Part 6

"And Mamsie will be very much disappointed in her little girl if she cries," went on Mrs. Fisher, "for Aunty Whitney needs Polly to-day. So Phronsie must be brave and let Polly stay with her."

"Is Aunty Whitney sick?" asked Phronsie, with sudden interest, her eyes flying open at once. For any one to be sick was to enlist her sympathy, and she at once gave up all thoughts of having Polly to herself.

"Yes, that is, she will be, I am afraid, if Polly does not stay with her," said Mother Fisher; "so you must be a good child, and not call for Polly."

"I will be good," said Phronsie, sliding down from her mother's lap, and folding her hands. "I will be good." She bobbed her yellow head. "And Aunty Whitney will get all well, because Polly is there."

Meanwhile the train bearing Mr. King and Ben was speeding swiftly on its way. For the first hour the old gentleman sat erect on his chair, gazing straight before him at the flying landscape, and with never a word for his companion. Then he suddenly turned with a little groan, and laid his hand on Ben's shoulder. "You are such a comfort to me," he said brokenly.

"Am I?" said Ben, all the color rushing to his face. He a comfort to Grandpapa! He hadn't gotten over wondering what had given him this honor of being allowed to go with him,--and now, to think of being a comfort!

"What I should have done without you, Ben, I cannot tell," Grandpapa was saying, his hand slipping down until it rested on Ben's woollen glove, "but, oh, my boy, I am so glad I have you."

Ben said never a word; he couldn't have spoken, it seemed to him, to save his life, but he lifted his blue eyes to the white, drawn face, and old Mr. King did not seem to feel anything lacking. And so, on and on; the revolutions of the wheels, the flashing in and out of strange cities, the long, steady, tireless plunge of the heavily laden express, by river and lake, hill-top and plain, only rang one refrain through every heart-throb, over and over, loud and clear above the reverberation of the train,--"What shall we find at our journey's end?"

And when it was reached at nightfall, Grandpapa still had Ben's fingers in his grasp; the valet rushed into the Pullman from another car, gathered up the luggage, and out all the passengers poured from the train. There on the platform was Dr. Presbrey himself.

"It is not so bad as we feared," were his first words, as he reached Mr. King's side; and, without waiting for a word, for he saw the old gentleman was beyond it, he led the way to his carriage.

"Stop a bit," Grandpapa made out to say through white lips, "a telegram--tell them at home." He looked at Ben, but Dr. Presbrey sprang back into the station, wrote it, sent it off, and was with them once more; and then it was only a matter of moments and Jasper was reached, at the master's house, where he had been carried after the fire.

"Don't go in," said one of a crowd of boys, who surrounded Ben on the steps, old Mr. King being in advance, a medical man and one or two teachers coming out of the house to meet the party. "Don't go in," he repeated, laying detaining hands on him; "it's perfectly awful in there; everybody's crying."

"He may want me," said Ben, hoarsely, nodding toward the white-haired old gentleman ahead, and trying to free himself. The other boys closed in around him.

"Oh, Dr. Smith won't let you get near him," volunteered one boy; "catch him!"--which proved to be true. Old Mr. King was just at the moment being ushered into the front parlor, and the medical man followed and closed the door with such a snap that it was impossible for any one else to even dream of entering.

"Now, what did I tell you?" said the boy, triumphantly.

"You're Ben, aren't you?" asked the first boy, who hadn't relinquished his hold, the other boys drawing up.

"Yes," said Ben.

"Well, we've heard all about you, and the rest of you. King talked just whole packs about you all."

"Don't," said Ben, and he put up his hand; everything seemed to turn suddenly dark.

"Hush up, Grayson, can't you have some sense?" said a tall, dark-haired boy, angrily, and by a speedy movement he had rescued Ben from the first grasp. "Now, then, come over to my room," he pointed to a long building on the west, "and I'll tell you all about it."

But Grayson had no mind to be so easily pushed off. "That's no fair," he cried; "I had him first."

"No, sir, take your hands off, I'm--" and he clutched Ben again, determined to fight to the end for possession.

"That's right. Get out, Tim," a dozen voices took it up in a subdued tone, it is true, but equally determined to see fair play.

And the tall, dark-haired boy, being shouldered off the steps, Ben soon found himself sitting down in the midst of Jasper's school companions, Grayson still hanging like a leech to him.

"You see we can't do anything but hang around here," one of the boys was saying, "and when anybody comes out, why, we hear a bit how he is."

"And to think it needn't have happened only for Pip,--O dear!" said a stout, chubby-cheeked boy, who didn't look as if he ever did anything but laugh and eat.

"Pip! He wasn't worth saving, little rat," exploded Tim, who, being on the outskirts of the crowd, had to vent his vexation over somebody.

"You'd better let King hear you say that," cried a boy, with a belligerent glance over at Tim. Then, as he remembered how little prospect there might be of Jasper's ever being troubled by the remark, he ground his teeth together to keep from saying more before Ben.

"See here, fellows." Grayson, having made first capture, deemed it his further duty to do the right thing by Ben. "We ought to tell him all about it. And I'll begin," and without more ado, he started off.

Ben clasped his woollen gloves tightly together, and looked over the heads of the boys up to the sky. Was it possible that the stars had ever twinkled in friendly fashion at them, as Polly and the other children had run out of the little brown house with him at such fortunate times when their mother had let them sit up; and the moon had beamed down on them too, so sociably that Polly made up little stories about their shining light, so that they had all grown to love them very dearly. Now, it seemed as if great tears were dropping out of the sky, and Ben shivered and listened, and gripped his hands tighter together than ever.

"You see, it began--well, no one knows how it did begin," Grayson was rushing on; "I think Beggins was drunk."

"What stuff!" ejaculated another boy, contemptuously. "Beggins never got off the handle; the Doctor would have fired him long ago."

"There must always be a first time," said Grayson, nowise discomfited. "Beggins is the night watchman," he explained to Ben. "Well, anyway,--hush up, fellows,--the fire broke out, we don't any of us know how. It doesn't signify. What we do know is that in about five minutes from the first alarm it got too hot for us in there." He hopped to his feet and pointed to the broken outline of a long building. Even in the dim light, Ben, dropping his gaze from the sky, could see the ruined chimney, the ragged side wall, and the blackened, crushed windows.

"And it was every one to save his skin. Great Scott! I'll never forget that yell that Toddy sent up. He's the teacher on our hall, Todd is," Grayson explained again, as he dropped into his seat beside Ben.

"Nor the bell clanging," put in another boy; "Christopher Columbus, I thought it was all day with us then!"

"And I couldn't find my clothes!"

"Well, 'twas no worse for you than for any of us," retorted the boy the other side of Grayson. "There wasn't a rag for any of us to get into but blankets, and sheets, and--"

"You see we were waked up out of a sound sleep; it was about three o'clock this morning," Grayson took the words out of any mouth that might be intending to explain, "so we just vamosed the ranch. I tell you, there was some tall sprinting. And King was with us; I remember seeing him. But he was last, and he looked back; then somebody sang out, 'Where's Pip?'"

"Pip?" Ben found his tongue, that had seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth, enough for that one syllable.

"Oh, it isn't his real name," said Grayson, in a hurry to explain again before any one else could put in a word; "his own was so ridiculously long,--Cornelius Leffingwell,--only think, for such a mite of a chap,--so we had to call him Pip, you see. Well, somebody was fool enough to scream out, 'Where's Pip?' and Jasper turned back."

Ben clenched both hands tightly together in a grip that would have hurt but for the woollen gloves.

"And I roared out, 'Come along, King--'"

"And so did I."

"And I." The voices took it up, one after another.

"For it wasn't the time to look out for any skin but your own; it was as much as your life was worth to turn back," cried Grayson, bearing down on the other voices.

"Boys!" The big door back of them burst open suddenly, and a teacher's head appeared, making them all jump as if shot. "Go right away from these steps!"

"How is he?" Nothing seemed to dash Grayson, and he took time to ask this quite comfortably, still holding to Ben, while the other boys moved off the steps and around the corner of the master's house.

"Somewhat better. Be off with you!" The teacher waved his hand, and closed the door.

"That old Sterrett,--well, he's a dragon," declared Grayson, between his teeth, and, dragging Ben to a convenient angle, where the other boys soon gathered, the narrative was taken up where it had been dropped.

"I grabbed King, but you might as soon try to hold an eel. He _would_ go."

Ben groaned, and this time so heavily that Grayson pulled himself up short. "See here, I won't tell any more; you're going to keel over."

For answer he was in an instant whirled completely around on his two feet, and instead of his having any sort of a grasp on Ben, it was the visitor who held his coat collar in a woollen-gloved hand in such a way that it didn't seem as if Grayson were ever to be free again.

"Now tell everything you know! I can't wait! Be quick about it!"

It was the same face he had shown to Jane, and, just as she had done, Grayson made all possible haste to answer, "Oh, I will, I will!" the other boys in their astonishment staring silently at the two.

"Pip couldn't be found. He slept in the north wing, but he'd run into another boy's room, so King lost time, and if he hadn't screeched,--Pip, I mean,--why, he never would have got out. And there King--oh, well, he crawled under the bed,--Pip, I mean, nasty little beggar,--and there King found him, and dragged him out. He told us all about it,--Pip, I mean,--and King slung him on his back, and by that time it was no use to try for the stairs; the flames were roaring up like mad, so King tried for the roof of the 'Lab.' Had to go through Toddy's room, and jumped out of one of the windows. And he made it.--Oh, don't hang on to a fellow so!--And there we saw him, and the firemen got a ladder up, and, oh--" Here Grayson gave out and actually blubbered.

Ben looked around for some one to take up the tale. And the tall, dark-haired boy they had called "Tim," now seeing his opportunity, pushed up.

"It's better you should have the whole," he said; "without a bit of warning we saw the roof overhanging the 'Lab'--laboratory, of course, I mean--waver, and then fall, and we screamed to King to look out; it wouldn't have done any good if he had heard, for the chimney toppled, and some bricks knocked him over, and then he saw it coming and kept Pip underneath."

Ben's hand had fallen from the jacket collar to his side, and he didn't seem to breathe.

"You are to come. Mr. King wants you." Somebody reached through the crowd of boys, and drew him off and away.

VIII

"ANY ONE WHO WANTS TO PLEASE JASPER," SAID BEN, "HAD BETTER TAKE UP THIS CHAP"

And the first thing Ben knew, he was being hurried over the stairs and into Master Presbrey's big library. There stood Grandpapa, and, wonder of wonders, with a smile on his face!

"You are to see Jasper," said the old gentleman, briefly.

Ben staggered back, it was all so sudden, and stared up at the one the boys had called "Dr. Smith" standing near.

"Yes," said the gentleman, "he has asked for you." And without further ado Ben was piloted into the back room, and there, looking eagerly toward the door, was Jasper in the big bed and propped up with pillows.

"Halloo!" It was all either of them said at first; then Ben, with a lump in his throat, leaned over and grasped the fingers on the coverlet.

"You see I'm all right," said Jasper, his eyes roving affectionately all over Ben's square figure.

"Yes," nodded Ben.

"But it was good, though, to see Father and you." And Jasper's dark eyes beamed; then a wave of pain swept its trail over his face. And the doctor, seeing that, unceremoniously bundled Ben out of the room, and back to old Mr. King again.

But the next day, oh, that was joy! for Ben was not only let in again, but allowed to stay a good half-hour. And this time he found his tongue, for Dr. Smith said a little cheery talking was just the thing. So the budget of home news was undone, and Ben regaled Jasper, who hungrily took in every word.

"It's a shame I spoiled all the Christmas," murmured Jasper, his face in the pillow, his thoughts flying back to Polly and the others, busy with the preparations for that gay festival.

"Oh, that's no matter," said Ben, cheerily, "and perhaps you'll be able to come home soon, and we'll have it then."

"But it won't be Christmas," said Jasper, dejectedly.

"Well, but we can call it Christmas," said Ben, "so that'll be just as good." Then, for want of something else to say, he began on Mrs. Van Ruypen buying all sorts of things for poor people, of course with never a word of himself mixed up in it.

"Now isn't that fine?" cried Jasper, taken for the moment off from the loss of Christmas to the family, and bringing his face into view again.

"Yes," said Ben, "it is," and he went on so fast that Polly herself couldn't have told it better, Dr. Smith smiling to himself in satisfaction at the experiment of letting Ben in.

"Well, now, boys," he said at last, coming up to the bed, "time is up. But you can come in, maybe, this afternoon," to Ben.

"Oh, let him stay now!" begged Jasper.

"Can't," said the doctor, laconically. And off Ben went again. And this time he, too, smiled. And the first person he ran up against was a small boy, his hands full of little wads of paper bundles, crammed tightly together in his nervous fists.

"They're for him," said the small boy, emptying the fistful into Ben's hands, who involuntarily thrust his out, as it seemed to be expected of him.

"For whom?" asked Ben, in astonishment.

"Why, for him," said the boy, pointing with a set of sticky fingers he first put into his mouth, off toward Jasper's room. "Of course; hurry and give 'em to him before the doctor sees. It's candy." He couldn't repress his longing as his eyes now fell on the wads in Ben's hands. "I got 'em down town. Hurry up!" and his little face, pasty-colored and sharp, scowled at the delay.

"If you mean I'm to give these to Jasper," said Ben, holding the little packets toward the small figure, "I can't do any such thing; the doctor wouldn't like it."

"You are a 'fraid cat," said the boy, contemptuously; "but he won't hurt you, 'cause you're a stranger, so hurry up!" and he laid his sticky fingers on Ben's arm.

"But don't you understand that these things will hurt Jasper?" said Ben, kindly, into the scowling little face.

"Hoh! I guess not," said the boy, with another longing look at the little packets; "they'll make him well, do take 'em to him. O dear!" and his thin lips trembled, his sticky little fingers flew up to his eyes, and he turned his face to the wall.

"Now, I guess you're Pip," said Ben, hustling the little wads all into one hand, and putting the other on the small shoulder.

"Yes, I am," snivelled Pip, flattening his face against the wall, "and all the boys hate me, and say I've killed King, and--O dear!" he whined.

"Well, now, you just see here," Ben turned the little figure swiftly around; "no more of that."

It was so sudden that Pip released one pale eye from his sticky fingers to peer up at the big boy, and he stopped snivelling in amazement.

"The worst thing you can do for Jasper King is to carry on like this," said Ben, firmly. "Come, now, wipe your eyes," which Pip at once proceeded to do on his jacket sleeve, "and take your candy," and Ben dropped the little packets of sweets back into their owner's hands. "I'll tell Jasper all you wanted to do for him; it was nice of you." Ben was astounded to find how fast he was getting on in conversation. Really he hadn't supposed he could talk so much till he got this Pip on his hands. Meantime, his grasp still on the small shoulder, he was marching him off, and downstairs, and across the school yard, not exactly knowing what in the world to do with him after all.

"Great Scott! If that Pepper boy hasn't got Pip!" A dozen heads, their owners just released from recitation, were thrust up to the windows of a class room. Meantime Pip, in the familiar borders of the school yard, and remembering everything again with a rush, began to snivel once more, so that Ben was at his wits' end, and seeing a boy a good deal bigger than his companion coming down the long path, he hailed him unceremoniously.

"See here, can't you do something for him?" Ben bobbed his head down at the cowering shoulders. "Can't you play ball with him?" He said the first thing that came into his head.

"You must excuse me," said the boy, with an aristocratic air, and, not knowing Ben in the least, he looked him all over contemptuously. "King was my great friend. I don't know this little cad at all, nor you either," and he walked on.

Pip's head slunk down deeper yet between his shoulders at that, and he snivelled worse than ever.

"Come along, I'll play with you myself," said Ben. "Got a ball, Pip?"

"Ye-es," said Pip, between a snivel and a gasp, "but the fellows wo-on't let you play with me. O dear, boo-hoo-hoo!"

"Oh, yes, they will," said Ben. "Come, let's get your ball. Where's your room?"

So Pip, seeing that he was to have company all the way, led off somehow to his room, and the little wads of candy were placed in the bureau drawer. Once the ball was in Ben's hands he managed to follow him to a corner of the playground where, without any more words, Ben soon had him throwing and catching in such a rapid fashion there was no time for tears or anything else but the business in hand.

Meantime the boy they had met on the long path had marched off, very angry at having been spoken to by such a common-looking person in company with Pip, whom nobody had liked from the first, certainly not after the injury to their favorite, King. And nursing his wrath he projected himself into the class room where the heads of the boys were still at the windows.

"Something must be done with that Pip!" he fumed, throwing down his book on the first desk.

"What's the poor chap done now?" cried Tim, turning off from his window quite readily, as there was nothing more to be seen. "Can't you let up on him, Bony?"

"No," said Bony, called short for Bonaparte, much to his distress, for the great air which he assumed he fondly hoped was to bring him distinction, "and none of us ought to."

"It wasn't the poor little beggar's fault that King got hurt," said Tim, thrusting his hands in his pockets and lounging over toward Bony, "and we ought to remember that."

"Don't preach," cried Bony, derisively. "Well, he is such an insufferable little cad!" he brought up in disgust. "And that country lout--Great guns! how did that fellow dare to address me?" With that he began to fume up and down the room, puffing out his chest at every step.

"Has any one dared to speak to our Bony?" cried Tim, throwing his head back and blowing out his cheeks, in step and manner imitating as much as his long figure could, as he followed the other one down between the rows of desks.

"See here, now, Tim," Bony turned suddenly amid the roars of the delighted boys, "you quit that now," and he doubled up his fists in a rage.

"Excuse me, your high mightiness, if I object to being crushed," said Tim, coolly, and folding his fists, which were long and muscular like the rest of his body. "Now, then, Bony, if you like."

But Bony didn't like, taking refuge in, "You're no gentleman," and turning his back.

"I suppose not," said Tim, coolly, and regarding his fists affectionately, "but I don't see why these wouldn't do. I really can't see, Bony, why you object to them; they're a good pair."

"What's the row, anyway?" The boys, not to be balked out of all the fun, seeing that Bony would not fight, crowded around him. "What's upset you, Bony?"

"Enough to disturb any one," he cried, glad to vent injured feelings on something. "A common country fellow just now spoke to me on the long path; fancy that, will you? I never saw him in my life, and he took it upon himself to give me advice about Pip."

"What?" cried ever so many of the boys.

"Yes, just fancy. And there I had just come from seeing Mr. King," here Bony threw out his chest again and looked big. "I'd had a long talk with him; his father knew my father very well, _very_ well indeed, and he wants me to meet Ben Pepper that he brought here yesterday," and Bony paused to see the effect on his auditors.

"Well, you've met him," said one boy. Some of the others gave a long whistle.

"No such thing," retorted Bony. "I wasn't with your crowd when he got here last night," he added superciliously. "This is quite different,--quite in the social way,--and his grandfather is going to introduce us."

"You won't need any introduction," said Tim, with a chuckle. "Hush up, boys," for the room was in an uproar of cat-calls and peals of laughter.

"Yes, I will, too," said Bony, in a superior way, "for I never speak unless properly introduced. My set never does."

"Well, you've broken your rule for once then," said Tim, in a hush now, every boy holding himself in check to lose no word, "for that country lout with Pip was Ben Pepper."

Bony sat down on the nearest desk, his chest sank in, and he groped feebly with his hands, mumbling something--what, the boys couldn't have told, even if the babel that now set up around him had been less. And Mr. Sterrett coming in, and the other boys rushing out, he was presently asked if he were ill.

"No, sir," said Bony, getting up from the desk; "oh, no, sir, I--I only sat down a minute," and he slipped out, leaving his Bonaparte air behind him.

But if the boys didn't have any more fun with Bony, they did with the ball game going on between the two over in the playground corner, which they soon spied, and off they rushed there.

"Let us in, Pepper, will you?" cried Tim, his long legs getting there first.

"Sure," said Ben, his round cheeks all aglow with the exercise. "Now then, Pip, wait a bit," the ball just then getting ready to fly from the thin little hand.

Pip paused, his small pasty-colored face, that without having gained any color had quieted down from its nervousness, now took on a fresh alarm, and he looked ready to run.

"They're all going to play with us," said Ben, looking around brightly on the group as the other boys rushed up. "Now, then, Pip, we'll have a splendid game!"

"Yes, we'll play," cried the boys, in different keys. And before long the whole playground resounded with shouts of enjoyment. Ben couldn't play the most scientific game according to their rules, but he was a capital pitcher, and he took all errors in a sturdy good humor that kept things jolly. Altogether, by the time the game was over, everybody in it had voted that Pepper was worthy to be King's friend.