XXII
JOEL
"Hate school?" cried Mother Fisher. "Oh, Joey! think how Ben wantedmore schooling, only he wouldn't take the chance when Mr. King offeredit to him because he felt that he must be earning money as soon aspossible. Oh, Joey!"
That "Oh, Joey!" cut deeply. Joel winced and burrowed deeper under hismother's fingers.
"That's just it," he cried. "Ben wanted it, and I don't. I hate it, andI don't want to go back."
"Don't want to go back?" repeated Mrs. Fisher in dismay.
"No, I don't. The fellows are always twitting me, and every one getsahead of me, and I'm everlastingly staying in from ballgames to make uplessons, and I'd like to fire the books, I would," cried Joel withvenom.
Mrs. Fisher said nothing, but the hands still stroked the brown stubbyhead in her lap.
"And nobody cares for me because I won't be smart like the others, butI can't help it, I just hate school!" finished Joel in the same strain.
"Joel," said Mrs. Fisher slowly, "if that is the case, I shall go downto Mr. King and tell him that we, Father Fisher and I, Polly andPhronsie, will not go abroad with him."
Joel bolted upright and, putting down his two hands, brought his blackeyes to bear on her.
"What?"
"I shall go directly downstairs and tell Mr. King that Father Fisherand I, Polly and Phronsie, will not go abroad with him," repeated hismother slowly and distinctly while she looked him fully in the face.
"You can't do that," said Joel in amazement. "He's engaged thestate-rooms."
"That makes no difference," said Mrs. Fisher, "when a woman has a boywho needs her, nothing should stand in the way. And I must stay at homeand take care of you, Joel."
Joel sprang to his feet and began to prance up and down the floor. "I'mbig enough to take care of myself, mother," he declared, coming up toher, to prance off again.
"So I thought," said Mrs. Fisher composedly, "or I shouldn't haveplaced you at Mr. Marks's school."
"The idea, Mamsie, of your staying at home to take care of me," saidJoel excitedly. "Why, feel of that." He bared his arm, and coming up,thrust it out for inspection. "Isn't that splendid? I do verily believeI could whip any fellow in school, I do," he cried, regarding hismuscles affectionately. "If you don't believe it, just pinch them hard.You don't mean it really, Mamsie, what you said, of course. The idea ofstaying at home to take care of me," and he began to prance again.
"I don't care how many boys you can whip," observed Mother Fishercoolly, "as long as you can't whip your own self when you're naughty,you're too weak to go alone, and I must stay at home."
Joel stopped suddenly and looked at her.
"And before I'd give up, a boy of thirteen, and beg to be taken awayfrom school because the lessons were hard, and I didn't like to study,I'd work myself to skin and bone but I'd go through creditably." Mrs.Fisher sat straight now as an arrow in her corner of the sofa. "I'vesaid my say, Joel," she finished after a pause, "and now I shall godown and tell Mr. King."
"Mother," howled Joel, dashing across the room to her, "don't go! I'llstay, I will. Don't say that again, about my having to be taken care oflike a baby. I'll be good, mother, and study."
"Study doesn't amount to much unless you are glad of the chance," saidMrs. Fisher sharply. "I wouldn't give a fig for it, being driven toit," and her lips curled scornfully.
Joel wilted miserably. "I do care for the chance," he cried; "just tryme, and see."
Mrs. Fisher took his sunburnt face between her two hands. "Do youreally wish to go back to school, and put your mind on your books? Behonest, now."
"Yes, I do," said Joel, without winking.
"Well, you never told me a lie, and I know you won't begin now," saidMother Fisher, slowly releasing him. "You may go back, Joe; I'll trustyou."
"Phronsie," said Jasper, as the sound of the two voices could be heardin Mother Fisher's room, "don't you want to come into my den? I've somenew bugs in the cabinet--found a regular beauty to-day."
Phronsie stood quite still just where Joel had left her; her hands wereclasped and tears were rolling slowly down her cheeks. "No," she said,without looking at him, "Jasper, I don't."
"Do come, Phronsie," he begged, going over to her, and holding out hishand. "You can't think how nice the new one is, with yellow stripes andtwo long horns. Come and see it, Phronsie."
"No, Jasper," said the child quietly. Then in the next breath, "I thinkJoey must be very sick."
"Oh! Mamsie is taking care of him, and he'll soon be all right," brokein Polly cheerily. "Do go with Jasper, Phronsie, do, dear." She tookhold of the clasped hands, and smiled up into the drooping face.
But Phronsie shook her head and said "No."
"If Grandpapa should come in and find her so 'twould be very dreadful!"exclaimed Polly, looking over at the five boys, who in this suddenemergency were knocked speechless. "Do let us all play some game. Can'tsome one think of one?"
"Let us play 'Twenty Questions,'" proposed Jasper brightly. "I'll beginit, I've thought of something."
"That's horrid," cried Van, finding his tongue, "none of us want toplay that, I'm sure."
"I do," said David. "I think 'Twenty Questions' is always nice. Is itanimal, vegetable or mineral, Jasper?"
"I'm sick of it. Do play something not quite as old as the hills, Ibeg."
"Well, you think of something yourself, old man," said Jasper, noddingfuriously at him. "Hurry up."
"I'd rather have Polly tell a story than any game you could possiblythink of," said Van, going over to her, where she sat on the rug atPhronsie's feet. "Polly, will you?" he asked wheedlingly.
"Don't ask her to-night," interposed Jasper.
"Yes, I shall. It's the only time we shall have," said Van, "before wego back to school. Do, Polly, will you?" he begged again.
"I can't think of the first thing," declared Polly, pushing back littlerings of brown hair from her forehead.
"Don't try to think; just spin it off," said Van. "Now begin."
"You're a regular nuisance, Van!" exclaimed Jasper indignantly. "Polly,I wouldn't indulge him."
"I know Phronsie wants a story; don't you, Phronsie?" asked Vanartfully, and running over to peer into her face.
But to his astonishment, Phronsie stood perfectly still. "No," she saidagain, "I don't want a story; Joey must be sick."
"Jasper," cried Polly in despair, and springing up, "something must bedone. Grandpapa's coming; I hear him."
"Phronsie," said Jasper, bending to speak into her ear, "do you knowyou are making Polly feel very unhappy? Just think; the next thing Idon't know but what she'll cry."
Phronsie unfolded her hands. "Give me your handkerchief, Polly," shesaid, winking back the rest of the tears.
"Now, there's a dear," cried Polly, pulling out her handkerchief andwiping the wet, little face. None too soon; the door opened and Mr.King came in.
"Well--well--well!" he exclaimed, looking over his spectacles at themall. "Playing games, hey?"
"We're going to," said Ben and Jasper together.
"No, Polly is going to tell a story," said Van loudly, "that is, if youwant to hear it, Grandpapa. Do say you do," he begged, going over towhisper in his ear.
"I want immensely to hear it!" declared the old gentleman, pulling upan easy-chair to the fireside. "There now," sitting down, "I'm fixed.Now proceed, my dear."
Van softly clapped his hands. "Phronsie," Mr. King beckoned to her, andthen suggestively touched his knee, "here, dear."
Phronsie scurried across the room to his side. "Yes, Grandpapa."
"There, up she goes!" sang Mr. King, swinging her into position on hislap. "Now then, Polly, my child, we are all ready for the wonderfultale. Stay, where is Joel?"
"Joel went upstairs a little while ago," said Jasper quickly. "Well,now, Polly, do begin."
"I'll tell how we went to buy Phronsie's shoes," said Polly, drawing upan ottoman to Mr. King's side. "Now, boys, bring your chairs up."
"Joel ought
to know that you are going to tell a story, Polly," saidMr. King. "One of you boys run out and call him at the foot of thestairs."
"He's in Mamsie's room," said Ben. "I suppose when she gets throughwith him, he'll come down."
"Oh! ah!" said the old gentleman. "Well, Polly, then perhaps you wouldbetter proceed."
So Polly began on the never tiresome recital, how Phronsie fell downthe stairs leading from the kitchen to the "provision room" in thelittle brown house, with the bread-knife in her hand; and how, becauseshe cut her thumb so that it bled dreadfully, mother decided that shecould at last have a pair of shoes bought especially for her very ownself; and how Deacon Brown's old horse and wagon were procured, andthey all set forth, except mother, and how they rode to town, and howthe Beebes were just as good as gold, and how the red-topped shoesfitted as if they were made for Phronsie's feet, and how they all wenthome, and how Phronsie danced around the kitchen till she was all tiredout, and then went to bed carrying the new shoes with her, and how shefell asleep with--
"Why, I declare," exclaimed Polly, reaching this denouement in adelightfully roundabout way, "if she isn't asleep now!"
And indeed she was. So she had to be carried up to bed in the same oldway; only this time it was Jasper instead of Polly who held her.
"Don't you believe we'd better put it off till some other night?"whispered Percy to Van on the way upstairs to bed, the library partyhaving broken up early. "A fellow doesn't want to see a burglar on topof the time Joel has had."
"No, no," said Van; "it'll be good for him, and knock the other thingout of his head, don't you see, Percy? I should want something else tothink of if I were Joel. You can't back out; you promised, you know."
"Well, and I'll do it," said Percy testily.
"It's no use trying to sleep," declared Joel, in the middle of thenight, and kicking the bed-clothes for the dozenth time into a roll atthe foot, "as long as I can see Mamsie's eyes. I'll just get up andtackle that Latin grammar now. Whew! haven't I got to work, though!Might as well begin at it," and he jumped out of bed.
Stepping softly over to the door that led into David's little room, heclosed it carefully, and with a sigh, lighted the gas. Then he wentover to the table where his schoolbooks ought to have been. Butinstead, the space was piled with a great variety of things--one or twoballs, a tennis racket, and a confusion of fishing tackle, while infront, the last thing that had occupied him that day, lay a book ofartificial flies.
Joel set his teeth together hard, and looked at them. "Suppose I shan'tget much of this sort of thing this summer," he muttered. "Here goes!"and without trusting himself to take another look, he swept them alloff down to the floor and into a corner.
"There," he said, standing up straight, "lie there, will you?" But theyloomed up in a suggestive heap, and his fingers trembled to just touchthem once.
"I must cover up the things, or else I know I'll be at them," he said,and hurrying over to the bed, he dragged off the cover-lid. "Now," andhe threw it over the fascinating mass, "I've GOT to study. Dear me,where are my books?"
For the next five minutes Joel had enough to do to collect his workinginstruments, and when at last he unearthed them from the corner of hiscloset where he had thrown them under a pile of boots, he was tiredenough to sit down.
"I don't know which to go at first," he groaned, whirling the leaves ofthe upper book. "It ought to be Latin--but then it ought to be algebrajust as much, and as for history--well there--here goes, I'll take themas they come."
With a very red face Joel plunged into the first one under his hand. Itproved to be the Latin grammar, and with a grimace, he found the page,and resting his elbows on the table, he seized each side of his stubbyhead with his hands. "I'll hang on to my hair," he said, and plungedinto his task.
And now there was no sound in the room but his hard breathing, and thenoise he made turning the leaves, for he very soon found he was obligedto go back many lessons to understand how to approach the one beforehim; and with cheeks growing every instant more scarlet with shame andconfusion, the drops of perspiration ran down his forehead and fell onhis book.
"Whew!" he exclaimed, "it's horribly hot," and pushing back his book,he tiptoed over to the other window and softly raised it. The cool airblew into his face, and leaning far out into the dark night, he drew indeep breaths.
"I've skinned through and saved my neck a thousand times," hereflected, "and now I've got to dig like sixty to make up. There's Davenow, sleeping in there like a cat; he doesn't have anything to do, butto run ahead of the class like lightning--just because he"--
"Loves it," something seemed to sting the words into him. Joel drew inhis head and turned abruptly away from the window.
"Pshaw! well, here goes," he exclaimed again, throwing himself into hischair. "She said, 'I'd work myself to skin and bone but I'd get throughcreditably.'" Joel bared his brown arm and regarded it critically. "Iwonder how 'twould look all skin and bone," and he gave a short laugh.
"But this isn't studying." He pulled down his sleeve, and his head wentover the book again.
Outside, a bright blue eye applied to the keyhole, gave place to abright brown one, till such time as the persons to whom the eyesbelonged, were satisfied as to the condition of the interior they weresurveying.
"What do you suppose he's doing?" whispered the taller figure, puttinghis face concealed under a black mask, closely to the ear of the otherperson, whose countenance was similarly adorned.
"Don't know," whispered the second black mask. "He acts dreadfullyqueer, but I suppose he's got a novel. So you see it's our duty tobreak it up," he added virtuously.
The taller figure shook his head, but as it was very dark on their sideof Joel's door, the movement was unobserved.
"Well, come on," whispered the second black mask. "Are you ready?"
Yes.
"Come then."
"O, dear, dear!" grunted Joel, "I'd rather chop wood as I used to,years ago, to help the little brown house out," swinging his arms upover his head. "Why"--
And he was left in darkness, his arms falling nervously to his side,while a cautious step across the room made his black eyes stand out infright.
"A burglar--a burglar!" flashed through his mind. He held his breathhard and his knees knocked together. But Mamsie's eyes seemed to lookwith scorn on him again. Joel straightened up, clenched his fist, andevery minute expecting to be knocked on the head, he crept like a catto the further corner, even in this extremity, grumbling inwardlybecause Mr. King would not allow firearms. "If I only had them now!" hethought. "Well, I must get my club."
But there was no time to get it. Joel creeping along, feeling his waycautiously, soon knew that there were two burglars instead of one inthe room, and his mind was made up.
"They'll be after Grandpapa's money, sure," he thought. "I have got toget out, and warn him."
But how? that was the question.
Getting down on all-fours, holding his breath, yet with never a thoughtof danger to himself, he crept along toward the door leading into thehall, then stopped and rested under cover of the heavy window drapery.But as quick as a flash, two dark figures, that now, his eyes becomingmore accustomed to the darkness, he could dimly distinguish, reachedthere before him, and the key clicking in the lock, Joel knew that allhope from escape by that quarter was gone.
Like a cat, he sprang to his feet, swung the drapery out suddenlytoward the figures, and in the next second hurled himself over thewindow-sill, hanging to the edge, grasping the blind, crawling to thenext window, and so on and over, and down, down, by any friendly thinghe could grasp, to the ground.
Two black masks hung over the deserted window-edge.
"Joe--Joe! it's only we boys--Percy and Van. Joe--Joe!"
"He'll be killed!" gasped Van, his face as white as Joel's robefluttering below them in his wild descent. "Stop him, Percy. Oh! dostop him."
Percy clung to the window-sill, and danced in distress. "Stop him!" hewas beyond uttering anything m
ore.
"Yes, oh, Joe! don't you see it's only Percy and Van?" cried Vanpersuasively, and hanging out of the window to the imminent danger ofadding himself to Joel's company.
Percy shoved him back. "He's 'most down," he said, finding his breath."Now we'll run downstairs and let him in."
Van flew off from the window. "I'll go; it's my scrape," and he wasunlocking the door.
"I'm the oldest," said Percy, hurrying to get there first. "I ought tohave known better."
This made Van furious, and pushing Percy with all his might, hewriggled out first as the door flew open, and not forgetting to tiptoedown the hall, he hurried along, Percy behind him, to hear the noise ofmen's feet coming over the stairs.
Van tried to rush forward shouting, "Thomas, it's we boys--Percy andVan." Instead, he only succeeded in the darkness, in stumbling over achair, and falling flat with it amid a frightful racket that drownedhis voice.
Old Mr. King who had been awakened by the previous noise, and had runghis burglar alarm that connected with Thomas's and Jencks's rooms inthe stable, now cried out from his doorway. "Make quick work, Thomas,"and Percy saw the gleam of a pistol held high in Thomas's hand.
Up with a rush came bare feet over the back stairs; a flutter ofsomething white, and Joel sprang in between them. "It's Percy--it'sPercy!" he screamed, "don't you see, Thomas?"
"I'm Percy--don't shoot!" the taller burglar kept saying withoutintermission, while the flaring of candles and frightened voices, toldof the aroused household.
"Make quick work, Jencks!" shouted Mr. King from his doorway, to add tothe general din.
Thomas, whose blood was up, determined once for all to put an end tothe profession of burglary as far as his master's house was concerned,now drew nearer, steadying his pistol and trying to sight the nearestfellow. This proved to be Van, now struggling to his feet.
Joel took one wild step forward. "Thomas--don't shoot! It's Van!"
"Make quick work, Thomas!" called Mr. King.
There was but a moment in which to decide. It was either Van or he; andin an instant Joel had stepped in front of the pistol.