“Samuel Parker,” said Mr. Curtis.
“I won’t forget it, or what its owner did for me. I’ve tried to thank him, but I ain’t sure that I’ve exactly tickled him in doing it.” She smiled whimsically, and Sam, in spite of himself, winced. “But what I hope he’ll understand, and all of you will understand, is that I’m his friend for life. I’d like to do something to show how I feel about it. And I will do something!” Suddenly she wheeled to face Sam. “Come now! All boys I ever heard of liked good things to eat. It may strike you as not amounting to much, but I’ll send you one of my mince pies——”
“Oh, but you mustn’t!” Sam protested. “It—it’ll be too much trouble.”
Mrs. Grant paid scant heed to the objection. “I guess you don’t know the kind of pie I mean. There’s pies and pies, young man. And you won’t forget the one I send you.”
Poor Sam feared that this was likely to prove a very mild statement. Forget? Would that he could forget the whole affair, or better yet, that his chums might forget this most embarrassing episode! But while he grinned feebly, and strove to contrive a fitting speech, Mrs. Grant came to his rescue by bidding everybody a cheery farewell and taking herself off, apparently well pleased with the results of her visit to the school.
“Well, I feel like old Columbus when he sighted America—he’d come a long way to find something, and he’d found it. And ’tis quite a drive in from Sugar Valley, but ’twas worth the trouble. I’ve found out things. So it’s a good day’s work for me—and, Master Parker, I’ll try to make it a good day for you, too. You’ll hear from me again and—no; you wait and see what’ll happen. So good-bye, everybody, good-bye!”
Out of the door and down the steps she went, smiling broadly, while behind her silence reigned for seconds. All eyes were on Sam, as he was most miserably aware. Other pupils had come up in time to hear her closing remarks, and there was quite a little crowd in the corridor, including some of the girls.
One of the latter ended the silence. She tittered nervously rather than mischievously. There was a ripple of laughter; then some of the boys set up a shout in the very presence of the principal.
Poor Sam would have blessed his stars had a trap-door opened beneath his feet and permitted him to drop out of sight. But the stout floor remained intact. The principal raised a warning hand, and shook his head at some of those who were giving way to mirth; but Sam did not wait for order to be restored. He turned, and blindly forcing a way through the press, retreated as best he might, but in most unheroic fashion. He had not been afraid of a runaway horse, but with all a boy’s diffidence he dreaded the sort of celebrity his exploit unexpectedly had brought him.
On the outskirts of the group Poke tugged at the Shark’s sleeve.