XXVIII
BEN DECIDES THE MATTER FOR HIMSELF
Ben walked back and forth, his hands thrust deeply in his pockets. "It'sno use, Mamsie," he came now and stood straight before her, his blueeyes fastened steadily upon her face; "I've just _got_ to do it."
"There is no need for you to say that, Ben." Mrs. Fisher's tone wasquiet, but the blood was leaping in her veins. "You're my oldest child,"then her voice broke.
"And that's the reason." Ben threw his head back and took his hands outof his pockets to clench them together hard. "It would be mean as--meanas anything to let Grandpapa do anything more for me, and--"
"There's where you are wrong, Ben," cried his mother, eagerly, andguilty of interrupting, "it is Mr. King's dearest wish to provide aneducation for you children; you can pay him back afterward. I haveaccepted for the others; why not for you?"
"Because,--look at Polly. Oh, mother, think what Polly can do with hermusic!" His whole face was working now, and his eyes shone.
"I know it," cried Mrs. Fisher, proudly. "Polly will be able to pay himback, there is no doubt about that."
"But I'm different," added Ben, quickly, "such a dull, plodding fellow.Oh, Mamsie, what would a college education amount to for me? I'm best tobuckle right down to business."
"Ben, Ben!" Mother Fisher's tone was quite reproachful now, and sheseized his hand and covered it with her two strong ones. "Any one canaccomplish what he sets out to. You can amount to whatever you put yourmind on; and you deserve a college education if ever a boy did." Shebroke down now and was sobbing on his shoulder.
Ben didn't say anything, this being quite beyond him, to see his mothercry. But he patted the smooth black hair with an unsteady hand.
"To think of your giving up your chance," at last Mrs. Fisher saidbrokenly; "it isn't right, Ben. Can't you see you ought not to do it?"
"But it _is_ right," said Ben, sturdily recovering himself when he sawthat his mother could really talk about it. "I'm to be a business man,and I'm going to begin at the very bottom, as an errand boy, or anoffice boy, and work up." Here he straightened his square shoulders asif already pretty near the top of things.
"Ah, Ben, my boy," Mrs. Fisher raised her head to look at him, "all youcan get in the way of education helps you on just so much."
"And I can have all these years I'd be spending at college in learningthe business," Ben hurried on, feeling if he didn't say something, heshould surely break down; for there was such a world of pleading in theblack eyes that he didn't dare to trust himself to look into them."Don't you see, Mother? Besides,--well, I just _can't_ do it."
When Ben called her "Mother," it always meant something requiring graveattention. So Mrs. Fisher knew as well then as afterward that it was adecided thing that Ben was to leave school and go into a business life.All she said now was, "Come," leading the way to the roomy old sofa,where the children used often to tell their troubles or joys to her asthey sat side by side.
When Ben emerged from his mother's room, he held his head high, but hisbreath came hard, and one fist deep in his pocket was clenched tightly.
"Halloo!"--Joel plunged into him; "where've you been?" And, not waitingfor a reply, "Grandpapa says I'm to go if you'll go with me,"--heswarmed all over him in his eagerness.
"Get off, Joe!" cried Ben, roughly. It seemed as if he couldn't bear anymore just then, and he gave him, without stopping to think, a littleshove.
Joel looked at him with very wide eyes.
"You're always hanging on to me," went on Ben, crossly, not realizing aword he was saying. "Goodness me, a chap can't stir but you must popup."
Joel stood perfectly still, plastered against the wall, his mouth open,but not equal to uttering a word, as Ben stalked on down the hall.
"Oh, you think you're smart, I s'pose," at last it came in a burstbehind him. "Well, I don't want you to go with me, Mr. Ben Pepper--Mr.Ebenezer Pepper." Joel could hardly get the long name out, being sowholly unaccustomed to its use. "And I will tell Grandpapa I wouldn'thave you go with me for anything."
"Joel!" Ben called hoarsely after him, whirling in his tracks to seeJoel fly down the hall. "Oh, come back."
"You aren't going," declared Joel, savagely, and stopping long enough tosnap his fingers at Ben, "no-sir-ee, not a single step!" And despite allBen's efforts he pranced off with a final jump that defied pursuit.
Ben stood perfectly still for a moment, then strode off up to his room,where he locked the door fast, went over and sat on the side of the bed,and buried his face in his hands.
How long he sat there he never knew. The first thing that brought him tohimself was Polly's voice, and her fingers drumming on the door.
"Bensie, are you here? O dear me! _Do_ open the door."
Ben took up his head at first with the wild thought that he wouldn'tanswer. But then, it was Polly calling, and such a thing as a lockeddoor between them would never do. So he staggered off as best he might,not seeing his pale face in the mirror as he went by, and slowly turnedthe key.
"Oh, Ben! O dear me! What is it?" Polly cried, quite aghast at his face.She huddled up to him and grasped his arm. "Tell me, Ben," and thefright at seeing him thus drove every bit of color from her face.
"Nothing," said Ben, shortly, "that is--"
"Oh, now you are sick," cried Polly, quite wildly, and with another lookinto his face, usually so ruddy, she tore off her hands and raced towardthe stairs. "I shall call Mamsie."
"Polly, Polly!" cried Ben, rushing out after her, "you must not callMamsie. I'll tell you all about it, Polly. Polly, do come back."
But she didn't hear anything but the first words, that Mamsie must notbe called, and feeling more sure than ever by this that Ben was reallysick, she redoubled her speed and rushed into Mother Fisher's room,crying, "Oh, Mamsie, do come quickly; something is the matter with Ben."
Mrs. Fisher had sat down resolutely to her sewing after the decision hadbeen made by Ben that put aside all her hopes for his future education.She now sprang to her feet, upsetting the big work-basket, andforgetting Polly, said, "It's been too much for him."
"What's been too much?" cried Polly, hanging to Mother Fisher's hand,her heart going like a trip-hammer. "Oh, Mamsie, what _is_ the matterwith Ben?" The room seemed to go round with her and everything to turnblack.
"Polly," said Mrs. Fisher, firmly, "I cannot tell you anything now. Youmust stay here. I am going to see Ben." And Polly, left alone, hadnothing to do but throw herself on the big, old sofa, where she crouchedin her distress till Mamsie should come back and tell her all about thedreadful mystery.
For that something awful had happened to Ben, Polly was now quite sure,as she lay there, her head burrowed in the big pillow, the wildestthoughts running through her brain. The first thing she knew, a hardlittle hand was tucked into her neck. She knew Joel's tickles, that heloved to give her, long before he sang out, "Polly Pepper, lying down inthe daytime! Aren't you ashamed?"
"Oh, Joel," cried Polly, in a smothered voice; "do go away," she begged.
For answer Joel slid to his knees and crowded his chubby face into thepillow. "Are you sick, Polly?" he cried, in an awe-struck voice.
"No," said Polly, wriggling hard to keep him from seeing her face; "do,please, go away, Joey."
"I know you're sick," contradicted Joel, stubbornly; and bounding to hisfeet, "Where's Mamsie?" peering all around the room.
Polly didn't answer, being unwilling to tell about Ben.
"Well, I shall go and find her," declared Joel, decidedly, preparing torush off.
"You must not," cried Polly, bounding up to sit straight. "You mustn'tand you can't, because--"
"Because what?" demanded Joel, coming back to the sofa to fasten hisblack eyes on her face.
"Oh, because--" began Polly, again casting frantically about in her mindwhat to say and twisting her handkerchief with nervous fingers.
"Now I know that my Mamsie is sick and you're keeping it from me," criedJoel, in a loud, insistent voice, "and I
shall go and find her; sothere, Polly Pepper."
"Joel, if you do," began Polly, desperately, seizing his jacket-end;then she knew he would have to be told when she saw his face, fornothing could be worse than to let him think anything had happened toMamsie. "I'll tell you all about it," she promised; "do sit down," andshe pulled him into the corner of the big sofa by her side; "you seeit's about Ben."
Joel whirled around and fixed wide eyes of astonishment upon her.
"And I don't know in the least," said Polly, brokenly, "what's thematter with him. He acts so funny, Joel, you can't think," she broughtup, mournfully, while she twisted her poor handkerchief worse than ever.
Joel pushed his face up to scan her thoughtfully to see if there wereanything more forthcoming.
"And to think of it--Ben--" went on Polly in a fresh gust, "he's neveracted so. O dear me! What can it be, Joel?"
In her distress she forgot that she was to comfort him, and she seizedhis arm and clung to it.
"It's me," blurted Joel, forgetting grammar and everything else, andpulling away from her, he slipped off the sofa and began a quick pace tothe door.
"Where are you going?" Polly flew after him, and although he ransmartly, she had hold of his jacket-end. "Joel Pepper, you must _not_ goup to Ben's room. Mamsie wouldn't let me."
"But I made him bad," said Joel, his face dreadfully red and twitchingviolently to get free.
"_You made him bad_," repeated Polly, faintly, and, tumbling backward insurprise, she let the jacket-end go. "O dear me!"
"And I'm going to make him well," screamed Joel, plunging off. She couldhear him clambering up over the stairs two at a time.
"If I could only go too," mourned Polly, having nothing to do but goslowly back and shut herself into Mamsie's room, as bidden.
She threw herself down again on the old sofa, and buried her face in thepillows. It was Joel who bounded in and up to her side, calling, "Oh,Polly!" that sent her flying up to sit straight. "Ben wants you," hecried excitedly.
"Oh, Joel, what is it?" she exclaimed, flying off from the sofa; "whatis the matter with Ben?"
"Nothing," said Joel, in high glee. As long as Ben wasn't sick, and hehad made matters right with him, the rest could wait. So downstairs Joelran to Grandpapa, to tell him that he had made a grand mistake; that hedid want Ben to go on the expedition, no more nor less than a visit tothe Museum.
"I thought so, my boy," said old Mr. King, patting him on the shoulder."Now, if I were you, I wouldn't go off half-cocked again, especiallywith Ben. No doubt he was in the wrong, too. There are always two sidesto a thing."
"Oh, no, he wasn't," protested Joel, terribly alarmed lest Ben should beblamed. "I was cross, Grandpapa. 'Twas all my fault." He was sodistressed that the old gentleman hastened to add, "Yes, yes; well,there now, that's quite enough. As I've never seen Ben treat youone-half as badly as you deserve, sir, I'll believe you. Now be off withyou, Joel!" and with a little laugh and another last pat he dismissedhim.
Meantime Polly was having a perfectly dreadful time up in Ben's room. Ittook Mrs. Fisher as well as Ben to comfort her in the least for herdreadful disappointment that Ben was not going to accept a long andthorough education at Mr. King's hands.
But all this was as nothing to Grandpapa's dismay when the truth cameout. And it took more than the combined efforts of the whole householdto restore him to equanimity when he saw that Ben was actually not to bemoved from his resolution. It was little Doctor Fisher who finallyachieved the first bit of resignation reached.
"Now, my good sir;" the little man put himself, unasked, beside thestately figure pacing with ill-concealed irritation down the "longpath." It was several days since Ben had made his announcement, andGrandpapa had been hoping against all obstacles that the boy would givein at the last. But to-day even that hope slipped away.
"Let me speak a word for Ben," the little Doctor went on, raising hisbig spectacles just as cheerfully to the clouded face as if a warminvitation had been extended him.
"Ben needs no words from you, Doctor Fisher," said Mr. King, icily; "Ireally consider the least said on this subject the better, perhaps."
"Perhaps--and perhaps not," said the little man, just as cheerily. Itwas impossible to quarrel with him or to shake him off, and Mr. King,realizing this, kept on his walk with long strides, Doctor Fisherskipping by his side, telling off the points of what he had come to say,on his nervous fingers.
"Do you realize," he said at length, "that you would break down allBen's best powers if you had your way with him?"
"Hold on there, man," roared the old gentleman, coming to an abruptpause in his walk, "do you mean to say, and do you take me for an idiot,which I should be if I believed it, that the more education a boy gets,the more he injures his chances for life?"
The little man squinted at the tips of the trees waving their skeletonbranches in the crisp air, then brought a calm gaze to the excited oldface: "Not exactly; but I do say when you make a boy like Ben turn fromthe path he has marked out for himself, all the education that culturewould crowd on him is just so much to break down the boy. Ben wouldn'tbe Ben after you got through with him. Now be sensible." He got up onhis tiptoes and actually bestowed a pat on the stately shoulder. "Benwants to go to work. Give him his head,--you can trust him; and let'syou and I keep our hands off from him."
And the little Doctor, having said his say, got down on his feet againand trotted off.
All the remainder of that day Grandpapa went around very much subdued.He even smiled at Ben, a thing he hadn't done ever since the dreadfulannouncement that gave a blow to all his plans for the boy. And at lastit began to be understood that the skies were clear again, and thatthings after all were turning out for the best.
"But only to think of it," Grandpapa would go on to himself in theprivacy of his own room, "mountain children can be brought down and setinto schools, and the Van Ruypen money do the old lady some good,--andthere is Pip,--see what she has got there,--and nobody to interfere withwhat she'll spend on him. And I--I am balked the very first thing. And Idid so mean to do well by Ben; dear, dear!"
But as the matter was now decided and out of his hands, the next thingto do was to get Ben a good place where he could begin on his businesscareer, sure of good training. So the following day old Mr. King droppedinto the office of Cabot and Van Meter, for a little privateconversation.
They welcomed him heartily, as usual, dismissing other applicants forthe time, and shut the door to the private office, drawing up theirchairs to listen attentively.
"No business to-day," was Mr. King's announcement, "that is, in theregular way. This that I have come to see you about is quite out of theordinary. I want a place in your establishment for a young friend ofmine."
The two gentlemen looked up in amazement. It wasn't in the least likeMr. King to ask such a thing, knowing quite well that to secure such aplace required much waiting for the required vacancy. It was Mr. Cabotwho spoke first.
"I suppose he is experienced," he began slowly.
"Not in the least," replied old Mr. King, shortly.
"Well, er--on what do you recommend him?" ventured Mr. Van Meter.
"I don't recommend him," the old gentleman answered in his crispestmanner. "Bless you, I don't go about recommending people; you knowthat." He looked into each face so fiercely that they both exclaimedtogether, "No, of course not. We quite understand."
"Well, what do you want your young friend to have with us--what kind ofa position?" asked Mr. Cabot, patting one knee in perplexity.
"Anything," said Mr. King. "Give him anything to do; only get him inhere. I tell you he must come, and you've got to take him." He leanedforward in his chair and struck his walking-stick smartly on the floor.
"Who is he?" demanded Mr. Van Meter, feeling that the exigency of thecase demanded few words.
"Ben Pepper."
"_Ben Pepper!_" ejaculated Mr. Cabot. "Why, I thought he was in school."
"He was," said old Mr. King, turning on
him with considerable venom, asif he were quite to blame for the whole thing, "but he has made up hismind to go into business. A very poor thing in my opinion; but sincehe's decided it that way, there's no more to be said," and he waved itoff with a nonchalant hand.
"Not so very poor a thing to do after all." Mr. Van Meter got off fromhis chair, stalked up and down the office floor, bringing his handsevery now and then smartly together, to emphasize his periods: "I wasbut a slip of a lad when I got into the business groove, and I've neverbeen sorry I drudged it early. Now, Mr. King, it wouldn't be well togive Ben any better chance than I had. He must begin at the bottom toamount to anything."
"He wouldn't take the chance if you gave it to him," said Mr. King,dryly. "Why, there's where Ben says he belongs--at the bottom."