The Corner House Girls at School Part 34

Trix clung to Ruth and Agnes Kenway in an abandonment of terror and thanksgiving, at first. The peril she had suffered quite broke down her haughtiness, and the rancor she had felt toward the Corner House girls was dissipated.

"There, there! Don't you cry any more, Trix," urged good-natured Agnes.

"I'm _so_ glad you got out of that horrid place safely. And we didn't help you, you know. It was Neale O'Neil."

"That circus boy" had slunk away as though he had done something criminal; but Joe was blowing a horn of praise for Neale in the crowd, as the Corner House girls led Trix away.

Ruth and Agnes went home with Trix Severn, but they would not go into the house that evening as Trix desired. The very next morning Trix was around before schooltime, to walk to school with Agnes. And within a week (as Neale laughingly declared to Ruth) Agnes and Trix were "as thick as thieves!"

"Can you beat Aggie?" scoffed Neale. "That Trix girl has been treating her as mean as she knows how for months, and now you couldn't pry Aggie away from her with a crowbar."

"I am glad," said Ruth, "that Agnes so soon gets over being mad."

"Huh! Trix is soft just now. But wait till she gets mad again," he prophesied.

However, this intimacy of Agnes with her former enemy continued so long that winter pa.s.sed, and spring tiptoed through the woods and fields, flinging her bounties with lavish hand, while still Agnes and Trix remained the best of friends.

As spring advanced, the usual restless spirit of the season pervaded the old Corner House. Especially did the little girls find it infectious.

Tess and Dot neglected the nursery and the dolls for the sake of being out-of-doors.

Old Billy b.u.mps, who had lived almost the life of a hermit for part of the winter, was now allowed the freedom of the premises for a part of each day. They kept the gates shut; but the goat had too good a home, and led too much a life of ease here at the Corner House, to wish to wander far.

The girls ran out to the rescue of any stranger who came to the Willow Street gate. It was not everybody that Billy b.u.mps "took to," but many he "took after."

When he took it into his hard old head to b.u.mp one, he certainly b.u.mped hard--as witness Mr. Con Murphy's pig that he had b.u.t.ted through the fence on the second day of his arrival at the old Corner House.

That particular pig had been killed, but there was another young porker now in the cobbler's sty. Neale O'Neil continued to lodge with Mr. Con Murphy. He was of considerable help to the cobbler, and the little Irishman was undoubtedly fond of the strange boy.

For Neale _did_ remain a stranger, even to his cobbler friend, as Mr.

Murphy told Ruth and Agnes, when they called on him on one occasion.

"An oyster is a garrulous bir-r-rd beside that same Neale O'Neil. I know as much about his past now as I did whin he kem to me--which same is jist nawthin' at all, at all!"

"I don't believe he _has_ a past!" cried Agnes, eager to defend her hero.

"Sure, d'ye think the bye is a miracle?" demanded Con Murphy. "That he has no beginning and no ending? Never fear! He has enough to tell us if he would, and some day the dam of his speech will go busted, and we'll hear it all."

"Is he afraid to tell us who he really is?" asked Ruth, doubtfully.

"I think so, Miss," said the cobbler. "He is fearin' something--that I know. But phat that same is, I dunno!"

Neale O'Neil had made good at school. He had gained the respect of Mr.

Marks and of course Miss Georgiana liked him. With the boys and girls of grade six, grammar, he was very popular, and he seemed destined to graduate into high school in June with flying colors.

June was still a long way off when, one day, Tess and Dot begged Neale to harness Billy b.u.mps to the wagon for them. Uncle Rufus had fashioned a strong harness and the wagon to which the old goat was attached had two seats. He was a st.u.r.dy animal and had been well broken; so, if he wished to do so, he could trot all around the big yard with Tess and Dot in the cart.

Sometimes Billy b.u.mps did not care to play pony; then it was quite impossible to do anything with him. But he was never rough with, or offered to b.u.t.t, Tess and Dot. They could manage his goatship when n.o.body else could.

Sometimes Billy b.u.mps' old master, Sammy Pinkney, came over to see his former pet, but the bulldog, Jock, remained outside the gate. Billy b.u.mps did not like Jock, and he was never slow to show his antagonism toward the dog.

On this occasion that Neale harnessed the goat to the wagon, there was no trouble at first. Billy b.u.mps was feeling well and not too lazy. Tess and Dot got aboard, and the mistress of the goat seized the reins and clucked to him.

Billy b.u.mps drove just like a pony--and was quite as well trained. The little girls guided him all around the garden, and then around the house, following the bricked path down to the front gate.

They never went outside with Billy unless either Neale, or Uncle Rufus, was with them, for there was still a well developed doubt in the minds of the older folk as to what Billy b.u.mps might do if he took it into his head to have a "tantrum."

"As though our dear old Billy b.u.mps would do anything naughty!" Dot said. "But, as you say, Tess, we can't go out on Main Street with him unless we ask."

"And Uncle Rufus is busy," said Tess, turning the goat around.

They drove placidly around the house again to the rear, following the path along the Willow Street side.

"There's Sammy Pinkney," said Dot.

"Well, I hope he doesn't come in," said Tess, busy with the reins. "He is too rough with Billy b.u.mps."

But Sammy came in whistling, with his cap very far back on his closely cropped head, and the usual mischievous grin on his face. Jock was at his heels and Billy b.u.mps immediately stopped and shook his head.

"Now, you send that dog right back, Sammy," commanded Tess. "You know Billy b.u.mps doesn't like him."

"Aw, I didn't know Jock was following me," explained Sammy, and he drove the bulldog out of the yard. But he failed to latch the gate, and Jock was too faithful to go far away.

Billy b.u.mps was still stamping his feet and shaking his head. Sam came up and began to rub his ears--an attention for which the goat did not care.

"Don't tease him, Sammy," begged Dot.

"Aw, I'm not," declared Sammy.

"He doesn't like that--you know he doesn't," admonished Tess.

"He ought to have gotten used to it by this time," Sammy declared.

"Jinks! what's that?"

Unnoticed by the children, Sandyface, the old mother cat, had gravely walked down the path to the street gate. She was quite oblivious of the presence, just outside, of Jock, who crouched with the very tip of his red tongue poked out and looking just as amiable as it is ever possible for a bulldog to look.

Suddenly Jock spied Sandyface. The dog was instantly all attention--quivering muzzle, twitching ears, sides heaving, even his abbreviated tail vibrating with delighted antic.i.p.ation. Jock considered cats his rightful prey, and Sammy was not the master to teach him better.

The dog sprang for the gate, and it swung open. Sandyface saw her enemy while he was in midair.

She flew across the backyard to the big pear-tree. Jock was right behind her, his tongue lolling out and the joy of the chase strongly exhibited in his speaking countenance.

In his usual foolish fashion, the bulldog tried to climb the tree after the cat. Jock could never seem to learn that he was not fitted by nature for such exploits, and wherever the game led, he tried to follow.

His interest being so completely centered in Sandyface and his attempt to get her, peril in the rear never crossed Jock's doggish mind.

Old Billy b.u.mps uttered a challenging "blat" almost upon the tail of Sammy's shout; then he started headlong for his ancient enemy. He gave his lady pa.s.sengers no time to disembark, but charged across the yard, head down, and aimed directly at the leaping bulldog.

The latter, quite unconscious of impending peril, continued to try to catch Sandyface, who looked down upon his foolish gyrations from a branch near the top of the tree. Perhaps she divined what was about to happen to the naughty Jock, for she did not even meow!