Five Little Peppers Grown Up

by Margaret Sidney

  CHAPTER XX.

  STRAIGHTENING OUT AFFAIRS.

  Two days after, old Mr. King was walking over the college campus, boundfor Joel's and David's room in the "Old Brick Dormitory."

  "I am glad I sent Jasper ahead to the hotel; I much rather pop in on theboys by myself," soliloquized the old gentleman in great satisfaction."Ah, here it is," beginning to mount the stairs.

  "Come in," yelled a voice, as he rapped with his walking-stick on thedoor of No. 19, "and don't make such a piece of work breaking the doordown--oh, beg pardon!" as Mr. King obeyed the order.

  A tall figure sprawled in the biggest chair, his long legs carried up tothe mantel, where his boots neatly reposed; while a cloud of smokefilling the room, made Mr. King cough violently in spite of himself.

  "'Tis a nasty air," said the tall young man, getting his legs down inhaste from the mantel, and himself out of the chair, though with muchdifficulty; "take a glass of water, sir," hobbling over to a side table,and pouring one out, to work his way with it to old Mr. King.

  "Thank you," said the old gentleman, when he could speak, and acceptingit quickly, "you say truly, the air is beastly," glancing around theroom in displeasure at the plentiful signs of its inmates' idea ofhaving a good time at college. "Are Joel and David Pepper soon to bein?" As he spoke, he lifted up the cover of a French novel thrown on thelounge near him, and dropped it quickly as he read the title.

  "Hey? oh! I see--a little mistake," exclaimed the tall youth, goingunsteadily back to his chair. "Their room is 19, in the extension. I amRobert Bingley, sir."

  "I'm very glad," cried old Mr. King heartily, "for I don't mind tellingyou, my young friend, that I shouldn't want Joel's and David's room tolook like this."

  "I don't blame you in the least, sir," said Bingley, nowise abashed,"but you needn't worry, for the Peppers aren't my kind. You must beGrandfather King?" he added.

  "Yes, I am," said old Mr. King, straightening up, and throwing back hiswhite hair with a proud gesture. "So you've heard about me?" he asked,in a gratified way.

  "I should rather think we had," said Bingley, "why, all of us know aboutyou, sir." Here he got out of his chair again. "You won't care to, afteryou know all, but I should like to shake hands with you, sir."

  "Most certainly," responded the old gentleman heartily, "although yourroom isn't to your credit." Thereupon he bestowed a courtly hand-shakeupon the young man, with the utmost cordiality, making Bingley, whoseemed to have a good deal of trouble with his legs, to retreat to hischair in a high state of satisfaction.

  "It was mean of me to ask you such a favor, sir," said Bingley, gazingup at the ceiling, "before I had told you all, but I couldn't help it,some way, and I knew you wouldn't touch my hand after you'd heard. Well,I was one of a gang who went to Joe Pepper's room last week for thepurpose of lamming him."

  "You went to Joe Pepper's room for the purpose of lamming him?" repeatedold Mr. King, darting out of his chair.

  "Yes, sir"--Bingley still kept his gaze glued to the ceiling--"but wedidn't do it, though; Joe lammed us."

  "Oh!"

  "So the rest of the gang are going for him to-night; I'm not able to,"said Bingley, trying to appear careless.

  "Joel to be in such business--how could he!" fumed old Mr. King. "Agentleman--and I thought so much of his turning out well. It will killhis mother--oh, how could he?" turning fiercely on Bingley.

  "See here, now," cried that individual, tearing his gaze from theceiling, to send a sharp glance at the white-haired old gentleman, "Joeis all right; straight as a brick. You can bet your money on that, sir."

  "Oh--oh!" cried Mr. King, more and more horrified, "is this what you allcome to college for? I should consider, sir," very sternly, "it a placeto keep up the dignity of one's family in, and that of such a venerableinstitution," waving both shapely hands to include the entire pile ofbuildings by which they were surrounded.

  Bingley gave vent to an uncontrollable laugh. "Beg pardon, sir, but thedignity isn't worth a rush. We are in the old hole, and all we look outfor is to have a good time, and scrape through."

  "Old hole--and scrape through! Oh, dear--oh, dear!" groaned old Mr.King.

  "That's what our set do," said Bingley, to give him time to recover,"Joe and Davina--ah, I mean David--don't train in our crowd; the otherone, Whitney"--

  "Don't tell me that he does," interrupted Percy's grandfather sharply."It wouldn't be possible."

  "No, he doesn't affect us," said Bingley coolly, "it's all he can do totake care of those eyeglasses of his; and he'd muss his clothes. Whitneyis something of a softy, sir."

  Old Mr. King drew a long breath of relief. But he looked so troubled,that Bingley for the life of him couldn't keep up his assumedcarelessness.

  "Sit down again, do, sir," he begged involuntarily, "and I will tell youall about it," and Mr. King, resuming his chair, presently had a graphicaccount of Joel's course in college, with a description of the troublein his room, till the whole thing was laid bare.

  "How I wish I had been here to see my boy," exclaimed the old gentleman,with sparkling eyes; "I might have helped him a bit." He stretched out ahandsome fist and looked at it as admiringly as any college athletecould view his own. "Well," dropping his arm, "I am interrupting you,Mr."--groping for the name.

  "Bingley, sir."

  "Ah, yes; Bingley. Well, Mr. Bingley, pray go on. Did you not say thatanother attempt was to be made on my grandson?"

  Bingley nodded. "To-night after he comes from the Association rooms," headded.

  "We shall see--we shall see," exclaimed the old gentleman drily, in amanner that delighted Bingley and made him tingle all over to "be in atthe death" himself.

  "Dobbs has planned it to"--

  "Dobbs?" interrupted the old gentleman sharply, "what family? Not theIngoldsby Dobbs, I trust"--

  "This chap's name is Ingoldsby Dobbs," said Bingley; "he's a high-flyer,I tell you! Lives up to his name, I suppose he thinks."

  "Oh, I'm so sorry," mourned Mr. King; "I have known his father eversince we were boys; he's capital stock. Well, go on, Mr. Bingley, andlet me know what this young rascal is up to," he added, with extremeirritation.

  "He is going to have his men close in on Joe in the middle of the park.Pepper often comes that way to 'Old Brick'--short, you know, for 'OldBrick Dormitory'--with a poor miserable cuss--excuse me, sir--he'strying to get up on to sober legs. There are twenty fellows pledged todo the job, I've found out."

  Bingley didn't think it worth while to mention how the plan wasdiscovered, nor that heavy vengeance was vowed upon his head if hedivulged it.

  "I gave it away to Whitney. I couldn't get at Davi--er, Dave, to see ifit wasn't possible to keep Joe away from that meeting."

  "It would come some time--it better be to-night," said the old gentlemanbriefly. "Well, is that all?"

  "Yes, sir; only that they are to toss a cloak over Joe's head, and carryhim off for a little initiation fun."

  "Ah!" Old Mr. King sat quite straight. "Thank you, Mr. Bingley," hesaid, getting out of his chair. He didn't offer to shake hands, andBingley, though pretending not to notice any omission of that sort, feltconsiderably crest-fallen about it.

  The moment the door was shut and he heard Mr. King go down the stairs,Robert Bingley ran his fingers through his hair, giving a savage pull atthe innocent locks.

  "Curse my luck!" he growled, taking out the angry fingers to shake themat his legs, "tied here by these two beggars, and he thinks that I'msneaking out of standing up for Joe!"

  Old Mr. King fumed to himself all the way down the stairs, becoming moreangry with each step. When he reached the lower hall he turned andpassed through the building instead of going out, and meeting a youngcollegian on a run, asked, "Have the goodness to tell me, sir, does Mr.Ingoldsby Dobbs room in this building?"

  "No. 23-4-5 in the extension," said the undergraduate, not slackeningspeed, and pointing the direction. So the old gentleman climbed thestaircase to the wing, and presently rapped on
the door marked 23.

  Uproarious shouts of laughter greeted him as he opened the door inresponse to a loud "Come in!" The noise stopped as suddenly as it waspossible for the inmates of the room to check it when they saw thevisitor, but not before "We'll season Pepper well and make the deaconhowl!" came distinctly to his ears.

  "Good afternoon, young gentlemen," said old Mr. King, bowing his whitehead; and holding his hat in his hand, he advanced to the table, aroundwhich sat six or eight of them. "I beg of you not to go," as some ofthem made a sudden movement to leave; "I should like to see you all,though I called especially upon Mr. Ingoldsby Dobbs."

  A tall, wiry youth with sallow face and high-bred nose, disentangledhimself from the group and came forward. "I don't remember where I havemet you, sir," he said, yet extending his hand, with his best manner on.

  "Aristocratic old party," whispered one man to his neighbor, "Dobbseyneedn't be afraid to claim him."

  "I am very thankful to say I never have met you before, young man,"observed Mr. King coolly, not seeing the slender hand waiting for his,"your father honors me with his friendship. This may tell you who I am,"and he threw a card upon the table.

  Young Dobbs' sallow face turned a shade paler as he picked up the cardand read it.

  "Glad to see you--sit down, won't you?" he mumbled, dragging up acomfortable chair. "Any friend of father's is welcome here," he went onawkwardly, while the rest of the men stared at him, one of themexclaiming under his breath, "First time Dobbs' cheek deserted him, I'llwager."

  The old gentleman looked first into Ingoldsby Dobbs' thin face, thensurveyed them all quite leisurely. "I understand you paid my grandson,Joel Pepper, a call a short time since, when instead of abusing him,some of you got your deserts."

  The men started, and angry exclamations went around the room: "He'sturned coward, the mean sneak! We'll pay him up!" and remarks of a likenature being quite audible.

  Old Mr. King turned on them. "Silence!" he commanded. "My grandson Joeldoesn't know I am here. I heard the story since my arrival. If any onesays one word against him, I'll cane him from the top of the stairs tothe bottom," and he looked as if he could do it.

  "'Twas Bingley, then," said Dobbs sullenly.

  The old gentleman completely ignored him, addressing his words to thecrowd. "There are four men in this class who are going to be protectedfrom your insults. Those are my three grandsons and Mr. Robert Bingley;and this is to be done without appealing to the college authoritieseither. That puts a stop to your fine plan, Mr. Dobbs," at last lookingat him, "and any other idea of the same sort your fertile brain maychance to think up. The first intimation of any hostility, and yourfather and the fathers of these men here with you," waving his hand atthem all, "and of the others in this interesting plan, will be informed,and you will be dealt with exactly like any other disturber of thepeace--villains in college or out of it ought to be served to the samepunishment, in my opinion. Now have any of you remarks to make?"

  It was so like Joel's invitation to "Come on and have it out now," thatnot a single man of them stirred.

  "Then I will have the pleasure of bidding you good-by," said Mr. King,and the next moment he was outside of No. 23, while perfect silencereigned within.

  Polly came slowly down Mrs. Higby's front stairs and looked at Phronsiestanding at the further end of the entry.

  "What's the matter, Phronsie?" at last she asked.

  For the first time in her life Phronsie seemed unable to answer Polly,and she stood quite still, her gaze fastened on the big-flowered muslincurtain that swung back and forth in the breeze that came through theopen window.

  "Now, Phronsie," said Polly very decidedly, and going up to her, "youmust tell me what the matter is."

  "I can't," said Phronsie, in a low tone, "don't ask me, Polly."

  "Can't tell me everything?" cried Polly. "Dear me, what nonsense,Phronsie. Come now, begin, there's a dear."

  "But I am not to tell," persisted Phronsie, shaking her head. Then shedrew a long breath, and looked as if she were going to cry.

  "Who has been telling you things?" cried Polly, her brown eyes flashing,"that you are not to tell? It is Mrs. Cabot. I know it is, for there isno one else here who would do it."

  "Don't ask me," pleaded Phronsie in great distress, and clutchingPolly's gown. "Oh, don't say anything more about it, Polly."

  "Indeed I shall," declared Polly. "No one has a right to command you inthis way, and I shall just speak to Mrs. Cabot about it."

  "Oh, no, no," protested Phronsie, huddling up closer to Polly in dismay;"please, Polly, don't say anything to her about it, please."

  "Mamsie wouldn't ever allow you to be annoyed about anything," saidPolly, with increasing irritation, "and if Mrs. Cabot has said anythingto you, Phronsie, to make you feel badly, why, I must know it. Don't yousee, child, that I really ought to be told?"

  Phronsie folded her hands tightly together, trying to keep them quiet,and her cheeks turned so very white that Polly hastened to put her wellarm around her, saying quickly, "There, there, child, you needn't tellme now if you don't want to. Wait a bit."

  "I had rather tell it now," said Phronsie, "but oh, I do wish thatGrandpapa was here," she added sadly.

  "Whatever can have been said to you, Phronsie?" exclaimed Polly indismay. "You frighten me, child. Do tell me at once what it was."

  "Jasper isn't going to be at Mr. Marlowe's any more," said Phronsie,with distinctness.

  "Jasper isn't going to be at Mr. Marlowe's any more." repeated Pollywildly, and holding Phronsie so closely that she winced. "Oh, what doyou mean! who has told you such nonsense?"

  "Mrs. Cabot," said Phronsie; "she told me this morning--and I was not totell you, Polly. But I did not promise not to. Indeed I didn't."

  "What perfect nonsense!" exclaimed Polly, recovering herself, and tryingto laugh, "well, Phronsie, child, didn't you know better than to believeany story that Mrs. Cabot might tell? How in the world could she know ofJasper's affairs, pray tell?" and she laughed again, this time quitegaily.

  "Ah, but," said Phronsie, shaking her head, "she had a letter from Mr.Cabot; it came in this morning's mail; she opened it and said out loudthis dreadful thing about Jasper, and then she saw me, and she said Iwas not to tell you."

  Polly dropped Phronsie's arm and rushed down the hall.

  "Where are you going?" cried Phronsie, hurrying after--"Oh, Polly!"

  "I am going to make Mrs. Cabot tell me everything she knows," said Pollyhoarsely, and not looking back; "she shall let me have every syllable.It can't be true!" She threw wide the door of Mrs. Higby's"keeping-room" where that lady was engaged in putting a patch on thechintz-covered sofa, and talking gossip with a neighbor at the sametime.

  "I thought as this was a-going so fast, Mr. Higby sets it out so, and wewere all so comfortable to-day, I'd get at it kinder early," said Mrs.Higby apologetically; "anything I can do, Miss Polly?" she asked, flyingaway from her patch, and dropping her scissors on the floor.

  "No," said Polly, turning back hastily. "Never mind, Mrs. Higby."

  "Now 'twas something you wanted me for," cried Mrs. Higby, amblingtoward the door, "I ain't a mite busy, Miss Polly; that old patch canwait. La! I can tell Mr. Higby to set on the other end till I get timeto attend to it. What was it, Miss Polly?"

  Polly turned back, Mrs. Higby's tone was so full of entreaty. "Oh,nothing, only if it isn't too much trouble, would you ask Mrs. Cabot tocome down stairs a moment, I want to see her."

  "Oh, cert'in," cried Mrs. Higby, ambling off toward the stairs. Andpresently Mrs. Cabot in a pink morning gown came down the hall towardPolly, and put both arms around her.

  "Phronsie, get a glass of water; be quick, child!"]

  "What is it, dear?" she asked caressingly.

  "Come out of doors," begged Polly, "I can't breathe here. Come, Mrs.Cabot."

  And Mrs. Cabot, her arms still around Polly, was drawn out to the oldporch, Phronsie following. Then Polly shook herself free.

  "I
s it true?" she began--"I made Phronsie tell me--that Jasper," shecaught her breath, but went on again hurriedly, "has left Mr. Marlowe?"

  "Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Cabot in consternation, "what shall I do?Yes; but I wasn't to tell you; Mr. King is coming back. Do wait, Polly,and ask him about it."

  "I shall not wait," declared Polly passionately, facing her. "Tell meall you know, Mrs. Cabot; every single word."

  "I don't know a thing about it," cried Mrs. Cabot in a frightened way,"only Mr. Cabot writes that Mr. King has made Jasper leave Mr. Marlowe.That's all I know about it, Polly," she added desperately, "and I wishMr. Cabot had been asleep before he wrote it. Phronsie, oh! get a glassof water; be quick, child!" as Polly sank down on the old stone floor ofthe porch.