Chapter 18

After regarding each other uncomfortably for a minute, in which Jack began to wish himself, a thousand times, back in the little shop, Joel burst out, seizing his arm:

"Come up into my room--Dave's and mine," and over the stairs they went.

"Is this your room?" gasped Jack, forgetting his discomfort and staring all about.

"Yes, it is," said Joel; "Dave's and mine. See my tennis racket, Jack. Isn't it prime!"--darting over to pull it out of a corner.

"I should say it was," declared Jack, fingering it lovingly as Joel thrust it into his hand with a, "Do you play?"

"A little," said Jack. He did not think it necessary to add that he was the champion player of the Common Street team on the dingy little open space given up to goats and tenement-house children.

"That's good!" exclaimed Joel, with shining eyes, and clapping him on the back; "we'll have a bout together sometime. And here are my boxing-gloves." He seized them and struck an attitude. "Come on, Jack," he cried in huge delight.

So Jack did come on, and when he emerged, why, there were the fencing foils to try; and when this was all over, and both boys sat down, flushed and panting, why, Jack's best Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes and his oiled hair didn't look so badly, to Joel's way of thinking.

David now ran in.

"It's time to get ready to go to Mrs. Sterling's supper," he said, with a nod to Jack.

"So it is," cried Joel, beginning to run here and there for his other shoes and clothes.

Jack turned away with a feeling that it wasn't good manners to be looking on, and glanced out of the window.

"Come over and look at our butterflies," cried Joel, running over to a cabinet against the wall, "they're just beauties."

"Oh, have you collected butterflies?" cried Jack, whirling around, greatly excited.

"Yes; Dave and I have," said Joel, "we have lots and lots."

It didn't take Jack long to be over in front of the cabinet, and pulling out its many drawers. So that he was lost to all the fuss of dressing that Joel and David were undergoing, and it wasn't till he had been clapped on the back most vigorously with a, "Wake up, old chap," that he realized that the dreaded time had arrived when he must go out to his first company. Then a dreadful feeling came over him.

"Oh, I can't go," he declared, his face turning as red as a beet, and he stood still, perfectly miserable.

"Why, Mrs. Sterling expects you," began David!

Joel had no such gentle ways.

"Come along, you," he cried, hauling Jack away from the cabinet and hurrying him off downstairs. Then he began to chatter as hard as he could, saying the first things that came into his head, until the gray stone mansion was reached, and they were fast and safe within the door.

Joel drew a long breath and began to mount the stairs.

"Any boys here yet?" he asked, looking up at Gibson in the upper hall.

"Yes," said Gibson; "three boys have come."

Joel didn't wait to ask who they were; he left David to bring Jack along and raced in to speak to Mrs. Sterling and the members of the Comfort committee.

"I am very glad to see you, Joel." Mrs. Sterling beamed at him from her sofa, feeling quite sure of the success of the first company she had given to the boys, now that Joel Pepper had come.

Joel gave her a bright little nod; then, remembering himself, he went over to her sofa and stuck out his little brown hand.

"I'm glad I've come," he said, bobbing at the same time in great satisfaction to the boys.

"Where is your friend, Joel?" asked Mrs. Sterling, in disappointment. "I surely thought you would bring him."

Joel glanced around in dismay, then pranced out into the hall. A scuffling noise struck upon his ear, and leaning over the banister, he saw David and Jack apparently hanging on to each other and whirling around in the hall below. He was down over the stairs in a flash.

"He says he must go home," said David, still holding fast to the edge of Jack's jacket, and looking up with a very pink face.

Jack looked thoroughly ashamed, but he still cast wild eyes at the big front door, as Joel considering whatever was to be done at all, should be done quickly, launched him upstairs, and before he had a moment to breathe freely, pushed him into the beautiful sitting-room above with a, "Here he is."

The room swam all around before Jack, as he went up to the sofa-edge, and Mrs. Sterling's soft, white hand took his hot, nervous one. He didn't know in the least what she said, or how she looked, as he couldn't raise his eyes, but he remembered afterward that her voice was sweet and low, and that somehow he wasn't so afraid after that, and then Joel dragged him into a knot of boys, for by this time several were pouring into the room. And in five minutes Jack felt as if he had known them all for years, and he quite forgot that this was the first time he had ever gone into company.

When the bustle of the arrival was over, and every member of the Comfort committee was present, Mrs. Sterling said:

"Now I think, Gibson, the first thing we should do is to have supper."

So Gibson went over and touched the electric button on the wall, and in came the butler and two maids bearing trays full--well, just crowded with all the good things a boy could desire to eat. And these having been placed on the big, mahogany table in the center of the room, usually filled with books and magazines, but which had been cleared for the purpose, each boy was invited to come up and be helped to whatever he wanted, an invitation that wasn't long left unaccepted.

Joel, in his fear that Jack would somehow be left out in the cold, bent all his energies toward getting him something to eat. The consequence was, that he forgot all about waiting on Mrs. Sterling, and, glancing around after he had poked a plate of cold chicken and jelly into Jack's hand, he saw two or three of the boys--Frick and even little Porter Knapp--vying with each other to be the first to serve their hostess.

"Ugh!" cried Joel, seizing the first thing on the table that caught his eye. It proved to be the salt-cellar, and he rushed up and presented it with a flourish.

"Ho, ho!" exploded Frick, as the little knot of boys parted in the middle, "why we've only got her a napkin and a plate."

Joel glanced down ruefully at the salt-cellar in his hand, and was going to beat a retreat with it, quite crestfallen.

"Thank you, Joel; I shall want it pretty soon," said Mrs. Sterling, smiling into his red face. "There, we'll put it on the table"--for Mrs. Gibson had been busy drawing up a light stand to the side of the sofa--"and will you bring me some cold chicken?"

"Me?" cried Joel, perfectly radiant, but scarcely believing that he could be meant, after his awkwardness.

"Yes, you," said Mrs. Sterling, laughing; "so hurry, and get it, Joel."

No need to tell him that. Joel sprang at the table again, bore off a plate of the desired delicacy, and a spoonful of currant jelly by its side, and flew back again.

"Is that right?" he asked anxiously, with a dreadful feeling that he ought to have asked her if she wanted brown or white meat.

"How did you know I am very fond of white meat, Joel?" asked Mrs. Sterling. "And above all things I like the wing."

"Do you?" cried Joel, in a transport. "Now what else?"

"Nothing now, and the next time, why, I must let Frick and some of the other boys help me," said Mrs. Sterling, "so run back and get something to eat yourself, Joel."

So Joel, with a mind to edge up to see how Jack was getting on, found to his amazement that he was laughing and talking with the last boy with whom he would have supposed it to be possible--Curtis Park!

"Dear me!" exclaimed Joel to himself, tumbling back instinctively when he saw that he wasn't wanted, and he fell up against David.

"I couldn't help it," said Davie, who had been quite miserable since his ill success in getting Jack over the stairs after Joel. He was aimlessly crumbling up a biscuit on his plate, and eating nothing.

"Well, 'tisn't any matter," said Joel, "and he's here now, and having a good time; just hear him laugh," he added enviously.

"Is that Jack laughing?" asked David incredulously, poking his head around the intervening boys to see for himself.

"Yes, it is," said Joel, bobbing his head decidedly.

"Oh, well, then, it's all right," said David happily. So he ran off to fill his plate and go over in the corner to eat its contents with a group of boys of whom he was especially fond.

Joel, left alone, was feeling very dismal, when suddenly he looked over, and caught Jack's eye. Curtis Park was saying something very jolly--Joel knew it was, for he caught scraps of it, and so did some of the other boys who pushed up to hear the rest. But Jack Parish evidently didn't listen, for his eye had been anxiously roving around the room, and just at that moment, they rested on Joel, and they lighted up so unmistakably that Joel sprang forward, a light in his own.

"Did you want me, Jack?"

"Yes," said Jack, "I did." The words were not much, but they seemed to satisfy Joel.

XXVI

MR. HAMILTON DYCE A TRUE FRIEND

And after every boy protested that he couldn't eat another bit, the butler and the two maids packed up the trays and carried them down again.

"Now, Comfort committee," said Mrs. Sterling, "all draw up here."

So the circle of chairs and crickets was made around the sofa, and the real business of the evening began. It was in the very commencement of things Joel noticed that every one of the members seemed to take a fancy to Jack.

Curtis Park leaned over from his chair. "I say, Frick, change places with me." Frick was next to the visitor, Joel, of course, being on his other side.

"No, you don't," said Frick, not over politely.

"Oh, that's mean," began Curtis, then he remembered where he was, and sat back in his chair, biting his pencil.

Frick straightened himself up with enjoyment

"You can take my pencil," he said to Jack magnanimously; "we all brought 'em, you know, she wanted us to."

Joel caught the last of this. "Oh, dear me!" he exclaimed, in remorse, "I forgot mine; and, Jack, I was going to bring one for you."

"He can take mine," said Frick, shoving a very stubby specimen into Jack's hand.

"Mine's better," said Curtis, reaching over a brand-new one, just sharpened to a fine point; "take mine, Jack, you much better."

Jack, not knowing how to refuse, took it. And the other boys, seeing Curtis Park come down from his high-flown notions enough to notice so conspicuously the new boy, all began to find ever so many things in him that were worthy of, their attention. So, instead of Joel having to push him along, Jack became quite popular. The result was that Joel was left out in the cold.

"Now," said Mrs. Sterling brightly, after a little of this chat had been going on, and Gibson had shaken up her pillows, and raised her mistress into a more comfortable position, "you all know, of course, that Doctor Fisher reports Lawrence ready for a little amusement, if we send it to him, for no one is allowed yet to see him."

"But we will be soon. Doctor Fisher told my father so yesterday," piped out Porter Knapp, sliding to the edge of his chair.

"I don't doubt it," said Mrs. Sterling, smiling at him, "but until that good time does come, why we who belong to the Comfort committee ought to set to work on something that will cheer him up. And as I believe work of that kind always gets along better when ever so many club together at it, why, I thought I'd ask you all to meet here, and we'd see what could be done this evening. Now what shall we do first?"

She looked all around the circle, but no one spoke. "Oh, dear me!" she said, and her face fell.

"I'd rather write out conundrums than anything else," said Curtis Park, seeing some answer was expected.

"Good!" Mrs. Sterling beamed on him. "Does any other boy have something to propose?"

"Puzzles," said Frick decidedly. "I'd a great deal rather have puzzles; conundrums are just horrid."

"Two things to choose from," and Mrs. Sterling laughed. Her spirits were rising now, and all the doubts she was beginning to feel overwhelming her as to the wisdom of inviting these boys in for the evening, fled at once.

"I think puzzles are just as horrid as conundrums," said Joel Pepper, beginning already to feel the prickles run up and down his legs, from sitting still so long, and wishing for nothing so much as a good scamper; "they're both as horrid as they can be."

"Oh, Joel!" exclaimed Mrs. Sterling, quite crestfallen.

"Well, propose something yourself, then, Joe," said his next neighbor, with a nudge.

"Oh, I can't," said Joel, quite horrified; "I don't know anything that we can write down."

Jack leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"The very thing!" cried Joel, slapping his knee. And, "Tell it yourself, Jack," in the next breath.

"Oh, no, no," protested Jack, shrinking as far back in his chair as he could, and getting very red in the face.

"I very much wish you would, Jack," said Mrs. Sterling. And she looked at him in such a way, that Jack although he had wild thoughts of taking a flying leap out of his chair, and off to the small grocery shop, nevertheless stuck to it manfully and at last found his tongue.

"We might cut out pictures that spell the names of books," he said.

"Capital!" said Mrs. Sterling.

"Well, those are puzzles," said Frick.

"Well, not like the ones you meant," said Joel, leaning back of Jack to bestow a punch. "Do be still," he added furiously.

"But mine would be puzzles, anyway," declared Frick, unwilling to give up the point.

"Well, we'd much rather have these, anyway," said Curtis Park, projecting himself into as much of the circle as possible. "Who cares for your old puzzles, Frick?"

"Boys--boys," said Mrs. Sterling gently.

"Beg pardon," said Curtis. "But we really do want these that Jack has just proposed, Mrs. Sterling. At least I do, and I'd give up conundrums to have them; so please let us have these."

"How is it, Frick?" asked Mrs. Sterling. "Do you give up your puzzles in favor of our making Jack's pictures?"

Frick wriggled in his chair; he wanted his puzzles dreadfully, and he couldn't see, since he had proposed them first, why he shouldn't carry the day, but every boy was looking at him sharply, so he mumbled, "Yes."

It was Jack who settled it happily after all.

"Let's have one of his"--bobbing his head at Frick--"and a conundrum," and he looked over and smiled at Curtis, "then one of mine after that. Won't that do, ma'am?"

"Well, now, Jack, you've fixed it cleverly," said Mrs. Sterling, much relieved. "Get your pencils all ready while Gibson goes into my bedroom and brings out the pile of magazines, and we'll have such a lovely evening of work. You know you must each select pictures, and each write a puzzle, and each give a conundrum; then they must be read aloud and we will choose the very best ones to send. Now then "--as Gibson deposited her armful of magazines on the little stand, and laid several pairs of scissors on the top of the pile--"let us all set about it."

Then what a whirling of leaves and snipping of paper, because they all decided they would begin on Jack's first.

"Can't we have some mucilage?" asked Joel.

"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Sterling. "Gibson, will you get----"

Boom, boom, clang, clang, clang! It was the fire-bell, loud and clear and strong. Down went all the scissors, and a whole litter of papers to the floor, and the magazines sprawled every way, as each boy sprang out of his chair.

"Gibson," said Mrs. Sterling faintly.

"Now, you boys," cried Gibson, hurrying in, her cap strings flying in her perturbation, "don't you know no better than to jump up like that?"

"Gibson--Gibson," said Mrs. Sterling reprovingly, but she laid her hand on her heart.

"It's a fire!" cried Joel, with very red cheeks, whirling around from the window where the mass of boys was pressed.

"Well, is that any reason why you should act so and scare the mistress to death?" said Gibson sharply.

"We didn't scare her," said Joel bluntly; "it was the fire."

"Well, we must go," declared little Porter Knapp, struggling out from the knot of boys, who, all bigger and stronger, were pinning him against the window most uncomfortably.

"Oh, he mustn't," Mrs. Sterling said, in alarm.

"His father wouldn't like it at all; he was to stay here until he was sent for."

"It's a fire!" exclaimed Porter, kicking dreadfully, and his face getting red, "and I _shall_ go!"

The other boys, just on the edge of saying the same thing, now stood quite still. Every nerve was quivering to be off to the fire, which, from all appearances, must be a splendid one. The bells were clanging fast and furiously, hoarse cries were heard, as if raised from hundreds of throats, and now, to add to the general melee, an engine dashed around the corner. They could hear the mad plunge of the horses, the shouts of the people; and then off in the distance, yet approaching nearer each instant, was another and evidently a more powerful one, the horses at a mad gallop. It was too much for any boy to stand.

"You see we _must_ go." Curtis Park went over to the sofa, and said this hoarsely. "He's a baby"--pointing to Porter--"and he's got to stay here, but we big boys must go."

Mrs. Sterling looked up, and her face grew white. "But your fathers wouldn't wish you to go, I am quite sure," she said.

Curtis turned away his face, but his teeth were set. "I'm going," he said briefly.

Jack Parish's head spun, and he clenched his hands. Why had he come to this sick woman's house! If he were only out in the free, open air, he'd go in a flash. His father let him run to fires, and it wouldn't be many minutes before he'd be in the thick of it. He'd make a break and run!

But how white she looked as she laid her head on the pillow. Like it or not, there he was in her house, an invited guest; and she'd been so kind to him and sent him the first invitation he'd ever had. He opened his hard fists and closed them tighter than ever. Curtis Park was now at the head of the stairs. Having decided, he was bolting off. Little Porter Knapp was engaged in kicking Gibson, who was detaining him by the end of his jacket, and screaming wrathfully and slapping her hands. The other boys, most of them making up their minds to follow Curtis, were watching proceedings.

Jack strode off to Curtis. "See here," he said, "we ought not to go, don't you know?"

Curtis turned on him in a towering passion. "You let me alone, you grocer's boy, you! What business is it of yours?"

"I may be a grocer's boy," said Jack, feeling himself wonder fully cool, as the other's anger raged, "but I know something of good manners, p'raps, and we're scaring that lady to death."

Curtis Park was dreadfully proud of his manners, and he would have stopped there, but as it again occurred to him that this was the son of a grocer who was setting up to be an authority, he cried angrily:

"You're a great one to teach me manners," and he dashed down the stairs and was out of the house.

"I wish I'd stopped him," said Jack to himself. "Hello, here's the whole mob"--as all the boys except Joel and David, and of course Porter, now plunged out to do the same thing. "No, you don't." He squared up in front of the staircase. "Not one of you goes down there."

They brought up with a gasp. At that instant a cheery voice in the hall below rang out:

"Hello, boys; I knew you were to be here tonight. Don't you want to come with me to the fire?" It was Hamilton Dyce to whom the voice belonged.

And in five minutes Hamilton Dyce set forth, with Mrs. Sterling's complete approval; a string of boys in his wake, including little Porter, who was parted from Gibson only on her hearing her mistress say, "Yes, indeed, he can go; but do look out for him."

Mr. Dyce nodded over to her couch. "Come on, you little rascal"--to Porter--"you stick close to me or--" he didn't finish the sentence.

Gibson, pale, and shaking in every limb, but seeing no reason to regret that she had hung on to little Porter's jacket, sank into a chair, and simply looked at her mistress.

"Nevertheless," said Mrs. Sterling, with a long breath, and beginning to smile, "I am very glad those boys were here to supper."

If her mistress could smile, it wasn't so very black and dreadful after all, and Gibson came enough out of her gloom to mutter, "But look at this room," and she waved her hands in despair.

"Oh, that's nothing," said Mrs. Sterling cheerfully, and then she laughed outright as she glanced around at the effects of the tumult. "Gibson, come here a minute."

The old serving-woman crept out of her chair, and went over to the sofa.

"Do you know"--Mrs. Sterling took her arm and pulled her gently down to a level with the face on the pillow, and her soft eyes twinkled--"it really seems good to see such a muss for once in my life: you do keep me so immaculately fine, Gibson."

"Oh, mistress!" breathed Gibson, aghast.

"And to think I have had boys, actually young life here in this room." Mrs. Sterling raised herself suddenly to rest on one elbow.

"Mistress--mistress," implored the alarmed Gibson, with restraining hands, "you'll hurt yourself."

"No, I shan't," protested Mrs. Sterling, her eyes beaming, and going on resolutely, "and just to think of boys being here!"--she looked around the room with a sudden affection--"and liking it--for they did, Gibson, they surely did, until the fire started. Oh, it is perfectly beautiful!"

"Well, do lie back, mistress," begged Gibson, thumping up the pillows invitingly, "else those dreadful creatures will finish you entirely."

"Don't say so," cried Mrs. Sterling laughingly, "and I will be good," and she settled back comfortably into her accustomed place. "Yes, Gibson, I have my young folks now, the same as other people," she added proudly. "You needn't try to fix up the room yet; you may finish the story you were reading to me last night."

She had to turn her face on the pillow, for the smile would come, at the picture of Gibson, the immaculate, sitting down calmly in the midst of the awful effects of the tumult that had so vexed her soul.

She had her young people, there was no manner of doubt after that. And though the exit from their evening's excitement was not again made to the clang of the fire-bell, all the subsequent visits held fun and jollity, and quiet enjoyment, and everything else that was delightful, mixed up together.

And the Comfort committee had so much pleasure out of the whole thing, that one evening little Porter looked up from his laborious pasting, whereby a joke from a funny paper was going down for the sick boy's amusement.

"I wish some one else would get hurt," he said abruptly, without stopping to think.

"Oh, you beggar!" It was Curtis Park who turned on him, though every boy had glanced up in surprise.

"We can't have such fun," said Porter, waving his sticky hands in both directions, "unless they do," and he twisted uncomfortably in his chair, as he realized the effect of his words.

"Well, we must think of somebody else to help with our Comfort committee," said Mrs. Sterling from her sofa. "Don't worry, Porter, we won't let ourselves die out for want of work. Boys--" She looked at them suddenly, and raised herself on her elbow, Gibson over in her watchful corner trotting across in great apprehension.

"Mistress--mistress," she began.

"There are ever so many young people who are hurt and sick and distressed and are taken right out of life." She was gazing at them now with eyes that were large and dark and shining.

"But we don't know them," burst out Joel Pepper, for she seemed to expect somebody to answer.

"No, but they need you."

"Mistress--mistress," begged Gibson, hanging over her.

"And if you do the work after Lawrence doesn't need it, and he is here with us, well and happy once more, I will see that some sick or unhappy boy gets it."