XXV
IT WAS POLLY WHO HEARD IT FIRST
"Yes," said Madam Van Ruypen, folding her long hands in her lap. She satat one corner of her library fire, in a carved high-backed chair, andthe young minister at the other end. Both were regarding the leapingflames.
"It will be best for you to return home to-morrow; tell the mother allmy plans for the children, and ask her permission for me to put theminto school," went on the old lady, not raising her gaze from thecrackling hickory logs.
"Yes, Madam Van Ruypen," said the minister.
"And then write me at once what she says. Meantime, I shall beconsulting Mr. King as to the school. It has to be a peculiar kind, ofcourse, none of the high-fangled ones, but a good, substantial, ordinarysort of one, dominated by a man with a conscience. And where shall wefind such an one--goodness knows, I'm sure I don't," she lifted herhands in dismay.
Mr. St. John, seeing that something was expected of him, volunteered theremark, "Oh, there must be such institutions; they are so much needed."
"Just like a minister," retorted the old lady, who was nothing if notblunt, especially if it fell out that she took a liking to a body; sonow she added, "Oh, you'll do to preach from a desk; but as to practicalthings, such as the selection of a school, why, what can you, in thename of sense, be expected to know, either about them or the masters whorun them?"
A little spot of red began to show itself on the fair cheek, and twicethe young minister opened his mouth. But he thought better of it. Thenhe laughed. "Perhaps so," he said, with a nod, and stretched his handsto the blaze.
Madam Van Ruypen laughed too. Having never meant to give offence, thatdanger had not occurred to her. But she had been suddenly overcome, asit were, with a mortal terror, and all on account of those mountainchildren. What to do with them now she had sent for them she had foundherself unable to answer. She couldn't send them back home, that wouldbe cruelty indeed; and until the plan for the school popped up she wasin a miserable state enough. So it was quite cheery to hear the brightlittle laugh bubble out from the other end of the fireplace, and shelaughed so heartily in echo, that Mr. St. John tried it again.
"Well, now I feel better," she said, wiping her eyes with herlace-trimmed handkerchief. "You can't know, Mr. St. John, how very muchI have been tried in this matter."
"I suppose so," he said, the laugh dropping away. Really, when he cameto think of it again, the wonder grew how she came to do this thing atall, 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 histhoughts on those Sundays in the little mountain parish church! Couldshe be the same person as this woman, wiping her eyes, so touched by thelittle cheer he had given to her perplexity? He cleared his throat. "Itwas noble of you," he said, his own eyes glistening.
"Oh, now;" she turned on him a formidable face; the white puffs andRoman nose seemed to grow bigger. "You would do better to stop rightthere," she said, raising her forefinger, "else I shall wish you hadgone home to-day," all of which made him feel decidedly like a schoolboyabout 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. "Idon't like your name, St. John; it's well enough for a grand person, butyou're a minister, and probably always will be a plain man, so I amgoing to call you Richard."
"If you only would!" he cried, the brightness coming back to eye andcheek, 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 hersharp eyes.
"Besides being something of a boy," he repeated, laughing again.
"Well, then, Richard it is," she declared, with great satisfaction. "Nowthen, 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 forthem to be here, I see that. I don't know in the smallest degree what todo with them, at least as far as the girl is concerned, and it is badfor them to be entertained all the while." Not a word about thedemoralization of her houseful of servants, whose ill-concealed wrathand dismay were smouldering over the infliction of Elvira. "And theyought to be getting some education. Well, to-morrow you must go back andstraighten it all out with the mother. That's settled." Then she satquite erect to draw a long breath of enjoyment. "Now I'll tell you apiece of news," she said; "it's a secret as yet."
Richard leaned forward with great interest. He certainly was boy enoughto enjoy a secret, and his eyes sparkled.
"I've engaged the whole front of the mountain hotel, the floor above theoffice, for next summer," she said. Then she waited to see the effect ofher announcement.
"You're coming up?" cried Richard, in a glad voice.
"It looks like it," said the old lady, grimly, but vastly pleased at histone, "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!" exclaimedthe young minister, with great delight.
"No, you don't know in the least what I am going to do, young man," sheretorted. "Oh, go along with you, Richard," and she laughed again, thistime as light-heartedly as if her years matched his own. "Yes, I wroteyesterday to the manager to secure the rooms. You must get the camp forme."
"I surely will," promised Richard with huge satisfaction.
"And tell John Bramble if he doesn't bring my boxes and express matterup 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 scoldsomebody. Oh, and be sure, Richard, whatever you forget,--and I supposeyou'll leave out the most important things,--don't forget totell--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 shinup 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," saidMadam Van Ruypen, composedly; "I'm sure I don't care. Well, be sure andtell him he's engaged for the summer. There will be plenty he can dowhen 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 campingand guiding."
"And don't let those other children expect to come down. Whatever youdo, don't raise any such hopes." The old lady here turned such adistressed 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 firstgood sound repose she had enjoyed since the visitors had arrived.
But up at the King household--O dear me! It was Polly who heard itfirst.
She was dreaming of the difficulty of making a little pink silk cushionout of a mussy end of flaming yellow ribbon that Candace seemed to haveinsisted on her using; and as she worked away, wishing it was pink, andtrying to make herself believe it was pink, she saw it grow yellower andyellower, till finally she threw it down. And that twitched the needleand knotted up the silk thread, and then off her thimble flew with alittle click--snip, and "O dear me!" exclaimed Polly, and opened hereyes.
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 littleclick--snip, just like the one when her thimble dropped off in herdream, struck her ear. This time it was a "really truly" noise, and nodream, 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 thatsounded 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 tothink, "I mustn't go into Mamsie's room, for that will wake KingFisher,"--Papa Doctor was away with a sick patient out of town,--shecrept 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 handsacross 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 afunny noise; it sounds downstairs, Ben," she said, with a little shiver.
"Funny noise!" said Ben. "Well, now, you creep back to your room andlock 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 hadno thought of disobeying, found herself soon in her own room, wishingthat she hadn't called Ben, and longing to run out and help, and athousand 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 afunny noise, and it appeared to come from downstairs, too. It wasn'tjust what he supposed would be raised by anybody getting in to rob thehouse; it was more like something dropping; and then another sound, likea flap, flap of the window shade. But it was just as well to actspeedily, and yet it must be done with caution; so he crept off to theback hall, where he could press the button that gave the signal to themen in the stable.
And he presently saw the lights flashing as they turned their darklanterns a second toward the big stone mansion. Well, whatever thetrouble was, they would soon find out, for Thomas had a key for justsuch possible emergencies, and the search would--
Ben never finished it in his mind, for a sharp noise, so near him thatit seemed as if the person making it must be close to his heels, sentevery bit of blood away from his cheeks. He couldn't turn, for whatmight be back of him in the darkness? It wasn't the click of a pistolexactly,--Ben, in all his cold terror felt struck with the littleresemblance to any such noise,--still, as there was nothing else solikely to be that very thing, why, it must be, he concluded.
Downstairs he could hear, with senses sharpened, that Thomas had enteredthe house and that the search had begun in earnest. Well, somebody,whoever it was with that pistol, would probably do something more thanclick it before long, when another noise, this time a little fartheroff, a soft, pat--pat, sent his mind in another direction. Either therewere two burglars who had worked their way upstairs, or the one with thepistol had heard the noise downstairs, and concluded to try for anescape.
And now Ben's blood was up, and he softly followed in the direction ofthe sound, grasping his stick hard and setting his teeth. "It'll beeasier for me than for the other fellow, as I know the way," flashedthrough his mind.
But he didn't seem to get much nearer. Of course he would stop whenthere was no noise, then the soft pat--pat would begin at a furtherremove, and on Ben would creep after it.
He must at least keep the trail till Thomas and the other serving-mancould 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 ofa hand. Ben swung his stout stick above his head, and brought it down tohear a squeal of fright and pain, and Jocko, whose tail only hadsuffered, leaped into his face.
Over went Ben, the stick, and monkey together, just escaping the longstairs, as Thomas and his men rushed up, turning the lanterns on everyside to find the cause. Doors were thrown open and frightened facesappeared, 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 thefloor and laughed till he was so weak he could hardly breathe. "He'sa--sweet--dear--little thing--" at last he made out to say,"isn't--he--Polly?" he ended gustily.