 CHAPTER XVI. ON THE BORDERLAND. Franzi came into the Higbee kitchen, her hands full of wind blossoms and nodding trilliums. Pickering like these, she said to herself in great satisfaction, and surveying her torn frock with composure, for they are the very first. Mrs. Higbee, addressing that individual standing over by the sink in the corner, please may I wash my hands? I had to go clear far down by the brook to get them. But Mrs. Higbee, instead of answering, threw her brown-checked apron high over her head. Franzi stood quite still. Why do you put your apron there, Mrs. Higbee? She asked at last. And you do not answer me at all, she added in gentle reproach. Land! exclaimed Mrs. Higbee in a voice spent with feeling. I couldn't, because I was afraid I should burst out crying, and I didn't want you to see my face. Oh, dear! He's had a poor spell since you went out flowering for him, and your paw and Dr. Bryce say he's dying. Oh, dear! Down came the apron, showing Mrs. Higbee's eyelids very red and swollen. Franzi still stood holding her flowers a breathing space, then turned and went quickly to the back stairs. Shhh! Don't go! called Mrs. Higbee in a loud whisper after her. It's dreadful for a little girl like you to see anyone die. Do come back! They will want me, said Franzi gravely, and going up carefully without another word. When she reached Pickering's door she paused a moment and looked in. I don't believe it is, as Mrs. Higbee said. She thought, drawing a long breath, a faint smile coming to her face as she went gently in. But old Mr. King put up his hand as he turned in his chair at the foot of the bed, and Franzi saw that his face was white and drawn. And Dr. Bryce turned also, looking off a minute from the watch that he held, as if he were going to bid her to go away. Franzi, said Grandpa Pa, holding out both arms hungrily. Franzi hurried to him, a gathering fear at her heart, and getting into his lap laid her cheek against his. Oh, my dear, you oughtn't to be here. You are too young, said Mr. King, brokenly, yet holding her close. I am not afraid, Grandpa Pa, said Franzi, her mouth to his ear, and I think Pickering was like me to be here. I brought him some flowers. She moved the hand holding the bunch so that the old gentleman could see it. He likes wild flowers, and I promised to get the first ones I could. Oh, dear, groaned old Mr. King, not trusting himself to look. May I lay them down by him? whispered Franzi. Yes, yes, child, said the old gentleman, allowing her to slip to the floor. The group around the bedside parted to let her pass, and then Franzi saw Polly. Mrs. Cabot was holding Polly's well hand, while her head was on Polly's shoulder. Grandpa Pa said I might, said Franzi softly to the two, and pointing to her flowers. Yes, dear. It was Polly who answered. Mrs. Cabot was crying so hard she could not speak a word. Franzi's little heart seemed to stop beating as she reached the bedside. She had not thought that she would be afraid, but it was so different to be standing there looking down upon the pillow where Pickering lay so still and white with closed eyes, looking as if he had already gone away from them. She glanced up in a startled way and saw Dr. Fischer at the head of the bed. He was holding Pickering's wrist. Yes, he motioned, put them down. So Franzi laid down her blossoms near the poor white face and stole back quickly, only breathing freely when she was as close to Polly as she could creep without hurting the broken arm. I'm dying. I'm not afraid, suddenly said Pickering's white lips. Dr. Fischer sprang and put a spoonful of stimulant to them, while Mrs. Cabot buried her face yet deeper on Polly's shoulder, her husband turning on his heel to pace the foreign groan. Polly! Polly! called Pickering quite distinctly in a tone of anguish. Oh, Polly! Polly! He's dying! Go to him, do! Mrs. Cabot tore her hand out of Polly's, almost pushing her from the chair. Quick, dear! Polly put Franzi aside and stepped softly to the bedside, Pickering's eyes eagerly watched for her face. He smiled up at her, Polly, and tried to raise his hand. She laid her warm, soft palm on the cold one lying on the cover lid. He clasped his thin fingers convulsively around it. I am here, Pickering, said Polly, unable to find voice for anything else. Don't ever leave me. She could just make out the words bending close to catch them. I never will, said Polly quietly. A sudden gleam came into his face, and he tried to smile, grasping her hand tighter as his eyes closed. It is come, said Dr. Fisher in a low voice to Mr. Cabot, tell your wife. And he bent a professional ear over the white face on the pillow, while Dr. Bryce hurried forward, then brought his head up quickly, a peculiar light in the sharp eyes back at the spectacles. He is sleeping. Polly was sitting a half hour by the bedside, Pickering's thin fingers still tightly grasping her hand. They had made her comfortable in an easy chair, Jasper bringing one of Mrs. Higby's biggest cushions for her to lean her head against. He now stood at the side of her chair. Bronzey curled up on the floor at her feet. Don't stay. Polly's lips seemed to frame the words rather than speak them, looking up at him. He shook his head, resting his hand on the back of the chair. Polly tried to smile up a bit of comfort into his eyes. Jasper loved Pickering, so she said to herself that he cannot leave him, but oh, he looks so dreadfully. I wish he would go and rest. And she began to have a worried look at once. What is it? asked Jasper, catching the look at once and bending to whisper in her ear. You will be sick if you do not go and rest, whispered back Polly. I cannot. Don't ask it. Jasper brought the words out sharply, with just a bitter tone to them. He thinks it is strange that I ask it. He is so fine to Pickering, said Polly to herself, and now I have grieved him. Oh, dear! I won't leave Pickering, she said, lifting her brown eyes quickly. A spasm came over Jasper's face and his brow contracted. Don't, he begged, and Polly could feel that the hand resting on the back of the chair grasped it so tightly that it shook beneath her. I ought to have remembered that Jasper couldn't leave him. He loves him so, mourn Polly. Oh, why did I speak? In the room at the end of the hall, Mrs. Cabot was excitedly walking the floor, twisting her handkerchief between her nervous fingers, and talking unrestrainedly to Charlotte Chatterton. I do believe this will melt Polly's heart, she cried. Oh, it must! Don't you think it must, Miss Chatterton? I don't know what you mean, said Charlotte Chatterton in a collected manner, as she bent over the cradle to tuck the shawl over Johnny's legs, where he had kicked it off in his sleep. Oh, you know quite well what I mean, Miss Chatterton, declared Mrs. Cabot, in her distress, losing her habitually polite manner. Why, everybody knows that Pickering has loved Polly since they were boy and girl together. Not knowing what was expected of her, Charlotte Chatterton wisely kept silent. And now, why, it's just a providence I do believe, that is, if he gets well, that brought all this about, for of course Polly must be touched by it. She must brought up Mrs. Cabot quite jubilantly. And this time she waited for Charlotte to speak, at last exclaiming, Don't you see it must be so? I think love goes where it is sent, said Charlotte slowly. Send? Well, that is just it. Isn't it sent here? cried Mrs. Cabot impatiently. I don't know, said Charlotte. Then she said distinctly, I know love is very different from pity. Of course it is, but then sometimes it isn't, said Mrs. Cabot nervously. Well, anyway, Polly has almost as good as promised to marry Pickering. She finished triumphantly. So, and you are very cruel to talk to me in this way, Miss Chatterton. Charlotte Chatterton turned away from Johnny and faced Mrs. Cabot. You don't mean to say you think Polly would feel bound by what she said when we all thought he was dying. I do certainly, knowing Polly as I do, if Pickering took it so, and I am quite sure he will say so when he gets well, quite sure. Polly isn't a girl to break her word, added Mrs. Cabot confidently. Then I'm sure Providence hasn't had anything to do with this, said Charlotte shortly, and Polly shall never be tormented into thinking at her duty either, and she turned off to pick up a new gown in the works for Johnny. What you think duty, Miss Chatterton, wouldn't be Polly Pepper's idea of duty in the least, said Mrs. Cabot, getting back into the refuge of her society manor again, now that her confidence in Polly grew every moment. So we will talk no more about it, if you please, she added wisely as she went toward the door. Only mark my words, my dear boy and that dear girl will be engaged, and quite the appropriate match it will be to, and please, everyone. You must go back, my boy, said old Mr. King, two days later. It's just knocking you up to stay, studying Jasper's face keenly. Goodness me, I should think you'd fallen off a dozen pounds upon my word I should, my boy, he repeated with great concern. Never mind me, Father, said Jasper trifle impatiently, and as to my work Mr. Marlowe will give me a few more days. He's goodness itself. I shall telegraph him this morning for an extension. You will do nothing of the kind, declared Mr. King, testily. What can you do here, pray tell, by staying? You would be quite a moff in a few days more, Jasper, he added. You are so downhearted now. No, I insist that you go now. Very well, said Jasper, quite stiffly. I will take myself off by the afternoon train, then, Father, since I am in the way. How you talk, Jasper, cried his father in astonishment. You know quite well that I am only thinking of your own good. What's got into you? But I suppose this confounded hospital wherein has made you lose your head. Thank you, Father, said Jasper, recovering himself by a great effort, for putting it so, and I beg you to forgive me for my hasty words. He came up to the old gentleman and put out his hand quickly. Do forgive me, Father. Forgive you? Of course I will, though I don't know when you've spoken to me like that, Jasper, said his father, not yet able to shake himself free from his bewilderment. Well, well, that's enough to say about that, seeing Jasper's face, and now get back to your work, my boy, as soon as you can, you'll thank me for sending you off, and as soon as Pickering Dodge is able to be moved home, why, the rest of us will finish our trip and give you that surprise party, eh, Jasper? And Mr. King tried to laugh in the old way, but it was pretty hard work. Well, now Polly, said Dr. Fisher a week after as he held her at arm's length, and brought his spectacles to bear upon her face. Remember what I say, child, you were to take care of yourself and let Mrs. Cabot look out for things. It will do the woman good to have something to do. He added, dropping his voice, I don't like to carry home your face, child, it won't do. You're getting tired out, and your mother will be sure to find it out. I really ought to stay and take care of you. And the little doctor began to look troubled at once. Indeed, Papa Fisher cried Polly brightening up, you will do nothing of the kind, while my arm is doing famously. You know you said you never saw a broken arm behave so well in all your life. It isn't your arm, Polly, that worries me, said Father Fisher. That's first rate, and I shouldn't wonder if it turned out better, perhaps, for breaking. But it's something different, and it quite puzzles me. You look so downhearted, child. Do I, said Polly, standing quite straight and rubbing her forehead with her well hand, there now I will get the puckers and wrinkles out. There, Papa Fisher, are they all gone? She smiled as cheerily as ever, but the little man shook his head, then took off his spectacles, wiped them, and set them back on his nose. No, it won't do. You can't make your old father believe, but what you've of something on your mind, Polly, I think I shall have to send your mother down here, he said suddenly. Oh, Father Fisher, cried Polly, the color flying over her face. You wouldn't ever do that, I am sure. Why, I would worry, mansy so, and besides, she can't leave King Fisher. He interrupted her as she clung to his arm. I know that, but what can I do? If you'd only promise now, Polly, he added artfully, that you won't tire yourself all out trying to soup Mrs. Cabot's swims. Why, I'd think about taking back what I said about sending your mother down. Oh, I won't, I won't, promised Polly gladly. And now, dear Papa Fisher, you'll take it all back, won't you? She begged. Yes, said Dr. Fisher, glad to see Polly's color back again, and to have her beg for some favor. So the next half hour or so they were very cheery, just like old times, just as if there had been no sickness in the shadow of a loss upon them in the past days. Though why we should always be acting as if we were in the midst of it now, I don't see, said the little doctor at last. We're all straightened out, thank God, and Pickering Mending so fast that he's a perfect marvel. It would be a sin and a shame for us to be in the dumps forever. Well, now Polly, remember, whew, hear that youngster. This last being brought out by Johnny's lusty shouts in the next room. I don't envy Mrs. Fargo, her bargain, and I do pity myself having to see him safely there. Oh, Charlotte will take all the care of him, said Polly quickly. She's just beautiful with him. You don't know how beautiful Papa Fisher, because you've been so busy since you've been here, and Charlotte has kept him away from everybody, so he didn't worry any one. And isn't it lovely that he has to have such a beautiful home? added Polly with shining eyes. Yes, for Johnny, said Dr. Fisher. Well, good-bye, Polly. He gathered her up in his arms for a final kiss. Oh, here's Charlotte come to bid you good-bye, too. Polly, said Charlotte, drawing her off to a quiet corner as the little doctor went away, leaving the two girls together. I must say something, and I don't know how to say it. Polly looked at her with wide eyes. It's just this, said Charlotte, plunging on desperately. Polly, don't let Mrs. Cabot pick at you and talk about duty. Oh, I hate to hear her speak the word, exploded Charlotte with a volume of wrath in her tone. What do you mean, Charlotte? Cried Polly in a puzzled way. Oh, she may—never mind how. She's quite peculiar, you know, said Charlotte, finding her way less clear with each word. Never mind Polly, only just fight her if she begins on what is your duty. If she does, then fight her tooth and nail. But it may be something that I really ought to do, said Polly. Charlotte turned on her in horror. Oh, never, she cried. Don't you do it, Polly Pepper. Just as sure as she says you ought to do it, you may know it will be the worst thing in all the world. Promise me, Polly, that you won't do it. But Charlotte, I ought not to promise, until I am quite sure that it wouldn't be my duty to do what Mrs. Cabot advises. Don't you see, Charlotte, that I ought not to promise? But Charlotte was too far gone in anxiety to see anything, and she could only reiterate, Do promise, Polly, do! Because Mr. Higby calling us the carriages at the door. Do, Polly, I never will ask you anything else if you'll only promise me this. But Polly could only shake her head and say, I ought not. And then Johnny had to be kissed and wrenched from Fronzie, who insisted on carrying him downstairs to set him in the carriage. And Mrs. Cabot came in, and old Mr. King wanted the last word with Charlotte, so that at last she was in Mr. Higby's carry all, shut in on the back seat, looking out over Johnny's head with a pair of very hopeless eyes. But her lips said, Do, Polly! And still Polly on the flat door-stone had to shake her head. I shall tell Mrs. Fisher and beg her to come right down here, determine Charlotte Chatterton to herself, just as soon as I get in the house. That is exactly what I shall do," she declared savagely, as Mr. Higby whipped up the mare for the quarter-mile drive to the little station. CHAPTER XVII JASPER Hello, King! Mr. Marlowe wants you! Jasper, his hands full of papers, hurried down the long warehouse through the piles of books fresh from the bind-race stacked close to the ceiling. The busy Packers, who were filling the boxes, looked up as he threaded his way between them. Mr. Marlowe's down there, indicating the direction with the nod, while the hands kept mechanically at their task. I want to see you about that last lot of paper, Mr. Marlowe began, before Jasper had reached him. It is thin and of poorer quality than I ordered. The loss must be charged back to withers and company. Is that so? exclaimed Jasper. They assured me that everything should be right, and like the sample that we ordered it from. And Jacob Bendle writes that the addition we gave him of history of great cities to print will be shipped to us within a fort might when his contract was to be filled on Thursday. Of course, we lose all the Chicago orders by this delay. What's the reason? asked Jasper, feeling all the thrill of the disappointment as keenly as if he were the head of the house. Oh, a strike among the printers! His best men have gone out, and he's at the mercy of a lot of inferior workmen who are being intimidated by the strikers, but he thinks he can get the addition to us in ten days or so. Mr. Marlowe leaned against an empty packing case and viewed the assistant foreman of the manufacturing department calmly, with the air of man to whom disappointments were in the usual order of things. Can't we give it to another printer? asked Jasper. Who? Morse brothers? They are full and running over with work. I inquired there yesterday. We may want a little extra done as the rush over those primary readers is coming on. No, I can't think of a place where we could crowd it in if we took it away from Bendle. Jasper's gaze thoughtfully followed the drift of a shaving blown by the draft along the warehouse floor. I think I'll send you down to New York to see Bendle and find out how things are. I don't get any satisfaction from letters, said Mr. Marlowe in a minute. Besides, you can attend some other matters, and then there is that Troy job. You can do that. Very well, sir. Can you take the night express? Mr. Marlowe pulled out his watch. It was ten minutes of three. Can I leave the ransom bills I was checking off? Mr. Parker said they were the most important of the lot. Parker must give them to Richard. He knows pretty well how to do them, unless he can find time for them himself. I was to be at the green printing office at nine tomorrow morning, said Jasper. What for? They sent down to Mr. Parker yesterday that we had made a mistake about price for doing those five hundred past and present, and wanted him to go to their office and see Mr. Green himself. If Mr. Green thinks any mistake has been made, let him come to us, said Mr. Marlowe coolly. You tell Parker to send a note to that effect, courteously written, of course, but to the point. We don't go running around after people who think mistakes are made. Let them bring their grievances here, if they have any. Is that all that detains you? Jasper held out his handful of papers. These were to come in between when they could, sir. Mr. Marlowe read them over with a practice die, rolled them up, and handed the roll to Jasper. Tell Parker to set Danforth on those. Anything more? I was to go to-morrow, if there was time, to get prices for best calendared paper of Patterson and Company and Withers, but the next day will do. Parker must attend to all that, said Mr. Marlowe decidedly. Very well, sir. I believe that is all that hurries particularly. Come this way, I'll give you instructions what to say to Bendle. And Mr. Marlowe led the way out to a quiet corner of the warehouse, where he sat down by a desk and rapidly laid the points of the business before his assistant. The next morning in New York, Jasper ran across Mr. Whitney on Broadway. Well said, that you, Jasper, why aren't you up at the house? I came on the night express, said Jasper, finding it hard to wait a minute, on a matter of importance for Mr. Marlowe. Sorry, Brother Mason, but I can't stop now. You'll be up to-night, of course, said Mason Whitney. I can't. I'm off for Troy, said Jasper concisely, and I don't come back this way. Goodness, what a man your Marlowe is! And your sister Marion wants to hear about Polly and all the others. You've seen them so lately. It's impossible, began Jasper. You see, I can't help it, Brother Mason, Mr. Marlowe's orders must be carried out. He's a beast your Marlowe is, declared Mr. Whitney hotly. I don't know what Marion will say when I tell her you are here in New York and won't stop for even a word with her. Sister Marion will say it's all right, said Jasper, a trifle impatiently, and feeling loss of every moment a thing to be atoned for. Mr. Marlowe is loaded up with trouble of all kinds. Now I must go. Hold on a minute, cried Mason Whitney. Well, how are you getting on? Seems to me the publishing business doesn't agree with you. You look peaked enough, scanning Jasper's face closely. I'm well enough, said Jasper abruptly. Tell Sister Marion I will write her very soon, pulling out his watch. Goodbye! And he was lost in the crowd surging down Broadway. Mr. Whitney standing still a moment to look after him, turned, and went directly to his office. That call on Hendrickson Company can wait, he muttered to himself on the way, but Jasper can't. The boy looks badly and his father ought to know it, although it seems funny enough for me to be meddling with Jasper's affairs, but I won't leave anything to worry about afterward. They can't say I ought to have told them. So a letter went out by next mail from Mr. Whitney's office, saying that Jasper looked poorly enough when he was met in New York that he seemed incapable of breathing any other air than that saturated with business that he had evidently mistaken his vocation when he chose to be a publisher. Beside, there isn't any money now in the publishing business, added Mr. Whitney as a clincher. There are too many of the fellows cutting each other's throats to make it pay, and books are slaughtered right and left, and Jasper much better get into some other business, in my opinion. Meanwhile, Jasper finished to the letter at the instructions for Jacob Bendle, did up the other matters and trusted to him, and set out on his Troy expedition. Here he was detained a day or two, Mr. Marlowe's instructions being to wait over and telegraph if the business could not be adjusted satisfactorily. But the fourth day after leaving home, Jasper, just from the night express, mounted the stairs to his hotel in the early morning, his bag in his hand, and the expression on his face of a man who has accomplished what he set out to do. There's an old jet up in your room, announced Buttons tumbling off a sleepy heap from one of the office chairs to look up at him. An old gentleman in my room, repeated Jasper turning on the stairs. Why was any person put in my room? We didn't put the person there, said the boy yawning fearfully. He put himself there. He's a tiger he is, and he blows me up regular because you ain't home, he added. Jasper scaled the rest of the stairs and tried the knob of his door with no gentle hand. Then he rapped loudly. Open the door! This is my room! Oh, I'm coming! said a voice he knew quite well, and presently, old Mr. King stood before him. His velvet cap and morning jacket both arrived from impatient fingers. Father, ejaculated Jasper, and, goodness me, Jasper, from the old gentleman, what an unearthly hour to come home in. Jasper hurried in, set his bag in the corner, then turned and looked at his father anxiously. Meanwhile, old Mr. King was studying his son's countenance with no small degree of alarm. What is it, cried Jasper at last, coming close to him that has brought you? What? Why, you! Me, cried Jasper in amazement. Yes, dear me, Jasper, with all the worries I have had lately, it does seem a pity that you couldn't take care of yourself. It really does, I think. When he waited, Mr. King, his feelings no wise soothed by picking up his watch and finding it half past six o'clock. When he made sure of the time, he set down the watch quickly, and stared at Jasper worse than ever. Now, father, said Jasper, there's a mistake somewhere, but never mind, you must get back to bed again. I don't know when you've been up at this hour. He tried to laugh while he laid his hand on the old gentleman's arm. Do get back to bed, father. It certainly is a most outrageous hour in which to arise, remarked his father not able to suppress a yawn, and I don't mind if I do turn in, but where will you sleep, Jasper, whirling around on his son? I've come to look after you, and I shouldn't begin very well to monopolize your bed, with a short laugh. Oh, I'll camp out on the lounge, said Jasper carelessly. In two minutes I could be asleep there or anywhere else. Don't mind me, father. If you say so, then I will, said the old gentleman, and you are too tired to talk before you've had a nap. So he lay down on the bed, Jasper dutifully tucking him up, and presently his regular breathing told that he had picked up the threads of his broken slumber. Jasper threw himself on the lounge, but unable to close his eyes. His gaze fell on a sheet of paper lying on the floor just within reach. It was impossible to avoid reading the words, and Jasper better get into some other business, in my opinion, and signed Mason Whitney. Jasper jumped to his feet and strode up and down the room in growing indignation, then seized his hat and darted out to cool himself off before his father should awake. When he returned, old Mr. King was half-dressed and berating buttons for his failure to have the morning paper at the door. Now for breakfast, cried Jasper, his own toilet quickly made, then I presume you want to see me in my business surroundings, father, as they went down the stairs together. I most certainly do, said the old gentleman decidedly, and they turned into the breakfast room. So after a meal in which Jasper, by skillful management of all conversational topics, allowed no chance word of business to intrude, old Mr. King and he started for the publishing house of D. Marlowe and Company, Jasper filling up all gaps that might suggest time for certain questions that seemed to be trembling on the tip of Mr. King's tongue, while that gentleman was making a running commentary to himself something in this wise, just like Mason, send me off here when there's not the slightest need of it. The boy is well enough, quite well enough, he added, in his energy speaking the last words aloud. What is it, father? Jasper paused in the midst of a descriptive fire concerning the new buildings going up on either hand, with many side stories of the men who were erecting them, and he paused for an answer. Nothing, nothing of importance, said his father hastily. I only observed that you appeared to be doing quite well in this if the business agreed with you, he added involuntarily. I should think it did, father, cried Jasper enthusiastically while his cheek glowed. It's the grandest work a man can do, in my opinion. Well, we shall see. Observed Mr. King dryly, determined not to yield too easily. You've been at it only six months. You know the old adage, Jasper. You must summer and winter a thing before you decide. Jasper drew a long breath. I shall never be anything but a publisher, father, he said quietly. Hoity-toity, well, that is for me to decide I take it, responded his father. You've never disobeyed me yet, Jasper, and I don't believe you ever will, and if I think it's best for you to change your business, of course you'll do it. Raubdarkand, and he closed his lips tightly for a moment. Then something Polly said once, when his father was in a particularly determined mood, came to his mind. You'd better make him happy, Jasper, anyway. That anyway carried the day now. It shall be as you wish, father, he said, the frown disappearing. I want you to be pleased, anyway, unconsciously using Polly's word. I don't know as I should be at all pleased to have you leave the publishing business, Jasper, said old Mr. King, veering around quickly. I can't tell till I've seen just how it suits you, but I am going to the root of the matter now that I am here. Oh, is this the place? As they came up against a large window, behind whose plate glass rose and rose of books and all styles of bindings met the view of the passerby. This is it, said Jasper, with a thrill that he was part of the it, and the satisfaction in his completed commission that had been lost by his father's words now bounded high again. Now then, father, you must meet Mr. Marlowe, turning up the steps. Old Mr. King walked down the store-length as if he owned the whole with several others of its kind thrown in, and on Jasper's pausing before a small office door marked private, heard him say through its open window, Good morning, Mr. Marlowe. Ah, good morning, came back quickly, and Mr. King saw a pleasant face gentlemen of middle age whose keen gray eyes seemed to note everything with lightning-like rapidity. Business all right? Yes, sir, said Jasper. Very well, you may come to me in a quarter of an hour and report. I shall be through with these gentlemen, indicating one sitting by his side at the desk and another awaiting his turn. Tell him that I am here, Jasper, said Mr. King pompously, with an admonitory touch upon Jasper's arm. It's impossible, Father, he can't see you now, said Jasper hurriedly, trying to draw his father off to a quieter corner. Impossible! Can't see me! What is there to prevent, pray tell? cried the old gentleman arightly. He has businessmen with him. They'll be through in a quarter of an hour. Jasper brought out in distress that was by no means lightened by the knowledge that half of the clerks through the long sales room were becoming acquainted with the conversation. It's atrocious! I never was kept waiting in my life! Fumed Mr. King, he doesn't know I am here. I will announce myself. He started forward. Father, cried Jasper darting after him, let me get you a chair over here by the table and some books to look at. I want no books, said the old gentleman, now thoroughly determined by this time looking in the open window of the private office. Good morning, sir, stiffly to the middle-aged gentleman sitting before the desk. This gentleman looked up, nodded carelessly, and said, excuse me, but I am at present engaged. I am Mr. Jasper King's father, announced the old gentleman with extreme dignity, and again the look of being able to buy out this and several other establishments spread over his face. I shall be very glad to see you, sir, said the middle-aged man imperturbably, in a quarter of an hour. Excuse me." And he turned back to finish his sentence to the other businessman. Jasper, cried Mr. King, taking short, quick steps to where Jasper stood, gave me a sheet of paper so that I may write to this fellow and take you out of his contemptible trade, or stay, I will write from the hotel. And he started for the door. Father, exclaimed Jasper in a low tone, but so distinctly that everyone standing near might hear, Mr. Marlowe is just right. He always is. Hey! Mr. Marlowe is just right about these things. He really couldn't see you, father. I have never been obliged to wait for anyone in all my life, Jasper, declared his father impressively, and I never will. I wonder what Polly would do now, thought Jasper in despair. And that you could tolerate such impertence to me, continued Mr. King with growing anger, is more than I can understand. But since you've come into trade, it's vastly changed you. If you do not choose to come to the hotel with me, I must go alone, which with great dignity he now proceeded to do. The first businessman, who had finished his conference with Mr. Marlowe, now came down the sales room. Howdy, King! He said cordially to Jasper in passing. Jasper's face lighted as he gave an equally cordial response. Such familiarity, Jasper exclaimed his father in a fresh burst of irritation. Dear me, I only trust you're not completely spoiled before I get you out of this. The businessman turned around and gave a significant look to a nod of the salesman. But happening to catch Jasper's eye, he said, it's a fine day, King, carelessly, and passed out. But not before. Stuck-up old money bag fell upon the gentleman's ear. We would better go to the hotel now, I think, Father, said Jasper quietly. Frank to the nearest salesman, will you tell Mr. Marlowe when it is ten minutes past, glancing at the clock, that I was obliged to go with my father but I will be back at ten o'clock? You need give yourself no such trouble, Jasper, as all this, said his father decidedly. I will wait if it is absolutely necessary that you see him, with a patronizing wave of his gloved hand toward the private office. It is absolutely necessary, said Jasper. Very well. I wait, then, said his father, accepting with the air of a martyr the chair by the table of books. And just then the private office door opened and out came the other businessman, followed by Mr. Marlowe. Frank, he called briskly, asked Jasper's father to step here. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 of Five Little Peppers Grown Up This slipper box recording is in the public domain. Five Little Peppers Grown Up by Margaret Sidney Chapter 18 Mr. King Attends to Matters Old Mr. King kept on turning the books with a careless hand. Father begged Jasper in a low voice and putting his hand on the old gentleman's arm, such a world of entreaty in his face that his father turned in spite of himself. After all, I much better have it over with now, I really think, said Mr. King. Yes, Jasper, we will go back, with a marked emphasis on the word back. I can't thank you enough, father, exclaimed Jasper gratefully. Well, well, say no more, said old Mr. King abruptly as they reached the private office. Mr. Marlowe's hands were mechanically adjusting the loose papers on his desk so as not to lose an instant time as Mr. King and Jasper came up, but he turned a face over which a bright smile shot suddenly, lighting up the gray eyes, then quickly whirled around in his office chair. Glad to see you, he said, putting out a cordial right hand. Mr. King bowed, but evidently did not see the hand, which Mr. Marlowe not appearing to notice the old gentleman was more furious than ever. Said a chair for your father, Jasper, said Mr. Marlowe quietly, and get one for yourself. Then he leaned back in his office chair and pleasantly surveyed old Mr. King, waiting for him to speak. I have come, sir, said Mr. King, as he settled his courtly old figure in the chair Jasper had put for him beside the desk, to see you about my son. I am not satisfied with his appearance, nor I am sorry to say, with his surroundings. Indeed, said the head of the publishing house of D. Marlowe and company, still with a pleasant smile on his face. I am very sorry, repeated Jasper's father, to have to say it, but my attention has been called to the fact that I cannot now ignore it. Hardly by Jasper, remarked Mr. Marlowe, bringing the revolving chair so that he could see Jasper's face. Indeed, no, cried Jasper involuntarily, it is something father has heard elsewhere, Mr. Marlowe, and I know he will feel quite differently when he comes to see things as they really are. The grave look on Mr. Marlowe's face disappeared as he turned back to old Mr. King. Well, he said at last, as the other showed no sign of continuing the conversation, and still playing with the paper cutter on his desk. Permit me to say, sir, Mr. King broke out, finding to his astonishment it was not an easy matter to talk to this imperturbable man entrenched behind his own desk, that I am disappointed in the atmosphere in which I find my son. It smells of trade, sir, too much to soup my fancy. Did you suppose, for an instant, Mr. King, asked Mr. Marlowe, dropping the paper cutter to pick up the pencil, that our books came out ready for libraries without any intervening process? I certainly suppose Jasper was to be in charge of a literary department of the house when I gave my consent to his coming here, declared Mr. King very decidedly. Father, exclaimed Jasper, unable longer to keep silent, how could I take charge of any department until I had learned it all myself? You have been through Harvard, his father turned on him, and it seems to me are fully competent to do the literary work required here. And as for the manufacturing department, continued Jasper finding it more difficult to keep still. It was the only place for me. I had to begin at the bottom, if I'm ever to be a publisher, which is what my work is to be. Not so fast, not so fast, cried the old gentleman excitedly. You are not to be a publisher. I take it, if I do not wish it. You've given your word, you will not. I have given my word, father, said Jasper, with a long breath, and I'll not go back on it, but his lips whitened. All this while, Mr. Marlowe still played with the little articles on his desk, sitting very quietly and watching the two. He now threw them down with an abrupt movement, whirled the revolving chair around suddenly, and sent a lightening like glance of stern inquiry for old Mr. King. Be so kind, sir, as to define exactly what your intentions are as to your son's future. Time is very valuable here, and every fraction squandered has to be made up in some way. My intentions are, said the old gentleman in a lofty way, to take my son out of the business, entirely out, sir, and he waved his hand in a stately and comprehensive manner, then glanced to see the effect on the head of the house. But there was no effect whatever, except a quick, business-like acceptance of the situation on Mr. Marlowe's implacable face. Father, began Jasper, but old Mr. King was beyond hearing a word. I had intended, he went on condescendingly, to have my son put in a large interest in the business, supposing it turned out to be the proper one for him. In fact, his and my financial support would have made it one of the finest publishing houses in the world. Mr. Marlowe bowed. Thank you, he said politely. James, turning to the window opening into the bookkeeping department, make out Jasper King's account and settle at once. I believe you wish to go as soon as you can, do you not? To Jasper, that is, after you have given me the report of the business you did on the trip? Jasper could not speak for a moment. Then he said, but I can't leave my work in this way. It's, and he sprang to his feet. Mr. Jasper, Mr. Marlowe stopped a moment and seemed to swallow something in his throat, then went on. Your father wishes it, and you will make him happy. Jasper started at Polly's own words. That's enough for one lifetime. I'm sorry to lose you, my boy. He suddenly grasped Jasper's hand. But allow me to say, sir, turning to old Mr. King, that for you and your money I have very little consideration. You don't own enough to make it worthwhile for the house of David Marlowe and company to extend an invitation to you to enter it. And now, if you will excuse me, I will hear Jasper's account of the business he was sent on. With that, seeing it was expected of him, old Mr. King got out of his chair by the side of the desk and passed into the long sales room. I hope you'll believe, began Jasper brokenly, feeling as if the whole world were going awry, that this strange idea was never gained from me while I loved the business. His gray eyes glowed as he spoke the word. My boy, Mr. Marlowe's face was a light with feeling. Don't explain. I understand it all. You've the misfortune to be born into a rich family, and your father probably never had to raise his hand to earn a penny. He isn't to be blamed, only I did hope. That I was different, finished Jasper, his head drooping a bit with the shame of it. Oh, Mr. Marlowe's father is so splendid, he's just a magnificent man, he added. The head coming up, with Jasper's old habit of throwing it back. If you only knew him, and he could have shown you his old self. Don't I know it, responded Mr. Marlowe heartily, and I also know that you must stick by him, only I did hope, and now I will finish what I was going to say, that you could stay and help me, for you are after my own heart, Jasper. He added abruptly, a rare tremble in his voice. Jasper put out his hand instinctively. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe, he said, as the head of the house grasped it warmly. I shall never forget this. And then, as if nothing but the ordinary business had occurred, Jasper sat down and went carefully over every detail of the commission he had been sent on, heard Mr. Marlowe's terse, that's good, Jasper, you've done it all well, and passed out for the last time from the private office, and joined his father in silence for the walk to the hotel. That night Jasper's father wanted to go to a concert, so Jasper got a box and sat through it all, not seeing anything but Polly's face and hearing, I'd make him happy, anyway. Down in the audience, sprinkled here and there, or in the galleries, were some of the D. Marlowe and company salesmen and workers, staring off and up at him, and the handsome white-haired old gentleman by his side. There's that old snob, they would exclaim at first recognition to their companions, look at him! And under pretence of gazing at the stage, the opera glasses would be turned on the box. Looks as if he owned the whole town, eh? He's awfully handsome, isn't he? Every salesman's companion would exclaim, looking at Jasper pale and quiet in the most secluded part of the box. Yes, said every one of the men, only seeing the old gentleman, but he's too top loftical to live, or something to that effect, and then they would forget all about it till the companion's opera glasses leveled in the same direction, brought the conversation around to the old topic. They had a flare-up with Mr. Marlowe this morning, confided one salesman to his friend in the entrant, and he's off, with a nod over to Jasper's private box. Oh, dear me, exclaimed the young girl with a pang at her heart. Has he left your business? Yes, said the salesman, and a real regret passed over his careless face, and it's a shame, for no one would have thought he owned a penny. He was just digging in the business all the time, like the rest of us. Is he very rich? Asked the young girl. Well, I should say, began the salesman, unable to find words to express Jasper's financial condition. Then the curtain rang up. The next morning, old Mr. King broke the egg into his cup thoughtfully. I suppose I might as well look about a bit, now that I'm here, Jasper. I haven't been in this town for 20 years or so. Very well, Father, said Jasper, trying not to be listless. Where shall we go today? Oh, I'll look around by myself, said his father quickly. You go to bed. You look all done up, scanning his son's face anxiously. Indeed you will not go alone, said Jasper, rousing himself with shame. We'll have a good day together. Indeed we will not, retorted the old gentleman. I shall have a cab and go by myself. You'll go to bed, or I'll call in the doctor. Goodness me, Jasper, you don't look like the same boy that started out in business six months ago. You're worn out. Jasper said nothing, only redoubled his efforts on the breakfast before him, that now assumed colossal proportions, and as if it could never be eaten in the world, hoping to persuade his father into allowing him to go on the tour of inspection. But it was no use. Mr. King, on finishing, his morning repast, stalked out to the office, and ordered a carriage, and presently departed, with last injunctions to Jasper to lie down and take things easy. As his father closed the door, Jasper sank into a chair by the table, and allowed his head to drop into his hands, but only for a minute, and he sprang to his feet and paced the floor rapidly. If Polly is only happy, he said to himself over and over, how long he walked thus he never knew. It was only by hearing a vigorous knock on the door that he stopped and called, come in. They told me, said Jack Lockhead, answering the knock, at the Marlows that I should find you here unless you had left the town. Are you sick, he asked with concern. No, sit down, do Lockhead, said Jasper, dragging forward a chair and falling into one himself, just beginning to be conscious of a stiff pair of legs. Jack Lockhead said his hat on the table, and himself in the chair that Jasper preferred. Then he fell to tapping the tip of his shining boot with his walking stick. King, I came here to ask you something, that if I didn't trust you so well, I could never ask in all the world. But I feel I can trust you. Oh, don't, don't, begged Jasper putting up an unsteady hand to ward off the dreaded subject. Don't tell me anything, Lockhead. Well, I will ask you something, then, said Jack Lockhead Cooley. I'm a businessman, King, and I must come to the point in a business way. First, let me tell you that Uncle and I start for Australia in a fortnight. Jasper drew a long breath of relief. Yes, I must get back. And you will see that I cannot go without. Jack Lockhead paused, then went on abruptly. Does Miss Pepper care for Pickering Dodge? How do I know? How can I tell? cried Jasper desperately, and springing from his chair. He began to pace the floor again. Excuse me, Lockhead, I'm not myself today. I've left D. Marlowe and company in. Yes, I know, interrupted Jack in drawing a long breath of relief on his part, at being able to speak on this subject now that the ice was broken. Well, I'm glad, of course, King, if you didn't care to stay, he said. But I did, cried Jasper, stopping short to emphasize this. Mr. Marlowe is a royal man, through and through, and I'd worked for him all my life. But my father thought best not. That's enough, he added in the abruptest fashion, beginning to walk again. Yes, well, I see, said Jack. I know a little what well-meaning relatives can do to make a young man's life miserable. I'm sorry, King, and he looked truly wretched over it. And you must forgive anything strange about me today, said Jasper, walking on hurriedly, for I am all upset. Yes, I know, repeated Jack Lockhead. Nothing breaks a man up like wrenching him from his work. King, he sprang to his feet and joined Jasper walking on by his side down the room. You are Miss Pepper's brother, or as good as one. Can you tell me if I shall wrong-pickering dodge if I speak to her? Jasper was saved from answering by old Mr. King coming in with a, oh, how'd you, Lockhead? Well, well, Jasper, you've had a good nap, I take it. And then all three went down to luncheon, and Jasper managed not to be left alone with Jack Lockhead, until at the last when he said, I shall go and tell the whole story to Mrs. Fisher. Of course, I must speak to her first. Hello, Dave! It was such a remarkable cry that David turned at once, although he was almost on a dead run across the campus. Hey there, shouted Percy Whitney as David turned. Whoa, how you do go, Dave? What's the matter, cried David, running lightly back to stand in front of Percy? Dear me, Percy, you've lost your eyeglasses. With a glance at the other's flush face, wait, I'll find the things. I yelled my longsore, said Percy in irritation, dropping down on his knees to pass his hands carefully over the campus grass, and now I've lost these. Bad luck to you, Dave, for it. Oh, go without them, said David, getting gingerly down on all fours to prowl around on the Greensworth. Go without them, repeated Percy, sitting straight in indignation. How could I see, pray tell? Don't be a donkey, Dave. David said nothing but fell to a more diligent search, while Percy bewailed his loss, watching eagerly David's nimble fingers moving in and out of the little tufts of grass. Shades of the departed specks, cried David, also sitting straight and peering with his keen blue eyes and a bird-like way along the Swarth. It's a mysterious—oh, great Caesar!— Then he fell on his back on the campus and rolled and laughed to bring up red and shining, only to tumble over and roll again. Of all the idiots in the universe, Dave Pepper, fumed Percy, what's the matter? Your trouble has gone to your head, said David faintly. Feel and see, oh, dear! Percy's hand flew up to his thick mane of brown hair that not all his disgust and tireless training could persuade Deli smoothly when he picked off his beloved glasses after an angry twitch or two. How you can sit there and laugh when Joe is in danger? I don't see," he exclaimed irritably, adjusting them to his nose. I merely killed myself to catch you in— Joe in danger, cried David, on his feet in an instant. Oh, Percy, what do you mean? His cheeks whitening and his blue eyes aglame. Joel's brought it on himself, said Percy, his irritation not going down. I must say, David, if he'd behaved more like the rest of us, he'd be. Then Polly's words, oh, dear, beautiful Joel, came to mind, and he coughed violently, holding fast the eyeglasses in their place. What danger, demanded David, and his impatience shaking Percy's arm. Well, you must know after last night's performance over Joe that they wouldn't let him alone. Last night's performance over Joel, repeated David in assonishment, what yard are you spinning now, Percy? Goodness sake, you're yarning yourself, retorted Percy indignantly, to pretend that you don't know that last night a dozen or more fellows called on Joe and he handled them without gloves so that Bingley and Dobbs can't hardly step today. It's the first word I've heard of it, said David slowly but emphatically and staggering back a step or two to look at Percy. I was out all the evening. Oh, magnificent old Joe. Magnificent old Joe, repeated Percy. You better say poor Joe when you know what they are intending to give him. End of Chapter 18. Chapter 19 of Five Little Peppers Grown Up. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Five Little Peppers Grown Up by Margaret Sydney. Chapter 19. Mother Fisher and Charlotte. David's blue eyes flashed dangerously. Tell all you know, Percy, he said briefly. Dobbs heads it as he did the first one, said Percy. They've changed their tactics and will get it Joe on their way home from that confounded meeting. Dave, can't you keep him from that? And Percy, forgetting himself, peered anxiously over his glasses. No, said David shortly and I shan't try. You're an idiot, cried Percy in a passion. A stupid blind old donkey. Joe will be mauled dreadfully, he howled, beating his hands together in distress. No help for it but to keep him away from that old association meeting. Anything more to tell, asked David. No, Percy shout out. Bingley told me all he knew but they wouldn't let him catch much of it because he's left the gang. David's feet by this time were flying over the campus so that Percy was obliged to shout the remainder of the sentence after him. The consequence was that several heads were popped out of as many windows in the long gray dormitory fronting the campus. Their owners all engaged in the pleasing duty of staring at Percy and the flying figure across the grass. Now I'm in for it for there's Dobbs, I vow. Percy exclaimed Percy to himself in dismay. He'll guess I've given Dave warning. And he tried to strike a careless attitude, picking off his glasses to hold them up and gaze long and earnestly through them into the nearest tree. You can't come it, jeered Dobbs from his window. No birds nesting, I promise you Whitney, ha ha ha. And the other heads popped farther out than ever to add a few hisses. Percy, maddened by the failure of his plan to divert suspicion, now lost his head entirely and sticking his eyeglasses on again, ran off like lightning to his room, followed by, little coward, we'll treat you too. Look out! Well, Jasper, now I'm bound for the next thing. Percy and Joel and David, declared old Mr. King as Jack Lockhead was cleverly off. We're so near, it's a pity not to drop down on them. Don't you think you ought to hurry back to Briarly? Asked Jasper, having hard work not to show that he cared anything about it one way or the other. No, I don't, answered his father in his crispest fashion. No one needs me there. Mrs. Cabot is a host in herself and those boys may, who knows? At any rate, I must see how they are getting on. So we will go as soon as you can get your things packed and sent home. And the old gentleman glanced around the room at the various keepsakes and family adornings that Jasper brought with him to make life less lonely while he made a businessman of himself. Very well, Father, said Jasper. He could not trust himself to say more and for the first time had to hurry away that his father might not see his face. But old Mr. King was the farthest removed from carrying the look of a person holding any interest whatever in Jasper's trouble, for he went on to say, and I do hope you will get it over with as quickly as possible, Jasper, so that we may be off. Then he fell to reading the evening paper with great gusto. Jasper seized his hat, rushed downstairs two steps at a time, nearly overturning buttons leaning on the post at the foot. Oh, beg pardon, said Jasper, quite as if it had been a gentleman he had run against. He ain't hurt me none, said Buttons, staggering back to his support, where he craned his neck in curiosity to watch young Mr. King's impatience. Once out in the park, a half mile away, his hands thrust in their pockets, Jasper slackened his pace and breathed freer. Before him seemed to be the little brown house. It was the first time he had seen Mrs. Pepper, and they had just finished their long talk when the mother had thanked him for rescuing Franzi from the organ grinder. The five little peppers were begging him to come over again to see them, but Mrs. Pepper laid her hand on his arm. Be sure, Jasper, she warned, that your father is willing. He could see her black eyes looking down into his face. What would she say now? Jasper threw himself down on one of the seats under a friendly tree. At least Polly, you shan't be ashamed of me, he said in a moment or two. And dear Mrs. Fisher, then he walked quietly off to make the last preparations that his father had ordered. Well now, Charlotte, said Mrs. Fisher, you needn't worry, not a single bit. And she went on calmly sorting out the small flannel petticoats in her lap. That is rather thin, she said, holding up one between her eyes and the light. King Fisher, how you do kick things out. Mrs. Fisher exclaimed Charlotte chattered to an amazement. How can you sit picking over flannel petticoats when perhaps Polly will, oh, do excuse me, she broke off hastily for speaking so. Polly, I'd trust my girl to know what was sense and what was nonsense, declared Mother Fisher crisply and not taking off her attention in the slightest from baby's petticoats. I go, I go, screamed little King. So we would, wouldn't we, Bertie, she said, nodding at him. But people do such very strange things and in love, said Charlotte, her face full of distress, I mean, when love is in the question, Mrs. Fisher. Polly doesn't, said Mrs. Fisher scornfully. Polly has never been in love, why she is only 20. Charlotte gave an uneasy whirl and rushed off to the window. And there's that dreadful, hateful Mrs. Cabot, she cried, plunging back, her pale eyes afire. Oh, I feel so wicked, Mrs. Fisher, whenever I think of her, I'd like to tear her, I would for picking at Polly, she declared with venom. You needn't be afraid, repeated Mrs. Fisher calmly. Polly knows Mrs. Cabot through and through and will never be influenced by anything she says. Oh, dear, dear, dear, cried Charlotte, wringing her long hands. And there's that Mr. Lockhead and everything is mixed up and I can't frighten you. Now just see here, Charlotte, cried Mother Fisher, casting aside the flannel petticoats to look up. You must just put your mind off from all this. I should never know you, my girl, you are always so sensible and quiet. My Charlotte, what has gotten into you? That's just it, cried Charlotte, a pink passion in her salad cheeks. Everybody thinks because I don't rant every day that I haven't any more feeling than a stick or a stone. Oh, do excuse me, Mrs. Fisher, but I love Polly so. And she flung herself down on her knees, burying her face among the little flannel petticoats in Mother Fisher's lap. There, there, my dear, said Mrs. Fisher, smoothing Charlotte's pale straight hair. Of course you love Polly, everybody does. And I don't, I don't want her to marry that Pickering Dodge, mumbled Charlotte. Certainly not, and she's no more likely to marry him than you are, said Mrs. Fisher Cooley, giving gentle pats to Charlotte's head while King Fisher screamed and twitched his mother's gown in anger to see the petting going on. Well, now I have two babies, said Mother Fisher, with a smile lifting him up to her lap, where he amused himself by beating on Charlotte's head with both fat fists till his mother seized them with one hand while she gently smoothed the girl's hair with the other. Polly can be trusted anywhere, and when she is in too much of a dilemma, then she brings everything to Mother. Charlotte sat up straight and wiped her eyes. And we've got somebody else to worry about much more, and all our sympathies ought to go out to him, said Mrs. Fisher gravely. Charlotte, I don't mind telling you that I am dreadfully sorry that Grandpa Pa has taken Jasper away from his business. She sat King Fisher abruptly on the floor, all the little petticoats tumbling after him, and walked away so that Charlotte could not see her face. Poor Jasper, he loved his work so. And that's just it, gasped Charlotte, somehow finding her feet to hurry over to Mrs. Fisher. Jasper has lost his work, and now, oh dear, oh, can't you see Mrs. Fisher? And frightened at her boldness, she ran back to baby. Charlotte Chatterton, exclaimed Mrs. Fisher. There was something so dreadful in her tone that Charlotte, without a word, ran out of the room to meet little Dr. Fisher hurrying upstairs with his hands full of letters. The whole budget from Briarly he announced joyfully, to, for you, my girl, casting them into her hands. And the folks are coming home next week. That is our folks. Good news, eh, Charlotte? Then he sped on to find his wife. And at dinner, Charlotte, sitting pale and immovable amidst all the chat, let the news of Mr. and Mrs. Mason Whitney's and Dick's determination to come on to greet the arrivals from the Briarly farmhouse, fall on apparently unheating ears. Charlotte, cried Dr. Fisher at last, looking at her through his big spectacles. Why, I thought you would rejoice with us, he added reproachfully. At Donorham exclaimed Mrs. Fisher across the table for the first time in her life, looking as if she would like to step on his toes. The little doctor stared at her a moment. Oh, er, never mind, my dear. He cried abruptly, turning to Charlotte. I suppose you do not feel well. Yes, I do feel well, said Charlotte truthfully, not daring to look at Mrs. Fisher, but keeping her eyes on the tablecloth. I have a letter from Mr. King, a very long one. He is going to see Joel and David. Mother Fisher made haste to say, I hope he hasn't heard anything wrong about them. And a little anxious pucker came on her forehead. Charlotte Chatterton glanced up quickly and seeing it. Oh, I do believe everything is all right, Mrs. Fisher. She exclaimed involuntarily. Mother Fisher looked straight at her with one of her brightest smiles. I guess so, she said, her brow clearing. And after they had pulled back their chairs from the table and the little doctor had gone into his office for a minute, Mrs. Fisher followed Charlotte out into the hall. Charlotte, and she put both hands on the girl's shoulders. You and I won't meddle with the Lord's will for Polly. Promise me that you'll not say one word of what we were talking to anyone. I won't, said Charlotte Chatterton. And now, said Mother Fisher, dropping her arms and resuming her usual cheery manner, you and I, Charlotte, have got to put our minds on getting ready for the Whitney's and the homecoming, and we must make it just the brightest time that ever was. I'm no good at thinking up ways to celebrate, added Mrs. Fisher with a little laugh. Polly always did that, so you must do it for me, you and the doctor, Charlotte. And you'd better run into his office now and make a beginning, for next week we'll come before we know it. And with a motherly pat on him, run along, child. Mrs. Fisher waited to see Charlotte well on the way before she turned to her own duties. Come in, cried little Dr. Fisher as she rapped at the office door. Oh, it's you, Charlotte, with a sigh of relief. I'm sure I don't feel much like dragging on my boots and going off to the Land's End tonight on a call. Mrs. Fisher thought I ought to come and see you, sir, about getting up a plan to celebrate the homecoming next week, said Charlotte, feeling her heart bounding already with the light. Would they really all be together in a week? Now, that's something like, exclaimed Dr. Fisher joyfully, and pushing aside with a reckless hand his books and vials on the table. Sit down, do, Charlotte, there. As Charlotte settled her long figure in the opposite chair. Now, then. I never got up a plan to celebrate anything in my life, said Charlotte, folding her hands in dismay. Nor I, either, confessed the little Dr. in an equal tremor. Polly was always great at those things. But I suppose that's the reason my wife set us two together, Charlotte, for she's the wisest of women and perhaps we got to learn how to get up celebrations. If only Franzi were home, breathed Charlotte wistfully. I'm so afraid our affair will be worse than nothing. I daresay, replied the little Dr. cheerly, but we can try, and that goes a great way, Charlotte, trying does. Charlotte drew a long breath and moved uneasily in her chair. If we only knew how to begin, she said it last doubtfully. I've always found, said Dr. Fisher, springing from his chair, that all you had to do to start a thing was to begin. Yes, that's just it, ruminated Charlotte, bringing up her hands to hold her head with. I think we are in a tight place, Dr. Fisher. That may be a scent of the little man. I like tight places. Now then, Charlotte, how do you say begin? Charlotte sat lost in thought for a minute, then she said, anyway, I think it would be best for us to get up something very simple, so long as we are beginners. I think so too, agreed Dr. Fisher, so that settled. Now, for the first thing, what do you say we should do, Charlotte? How would it do, asked Charlotte suddenly, to invite everybody after they've gotten over the first of the homecoming, after dinner, I mean, into the drawing room, and then tell them that we are not smart enough to think up things and ask them to give a recitation a piece or something of that sort. Charlotte, chatterton, exclaimed the little doctor, cramming his hands into the side pockets of his office coat and staring at her. I am ashamed of you, that would be shabby enough. I'm not so bad either, he added quickly, a sudden thought striking him, as you'll do your part in singing. Oh, I couldn't sing, cried Charlotte, drawing back into her shell of coldness again. They don't any of them care for it, they've heard me so much. She finished, trying to smooth her refusal over. You'll sing, declared the little doctor, decidedly. We could never be tired of hearing you, and for the rest, I have a notion that might suit. See here, and he threw himself into his office chair and looked Charlotte squarely in the face. Why not ask Alexia and Kathy and the others to take hold and get up some fandango, eh? Charlotte caught herself on the edge of saying, no, then drew a long breath and said, well, trying not to seem indifferent over the plan. Don't like it, eh, asked Dr. Fisher regarding her keenly. It might be the best thing in the world, said Charlotte slowly. Those girls act splendidly, they've had little plays so often, and Polly has drilled them, that they'll know just how to go to work, and it will please Polly. Oh, yes, do let us have that, she cried, beginning to wax quite enthusiastic. It will please them too, said the little man, not withdrawing his gaze. Yes, it will please them, said Charlotte after a minute, and I will run over in the morning and ask them. That's good, cried Dr. Fisher, bringing his hands together with a joyful clap, and getting out of his chair, he began to skip up and down like a boy. And let Amy Lockhead do the piano music, do that will please Polly to see how the child has gone ahead. I can't hardly believe Miss Salisbury, she tells me the chip practices every minute she can save from other things. Be sure to have her asked, Charlotte Child. I will ask Amy, promised Charlotte, with a pang at the thought of the delight over Jack Lockhead's hands and face at her invitation. And you were to sing, cried the little Dr. Jimmultley, now we are all capitol-y fixed. It takes you and me to get up celebrations, doesn't it? And he stood as tall as he could and beamed at her. I'd go over as early as I could, Charlotte, he advised, and tell those girls, because you know a week isn't much to get ready in. I will, said Charlotte, go the very first thing after breakfast. And after breakfast the next morning she tied her hat on, and not trusting herself to think of her expedition, actually ran down the long carriage drive to the avenue, then walking at her best pace, she stood before Alexia Reese's door and rang the bell. There, now I can't go back, she said to herself, and in a minute or two she was in the reception room, and Alexia Reese was running over the stairs and standing with a puzzled expression on her face before her. Oh my goodness me! Oh, oh, exclaimed Alexia with a little laugh. Is this you, Miss Chatterton? Yes, said Charlotte Chatterton. I came to ask if you would get up something nice to celebrate the homecoming of all the family from Briarley, and Mr. Whitney's family are to come too next week. Will you, Miss Reese? Well, I never cried Alexia Reese, sinking into the first chair she could find. You want me? I shouldn't think you would, she added truthfully. I didn't at first, said Charlotte Chatterton. But now I do, Miss Reese. Oh, very much, you and Miss Harrison and all those girls, you can get up something beautiful. And Dr. Fisher and I don't in the least know how, and we want you to do it. Then she sat quite still. Well, I declare, cried Alexia Reese, unable to find another word. Then she looked out of the window. Oh, here's Clem! And rushing out, Charlotte could hear a whispered consultation with, did you ever? I'm awfully ashamed, while Clem's voice said, so am I. Well, come in, said Alexia audibly at last, dragging Clem after her into the reception room. We've got to do what's right now, anyway. I'm awfully ashamed, Miss Chatterton, said Clem Forsythe, going straight to Charlotte's chair and putting out her hand. We girls haven't been right to you since you came, and I, for one, want to ask your pardon. Dear me, so do I, cried Alexia, crowding in between with an eager hand stretched out. But what good will that do? We said things, at least I did the most, oh, my hateful tongue. If you'll only take hold and make a nice celebration for Polly and all the others, that will be all I'd want, said Charlotte. Thank you, you are so good, she brought up happily. And then we'll do something for you sometime, declared Alexia, all for yourself, won't we, Clem? Something perfectly, elegantly splendid. End of chapter 19. Chapter 20 of Five Little Peppers Grown Up. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Five Little Peppers Grown Up by Margaret Sidney. Chapter 20, Straightening Out Affairs. Two days after old Mr. King was walking over the college campus, bound for Joel's and David's room in the old brick dormitory. I'm glad I sent Jasper ahead to the hotel. I much rather pop in on the boys by myself, soliloquized the old gentleman in great satisfaction. Ah, here it is, beginning to mount the stairs. Come in, yelled a voice as he wrapped with his walking stick on the door of number 19, and don't make such a piece of work breaking the door down. Oh, beg pardon, as Mr. King obeyed the order. A tall figure sprawled in the biggest chair, his long legs carried up to the mantle, where his boots neatly reposed, while a cloud of smoke filling the room made Mr. King cough violently in spite of himself. "'Tis a nasty air,' said the tall young man, getting his legs down in haste from the mantle, and himself out of the chair, though with much difficulty. Take a glass of water, sir, hobbling over to a side-table and pouring one out to work his way with it to old Mr. King.' "'Thank you,' said the old gentleman, when he could speak, and accepting it quickly, you say truly, the air is beastly, glancing around the room in displeasure at the plentiful signs of its inmate's idea of having a good time at college. Are Joel and David Pepper soon to be in?' As he spoke, he lifted up the cover of a French novel thrown on the lounge near him, and dropped it quickly as he read the title. "'Hey! Oh! I see a little mistake,' exclaimed the tall youth, going unsteadily back to his chair. Their room is nineteen in the extension. I'm Robert Bingley, sir.' "'I'm very glad,' cried old Mr. King heartily, for I don't mind telling you, my young friend, that I shouldn't want Joel's and David's room to look like this.' "'I don't blame you in the least, sir,' said Bingley, no-wise abashed. But you needn't worry, for the peppers aren't my kind. You must be Grandfather King,' he added. "'Yes, I am,' said old Mr. King, straightening up and throwing back his white hair with a proud gesture. "'So you've heard about me?' he asked in a gratified way. "'I should rather think we had,' said Bingley. Why, all of us know about you, sir.' Here he got out of his chair again. "'You won't care to, after you know all, but I should like to shake hands with you, sir.' Most certainly responded the old gentleman heartily, although your room isn't to your credit. Thereupon he bestowed a courtly handshake upon the young man, with the utmost cordiality, making Bingley, who seemed to have a good deal of trouble with his legs, to retreat to his chair in a high state of satisfaction. "'Was mean of me to ask you such a favour, sir,' said Bingley, gazing up at the ceiling. Before I had told you all, but I couldn't help it some way, and I knew you wouldn't touch my hand after you'd heard. Well, I was one of a gang who went to Joe Pepper's room last week for the purpose of lambing him. "'You went to Joe Pepper's room for the purpose of lambing him?' repeated old Mr. King, darting out of his chair. "'Yes, sir.' Bingley still kept his gaze glued to the ceiling. "'But we didn't do it, though. Joe lambed us.' "'Oh!' "'So the rest of the gang are going for him tonight. I'm not able to,' said Bingley, trying to appear careless. "'Joe to be in such business. How could he?' fumed old Mr. King. A gentleman, and I thought so much of his turning out well, it will kill his mother. Oh, how could he?' turning fiercely on Bingley. "'See here now,' cried that individual, tearing his gaze from the ceiling to send a sharp glance at the white-haired old gentleman. Joe is all right, straight as a brick. You can bet your money on that, sir.' "'Oh! Oh!' cried Mr. King, more and more horrified. "'Is this what you all come to college for?' "'I should consider, sir,' very sternly. It a place to keep up the dignity of one's family in, and that of such a venerable institution, waving both shapely hands to include the entire pile of buildings by which they were surrounded.' Bingley gave vent to an uncontrollable laugh. "'Beg pardon, sir, but the dignity isn't worth a rush. We are in the old hole, and all we look out for is to have a good time and scrape through.' "'Old hole, and scrape through! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!' groaned old Mr. King.' "'That's what our set do,' said Bingley, to give him time to recover. "'Joe and Davina—I mean David. Don't train in our crowd. The other one, Whitney. Don't tell me that he does.' Interrupted Percy's grandfather sharply. "'It wouldn't be possible.' "'No, he doesn't affect us,' said Bingley coolly. "'It's all he can do to take care of those eyeglasses of his, and he'd must his clothes. Whitney is something of a softy, sir.' "'Old Mr. King drew a long breath of relief. But he looked so troubled that Bingley, for the life of him, couldn't keep up his assumed carelessness.' "'Sit down again, do, sir,' he begged involuntarily, and I will tell you all about it. And Mr. King, resuming his chair, presently, had a graphic account of Joel's course in college, with a description of the trouble in his room till the whole thing was laid bare. "'How I wish I had been here to see my boy!' exclaimed the old gentleman with sparkling eyes. I might have helped him a bit. He stretched out a handsome fist and looked at it as admiringly as any college athlete could view his own. Well, dropping his arm. "'I am interrupting you, Mr.—' groping for the name.' "'Bingley, sir.' "'Ah, yes, Bingley. Well, Mr. Bingley, pray go on. Did you not say that another attempt was to be made on my grandson?' Bingley nodded. "'Tonight, after he comes from the association room,' he added. "'We shall see. We shall see,' exclaimed the old gentleman dryly, in a manner that delighted Bingley and made him tingle all over to be in at the death himself. "'Dobbs has planned it to—' "'Dobbs!' interrupted the old gentleman sharply. "'What family? Not the Ingoldsby Dobbs I trust. This chap's name is Ingoldsby Dobbs,' said Bingley. "'He's a high flyer, I tell you. Lives up to his name, I suppose he thinks.' "'Oh, I'm so sorry, Morn, Mr. King. I have known his father ever since we were boys. He's capital stock. Well, go on, Mr. Bingley, and let me know what this young rascal is up to.' He added with extreme irritation. "'He's going to have his men close in on Joe in the middle of the park. Pepper often comes that way to Old Brick—' short, you know, for Old Brick dormitory—' with a poor miserable cuss. Excuse me, sir. He's trying to get up onto sober legs. There are twenty fellows pledged to do the job I've found out. Bingley didn't think it worthwhile to mention how the plan was discovered, nor that heavy vengeance was vowed upon his head if he divulged it. I gave it away to Whitney. I couldn't get it devi—er, Dave, to see if it wasn't possible to keep Joe away from that meeting. It will come some time. It better be to-night,' said the old gentleman briefly. "'Well, is that all? Yes, sir. Only that they are to toss a cloak over Joe's head and carry him off for a little initiation fun. Ah! Old Mr. King sat quite straight. Thank you, Mr. Bingley,' he said, getting out of his chair. He didn't offer to shake hands, and Bingley, though pretending not to notice any omission of that sort, felt considerably crestfallen about it. The moment the door was shut and he heard Mr. King go down the stairs, Robert Bingley ran his fingers through his hair, giving a savage pull at the innocent locks. Curse my luck, he growled, taking out the angry fingers to shake them in his legs, tied here by these two beggars, and he thinks that I'm sneaking out of standing up for Joe. Old Mr. King fumed to himself all the way down the stairs, becoming more angry with each step. When he reached the lower hall, he turned and passed through the building instead of going out, and, meeting a young collegian on a run, asked, Have the goodness to tell me, sir, does Mr. Ingoal's be Dobb's room in this building? Number 2345 in the extension, said the undergraduate, not slackening speed, and pointing the direction. So the old gentleman climbed the staircase to the wing, and presently wrapped on the door mark 23. A brewery's shouts of laughter greeted him as he opened the door in response to a loud, Come in! The noise stopped as suddenly as it was possible for the inmates of the room to check it when they saw the visitor, but not before, We'll season pepper well and make the deacon howl! came distinctly to his ears. Good afternoon, young gentleman, said old Mr. King, bowing his white head and holding his hat in his hand he advanced to the table, around which sat six or eight of them. I beg you not to go, as some of them made a sudden movement to leave. I should like to see you all, though I called especially upon Mr. Ingoal's be Dobb's. A tall, wiry youth with shallow face and high red nose disentangled himself from the group and came forward. I don't remember where I have met you, sir, he said, yet extending his hand with his best manner on. Aristocratical party, whispered one man to his neighbor, Dobbs he needn't be afraid to claim him. I am very thankful to say I never have met you before, young man, observed Mr. King Cooley, not seeing the slender hand waiting for his. Your father honours me with his friendship. This may tell you who I am, and he threw a card upon the table. Young Dobbs' sallow face turned a shade paler as he picked up the card and read it. Glad to see you, sit down, won't you? He mumbled, dragging up a comfortable chair. Any friend of father's is welcome here. He went on awkwardly, while the rest of the men stared at him, one of them exclaiming under his breath. First time Dobbs' cheek deserted him, I'll wager. The old gentleman looked first into Ingoal's be Dobbs' thin face, then surveyed them all quite leisurely. I understand you paid my grandson Joel Pepper a call a short time since, when instead of abusing him some of you got your desserts. The men started, and angry exclamations went around the room. These turned cowardly mean sneak will pay him up, and remarks of a life-nature being quite audible. Old Mr. King turned on them. Silence, he commanded. My grandson Joel doesn't know I am here. I heard the story since my arrival. If anyone says one word against him, I'll cane him from the top of the stairs to the bottom, and he looked as if he could do it. It was Bingley then, said Dobbs' sallowly. The old gentleman completely ignored him, addressing his words to the crowd. There are four men in this class who are going to be protected from your insults. Those are my three grandsons and Mr. Robert Bingley, and this is to be done without appealing to the college authorities either. That puts a stop to your fine plan, Mr. Dobbs. At last looking at him, and any other idea of the same sort your fertile brain may chance to think up. The first intimation of any hostility and your father, and the fathers of these men here with you, waving his hand at them all, and of the others in this interesting plan will be informed, and you will be dealt with exactly like any other disturber of the peace. Villains in college or out of it ought to be served to the same punishment, in my opinion. Now, have any of you remarks to make? It was so like Joel's invitation to come on and have it out now that not a single man of them stirred. Then I will have the pleasure of bidding you goodbye, said Mr. King, and the next moment he was outside of Number 23, while perfect silence reigned within. Polly came slowly down Mrs. Higby's front stairs and looked at Fronzie, standing at the further end of the entry. What's the matter, Fronzie? At last she asked. For the first time in her life, Fronzie seemed unable to answer Polly, and she stood quite still. Her gaze fastened on the big-flowered muslin curtain that swung back and forth in the breeze that came through the open window. Now, Fronzie, said Polly very decidedly, and going up to her, you must tell me what the matter is. I can't, said Fronzie in a low tone. Don't ask me, Polly. Can't tell me everything, cried Polly. Dear me, what nonsense, Fronzie! Come now, begin. There's a deer. But I am not to tell, persisted Fronzie shaking her head. Then she drew a long breath and looked as if she were going to cry. Who has been telling you things, cried Polly, her brown eyes flashing, that you are not to tell? It is Mrs. Cabot. I know it is, for there is no one else here who would do it. Don't ask me, pleaded Fronzie in great distress and clutching Polly's gown. Oh, don't say anything more about it, Polly. Indeed, I shall, declared Polly. No one has a right to command you in this way, and I shall just speak to Mrs. Cabot about it. Oh, no, no, protested Fronzie, huddling up closer to Polly and dismay. Please, Polly, don't say anything to her about it, please. Mamsey wouldn't ever allow you to be annoyed about anything, said Polly with increasing irritation, and if Mrs. Cabot has said anything to you, Fronzie, to make you feel badly why I must know it. Don't you see, child, that I really ought to be told? Fronzie folded her hands tightly together, trying to keep them quiet, and her cheeks turned so very white that Polly hastened to put her well arm around her, saying quickly, There, there, child, you needn't tell me now if you don't want to. Wait a bit. I'd rather tell it now, said Fronzie, but oh, I do wish that grand-papa was here, she added sadly. Whatever can have been said to you, Fronzie, exclaimed Polly and dismay, you frightened me, child, do tell me at once what it was. Jasper isn't going to be at Mr. Marlowe's anymore, said Fronzie with distinctness. Jasper isn't going to be at Mr. Marlowe's anymore, repeated Polly wilding and holding Fronzie so closely that she winced. What do you mean? Who has told you such nonsense? Mrs. Cabot, said Fronzie, she told me this morning and I was not to tell you, Polly, but I didn't promise not to, indeed I didn't. What perfect nonsense, exclaimed Polly, recovering herself and trying to laugh. Well, Fronzie, child, didn't you know better than to believe any story that Mrs. Cabot might tell? How in the world could she know of Jasper's affairs, pray tell? And she laughed again this time quite gaily. Ah, but, said Fronzie, shaking her head, she had a letter from Mr. Cabot. It came in this morning's mail. She opened it and said out loud this dreadful thing about Jasper and then she saw me and she said I was not to tell you. Polly dropped Fronzie's arm and rushed down the hall. Where are you going? cried Fronzie, hurrying after. Oh, Polly! I am going to make Mrs. Cabot tell me everything she knows, said Polly Horsley, and not looking back. She shall let me have every syllable. It can't be true. She threw wide the door of Mrs. Higby's keeping room, where that lady was engaged in putting a patch on the chintz-covered sofa and talking gossip with a neighbor at the same time. I thought as this was a going so fast, Mr. Higby sets it out so, and we were all so comfortable the day I'd get at it kind of early, said Mrs. Higby apologetically. Anything I can do, Mrs. Polly, she asked, flying away from her patch and dropping her scissors on the floor. No, said Polly, turning back hastily. Never mind, Mrs. Higby. Now, it was something you wanted me for, cried Mrs. Higby, ambling toward the door. I ain't a mite busy, Mrs. Polly. That old patch can wait. La, I can tell Mr. Higby to sit on the other end till I get time to attend to it. What was it, Mrs. Polly? Polly turned back. Mrs. Higby's tone was so full of intrigue. Oh, nothing. Only, if it isn't too much trouble, would you ask Mrs. Cabot to come downstairs a moment I want to see her. Oh, certain! Cried Mrs. Higby, ambling off toward the stairs. And presently Mrs. Cabot and a pink morning gown came down the hall toward Polly and put both arms around her. What is it, dear? She asked caressingly. Come out of doors, beg Polly. I can't breathe here. Come, Mrs. Cabot. And Mrs. Cabot, her arms still around Polly, was drawn out to the old porch, fronzy following. Then Polly shook herself free. Is it true, she began? I made, fronzy, tell me, that Jasper—she caught her breath, but went on again hurriedly. Has left, Mr. Marlowe? Oh, dear me, exclaimed Mrs. Cabot in consternation. What shall I do? Yes, but I wasn't to tell you. Mr. King is coming back. Do wait, Polly, and ask him about it. I will not wait, declared Polly passionately, facing her. Tell me all you know, Mrs. Cabot, every single word. I don't know a thing about it, cried Mrs. Cabot in a frightened way. Only Mr. Cabot writes that Mr. King has made Jasper leave Mr. Marlowe. That's all I know about it, Polly. She added desperately, and I wish Mr. Cabot had been asleep before he wrote it. Fronzy! Oh, get a glass of water! Be quick, child! As Polly sank down on the old stone floor of the porch. CHAPTER XXI Polly tries to help Jasper. I think it was a mean shame! Then Dick wrathfully, Dick, Dick, exclaimed his mother gently. Mr. Whitney tapped his knee with a letter he had just placed within its envelope, then threw it on the table. It's the best job I ever did, he cried jubilantly, to get Jasper out of that business. Dick sent his two hands deep within their pockets. Oh, how can you say so, he cried? And how can you question what your father does, exclaimed Mrs. Whitney, why that isn't like you, Dick, with a faceful of reproach? Oh, let the boy say what he wants to you, Marion, broken her husband easily. So, Dickie, my lad, you don't think I did just the right thing for Jasper, eh? He leaned back in his chair and surveyed his young son with a twinkle in his eye. No, I don't, declared Dick, beginning to rage up and down the room on young and dignit feet. I say it's mean to meddle with a fellow's business. I wouldn't stand it, he added stoutly. Mr. Whitney laughed long and loud, despite his wife's shot. Dickie, don't, dear! Well, if I didn't know that in a year's time Jasper will come to me and say I thank you, I should never have gone through with the job in the world, said his father when he came out of his amusement. It isn't the pleasantest piece of work a man could select to meddle, as you call it, within other's affairs. Jasper will never thank you in the world, never, exclaimed Dick, cramming his irritated hands deeper in their pockets and turning on his father. You see, said his father, nodding easily. And you see Papa, cried Dick, turning hastily in front of him, looking so exactly like his father that Mrs. Whitney forgot to chide in admiring them both. And I think it's too bad when on Dick everybody pitches into Jasper and wants him to do things, and Grandpa Pa's always picking at him. I'd—I'd fight sometimes, he added. Softly, softly there, my boy, said Mr. Whitney. You'll have plenty of practice for all your fighting powers by and by. A fourteen-year-old chap doesn't know everything. Well, I know one thing, declared Dick more positively. Grandpa Pa's always been meddling with Jasper, and you know it, Papa. That's because he expects great things from Jasper, and that he will hold up the king name. We all do, replied his father. Dick turned on an impatient heel. Although he would have done if you'd let him be a publisher, he declared. His father laughed again and leaned out of his chair to pinch his son's ear, but Dick, resenting this indignity, retreated to a safe position, declaring, and I'm going to be one when I'm through college so. Mr. King's a-coming down the road and Mr. Jasper, screamed Mrs. Higby, coming out suddenly to the porch. I see him from the keep-in-room window. My! What's the matter with Miss Polly? Nothing, said Polly, opening her eyes. That is not much. And sitting up straight, are Grandpa Pa and Jasper really coming? She asked. Dear me, Polly! exclaimed Mrs. Cabot before Mrs. Higby could answer, and putting shaking hands on Polly's shoulders. I never was so frightened in my life. I thought your arm was worse, and you so near well. Oh, dear, are you sure you are all right? peering around into her face. Here comes Fronzie with the water. That's good. Polly took the glass and smiled up reassuringly into Fronzie's troubled face. Oh, how good that is, Fronzie! She cried. There, now I'm all right. Don't let Grandpa Pa or Jasper know. And she sprang to her feet while Mrs. Higby hurried off to see if her preparations for dinner were all right. Now that Mr. King had come back a day sooner than he wrote he intended. Fronzie, you go and meet them, do dear! begged Polly, and as Fronzie ran off obediently, Polly walked up and down the porch with hasty steps, holding her hands as tightly locked together as the injured arm would allow. Oh, if I only had time to think! But I ought to try! Even if I don't say just exactly the right words, for Mr. Marlowe may not be able to take him back if I wait! And then Grandpa Pa came hurrying out with, Where's Polly? And she was kissed, and her cheeks padded. He not seeming to notice anything amiss in her. He was so glad to get back. And through it all Polly saw only Jasper's face, and although everything seemed to turn around before her, she made up her mind that she would tell Grandpa Pa just what she thought and beg him to change his mind the very first instance she could. And so before the first greetings of the homecoming were fairly over, Polly, afraid her courage would give out if she waited a moment longer, put her hand on Mr. King's arm. What is it, dear? asked the old gentleman, busy with Fronzie, who hung around his neck, while she tried to tell him everything that had happened during his absence, and he peered over her shoulder into Polly's face. Grandpa Pa cried Polly in a tremor. Could you let me talk to you a little just now? Please, Grandpa Pa. Well, yes, dear, after Fronzie has. Oh, Fronzie will wait! cried Polly, guilty of interrupting. I know she will. For the first time in her life Fronzie said rebelliously, Oh, I don't want to wait, Polly! Dear, Grandpa Pa has just got home, and I must tell him things. So you shall, Fronzie, declared old Mr. King, drawing her off beyond Polly's reach. There now you and I will get into this quiet corner, and he sat down and drew Fronzie to his knee. Now, Pet, so you were glad to get your old Grandpa Pa home, eh? Polly, in an agony at being misunderstood, followed, and without stopping to think she threw her arms around Fronzie and cried, Oh, Fronzie, do trust me, dear, and let Grandpa Pa go. I must see him now! Mr. King gave Polly's burning cheeks a keen glance, then he set Fronzie on the floor abruptly. Fronzie, see, dear, Polly really needs me. Come, child! And he gathered up Polly's hand into his own and marched out of the room with her. Suppose we go in here, said the old gentleman, and have our talk, unceremoniously opening the door of Mrs. Higby's best room as he spoke. Nobody is likely to disturb us here. Polly, not caring where she went, but with the words she must speak weighing heavily on her mind, followed him unsteadily into the parlor, and while he threw open a blind or two to light up the gloom that usually hung over Mrs. Higby's best room, she busied herself trying to think how she should begin. There now, my dear, said Mr. King, coming up to her, and drawing her off to a big hair-cloth sofa, standing stiffly against the wall. We will sit down here, and then we can go over it comfortably together and settle what is on your mind. He added, feeling immensely gratified at the impending confidence. "'Grandpa Pa!' cried Polly in desperation and springing from the sofa where he had placed her by his side to stand in front of him. "'I don't know where to begin. Oh, do help me!' she clashed her hands and stood the picture of distress, unable to say another word. "'Why, how can I help you to tell me, child?' cried old Mr. King in astonishment, when I don't know in the least what it is you want to say. "'Oh, I know it!' cried Polly, twisting her hands, unable to hold them quite still. "'Oh, dear, what shall I do? Grandpa Pa, it's just—' "'Well, what, my dear?' asked the old gentleman, and taking one of her hands encouragingly. "'Are you afraid of me? Why, Polly?' Polly started at his tone of reproach, and threw her well arm around his neck exactly as Franzi would have done, which so pleased the old gentleman that it was easier for her to begin again to tell him what was on her mind. But when she had gotten as far as—' "'It's just this!' she stopped again. "'Well, now, Polly,' said Mr. King, sitting straight on the sofa with this pleasure, "'I must say I am surprised at you. I should never think this was you, Polly, never in all the world, which so unnerved her, that she plunged at once into what she had set herself to do, saying the most dreadful thing that was possible. "'Oh, Grandpa Pa!' she cried. "'Do you think it can be right to take Jasper away from his work?' "'Hoy-dee, toy-dee, well, I must say, Polly,' exclaimed the old gentleman in the greatest displeasure, and rising abruptly from the sofa, brushing her aside as he did so, that I never have been so surprised in my life as to have you come to teach me my duty. "'Right? Of course it is. It must be, if I wish it. I have always looked out for Jasper's good.' And with that he walked up and down the parlor, fuming at every step, and looking so very dreadful, that Polly, rooted to the spot, had only to stand still and watch him in despair. "'If you could have seen Jasper the way he was when I found him,' said Mr. King, tired at last of Vichuparading, and coming up to Polly sternly, "'You would have been glad to have me get him out of the wretched business. It smelt so of trade, and everybody was grossly familiar, while that Mr. Marlowe—' I have no words for him, Polly. He insulted me.' "'Oh, oh!' cried Polly, with clasped hands and flaming cheeks. How could he, Grandpa Polly? Jasper has always said he was such a gentleman.' Jasper's ideas of what a gentleman should be, in mine, are very different, exploded the old gentleman, beginning to walk up and down the parlor again. I tell you, Polly, that my boy has sadly changed since he went into that contemptible trade. "'But Jasper loves his work,' mourned Polly, her color dying down.' "'Loves his work while he shouldn't,' cried Mr. King, in extreme irritation. It's no sort of a work for him to love, brought up as he has been. A profession is the only thing for him. Now he studies law.' "'Oh, Grandpa Polly!' cried Polly, quite white now, and she precipitated herself in front of the old gentleman's angry feet. Jasper just hates the law. I know for his often said so, and if you do fasten him down all his life to what he don't like, and make him be a lawyer, it will kill him. He'll do it, Grandpa Polly rushed on, regardless of the lightning gleam of anger and the sharp eyes above her. And although she knew that after this she should never be the same Polly to him as of old, she kept on steadily. Because you want him to, he'll do anything to please you and make you happy, Grandpa Polly, and he won't say anything, but it will kill him. It surely will, for he loves his work with Mr. Marlowe so.' Then Polly stopped, aghast at the effect of her words. "'And what am I to do now, pray, to please you?' asked old Mr. King, and drawing off to look at her quite coldly. "'Oh, nothing to please me,' cried poor Polly, only for Jasper. Do let him go back to Mr. Marlowe, Grandpa Polly.' He shall never go back to Mr. Marlowe with my consent, to clave the old gentleman stiffly, his anger rising again. And you have displeased me very much, Polly Pepper, by all this. Now you may go, and remember, not another word about Jasper and his work. I will arrange everything concerning him without interference.' And Polly, not knowing how, crept out of Mrs. Higbee's parlor and shut the door. "'Polly!' somebody called as she hurried on unsteady feet over the stairs to her own little room that she had bagged under the farmhouse eaves. But she didn't even answer, only rushed on and locked the door behind her. Then she threw herself on her knees by the bed and buried her face in her hands. This was worse than the day so long ago when she sat in the old rocking chair in the little brown house, with eyes bound closely to shut out all outside things, and all of them had been afraid she was going to be blind. For now she felt sure that she had spoiled whatever chance there might have been for Jasper. "'Oh, why did I speak? Why did I?' she cried over and over in her distress, and she buried her face deeper yet in Mrs. Higbee's gay patch bed quilt. After a while Polly never could tell how long she had stayed there. She rapped at the door. It was Fronzie, and she cried in a grieved little voice. "'Polly, are you here? I've been under the apple trees, and just everywhere for you. Do let me in.' "'I can't now, pet,' cried Polly, trying not to let her voice sound choked with tears. "'You run away, dear. Polly will let you in by and by.' "'Are you sick, Polly?' cried Fronzie anxiously and kneeling down to put her mouth to the keyhole. "'No, not a bit,' said Polly hastily and trying to speak cheerfully. "'Really, Polly? Really and truly, Fronzie. There, run away, dear, if you love me.' Fronzie at this unwillingly crept off, and still Polly knelt on, with the wild remorse tugging at her heart that she had been the one to injure Jasper's prospects for life. And then the dinner bell rang, and Polly, who was never known to be late at a meal, heard Mrs. Higbee come out into the hall again and shake the big bell till it seemed to fell the whole farmhouse with its noise. "'Oh, I can't go down. I can't!' Morned poor Polly to herself, quite lost to everything but the dreadful distress at the mischief she had wrought. And then Fronzie came again, this time imploring, with tears, for Polly felt quite sure that she could hear her crying, that Polly would only open the door, and let me see you just once, Polly. And even Mrs. Cabot came, and Polly thought she should go wild to have her stand outside there, and beg and insist that Polly should come down to them all. "'I don't want any dinner,' said Polly over and over. "'I just must be alone a little while.' And at last she spoke quickly to Mrs. Cabot's persistent pleadings. "'Have the goodness, Mrs. Cabot, not to call me again.' And then she was sorry the minute she had spoken the words, and she opened her door a little crack to call after Mrs. Cabot, as she sailed downstairs in great displeasure. "'Oh, do forgive me, dear Mrs. Cabot, for speaking so. I am very sorry, but I cannot come down just yet.' "'I shall send you up your dinner, then,' said Mrs. Cabot, only half appeased and pausing on the stairs. "'No, no,' begged Polly, and she seemed so distressed at the mere thought that Mrs. Cabot unwillingly let her have her way about it. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and Polly, exhausted by weeping, had fallen asleep just where she was, on her knees by the bed, her head on the gay bed quilt, when a low knock on the door startled her, and made her rub her eyes and listen. "'Polly,' said a voice. It was Jasper's. "'Won't you undo the door? I want to speak to you.' "'Oh, Jasper!' cried Polly, springing to her feet and running over to the door. "'I can't. Don't ask me. Not just yet.' "'I won't ask you again,' said Jasper, if you don't wish it, Polly.' His voice showed his disappointment, and Polly, full of dismay at the trouble she had made for him, couldn't find it in her heart to cause him this new worry. "'You won't want to speak to me, Jasper,' she cried, unlocking the door with trembling fingers, when you know what I have done.' What Polly, he cried, trying not to show how he felt at sight of the swollen eyelids and downcast face. Meanwhile, he drew her out gently into the hall. There, let us sit down, pausing before the wide window seat. It's quiet here, and nobody will be likely to come here.' He waited till Polly sat down, and made a place for himself beside her. "'Jasper!' cried Polly, lifting her brown eyes, now filling with tears again. "'You can't think what I've done. I've ruined your whole life for you!' How Polly, Jasper's face grew pale to his lips. Do tell me at once.' Yet he seemed to be afraid of what she was about to say. "'Oh, Jasper, I thought perhaps I could help you. I never knew till this morning, just before you came, that you had lost your place. Mrs. Cabot had a letter from her husband, and she told me, and I spoke to Grandpa Potten, begged him to let you go back and—' "'Oh, Jasper!' Polly's tears, despite all her efforts to keep them back, fell in a shower. You can't guess how dreadfully Grandpa Pot feels, and he says—' "'Oh, he says that you were to study law, and never, never go back to Mr. Marlowe.' "'Is that all?' exclaimed Jasper, in such a tone of relief, that Polly sprang to her feet and stared at him through dry eyes. "'Oh!' she gasped. "'Oh, Jasper, I thought you loved your work!' End of Chapter twenty-one. Chapter twenty-two of Five Little Peppers Grown Up. His LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Five Little Peppers Grown Up by Margaret Sidney. Chapter twenty-two. Mr. King and Polly.' "'So I do love my work,' cried Jasper, in a glow, but Polly, and he sprang to his feet and walked away so that she couldn't see his face. I thought that you were going to say something about yourself.' Then he turned around and faced her again. "'Oh, Jasper!' exclaimed Polly reproachfully. "'What could I possibly have to say about myself? How can I think of anything when you were in trouble?' Forgive me, Polly, broken Jasper eagerly, and he took her hand. And don't worry about me. I mean, don't think that what you said to Grandpa Pa made any difference.' "'But indeed it did, Jasper,' declared Polly truthfully. "'Oh, I know it did, and I have done it all.' "'Polly, Polly,' begged Jasper in great distress, "'don't, dear. "'And now you must give it all up and go into the law. Oh, the horrid, hateful law! Oh, what will you do, Jasper?' And she gazed up into his face, pityingly. "'I shall have to go,' said Jasper, drawing his breath hard and looking at her steadily. "'You know you yourself told me long ago to make my father happy anyway, Polly.' He smiled, as he emphasized the last word. "'Oh, I know,' cried Polly in despair, "'but I didn't think it could ever be anything as bad as this, Jasper.' "'Anyway means pretty hard lines sometimes, Polly,' said Jasper. "'Well, there's no help for it now, so you must help me to go through with it.' "'And just think,' mourned Polly, looking as if the shower were about to fall again. "'How I've made it worse for you with Grandpa Pa— "'Oh, Jasper, I shall never be any help to you.'" "'Polly,' exclaimed Jasper, in such a tone that she stopped to look at him in astonishment. "'There now I'll tell you all about it,' he added with his usual manner, and sitting down beside her again. "'And then you'll see that nothing on earth made any difference to father. This was the way of it. And Jasper proceeded to lay before her every detail of Mr. King's visit to him, and all the circumstances at the store, not admitting Mr. Whitney's part in the affair, as shown by the letter that Jasper had seen.' "'Oh, oh, how mean!' interrupted Polly at this point, with flashing brown eyes. How could he?' And her lips curled disdainfully. "'Oh, Mason thought he was doing me the greatest favour in the world, I don't doubt,' answered Jasper. "'You know, Polly, he never could bear to hear the publishing business, and he was so disappointed when I wouldn't go into the law.' "'I know,' said Polly, but this was dreadful to meddle after he would once decide it very, very dreadful.' "'I think so,' said Jasper with a laugh, feeling surprisingly light-hearted. It was so beautiful to be talking it all over with Polly. But the trouble is Mason, though. Well, and then came that dreadful misunderstanding about Mr. Marlowe. That hurt me worse than all. Oh, Polly, if you only knew the man.' And Jasper relaxed into gloom once more. "'Oh, dear, dear,' cried Polly sympathetically and clasping her hands. "'What can we do? Isn't there anything to do?' "'No,' said Jasper. "'Absolutely nothing. When father once makes up his mind about anything, it's made up for all time. I must just lose the friendship of that man as well as my place.' With that his gloom deepened, and Polly, feeling powerless to utter a word, flipped her hand within his as it lay on his knee. He looked up and smiled gratefully. "'You see, Polly, we can't say anything to him.' "'Oh, no, no,' cried Polly in horror at the mere thought. "'I've only made it a great deal worse.' "'No, you haven't made it worse, dear, but we shouldn't do any good to talk to him about it.' "'I don't believe I could live,' cried Polly off her guard, to have him look at me and to hear him speak so again, Jasper.' Polly started, while a frown spread over his face. "'I can bear anything but that you should be hurt, Polly,' he exclaimed, his fingers tightening over hers. "'Oh, I don't mind it so much,' cried Polly, recovering herself hastily, "'if I hadn't made mischief for you.' And that you must never think of again, promised me, Polly. "'I'll try not to,' said Polly. "'You must just put the notion out of your mind whenever it comes in,' said Jasper decidedly. "'You'll promise that, Polly. I know you will.' "'Well,' said Polly reluctantly. "'I will, Jasper.' "'All right,' exclaimed Jasper in great satisfaction. "'Polly! Polly!' Franzi's yellow head came up above the stairs, and presently Franzi came running up to them in great haste. "'Oh, Polly!' and she threw her arms hungrily around Polly and hugged her closely. "'Oh, dear!' letting her arms fall. "'I wasn't to stop a minute. Grandpa Pa wants you to drive with him, Polly, and you were to go right down as soon as you get your hat on.' "'Grandpa Pa!' screamed Polly, jumping off from the window seat so hastily that Franzi nearly fell over, while Jasper was hardly less excited. "'Why, Franzi, you can't mean it! He—' "'Father really wants you, Polly, I know,' broke in Jasper with a look into the brown eyes. But his voice shook, and if Franzi hadn't been so worried over Polly, she would certainly have noticed it. "'Polly hasn't had any dinner,' she said in a troubled way. "'Oh, I don't care for dinner,' cried Polly with another look at Jasper and beginning to dance off to her room for her hat. "'But you must have some,' declared Franzi in gentle authority, going toward the stairs, and I shall just ask Grandpa Pa to wait for you to get it. Mrs. Hickey saved your dinner for you, Polly. "'Oh, I couldn't eat a morsel,' protested Polly from her little room, and don't ask Grandpa Pa to wait an instant whatever you do, Franzi. See, I'm ready.' And she ran out into the hall, putting on her hat as she spoke. "'Get her a glass of milk, Franzi,' called Jasper standing by the stair railing. "'That's a good child.' Polly flashed him a grateful look as she dashed down the stairs, drawing on her gloves, and not daring to look forward to meeting Grandpa Pa. But when she came out to the back piazza, Franzi following her with the glass, and begging her to drink up the rest left in it, old Mr. King, standing by the little old-fashioned chase, received her exactly as if nothing had happened. "'Well, I declare Polly,' he said, turning to her with a smile. "'I never saw anybody get ready so quickly as you can. They're hoppin' child.' And he put aside her dress from the wheel and his most courtly manner possible. "'Polly hasn't had all the milk,' said Franzi by the chase's step, holding up the glass anxiously. "'Well, I don't believe she wants it,' said old Mr. King. "'No, I don't,' said Polly from the depths of the old house. "'I couldn't drink it, dear!' Mr. King bent his white head to kiss Franzi, and then they drove away, and left her standing in the lilac-shaded path, her glass in her hand, and looking after them. All sorts of things Mr. King talked of in the cheeryest manner possible, just as if Polly and he were in the habit of taking a drive like this every morning, and he never seemed to notice her swollen eyelids, or whether she answered, but kept on bravely with the conversation. At last Polly, at something he said, laughed in her old merry fashion. Then Mr. King drew a long breath and relaxed his efforts. "'I declare, Polly,' he said, leaning back in a comfortable way against the old cushion, and allowing the neighbor's horse, hired for the occasion, to amble along in its own fashion. Now we are so cosy, I believe I'll tell you a secret.' Polly stopped laughing and gazed at him. "'How would you like to take a little journey, just you and I, to-morrow?' he asked, looking down into her face. "'A journey, grand-papa,' asked Polly, wonderingly. "'Yes, about as far as, say, well, to the place where Jasper has been all winter. The fact is, Polly, went on Mr. King very rapidly, as if with the fear that if he stopped he would not be able to finish at all. I want you to look over the ground, Jasper's work, I mean. It seems an abominable place to me, a perfectly abominable one,' confided the old gentleman, in a burst of feeling. But there, pulling himself up, maybe I'm not the one to say it. You see, Polly, I never did a stroke of work in my life, and I really can't tell how working-place is ought to look. And I suppose a working man like Mr. Marlowe might be different from me, and yet be a decent sort of a person after all. "'Well, will you go?' he asked abruptly. "'Oh, Grandpa Pa!' cried Polly aghast, and turning in the shades to look at him with wide eyes. "'Yes, I really mean it, not at all, Mr. King, in his most decided fashion, although I don't blame you for thinking me funny, child. "'I was only thinking how good you are, Grandpa Pa!' exclaimed Polly fervently, and creeping up close to his side. "'There, there, Polly Child,' said the old gentleman. "'No more of that else we shall have a scene, and that's what I never did like, dear, you know. Well, will you go with me? You haven't said yes yet.' "'Oh, yes, yes, yes!' cried Polly, in a rapture's shout, not taking her glowing eyes off from his face. "'Take care, you'll scare the natives,' warned old Mr. King, beaming at her. Briarly folks couldn't have any such transports, Polly, as they turned down a shady lane and ambled by a quiet farmhouse. "'Well, they ought to,' replied Polly merrily, peering out of the still-big house. "'Oh, Grandpa Pa, I just want to get out and jump and scream. I don't feel any bigger than Fronzie.' "'Well, I much rather have you here in this carriage with me,' said the old gentleman, composedly. "'Now, that's settled that we are going, Polly. Of course I asked the doctor. I sent down a letter to him after dinner, to ask if your arm would let you take a little journey with me, and of course he said yes, like a sensible man. Why shouldn't he pray tell when we are all going home in a day or two? Now, of course, that must be postponed a bit.' "'Never mind,' Polly hastened to say, if Jasper is only fixed up.' "'Now, Polly, Mr. King shifted his position a bit so that he might see her the better. Perhaps Mr. Marlowe won't take Jasper back. Judging from what I know of the man, I don't think he will.' And the old gentleman's face, despite his extreme care, began to look troubled at once. "'Oh, maybe he will,' cried Polly warmly. "'Grandpa Polly shouldn't wonder at all. He must,' she added positively. "'I don't know, Polly,' he said in a worried way. I think it's very doubtful, indeed, from what I know of business now. I don't believe at all that he will. But then we can try.' "'Oh, we can try,' echoed Polly hopefully, and feeling as if, since God was good, he would let Jasper back into his chosen life work. "'Well, we'll start early tomorrow morning on our little trip, Polly,' said the old gentleman, catching her infectious spirit, and giving the old horse a fillip with the whip. "'Mean-time, not a word, my dear, of our little plan.' So Polly promised the deepest secrecy, and that no one should even have a hint from her looks of what Grandpa Polly and she were to do. And the next morning, although everybody was nearly devoured by curiosity, no one dared to ask questions. So old Mr. King and Polly, with two well-filled portmentos, departed for a journey of apparently a few days, and Polly didn't dare to trust herself alone with Jasper, but ran a race with them around all the angles of the old farmhouse, all was cleverly disappearing with a merry laugh when there was the least chance of his overtaking her and cornering her for an explanation. And Pickering Dodge and his invalid chair drawn close to the window heard the merry preparations for the journey, and fretfully declared that people seemed to be happy with never a thought for a poor dog like me, while old Mr. Lockhead, who despite Dr. Bryce's verdict, had never seemed quite well enough in his own estimation for his departure from the Higbee Hospital, on the contrary, brightened up exclaiming, "'Now that is something like to hear Miss Polly laugh like that. Bless her.' "'Goodbye, Pickering,' said Polly, coming into his room, old Mr. King close behind. I am going away with Grandpa for a day or two, and she came up in her traveling hat and gown close to his chair. So I heard, said Pickering, lifting his pale face and trying to seem glad, for Polly's joy was bubbling over, but he made rather a poor show of it. "'Goodbye to you, my boy,' said Mr. King, laying a soft palm over the thin fingers on Pickering's knee. Now see that you get up a little more vigor by the time we're back. Goodness, all you want is a trifle more backbone. Why an old fellow like me would beat you there, I do believe? I am surprised at you,' cried the old gentleman, shaking his fingers at Mr. Lockhead, with whom he was on the best of terms, but never feeling the necessity to weigh his words, that you, being chief nurse, don't set up with that boy and make him get on his feet quicker. "'So I could do,' cried old Mr. Lockhead, whose chief object in life since Pickering had been pronounced out of danger, had been to brow-beat the trained nurse and usurped the authority in Pickering's sick room, if Mrs. Cabot would keep out or take it into her head to return home. To state it mildly,' continued the old gentleman, not lowering his tone in the least, that lady doesn't seem to be gifted with the qualities of a nurse, Providence never intended that she should be one, in my opinion. "'Don't tell him to bully me worse than he does,' cried Pickering. He shows a frightful hand when he wants his own way. "'That's it,' cried old Mr. King decidedly, only just keep it up. You'll get well fast as long as you can fight. Come on, Polly, my girl, or we shall be late for the train.' The evening before, Jack Lockhead ran up the steps to Miss Salisbury's select school for young ladies and pulled the bell hastily. Amy ran down as quickly to the little room where she was always allowed to see her brother. "'Well, Amy, child,' cried Jack, when they had gone through with the preliminaries always religiously observed on his visits, how she had progressed in her music under the new teacher Miss Pepper had recommended during her enforced absence, and how far she had pleased Miss Salisbury, and all the other things an elder brother who had come to his conscience rather late would be apt to look into. "'And so you really think you are getting on in your practice?' "'Oh, yes, Jack,' cried Amy confidently, "'come and see I've a new Beethoven for you,' and she laid hold of his arm with eager fingers. "'Now you'll be immensely surprised, Jack, immensely!' "'No doubt, no doubt,' answered Jack hastily, and not offering to get up from the sofa. "'But you needn't play it now.' "'Why, Jack,' cried Amy, no little offended, "'what's the matter? You have asked me regularly to play you my pieces, and now tonight when I offer to you won't have any of it.' And she began to pout. "'That's Shabby and me,' declared Jack with remorse and getting off the sofa to his feet, he dutifully spread the music on the rack, and paid his little sister such attention that she was soon smilingly launched into the new piece, and lost to everything else but her own melody. "'That's fine,' pronounced Jack, as Amy declared herself through and whirled around on the music stool for his applause. But his heart wasn't in it, and Amy's blue eyes soon found it out. "'You're not a bit like yourself tonight, Brother Jack!' She cried with another pout and staring at him. "'You're right, I'm not, Amy,' declared Jack. "'Come over to the sofa and I'll tell you about it.' So the two turned their backs on the piano, and pretty soon, Amy, her hand in her brother's big brown palm was nestled up against him, and hearing a confidence that made her small soul swell with delight. "'Amy,' said Jack, putting his arm closer around her, when Miss Pepper had the courage to tell me of my duty to you, I made up my mind that you should never want for anything that my hand could supply. "'And I never have,' cried little Amy, poking her head up from its nest to look at him. "'All the girls say you are just splendid to me, that they never saw such a brother, and I don't believe they ever did, Jack,' she added proudly. "'So now, what I am about to do,' said Jack, speaking with great effort, "'isn't to bring anything but the greatest happiness to you, Amy, as well as to me. "'If only I can secure it,' he added under his breath. "'What are you going to do, Jack?' demanded Amy, springing away from him to stare into his bronze face. "'Oh, I know you are going to Europe again, and we'll take me this time. Oh, goody, goody!' She screamed like a child, clapping her hands gaily. "'Hush, Amy,' cried Jack, trying to speak lightly, or Miss Salisbury will come in and send me off, saying I spoil your manners. "'There, come back here to me. I can talk better than.' And he drew her to his side again. "'No, it is something much more beautiful than any trip to Europe would be.' "'It can't be, Jack,' cried Amy positively, and burrowing her sunny head into his waistcoat. "'Listen, and don't interrupt again,' said her big brother. "'Amy, how can I tell it? "'Amy, if Miss Pepper will—' "'Will marry me, I will bless God all my life.' This time Amy sprang to the middle of the floor of Miss Salisbury's small reception room. "'Marry you, brother Jack,' she screamed. "'Oh, how perfectly elegant! It's too lovely for anything! Oh, my darling Miss Pepper!' And so on till Jack couldn't make her hear a word. "'Amy, Amy,' at last he said, getting up to her to lay an imperative hand on her arm. "'What would Miss Pepper say? "'Don't get so excitable, child, to see you now. Do hush.' "'I know it,' said Amy, stopping instantly and creeping humbly back to the sofa. "'Miss Pepper was always telling me how to stop screaming at everything I liked and not to cry at things I didn't like,' she confessed frankly. "'Well, then, if you love her,' said Jack, going back to sit down by her again, you will try to do what she says. And you do love her, I'm quite sure, Amy.' "'I love her so, declared Amy, that I would do any and everything she ever asked me to, brother Jack.' "'I thought so,' said Jack. "'Well, now, Amy, I must tell you that I went to see Mrs. Fisher today to ask her if I may speak to Miss Pepper, and she gives me full permission, and so I shall go to Briarly tomorrow and try my fate.' "'It won't be any trying at all,' cried Amy superbly and stretching her neck to look up with immense pride at her tall brother. "'She can't help loving you, Jack. Oh, I am so happy!' Jack Lockhead's dark face had a grave look on it as he glanced down at her. "'I hope so,' he said simply. End of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Of Five Little Peppers Grown Up This LibriBox recording is in the public domain. Five Little Peppers Grown Up by Margaret Sidney Chapter 23 That Settles Many Things "'It's perfectly dreadful,' cried Alexia Reese, wrinkling her brows, to try to get up anything with Polly away. If we only had Joel to help us, that would be something.' "'Well, it's got to be done,' said Clem Forsythe, in a matter-of-fact way.' "'Of course it has,' cried Alexia Gustley. "'Dear me!' in a tone of horror. "'Did you suppose that we'd let Polly Pepper go on year after year, getting up perfectly elegant things for us, and then not celebrate for her when she comes home and with a broken arm, too? The idea, Clem!' "'Well, then, I think we much better set to work to think up something,' observed Clem wisely. "'If we are going to do anything.' "'We can't think of a single thing, not one,' bemoaned Alexia. "'It will be a perfectly horrid fight, whatever we get up. Oh, dear, what shall we do, girls?' "'Alexia, you are enough to drive anybody wild,' cried Sally Moore. "'It's bad enough to know there isn't an idea in all our heads put together, without having you tell us of it every minute. "'Cathy Harrison, why don't you say something, instead of staring that wall out of countenance?' "'Because I haven't anything to say,' replied Kathy, laughing grimly and leaning back in her chair resignedly. "'Oh, dear, I think just as Alexia does it will be utterly horrid, whatever we do.' "'Don't you be a wet blanket,' cried two or three of the girls, if Alexia is. "'Oh, dear Miss Chatterton, you were the only one of sense in this company. Now do give us an idea,' added one. "'I don't know in the least how to help,' said Charlotte Chatterton slowly, and leaning her elbows on her knees she rested her head in her hands. "'I never got up at play or tableau, nor anything of the kind in my life, and we never celebrated anything either. There was never anything to celebrate. But I should think perhaps it would be better not to try to do great things.' "'Why, Miss Chatterton,' exclaimed Alexia, recent great disapproval and starting forward in the pretty pink-trimmed basket chair, "'I'm perfectly surprised at you. Nothing can be too good for Polly Pepper. We must get up something perfectly magnificent or else I shall die,' she cried tragically. "'Nothing can be too good for Polly,' repeated Charlotte taking her head out of her hands and looking at Alexia. "'But isn't it better not to try to be too grand and have something simple? Because whatever we do, Polly must always have had things so much nicer. "'In other words, it's better to hit what you aim at than to shoot at the clouds and bring down nothing,' said Clem sententiously. "'Yes, yes, I think so,' cried Kathy, clapping her hands. "'It's awfully vulgar to try to cut a dash. That is, if you can't do it,' she added quickly. "'Don't say awfully,' corrected Alexia, readjusting herself in her pink and white chair. "'Well, I suppose you are right, Ms. Chatterton. You're always right, being, as I said, a person of sense.'" Charlotte gave a short laugh, but with a little bitter edge to it. Why would the girls, who now seem to be so glad to have her in the center of all their plans, persist in calling her Ms. Chatterton? It gave her a chill every time and she fairly hated the name. "'And now, since we are going to follow your advice,' went on Alexia, "'be so good as to tell us a little bit more. Now what shall we do in the way of a simple, appropriate vandango? A perfect idyll of a thing, you know?' "'Well,' said Charlotte quietly, "'you know, in the olden time at Christmas—' "'But this isn't Christmas,' cried Alexia, interrupting with an uneasy gesture. "'Do be still,' cried the other girls, pulling at her, and let Ms. Chatterton finish.' At Christmas, ages ago, when special honor was done to entertain the king wherever he was lodged, went on Charlotte, there was a lord of misrule, who gathered together a company of ladies and gentlemen who rummaged the old castles for grotesque costumes and furballos, and then masked they all came in and marched before the king and danced, oh, everything. We might have minuettes and Highland flings and all the rest, and they did everything the lord of misrule directed, and, "'Charlotte Chatterton, you are a jewel!' cried Alexia, tumbling out of her chair and flying at her, in which example was followed by all the other girls. "'Thank you,' cried Charlotte, with glistening eyes. "'Thank you! I guess we do thank you!' cried Sally more heartily, forgetting us out of this scrape. "'Oh, I don't mean that,' said Charlotte indifferently. "'I mean, because you called me by my first name. The same as you girls always talk to each other.' There was a little pause. "'Oh, we didn't know as you'd like it,' broken Alexia hastily. "'You were so tall, and you never seem in a hurry, nor as if you cared a straw about being like a girl, and we didn't dare. But now—' "'Oh, Charlotte, Charlotte!' and she gave her a hug that well-repaid Charlotte for all the past. "'That's a regular bear hug,' she cried at last, releasing her and taking a long breath, and equaled to a few dozen common everyday ones. "'If Charlotte can breathe after that,' said Clem, turning on Charlotte a pair of glowing eyes, she'll do well. "'We are just as glad to call you Charlotte, aren't we girls?' whirling around on the group as Alexia for all her bear hug. "'Yes, yes,' cried the whole baby. "'Well, now girls,' said Alexia, running over to give Clem a small shake. "'Let's do business. There isn't any time to waste. Charlotte Chatterton, will you tell us the rest of it? And who will be the Lord of Misrule? Dear me, if we only had Joel here!' "'I think Dr. Fisher would be the Lord of Misrule,' said Charlotte. He said he'd do anything we wanted of him to help out. The girls won and all gave a small howl and clapped their hands, crying, "'Capital, capital! Let's go and ask him now!' cried Alexia, who wasn't anything if not energetic. And running to her closet, she picked off her hat from the shelf and tossed it on her head. "'Oh, how slow you are, girls! Do hurry!' as the others flew to the bed where their different headgear had been thrown. "'But it's his office hours,' said Charlotte, hating in her newfound happiness at being one with the girls, to put a damper on their plan. "'Bother, supposing it is,' exclaimed Alexia in front of her pink and white draped mirror, while she ran the long hat-pins through her fluffy hair. "'It's as important to take care of us girls, as if we were a lot of patients. We shall be if we don't get this fixed. Come on, girls!' She seized a lace scarf from some mysterious corner and pranced to the door, shaking her gloves at the group. "'I don't think we ought to go now,' said Charlotte distinctly, not offering to join the merry scramble for the wearing apparel on the bed. "'Charlotte Chatterton!' cried Alexia, thoroughly annoyed. "'Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Don't listen to her girls, but come on!' And she ran out to the head of the stairs. The other girls all stopped short. "'I don't think Polly would like it, and it isn't right,' said Charlotte, hating to preach but standing her ground. At this, Alexia, out in the hall came running back. "'Oh, dear, dear! It's perfectly dreadful to be with such good people. They are now Charlotte. Don't look like that.' Rushing up to the tall girl and standing on tiptoe to drop a kiss on the salad-cheek. "'We won't go. We'll stay at home and be martyrs.' And she began to tear off her hat with a tragic air. "'Why not go to Madame Dice's, and ask her to loan us some of her old brocades and bonnets?' Proposed Kathy Harrison. Suddenly, she's got a perfect lot of horrible antiques. "'The very thing!' cried Alexia at the others coming in in his chorus. Charlotte Chatterton rushed as happily as any of them for her walking things. "'And then Dr. Fisher's office hours may be over, and we may stop there on our way home,' she cried. Dr. Fisher's office hours were not only over, but the little doctor assured one and all of the eager group that precipitated themselves upon him that nothing would give him greater delight than to be a lord of misrule at the celebration to be gotten up for the homecoming. "'And it's a very appropriate way to celebrate, my dears,' he said, beaming at them over his large spectacles, for it will be the coming of the king, king by name as well as nature. And he laughed enjoyably at his own pun. And I'm sure nobody ever did rule his kingdom so well as our grandpapa. So let's have a splendid mummery or masking or whatever you call it, and in my opinion you were very smart to think it up.' Thereupon Alexia pulled Charlotte Chatterton unwillingly into the center of the group that surrounded the little doctor. "'We didn't. It was all Charlotte,' she said. Dr. Fisher took a long look at the pink spot on Charlotte's salad cheek and into her happy eyes. Then he turned and surveyed the bevy. "'We'll have a good time, my dears,' he said. Now, Polly exclaimed old Mr. King, drawing her back an instant before stepping into Farmer Higby's big carry-all, waiting at the station as the train came in. You mustn't even look as if you had any secret on your mind. Oh, come now, that won't do, my dear. Turning her around to study the dancing eyes and rosy cheeks. I can't take you home looking like that. I really can't, my dear.' Polly tried to pull down her face, but with such poor success that the old gentleman sighed in dismay. "'Well, you must be careful to keep away from everybody as much as you can.' He whispered as he helped her into the ancient vehicle. And whatever you do, don't say much to Jasper, or you'll surely let the whole thing out.' And he got him beside her. "'There, drive on, do, Mr. Higby.' "'You'll tell Jasper that he used to go back to Mr. Marlowe?' Polly leaned over and was guilty of whispering behind Farmer Higby's broad back. "'Oh, Grandpa Polly, you won't keep him waiting to know that, will you?' She begged anxiously. "'No, that shall be at once. As soon as I see my boy,' replied the old gentleman. "'But the rest, Polly, how Mr. Marlowe is coming to look in upon us at our own home, and to meet us the very evening we arrive. That's to be kept as dark as possible.' "'Yes, indeed!' cried Polly, getting back into her own corner with a happy little wriggle, all unconscious of Grandpa Polly's conspiracy with Mother Fisher in regard to the homecoming. "'For if I can't have the surprise party I started for,' declared the old gentleman to himself, I'll have a jollification at the other end.' So he had telegraphed to Mrs. Fisher an additional message to his many letters, all on the same subject. "'Have whatever celebration you like and invite whom you like, and let it be gay for the college boys have got leave and they bring a friend.' And at such intervals, when he could take his mind from Jasper and his affairs, it afforded Mr. King infinite delight to tap a certain letter in his breast pocket, that opened, might have revealed in bold characters a great deal of gratitude for his kindness in inviting the writer on with joll, which was gladly accepted, and signed Robert Bingley. "'Where's Jasper?' said Mr. King as he and Polly got out of the carry-all, into the bustle of the farmhouse delight over their return. "'He's gone fishing with fronze,' said Mrs. Cabot. "'We didn't any of us expect you till this afternoon.' "'Goodness me, couldn't they go fishing any other day?' cried the old gentleman, irassably. "'Well, I suppose there's no help for it.' "'Ah, Lockhead, that you?' Extending a cordial hand to the tall figure waiting at the end of the porch till the family greetings were over. Glad to see you.' But Jack Lockhead had no eyes for anybody but Polly's happy face, and he barely touched the extended palm, while he mumbled something about being glad to be there, then awkwardly stood still. Mrs. Cabot, who evidently did not regard him in the friendliest of lights, turned her back upon him, keeping her arm round Polly. "'Pickering is waiting to see you,' she said and trying to draw her off. "'I'll come in a minute,' said Polly, breaking away from her and taking a step toward Jack Lockhead. "'How do you do?' she said, putting out her hand. Jack Lockhead sees it eagerly. "'May I see you, just now?' he asked in a quick low voice. "'I have your mother's permission to tell you something.' "'From Mansy!' cried Polly, her beaming face breaking into fresh smile. "'Yes, indeed, Mr. Lockhead.' "'About myself,' stumbled Jack truthfully. "'But your mother gave me permission to speak to you. Will you go down the lane, Miss Pepper, while I can tell you?' "'So Polly, despite Mrs. Cabot's calls, come Polly!' nodded to Grandpa Pah, who said, "'All right, child, don't be gone long,' and moved off with Jack Lockhead down the lane, fresh with spring blossoms and gay with bird songs.' "'I don't know how,' said Jack Lockhead after a moment's pause, during which Polly had lifted her face to look at him, wonderingly, to tell you, I have never been among ladies, and my mother died when I was fifteen, since that I have been working hard and known no other life. "'You have been so kind to Amy,' he said suddenly, as if there were a refuge in the words. "'Oh, don't put it that way,' cried Polly, full of sympathy. "'Amy is a dear little thing. I am very fond of her.' He turned glad eyes on her. "'Yes, I know. And when you spoke to me and showed me my duty, I—' "'Oh!' cried Polly with cheeks of flame. "'Don't make me think of that time. How could I speak so? And to you, who knows so much more of duty than I could ever imagine. Pray forget it, Mr. Lockhead,' she begged. "'I can't,' said Jack Lockhead gravely, for it was the kindest thing I ever supposed one could say to another, and then I, from that time, loved you, Miss Pepper.' Polly Pepper stopped short in the lane. "'Oh, don't, don't,' she begged and covered her face with her hands. "'I must tell you,' said Jack Lockhead, still gravely and standing quietly to look at her. And I have come to ask you to marry me.' "'Oh!' cried Polly again, not daring to look at him. "'I am so sorry,' she cried. "'I wouldn't hurt you for all the world, Mr. Lockhead.' "'I know it,' he said, waiting for her to finish. "'For—' "'For I do like you so much—' "'So very much,' cried Polly. Wishing the birds wouldn't sing so loud. "'You have taught me so much. Oh, so much I can't tell you, Mr. Lockhead, about being true and noble and—' He waited patiently till she began again. "'But I couldn't marry you. Oh, I couldn't.' Here, Polly forced herself to look at him, but her head went down again at the side of his face. "'You shan't be troubled,' said Jack Lockhead gently. "'I'll take myself out of the way, and make all excuses at the house.' "'Oh, do forgive me,' Polly sprang after him to call. He turned and tried to smile, then walked off, leaving Polly standing in the lane. "'Jasper,' said Mrs. Cabot in great irritation, when Jasper and Franzi wandered into Mrs. Farmer Higby's neat kitchen a half hour later, with torn garments and muddy shoes. They got home while you were away, and that tiresome Mr. Lockhead came a little before them, and he made Polly go to walk with him—actually made her!' Mrs. Cabot leaned her jeweled hands on Mrs. Higby's spotless pine table, and regarded him in great distress. Jasper bent his broad straw hat over the basket of fish a minute. "'Oh!' screamed Franzi, clapping grimy little hands and darting off. "'Have they come?' "'My! What a sight of fish!' exclaimed Mrs. Higby, getting down on her knees before the basket. "'Now I suppose you want some fried for dinner, don't you, Mr. Jasper?' "'Yes,' said Jasper, bringing his gaze off from the fish. "'I think they better be Mrs. Higby.' And he went out of the kitchen without looking at Mrs. Cabot. Up at the head of the stairs, he ran against Jack Lockhead. "'It's all against me, King,' said Jack unsteadily. Jasper lifted heavy eyes that all at once held the lightning gleam. Then he put his good right hand on Jack's shoulder. "'I'm sorry for you,' he said. "'One thing, King,' said Jack gratefully. "'Will you have an eye to my uncle? He won't come with me now, but insists on going with your father, who kindly invited us both to go home with you all. And when he is ready, just telegraph me, and I will meet him at New York.' "'I'll do it gladly,' said Jasper, quite shocked at Jack's appearance. "'Anything more, Lockhead? Do let me help you.' "'Nothing,' said Jack, without looking back. End of chapter 23.