CHAPTER VI
A FISH FRY AND A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT
They got home at early supper time, fish and all. But one look into thekitchen assured Bobby that it was useless to expect Meena to pan theircatch for them.
The "rabbit ears" stuck up on top of her head at a more uncompromisingangle than ever. Mr. and Mrs. Blake had not returned from town. At alate hour Michael Mulcahey had come back with the carriage and announcedthat his mistress would stay in town for dinner with Mr. Blake and theywere to be met at the 10:10 train.
Michael had just finished cleaning the carriage and now sat with hispipe beside the stable door. He was a long-lipped Irishman, with kindly,twinkling eyes, and "ould counthry" whiskers that met under his chin,giving his cleanly shaven, wind-bitten face the look of peering outthrough a frame of hair.
"'Tis a nice string of fish ye have, byes," he said.
"And I s'pose we got to give them to the cats," complained Fred. "Theywon't cook 'em at my house, and Meena's got the toothache."
Michael grinned broadly, puffing slowly at his pipe. "Clane the fish,byes. There's a pan jest inside the dure. Get water from the hydrant.Have ye shar-r-rp knives?"
"Oh, yes, Michael!" cried Bobby.
"Scale thim fish, then. I'll start a fire in my stove. An' I've a pan.Belike Meena, the girl, will give ye a bit of fat salt por-r-rk and somebread. Tell her she naden't bother with supper. We'll make itourselves--in what th' fancy folks calls 'ally-frisco'--though _why_ so,I _dun_-no," added Michael.
He knocked the dottle out of his pipe and washed his hands. The boys,meanwhile, were cleaning the little fish rapidly, and whisperingtogether. They were delighted with the coachman's suggestion. It wasjust what they had been hoping for. Fred even forgot his "grouch"against Applethwaite Plunkit.
Bobby ventured to the kitchen door. Meena was just untying the redbandage, but the moment she caught sight of him she hesitated. She mayhave felt another slight twinge of "face ache."
"Vat you vant?" she demanded.
Bobby told her what they were going to do. Michael had his own plates,and knives and forks. He had "bached it" a good many years before hecame to work for Bobby's father. Meena saw a long, quiet evening aheadof her.
"Vell," she said, ungraciously enough, for it was not her way toacknowledge her blessings--not in public, at least. "Vell, I give youthe pork and bread. But that Michael ban spoil you boys. I vouldn'tefer marry him."
"What did she say?" asked the coachman when Bobby returned to the roomover the harness closets in which Michael slept--and sometimes cooked.
"She says she won't marry you because you spoil us," declared Bobby,winking at Fred.
"Did she now?" quoth Michael. "So she has rayfused me again--though itwasn't just like a proposal _this_ time. Still--we'll count it so's tomake sure."
He gravely walked to a smooth plank in the partition behind the door,and picked up the stub of a pencil from a ledge. On this board was along array of pencil marks--four straight, up and down marks, and afifth "slantingdicular" across them. There were a great many of thesemarks.
Each of these straight, up and down, marks meant "No," and the slantingmark meant another "No"; so that Meena's refusals of the coachman'sproposal for her hand were grouped in fives.
"The Good Book says Jacob sarved siven years for Rachael, and thenanother siven. He didn't have nawthin' on me--sorra a bit! WhenMeena's said 'No' a thousan' times, she'll forgit some day an' say'Yis.'"
He went back to shaking the pan on the stove, in which the cubes of saltpork were sputtering. He mixed some flour and cornmeal in a plate, withsalt and pepper. Wiping each of the little fish partly dry, he rolledthem in the mixture, and then laid them methodically in rows upon aboard. When the fat in the skillet was piping hot, he dropped in thefish easily so as not to splash the hot fat about. Then with a fork heturned them as they browned.
As he forked them out of the hot fat, all brown and crispy, he laid themon a sheet of brown paper for a bit to drain off the fat. Then theboys' plates and his own were filled with the well fried fish.
"There's just a mess for us," said Michael, as they sat down. "For whatwe are about to rayceive make us tr-r-ruly grateful! Pass the bread,Master Bobby. 'Tis the appetite lends sauce to the male, so they say.Eat hearty!"
Bobby and Fred had plenty of the "sauce" the coachman spoke of. Afterthe excitement and adventures of the afternoon they had much to tellMichael, too, and the supper was a merry one.
Fred had to go home at eight o'clock and an hour and a half later it wasBobby's bedtime. But the house seemed very still and lonely when he hadgone to bed, and he lay a long time listening to the crickets and thekatydids, and the other night-flying insects outside the screens.
He heard Michael drive out of the lane to go to the station and he wasstill awake when the carriage returned and his father and mother cameinto the house. They came quietly up stairs, whispering softly, but thedoor between Bobby's room and his mother's dressing-room was ajar and hecould hear his parents talking in there. They thought him asleep, ofcourse.
"But Bobby's got to be told, my dear. I have bought our tickets--as Itold you," Mr. Blake said. "We can't wait any longer."
"Oh, dear me, John!" Bobby heard his mother say. "_Must_ we leave himbehind?"
"My dear! we have talked it all over so many times," Mr. Blake said,patiently. "It is a long voyage. Not so long to Para; but thetransportation up the river, to Samratam, is uncertain. Brother Billleft the business in some confusion, I understand, and we may be obligedto remain some months. It would not be well to take Bobby. He must goto school. I am doubtful of the advisability of taking _you_, mydear--"
"You shall not go without me, John," interrupted Mrs. Blake, and Bobbyknew she was crying softly. "I would rather that we lost all the moneyyour brother left--"
"There, there!" said Bobby's father, comfortingly. "You're going, mydear. And we will leave Bobby in good hands."
"But _whose_ hands?" cried his wife. "Meena can look after the house,and Michael we can trust with everything else. But neither of them areproper guardians for my boy, John."
"I know," agreed Mr. Blake, and Bobby, lying wide awake in his bed, knewjust how troubled his father looked. He hopped out of bed and creptsoftly to the door. He did not mean to be an eavesdropper, but he couldnot have helped hearing what his father and mother said.
"We have no relatives with whom to leave him," Mrs. Blake said. "Andall our friends in Clinton have plenty of children of their own andwouldn't want to be bothered. Or else they are people who have _no_children and wouldn't know how to get along with Bobby."
"It's a puzzle," began her husband, and just then Bobby pushed open thedoor and appeared in the dressing-room.
"I heard you, Pa!" he cried. "I couldn't help it. I was awake and thedoor was open. I know just what you can do with me if I can't go withyou to where Uncle Bill died."
"Bobby!" exclaimed Mrs. Blake, putting out her arms to him. "My boy! Ididn't want you to know--yet."
"He had to hear of the trip sometime," said Bobby's father.
"And I'm not going to make any trouble," said Bobby, swallowing ratherhard, for there seemed to be a lump rising in his throat. He neverliked to see his mother cry. "Why, I'm a big boy, you know, Mother.And I know just what you can do with me while you're gone."
"What's that, Bobs?" asked his father, cheerfully.
"Let me go to Rockledge School with Fred Martin--do, _do_! That'll befun, and they'll look out for me there--you know they are _awfully_strict at schools like that. I can't get into any trouble."
"Not with Fred?" chuckled Mr. Blake.
"Well," said Bobby, seriously, "you know if I have to look out for Fredsame as I always do, _I_ won't have time to get into mischief. You toldMr. Martin so yourself, you know, Pa."
Mr. Blake laughed again and glanced at his wife. She had an arm aroundBobby, but she had stopped crying
and she looked over at her husbandproudly. Bobby was such a sensible, thoughtful chap!
"I guess we'll have to take the school question into seriousconsideration, Bobs," he said. "Now kiss your mother and me goodnight,and go to sleep. These are late hours for small boys."
Bobby ran to bed as he was told, and this time he went to sleep almostas soon as he placed his head upon the pillow. But how he _did_ dream!He and Fred Martin were walking all the way to Rockledge School, andthey went barefooted with their shoes slung over their shoulders,Applethwaite Plunkit and his big dog popped out of almost every cornerto obstruct their way. Bobby had just as exciting a time during hisdreams that night as he and his chum had experienced during theafternoon previous!
Nothing was said at the late Sunday morning breakfast about his parents'journey to South America. Bobby knew all about poor Uncle Bill. Hecould just remember him--a small, very brown, good-tempered man who hadcome north from his tropical station in the rubber country four years,or so, before.
Uncle Bill was Mr. Blake's only brother, and most of Bobby's father'sincome came from the rubber exporting business, too. Uncle Bill hadlived for years in Brazil, but finally the climate had been too much forhim and only a few months ago word had come of his death. He had been abachelor. Mr. Blake had positively to go to Samratam to settle thecompany's affairs and Bobby's mother would not be separated from herhusband for the long months which must necessarily be engaged in thejourney.
Bobby felt that he _must_ talk about the wonderful possibility that hadrisen on the horizon of his future, so, long before time for SundaySchool, he ran over to the Martin house and yodled softly in the sidelane for Fred.
Fred put his head out of a second-story window. "Hello!" he said, in awhisper. "That you, Bobby?"
"Yep. Come on down. I got the greatest thing to tell you."
"Wait till I get into this stiff shirt," growled Fred. "It's just likeiron! I just _hate_ Sunday clothes--don't you, Bobby?"
Bobby was too eager to tell his news to discuss the much mooted point."Hurry up!" he threw back at Fred, and then sat down on the grassy bankto wait.
He knew that Fred would have to pass inspection before either his motheror his sister Mary, before he could start for Sunday School. He heardsome little scolding behind the closed blinds of the Martin house, andgrinned. Fred had evidently tried to get out before being fullypresentable.
He finally came out, grumbling something about "all the girls beingnuisances," but Bobby merely chuckled. He thought Mary Martin waspretty nice, himself--only, perhaps inclined to be a little "bossy," asis usually the case with elder sisters.
"Never mind, Fred," Bobby said, soothingly. "Let it go. I got somethingjust wonderful to tell you."
"What is it?" demanded Fred, not much interested.
"I believe something's going to happen that you've just been _hoping_for," said Bobby, smiling.
"That Ap Plunkit's got the measles--or something?" exclaimed Fred, witha show of eagerness.
"Aw, no! It isn't anything to do with Ap Plunkit," returned Bobby, indisgust.
"What is it, then?"
So Bobby told him.
Bobby Blake at Rockledge School; or, Winning the Medal of Honor Page 6
