Five Little Peppers at School Part 15

"Hiram Potter," said the little clerk. The pompous official drew near, and looked over his shoulder at the card. "Oh! why--Mr. King!" he cried, all the pomposity suddenly gone. "I beg your pardon; what can I do for you, sir?"

"Nothing whatever, sir." Mr. King waved him away. "Well, now, Mr.

Potter, if you'll be so very good as to get this information for me as soon as possible and bring it up to my house, I'll be very much indebted to you." With a bow to him, in which the official was nowise included, the old gentleman and Polly and Jasper went off down the stairs again.

"Finkle, you're caught this time; you're in a hole," the brother officials sang out when the card had been displayed around the office.

"I wouldn't want to be in your shoes," said more than one.

Finkle tried to brave out the dismay he felt at having offended the powerful millionaire railroad director, but he made but a poor show of it. Meanwhile the little, thin clerk, slipping the precious card into his seedy coat pocket, clambered up to his high stool, his mind busy with plans to unearth all possible information concerning Jim, the brakeman, as soon as the big clock up on the wall should let them out of the office.

"Polly, my dear," old Mr. King kept saying, as they went down the stairs, and he held her hand very closely, "I think this Potter--a very good sort of a man he seems to be, too--will find out all we want to know about Jim. I really do, Polly; so we won't worry about it, child."

Nevertheless, on top of all the rest that was worrying her, Polly had a sorry enough time, to keep her troubles from showing on her face. And after dinner, when the bell pealed violently, she gave a great start and turned quite pale.

Jasper saw it. "I don't believe it's any bad news, Polly," he hastened to say rea.s.suringly, and longing to comfort, though he couldn't imagine the reason.

"Oh, where's Polly?" She heard the girls' voices out in the hall, and ran out to meet them. "Oh dear me!" she cried at sight of their faces that confirmed her worst fears.

"Yes, oh Polly, it's just as I said," cried Leslie Fyle, precipitating herself against Polly. "Now, girls, keep back; I'm going to tell her first."

"Well, we are all going to tell too, Les; that's what we've come for,"

cried the others, crowding up.

"Oh, what is it?" cried Polly, standing quite still, and feeling as if she never could hold up her head again now that the picnic was lost through her.

"I shall tell, myself," declared Sarah bluntly. "I'm the one, it seems, that made all the trouble, so it really belongs to me, I should think, to be the first speaker."

Polly folded her hands tightly together, while the babel went on, feeling that if she didn't hear the dreaded news soon, she should fly off to Mamsie.

"Miss Salisbury said--" She could hear little sc.r.a.ps of chatter.

"I know--oh, do hurry and tell Polly."

"Oh, and just think, Miss Salisbury----"

"And Miss Anstice--" Then some of them looked around and into Polly's face. "Oh my goodness, girls, see Polly Pepper!"

With that they all rushed at her, and n.o.body told first, for they all shouted it out together: "Polly, Miss Salisbury has given us our picnic!" and "Polly, isn't it too splendid!" and "Polly Pepper, just think how perfectly elegant! Our picnic, Polly--only think!" till the circle in the library popped out their heads into the hall.

"Jasper," cried Polly, deserting the bunch of "Salisbury girls," to plunge up to him with shining eyes, "we're to have our picnic; we truly are, Jasper, and I thought I'd lost it to all the girls."

And just then Johnson advanced down the length of the hall. "It's a person to see you, sir," he said to old Mr. King,--"says it's quite important, sir, and that you told him to come. He's sitting by the door, sir."

"Oh, it's Mr. Potter, I think," said the old gentleman; "show him into the library, Johnson. Polly, my child. Bless me! I don't see how you stand it with these girls chattering around you every minute. Now be off with you," he cried gaily to the group. He was much pleased at the success of his plan to find out about the brakeman, of which he felt quite sure from the appearance so promptly of the little clerk. "I have something quite important for Polly to attend to now; and I really want her to myself once in a while."

"Yes, I must go, girls," said Polly, turning a blooming countenance on them; "so good night. We won't have the picnic, you know, till Alexia is well," she added decidedly.

"Oh, that's what Miss Salisbury said," cried Leslie, turning back. "You see, I saw her after school--went back for my history--and I was to tell you that, Polly; only Sarah spoilt it all."

"Never mind," said Polly brightly, "it's all right now, since we are really to have our picnic." And then she put her hand in old Mr.

King's, quite bubbling over with happiness,--Jasper, just as jubilant, since Polly was herself again, on the other side,--to go in and meet the little, thin clerk, scared at his surroundings, and perched on the extreme edge of a library chair.

IX ALL ABOUT THE POOR BRAKEMAN

Mr. Potter was very miserable indeed on the edge of his chair, and twirling his hat dreadfully; and for the first moment after the handsome old gentleman spoke to him, he had nothing to say.

Old Mr. King was asking him for the third time, "You found out all about poor Jim's family, eh?"

At last he emerged from his fit of embarra.s.sment enough to reply, "Yes, sir."

"Now that is very good," the old gentleman cried approvingly, and wiped his face vigorously after his effort, "very good indeed, Mr. Potter."

Hiram Potter now followed up his first attempt to find his voice; and trying to forget the handsome surroundings that had so abashed him, he went on now quite glibly.

"You see, sir, there's six of 'em--Jim's children."

"Dear me!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed old Mr. King.

"Yes, sir, there are." Mr. Potter's hat began to twirl uneasily again.

"And the wife--she ain't strong, just got up from rheumatic fever."

"That's bad--very bad," said Mr. King.

"Those three boys of his are good," said Mr. Potter, brightening up a bit in the general gloom; "and the biggest one says he's going to be a brakeman just like his father. But the mother wants 'em all to go to school. You see, that's what Jim was working for."

"And the girl who wanted to play on the piano?" broke in Polly eagerly.

Then she blushed rosy red. "Oh, forgive me, Grandpapa, for interrupting," and she hid her face on old Mr. King's arm.

"I was just going to ask about that girl, myself," said Grandpapa promptly. "Tell us about her, Mr. Potter, if you please."

Hiram Potter set his hat carefully on the floor beside his chair. It was his Sunday hat, and evidently that, with his best clothes which he had donned in honor of the occasion, were objects of great care. He scratched his head and thought deeply. "Well, now, you see, sir," he said slowly, "that's almost a hopeless case, and I wish, as sure as I sit here, that girl hadn't never thought of piano music. But it's born in her, the mother said; the girl's grandfather was a musician in the old home in Germany, and so she can't help it. Why, she's just so crazy about it, she'll drum all up and down the kitchen table to make believe that----"

"Oh Grandpapa!" cried Polly in the greatest excitement, and hopping up and down by his side, "that's just as I used to do in the little brown house,--the very same way, Grandpapa, you know."

"Yes, she did, father," cried Jasper, bobbing his head scarcely less excited, just as if old Mr. King hadn't heard the story many times.

Mr. Potter, for want of something to do to express his amazement, picked up his hat, stroked it, and set it down again, staring with all his might.

"So you did, Polly; so you did, my child," cried Grandpapa, taking her hands in both of his, and looking down into her shining eyes; "well, well, to be sure. Now, Jasper, get the tablet, and write down the address of Jim's family as quickly as you can, my boy."

So Jasper ran over to the library table, and brought back the tablet and pencil hanging to it; and pretty soon Jim's home was all described thus: "Mrs. James Corcoran, 5 Willow Court--third house from Haven Street."

"It's kinder hard to find," observed Mr. Potter slowly, "because Willow Court runs into Haven Street criss-cross, and this number isn't on the house; it's got rubbed off; but if you follow up No. 3, and come up carefully, why, there you'll be where No. 5 was."

"Oh dear me!" said Mr. King. "Well, you may describe the house, for I am going down there to-morrow, and I certainly do not wish to waste my time walking about."