The Corner House Girls' Odd Find Part 27

She went back to the clown after dinner, to find that he had been served with a great tray of food by Linda, and lay back among his pillows, happy and content.

Mrs. MacCall had insisted upon looking at his ankle. She bandaged it and anointed it with balsam.

"These folks are mighty good people, Barnabetta," said Asa Scruggs. "I never knowed there were such good folks outside the circus business."

"I don't know what to make of 'em," confessed the girl.

"Don't have to make nothin' of 'em," said her father, with a sigh of content. "This is somethin' to be mighty thankful for. Feel the warm air comin' from that open register, Barnabetta? And I thought we'd haf to scrouge down over a whisp of fire to-night in the open. Oh, my!" and he gave an ecstatic wriggle under the bed clothes.

He seemed ready for sleep, and the girl tiptoed out of the room after turning the gas low. It was while she was in the hall, and before opening the door of her own room, that she heard a sudden subdued hullabaloo below stairs. Listen! what had happened?

Startled, Barnabetta crept along the hall to the front stairway.

Somebody had entered by the door from the side porch, bringing in a great breath of keen air that drifted up the stairway to her. The Corner House girls were conducting this new arrival into the sitting room.

"Oh, Neale! you mean thing!" cried Agnes' voice. "Where have you been?

Come in and tell us all about it!"

"And what have you done with that old alb.u.m Agnes let you take?" was Ruth's anxious question.

Barnabetta strained her ears to distinguish the boy's reply.

CHAPTER XVII

AT CROSS PURPOSES

Tess had been over to see how Sammy Pinkney was after dinner. That was her usual evening task now. She would go into the Pinkney yard and yodle.

"Ee-yow! ee-yow! ee-yow!" That was the way in which Sammy himself usually announced his coming to the old Corner House, and Tess had learned it from him.

Then Mrs. Pinkney would come to the side door to speak to the little girl.

"How is Sammy to-night, Mrs. Pinkney?" Tess would query. "We hope he's better."

And Mrs. Pinkney would tell her. In the morning on her way to school, Tess would repeat the inquiry. For a week the reports were very grave indeed. Sammy knew n.o.body-not even his father and mother. The poor little "pirate" was quite delirious; his temperature was very high; and Dr. Forsyth could give the parents little encouragement.

But this evening, for the first time, Tess' shrill little "Ee-yow!

ee-yow! ee-yow!" was heard by the boy inside, and recognized. Mrs.

Pinkney came running to the door.

"I do wish I dared run out and kiss you, Tessie Kenway!" she cried, and there were tears of thankfulness in her eyes. "Sammy heard you. He's better. Bless you, dear! He _is_ better. Yodle for him again."

So Tess did, and right away there was an unexpected answer. Somebody repeated "Ee-yow! ee-yow! ee-yow!" behind her in Willow Street.

"Goodness gracious!" squealed Tess, running wildly out of the gate, "is that you, Neale O'Neil?"

"That's who it is, honey," said the white-haired boy, cheerfully.

"Oh, Neale! so much has happened since you've been gone. Sammy's got scarlet fever; but he's better. And Almira's got four kittens. And we've got visitors, and one of 'em's a girl and she can turn on the trapeze-so easy! And you've got a whole heap of Christmas presents in the sitting room that you've never seen yet."

"All right. I'll go in and see 'em right now," Neale said, and took her hand in his free one. When they mounted the porch steps and Agnes and Ruth and Dot came running to the door to meet him, he dropped his heavy bag in a corner and did not take it into the house. He had just come from the railroad station.

"You see," Neale said, when he was hustled into the warm sitting room by the four Corner House girls, and even before he took off his coat and cap and gloves, "I got a letter about Uncle Bill Sorber from one of the other Sorbers. He was hurt two months ago-badly burned, poor old fellow!-when the circus arrived at winter quarters.

"They always give a last performance there at Tiverton, and another when they start out in the spring. There was an accident this time. A tank of gasoline fell from aloft, and got afire, and Uncle Bill was hurt badly.

The doctors gave him up at last, and so they sent for me."

"I know about it," said Agnes, nodding.

"How'd you know? Must have seen it in the paper, I s'pose," said Neale.

"Well, I missed it. I didn't know a thing about his being hurt till I found that letter at home Christmas Eve."

"But why did you go away without telling us?" Ruth asked earnestly.

"I didn't want to bother you girls, then. And you expected me to help you at that Christmas tree business, too. So I only left the note with Unc' Rufus and told him not to give it to you till just before dinner. I fixed it with Con Murphy to take my place. He did, didn't he?"

"Yes," the eager Agnes said.

The little girls had danced off to the kitchen on some errand. The boy continued:

"Well! I got up there to the winter quarters and found Uncle Bill better. But the poor old fellow had been asking for me. I don't suppose we ever will understand each other," sighed Neale. "He can't see why I want to be something different from a circus performer; and an education doesn't mean a thing to him but foolishness.

"But I guess he really does have some interest in me-"

"Of course he does, Neale," interposed Ruth, admonis.h.i.+ngly. "I could tell that the time he was here and I talked with him."

"Just the same, I wish I had money myself, so's not to have to take any from him," the boy said stubbornly.

"Well," burst out Ruth, "you have had plenty of money with you lately, Neale O'Neil, whether you know it or not! What under the sun have you done with that great old book Aggie found in the garret?"

"Oh, mercy, yes, Neale!" put in Agnes. "What did you do with it? Ruth's just about worried her heart and soul out about it."

"What for?" asked Neale, flus.h.i.+ng deeply.

"Well, goodness!" cried Agnes. "I believe that Ruth believes that old book is full of money."

"What of it?" asked Neale, still looking red and angry.

"Why, Neale, we'd like to know what you've done with it," Ruth said, seriously. "Aggie had no right to let you take the book."

"Why not?" snapped the boy again.

"Because it was not hers. It does not belong to us. It should not have gone out of my care. It-"

"Well! why didn't you take care of it, then?" demanded the boy, sharply.