We Ten Part 17

Fee _was_ awfully used up; I could hardly get him up the steps. Nora would certainly have heard the noise we made if she hadn't been so interested in her music.

Phil did not come in very early; in fact, I think it was late. I room with him, you know, and it seemed as if I'd been asleep a good while when his shutting of our door woke me up. Of course I turned over and looked at him; I'm sure there wasn't anything in that to make a person mad, though perhaps I did stare a little, for Phil had a queer expression on his face,--jolly, and yet sort of ashamed, too. His face was quite red, and his eyes looked gla.s.sy.

He leaned against the closed door, with his hat on the back of his head, and just scowled at me. "What're you staring at, I'd like to know?" he said roughly. "Without exception, you're the most inquisitive youngster! you _must_ have your finger in every pie. Just turn yourself right over to the wall and go to sleep this minute; I _won't_ have you spying on me!"

Now I usually give in to Phil, and I do hate to get into rows with people, but I couldn't stand that; I just sat straight up in bed and spoke out. "I'm _not_ inquisitive," I said, "and I'm _not_ spying on you, either. I wouldn't do such a mean thing, and you know it."

"Oh, hush up, and go to sleep! you talk entirely too much," Phil answered back, and taking off his hat, he threw it at me.

The hat didn't touch me,--it barely fell on the edge of the bed,--but it seemed to me as if I couldn't have felt worse if it had struck me; you see my feelings were so hurt. Phil likes to order people, and he's rough, too, sometimes. We know him so well, though, that I don't usually mind; but this evening he was awfully disagreeable,--so bullying that I couldn't help feeling hurt and mad.

I felt just like saying something back,--something sharp,--but I knew that would only make more words, and there was Felix in the next room,--I didn't want him to be waked up and hear how Phil was going on; it wouldn't have done any good, you see, and would only have made Fee unhappy. So I just swallowed down what I was going to say, and bouncing over on my pillow, I turned my face to the wall, away from Phil. But I couldn't go to sleep,--you know one can't at a minute's notice,--and I couldn't help hearing what he was doing about the room.

I heard a clinking noise, as if he were putting silver money down on the bureau; then, while he was unlacing his boots and dropping them with a thud on the floor, he began to whistle softly, "O wert thou in the cauld blast." I suppose that reminded him of something he wanted to say, for presently he called out, "Say, Rosebud--_Rose_bud!"

I just _wouldn't_ answer,--after his treating me that way! What did he do then but lean over the footboard and shake me by the heel. "Turn over," he said; "I want to talk to you,--d'you hear me?" and he shook my heel again.

I jerked my foot away. "I wish you wouldn't bother me," I answered; "I'm trying to go to sleep."

"Oh, I see,--on your dig." Phil laughed and pulled my toe. "Well, you provoked me, staring at me with those owly eyes of yours; but now I want to speak to you about Felix."

I still felt sore over the way he'd acted, but as long as it was Fee he wanted to talk about, I thought I'd better listen; so I turned over again and looked at Phil.

"See here, what's the matter with Felix?" As he spoke, Phil went over and threw himself into a chair, where he could see me. "He's never been very much of a walker, but seems to me that he's worse than ever at it lately. Why, last evening--this evening I mean" (he gave me a funny look)--"we hadn't gone three blocks before he began to drag, and took hold of my arm; he hung on it, too, I can tell you. We didn't go very far, not nearly as far as we used to last winter; and I'd have made it still shorter, for I could see he was most awfully used up, but Fee wouldn't give in,--you know he can be obstinate. And when he came into the drawing-room to sing, he looked wretched,--white as a ghost! Since I've been home, I've noticed, in a good many little ways, that he doesn't do as much as he used to,--in the way of moving around; yet, when I speak to him 'bout it, he either--puts me off, or turns--cranky; I can't get a thing--out--of--him." Phil's voice had been getting slower and slower, and almost before he finished the last word he was _asleep_.

I thought he was making believe at first,--he's such a tease,--but I soon found out that he wasn't. Well, I _was_ astonished; for a minute I couldn't say a word; I just lay there and looked at him. Then I remembered how late it was, and called him,--not loud, though, for fear of waking Felix. "Phil, _Phil_, aren't you coming to bed? it's awfully late."

"Oh, let me _alone_," he muttered sleepily; then presently he roused up and began to talk real crossly, but in the same slow voice, and with his eyes shut: "I'm not a _child_--and I'm not going--to be treated--like one--you needn't--think so--I'm a _man_--all--the fellows--do it--'tisn't--any harm--" His head drooped and he was off again.

I had got awfully nervous when he first began, I mean about Felix; you see Fee hadn't given me back my promise not to speak of his attack when papa was so ill, so I couldn't have told Phil, and I shouldn't have known what to say. Oh, that promise! that _miserable_ promise! if only I had _never_ made it!

Well, as I said, I was thankful I didn't have to answer Phil; but when he acted so queerly, I didn't like that either, and jumping out of bed, I went at him, and just talked and coaxed and pulled at him, until at last I got him to get up and undress and go to bed.

Phil was as cross as a bear the next morning; he said he had a headache, and didn't get up until late. He lay in bed with his face to the wall, and just snapped up everybody that spoke to him; when I took him up some tea and toast,--that was all he'd take,--he turned on me. "I suppose you've told them about last night," he said sharply, "and you've all had a grand pow-wow over me!"

"Indeed, I _haven't_" I answered; "I haven't said one single word about it to anybody; we've got other things to talk of, I can tell you, besides your being such a sleepy-head." Perhaps this was a little snippy, but I couldn't help it,--just as if I couldn't keep a thing to myself. You see I didn't understand then what it all meant.

Phil looked straight at me for a minute, and it seemed to me there was a kind of sorry expression came in his face; then he laughed. "Great head!

keep on being mum!" he said, in that teasing way of his, nodding at me.

"Now, Mr. Moses Primrose, suppose you set that tray down and vacate the apartment--shut the door."

But I could see that he wasn't sorry I hadn't spoken of it; I've wondered sometimes, since, whether things would have been different if I had told Felix the whole business.

Well, he was a little pleasanter for a while; but when a telegram came later in the day from Miss Marston, saying she'd be back in ten days to take us to the Cottage, Phil got all off again, and scolded like everything. He said it was a burning shame for us to have to stay in the city and just _stew_, waiting for Miss Marston to "escort" us to the Cottage, when he and Felix could have taken us there long ago; that he wanted to go in the country _right away_; that papa'd made a big mistake in keeping us back, and that he'd find it out when 'twas too late,--and all that sort of talk. Felix and Nora did their best to cool him down, but it was no use,--the nicer they were, the more disagreeable he grew; and at last they got provoked and left him to himself.

"I wish Nannie were here," Fee said, as we stood on the landing together, outside Phil's door; "perhaps she could do something with him."

"I just wish she were," I agreed dolefully; and if Nora didn't get miffed because we said that!

I can tell you it wasn't a bit pleasant at home those days. As Fee said, "everybody seemed to be disgruntled," and there wasn't a thing to do but wander around; I missed Betty awfully, she's such a splendid person for keeping up one's spirits.

Toward afternoon, Phil came downstairs, and after dinner we sat on the stoop; he was still rather grumpy, though we pretended not to notice it.

Presently Chad came along and took a seat beside us; but at first I don't think anybody, except, perhaps, Nora, paid him much attention.

Felix had been very quiet all day, and now he sat with his elbows on his knees, and his hands holding up his face, a far-off look in his eyes, and not saying a word until about half-past eight, when Chad leaned over, and in a low voice asked Phil to go for a walk.

Phil's answer sounded like, "Had enough of it;" and before Chad could say anything more, Fee began to talk to him. I was surprised, for Felix doesn't usually talk to Chad; but to-night, all at once, he seemed to have a friendly fit. He started Chad talking of his travels; then he got Phil into the conversation, and then Nora, and he just kept them all going; he was so bright himself, and funny, and entertaining, that the evening fairly flew by. We were all amazed when ten o'clock struck; soon after that Chad bid good-night, and we shut up the house and went to bed.

'Most always Phil stops in Fee's room for a few minutes: he didn't this evening, though; he just called out,--a little gruffly,--"Good-night, old man!" and marched right into his own room. But I went in.

Fee was sitting on the edge of his bed; he looked almost as tired as he had the night before, though now his eyes were bright and his cheeks red. He turned quickly to me. "Did you think I was wound up to-night?"

he asked. Then, before I could answer, "But I kept them--I kept them both, Jack; they didn't go walking to-night,--at least, Phil didn't, and that's the main point. Why, I could go on talking till morning." He got up and limped restlessly about, then stopped near me. "What'll we do to-morrow evening?" he said, "and the next, and the next?--there are _ten_ more, you know. We'll _have_ to think of something, that's all; it'll not be easy, but we'll have to do it. I'm afraid"--Fee spoke slowly, shaking his head--"I'm afraid the _pater_ _has_ made a mistake, a big mistake. Now if Nannie were only here--what an owl you look, Rosebud! Come, off to bed with you!" He threw his arm across my shoulder and gave me a little squeeze, then pushed me out of the room and shut the door.

I have an idea that he didn't sleep very well that night, for the next morning _he_, too, looked like a owl, in the way of eyes.

XVI.

AND A MAJOR.

TOLD BY JACK.

The next day Phil was more like himself,--almost as usual, at least during the first part of the day; after that, everybody got into such a state of excitement that we forgot all about his mood,--I guess he forgot it himself.

As I've told you, Kathie and the little ones weren't behaving at all nicely. You see the trouble was they wanted their own way, and Nora wanted hers, and nurse wanted hers too; and some days things went all wrong in the nursery. Nora'd declare that _she_ was mistress as long as Nannie wasn't at home, and that the children _should_ obey her; then nurse would get huffy and call the little ones her "pets" and her "poor darlin's," and of course that made them feel as if they were being dreadfully abused. I think Nora did nag some, and perhaps she ordered people a little more than she need have done, but that's her way of doing things; she didn't mean in the least to be disagreeable, and the children were certainly _very_ provoking. It seemed to me as if they were forever in mischief, and my! weren't they pert! and sometimes they wouldn't mind at all. Once or twice I tried to see if I could help things, but I just got into trouble both times, and only made matters worse, so I thought I'd better leave 'em alone.

Well, on this particular morning, nurse woke feeling so ill that she couldn't get up at all; so Nora had to see to dressing the children and giving them their breakfast. Madel was good,--she's a dear little creature!--but the boys were wild for mischief, and just as saucy and self-willed as they could be, and, worst of all, Kathie got into one of her crying moods. She cried all the time she was dressing, and all through breakfast,--a kind of whining cry that just wears on a person.

Phil called her Niobe, and declared that if she didn't look out, she'd float away on her tears; Fee threatened to put her in a picture, just as she looked; I coaxed and promised her one or two of my things, and Nora scolded: nothing had any effect, Kathie just wept straight on.

She _is_ awfully trying when she gets in these moods, but I guess she can't always help it,--at least Nannie thinks so,--and perhaps if Nora had been patient just a little while longer, the storm would have blown over. But all at once Nora lost her temper, and catching Kathie by the arm, she walked her wailing from the room.

Well, in just about one minute more, Paul and Madel and Alan were off too, roaring like everything.

"_O-o-h!_ we _want_ Kathie! we _w-a-n-t_ Kathie! _O-o-o-h!_ bring back _Kath-i-e_!"

Well, you'd have thought they never expected to lay eyes on Kathie again!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WHERE WE FOUND KATHIE."]

I coaxed and talked and talked till my throat fairly ached, telling 'em funny things to divert their attention,--the way I've heard Nannie and Betty do; Fee began just as loud as he could (to drown their noise and make them listen) about the Trojan horse,--they like that story; and Phil offered them everything that there was on the table if they'd _only_ stop yelling; he declared the neighbours would be coming in to see what we were doing to them. But at last they quieted down, and let me take them upstairs to the nursery, where we found Kathie seated upon a chair, and still weeping.

On account of nurse's being ill, there were a good many things for Nora to do,--I could see she had her hands full,--so I stayed in the schoolroom and looked after the children to help her. By and by Kathie stopped crying--I guess there were no more tears left to come--and began to join in the games I started. Usually she's very penitent after one of these fits of temper, but this time she seemed more sulky than anything else; and she was such a sight that I felt sorry for her. Kathie's very fair,--she's a real pretty little girl when she's in a good humour,--and now, from crying so much, and rubbing her eyes, they were all swollen and red; the red marks went 'way down on her cheeks; and her nose was all red and swollen, too: you'd hardly have known her for the same child.

After awhile--I'd set them playing house, and things seemed quiet--I got out one of my books, and, fixing myself comfortably on the sofa, began to read. But presently something--a sort of stillness in the room--made me look up; the children were under the schoolroom table with their heads close together, and they were whispering. Kathie was weeping again, but very softly; Madel had one arm around her, and was wiping Kathie's tears away with her pinafore; Paul was showing them something which I couldn't see,--he had his back to me,--and Alan sat on his heels, grinning, and gazing at Judge with wide-open, admiring eyes.