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Ben Pepper

<h2>XXVII</h2> <h3>"MR. KING, WHO IS THAT PIP YOU HAVE HERE?"</h3> "Well, you are all settled, old chap," said Ben, affectionately, with a pat on Jasper's shoulder, "for a spell at least." "That's so," said Jasper, in huge satisfaction, and running over to set some books on his shelves; "good for Doctor Fisher that he won't let me go back till the middle of the term! But I have to dig at these, though, else I'll flunk when I do get there," as he crammed the last book into place. "But you're not to go at them before next week, Jasper," remonstrated Ben, in alarm, and hurrying over to him, "you know Papa Doctor said so; you know he did!" "Oh, I won't have a bout with them until then," promised Jasper. "But after that—then says I, why, I've simply got to. Well now, Ben, there's Pip!" He whirled around to regard Ben anxiously. "I know it," said Ben, with a long face. "I suppose the little chap has got to go back and face those boys," said Jasper, ruefully. Ben swung off on his heel and walked up and down the long apartment. "You know just as well as you want to, Jasper King," he said, coming up to stand squarely in front of the tall boy, "how it will be when Pip gets back there." "Yes, I know; but perhaps the boys will treat him better now," said Jasper, yet he looked uneasy. "Yes, for a while," said Ben, "I think they will;" then he burst out with honest indignation, "but there are enough boys there who'll be at their mean tricks soon enough, as long as you won't be on hand to make them stand round,—you know that, Jasper, as well as you want to." "Well, Pip is different now," said Jasper, determined to find all the bright aspect possible to the case. "I know he is," assented Ben, pounding his hand on the table, "ever so much more like a boy, but that will soon be taken out of him, get him back there without you, or any one who really cares a row of pins about him." "They shan't take it out of him. Oh, no, no!" cried Jasper, in great distress. He really couldn't stop saying it. "Yes," said Ben, obstinately, "they will." "Well, what can be done about it?" demanded Jasper tossing his dark hair away from his brow. And he put a hand on either sturdy shoulder; "Speak out, now, old fellow, if you've a plan in your head, and I'm with you to the last gasp," he added, in suppressed excitement. "There isn't anything to be done," said Ben, slowly, his blue eyes raised to the earnest ones looking him through and through, "except for Pip to keep away from that school till you go back." "For Pip to keep away from that school," echoed Jasper, faintly; "why, he belongs there. Ben Pepper, what are you saying?" "I can't help it if he does belong there," said Ben. "The thing is to get him away for a spell." "How?" demanded Jasper, with a small shake of the broad shoulders. "Your father can do it," said Ben, for answer. "My father!" cried Jasper, in surprise. Then his hands fell away from Ben's shoulders, and he backed slowly off. "Yes, your father," reiterated Ben. "He can do anything, and you know it." "But Ben Pepper—you—you don't understand," said Jasper, very much puzzled to think how Ben, usually so level-headed, could fall into such a stupid misapprehension at this time. "Pip belongs to Doctor Presbrey; that is,—why, you know the story. His father and mother are dead, and he's in the care of the Doctor. Put there by a sort of a guardian down in South America, where the forlorn little chap came from, and—" "Oh, I know that whole story," said Ben, guilty of interrupting. "Well, then, how can you go on so?" exclaimed Jasper, more than ever bewildered that Ben should propose such a useless plan. "Yes, but all that makes no difference," said Ben, snapping his fingers. "Your father can make Doctor Presbrey let Pip off to stay here until you go back." Ben set up his square shoulders and stood as tall as he could, looking up obstinately at Jasper's face. "Whew!" whistled Jasper. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets and marched up and down the apartment, the same as Ben had done. "You see, Doctor Presbrey is a sensible man," said Ben, firing one of his reserve shots after the tall boy, "and when he knows how Pip has changed since he's been here,—why, Joel has done wonders with him,—now that man is going to let him stay on a bit." "Joel hasn't done everything," observed Jasper, wheeling in his corner. "And your father can make anybody do anything," broke in Ben, hurriedly. "Father never likes to interfere with people," said Jasper, running nervous fingers through his dark hair, and wrinkling it up into waves. Then he tossed it back in irritation. "He'll never do it in all this world, Ben Pepper!" and he strode off down the room again. "Yes, he will," declared Ben, standing still in his tracks. Then he fired another shot. "But of course he won't if you and I don't believe in it." "What do you mean?" cried Jasper, wheeling to run up and seize Ben's jacket-button. "Why, I'm in favor of it, this plan of yours, Ben, only it's perfectly useless to begin with;" his gray eyes turned dark with feeling as he fixed them on Ben's face. "That's no way to favor a thing," said Ben, quite unmoved, "not to believe in it." "But—but I can't say I believe in it, because I don't," declared Jasper, quite as obstinately in his way. "But you can go at it as if you wanted to believe in it," said Ben, sturdily. "Well, I will; I'll promise you that," said Jasper, "for I want it as much as you do." "I know it," said Ben, bobbing his head. "All right; now we'll shove ahead on it," said Jasper, with a laugh. "But Father—" and his face fell. "If we want it," said Ben, "we've got to make him want it, too." "Of course. Well, we'll try for it," said Jasper, swallowing hard. "But there's the school; you see it interrupts all Dr. Presbrey's work over Pip." "I know it," said Ben, and his face fell. "But you know everybody said Pip was so dull at school." "Well, that's because he was such a forlorn little chap," said Jasper; "poor mite, anybody would be dull where he wasn't wanted." "That's just it," cried Ben, eagerly. "Well now, he'll study and take hold of things with Joel and David, and Dr. Presbrey will be glad enough to let him stay if it will only wake him up." Ben gave a gasp when he had gotten through, for he wasn't much used to long sentences. "Well, come on," Jasper picked him by the sleeve, "if we have it to do, to ask Father, we best have it over with;" and he hauled Ben off, never letting go till the two paused to knock on Mr. King's writing-room door. Then just a breathing space, when it seemed to Jasper that he must make a bolt and give up the whole thing. "Come in!" called his father's voice; and the two boys found themselves before the big writing-table, and looking down into his face. It wasn't an auspicious moment, for a letter lay open that had evidently caused the reader a bad quarter of an hour. "What is it?" Old Mr. King looked sharply up from his fit of musing. Jasper felt cold chills run all over him. As for Ben, he set his teeth, and his right hand doubled up in his pocket. "Never mind, Father," said Jasper, beginning to back toward the door, "and beg pardon, Ben and I can come in another time if you will allow us." "You will be good enough to stay now, Jasper, that you and Ben are here," said his father, decidedly, the irritation still remaining on cheek and brow; and he set his keen eyes to work on both boys. "Now then, what is it? Speak quickly, for I haven't much time to give you." "Father," said Jasper, and he drew a long breath, "it's about Pip." Old Mr. King took up the subject abruptly. "Well, what has he been doing?" he demanded. "He hasn't been doing anything," said Jasper, "that is, nothing bad. It's about something we want you to do for him, Father." "What?" It was only one word and it came out like a cannon-ball. Ben's hand clenched together tighter yet, especially as he saw Jasper's cheek turn white. "O dear," groaned Ben, "I ought not to have spoken to-day when he's been so sick." "Father," Jasper drew another long breath, then he looked steadily into the sharp eyes, "if that poor little chap only needn't go back to school yet. Dr. Presbrey will let him stay here until I go, if you only ask him." "What?" roared the old gentleman, amazed beyond his control. "You know something of the hard time Pip has at the school," Jasper said persuasively, and though his cheek was white, he still looked steadily into the sharp eyes that now were blazing. "Oh, if you only would, Father, get Dr. Pres—" "And do you mean to say, Jasper, that you would wish me to prefer such a request to Dr. Presbrey, that stern disciplinarian, that he should let a boy off, especially one who is under his care in such a way as Pip is? Preposterous!" Old Mr. King whirled around in his chair, then back again, to bring his right hand emphatically on the table, till the disturbing letter and all the nearest papers fluttered in the wind of his indignation. "Father," said Jasper; then he stopped a second for the right word. But that wasn't allowed him. "And that you should ask such a thing amazes me, Jasper. When did you ever know your father to interfere in other people's affairs?—When, indeed!" He was now so angry that he didn't seem able to contain himself except by pushing about the things nearest to him; and, as his eye fell again on the unlucky cause, he blazed forth, "Never ask me such a thing again." "It was my fault," blurted Ben. "Then you are also to blame," curtly replied Mr. King. "Father," began Jasper again, brokenly; then, without another word, he turned and went out of the room. And Ben, getting out, he didn't know how, followed him to the other end of the hall. "Don't feel so," cried Ben, in a mortal terror for Jasper, Pip's cause now being so much less, and laying his hand on the shaking shoulder. "Oh, Jasper, don't." "We've hurt Pip," said Jasper, his head on his arms, as he leaned on the window-seat. "That's the worst of it. O dear me, Ben!" "Perhaps not," said Ben, with a desperate attempt to be cheerful. "Yes, we have," declared Jasper, gloomily. "Now we never shall get the poor chap the least help; not in all this world, Ben Pepper!" "Well, we've done our best," said Ben, yet his heart fell. "And, oh, don't blame Father," said Jasper, quickly, and raising his head a moment to look at Ben. "Don't, there's a good chap. He isn't himself to-day,—he's had bad news. Can't you see for yourself, Ben?" Jasper searched the round face eagerly. "Of course I know it. Grandpapa wouldn't ever in all this world have gone against it if I hadn't made you go in there to-day." Ben, in his remorse, seized Jasper's shoulder and held on to it, saying it all over again, to wind up with, "It's all my fault, and I've ruined Pip's chance for sure now and made you sick on top of it all." Ben groaned, this time quite aloud, and, despite his efforts, he broke down and threw himself into the nearest chair, to bury his face in his hands. "Oh, don't, don't!" begged Jasper, quite gone in distress to see, for the first time in his life, Ben give way, and he stumbled over to him. A door off in the distance opened, but the sound fell unheeded. "Boys!" Up flew their heads, for there was old Mr. King beckoning with an imperative hand. "Come to my room." And, not daring to look in each other's face, they found themselves once more behind the dreadful door, which was closed after them. "Now, then, Jasper, my boy," and old Mr. King put a hand on his shoulder, "you sit there," pointing to a chair on one side of the writing-table, "and you, Ben, pull up another, there—that's right—get on my left hand. Now we are quite comfortable,"—and he sat down in his own big chair,—"where we can see each other and talk things over." The old gentleman didn't look at them, but played with various trifles scattered over the table, the unlucky letter not being in sight, until such time as it might be supposed that everybody would be ready for conversation. Then he broke out quite easily, as if the most matter-of-fact thing were being said, "Well, now, that little matter of Pip you were going to tell me of. What is it, Jasper,—eh?" "I didn't mean to ask you to do anything out of the way, Father," said Jasper, and his voice shook. "Of course not, of course not," said his father, with a wave of the hand. "Well, I was a bit unstrung, my boy,"—he ran his fingers through his white hair,—"you must forgive your old dad." He coughed, twitched out his handkerchief, blew his nose violently, but didn't seem to get the better of it, especially as Jasper deserted his chair. "Oh, Father!" he cried, falling on his neck. Ben slipped off his leather chair and crept to the door. "Hold on!" thundered old Mr. King at him. "Where are you going, sir?" "I thought—perhaps—you'd—" stammered Ben. "You're not to think. Come back and sit down." Old Mr. King pointed to the chair, and Ben found himself on it again. "And I've a word to say to you, Ben," said the old gentleman, "for you're mixed up in this business." "I know," said Ben, hanging his head. "So you needn't think to elude me,—oh, no!" and Mr. King gave a short laugh. "Now, then, Jasper," bestowing a pat on his dark hair, "you get into your chair and we'll see this thing through. Well, about Pip now," and both boys being settled, "you want me to ask Doctor Presbrey to let him stay here till you go back. Is that the idea?" the old gentleman glanced first at one and then at the other of the faces, now very much flushed. "Yes, sir," said Jasper and Ben together. "I know the poor little beggar has a hard enough time at that school, from what I saw myself," said Mr. King, "and I suppose I don't know half how bad it is." "No, you don't, Father," broke in Jasper, quickly, and tossing the dark hair off from his hot forehead. It was easy enough now to find his tongue, seeing they were safely launched on Pip,—"for Doctor Presbrey even doesn't know it." "A precious set of scamps they are," declared the old gentleman, wrathfully,—"gentlemen's sons! Pretty poor stuff they show for it, to hound a poor, insignificant little specimen like that lad. They ought to be ducked in the nearest pond." "And it isn't always because they mean to be cruel," said Jasper, loyally, and slipping to the edge of his chair in his earnestness. "But they are all the same," said old Mr. King, stoutly. "O dear me! I know it, Father," said Jasper, quite distressed; "that is, some of them are—" "Don't tell any theories of 'didn't think,' and 'didn't mean to,' and all that stuff," said the old gentleman, dryly; "it's plain to see that the Presbrey boys didn't regard Pip in the light of a desirable acquaintance." "No, they didn't," said Jasper, honestly. "I don't blame them for not being especially drawn to him," said his Father; "he's not to my taste exactly as a boy. But for schoolfellows to act so like the Dickens,—well there, that's my opinion of the whole matter." He brought his good right hand down again on the table, till several articles jumped, and the penholder fell off the silver rack and rolled to the floor. "I'm altogether too obstreperous one way or the other this morning," said the old gentleman, with a laugh, as Jasper jumped and recovered it. Then the boys laughing, the air seemed to be cleared. So Mr. King settled back in his big chair and folded his hands in real enjoyment. "Now I don't know but that it would be a good plan," he said, nodding his head, "for me to request Doctor Presbrey to allow the little lad to stay and return with you, Jasper. Understand that I don't say that I believe it will strike the Doctor so; but I can broach it, and if I put it rightly, and—" "And you can, Father," Jasper in his eagerness was guilty of interrupting; "he will do it for you." "I don't know about that, Jasper," said his Father, grimly, but he was vastly pleased nevertheless at the words; "what I know about Doctor Presbrey gives me reason to believe that no one ever makes him do a thing." "Well, he will do it for you, I know," declared Jasper, shaking his dark head confidently. "But it may strike the Doctor favorably; there's hope in that," proceeded Mr. King, briskly, "so I'll write to him and put the case as strongly as I know how. I promise you that, boys." "Oh, thank you, Father," and "Oh, thank you, sir," from Jasper and Ben in the same breath. "Well, now be off with you!"—the old gentleman dismissed them peremptorily,—"for if I have this letter to write I'd best have it off my mind at once," and off they flew on happy heels. "Dear me! Here's Madam Van Ruypen," exclaimed Jasper, too elated to choose his words. "Now, what shall we do, Ben Pepper? Dodge this way;" and they scuttled down the back hall, as Hobson flung wide the big oaken front door. They needn't have troubled themselves, however, to get out of the way, as the farthest from the stately old lady's mind was the desire to meet any of the children on this especial morning, her mind being weighted with other matters. When she was told that Mr. King was busy in his writing room, she waved one of her long black gloves at the butler, and said nonchalantly, "Oh, well, then I will see him there," and, to his great dismay, she sailed, with her Roman nose and big white puffs well in the air, down the hall to his door. "Madam," essayed Hobson, starting after her,—but she was just going into the room. As there was never any lack of directness in any of Madam Van Ruypen's purposes, or her statements, so now she said, scarcely pausing for a casual nod of recognition, "I want you to do me a favor, my good sir." "Eh—er—" cried Mr. King, who had supposed it was Mrs. Whitney's rap that had called forth his "Come in." "My dear Madam," he rose, and with his courtliest air extended his hand, "you do me great honor," and he drew up a chair for her. "Well, if I do you the honor, you must do me the favor," said Madam Van Ruypen, with a little laugh, and settling her stately figure on the chair. "I shall be charmed to," said old Mr. King, "I promise you that, Madam." "That's good," the old lady nodded with great satisfaction. "Well, now, you know, sir," then she paused, strangely at a loss how to begin, "that I am very much disturbed;" the face under the big white puffs fell into long lines that added at once ever so many years to her age. "Oh, I am sorry to hear it," said old Mr. King, in great concern. "I am, indeed. In fact, I have seldom been so upset. Perhaps I have no cause to be; it may turn out well for me." She gave vent to an uneasy little laugh, made an aimless sort of attempt to reach a fan that dangled by a jet chain from her wrist, gave it up, and settled back rigidly in her chair. Mr. King, having nothing to say, picked up a paper-cutter on his writing-table and played with it, not looking at her. "I'll tell you the whole story, then you'll see how I've got the notion in my head," she said explosively at last. "A notion that has turned to absolute truth, as I hope and pray!" Her thin face was white and drawn. "I shall be very glad to hear whatever you may choose to tell me," said the old gentleman, turning courteously to her, "and then if I can be of any service, Madam Van Ruypen, you may command me." She nodded her stately head. "You knew Emily?" she asked abruptly, her sharp eyes full on his face. "Emily?" He searched his mind diligently, but no Emily, who naturally connected herself with the lady before him, appeared. "I am afraid not," he reluctantly admitted. "You cannot have forgotten my daughter," cried Madam Van Ruypen, "though to be sure she was quite a child when we took her abroad to live." "Oh, your daughter!" cried Mr. King; "indeed, I remember her quite well, though, as you say, she was a mere child when you deserted your own country to educate her abroad. But she was not Emily in those days," he rubbed his forehead in a puzzled way; "unless my memory plays me a trick, she was Helena." "Helena she was," assented the old lady, undisturbed. "I remember now, it was afterward we began to call her Emily,—quite for a family reason. Well, that is neither here nor there. Now I won't go into details; enough to say that Emily, despite all her advantages, disappointed us utterly. Perhaps you remember hearing about that. Echoes, if no more, and plenty of them, reached my old home here," she added bitterly. Mr. King bowed silently. "You don't know that Emily married against her father's and my will; that she refused our help, and went off with her husband to share his lot. Oh, she was a proud one!" Madam Van Ruypen crushed her gloves together so tightly that the long hands within must have suffered. There was a pause, and Mr. King turned off to play with the paper-cutter again. "And despite all our efforts, and, after Mr. Van Ruypen died, my individual attempts, we never could get any communication with her or her husband. Mr. King, I never blamed her; it was the influence of the man she married." She faced him now with blazing eyes and head erect. Mr. King laid down the paper-cutter and turned back sympathetically; albeit several friends in the old town had kept alive for Emily Hastings's memory much commendation that she did not yield to her parents' choice of the superannuated wealthy foreigner they had selected as a husband for her. "And he never let me know when the end was coming;" her voice did not break—she was to keep herself in hand until through. "Word was sent only after she had gone from this earth. Mr. King, who is that Pip you have with you?" The transition was so sudden that the old gentleman started nearly out of his chair, stared at her, and gasped, "Pip—my dear Madam—" "Tell me." He could see she was suffering now. The little beads of moisture ran down below the white puffs, and her eyes were fairly hungry for the reply. "Pip—why, Pip—" stammered Mr. King. "Tell me," she commanded peremptorily, "his name." "It's—let me see, we have called him Pip constantly—" he groped for the rest of the recital Jasper had given him one day concerning the lad so thrown upon their sympathy. "I shall think of it presently,—or I can ask Jasper, or Ben," starting out of his chair. "Stay," she laid a detaining hand upon his arm; "where did he live?" "I recall that—South America," replied the old gentleman, promptly. A spasm passed over her face. "His—his father is dead?" It was almost a whisper in which these words came. "Yes," said Mr. King, decidedly, "that is the reason that the poor little lad is under Dr. Presbrey's care." The first gleam of comfort swept over the long, white face. "But the name,—you cannot think of it?" she begged piteously. "Let me see,"—the old gentleman drummed on the writing-table, rubbing his white hair with an absorbed hand,—"Lef—Lef? Yes, I am quite sure, Leffingwell is Pip's name. Why, my dear Madam!"—he started and put out a strong hand to catch her as she swayed in her chair,—"what is it? What can be the matter?" She recovered herself immediately and sat erect. "I am convinced that he is Emily's child." "Impossible!" Old Mr. King started back and held up both hands incredulously. She twitched her black bonnet strings apart with a hasty hand, as if finding it difficult to breathe. "So I thought at first, and I have battled the idea as absurd. But it has conquered me to-day to come here and ask you about his history. And now I know he is Emily's child." "I did not hear that she had a son," said old Mr. King, as something seemed to be required of him. "I did not know it until after his mother died," said Madam Van Ruypen, her voice breaking, "then chance report brought me the news. But I could never get in touch with his father, though I tried many a time. Cornelius Leffingwell was—" "Cornelius?" broke in Mr. King. "The name of Emily's husband," said the old lady. "That is Pip's name, too," said the old gentleman. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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