Five Little Peppers at School Part 2

"Oh, don't speak his name; he's in disgrace. Oh, it's perfectly awful!"

The boy huddled up in a heap, and tried to shut the door.

"Who?" cried David, not believing his ears.

"Joel--oh dear! it's perfectly awful!"

"Stop saying it's perfectly awful, Bates, and tell me what's the matter." Davie felt faintish, and sat down on the shoe-box.

Bates shut the door with a clap, and then came to stand over him, letting the whole information out with a rush.

"He's pitched into Jenk--and they've had a fight--and they're all blood--and the old Fox almost got 'em both." Then he shut his mouth suddenly, the whole being told.

Davie put both hands to his head. For a minute everything turned dark around him. Then he thought of Mamsie. "Oh dear me!" he said, coming to.

"How I wish he'd had it all out with that beggar!" exploded Bates longingly.

David didn't say anything, being just then without words. At this instant Joel rushed in with his b.l.o.o.d.y nose, and a torn sleeve where Jenk in his desperation had gripped it fast.

"Oh Joel!" screamed Davie at sight of him, and springing from his shoe-box. "Are you hurt? Oh Joey!"

"Phoo! that's nothing," said Joel, running over to the wash-basin, and plunging his head in, to come up bright and smiling. "See, Dave, I'm all right," he announced, his black eyes shining. "But he's a mean beggar to steal my new racket," he concluded angrily.

"To steal your new racket that Grandpapa sent you!" echoed David. "Oh dear me! who has taken it? Oh Joel!"

"That beggar Jenkins," exploded Joel. "But I'm to know where it is."

Just then the door opened cautiously, enough to admit a head. "Don't speak, Pepper, but come."

Joel flung down the towel, and pranced to the door.

"No one else," said the boy to whom the head belonged.

"Not me?" asked David longingly. "Can't I come?"

"No--no one but Joe." Joel rushed over the sill tumultuously, deserting David and the Bates boy.

"Don't speak a single word," said the boy out in the hall, putting his mouth close to Joel's ear, "but move lively."

No need to tell him so. In a minute they were both before the housemaid's closet.

"Feel under," whispered the boy, with a sharp eye down the length of the hall.

Joel's brown hands pawed among the cleaning-cloths and brushes, bringing up in a trice the racket, Grandpapa's gift, to flourish it high.

"Take care; keep it down," said the boy in a hurried whisper.

"Oh, oh!" cried Joel, hanging to it in a transport.

"Um," the boy nodded. "Hush, be still. Now skip for your room."

"Beresford," said Joel, his black eyes shining as he paused a breathing s.p.a.ce before rushing back to Davie, the new racket gripped fast, "if I don't pay Jenk for this!"

"Do." Tom grinned all over his face in great delight; "you'll be a public benefactor," and he softly beat his hands together.

II THE TENNIS MATCH

Joel, hugging his recovered tennis racket, rushed off to the court. Tom Beresford, staring out of his window, paused while pulling on his sweater to see him go, a sorry little feeling at his heart, after all, at Joe's good spirits.

"He'll play like the mischief, and a great deal better for the row and the fright over that old racket. Well, I had to tell. 'Twould have been too mean for anything to have kept still."

So he smothered a sigh, and got into his togs, seized his implements of battle, and dashed off too. Streams of boys were rushing down to the court, and the yard was black with them. In the best places were the visitors. Royalty couldn't have held stronger claims to distinction in the eyes of Dr. Marks' boys; and many were the anxious glances sent over at the four St. Andrew's boys. If the playing shouldn't come up to the usual high mark!

"Pepper will score high," one after another said as he dropped to the ground next to his chums, in the circle around the court.

"Of course." n.o.body seemed to doubt Joel's powers along that line. "He always does." And cries of "Pepper--Pepper," were taken up, and resounded over the yard.

Joel heard it as he dashed along, and he held his head high, well pleased. But David followed his every movement with anxiety. "I'm afraid he was hurt," he said to himself; "and if he should lose the game, he'd never get over it. Oh dear me! if Mamsie could only be here!"

But Mamsie was far away from her boys, whom she had put at Dr. Marks'

school for the very purpose of achieving self-reliance and obedience to the training of the little brown house. So Davie, smothering his longing, got into a front row with several boys of his set, and bent all his attention to the game just beginning.

Sharp at two o'clock the four went on to the court--Joel and Fred Ricketson against Tom Beresford and Lawrence Greene, otherwise "Larry."

And amid howls of support from the "rooters," the game began.

At first Joel's luck seemed to desert him, and he played wild, causing much consternation in the ranks violently rooting for him. David's head sank, and he leaned his elbows on his knees, to bury his hot cheeks in his hands.

"Wake up," cried Paul Sykes, his very particular friend, hoa.r.s.ely, giving him a dig in the ribs. "Don't collapse, Dave."

"Oh!" groaned David, his head sinking lower yet, "I can't look; I simply can't. It will kill Joel."

"Stiffen up!" cried Paul. "Joe's all right; he'll come to. _Ha!_"

A shout, stunning at first, that finally bore down all before it in the shape of opposing enthusiasm, swept over the whole yard. Screams of applause, perfectly deafening, rent the air. And look! even the visitors from St. Andrew's are leaping to their feet, and yelling, "Good--good."

Something quite out of the common, even in a close tennis match, was taking place. David shuddered, and crouched down on the ground as far as he could. Paul gave him an awful whack on the back.

"You're losing it all," he cried as he stood on his tiptoes. "Hi! Hi!

Tippety Rippety! Hi! Hi!"

It was Joel's especial yell; and there he was, as David scrambled up to see him, head thrown back, and black eyes shining in the way they always did when he worked for Mamsie and Polly, and that dealt despair to all opponents. He had just made a brilliant stroke, returning one of Larry's swiftest b.a.l.l.s in such a manner that it just skimmed over the net and pa.s.sed the boys before they could recover themselves, and fairly taking off from their feet the St. Andrew's men who had been misled by Joel's previous slow playing in the first set, which Tom and Larry had won.

"Who is he? Gee Whiz! but that's good form!" declared Vincent Parry, the St. Andrew's champion, excitedly.

"Pepper--don't you know Pepper?" cried a dozen throats, trying to seem unconscious that it was Parry, the champion, who was asking the question.

"Oh, is that Pepper?" said the St. Andrew's boy. While "Pepper--Pepper.