The whole dormitory was in an uproar. “Ow! help—help!” Mr. Harrow, having gone out after dinner, had retired late, and was now sound asleep, so another instructor scaled the stairs, getting there long before Mrs. Fox, the matron, could put in an appearance.
In the babel, it was somewhat difficult to locate the boy who had screamed out. At last, “In there, Farnham's room,” cried several voices at once.
“Nightmare, I suppose,” said the instructor to himself, dashing in.
But it was a real thing he soon saw, as a knot of boys huddled around the bed, where the terrified occupant still sat, drawing up his knees to his chin, and screaming all sorts of things, in which “wild beast” and “cold nose” was all that could be distinguished.
“Stop this noise!” commanded the instructor, who had none of Mr. Harrow's pleasant but decided ways for quelling an incipient riot. So they bawled on, the boy in bed yelling that he wouldn't be left alone.
Just then something skimmed out from the corner; the boys flew to one side, showing a tendency to find the door. Even the instructor jumped. Then he bethought himself to light the gas, which brought out the fact that there certainly was an animal in the room, as they could hear it now under the bed.
“Boys, be quiet. Mrs. Fox's cat has got up here, probably,” said the instructor. But the boy in the bed protested that it wasn't a cat that had waked him up by thrusting a cold nose in his face, and jumping on top of him. And he huddled worse than ever now that it was under him; yet afraid to step out on the floor.
Even the instructor did not offer to look under the bed, when Joel Pepper rushed in, his black eyes gleaming. “Oh, it's my dog!” he cried.
“It's Joe Pepper's dog!” cried the whole roomful, nearly tumbling over each other.
“And when did you begin to keep a dog, Joel Pepper?” hurled the instructor at him, too angry for anything, that he hadn't impressed the boys with his courage.
But Joel was occupied in ramming his body under the bed as far as possible. “Here, Sinbad,” and he presently emerged with a very red face, and Sinbad safely in his arms, who seemed perfectly delighted to get into his old refuge again. David had now joined the group, as much aghast as every other spectator.
“Do you hear me, Joel Pepper?” thundered the instructor again. “When did you get that dog?” This brought Joel to.
“Oh, I haven't had him long, sir,” he said, and trembling for Sinbad, as he felt in every fibre of his being that the beast's fate was sealed, unless he could win over the irritated teacher. “He's a poor dog I—I found, sir,” wishing he could think of the right words, and knowing that every word he uttered only made matters worse.
“David,” cried the instructor, catching Davie's eye, down by the door, “do you know anything about this dog?”
“No, sir,” said David, all in a tremble, and wishing he could say something to help Joel out.
“Well, now, you wait a minute.” The instructor, feeling that here was a chance to impress the boys with his executive ability, looked about over the table where Farnham's schoolbooks were thrown. “Got a bit of string? No—oh, yes. “He pounced on a piece, and came over to Joel and the dog.
“What are you going to do, sir?” Joel hung to Sinbad with a tighter grip than ever.
“Never mind; it's not for you to question me,” said the instructor, with great authority.
But Joel edged away. Visions of being expelled from Dr. Marks' school swam before his eyes, and he turned very white.
David plunged through the crowd of boys, absolutely still with the excitement. “Oh Joel,” he begged hoarsely, “let Mr. Parr do as he wants to. Mamsie would say so.”
Joel turned at that. “Don't hurt him,” he begged. “Don't, please, Mr. Parr.”
“I shall not hurt him,” said Mr. Parr, putting the cord about the dog's neck, and holding the other end, after it was knotted fast. “I am going to tie him in the area till morning. Here you, sir,” as Sinbad showed lively intentions toward his captor's legs, with a backward glance at his late master.
“Oh, if you'll let me keep him in my room, Mr. Parr,” cried Joel, tumbling over to the instructor, who was executing a series of remarkable steps as he dragged Sinbad off, “I'll—I'll be just as good—just till the morning, sir. Oh, please, Mr. Parr—I'll study, and get my lessons better, I truly will,” cried poor Joel, unable to promise anything more difficult of performance.
“You'll have to study better anyway, Joel Pepper,” said Mr. Parr grimly, as he and Sinbad disappeared down the stairway. “Every boy get back to his room,” was the parting command.
No need to tell Joel. He dashed through the ranks, and flung himself into his bed, dragged up the clothes well over his stubby head, and cried as if his heart would break.
“Joel—Joel—oh, Joey!” begged David hoarsely, and running to precipitate himself by his side. But Joel only burrowed deeper and sobbed on.
And Davie, trying to keep awake, to give possible comfort, at last tumbled asleep, when Joel with a flood of fresh sorrow rolled over as near to the wall as he could get, and tried to hold in his sobs.
As soon as he dared the next morning, Joel hopped over David still asleep, and out of bed; jumped into his clothes, and ran softly downstairs. There in the area was Sinbad, who had evidently concluded to make the best of it, and accept the situation, for he was curled up in as small a compass as possible, and was even attempting a little sleep.
“I won't let him see me,” said Joel to himself, “but as soon as Dr. Marks is up”—and he glanced over at the master's house for any sign of things beginning to move for the day—“and dressed, why, I'll go and ask him—” what, he didn't dare to say, for Joel hadn't been able, with all his thinking, to devise any plan whereby Sinbad could be saved.
“But perhaps Dr. Marks will know,” he kept thinking; and after a while the shades were drawn up at the red brick house across the yard, the housemaid came out to brush off the steps, and various other indications showed that the master was beginning to think of the new day and its duties.
Joel plunged across the yard. It was awful, he knew, to intrude at the master's house before breakfast. But by that time—oh, dreadful!—Sinbad would probably be beyond the help of any rescuing hand, for Mr. Parr would, without a doubt, deliver him to the garbage man to be hauled off. And Joel, with no thought of consequences to himself, plunged recklessly on.
“Is Dr. Marks up?” he demanded of the housemaid, who only stared at him, and went on with her work of sweeping off the steps. “Is Dr. Marks up?” cried Joel, his black eyes flashing, and going halfway up.
“Yes; but what of it?” cried the housemaid airily, leaning on her broom a minute.
“Oh, I must see him,” cried Joel, bounding into the hall. It was such a cry of distress that it penetrated far within the house.
“Oh my! you outrageous boy!” exclaimed the housemaid, shaking her broom at him. “You come right out.”
Meantime a voice said, “What is it?” And there was Dr. Marks in dressing gown and slippers looking over the railing at the head of the stairs.
“Oh Dr. Marks, Dr. Marks!” Joel, not giving himself time to think, dashed over the stairs, to look up into the face under the iron-gray hair.
The master could scarcely conceal his amazement, but he made a brave effort at self-control.
“Why, Pepper!” he exclaimed, and there was a good deal of displeasure in face and manner; so much so that Joel's knees knocked smartly together, and everything swam before his eyes.
“Well, what did you want to see me for, Pepper?” Dr. Marks was inquiring, so Joel blurted out, “A dog, sir.”
“A dog?” repeated Dr. Marks, and now he showed his amazement and displeasure as well. “And is this what you have interrupted me to say, at this unseasonable hour, Joel Pepper?”
“Oh!” cried Joel, and then he broke right down, and went flat on the stairs, crying as if his heart would break. And Mrs. Marks threw on her pretty blue wrapper in a dreadful tremor, and rushed out with restoratives; and the housemaid who shook her broom at Joel, ran on remorseful feet for a glass of water, and the master's whole house was in a ferment. But Dr. Marks waved them all aside. “The boy needs nothing,” he said. “Come, Joel.” He took his hand, all grimy and streaked, and looked at his poor, swollen eyelids and nose, over which the tears were still falling, and in a minute he had him in his own private study, with the door shut.
When he emerged a quarter-hour after, Joel was actually smiling. He had hold of the master's hand, and clutched in his other fist was a note, somewhat changed in appearance from its immaculate condition when delivered by Dr. Marks to the bearer.
“Yes, sir,” Joel was saying, “I'll do it all just as you say, sir.” And he ran like lightning across the yard.
The note put into the instructor's hand, made him change countenance more than once in the course of its reading. It simply said, for it was very short, that the dog was to be delivered to Joel Pepper, who was to bring it to the master's house; and although there wasn't a line or even a word to show any disapproval of his course, Mr. Parr felt, as he set about obeying it, as if somehow he had made a little mistake somewhere.
All Joel thought of, however, was to get possession of Sinbad. And when once he had the cord in his hand, he untied it with trembling fingers, Sinbad, in his transport, hampering the operation dreadfully by bobbing his head about in his violent efforts to lick Joel's face and hands, for he had about given up in despair the idea of ever seeing him again.
“He's glad to go, isn't he, Joel?” observed the instructor, to break the ice, and make conversation.
But no such effort was necessary, for Joel looked up brightly. “Isn't he, sir? Now say good-bye.” At last the string was loose, and dangling to the hook in the area wall, and Joel held the dog up, and stuck out his paw.
“Good-bye,” said Mr. Parr, laughing as he took it, and quite relieved to find that relations were not strained after all, as Joel, hugging his dog, sped hastily across the yard again to the master's house.
Dr. Marks never told how very ugly he found the dog, but, summoning the man who kept his garden and lawn in order, he consigned Sinbad to his care, with another note.
“Now, Joel,” he said, “you know this payment comes every week out of your allowance for this dog's keeping, eh? It is clearly understood, Joel?”
“Oh, yes, sir—yes!” shouted Joel.
“Perhaps we'll be able to find a good home for him. Well, good-bye, Sinbad,” said the master, as Sinbad, with the gardener's hand over his eyes, so that he could not see Joel, was marched off, Dr. Marks from the veranda charging that the note be delivered and read before leaving the dog.
“Oh, I'm going to take him home at vacation,” announced Joel decidedly.
“Indeed! Well, now, perhaps your grandfather won't care for him; you must not count too much upon it, my boy.” All the control in the world could not keep the master from smiling now.
“Oh, I guess he will.” Joel was in no wise disturbed by the doubt.
“Well, run along to breakfast with you, Pepper,” cried Dr. Marks good-humoredly, “and the next time you come over to see me, don't bring any more dogs.”
So Joel, in high good spirits, and thinking how he would soon run down to the little old cobbler's where the master had sent the dog, chased off across the yard once more, and slipped in to breakfast with a terrible appetite, and a manner as if nothing especial had happened the preceding night.
And all the boys rubbed their eyes, particularly as Joel and Mr. Parr seemed to be on the best of terms. And once when something was said about a dog by Mr. Harrow, who hadn't heard anything of the midnight tumult in the dormitory, and was for continuing the account of his trained pet, the other under-teacher and Joel Pepper indulged in smiles and nods perfectly mystifying to all the other people at the table, David included.
David, when he woke up, which was quite late, to find Joel gone, had been terribly frightened. But chancing to look out of the window, he saw him racing across the yard, and watching closely, he discovered that he had something in his arms, and that he turned in to the master's house.
“I can't do anything now,” said Davie to himself in the greatest distress; yet somehow when he came to think of it, it seemed to be with a great deal of hope since Dr. Marks was to be appealed to. And when breakfast-time came, and with it Joel so blithe and hungry, David fell to on his own breakfast with a fine appetite.
All the boys of the club, not one to be reported absent, presented themselves at Mr. King's on club night. And all the members of the “Salisbury School Club” came promptly together, with one new member, Cathie Harrison, who, at Polly's suggestion, had been voted in at the last meeting.
Alexia still had her arm in a sling; and indeed she was quite willing it should remain so, for she was in constant terror that her aunt, who had been persuaded to leave her, would insist on the return home. So Alexia begged off at every mention of the subject, as Grandpapa King and Mother Fisher were very glad to have the visit lengthened. She was as gay as ever, and to-night was quite in her element; it had been so long since she had had a good time.
“Oh, Jasper,” she cried, “can we all get into your den?”
“I think so,” said Jasper, who had already settled all that with Polly, counting every member as coming, in order to make no mistake, “we're to have the business-meeting in there, Alexia; and after that, father has invited us in to the drawing-room.”
“What richness!” exclaimed Alexia, sinking into one of the library chairs to pull out her skirts and play with her rings. “Oh, Jasper King, I shouldn't think you'd ever in all this world get used to living in this perfectly exquisite house.”
“Well, I've always lived here, Alexia,” said Jasper with a laugh, “so I suppose that is the reason I'm not overwhelmed now. Oh, here comes Clare. All right, old fellow, glad you've come. Now I'll call the meeting to order.” For Clare was the secretary.
And the rest of the boys and girls assembling, the business-meeting was soon begun in the “den,” Jasper who was the president of the boys' club, flourishing his gavel in great style.
“Now we've come together,” announced the president after the regular business was disposed of, “to get up a plan by which we can accomplish something more than merely to have a good time.”
“Nonsense!” interrupted Clare, “we want a good time.”
“For shame!” Jasper pounded his gavel to restore order. “And to begin with, it is as well to announce at once that all unruly members will be put out,” with a stern glance at the secretary.
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Clare, huddling down into his big chair.
“Go along, Prex,” said Pickering, coming over from the other side of the room, “I'll sit on that old secretary if he makes any more trouble.”
“Get away!” laughed Clare; “that's worse than being put out.”
“Oh, I'll sit on you first, and then I'll carry out the pieces afterward. Sail on, Prexy, they all want the plan.”
“Well”—the president cleared his throat—“hem! And in order to do good work, why we had to ask the girls' club to come to this meeting, and—”
“Not necessarily,” put in Clare.
Pickering pounced for him, but instead of sitting on him, his long figure doubled up in the big chair, while the secretary slipped neatly out.
“Ha, ha! did you ever get left?” giggled Clare, at a safe distance.
“Many a time, my dear child,” said Pickering coolly, leaning back restfully, “but never in such a good seat. Thank you, Mr. Secretary. Proceed, Prexy.”
“Good for you, Pickering,” cried Alexia, while the laugh went around.
“Order!” cried Jasper, pounding away. “Now that our troublesome secretary is quieted, I will proceed to say that as we want the plan to succeed, we invited the Salisbury Club this evening.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” the girls clapped vigorously.
“So now after I tell you of the object, I want you to express your minds about the various plans that will be laid before you.” Then Jasper told the story of Jim, the brakeman; and how Grandpapa and Polly and he had gone to the poor home, thanks to the little clerk; and how the three boys who were waiting for education and the girl who was crazy to take music-lessons, to say nothing of the two mites of children toddling around, made the poor widow almost frantic as she thought of their support; until some of the girls were sniffling and hunting for their handkerchiefs, and the boys considerately turned away and wouldn't look at them.
“Now you tell the rest, Polly,” cried Jasper, quite tired out.
“Oh, no, you tell,” said Polly, who dearly loved to hear Jasper talk.
“Do, Polly,” and he pushed the hair off from his forehead. So, as she saw he really wanted her to, Polly began with shining eyes, and glowing cheeks, to finish the story.
And she told how Grandpapa had ordered provisions and coal for the poor widow enough for many months to come; and how—oh, wasn't that perfectly splendid in dear Grandpapa?—he had promised that the little girl (Arethusa was her name) should take music-lessons from one of the teachers in the city. And Polly clasped her hands and sighed, quite unable to do more.
“And what do you want us to do?” cried the secretary forgetting all about losing his seat, to crowd up to the table. “Say, if that family has got all that richness, what do you want the club to do?”
“Oh,” said Polly turning her shining eyes on him, “there are ever and ever so many things the boys and that girl will need, and Grandpapa says that they'll think a great deal more of help, if some young people take hold of it. And so I'm sure I should,” she added.
“It strikes me that I should, too,” declared Pickering, all his laziness gone. And getting his long figure out of the chair, he cried, “I move, Mr. President, that we,”—here he waved his hands in a sweeping gesture,—“the Salisbury Club and our club, unite in a plan to do something for that family.”
“I second the motion,” the secretary cried out, much to everybody's surprise, for Polly was all ready to do it if no one else offered to. So the vote was carried unanimously amid the greatest enthusiasm.
“Now what shall we do?” cried the president, jumping to his feet. “Let us strike while the iron is hot. What shall we do to raise money?”
“You said you had plans,” cried one of the girls.
“Yes—tell on,” cried several boys.
“Well, one is, that we have a play,” began Jasper.
“Oh—oh!”
Old Mr. King, over his evening paper off in the library, laid it down, and smiled at the merry din that reached him even at such a distance.
“And another,” cried the president, doing his best to make himself heard.
“Oh, we don't want another,” cried Clare, in which the united clubs joined.
“Don't you want to hear any other plans?” shouted the president.
“No, no—the play! Put it to vote, do, Jasper—I mean, Mr. President,” cried Alexia.
So the vote was taken, and everybody said, “Aye,” and as there wasn't a single “No,” why the “ayes” had it of course. And after that they talked so long over the general plan, that old Mr. King at last had to send a very special invitation to come out to the dining-room. And there was Mother Fisher and Mrs. Whitney and the little doctor and a most splendid collation! And then off to the big drawing-room to top off with a dance, with one or two musicians tucked up by the grand piano, and Grandpapa smiling in great satisfaction upon them all.
“It can't rain,” cried Polly Pepper, “and it isn't going to. Don't think it, girls.”
“But it looks just like it,” said Alexia obstinately, and wrinkling up her brows; “see those awful, horrid clouds, girls.” She pointed tragically up to the sky.
“Don't look at them,” advised Polly. “Come on, girls. I challenge you to a race as far as the wicket gate.”
Away she dashed, with a bevy at her heels. Alexia, not to be left behind staring at the sky, went racing after.
“Wait,” she screamed. The racers, however, spent no time attending to laggards, but ran on.
Polly dashed ahead, and touched the green wicket gate. “Oh, Polly got there first!” Almost immediately came another girl's fingers on it.
“No—I don't think so,” panted Polly. “Philena got there just about as soon.”
“No, you were first,” said the girl who plunged up next; “I saw it distinctly.”
“Well, it was so near that we ought to have another race to decide it,” declared Polly, with a little laugh, pushing back the damp rings of hair from her forehead. “Girls, isn't it lovely that we have this splendid place where we can run, and nobody see us?”
“Yes,” said Alexia, throwing herself down on the grass; which example was immediately followed by all the other girls. “I just love this avenue down to the wicket gate, Polly Pepper.”
“So do I,” chimed in the others.
“Oh dear me! I'm just toasted and fried,” declared Alexia. “I never was so hot in all my life.”
“You shouldn' have run so, Alexia,” said Polly reproachfully, patting the arm still in its sling. “Oh, how could you!”
“Well, did you suppose I was going to see you all sprinting off and having such fun, and not try it too? No, indeed; that's asking too much, Polly.”
Then she threw herself at full length on the grass, and gazed at her meditatively.
“Well, we mustn't have the second race, Philena,” said Polly; “because if Alexia runs again, it surely will hurt her.”
“Ow!” exclaimed Alexia, flouncing up so suddenly that she nearly overthrew Amy Garrett, who was sitting next, and who violently protested against such treatment, “now I won't keep you back, Polly. Oh dear me! it can't hurt me a single bit. I'm all ready to take off this horrible old thing, you know I am, only Dr. Fisher thought—”
“He thought it would be safer to keep it on till after the picnic,” Polly was guilty of interrupting. “You know he said so, Alexia. No, we won't run again, girls,” Polly brought up quite decidedly.
“Polly, you shall; I won't run—I really won't; I'll shut my eyes,” and Alexia squinted up her pale eyes till her face was drawn up in a knot. “I'll turn my back, I'll do anything if you'll only race; please try it again, Polly.”
So Polly, seeing that Alexia really wished it, dropped a kiss on each of the closed eyes. “Put your hand over them, and untwist your face from that funny knot,” she laughed. “Come on, girls,” and the race began.
Alexia twisted and wriggled, as the pattering feet and quick breath of the girls when they neared her resting place, plunged her in dreadful distress not to look. “Oh dear—um! if I could just see once; um—um! I know Polly will win; oh dear! She must.”
But she didn't. It was Cathie Harrison, the new girl; that is, new to them, as they hadn't drawn her into their set, but a few weeks. She was a tall, thin girl, who got over the ground amazingly, to touch the green wicket gate certainly three seconds before Polly Pepper came flying up.
“You did that just splendidly, Cathie,” cried Polly breathlessly. “Oh dear me, that was a race!”
“Goodness me!” cried Alexia, her eyes flying open, “my face never'll get out of that knot in all this world. My! I feel as if my jaws were all tied up. Well, Polly, this time you beat for sure,” she added confidently, as the girls came running up to throw themselves on the grass again.
“But I didn't,” said Polly merrily. “Oh dear! I am so hot.”
“Yes, you did,” declared Alexia stubbornly.
“Why, Alexia Rhys! I didn't beat, any such a thing,” corrected Polly—“not a single bit of it.”
“Well, who did, then?” demanded Alexia, quite angry to have Polly defeated.
“Why, Cathie did,” said Polly, smiling over at her.
“What, that old—” then Alexia pulled herself up; but it was too late.
A dull red mounted to Cathie's sallow cheek, that hadn't changed color during all the two races. She drew a long breath, then got up slowly to her feet.
“I'm going to play bean-bags,” announced Polly briskly. “Come on, girls. See who'll get to the house first.”
“I'm going home,” said Cathie, hurrying up to wedge herself into the group, and speaking to Polly. “Good-bye.”
“No,” said Polly, “we're going to play bean-bags. Come on, Cathie.” She tried to draw Cathie's hand within her arm, but the girl pulled herself away. “I must go home—” and she started off.
“Cathie—Cathie, wait,” but again Cathie beat her on a swift run down the avenue.
Alexia stuffed her fingers, regardless of arm in the sling, or anything, into her mouth, and rolled over in dreadful distress, face downward on the grass. The other girls stood in a frightened little knot, just where they were, without moving, as Polly came slowly back down the avenue. She was quite white now. “Oh dear!” groaned Philena, “look at Polly!”
Alexia heard it, and stuffed her fingers worse than ever into her mouth to keep herself from screaming outright, and wriggled dreadfully. But no one paid any attention to her. She knew that Polly had joined the girls now; she could hear them talking, and Polly was saying, in a sad little voice, “Yes, I'm afraid she won't ever come with us again.”
“She must, she shall!” howled Alexia, rolling over, and sitting up straight. “Oh Polly, she shall!” and she wrung her long hands as well as she could for the arm in the sling.
“Oh, no, I am afraid not, Alexia,” and her head drooped; no one would have thought for a moment that it was Polly Pepper speaking.
And then Amy Garrett said the very worst thing possible: “And just think of that picnic!” And after that remark, the whole knot of girls was plunged into the depths of gloom.
Jasper, running down the avenue with Pickering Dodge at his heels, found them so, and was transfixed with astonishment. “Well, I declare!” He burst into a merry laugh.
“You look like a lot of wax figures,” said Pickering pleasantly; “just about as interesting.” Then they saw Polly Pepper's face.
“Oh, what is it?” cried Jasper, starting forward.
Polly tried to speak cheerfully, but the lump in her throat wouldn't let her say a word.
“If you boys must know,” said Alexia, flouncing up to her feet, “I've been bad and perfectly horrid to that Harrison girl; and I've upset everything; and—and—do go right straight away, both of you, and not stand there staring. I don't think it's very polite.”
“Oh Polly,” cried Jasper, gaining her side, “can't we help?” He was dreadfully distressed. “Do let us.”
Polly shook her head. “No, Jasper, there isn't anything you can do,” she said brokenly.
Pickering thrust his hands in his pockets, and whistled softly. “Girls always get into such rows,” he observed.
“Well, I guess we don't get into worse ones than you boys do, nor half as bad,” cried Alexia crossly, perfectly wild to quarrel with somebody. “And, besides, this isn't the other girls' fault. It's all my fight from beginning to end.”
“Then you ought to be perfectly ashamed of yourself, Alexia,” declared Pickering, not intending to mince matters in the slightest.
“Well, I am,” said Alexia, “just as ashamed as I can be. Oh dear me! I wish I could cry. But I'm too bad to cry. Polly Pepper, I'm going to run after that horrible Harrison girl. Oh misery! I wish she never had come to the Salisbury School.” Alexia made a mad rush down the avenue.
“Don't, Alexia, you'll hurt your arm,” warned Polly.
“I don't care—I hope I shall,” cried Alexia recklessly.
“It's no use to try to stop her,” said Jasper, “so let us go up to the house, Polly.”
So they started dismally enough, the girls, all except Polly, going over in sorry fashion how Cathie Harrison would probably make a fuss about the little affair—she was doubtless on her way to Miss Salisbury's now—and then perhaps there wouldn't be any picnic at all on the morrow. At this, Philena stopped short. “Girls, that would be too dreadful,” she gasped, “for anything!”
“Well, it would be just like her,” said Silvia Horne, “and I wish we never had taken her into our set. She's an old moping thing, and can't bear a word.”
“I wish so too,” declared Amy Garrett positively; “she doesn't belong with us; and she's always going to make trouble. And I hope she won't go to the picnic anyway, if we do have it, so there.”
“I don't think that is the way to mend the matter, Amy,” said Jasper gravely.
“Hoh, hoh!” exclaimed Pickering, “how you girls can go on so, I don't see; talking forever about one thing, instead of just settling it with a few fisticuffs. That would be comfortable now.”
The girls, one and all, turned a cold shoulder to him after this speech.
“Well, we sha'n't get the picnic now, I know,” said Philena tragically; “and think of all our nice things ready. Dear me! our cook made me the sweetest chocolate cakes, because we were going to start so early in the morning. Now we'll have them for dinner, and eat them up ourselves. We might as well.”
“You better not,” advised Pickering. “Take my advice; you'll get your picnic all right; then where would you be with your cakes all eaten up?”
“You don't know Miss Salisbury,” said Sally Moore gloomily; “nothing would make her so mad as to have us get up a fuss with a new scholar. She was so pleased when Polly Pepper invited that Harrison girl to come to our bee for that poor family down South.”
“And now, just think how we've initiated her into our club!” said Lucy Bennett, with a sigh. “Oh my goodness—look!”
She pointed off down the avenue. All the girls whirled around to stare. There were Alexia and Cathie, coming toward them arm in arm.
“Jasper”—Polly turned to him with shining eyes—“see!” Then she broke away from them all, and rushed to meet the two girls.
“There isn't anybody going to say a word,” announced Alexia, as the three girls came up to the group, Polly Pepper in the middle, “because, as I told you, it was all my fight, anyway. So, Pickering, you needn't get ready to be disagreeable,” she flashed over at him saucily.
“I shall say just what I think,” declared Pickering flatly.
“No doubt,” said Alexia sweetly, “but it won't make a bit of difference. Well, now, Polly, what shall we do? Do start us on something.”
“We came, Pick and I,” announced Jasper, “to ask you girls to have a game of bean-bags. There's just time before dinner—on the south lawn, Polly.”
“Oh, good—good!” cried the girls, clapping their hands. “Come on, Cathie,” said Philena awkwardly, determined to break the ice at once.
“Yes, Cathie, come on,” said Amy and Silvia, trying to be very nice.
Cathie just got her mouth ready to say, “No, I thank you,” primly, thought better of it, and before she quite realized it herself, there she was, hurrying by a short cut across the grass to the south lawn.
“I'm going to stay with Alexia,” said Polly, when they all reached there, and Jasper flew over to pull out the bean-bags from their box under the piazza. “Come on, Alexia, let's you and I sit in the hammock and watch it.”
“Oh Polly, come and play,” begged Jasper, pausing with his arms full. “Here, Pick, you lazy dog. Help with these bags.”
“Can't,” said Polly, shaking her head. So Alexia and she curled up in one of the hammocks.
“I'm just dying to tell you all about it, Polly Pepper,” said Alexia, pulling Polly's cheek down to her own.
“Yes,” said Polly happily, “and I can't wait to hear it; and besides, you can't play bean-bags, Alexia, with that arm. Well, do go on,” and Polly was in quite a twitter for the story to begin.
“You see,” said Alexia, “I knew something desperate had got to be done, Polly, for she was crying all over her best silk waist.”
“Oh dear me!” exclaimed Polly, aghast.
“Yes; she had sat down on the kitchen step.”
“The kitchen step,” repeated Polly faintly.
“Yes. I suppose she got beyond caring whether the cook saw or not, she was feeling so very badly. Well, there she was, and she didn't hear me, so I just rushed up, or rather down upon her, and then I screamed 'Ow!' And she jumped up, and said, 'Oh, have you hurt your arm?' And I held on to it hard, and made up an awful face, oh, as bad as I could, and doubled up; and the cook came to the door, and said could she get me anything, and she was going to call Mrs. Fisher. That would have been terrible.” Alexia broke off short, and drew a long breath at her remembrance of the fright this suggestion had given her. “And Cathie fell right on my neck with, 'Oh, do forgive me,' and I said 'twas my fault, and she said, no, she oughtn't to have got mad, and I said she must hold her tongue.”
“Oh Alexia!” cried Polly reprovingly.
“I had to,” said Alexia serenely, “or we should have gotten into another fight. And she said she would, and I just took hold of her arm, and dragged her down here. And I'm tired to death,” finished Alexia plaintively.
“Alexia,” exclaimed Polly, cuddling up the long figure in a way to give perfect satisfaction, “we must make Cathie Harrison have the best time that she ever had, at the picnic to-morrow.”
“I suppose so,” said Alexia resignedly. “Well, but don't let's think of it now, for I've got you, Polly, and I want to rest.”