am really more pleased than I can express at the improvement in that
boy. As I said before"--Mr. Faber had long ago thrown aside the paper
knife, and now turned toward Jasper, his whole attention on the matter
in hand--"Pickering has a fine capacity; take it all in all, perhaps
there is none better in the whole school. It shows to great advantage
now, because he has regained his place so rapidly in his classes. It is
quite astonishing, Jasper." And he took off his glasses and polished
them up carefully, repeating several times during the process, "Yes,
very surprising indeed!"

"And he seems to like to study now," said Jasper, ready to bring forward
all the nice things that warranted encouragement.

"Does he so?" Mr. Faber set his glasses on his nose, and beamed at him
over them. The boys at the Pemberton School always protested that this
was the only use they could be put to on the master's countenance.
"Well, now, Jasper, I really believe I am justified in entertaining a
very strong hope of Pickering's future career. And I see no reason why
he should not be ready for college with you, and without conditions, if
he will only keep his ambition alive and active, now it is aroused."

"May I tell him so?" cried Jasper, almost beside himself with joy. "Oh,
may I, Mr. Faber?"

"Why, that is what I called you in here for, Jasper," said the master.
"It seemed so very much better for him to hear it from a boy, for I
remember my own boyhood, though so very long since; and the effect will,
I feel sure, be much deeper than if Pickering hears it from me. He is
very tired of this study, Jasper," and Mr. Faber glanced around at the
four walls, and again came that grim smile. "And even to hear a word of
commendation, it might not be so pleasing to be called in. So away with
you. At the proper time, I shall speak to him myself."

Jasper, needing no second bidding, fled precipitately--dashed in again.
"Beg pardon, I'd forgotten my books." He seized them from the table, and
made quick time tracking Pickering.

"Where is Pick?" rushing up to a knot of boys on a corner of the
playground, just separating to go home.

"Don't know; what's up, King?"

"Can't stop," said Jasper, flying back to the schoolroom. "I must get
Pick."

"Dodge has gone," shouted a boy clearing the steps, who had heard the
last words. So Jasper, turning again, left school and playground far
behind, to run up the steps of the Cabot mansion.

"Pickering here?"

"Yes." The butler had seen him hurrying over the stairs to his own room
just five minutes ago. And in less than a minute Jasper was up in that
same place.

There sat Pickering by his table, his long legs upon its surface, and
his hands thrust into his pockets. His books sprawled just where he had
thrown them, at different angles along the floor.

"Hullo!" cried Jasper, flying in, to stop aghast at this.

"Yes, you see, Jasper, I'm played out," said Pickering. "It isn't any
use for me to study, and there are the plaguey things," pulling out one
set of fingers to point to the sprawling books. "I can't catch up. Every
teacher looks at me squint-eyed as if I were a hopeless case, which I
am!"

"Oh, you big dunce!" Jasper clapped his books on the table with a bang,
making Pickering draw down his long legs, rushed around to precipitate
himself on the rest of the figure in the chair, when he pommelled him to
his heart's content.

"If you expect to beat any hope into me, old boy," cried Pickering, not
caring in the least for the onslaught, "you'll miss your guess."

"I'm hoping to beat sense into you," cried Jasper, pounding away,
"though it looks almost impossible now," he declared, laughing. "Pick,
you've won! Mr. Faber says you've come up in classes splendidly, and--"

Pickering sprang to his feet. "What do you mean, Jasper?" he cried
hoarsely, his face white as a sheet.

"Just what I say."

"Say it again."

So Jasper went all over it once more, adding the other things about
getting into college and all that, as much as Pickering would hear.

"Honest?" he broke in, his pale face getting a dull red, and seizing
Jasper by the shoulders.

"Did I ever tell you anything that wasn't so, Pick?"

"No; but I can't believe it, Jap. It's the first time in my life
I've--I've--" And what incessant blame could not do, praise achieved.
Pickering rushed to the bed, flung himself face down upon it, and broke
into a torrent of sobs.

Jasper, who had never seen Pickering cry, had wild thoughts of rushing
for Mrs. Cabot; the uncle was not at home. But remembering how little
good this could possibly do, he bent all his energies to stop this
unlooked-for flood.

But he was helpless. Having never given way in this manner before,
Pickering seemed determined to make a thorough job of it. And it was not
till he was quite exhausted that he rolled over, wiped his eyes, and
looked at Jasper.

"I'm through," he announced.

"I should think you might well be," retorted Jasper; "what with scaring
me almost to death, you've made yourself a fright, Pick, and you've just
upset all your chances to study to-day."

Pickering flung himself off the bed as summarily as he had gone on.

"That's likely, isn't it?" he cried mockingly, and shamefacedly
scrabbling up the books from the floor. "Now, then," and he was across
the room, pouring out a basinful of water, to thrust his swollen face
within it.

"Whew! I never knew it used a chap up so to cry," he spluttered.
"Goodness me!" He withdrew his countenance from the towel to regard
Jasper.

"How you look!" cried Jasper, considering it better to rail at him.

Whereupon Pickering found his way to the long mirror. "I never was a
beauty," he said.

"And now you are less," laughed Jasper.

"But I'm good," said Pickering solemnly, and flinging himself down to
his books.

"You can't study with such eyes," cried Jasper, tugging at the book.

"Clear out!"

"I'm not going. Pick, your eyes aren't much bigger than pins."

"But they're sharp--just as pins are. Leave me alone." Pickering
squirmed all over his chair, but Jasper had the book.

"Never mind, I'll fly at my history, then," said Pickering, possessing
himself of another book; "that's the beauty of it. I'm as backward in
all of my lessons as I am in one. I can strike in anywhere."

"You are not backward in any now," cried Jasper in glee, and performing
an Indian war dance around the table. "Forward is the word henceforth,"
he brought up dramatically with another lunge at Pickering.

"Get out. You better go home."

"I haven't the smallest intention of going," replied Jasper, and
successfully coming off with a second book.

"Here's for book number three," declared Pickering--but too late. Jasper
seized the remaining two, tossed them back of him, then squared off.

"Come on for a tussle, old fellow. You're not fit to study--ruin your
eyes. Come on!" his whole face sparkling.

It was too much. The table was pushed one side; books and lessons, Mr.
Faber and college, were as things never heard of. And for a good quarter
of an hour, Pickering, whose hours of exercise had been much scantier of
late, was hard pushed to parry all Jasper's attacks. At the last, when
the little clock on the mantel struck four, he came out ahead.

"I declare, that was a good one," he exclaimed in a glow.

"Particularly so to you," said Jasper ruefully. "You gave me a regular
bear-hug, you scamp."

"Had to, to pay you up."

"And now you may study," cried Jasper gaily; and snatching his books, he
ran off.

"Oh, Pick," putting his head in at the door.

"Yes?"

"If the lessons are done, come over this evening, will you?"

"All right." The last sound of Jasper's feet on the stairs reached
Pickering, when he suddenly left his chair and flew into the hall.

"Jap--oh, I say, Jap!" Then he plunged back into his room to thrust his
head out of the window. "Jap!" he howled, to the consternation of a fat
old gentleman passing beneath, who on account of his size, finding it
somewhat inconvenient to look up, therefore waddled into the street, and
surveyed the house gravely.

Pickering slammed down the window, leaving the old gentleman to stare as
long as he saw fit.

"I can't go over there to-night, looking like this." He pranced up to
the mirror again, fuming every step of the way, and surveyed himself in
dismay. There was some improvement in the appearance of his countenance,
to be sure, but not by any means enough to please him. His pale blue
eyes were so small, and their surroundings so swollen, that they
reminded him of nothing so much as those of a small pig he had made
acquaintance with in a visit up in the country. While his nose, long and
usually quite aristocratic-looking, had resigned all claims to
distinction, and was hopelessly pudgy.

"Jasper knows I can't go in this shape," he cried in a fury. "Great
Cæsar's ghost! I never supposed it banged a fellow up so, to cry just
once!" And the next moments were spent in sopping his face violently
with the wet towel, which did no good, as it had been plentifully
supplied with that treatment before.

At last he flung himself into his chair. "If I don't go over, Jap will
think I haven't my lessons, so that's all right. And I won't have them
anyway if I don't tackle them pretty quick. So here goes!" And presently
the only sound to be heard was the ticking of the little clock, varied
by the turning of his pages, or the rattling of the paper on which he
was working out the problems for to-morrow.

"Oh dear me! Jasper," Polly exclaimed about half-past seven, "I don't
believe Pickering is coming."

"He hasn't his lessons, I suppose," said Jasper. "You know I told him to
come over as soon as they were done. Well, Polly, we agreed, you know,
to let him alone as to invitations until the lessons were out of the
way, so I won't go over after him."

"I know," said Polly, "but oh, Jasper, isn't it just too elegant for
anything, to think that Mr. Faber says it's all right with him?"

"I should think it was," cried Jasper. "Now if he only keeps on, Polly."

"Oh, he must; he will," declared Polly confidently. "Well, we can put
off toasting marshmallows until to-morrow night."

About this time, Pickering, whose lessons were all done, for he had, as
Mr. Faber had said, "a fine capacity" to learn, was receiving company
just when he thought he was safe from showing his face.

"Let's stop for Pickering Dodge," proposed Alexia, Clare having run in
for her to go over to Polly Pepper's, "to toast marshmallows and have
fun generally."

"All right; so we can," cried Clare. So they turned the corner and went
down to the Cabot mansion, and were let in before the old butler could
be stopped.

Pickering, whose uncle and aunt were out for the evening, had felt it
safe to throw himself down on the library sofa. When he saw that John
had forgotten what he told him, not to let anybody in, he sprang up; but
not before Alexia, rushing in, had cried, "Oh, here you are! Come on
with us to Polly Pepper's!" Clare dashed in after her.

"Ow!" exclaimed Pickering, seizing a sofa pillow, to jam it against his
face.

"What _is_ the matter?" cried Alexia. "Oh, have you a toothache?"

"Worse than that," groaned Pickering behind his pillow.

"Oh, my goodness me!" exclaimed Alexia, tumbling back. "What can it be?"

"You haven't broken your jaw, Pick?" observed Clare. "I can't imagine
that."

"I'll break yours if you don't go," said Pickering savagely, and half
smothered, as he tried to keep the pillow well before the two pairs of
eyes.

This was a little difficult, as Clare, seeing hopes of running around
the pillow, set himself in motion to that end. But as Pickering whirled
as fast as he did, there was no great gain.

"Well, if I ever did!" exclaimed Alexia, quite aghast.

And the next moment Pickering, keeping a little opening at one end of
the pillow, saw his chance; darted out of the door, and flinging the
pillow the length of the hall, raced into his own room and slammed the
door, and they could hear him lock it.

"Well, if I ever did!" exclaimed Alexia again, and sinking into the
first chair, she raised both hands.

"What's got into the beggar?" cried Clare in perplexity, and looking out
into the hall, as if some help to the puzzle might be found there.

"Well, I guess you and I, Alexia, might as well go to Polly Pepper's,"
he said finally.

"And if I ever come after that boy again to tell him of anything nice
that's going to happen, I miss my guess," declared Alexia, getting
herself out of her chair, in high dudgeon. "Let's send Jasper after him;
he's the only one who can manage him," she cried, as they set forth.

"Good idea," said Clare.

But when Alexia told of their funny reception, Jasper first stared, then
burst out laughing. And although Alexia teased and teased, she got no
satisfaction.

"It's no use, Alexia," Jasper said, wiping his eyes, "you won't get me
to tell. So let's set about having some fun. What shall we do?"

"I don't want to do anything," pouted Alexia, "only to know what made
Pickering Dodge act in that funny way."

"And that's just what you won't know, Alexia," replied Jasper
composedly. "Well, Polly, you are going to put off toasting the
marshmallows, aren't you, till to-morrow night, when Pick can probably
come?"

"Oh, I wouldn't wait for him," Alexia burst out, quite exasperated,
"when he's acted so. And perhaps he'd come with an old sofa pillow
before his face, if you did."

"Oh, no, he won't, Alexia," said Jasper, going off into another laugh.
But although she teased again, she got no nearer to the facts. And Polly
proposing that they make candy, the chafing dish was gotten out; and
Alexia, who was quite an adept in the art, went to work, Jasper cracking
the nuts, and Polly and Clare picking out the meats.

And then all the story of Pickering's splendid advance in the tough work
of making up his lessons came out, Jasper pausing so long to dilate with
kindling eyes upon it, that very few nuts fell into the dish. So Polly's
fingers were the only ones to achieve much, as Clare gave so close
attention to the story that he was a very poor helper.

In the midst of it, Alexia threw down the chafing-dish spoon, and
clapped her hands. "Oh, I know!" she exclaimed.

"Oh," cried Polly, looking up from the little pile of nut-meats, "how
you scared me, Alexia!"

"I know--I know!" exclaimed Alexia again, and nodding to herself wisely.

Jasper threw her a quick glance. It said, "If you know, don't tell,
Alexia." And she flashed back, "Did you suppose I would?"

"What do you know?" demanded Clare, transferring his attention from
Jasper to her. "Tell on, Alexia; what do you know?"

"Oh, my goodness me! this candy never will be done in time for those
meats," cried Alexia, picking up the spoon to stir away for dear life.
And Jasper dashed in on what Mr. Faber said about Pickering's chances
for college; a statement that completely carried Clare off his feet, so
to speak.

"You don't mean that he thinks Pick will get in without conditions?"
gasped Clare, dumfounded.

"Yes, I do." Jasper nodded brightly. "If Pick will only study; keep it
up, you know, I mean to the end. He surely said it, Clare."

It was so much for Clare to think of, that he didn't have any words at
his command.

"Now isn't that perfectly splendid in Pickering!" cried Alexia, making
the spoon fly merrily. "Oh dear me! I forgot to put in the butter.
Where--oh, here it is," and she tossed in a big piece. "To think
that--oh dear me, I forgot! I _did_ put the butter in before. Now I've
spoilt it," and she threw down the spoon in despair.

"Fish it out," cried Polly, hopping up and seizing the spoon to make
little dabs at the ball of butter now rapidly lessening.

"But it's melted--that is, almost--oh dear me!" cried Alexia.

"No, it isn't; there, see how big it is." Polly landed it deftly on the
plate and hopped back to her nut-meats again.

"And I should think you'd better shake yourself, Clare," said Jasper,
over at him. "We shouldn't have any nuts in this candy if it depended on
you."

"You do tell such astounding stories," cried Clare, setting to work at
once. And Jasper making as much noise as he could while cracking his
nuts, Alexia's secret was safe.

But when the candy was set out to cool, and there was a pause in which
the two boys were occupied by themselves, Alexia pulled Polly off to a
corner.

"Where are they going?" asked Clare, with one eye after them.

"Oh, they have something to talk over, I presume," said Jasper
carelessly.

"Nonsense! they've all the time every day. Let's go over and see."

"Oh, no," said Jasper. "Come on, Clare, and let's see if the candy is
cool." But Clare didn't want to see if the candy was cool, nor anything
else but to have his own way. So he proceeded over to the corner by
himself.

"Oho! You go right away!" cried Alexia, poking up her head over Polly's
shoulder. "You dreadful boy! Now, Polly, come." And she pulled her off
into the library.

"You see you didn't get anything for your pains," said Jasper, bursting
into a laugh. "You'd much better have staid here."

"Well, I don't want to know, anyway," said Clare, taking a sudden
interest in the candy. "I believe it is cold, Jasper; let's look."

"Polly," Alexia was saying in the library behind the portières, "I know
now; because I did it once myself: it was when you first promised you'd
be a friend to me, and I went home, and cried for very joy. And I didn't
want to see anybody that night."

"Oh, Alexia!" exclaimed Polly, giving her a hug that satisfied even
Alexia.

"No, I didn't; and I remember how I wanted to hold something up to my
face. I never thought of a sofa pillow, and I couldn't have gotten it if
I had thought, 'cause aunt had it crammed against her back. Oh, my eyes
were a sight, Polly, and my nose was all over my face."

XXIII THE CLEMCY GARDEN PARTY

"You may go on those errands, Hortense, but first send Polly Pepper to
me," commanded Mrs. Chatterton sharply.

The French maid paused in the act of hanging up a gown. "I will
_re_-quest her, Madame. I should not like to send Mees Polly Peppaire."

"_Miss_ Polly Pepper!" Mrs. Chatterton was guilty of stamping her foot.
"Are you mad? I am speaking of Polly Pepper, this country girl, who is
as poor and low-born here in this house, as if in her little brown
house, wherever that may be."

Hortense shrugged her shoulders, and hung up the gown.

"Has Madame any further commands for me?" she asked, coming up to her
mistress.

"Yes; be sure to get the velvet at Lemaire's, and take back the silk
kimono. I will send to New York for one."

"Yes, Madame."

"That is all--besides the other errands. Now go." She dismissed her with
a wave of her shapely hand. "But first, as I bade you, _send_ Polly
Pepper to me."

Hortense, with another elevation of her shoulders, said nothing, till
she found herself the other side of the door. Then she shook her fist at
it.

"It ees not Miss Polly who will be sent for; it ees Madame who will be
sent out of dees house, _j'ai peur_--ha, ha, ha!"

She laughed softly to herself all the way downstairs, with an insolent
little fling to her head, that boded ill for her mistress's interests.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Chatterton was angrily pacing up and down the room.
"What arrant nonsense a man can be capable of when he is headstrong to
begin with! To think of the elegant Horatio King, a model for all men,
surrounding himself with this commonplace family. Faugh! It is easy
enough to see what they are all after. But I shall prevent it.
Meanwhile, the only way to do it is to break the spirit of this Polly
Pepper. Once do that, and I have the task easy to my hand."

She listened intently. "It can't be possible she would refuse to come.
Ha! I thought so."

Polly came quietly in. No one to see her face would have supposed that
she had thrown aside the book she had been waiting weeks to read, so
that lessons and music need not suffer. For she was really glad when
Mrs. Chatterton's French maid asked her respectfully if she would please
be so good as to step up to her mistress's apartments, "_s'il vous
plait_, Mees Polly."

"Yes, indeed," cried Polly, springing off from the window-seat, and
forgetting the enchanted story-land immediately in the rush of delight.
"Oh, I have another chance to try to please her," she thought, skimming
over the stairs. But she was careful to restrain her steps on reaching
the room.

"You may take that paper," said Mrs. Chatterton, seating herself in her
favorite chair, "and read to me. You know the things I desire to hear,
or ought to." She pointed to the society news, _Town Talk_, lying on the
table.

Polly took it up, glad to be of the least service, and whirled it over
to get the fashion items, feeling sure that now she was on the right
road to favor.

"Don't rattle it," cried Mrs. Chatterton, in a thin, high voice.

"I'll try not to," said Polly, wishing she could be deft-handed like
Mamsie, and doing her best to get to the inner page quietly.

"And why don't you read where you are?" cried Mrs. Chatterton. "Begin on
the first page. I wish to hear that first."

Polly turned the sheet back again, and obeyed. But she hadn't read more
than a paragraph when she came to a dead stop.

"Go on," commanded Mrs. Chatterton, her eyes sparkling. She had
forgotten to play with her rings, being perfectly absorbed in the
delicious morsels of exceedingly unsavory gossip she was hearing.

Polly laid the paper in her lap, and her two hands fell upon it. "Oh,
Mrs. Chatterton," she cried, the color flying from her cheek, "please
let me read something else to you. Mamsie wouldn't like me to read
this." The brown eyes filled with tears, and she leaned forward
imploringly.

"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Chatterton passionately. "I command
you to read that, girl. Do you hear me?"

"I cannot," said Polly, in a low voice. "Mamsie wouldn't like it." But
it was perfectly distinct, and fell upon the angry ears clearly; and
storm as she might, Mrs. Chatterton knew that the little country maiden
would never bend to her will in this case.

"I would have you to know that I understand much better than your mother
possibly can, what is for your good to read. Besides, she will never
know."

"Mamsie knows every single thing that we children do," cried Polly
decidedly, and lifting her pale face; "and she understands better than
any one else about what we ought to do, for she is our mother."

"What arrant nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Chatterton passionately, and
unable to control herself at the prospect of losing Polly for a reader,
which she couldn't endure, as she thoroughly enjoyed her services in
that line. She got out of her chair, and paced up and down the long
apartment angrily, saying all sorts of most disagreeable things, that
Polly only half heard, so busy was she debating in her own mind what she
ought to do. Should she run out of the room, and leave this dreadful old
woman that every one in the house was tired of? Surely she had tried
enough to please her, but she could not do what Mamsie would never
approve of. And just as Polly had about decided to slip out, she looked
up.

Mrs. Chatterton, having exhausted her passion, as it seemed to do no
good, was returning to her seat, with such a dreary step and forlorn
expression that she seemed ten years older. She really looked very
feeble, and Polly broke out impulsively, "Oh, let me read the other part
of the paper, dear Mrs. Chatterton. May I?"

"Read it," said Mrs. Chatterton ungraciously, and sat down in her
favorite chair.

Polly, scarcely believing her ears, whirled over the sheet, and
determined to read as well as she possibly could, managed to throw so
much enthusiasm into the fashion hints and social items, that presently
Mrs. Chatterton's eyes were sparkling again, although she was deprived
of her unsavory morsels.

And before long she was eagerly telling Polly to read over certain
dictates of the Paris correspondent, who was laying down the law for
feminine dress, and calling again for the last information of the
movements of members of her social set, till there could be no question
of her enjoyment.

Polly, not knowing or caring how long she had been thus occupied, so
long as Mrs. Chatterton was happy, was only conscious that Hortense came
back from the errands, which occasioned only a brief pause.

"Put the parcels down," said Mrs. Chatterton, scarcely glancing at her,
"I cannot attend to you now. Go on, Polly."

So Polly went on, until the fashionable and social world had been so
thoroughly canvassed that even Mrs. Chatterton was quite convinced that
she could get no more from the paper.

"You may go now," she said, but with a hungry glance for the first page.
Then she tore her gaze away, and repeated more coldly than ever, "You
may go."

Polly ran off, dismayed to find how happy she was at the release. Her
feet, unaccustomed to sitting still so long, were numb, and little
prickles were running up and down her legs. She hurried as fast as she
could into Mamsie's room, feeling in need of all the good cheer she
could find.

"Mrs. Fisher has gone out," said Jane, going along the hall.

"Gone out!" repeated Polly, "Oh, where? Do you know, Jane?"

"I don't exactly know," said Jane, "but she took Miss Phronsie; and I
think it's shopping they went for. Mr. King has taken them in the
carriage."

"Oh, I know it is," cried Polly, and a dreadful feeling surged through
her. Why had she spent all this time with that horrible old woman, and
lost this precious treat!

"They thought you had gone to the Salisbury School," said Jane, wishing
she could give some comfort, "for they wanted you awfully to go."

"And now I've lost it all," cried Polly at a white heat--"all this
perfectly splendid time with Grandpapa and Mamsie and Phronsie just for
the sake of a horrible--"

Then she broke short off, and ran back into Mamsie's room, and flung
herself down by the bed, just as she used to do by the four-poster in
the bedroom of the little brown house.

"Why, Polly, child!" Mother Fisher's voice was very cheery as she came
in, Phronsie hurrying after.

"I don't see her," began Phronsie in a puzzled way, and peering on all
sides. "Where is she, Mamsie?"

Mrs. Fisher went over and laid her hand on Polly's brown head. "Now,
Phronsie, you may run out, that is a good girl." She leaned over, and
set a kiss on Phronsie's red lips.

"Is Polly sick?" asked Phronsie, going off to the door obediently, but
looking back with wondering eyes.

"No, dear, I think not," said Mrs. Fisher. "Run along, dear."

"I am so glad she isn't sick," said Phronsie, as she went slowly off.
Yet she carried a troubled face.

"I ought to go and see how Sinbad is," she decided, as she went
downstairs. This visit was an everyday performance, to be carefully gone
through with. So she passed out of the big side doorway, to the veranda.

"There is Michael now," she cried joyfully, espying that individual
raking up the west lawn. So skipping off, she flew over to him. This
caught the attention of little Dick from the nursery window.

"Hurry up there!" he cried crossly to Battles, who was having a hard
time anyway getting him into a fresh sailor suit.

"Oh, Dicky--Dicky!" called mamma softly from her room.

"I can't help it, mamma; Battles is slow and poky," he fumed.

"Oh, no, dear," said his mother; "Battles always gets you ready very
swiftly, as well as nicely."

Battles, a comfortable person, turned her round face with a smile toward
the door. "And if you was more like your mamma, Master Dick, you'd be
through with dressing, and make everything more pleasant to yourself and
to every one else."

"Well, I'm not in the least like mamma, Battles; I can't be."

"No, indeed, you ain't. But you can try," said Battles encouragingly.

"Why, Battles Whitney!" exclaimed Dick, whirling around on her. In
astonishment, or any excitement, Dicky invariably gave her the whole
name that he felt she ought to possess; "Mrs. Mara Battles" not being at
all within his comprehension. "What an _awful_ story!"

"Dicky--Dicky!" reproved Mrs. Whitney.

"Well, I can't help it, mamma." Dick now escaped from Battles' hands
altogether, and fled into the other room, the comfortable person
following. "She said"--plunging up to her chair in great
excitement--"that I could be like you."

"I said you could try to be," corrected Battles, smoothing down her
apron.

"And she knows I can't ever be, in all this world," declared Dick,
shaking his short curls in decision, and glancing back to see the
effect, "for you're a woman, and I'm always going to be a man. Why, see
how big I am now!" He squared off, and strutted up and down the little
boudoir.

"And you'd be bigger if you'd let me fix your blouse and button it up,"
declared Battles, laughing, and bearing down on him to fasten the band
and tuck in the vest. "And if you were more like your mother in
disposition--that's what I mean--'twould be a sight comfortabler for you
and every one else. Now, says I, your hair's got to be brushed." And she
led him back into the nursery, laughing all the way.

"What makes you shake so when you laugh, Battles?" asked Dick suddenly,
and ignoring all references to his disposition.

"Can't help it," said Battles, beginning work on the curls; "that's
because there's so much of me, I suppose," and she laughed more than
ever.

"There's so very much of you, Battles," observed Dick with a critical
look all over her rotund figure. "What makes it?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Battles. "Stand still, Dicky, and I'll be
through all the sooner. Some folks is big and round, and some folks is
little and scrawny."

"What's scrawny?" asked Dick, who always got as many alleviations by
conversation as possible out of the detested hair-brushing.

"Why, thin and lean."

"Oh, well, go on, Battles."

"And I'm one of the big and round ones," said Battles, seeing no
occasion in that statement to abate her cheerfulness. So she laughed
again.

"I like you big and round, Battles," cried little Dick affectionately,
and whirling about so suddenly as to endanger his eye with the comb
doing good execution. And he essayed to put his arms around her waist,
which he was always hoping to be able to accomplish.

"That's good," said Battles, laughing, well pleased. "But you mustn't
jump around so. There now, in a minute you shall be off." And she took
up the brush.

"I must," declared Dick, remembering his sight of Phronsie running
across the lawn; "do hurry, Battles," he pleaded, which so won her heart
that she abridged part of the brushing, and let him scamper off.

Phronsie was kneeling down in front of Sinbad's kennel.

"Can't you untie him to-day, Michael?" she asked, a question she had
propounded each morning since the boys went back to school.

"Yes, Miss Phronsie, I think I can; he's wonted now, and the other dogs
are accustomed to him. Besides, I've locked up Jerry since he fit him."

"I know," said Phronsie sorrowfully; "that was naughty of Jerry when
Sinbad had only just come."

Michael scratched his head. He couldn't tell her what was on his mind,
that Sinbad was scarcely such a dog as any one would buy, and therefore
his presence was not to be relished by the high-bred animals already at
home on the place.

"Well, you know, Miss Phronsie," he said at last, "it's kinder difficult
like, to expect some dogs to remember their manners; and Jerry ain't
like all the others in that respect."

"Please tell him about it," said Phronsie earnestly, "how good Prince is
to Sinbad, and then I guess he'll want to be like him." For Phronsie had
never swerved in her allegiance to Prince ever since he saved her from
the naughty organ man in the little-brown-house days. And in all her
conversations with the other dogs she invariably held up Jasper's big
black dog, his great friend and companion since pinafore days, as their
model.

And just then Dicky ran up breathlessly.

"Dick," announced Phronsie excitedly, "Michael is going to let Sinbad
out to-day." And she clasped her hands in delight.

"Jolly!" exclaimed Dick, capering about.

"Now, Master Dick, you must let the dog alone," cried Michael. "It's
time to try him with his freedom a bit. He's chafin' at that chain." He
looked anxiously at Dick. "Stand off there, both of you," and he slipped
the chain off.

Sinbad gave a little wiggle with his hind legs, and stretched his yellow
body. It was too good to be true! But it was, though; he was free, and
he shot out from his kennel, which was down in the gardener's quarters,
and quite removed from the other dogs, and fairly tore--his ragged
little tail straight out--across the west lawn.

"Oh, he'll run back to Joel at school," cried Dick, who had heard Joel
say he must be tied at first when everything was strange; and he started
on a mad run after him.

"You stay still," roared Michael; "that dog is only stretchin' his legs.
He'll come back." But as well tell the north wind to stop blowing.
Dicky's blouse puffed out with the breeze, as his small legs executed
fine speed.

"Oh, Michael!" cried Phronsie in the greatest distress, "make Dicky come
back."

"Oh, he'll come back," said Michael reassuringly, though he quaked
inwardly. And so Dicky did. But it was now a matter of Sinbad chasing
him; for as Michael had said, the dog, after stretching his legs as the
mad rush across the lawn enabled him to do, now was very much pleased to
return for a little petting at the hands of those people who had given
him every reason to expect that he should receive it; and supposing,
from Dick's chase after him, that a race was agreeable, he set forth;
his ears, as ragged as his tail, pricked up in the fullest enjoyment of
the occasion.

But Dick saw nothing in it to enjoy. And exerting all his strength to
keep ahead, which he couldn't do as well for the reason that he was
screaming fearfully, Sinbad came up with him easily. Dicky, turning his
head in mad terror at that instant, stumbled and fell. Sinbad, unable to
stop at short notice, or rather no notice at all, rolled over with him
in a heap.

This brought all the stable-boys to the scene, besides Mrs. Whitney who
had seen some of the affair from her window; and finally, when
everything was beginning to be calmed down, Battles reached the lawn.

Sinbad was in Phronsie's lap, who sat on the grass, holding him tightly.

"Oh, Phronsie!" gasped Mrs. Whitney at that. "Michael, do take him
away," as she fled by to Dick. One of the stable-boys was brushing off
the grime from his sailor suit.

"The dog is all right, ma'am," said Michael, "'twas only play; I s'pose
Master Joel has raced with him."

"'Twas only play," repeated little Dick, who, now that he found himself
whole, was surprised the idea hadn't occurred to him before. "Hoh! I'm
not hurt, and I'm going to race with him again."

"Not to-day, Dicky," said Mrs. Whitney, looking him all over anxiously.

"He's all right, ma'am," declared Michael; "they just rolled over
together, 'cause, you see, ma'am, the dog couldn't stop, he was a-goin'
so fast, when the youngster turned right in his face."

And Dick, to prove his soundness of body and restoration of mind, ran up
to Phronsie, and flung himself down on the grass by her side.

Sinbad received him as a most pleasant acquaintance, cocked up his
ragged ears, and tried to wag his poor little scrubby tail, never quite
getting it into his head that it wasn't long and graceful. And then he
set upon the task of licking Dick's hands all over, and as much of his
face as was possible to compass.

"See that now," cried Michael triumphantly, pointing, "that dog mayn't
be handsome, but he hain't got a bad bone in his body, if he does look
like the Evil One hisself."

This episode absorbing all their attention, nobody heard or saw Alexia
Rhys, running lightly up over the terrace. "Oh, my! what _are_ you
doing? And where's Polly?" she asked of Mrs. Whitney.

It being soon told, Alexia, who evidently had some exciting piece of
news for Polly, ran into the house.

"Polly," she called. "Oh, Polly Pepper, where _are_ you?" running over
the stairs at the same time.

But Polly, as we have seen, was not in her room.

"Now then," Mother Fisher said at sound of Alexia's voice, "as we've
finished our talk, Polly, why, you must run down and see her."

But Polly clung to her mother's neck. "Do you think I ought to go next
Saturday morning out shopping, Mamsie, after I've been so naughty?"

"Indeed, you ought," cried Mrs. Fisher, in her most decisive fashion.
"Dear me! that would be very dreadful, Polly, after we put it off for
you, when we thought you had gone down to the Salisbury School. Why, we
couldn't get along without you, Polly."

So Polly, with a happy feeling at her heart that she was really needed
to make the shopping trip a success, and best of all for the long talk
with Mamsie, that had set many things right, ran down to meet Alexia,
brimming over with her important news.

"Where _have_ you been?" demanded Alexia, just on the point of rushing
out of Polly's room in despair. "I've looked everywhere for you, even in
the shoe-box." And without waiting for a reply, she dragged Polly back.
"Oh, you can't possibly guess!" her pale eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Then tell me, do, Alexia," begged Polly, scarcely less wrought up.

"Oh, Polly, the most elegant thing imaginable!" Alexia dearly loved to
spin out her exciting news as long as possible, driving the girls almost
frantic by such methods.

"Well, if you are not going to tell me, I might as well go back again,
up in Mamsie's room," declared Polly, working herself free from the long
arms, and starting for the door.

"Oh, I'll tell, Polly--I'll tell," cried Alexia, plunging after. "Miss
Salisbury says--I've just been up to the school after my German
grammar--that Mr. John Clemcy and Miss Ophelia have invited the whole
Salisbury School out there for next Saturday afternoon. Think of it,
after that smashed vase, Polly Pepper!"

Polly Pepper sat down on the shoe-box, quite gone in surprise.

It was as Alexia had said: a most surprising thing, when one took into
consideration how much Mr. John Clemcy had suffered from the
carelessness of a Salisbury pupil on the occasion of the accidental
visit. But evidently one of his reasons--though by no means the only
one--was his wish to salve the feelings of the gentlewomen, who were
constantly endeavoring to show him their overwhelming sorrow, and trying
to make all possible reparation for the loss of the vase.

And he had stated his desire so forcibly on one of the many visits to
the school that seemed to be necessary after the accident, that Miss
Salisbury was unable to refuse the invitation, although it nearly threw
her, self-contained as she usually was, into a panic at the very idea.

"But why did you promise, sister?" Miss Anstice turned on her on the
withdrawal of the gentleman, whose English composure of face and bearing
was now, in its victory, especially trying to bear. "I am surprised at
you. Something dreadful will surely happen."

"Don't, Anstice," begged Miss Salisbury, nervous to the last degree,
since even the support of "sister" was to be withdrawn. "It was the
least I could do, to please him--after what has happened."

"Well, something will surely happen," mourned Miss Anstice. "You know
how unfortunate it has been from the very beginning. I've never been
able to look at that gown since, although it has been washed till every
stain is removed."

"Put it on for this visit, sister," advised Miss Salisbury, with a
healthy disapproval of superstitions, "and break the charm."

"Oh, never!" Miss Anstice raised her slender hands. "I wouldn't run such
a chance as to wear that gown for all the world. It will be unlucky
enough, you will see, without that, sister."

But as far as anybody could see, everything was perfectly harmonious and
successful on the following Saturday afternoon. To begin with, the
weather was perfect; although at extremely short intervals Miss Anstice
kept reminding her sister that a tremendous shower might be expected
when the expedition was once under way.

The girls, when they received their invitation Monday morning from Miss
Salisbury in the long schoolroom, were, to state it figuratively, "taken
off their feet" in surprise, with the exception of those fortunate
enough to have caught snatches of the news always sure to travel fast
when set going by Alexia; and wild was the rejoicing, when they could
forget the broken vase, at the prospect of another expedition under Miss
Salisbury's guidance.

"If Miss Anstice only weren't going!" sighed Clem. "She is such a fussy
old thing. It spoils everybody's fun just to look at her."

"Well, don't look at her," advised Alexia calmly; "for my part, I never
do, unless I can't help it."

"How are you going to help it," cried Amy Garrett dismally, "when you
are in her classes? Oh dear! I do wish Miss Salisbury would get rid of
her as a teacher, and let Miss Wilcox take her place."

"Miss Wilcox is just gay!" exclaimed Silvia. "Well, don't let's talk of
that old frump any more. Goodness me! here she comes," as Miss Anstice
advanced down the long hall, where the girls were discussing the
wonderful invitation after school.

And as the day was perfect, so the spirits of the "Salisbury girls" were
at their highest. And Mr. Kimball and his associates drove them over in
the same big barges, the veteran leader not recovering from the
surprise into which he had been thrown by this afternoon party given to
the Salisbury School by Mr. Clemcy and his sister.

"Of all things in this world, this is th' cap-sheaf," he muttered
several times on the way. "A good ten year or more, those English folks
have been drawin' back in them pretty grounds, an' offendin' every one;
an' now, to get a passel o' girls to run over an' stomp 'em all down!"

Being unable to solve the puzzle, it afforded him plenty of occupation
to work away at it.

Mr. Clemcy and Miss Ophelia, caring as little for the opinion of the
stage-driver as for the rest of the world, received the visitors on the
broad stone piazza, whose pillars ran the length of the house, and up to
the roof, affording a wide gallery above. It was all entwined with
English ivy and creepers taken from the homestead in Devonshire, and
brought away when the death of the old mother made it impossible for
life to be sustained by Miss Ophelia unless wrenched up from the roots
where clustered so many memories. So Brother John decided to make that
wrench, and to make it complete. So here they were.

"I didn't know it was so pretty," cried Clem, after the ladies had been
welcomed with the most gracious, old-time hospitality, and the
schoolgirls tumbled out of the barges to throng up. "It rained so when
we were here before, we couldn't see anything."

"Pretty?" repeated Alexia, comprehending it all in swift, bird-like
glances. "It's perfectly beautiful!" She turned, and Mr. Clemcy, who was
regarding her, smiled, and they struck up a friendship on the spot.

"Miss Salisbury, allow me." Mr. Clemcy was leading her off. Miss
Anstice, not trusting the ill-fated white gown, rustled after in the
black silk one, with Miss Ophelia, down the wide hall, open at the end,
with vistas of broad fields beyond, where the host paused. "Let the
young ladies come," he said; and the girls trooped after, to crowd
around the elder people.

Amongst the palms and bookcases, with which the broad hall was lined,
was a pedestal, whose top was half covered with a soft, filmy cloth.

Mr. Clemcy lifted this, and took it off carefully. There stood the
little vase, presenting as brave an appearance as in its first
perfection.

[Illustration: THERE STOOD THE LITTLE VASE, PRESENTING AS BRAVE AN
APPEARANCE AS IN ITS FIRST PERFECTION.]

Miss Salisbury uttered no exclamation, but preserved her composure by a
violent effort.

"I flatter myself on my ability to repair my broken collection," began
Mr. Clemcy, when a loud exclamation from the girls in front startled
every one. Miss Anstice, on the first shock, had been unable to find
that composure that was always "sister's" envied possession; so despite
the environment of the black silk gown, she gave it up, and sank
gradually to the ground.

"I told you so," cried Clem, in a hoarse whisper to her nearest
neighbors; "she always spoils everybody's fun," as Miss Anstice, at the
host's suggestion, his sister being rendered incapable of action at this
sudden emergency, was put to rest in one of the pretty chintz-covered
rooms above, till such time as she could recover herself enough to join
them below.

"I couldn't help it, sister," she said. "I've been so worried about that
vase. _You_ don't know, because you are always so calm; and then to see
it standing there--it quite took away my breath."

Oh, the delights of the rose-garden! in which every variety of the
old-fashioned rose seemed to have had a place lovingly assigned to it.
Sweetbrier clambered over the walls of the gardener's cottage, the
stables, and charming summer-houses, into which the girls ran with
delight. For Mr. Clemcy had said they were to go everywhere and enjoy
everything without restraint.

"He's a dear," exclaimed Lucy Bennett, "only I'm mortally afraid of
him."

"Well, I'm not," proclaimed Alexia.

The idea of Alexia being in any state that would suggest fear, being so
funny, the girls burst out laughing.

"Well, we sha'n't any of us feel like laughing much in a little while,"
said Clem dolefully.

"What is the matter?" cried a dozen voices.

"Matter enough," replied Clem. "I've said so before, and now I know it's
coming. Just look at that."

She pushed aside the swaying branches of the sweetbrier, and pointed
tragically. "I don't see anything," said one or two of the girls.

"_There!_" "There" meant Mr. Clemcy and Miss Salisbury passing down the
rose-walk, the broad central path. He was evidently showing her some
treasured variety and descanting on it; the principal of the Salisbury
School from her wide knowledge of roses, as well as of other subjects,
being able to respond very intelligently.

"Oh, can't you see? You stupid things!" cried Clem. "He's going to marry
our Miss Salisbury, and then she'll give up our school; and--and--" She
turned away, and threw herself off in a corner.

A whole chorus of "No--no!" burst upon this speech.

"Hush!" cried Alexia, quite horrified. "Polly, do stop them; Miss
Salisbury is turning around; and she's been worried quite enough over
that dreadful Miss Anstice," which had the effect of reducing the girls
to quiet.

"But it isn't so," cried the girls in frantic whispers, "what Clem
says." And those who were not sure of themselves huddled down on the
summer-house floor. "Say, Alexia, you don't think so, do you?"

But Alexia would give them no comfort, but wisely seizing Polly's arm,
departed with her. "I shall say something that I'll be sorry for," she
declared, "if I stay another moment longer. For, Polly Pepper, I do
really believe that it's true, what Clem says."

And the rest of that beautiful afternoon, with rambles over the wide
estate, and tea with berries and cream on the terraces, was a dream,
scarcely comprehended by the "Salisbury girls," who were strangely quiet
and well-behaved. For this Miss Salisbury was thankful.

And presently Miss Anstice, coming down in the wake of Miss Ophelia, was
put carefully into a comfortable chair on the stone veranda, where she
sat pale and quiet, Miss Clemcy assiduously devoting herself to her, and
drawing up a little table to her side for her berries and cream and tea.

"Now we will be comfortable together," said Miss Ophelia, the maid
bringing her special little pot of tea.

"I am so mortified, my dear Miss Clemcy," began Miss Anstice, her little
hands nervously working, "to have given way;" all of which she had said
over and over to her hostess in the chintz-covered room. "And you are so
kind to overlook it so beautifully."

"It is impossible to blame one of your delicate sensibility," said Miss
Ophelia; with her healthy English composure, quite in her element to
have some one to fuss over, and to make comfortable in her own way.
"Now, then, I trust that tea is quite right," handing her a cup.

XXIV THE PIECE OF NEWS

"Pepper, you're wanted!" Dick Furness banged into Joel's room, then out
again, adding two words, "Harrow--immediately."

"All right," said Joel, whistling on; all his thoughts upon "Moose
Island" and the expedition there on the morrow. And he ran lightly down
to the second floor, and into the under-teacher's room.

Mr. Harrow was waiting for him; and pushing aside some books, for he
never seemed to be quite free from them even for a moment, he motioned
Joel to a seat.

Joel, whose pulses were throbbing with the liveliest expectations,
didn't bother his head with what otherwise might have struck him as
somewhat queer in the under-teacher's manner. For the thing in hand was
what Joel principally gave himself to. And as that clearly could be
nothing else than the "Moose Island expedition," it naturally followed
that Mr. Harrow had to speak twice before he could gain his attention.

But when it was gained, there was not the slightest possible chance of
misunderstanding what the under-teacher was saying, for it was the habit
of this instructor to come directly to the point without unnecessary
circumlocution.

But his voice and manner were not without a touch of sadness on this
occasion that softened the speech itself.

"Joel, my boy," Mr. Harrow began, "you know I have often had you down
here to urge on those lessons of yours."

"Yes, sir," said Joel, wondering now at the voice and manner.

"Well, now to-day, I am instructed by the master to send for you for a
different reason. Can you not guess?"

"No, sir," said Joel, comfortable in the way things had been going on,
and wholly unable to imagine the blow about to fall.

"I wish you had guessed it, Joel," said Mr. Harrow, moving uneasily in
his chair, "for then you would have made my task easier. Joel, Dr. Marks
says, on account of your falling behind in your lessons, without
reason--understand this, Joel, _without reason_--you are not to go to
Moose Island to-morrow."

Even then Joel did not comprehend. So Mr. Harrow repeated it distinctly.

"_What!_" roared Joel. In his excitement he cleared the space between
them, and gained Mr. Harrow's side. "_Not go to Moose Island, Mr.
Harrow_?" his black eyes widening, and his face working fearfully.

"No," said Mr. Harrow, drawing a long breath, "you are not to go; so Dr.
Marks says."

"But I _must_ go," cried Joel, quite gone in passion.

"'Must' is a singular word to use here, Joel," observed Mr. Harrow
sternly.

"But I--oh, Mr. Harrow, do see if you can't help me to go." Joel
squirmed all over, and even clutched the under-teacher's arm piteously.

"Alas, Joel! it is beyond my power." Mr. Harrow shook his head. He
didn't think it necessary to state that he had already used every
argument he could employ to induce Dr. Marks to change his mind. "Some
strong pressure must be brought to bear upon Pepper, or he will amount
to nothing but an athletic lad. He must see the value of study," the
master had responded, and signified that the interview was ended, and
his command was to be carried out.

"Joel,"--Mr. Harrow was speaking--"be a man, and bear this as _you_ can.
You've had your chances for study, and not taken them. It is a case of
_must_ now. Remember, Dr. Marks is doing this in love to you. He has got
to fit you out as well as he can in this school, to take that place in
life that your mother wants you to fill. Don't waste a moment on vain
regrets, but buckle to your studies now."

It was a long speech for the under-teacher, and he had a hard time
getting through with it. At its end, Joel, half dazed with his
misfortune, but with a feeling that as a man, Dr. Marks and Mr. Harrow
had treated him, hurried back to his room, dragged his chair up to the
table, and pushing off the untidy collection of rackets, tennis balls,
boxing gloves, and other implements of his gymnasium work and his
recreation hours, lent his whole heart with a new impulse to his task.

Somehow he did not feel like crying, as had often been the case with
previous trials. "He said, 'Be a man,'" Joel kept repeating over and
over to himself, while the words of his lesson swam before his eyes.
"And so I will; and he said, Dr. Marks had got to make me as Mamsie
wanted me to be," repeated Joel to himself, taking a shorter cut with
the idea. "And so I will be." And he leaned his elbows on the table,
bent his head over his book, and clutching his stubby crop by both hands
and holding on tightly, he was soon lost to his misfortune and the
outside world.

"Hullo!" David stood still in amazement at Joel's unusual attitude over
his lesson. Then he reflected that he was making up extra work, to be
free for the holiday on the morrow. Notwithstanding the need of quiet,
David was so full of it that he couldn't refrain from saying jubilantly,
"Oh, what a great time we'll have to-morrow, Joe!" giving him a pound on
the back.

"I'm not going," said Joel, without raising his head.

David ran around his chair to look at him from the further side, then
peered under the bunch of curls Joel was hanging to.

"What's--what's the matter, Joe?" he gasped, clutching the table.

"Dr. Marks says I'm not to go," said Joel, telling the whole at once.

"_Dr. Marks said you were not to go!_" repeated David. "Why, Joel,
why?" he demanded in a gasp.

"I haven't studied; I'm way behind. Let me alone," cried Joel. "I've got
a perfect lot to make up," and he clutched harder than ever at his hair.

"Then _I_ shall not go," declared David, and rushing out of the room he
was gone before Joel could fly from his chair; which he did, upsetting
it after him.

"Dave--_Dave_!" he yelled, running out into the hall, in the face of a
stream of boys coming up from gymnasium practice.

"What's up, Pepper?" But he went through their ranks like a shot.
Nevertheless David was nowhere to be seen, as he had taken some short
cut, and was lost in the crowd.

Joel bent his steps to the under-teacher's room, knocked, and in his
excitement thought he heard, "Come in." And with small ceremony he
precipitated himself upon Mr. Harrow, who seemed to be lost in a revery,
his back to him, leaning his elbow on the mantel, and his head upon his
hand.

"Er--oh!" exclaimed Mr. Harrow, startled out of his usual composure, and
turning quickly to face Joel. "Oh, it's you, Pepper!" which by no means
lifted him out of his depression.

"Dave says he won't go without me. You must make him," said Joel, in his
intensity forgetting his manners.

"To Moose Island?" asked Mr. Harrow.

Joel nodded. He couldn't yet bring himself to speak the name.

"All right; I will, Joe." Mr. Harrow grasped the brown hand hanging by
Joel's side.

"Really?" said Joel, swallowing hard.

"Really. Run back to your books, and trust me."

So Joel dashed back, not minding the alluring cries from several chums,
"Come on--just time for a game before supper," and was back before his
table in the same attitude, and hanging to his hair.

"I can study better so," he said, and holding on for dear life.

One or two boys glanced in. "Come out of this hole," they cried. "No
need to study for to-morrow. Gee whiz! just think of Moose Island, Joe."

No answer.

"Joe!" They ran in and shook his shoulders. "Moose Island!" they
screamed, and the excitement with which the whole school was charged was
echoing it through the length of the dormitory.

"Go away," cried Joel at them, "or I'll fire something at you," as they
swarmed around his chair.

"Fire your old grammar," suggested one, trying to twitch away his book;
and another pulled the chair out from under him.

Joel sprawled a moment on the floor; then he sprang up, hanging to his
book, and faced them. "I'm not going. Clear out." And in a moment the
room was as still as if an invasion had never taken place. In their
astonishment they forgot to utter a word.

And in ten minutes the news was all over the playground and in all the
corridors, "Joe Pepper isn't going to Moose Island."

If they had said that the corner stone of the dormitory was shaky, the
amazement would not have been so great in some quarters; and the story
was not believed until they had it from Joe himself. Then amazement
changed to grief. Not to have Joe Pepper along, was to do away with half
the fun.

Percy ran up to him in the greatest excitement just before supper. "What
is it, Joe?" he cried. "The fellows are trying to say that you're not
going to Moose Island." He was red with running, and panted dreadfully.
"And Van is giving it to Red Hiller for telling such a whopper."

"Well, he needn't," said Joel, "for it's perfectly true. I'm not going."

Percy tried to speak; but what with running, and his astonishment, his
tongue flapped up idly against the roof of his mouth.

"Dr. Marks won't let me," said Joel, not mincing matters. "I've got to
study; so there's an end of it." But when Davie came in, a woe begone
figure, for Mr. Harrow had kept his promise, then was Joel's hardest
time. And he clenched his brown hands to keep the tears back then, for
David gave way to such a flood in the bitterness of his grief to go
without Joel, that for a time, Joel was in danger of utterly losing his
own self-control.

"I'm confounded glad." It was Jenk who said it to his small following;
and hearing it, Tom Beresford blazed at him. "If you weren't quite so
small, I'd knock you down."

"Well, I am glad,"--Jenk put a goodly distance between himself and Tom,
notwithstanding Tom's disgust at the idea of touching him--"for Pepper
is so high and mighty, it's time he was taken down," but a chorus of
yells made him beat a retreat.

Dr. Marks paced up and down his study floor, his head bent, his hands
folded behind him.

"It was the only way. No ordinary course could be taken with Pepper. It
had come to be imperative. It will make a man of him." He stepped to the
desk and wrote a few words, slipped them into an envelope, sealed and
addressed it.

"Joanna!" He went to the door and summoned a maid, the same one who had
shaken her broom at Joel when he rushed in with the dog. "Take this over
to the North Dormitory as quickly as possible." It seemed to be
especially necessary that haste be observed; and Dr. Marks, usually so
collected, hurried to the window to assure himself that his command was
obeyed.

Mrs. Fox took the note as Joanna handed it in, and sent it up at once,
as those were the orders from the master. It arrived just at the moment
when Joel was at the end of his self-mastery. He tore it open. "My boy,
knowing you as I do, I feel sure that you will be brave in bearing this.
It will help you to conquer your dislike for study and make a man of
you. Affectionately yours, H. L. Marks."

Joel swung the note up over his head, and there was such a glad ring to
his voice that David was too astonished to cry.

"See there!" Joel proudly shook it at him. "Read it, Dave."

So David seized it, and blinked in amazement.

"Dr. Marks has written to me," said Joel importantly, just as if David
hadn't the note before him. "And he says, 'Be a man,' just as Mr. Harrow
said, and, 'affectionately yours.' Now, what do you think of that, Dave
Pepper?"

David was so lost in the honor that had come to Joel, that the grief
that he was feeling in the thought of the expedition to be made to Moose
Island to-morrow without Joel, began to pale. He smiled and lifted his
eyes, lately so wet with tears. "Mamsie would like that note, Joe."

Tom Beresford rushed in without the formality of a knock, and gloomily
threw himself on the bed. "Poor Joe!" was written all over his long
face.

"Oh, you needn't, Tom," said Joel gaily, and prancing up and down the
room, "pity me, because I won't have it."

"It's pity for myself as well," said Tom lugubriously, and cramming the
pillow-end into his mouth. "What's a fellow to do without you, Joe?"
suddenly shying the pillow at Joel.

Joe caught it and shied it back, then twitched the master's note out of
David's hand. "Read it, Tom," he cried, with sparkling eyes.

"I'd much rather stay back with you, Joe," Tom was saying.

"Well, you won't," retorted Joel. "Dave tried that on, but it was no
good. Read it, I tell you." So Tom sat up on the bed, and spread Dr.
Marks' note on his knee.

"Great Cæsar's ghost! It's from the master himself! And what does he
say?" Tom rubbed his eyes violently, stared, and rushed over the few
sentences pellmell; then returned to take them slowly to be sure of
their meaning.

"Joe Pepper!" He got off from the bed.

"Isn't it great!" cried Joel. "Give me my note, Tom."

"I should say so!" cried Tom, bobbing his head. "I shouldn't in the
least mind being kept back from a few things, to get a note like that.
Think of it, Joe, from Dr. Marks!"

"I know it," cried Joel, in huge satisfaction. "Well, now, you must take
yourself off, Tom; I've got to study like a Trojan." He ran to the
closet, and came back with his arms full of books.

"All right," said Tom, shooting out. Then he shot back, gave Joel a
pat--by no means a light one;--"Success to you, old fellow!" and was
off, this time for good.

And Davie dreamed that night that Joel took first prize in everything
straight through; and that he himself was sailing, sailing, over an
interminable sea (going to Moose Island probably), under a ban never to
come back to Dr. Marks' school. And the first thing he knew, Joel was
pounding him and calling lustily, "Get up, Dave; you know you are to
start early."

And then all was bustle and confusion enough, as how could it be helped
with all those boys getting off on such an expedition?

And Joel was the brightest of them all, here, there, and everywhere! You
never would have guessed that he wasn't the leading spirit in the whole
expedition, and its bright particular star!

And he ran down to the big stone gate to see them off. And the boys
wondered; but there was no chance to pity him, with such a face. There
was only pity for themselves.

And somebody started, "Three cheers for Joe Pepper!" It wasn't the
under-teacher, but he joined with a right good will; and the whole crowd
took it up, as Joel ran back to tackle his books, pinching Dr. Marks'
letter in his pocket, to make sure it really was there!

Just about this time, Alexia Rhys was rushing to school. She was late,
for everything had gone wrong that morning from the very beginning. And
of course Polly Pepper had started for school, when Alexia called for
her; and feeling as if nothing mattered now, the corner was reached
despairingly, when she heard her name called.

It was an old lady who was a friend of her aunt's, and Alexia paused
involuntarily, then ran across the street to see what was wanted.

"Oh, my dear, I suppose I ought not to stop you, for you are going to
school."

"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Alexia indifferently; "I'm late anyway.
What is it, Miss Seymour?"

"I want to congratulate you--I _must_ congratulate you," exclaimed old
Miss Seymour, with an excited little cackle. "I really must, Alexia."

Alexia ran over in her mind everything for which she could, by any
possibility, be congratulated; and finding nothing, she said, "What
for?" quite abruptly.

"Oh, my dear! Haven't you heard?" Old Miss Seymour put her jewelled
fingers on the girl's shoulder. She had gathered up her dressy morning
robe in her hand, and hastened down her front steps at the first glimpse
of Alexia across the way.

Alexia knew of old the roundabout way pursued by her aunt's friend in
her narrations. Besides, she cared very little anyway for this bit of
old women's gossip. So she said carelessly, "No, I'm sure I haven't; and
I don't believe it's much anyway, Miss Seymour."

"'Much anyway?' oh, my dear!" Old Miss Seymour held up both hands.
"Well, what would you say if you should be told that your teacher was
going to be married?"

Alexia staggered backward and put up both hands. "Oh, don't, Miss
Seymour," she cried, the fears she had been lighting so many weeks now
come true. Then she burst out passionately, "Oh, it isn't true--it
_can't_ be!"

"Well, but it is," cried Miss Seymour positively. "I had it not ten
minutes since from a very intimate friend; and as you were the first
Salisbury girl I saw, why, I wanted to congratulate you, of course, as
soon as I could."

"Salisbury girl!" Alexia groaned as she thought how they should never
have that title applied to them any more; for of course the beautiful
school was doomed. "And where shall we all go?" she cried to herself in
despair.

"Oh, how could she go and get engaged!" she exclaimed aloud.

"You haven't asked who the man is," said Miss Seymour in surprise.

"Oh, I know--I know," said Alexia miserably; "it's Mr. John Clemcy. Oh,
if we hadn't had that old picnic!" she burst out.

"Eh--what?" exclaimed the little old lady quickly.

"Never mind. It doesn't signify who the man is. It doesn't signify about
anything," said Alexia wildly, "as long as Miss Salisbury is going to
get married and give up our school."

"Oh, I don't suppose the school will be given up," said Miss Seymour.

"What? Why, of course it will be. How can she keep it after she is
married?" cried Alexia impatiently. She longed to say, "you goose you!"

"Why, I suppose the other one will keep it, of course; and it will go on
just the same as it did before."

"Oh dear me! The idea of Miss Anstice keeping that school!" With all her
misery, Alexia couldn't help bursting into a laugh.

"Miss Anstice?"

"Yes; if you knew her as we girls do, Miss Seymour, you never'd say she
could run that school."

"I never said she could."

"Oh, yes, you did," Alexia was guilty of contradicting. "You said
distinctly that when Miss Salisbury was married, you supposed Miss
Anstice would keep it on just the same."

Little old Miss Seymour took three or four steps down the pavement, then
turned and trotted back, the dressy morning robe still gathered in her
hand.

"Who do you think is engaged to Mr. John Clemcy?" she asked, looking up
at the tall girl.

"Why, our Miss Salisbury," answered Alexia, ready to cry, "I suppose.
That's what you said."

"Oh, no, I didn't," said the little old lady. "It's Miss Anstice
Salisbury."

Alexia gave her one look; then took some flying steps across the street,
and away down to the Salisbury School. She met a stream of girls in the
front hall; and as soon as she saw their faces, she knew that her news
was all old.

And they could tell her something more.

"Miss Wilcox is going to be the assistant teacher," cried Amy Garrett.

"And Miss Salisbury announced it; why were you late, Alexia?" it was a
perfect buzz around her ears. "And then she dismissed school; and we're
all going down to the drawing-room now, to congratulate Miss Anstice."

Alexia worked her way to Polly Pepper and clung to her.

"Oh, Alexia, you've got here!" cried Polly delightedly. "And only think,
we can keep our Miss Salisbury after all."

XXV "THE VERY PRETTIEST AFFAIR"

And Mr. John Clemcy, having put off any inclination to marry till so
late in life, was, now that he had made his choice, in a ferment to
hurry its consummation. And Miss Ophelia, who was still to keep the
house and run the old-fashioned flower garden to suit herself--thus
losing none of her honors--and being in her element, as has been stated,
with some one "to fuss over" (her self-contained brother not yielding
her sufficient occupation in that line), begged that the wedding might
take place soon. So there was really no reason on earth why it should
not be celebrated, and Miss Wilcox be installed as assistant, and thus
all things be in running order for the new year at the Salisbury School.

"And they say he has heaps of money--Mr. Clemcy has," cried Alexia, in
the midst of the excitement of the next few days, when everybody was
trying to adjust themselves to this new condition of affairs. A lot of
the girls were up in Polly Pepper's room. "And it's an awful old family
back of him in England," she went on, "though for my part, I'd rather
have something to do with making my name myself."

"Oh, Alexia," cried Clem, "think of all those perfectly elegant old
family portraits!"

"Mouldy old things!" exclaimed Alexia, who had small reverence for such
things. "I should be ashamed of them, if I were Mr. John Clemcy and his
sister. They don't look as if they knew anything to begin with; and such
arms and hands, and impossible necks! Oh my! It quite gives me a turn to
look at them."

"We are quite distinguished--the Salisbury School is," said Silvia, with
an elegant manner, and a toss of her head. "My mother says it will be
splendid capital to Miss Salisbury to have such a connection."

"And, oh, just think of Miss Anstice's engagement ring!" exclaimed
another girl. "Oh my, on her little thin finger!"

"It's awful old-fashioned," cried Silvia, "set in silver. But then, it's
big, and a _very_ pure stone, my mother says; and quite shows that the
family must have been something, for it is an heirloom."

"Oh, do stop about family and heirlooms," cried Alexia impatiently; "the
main thing is that our Miss Salisbury isn't going to desert us."

"Miss Anstice is; oh, goody!" Amy Garrett hopped up and down and softly
beat her hands while she finished the sentence.

"Hush!" Alexia turned on her suddenly. "Now, Amy, and the rest of you
girls, I think we ought to stop this nonsense about Miss Anstice; she's
going, and I, maybe, haven't treated her just rightly."

"Of course you haven't," assented Clem coolly. "You've worried her life
nearly out of her."

"And oh, dear me! I'm sorry now,"--said Alexia, not minding in the least
what Clem was saying. "I wonder why it is that I'm forever being sorry
about things."

"Because you're forever having your own way," said Clem; "I'll tell
you."

"And so I'm going to be nice to her now," said Alexia, with a perfectly
composed glance at Clem. "Let's all be, girls. I mean, behind her back."

Polly Pepper ran over across the room to slip her arm within Alexia's,
and give her a little approving pat.

"It will be so strange not to make fun of her," observed Amy Garrett,
"but I suppose we can't now, anyway, that she is to be Mrs. John
Clemcy."

"Mrs. John Clemcy, indeed!" exclaimed Alexia, standing very tall. "She
was just as nice before, as sister of our Miss Salisbury, I'd have you
to know, girls."

"Well, now what are we to give her as a wedding present?" said Polly
Pepper. "You know we, as the committee, ought to talk it over at once.
Let's sit down on the floor in a ring and begin."

"Yes," said Alexia; "now all flop." And setting the example, she got
down on the floor; and the girls tumbling after, the ring was soon
formed.

"Hush now, do be quiet, Clem, if you can," cried Alexia, to pay up old
scores.

"I guess I'm not making as much noise as some other people," said Clem,
with a wry face.

"Well, Polly's going to begin; and as she's chairman, we've all got to
be still as mice. Hush!"

"I think," said Polly, "the best way would be, instead of wasting so
much time in talking, and--"

"Getting into a hubbub," interpolated Alexia.

"Who's talking now," cried Clem triumphantly, "and making a noise?"

"Getting in confusion," finished Polly, "would be, for us each to write
out the things that Miss Anstice might like, on a piece of paper,
without showing it to any of the other girls; then pass them in to me,
and I'll read them aloud. And perhaps we'll choose something out of all
the lists."

"Oh, Polly, how fine!--just the thing."

"I'll get the paper."

"And the pencils." The ring was in a hubbub; Alexia, as usual, the first
to hop out of her place.

"Sit down, girls," said Polly as chairman. So they all flew back again.

"There, you see now," said Alexia, huddling expeditiously into her place
next to Polly, "how no one can stir till the chairman tells us to."

"Who jumped first of all?" exclaimed Clem, bursting into a laugh.

"Well, I'm back again, anyhow," said Alexia coolly, and folding her
hands in her lap.

"I'll appoint Lucy Bennett and Silvia Horne to get the paper and
pencils," said Polly. "They are on my desk, girls."

Alexia smothered the sigh at her failure to be one of the girls to
perform this delightful task; but the paper being brought, she soon
forgot her disappointment, in having something to do.

"We must all tear it up into strips," said the chairman, and, beginning
on a sheet, "Lucy, you can be giving around the pencils."

And presently the whole committee was racking its brains over this
terribly important question thrust upon them.

"It must be something that will always reflect credit on the Salisbury
School," observed Alexia, leaning her chin on her hand while she played
with her pencil.

"Ugh! do be still." Lucy, on the other side, nudged her. "I can't think,
if anybody speaks a word."

"And fit in well with those old portraits," said Clem, with a look at
Alexia.

"Well, I hope and pray that we won't give her anything old. I want it
spick, span, new; and to be absolutely up-to-date." Alexia took her chin
out of her hand, and sat up decidedly. "The idea of matching up those
mouldy old portraits!--and that house just bursting with antiques."

"Ugh! do hush," cried the girls.

"And write what you want to, Alexia, on your own slip, and keep still,"
said Silvia, wrinkling her brows; "you just put something out of my
head; and it was perfectly splendid."

"But I can't think of a thing that would be good enough," grumbled
Alexia, "for the Salisbury School to give. Oh dear me!" and she regarded
enviously the other pencils scribbling away.

"My list is done." Amy Garrett pinched hers into a little three-cornered
note, and threw it into Polly's lap.

"And mine--and mine." They all came in fast in a small white shower.

"Oh my goodness!" exclaimed Alexia, much alarmed that she would be left
out altogether. "Wait, Chairman--I mean, Polly," and she began
scribbling away for dear life.

"Oh dear me!" The chairman unfolded the first strip, and began to read.
"A piano--why, girls, Miss Anstice can't play."

"Well, it would look nice in that great big drawing-room," said Clem,
letting herself out with a very red face.

"Oh, my! you wrote _a piano_!" Alexia went over backward suddenly to
lie flat on the floor and laugh. "Besides, there is one in that house."

"An old thing!" exclaimed Clem in disdain.

"Well, let's see; here's something nice"--Polly ran along the list--"a
handsome chair, a desk, a cabinet. Those are fine!"

"Clem has gone into the furniture business, I should think," said
Philena.

"And a cabinet!" exclaimed Amy Garrett, "when that house is just full of
'em."

"Oh, I mean a jewel cabinet, or something of that sort," explained Clem
hastily.

"That's not bad," announced Silvia, "for I suppose he'll give her all
the rest of those heirlooms; great strings of pearls probably he's got,
and everything else. Dear me, don't I wish we girls could see them!" and
she lost herself in admiration over the fabulous Clemcy jewels.

"Well, Chairman--Polly, I mean"--Alexia flew into position--"what's the
next list?"

"This is quite different," said Polly, unrolling it; "some handsome
lace, a fan, a lorgnette, a bracelet."

"It's easy enough to see that's Silvia's," said Alexia--"all that finery
and furbelows."

"Well, it's not fair to tell what you think and guess," said Silvia, a
pink spot coming on either check.

"'Twouldn't make any difference, my guessing; we all know it's yours,
Silvia," said Alexia, coolly.

"Well, I think that's a lovely list," said Amy, with sparkling eyes,
"and I for one would be willing to vote for any of those things."

"My mother says we better give her something to wear," said Silvia,
smoothing down her gown. "Miss Anstice likes nice things; and that great
big house is running over with everything to furnish with."

Polly was reading the third list, so somebody pulled Alexia's arm and
stopped her. "A watch and chain--that's all there is on this list,"
announced Polly.

"Oh!"--there was a chorus of voices--"that's it--that's it!" and "Why
didn't I think of that?" until the whole ring was in a tumult again.

It was no matter what was on the other lists. The chairman read them
over faithfully, but the items fell upon dull ears. They might make
suitable tributes for other brides; there was but one mind about the
present for this particular bride going forth from the Salisbury
School. The watch and chain was the only gift to be thought of.

"And she wears that great big old-fashioned thing," declared Silvia;
"looks like a turnip--oh, oh!"

"And I do believe that's always made her so impressive and scarey
whenever she got into that black silk gown," said Amy Garrett. "I never
thought of it before; but it was that horrible old watch and chain."

"Girls," said the chairman, "I do really believe that it would be the
very best thing that we could possibly give her. And now I'm going to
tell who it was who chose it."

"Do--oh, do!" The whole ring came together in a bunch, as the girls all
crowded around Polly.

"Alexia!" Then Polly turned and gave a loving little pat on the long
back.

"Don't," said Alexia, shrinking away from the shower of congratulations
on having made the best choice, and thought of the very thing that was
likely to unite the whole school on a gift. "It's nothing. I couldn't
help but write it. It was the only thing I thought of."

"Well; it was just as clever in you as could be, so there now!" Clem
nodded over at her, and buried all animosity at once.

"And think how nice it will be, when it's all engraved inside the case
with what we want to say," said Polly, with shining eyes.

"And a great big monogram outside," said Silvia, with enthusiasm, "and
one of those twisted chains--oh, how fine!" She shook out her silver
bracelets till they jingled all her enthusiasm; and the entire committee
joining, the vote was taken to propose to the rest of the "Salisbury
girls," on the morrow, the gift of a watch and chain to the future Mrs.
John Clemcy.

And the watch and chain was unanimously chosen by the "Salisbury girls"
as the gift of all gifts they wanted to bestow upon their teacher on her
wedding day; and they all insisted that Polly Pepper should write the
inscription; so there it was, engraved beautifully on the inner side of
the case: "Anstice Salisbury, with the loving regard of her pupils." And
there was a beautiful big monogram on the outside; and the long chain
was double and twisted, and so handsome that Silvia's mother protested
she hadn't a word to say but the very highest praise!

Oh, and the presentation of it came about quite differently from what
was expected, after all. For the gift was to be sent with a little note,
representing the whole school, and written, as was quite proper, by
Polly Pepper, the chairman of the committee. But Miss Salisbury, to whom
the precious parcel had been intrusted, said suddenly, "Why don't you
give it to her yourselves, girls?"

It was, of course, the place of the chairman of the committee to speak.
So Polly said, "Oh, would she like to have us, Miss Salisbury?"

"Yes, my dears. I know she would. She feels badly to go and leave you
all, you know," and there were tears in the blue eyes that always looked
so kindly on them. "And it would be a very lovely thing for you to do,
if you would like to."

"We should _love_ to do it," cried Polly warmly. "May we go now, dear
Miss Salisbury?"

"Yes," said Miss Salisbury, very much pleased; "she is in the red
parlor."

So the committee filed into the red parlor. There sat Miss Anstice,
and--oh dear me!--Mr. John Clemcy!

There was no time to retreat; for Miss Salisbury, not having heard Mr.
Clemcy come in, was at the rear of the procession of girls. "Here, my
dears--Anstice, the girls particularly want to see you--oh!" and then
she saw Mr. John Clemcy.

Miss Anstice, who seemed to have dropped all her nervousness lately,
saved the situation by coming forward and greeting them warmly; and when
Mr. John Clemcy saw how it was, he went gallantly to the rescue, and was
so easy and genial, and matter-of-course, that the committee presently
felt as if a good part of their lives had been passed in making
presentations, and that they were quite up to that sort of thing.

And Polly made a neat little speech as she handed her the packet; and
Miss Anstice's eyes filled with tears of genuine regret at leaving them,
and of delight at the gift.

"Girls, do you know"--could it be Miss Anstice who was talking with so
much feeling in her voice?--"I used to imagine that you didn't love me."

"Oh, that could never be!" cried Mr. Clemcy.

"And I got so worried and cross over it. But now I know you did, and
that I was simply tired; for I never could teach like sister,"--she
cast her a loving glance--"and I didn't really love my work. And, do you
know, the thing I've longed for all my life was a watch and chain like
this? Oh girls, I shall love it always!"

She threw the chain around her neck; and laid the little watch gently
against her cheek.

"Oh!" It was Alexia who pressed forward. "You'll forgive us all, won't
you, Miss Anstice, if we didn't love you enough?"

"When I want to forgive, I'll look at my dear watch," said Miss Anstice
brightly, and smiling on them all.

"'Twas that horrible old black silk gown that made her so," exclaimed
Alexia, as they all tumbled off down the hall in the greatest
excitement. "You see how sweet she is now, in that white one."

"And the red rose in her belt," said Clem.

"And her diamond ring," added Silvia.

"And we're different, too," said Clem. "Maybe we wouldn't love to teach
a lot of girls any better either, if we had to."

"Well, and now there's the wedding!" exclaimed Amy Garrett, clasping her
hands, "oh!"

"What richness!" finished Alexia.

And everybody said it was "the very prettiest affair; and so
picturesque!" "And those dear Salisbury girls--how sweet they looked, to
be sure!" Why, St. John's blossomed out like a veritable garden, just
with that blooming company of girls; to say nothing of the exquisite
flowers, and ropes of laurel, and palms, and the broad white satin
ribbons to divide the favored ones from the mere acquaintances.

"And what a lovely thought to get those boys from the Pemberton School
for ushers, with Jasper King as their leader!"

They all made such a bright, youthful picture, to be followed by the
chosen eight of the "Salisbury girls," the very committee who presented
the gift to the bride-elect. There they were in their simple white gowns
and big white hats.

And then came the little assistant teacher of the Salisbury School, in
her pearl gray robe; singularly enough, not half so much embarrassed as
she had often been in walking down the long schoolroom before the girls.

And Mr. John Clemcy never thought of such a thing as embarrassment at
all; but stood up in his straightforward, manly, English composure, to
take his vows that bound him to the little school-teacher. And Miss
Salisbury, fairly resplendent in her black velvet gown, had down deep
within her heart a childlike satisfaction in it all. "Dear Anstice was
happy," and somehow the outlook for the future, with Miss Wilcox for
assistant teacher, was restful for one whose heart and soul were bound
up in her pupils' advancement.

Miss Ophelia Clemcy blossomed out from her retirement, and became quite
voluble, in the front pew before the wedding procession arrived.

"You see, it was foreordained to be," she announced, as she had before
declared several times to the principal of the Salisbury School. "The
first moment he saw her, Brother John was fully convinced that here was
a creature of the greatest sensibility, and altogether charming. And, my
dear Miss Salisbury, I am only commonplace and practical, you know; so
it is all as it should be, and suits me perfectly. And we will always
keep the anniversary of that picnic, that blessed day, won't we?"

And old Mr. King invited the eight ushers from the Pemberton School and
the committee from the Salisbury School to a little supper to top off
the wedding festivities. And Grandpapa sat at the head of the table,
with Mother Fisher at the other end, and Dr. Fisher and Mrs. Whitney
opposite in the centre. And there were wedding toasts and little
speeches; and everybody got very jolly and festive. And the little
doctor looked down to the table end where he could see his wife's eyes.
"It reminds me very much of our own wedding day, wife," his glance said.
And she smiled back in such a way as to fill him with great content.

"And wasn't that reception in the school parlors too perfectly beautiful
for anything!" cried Polly Pepper, in a lull, for about the fiftieth
time the remark had been made.

"Yes, and didn't Alexia make an awful blunder with her paper of rice!"
said Clem sweetly.

"I can't help it," said Alexia, nowise disturbed; "the old paper burst,
and I had to put it in my handkerchief. You couldn't expect me, girls,
to keep my wits after that."

"Well, you needn't have spilt it all over Miss Anstice's bonnet," said
Philena, laughing.

"Mrs. Clemcy's, you mean," corrected Jasper.

"Oh dear me! I never shall get used to her new name," declared Philena.

"And I think I got my rice deposited as well as some of the rest of you
girls," declared Alexia airily.

"Mine struck Mr. Clemcy full in the eye," said Silvia; "then I ducked
behind Polly Pepper."

"Oh, that was a great way to do!" exclaimed Jasper.

"Oh, I saw her," said Polly, with a little laugh, "and I jumped away;
and Mr. Clemcy saw her, too."

"Horrors!" cried Silvia. "Did he? Oh, I'm frightened to death! What did
he look like, Polly?"

"Oh, he laughed," said Polly.

Just then came a ring at the doorbell, sharp and sudden.

"What is going to happen?" cried Polly, her face like a rose.
"Everything has been beautiful to-day; and now I just know something
perfectly lovely is coming to finish off with."

"A telegram, sir." Johnson held out a long yellow envelope to Mr. King.

"It's for Mrs. Fisher," said the old gentleman.

So the yellow envelope went down the table-length, the color going out
of Polly's cheek; and she didn't dare to look at Mamsie's eyes.

"Oh--the boys!" gasped Polly. "Jasper, do you suppose?"--What, she
didn't finish; for Mother Fisher just then cried out, and passed the
yellow sheet to the little doctor. "Read it aloud," was all she said.
But how her black eyes shone!

"David took first prize classics. I'm picking up a bit. JOEL PEPPER."

THE END.

[Transcriber's Note: Page 115, last paragraph, added the word "it".

"and bring up to my house"    "and bring it up to my house"]

End of Project Gutenberg's Five Little Peppers at School, by Margaret Sidney