Chapter 12

"I guess it was," said Polly. Then she gave a little laugh, for it was all bright and jolly again, and she knew that Pickering would keep his word.

And that evening, after Jasper and she had a dance--they were so happy, they couldn't keep still--in the wide hall, Jasper burst out suddenly with a fresh idea.

"Polly," he said, drawing her off to rest on one of the high, carved chairs, "there's one more thing."

"Oh, what is it Jasper?" she cried gaily, with flushed cheeks. "Oh, wasn't that spin just delicious?"

"Wasn't it?" cried Jasper heartily. "Well, now, Polly," flinging himself down on the next chair, "it's just this. Do you know, I don't believe we ought to have our play."

"Not have our play?" Polly peered around to look closely into his face. "What do you mean, Jasper?"

"You see, Polly, Pick was to take a prominent part, and he ought not to, you know; it will take him from his lessons to rehearse and all that. And he's so backward there's a whole lot for him to make up."

"Well, but Pickering will have to give up his part, then," said Polly decidedly, "for we've simply got to have that play, to get the money to help that poor brakeman's family."

Jasper winced. "I know; we must earn it somehow," he said.

"We must earn it by the play," said Polly. "And besides, Jasper, we voted at the club meeting to have it. So there, now," she brought up triumphantly.

"We could vote to rescind that vote," said Jasper.

"Well, we don't want to. Why, Jasper, how that would look on our two record books!" said Polly in surprise, for Jasper was so proud of his club and its records.

"Yes, of course; as our two clubs united that evening, it must go down in both books," said Jasper slowly.

"Yes, of course," assented Polly happily. "Well, now, you see, Jasper, that we really _can't_ give it up, for we've gone too far. Pickering will have to let some one else take the part of the chief brigand." For the little play was almost all written by Polly's fingers, Jasper filling out certain parts when implored to give advice: and brigands, and highway robberies, and buried treasures, and rescued maidens, and gallant knights, figured generously, in a style to give immense satisfaction.

"And the play is so very splendid!" cried Jasper. "Oh dear me! what ought we to do, Polly?" He buried his face in his hands a moment.

"Pickering must give up his part," said Polly again.

"But, Polly, you know he has been in all our plays," said Jasper. "And he'll feel so badly, and now he's got all this trouble about his lessons on his mind," and Jasper's face fell.

Polly twisted uncomfortably on her chair. "Oh dear me!" she began, "I suppose we must give it up."

"And if we gave it up, not altogether, but put it off till he catches up on his studies," suggested Jasper, "why, he wouldn't be dropped out."

"But the poor brakeman's family, Jasper," said Polly, puzzled that Jasper should forget the object of the play.

"Oh, I didn't mean that we should put off earning the money, Polly," cried Jasper, quite horrified at such a thought. "We must do something else, so that we can sell just as many tickets."

"But what will it be?" asked Polly, trying not to feel crushed, and sighing at the disappearance of the beautiful play, for a time at least.

"Well, we could have recitations, for one thing," said Jasper, feeling dreadfully to see Polly's disappointment, and concealing his own, for he had set his heart on the play too.

"Oh dear me!" exclaimed Polly, wrinkling up her face in disdain. "Jasper, do you know, I am so tired of recitations!"

"So am I," Jasper bobbed his head in sympathy, "but we boys have some new ones, learned for last exhibition, so Pick won't have to take a moment from his lessons. And then we can have music, and you will play, Polly."

"Oh Jasper, I've played so much," said Polly, "they're all tired of hearing me."

"They never would be tired of hearing you, Polly," said Jasper simply. "Every one of us thinks you play beautifully."

"And tableaux and an operetta take just as much time to rehearse," mused Polly, thinking very hard if there wasn't something to keep them from the dreaded recitations.

"And I just loathe an operetta or tableaux," exclaimed Jasper, with such venom that Polly burst out laughing.

"Oh Jasper, if you could see your face!" she cried.

"I shouldn't want to," he laughed too; "but of all insipid things, an operetta is the worst; and tableaux--the way Miss Montague drilled and drilled _and_ drilled us, and then stuck us up like sticks not to move for a half-hour or so, nearly finished me."

"So it did me," confessed Polly. "And besides, it would take a great deal more time to go through all that drilling than to rehearse the play."

"Of course it would," said Jasper, "so tableaux, thank fortune, are not to be thought of. I think it will have to be recitations and music, Polly."

"I suppose so," she said with a sigh. "Oh Jasper!" then she sprang off from her chair, and clapped her hands. "I've thought of the very thing. I believe Mr. Hamilton Dyce would tell some of his funny stories and help out the program."

"Capital!" shouted Jasper; and just at this moment the big front door opened, and the butler ushered in Miss Mary Taylor and Mr. Dyce.

Polly and Jasper rushed up to the visitors, for they were prime favorites with the young people, and precipitated upon them all their woes. The end was, that they both promised beautifully to do whatever was wanted, for Miss Mary Taylor sang delightfully.

"And Pickering is safe, Polly, for I know now he'll go through the last half," cried Jasper as they ran off to study their lessons for the next day.

XVII PHRONSIE

And after that, there was no more trouble about that program, for as luck would have it, the very next day a letter came from Joel, saying that Dr. Marks had given them a holiday of a week on account of the illness of two boys in their dormitory, and, "May I bring home Tom Beresford? He's no-end fine!" and, "Please, Mamsie, let me fetch Sinbad! Do telegraph 'Yes.'"

And Mother Fisher, after consultation with Mr. King, telegraphed "Yes;" and wild was the rejoicing over the return of Joel and David and Percy and Van, and Tom; for Mother Fisher was ready to receive with open arms, and very glad silently to watch, one of Joel's friends.

"And to think that Sinbad is coming!" cried Polly, dancing about. "Just think, Phronsie, Joel's dear dog that Dr. Marks let him take to the little cobbler to keep for him!" And she took Phronsie's hand, and they spun around the hall.

"I shall get him a new pink ribbon," declared Phronsie breathlessly, when the spin was over.

"Do," cried Polly. "Dear me! that was a good spin, Phronsie!"

"I should think it was," said Ben. "Goodness me! Polly, Phronsie and you made such a breeze!"

"Didn't we, Pet!" cried Polly, with a last kiss. "Oh Ben and Jasper, to think those boys will be here for our entertainment!"

"I know Tom is made of the right stuff," Mamsie said proudly to Father Fisher, "else my boy would not choose him."

"That's a fact, wife," the little doctor responded heartily. "Joel is all right; may be a bit heedless, but he has a good head on his shoulders."

The five boys bounded into the wide hall that evening--Joel first; and in his arms, a yellow dog, by no means handsome, with small, beady eyes, and a stubby tail that he was violently endeavoring to wag, under the impression that he had a good deal of it.

"Mamsie!" shouted Joel, his black eyes glowing, and precipitating himself into her arms, dog and all, "See Sinbad! See, Mamsie!"

"It's impossible not to see him," said Ben. "Goodness me, Joe, what a dog!" which luckily Joel did not hear for the babel going on around. Besides, there was Phronsie trying to put her arms around the dog, and telling him about the pink ribbon which she held in her hand.

"Joe," said Dr. Fisher, who had been here, there, and everywhere in the group, and coming up to nip Joel's jacket, "introduce your friend. You're a pretty one, to bring a boy home, and--"

"I forgot you, Tom," shouted Joel, starting off, still hanging to his dog; "oh, there you are!" seeing Tom in the midst of the circle, and talking away to Grandpapa and Polly.

"As if I couldn't introduce Tom!" sniffed Percy importantly, quite delighted at Joel's social omissions. "I've done it ages ago."

"All right," said Joel, quite relieved. "Oh Phronsie, Sinbad doesn't want that ribbon on," as Phronsie was making violent efforts to get it around the dog's neck.

"I would let her, Joel," said Mother Fisher, "if I were you."

"But he hates a ribbon," said Joel in disgust, "and besides, he'll chew it up, Phronsie."

"I don't want him to chew it up, Joel," said Phronsie slowly, and pausing in her endeavors. And she looked very sober.

"I'll tell you, Phronsie." Mrs. Fisher took the pink satin ribbon that Phronsie had bought with her own money. "Now, do you want mother to tie it on?"

"Do, Mamsie," begged Phronsie, smoothing her gown in great satisfaction. And presently there was a nice little bow standing up on the back of Sinbad's neck; and as there didn't seem to be any ends to speak of, there was nothing to distract his attention from the responsibility of watching all the people.

"Oh, isn't he _beautiful_!" cried Phronsie in a transport, and hopping up and down to clap her hands. "Grandpapa dear, do look; and I've told Princey all about him, and given him a ribbon too, so he won't feel badly."

And after this excitement had died down, Joel whirled around. "Tom's brought his banjo," he announced.

"Oh!" exclaimed Polly.

"And he can sing," cried Joel, thinking it best to mention all the accomplishments at once.

"Don't, Joe," begged Tom, twitching his sleeve.

Polly looked over at Jasper, with sparkling eyes, and the color flew into her cheeks.

"Splendid!" his eyes signalled back.

"What is it?" cried Joel, giving each a sharp glance. "Now you two have secrets; and that's mean, when we've just got home. What is it, Polly?" He ran to her, shaking her arm.

"You'll see in time," said Polly, shaking him off, to dance away.

"I don't want to know in time," said Joel, "I want to know now. Mamsie, what is it?"

"I'm sure I haven't the least idea," said Mother Fisher, who hadn't heard Joel's announcement. "And I think you would do better, Joey, to take care of your guest, and let other things wait."

"Oh, Tom doesn't want to be fussed over," said Joel carelessly; yet he went back to the tall boy standing quite still, in the midst of the general hilarity. "That's just the way Ben and Polly used to do in the little brown house," he grumbled--"always running away, and hiding their old secrets from me, Tom."

"Well, we had to, if we ever told each other anything," said Ben coolly. "Joel everlastingly tagged us about, Beresford."

"Well, I had to, if I ever heard anything," burst out Joel, with a laugh. "Come on, Tom," and he bore him off together with Sinbad.

"Polly," Jasper was saying, the two now being off in a corner, "how fine! Now, perhaps Tom Beresford will sing."

"And play," finished Polly, with kindling face. "Oh Jasper, was anything ever so gorgeous!" she cried joyfully, for Polly dearly loved high-sounding words; "and we'll sell a lot more tickets, because he's new, and people will want to hear him."

"If he will do it," said Jasper slowly, not wanting to dampen her anticipation, but dreadfully afraid that the new boy might not respond.

"Oh, he'll do it, I do believe," declared Polly confidently; "he must, Jasper, help about that poor brakeman's family."

And he did. Tom Beresford evidently made up his mind, when he went home with Joel, to do everything straight through that the family asked him, for he turned out to be the best visitor they had entertained, and one and all pronounced him capital. All but Joel himself, who told him very flatly the second day that he wasn't half as nice as at school, for he was now running at everybody's beck and nod.

"Instead of yours," said Tom calmly. Then he roared.

"Hush up," cried Joel, very uncomfortable, and getting very red. "Well, you must acknowledge, Tom, that I want to see something of you, else why would I have brought you home, pray tell?"

"Nevertheless, I shall do what your sister Polly and your mother and Jasper and Mr. King ask me to do," said Tom composedly, which was all Joel got for his fuming. And the most that he saw of Tom after that was a series of dissolving views, for even Phronsie began to monopolize him, being very much taken with his obliging ways.

At last Joel took to moping, and Ben found him thus in a corner.

"See here, old fellow, that's a nice way,--to come home on a holiday, and have such a face. I don't wonder you want to sneak in here."

"It's pretty hard," said Joel, trying not to sniffle, "to have a fellow you bring home from school turn his back on you."

"Well, he couldn't turn his back on you," said Ben, wanting very much to laugh, but he restrained himself, "if you went with him."

"I can't follow him about," said Joel, in a loud tone of disgust. "He's twanging his old banjo all the time, and Polly's got him to sing, and he's practising up. I wish 'twas smashed."

"What?" said Ben, only half comprehending.

"Why, his old banjo. I didn't think he'd play it all the time," said Joel, who was secretly very proud of his friend's accomplishments; and he displayed a very injured countenance.

"See here, now, Joe," said Ben, laying a very decided hand on Joel's jacket, "do you just drop all this, and come out of your hole. Aren't you ashamed, Joe! Run along, and find Beresford, and pitch into whatever he's doing."

"I can't do anything for that old concert," said Joel, who obeyed enough to come "out of the old hole," but stood glancing at Ben with sharp black eyes.

"I don't know about that," said Ben, "you can at least help to get the tickets ready."

"Did Polly say so?" demanded Joel, all in a glow. "Say, Ben, did she?" advancing on him.

"No, but I do; for Polly asked me to do them; and you know, Joe, how busy I am all day."

He didn't say "how tired" also, but Joel knew how Ben was working at Cabot and Van Meter's, hoping to get into business life the sooner, to begin to pay Grandpapa back for all his kindness.

"Ben, if I can help you with those tickets I'll do it." Every trace of Joel's grumpiness had flown to the four winds. "Let me, will you?" he begged eagerly.

"All right." Ben had no need to haul him along, as Joel raced on ahead up to Ben's room to get the paraphernalia.

"I can't think what's become of Joel," said Polly, flying down the long hall in great perplexity, "we want him dreadfully. Have you seen him, Phronsie?"

"No," said Phronsie, "I haven't, Polly," and a look of distress came into her face.

"Never mind, Pet," said Polly, her brow clearing, "I'll find him soon."

But Phronsie watched Polly fly off, with a troubled face. Then she said to herself, "I ought to find Joey for Polly," and started on a tour of investigation to suit herself.

Meanwhile Ben was giving Joel instructions about the tickets; and Joel presently was so absorbed he wouldn't have cared if all the Tom Beresfords in the world had deserted him, as he bent over his task, quite elated that he was helping Polly, and becoming one of the assistants to make the affair a success.

"I guess it's going to be a great thing, Ben," he said, looking up a moment from the pink and yellow pasteboard out of which he was cutting the tickets.

"You better believe so," nodded Ben, hugely delighted to see Joe's good spirits, when the door opened, and in popped Phronsie's yellow head.

She ran up to Joel. "Oh Joey!" she hummed delightedly, "I've found you," and threw herself into his arms.

Joel turned sharply, knife in hand. It was all done in an instant. Phronsie exclaimed, "_Oh!_" in such a tone that Ben, off in the corner of the room, whirled around, to see Joel, white as a sheet, holding Phronsie. "I've killed her," he screamed.

Ben sprang to them. The knife lay on the table, where Joel had thrown it, a little red tinge along the tip. Ben couldn't help seeing it as he dashed by, with a groan.

"Give her to me," he commanded hoarsely.

"No, no--I'll hold her," persisted Joel, through white lips, and hanging to Phronsie.

"Give her to me, and run down for Father Fisher."

"It doesn't hurt much, Joey," said Phronsie, holding up her little arm. A small stream of blood was flowing down, and she turned away her head.

Joel took one look, and fled with wild eyes. "I don't believe it's very bad," Ben made himself call after him hoarsely. "Now, Phronsie, you'll sit in my lap--there; and I'll keep this old cut together as well as I can. We must hold your arm up, so, child." Ben made himself talk as fast as he could to keep Phronsie's eyes on him.

"I got cut in the little brown house once, didn't I, Bensie?" said Phronsie, and trying to creep up further into Ben's lap.

"You must sit straight, child," said Ben. Oh, would Father Fisher and Mamsie ever come! for the blood, despite all his efforts, was running down the little arm pretty fast.

"Why, Ben?" asked Phronsie, with wide eyes, and wishing that her arm wouldn't ache so, for now quite a smart pain had set in. "Why, Bensie?" and thinking if she could be cuddled, it wouldn't be quite so bad.

"Why, we must hold your arm up stiff," said Ben, just as Mamsie came up to her baby, and took her in her arms; and then Phronsie didn't care whether the ache was there or not.

"Joe couldn't help it," said Ben brokenly.

"I believe that," Mother Fisher said firmly. "Oh Ben, the doctor is away."

Ben started. "I'll go down to the office; perhaps he's there."

"No; there's no chance. I've sent for Dr. Pennell. Your father likes him. Now Phronsie"--Mrs. Fisher set her white lips together tightly--"you and I and Ben will see to this arm of yours. Ben, get one of your big handkerchiefs."

"It doesn't ache so _very_ much, Mamsie," said Phronsie, "only I would like to lay it down."

"And that is just what we can't do, Phronsie," said Mother Fisher decidedly. "All right," to Ben, "now tear it into strips."

Old Mr. King was not in the library when Joel had rushed down with his dreadful news, but was in Jasper's den, consulting with him and Polly about the program for the entertainment, as Polly and Jasper, much to the old gentleman's delight, never took a step without going to him for advice. The consequence was that these three did not hear of the accident till a little later, when the two Whitney boys dashed in with pale faces, "Phronsie's hurt," was their announcement, which wouldn't have been given so abruptly had not each one been so anxious to get ahead of the other.

Old Mr. King, not comprehending, had turned sharply in his chair to stare at them.

"Hush, boys," warned Polly, hoarsely pointing to him; "is Mamsie with her?" She didn't dare to speak Phronsie's name.

"Yes," said Van, eager to communicate all the news, and hoping Percy would not cut in. But Percy, after Polly's warning, had stood quite still, afraid to open his mouth.

Jasper was hunting in one of his drawers for an old book his father had wished to see. So of course he hadn't heard a word.

"Here it is, father," he cried, rushing back and whirling the leaves--"why, what?" for he saw Polly's face.

"Oh Jasper--don't," said Polly brokenly.

"Why do you boys rush in, in this manner?" demanded old Mr. King testily. "And, Polly, child, what is the matter?"

"Grandpapa," cried Polly, rushing over to him to put her arms around his neck, "Phronsie is hurt someway. I don't believe it is much," she gasped, while Jasper ran to his other side.

"Phronsie hurt!" cried old Mr. King in sharp distress. "Where is she?"

Then Percy, seeing it was considered time for communication of news, struck in boldly; and between the two, all that was known of Joel's wild exclamations was put before them. All this was told along the hall and going over the stairs; for Grandpapa, holding Polly's hand, with Jasper hurrying fast behind them, was making good time up to Ben's room.

"And Dr. Fisher can't be found," shouted Van, afraid that the whole would not be told. Polly gave a shiver that all her self-control could not help.

"But Joel's gone for Dr. Pennell," screamed Percy; "Mrs. Fisher sent him."

"He's very good," said Jasper comfortingly. So this is the way they came into Ben's room.

"Oh, here's Grandpapa!" cooed Phronsie, trying to get down from Mamsie's lap.

"Oh, no, Phronsie," said Mrs. Fisher, "you must sit still; it's better for your arm."

"But Grandpapa looks sick," said Phronsie.

"Bless me--oh, you poor lamb, you!" Old Mr. King went unsteadily across the room, and knelt down by her side.

"Grandpapa," said Phronsie, stroking his white face, "see, it's all tied up high."

"Sit still, Phronsie," said Mrs. Fisher, keeping her fingers on the cut. Would the doctor ever come? Besides Joel, Thomas and several more messengers were despatched with orders for Dr. Pennell and to find Dr. Fisher, with the names of other doctors if these failed. God would send some one of them soon, she knew.

Phronsie obediently sat quite still, although she longed to show Grandpapa the white bandages drawn tightly around her arm. And she smoothed his hair, while he clasped his hands in her lap.

"I want Polly," she said presently.

"Stay where you are, Polly," said her mother, who had telegraphed this before with her eyes, over Phronsie's yellow hair.

Polly, at the sound of Phronsie's voice, had leaned forward, but now stood quite still, clasping her hands tightly together.

"Speak to her, Polly," said Jasper.

But Polly shook her head, unable to utter a sound.

"Polly, you must," said Jasper, for Phronsie was trying to turn in her mother's lap, and saying in a worried way, "Where's Polly? I want Polly."

"Polly is over there," said Mamsie, "but I do not think it's best for her to come now. But she'll speak to you, Phronsie."

"How funny!" laughed Phronsie. "Polly can't come, but she'll talk across the room."

Everything turned black before Polly's eyes; but she began, "Yes, Pet, I'm here," very bravely.

"I am so glad you are there, Polly," said Phronsie, easily satisfied.

Footsteps rapid and light were heard on the stairs. Polly and Jasper flew away from the doorway to let Dr. Pennell, his little case in his hand, come in.

"Well, well!" he exclaimed cheerily, "so now it's Phronsie; I'm coming to her this time," for he had often dropped in to call or to dine since the railway accident.

"Yes," said Phronsie, with a little laugh of delight, for she very much liked Dr. Pennell. He always took her on his lap, and told her stories; and he had a way of tucking certain little articles in his pockets to have her hunt for them. So they had gotten on amazingly well.

"Why, where--" Phronsie began in a puzzled way.

"Is Dr. Fisher?" Dr. Pennell finished it for her, rapidly going on with his work. "Well, he'll be here soon, I think. And you know he always likes me to do things when he isn't on hand. So I've come."

"And I like you very much," said Phronsie, wriggling her toes in satisfaction.

"I know that; we are famous friends, Phronsie," said the doctor, with one of those pleasant smiles of his that showed his white teeth.

"What's famous?" asked Phronsie, keeping her grave eyes on his face.

"Oh, fine; it means first-rate. We are fine friends, aren't we, Phronsie?"

"Yes, we are," declared Phronsie, bending forward to see his work the better, and taking her eyes from his face.

"There, there, you must sit quite straight. That's a nice child, Phronsie. And see here! I must take you sometime in my carriage when I go on my calls. Will you go, Phronsie?" and Dr. Pennell smiled again.

"Yes, I will." Phronsie nodded her yellow head, while she fastened her eyes on his face. "I used to go with Papa Fisher when I was at the little brown house, and I liked it; I did."