Part 17

Polly and all the others must be just about midway to the country town where they were to stop for supper--Ben couldn't help but think of it as he dashed down the frozen driveway that gave out such a delightful "scrunch, scrunch" to his hurrying feet. He drew his breath hard, thrust his hands in his pockets, and whistled. Oh, how gloriously the winter sunshine glistened across the snow on the lawn, and how the gay equipages with their merry loads swept by him, as he turned into the thoroughfare! He whistled harder than ever until he remembered that Mamsie didn't like him to do such things on the street; then he stopped and set out on a run, that presently brought him up to the little store where Polly always bought her bird-seed. Hurrying in he bought a bagful of peanuts; then out again and home--unchained Jocko in the small room over the stable, and dashed upstairs.

Jocko, who seemed to know at once there were peanuts in the bag dangling from Ben's other hand, got between Ben's legs at every possible chance, thus impeding the progress seriously.

"Oh, you rascal!" exclaimed Ben, shaking the bag at him, "you shan't have one if you don't behave," and he shortened his grip on the chain to keep Jocko on one side if possible.

Jocko wrinkled up his eyelids and teased and whined, sending out a brisk paw to snatch the bag if possible.

"Be still," said Ben, giving him a cuff with the bag, "and come on and don't dance all over those stairs. Oh, such a piece of work!" he declared, at last going into Jasper's room.

"Have you come at last!" said Jasper, turning an eager face to him.

"Have I?" said Ben, the monkey and he coming in together with a rush up to Jasper's chair, Jocko making a last dash at the paper bag; "well, yes, I should say I had. There are your peanuts," throwing them into Jasper's lap. "Look out, or he'll have them," as Jocko immediately leaped into the centre of the sofa blanket.

"Not much he won't," declared Jasper, setting the bag back of him with a quick hand. "Hulloa, Jocko!" as the monkey gave a squeal of disappointment. "Oh, you shall have some peanuts all in good time. There, don't cry. Hold your paws."

Jocko, hearing this, stopped his lament and extended both paws, his little eyes shining eagerly.

"Oh, you greedy little thing," said Jasper, laughing, and emptying a handful into them, when Jocko squatted contentedly on the sofa blanket, cracked some nuts as fast as he could, spitting out the shells to right and to left.

"Here, look out, you mustn't do so," said Jasper. "I'll take the peanuts away if you do."

At the mention of this, Jocko stuffed his nuts with both paws into his cheeks, reserving one to crack and eat as he blinked first at Jasper and then at Ben.

"He's making a lot of dirt," said Ben, beginning to pick up the shells.

"I know it," said Jasper, "but he's such fun."

"They stick awfully, those little red skins," said Ben, picking away at the little pieces, as slap went another shot, this time in his face.

"Well, Jane can shake the blanket," said Jasper. "Stop that, you beggar!" to Jocko. "And they don't leave any spot," as another shell and the shower of little red skins came flying out. "Here, I'll take those away, I say." But easier said than done.

"You can't get those out of his cheeks," said Ben, with a laugh, and giving up the sofa blanket as a bad job. "Well, we'll just let him finish them, and then I'll shake the skins out of the bath-room window."

"And you won't have any more," said Jasper, with a bob at Jocko, as he squatted on his knee. "Those peanuts are gone, sir."

Jocko, who cared very little what was said about peanuts, as long as he had his cheeks full, picked the nuts out one by one, cracked and threw away the shells, with the same impartial attention to Jasper and Ben, and leisurely ate them.

"Here's the bag, Ben," said Jasper, tossing it to him, when the monkey's cheeks began to flatten out. "Put it up on the shelf, do, for I don't want him nosing all over me for it."

So Ben caught the bag and set it up high in the place designated, Jocko's sharp little eyes following every movement.

"Oh, you needn't stare that way, you greedy little thing," said Jasper, "for you can't get that bag, I'd have you to know. Oh, you are almost through, are you?" Which was presently without doubt the case, proclaimed as it was by a loud shout for more peanuts, and the quick extension of Jocko's long arms.

"No, sir!" said Jasper, shaking his dark hair vehemently; "see what a muss you've made," pointing to the sofa blanket and to the floor and to his jacket, and Ben's as well.

Jocko, who didn't care to waste time regarding these trivial things, redoubled his cries, till the room seemed full of monkeys.

"Goodness me, what a bedlam!" cried Ben. "You can't stand this."

"Well, do put the bag somewhere else than on that shelf," said Jasper. "If he doesn't see it, he'll stop."

But Jocko, seeing no good reason why he should stop till he had his peanuts, gave vent to howls in another key, much worse than the first.

"Ow!" said Jasper, with a grimace, "that sets my teeth on edge. Here, Ben, you may have your monkey," pushing Jocko off from his lap.

"_My_ monkey?" said Ben, running around with the peanut bag, looking for a place to hide it. "Well, I think that's nice, when you made me bring him up here."

"Oh, well, he's yours now, as long as he's in your care," said Jasper, coolly. "That's right, Jocko, run after Master Ben;" and he dropped the chain.

There was no need to tell Jocko that, as long as Ben had the peanut bag. So he leaped to the broad back and ran down the arm, at the end of which was the coveted prize.

"No, you don't," said Ben, transferring the bag to the other hand, when Jocko like lightning ran over the broad back again, and down the other arm; this pretty game being played with no gain to either party, until Jasper begged for a pause.

"I should think you'd laugh," said Ben, turning round with a hot, red face, Jocko sticking to one shoulder, rage in his eye.

"O dear me!" said Jasper, faintly, and wiping his eyes. "Ha! Ha! Ha!" and he burrowed in the chair-depths, holding his sides.

"To get me into this scrape," exclaimed Ben, flying around with a wild step. "Stop that," for Jocko in this little diversion nearly gripped the prize. "There now!" He rushed to the closet, threw the bag in, and slammed the door. "Now, sir! who's got those peanuts?" and he gazed into the monkey's little wrinkled face.

Defrauded of his prize and, what was worse, with no hopes of getting it, for Jocko could see that the closet door was shut, he now set up a piteous sobbing, putting his paws up to his poor little eyes. And there he clung on Ben's shoulder, crying like a child.

"Oh, I say!" exclaimed Jasper, coming out of his laugh, "I can't stand this. Do stuff something into his mouth, Ben," and Jasper thrust his fingers into his ears.

"He shan't have peanuts," declared Ben, firmly, yet having no heart now to set the monkey on the floor. "There, there, Jocko, be still," and he patted him kindly.

"Of course not," said Jasper, taking the finger from one ear long enough to hear Ben's reply; "but get him something else--anything--"

So Ben set up a hunt for something to appease Jocko, and at last lifted the lid of the cracker-jar.

When Jocko heard the click of china, he dropped one paw enough to peer around. Yes, he was going to have something to eat. So down went the other paw, which shot out to receive the tidbit. When on being conveyed to his mouth he found that it was nothing but cracker, a thing that Thomas and Jane and the other maids, who were always running out to pet him, gave him ever so many times a day, he spit it out disdainfully, clapped his paws to his eyes, and cried harder than ever.

"For goodness' sake!" cried Jasper, "can't you find some candy? There is plenty there in that box. I'll come and get it myself." And in another minute he would have been out of the big chair.

"You stay still," said Ben. "Hush, you beast!" to Jocko. And at last, after knocking down more things than he supposed was possible in that short time, the box of candy was found on the table, and a big piece crammed into Jocko's mouth.

"O dear me! How perfectly lovely not to hear his voice," exclaimed Jasper, dropping his fingers and sinking back against his pillows.

"Um!" said Ben; then he set Jocko down in the corner, took a big piece of chocolate, and smeared the wrinkled face from top to bottom, then set the remainder in one paw. "When you've got through licking your face and rubbing it clean, why then you'll go downstairs, sir," he declared grimly. "My goodness me, I _am_ tired," and he threw himself into a chair.

"Oh, what a scheme," cried Jasper. "O dear me!" and he began to laugh again, for Jocko, having swallowed as one morsel the big chocolate piece, was now endeavoring to lick his cheeks clean by running his tongue as far out as he could. To do this, as he always fancied after each fresh effort that there was much more up beyond his eyebrows, which was quite true, as Ben had been very generous in the application, he turned his back on himself, so to speak, many a time, to achieve the success he longed for--till he got out of breath, and had to squat and rest, only to up and at it again.

Just here in came Jane with a small tray, followed by Hobson, the butler, with a large one.

"You are to have your supper up here, too, Master Ben," said Jane.

"Oh, am I?" cried Ben, in a pleased tone.

"Yes, Mrs. Fisher said so," said Jane, depositing her tray on the table. "Oh, that nasty monkey!" she squealed, catching sight of Jocko, who was just beginning on a fresh attempt to get the sweet stuff off from his face. "Oh, me!"

"He won't hurt you, Jane," said Ben; "he's too much occupied. And Hobson, after you have set the table, you can take him downstairs."

"All right, Master Ben," said Hobson, pulling out the tea-table from the wall, and opening its leaves to deftly lay the cloth, Jane going gingerly about to help as far as she could, seeing that she must keep a sharp eye on Jocko.

"It seems so funny to have supper instead of dinner," said Jasper. "I haven't gotten used to it after all these weeks. And to think of its being time. Haven't you made a mistake and brought it too early, Hobson? Do look at your watch, Ben."

"It is a bit early, sir," said Hobson, "but Doctor Fisher ordered it now."

"It's half-past five o'clock," said Ben, "but it hasn't grown dark hardly any. Well, we must have the light turned on now," springing off to do it.

"I know why I'm to have my supper a half-hour sooner," said Jasper; "it's because I'm to be tucked into bed earlier to-night. Well, I suppose I must," he added resignedly, as a bright light filled the room.

"Yes, indeed, we had such a good time last night," said Ben, flying back. "Now this is jolly, isn't it?" his face lighting up.

"Yes," said Jasper, "it's no end jolly!" looking across the tea-table, as Jane lighted the candles under the red shades, pulled the curtains together, and Hobson adjusted the tea-things. "Is there anything else you want, Master Jasper?" he asked.

"No," said Jasper, with a quick eye for details, "thank you, Hobson; everything is very nice. Now if you will just take Jocko."

"Yes, I will, Master Jasper," said Hobson, going over to Jocko, who was still working away on his face, supposing he had plenty of time to attack the tea-table later. Jane gave a wide range to the two on her way out.

When they were fairly started Jocko gave a loud cry of disappointment, turning a baffled face to the two boys and the lovely table between them.

"Oh, do toss the poor beggar a piece of cake, Ben," said Jasper.

Which Ben did, and Jocko, wisely considering it better to take it than to get nothing, was borne off; the cake having been swallowed before he reached the bottom of the stairs, his cries pealed up till at last Hobson had him well out of hearing.

Jane set the little silver bell on the tea-table, and withdrew to the sitting room as usual, when the two sat a long time over the supper enjoying it hugely. At last it was time for her to summon Hobson, and the two trays were carried off.

"And now what?" asked Ben. "Shall I read to you, Jasper?"

"Oh, if you don't mind--are you tired of chess?" Jasper leaned forward to search the round face.

"No, not a bit; only it can't be any pleasure to you, I'm so stupid," said Ben.

"I tell you what it is, Ben Pepper, you are _not_ stupid," declared Jasper, warmly; "now don't say so again," he begged.

"Oh, I won't if it makes you feel badly," said Ben, laughing, "only I shall think so."

"You mustn't think so," declared Jasper, decidedly; "and do hurry and get the table and the men."

So the little game-table, inlaid and beautiful, was carefully brought out and set in place by Ben, the box of chessmen put in Jasper's hands, and then Ben sat down to the table.

"You choose this time," said Ben, picking up a red and also a white piece, to hold back of him, "only, as I said--"

"Ugh!" interrupted Jasper, "you weren't to say that again. You promised, Ben," he added reproachfully.

"So I did," said Ben. "Well, I won't again."

"See that you don't," said Jasper, laughing. "Well--I choose the left hand. Oh! You have the first move," as a white pawn came to view.

And after that there was nothing heard in the big room but the ticking of the French clock, and the crackling of the hickory logs, if we except Ben's hard breathing when his men were pushed pretty hard.

And the first thing any one knew there was little Doctor Fisher looking at them through his big spectacles and beaming all over his face.

"Well--well--well!" he could hardly stop himself. "And so you are having a good time," he said to Jasper.

"I should rather think so," said Jasper, lifting a bright face.

"I suppose now you don't know what time it is," said the little Doctor.

"Oh, it's early, I know," said Jasper, easily; "why, we have hardly got through supper, it seems to me."

"Then you must have been a good while at supper," said Doctor Fisher, composedly, and pulling out his big silver watch, "for it's nine o'clock."

"Nine o'clock!" exclaimed Jasper and Ben together.

"Fact." Doctor Fisher nodded so briskly that his spectacles slipped down to the end of his nose, "And so it's time for you to hop into bed, Jasper."

"O dear!" said Jasper, with a glance at the silken canopy and covers, and trying not to show a wry face.

"In with you! I give you ten minutes." The little Doctor laughed and went off, and immediately the room was in a bustle, Ben helping along the operation of getting Jasper to bed. And presently the light was out and Jasper was saying, "Oh, thank you, Ben, ever so much. Good night."

"Good night," said Ben, and he shut the door softly and went downstairs.

It was so still all through the big mansion--little Dick and Phronsie of course being abed and asleep hours ago, and all the other children away. Ben opened the big front door and stepped out on the stone porch. Oh, how good the crisp air was! He sniffed it in, and threw back his broad shoulders for another and another breath; then he hurried into the house to get his coat and cap,--and, jamming this last on his head, he thrust his hands in his pockets, and set off for a walk. Yes, they must--the merry sleighs full--be well on their way home by this time, because Grandpapa, who, of course, was going with them, had told Mother Fisher he should bring them home early.

Oh, how good the air was! Ben thought he hadn't tasted any quite so sweet since he left Badgertown--and he deserted the sidewalk now, having reached the thoroughfare, and struck out in the middle of the road, where it was more fun crunching down the snow. How long he walked he didn't know. Suddenly sleigh-bells jingled,--and merry voices,--and, yes, there was Polly's laugh,--and, why, of course, there was Grandpapa's voice,--and then,--

"_Oh, there he is!_" screamed Polly. "_Oh, Ben!_" stretching out her arms.

And "Hop up here," called Grandpapa, his cheeks rosy under the white hair. And up Ben went like a flash! One word to the driver of the four horses and off they went, turning first in the direction from which they had just come--the other big sleigh following fast.

"Oh, Grandpapa, we are going to give Ben a sleigh-ride," cried Polly, in a glad little voice, and clapping her brown gloves together.

"Of course," said Grandpapa; "we are going to give him a little one this time, and a big one, all made up on purpose for him, some other night."

XXV

IT WAS POLLY WHO HEARD IT FIRST

"Yes," said Madam Van Ruypen, folding her long hands in her lap. She sat at one corner of her library fire, in a carved high-backed chair, and the young minister at the other end. Both were regarding the leaping flames.

"It will be best for you to return home to-morrow; tell the mother all my plans for the children, and ask her permission for me to put them into school," went on the old lady, not raising her gaze from the crackling hickory logs.

"Yes, Madam Van Ruypen," said the minister.

"And then write me at once what she says. Meantime, I shall be consulting Mr. King as to the school. It has to be a peculiar kind, of course, none of the high-fangled ones, but a good, substantial, ordinary sort of one, dominated by a man with a conscience. And where shall we find such an one--goodness knows, I'm sure I don't," she lifted her hands in dismay.

Mr. St. John, seeing that something was expected of him, volunteered the remark, "Oh, there must be such institutions; they are so much needed."

"Just like a minister," retorted the old lady, who was nothing if not blunt, especially if it fell out that she took a liking to a body; so now she added, "Oh, you'll do to preach from a desk; but as to practical things, such as the selection of a school, why, what can you, in the name of sense, be expected to know, either about them or the masters who run them?"

A little spot of red began to show itself on the fair cheek, and twice the young minister opened his mouth. But he thought better of it. Then he laughed. "Perhaps so," he said, with a nod, and stretched his hands to the blaze.

Madam Van Ruypen laughed too. Having never meant to give offence, that danger had not occurred to her. But she had been suddenly overcome, as it were, with a mortal terror, and all on account of those mountain children. What to do with them now she had sent for them she had found herself unable to answer. She couldn't send them back home, that would be cruelty indeed; and until the plan for the school popped up she was in a miserable state enough. So it was quite cheery to hear the bright little laugh bubble out from the other end of the fireplace, and she laughed so heartily in echo, that Mr. St. John tried it again.

"Well, now I feel better," she said, wiping her eyes with her lace-trimmed handkerchief. "You can't know, Mr. St. John, how very much I have been tried in this matter."

"I suppose so," he said, the laugh dropping away. Really, when he came to think of it again, the wonder grew how she came to do this thing at all, and then, how she dared to keep on so bravely. And that recalled "old money-bags"; how he blamed himself now for calling her so in his thoughts on those Sundays in the little mountain parish church! Could she be the same person as this woman, wiping her eyes, so touched by the little cheer he had given to her perplexity? He cleared his throat. "It was noble of you," he said, his own eyes glistening.

"Oh, now;" she turned on him a formidable face; the white puffs and Roman nose seemed to grow bigger. "You would do better to stop right there," she said, raising her forefinger, "else I shall wish you had gone home to-day," all of which made him feel decidedly like a schoolboy about to be whipped. And he sat back in his chair, quite depressed.

"Let us put our minds on those children, Richard," she said at last, breaking the silence that seemed to weigh on one of them like lead. "I don't like your name, St. John; it's well enough for a grand person, but you're a minister, and probably always will be a plain man, so I am going to call you Richard."

"If you only would!" he cried, the brightness coming back to eye and cheek, not caring in the least for the rest of her words.

"So you like it,--eh?"

"Very much. I am, as you say, a plain man."

"Besides being something of a boy," she added, with a twinkle in her sharp eyes.

"Besides being something of a boy," he repeated, laughing again.

"Well, then, Richard it is," she declared, with great satisfaction. "Now then, the first thing is to settle those children in some good school, or rather in two good schools, as soon as can be done. It isn't good for them to be here, I see that. I don't know in the smallest degree what to do with them, at least as far as the girl is concerned, and it is bad for them to be entertained all the while." Not a word about the demoralization of her houseful of servants, whose ill-concealed wrath and dismay were smouldering over the infliction of Elvira. "And they ought to be getting some education. Well, to-morrow you must go back and straighten it all out with the mother. That's settled." Then she sat quite erect to draw a long breath of enjoyment. "Now I'll tell you a piece of news," she said; "it's a secret as yet."

Richard leaned forward with great interest. He certainly was boy enough to enjoy a secret, and his eyes sparkled.

"I've engaged the whole front of the mountain hotel, the floor above the office, for next summer," she said. Then she waited to see the effect of her announcement.

"You're coming up?" cried Richard, in a glad voice.

"It looks like it," said the old lady, grimly, but vastly pleased at his tone, "and I want you to engage the Potter Camp for me."

"And you'll bring,--oh, now I know what you are going to do!" exclaimed the young minister, with great delight.

"No, you don't know in the least what I am going to do, young man," she retorted. "Oh, go along with you, Richard," and she laughed again, this time as light-heartedly as if her years matched his own. "Yes, I wrote yesterday to the manager to secure the rooms. You must get the camp for me."

"I surely will," promised Richard with huge satisfaction.

"And tell John Bramble if he doesn't bring my boxes and express matter up to the hotel quicker this summer than he did last year, I'll--I'll--report him to the government. Dear me, I want to scold somebody. Oh, and be sure, Richard, whatever you forget,--and I suppose you'll leave out the most important things,--don't forget to tell--what's that man Handy's name?"

"Shin?"

"Shin! Oh, what a name!"

"Well, we always call him that up in the mountains, because he can shin up the trees quicker than anybody else," said the young minister, laughing, "but his real name is--"

"Oh, well, if he's been called Shin so long, why Shin let it be," said Madam Van Ruypen, composedly; "I'm sure I don't care. Well, be sure and tell him he's engaged for the summer. There will be plenty he can do when we aren't at camp."

"That's fine," cried Richard, clapping his hands together smartly, "because you see Shin has so much time when he isn't hired for camping and guiding."

"And don't let those other children expect to come down. Whatever you do, don't raise any such hopes." The old lady here turned such a distressed face on him that the best he could do was to laugh again. "I'll remember," he said brightly.

And Madam Van Ruypen slept through the whole night, having the first good sound repose she had enjoyed since the visitors had arrived.

But up at the King household--O dear me! It was Polly who heard it first.