by Charles King
CHAPTER X.
Another month had come and not another word from Snipe. All the Doctor'sexplorations were in vain. There was grief at the Lawrences', for thepoor mother had been visiting her sister, imploring full particulars inone minute and denouncing her informants in the next. The most yieldingand self-forgetful of women ordinarily, she had risen in rebellionagainst those whom she believed had wronged her boy. There was a ruptureat Rhinebeck, where George Lawton's step-father was given to understandby George Lawton's mother that she would never believe that her boy hadstolen. That he had sold the books and the gun and might have sold thewatch was probably true. He had to do it to buy even the coarsestclothes to hide his nakedness. She had come to Shorty's home, and, withthat sad-hearted youngster as her guide, had been conducted to theDoctor's study, and there she was permitted to read and to weep overSnipe's pathetic letter. She drew from Shorty all the details of theboy's effort to get along on his scanty allowance, to spare her, and tomake his worn shoes and shabby, outgrown garments answer for anotheryear. The interview between the now roused and indignant woman and herhusband on her return to Rhinebeck must have been a source of amaze tohim as well as discomfiture. In forty-eight hours she was back at Mrs.Lawrence's. "Do not put yourself out for me any more than you did forGeorge," she said to her sister, with a tinge of irrepressiblebitterness. "I will sleep in his little hall bedroom and sit at hiscorner of your table--when you are not entertaining." And Mrs. Lawrencemade no reply. She knew well there had been much to warrant the mother'saccusation. George might indeed be the culprit her husband, herbrother-in-law, and her butler asserted, but he might not, probablywould not, have been but for the indifference or neglect which had beenhis portion. Down at the bottom of her heart Aunt Lawrence was asympathetic woman, and not entirely unjust, for after the first few daysof excitement, at which times those at fault are sure to strive to fixthe blame on others, she realized that what she had said of George'splaymate and his people, even of George's misguided methods of spendinghis recreation hours, was something she would gladly recall.
But all this time the search for the absent boy had gone onunremittingly. Shorty had promised faithfully that if another lettercame from Snipe he would bring it to the mother at once, and Pop hadgiven his sanction. He refused to promise to come every day to see her,as she had at first almost demanded. He told her frankly that after whatMrs. Lawrence had said of him and his leading George astray, he couldn'tcome. The Doctor had certain theories about the missing jewelry, andhad, on his own account, employed detective aid, and abandoned histheory more perplexed than ever. Privately he let it be known to thepolice that he would pay a handsome reward for the recovery of Joy'swatch and information that would lead to the apprehension of the thief,but not a trace of it had been found. School work had to be kept up, butShorty's standing suffered. The weekly reports that so often bore inPop's remarkable chirography the word "_Imperator_," in Halsey's big,round hand the inscription "_Nulli Secundus_," and over the sign manualsof the other teachers some tribute to his scholarship and industry, nowspoke of him as "falling off," "losing ground," etc., and a gentle handwas laid on his troubled head at home ere it signed the receipt, andkind and sympathetic words would send him hurrying away to his ownlittle den, there to give way to a passion of tears. It was bad enoughto lose Snipe. It was cruel to think of the boy's loneliness andsuffering, but it was getting to be worst of all at school, where, trueto the old, old saying, the absent was sure to be wrong. Little bylittle sneer, rumor, and insinuation had done their work, and, with noone to defend but Shorty, Snipe's name had become clouded with suspicionthat was verging into certainty. If innocent of all the misdeeds laid athis door, why had he run away? Why did he not come home to face hisaccusers?
And so it happened that Shorty saw less of his schoolmates and more ofhis and Snipe's old friends, the firemen, than ever before. At home thiswas looked upon as decidedly unfortunate, but the lad was so unhappy andrestless that no active opposition was made. "No good can ever come fromsuch association," said the one oracular and dogmatic member of thehousehold. But that prophecy was destined to be put to the blush.
Quarter day had come at Pop's,--a day marked in the annals of the schooland celebrated in its traditions. More stories centred on that momentousdate than on all the other school-days combined. On the Friday of thelast week of the expiring quarter each of the Doctor's pupils would behanded an envelope addressed to his responsible parent or guardian, andeach envelope so addressed contained the school bill for the ensuingquarter, filled out in the Doctor's unique and dainty hand. No writingwas ever like it. Pop had a system of penmanship, as he had ofpunishment, of instruction, and school discipline, peculiarly his own.His capital letters were always large, clear, and well formed. His smallletters, except those extending above and below the line, were indicatedby tiny, back-handed dashes that individually conveyed no idea andcollectively were unmistakable. Not a word of instruction accompaniedthe presentation of the missive, but every boy knew infallibly what toexpect. From time immemorial in the history of the school the unwrittenlaw had been that every boy appearing with the cash or check in paymentof the bill early on the following Monday morning might go his way onwhole holiday. If the money came on Tuesday the bearer was released attwelve o'clock; but if it failed to come on Wednesday the pupil foundhimself drifting from one scrape into another until it did come, and oldboys used to declare that pretexts were never lacking, when they were ofthe school, to warrant the Doctor in flogging, every day until the moneycame, the hapless lad whose parents failed to meet the demand on time.Small wonder that Pop's boys developed phenomenal powers as billcollectors and that Pop himself had no dunning letters to write.
The late autumn had given way to early winter, sharp and frosty. A greatpresidential election had been held some weeks before. The East wasexcited and the South enraged over the victory of a far Westerncandidate, almost unknown to Gotham. Rumors more and more alarming ofSouthern force and fury flew from lip to lip as November drew to itsclose, and December, frosty but kindly, was ushered in. The boys hadseparated Friday afternoon, taking the bills with them, and early Mondaymorning Othello sat "for such occasions only" at the Doctor's desk, inreadiness to receipt for checks or cash before the opening hours ofschool. A dozen at least of the First Latin had gleefully gone theirway. Another dozen, less fortunate, lolled dejectedly on the benches,devoutly wishing their _paters_ were as well to do as those of theholiday-makers (which many were, but held to a theory that Pop found toomany excuses for holidays). Shorty was neither with one nor the other.Nine o'clock came and two of the First Latin had not reported; Hooverwas the other. The bell rang. Beach was told off to put the supposedlyderelict through their paces in Sallust, while Halsey went on signingreceipts, shoving money into the drawer, and saying, "You may go,"briefly as possible, to the boys who came provided. The rule held goodfor the entire school, and by quarter-past nine the rector's drawer wasstored with something over a thousand dollars in checks, bank-notes, andcoin. It was fully half-past nine when Hoover came slowly and sullenlyup the stairs and entered the room. Briggs, sitting at the foot of theincarcerated dozen, jocularly hailed him with, "Hullo! for once in hislife Hoover won't have to sit on the mourners' bench."
"Go there yourself, sir!" said Beach, sternly, bringing Briggs instantlyto his feet with whining expostulation. "Why, what did I say, sir?" Andit takes more fines and much frowning to settle him, Othello neverinterposing, for this money taking and changing is his bane. He has todo it in the Doctor's absence, but he hates it. He counts over everypenny slowly and carefully, for the rector requires account to theuttermost farthing, and small boys waiting for their receipt fidgetimpatiently.
Hoover, mean time, is removing coat, gloves, and muffler withexaggerated deliberation, and seizes the opportunity when Beach turns tothe head with a question, and while the stove-pipe hides Othello's eyes,to administer a fervent kick to Briggs and send that sandy-haired youngfellow's Sallust flying to mid-floor, Briggs, of course, le
ndingunnecessary and additional centrifugal impetus to his belongings, and inthe midst of the acrimonious debate that follows a bounding step isheard on the stair and in comes Shorty, flushed, panting a bit, andfilled with suppressed excitement and evident importance. He squeezes inbetween Hoover and the rack to hang up his top-coat, Hoover swayingbackward, of course, to make it as difficult and disagreeable a processas possible.
"Come out of that, Hoover, and take your seat," orders Beach, sternly.But "Polyblasphemous" is ugly and rebellious. Not until Shorty has asecond time squeezed by is Hoover made to obey. Even then he turns backand rummages among the coat pockets, claiming that he has left hishandkerchief therein. Hoover's handkerchief, like charity, is made tocover a multitude of sins. He feels in a dozen pockets, apparently,before he finds it. So engrossed is the class, or what is left of it, inthe effort to bring order out of chaos at the foot of the room--andHoover from among the overcoats--that few see that Shorty has handedOthello a note before silently taking his seat. Hoover is presentlysettled below Briggs, fined five marks for being late and another fivefor trifling, and the recitation goes on, Beach evidently ruffled. ThenOthello looks up and beckons to Shorty, who silently goes to his side.
"When did the Doctor give you this?" he asks, in low tone; but now theboys are still as mice and listening intently.
"Just at nine, sir, up at his house. I caught him going up to collegeand gave him the letter, and he turned back and wrote that." Shortynever could explain a thing in few words.
There is a sound as of shouting and excitement on the avenue above theschool and of swift-running feet, but at the moment no attention ispaid. "The Doctor says you are to have whole holiday," continues Halsey,in his monotonous tones. The noise without is increasing.
"I--don't care to go, sir," says Shorty, hesitating, and the class looksup in astonishment. The noise has spread to the rooms to the east,--thenursery,--where the small boys are; a banging of windows and shades, arush of many feet, and all of a sudden the leaden-colored door fliesopen and Meeker appears, pale and excited.
"Mr. Halsey!" he cries, "a house right back of us is all in a blaze.Shall I dismiss my class?"
"Wait a moment," answers the head-master, ever deliberate, and away hegoes, long striding, the First Latin, despite Beach's effort, tearingafter him. Then Beach follows the tide. The house in flames is not justback of them, but near enough to prove a source of tremendous interestand excitement, if not of danger. It faces on Twenty-fifth Street, justbeyond the stable, and backs up into the grape-vined, fence-crossedrectangle at the back. Smoke in thick volumes is pouring out of the backwindows. A tongue of flame licks out under the narrow gallery at therear of the main floor as Halsey forces his way through a mob ofshouting small boys to the open window. The First Latin comes tumblingafter him, shoving Meeker aside. Borne on the breath of the rising eastwind, a single, solemn "bong" of the Twenty-third Street tower tellsthat the watcher has quickly descried the unusual smoke-cloud billowingup from the doomed dwelling. People in adjoining houses are throwingopen blinds and shouting unintelligible things. Boys and men comeclambering over fences from adjoining yards. Cooks and housemaids gatheron back galleries, huddling together with shawls over their heads andred arms wrapped in flimsy aprons. A pile of bedding comes hurtling downthrough the smoke from a third-story window, followed by a lot ofbooks. Somebody has fetched a ladder, and a dozen boys and men havescrambled to the tar and pebble roof of the stable, and there they danceand shout and run hither and yon, but still no firemen appear. Thenearest hook and ladder company "lies" seven blocks away. The school isdown at the foot of the First (fire) District. The jangling bells of 61Hose can be heard coming on the jump down the avenue, and every boyknows Pacific Engine can't be a block behind. But now the "hot blackbreath" rushing from the basement and first-floor windows bursts all atonce into furious red flames, and Halsey says resignedly, "School'sdismissed till the fire's out." The boys go tumbling over each other'sheels in mad dash for the door, and the thunder of feet, as they goleaping down the narrow stairway, shakes and scandalizes the watchmakersin the little shop below, and Mr. Foley, rushing out at the first boy hecan lay hands on, shakes him in turn until, amazed and wrathful, theyoung fellow breaks loose, whirls about, and lands a stunningleft-and-right full in Foley's angry face, and turns it even redder,while every other big boy springs to the aid of "28," just lowering herlong side levers and "taking the butt" from "61," while two or threestalwart, black-helmeted fellows dart up the brownstone steps and intothe smoke-vomiting doorway, glistening pipe in hand, the copper-riveted,black leather hose trailing behind them. Before the water gushes fromthe corner hydrant and swells the snake-like coils that connect with theengine, the pipemen come reeling out before the jetting flames, andeverybody knows that that fire will burn itself out and not succumb towater. In their haste, many lads have left their overcoats on the rack,and from the midst of these emerges Hoover, twisting the silken mufflerabout his throat, the only pupil left in the main school room, as Halseysuddenly recollects himself--and the cash in the Doctor's drawer--andcomes hurrying back to that abandoned desk. The drawer is half-way open,the checks and bank-notes seem undisturbed, but Halsey knows there werea number of ten-dollar gold pieces in the lot, and now there isn't one.Long before that lively blaze is out and only bare burned walls are leftstanding, the Doctor himself arrives upon the scene, and thehead-master, with rueful face, reports himself about one hundred dollarsshort.