Five Little Peppers Grown Up

M >> Margaret Sidney >> Five Little Peppers Grown Up

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

And by the time that Davie was handing in Miss Lulu Parrott to dinner
Joel clapped together his last book, threw on his hat, and rushed out to
a hasty supper at Commons, _en route_ to the Christian Association
meeting.

Little Perkins ran up to him at the close of the meeting. "Stop a bit.
Pepper, do," he begged; "Johnson's gone back to his cups, and we can't
do anything with him."

A cloud fell over Joel's face. "Where is he?" he asked.

"Oh, in the little room back. He won't show his face here, and yet he
can't keep away, he says. You must get your hand on him, Pepper," and
Little Perkins hurried off.

Joel dashed into the "little room back." "How d'ye, Johnson?" putting
out his hand "Come out for a walk, do; why, this room is stifling."

"I can't," said Johnson miserably; "you don't know, Mr. Pepper, I've
been drinking, or you wouldn't ask me."

"Nonsense--but I would, though," said Joel sharply. "Come out, I say,
Johnson; it's enough to make you drink again to stay in such a room."

Johnson not getting out of his chair, Joel went in and laid hold of his
arm. "It's no use, Johnson," he said, "I can't talk to you here; it's
too hot and close. And I do want a walk, so let's have it together.
There, button up your coat," as they were well out in the hall, and
Johnson flung his hat on his head with a reckless hand.

As they hurried down the steps they ran against a crowd of college boys.
Johnson shrank up miserably against the stone fence, and tried to look
as small as possible. Glances of recognition passed, and Joel spoke to
right and left as the boys went by. But a few hisses, low and insistent,
were all he got.

"Do let me go," begged Johnson, still hugging the fence, "you can't save
me; and they hate you enough for such work."

"Come on!" roared Joel at him, and plucking him off from the fence with
a determined hand.

"It's time we went for him," said one of the college boys, with a
backward glance at Joel and his companion, "the Deacon is absolutely
insulting. The idea of his speaking to us."

"Let's have it over to-night," said another. "What do you say?" to the
others.

"Where's Davina?" asked another.

"Oh, Pink-and-White is out dining," said the first voice. "My pretty
little girl is safe at the Parrotts'."

"Sure?"

"As a gun. Met him with a posy in his button-hole, and sweet as a little
bud himself, and he told me so."

"All right. He'll stay away late, then; the Parrotts always have music
or a dance after their dinners. Come on." The last speaker rolled up his
sleeves, and boxed imaginary rounds in a scientific manner in the air.

"Agreed?" the tall fellow who proposed it looked over the whole crew.
"Do you all want to have it done to-night?" as they came to a standstill
on the pavement.

"Yes--yes."

"Hush--that cop is looking. Move on, will you? Now, not a man of you
backs out, you understand; if he does, he gets worse than the Deacon
will. All right."

"_We're all such jolly good fellows,
We're all such jolly good fellows_"--

Everybody smiled who passed them singing their way down town.

"It always does me good to hear those students sing. They're so happy,
and so affectionate toward each other," said one lady, hanging on her
escort's arm.

He, being a college man, said rapturously, "Oh yes!"

Joel, back in his own room, threw himself in his easy chair, first
turning down the gas. "Just so much less of a bill for Grandpapa. Our
debt is rolling up fast enough without burning up the money. Dear me, if
Johnson drinks after this, I shall be in despair." He threw up his long
legs, and rested them on the mantel, while he thrust his hands in his
pockets, to think the better.

A knock at the door. "Come in!" called Joel, not looking around, till a
rushing sound of feet trying to step carefully, called him out of
himself.

"Now--now!" Two or three swifter than the others, darted for the chair,
but Joel was not in it. On the other side of it, looking at them, his
hands out of his pockets, he stood, saying, "What do you want?"

"Oh, come, Pepper, it's no use," said a tall fellow, wiry and agile,
"too many against you in this little call. Come along," and he advanced
on Joel.

"You come along yourself, Dobbs," said Joel pleasantly, and holding up a
fist that looked hard to begin with, "and you'll get this; that's all."

[Illustration: "You come along yourself, Dobbs," said Joel pleasantly.]

"Come on, fellows!" Dobbs looked back and winked to the others. "Now!"
there was a shoulder-to-shoulder rush; a wild tangle of arms, followed
by a wilder tangle of legs, and Joel was through the ranks, his black
eyes blazing, and tossing his black hair from his forehead.

"Do you want some more?" he cried, flirting his fists in the air, "or
will you leave my room?"

"Lock the door!" "Get up, Bingley," and, "Stop your roaring." "No, we'll
give it to you now, and no mistake." "If you won't come quietly, you
shall some way, Deacon."

These were some of the smothered cries.

"Now!" and there was another blind rush; this time, over Bingley, who
didn't heed the invitation to get up.

Joel, watching his chance to reach the door, had no time before they
were on him, and he heard the key click in the lock.

"It's for Mamsie now, sure--and for Polly!" he said, setting his teeth
hard. On they came. But Joel, in rushing through as before, was so
mindful of stepping over Bingley carefully, that it lost him an instant;
and a grasp firm as iron, was on his arm. The others rallied, and closed
around him.

"Unhand me!" yelled Joel, beating them off. But he might as well have
fought tigers, unless he could knock off, with cruel aim, the one
hanging to his arm. It was no time to mince matters, and Joel, only
careful to avoid the face, struck a terrible blow that felled Dobbs
flat.

"Now will you go?" roared Joel, aghast at what he had done, yet swinging
his arms with deadly intent on either side, "or, do you want some more?"

There lay two valiant fellows on the floor. The rest drew off and looked
at them.

"You'll pay for this, Deacon," they declared under their breath.

"I suppose so," said Joel, still swinging his arms for practice;
"probably you'll wait for me with kindly intent some dark night behind a
tree, as you know I don't carry a pistol. Why don't you have it out now?
Come on if you want to."

But no one seemed to want to.

"There'll be a row over this," said one or two, consulting together; "as
long as those thin-skinned fellows don't get up," pointing to the floor,
"we must wait." Suddenly the door was unlocked, and the whole crew
stampeded.

"See here," cried Joel, bounding after them, "come back and take care of
your two men."

But the crew disappeared.

Bingley lifted his head feebly.

"Just like Dobbs," he said, "get us into a scrape, and then cut."

"Hush--don't say anything," said Joel, rushing frantically back, "I
think he's dead--oh, Bingley, I'm sorry I hurt you too."

He was rapidly pouring water into the basin, and dashing it into Dobbs'
unconscious face. "I must go for the doctor," he groaned. "Bingley, he
can't be dead--do say he isn't!" in a flood of remorse.

Bingley managed to roll over and look at his late leader. "He looks like
it," he said; "I shouldn't think you'd be sorry, Pepper."

"Oh!" groaned Joel, quite horror-stricken, and dashing the water with a
reckless hand, feeling like a murderer all the time.

"Bingley, could you manage to do this?" at last he cried in despair. "I
must run for a doctor, there's not a minute to lose."

"I wouldn't go for any doctor," advised Bingley cautiously; "see; his
eyelids are moving--this row will be all over town if you do."

But Joel was flying off. "Come back!" called Bingley, "I vow he's all
right; he's opened his eyes, Pepper."

Joel turned; saw for himself that Dobbs was really looking at him, and
that his lips moved as if he wanted to say something.

"What is it, Dobbs?" cried Joel, throwing himself down on his knees by
Dobbs' side.

"Let him alone, and help me up," said Bingley crossly, "I'm hurt a great
deal more. He's tough as a boiled owl. Give us a hand, Pepper."

But Joel had his ear down to Dobbs' mouth.

"Where are the fellows?" asked Dobbs in a whisper.

"Gone," answered Joel, briefly.

"Gone--and left me here like a dog?" said Dobbs.

"Yes," said Joel.

"They couldn't wait, my friend," observed Bingley sarcastically, "for
people of such trifling consequence, as you and I."

"The deuce! you here, Bingley?" exclaimed Dobbs, in his natural voice,
and trying to get his head up.

"Oh, you are coming to, are you?" said Bingley carelessly. "Well, Dobbs,
I think you better get on your feet, and help me out, since Pepper
won't; for I vow I can't stir."

"Oh, I'll help you," declared Joel, getting up to run over and put his
hands under Bingley's arms, paling as he exclaimed, "I didn't mean to
hurt you so, Bingley, on my honor I didn't."

"And you didn't," said Bingley, wincing with the pain, as Joel slowly
drew him to his feet; "it wasn't your stinger of a blow, Pepper, but
some of those dastardly cads stepped all over me; I could feel them
hoofing me. There, set me in that chair, and I'll draw a long breath if
I can."

"Now, I shall go for a doctor," declared Joel, setting Bingley within
the easy-chair, and making a second dash for the door.

"I tell you, you will not," cried Bingley, from his chair. "Wait a
minute, till I see where I'm hurt. I'm coming out of it better than I
thought. Come back, Pepper."

"Really?" Joel drew off from the door, and looked at him.

"Yes; go and take care of Dobbs; he was only shamming," said Bingley,
leaning his head comfortably on the chair-back. Dobbs already was on his
feet, and slowly standing quite straight.

"Sure you don't want any help?" asked Joel, putting out his hand.

"Thanks, no," said Dobbs scornfully, not looking at the hand, but making
for the door.

"Let him alone, Pepper," advised Bingley; "a mean, low-lived chap like
that isn't hurt; you couldn't kill him," as Joel looked out anxiously to
watch Dobbs' progress along the hall, at last following him along a bit.

"He's in his own room, thank fortune," exclaimed Joel, coming back, "and
I suppose I can't do any more. But oh, I do wish, Bingley, it hadn't
happened."

Joel leaned his elbow on the mantel, and looked down at the easy-chair
and its occupant.

"Perhaps you'd rather be lying there," said Bingley, pointing to the
floor, "instead, with a flopper under your ear, like the nasty one you
gave me, Pepper."

"I am so sorry for that, too," cried Joel, in a fresh burst of remorse.

"I got no more, I presume, than was good for me," said Bingley, feeling
the bump under his ear. "And don't you worry, Pepper, for your mind must
be toned up to meet those fellows. They'll be at some neat little game
to pay you up for this, you may rest assured."

"I suppose so," said Joel indifferently. "Well, now are you sure I can't
do anything for you, Bingley?"

"Sure as a gun," said Bingley decidedly; "I'm getting quite limbered
out; so I'll go, for I know my room is better than my company, Pepper,"
and he dragged himself stiffly out of his chair.

"Don't go," said Joel hospitably; "stay as long as you want to; I should
be glad to have you."

Bingley turned a pair of bright eyes on him. "Thank you," he said, "but
Davina will be in soon, and things will have to be explained a little,
and I'm not quite up to it to-night. No, I must go," moving to the door;
"I don't feel like making a pretty speech, Pepper," he said, hesitating
a bit, "or I'd express something of what's on my mind. But I think you
understand."

"If you want to do me a favor," said Joel steadily, "you'll stop calling
David, Davina. It makes him fearfully mad, and I don't wonder."

"He's so pretty," said Bingley, with a smile, and wincing at the same
time, "we can't help it. It's a pity to spoil that lovely name."

"But you must," declared Joel, growing savage; "I tell you, it just
ruins college life for Dave, and he's so bright, and leads his class, I
don't see how you can."

"Oh, we're awfully proud of him," said Bingley, leaning heavily on the
table, "of course, and trot him out behind his back for praises and all
that, but when it comes to giving up that sweet name--that's another
thing," he added regretfully. "However, I'll do it, and make the other
fellows, if I can."

"Good for you!" cried Joel gratefully. "Good-night, Bingley; sure you
don't want any help to your room?"

"Sure," declared Bingley, going out unsteadily and shutting the door.

Joel threw himself on his knees by the side of the easy-chair, and
burrowed his head deep within it. "Oh, if I only had Mamsie's lap to lay
it in," he groaned, "and Mamsie's hands to go over it."

"Joe--Joe!" David flung wide the door, "where are you?" he cried.

Joel sprang to his feet.

"Here's a telegram," said David, waving a yellow sheet at him. "I just
met the boy bringing it up. The folks were going to see Jasper--on a
surprise party; something happened to the cars, and Polly has her arm
broken--but that's all," delivered David, aghast at Joel's face.

"Polly? oh, not Polly?" cried Joel, putting up both hands, and feeling
the room turn around with him.

"Yes, Polly," said David; "don't look so, Joe," he begged, feeling his
own cheeks getting white, "it's only broken--it can't be bad, for we are
not to go, Grandpapa says; see," shaking the telegram at him.

"But I shall go--we both must," declared Joel passionately, beginning to
rush for his hat behind the door; "the idea--Polly hurt, and we not to
go! Come on, Dave, we can catch the midnight train," looking at his
watch.

"But if it makes Polly worse," said David doubtfully.

Joel's hand carrying the hat to his head, wavered, and he finally tossed
the head-gear into the nearest corner. "I suppose you are right, Dave,"
he said helplessly, and sinking into a chair.

CHAPTER XV.

THE FARMHOUSE HOSPITAL.

Jack Loughead marched into his uncle's room. "Well--well--well,"
exclaimed the old gentleman with a prolonged look, and sitting straight
in his chair. "So this really is you, Jack? I must say, I am surprised."

"Surprised?" echoed Jack, getting his uncle's hands in both of his.
"Why, Uncle, I cabled Crane Brothers just as soon as I got your letter,
that I was coming."

"This is the first thing I've heard of it," said old Mr. Loughead.
"Well, how did you track me here, for goodness' sake?"

"Why, I saw an account of your accident in the New York paper as soon as
I landed," said Jack.

"Oh! confound those papers," exclaimed his uncle ungratefully. "Well, I
came near being done for, Jack," he added. "In fact, I was left in the
wreck."

Jack shuddered.

"But that little girl there," pointing toward the next room, where the
talking seemed to be going on busily, "insisted that I was buried in the
smash-up, so they tell me, and she made them come and look for me. None
too soon, I take it, by all accounts." The old gentleman placidly tore
off two or three grapes from the bunch in the basketful, put at his
elbow, and ate them leisurely.

"Phronsie is a good child," said Jack Loughead, with feeling, "and an
observing one, too."

"Phronsie? Who's talking of Phronsie?" cried his uncle, pushing back the
fruit-basket. "It was the other one--Polly; she wouldn't let them give
over till they pulled me out. So the two young men tell me; very
well-meaning chaps, too, they are, Jack."

"You said it was a little girl," Jack managed to remark.

"Well, and so she is," said old Mr. Loughead obstinately, "and a nice
little thing, too, I should say."

"Miss Pepper is twenty years old," said his nephew suddenly. Then he was
sorry he had spoken.

"Nonsense! not a day over fifteen," contradicted the old gentleman
flatly. "And I must say, Jack, you've been pretty expert, considering
the time spent in this house, in taking the census."

"Oh! I knew her before," said Jack, angry to find himself stammering
over what ought to be a simple account enough.

"Hem--hem!" exclaimed the old gentleman, bestowing a keen scrutiny on
his nephew. "Well, never mind," he said at last; "now, let's to
business."

"Are you strong enough?" asked Jack, in duty bound, yet longing to get
the talk into safe business channels.

"Strong enough?" repeated the old gentleman, in a dudgeon, "I'm really
better than I was before the shake-up. I'm going home tomorrow, I'd have
you to know, Jack."

"You would better not move too soon," said his nephew involuntarily.
Then he added hastily, "At least, take the doctor's advice."

"Hem--hem!" said his uncle again, with a shrewd smile, as he helped
himself to a second bunch of grapes.

"Well, now, as to that matter you sent me over to London about," began
Jack, nervously plunging into business.

"Draw up that chair, and put your mind on the matter, and we'll go over
it," interrupted old Mr. Loughead, discarding the grape-bunch suddenly,
and assuming his commercial expression at once.

So Jack drew up his chair, as bidden; and presently the financial head
of the Bradbury & Graeme Company, and the enterprising young member who
was the principal part of "Company," were apparently lost to all else in
the world, but their own concerns.

Meantime, Pickering Dodge was having a truly dreadful time of it.

The doctor, washing his hands of such a troublesome patient, had just
run downstairs, jumped into his little old gig in displeasure, and was
now half across a rut worn in the open meadow, dignified by the name of
the "Short Road."

"Do go to bed," implored Ben, studying Pickering's pale face.

"Hoh, hoh!" Pickering made out to exclaim, "if I couldn't say anything
original, I wouldn't talk. You're only an echo to that miserable little
donkey of a medical man."

[Illustration: "I'll help you; I'm strong," said Charlotte.]

"But you really ought to go back to bed," Ben insisted.

"Really ought?" repeated Pickering, in high disdain; "as if I'd put
myself again under that quack's thumb. No, sir!" and snapping his
fingers derisively at Ben, he straightened up jauntily on his somewhat
uncertain feet. "All I want is a little air," stumbling off to the
window."

"Well, I'm going to tell Phronsie that my arm is all right," said Polly,
hurrying off; "beside I want to see Johnny"--

"It's time for me to look after that young man, too," said old Mr. King,
following her; "I haven't heard him roar to-day. Come on, Jasper; you
must see Johnny."

As they disappeared, Ben ran over to Pickering, and was aghast to find
that the face laid against the window-casing was deathly white, and that
all his shaking of the broad shoulders could not make Pickering open his
eyes.

"Jasper," called Ben, in despair.

"Hush!" Some one came hurrying up. "Don't call Jasper; then Polly will
know. Let me help."

Ben looked up. "O, Charlotte! that's good. Pick's done up. Call Mrs.
Higby, will you? we must get him to bed."

"I'll help you; I'm strong." Charlotte held out her long arms.

Ben looked them over approvingly. "You're right," he said; "it's better
not to stir Mrs. Higby up. There, easy now, Charlotte; put your hands
under there. You are sure it won't hurt you?"

"Sure as I can be," said Charlotte, steadily moving off in pace with
Ben, as they carried Pickering between them.

"Excuse me!" Ben rushed in without knocking upon the Bradbury & Graeme
Company. "Do you mind"--to Jack--"I'm awfully sorry to ask it, but I
can't leave him. Will you run to the doctor's and fetch him? Mrs. Higby,
the landlady downstairs, you know, will tell you where to find him." Ben
was all out of breath when he got through, and stood looking at young
Loughead.

"What's the doctor wanted for?" cried Company, springing to his feet,
and seizing his hat from the table. "Why, of course I'll go--delighted
to be of use--who for?"

"Pickering Dodge--got up too soon--keeled over," said Ben briefly. "I've
got to stay with him--he's in bed--and we don't want Grandpapa or Polly
to know."

But Jack Loughead after the first word, was half over the stairs.

"See here," cried old Mr. Loughead suddenly, as Ben was rushing out,
"can't I see your sister? I'm horribly lonesome," turning in his chair;
"that is, if her arm will let her come," he added, as a second thought
struck him. "Don't ask her if you think she's in pain."

"Doctor has fixed Polly's arm," said Ben, "and I know she'll like to
come in and sit with you. It's a shame," and his honest face flamed with
regret, "I had to ask such a favor as"--

"Tut, tut! go along with you," commanded the old gentleman imperatively,
"and send Polly here; then I'll make by the operation," and he began to
chuckle with pleasure.

So Ben ran off, and presently Polly, her arm in a sling, came hurrying
in.

"Bless my soul," cried the old gentleman, "if your cheeks aren't as rosy
as if you had two good arms, and this was an every-day sort of excursion
for pleasure."

[Illustration: "SO NICE, EVERYBODY IS GETTING ON SO WELL," SAID POLLY]

"It's so nice," said Polly, sitting down on one of Mrs. Higby's
spare-room ottomans, on which that lady had worked a remarkable cat in
blue worsted reposing on a bit of green sward, "to think that everybody
is getting on so well," and she hugged her lame arm rapturously.

"Hem--hem! I should say so," breathed old Mr. Loughead, regarding her
closely. "Where have they buried that woman?" he demanded suddenly.

Polly started. "Out in the meadow," she said softly. "Mrs. Higby wanted
it here instead of in the churchyard. It is under a beautiful oak-tree,
Mr. Loughead, and Mr. Higby is going to make a fence around it, and
Grandpapa is to put"--

"Up the stone, I suppose you mean," interrupted the old gentleman.
"Well, and when that's done, why, what can be said upon it, pray tell?
You don't know a thing about it--who in Christendom the woman was--not a
thing."

"Johnny's mother," said Polly sorrowfully, the corners of her mouth
drooping; "that's going to be on it, and Grandpapa is to have the
letters cut, telling about the accident; and Mrs. Higby hopes that
sometime somebody will come to inquire about it. But I don't believe
anybody ever will come in all this world," added Polly softly, "because
there is no one left who belongs to Johnny," and she told the story the
pale little mother had just finished when the car went over.

Old Mr. Loughead "hemmed," and exclaimed impatiently, and fidgeted in
his chair, all through the recital. When it was over, and Polly sat
quite still, "What are you going to do with that horrible boy?" he asked
sharply. "Almshouse, I suppose, eh?"

"O, no!" declared Polly, in horror. "Phronsie is going to take him into
the Home."

"Phronsie is going to take that little rat into her home?" cried old Mr.
Loughead in disgust. "You don't know what you are talking of. I shall
speak to Mr. King."

"Johnny is just a dear," cried Polly, having great difficulty not to
spring from her chair, and turn her back on the old gentleman, then and
there.

"But into your home," repeated old Mr. Loughead, his disgust gaining on
him with each word; "it's monstrous--it's"--

"Oh! I didn't mean our home," explained Polly, obliged to interrupt him,
he was becoming so furious. "Johnny is going down to Dunraven, to the
Children's Home," and then she began on the story of Phronsie's company
of children, and how they lived, and who they were, with many little
side stories of this small creature, who was "too cunning for anything,"
and that funny little boy, till the old gentleman sat helplessly
listening in abject silence. And the latch was lifted, and young Mr.
Loughead put his head in the doorway, looking as if he had finished a
long tramp.

"Come in, Jack," said his uncle, finding his tongue. "We've a whole
orphan asylum in here, and I don't know what all; every charity you ever
heard of, rolled into one. Do come in, and see if you can make head or
tail to it."

"Oh! Mr. Loughead knows all about it," cried Polly brightly, while her
cheeks glowed, "for he went down to Dunraven with us at Christmas, and
he showed the children stereopticon pictures, and told them such nice
stories of places that he had seen."

"He--my Jack!" exploded the old gentleman, starting forward and pointing
to his nephew. "Great Caesar! he never did such a thing in his life."

"Ah!" said Polly, shaking her brown head, while she looked only at the
old gentleman, "you ought to have seen, sir, how happy the children were
that day."

"My Jack went to an orphan asylum to show pictures to the children!"
reiterated the old gentleman, unable to grasp another idea.

"Do be still, Uncle," begged his tall nephew, jogging his elbow.

"Here--here's Polly!" cried Jasper's voice. And at the same moment in
sped little Dr. Fisher, his glasses shining with determination, as he
gazed all over the room for Polly.

"My dear, dear child," he cried, as he spied her.

And "Papa Fisher!" joyfully from Polly, as she sprang from Mrs. Higby's
ottoman, and precipitated herself into the little doctor's arms.

"Softly, softly, child," he warned; "you'll hurt it," tenderly covering
the poor arm with his right hand, while he fumbled in his pocket with
the other, for his handkerchief. "Dear me!" and he blew his nose
violently. "Yes; well, you're sure you're all right except this?" and he
held Polly at arm's length and scanned her closely.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18