The Poor Little Rich Girl Page 11

  CHAPTER XI

  As she trotted along, pulling with great relish at a candy-stick, sheglanced down at the Policeman every now and then--and glowed with pride.On some few well-remembered occasions her chauffeur had condescended tohold a short conversation with her; had even permitted her to sound theclarion of the limousine, with its bright, piercing tones. All of whichhad been keenly gratifying. But here she was, actually conversing withan Officer in full uniform! And on terms of perfect equality!

  She proffered him the bag of spiral sweets.

  He cocked his head side wise at it. "Is that the chewing kind?" heinquired.

  "Oh, I'm sorry!"

  However, he did not seem in the least disappointed. For he had amouthful of gum, and this he cracked loudly from time to time--in a waythat excited her admiration and envy.

  "I've watched you go by our house lots of times," she confidedpresently, eager to say something cordial.

  "Oh?" said he. "It's a beat that does well enough in summer. But in thewintertime I'd rather be Down-Town." Puffing a little,--for though hewas upside down and walking on his hands, he had so far made goodprogress--he halted and rested his feet against the lowest limb of atree that stood close to the road. Now his cap touched the ground, andhis hands were free. With one white-gloved finger he drew three shortlines in the packed dirt.

  "And you _ought_ to be Down-Town," declared the little old gentleman,halting too. "Because you're a Policeman with a level head."

  A level head? Gwendolyn stooped to look. And saw that it was indeed afact!

  "If I hadn't one," answered the Policeman with dignity, "would I be ableto stand up comfortably in this remarkable manner?"

  "Oh, tee! hee! hee! hee!"

  It was the nurse, her sleeve lifted, her blowzy face convulsed. As shelaughed, Gwendolyn saw wrinkle after wrinkle in the black sateen takenup--with truly alarming rapidity.

  "My!" she exclaimed. "Jane's always been stout. But now--!"

  The Policeman was deepening the three short lines in the dirt, making acapital A. "Two streets come together," he said, placing his finger onthe point of the letter. "And the block that connects 'em just beforethey meet, that's the beat for _me_."

  "I hope you'll get it," she said heartily.

  "Get it!" he repeated bitterly. "Well, I certainly won't if I don't findthat Bird!" And he started forward once more.

  The Man-Who-Makes-Faces, trudging alongside, craned to peer ahead, hisgrizzled beard sticking straight out in front of him. "Now, let me see,"he mused in a puzzled way. "Which route, I wonder, had we better take?"

  "That depends on where we're going," replied the Policeman, helplessly."And with the Bird gone, of course I don't know."

  "I'll tell you," said the little old gentleman promptly. "First, wemust cross the Glass--"

  Gwendolyn gave him a quick glance. Surely he meant cross the _grass_.

  "Yes, the Glass; go on," encouraged the Officer.

  "--And find _him_." Those round dark eyes darted a quick glance atGwendolyn.

  Jane, capering at his heels, now interrupted. "Find him!" she taunted."Gwendolyn'll never find her father if she don't listen to me."

  He ignored her. "Next," he went on "we'll steer straight for RobinHood's Barn."

  "Oh!" exclaimed the Policeman "Then we have to go around."

  "_Every_body has to go around."

  Once more Jane broke in. "Gwendolyn," she called, "you'll never findyour mother. This precious pair is takin' you the wrong way!"

  Gwendolyn paid no heed. Ahead the road divided--to the left in a narrowbridle-path, all loose soil and hoof-prints, and sharp turns; to theright in a level thoroughfare that held a straight course. She touchedthe little old gentleman's elbow. "Which?" she whispered.

  As the parting of the ways was reached, he pointed. And she saw asign--a sign with an arrow directing travelers to the right. Under thearrow, plainly lettered, were the words:

  _To the Bear's Den_.

  Gwendolyn looked her concern. "Do we _have_ to go that road?" she askedhim.

  He nodded.

  The next moment, with a loud rumbling of the eyes, Jane came alongside."Oh, dearie," she cried, "you couldn't hire _me_ to go. And I wouldn'tlike to see _you_ go. I think too much of you, I do _indeed_."

  "Hold your tongue!" ordered the little old gentleman, crossly.

  Jane obeyed. Up came a hand, and she seized the tongue-tip in her frontmouth. But since there was a second tongue-tip in that back face, shestill continued her babbling: "Don't ask me to trapse over the hardpavements on my poor tired feet, dearie, just because you take yournotions.... Come, I say! Your mother's nobody, anyhow.... You don't knowwhat you're sayin' or doin', poor thing! You're just wanderin', that'sall--just wanderin'."

  "I'm wandering in the right direction, anyhow," retorted Gwendolyn,stoutly. And to the little old gentleman, "I'm sorry we're going thisway, though. I'm 'fraid of Bears,"--for the sign was past now; the fourwere on the level thoroughfare.

  The Policeman seemed not to have remarked her anxiety. "And after theDen, what do we pass?" he questioned.

  "The Big Rock," answered the Man-Who-Makes-Faces.

  "Do we have to turn it?" The other spoke with some annoyance. "What'slikely to come out? I suppose it won't be hiding that Bird."

  "There's a hollow under the Rock," said the little old gentleman. "We'llfind _something_." His face grew grave.

  "And--and after we go by the Big Rock?" ventured Gwendolyn.

  The little old gentleman smiled. "Ah, then!" he said, "--then we come tothe Pillery!"

  "Oh!" She considered the reply. Pillery--it was a word she had neverchanced upon in the large Dictionary. Yet she felt she could hardly askany questions about it. She had asked so many already. "It's kind of youto answer and answer and answer," she said aloud. "Nobody else ever didthat."

  "Ask anything you want to know," he returned cordially. "I'll alwaysgive you prompt attention. Though of course, there are _some_ things--"He hesitated.

  "Yes?"--eagerly.

  "That only fathers and mothers can answer."

  "Oh!"

  "Didn't you know that?" demanded the Policeman, surprised.

  "Tee! hee! hee! hee!" snickered Jane. Though she was some few steps inthe rear, her difficult breathing could be plainly heard. She hadlaughed so much into her sleeve, and had grown so stout, that by now nota single wrinkle remained in the black sateen; _worse_--she wasbeginning to try every square inch of the cloth sorely. And havingdanced every foot of the way, she was tiring.

  "Oh, fath-er-and-moth-er questions," said Gwendolyn.

  "Precisely," answered the little old gentleman; "--about my friends,Santa Claus and the Sand-Man, for instance--"

  "They're not friends of Potter's, I guess. 'Cause he--"

  "--And the fairies, and the gnomes, and the giants; and Mother Goose and_her_ crowd. Of course a nurse or a governess or a teacher of some sortmight _try_ to explain. Wouldn't do any good, though. You wouldn'tunderstand."

  The Policeman swung his head back and forth, nodding. "That's theworst," said he, "of being a Poor--" Here he fell suddenly silent, andspatted the dust with his palms in an embarrassed way.

  She understood. "A Poor Little Rich Girl," she said, "who doesn't seeher fath-er and moth-er."

  "But you will," he declared determinedly, and forged ahead faster thanever, white hand following white hand.

  It was then that Gwendolyn heard the nurse muttering and chortling toherself. "Well, I never!" exclaimed the tongue-tip that was not beingheld. "If this ain't a' _automobile_ road! Why, it's a _fine_auto_mo_bile road! Ha! ha! ha! _That makes a difference!_"

  Gwendolyn was startled. What did Jane mean? _What_ difference? Why somuch satisfaction all at once? She wished the others would listen; wouldtake note of the triumphant air. But both were busy, the little oldgentleman chattering and pointing ahead, the Policeman straining to keeppace and look where his companion directed.

  To lessen her uneasiness, Gwendolyn hun
ted a second stick of candy. Thensidled in between her two friends. "Oh, please," she began appealingly,with a glance up and a glance down, "I'm 'fraid Jane's going to make ustrouble. Can't we think of some way to get rid of her?"

  The Policeman twisted his neck around until he could wink at her withhis black eye. "In town," said he meaningly, "we Policemen have a way."

  "Oh, tell us!" she begged. For the Man-Who-Makes-Faces looked keenlyinterested.

  "Well," resumed the Officer--and now he halted just long enough to raisea gloved finger to one side of his head with a significantgesture--"when we want to get rid of a person, we put a flea in hisear."

  Gwendolyn blushed rosy. A flea! It was an insect that Miss Royle hadnever permitted her to mention. Still--

  "But--but where could we--er--find--a--a--?"

  She had stammered that far when she saw the little old gentleman turnhis wrinkled face over a shoulder. Next, he jerked an excited thumb. Andlooking, she saw that Jane was _failing to keep up_.

  By now the nurse had swelled to astonishing proportions. Her body was asround as a barrel. Her face was round too, and more red than ever. Hercheeks were so puffed, the skin of her forehead was so tight and shiny,that she looked precisely like a monster copy of a sanitary rubber doll!

  "She can't last much longer! Her strength's giving out." It was thePoliceman. And his voice ended in a sob. (Yet the sob meant nothing, forhe was showing all his white teeth in a delighted smile.)

  "She must have help!"--this the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. His voice broke,too. But his round, dark eyes were brimming with laughter.

  "Who'll help her?" demanded Gwendolyn. "_Nobody_. So _one_ of that threeis gone for good!"

  She halted now--on the summit of a rise. Up this, but at a considerabledistance, Jane was toiling, with feeble hops to the right, andstaggering steps to the left, and faint, fat gasps.

  "Oh, Gwendolyn darlin'!" she called weepingly. "Oh, don't leave yourJane! Oh! Oh!"

  "I've made up my mind," announced Gwendolyn, "to have the nurse-maid inthe brick house. So, good-by--good-by."

  She began to descend rapidly, with the little old gentleman in ashuffling run, and the Policeman springing from hand to hand as if hefeared pursuit, and swaying his legs from side to side with a_tick-tock, tick-tock_. The going was easy. Soon the bottom of the slopewas reached. Then all stopped to look back.

  Jane had just gained the top. But was come to a standstill. Over thebrow of the hill could be seen only her full face--like a big red moon.

  At the sight, Gwendolyn felt a thrill of joy--the joy of freedom foundagain. "Why, she's not coming up," she called out delightedly. "She'sgoing down!" And she punctuated her words with a gay skip.

  That skip proved unfortunate. For as ill-luck would have it, shestumbled. And stumbling stubbed her toe. The toe struck two small stonesthat lay partly embedded in the road--dislodged them--turned them endfor end--and sent them skimming along the ground.

  "_Two!_" cried the Policeman. "_Now_ who?"

  "If only the right kind come!" added the little old gentleman, each ofhis round eyes rimmed with sudden white.

  "I'll blow my whistle." Up swung the shining bit of metal on the end ofits chain.

  "Blow it at the top of your lungs!"

  The Policeman had balanced himself on his head, thrown away his gum, andput the whistle against his lips. Now he raised it and placed it againsthis chest, just above his collar-button. Then he blew. And through theforest the blast rang and echoed and boomed--until all the tapers roseand fell, and all the footlights flickered.

  Instantly that red moon sank below the crest of the hill. Puffs of smokerose in its place. Then there was borne to the waiting trio a sound of_chugging_. And the next instant, with a purr of its engine, and a whirrof its wheels, here into full sight shot forward the limousine!

  Gwendolyn paled. The half-devoured stick of candy slipped from herfingers. "Oh, I don't want to be shut up in the car!" she cried out."And I won't! I _won't!_ I WON'T!" She scurried behind theMan-Who-Makes-Faces.

  The automobile came on. Its polished sides reflected the varied lightsof the forest. Its hated windows glistened. One door swung wide, as ifyawning for a victim!

  The little old gentleman, as he watched it, seemed interested ratherthan apprehensive. After a moment, "Recollect my speaking of the Piper?"he asked.

  "Y-y-yes."

  At the mention of the Piper, the Policeman stared up. "The Pip-Piper!"he protested, stammering, and beginning to back away.

  At that, Gwendolyn felt renewed anxiety. "The Piper!" she faltered. "Oh,I'll have to settle with him." And thrust a searching hand into thepatch-pocket.

  The Policeman kept on retreating. "I don't want to see him," hedeclared. "He made me pay too dear for my whistle." And he bumped hishead against his night-stick.

  The Man-Who-Makes-Faces hastened to him, and halted him by grasping himabout his fast-swaying legs. "You can't run away from the Piper," hereminded. "So--"

  Gwendolyn was no longer frightened. In her search for money she hadfound the gold-mounted leather case. This she now clutched, receivingcourage from the stiff upper-lip.

  But the Policeman was far from sanguine. Now perspiration and not tearsglistened on his forehead. He grasped his club with one shaking hand.

  As for the little old gentleman, he held the curved knife out in frontof him, all his thin fingers wound tightly around its hilt. "What's thePiper got beside him?" he asked in a tone full of wonder. "Is it a_rubber-plant?_"

  Gwendolyn looked. The Piper was leaning over the steering-wheel of thecar. He was so near by now that she could make him out clearly--a lanky,lean-jawed young man in a greasy cap and Johnnie Blake overalls. Overhis right shoulder, on a strap, was suspended a bundle. A tobacco-pipehung from a corner of his mouth. But it was evidently not this pipe thathad given him his title; but pipes of a different kind--all of lead, invarying lengths. These were arranged about his waist, somewhat like along, uneven fringe. And among them was a pipe-wrench, a coupling ortwo, and a cutter.

  Beside him on the seat, in the foot man's place, was a queer object. Itwas tall, and dark-blue in color. (Or was it green?) On one side of itwere what seemed to be seven long leaves. On the other side were sevensimilar leaves. And as the car rolled swiftly up, these fourteen longleaf-like projections waved gently.

  She had no chance to examine the object further. Something else claimedher attention. The windowed door of the limousine suddenly swung wide,and through it, toward her, was extended a long black beckoning arm.Next, a freckled face filled the whole of the opening, spying this wayand that. It was Jane!

  "Come, dearie," she cooed. (She had let go the front tongue-tip.) "Iwouldn't stay with them two any more. Here's your beautiful car, love._This_ is what'll take you fast to your papa and mamma."

  "_No!_" cried Gwendolyn. And to the Man-Who-Makes-Faces, "She was'fraid of the Piper just a little while ago. Now, she's riding aroundwith him. _I_ think he's--"

  "Ssh!" warned the little old gentleman, speaking low. "We have to havehim. And he has his good points."

  The Piper was staring at Gwendolyn impertinently. Now he climbed downfrom his seat, all his pipes _tinkling_ and _tankling_ as he moved, andgave her a mocking salute, quite as if he knew her--yet without removingthe tobacco-pipe from between his lips, or the greasy cap from his hair.

  "Well, if here ain't the P.L.R.G.," he exclaimed rudely.

  As she got a better view of him she remembered that she _had_ met himbefore--in her nursery, that fortunate morning the hot-water pipeburst. He was the very Piper that had been called in to make plumbingrepairs!

  "Good-evening," said Gwendolyn, nodding courteously--but staying closeto the little old gentleman. For Jane had summoned strength enough totopple out of the limousine and teeter forward. Now she was kneeling inthe road, crooking a coaxing finger, and gurgling invitingly.

  The Piper scowled at the nurse. "Say! What do you think you're doin'?"he demanded. "Singin' a duet with yourself?" Then turning up
on thePoliceman, "Off your beat, ain't you?" he inquired impudently; when,without waiting for an answer, he swung round upon theMan-Who-Makes-Faces. "Old gent," he began tauntingly, "I can't collectreal money for that dozen ears." And threw out an arm toward the objecton the driver's seat.

  Gwendolyn looked a second time. And saw a horrid and unnatural sight.For the object was a man, straight enough, broad-shouldered enough, witharms and legs, feet and hands, and a small head; but a man shockinglydisfigured. For down either side of him, projecting from head andshoulders and arms, were ears--long, hairy, mulish ears, that wriggledhorribly, one moment unfolding themselves to catch every sound, the nextflopping about ridiculously.

  "Why, he's all ears!" she gasped.

  The little old gentleman started forward. "It's that dozen I boxed!" heannounced. "Hey! Come out of there!"

  Gwendolyn's heart sank. Now she knew. From the first her fear had beenthat one of the dreaded three would come and fetch her out of the Landbefore she could find her parents. And here, at the very moment when shehoped to leave the worst of the trio behind, here was another!--tohamper and tattle and thwart.

  For the rubber plant was Thomas!

  And now all at once there was the greatest excitement. TheMan-Who-Makes-Faces seized Thomas by an ear and dragged him to theground, all the while upbraiding him loudly. And while these two wereoccupied, the Piper swaggered toward the Policeman, his pipes andimplements striking and jangling together.

  "I want my money," he bellowed.

  "I don't owe you anything!" retorted the Policeman.

  All this gave Jane the opportunity she wished. She advanced uponGwendolyn. "Come, sweetie," she wheedled. "Rich little girls don't hikealong the streets like common poor little girls. So jump in, andpretend you're a Queen, and have a grand ride--"

  Now all of a sudden a terrible inclination to obey seized Gwendolyn.There yawned that door--here burned those reddish eyes, compelling herforward into a dreaded grasp--

  She screamed, covering her face.

  In that moment of danger it was the Policeman who came to her rescue.Eluding the Piper, he ran, hand over hand, to the side of the car,balanced himself on his level head, and waved his club.

  "Move on!" he ordered in a deep voice (precisely as Gwendolyn had heardofficers order at crowded crossings); "move on, there!"

  The limousine obeyed! With no one touching the steering-gear, the enginebegan to _chug_, the wheels to whirr. And purring again, like somegreat good-natured live thing, it gained momentum, took the road in acloud of pink dust, and, rounding a distant turn, disappeared fromsight.