Chapter XXVIII: Ben Decides the Matter for Himself (9)

"And then write me at once what she says. Meantime, I shall be consulting Mr. King as to the school. It has to be a peculiar kind, of course, none of the high-fangled ones, but a good, substantial, ordinary sort of one, dominated by a man with a conscience. And where shall we find such an one--goodness knows, I'm sure I don't," she lifted her hands in dismay.

Mr. St. John, seeing that something was expected of him, volunteered the remark, "Oh, there must be such institutions; they are so much needed."

"Just like a minister," retorted the old lady, who was nothing if not blunt, especially if it fell out that she took a liking to a body; so now she added, "Oh, you'll do to preach from a desk; but as to practical things, such as the selection of a school, why, what can you, in the name of sense, be expected to know, either about them or the masters who run them?"

A little spot of red began to show itself on the fair cheek, and twice the young minister opened his mouth. But he thought better of it. Then he laughed. "Perhaps so," he said, with a nod, and stretched his hands to the blaze.

Madam Van Ruypen laughed too. Having never meant to give offence, that danger had not occurred to her. But she had been suddenly overcome, as it were, with a mortal terror, and all on account of those mountain children. What to do with them now she had sent for them she had found herself unable to answer. She couldn't send them back home, that would be cruelty indeed; and until the plan for the school popped up she was in a miserable state enough. So it was quite cheery to hear the bright little laugh bubble out from the other end of the fireplace, and she laughed so heartily in echo, that Mr. St. John tried it again.

"Well, now I feel better," she said, wiping her eyes with her lace-trimmed handkerchief. "You can't know, Mr. St. John, how very much I have been tried in this matter."

"I suppose so," he said, the laugh dropping away. Really, when he came to think of it again, the wonder grew how she came to do this thing at all, and then, how she dared to keep on so bravely. And that recalled "old money-bags"; how he blamed himself now for calling her so in his thoughts on those Sundays in the little mountain parish church! Could she be the same person as this woman, wiping her eyes, so touched by the little cheer he had given to her perplexity? He cleared his throat. "It was noble of you," he said, his own eyes glistening.

"Oh, now;" she turned on him a formidable face; the white puffs and Roman nose seemed to grow bigger. "You would do better to stop right there," she said, raising her forefinger, "else I shall wish you had gone home to-day," all of which made him feel decidedly like a schoolboy about to be whipped. And he sat back in his chair, quite depressed.

"Let us put our minds on those children, Richard," she said at last, breaking the silence that seemed to weigh on one of them like lead. "I don't like your name, St. John; it's well enough for a grand person, but you're a minister, and probably always will be a plain man, so I am going to call you Richard."

"If you only would!" he cried, the brightness coming back to eye and cheek, not caring in the least for the rest of her words.

"So you like it,--eh?"

"Very much. I am, as you say, a plain man."

"Besides being something of a boy," she added, with a twinkle in her sharp eyes.

"Besides being something of a boy," he repeated, laughing again.

"Well, then, Richard it is," she declared, with great satisfaction. "Now then, the first thing is to settle those children in some good school, or rather in two good schools, as soon as can be done. It isn't good for them to be here, I see that. I don't know in the smallest degree what to do with them, at least as far as the girl is concerned, and it is bad for them to be entertained all the while." Not a word about the demoralization of her houseful of servants, whose ill-concealed wrath and dismay were smouldering over the infliction of Elvira. "And they ought to be getting some education. Well, to-morrow you must go back and straighten it all out with the mother. That's settled." Then she sat quite erect to draw a long breath of enjoyment. "Now I'll tell you a piece of news," she said; "it's a secret as yet."

Richard leaned forward with great interest. He certainly was boy enough to enjoy a secret, and his eyes sparkled.

"I've engaged the whole front of the mountain hotel, the floor above the office, for next summer," she said. Then she waited to see the effect of her announcement.

"You're coming up?" cried Richard, in a glad voice.

"It looks like it," said the old lady, grimly, but vastly pleased at his tone, "and I want you to engage the Potter Camp for me."

"And you'll bring,--oh, now I know what you are going to do!" exclaimed the young minister, with great delight.

"No, you don't know in the least what I am going to do, young man," she retorted. "Oh, go along with you, Richard," and she laughed again, this time as light-heartedly as if her years matched his own. "Yes, I wrote yesterday to the manager to secure the rooms. You must get the camp for me."

"I surely will," promised Richard with huge satisfaction.

"And tell John Bramble if he doesn't bring my boxes and express matter up to the hotel quicker this summer than he did last year, I'll--I'll--report him to the government. Dear me, I want to scold somebody. Oh, and be sure, Richard, whatever you forget,--and I suppose you'll leave out the most important things,--don't forget to tell--what's that man Handy's name?"

"Shin?"

"Shin! Oh, what a name!"

"Well, we always call him that up in the mountains, because he can shin up the trees quicker than anybody else," said the young minister, laughing, "but his real name is--"

"Oh, well, if he's been called Shin so long, why Shin let it be," said Madam Van Ruypen, composedly; "I'm sure I don't care. Well, be sure and tell him he's engaged for the summer. There will be plenty he can do when we aren't at camp."

"That's fine," cried Richard, clapping his hands together smartly, "because you see Shin has so much time when he isn't hired for camping and guiding."

"And don't let those other children expect to come down. Whatever you do, don't raise any such hopes." The old lady here turned such a distressed face on him that the best he could do was to laugh again. "I'll remember," he said brightly.

And Madam Van Ruypen slept through the whole night, having the first good sound repose she had enjoyed since the visitors had arrived.

But up at the King household--O dear me! It was Polly who heard it first.

She was dreaming of the difficulty of making a little pink silk cushion out of a mussy end of flaming yellow ribbon that Candace seemed to have insisted on her using; and as she worked away, wishing it was pink, and trying to make herself believe it was pink, she saw it grow yellower and yellower, till finally she threw it down. And that twitched the needle and knotted up the silk thread, and then off her thimble flew with a little click--snip, and "O dear me!" exclaimed Polly, and opened her eyes.

She was just going to say, "Oh, I'm so glad I was only dreaming, and 'tisn't that hateful yellow cushion in reality," when another little click--snip, just like the one when her thimble dropped off in her dream, struck her ear. This time it was a "really truly" noise, and no dream, and Polly flew up in her pretty bed and leaned on her elbow.

Yes, and not only a click--snip, but a _sh--flop!_ or something that sounded as much like that as anything that could be put into words.

Polly flew out of bed, tossed on her pink wrapper, and only stopping to think, "I mustn't go into Mamsie's room, for that will wake King Fisher,"--Papa Doctor was away with a sick patient out of town,--she crept softly off to Ben's room, just around the angle of the hall, and, flying up to the bed, she gave him a little nip on the shoulder.

"Polly!" exclaimed Ben, sitting bolt upright, and, dashing his hands across his eyes, he was wide awake in an instant. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Polly, huddling up to the side of the bed, "only hush, do, the door's shut, but don't speak loud. There's such a funny noise; it sounds downstairs, Ben," she said, with a little shiver.

"Funny noise!" said Ben. "Well, now, you creep back to your room and lock the door, and stay in there, Polly."

"Oh, Ben, don't go down," she cried, seizing his arm.

"Do as I say." He never spoke in such a tone before, and Polly, who had no thought of disobeying, found herself soon in her own room, wishing that she hadn't called Ben, and longing to run out and help, and a thousand things besides.

Ben meantime was out in the hall, a stout walking-stick in his hand, hanging over the banister. Yes, Polly was right, there certainly was a funny noise, and it appeared to come from downstairs, too. It wasn't just what he supposed would be raised by anybody getting in to rob the house; it was more like something dropping; and then another sound, like a flap, flap of the window shade. But it was just as well to act speedily, and yet it must be done with caution; so he crept off to the back hall, where he could press the button that gave the signal to the men in the stable.

And he presently saw the lights flashing as they turned their dark lanterns a second toward the big stone mansion. Well, whatever the trouble was, they would soon find out, for Thomas had a key for just such possible emergencies, and the search would--

Ben never finished it in his mind, for a sharp noise, so near him that it seemed as if the person making it must be close to his heels, sent every bit of blood away from his cheeks. He couldn't turn, for what might be back of him in the darkness? It wasn't the click of a pistol exactly,--Ben, in all his cold terror felt struck with the little resemblance to any such noise,--still, as there was nothing else so likely to be that very thing, why, it must be, he concluded.

Downstairs he could hear, with senses sharpened, that Thomas had entered the house and that the search had begun in earnest. Well, somebody, whoever it was with that pistol, would probably do something more than click it before long, when another noise, this time a little farther off, a soft, pat--pat, sent his mind in another direction. Either there were two burglars who had worked their way upstairs, or the one with the pistol had heard the noise downstairs, and concluded to try for an escape.

And now Ben's blood was up, and he softly followed in the direction of the sound, grasping his stick hard and setting his teeth. "It'll be easier for me than for the other fellow, as I know the way," flashed through his mind.

But he didn't seem to get much nearer. Of course he would stop when there was no noise, then the soft pat--pat would begin at a further remove, and on Ben would creep after it.

He must at least keep the trail till Thomas and the other serving-man could put in an appearance on that third floor. What,--ah, there he is! Again the click! And the portiere twitched out by the sudden movement of a hand. Ben swung his stout stick above his head, and brought it down to hear a squeal of fright and pain, and Jocko, whose tail only had suffered, leaped into his face.

Over went Ben, the stick, and monkey together, just escaping the long stairs, as Thomas and his men rushed up, turning the lanterns on every side to find the cause. Doors were thrown open and frightened faces appeared, while Polly was already down on her knees by his side. "Oh, Ben," then her fingers felt Jocko's hairy coat.

"That beast!" It was all Ben could get out. Then he lay back on the floor and laughed till he was so weak he could hardly breathe. "He's a--sweet--dear--little thing--" at last he made out to say, "isn't--he--Polly?" he ended gustily.

XXVI

"COULD YOU TAKE HIM, BEN?"

"Of course," said Grandpapa, "after this, Jocko must go."

And "Of course," echoed every one else. "But where?"

"Oh, do send him to the Zoo," begged Polly, "do, Grandpapa dear, and then we can go and see him sometimes and take him nice things to eat."

"I don't believe Ben will want to go very often," said Jasper, with a little laugh, "will you, old fellow?"

"Yes," said Ben, with another laugh, "as long as I don't meet him in the dark, when he jumps at me from a curtain, I'd just as soon see him as not."

"Oh, I'm so very glad he is going to the Zoo," said Polly, with a long breath of relief, "he'll be real happy there with such lots of other monkeys."

But Jocko didn't go to the Zoo after all with "such lots of other monkeys," for Candace, hearing the news of the disturbance by supposed burglars at Mr. King's big mansion, and the consequent plan to send Jocko away, came waddling up the driveway as fast as she could.

"Here's Candace!" shouted Joel, who spied her first. "Come on, Pip, I guess she's got some candy sticks."

But Candace was so out of breath when she reached the big stone steps that she sank down to rest. If she had any candy sticks in the big black woollen pocket she always wore at her side, it couldn't have been announced at present. The truth was, however, that in the hurry and excitement of leaving the little shop, she had forgotten them. Whereat Joel was wofully disappointed, but he covered it up as best he might, seeing her chagrin when she pulled out all her things and shook the empty pocket.

"Oh, me, I've clar forgot 'em," she mourned, holding up her black hands in dismay, as the boys hung over her, still hoping that the candy sticks might be hiding in a corner of the big pocket.

"Shake it again, Candace! Shake it again!" cried Joel. "Here, let me," he begged.

"No, no, Mas'r Joel," protested Candace, in alarm, and putting both hands over the generous black woollen pocket, "you'll done shake it to def, you will. Dey ain' dah, I tell you. Oh, me, to tink I sh'd a-gone an' forget dem. An' it's all about dat ar monkey. Oh, whee! I ain' no bref lef'," and she rocked back and forth on the step, fanning herself with her black alpaca apron, without which she was never attired for a visit up at the King mansion.

"Well, Jocko isn't going to stay here any longer," announced Joel, briskly. "He's going up to the Zoo."

"Oh, no, he ain', Mas'r Joel," contradicted Candace, stopping her fanning to seize his arm.

"Yes, he is, Candace," declared Joel, bringing his black eyes on her in surprise; "he's got to go, he's been so naughty. Grandpapa says it isn't safe to keep him here any longer."

"Well, he ain' goin' to dat ar Zoo," protested Candace, bobbing her black bonnet, from which depended a big figured lace veil. "No, no, Mas'r Joel! Oh, your Grandpa won't neber send him dar," and she clasped her hands, while the tears came into her eyes.

"Yes, he will," stoutly repeated Joel, twisting away to stand still and regard her in intense astonishment, "'cause he said so, and my Grandpapa always does just what he says he will, Candace King."

Whenever the children wished to be very impressive with her they called her "Candace King." This usually overcame her with delight. But on this occasion she didn't notice it at all, but, beginning to blubber, she rocked back and forth on the step, saying between the gusts of her distress, "Oh, no, he won't, neber in all dis worl'."

"I'm going for Polly," said Joel, at his wits' end, and springing past her on the steps. Pip, not to be left alone with that singular old black woman, who now terrified him greatly, pattering after, the two raced into the house.

"Polly!" called Joel. "O dear! Where is she?"

"Here!" cried Polly, bobbing out of the music room, her practice hour being just over. "What is the matter, Joe?"

"Oh, Candace is out on the steps," said Joel, "and I guess she's got a fit."

"Candace out on the steps," cried Polly, "and in a fit! O dear me!" and she rushed out.

To be sure, there sat Candace, rocking back and forth, her face covered with her big hands, and wailing miserably.

"Oh, Candace!" and Polly sank down on the step beside her and throwing her arm around the big black figure, she put her cheek up against one of the black hands, "do tell me what is the matter." Joel and Pip, who had both followed, ranged themselves on either side.

"He won' send him away to de Zoo, will he, honey?" gasped Candace.

"What?" cried Polly, for the words were so muffled back of Candace's big hands, it was impossible to hear a word. "What do you say, Candace?"

So Candace went all over it again; but it wasn't much better so far as Polly's hearing it was concerned, and at last Polly gave it up in despair and started to her feet.

"I don't know what you are talking of, Candace," she declared, "so I'm going to get Grandpapa to come out and see what is the matter with you."

"Oh, no, honey, don'!" and Candace grasped Polly's gown. "You arsk him, dat's a good chile. Arsk him for pore ol' Candace," and she lifted her streaming eyes piteously.

"Ask him what?" cried Polly. "I don't know what you want, Candace. I haven't heard a word that you've been saying."

"She's awful funny," observed Joel; "I told you she was going to have a fit." With that Pip retreated suddenly and ran over to Polly's side, around whose gown he stared with very wide eyes at the big figure on the steps.

"She said something about the monkey," continued Joel, "and--"

"Yes, dat's it," cried Candace, delighted to be understood by somebody. "Oh, he won' send him to de Zoo, will he, Miss Polly?" she begged.

"Indeed he will," declared Polly, positively. "And you ought not to want Grandpapa not to send him," she said, much displeased, "for Jocko's been very naughty; very naughty indeed, Candace."

"Den he won' gib him to me," wailed Candace, releasing Polly's gown, and dropping her head so that the big figured lace veil trailed on the step. "O me--O my!"

"What's that you say, Candace?" cried Polly, dropping down on her knees again. "Do you want Jocko?" feeling as if she couldn't believe her ears.

"Ob course; dat's what I've been tellin' you and Mas'r Joel all de bressed time," said Candace, raising her head to survey them both with extreme dignity.

"Oh, she hasn't said a single word," began Joel.

"Hush, Joel," said Polly. "Candace, do you really want Jocko; really and truly?" and her eyes shone.

"Ob course I does;" Candace's head bobbed so decidedly that Polly had no reason to doubt her. "I'm dre'ful lonesome and he'd be comp'ny," as she swept the tears away with both hands.

"Oh, I'm so very, very glad you want Jocko!" cried Polly, hugging the big figure. While Joel cried "Hooray!" And Pip, when he saw all things turning out so well, emerged from the shelter of Polly's gown and piped out "Hooray," because Joel did.

"But Jocko will work mischief, I'm afraid," and Polly's face fell suddenly, "and just think, Candace, of all the nice things in your shop."

But Candace was not to be balked. Having once set her heart on having Jocko as a companion, she was now prepared to show how she had counted the cost. So she drew herself up to her utmost height.

"Phoo!" she declared, snapping her stubby black fingers, "dat ar monkey ain' a-goin' to hurt none ob my t'ings, Miss Polly. You know my ole safe?"

"Yes," Polly did, a certain hanging wire arrangement where various eatables were kept, to be free from the inspection of mice that were rampant in the room behind the small shop.

"Well, I done clared dat ole safe all out dis berry mornin', soon's eber I heard ob de trouble. Dat'll be a fine t'ing for Jocko to swing in," cried Candace, triumphantly.

"But where will you keep all your eatables?" said Polly, in amazement.

"Oh, honey," exclaimed Candace, impatiently, "I keeps 'em outside, ob course."

"But the mice," suggested Polly, fearfully.

"Dar ain' goin' t' be no mice," declared Candace, decidedly, and clapping her big hands together smartly. "Do you t'ink any mouse is a-goin' to touch my t'ings when he can hear dat ar monkey a-singin' an' carryin' on? No, sir, he ain'!"

"Well then," cried Polly, springing up, "I do so want you to have Jocko. Oh, I do, Candace," and she clasped her hands. "If you are sure he won't hurt your things and you really want him."

"I'm shore," declared Candace, solemnly. At this Joel bounded off, but Pip decided to stay with Polly to see the matter through.

"How lovely!" and Polly's eyes sparkled, "that you want Jocko, and then, just think, we can see him whenever we go to your shop, Candace." She bestowed another hug on the broad shoulders, or so much of them as she could compass.

"I know it, honey." Candace showed two rows of shining white teeth in a broad smile. "An' den, w'en you ain' dar, w'y him an' me can talk, an' it'll be real sosh'ble like."

"Yes," said Polly, quite as happy as Candace herself.

"He'll be sech comp'ny ebenin's," said Candace, folding her arms in great satisfaction; "you see I gotter set up fer a spell, 'cause some one might come in an' buy somethin'. Only las' week an' Mis' Hardin's girl come in fer a spool o' tred. It's been mighty lonesome, Miss Polly."

"So it must have been," said Polly, sympathetically, with a little twinge of remorse that she hadn't thought of it before; "but then, you've had your cat, Candace."

"Yes, I know," Candace gave a truthful nod, "but w'en you says cat, you says all dar is. Now dat ar cat kain't talk none. An' no matter how I stuffs her, she only licks her paws, an' looks fer more. And she ain't no good as fer's comp'ny--real sosh'ble comp'ny whar dar is talkin' goin' on, I mean. An' den jus' t'ink wat a beau'ful voice Jocko's got!" At that Candace fairly beamed.

"Oh, I'll ask Grandpapa not to send Jocko to the Zoo, but to give him to you," said Polly, preparing to spring off. "And I 'most know he will, Candace."

But it was really unnecessary for her to do that, for Joel at this moment dashed in, screaming out, "Grandpapa says yes, he does; Candace can have Jocko!"

And presently Candace, chuckling in delight, was drawn within the big mansion, Joel and Polly on either side, and Pip racing along in the rear. And quicker than it takes to write it, the whole houseful knew where Jocko's new home was to be, and everybody thronged around the happy old black woman.

"Only don't blame me, my good Candace," said Grandpapa, laughing, whom the uproar had drawn out of his writing room, "if that monkey eats up all your shopful."

"He ain' a-goin' t' eat up my t'ings," declared Candace, dropping him so many courtesies it was with extra difficulty she got the words out at all.

"Look out that he doesn't," warned Grandpapa, and he laughed again. "Well now, the next thing, I presume, in the order of arrangements, is to see that Master Jocko gets down to your shop, for that he spends another night here is not my plan for him."

"Oh, I'm going to take him down," announced Joel, easily.

"You!" exclaimed Grandpapa, and he laughed harder than ever.

"Yes, sir!" answered Joel, promptly, "and Candace is going too."

"Well, I guess Candace wouldn't want Jocko by the time they got to the shop," said Jasper, _sotto voce_.

"I guess not too," said Ben, with a laugh.

"And I'm going too," declared Percy, pushing to the centre of the circle.

"And so am I," said Van, "if Joel's going. Can't I, Grandpapa?" he begged.

"Goodness, what a procession!" exclaimed Grandpapa; "and of course David wants to go--eh, Davie, my lad?"

"Yes, I do," said David, "very much indeed, Grandpapa," and his blue eyes shone.

"I thought so; and I see no reason why you shouldn't be in the party, if all the other boys go. But, dear me, I couldn't allow it. Why, it would be, for all the world, like a circus. And, besides, the monkey would get away from you; he'd be sure to."

"Oh, no, Grandpapa, he wouldn't," howled Joel, quite beside himself with disappointment, and the tears began to come. "I'd hold on to his chain just as tight," and he doubled up his brown fists to show his capacity for keeping things. "Please let me take him."

"No, no;" Grandpapa shook his white head. And he didn't look at Joe nor at one of the other boys, either, for their eyes seemed to be giving them so much trouble. "But I tell you what I will let you do; you can all go down this afternoon and see Jocko in his new home. That is, if Candace will allow it?" and he bowed his white head as courteously toward her as if she had been a great lady.

"Fo' shore, Mas'r King," said Candace, showing all her teeth, her smile was so expansive. "Jocko an' me'll be ter home, an' den I'll gib you de candy sticks," she said, turning to Joel.

"Oh, goody!" exclaimed Joel. Then his face fell. "Oh, you can't, 'twould take such a lot, Candace; we're all coming."

"Oh, yer go long," said Candace, poking him with her big black finger, "ye're goin' to hab dem candy sticks. Yer Gran'pa's done gib me dat ar monkey, an' don' yo' suppose I'm goin' ter gib nuffin'? Oh, yer go long, Mas'r Joel."

Meantime Jasper was asking, "Well, Father, how are you going to get Jocko down to Candace's?"

"It is something of a problem," said the old gentleman, stroking his white head thoughtfully, "but the best way that suggests itself is," and he hesitated and looked anxiously at Ben,--"it's too bad to ask it, but could you take him, Ben, in the depot carriage? Thomas will drive you down."

"Oh, I'll be company for Jocko," said Ben, laughing, "we'll have a fine ride together."

"How I wish I could go with you," cried Jasper. "O dear me! I'm well enough. Let me, Father, do!"

"The idea!" exclaimed the old gentleman, in horror, "and you've been so sick, Jasper King!"

"O dear me! 'Twould be such fun," mourned Jasper.

"Well, Polly, you come," said Ben, persuasively.

"Yes," said Polly, "I will;" but her face drooped, and she couldn't look at Jasper in his disappointment.

"And see here," old Mr. King cried suddenly, "Candace can drive down too. So go get your monkey, and be off, Ben and Polly! And, Candace, remember what I said, and don't blame me for whatever Jocko does in that shop of yours," and Grandpapa went back to his writing room. But they could hear him laughing even after he had closed the door.

It was one thing to plan this fine drive in such pleasant company to introduce Jocko to his new home, and quite another to carry it out. In the first place, the monkey couldn't be found in his accustomed little room up next to that of Thomas over the stable. And Polly turned so pale that Ben hastened to say, "Oh, nothing has happened to him; don't be afraid, Polly. Nothing could happen to that monkey."

"Oh, there has; I know there has, Ben," she declared, clasping her hands in dismay, while the rest of the children, all except Jasper, who, of course, was shut up in the library watching proceedings as best he could from one of the long windows, ran this way and that, calling frantically on Jocko to come, with every imaginable blandishment they could think of as inducement, and Candace sat down on the stable steps and wrung her hands, and lifted up her voice in dismal cries.

This was as much worse as it was possible to be, than if Jocko had gone to the Zoo, for now he had run away, of course, and probably never would be found. "He's done gone to--whar's dat place he come from, Miss Polly?" wailed Candace.

"India," cried Polly, hearing Candace's question, and running up in the interval of exploring several places where Jocko might be expected to hide. "Oh, he couldn't go there, Candace."

"Oh, yes, he could," contradicted Candace, obstinately; "he come from dar, and he could go back dar;" and she redoubled her sobs.

"But he came in a big ship," cried Polly, laying her hand soothingly on the fat shoulder. "Do stop crying, Candace, we'll find him soon, I guess;" but she looked very much worried. "Have you found him, Ben?" she asked in a low voice, as he suddenly appeared.

"No." Ben didn't really say the word, on account of Candace, but he shook his head, and Polly running over to him, he drew her off into a quiet corner. "I really believe the little scamp has run off."

"Oh, Ben, how very dreadful!" exclaimed Polly, turning quite white. "Whatever shall we do with Candace, and what _will_ happen to Jocko? O dear me!" and she wrung her hands.

"Well now, see here, Polly," said Ben, turning her around and gathering up her hands in his bigger ones to hold them fast, "we have just got to make the best of this, and--"

"Yes," Thomas was saying, and the rattling of a chain, together with the sound of his foot-steps, struck upon their ears. "I thought I'd just take the monkey out for a bit of an airing;" and in they both came to the stable, he and Jocko together.

It was impossible to describe the delight of the whole company at the restoration of the lost one. Jocko, who had felt his loss of caste considerably since his escapade of the previous night, put on at once his old airy demeanor, and capered and blinked and wrinkled up his face, and wheedled and begged, and altogether quite outdid any of his former attempts in that line, until the children hung over him and protested that he must not leave them. Oh, no, he mustn't!

At that, Candace, who had found her feet in a surprisingly quick manner at the monkey's entrance, began to take alarm at once, and her black face fell.

"But he has just got to go," said Polly; "you know, boys, Grandpapa has said so." And Ben reiterating the same thing, the children declared, "Yes, he's going to Candace's."

"And you are going down to see him," cried Polly. "Do hurry, Ben, we must take him right straight off, 'cause they want to go to Candace's shop just as soon as ever they can."

So pretty soon the depot carriage, so called because it was one of the vehicles for common use in the establishment, being all ready, with Thomas, whip in hand, quite equipped for the start, Polly and Ben helped Candace in, or rather Polly did, Ben having quite as much as he could do to take care of Jocko; then Polly hopped in, and then Ben, with Jocko crowding in between his legs, got in with some difficulty.

"Oh, wait, do wait," begged Davie, before the door was shut. "I want to bid him good-by."

"Oh, Dave, you are going to see him in a little while," cried Joel, trying to pull him back, "just as soon as we get down to Candace's shop."

But David persisted. "He's going away," he said, "and I shall bid him good-by from here."

"Yes," said Polly, "I think he ought to, Ben, because Jocko is going away from this home."

So David climbed up on the carriage steps and shook Jocko's paw, and said "Good-by" two or three times, because from the monkey's face he didn't seem to realize the parting at all.

And then, as David had done it, why, Joel concluded that after all he wanted to. So up he climbed on the carriage step, and went through the same performance. Only he shook both of Jocko's paws. And then, of course, Percy and Van had to do the same thing, each being a little longer than the other about it.

And then little Dick piped up, standing on his tiptoes, "It's my turn; I'm going to bid my Jocko good-by, I am."

"Yes, do lift him up, Joe," said Ben.

So Joel gave little Dick a good fine lift, Dickie protesting so violently that he was going to get up on the carriage step himself, and trying to kick off any assistance, that he was precipitated to the floor of the carriage in a small heap.

"Dear me!" exclaimed Ben, huddling up Jocko, who pretended to be very much frightened, "this is a circus, I'm sure."

"Well now, Dick, hurry and say good-by," said Polly, "for Grandpapa expects us to start right off. And now, Phronsie. Come, pet!" as little Dick shook Jocko's paws briskly and tumbled out.

Phronsie, who had waited patiently till her turn came to say good-by, now put out her arms. "Take me, Polly," she said.

"Yes, I will," said Polly, flying out of the carriage. So Phronsie was lifted in, when she laid her soft little cheek on Jocko's wrinkled face. "I love you," she said, "and you are going to Candace's house."

"Oh, Phronsie," exclaimed Ben, with a grimace, trying to draw Jocko off.

But Phronsie was not quite through, so she held fast.

"And I'm coming to see you," she finished. Then she held up her arms for Polly to lift her out.

And then Polly hopped in again, Thomas cracked the whip, and off they went, Jocko showing a grinning face at the window, as long as the children were in sight. Then he sat up straight and looked the stout black figure on the opposite seat all over with extreme condescension.

XXVII

"MR. KING, WHO IS THAT PIP YOU HAVE HERE?"

"Well, you are all settled, old chap," said Ben, affectionately, with a pat on Jasper's shoulder, "for a spell at least."

"That's so," said Jasper, in huge satisfaction, and running over to set some books on his shelves; "good for Doctor Fisher that he won't let me go back till the middle of the term! But I have to dig at these, though, else I'll flunk when I do get there," as he crammed the last book into place.

"But you're not to go at them before next week, Jasper," remonstrated Ben, in alarm, and hurrying over to him, "you know Papa Doctor said so; you know he did!"

"Oh, I won't have a bout with them until then," promised Jasper. "But after that--then says I, why, I've simply _got_ to. Well now, Ben, there's Pip!" He whirled around to regard Ben anxiously.

"I know it," said Ben, with a long face.

"I suppose the little chap has got to go back and face those boys," said Jasper, ruefully.

Ben swung off on his heel and walked up and down the long apartment. "You know just as well as you want to, Jasper King," he said, coming up to stand squarely in front of the tall boy, "how it will be when Pip gets back there."

"Yes, I know; but perhaps the boys will treat him better now," said Jasper, yet he looked uneasy.

"Yes, for a while," said Ben, "I think they will;" then he burst out with honest indignation, "but there are enough boys there who'll be at their mean tricks soon enough, as long as you won't be on hand to make them stand round,--you know that, Jasper, as well as you want to."

"Well, Pip is different now," said Jasper, determined to find all the bright aspect possible to the case.

"I know he is," assented Ben, pounding his hand on the table, "ever so much more like a boy, but that will soon be taken out of him, get him back there without you, or any one who really cares a row of pins about him."

"They shan't take it out of him. Oh, no, no!" cried Jasper, in great distress. He really couldn't stop saying it.

"Yes," said Ben, obstinately, "they will."

"Well, what can be done about it?" demanded Jasper tossing his dark hair away from his brow. And he put a hand on either sturdy shoulder; "Speak out, now, old fellow, if you've a plan in your head, and I'm with you to the last gasp," he added, in suppressed excitement.

"There isn't anything to be done," said Ben, slowly, his blue eyes raised to the earnest ones looking him through and through, "except for Pip to keep away from that school till you go back."

"_For Pip to keep away from that school_," echoed Jasper, faintly; "why, he belongs there. Ben Pepper, what _are_ you saying?"

"I can't help it if he does belong there," said Ben. "The thing is to get him away for a spell."

"How?" demanded Jasper, with a small shake of the broad shoulders.

"Your father can do it," said Ben, for answer.

"My father!" cried Jasper, in surprise. Then his hands fell away from Ben's shoulders, and he backed slowly off.

"Yes, your father," reiterated Ben. "He can do anything, and you know it."

"But Ben Pepper--you--you don't understand," said Jasper, very much puzzled to think how Ben, usually so level-headed, could fall into such a stupid misapprehension at this time. "Pip belongs to Doctor Presbrey; that is,--why, you know the story. His father and mother are dead, and he's in the care of the Doctor. Put there by a sort of a guardian down in South America, where the forlorn little chap came from, and--"

"Oh, I know that whole story," said Ben, guilty of interrupting.

"Well, then, how can you go on so?" exclaimed Jasper, more than ever bewildered that Ben should propose such a useless plan.

"Yes, but all that makes no difference," said Ben, snapping his fingers. "Your father can make Doctor Presbrey let Pip off to stay here until you go back." Ben set up his square shoulders and stood as tall as he could, looking up obstinately at Jasper's face.

"Whew!" whistled Jasper. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets and marched up and down the apartment, the same as Ben had done.

"You see, Doctor Presbrey is a sensible man," said Ben, firing one of his reserve shots after the tall boy, "and when he knows how Pip has changed since he's been here,--why, Joel has done wonders with him,--now that man is going to let him stay on a bit."

"Joel hasn't done everything," observed Jasper, wheeling in his corner.

"And your father can make anybody do anything," broke in Ben, hurriedly.

"Father never likes to interfere with people," said Jasper, running nervous fingers through his dark hair, and wrinkling it up into waves. Then he tossed it back in irritation. "He'll never do it in all this world, Ben Pepper!" and he strode off down the room again.

"Yes, he will," declared Ben, standing still in his tracks. Then he fired another shot. "But of course he won't if you and I don't believe in it."

"What do you mean?" cried Jasper, wheeling to run up and seize Ben's jacket-button. "Why, I'm in favor of it, this plan of yours, Ben, only it's perfectly useless to begin with;" his gray eyes turned dark with feeling as he fixed them on Ben's face.

"That's no way to favor a thing," said Ben, quite unmoved, "not to believe in it."

"But--but I can't say I believe in it, because I _don't_," declared Jasper, quite as obstinately in his way.

"But you can go at it as if you wanted to believe in it," said Ben, sturdily.

"Well, I will; I'll promise you that," said Jasper, "for I want it as much as you do."

"I know it," said Ben, bobbing his head.

"All right; now we'll shove ahead on it," said Jasper, with a laugh. "But Father--" and his face fell.

"If we want it," said Ben, "we've got to make him want it, too."

"Of course. Well, we'll try for it," said Jasper, swallowing hard. "But there's the school; you see it interrupts all Dr. Presbrey's work over Pip."

"I know it," said Ben, and his face fell. "But you know everybody said Pip was so dull at school."

"Well, that's because he was such a forlorn little chap," said Jasper; "poor mite, anybody would be dull where he wasn't wanted."

"That's just it," cried Ben, eagerly. "Well now, he'll study and take hold of things with Joel and David, and Dr. Presbrey will be glad enough to let him stay if it will only wake him up." Ben gave a gasp when he had gotten through, for he wasn't much used to long sentences.

"Well, come on," Jasper picked him by the sleeve, "if we have it to do, to ask Father, we best have it over with;" and he hauled Ben off, never letting go till the two paused to knock on Mr. King's writing-room door.

Then just a breathing space, when it seemed to Jasper that he must make a bolt and give up the whole thing.

"Come in!" called his father's voice; and the two boys found themselves before the big writing-table, and looking down into his face. It wasn't an auspicious moment, for a letter lay open that had evidently caused the reader a bad quarter of an hour.

"What is it?" Old Mr. King looked sharply up from his fit of musing.

Jasper felt cold chills run all over him. As for Ben, he set his teeth, and his right hand doubled up in his pocket.

"Never mind, Father," said Jasper, beginning to back toward the door, "and beg pardon, Ben and I can come in another time if you will allow us."

"You will be good enough to stay now, Jasper, that you and Ben are here," said his father, decidedly, the irritation still remaining on cheek and brow; and he set his keen eyes to work on both boys. "Now then, what is it? Speak quickly, for I haven't much time to give you."

"Father," said Jasper, and he drew a long breath, "it's about Pip."

Old Mr. King took up the subject abruptly. "Well, what has he been doing?" he demanded.

"He hasn't been doing anything," said Jasper, "that is, nothing bad. It's about something we want you to do for him, Father."

"What?" It was only one word and it came out like a cannon-ball. Ben's hand clenched together tighter yet, especially as he saw Jasper's cheek turn white. "O dear," groaned Ben, "I ought not to have spoken to-day when he's been so sick."

"Father," Jasper drew another long breath, then he looked steadily into the sharp eyes, "if that poor little chap only needn't go back to school yet. Dr. Presbrey will let him stay here until I go, if you only ask him."

"_What?_" roared the old gentleman, amazed beyond his control.

"You know something of the hard time Pip has at the school," Jasper said persuasively, and though his cheek was white, he still looked steadily into the sharp eyes that now were blazing. "Oh, if you only would, Father, get Dr. Pres--"

"And do you mean to say, Jasper, that you would wish me to prefer such a request to Dr. Presbrey, that stern disciplinarian, that he should let a boy off, especially one who is under his care in such a way as Pip is? Preposterous!" Old Mr. King whirled around in his chair, then back again, to bring his right hand emphatically on the table, till the disturbing letter and all the nearest papers fluttered in the wind of his indignation.

"Father," said Jasper; then he stopped a second for the right word. But that wasn't allowed him.

"And that you should ask such a thing amazes me, Jasper. When did you ever know your father to interfere in other people's affairs?--When, indeed!" He was now so angry that he didn't seem able to contain himself except by pushing about the things nearest to him; and, as his eye fell again on the unlucky cause, he blazed forth, "Never ask me such a thing again."

"It was my fault," blurted Ben.

"Then you are also to blame," curtly replied Mr. King.

"Father," began Jasper again, brokenly; then, without another word, he turned and went out of the room. And Ben, getting out, he didn't know how, followed him to the other end of the hall.

"Don't feel so," cried Ben, in a mortal terror for Jasper, Pip's cause now being so much less, and laying his hand on the shaking shoulder. "Oh, Jasper, don't."

"We've hurt Pip," said Jasper, his head on his arms, as he leaned on the window-seat. "That's the worst of it. O dear me, Ben!"

"Perhaps not," said Ben, with a desperate attempt to be cheerful.

"Yes, we have," declared Jasper, gloomily. "Now we never shall get the poor chap the least help; not in all this world, Ben Pepper!"

"Well, we've done our best," said Ben, yet his heart fell.

"And, oh, don't blame Father," said Jasper, quickly, and raising his head a moment to look at Ben. "Don't, there's a good chap. He isn't himself to-day,--he's had bad news. Can't you see for yourself, Ben?" Jasper searched the round face eagerly.

"Of course I know it. Grandpapa wouldn't ever in all this world have gone against it if I hadn't made you go in there to-day." Ben, in his remorse, seized Jasper's shoulder and held on to it, saying it all over again, to wind up with, "It's all my fault, and I've ruined Pip's chance for sure now and made you sick on top of it all." Ben groaned, this time quite aloud, and, despite his efforts, he broke down and threw himself into the nearest chair, to bury his face in his hands.

"Oh, don't, don't!" begged Jasper, quite gone in distress to see, for the first time in his life, Ben give way, and he stumbled over to him.

A door off in the distance opened, but the sound fell unheeded.

"Boys!" Up flew their heads, for there was old Mr. King beckoning with an imperative hand. "Come to my room." And, not daring to look in each other's face, they found themselves once more behind the dreadful door, which was closed after them.

"Now, then, Jasper, my boy," and old Mr. King put a hand on his shoulder, "you sit there," pointing to a chair on one side of the writing-table, "and you, Ben, pull up another, there--that's right--get on my left hand. Now we are quite comfortable,"--and he sat down in his own big chair,--"where we can see each other and talk things over."

The old gentleman didn't look at them, but played with various trifles scattered over the table, the unlucky letter not being in sight, until such time as it might be supposed that everybody would be ready for conversation. Then he broke out quite easily, as if the most matter-of-fact thing were being said, "Well, now, that little matter of Pip you were going to tell me of. What is it, Jasper,--eh?"

"I didn't mean to ask you to do anything out of the way, Father," said Jasper, and his voice shook.

"Of course not, of course not," said his father, with a wave of the hand. "Well, I was a bit unstrung, my boy,"--he ran his fingers through his white hair,--"you must forgive your old dad." He coughed, twitched out his handkerchief, blew his nose violently, but didn't seem to get the better of it, especially as Jasper deserted his chair. "Oh, Father!" he cried, falling on his neck.

Ben slipped off his leather chair and crept to the door.

"Hold on!" thundered old Mr. King at him. "Where are you going, sir?"

"I thought--perhaps--you'd--" stammered Ben.

"You're not to think. Come back and sit down." Old Mr. King pointed to the chair, and Ben found himself on it again.

"And I've a word to say to you, Ben," said the old gentleman, "for you're mixed up in this business."

"I know," said Ben, hanging his head.

"So you needn't think to elude me,--oh, no!" and Mr. King gave a short laugh. "Now, then, Jasper," bestowing a pat on his dark hair, "you get into your chair and we'll see this thing through. Well, about Pip now," and both boys being settled, "you want me to ask Doctor Presbrey to let him stay here till you go back. Is that the idea?" the old gentleman glanced first at one and then at the other of the faces, now very much flushed.

"Yes, sir," said Jasper and Ben together.

"I know the poor little beggar has a hard enough time at that school, from what I saw myself," said Mr. King, "and I suppose I don't know half how bad it is."

"No, you don't, Father," broke in Jasper, quickly, and tossing the dark hair off from his hot forehead. It was easy enough now to find his tongue, seeing they were safely launched on Pip,--"for Doctor Presbrey even doesn't know it."

"A precious set of scamps they are," declared the old gentleman, wrathfully,--"gentlemen's sons! Pretty poor stuff they show for it, to hound a poor, insignificant little specimen like that lad. They ought to be ducked in the nearest pond."

"And it isn't always because they mean to be cruel," said Jasper, loyally, and slipping to the edge of his chair in his earnestness.

"But they are all the same," said old Mr. King, stoutly.

"O dear me! I know it, Father," said Jasper, quite distressed; "that is, some of them are--"

"Don't tell any theories of 'didn't think,' and 'didn't mean to,' and all that stuff," said the old gentleman, dryly; "it's plain to see that the Presbrey boys didn't regard Pip in the light of a desirable acquaintance."

"No, they didn't," said Jasper, honestly.

"I don't blame them for not being especially drawn to him," said his Father; "he's not to my taste exactly as a boy. But for schoolfellows to act so like the Dickens,--well there, that's my opinion of the whole matter." He brought his good right hand down again on the table, till several articles jumped, and the penholder fell off the silver rack and rolled to the floor.

"I'm altogether too obstreperous one way or the other this morning," said the old gentleman, with a laugh, as Jasper jumped and recovered it. Then the boys laughing, the air seemed to be cleared. So Mr. King settled back in his big chair and folded his hands in real enjoyment.

"Now I don't know but that it would be a good plan," he said, nodding his head, "for me to request Doctor Presbrey to allow the little lad to stay and return with you, Jasper. Understand that I don't say that I believe it will strike the Doctor so; but I can broach it, and if I put it rightly, and--"

"And you can, Father," Jasper in his eagerness was guilty of interrupting; "he will do it for you."

"I don't know about that, Jasper," said his Father, grimly, but he was vastly pleased nevertheless at the words; "what I know about Doctor Presbrey gives me reason to believe that no one ever makes him do a thing."

"Well, he will do it for you, I know," declared Jasper, shaking his dark head confidently.

"But it may strike the Doctor favorably; there's hope in that," proceeded Mr. King, briskly, "so I'll write to him and put the case as strongly as I know how. I promise you that, boys."

"Oh, thank you, Father," and "Oh, thank you, sir," from Jasper and Ben in the same breath.

"Well, now be off with you!"--the old gentleman dismissed them peremptorily,--"for if I have this letter to write I'd best have it off my mind at once," and off they flew on happy heels.