Part 65

"No, we don't want yours," said Van, not very politely. "We want Polly's."

"For shame, Van!" said Percy, who dearly loved to reprove his brother, and never allowed the occasion to slip when he could do so.

"For shame yourself!" retorted Van, flinging himself down on the rug. "You're everlastingly teasing Polly to do things when she's tired to death. So there, Percy Whitney."

"Oh, I'll tell the story," Polly said, hastily bringing her brown head up, while Phronsie began to look troubled.

"I'd like to tell a story," said Tom Beresford slowly, where he sat just back of the big rug.

All the young folks turned to regard him, and Van was just going to say, "Oh, we don't want yours, Tom," when Polly leaned forward, "Oh, will you--will you, Tom?" so eagerly that Van hadn't the heart to object.

"Yes, I will," promised Tom, nodding at her.

"Well, get down on the rug, then," said Jasper, moving up; "the story-teller always has to have a place of honor here."

"That so?" cried Tom; "well, here goes," and he precipitated himself at once into the midst of things.

"Ow! get out," cried Van crossly, and giving him a push.

"Oh Vanny!" said Polly reprovingly.

"Well, he's so big and long," grumbled Van, who didn't fancy anybody coming between him and Polly.

"I might cut off a piece of my legs," said Tom, "to oblige you, I suppose. They are rather lengthy, and that's a fact," regarding them as they stretched out in the firelight. "I'll curl 'em up in a twist like a Turk," which he did.

"Well, now," said Jasper, "we are ready. So fire ahead, Beresford."

Joel, who all this time had been regarding his friend curiously, having never heard him tell a story at Dr. Marks' school, couldn't keep his eyes from him, but regarded him with a fixed stare, which Tom was careful to avoid, by looking steadily into the fire.

"Well, now, I'm not fine at expressing myself," he began.

"I should think not," put in Joel uncomplimentarily.

"Joe, you beggar, hush up!" said Jasper, with a warning pinch.

"Yes, just sit on that individual, will you, Jasper?" said Tom, over his shoulder, "or I never will even begin."

So, Jasper promising to quench all further disturbance on Joel's part, the story was taken up.

"I can only tell a plain, unvarnished tale," said Tom, "but it's one that ought to be told, and in this very spot. Perhaps you don't any of you know, that in Dr. Marks' school it's awfully hard to be good."

"Is it any harder than in any other school, Tom?" asked Mrs. Fisher quietly.

Tom turned, to reply: "I don't know, Mrs. Fisher, because I haven't been at any other school. But I can't imagine a place where everything is made so hard for a boy. To begin with, there is old Fox."

"Oh Tom!" exclaimed Phronsie, leaning forward, whereat old Mr. King laid a warning hand upon the well arm. "There, there, Phronsie; sit back, child;" so she obeyed. "But, Grandpapa, he said there was an old fox at Joey's school," she declared, dreadfully excited, and lifting her face to his.

"Well, and so she is, Phronsie," declared Tom, whirling his long body suddenly around, thereby receiving a dig in the back from Van, who considered him intruding on his space, "a fox by name, and a fox by nature; but we'll call her, for convenience, a person."

"She's the matron," said Percy, feeling called upon to explain.

"Oh!" said Phronsie, drawing a long breath, "but I thought Tom said she was a fox, Grandpapa."

"That's her name," said Tom, nodding at her; "Jemima Fox--isn't that a sweet name, Phronsie?"