A FRACAS AND AN ARRIVAL.
TOLD BY BETTY.
OF all people in the world, Jack has been in a fight! Phil brought him in, and such a sight as he was! his nose bleeding, his coat torn, and a lump on his forehead as big as a hen's egg! "Why," said Phil, "I couldn't believe my eyes at first; but true it was, all the same,—there was our gentle 'rosebud' pommelling away at a fellow nearly twice his size! And what's more, when I pulled him off, and separated them, if my young man didn't fly at the other fellow again like a little cock sparrow! I could hardly get him home."
"Yes, and I'd do it again!" cried Jack, ferociously, mopping his wounded nose with his handkerchief, while Nannie rushed to get water and court-plaster.
"What'd he do?" asked Phil and Fee and I, all together. We knew it must have been something very dreadful to rouse Jack to such a pitch; for, as nurse says, he is one of the "most peaceablest children that ever lived." But he wouldn't tell. "Never you mind," was all he'd say.
By this time Nannie had brought a basin of water and the other things, and when Fee waved his arm and called out tragically, "Gather round, gather round, fellow-citizens, and witness the dressing of this bleeding hero's wounds," we crowded so near that Nannie declared we made her nervous. Jack did look so funny, with a big bath-towel pinned round his shoulders, and the basin right up under his chin, so the water shouldn't get over his clothes! And of course, as we looked on, everybody had something to say. "Tell you what, Jack," said Phil, "you could paint the town red now, and no mistake, just from your nose; what an opportunity lost!"
"And I shouldn't wonder if the bridge of that classic member were broken. Oh the pity of it!" put in Fee, in mock sympathy.
"You'll be a sight to-morrow,—all black and blue," remarked Nora, eyeing him critically. "I thought you were too much of a gentleman to fight on the street, Jack,—just like a common rowdy!"
"I'm glad you didn't get beaten," I said; "but my! won't Miss Marston give it to you to-morrow!" She was out this afternoon.
"Your nose is all swelling up!" announced Judge, solemnly, and Kathie murmured sympathetically, "Poor Jack!"
"'GATHER ROUND, GATHER ROUND, FELLOW-CITIZENS, AND
WITNESS THE DRESSING OF THIS BLEEDING HERO'S WOUNDS.'"
Even Nannie—and she isn't one bit a nagger—said, "Oh, Jackie, I'm so ashamed of you! Mamma wouldn't want her gentle boy to become a fighter."
"Yes, she would so, if she knew what this fellow did," asserted Jack, as positively as he could with the water pouring down over his mouth.
"What did he do?" we all shouted. "Tell us, what did he do, Jack?"
But Jack got furious. "None of your business!" he roared; and twisting himself away from us, he dashed out of the room, Nannie following after him, basin in hand, imploring him to let her finish dressing his nose.
We really didn't mean to make him angry,—it's just a way we have of speaking out our minds to one another; but Nannie felt very sorry,—she said we had teased Jack. I felt sorry, too, when he told me all about it,—Jack generally does tell me things,—after making me promise "truly and faithfully" that I would not say "one word about it to any single person we know." Many a time since I've wished that I hadn't promised,—it isn't fair to Jack himself; but he won't let me off. Jack is really a very odd boy.
Well, it seems that as Felix passed along the street where Jack and some of his friends were playing, one of the boys caught up a piece of straw, and twisting it across his nose like a pair of spectacles, limped after Fee, mimicking his walk, and singing, "H'm-ha! hipperty hop!" Jack clinched his hands tight while he was telling me. "Betty," he said, "I got such a queer feeling inside; I just swelled up, and if he'd been three times as big, I'd have tackled him. I waited for Fee to turn the corner,—you see I didn't want him to know what Henderson was doing behind his back,—and then didn't I just go for him! I tell you, I whacked him!"
My blood fairly boiled to think that anybody could have been so contemptibly mean as to mock our dear old Fee,—as if he didn't feel badly enough about being near-sighted and lame! I would like to have gone right out and thrashed Henderson all over again; but, as Jack very truly said, "that would only make a grand row, and then the whole thing'd be sure to get to Fee's ears, and that's what we don't want." So I had to cool down. This was the reason Jack wouldn't tell the others what the trouble was—and there Felix himself had been teasing him! Nor has he said one word to anybody but me about it, though he has been blamed and punished for fighting on the street, when, if he had only told, or let me tell for him, the true reason for his acting so, I'm sure everybody would have changed their mind at once; but he will not. This was very nice of Jack,—he has some ways that really make me very fond of him; but he is also a very queer and provoking boy sometimes, as you will hear.
The worst was to get through dinner that evening without papa's noticing. Of course Miss Marston would be sure to tell him as soon as she knew, and of course Jack would be punished; but he did want to put off the evil hour as long as possible. His seat at table is quite near to papa, but I come between, and I promised I'd lean as far forward as I could, all through the meal, so as to shield him. We got downstairs and settled in our places safely; but Jack was as nervous as a cat. I really think he wouldn't have minded taking his dinner under the table for that one occasion; and no wonder, for everybody, even to Hannah, kept looking at him, and Phil and Felix kept passing him all sorts of things, with such unusual politeness as was enough to fluster anybody. Still, everything went well until we came to dessert; it was cottage pudding,—Jack's favourite,—and I suppose he got reckless, or forgot, in his enjoyment of it, and leaned a little too far forward, for presently papa said, very quietly, "Betty, sit properly in your chair." Of course I had to obey, and that brought poor Jack into full view.
A broad strip of white court-plaster across one's nose, and a big bruised lump on one's forehead are rather conspicuous things, and, I tell you, papa did stare! but he didn't say a word. Neither did Jack speak, though he knew papa was looking at him; he just kept right on eating very fast. He said afterward he'd have eaten the whole pudding, had it been before him, for he was so nervous he didn't really know what he was doing; but he got redder and redder in the face, and presently he choked,—a regular snort! I immediately flew up and pounded him on the back; but papa made me sit down again, and as soon as Jack had stopped coughing violently, he said, "Leave the table, sir, and come to my study to-morrow morning at nine o'clock."
I think, had we dared, we could all have roared with laughter as Jack got up and walked out of the room; not because we didn't feel sorry for him, for we did,—I especially, knowing how it was he got into this scrape,—but he did look so funny! I don't know why it is, but Jack is a person that makes one laugh without his intending in the least to be funny; it's the way he does things.
I can't begin to tell you how I urged Jack to tell papa why it was he had gotten into that fight. I scolded, and coaxed, and talked, and talked, but I couldn't get him to say he would, nor to let me tell; in his way, I do believe he is as obstinate as Kathie. Even the next morning, when he stood at the study door, ready to knock, though his hands were as cold as ice, and he looked awfully scared, all he'd say to my repeated, "Do speak out like a man, and tell it, Jack," was, "Perhaps." I would like to have gone right in and told papa the whole matter myself, but you see I had promised; and besides, we are none of us very fond of going into the study,—though Nannie is in there pretty often lately,—I'm sure I can't say why it is, for papa never scolds us violently: whatever he says is very quietly spoken, but I tell you every word goes home!
The schoolroom bell rang while I was talking to Jack; so of course I had to go, and it was fully half an hour before he walked in and took his place. His face was very red, even his ears, and he didn't look happy; but it wasn't until after school that I had a chance to ask him anything, and he wasn't very amiable then. He had a book,—some story of wild adventure and hair-breadth escape, and he hated to be interrupted. For all that Jack is such a quiet, gentle sort of a boy, he likes to read the most exciting books, about fighting and shipwrecks and savages,—though I'm sure if an Indian should walk into the room, he'd fly into the remotest corner of the closet and hide,—and the hymns he loves the best are the ones that bring in about war and soldiers. You should hear him sing, "The Son of God goes forth to war," in church! he positively shouts. So when I said, "Well, Jack, how'd you get along this morning?" he went right on turning over the leaves to find his place, and answered shortly:—
"Oh, no play out-of-doors for a week, and a double dose of that vile Latin, and a sound rating for getting into a row on the street,—that's all."
"But didn't you tell him—" I began indignantly, but Jack interrupted.
"He didn't ask why I did it, and I didn't tell him," he said.
"What a silly you are!" I cried, I was so mad! "That Henderson ought to be told about and punished—now!"
"Henderson is a beast!" Jack said severely; then, having come to his place in the story, he added: "Now please go away, and don't bother me, Betty; I want to read." He settled himself on the schoolroom sofa in his favourite position, with his back against the arm of the sofa, and his legs straight out along the seat, and began to read. I knew he'd get cranky if I said any more, so I went away.
But for all that he called Henderson names, what did Jack do but go and make friends with him just a day or two after he was allowed to go out!
I was so provoked when I heard of it, that I fairly stormed at Jack; he took it all in the meekest way, and when I finished up,—with a fine attempt at sarcasm,—"If I'd been you, I would have snubbed such a mean boy for at least a week longer," he grinned and said, "If you'd been I, you'd have done just as I did." Then he added, in that old-fashioned, confidential way he has, "I couldn't help it, Betty; you see the boys wouldn't have a thing to do with him, or let him join in any of the games, until I had forgiven him, and I just couldn't stand seeing him hanging around and being snubbed."
"Oh, yes, you're very considerate for him; but he will make fun of your brother again to-morrow, if he feels like it," I said, still angry.
"No, he won't" asserted Jack, positively; "'cause I told him—not disagreeably, you know, but so he'd feel I was in earnest—that if he ever did, I'd just have to thrash him again. And he said, 'A-a-h, what d'you take me for? D'you s'pose I knew 'twas your brother?' And that's a good deal from Henderson, for he's an awfully rough boy. You know, Betty, you've got to make allowances for people, or you'd never get along with 'em. And, besides, he looks worse than I do," went on Jack, feeling of his nose and forehead. "I really felt ashamed to think I'd hit him so hard, and,"—shuffling his feet, and looking very sheepish,—"well, you know, the Golden Rule is my motto for this year, and, as I thought to myself, what's the use of a motto, if you don't act up to it? So I just made friends with Henderson. I knew you'd say I was silly to do it, but I don't care,—I feel better; I do hate to be mad with people!" And with that he walked off, before I could think of anything to say.
A lot of things happened that week. To begin with, some new people moved into the house opposite us, that has been empty for so long. It's a small house,—nurse says it used to be a stable, and was turned into a dwelling-house since she has lived here,—set quite a good way back from the street, and with a low stoop to one side and a piazza off that. A tall iron railing, with an ornamental gate, encloses a front yard in which are some forlorn-looking shrubs, a rosebush or two, and a couple of scraggy altheas. Workmen had been about the place for some time, putting everything in order, and of course we took the liveliest interest in all that went on, from the pruning of the shrubs to the carrying in of the furniture; and the day the new people moved in, Miss Marston could hardly keep us younger ones from the windows: indeed, for that matter, Nora was just as curious as we were, for all she talks about "vulgar curiosity." They came in a carriage, and there were three of them,—a tall, black-bearded man, a little, fragile-looking lady, and a tall, lanky boy, perhaps as old as Felix, with a rather nice face, who shouldered a satchel and the travelling-rugs, and brought up the rear of the procession to the house, with the end of a shawl trailing on the ground behind him.
Jack heard from Henderson—who has become his shadow—that the gentleman has something to do with a newspaper, and that the boy goes to college, and Phil saw him there the other day; but it wasn't until the following Sunday, nearly a week after, that we heard their name and who they were,—and that came by way of a grand surprise.
We were sitting round the schoolroom fire, talking and singing hymns, when the door opened, and who should come walking in but—Max Derwent! We were surprised; for though he'd written to say he was coming, we didn't expect it would be so soon. Dear old Max! we were delighted to see him, and I do believe he was just as glad to see us. But just at first we couldn't any of us say very much; dear mamma was with us when Max was here last!
After a while, though, that feeling wore away, and I tell you our tongues did fly! Max measured us all by the closet door, where he took our measurements before he went away, and he says we have grown wonderfully,—particularly Nannie. He was so surprised when he first saw her, that he just held her hands and looked at her, until Nannie said, "Why, Max, you haven't kissed me; aren't you glad to see me?" I think she felt a little hurt, for he'd kissed the rest of us,—even to Phil and Felix,—and Nannie and he used to be such good friends.
"Why, Nancy Lee," Max said, "you have grown such a tall young lady since I've been away, that I didn't know whether you'd still allow me the dear old privilege; indeed I will kiss you;" and with that he stooped,—Max is tall,—and kissed her on her forehead, just where the parting of her hair begins.
But Max couldn't get over her being so grown, for he kept on gazing and gazing at Nannie, and she did look sweet, sitting there in the firelight. Nora is very pretty,—her features are so regular; but Nannie has a dear face: her brown eyes are big and shining, and her hair is so thick and pretty; it's light brown, and little locks of it get loose and curl up round her forehead and ears, and when she talks and laughs I think she's every bit as pretty as Nora. Somehow there's a look about Nannie's face that makes you know you can trust her through and through; I tell you I'm awfully glad she's in the family; in fact, I don't know what we'd any of us do without her, from papa to Alan.
Well, we told Max every single thing that had happened—good, bad, and indifferent—since he went away, including, of course, about Phil's going to college, and Fee's not going, and about aunt Lindsay's present to Fee and Nannie,—all talking together, and as loud as we pleased (we always do with Max) until we came to the new people that had moved in across the way—and what do you suppose? Max knows them!
"They are the Ervengs," he said, "and the boy's name is Hilliard,—Hilliard Erveng. The father is a partner in a large Boston publishing house that has just opened an agency here, and I shouldn't wonder if Erveng were in charge of the agency by his taking a house in New York. That's the firm I thought would buy your father's book, if he'd only finish it; but from what he told me this afternoon, it's still a long way from completion." He glanced at Nannie as he spoke, and she nodded her head sadly. "I used to know Erveng; he was a classmate of mine," went on Max, thoughtfully, wrinkling up his eyebrows at the fire. "I wonder how it would do to rake up the acquaintance again, and bring him over unexpectedly to call on the professor,"—papa's friends all call him Professor Rose,—"and surprise him into showing Erveng the manuscript!"
"'THE BOY'S NAME IS HILLIARD ERVENG.'"
"Oh, Max, that would never, never do," cried Nannie, quickly. "You know how averse papa is to showing his work to any one; he couldn't do it, I'm sure, and it might make him very angry."
"And yet, if he did show it, think what a benefit to you all it might be; for I am convinced the work is one that would be an acquisition to the reading public; and Erveng would recognise that at once. Think of what it means for all of you, Nancy Lee," urged Max,—"college for Felix, drawing lessons for Nora, a fine violin for you, gymnasium for Betty, a splendid military school for Jack,"—here Jack broke in rudely with, "Don't want any military school, this one's bad enough," and was silenced by Phil's hand being laid suddenly and firmly over his mouth,—"and all sorts of good things for everybody, if only Erveng sees the manuscript of the Fetich" (Max knows what we call it).
Nannie still looked dubious, but Nora exclaimed: "I say, do it, Max! It does seem a shame to have us suffering for things, and that manuscript just lying down there; and perhaps then papa would stir himself a little and finish it. I declare I would like to take some of the pages over and show them to Mr. Erveng myself!"
We all knew that she wouldn't; but as she said the words, an idea popped into my head, such a splendid idea—at least I thought it was then—that I nearly giggled outright with delight, and I had positively to hold myself in to keep from telling it. Happening to look up suddenly at Phil, I caught him with a broad grin on his face, and winking violently at Felix, who winked back. That did not surprise me,—those two are always signalling to each other in that way; but when they both straightened their faces the instant I saw them, and assumed a very innocent expression, then I began to suspect that they were up to some mischief: little did I dream what it was, though! Phil is a fearful practical joker; you never know where he's going to break out. I'm pretty bad, but he is ever so much worse; and Felix helps him every time.
"What sort of a man is Mr. Erveng?" asked Felix, with an appearance of great interest.
Max laughed. "Well, he used to be considered rather eccentric," he said. "I remember the fellows at college nick-named him 'Old-Woman Erveng,' because—so they said—he had a large picture in his room of a fat old woman in a poke bonnet; and at the social gatherings to which he could be induced to go, he always devoted himself to the oldest and fattest ladies in the room, without noticing the young and pretty girls. I thought he was rather a nice sort of fellow; what's the matter, Betty, want any assistance?"
What Max said fitted in so well with the plan I had in my mind that—though I tried to keep it back—I had chuckled, and now they were all looking at me.
"When Elizabeth 'chortles' in that fashion you may be sure there's mischief in her mind," Felix remarked, eyeing me severely. "Out with it, miss."
"Or I'll have to garote you," put in Phil, leaning over toward me with extended thumb and finger; but I skipped away and got beside Max.
"Indeed, it's you and Felix that are up to something," I retorted. "I can see it in your faces."
"Oh, tell us what your 'surprise' is, Max," put in Nannie, quickly. I think she wanted to turn the conversation, and so keep us from wrangling, this very first evening that Max was with us.
"Why, I've brought back a ward," answered Max. "His name is Chadwick Whitcombe. He went to-day from the steamer to stay a week or two with an old friend of his father's; then I shall bring him to see you, and I'm going to ask you all"—here Max looked at each one of us—"to be nice and friendly to him, for poor Chad is singularly alone: he has not a relative in the world. Though he will come into a good deal of money by and by, the poor fellow has knocked about from place to place with his former guardian, who has just died, and he has had no home training at all. May I count on your being kind to him?"
Of course we all said yes,—couldn't help ourselves,—but I heard Fee sing, under his breath, so it shouldn't reach Max's ears:—
Here comes Shad,
Looking very sad;
We'll hit him with a pad,
And make him glad!"
and when I laughed, Phil scowled at me, and muttered something about "giving him to Betty to lick into shape." I couldn't say anything, for I was right close to Max; but I made one of my worst faces at Phil. Soon after this, Max went down to the study to spend the rest of the evening with papa.