IX
BOBBERTS INTERVENES
Kitty stood scornfully triumphant awaiting the next words of theguilty trio, and three more cowed and guilt-stricken smugglers neverfaced an equally guilty accuser with such uncomfortable feelings.Billy was sorry he had ever tried to fabricate the story about Mr.Fenelby having asked him to bring the box of cigars home; Mr.Fenelby wished he had left the set of Eugene Field's works at theoffice, and Mrs. Fenelby was, perhaps, the most worried of all, forshe did not know whether to admit her guilt and own that she hadbrought a set of Eugene Field into the house without paying theduty, or to annihilate the accusing Kitty by declaring that Kittyhad a whole closet full of smuggled garments. It was a tryingsituation.
In a drama this would have been the cue for the curtain to fall witha rush, ending the act and leaving the audience a space to wonderhow the complication could ever be untangled, but on the Fenelby'sporch there was no curtain to fall. So Bobberts fell instead.
He raised his pink hands and his head, rolled over in the porchrocker in which he had been lying, and fell to the porch floor witha bump. A curtain could not have ended the scene more quickly. Neverin his life had he been so cruelly treated as by this faithlessrocking-chair. He had reposed his simple faith in it, and it threwhim to earth, and then rocked joyously across him. His voice arosein short, piercing yells. He turned purple with rage and pain. Hedrew up his knees and simply, soulfully screamed. Up and down thestreet neighbors came out upon their verandas, napkins in hand, andstared wonderingly at the Fenelby porch. Kitty and Billy stood likea wooden Mr. and Mrs. Noah in the toy ark, but Mr. Fenelby and Laurasprang to Bobberts' aid and gathered him into their arms, orderingeach other to do things, and soothing Bobberts at the same time.
The Fenelby Domestic Tariff was entirely forgotten.
"Well!" exclaimed Mrs. Fenelby, when Bobberts had tapered off fromthe yells of rage to the steady weeping of injured feelings. "Whatare you standing there like two sticks for? Can't you see poor,dear little Bobberts is nearly killed? Why don't you do something?"
There was really nothing they could do. Mr. and Mrs. Fenelby madesuch a compact crowd around Bobberts that no one else could squeezein, but Kitty dropped on her knees and edged up to the crowd,murmuring, "Poor Bobberts! Poor Bobberts!"
Billy stood awkwardly, feeling in his pockets. He had an idea thatif he could find something to jingle before Bobberts it might beabout the right thing to do, but his hand touched one of thesmuggled cigars, and he withdrew it as if his fingers had beenburnt. This poor, weeping child was the Bobberts he had beencheating of a few pennies. He touched Kitty diffidently on theshoulder.
"Can't I do something?" he asked, pleadingly, and Kitty took pity onhim.
"Heat some water; very hot!" she said. She was not a baby expert,but she felt that hot water would not be a bad thing to have handyin a case like this. There is one good thing about hot water--if itis not wanted it does no harm, for if allowed to stand it will getcool again--and it pleased her to be able to order Billy to dosomething. The prompt and eager manner in which he obeyed the orderpleased her still more. He ran all the way to the kitchen.
Half an hour later he cautiously carried a dish-pan full of water tothe porch and stared in amazement at the place where he had leftBobberts and his parents. They were gone! He felt that he had notbeen quite as quick with the water as he might have been, for theonly burner that had been lighted on the gas range was the"simmerer," and that had only a flame as large around as a dollar,and not strong, but he had not dared to light another. He had a dimremembrance that stoves of some kind sometimes exploded, and he didnot want to risk an explosion by tampering with an unknown stove. Hefelt that a stove and Bobberts both exploding at the same time wouldhave been more than the Fenelbys could have borne. As he stoodholding the pan of hot water well away from him the sound of theclick of knives and forks on china came to him through the openwindow. Only a little of the hot water spilled over the edge of thepan upon his legs as he opened the screen door and entered the hall.
He walked carefully, bent over and holding the pan at arm's length,and as he entered the dining room the three diners looked up at himin open mouthed surprise. They had forgotten all about Billy.
"Here it is," said Billy, with modest pride and an air ofaccomplishment. "It is good and hot. I let it get as hot as itcould."
The blank amazement that had dulled the face of Kitty gave way to alook of understanding and a smile as she remembered having orderedhim to get hot water, but the amazement on the faces of Mr. Fenelbyand his wife remained as blank as ever.
"It is hot water," said Billy, explaining. "I heated it. What shallI do with it?"
The sodden surprise on Mr. Fenelby's face melted away. A dish-panfull of hot water served during the course of a cold dinner hadamusing elements, and Mr. Fenelby smiled. So did Mrs. Fenelby.Everybody smiled but Billy. He was serious.
"Well," he said, with a touch of impatience, "these handles are hot.I can't stand here holding them all night. What do you want me to dowith this hot water?"
"What do you want to do with it?" asked Mr. Fenelby. "What do youusually do with a panful of hot water when you have one? You mighttake a bath, if you want to. You will find the bath-room at the topof the stairs, first turn to the left. Run along, and don't stay inthe water too long."
Mrs. Fenelby and Kitty laughed, and Mr. Fenelby smiled broadly athis own humor. Billy blushed.
"I heated it for Bobberts," he said, stiffly.
"Thank you!" said Mr. Fenelby. "But we won't boil Bobberts thisevening, Billy. Not just now, anyhow. We like to oblige, but wecan't be expected to boil our only son just because you turn up inthe middle of a meal with a pan of hot water. If we ever boil him itwill not be in the middle of a meal. Please don't insist."
Billy reddened to the roots of his hair. Mrs. Fenelby was laughingopenly and Tom was pleased with the excellence of his joke. Billyraised his head angrily and strode out of the room, and Kitty, fromwhose face the smile had fled, started up with blazing eyes.
"I think you are horrid!" she cried, turning to Bobberts' laughingparents. "I think you ought to thank him instead of making fun ofhim. I told him to heat the water, because Bobberts was hurt, and Ithought you might want it, and because he was trying to be helpfuland--and nice, you sit there and laugh at him. If you want to makefun of anyone, make fun of me! I suppose you will!"
"Why, Kitty!" cried Mrs. Fenelby.
"Yes!" cried Kitty. "I suppose you will. That seems to be what youwant to do--make your guests as uncomfortable as you can. You don'twant us here. You make up this foolish tariff to make trouble, andyou drive away your servants so that we feel that we are imposing onyou, and you make fun of us when we try to be helpful--"
"Why, Kitty!" exclaimed Mrs. Fenelby again.
"You do!" Kitty declared. "I'm surprised at you, Laura Fenelby, Iam indeed. I'm surprised that you should let your husband dictateto you, and make you his slave with his tariffs and such things, butyou like it. Very well, be his slave if you want to. But I can seeone thing--Billy and I are not wanted in this house. You and yourhusband just want to be alone and enjoy your selfish house. The bestthing Billy and I can do is to go. I can see very plainly now,Laura, that you got up that silly tariff just to drive us out of thehouse. Very well, we will go!"
She turned from the amazed parents of Bobberts to the amazed Billywho was standing in the hall with the inoffensive pan of hot waterin his hands, and put her hand on his arm.
"Come!" she said. "I am going up to pack my trunks."
For a moment after the shock the Fenelbys sat in surprised silence,looking blankly each into the other's face, and then Laura spoke.
"Tom," she gasped, "they mustn't leave this way!"
Mr. Fenelby slowly folded his napkin, and as slowly placed it in thering. Then he laid the ring gently on the table and arranged hisknife and fork side by side on his plate, as prescribed by the guidebooks to good manners.
"She said she was going up stairs
to pack her trunks," he said withdeliberation. "To pack her trunks. If she has enough to pack intotrunks, Laura, there has been smuggling going on in this house."
Mrs. Fenelby folded her napkin as slowly as her husband had justfolded his, and she kept her eyes on it as she answered.
"Tom," she said, "do you think it is quite the time now to talk ofsmuggling? Wouldn't it be better if you went up and apologized toKitty and Billy?"
"Laura," said Mr. Fenelby, "it is always time to talk of smuggling.The foundation of the home is order; order can only be maintainedby living up to such rules as are made; the Fenelby Domestic Tariffis more than a rule, it is a law. If we let the laws of our home betrampled under foot by whoever chooses the whole thing totters,sways and falls. The home is wrecked and sorrow and dissention come.Dissention leads to misunderstanding and divorce. That is why I amstrict. That is why I refuse to let two strangers wreck our wholelives by ignoring the Domestic Tariff. If they do not like the lawsof our little Commonwealth, they can go. The door is open!"
"Thomas Fenelby," said his wife, "I think you are horrid! I neverknew anything so unhospitable in my life. It isn't as if no one inthis house ever broke that tariff law except Kitty and Billy; youhaven't explained about that box--"
Mr. Fenelby reddened and he looked at his wife sternly.
"Do you mean the box I found hidden under the eaves in the attic,addressed to you, my dear?" he asked with cutting sweetness, andMrs. Fenelby, in turn, grew red and gasped.
"You are mean!" she exclaimed. "I think you are not--not nice to gopoking around under eaves and things, trying to find some blame tothrow up to your wife! I wish you had never thought of your horridtariff, and--and--"
She put her handkerchief to her eyes, and a minute later went out ofthe room and up the stairs. Mr. Fenelby heard her cross the floorabove him, and heard the creaking of the bed as she threw herselfupon it. He looked sternly out of the dining room window awhile.Never, never had his wife spoken such words to him before. If shewished to act so it was very well--she should be taught a lesson.She was vexed because she had been caught in a palpable case ofsmuggling herself. Now he--
He arose and took Bobberts' bank from the mantel; from his pocket hedrew a small collection of loose change and one or two small bills,and saving out one dime he fed the rest into Bobberts' bank. For afew more minutes he looked gloomily from the window, and then hewent gloomily forth and dropped into the hammock.
With cautious steps Billy Fenelby stole down the stairs and bendingover the rail looked into the dining room. It was empty, and hetip-toed down the rest of the way and, glancing from side to sidelike one fearing discovery, dropped a handful of loose coins intoBobberts' bank. As he ascended the stairs his face wore the look ofa man who is square with the world.
As she heard the door close upon him when he entered his room Mrs.Fenelby rose from her bed and wiped her eyes. She took her pursefrom the dresser and opened it, then paused for she heard a dooropening slowly. She heard light steps cross the hall and descend thestairs, but she could not see Kitty. She could only hear the faintclick of coin dropping upon coin in the dining room below her. Sheknew that Kitty was feeding Bobberts' education fund, and shewaited until she heard Kitty's door close again, and then she wentdown and poured into the opening of the bank the remains of herweek's household allowance, and began the task of clearing thetable. As she worked the tears splattered down upon the plates asshe bent over them. How could Tom be so cruel and unfeeling?Doubtless he was enjoying the thought of having hurt her feelings,if he had not already forgotten all about her, taking his ease inthe hammock.
She glanced out of the window at him. There he lay, but as shelooked he raised his hands and struck himself twice on the headwith his clenched fists and groaned like a man in misery. For amoment he lay still and then once more he struck himself on thehead, and drawing up his legs kicked them out angrily, like anaughty child in a tantrum. He was _not_ having the most blissfulmoments of his life. Once more he drew up his legs and kicked, andthe hammock turned over and dumped him on the floor of the porch.
"Ouch!" he exclaimed quite normally, and looking up he saw his wife,and smiled. She not only smiled, but laughed, somewhat hystericallybut forgivingly.
The Cheerful Smugglers Page 9
