Chapter 13

"Then has any one of you any puzzles?" asked Mrs. Sterling, "or conundrums? Don't you think that is fine, to have something to think of beside dismal things, when you lie in bed?"

Curtis Park was just in his element here, for he dearly loved puzzles and conundrums. And presently Mrs. Sterling and he were busily talking over this and that kind, and book, and collection, until finally the small boy pulled the fringe of her pink crocheted shawl.

"I want to know what else?"

"Dear me!" Mrs. Sterling looked up quickly, to give a little laugh. It wasn't loud, but so cheery and sweet that Gibson, in the little outer room, dropped her sewing in her lap. "Thank the Lord!" she said, and wiped her eyes.

Frick, meanwhile, too excited to hear the doctor call them to come back, had darted out of the house, with no thought for the rain, but with one wild desire--to find Joel Pepper. And as he had a perfect faculty for sprinting, and cut through, with a dash, all the cross-streets, he soon found himself for the second time that day at the King mansion.

But this second time he was no more fortunate than the first. For although he was willingly admitted to Mr. King's writing-room, it was to see that gentleman look up and say with the most genial of smiles:

"Ah, Frick, my boy, well, this time it's all right, isn't it, since I let Joel go down to you?"

"Joel hasn't been with us," blurted out Frick, Then he leaned against the big writing-table, speech all gone, for he began to feel terribly tired, and it had been nothing but one long disappointment all day.

Old Mr. King laid down his pen and looked Frick all over.

"Oh, no, he hasn't," declared Frick, shaking his head dismally; "we haven't any of us seen him, and Larry Keep has been run over by Mr. MacIlvaine's tallyho, and most smashed up." Then he stopped suddenly, his cup of woe being empty.

"The first thing to do is to find Joel," said Mr. King to himself, anxiously. "The storm is almost over, to be sure"--glancing out of the window--"but where can he be?" He hurried across the room and touched the electric button. "You haven't the least idea, Frick, where to look for him, eh?"

"No, sir," said Frick miserably.

Thomas popped his head in, to be given the order to have one of the rainy-day carriages brought round. Just then, in ran Jasper. He had been caught by the sudden shower over at Pickering Dodge's.

"Father," he cried, his face glowing, "I've come home as soon as it slacked up a bit. Why, you are not going out?"--seeing the old gentleman beginning to don his mackintosh.

"Yes, I am," said Mr. King grimly, "going to do just that very thing, Jasper."

"Oh, let me, Father." Jasper sprang to his side eagerly, then looked in a puzzled way over to Frick.

"It's Joel," said Frick, feeling that it was expected of him to furnish an answer.

"Joel?" cried Jasper, the color going out of his cheek.

"Yes, Joel can't be found," said old Mr. King, speaking lightly to hide the dismay he really felt. "It's all right, of course; he's probably at one of the boys' houses; only as he was to join Frick, why, I'd prefer to look him up a bit. Well, there's Thomas"--glancing out of the window.

"Oh, let me go for him," begged Jasper. "I can find him. Surely, you don't need to, Father; don't, pray, in all this rain."

"I am going after Joel," declared his father, quite obstinately, "so say no more about it, Jasper"--moving past him to the door. "Come, along, Frick, my boy, you might as well come, too."

"Let me go, too," cried Jasper. "Oh, Father, can't I? I can at least help." He didn't say "take care of you," but he really felt anxious to the last degree.

"Yes, yes," said his father, "of course you may come if you like." So Jasper, well pleased, rushed for his mackintosh, and all three got into the carriage, and Thomas whirled them off in his best style.

"It isn't really worth while to worry Mrs. Fisher," said old Mr. King when well on the way, "for we shall probably soon run across Joel as bright as a button, and gay as a lark. Bless me, how this rain comes down!"

XIX

JOEL'S NEW FRIEND

But no Joel "bright as a button and gay as a lark" came in sight. Instead, at a corner they were turning rapidly, Mr. King in desperation giving the order to drive to one of the boys' houses most likely to attract Joel's attention this morning, Thomas came to an abrupt halt that nearly threw the horses back on their haunches.

"What are you about there?" he cried in vexation. "Can't you keep out from under the horses' heels, I'd like to know?"

The boy thus addressed paid not the slightest attention to the irate coachman, but advanced to the carriage door. He seemed to have something the matter with his arm that would evidently have given him a good deal of bother had his mind been on anything but the desire to attract Mr. King's attention.

But that gentleman, violently jolted by the sudden pull-up of the horses, not being in the best frame of mind, called out testily, "Bless me, what is the man stopping for? Drive on, Thomas," and looked directly over his head.

Seeing which, the boy clambered up the carriage step and hung on with one hand, but so much determination was in his eyes that old Mr. King fumed out: "Make the scoundrel get down, Jasper."

"What do you want?" asked Jasper, trying to make it as pleasant as possible, before the more summary treatment set in.

"I've got to speak to him," said the boy. Thomas, gathering up the reins in one hand and the whip in the other, looked around with fury in his eye. "Shall I give him a lick?" he asked.

"No, no," said Jasper hastily, "keep quiet, Thomas."

"I've nothing to say to you," cried Mr. King in his most pompous way, and with a stately wave of his hand, "so take yourself off, boy."

"Father--" began Jasper, in a distressed tone.

"And be quick about it." The old gentleman fairly roared it out. "Thomas, drive on."

That functionary, with a very dissatisfied expression that he hadn't been allowed to use his whip when he got it all ready so nicely, now cracked it at the horses. The boy, with one hesitating glance at Jasper, slid off the carriage-step down to the street, and yelled defiantly up into Mr. King's face as the brougham spun off:

"I was going to tell you where your boy is."

"Father!" exclaimed Jasper, with a white face, "he must know where Joel is. Thomas, _Thomas, stop!_" For Thomas, having no other way to vent his vexation, took it out in driving as fast as possible, so he didn't hear what was going on in the coach.

"Eh?" Mr. King was saying in bewilderment. At last Jasper succeeded in getting his wishes known, and once more the horses were jerked back, for the summons was quick and sharp.

By this time the boy was off, and although Jasper peered this way and that, he could see nothing of the old blue cap that had adorned the head thrust over the carriage door.

"He knows something about Joel, Father, you may depend," persisted Jasper; "we must find him."

Frick, who had been ready to cry, all huddled down in his corner, now sat straight, for it didn't seem to be just the time for tears, and in a minute he had scrambled past Mr. King, and hopped out.

"I'm going to find him," came back on the air, as he shot off.

"Do you wait here, Father," said Jasper, following him, and leaping out, "and we'll get the boy."

But the boy, quite willing to tell whatever story there was on his mind when he jumped on the carriage step, was now of a different mind, and he ran like a deer, first down one street then another. At last, finding himself pursued by some one not at all inclined to easily give up the chase, it suddenly dawned on him that his blue cap might possibly be a means of tracing his course. So he twitched it off and tucked it under his well arm. This made it more difficult for Jasper, whose footsteps were fast gaining on him, to follow him accurately, and for the first time a horrible moment came to the pursuer when he thought that after all the boy might escape; but Frick, who had seen Jasper's nimble progress around a corner, ran down a side street, then across a garden, and came plump into the face of the boy.

"Here he is," cried Frick, the breath almost knocked out of him by the encounter. He had grasped whatever he could first lay his fingers on and held to it firmly. It proved to be the arm for which the boy had not appeared to have much use.

Once caught, the boy gave a groan, then started to run. Frick being smaller, it might be an easy matter to shake him off, even with only one available arm.

"No, you don't get away this time," said Frick, for the tall boy had him in hand now, and was marching him back to the carriage at a pace much more comfortable for all concerned. "What have you to tell us?" he was being asked.

"I would have told you then," said the boy doggedly. He couldn't help but show some suffering in his face, and Jasper, looking down to see its cause, found one arm hanging in a very peculiar manner. "You've hurt your arm," he said abruptly. "Frick, take care"--to the boy, not at all particular what he took hold of if he only got a good grip.

"Well, he shan't get away," said Frick decidedly, nipping up the end of the jacket nearest to him.

"How did you hurt your arm?" asked Jasper. Despite all his anxiety about Joel, and an awful feeling that in some way an accident had occurred that had enveloped them both, he looked into he face beneath him with real concern.

"None of your business," the boy was going to say, but instead he turned away his face, then brought it back, and defiance was written all over it. "He sassed me, that old fellow in the carriage. Did you s'pose I'd tell him after that?"

"He's dreadfully anxious," said Jasper, ignoring everything else. "You see, Joel's been gone in all this storm, and we don't know anything in the world where he is."

"I do," said the boy.

"Then, if you do"--Jasper stopped suddenly and brought his keen dark eyes to bear on the rough, defiant face--"I just hope you will tell me. And I know you will," he added, after a pause in which Frick fastened his gaze on them both wildly, luckily without discovering any use for his tongue.

The boy swallowed hard, dropped his eyes for a moment, then looked up.

"He was out on the pond."

"Out on the pond!" echoed Frick, and his hand nipping the jacket-end fell nerveless to his side.

"No one told you to speak," said the boy sharply, turning on him, "so you shut up."

"But what was he doing out on the pond in such a storm?" asked Jasper. His lips were white, but he didn't allow his eyes to waver, for it was better to have the whole story before getting back to his father.

"It didn't rain till after we'd had the row," said the boy.

"Had the row?" It seemed an eternity to Jasper, for Joel perhaps even now might be in peril, before the next question was answered, "What row?"

"Yes," said the boy, as if he were going to add, "Well, what are you going to do about it?" The next moment, he had made up his mind to tell all there was to tell. It wasn't exactly clear why, but he was giving the account in a very few words, leaving it where it ended with his seeing Joel rowing off down the pond.

And presently the two who had hopped out of the carriage, with the new boy and the one who had thrust his head in over the door, were seated in the brougham, and Thomas had turned his back on the city streets and was driving off at a furious pace for Spy Pond.

Frick collapsed now and mumbled distractedly, "Oh, dear! now Joel's----" what, he didn't trust himself to say. "And Larry's 'most killed, and----"

Jasper interrupted him sharply, "What do you say, Frick?" for it was the first hint of anything gone wrong with any of the other boys.

Then out came that story to add to the general misery, and old Mr. King sat very straight and kept saying, "Bless me! Tell Thomas to drive faster," and "Oh, bless me!" again, as he glanced over at the boy.

But no Joel. They pranced, the horses did, shaking off the rain from their wet manes, around as much of the pond as was adapted to carriages, and Jasper and Frick got out and explored the rest, at least wherever Joel would be supposed to put into port, the boy holding up the arm that appeared not to be in its usual condition and going along, too, yet unable to add any information to his original statement. At last: "Probably Joel's gone home"--it was all Jasper could do to get the words out of his white lips.

Without a word old Mr. King sank back, and waved his hand, which meant "Yes," settling down amongst the cushions hopelessly, while their faces were turned homeward.

"Hullo!" Unmistakably Joel's voice, and there he was, wet and dirty, and waving frantically from a side street for them to stop, as he made his best time to the corner.

Jasper threw wide the door. "_Joe!_" he cried. Thomas pulled up again, the horses by this time having become so well accustomed to this method of bringing up that they did it quite well, and there was a great to-do in the coach.

"I've been calling and calling," panted Joel, blowing like a porpoise, and running up with red cheeks, "and you wouldn't stop," he added in a very injured way.

"Well, we didn't hear you, you beggar," cried Jasper. "Come, get in with you"--putting out both hands to assist in the process. "Where have you been, Joe?" for old Mr. King was beyond talking.

"I've been--" began Joel, glad enough to hop in; "why, where--" as his black eyes fell on the boy in the corner.

Frick had tried to swarm all over him, but Joel put out an unsteady hand.

"I came to tell," said the boy, seeing he was expected to say something.

"Oh, don't," cried Joel involuntarily; "'tisn't any matter; I don't care."

"Well, it's all out, Joe," said Jasper affectionately, who couldn't stop patting his back. Frick flew over to the opposite side and let Joel snuggle up to the old gentleman. "I'm here, Grandpapa," he said happily.

"Oh, bless me! Yes, my boy!" said old Mr. King brokenly, and fondling the little brown hands. "Well, we must get you home and out of these wet clothes as soon as possible. I don't know what your mother will say. Oh, dear me, Joe!"

"Pooh!" cried Joel, "I'm not wet."

"You're wet as a drowned rat, Joe," declared Jasper, bursting into a laugh, which was such a relief to all concerned that in a minute it really seemed like a pleasure excursion. But Joel pulled himself up.

"Oh, I'm going to see what's the matter with Jack's arm," and he leaned over and put his hand on it.

"Nothing," said Jack, trying to pull it away, but Joel held on.

"Tis, too," he said. "You're going to have it fixed. Grandpapa, won't you take him to Doctor Fisher's office? Please do."

At this Frick pricked up his ears. "Doctor Fisher isn't----"

"Frick," began Jasper desperately, "look out and see if it rains."

Frick stared in amazement, and even Joel bobbed his head over at Jasper.

"Why, doesn't it rain on your side?" he cried, his black eyes very wide.

"Never mind; do as I tell you," said Jasper, nowise disconcerted. So Frick reported that it did rain; and then Jasper began to talk so fast that Joel had no time to get in a word at all, although he tried with all his might.

"See here," he shouted at last, and his voice rang clear above every other noise, "can't we take him to Doctor Fisher's office--can't we, Grandpapa? Make Thomas turn about and take us there"--he fairly howled it now.

"And Doctor Fisher won't be there," screamed Frick, on just as high a key.

"Why not?"

It was impossible to stop the dreadful news of Larry's accident from coming now. And in a minute Frick had it all out in a burst, quite unconscious of Jasper's efforts, and well pleased at having something important to say.

"Larry's been run over by Mr. MacIlvaine's tallyho, and 'most smashed to death."

XX

THE COOKING CLUB

"Oh, my goodness me!" Alexia gave a jump, then ran for the closet.

"Dear me!" exclaimed Polly, standing quite still in the middle of the room, the lightning flash and the sudden peal of thunder coming without warning.

"Oh, I'm scared to death," cried Alexia, burrowing frantically; "come in here, Polly Pepper. Are you killed?" she screamed.

"No," said Polly, "and I don't believe there'll be another as bad."

"Oh, come in here. Ooh!" cried Alexia, in muffled accents, as she huddled up against the clothes.

"Oh, Polly!" It was Miss Rhys: her embroidery, cast aside at the sudden storm-burst, was dragging behind her, and she was wringing her hands. "Did you ever see anything so dreadful?"

"I don't believe there'll be another as bad," said Polly again, finding nothing more of consolation to offer.

"And where is Alexia?" And without waiting for an answer, Miss Rhys paced nervously up and down the room, still wringing her hands. "And of course there will be more; there, there it comes," and she ran, the embroidery-piece still hanging to her gown, into the closet.

"Oh, Aunt," cried Alexia, with a squeal, "you scared me 'most to death; I thought I was struck!"

"Why, are you here, Alexia?" gasped Miss Rhys, when she could recover herself enough to speak. "Well, this is truly a dreadful storm," and she clutched her with shaking fingers.

"Yes, I am here," said Alexia. "Don't pinch so, Aunt--ow! My arm is all black and blue, I know it is."

"It's no time to think of such little things, Alexia," replied her aunt severely; "it may kill us both."

"Well, that's no reason I should be all pinched to death," grumbled Alexia, forgetting the thunderstorm in her present discomfort and edging off as well as she could. "The closet is dreadfully small, Aunt."

"It's quite large enough, I'm sure, to protect us," said Miss Rhys, hanging tightly to her with trembling fingers. "Dear me! any minute may be our last."

"Well, I'm not going to be smothered to death," declared Alexia, struggling to work her way past her aunt.

"Alexia!" exclaimed her aunt.

"I'm going after Polly." Alexia out in the middle of the room flung her arm around Polly. "Oh, misery!--where?" as a vivid flash seemed to hop right in the window. "Oh, Polly, come!" She clutched her wildly.

"Where?" said Polly. "We can't get away from it, Alexia; it's just everywhere."

"Oh, I don't care--anywhere--in the coal-scoop," cried Alexia, frantically dragging her along. "I shall just die, Polly Pepper, and here you stand like a stick."

"Well, there's just no use in running," said Polly, but seeing Alexia's distress she suffered herself to be led, and downstairs the two girls sped, and into the landlady's room, the first door to stand ajar.

"I'm coming in," announced Alexia, without ceremony, "for I'm scared to death," and she dragged Polly Pepper after her. "Did you ever see such a thunderstorm, Mrs. Cummings?"

"It is pretty bad," a voice answered. It wasn't Mrs. Cummings, as she had hurried to oversee the maid close the windows through the house, but another of the boarders, who, like Alexia, had selected this apartment for a refuge.

"Oh, dear me!" Alexia sank down upon the sofa, being careful not to relinquish her hold of Polly, and dragged a cushion over her face. "Is that you, Mr. Filbert"--bringing out one eye to stare at him.

"I think so," said Mr. Filbert, a little thin old man sitting over in the corner and leaning forward over his cane. He spoke cautiously, as if not quite sure. "Yes, it _is_ a bad storm," he repeated decidedly. "Where is your aunt?"

"She's up in the closet," said Alexia, pulling the sofa-cushion over her own and Polly's face as well. "There, we can't see it at any rate, if we are going to be killed."

"Up in the closet?" repeated Mr. Filbert.

"Yes. Oh, Polly, do you suppose it's lightening and thundering now?"--as the two girls cuddled up closer together on the roomy old sofa, the cushion crowded up over eyes and ears.

"I suppose so," said Polly, very much wishing she could say "No."

"Oh, dear me! I'm smothered to death," grumbled Alexia, "and I'm so hot"--wriggling discontentedly.

"So am I," said Polly.

"What did you say? Your aunt was in the closet?" little old Mr. Filbert was asking; and receiving no reply, he kept on.

"Oh, do hear him," whispered Alexia, back of the sofa-cushion; "he is so tiresome, asking the same thing over and over."

"Well, do answer him," said Polly.

"I have, once," said Alexia.

"Is your aunt in the closet, did you say?" Mr. Filbert kept on, with the impression that a reply would soon be coming if he only held up the conversation at his end of it.

Alexia dashed down the sofa-cushion with a nervous hand. "I can't breathe; let's get out, Polly," and she flew up, to sit quite straight. "Yes, my aunt is up in the closet, Mr. Filbert. Whee! Oh, I am so scared, Polly Pepper!"

"She'll be struck there quicker 'n any other place she could pick out," declared the little old gentleman positively.

Alexia hopped off from the sofa and ran on anxious feet to his chair.

"What did yon say, Mr. Filbert? and how do you know?" she cried, all in one breath.

"The chimney closets always catch the lightning first," said Mr. Filbert cheerfully; "you see, it----"

Alexia dashed off, ran through the hall and up to her own room. "Aunt, Aunt," she cried, thrusting her head into the closet, "you'll be struck in there, Mr. Filbert says so. Come out, Aunt."

There was no response, and Alexia, now in mortal terror, plunged into the closet.

"Come, Aunt. Oh, my!" as a clap of thunder sent her plunging in headlong. "Why, where--" for grope as she might, clear up to the end, among the clothes and the shoe-bag, no Miss Rhys was to be found.

"Oh, dear, dear!" Alexia began to whimper, feeling all around the floor with terror-stricken fingers. "Aunt, where are you? Oh, she's been struck and she's dead, I know she is! Polly Pepper," she screamed, tumbling out of the closet to rush to the head of the stairs, "come up and help me find Aunt."

"Alexia!" Miss Rhys, concluding not to be left alone in the closet when the two girls ran downstairs, had hurried out after them, and now appeared from the hall corner where she had crouched. "Don't scream so."

"Oh, Aunt!" cried Alexia, throwing her arms around her, "you haven't been struck, have you? Oh, do say you haven't."

"Why, of course not; don't you see I'm here?" said Miss Rhys. "There, child, take care, you're mussing my lace collar," and she edged off from the nervous fingers. "We'll go downstairs, I think, and stay with Mrs. Cummings."

"If you're really sure you are not struck," said Alexia, eying her askance, as if in considerable doubt, "we'll go; and Polly Pepper is there and that tiresome old Mr. Filbert."

"If Polly is there, she must stay to luncheon," said Miss Rhys, gathering up her skirts and preparing to descend the stairs.

"Oh, how fine!" exclaimed Alexia, hopping after, losing sight of the thunderstorm in the delight of having Polly Pepper to herself for so many hours. "Oh, Aunt, what's that tagging after you?"--catching sight of the piece of embroidery dangling from her aunt's long figure.

"I see nothing," said Miss Rhys, turning around with her head over her shoulder.

"Well, do stand still, Aunt," cried Alexia, "a minute."

"What is it?" Miss Rhys kept saying, trying to see for herself.

"Your centerpiece--oh, dear me!" Alexia by this time had it free, and burst into a laugh as she held it up.

"Well, now, I expect I have dragged off my green floss," exclaimed her aunt, in irritation. "I am quite sure of it."

"Well, 'twould be in the closet," said Alexia, who didn't relish offering to go back, "'twon't hurt it to stay there a little while."

"I must find it," said Miss Rhys decidedly. And Alexia, wild to go down to tell Polly Pepper she was to stay to luncheon, flew over the stairs, leaving her aunt to get her green floss as she could.

"But I can't," said Polly, when Alexia had hugged her and danced around her to her heart's content; "I must go home."

"Why, Polly Pepper, you can't ever go in this awful rain."