Raymond Evelyn
Dorothy at Oak Knowe

“A letter for the Dame! Sure she’ll be the proud woman the night, and maybe she’ll think I’d more sense after all. I don’t mind she’d ary letter come before since we was married. Good night, young ladies. Tell the bit woman ’t next time there’ll be nuts in me pockets, all right, and no fear for her o’ more snakes. Good-by.”

They watched him down the path, fairly strutting in his pride over the note which a mere whim on Winifred’s part had suggested, and Dorothy exclaimed:

“What a dear, simple old soul he is! That a tiny thing like that could make so happy. I believe he was more delighted with that half-sheet of your paper than you are with your father’s other half.”

Winifred caught the others about the waist and whirled them indoors again, first gleefully kissing her father’s bit of writing and asking:

“Think so? Then he’s the gladdest person in the world, to-night. Oh – ee!”

“Well, Win, you can be glad without squeezing the breath out of a body, can’t you? Heigho, Robin! Where’d you come from?” said Dolly, as the boy came suddenly upon them from a side hall.

“Why, from the kitchen. The folks there made me eat a lot of good stuff and a woman – I guess it was the housekeeper – she made me put on some of the men’s clothes while she took my knickers and mended them. I’d torn them all to flinders on that slide, or old botched up sled, and she said I was a sight. I was, too. She was awful kind. She made me tell all about Mother and my getting hurt and everything. But she said I ought to go right away and find Mr. Gilpin and get friends with him again. Isn’t it funny? He blames me for all that happened and for teasing him to make that wretched sled, yet, sir, if you’ll believe me he was the one spoke of it first. True! Said he’d never had a toboggan ride in all his life, long as that was, because he hadn’t anybody to go with him. But ‘he’d admire’ to have just one before he died – ”

“He had it, didn’t he?” laughed Winifred.

“He had a hard time getting Mrs. Gilpin’s consent. She treats him as if he were a little boy, worse’n Mother does me, but he doesn’t get mad at all. He thinks she’s the most wonderful woman in the world, but I must find him and put myself right with him before we go home and tackle her. He’ll need my help then more’n he did makin’ that beastly sled! It was awful – really awful – the way he went rolling down that icy slide, but to save my life I can’t help laughing when I think of it. Can you?”

At the lad’s absurd movements, as he now pictured John’s remarkable “ride” they all laughed; but suddenly Dorothy demanded:

“You sit right down yonder on that settle and wait for me. You can’t find Mr. Gilpin, now, he’s far on the road home. But there’s something I must ask Miss Tross-Kingdon – ”

“No! You don’t ask Miss Tross-Kingdon one single thing till I’ve had my ask first, Dorothy Calvert! Here I’m nearly crazy, trying to hold in my secret, and – ”

“I claim my chance too! I’ve a petition of my own if you please and let the first to arrive win!” shouted Gwendolyn, speeding after the other two toward the “audience chamber.”

Thus deserted, Robin laughed and curled up on the bench to wait; while the Lady Principal’s sanctum was boisterously invaded by three petitioners, forgetful of the required decorum, and each trying to forestall the others, with her:

“Oh! Miss Muriel, may I – ?” “Please, Miss Tross-Kingdon, my father’s – ”

“Hear me first, dear Lady Principal, before he gets away. Can – ”

But the Lady Principal merely clapped her hands over her ears and ordered:

“One at a time. Count twenty.”

CHAPTER XV
MRS. JARLEY ENTERTAINS

“I’ve counted! And I beg pardon for rushing in here like that. But I was afraid the others had favors to ask and I wanted to get mine in first!” said Gwendolyn, after the brief pause Miss Tross-Kingdon had suggested.

“Oh! you sweet, unselfish thing!” mocked Winifred, “your favor can’t be half as fine as mine – ”

“Nor mine! Oh! do please let me speak first, for fear he gets away!” begged Dorothy, eagerly.

“First come first served, Dolly, please!” coaxed Gwendolyn and the teacher nodded to her to speak.

“Mine’s for next Saturday. Mrs. Jarley’s Wax Works are to be in town and Mamma says if you’ll allow I may invite the whole school to go. She’ll have big sleighs sent out for us and will let us have supper at the hotel where she stops. May we go?”

“Wait a moment, Gwendolyn. Did you say the ‘whole school’?”

Each year Lady Jane had allowed her daughter to entertain her schoolmates in some such manner but the number had, heretofore, been limited to “Peers” only. Such a wholesale invitation as this required some explanation.

Gwendolyn’s eyes fell and her cheek flushed, while the other girls listened in wondering delight for her answer, which came after some hesitation. But came frankly at last in the girl’s own manner.

“I’m ashamed now of the silly notions I used to have. I wanted to do something which would prove that I am; so instead of picking out a few of what we called ‘our set’ I want every girl at Oak Knowe to join us. You’ll understand, of course, that there will be no expense to anybody. It’s Mamma’s farewell treat to us girls, before she goes abroad. May she and I give it?”

“Indeed, you may, Gwendolyn, if the Bishop approves. With the understanding that no lessons are neglected. The winter is about over. Spring exams are near, and ‘Honors’ or even ‘Distinction’ will not be won without hard work.”

“Thank you, Miss Muriel. May I go now and ask the Bishop, then tell the girls?”

“Certainly,” and there was an expression of greater pleasure on the lady’s face than on that of Gwendolyn’s even.

Winifred executed what she called a “war dance” as Gwen disappeared, crying:

“That’s what I call a wholesale burying of the hatchet! That ‘Honorable’ young woman is distinguishing herself. Don’t you think so, Miss Muriel?”

“I am pleased. I am very pleased. Gwendolyn has surely dropped her foolishness and I’m proud of her. It’s so much safer for anyone to be normal, without fads or fancies – ”

“Oh! come now, you dear Schoolma’am! Never mind the pretty talk just this minute, ’cause I can’t wait to tell you – Father’s coming – my Father is coming and a proper good time with him! If you’ll only remember I wasn’t saucy then – A girl you’d raised to hand, like me, couldn’t really be saucy, could she? And – and please just wait a minute. Please let me talk first. Because I can’t ask everybody, but my darling Father means just as well as Lady Jane. His invite is only for a dozen – round baker’s dozen, to take a trip in his car to Montreal and visit the Ice Palace! Think of that! The beautiful Ice Palace that I’ve never seen in all my life. If you’ll say ‘yes,’ if you’ll be the picker out of ’em, besides yourself and Miss Hexam and Dawkins – Oh! dear! You three grown-ups take off three from my dozen-thirteen! But there’ll be ten left, any way, and please say yes and how many days we may be gone and – Oh! I love you, Miss Muriel, you know I do!”

The lady Principal calmly loosened Winifred’s clasping arms, and smilingly looked into the sparkling, pleading eyes before her. Who could be stern with the whimsical child she had cared for during so many years, and under whose apparently saucy manner, lay a deep love and respect? She did not enlighten the pleader on the fact that this was no new thing she had just heard; nor that there had been written communications passing between Mr. Christie and the Bishop with consent already won. But she put her answer off by saying:

“We’ll see about it, Winifred: and I’m glad there was nobody save Dorothy here to see you so misbehave! But if we go, and if the selection is left to me, I may not please you; for I should choose those whose record for good conduct is highest and whose preparation for exams is most complete.”

Winifred wrinkled her brows. Of course she, as hostess couldn’t be counted either out or in, but she knew without telling that but few of her own class-ten would be allowed to go. They were the jolliest “ten” at Oak Knowe and oftener in disgrace about lessons than free from it.

“Oh! dear! I do wish we’d dreamed this treat was coming! I’d have forced the ‘Aldriches’ to study as hard as they played – if – if I had to do it at the point of my mahl-stick. I guess it’ll be a lesson to them.”

“I trust it will, dear, but Dorothy has waited all this time. Three little maids with three little wishes, regular fairy-tale like, and two of them granted already. What’s yours, Dorothy?”

Since listening to the others’ requests, her own seemed very simple, almost foolish; but she answered promptly:

“I want to get you a boot-boy.”

Winifred laughed.

“Hey, Dolly! To switch off from a private-car-ice-palace-trip into a boot-boy’s jacket is funny enough. Who’s the candidate you’re electioneering for?”

Miss Muriel hushed Winifred’s nonsense which had gone far enough and was due, she knew, to the girl’s wild delight over her father’s promised visit.

“If you could find a good one for me, Dorothy, you would certainly be doing me a favor, not I one for you. Whom do you mean?”

“Robin Locke, Miss Tross-Kingdon. He’s so very poor.”

“Poverty isn’t always a recommendation for usefulness. Is he old enough? Is it that lad who came with Mr. Gilpin?”

“Yes, Miss Muriel. He’s just the loveliest boy I’ve seen in Canada – ”

“The only one, except Jack!” interrupted Winifred.

“It was because of me and my carelessness he got hurt and broke himself. He was carrying my telegram that I ought to have sent long before and he was so starved he fell off his bicycle and always ever since I’ve wished I could help him some way and he’d have such a nice home here and he wouldn’t bring in goats, and his mother could do things to help and I thought maybe he could do the shoes and other things would be easier than what he did and could be a golf-boy for the Bishop when the time comes and it’s pretty near and – ”

“There, Dorothy, take your breath, and put a comma or two into your sentences. Then we’ll talk about this project of yours. Where’s Robin now?”

“Right out on the settle this minute waiting – if he hasn’t gone away – May I – ”

“Yes, honey, step-an’-fetch him!” laughed Winifred again, “he’s used to that sort of talk.”

Away flashed Dorothy and now, at a really serious rebuke from the Lady Principal, Winifred sobered her lively spirits to be an interested witness of the coming interview, as Dorothy came speeding back, literally dragging the shy Robin behind her.

But, as before, the presence of other young folks and Miss Muriel’s first question put him at his ease.

“Robin, are you willing to work rather hard, in a good home, for your mother and to provide one for her, too?”

“Why, of course, Ma’am. That’s what I was a-doin’ when I fell off. Goody! Wouldn’t I? Did you ever see my mother, lady?”

“Yes, Robin, at our Hallowe’en Party,” answered Miss Tross-Kingdon, smiling into the beautiful, animated face of this loyal son.

“You’d like her, Ma’am, you couldn’t help it. She’s ‘the sweetest thing in the garden,’ Father used to say, and he knew. She feels bad now, thinking we’ve been so long at the farmer’s ’cause she don’t see how ’t we ever can pay them. And the doctor, too. Oh! Ma’am, did you hear tell of such a place? Do you think I could get it?”

“Yes, lad, I did hear of just such, for Dorothy told me. It’s right here at Oak Knowe. The work is to pick up row after row of girls’ shoes, standing over night outside their bedroom doors and to blacken them, or whiten them, as the case might be, and to have them punctually back in place, in time for their owners to put on. Cleaning boots isn’t such a difficult task as it is a tedious one. The maids complain that it’s more tiresome than scrubbing, and a boy I knew grew very careless about his work. If I asked you and your mother to come here to live, would you get tired? Or would she dislike to help care for the linen mending? Of course, you would be paid a fair wage as well as she. What do you think?”

What Robin thought was evident: for away he ran to Dorothy’s side and catching her hand kissed it over and over.

“Oh! you dear, good girl! It was you who helped the doctor set my bones, it was you who let me slide on your new toboggan, and it’s you who’ve ‘spoke for me’ to this lady. Oh! I do thank you. And now I’m not afraid to go back and see Mr. Gilpin. He was so vexed with me because he thought – May I go now, Ma’am? and when do you want us, Mother and me?”

“To-morrow morning, at daybreak. Will you be here?”

“Will I not? Oh! good-by. I must go quick! and tell my Mother that she needn’t worry any more. Oh! how glad I am!”

With a bow toward Miss Tross-Kingdon and a gay wave of his hand toward the girls, he vanished from the room, fairly running down the corridor and whistling as he went. The rules of Oak Knowe had yet all to be learned but it certainly was a cheerful “noise in halls” to which they listened now.

“And that’s another ‘link’ in life, such as Uncle Seth was always watching for. If I hadn’t delayed that telegram and he hadn’t fallen down and – everything else that happened – Robin would never have had such a lovely chance,” said Dorothy proudly.

“That’s a dangerous doctrine, Dorothy. It’s fine to see the ‘links’ you speak of, but not at all fine to do evil that good may come. I’d rather have you believe that this same good might have come to the lad without your own first mistake. But it’s time for studying Sunday lessons and you must go.”

“Catch me studying ‘links’ for things, Dolly, if it gets a body lectured. Dear Lady Principal does so love to cap her kindnesses with ‘a few remarks.’ There’s a soft side and a hard side to that woman, and a middle sort of schoolma’amy side between. She can’t help it, poor thing, and mostly her soft side was in front just now.

“Think of it! Wax Works and Ice Palaces all in one term! I do just hope Mrs. Jarley’ll have a lot of real blood-curdling ‘figgers’ to look at and not all miminy-piminy ones. Well, good night, honey, I’m off to be as good as gold.”

Every pupil at Oak Knowe, in the week that followed, tried to be “as good as gold,” for a pleasure such as Lady Jane proposed to give the school was as welcome to the highest Form as to the lowest Minims, and the result was that none was left out of the party – not one.

It was all perfectly arranged, even the weather conspiring to further the good time, with a beautifully clear day and the air turned mild, with a promise of the coming spring. The snow was beginning to waste, yet the sleighing held fine and the city stables had been ransacked to obtain the most gorgeous outfits with the safest drivers.

Thirty handsome sleighs with their floating plumes and luxurious robes, drawn by thirty spans of beautiful horses was the alluring procession which entered Oak Knowe grounds on the eventful Saturday; and three hundred happy girls, each in her best attire piled into them. Yes, and one small boy! For who could bear to leave behind that one last child of the great family? And a boy who in but a week’s time had learned to clean shoes so well and promptly?

So clad in his new suit, of the school’s uniform, “Such as all we men folks wear” – as he had proudly explained to his mother when he first appeared in this before her – and with a warm top-coat and cap to match, the happy youngster rode in the leading sleigh in which sat Lady Jane herself.

Of how those happy young folks took possession of the exhibition hall, that had been reserved for them; and smiled or shuddered over the lifelike images of famous men and women; and finally tore themselves away from the glib tongue of the exhibitor and his fascinating show – all this any schoolgirl reader can picture for herself.

Then of the dinner at the great hotel, in a beautiful room also reserved that they might indulge their appetites as hunger craved without fear or observation of other guests: the slow drive about the city, and the swift drive home – with not one whit of the gayety dimmed by any untoward accident.

“Oh! it’s been a perfect success! Nothing has happened that should not, and I believe that I’ve been the happiest girl of all! But such a crowd of them. Better count your flock, Miss Tross-Kingdon, maybe, and see if any are missing;” said Lady Jane as she stepped down at the Oak Knowe door.

“I don’t see how there could be, under your care, my Lady, but I’ll call a mental roll.”

So she did. But the roll was not perfect. Two were missing. Why?

CHAPTER XVI
A PERPLEXING PROBLEM OF LIFE

Miss Tross-Kingdon entered Miss Hexam’s room, looking so disturbed that the latter asked:

“Why, Muriel, what is the matter?”

They two were of kin and called each other by their first names.

“Matter enough, Wilda. I’m worried and angry. And to think it should happen while the Bishop is away on that trip of his to the States!”

“Tell me,” urged the gentle little woman, pushing a chair forward into which the Lady Principal wearily dropped.

“It’s that Dorothy Calvert. She’s lost herself again!”

“She has a knack of doing that! But she’ll be found.”

“Maybe. Worst is she’s taken another with her. Robin, the new boot-boy.”

Miss Hexam laughed:

“Well, I admit that is the greater loss just now! Girls are plentiful enough at Oak Knowe but boot-boys are scarce. And this Robin was a paragon, wasn’t he? Also, I thought Dorothy was away up toward the ‘good conduct medal,’ as well as ‘distinction’ in music. I don’t see why she should do so foolish a thing as you say and lessen her chances for the prize.”

“Wilda, you don’t understand how serious it is. It was one thing to have it happen in this house but it’s night now and she away in a strange city. I declare I almost wish she’d never come at all.”

For a moment Miss Hexam said no more. She knew that Miss Muriel loved the missing girl with sincere affection and was extremely proud of her great progress in her studies. All the school had readily conceded that in her own Form Dorothy stood highest, and would certainly win the “honors” of that Form. When the Principal had rested quietly a while longer she asked:

“Now tell me all about it, Muriel.”

“Nobody missed her, but, she did not come home with the rest. I’ve ’phoned to the police to look for for her and the boy, but it’s a disgrace to the school to have to do such a thing. Besides, Robin’s mother is half wild about him and declares she must walk into town to seek him.”

“You’re foolish, the pair of you. Stop and reason. Robin is thoroughly familiar with the city and suburbs, from his messenger-boy experience. Dorothy is blessed with a fair share of common sense. If they wandered away somewhere, they’ll soon wander back again when they realize what they have done. I’m sorry you stirred up the police and they should be warned to keep the matter quiet.”

“Oh! they have been,” answered the weary Lady Principal. “It does seem, lately, that every good time we allow the girls ends in disaster.”

“Never mind. You go to bed. You’ve done all you can till morning.”

Miss Muriel did go away but only to spend the night in watching along with Lady Jane in the library, the latter deeply regretting that she had ever suggested this outing and, like the Lady Principal, both sorry and angry over its ending.

Dorothy had ridden to the exhibition in the very last sleigh of all, as Robin had in the first, and when they all left the hotel after dinner he had lingered beside her while she waited for the other teams to drive on and her own to come up.

This took a long time, there was so much ado in settling so many girls to the satisfaction of all; and looking backward he saw that there would still be a delay of several moments.

“I say, Dorothy, come on. I want to show you where we used to live before my father died. We’ll be back in plenty time. It’s the dearest little house, with only two rooms in it; but after we left it nobody lived there and it’s all gone to pieces. Makes me feel bad but I’d like to show you. Just down that block and around a side street. Come on. What’s the use standing here?”

“Sure we can be back in time, Robin?”

“Certain. Cross my heart. I’m telling you the truth. It’s only a step or so.”

“Well, then, let’s hurry.”

Hurry they did, he whistling as usual, until they came to a narrow alley that had used to be open but had now been closed by a great pile of lumber, impossible for them to climb.

“Oh! pshaw! Somebody must be going to build here. But never mind. Our house was right yonder, we can go another way.”

His interest as well as hers in exploring “new places,” made them forget everything else; and when, at last, they came to Robin’s old home a full half-hour had passed.

It was, indeed, a sorry place. Broken windows, hanging doors and shutters, chimney fallen, and doorstep gone. Nobody occupied it now except, possibly, a passing tramp or the street gamin who had destroyed it.

“My! I’m glad my Mother can’t see it now. She never has since we moved down to our cottage in the glen. It would break her dear heart, for my father built it when they were first married. That was the kitchen, that the bedroom – Hark! What’s that?”

“Sounded like a cat.”

“Didn’t to me. Cats are squealier’n that was. I wonder if anybody or thing is in there now. If I had time I’d go and see.”

“Robin, wouldn’t you be afraid?”

“Afraid? Afraid to go into my own house, that was, that my father built with his own hands? Huh! What do you take me for? I’d as soon go in there as eat my din – Hello! There certainly – ”

They put their heads close to the paneless window and listened intently. That was a human groan. That was a curious patter of small hoofs – Dorothy had heard just such a sound before. That surely was a most familiar wail:

“Oh, Baal! My jiminy cricket!”

“Jiminy cricket yourself, Jack-boot-boy! What you doing in my house? I’m living in yours – I mean I’m boot-boy now. How are you?” cried Robin, through the window.

“Who’m you? Have you got anything to eat? Quick! Have you?”

The voice which put the question was surely Jack’s but oddly weak and tremulous. Dorothy answered:

“Not here, Jack, course. Are you hungry?”

“Starvin’! Starvin’! I ain’t touched food nor drink this two days. Oh! Have you?”

Daylight was already fading and street lights flashing out but this by-way of the town had no such break to the darkness. Robin was over the rickety threshold in an instant and Dorothy quickly followed. Neither had now any thought save for the boy within and his suffering.

They found him lying on a pile of old rags or pieces of discarded burlap which he had picked up on the streets, or that some former lodger in the room had gathered. Beside him was Baal, bleating piteously, as if he, too, were starving. The reason for this was evident when Robin stumbled over a rope by which the animal was fastened to the window sash; else he might have strolled abroad and foraged for himself.

But if Robin fell he was up in a second and with the instincts of a city bred boy knew just what to do and how to do it.

“Got any money, Dorothy?”

“Yes. Twenty-five cents, my week’s allowance.”

“I’ve got ten. Mother said I might keep that much out of my week’s wages. Give it here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He was gone and Dorothy dropped down on the dusty floor beside Jack and asked his story. He told it readily enough, as far as willingness went, but his speech lagged for once and from sheer lack of strength.

“I left – seeking my fortune. It warn’t so easy as I thought it would be. I’ve hired for odd jobs, held horses, run arrants, helped ’round taverns, but didn’t get no place for steady. Trouble was, folks don’t take no great to Baal. They’d put with him a spell, treat him real decent till he’d up and butt somebody over – then his dough was cooked. The worse he was used the better I liked him, though I’d ha’ sold him for money if I could, I’ve been hungry so much the time. And that right here, Dorothy, in a town full o’ victuals! Just chock full. See ’em in the winders, see ’em in the markets, on wagons – and every created place, but not a speck for me. But I got along, I’d ha’ made out, if I hadn’t et somethin’ made me dretful sick. It was somethin’ in a can I picked up out a garbage pail, some sort o’ fish I guess, and I’ve been terr’ble ever since. What’d he go for? Why don’t he come back?”

“I don’t know. I reckon he went for food. How did you keep warm in here, if this is where you lived?”

“Didn’t keep warm. How could I? I ain’t been warm, not real clean through, since the last night I slep’ in my nice bed at Oak Knowe.”

“Why didn’t you come back? Or go to the railway stations? They are always heated, I reckon.”

“Did. Turned me out. Lemme stay a spell but then turned me out. Said I better go to the poorhouse but – won’t that boy never come!”

“He’s coming now, Jack,” she answered and was almost as glad as he of the fact.

Robin came whistling in, good cheer in the very sound.

“Here you are neighbor! Candle and matches – two cents. Pint of milk – three. Drink it down while I light up!”

Jack grabbed the milk bottle with both hands and drained it; then fell back again with a groan.

“’T hurts my stummick! Hurts my stummick awful!”

“Never mind. I’ll turn Baal loose and let him find something outside. A likely supper of tin cans and old shoes’ll set him up to a T. Scoot, Baal!”

The goat was glad enough to go, apparently, yet in a moment came bleating back to his master. Dorothy thought that was pathetic but Robin declared it disgusting.

“Clear out, you old heathen, and hunt your supper – ”

“Oh! don’t be cruel to the loving creature, Robin! Suppose he should get lost?” begged Dorothy.

“Lost? You can’t lose Baal, don’t you fret. Look-a-here, boy! here’s a sandwich! Come from the best place in town. I know it. Give the biggest slice for the least money. Can’t tell me anything about that, for I’ve been nigh starved myself too often in this same old town. What? You don’t want it? Can’t eat it? Then what do you want?”

Provoked that his efforts to please Jack failed so fully, Robin whistled again, but not at all merrily this time; for he had at last begun to think of his own predicament and Dorothy’s. Here they were stranded in town, Oak Knowe so far away, night fast falling and, doubtless, a stern reprimand due – should they ever reach that happy haven again.

“Robin, I do believe he is sick. Real, terrible sick. It wasn’t just starving ailed him. Do you s’pose we could get a doctor to him?”

“To this shanty? No, I don’t. But if he’s sick, there’s hospitals. Slathers of ’em. Hurray! There’s the one that Dr. Winston is head of. There’s an emergency ward there and free ones – and it’s the very checker!”

Jack had ceased moaning and lay very still. So still that they were both frightened and Dolly asked:

“How can we get him there, if they would take him in? He’s terrible heavy to carry.”

Even dimly seen by the light of the flickering candle struck on the floor, Dorothy thought the pose of superiority Robin now affected the funniest thing, and was not offended when he answered with lofty scorn:

“Carry him? I should say not. We couldn’t and we won’t. I’ll just step to the corner and ring up an ambulance. I know the name. You stay here. I’ll meet it when it comes and don’t get scared when the gong clangs to get out of the way.”

Dorothy’s own life in a southern city returned to her now and she remembered some of its advantages which Robin had spoken of. So she was not at all frightened when she heard the ambulance come into the street beyond the alley, which was too narrow for it to enter, nor when two men in hospital uniforms appeared at the door of the room. They had lanterns and a stretcher and at once placed poor Jack upon it and hurried away.

They needed not to ask questions for Robin had followed them and was glibly explaining all he knew of the “case” and the rest which he had guessed.

“Ate spoiled fish out of a garbage can, did he? So you think it’s ptomaine poisoning, do you Doctor Jack-o’-my-thumb? Well, I shouldn’t be surprised if your diagnosis is correct. Steady now, mate, this is a – Hello! What’s that?”

“That” proved to be Baal, returned to inquire what was being done to his master by prodding the orderly’s legs with his horns, so that the stretcher nearly fell out of his hand.

Baal got his answer by way of a vicious kick which landed him out of reach and permitted the men to carry their burden quickly away. Left behind, the pair of young Samaritans stared for an instant at one another, dismayed at their own delay.

It was Dorothy who came to a decision:

“We’ve done as bad as we could and as good. Seems awful queer how it all happened. Now we must go home. Can we get a carriage anywhere and would it take us back without any money to pay it? Would Miss Tross-Kingdon pay it, do you think? The Bishop would but he’s gone traveling.”

Leaving their candle still flickering on the floor they anxiously left the shanty; and it may be stated here, for the guidance of other careless ones that there was an item in the next morning’s paper stating that a certain “old rookery had been burned down during the night; origin of fire unknown; a benefit to the city for it had long been infested by hoboes and tramps.” To which of these classes poor Jack belonged it did not state; but either one was a far call to the “great artist” he had said he would become.

There were cabs in plenty to be seen and, probably, to be hired; but they did not summon one. A vision of Miss Tross-Kingdon’s face at its sternest rose before Dorothy and she dared not venture on the lady’s generosity. Another thought came, a far happier one:

“I’ll tell you! Let’s follow Jack. Maybe Dr. Winston would be there or somebody would know about us – if we told – and would telephone to Oak Knowe what trouble we’re in. For it is trouble now, Robin Locke, and you needn’t say it isn’t. You’re scared almost to death and so am I. I wish – I wish I’d never heard of a Wax Works, so there!”

Robin stopped and turned her face up to the light of a street lamp they were passing and saw tears in her eyes. That was the oddest thing for her to cry – right here in this familiar city where were railway stations plenty in which they might wait till morning and somebody came. But, softened as her tears made him, he couldn’t yet quite forget that he was the man of the party.