knees as he spoke.
"Are you _sure_ about this?" he asked wistfully; "because I've dreamed
this sort of thing sometimes, and--and--the awakening always upsets me
for a day or two."
"Why, _certainly_ we're sure!" cried Nora. "_Dead sure!_" answered Phil,
emphatically; and Nora added reproachfully: "Why, Felix! aren't you
glad? I thought you'd be delighted."
"_Glad?_" echoed Fee, "_glad?_ why, I'm--" His voice failed, and turning
hurriedly from us, he buried his face in the sofa cushions.
All this time I hadn't said a word; I really couldn't. You see, ever
since I've been a choir boy, I've saved all the money that's been paid
me for singing, so's to get enough to send Fee to college. Betty didn't
think much of my scheme: she said 'twould take such a long while before
I could get even half the amount; but still I kept on saving for it,--I
haven't spent a penny of my salary,--and you've no idea how full the
bank was, and _heavy!_ I've just hugged the little iron box sometimes,
when I thought of what that money would do for Fee; and for a few
minutes after I heard Nora's story I was so disappointed that I
_couldn't_ congratulate him.
Then, all at once, it came over me like a rush how mean I was to want
Felix to wait such a long time for me to do this for him, when, through
aunt Lindsay's kindness, he could go to college right away. I got
awfully ashamed, and going quickly over to Fee's side, I knelt down by
him and threw my arm over his shoulder. "Fee," I said,--he still had his
face in the cushions,--"I'm _very_, _very_, _very_ glad you are to go to
college this fall,--_really_ and _truly_ I am, Fee."
I didn't see anything funny about this, but Phil and Nora began to
laugh, and, sitting up, Felix said, smiling, "Why, I know you are,
Jacqueminot; I never doubted it for a moment. And by and by, when Phil
and I are staid old seniors, your turn will come,--we'll see to that."
Then, looking round at us, he went on, speaking rapidly, excitedly: "_At
last_ it has come, and when I least expected it--when I had given up all
hope. I can hardly believe it! _Now_ I shall go in for the hardest sort
of hard work, for I've great things to accomplish. Don't think I'm
conceited, but I'm going to try for _all_ the honours that a fellow can;
and I'll get them, too--I'll get them; I _must!_ I promised--_her_--" He
broke off abruptly and turned away, then presently added in a lighter
tone: "I must write to my twinnie to-night,--how delighted she will be!
Oh, I tell you, you don't any of you know what this is to me!--but
there, I _can't_ talk of it. Let's have some fun. What shall we do to
celebrate the occasion? Play something lively, Nora; we'll have a
_musicale_."
He stood up, and as Nora ran to the piano and struck up a waltz, Phil
caught Fee round the waist and danced off with him.
But before they had turned twice round, Fee was in a chair, holding on
to his back, and laughing at Phil's grumbling protest. "I never was much
on dancing, you know," he said. "Here, take Rosebud; he'll trip the
light fantastic toe with you as long as you like."
So Phil finished the waltz with me, but I didn't enjoy it; Phil is so
tall, and he grips a person so tight, that half the time my feet were
clear off the floor and sticking straight out; and he went so fast that
I got dizzy.
Well, we had a _jolly_ evening. After the dance, Fee didn't move about
very much, but he was just as funny and bright as he could be; Nora was
nicer, too, than I've ever known her; and as for Phil, he was perfectly
wild with good spirits. He danced,--alone when he couldn't get anybody
for a partner,--and sang, and talked, and joked, and kept us in a roar
of laughter until bedtime.
"Well," said Nora, as we stood together by the drawing-room door for a
few minutes before going upstairs, "I thought this morning that this was
going to be a black day,--one of the days when everything goes
wrong,--and yet see how pleasantly it has ended."
"It has been a great day for me," said Fee, slowly. "I don't mind
telling you people, now, that that disappointment in the fall took the
heart and interest all out of my studies; but now"--he straightened
himself up, and his voice rang out--"_now_ I have hope again, and
courage, and you'll see what I can do. Thanks don't express my
feelings; I'm more than thankful to aunt Lindsay!"
"So 'm I," I piped up, and I meant that; I was beginning to feel better
about it.
"Thankful, more thankful, most thankful," Phil said, pointing his finger
at Nora, then at me, then at Felix; "and here am I, the 'thankfullest'
of all."
There was a break in his voice that surprised us; and to cover it up, he
began some more of his nonsense. "High time for us--the _pater's_ little
infants--to be a-bed," he said, laughing. "Come, Mr. Boffin, make your
adieux and prepare to leave
"'The gay, the gay and festive scene;
The halls, the halls of dazzling light.'"
And suddenly, catching Fee in his arms, he ran lightly up the stairs
with him, calling back to us: "'Good-night, ladies! good-night, ladies!
good-night, ladies! I'm going to leave you now!'"
XVIII.
EXPERIENCES AT ENDICOTT BEACH.
TOLD BY BETTY.
Nora insisted that it was "exceedingly kind" of the Ervengs, and "a
compliment" to me, and all that sort of thing, to invite me to spend a
month with them at their country place. Well, perhaps she was right:
Nora is _always_ right,--in her own estimation; all the same, I didn't
want to go one step, and I am afraid I was rather disagreeable about it.
You see I had been looking forward to going to the Cottage with the
others; and having to start off for an entirely different place at only
a few hours' notice quite upset me. At the Cottage, Nannie takes charge
while Miss Marston is away for her holidays, and she lets us amuse
ourselves in our own way, as long as we are punctual at meals,--papa
insists on that,--and don't get into mischief. One can wear one's oldest
clothes, and just _live_ out of doors; what with driving old Pegasus,
and riding G. W. L. Spry, and boating, fishing, crabbing, wading, and
playing in the sand, we do have the jolliest times! Now, instead of all
this fun and freedom, I was to be packed off to visit people that I
didn't know very well, and didn't care a jot about. Of course I knew
Hilliard _pretty_ well,--he's been at the house often enough! I didn't
mind him much, though he is provokingly slow, and so--well, _queer_, for
I could speak my mind right out to him if I felt like it; but it seemed
to me that Mr. Erveng must always remember that silly escapade of mine
whenever he looked at me, and I was sure that Mrs. Erveng regarded me as
a rough, overgrown tomboy. Somehow, when I am with her I feel dreadfully
awkward,--all hands, and feet, and voice; though these things don't
trouble me in the least with any one else. I did wish that she had
invited Nora to visit her instead of me.
When I saw my old blue flannel laid with the things to go to the
Cottage, and only my best gowns put into the trunk I was to take to the
Ervengs', it suddenly rushed over me that I would have to be on my
company manners for a whole month! and I got so mad that it would have
been a relief to just _roar_,--the way Kathie does.
Nannie was away, and the others didn't seem to understand how I felt; in
fact, Nora aggravated me by scolding, and saying I ought to feel highly
delighted, when I knew that deep down in her heart she was only too
thankful that _she_ hadn't been asked. Jack was the only person that
sympathised with me,--dear old Jackie-boy! I'm beginning to think that
there is a good deal to Jack, for all he's so girlie.
[Illustration: "IN THE DRAWING-ROOM CAR."]
The Ervengs called for me the morning after papa and Nannie had gone to
the mountains,--right after breakfast,--and I can assure you it was
dreadfully hard to keep back the tears when I was telling the family
good-bye; and when I was seated in the carriage, right under Mr. and
Mrs. Erveng's eyes, I got the most insane desire to scream out loud, or
burst the door open and jump out: I had to sit up very straight and set
my lips tight together, to keep from doing it.
That feeling wore off, though, by the time we got settled in the
drawing-room car, and I was three seats from Mrs. Erveng,--I managed
that,--with Mr. Erveng and Hilliard between us. It was a marvel to me
the way those two waited on Mrs. Erveng; in watching them do it I
forgot about myself. Her chair must be at just such an angle, her
footstool in just such a position, and the cushions at her back just so
many, and most carefully arranged; and if she stirred, they were all
attention immediately. And they were like that the whole month that I
was at Endicott Beach, though it seemed to me sometimes that she was
very exacting.
Now with us, though we love one another dearly, and, as Phil says, would
go through fire and water for one another if need be, particularly if
any one were ill, still we're not willing to be imposed on _all_ the
time, and we do keep the different ones up to the mark, and stand up for
our individual rights,--we've _got_ to where there are so many. But the
Ervengs aren't in the least like us; and I think that, in some ways,
Hilliard is the very oddest boy I've _ever_ known.