CHAPTER VII
LUKE REMEMBERS
“Goodness, what is it?” cried Nalbro, and she turned toward Hal, not a very difficult operation as he had been near her all evening.
“Where did it come from, Mrs. MacCall?” asked Ruth, as she observed the object, which looked like an immense white egg, rolling farther and farther into the living-room.
“It was in the hall. Hech! Hech! It’s a ghostie, sure! A witch! A warlock! Lang-nebbied—lang-nebbied!”
“It hasn’t a long nose at all, if that’s what you mean,” declared Agnes, for she was sufficiently familiar with the housekeeper’s Scotch dialect to interpret these words.
“Aye, lassie, mebby not the noo. But e’er it’ll gang awa’——”
“Why, it’s a football!” exclaimed Luke. “A football painted white!”
“So it is,” agreed Neale, for many a blown-up pigskin he had help shove over the goal line.
“Who kicked it in here?” demanded Ruth, but, even as she asked, she began to suspect Sammy, Dot and Tess.
“’Twas nae kicket,” asserted Mrs. MacCall, who had sunk trembling into a rocking chair. “’Twas nae kicket. But ’twas rollin’ alang by its anesel’.”
And, truly, the white football—ghostly enough alone—was making its way over the floor in a strange fashion, rolling first to one side and then to the other.
“It moves like one of those Mexican beans with a bug inside,” laughed Neale.
“Well, a football was made to kick, and here goes!” cried Luke, advancing toward the pigskin.
“Don’t kick it! Don’t!” cried a voice outside the living-room door, and from the hall in sprang Sammy Pinkney, followed by the giggling Tess and Dot, the latter carrying her Alice-doll.
“Why shouldn’t I kick it, young man?” demanded Luke.
“’Cause there’s—now—there’s somethin’ inside,” asserted Sammy.
“What?” was called at him in a chorus.
“My alligator!”
“Alligator!” Again the chorus, but in different-toned voices.
“Yes, I’ll show you.”
Sammy knelt over the white-painted football—for it was that—and began unlacing it to remove the outer cover of pigskin which inclosed the rubber bladder within, as an automobile tire is made of a casing and inner tube.
And from between the blown-up bladder and the outer skin Sammy lifted his pet Palm Island alligator.
“Sammy Pinkney!” cried Agnes.
“Did you do it on purpose?” demanded Ruth, though she sensed the futility of the question almost as soon as she had propounded it. Sammy seldom did anything without a purpose—good or bad.
“I just put Snapper inside the football after I put some whitewash on it, and——”
Sammy was about to say that Tess and Dot had teased him to do something “exciting,” and that this was the outcome of the idea that had come to him during the conference on his porch. But Sammy was, after all, a gentleman in his own way, and one of the articles of his creed was:
“Never tell on another.”
Therefore he said:
“Yep! I did it.”
But Tess and Dot were not proof against this chivalry and self-sacrifice. Bravely they faced the music.
“I helped blow up the bladder,” confessed Tess.
“And I—er—I helped stuff Snapper in, because he was all the time sticking his tail out, and his tail had to go in,” admitted Dot.
“Oh, you children!” sighed Ruth, hardly able to refrain from laughing.
“The puir beastie!” came from Mrs. MacCall. “’Tis a wonder he were nae smotherit in there.”
“He had plenty of air—he wasn’t inside the bladder!” explained Sammy. “He was just in the leather part, and there was air he could breathe, ’cause there’s holes for the lace to go through. And I left it loose enough so he could wiggle.”
“Then I wasn’t far out with my guess about the Mexican bean,” said Neale.
Doubtless most of you have seen those queer beans, or seeds, which move so oddly when you place them on the palm of your hand. The movements are caused by an insect, or worm, that has developed from an egg laid within the seed.
“The ’gator wiggled inside the ball, and that caused it to roll over and over in a manner that only a Rugby football can roll,” chuckled Neale. “I give you credit, Sammy!”
“Don’t!” begged Ruth, in a low voice. “He’ll think he’s being praised and he’ll try something else.”
“Well, but you’ve got to give him credit,” insisted Neale. “For it was a clever trick for the kid.”
“Stop it!” commanded Agnes, and she put her hand over his mouth, whereat he pretended to bite her and the two skylarked about the room to the no small annoyance of Ruth.
“It’s a mercy I didna’ drapit the lemonade,” said Mrs. MacCall, as she took the tray from the chair where Luke had placed it and began serving the refreshments. “I’ll hae a settlement wi ye, syne, Sammy, me lad,” she promised, and there was more to this than appeared on the surface.
“Well, I didn’t mean any harm,” muttered the boy, as he gathered up the alligator and football.
Sammy never did mean harm, and, to tell the truth, his tricks and jokes seldom really harmed any one. Mrs. MacCall had strong nerves, even when she thought she saw “witches, warlocks an’ lang-nebbied things,” and so she soon recovered her wonted spirits.
Had Sammy, Tess and Dot not already been supplied with their share of the ice cream and cake they might have been punished by being deprived of these dainties. But they must have sensed that something of this order would be put in operation if they played their joke before the refreshments had been passed. So they were saved, though Ruth insisted on her younger sisters going to bed, and, of course, this meant that Sammy would have to go home.
But he did not go willingly, for when he saw that the older boys and girls were settling themselves for an evening of talk, music, and the playing of games, he wistfully inquired:
“Is there anythin’ you’d like me to do?”
“Thank you, no, Sammy,” replied Ruth, with sarcastic sweetness. “You have done full and plenty for one evening.”
But Agnes, with ever a soft spot in her heart for the children, slipped Sammy a large piece of chocolate cake, unobserved, as she let him out of the side door to go to his own home.
“And don’t let Dot and Tess lead you into mischief again,” warned Agnes, giggling.
“No’m, thank you,” answered Sammy. The thanks, be it known, were for the cake, not for the well-meant warning.
The Corner House, for some time rather silent and gloomy following the death of Uncle Peter Stower, now rang with laughter and the singing of the merry voices of young people. Certainly it was a jolly crowd that Ruth and Agnes had gathered about them, and Nalbro was very glad she had accepted the invitation. As for Hal—he was always glad to be where Nally was, and Luke and Neale were satisfied with their choices.
Perhaps, just for a moment or two, Ruth and Agnes might have felt some twinges of jealousy, especially when Nalbro offered to do some “second-sight” experiments and offered to tell what a person was thinking of.
To do this, she declared, it was necessary that she hold the hand of the person on whom she was experimenting, and as soon as this was announced three eager young men pressed forward, clamoring to be the first subject.
“I think she could just as well have done it some other way, don’t you?” asked Agnes of Ruth, when they were getting ready for bed later. “She took a very long time with Luke, I notice, and he asked her to take both his hands.”
“Oh—it—it didn’t mean anything,” declared Ruth. “It was all in fun.”
“Well, I told Neale what I thought of him,” said Agnes, the least bit sharply.
“Was that wise?” asked Ruth, quietly.
“I don’t care whether it was or not!” came the quick retort. “She is pretty and her clothes are a lot better than ours. I’m never going to Ann Titus again! She has no more style——”
“I think you are tired, Aggie,” said Ruth, stroking her sister’s head. “And you must remember that Nally is our guest.”
“Oh, yes, I know I’m just horrid. But——”
However, the first little affair passed off most successfully, even with the mysterious white football, and when Uncle Rufus was locking up, after Neale and Luke and the others had gone, he chuckled as he said:
“Dish suah am laik ole times when Massa Stower done hab parties his own self.”
“They’re a gay bonnie lot of lads an’ lassies!” said Mrs. MacCall. “Aw, it’s a gran’ thing to be young!”
“It suah am!” chuckled Uncle Rufus. “An’ if I was as spry as dey are I suah would hab tuck after dem cellar men dat day dey wuz heah makin’ believe mend a pipe.”
“Ye hae na seen them ag’in, hae ye?” asked the housekeeper, quickly, with a startled look down the hall.
“No’m, Miss Mac, I hasn’t,” replied Uncle Rufus. “But if I does——” And he shook his black fist suggestively as he shuffled off to his own quarters.
Hal and Nalbro smiled at each other across the breakfast table the next morning, and Ruth and Agnes, if they felt any little jealousy against their pretty girl guest, did not show it.
“Did you rest well, Nally?” inquired Ruth.
“Wonderfully!”
“Like a top!” was Hal’s description. “And what wild round of gayeties do we indulge in to-day?” he asked, with a grin.
“Nothing very strenuous, I hope,” said Miss Hastings, with rather a drawl that she was “affecting,” Agnes declared, since her lisp had gone. “But of course I’m ready for anything,” she added quickly, lest it be thought she intended to cast a wet blanket on the festivities.
“We planned an auto ride to the Glen,” said Ruth. “It’s a beautiful place, and we can eat lunch there.”
“Sounds good to me,” declared Hal. “Especially that lunch part. I’m with you.”
“It will be delightful,” said the Boston girl.
“Neale will run the car. He’ll be here about ten o’clock,” announced Agnes.
“Oh, I think Neale’s the dearest boy!” declared Nally.
“What about me?” demanded Hal brazenly.
“Oh, you don’t count. You’re one of the family!” laughed the Boston girl.
And so with merry quip and laughter the breakfast proceeded.
Luke was to be a member of the auto party that would go to the Glen, and he and Neale arrived at the Corner House together, for Luke was staying with Neale at Con Murphy’s. The two lads, with Hal, were about to go out to the garage to see that the car was in readiness when suddenly Ruth, who was looking from the window toward the street, cried:
“There they are again!”
“Who?” demanded Agnes, impressed by something in her sister’s voice.
“Those two queer men who were in our cellar! I really believe they are spying on us. They were sneaking around the side entrance. Quick! Luke—Neale—see them!”
“I see them!” exclaimed Neale.
“Those men!” cried Luke, as Ruth pointed to two ragged, shiftless figures hastening down the street, for they had changed their intentions on seeing Ruth at the window. “Why, I remember them!”
“You remember them!” repeated Ruth. “What do you mean?”
“Tell you later. Come on, Neale, let’s see if we can’t round them up!” cried Luke, and, without answering Ruth’s question, he dashed from the house in pursuit of the mysterious individuals, Neale at his heels.