At last Joel took to moping, and Ben found him thus in a corner.

"See here, old fellow, that's a nice way,—to come home on a holiday, and have such a face. I don't wonder you want to sneak in here."

"It's pretty hard," said Joel, trying not to sniffle, "to have a fellow you bring home from school turn his back on you."

"Well, he couldn't turn his back on you," said Ben, wanting very much to laugh, but he restrained himself, "if you went with him."

"I can't follow him about," said Joel, in a loud tone of disgust. "He's twanging his old banjo all the time, and Polly's got him to sing, and he's practising up. I wish 'twas smashed."

"What?" said Ben, only half comprehending.

"Why, his old banjo. I didn't think he'd play it all the time," said Joel, who was secretly very proud of his friend's accomplishments; and he displayed a very injured countenance.

"See here, now, Joe," said Ben, laying a very decided hand on Joel's jacket, "do you just drop all this, and come out of your hole. Aren't you ashamed, Joe! Run along, and find Beresford, and pitch into whatever he's doing."

"I can't do anything for that old concert," said Joel, who obeyed enough to come "out of the old hole," but stood glancing at Ben with sharp black eyes.

"I don't know about that," said Ben, "you can at least help to get the tickets ready."

"Did Polly say so?" demanded Joel, all in a glow. "Say, Ben, did she?" advancing on him.

"No, but I do; for Polly asked me to do them; and you know, Joe, how busy I am all day."

He didn't say "how tired" also, but Joel knew how Ben was working at Cabot and Van Meter's, hoping to get into business life the sooner, to begin to pay Grandpapa back for all his kindness.

"Ben, if I can help you with those tickets I'll do it." Every trace of Joel's grumpiness had flown to the four winds. "Let me, will you?" he begged eagerly.

"All right." Ben had no need to haul him along, as Joel raced on ahead up to Ben's room to get the paraphernalia.

"I can't think what's become of Joel," said Polly, flying down the long hall in great perplexity, "we want him dreadfully. Have you seen him, Phronsie?"

"No," said Phronsie, "I haven't, Polly," and a look of distress came into her face.

"Never mind, Pet," said Polly, her brow clearing, "I'll find him soon."

But Phronsie watched Polly fly off, with a troubled face. Then she said to herself, "I ought to find Joey for Polly," and started on a tour of investigation to suit herself.

Meanwhile Ben was giving Joel instructions about the tickets; and Joel presently was so absorbed he wouldn't have cared if all the Tom Beresfords in the world had deserted him, as he bent over his task, quite elated that he was helping Polly, and becoming one of the assistants to make the affair a success.

"I guess it's going to be a great thing, Ben," he said, looking up a moment from the pink and yellow pasteboard out of which he was cutting the tickets.

"You better believe so," nodded Ben, hugely delighted to see Joe's good spirits, when the door opened, and in popped Phronsie's yellow head.

She ran up to Joel. "Oh Joey!" she hummed delightedly, "I've found you," and threw herself into his arms.

Joel turned sharply, knife in hand. It was all done in an instant. Phronsie exclaimed, "Oh!" in such a tone that Ben, off in the corner of the room, whirled around, to see Joel, white as a sheet, holding Phronsie. "I've killed her," he screamed.

Ben sprang to them. The knife lay on the table, where Joel had thrown it, a little red tinge along the tip. Ben couldn't help seeing it as he dashed by, with a groan.

"Give her to me," he commanded hoarsely.

"No, no—I'll hold her," persisted Joel, through white lips, and hanging to Phronsie.

"Give her to me, and run down for Father Fisher."

"It doesn't hurt much, Joey," said Phronsie, holding up her little arm. A small stream of blood was flowing down, and she turned away her head.

Joel took one look, and fled with wild eyes. "I don't believe it's very bad," Ben made himself call after him hoarsely. "Now, Phronsie, you'll sit in my lap—there; and I'll keep this old cut together as well as I can. We must hold your arm up, so, child." Ben made himself talk as fast as he could to keep Phronsie's eyes on him.

"I got cut in the little brown house once, didn't I, Bensie?" said Phronsie, and trying to creep up further into Ben's lap.

"You must sit straight, child," said Ben. Oh, would Father Fisher and Mamsie ever come! for the blood, despite all his efforts, was running down the little arm pretty fast.

"Why, Ben?" asked Phronsie, with wide eyes, and wishing that her arm wouldn't ache so, for now quite a smart pain had set in. "Why, Bensie?" and thinking if she could be cuddled, it wouldn't be quite so bad.

"Why, we must hold your arm up stiff," said Ben, just as Mamsie came up to her baby, and took her in her arms; and then Phronsie didn't care whether the ache was there or not.

"Joe couldn't help it," said Ben brokenly.

"I believe that," Mother Fisher said firmly. "Oh Ben, the doctor is away."

Ben started. "I'll go down to the office; perhaps he's there."

"No; there's no chance. I've sent for Dr. Pennell. Your father likes him. Now Phronsie"—Mrs. Fisher set her white lips together tightly—"you and I and Ben will see to this arm of yours. Ben, get one of your big handkerchiefs."

"It doesn't ache so very much, Mamsie," said Phronsie, "only I would like to lay it down."

"And that is just what we can't do, Phronsie," said Mother Fisher decidedly. "All right," to Ben, "now tear it into strips."

Old Mr. King was not in the library when Joel had rushed down with his dreadful news, but was in Jasper's den, consulting with him and Polly about the program for the entertainment, as Polly and Jasper, much to the old gentleman's delight, never took a step without going to him for advice. The consequence was that these three did not hear of the accident till a little later, when the two Whitney boys dashed in with pale faces, "Phronsie's hurt," was their announcement, which wouldn't have been given so abruptly had not each one been so anxious to get ahead of the other.

Old Mr. King, not comprehending, had turned sharply in his chair to stare at them.

"Hush, boys," warned Polly, hoarsely pointing to him; "is Mamsie with her?" She didn't dare to speak Phronsie's name.

"Yes," said Van, eager to communicate all the news, and hoping Percy would not cut in. But Percy, after Polly's warning, had stood quite still, afraid to open his mouth.

Jasper was hunting in one of his drawers for an old book his father had wished to see. So of course he hadn't heard a word.

"Here it is, father," he cried, rushing back and whirling the leaves—"why, what?" for he saw Polly's face.

"Oh Jasper—don't," said Polly brokenly.

"Why do you boys rush in, in this manner?" demanded old Mr. King testily. "And, Polly, child, what is the matter?"

"Grandpapa," cried Polly, rushing over to him to put her arms around his neck, "Phronsie is hurt someway. I don't believe it is much," she gasped, while Jasper ran to his other side.

"Phronsie hurt!" cried old Mr. King in sharp distress. "Where is she?"

Then Percy, seeing it was considered time for communication of news, struck in boldly; and between the two, all that was known of Joel's wild exclamations was put before them. All this was told along the hall and going over the stairs; for Grandpapa, holding Polly's hand, with Jasper hurrying fast behind them, was making good time up to Ben's room.

"And Dr. Fisher can't be found," shouted Van, afraid that the whole would not be told. Polly gave a shiver that all her self-control could not help.

"But Joel's gone for Dr. Pennell," screamed Percy; "Mrs. Fisher sent him."

"He's very good," said Jasper comfortingly. So this is the way they came into Ben's room.

"Oh, here's Grandpapa!" cooed Phronsie, trying to get down from Mamsie's lap.

"Oh, no, Phronsie," said Mrs. Fisher, "you must sit still; it's better for your arm."

"But Grandpapa looks sick," said Phronsie.

"Bless me—oh, you poor lamb, you!" Old Mr. King went unsteadily across the room, and knelt down by her side.

"Grandpapa," said Phronsie, stroking his white face, "see, it's all tied up high."

"Sit still, Phronsie," said Mrs. Fisher, keeping her fingers on the cut. Would the doctor ever come? Besides Joel, Thomas and several more messengers were despatched with orders for Dr. Pennell and to find Dr. Fisher, with the names of other doctors if these failed. God would send some one of them soon, she knew.

Phronsie obediently sat quite still, although she longed to show Grandpapa the white bandages drawn tightly around her arm. And she smoothed his hair, while he clasped his hands in her lap.

"I want Polly," she said presently.

"Stay where you are, Polly," said her mother, who had telegraphed this before with her eyes, over Phronsie's yellow hair.

Polly, at the sound of Phronsie's voice, had leaned forward, but now stood quite still, clasping her hands tightly together.

"Speak to her, Polly," said Jasper.

But Polly shook her head, unable to utter a sound.

"Polly, you must," said Jasper, for Phronsie was trying to turn in her mother's lap, and saying in a worried way, "Where's Polly? I want Polly."

"Polly is over there," said Mamsie, "but I do not think it's best for her to come now. But she'll speak to you, Phronsie."

"How funny!" laughed Phronsie. "Polly can't come, but she'll talk across the room."

Everything turned black before Polly's eyes; but she began, "Yes, Pet, I'm here," very bravely.

"I am so glad you are there, Polly," said Phronsie, easily satisfied.

Footsteps rapid and light were heard on the stairs. Polly and Jasper flew away from the doorway to let Dr. Pennell, his little case in his hand, come in.

"Well, well!" he exclaimed cheerily, "so now it's Phronsie; I'm coming to her this time," for he had often dropped in to call or to dine since the railway accident.

"Yes," said Phronsie, with a little laugh of delight, for she very much liked Dr. Pennell. He always took her on his lap, and told her stories; and he had a way of tucking certain little articles in his pockets to have her hunt for them. So they had gotten on amazingly well.

"Why, where—" Phronsie began in a puzzled way.

"Is Dr. Fisher?" Dr. Pennell finished it for her, rapidly going on with his work. "Well, he'll be here soon, I think. And you know he always likes me to do things when he isn't on hand. So I've come."

"And I like you very much," said Phronsie, wriggling her toes in satisfaction.

"I know that; we are famous friends, Phronsie," said the doctor, with one of those pleasant smiles of his that showed his white teeth.

"What's famous?" asked Phronsie, keeping her grave eyes on his face.

"Oh, fine; it means first-rate. We are fine friends, aren't we, Phronsie?"

"Yes, we are," declared Phronsie, bending forward to see his work the better, and taking her eyes from his face.

"There, there, you must sit quite straight. That's a nice child, Phronsie. And see here! I must take you sometime in my carriage when I go on my calls. Will you go, Phronsie?" and Dr. Pennell smiled again.

"Yes, I will." Phronsie nodded her yellow head, while she fastened her eyes on his face. "I used to go with Papa Fisher when I was at the little brown house, and I liked it; I did."

"Well, and now you will go with me," laughed Dr. Pennell. "Now, Phronsie, I think you are fixed up quite nicely," slipping the various articles he had used, deftly into his little bag, and snapping it to.

"Not a very bad affair," he said, whirling around to old Mr. King, drawn deeply within a big chair, having already telegraphed the same to Mother Fisher over Phronsie's head.

"Thank the Lord!" exclaimed the old gentleman.

"Well, now I'm going to send every one out of the room," announced Dr. Pennell, authoritatively. "Hurry now!" he clapped his hands and laughed.

Old Mr. King sat quite still, fully determined not to obey. But the doctor, looking over him fixedly, seemed to expect him to leave; and although he still had that pleasant smile, he didn't exactly give the impression that his medical authority could be tampered with. So the old gentleman found himself outside the door.

"And now, we must find Joel," Polly was saying to Jasper.



XVIII TOM'S STORY

Joel had no cause to complain now that Tom Beresford did not stick to him, for there he was hanging over him as he crouched into as small a heap as possible into a corner of Mamsie's sofa.

And there he had been ever since Joel had rushed in with Dr. Pennell; when, not daring to trust himself up in Ben's room, he had dashed for refuge to Mamsie's old sofa.

Tom had not wasted many words, feeling sure under similar circumstances he shouldn't like to be talked to; but he had occasionally patted Joel's stubby head in a way not to be misunderstood, and once in a while Joel thrust out a brown hand which Tom had gripped fast.

"It's all right, old boy, I verily believe," Tom cried with sudden energy, "so brace up; what's the use of your going to pieces, anyway?"

"It's Phronsie," gasped Joel, and burrowing deeper into the cushion.

"Well, I know it," said Tom, gulping down his sorrow, for he had petted Phronsie a good deal; so he was feeling the blow quite sharply himself, "but you won't help matters along any, I tell you, by collapsing."

"Go out into the hall, will you, Tom," begged Joel, huddling down, unwilling to listen himself, "and see if you can hear anything."

So Tom skipping out into the wide upper hall, thankful for any action, but dreading the errand, stole to the foot of the stairs, and craned his ear to catch the faintest sound from above.

There was only a little murmur, for Dr. Pennell was in the midst of operations, and not enough to report. Thankful that it was no worse, Tom skipped back. "All's quiet along the Potomac."

"Ugh!" exclaimed Joel, burrowing deeper. Suddenly he threw himself up straight and regarded Tom out of flashing eyes. "I've killed Phronsie," he cried huskily, "and you know it, and won't tell me!"

"Joel Pepper!" cried Tom, frightened half out of his wits, and rushing to him; "lie down again," laying a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I won't," roared Joel wildly, and shaking him off. "You're keeping something from me, Tom."

"You're an idiot," declared Tom, thinking it quite time to be high-handed, "a first-class, howling idiot, Pepper, to act so. If you don't believe me, when I say I haven't anything to keep back from you, I'll go straight upstairs. Some one will tell me."

"Hurry along," cried Joel feverishly. But Tom had gotten no further than the hall, when Joel howled, "Come back, Tom, I'll try—to—to bear it." And Tom flying back, Joel was buried as far as his face went, in Mamsie's cushion, sobbing as if his heart would break.

"It will disturb—them," he said gustily, in between his sobs.

Tom Beresford let him cry on, and thrust his hands in his pockets, to stalk up and down the room. He longed to whistle, to give vent to his feelings; but concluding that wouldn't be understood, but be considered heartless, he held himself in check, and counted the slow minutes, for this was deadly tiresome, and beginning to get on his nerves. "I shall screech myself before long, I'm afraid."

At last Joel rolled over. "Come here, do, Tom," and when Tom got there, glad enough to be of use, Joel pulled him down beside the sofa, and gripped him as only Joel could. "Do you mind, Tom? I want to hang on to something."

"No, indeed," said Tom heartily, vastly pleased, although he was nearly choked. "Now you're behaving better." He patted him on the back. "Hark, Joe! The doctor's laughing!"

They could hear it distinctly now, and as long as he lived, Joel thought, he never heard a sweeter sound. He sprang to his feet, upsetting Tom, who rolled over on his back to the floor.

Just then in rushed Polly and Jasper, surrounding him, and in a minute, "Oh, is Tom sick?"

"No," said Tom, picking himself up grimly, "only Joe's floored me, he was so glad to hear the doctor laugh."

"Oh, you poor, poor boy!" Polly was mothering Joel now, just as Mamsie would have done; and Tom looking on with all his eyes, as he thought of his own home, with neither mother nor sister, didn't hear Jasper at first. So Jasper pulled his arm.

"See here, Beresford, you and I will go down to the library, I think."

"All right," said Tom, allowing himself to be led off, though he would much have preferred remaining.

"Now, Joel," said Polly, after they had gone, and the petting had continued for some minutes, "you must just be a brave boy, and please Mamsie, and stop crying," for Joel had been unable to stop the tears.

"I—I—didn't—see—Phronsie coming," wailed Joel afresh.

"Of course you didn't," said Polly, stroking his black curls. "Why, Joey Pepper, did you think for an instant that any one blamed you?" She leaned over and set some kisses, not disturbing Joel that some of them fell on his stubby nose.

"N-no," said Joel, through the rain of drops down his cheeks, "but it was Phronsie, Polly." It was no use to try to check him yet, for the boy's heart was almost broken, and so Polly let him cry on. But she bestowed little reassuring pats on his shaking shoulders, all the while saying the most comforting things she could think of.

"And just think, Joey," she cried suddenly, "you were the one who found Dr. Pennell. Oh, I should think you'd be so glad!"

"I am glad," said Joel, beginning to feel a ray of comfort.

"And how quickly you brought him, Joe!" said Polly, delighted at the effect of her last remark.

"Did I?" said Joel in a surprised way, and roused out of his crying; "I thought it was ever so long, Polly."

"I don't see how you ever did it, Joel, in all this world," declared Polly positively.

Joel didn't say that it was because he was a sprinter at school, he found himself equal to the job; nor did he think it of enough importance to mention how many people he had run into, leaving a great amount of vexation in his rear as he sped on.

"He was just going out of his door," he announced simply.

"Oh Joey!" gasped Polly. Then she hugged him rapturously. "But you caught him."

"Yes, I caught him, and we jumped into his carriage; and that's all."

"But it was something to be always proud of," cried Polly, in a transport.

Joel, feeling very glad that there was something to be proud of at all in this evening's transactions, sat up quite straight at this, and wiped his eyes.

"Now that's a good boy," said Polly encouragingly. "Mamsie will be very glad." And she ran over to get a towel, dip it in the water basin, and bring it back.

"Oh, that feels so good!" said Joel, with a wintry smile, as she sopped his red eyelids and poor, swollen nose.

"So it must," said Polly pitifully, "and I'm going to bring the basin here, and do it some more." Which she did; so that by the time Phronsie was brought downstairs to sleep in Mrs. Fisher's room, Joel was quite presentable.

"Here they come!" announced Polly radiantly, hearing the noise on the stairs, and running back to set the basin and towel in their places. "Now, Joey, you can see for yourself that Phronsie is all right."

And there she was, perched on Dr. Pennell's shoulder, to be sure, and Mamsie hurrying in to her boy, and everything was just as beautiful as it could be!

"See, Joel, I'm all fixed up nice," laughed Phronsie from her perch.



Joel's mouth worked dreadfully, but he saw Mamsie's eyes, so he piped up bravely, "I'm so glad, Phronsie." It sounded very funnily, for it died away in his throat, and he couldn't have said another word possibly; but Phronsie was sleepy, and didn't notice. And then the doctor said they must go out; so with a last glance at Phronsie, to be sure that she was all right, Joel went off, Polly holding his hand.

The next evening they were all drawn up before the library fire; Polly on the big rug with Joel's head in her lap, his eyes fixed on Phronsie, who was ensconced in an easy-chair, close to which Grandpapa was sitting.

"Tell stories, do, Polly," begged Van.

"Yes, do, Polly," said little Dick, who had spent most of the day in trying to get near to Phronsie, keeping other people very much occupied in driving him off, as she had to be very quiet. "Do, Polly," he begged.

"Oh, Polly's tired," said Jasper, knowing that she had been with Phronsie all her spare time, and looking at the brown eyes which were drooping a bit in the firelight.

"Oh, no, I will," said Polly, rousing herself, and feeling that she ought not to be tired, when Phronsie was getting well so fast, and everything was so beautiful. "I'll tell you one. Let me see, what shall it be about?" and she leant her head in her hands to think a bit.

"Let her off," said Jasper; "do, boys. I'll tell you one instead," he said.

"No, we don't want yours," said Van, not very politely. "We want Polly's."

"For shame, Van!" said Percy, who dearly loved to reprove his brother, and never allowed the occasion to slip when he could do so.

"For shame yourself!" retorted Van, flinging himself down on the rug. "You're everlastingly teasing Polly to do things when she's tired to death. So there, Percy Whitney."

"Oh, I'll tell the story," Polly said, hastily bringing her brown head up, while Phronsie began to look troubled.

"I'd like to tell a story," said Tom Beresford slowly, where he sat just back of the big rug.

All the young folks turned to regard him, and Van was just going to say, "Oh, we don't want yours, Tom," when Polly leaned forward, "Oh, will you—will you, Tom?" so eagerly that Van hadn't the heart to object.

"Yes, I will," promised Tom, nodding at her.

"Well, get down on the rug, then," said Jasper, moving up; "the story-teller always has to have a place of honor here."

"That so?" cried Tom; "well, here goes," and he precipitated himself at once into the midst of things.

"Ow! get out," cried Van crossly, and giving him a push.

"Oh Vanny!" said Polly reprovingly.

"Well, he's so big and long," grumbled Van, who didn't fancy anybody coming between him and Polly.

"I might cut off a piece of my legs," said Tom, "to oblige you, I suppose. They are rather lengthy, and that's a fact," regarding them as they stretched out in the firelight. "I'll curl 'em up in a twist like a Turk," which he did.

"Well, now," said Jasper, "we are ready. So fire ahead, Beresford."

Joel, who all this time had been regarding his friend curiously, having never heard him tell a story at Dr. Marks' school, couldn't keep his eyes from him, but regarded him with a fixed stare, which Tom was careful to avoid, by looking steadily into the fire.

"Well, now, I'm not fine at expressing myself," he began.

"I should think not," put in Joel uncomplimentarily.

"Joe, you beggar, hush up!" said Jasper, with a warning pinch.

"Yes, just sit on that individual, will you, Jasper?" said Tom, over his shoulder, "or I never will even begin."

So, Jasper promising to quench all further disturbance on Joel's part, the story was taken up.

"I can only tell a plain, unvarnished tale," said Tom, "but it's one that ought to be told, and in this very spot. Perhaps you don't any of you know, that in Dr. Marks' school it's awfully hard to be good."

"Is it any harder than in any other school, Tom?" asked Mrs. Fisher quietly.

Tom turned, to reply: "I don't know, Mrs. Fisher, because I haven't been at any other school. But I can't imagine a place where everything is made so hard for a boy. To begin with, there is old Fox."

"Oh Tom!" exclaimed Phronsie, leaning forward, whereat old Mr. King laid a warning hand upon the well arm. "There, there, Phronsie; sit back, child;" so she obeyed. "But, Grandpapa, he said there was an old fox at Joey's school," she declared, dreadfully excited, and lifting her face to his.

"Well, and so she is, Phronsie," declared Tom, whirling his long body suddenly around, thereby receiving a dig in the back from Van, who considered him intruding on his space, "a fox by name, and a fox by nature; but we'll call her, for convenience, a person."

"She's the matron," said Percy, feeling called upon to explain.

"Oh!" said Phronsie, drawing a long breath, "but I thought Tom said she was a fox, Grandpapa."

"That's her name," said Tom, nodding at her; "Jemima Fox—isn't that a sweet name, Phronsie?"

"I don't think it is a very sweet one, Tom," said Phronsie, feeling quite badly to be obliged to say so.

"I agree with you," said Tom, while the others all laughed. "Well, Phronsie, she's just as far from being nice as her name is."

"Oh dear me!" exclaimed Phronsie, looking quite grieved.

"But I have something nice to tell you," said Tom quickly, "so I'll hurry on, and let the other personages at Dr. Marks' slide. Well,—but I want you all to understand, though"—and he wrinkled up his brows,—"that when a fellow does real, bang-up, fine things at that school, it means something. You will, won't you?" He included them all now in a sweeping glance, letting his blue eyes rest the longest on Mrs. Fisher's face; while Phronsie broke in, "What's bang-up, Grandpapa?"

"You must ask Tom," replied Grandpapa, with a little laugh.

"Oh, that's just schoolboy lingo," Tom made haste to say, as his face got red.

"What's lingo?" asked Phronsie, more puzzled than before.

"That's—that's—oh, dear!" Tom's face rivalled the firelight by this time, for color.

"Phronsie, I wouldn't ask any more questions now," said Polly gently. "Boys say so many things; and it isn't necessary to know now. Let's listen to the story."

"I will," said Phronsie, feeling quite relieved that it wasn't really incumbent on her to ask for explanations. So she sat back quietly in her big chair, while Tom shot Polly a grateful look.

"Well, there are lots of chaps at our school," went on Tom—"I suppose there are at all schools, but at any rate we have them in a big quantity,—who are mad when they see the other boys get on."

"Oh, Tom!" exclaimed Polly.

"Yes, they are—mad clear through," declared Tom positively. "And it's principally in athletics." Phronsie made a little movement at this word, but, remembering that she was not to ask questions, for Polly had said so, she became quiet again.

"They simply can't bear that a boy gets ahead of 'em; it just knocks 'em all up." Tom was rushing on, with head thrown back and gazing into the fire.

"Tom," said Joel, bounding up suddenly to take his head out of Polly's lap, and to sit quite straight, "I wouldn't run on like this if I were you."

"You hush up, Pepper," said Tom coolly. "I haven't said a word about you. I shall say what I like. I tell you, it does just knock 'em all up. I know, for I've been that way myself."

This was getting on such dangerous ground, that Joel opened his mouth to remonstrate, but Polly put her hand over it. "I'd let Tom tell his story just as he wants to," which had the effect of smothering Joel's speech for the time being.

"I thought, Jasper, you were going to quench Joe," observed Tom, who seemed to have the power to see out of the back of his head, and now was conscious of the disturbance. "You don't seem to be much good."

"Oh, Polly's doing it this time," said Jasper; "I'll take him in tow on the next offence."

"Yes, I have," declared Tom, "been that way myself. I'm going to tell you how, and then I'll feel better about it." His ruddy face turned quite pale now, and his eyes shone.

"Stop him," howled Joel, all restraint thrown to the winds, and shaking off Polly's fingers.

Jasper leaned forward. "I'm bound to make you keep the peace, Joe," he said, shaking his arm.

"But he's going to tell about things he ought not to," cried Joel, in an agony. "Do stop him, Jasper."

Mother Fisher leaned forward, and fastened her black eyes on Joel's face. "I think Tom better go on, Joel," she said. "I want to hear it."

That settled the matter; and Joel threw himself down, his face buried in Polly's lap, while he stuck his fingers in his ears.

"I'm going to tell you all this story," Tom was saying, "because I ought to. You won't like me very well after it, but it's got to come out. Well, I might as well mention names now, since Joe has got to keep still. You can't guess how he's been tormented by some of those cads, simply because he's our best tennis player, and on the football team. They've made things hum for him!" Tom threw back his head, and clenched his fist where it lay in his lap. "And the rest of us boys got mad, especially at one of them. He was the ringleader, and the biggest cad and bully of them all."

No one said a word.

"I hate to mention names; it seems awfully mean." Tom's face got fiery red again. "And yet, as you all know, why, it can't be helped. Jenkins—well there, a fellow would want to be excused from speaking to him. And yet"—down fell Tom's head shamefacedly—"I let him show me how he was going to play a dastardly trick on Joe, the very day of the tennis tournament. I did, that's a fact."

No one spoke; but Tom could feel what might have been said had the thoughts all been expressed, and he burst out desperately, "I let that cad take Joe's racket."

A general rustle, as if some speech were coming, made him forestall it by plunging on, "His beautiful racket he'd been practising with for this tournament; and I not only didn't knock the scoundrel down, but I helped the thing along. I wouldn't have supposed I could do it. Joe was to play with Ricketson against Green and me; and two minutes after it was done, I'd have given everything to have had it back on Joe's table. But the boys were pouring up, and it was hidden."

Tom could get no further, but hung his head for the reaction sure to set in against him by all this household that had welcomed and entertained him so handsomely.

"Has he got through? has the beggar finished?" cried Joel lustily.

"Yes," said Polly, in a low voice, "I think he has, Joel."

"Then I want to say"—Joel threw himself over by Tom, his arms around him—"that he's the biggest fraud to spring such a trap on me, and plan to get off that yarn here."

"I didn't intend to when I came," said Tom, thinking it necessary to tell the whole truth. "I hadn't the courage."

"Pity you had now!" retorted Joel. "Oh, you beggar!" He laid his round cheek against Tom's. "Mamsie, Grandpapa, Polly," his black eyes sweeping the circle, "if I were to tell you all that this chap has done for me,—why, he took me to the place where Jenk hid the racket."

"Pshaw! that was nothing," said Tom curtly.

"Nothing? Well, I got it in time for the tournament. You saw to that. And when Jenk and I were having it out in the pine grove that night, Tom thought he better tell Dave; though I can't say I thank you for that," brought up Joel regretfully, "for I was getting the best of Jenk."

Old Mr. King had held himself well in check up to this point. "How did you know, Tom, my boy, that Joel and er—this—"

"Jenk," furnished Joel.

"Yes—er—Jenk, were going to settle it that night?"

"Why, you see, sir," Tom, in memory of the excitement and pride over Joel's prowess, so far recovered himself as to turn to answer, "Joel couldn't very well finish it there, for the dormitory got too hot for that sort of thing; although it would have been rare good sport for all the fellows to have seen Jenk flat, for he was always beating other chaps—I mean little ones, not half his size."

"Oh dear me!" breathed Polly indignantly.

"Yes; well, Joe promised Jenk he would finish it some other time; and Jenk dared him, and taunted him after the tournament. He was wild with rage because Joel won; and he lost his head, or he would have let Joe alone."

"I see," exclaimed Grandpapa, his eyes shining. "Well, and so you sat up and watched the affair."

"I couldn't go to bed, you know," said Tom simply.

"And he would have saved us, Dave and me, if that Jenk hadn't locked the door on us when he slipped in."

"Cad!" exclaimed Tom, between his teeth. "He ought to have been expelled for that. And then Joe shinned up the conductor—and you know the rest."

Mother Fisher shivered, and leaned over involuntarily toward her boy.

"Mamsie," exclaimed Joel, "you don't know what Tom is to me, in that school. He's just royal—that's what he is!" with a resounding slap on his back.

"And I say so too," declared Mother Fisher, with shining eyes.

"What?" roared Tom, whirling around so suddenly that Van this time got out of the way only by rolling entirely off from the rug. "Mrs. Fisher—you can't, after I've told you this, although I'm no-end sorry about the racket. I didn't want to tell,—fought against it, but I had to."

"I stand by what I've said, Tom," said Mrs. Fisher, putting out her hand, when Tom immediately laid his big brown one within it. At this, Joel howled with delight, which he was unable to express enough to meet his wishes; so he plunged off to the middle of the library floor, and turned a brace of somersaults, coming up red and shining.

"I feel better now," he said; "that's the way I used to do in the little brown house when I liked things."



XIX THE GRAND ENTERTAINMENT

"Ought we to, Mamsie?" asked Polly. Jasper and she were in Mrs. Fisher's room, and they both waited for the reply anxiously.

"Yes, Polly, I think you ought," said Mother Fisher.

"Oh dear me! Phronsie can't have only a little bit of it," said Polly.

"I know it. But think, Polly, the boys have to go back to school so soon that even if other people didn't care if it were postponed, they would lose it. Besides, Tom is to be one of the chief people on the program. No, no, Polly, there are others to think of outside of ourselves. You must have your entertainment just as it is planned," Mrs. Fisher brought up very decidedly.

"Well," sighed Polly, "I am glad that Papa Fisher says that Phronsie can hear a little part of it, anyway."

"Yes," said her mother cheerfully, "and Helen Fargo is to sit next to her. Mrs. Fargo is to take her home early, as she has not been very well. So you see, Polly, it will all turn out very good after all."

"But I did so want Phronsie to be there through the whole," mourned Polly.

"So did I," echoed Jasper. Then he caught Mother Fisher's eye. "But, Polly, the boys would lose it then," he added quickly.

"Oh!" cried Polly, "so they would; I keep forgetting that. Dear me! why isn't everything just right, so that they all could hear it?" And she gave a little flounce.

"Everything is just right, Polly," said Mrs. Fisher gravely; "don't let me hear you complain of things that no one can help."

"I didn't mean to complain, Mamsie," said Polly humbly; and she crept up to her, while Jasper looked very much distressed.

"Mother knows you didn't," said Mrs. Fisher, putting her arm around her, "but it's a bad habit, Polly, to be impatient when things don't go rightly. Now run away, both of you," she finished brightly, "and work up your program," and she set a kiss on Polly's rosy cheek.

"Jasper," cried Polly, with happiness once more in her heart as they raced off, "I tell you what we can do. We must change the program, and put those things that Phronsie likes, up first."

"That's so," cried Jasper, well pleased. "Now, what will they be, Polly?"

"Why, Mr. Dyce's story of the dog," said Polly, "for one thing; Phronsie thinks that's perfectly lovely, and always asks him for it when he tells her stories."

"All right," said Jasper. "What next?"

"Why, Tom must sing one of his funny songs."

"Yes, of course. That will please her ever so much," cried Jasper. "Don't you know how she claps her hands when he's rehearsing, Polly?"

"Yes; oh, I wouldn't have her miss that for anything, Jasper," said Polly.

"No, indeed," cried Jasper heartily. "Well, Polly, then what ought to come next? Let's come into the den and fix it up now."

So they ran into the den; and Jasper got out the long program all ready to be pinned up beside the improvised stage, on the evening of the great event, and spread it on the table, Polly meanwhile clearing off the books.

"Let's see." He wrinkled up his brow, running his finger down the whole length. "Now, when I make the new program, Mr. Dyce goes first."

Polly stood quite still at that. "Oh, Jasper, we can't do it—no, never in all this world."

"Why, Polly,"—he turned suddenly—"yes, we can just as easily. See, Polly."

"We can't spoil that lovely program that took you so long to make, for anything," said Polly, in a decisive fashion. "Phronsie wouldn't want it," she added.

"Phronsie isn't to know anything about it," said Jasper, just as decidedly.

"Well, but Jasper, you can't make another; you haven't the time," said Polly in great distress, and wishing she hadn't said anything about the changes. "I didn't think there would have to be a new program made."

"Oh, Polly, I think we'd better have a new one," said Jasper, who was very particular about everything.

"I thought we were going to have changes announced from the stage," said Polly. "Oh, why can't we, Jasper? I'm sure they do that very often."

"Well, that's when the changes come at the last moment," said Jasper reluctantly.

"Well, I'm sure this is the last moment," said Polly. "The entertainment is to-morrow night, and we've ever so much to do yet. Please, Jasper." That "please, Jasper," won the day.

"All right, Polly," he said. "Well, now let's see what ought to come after Tom's song."

"Well, Phronsie is very anxious to hear Pickering's piece; I know, because I heard her tell Mamsie so."

"Why, she has heard Pick recite that ever so many times since he learned it for our school exhibition," said Jasper.

"And don't you know that's just the very reason why she wants it again?" said Polly, with a little laugh.

"Yes, of course," said Jasper, laughing too. "Well, she must have it then. So down goes Pick." He ran to the table drawer and drew out a big sheet of paper. "First, Mr. Dyce, then Tom Beresford, then Pickering Dodge," writing fast.

"And then," said Polly, running up to look over his shoulder, "Phronsie wants dreadfully to hear Tom play on his banjo."

"Oh, Polly,"—Jasper threw back his head to look at her—"I don't believe there'll be time for all that; you know the music by Miss Taylor comes first as an overture. We can't change that."

"Why," exclaimed Polly in dismay, "we must, Jasper, get Tom's banjo in; and there's Percy's piece. Phronsie wouldn't miss that for anything."

"Why, we shall have the whole program in if we keep on," said Jasper, looking at her in dismay.

"Oh, Jasper, Papa Fisher says that Phronsie may stay in twenty minutes. Just think; we can do a lot in twenty minutes."

"But somebody is bound to be late, so we can't begin on time. Nobody ever does, Polly."

"We must," said Polly passionately, "begin on time to-morrow night, Jasper."

"We'll try," said Jasper, as cheerfully as he could manage.

"And there's your piece. Why, Jasper, Phronsie told me herself that she must hear yours."

"Well, and so she told me that she'd rather hear you play your piece," said Jasper; "but you and I, Polly, as long as we change the program, can't come in among the first."

"No, of course not," said Polly. "But, oh, Jasper," and she gave a sigh, "it's too bad that you can't recite yours, for it is most beautiful!" Polly clasped her hands and sighed again.

"Well, that's not to be thought of," said Jasper. "Now I tell you how we'll fix it, Polly," he said quickly.

"How?" asked Polly gloomily.

"Why, we have twenty minutes that Phronsie can stay in. Now, let's mark off all those things that she wants, except yours and mine, even if they come beyond the time; and then we'll draw just those that will get into the twenty minutes."

"Oh, Jasper, what a fine idea!" exclaimed Polly, all her enthusiasm returning.

"Well, mark off half of 'em, and I'll write the others," said Jasper, tearing off strips from his big sheet of paper. So Polly and he fell to work; and presently "Pick," and "Tom" ("that's for the song," said Polly), and "Banjo," and "Mr. Dyce," and "Percy," went down on the little strips.

"Oh, and I forgot," said Polly, raising her head from her last strip, "Phronsie wanted to hear Clare very much indeed."



"Well, we should have had the whole program with a vengeance," said Jasper, bursting into a laugh. "Well, put him down, Polly."

So "Clare" went down on another strip, and then they were all jumbled up in a little Chinese bowl on the bookcase.

"Now, you draw first, Polly," said Jasper.

"Oh, no, let us choose for first draw," said Polly; "that's the way to be absolutely right."

So she ran back to the table and tore off two more strips, one short and the other long, and fixed them in between her hands.

"You didn't see?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Not a wink," said Jasper, laughing.

So Polly ran back, and Jasper drew the short one. "There; you have it, Polly!" he cried gleefully. "Oh, that's good!"

"Oh, I do hope I shall draw the right one, Jasper," she said, standing on tiptoe, her fingers trembling over the bowl.

"They are all of them good," said Jasper encouragingly. So Polly suddenly picked out one; and together they read, "Tom."

"Fine!" they shouted.

"Oh, isn't that perfectly splendid?" cried Polly, "because, you see, Phronsie did so very much wish to hear Tom sing," just as if she hadn't mentioned that fact before. "Now, Jasper."

"I'm in much the same predicament as you were," said Jasper, pausing, his hand over the bowl. "If I shouldn't choose the right one, Polly!"

"They are all of them good," said Polly, laughing at his face.

"Oh, I know, but it is a fearful responsibility," said Jasper, wrinkling his brows worse yet. "Well, here goes!"

He plunged his fingers in, and out they came with the strip, "Percy."

"Now, Jasper, you couldn't possibly have chosen better," declared Polly, hopping up and down, "for Phronsie did so want to hear Percy speak. And it will please Percy so. Oh, I'm so glad!"

"Well, I'm thankful I haven't to draw again," declared Jasper, "for we can't have but three pieces beside the overture, you know. So it's your turn now, Polly."

"Oh dear me!" exclaimed Polly, the color dying down in her cheek, "if I shouldn't draw the right one, Jasper King; and it's the last chance."

She stood so long with her hand poised over the Chinese bowl, that Jasper finally laughed out. "Oh, Polly, aren't your tiptoes tired?"

"Not half so tired as I am," said Polly grimly. "Jasper, I'm going to run across the room, and then run back and draw suddenly without stopping to think."

"Do," cried Jasper.

So Polly ran into the further corner, and came flying up, to get on her tiptoes, thrust in her fingers, and bring out the third and last strip.

"The deed is done!" exclaimed Jasper. "Now, Polly, let's see who it is."

"Pick!" he shouted.

And "Pickering!" screamed Polly. And they took hold of hands and spun round and round the den.

"Oh, dear, we're knocking off your beautiful program," cried Polly, pausing in dismay.

"It hasn't hurt it any—our mad whirl hasn't," said Jasper, picking up the long program where it had slipped off the table to the floor. "Polly, you can't think how I wanted Pick to be chosen. It will do him so much good."

"And only think, if I hadn't chosen him out of that bowl!" cried Polly, in dismay at the very thought.

"Well, you did, Polly, so it's all right," said Jasper. "Now everything is fixed, and it's going to be the finest affair that ever was," he added enthusiastically; "and the best of it is—I can't help it, Polly—that Mrs. Chatterton isn't to come back till next week," he brought up in great satisfaction.

Mrs. Chatterton had gone to New York for some weeks, but was to return to finish her visit at "Cousin Horatio's."

"And I am so glad too," confessed Polly, but feeling as if she oughtn't to say it. "And isn't everything just beautiful, Jasper!"

"I should think it was!" cried Jasper jubilantly. "Just as perfect as can be, Polly."

And the next afternoon, when the last preparations for the grand entertainment were made, and everybody was rushing off to dress for dinner, a carriage drove up the winding driveway. There were big trunks on the rack, and two people inside.

Joel, racing along the hall with Tom at his heels, took one look. "Oh, whickets!" he ejaculated, stopping short, to bring his feet down with a thud.

"What's the row?" asked Tom, plunging up to him in amazement.

"That person." Joel pointed a finger at the carriage. "I must tell Polly," and off he darted.

Tom, not feeling at all sure that he ought to wait to see "that person," wheeled about and followed.

"Polly," roared Joel, long before he got to her. "She's come!"

"Has she?" Polly called back, supposing he meant Alexia. "Well, tell her to come up here, Joe, in my room."

Joel took the stairs two at a time, Tom waiting below, and dashed into the blue and white room without ceremony.

"Polly, you don't understand," he blurted out; "she's come!"

Polly had her head bent over a drawer, picking out some ribbons. At the sound of Joel's voice she drew it out and looked at him.

"Why, how funny you look, Joe!" she said. "What is the matter?"

"I guess you'd look funny," said Joel glumly, "if you'd seen Mrs. Chatterton."

"Not Mrs. Chatterton!" exclaimed Polly aghast; and jumping up, her face very pale, and upsetting her box of ribbons, she seized Joel's arm.

"Tell me this very minute, Joel Pepper," she commanded, "what do you mean?"

"Mrs. Chatterton has just come. I saw her coming up the drive. There's Johnson now letting her in." Joel had it all out now in a burst, ready to cry at sight of Polly's face, as the bustle in the hall below and the thin, high voice proclaimed the worst.

"Oh, Joel, Joel!" mourned Polly, releasing his arm to wring her hands. "What shall we do?"

"She's an old harpy," declared Joel; "mean, horrid, old thing!"

"Oh, stop, Joel!" cried Polly, quite horrified.

"Well, she is," said Joel vindictively, "to come before we'd got back to school."

"Well, don't say so," begged Polly, having hard work to keep back her own words, crowding for utterance. "Mamsie wouldn't like it, Joey."

Joel, with this thought on his mind, only grumbled out something so faintly that really Polly couldn't hear as she ran out into the hall.

"Oh, Jasper!"

"Polly, did you know? What can we do?" It was impossible for him to conceal his vexation. And Polly lost sight of her own discomfiture, in the attempt to comfort him.

"And father—it will just make him as miserable as can be," said Jasper gloomily. "And he was so happy over the beautiful time we were going to have this evening." He was so vexed he could do nothing but prance up and down the hall.

"Well, we must make him forget that she is here," said Polly, swallowing her own distress at the change of all the conditions.

"How can we, Polly?" Jasper stopped for a minute and stared at her.

"I mean," said Polly, feeling that it was a very hopeless case after all, "that we mustn't show that we mind it, her coming back, and must act as if we forgot it; and then that will keep him happy perhaps."

"If you only will, Polly," cried Jasper, seizing both of her hands, "it will be the best piece of work you ever did."

"Oh, I can't do it alone," exclaimed Polly, in consternation. "Never in all this world, Jasper, unless you help too."

"Then we'll both try our very best," said Jasper. "I'm sure I ought to; 'twould be mean enough to expect you to go at such a task alone."

"Oh, you couldn't be mean, Jasper," declared Polly, in horror at the very thought.

"Well, I should be if I left you to tackle this by yourself," said Jasper, with a grim little laugh. "So Polly, there's my hand on it. I'll help you."

And Polly ran back to pick up her ribbons and dress for dinner, feeling somehow very happy after all, that there was something she could do for dear Grandpapa to help him bear this great calamity.

Tom Beresford, meanwhile, withdrew from the great hall when Johnson ushered in the tall, stately woman and her French maid, and took shelter in the library. And Mrs. Whitney, coming over the stairs, saying, "Well, Cousin Eunice, did you have a pleasant journey?" in the gentle voice Tom so loved, gave him the first inkling of the relationship. But he wrinkled his brows at Joel's exclamation, and his queer way of rushing off.

"You know journeys always tire me, Marian. So that your question is quite useless. I will sit in the library a moment to recover myself. Hortense, go up and prepare my room," and she sailed into the apartment, her heavy silk gown swishing close to Tom's chair.

"Who is that boy?" she demanded sharply. Then she put up her lorgnette, and examined him closely as if of a new and probably dangerous species.

Tom slipped off from his chair and stiffened up.

"It's one of Joel's friends," said Mrs. Whitney, slipping her hand within the tall boy's arm. "The boys are at home from school for a week."

"Joel's friends," repeated Mrs. Chatterton, paying scant attention to the rest of the information. Then she gave a scornful cackle. "Haven't you gotten over that nonsense yet, Marian?" she asked.

"No; and I trust I never shall," replied Mrs. Whitney with a happy smile. "Now, Cousin Eunice, as you wish to rest, we will go," and she drew Tom off.

"My boy," she said, releasing him in the hall, to give a bright glance up at the stormy, astonished face above her, "I know you and Joel will get dressed as rapidly as possible for dinner, for my father will not want to be annoyed by a lack of promptness to-night." She did not say, "because he will have annoyance enough," but Tom guessed it all.

"I will, Mrs. Whitney," he promised heartily. And, thinking he would go to the ends of the earth for her, to be smiled on like that, he plunged off over the stairs.

"I've seen the old cat," he cried in smothered wrath to Joel, rushing into his room.

Joel sat disconsolately on the edge of his bed, kicking off his heavy shoes, to replace with his evening ones.

"Have you?" said Joel grimly. "Well, isn't she a—" then he remembered Mamsie, and snapped his lips to.

"'A,'" exclaimed Tom, in smothered wrath, as he closed the door. "She isn't 'a' at all, Joe. She's 'the.'"

"Well, do be still," cried Joel, putting on his best shoes nervously, "or you'll have me saying something. And she's visiting here; and Mamsie wouldn't like it. Don't, Tom," he begged.

"I won't," said Tom, with a monstrous effort, "but—oh dear me!" Then he rushed into his own room and banged about, getting his best clothes out.

"Shut the door," roared Joel after him, "or you'll begin to fume, and I can't stand it, Tom; it will set me off."

So Tom shut the door; and with all these precautions going on over the house, all the family in due time appeared at dinner, prepared as best they could be to bear the infliction of Mrs. Chatterton's return.

And after the conclusion of the meal, why, everybody tried to forget it as much as possible, and give themselves up to the grand affair of the evening.

And old Mr. King, who had been consumed with fear that it would have a disastrous effect on Polly and Jasper, the chief getters-up of the entertainment, came out of his fright nicely; for there they were, as bright and jolly as ever, and fully equal to any demands upon them. So he made up his mind that, after all, he could put up with Cousin Eunice a bit longer, and that the affair was to be an immense success and the very finest thing possible.

And everybody else who was present on the eventful occasion, said so too! And it seemed as if Mr. King's spacious drawing-room, famous for its capacity at all such times, couldn't possibly have admitted another person to this entertainment for the benefit of the poor brakeman's family.

And Joel, who wasn't good at recitations, and who detested all that sort of thing, and Van, for the same reason, were both in their element as ticket takers. And the little pink and yellow squares came in so thick and fast that both boys had all they could do for a while—which was saying a good deal—to collect them.

And everybody said that Miss Mary Taylor had never played such a beautiful overture—and she was capable of a good deal along that line—in all her life; and Phronsie, sitting well to the front, between old Mr. King and Helen Fargo, forgot that she ever had a hurt arm, and that it lay bandaged up in her lap.

And little Dick, when he could lose sight of the fact that he wasn't next to Phronsie instead of Helen Fargo, snuggled up contentedly against Mother Fisher, and applauded everything straight through.

And old Mr. King protested that he was perfectly satisfied with the whole thing, which was saying the most that could be expressed for the quality of the entertainment; and he took particular pains to applaud Tom Beresford, who looked very handsome, and acquitted himself well.

"I must," said Tom to himself, although quaking inwardly, "for they've all been so good to me—and for Joel's sake!" So he sang at his very best. And he played his banjo merrily, and he was encored and encored; and Joel was as proud as could be, which did Tom good to see.

And Percy—well, the tears of joy came into his mother's eyes, for it wasn't easy for him to learn pieces, nor in fact to apply himself to study at all. But no one would have suspected it to see him now on that stage. And Grandpapa King was so overjoyed that he called "Bravo—bravo!" ever so many times, which carried Percy on triumphantly over the difficult spots where he had been afraid he should slip.

"If only his father could hear him!" sighed Mrs. Whitney in the midst of her joy, longing as she always did for the time when the father could finish those trips over the sea, for his business house.

Polly had made Jasper consent, which he did reluctantly, to give his recitation before she played; insisting that music was really better for a finale. And she listened with such delight to the applause that he received—for ever so many of the audience said it was the gem of the whole—that she quite forgot to be nervous about her own performance; and she played her nocturne with such a happy heart, thinking over the lovely evening, and how the money would be, oh, such a heap to take down on the morrow to the poor brakeman's home, that Jasper was turning the last page of her music—and the entertainment was at an end!

Polly hopped off from the music stool. There was a great clapping all over the room, and Grandpapa called out, "Yes, child, play again," so there was nothing for Polly to do but to hop back again and give them another selection. And then they clapped harder yet; but Polly shook her brown head, and rushed off the stage.

And then, of course, Grandpapa gave them, as he always did, a fine party to wind up the evening with. And the camp chairs were folded up and carried off, and a company of musicians came into the alcove in the spacious hall, and all through the beautiful, large apartments festivity reigned!

"Look at the old cat," said Tom in a smothered aside to Joel, his next neighbor in the "Sir Roger de Coverley." "Isn't she a sight!"

"I don't want to," said Joel, with a grimace, "and it's awfully mean in you, Tom, to ask me."

"I know it," said Tom penitently, "but I can't keep my eyes off from her. How your grandfather can stand it, Pepper, I don't see."

And a good many other people were asking themselves the same question, Madam Dyce among the number, to whom Mrs. Chatterton was just remarking, "Cousin Horatio is certainly not the same man."

"No," replied Madam Dyce distinctly, "he is infinitely improved; so approachable now."

"You mistake me," Mrs. Chatterton said angrily, "I mean there is the greatest change come over him; it's lamentable, and all brought about by his inexplicable infatuation over those low-born Pepper children and their designing mother."

"Mrs. Chatterton," said Madam Dyce—she could be quite as stately as Mr. King's cousin, and as she felt in secure possession of the right in the case, she was vastly more impressive—"I am not here to go over this question, nor shall I discuss it anywhere with you. You know my mind about it. I only wish I had the Peppers—yes, every single one of them," warmed up the old lady,—"in my house, and that fine woman, their mother, along with them."



XX THE CORCORAN FAMILY

And on the morrow—oh, what a heap of money there was for the poor brakeman's family!—four hundred and twelve dollars. For a good many people had fairly insisted on paying twice the amount for their tickets; and a good many more had paid when they couldn't take tickets at all, going out of town, or for some other good reason.

And one old lady, a great friend of the family, sent for Polly Pepper the week before. And when Polly appeared before the big lounge,—for Mrs. Sterling was lifted from her bed to lie under the sofa-blankets all day,—she said, "Now, my dear, I want to take some tickets for that affair of yours. Gibbons, get my check-book."

So Gibbons, the maid, brought the check-book, and drew up the little stand with the writing-case upon it close to the lounge, and Mrs. Sterling did a bit of writing; and presently she held out a long green slip of paper.

"Oh!" cried Polly, in huge delight, "I've never had one for my very own self before." There it was, "Polly Pepper," running clear across its face. And "Oh!" with wide eyes, when she saw the amount, "twenty-five dollars!"

"Haven't you so?" said Mrs. Sterling, greatly pleased to be the first in one of Polly's pleasures.

"Oh!" cried Polly again, "twenty-five dollars!" And she threw herself down before the lounge, and dropped a kiss upon the hand that had made all this happiness for the brakeman's poor children.

"Well now, Polly, tell me all about it," said Mrs. Sterling, with a glow at her heart warm enough to brighten many a long invalid day. "Gibbons, get a cricket for Miss Mary."

"Oh, may I sit here?" begged Polly eagerly, as Gibbons, placing the little writing-case back into position, now approached with the cricket; "it's so cosey on the floor."

"Why, yes, if you don't wish the cricket," said Mrs. Sterling with a little laugh, "and I remember when I was your age it was my greatest delight to sit on the floor."

"It is mine," said Polly, snuggling up to the sofa-blankets.

Mrs. Sterling put out her thin hand, and took Polly's rosy palm. "Now begin, dear," she said, with an air of content, and looking down into the bright face.

So Polly, realizing that here perhaps was need for help, quite as much as in the poor brakeman's home, though in a different way, told the whole story, how the two clubs, the Salisbury School Club and the boys' club, had joined together to help Jim Corcoran's children; how they had had a big meeting at Jasper's house, and promised each other to take hold faithfully and work for that object.

"We were going to have a little play," observed Polly, a bit sorrowfully, "but it was thought best not, so it will be recitations and music."

"Those will be very nice, I am quite sure, Polly," said Mrs. Sterling; "how I should love to hear some of them!" It was her turn to look sad now.

"Why—" Polly sat up quite straight now, and her cheeks turned rosy.

"What is it, my child?" asked Mrs. Sterling.

"Would you—I mean, do you want—oh, Mrs. Sterling, would you like us to come here some time to recite something to you?"

Mrs. Sterling turned an eager face on her pillow.

"Are you sure, Polly," a light coming into her tired eyes, "that you young people would be willing to come to entertain a dull, sick, old woman?"

"Oh, I am sure they would," cried Polly, "if you would like it, dear Mrs. Sterling."

"Like it!" Mrs. Sterling turned her thin face to the wall for a moment. When she looked again at Polly, there were tears trickling down the wasted cheeks. "Polly, you don't know," she said brokenly, "how I just long to hear young voices here in this dreary old house. To lie here day after day, child—"

"Oh!" cried Polly suddenly, "it must be so very dreadful, Mrs. Sterling."

"Well, don't let us speak of that," said Mrs. Sterling, breaking off quickly her train of thought, "for the worst isn't the pain and the weakness, Polly. It's the loneliness, child."

"Oh!" said Polly. Then it all rushed over her how she might have run in before, and taken the other girls if she had only known. "But we will come now, dear Mrs. Sterling," she said aloud.

"Do," cried Mrs. Sterling, and a faint color began to show itself on her thin face, "but not unless you are quite sure that the young people will like it, Polly."

"Yes, I am sure," said Polly, with a decided nod of her brown head.

"Then why couldn't you hold some of your rehearsals here?" proposed Mrs. Sterling.

"Shouldn't we tire you?" asked Polly.

"No, indeed!" declared Mrs. Sterling, with sudden energy, "I could bear a menagerie up here, Polly," and she laughed outright.

Gibbons, at this unwonted sound, popped her head in from the adjoining room where she was busy with her sewing, to gaze in astonishment at her mistress.

"I am not surprised at your face, Gibbons," said Mrs. Sterling cheerily, "for you have not heard me laugh for many a day."

"No, madam, I haven't," said Gibbons, "but I can't help saying I'm rejoiced to hear it now," with a glance of approval on Polly Pepper.

"So, Polly, you see there is no danger of your bringing me any fatigue, and I should be only too happy to see you at your next rehearsal."

"We can come, I am almost sure," said Polly, "those of us who want to rehearse at all. Some of us, you see, are quite sure of our pieces: Pickering Dodge is, for one; he spoke at his last school exhibition. But I'll tell the others. Oh, thank you for asking us, Mrs. Sterling."

"Thank you for giving your time, dear, to a dull old woman," said Mrs. Sterling. "Oh, must you go?" She clung to her hand. "I suppose you ought, child."

"Yes," said Polly, "I really ought to go, Mrs. Sterling. And you are not dull, one single bit, and I like you very much," she added as simply as Phronsie would have said it.

"Kiss me good-bye, Polly," said Mrs. Sterling. So Polly laid her fresh young cheek against the poor, tired, wasted one; hopped into her jacket, and was off on happy feet.

And the others said "Yes," when they saw Polly's enthusiasm over the plan of holding a rehearsal at Mrs. Sterling's; and Jasper proposed, "Why couldn't we repeat the whole thing after our grand performance, for her sometime?" and, before any one could quite tell how, a warm sympathy had been set in motion for the rich, lonely old lady in the big, gloomy stone mansion most of them passed daily on their way to school.

Well, the grand affair was over now, and a greater success than was ever hoped for. Now came the enjoyment of presenting the money!

"Grandpapa," said Polly, "we are all here."

"So I perceive," looking out on the delegation in the hall. For of course all the two clubs couldn't go to the presentation, so committees were chosen to represent them—Polly, Clem, Alexia, and Silvia, for the Salisbury Club, and Jasper, Clare, Pickering, and Richard Burnett for the boys' club; while old Mr. King on his own account had invited Joel, Percy and Van, and, of course, Tom Beresford.

"My! What shall we do with such a lot of boys?" exclaimed Alexia, as they all met in the hall.

"You don't have to do anything at all with us, Alexia," retorted Joel, who liked her the best of any of Polly's friends, and always showed it by sparring with her on every occasion, "only let us alone."

"Which I shall proceed to do with the greatest pleasure," said Alexia. "Goodness me! Joe, as if I'd be bothered with you tagging on. You're much worse than before you went away to school."

"Come, you two, stop your quarrelling," said Jasper, laughing. "A pretty example you'd make to those poor Corcoran children."

"Oh, we sha'n't fight there," said Alexia sweetly; "we'll have quite enough to do to see all that is going on. Oh, Polly, when do you suppose we can ever start?"

"Father has the bank-book," announced Jasper; "I saw him put it in his pocket, Polly."

Polly gave a little wriggle under her coat. "Oh, Jasper, isn't it just too splendid for anything!" she cried.

"I'm going to walk with Polly," announced Clem, seizing Polly's arm, "so, Alexia Rhys, I give you fair warning this time."

"Indeed, you're not," declared Alexia stoutly. "Why, I always walk with Polly Pepper."

"And that's just the reason why I'm going to to-day," said Clem, hanging to Polly's arm for dear life.

"Well, I'm her dearest friend," added Alexia, taking refuge in that well-worn statement, "so there now, Clem Forsythe."

"No, you're not," said Clem obstinately; "we're all her dearest friends, aren't we, Polly? Say, Polly, aren't we?"

"Hush!" said Jasper. "Father's coming."

"Well, I can't help it. I'm tired of hearing Alexia Rhys everlastingly saying that, and pushing us all away from Polly."

"Do hear them go on!" exclaimed Tom Beresford, off on the edge of the group. "Does she always have them carrying around like that?"

"Yes," said Joel, "a great deal worse. Oh, they're a lot of giggling girls; I hate girls!" he exploded.

"So do I," nodded Tom. "Let's keep clear of the whole lot, and walk by ourselves."

"Indeed, we will," declared Joel. "You won't catch me walking with girls when I can help it."

"Well, I wonder which of those two will get your sister, Polly, this time," said Tom, craning his long neck to see the contest.

"Oh, Alexia, of course," said Joel carelessly; "she always gets her in the end."

But Joel was wrong. Neither of the girls carried off Polly. Old Mr. King marched out of his reading-room. "Come, Polly, my child, you and I will walk together," and he waited on her handsomely out, and down the walk to the car.

Tom and Joel burst into a loud laugh, in which the others joined, at the crestfallen faces.

"Well, at least you didn't get her, Clem," said Alexia airily, coming out of her discomfiture.

"Neither did you," said Clem happily.

"And you are horrid boys to laugh," said Alexia, looking over at the two. "But then, all boys are horrid."

"Thank you," said Tom, with his best bow.

"Alexia Rhys, aren't you perfectly ashamed to be fighting with that new boy?" cried Clem.

"Come on, Alexia," said Jasper. "I shall have to walk with you to keep you in order," and the gay procession hurrying after old Mr. King and Polly, caught up with them turning out of the big stone gateway.

And then, what a merry walk they had to the car! and that being nearly full, they had to wait for the next one, which luckily had only three passengers; and Mr. King and his party clambered on, to ride down through the poor quarters of the town, to the Corcoran house.

"Oh, misery me!" exclaimed Alexia, looking out at the tumble-down tenements, and garbage heaps up to the very doors. "Where are we going?"

"Did you suppose Jim Corcoran lived in a palace?" asked Pickering lazily.

"Well, I didn't suppose anybody lived like that," said Alexia, wrinkling up her nose in scorn. "Dear me, look at all those children!"

"Interesting, aren't they?" said Pickering, with a pang for the swarm of ragged, dirty little creatures, but not showing it in the least on his impassive face.

"Oh, I don't want to see it," exclaimed Alexia, "and I'm not going to either," turning her back on it all.

"It goes on just the same," said Pickering.

"Then I am going to look." Alexia whirled around again, and gazed up and down the ugly thoroughfare, taking it all in.

"Ugh, how can you!" exclaimed Silvia Horne, in disgust. "I think it's very disagreeable to even know that such people live."

"Perhaps 'twould be better to kill 'em off," said Tom Beresford bluntly.

"Ugh, you dreadful boy!" cried Clem Forsythe.

"Who's fighting now with the new boy?" asked Alexia sweetly, tearing off her gaze from the street.

"Well, who wouldn't?" retorted Clem, "he's saying such perfectly terrible things."

Pickering Dodge gave a short laugh. "Beresford, you're in for it now," he said.

Tom shrugged his shoulders, and turned his back on them.

"What did you bring him home for, Joe?" asked Alexia, leaning over to twitch Joel's arm.

"To plague you, Alexia," said Joel, with a twinkle in his black eyes.

"Oh, he doesn't bother me," said Alexia serenely. "Clem is having all the trouble now. Well, we must put up with him, I suppose," she said with resignation.

"You don't need to," said Joel coolly, "you can let us alone, Alexia."

"But I don't want to let you alone," said Alexia; "that's all boys are good for, if they're in a party, to keep 'em stirred up. Goodness me, Mr. King and Polly are getting out!" as the car stopped, and Grandpapa led the way down the aisle.

When they arrived at the Corcoran house, which was achieved by dodging around groups of untidy women gossiping with their neighbors, and children playing on the dirty pavements, with the occasional detour caused by a heap of old tin cans, and other debris, Mr. King drew a long breath. "I don't know that I ought to have brought you young people down here. It didn't strike me so badly before."

"But it's no worse for us to see it than for the people to live here, father," said Jasper quickly.

"That's very true—but faugh!" and the old gentleman had great difficulty to contain himself. "Well, thank fortune, the Corcoran family are to move this week."

"Oh, Grandpapa," cried Polly, hopping up and down on the broken pavement, and "Oh, father!" from Jasper.

"Polly Pepper," exclaimed Alexia, twitching her away, "you came near stepping into that old mess of bones and things."

Polly didn't even glance at the garbage heap by the edge of the sidewalk, nor give it a thought. "Oh, how lovely, Alexia," she cried, "that they won't have but a day or two more here!"

"Well, we are going in," said Alexia, holding her tightly, "and I'm glad of it, Polly. Oh, misery me!" as they followed Mr. King into the poor little house that Jim the brakeman had called home.

The little widow, thanks to Mr. King and several others interested in the welfare of the brakeman's family, had smartened up considerably, so that neither she nor her dwelling presented such a dingy, woe-begone aspect as on the previous visit. And old Mr. King, being very glad to see this, still further heartened her up by exclaiming, "Well, Mrs. Corcoran, you've accomplished wonders."

"I've tried to," cried the poor woman, "and I'm sure 'twas no more than I ought to do, and you being so kind to me and mine, sir."

"Well, I've brought some young people to see you," said the old gentleman abruptly, who never could bear to be thanked, and now felt much worse, as there were several spectators of his bounty; and he waved his hand toward the representatives of the two clubs.

They all huddled back, but he made them come forward. "No, it's your affair to-day; I only piloted you down here," laughing at their discomfiture.

Meanwhile the whole Corcoran brood had all gathered about the visitors, to rivet their gaze upon them, and wait patiently for further developments.

"Polly, you tell her," cried Alexia.

"Yes, Polly, do," cried the other girls.

"Yes, Polly," said Pickering, "you can tell it the best."

"Oh, I never could," said Polly in dismay. "Jasper, you, please."

"No, no, Polly," said Van; "she's the best."

"But Polly doesn't wish to," said Jasper in a low voice.

"All right, then, Jappy, go ahead," said Percy.

There was a little pause, Mrs. Corcoran filling it up by saying, "I can't ask you to sit down, for there ain't chairs enough," beginning to wipe off one with her apron. "Here, sir, if you'd please to sit," taking it over to Mr. King.

"Thank you," said the old gentleman, accepting it with his best air. "Now then, Jasper"—he had handed a small parcel to him under cover of the chair-wiping—"go ahead, my boy."

So Jasper, seeing that there was no help for it, but that he was really to be the spokesman, plunged in quite bravely.

"Mrs. Corcoran, some of us girls and boys—we belong to two clubs, you know,"—waving his hand over to the representatives—"wanted to show your boys and girls, that we were grateful to their father for being so good and kind to the passengers that night of the accident."

Here the little widow put the corner of her apron up to her eye, so Jasper hurried on: "And we wanted to help them to get an education. And so we had a little entertainment, and sold the tickets and here is our gift!" Jasper ended desperately, thrusting the package out.

"Take it, Arethusa," was all Mrs. Corcoran could say; "and may the Lord bless you all!" Then she put the apron over her head and sobbed aloud.

"Bless me!" exclaimed old Mr. King, fumbling for his handkerchief, "don't, my good woman, I beg of you."

"And, oh, I do hope you'll learn to play on the piano," breathed Polly, as Arethusa took the package from Jasper, and slid back to lay it in her mother's hand.

"Oh me! I'm going to cry," exclaimed Alexia, backing off toward the door.

"If you do, I'll throw you out," said Joel savagely.

"Well, I shall; I feel so sniffly and queer. Oh, Joel, what shall I do? I shall be disgraced for life if I cry here."

"Hang on to me," said Joel stoutly, thrusting out his sturdy arm.

So Alexia hung on to it, and managed to get along very well. And one of the children, the littlest one next to the baby, created a diversion by bringing up a mangy cat, and laying it on Mr. King's knees. This saved the situation as far as crying went, and brought safely away those who were perilously near the brink of tears.

"Oh dear me!" exclaimed Polly, starting forward, knowing how Grandpapa detested cats. But Jasper was before her.

"Let me take it, father," and he dexterously brought it off.

"Give it to me," said Polly. "Oh, what is its name?"

The little thing who seemed to own the cat toddled over, well pleased, and stuck his finger in his mouth, which was the extent to which he could go in conversation. But the other children, finding the ice now broken, all came up at this point, to gather around Polly and the cat.

"It's lucky enough that Phronsie isn't here," said Jasper in a low voice, "for she would never want to leave that cat."



"Just see Polly Pepper!" exclaimed Alexia, with a grimace. "Why doesn't she drop that dirty old cat?"

"Because she ought not to," howled Joel sturdily. Then he rushed over to Polly; and although he had small love for cats in general, this particular one, being extremely ill-favored and lean, met with his favor. He stroked her poor back.

Arethusa drew near and gazed into Polly's face; seeing which, the cat was safely transferred to Joel, and Polly turned around to the girl.

"Oh, do you want to learn to play on the piano?" asked Polly breathlessly, under cover of the noise going on, for all the other members of the two clubs now took a hand in it. Even Percy unbent enough to interview one of the Corcoran boys.

"Yes, I do," said Arethusa, clasping her small red hands tightly.

Her eyes widened, and her little thin face, which wasn't a bit pretty, lightened up now in a way that Polly thought was perfectly beautiful.

"Well, I did, when I was a little girl like you"—Polly bent her rosy face very close to Arethusa's—"oh, dreadfully; and I used to drum on the table to make believe I could play."

"So do I," cried Arethusa, creeping up close to Polly's neck, "an' th' boys laugh at me. But I keep doin' it."

"And now, Arethusa, you are really going to learn to play on the piano." Polly thrilled all over at the announcement, just as she had done when told that she was to take music lessons.

"Not a really and truly piano?" exclaimed Arethusa, lost in amazement.

"Yes, a really and truly piano," declared Polly positively. "Just think, Arethusa, you can give music lessons and help to take care of your mother."

And just then Grandpapa, who had been talking to Mrs. Corcoran, was saying, "Well, well, it's time to be going, young people." And Joel put the cat down, that immediately ran between his legs, tripping him up as he turned, thereby making everybody laugh; and so the exit was made merrily.

"Wasn't that fun!" cried Alexia, dancing off down the broken pavement. "Oh, I forgot, I'm going to walk home with Polly," and she flew back.

"You take yourself away," cried old Mr. King, with a laugh. "I'm to have Polly to myself on this expedition."

"Well, at any rate, Clem, you haven't Polly," announced Alexia as before, running up to her.

"Neither have you," retorted Clem, in the same way.

"So we will walk together," said Alexia, coolly possessing herself of Clem's arm. "Those two boys can walk with each other; they're just dying to."

"How do you know I want to walk with you?" asked Clem abruptly.

"Oh, but do, you sweet thing you! Come on!" and Alexia dragged her off at a smart pace.

"Grandpapa," cried Polly, hopping up and down by his side, too happy to keep still, while she clung to his hand just as Phronsie would have done, "you are going to have the piano put into the house the very first thing after it is cleaned and ready—the very first thing?" She peered around into his face anxiously.

"The very first thing," declared the old gentleman. "Take my word for it, Polly Pepper, there sha'n't another article get in before it."

"Oh, Grandpapa!" Polly wished she could go dancing off into the middle of the thoroughfare for a regular spin.

"Take care, Polly," laughed old Mr. King, successfully steering her clear of an ash barrel, "this isn't the best dancing place imaginable."

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Grandpapa," said Polly, trying to sober down, "I didn't mean to; but oh, isn't it perfectly beautiful that Arethusa is going to take music lessons!"

"It is, indeed," said Grandpapa, with a keen glance down at her flushed face. "And it really does seem to be an assured fact, for Miss Brown is engaged to begin as soon as the family move into their new home."

"Oh—oh!" Polly could get no further.

Jasper, ahead with Pickering Dodge, looked back longingly.

"Oh, I do wish, Grandpapa," said Polly, "that Jasper could walk home with us."

"So do I, Polly," said the old gentleman; "but you see he can't, for then I should have the whole bunch of those chattering creatures around me," and he laughed grimly. "You must tell him all about what we are talking of, as soon as you get home."

"Yes, I will," declared Polly, "the very first thing. Now, Grandpapa, please go on."

"Well, I had told Mrs. Corcoran all about the new house, you know, Polly, before."

"Yes, I know, Grandpapa," said Polly, with a happy little wriggle.

"And so to-day I explained about the bank-book; told her where the money was deposited, and showed her how to use it. By the way, Polly, Jasper made a good speech now, didn't he?" The old gentleman broke off, and fairly glowed with pride.

"Oh, didn't he!" cried Polly, in a burst. "I thought it was too splendid for anything! And he didn't know in the least that he had to do it. He thought you were going to give the bank-book, Grandpapa."

"I know it," chuckled Mr. King. "Well now, Polly, I thought I'd try my boy without warning. Because, you see, that shows what stuff a person is made of to respond at such a time, and he's all right, Jasper is; he came up to the demand nicely."

"It was perfectly elegant!" cried Polly, with glowing cheeks.

"And those two boys—the largest ones—are to begin in the other public school next week," continued the old gentleman.

"Everything begins next week, doesn't it, Grandpapa?" cried Polly.

"It seems so," said Mr. King, with a laugh. "Well, Polly, here we are at our car."

And having the good luck to find it nearly empty, the whole party hopped on, and began the ride back again.

"Now," said Jasper, when they had reached home, "for some comfort," and he drew Polly off into a quiet corner in the library. "Let's have the whole, Polly. You said you'd tell me what you and father were talking of all the way home."

"And so I will," cried Polly, too elated to begin at the right end. "Well, Jasper, you must know that Arethusa's piano is actually engaged."

"It is!" exclaimed Jasper. "Hurrah!"

"Yes," said Polly, with shining eyes, "and it's going into the new home the very first thing. Grandpapa promised me that."

"Isn't father good!" cried Jasper, a whole world of affection in his dark eyes.

"Good?" repeated Polly, "he's as good as good can be, Jasper King!"

"Well, what else?" cried Jasper.

"And the boys—the two biggest ones—are going into the other public school, the one nearest their new home, you know."

"Yes, I see," said Jasper, "that's fine. That will bring them in with better boys."

"Yes, and Grandpapa told Mrs. Corcoran all about the money we made at the entertainment, and that he put it in the bank for her this morning. And he showed her how to use the check-book."

"Polly," said Jasper, very much excited, "what if we girls and boys hadn't done this for those children! Just think, Polly, only suppose it!"

"I know it," cried Polly. "Oh, Jasper!" drawing a long breath. "But then, you see, we did do it."

"Yes," said Jasper, bursting into a laugh, "we surely did, Polly."



XXI AT THE PLAY

"Oh, Cathie!" Polly rushed out to meet the girl that Johnson was just ushering in. "I am so glad you've come!"

A pleased look swept over the girl's face, but she didn't say anything.

"Now come right upstairs; never mind the bag, Johnson will bring that for you."

"I will take it up, Miss," said Johnson, securing it.

"Mamsie is waiting to see you," cried Polly, as they ran over the stairs, Cathie trying to still the excited beating of her heart at the thought that she was really to visit Polly Pepper for three whole days! "Oh, Mamsie, here she is!"

"I am glad to see you, Cathie," said Mrs. Fisher heartily, taking her cold hand. "Now, you are to have the room right next to Polly's."

"Yes, the same one that Alexia always has when she stays here," said Polly. "See, Cathie," bearing her off down the hall. "Oh, it is so good to get you here," she cried happily. "Well, here we are!"

"You can't think," began Cathie brokenly; then she turned away to the window—"it's so good of you to ask me, Polly Pepper!"

"It's so good of you to come," said Polly merrily, and running over to her. "There, Johnson has brought your bag. Aren't you going to unpack it, Cathie?—that is, I mean"—with a little laugh—"after you've got your hat and jacket off. And then, when your things are all settled, we can go downstairs, and do whatever you like. Perhaps we'll go in the greenhouse."

"Oh, Polly!" exclaimed Cathie, quite forgetting herself, and turning around.

"And can't I help you unpack?" asked Polly, longing to do something.

"No," said Cathie, remembering her plain clothes and lack of the pretty trifles that girls delight in; then seeing Polly's face, she thought better of it. "Yes, you may," she said suddenly.

So Polly unstrapped the bag, and drew out the clothes, all packed very neatly. "Why, Cathie Harrison!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"What?" asked Cathie, hanging up her jacket in the closet, and putting her head around the door.

"Oh, what a lovely thing!" Polly held up a little carved box of Chinese workmanship.

"Isn't it?" cried Cathie, well pleased that she had anything worthy of notice. "My uncle brought that from China to my mother when she was a little girl, and she gave it to me."

"Well, it's too lovely for anything," declared Polly, running to put it on the toilet table. "I do think Chinese carvings are so pretty!"

"Do you?" cried Cathie, well pleased. "My mother has some really fine ones, I'll show you sometime, if you'd like to see them, Polly."

"Indeed, I should," said Polly warmly. So Cathie, delighted that she really had something that could interest Polly Pepper, hurried through her preparations; and then the two went downstairs arm in arm, and out to the greenhouse.

"Polly Pepper!" exclaimed Cathie on the threshold, "I don't think I should ever envy you living in that perfectly beautiful house, because it just scares me to set foot in it."

"Well, it needn't," said Polly, with a little laugh. "You must just forget all about its being big and splendid."

"But I can't," said Cathie, surprised at herself for being so communicative, "because, you see, I live in such a little, tucked-up place."

"Well, so did I," said Polly, with a bob of her brown head, "before we came here to Grandpapa's; but oh, you can't think how beautiful it was in the little brown house—you can't begin to think, Cathie Harrison!"

"I know," said Cathie, who had heard the story before. "I wish you'd tell it all to me now, Polly."

"I couldn't tell it all, if I talked a year, I guess," said Polly merrily, "and there is Turner waiting to speak to me. Come on, Cathie." And she ran down the long aisle between the fragrant blossoms.

But Cathie stopped to look and exclaim so often to herself that she made slow progress.

"Shall I make her up a bunch, Miss Mary?" asked old Turner, touching his cap respectfully, and looking at the visitor.

"Oh, if you please," cried Polly radiantly; "and do put some heliotrope in, for Cathie is so fond of that. And please let her have a bunch every morning when I have mine, Turner, for she is to stay three days."

"It shall be as you wish, Miss Mary," said Turner, quite delighted at the order.

"And please let it be very nice, Turner," said Polly hastily.

"I will, Miss; don't fear, Miss Mary, I'll have it as nice as possible," as Polly ran off to meet Cathie.

"I should stay here every single minute I was at home if I lived here, Polly Pepper," declared Cathie. "Oh, oh!" sniffing at each discovery of a new blossom.

"Oh, no, you wouldn't, Cathie," contradicted Polly, with a laugh; "not if you had to get your lessons, and practise on the piano, and go out riding and driving, and play with the boys."

"Oh dear me!" cried Cathie, "I don't care very much for boys, because, you see, Polly, I never know what in this world to say to them."

"That's because you never had any brothers," said Polly, feeling how very dreadful such a state must be. "I can't imagine anything without Ben and Joel and Davie."

"And now you've such a lot of brothers, with Jasper and all those Whitney boys; oh, Polly, don't they scare you to death sometimes?"

Polly burst into such a merry peal of laughter, that they neither of them heard the rushing feet, until Cathie glanced up. "Oh dear me! there they are now!"

"Well, to be sure; we might have known you were here, Polly," cried Jasper, dashing up with Clare. "How do you do, Cathie?" putting out his hand cordially.

Clare gave her a careless nod, then turned to Polly. "It's to be fine," he said.

"What?" asked Polly wonderingly.

"Hold on, old chap." Jasper gave him a clap on the back. "Father is going to tell her himself. Come on, Polly and Cathie, to his room."

"Come, Cathie," cried Polly. "Let's beat those boys," she said, when once out of the greenhouse. "We're going to race," she cried over her shoulder.

"Is that so?" said Jasper. "Clare, we must beat them," and they dashed in pursuit.

But they couldn't; the two girls flew over the lawn, and reached the stone steps just a breathing space before Jasper and Clare plunged up.

"Well done," cried Jasper, tossing back the hair from his forehead.

"I didn't know you could run so well," observed Clare, with some show of interest in Cathie.

"Oh, she runs splendidly," said Polly, with sparkling eyes. "Let's try a race sometime, Jasper; we four, down the Long Path, while Cathie's here."

"Capital! We will," assented Jasper, "but now for father's room."

There sat old Mr. King by his writing table. "Well, Polly—how do you do, Cathie? I am glad to see you," he said, putting out his hand kindly.

As well as she could for her terror at being actually in that stately Mr. King's presence, Cathie stumbled forward and laid her hand in his.

"Now, Polly," said the old gentleman, turning off to pick up a little envelope lying on the table, "I thought perhaps you would like to take your young friend to the play to-night, so I have the tickets for us five," with a sweep of his hand over to the two boys.

"Grandpapa!" cried Polly, precipitating herself into his arms, "oh, how good you are!" which pleased the old gentleman immensely.

"Isn't that no-end fine!" cried Jasper in delight. "Father, we can't thank you!"

"Say no more, my boy," cried the old gentleman. "I'm thanked enough. And so, Polly, my girl, you like it," patting her brown hair.

"Like it!" cried Polly, lifting her glowing cheeks,—"oh, Grandpapa!"

"Run along with you then, all of you. Clare, be over in time."

"Yes, sir," cried Clare. "Oh, thank you, Mr. King, ever so much!" as they all scampered off to get their lessons for the next day; for going to a play was always a special treat, on condition that no studies were neglected.

"Oh, Cathie," cried Polly, before she flew into the window-seat to curl up with her books, her favorite place for studying her lessons, "Grandpapa is taking us to the play because you are here."

"And I've never been to a play, Polly," said Cathie, perfectly overwhelmed with it all.

"Haven't you? Oh, I'm so glad—I mean, I'm glad you're going with us, and that Grandpapa is to take you to the first one. But, oh me!" and Polly rushed off to attack her books. "Now, don't let us speak a single word, Cathie Harrison," as Cathie picked out a low rocker for her choice of a seat; and pretty soon, if Miss Salisbury herself had come into the room, she would have been perfectly satisfied with the diligent attention the books were receiving.

But Miss Salisbury was not thinking of her pupils this afternoon. She was at this moment closeted with Miss Anstice, and going over a conversation that they frequently held, these past days, without much variation in the subject or treatment.

"If there were anything we could do to repay him, sister," said Miss Anstice mournfully, "I'd do it, and spend my last cent. But what is there?" Then she paced the floor with her mincing little steps, now quite nervous and flurried.

"Sister," said Miss Salisbury, doing her best to be quite calm, "it isn't a matter of payment; for whatever we did, we never could hope to replace that exquisite little vase. Miss Clemcy had pointed out to me the fact that it was quite the gem in his collection."

"I know; I thought my heart would stop when I heard the crash." Miss Anstice wrung her little hands together at the memory. "Oh, that careless Lily!"

"Sister, pray let us look at this matter—"

"I am looking at it. I see nothing but that vase, smashed to pieces; and I cannot sleep at night for fear I'll dream how it looked in those very little bits."

"Sister—pray—pray—"

"And if you want me to tell you what I think should be done, I'm sure I can't say," added Miss Anstice helplessly.

"Well, then, I must think," declared Miss Salisbury, with sudden energy, "for some repayment must surely be made to him, although they utterly refused it when you and I called and broached the subject to them."

"It was certainly a most unfortunate day from beginning to end," said Miss Anstice, with a suggestion of tears in her voice, and a shiver at the remembrance of the front breadth of her gown. "Sister, I hope and pray that you will never have another picnic for the school."

"I cannot abolish that annual custom, Anstice," said Miss Salisbury firmly, "for the girls get so much enjoyment out of it. They are already talking about the one to come next year."

"Ugh!" shuddered Miss Anstice.

"And anything that holds an influence over them, I must sustain. You know that yourself, sister. And it is most important to give them some recreations."

"But picnics!" Miss Anstice held up her little hands, as if quite unequal to any words.

"And I am very sorry that we were out when Mr. Clemcy and his sister called yesterday afternoon, for I am quite sure I could have arranged matters so that we need not feel under obligations to them."

Miss Anstice, having nothing to say, kept her private reflections mournfully to herself; and it being the hour for the boarding pupils to go out to walk, and her duty to accompany them, the conference broke up.

"Polly," called Mrs. Chatterton, as Polly ran past her door, her opera glasses Grandpapa had given her last Christmas in the little plush bag dangling from her arm, and a happy light in her eyes. Cathie had gone downstairs, and it was getting nearly time to set forth for that enchanted land—the playhouse!

Polly ran on, scarcely conscious that she was called. "Did you not hear me?" asked Mrs. Chatterton angrily, coming to her door.

"Oh, I beg pardon," said Polly, really glad ever since that dreadful time when Mrs. Chatterton was ill, to do anything for her. "For I never shall forget how naughty I was to her," Polly said over to herself now as she turned back.

"You may well beg my pardon," said Mrs. Chatterton, "for of all ill-bred girls, you are certainly the worst. I want you." Then she disappeared within her room.

"What is it?" asked Polly, coming in. "I shall be so glad to help."

"Help!" repeated Mrs. Chatterton in scorn. She was standing over by her toilet table. "You can serve me; come here."

The hot blood mounted to Polly's brow. Then she thought, "Oh, what did I say? That I would do anything for Mrs. Chatterton if she would only forgive me for those dreadful words I said to her." And she went over and stood by the toilet table.

"Oh, you have concluded to come?" observed Mrs. Chatterton scornfully. "So much the better it would be if you could always learn what your place is in this house. There, you see this lace?" She shook out her flowing sleeve, glad to display her still finely moulded arm, that had been one of her chief claims to distinction, even if nobody but this little country-bred girl saw it.

Polly looked at the dangling lace, evidently just torn, with dismay; seeing which, Mrs. Chatterton broke out sharply, "Get the basket, girl, over there on the table, and sew it as well as you can."

"Polly!" called Jasper over the stairs, "where are you?"

Polly trembled all over as she hurried across the room to get the sewing basket. Grandpapa was not ready, she knew; but she always ran down a little ahead for the fun of the last moments waiting with Jasper, when old Mr. King was going to take them out of an evening. And in the turmoil in her mind, she didn't observe that Hortense had misplaced the basket, putting it on the low bookcase, and was still searching all over the table as directed, when Mrs. Chatterton's sharp voice filled her with greater dismay.

"Stupid! if you would put heart into your search, it would be easy enough to find it."

"Polly, where are you!" Polly, in her haste not to displease Mrs. Chatterton by replying to Jasper before finding the basket, knocked over one of the small silver-topped bottles with which the dressing table seemed to be full, and before she could rescue it, it fell to the floor.

"Go out of this room," commanded Mrs. Chatterton, with blazing eyes. "I ought to have known better than to call upon a heavy-handed, low-born country girl, to do a delicate service."

"I didn't mean—" began poor Polly.

"Go out of this room!" Mrs. Chatterton, now thoroughly out of temper, so far forgot herself as to stamp her foot; and Polly, feeling as if she had lost all chance in her future encounters with Mrs. Chatterton, of atoning for past short-comings, went sadly out, to meet, just beside the door, Jasper, with amazement on his face.