Part 7

"You'll have that little chap at your heels every minute, after this," Tim nodded over toward Pip, who was running after, having lingered behind a bit to get his ball, as Ben struck off on the path leading to Master Presbrey's house.

"All right, let him come," said Ben.

"He'll be an awful nuisance," said Tim; "take my advice, Pepper, and drop him now."

"Can't," said Ben, "can't oblige," and his fingers closed on the thin little ones crowding into them, as Pip ran up to his other side.

"And I think any one who wants to please Jasper," said Ben,--he hated to preach, but it must be done,--"had better take up this chap."

Tim coughed and stuck his hands deeply in his pockets.

"I'm going down this way," said Ben, striking off on a side path, and he marched off with pip.

"I never knew such a chap," Tim waited for a crowd of the boys who had joined in the game to come up; "he's been here a little more than one day, and he leads us all by the nose. Boys, we've just got to take up that Pip, and we might as well do it handsomely as not."

IX

WHAT A HOME-COMING

Van sprang off the car steps and rushed up tumultuously to Polly in the midst of the group come down to the railroad station to meet the boys.

"O dear," he grumbled in a loud voice, "now we can't have any Christmas at all."

"Hulloa, Van--Hulloa, Percy." Pickering Dodge tried his best to cover this remark by an extra amount of hilarity, as he clapped each of the boys smartly on the back. "Well, you're an awful long time in getting here--I should say half an hour late."

"For shame, Van!" cried Percy at his heels, and edging off toward Polly.

"For shame?" repeated Van, hotly; "well, that's no more than you've been saying on the train,--'we can't have any Christmas,'--and you know it, Percy Whitney."

"Stop that, you little beggar." Pickering's long arm got possession of Van, who, instead of occupying the vantage-ground of first arrival, had now the vexation of seeing Percy in that coveted position.

"Why did you pull me back?" he cried in a small fury at hearing the bustle and excitement of the group he had just left so summarily.

"Because you were making yourself a nuisance. Fancy such a way to come home for the holidays, Van."

"There aren't to be any holidays," howled Van, his face very red. "Let me go, Pick," struggling violently to free himself from Pickering's long fingers.

"No, indeed." Pickering wound his fingers into a still tighter hold. "Not much, sir, until you stop those whines. How you can go on so, I don't see!"

By this time, Pickering, over his shoulder, had the ill luck to see Clare take the first place in marshalling off the party, a position he had fully expected to occupy himself whenever Jasper and Ben were away. All this didn't in the least add to his satisfaction. "Well, I wish you'd stayed back in your school," he declared in extreme irritation. And Alexia, running up, only made matters worse by crying out: "Come on, Van, I'm sure it's bad enough to bear all these dreadful things without coming clear down here for a boy like you. Do come on, we're all waiting for you." So it was a very gloomy party that finally became settled in the two carriages.

"I'm not going to sit with him," declared Van, having freed himself from Pickering, and bolting for the second carriage.

"No, you're coming with me," said Alexia, hurrying after him. "Come, Polly, here's a seat. Here," and she waved frantically.

But Polly was already in the other carriage. And seeing this, Alexia was about to desert her charge, when Thomas, on the box of the forward conveyance, whipped up and off it went.

"O dear me!" cried Alexia; "somebody stop it. Why, Polly Pepper was going with me," and she was just about to jump out.

"No use, Alexia," said Pickering, who at the last moment had found himself crowded out of carriage number one, and putting her to one side as he helped Cathie in, and then David, at last he got in himself. "Don't you see they're a good bit on the way home already?"

"Yes, and here I am shut up in here with all of you, whom I don't want in the least to go with," cried Alexia, in the greatest dismay, sitting down in her corner too suddenly for comfort, as the horses started up, and waving her hands frantically.

"Thank you," said Pickering, with a low bow, "I'm sure we all feel much obliged to you."

"Well, I don't," said Cathie, in a dudgeon, "feel obliged a single bit, and I'm sure I didn't want to come with you, Alexia, only there wasn't room in the other carriage, so I had to."

"And I thought Polly Pepper was surely coming in this carriage," ran on Alexia, too vexed to stop herself, and turning anything but a sweet countenance upon the rest of the carriage-load. "She started for it."

"Don't look so at me, Alexia," said Pickering. "I'm not to blame; Clare took her off."

"It's just like Clare--always meddling," said Alexia, thoroughly out of temper. "Van Whitney, you're sitting all over my coat, and it's my best one, too," and she turned and twitched it away with an angry hand.

"I didn't sit all over it," retorted Van, "and I didn't want to come with you, but you made me."

"Well, because you and Pickering were having such a fight. O me, I wish I'd let you alone," she added, sinking back into her corner.

But Van, much preferring Alexia to Pickering, couldn't say the same, so the carriage rolled on to a gloomy silence within.

"Oh, I say," began Pickering, after this had gone on for some minutes, "this is a sweet way to go to Mr. King's, isn't it?"

"Well, we can't help it," cried Alexia, flying up from her corner; "I'm sure, Pickering, you can't blame any of us. And I haven't got Polly Pepper; you know she was coming in here with me, and everything is just as bad as it can be."

"You're always tagging on to Polly Pepper; I'm glad you haven't got her this time," declared Cathie, in venom from her corner.

"Of course I'm always after Polly," said Alexia, decidedly, "when she's my very dearest friend. O my, don't I wish I could get out!"

"Well, you will pretty soon," said Pickering, coolly; "we'll all get out, for we'll be there in a minute. And then how we'll look, for we're supposed to be helping Mr. King's family, and they're in such trouble."

"O dear me!" exclaimed Alexia, in great distress, whirling around suddenly to look out of the window, her long, fight braids flying over her shoulder. "Pickering Dodge, we aren't near Mr. King's yet," she declared, peering out; "we haven't got to--oh, yes we have--O dear me, what shall we do?" and she flew back again into her corner.

"We've just got to do something," said Pickering, in a determined voice. Little David had been past speaking for some time, and, wedged in between Cathie and Pickering, had been chiefly occupied in twisting his hands, and trying not to think how very dreadful it all was, and how Mamsie would feel to see them all come in.

"We can't do anything," said Alexia, despairingly; "it's all as dreadful as it can be, and we can't help it," and she ran her long arms as far as she could into her muff, and hugged it up tightly.

"Well, we've got to help it," said Pickering. "There's Jasper," he broke off suddenly, for it was as much as he could do to think about the accident that had summoned Mr. King and Ben away from home, let alone trying to talk about it, and he swallowed hard and looked out of his window.

"O dear me!" exclaimed Alexia, faintly from her corner.

Then she sat up straight. "Oh, I know, let's look pleasant, that's what the man says when he takes my photograph, and he won't throw back his old woollen cover from the machine till I smile, so I'm going to now,"--which she did with such surprising effect, that Pickering, turning around, couldn't help but join all the others in the general laugh that set up; even little David forgot everything else for that moment.

The consequence was that when the carriage drew up to the door of the big stone house, the occupants tumbled out and ran up the steps in quite good humor, to join the other half of the party, in the centre of which were Mother Fisher and Mrs. Whitney.

"Now that's very nice and cheerful," said Mother Fisher, beaming on them all. Mrs. Whitney, her arms around her two boys, was beyond speaking. "You must all stay and have luncheon with Percy and Van; they'll enjoy it so much more," and she led the way to the dining room.

"Ugh, O dear me!" Alexia ran after her. "Oh, don't ask me; I can't stay, Mrs. Fisher, truly I can't."

"Why, Alexia,"--Mother Fisher turned on her in great surprise,--"it will help to make things pleasanter," she said slowly.

"Oh, I can't; don't ask me," mumbled Alexia, wildly, and twisting her hands together. One thing only she now really longed for, and that was to stay for the dear little luncheon party she knew Polly's mother had made ready. But she had lost it all; and she darted back and, clutching Polly's arm a moment in passing, "I'm going home," she said.

"What?" cried Polly, flying around to seize her. "Oh, no, indeed, you are not, Alexia. Why, you are all to stay; didn't you hear Mamsie say so?"

"Well, I can't," said Alexia. "O dear me, I'm going to cry, and I can't get my handkerchief. Polly Pepper, do let me go!"

But instead, Polly held very fast indeed to her, and the next moment Alexia found herself in the big dining room, in the midst of the delightsome luncheon party made for the two schoolboys' home-coming.

"Well, I shan't sit down, anyway," declared Alexia, desperately, "and I'm going to tell Mrs. Fisher." With that she darted away from Polly and ran over to her mother. "I haven't been cheerful, and I was just as bad as I could be coming up in the carriage," she said as fast as the words would come, "so you see I can't stay."

"This is your seat, Alexia," said Mother Fisher, just as if she hadn't heard a single word, and laying her hand on a chair, she pulled it out from the table; "hurry and sit down, dear, for those two boys must be very hungry after their journey," and Alexia obeyed and slipped into her chair, for once in her life not waiting to get Polly Pepper next to her.

And after the little luncheon was over,--and it didn't seem to have made a bit of difference that every one besides the two hungry boys had already had a midday meal, for it all tasted so good,--why, things began to get a bit more cheery. And Mother Fisher and Mrs. Whitney even smiled over to each other. But Van, his hunger appeased, slipped out after his mother when at last the feast was over.

"Oh, Vanny, my boy, it is so good to get you home," she cried, affectionately throwing her arm around him, as they went down the hall.

"I'm going to your room," announced Van, without any preamble.

"How good that is," she declared as he hugged up close to her. "You don't know, Van, how I have wanted to see you and Percy."

"O dear," said Van, but he crowded closer than ever.

"And--well, here we are," and Mrs. Whitney hurried into her pretty room with the haste of a girl, and turned her face with its little pink glow of happiness on him. "Oh, Van!"

"I've been bad," said Van, not looking at her, but dropping his eyes to the floor.

"Oh, Van!" Mrs. Whitney laid her hand on her heart, and all the pretty flush died from her cheek. "What--" but she couldn't get any farther, for somebody fumbled at the door, and, without any further announcement, walked in.

"O dear me!" exclaimed Percy, withdrawing when he saw Van.

"Come in, Percy," called his mother, before he could beat a retreat. It would be some relief to have both of her boys, but what could have happened!

So Percy walked in, and he stood just like Van, only worse, for he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

"Why, what is it? What can it be?" cried their mother. "Oh, do tell me, boys; don't be afraid."

Van turned off on his heel till he got his back to Percy. Then he found his tongue. But it was only to say again, "I was bad."

"Well, so was I," Percy got the words out with great difficulty, staring gloomily at the carpet, and thrusting his hands in his pockets to pull them out as suddenly.

"You must just tell me what you have done," said Mrs. Whitney, looking desperately first at one and then at the other, "or I shall go for Mrs. Fisher," and she started for the door.

"Oh, no, no, Mamma!" they cried together, and Van whirled around and held her gown.

"I certainly shall," declared their mother, firmly, "unless you tell me at once what is the matter," and she took another step toward the hall.

"I fretted about--" began Van.

"Not having any Christmas," said Percy, coming in as a finish. "O dear!"

"Oh, boys!"

"Don't look so, Mamma, don't!" implored Van, clutching her gown with desperate fingers.

"And I did, too," said Percy. His hands now seemed to have no comfort in his pockets, so he twisted them miserably together.

"You mean when you were coming home in the carriage?" asked Mrs. Whitney, a sorrowful little droop coming in her pretty mouth.

"Yes," said Van, his head hanging. "O dear me,"--he had hard work not to cry, but he wagged his head from side to side, and somehow kept the tears back,--"I did, anyway."

"Well, I did, too," said Percy, hastily; "that is, on the train. O dear!"

"Well, this is very bad," said their mother. But her voice was quite gentle, and she put her arm around each of them. "When we know how happy we ought to be that Jasper is really better, although he can't come home until after Christmas, how can we think of a holiday, and fret because we lose it?"

"We won't fret," said Percy, eagerly. "Oh, we won't, Mamma, ever again."

"No," said Van, "we won't, truly, Mamma."

While this was going on in Mrs. Whitney's room, there was a small clamor raised downstairs. Where in the world were the two boys just come home from school?

"I know," declared Alexia, who had recovered her spirits. "Polly," and she drew her off into the library, "they went upstairs with Mrs. Whitney," she said with a loud whisper in her ear.

"I heard you," cried little Dick, creeping in back of the two girls, "and I shall just go up to Mamma's room," and he began to skip off joyously.

"Oh, no, you mustn't," cried Alexia, deserting Polly to race after him and seize his blouse. "The very idea--Polly, come and help me hold this dreadful boy."

"I shall go up and see my Mamma," said Dick, in a small fury, and pulling and kicking violently. "She is my very own Mamma, and I _shall_ see her."

"But you mustn't," said Alexia, very red in the face. "O dear me, why did I speak! Polly, do help me," for just then Phronsie had run in between the two girls, and before any one had a chance to hardly breathe, a dreadful sound struck their ears.

"There, see what you have done!" exclaimed little Dick, in a wrathful key. Alexia's fingers fell away, and he held up a dangling end of lace, all frayed and ragged. "You've torn my blouse, and I _shall_ see my Mamma." With that he set out on a run for the stairs.

X

"I'LL LOVE HER JUST FOREVER!"

"I'm going home," cried Alexia, hoarsely, and rushing blindly down the hall.

"Alexia!" Polly deserted Phronsie and raced after her. "You can't mean it; do come back. It isn't any matter that lace was torn," she added breathlessly, as she gained her side.

"Polly Pepper," gasped Alexia, "how can you say so? It's the most dreadful thing!" and she turned wide eyes of amazement at her.

"I mean it isn't near as bad as for you to run home," said Polly, hastily; "that would make Mrs. Whitney feel ever so much worse."

At the mention of Mrs. Whitney's name, Alexia's long figure shook all over. "Horrors! I can't ever see her again!" and she buried her face in her hands.

"Now, Alexia, aren't you ashamed to act so?" said Polly. "Dear me, over a bit of lace that can be mended, I most know; and we've had so much trouble," and she sighed.

"And I've made a mess of it ever since those boys came home, and now I've gone and torn that lace," mumbled Alexia, between her fingers, the sigh making her nearly frantic. "Polly Pepper, I _shall_ go home,"--with that she sprang away from Polly, and ran upstairs to Polly's room to get her things.

Polly, with only one thought to get Mamsie, who alone seemed to be the person to manage this new trouble, hurried off to find her. But Mrs. Fisher, happy in the success of the little luncheon party, had disappeared to some unknown house duty, and couldn't at this very moment be found. So Polly had the distress to hear, before she could run over the stairs herself, the big front door bang, and, hurrying to the window, she saw Alexia running down the driveway and pulling her coat around her as she ran.

For the first moment Polly had wild thoughts of flying off after her. Then, remembering what Mamsie had once said, "If you want to help, Polly, take time to think what would be the best way," and that Mamsie would say now, in this trouble, "Don't go, for the boys are just home,"--"O dear me!" she cried as Joel rushed in and up to the window, and without a bit of warning seized her about the waist and spun her into the middle of the floor.

"Oh, Joey, what is it?" she gasped when she could get her breath.

"He's going to bring Pip," cried Joel, bobbing his black head at her. "Come on, Polly, whoopity la!" and he held out his hands for another war dance.

"Oh, Joel,"--Polly seized his hands and stood quite still,--"you don't mean Jasper is coming soon?" The color flew into her cheeks till they were rosy red.

"Yes, I do, too," said Joel, prancing off by himself, since Polly wouldn't dance; "he's coming to-morrow; no, I guess next week--anyway, he's coming." With that he executed some remarkable steps as only Joel could.

"How did you know, Joel? Stop and tell me." Polly flew after him around and around the room.

"A letter," said Joel; "whoopity la! and he's going to bring Pip."

"A letter?" Now she must find Mamsie or Aunty Whitney, and Polly left Joel dancing away and got over the stairs with her best speed to find Mrs. Whitney just coming to call her. She held in her hand an open letter, scraps of which she was reading aloud to the two boys hanging on either arm, little Dick, unable to attract attention to his torn lace, pulling at her gown impatiently.

"Is it true--is Jasper coming home?" cried Polly, breathlessly rushing up.

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Whitney tore off her gaze from the letter, and turned shining eyes on her. "Oh, Polly, this has just come and I was going to find you. Yes, yes, Dick, Mamma will attend to you presently; he is really coming home."

"When is he coming?" asked Polly, clasping her hands impatiently.

"Oh, not until next week, but it is, oh, so much, to have the doctor set a time. Just think, Polly," and she turned her face, now almost as rosy as Polly's own, upon her affectionately.

"She tore my lace," said little Dick, thinking it a good time to begin again on the announcement he had been trying to make ever since he had arrived, and he held up the frayed end.

"Yes, yes, dear," said Mrs. Whitney, indifferently without even a glance at it; "and he is to bring Pip, and he wants us all to make him have the best time in the world. Oh, won't we, children! for it will please Jasper." Her eyes glowed as she looked around at them all. At this little Dick deserted his lace. "Oh, I will, Mamma," he promised, "and he shall have my rocking-horse, and that'll please Jasper, I guess," and he began to march up and down the hall in great importance.

"And now, Polly," said Mrs. Whitney, "and, boys, we must think up what we are to do for the real Christmas, when Jasper and father and Ben get home; oh, and Pip--we mustn't forget Pip."

"Oh, no, we won't forget Pip," they cried, as they all hurried downstairs to bring the good news to Mother Fisher and the others.

And so, although Polly did not forget about Alexia, it was some time before she could get Mrs. Whitney's ear to tell her about it.

"Now I'll tell you what we'll do, Polly," said Mrs. Whitney, when she had heard it all; "I'll have the carriage right away, and you and I will drive over and get Alexia to come back to dinner."

"Oh, and can't she stay over night, Aunty?" cried Polly, hopping up and down in great excitement.

"Yes, indeed, if her Aunt will let her," said Mrs. Whitney, delighted to have everything coming out so nicely; "so now run off and get on your things, child."

No need to tell Polly that. She was soon ready, and before long there they were, Aunty Whitney and she, driving off to bring Alexia home and comfort her up.

"She isn't home," said the maid, who answered the door-bell of Mrs. Cummings's aristocratic boarding-house on the Avenue.

"Isn't home?" repeated Polly, faintly.

"No'm."

"What is it, Polly?" asked Mrs. Whitney, from the carriage.

"Alexia isn't home," said Polly, disconsolately, and feeling as if the whole world were out of joint.

"Miss Rhys took her away," said the maid, who, beginning to be communicative, saw no reason why she shouldn't tell the whole, "and she didn't want to go, either."

"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly.

"No, she didn't; but Miss Rhys wouldn't leave her alone 'cause she was crying so, and she was going to Miss Barnard's to tea, and so she made her go, too."

"Aunty,"--Polly flew down the steps,--"oh, can't we," she cried desperately, "go over and get Alexia; can't we, Aunty?"

"At Miss Barnard's, is she?" asked Mrs. Whitney, who had heard only part of the maid's information.

"Yes, and Alexia does hate to go there," said Polly, in a burst, "and she was crying. Oh, Aunty!"

That "Oh, Aunty!" settled it. "Yes, child, tell Thomas to drive to Miss Barnard's, and get in."

So Polly, seeing a little light on what had been so dark and miserable, hopped into the carriage, and off they went to Miss Barnard's.

Miss Hetty Barnard was a maiden lady upon whose company Miss Rhys placed herself whenever the dull routine of boarding-house life, or a new stitch in knitting or crochet, gave her a desire for the society of her friend. All such visits Alexia carefully avoided if a possible thing. And Polly, knowing full well the details of those enforced upon her by her aunt, as Alexia, the day after, poured the miseries of each in her ear, sat forward on the green leather seat and clasped her hands, impatient to get there.

"Oh, if they only haven't gone in to tea," she breathed.

"It's early yet, child," said Mrs. Whitney, reassuringly, "scarcely half after five o'clock," glancing at the little silver watch in the carriage pocket before her; "so don't worry, Polly."

"But Miss Barnard has tea so very early," said Polly, in a small panic. "Oh, here we are!" she brought up gleefully, as the carriage rolled up to the Barnard door and stopped.

"Yes, here we are," laughed Mrs. Whitney, just as well pleased, as Polly jumped out and ran up the steps.

Polly hadn't half finished, "Is Alexia Rhys here, and can I see her?" before a rustle began in the stuffy little parlor, and out rushed the object of her search.

"Oh, Polly, Polly!" exclaimed Alexia, seizing her with both hands to draw her down the hall; her head sank on Polly's shoulder and she began to cry as hard as she could.

"Ow!" said Polly, as the tears ran down her neck; "O dear me, Alexia, do stop!"

"Oh, I can't," said Alexia, "and do take me away, Polly, for it's too dreadful here, and we're just going out to tea, and I never can live through it. O dear!"

"Well, I'm going to," said Polly, as soon as she could be heard.

"What!" exclaimed Alexia, bounding away to look at her.

"Yes, if your Aunt will let you come," said Polly, with happy little thrills.

"Oh, Aunt will let me quick enough," said Alexia; "but do you really mean it? O dear, it'll be 'most as bad at your house, for there's Mrs. Whitney, and I tore that lace,--oh, I can't go!"

"You must come; Aunty Whitney is out in the carriage, and we've come for you, and you are to stay all night," explained Polly; "don't you see, Alexia, she wants you?"