CHAPTER X
HALLOWE'EN
Clarence Prissler lay motionless upon bed Number 9 in the free wardof the model little hospital that the Fair Play Factory had built inLakeville. The nurse pointed him out to Bunny Payton, and the lattertiptoed softly to the sick boy's side. Before Prissler opened his eyesand looked up at him, the caller had clenched his hands nervously andswallowed hard. He wondered if he would be welcome, and what he wasgoing to say. In spite of the fact that Clarence Prissler had been aschoolmate of his since the first of the year, he hadn't exchanged adozen sentences with him in that time.
The misunderstanding at Molly's picnic had been deplorable. On thefollowing Monday morning, Bunny had resolved to seek out the boy andapologize and explain; in a way, that would be a Scouts' good turn.But Prissler had not come to school that day. He was missing again onTuesday and the succeeding days of that week. Saturday the footballteam played and beat Elkana High, and the victory was enough to make afellow forget almost everything. Besides, nobody seemed to know whathad become of Prissler; nobody, indeed, seemed to have missed him. Butwhen a second week had faded into the past, and part of a third, Bunnystirred into action.
Professor Leland gave him the first clue. With something of an ache inhis heart, Bunny went straight to Horace Hibbs.
"Yes," said the Scout Master, "he is in our hospital. He has been veryill." The man looked thoughtfully at Bunny. "Do you recall the seventhScout law?" he asked, and quoted it slowly, "'A Scout is friendly.'"
At the hospital now, while Bunny fumbled with his cap, the haltingconversation got under way. Prissler was glad to see him; he said sovery politely and very meekly. After Bunny had told him how sorryhe was about the picnic incident, they talked of general topics.Presently, though, there came another of the embarrassing pauses.
"To-night's Hallowe'en, isn't it?" ventured Prissler.
"Why, yes," said Bunny. He fancied he detected a note of wistfulnessin the other's tone. "Why, yes; so it is. I--I wish you could come outwith us."
"I wish I could." The sick boy tried bravely to put some simulation ofenthusiasm in his voice, but failed.
Bunny rose to his feet. He couldn't imagine the bookish and hermit-likePrissler skylarking with the fellows; the boy didn't--well, didn't just"fit." He wasn't "one of the crowd." But, of course, you couldn't saythat to a fellow who was sick. And you could say something nice!
"I'll tell you what, Prissler," he proposed. "I'll be your proxyto-night when we're out. I'll pretend, you know, that I'm walking abouton your legs, and using your arms and your brain; and then to-morrowI'll come again and tell you all the things you did--through me, byproxy, you understand. It will be the next best fun to your beingactually one of the bunch, won't it?"
"Yes," answered Prissler dutifully; "yes, I suppose so." He held out aweak hand. "Well, good-by, Bunny. It was fine of you to come and seeme. Good-by."
Out in the hall, Bunny met Doctor Maxwell. A sudden impulse made himstop the man.
"Doctor," he said, "I am a classmate of Clarence Prissler's at the highschool. Can you tell me how he is getting along?"
The physician eyed him thoughtfully. "I am glad you called upon him,"he said presently. "The truth is, young Prissler isn't recovering ashe should; he isn't building up in mind or body after his siege. I'vethought, once or twice, that he needed a more intimate touch with theoutside world; that's why I am glad you called upon him. Nobody elsehas."
"He--well, sir, he isn't what you call a very popular fellow inschool," apologized Bunny. "Doesn't play any games, and keeps tohimself, you know, sir, and seems to prefer his own company to anybodyelse's. There isn't any--any danger that he won't get well, is there,sir?"
"There is every danger," replied Doctor Maxwell soberly. "He is in aweak, despondent condition, from which he does not seem to be able toarouse himself. He has no interest in what is going on, no apparentdesire to rally and grow stronger. If it were possible to inject freshenthusiasm into him, some actual ambition to get up from his bed andout into the world again, it would mean more than any attention ormedicine we can give him here. He--well, I'm glad you called, anyhow.We shall hope for the best."
There was a big lump in Bunny's throat when he left the hospital. Itwas as if the physician had accused him of some deliberate neglect.After all, he had failed in practice to observe that seventh Scoutlaw. He remembered times when he might have sung out a cheery greetingto Prissler in the days that were past, or stopped to chat with him aminute, or flung an arm over his shoulder and walked a ways with him,as he often did with the other fellows. But he hadn't done any of thesethings; he hadn't even suspected that the boy was hungry at heart forcompanionship, and wanted to share in the joys and disappointments ofthose about him.
Bunny Payton wasn't quite himself when he joined the other Scouts thatevening for the usual round of Hallowe'en pranks. Two or three of themcommented upon his moody silence, and eventually he had to explainthat he couldn't free his mind of the picture of Clarence Prissler inthe hospital, lying pale and weak and ready to give up on his whitecot. He even told them how he had proposed becoming Prissler's proxyfor the night; told them about it grimly, in short, jerky sentences, asif he dared them to laugh at the idea. None of them did.
The following afternoon, directly after school, he called again to seethe patient. This time he greeted the sick boy boisterously, as hemight an old friend.
"Here's a glass of jelly," he said, after he had shaken hands. "Mrs.Lannigan sent it to you."
"Mrs. Lannigan? Why, I--I don't understand."
"Well," laughed Bunny, "I think she means it as a sort of thanksoffering. Fact is, you helped her quite a bit last night."
"I? How could I--"
"You did it by proxy. You see, we fellows went out last night tocelebrate Hallowe'en. We strolled past Mrs. Lannigan's. Her gate wasswinging loose on one hinge, and sagging down the whole strip of fencein front of her cottage. That wasn't right, of course; our sense of theorderly told us that. So we--"
"So you took the gate with you, I suppose." Clarence Prissler's lipspursed a little.
"Well, I'll confess that some of us thought of doing just that. But wedidn't. If we had been representing ourselves alone, we might haveyielded to the temptation in a thoughtless moment. But, you know, Iwas acting as your proxy. I said to myself, 'What would Prissy do?'And so--well, anyhow, we satisfied our sense of beauty by cautiouslyrepairing that fence and bolstering up that giddy gate. About thetime we were through, the good Mrs. Lannigan herself pounced upon us;thought we were walking away with the whole fence, I guess. When sherealized what we had done, she was inclined to weep. Women are funnythat way, you know. But she smiled at the same time, and asked:
"'Who was responsible for this?'"
"'Clarence Prissler, over at the hospital,' I told her; and then shethanked me for you, and insisted upon my taking a glass of her newjelly for you, and she's coming around to see you in a day or two,and--"
The sick boy lifted a protesting hand. Bunny saw two faint pink spotson his cheeks. "But I wasn't really responsible for what you did," hedeclared.
"Nonsense! Of course, you were. I was your proxy, and you had to standor fall by my actions. And I might have done something else--somethingfor which I should have been very sorry afterwards--if I had beenacting for myself only."
Prissler pondered this for a long minute. Then he looked up at hiscaller quizzically. "Did I do anything else last night?" he asked withgenuine interest.
"Lots of things. You wheeled back to its old corner Pop Gan's peanutroaster, after some fellows--young kids who didn't know any better--hadrun away with it; and you enjoyed racing it back to its old stand asmuch as you could if you'd been running away with it. Pop's put a sackof goobers aside for you, against the day when you'll come aroundpersonally to call for it. And you took Mrs. Ginty's baby carriage,that had strayed downtown, and put a sack of potatoes in it, andwheeled that back home, too. And you stopped one youngster who wasforgetting himself, and lectured
him--oh, mightily eloquently--till hesaw things a little clearer, and insisted upon joining your crowd. Andyou happened to be of service to your old landlady."
"Mrs. Stone?" The pink spots in Prissler's cheeks vanished.
"Yes, Mrs. Stone. Seems your trunk had been put out of your room, andyou stopped to ask about it. She didn't quite understand that you'd behome shortly and make up the work you do to pay the rent of your room.There were lots of chores undone, and you got the crowd to pitch in andcarry the wood to the shed, and cut some kindling, and clean up theyard; and then, over your protest, mind you, the fellows in your crowdagreed to come around daily and do the work you'd been doing, until youwere able to do it yourself. You said--"
"The Boy Scouts are going to do it, you mean."
"Well-l, yes. You said that would make you get well in a hurry, andMrs. Stone said she hadn't realized how matters stood with you, and itdidn't matter if the fellows pitched in as your work proxies or not.But they're going to, just the same."
"Oh!" said Clarence Prissler softly. "Oh!" The pink spots in his cheekscrimsoned suddenly--and the color lasted.
"And you ran across little Jimmy Bobbs, too," continued Bunny, smilinga little over the recollection. "He was standing on a corner andlooking mighty lonesome, and when you invited him to fall in with theother fellows in the bunch he jumped at the chance and said 'Thankyou!' away down in his throat. And he turned out to be a dandy sort offellow himself. Seems he's wanted to know you for a long time; saysyou're the smartest boy in school. He's coming around to the hospitalthis afternoon to see if you'd mind his bucking up on his studies withyou as an audience. He thinks it will help you to catch up and helphim, too, at the same time. Want to see him?"
"Why--why, yes, I certainly do. I--I've been worrying a lot, Bunny,about my lessons."
"You needn't any more, then. Because Nap Meeker is planning to doexactly the same thing. Wants to. And all the other Scouts are comingto see you, too, if you don't mind their crowding in here."
Prissler blinked his eyes. "I--I don't mind," he said, with a catch inhis voice.
"Well, let's see. I think that was about all you did. Oh, yes, Inearly forgot Professor Leland. I think he was a bit suspicious of ouractions. Anyhow, he loomed up suddenly in a dark spot and demanded toknow if we had done or were planning to do any ma--malicious mischief.I just wish, Prissy, you could have been there in your own body to hearyourself--your proxy, I mean--deny any such intentions. Specs McGrewasked if he didn't understand that you, Clarence Prissler, were leadingthe crowd. Professor looked at me kind of funny, and I had to explain.He just smiled and begged our pardons, and said that if he had knownyou were at our head, even in spirit, he wouldn't have bothered toquestion us. He knew you!"
There followed a brief silence. Bunny broke it by remarking, in acareless manner:
"Now that Rodman Cree is a member of the Black Eagle Patrol--you knewthat, didn't you?--and almost ready to be promoted from tenderfoot tosecond-class Scout, he's beginning to worry about ever getting to be afirst-class one. You see, Prissler, before he can be advanced, he musttrain some other boy to become a tenderfoot, and he can't find anybodyin town who thinks enough of the Scouts to want to be one of them."
The boy on the bed squirmed uneasily.
"But when he does--"
"Bunny!"
"Yes?"
"Would--would he train me?" gasped Prissler. "I--I think I am justbeginning to understand you Scouts, and--and"--the words came out in atorrent--"and--Oh, Bunny, I want to be a Scout!"
Bunny jumped up and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Why, Bonfirewill be tickled to death to train you; yes, sir, plumb tickled todeath! Do you mean it, Prissy?"
The sick boy could only nod dumbly, but there was undeniable happinessin the eager bobs of his head.
For ten minutes more, the two were deep in the intricacies ofScoutcraft. When Bunny finally rose to go, the patient was breathingrapidly, and his cheeks were flooded with color.
A day or two later, Bunny met Doctor Maxwell on the street.
"I don't pretend to understand young Prissler's case," the physiciansaid; "but he's taken the most marvelous turn for the better. He willbe out of the hospital in a week now. As nearly as I can diagnose theimprovement, something has aroused his interest in the outside worldagain. Something has restored his faith in mankind, and made himwant to live and help and be helped. I suspect--" And the man laidan approving hand on Bunny Payton's shoulder and left the sentenceunfinished.
"By the way," he added, "what about Hallowe'en? I forgot all aboutit, and nothing in the way of results happened to remind me of theoccasion. Didn't you boys get out? Or was the night a failure?"
"We were out, sir," said Bunny, grinning happily, "and I think--infact, I know--that there was never a better nor a more successfulHallowe'en in this town. Ask Clarence Prissler over at the hospital. Heled our crowd."