CHAPTER VII.
KITTY'S FOSTER-FATHER
Tweedles and I were excused from the Gym exercises that afternoon with the request that we meet Miss Peyton in her office at three o'clock. We were there on time, you may be sure, and Dee had the kitty all done up in a shoe box ready for the trip. We had christened him Oliver Twist, because he kept on "hollering for more" all the weary night.
Miss Peyton laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks over the description of our trials during the night. When we found out that she did not think it was so terribly wicked of Dee, we felt we could tell her everything, even the middy ties over the transom and the fleas in Dee's bed.
"You poor girls must be nearly dead, aren't you?" she asked kindly.
"Page and I feel right scrooch-eyed, but after the first feeding, Dum slept through it all," laughed Dee. "I have more sympathy than ever for poor Zebedee. That's what we call our Father, you know, Miss Peyton. He had to bring up Dum and me on bottles as our little Mother died when we were tiny babies. If one kitten could keep two girls awake most of the night heating milk for it, don't you fancy two twins, like Dum and me, could keep one man awake all the time?"
"Didn't you have a nurse?" I asked.
"Of course we did, all kinds and colors, but Dum and I wouldn't drink unless Zebedee gave us the bottles. He says he was afraid the nurse might not be sanitary and trusted no one but himself to fix the milk."
"Poor old Zebedee!" sighed Dum, her eyes filling. "I don't see how we could have been so mean to him."
We had started on our quest for a friend for kitty, Miss Peyton leading the way down toward the village. She seemed to be enjoying the little outing as much as we were.
"Your Father must be very patient," she said, putting her arm in Dum's when she saw the hazel eyes filling at the thought of her Father.
"Well, the funny part of it is, he is not one bit patient except with Dee and me. Do you know, once he got dreadfully mad with the telephone girl who kept on cutting him off when he was in the midst of some most important business that could not wait, and every time he would try to get connection again, the operator would say 'Line busy.' Now he knew the line was not busy and the person on the other end was just as anxious to be got as he was to get him, and, as I was saying, he got so mad he pulled the telephone out by the roots."
"Well, that was, to say the least, impulsive," and Miss Peyton laughed like any schoolgirl.
"You mustn't think Zebedee is bad-tempered," put in Dee. "He's got the sweetest disposition in the world. He's just quick-tempered. He has learned to control himself wonderfully but you know he is real young yet."
"Yes, I know," said Miss Peyton solemnly.
"Tell us whom you are going to get to be kitty's foster father, Miss Peyton," I said, purposely changing the subject. Not that I did not take the keenest interest in everything pertaining to Mr. Tucker, but I could see that the twins were both getting leaky, and it did seem a pity to have a cloud cast over our delightful walk with Miss Peyton.
"Indeed, I will," she said, giving me an approving nod. "It is dear old Captain Pat Leahy. I hope you girls will like him as much as I do. He is sure to like you. Of course he may not be able to keep the little thing and then I don't know what we will do. Anyhow, let's not borrow trouble. I know the dear man will do it for me if he possibly can. When I first came to Gresham as a pupil – "
"Oh, were you a pupil here?" we exclaimed in one breath.
"Yes, indeed, I came here before I went to college. Gresham had not such a grand building then and accommodated only about fifty girls. It was more like a home school. Captain Leahy was then conductor on the local train and took an especial interest in the Gresham girls. I shall never forget how good he was to me on my first trip. I was lonesome and shy – "
"You, shy! Oh, Miss Peyton, were you, really?"
"I should say I was. Why, Annie Pore is brazen beside what I was as a child. Captain Leahy sat by me between stations and with his ready Irish tongue cheered me up immensely. He treated me to peanuts and made me laugh and gave me a new outlook on life. The poor fellow lost a leg in a railroad accident about ten years ago, and ever since then has kept the gate where the track crosses the main street of Gresham."
"Does he like cats?" I asked.
"Oh, yes, he adores them. That is the great bond of sympathy between us. He loves cats and he loves flowers. He also has a great fondness for young people. Here we are," and Miss Peyton pointed out the gate-house where her old friend lived.
It was just an ordinary little square box of a house painted the pumpkin yellow that railroads are so partial to, but all around it were window boxes, some of them filled with geraniums, some with Norway spruces and English ivy. A moon flower had completely covered one side of the little house, but the frost had touched the big leaves and they were dropping off one by one.
A grizzled old man with a long red beard and a peg leg was digging around the geraniums as we approached. "Captain, I have brought some of my girls to meet you," said Miss Peyton, holding out her hand to the old man and introducing us.
"And I am that proud to meet all of yez; and so will me cats be. The poor critters long for some petticoats to cuddle oop to. A peg leg is but cold comfort to a pussy when she is hankering for some women folk," and with a hearty laugh the old fellow stumped to the door of his little gate-house and called to the cats. Out they came, seven in all and a motley crew. The Captain was very democratic and not particular about the pedigree of his friends.
"All cats are aristocratic if you just give 'em a chance," he would declare when some cat snob would suggest that he go in for pure breeds.
Six of the cats came to him and rubbed their backs against his good leg; but the seventh, a large gray one with a mournful look in her eyes, began to sharpen her claws on a long strip of sand paper he had tacked to his wooden leg. We burst out laughing. It was the most comical thing I had ever seen.
"A little invintion of me own. There are no trees handy for the poor critters to sharpen their claws on and I find this device saves me furniture many a scratch." He stooped and laid his hand lovingly on the mournful one, but she arched her back and moved over to the protection of Dee's skirts.
"What, schtill angry wid me, poor Bett? I had to have her kittens drowned, all but one, and she can't forgive me, not that I blame her. But what am I to do, Miss Peyton? Me house is schmall and Bett is that prolific she could furnish kittens for all the ould maids in Christendom in little or no toime."
"Well, it is a problem, Captain Leahy, but I am sorry for Bett. Aren't there enough old maids in Gresham to help you out some?" Miss Peyton stooped down and picked up the poor bereaved mother who nestled comfortably in her arms and began to purr loudly.
"The demand doesn't come oop to Bett's supply, niver in the world," laughed the old man. "But what am I thinking of keeping yez waiting out here so long? Come in, come in!" I have never heard such a rich, delicious voice as Captain Leahy's; and his brogue was as soft as the purr of his cats.
"Before we go in, I might as well tell you what has brought us to you especially, Captain," said Miss Peyton.
"What? You must schnatch me from me Fool's Paradise? I was after thinking all the time you had come to see the ould man himself," and his eyes twinkled mischievously.
"So we did, dear Captain. We have come to see you because you are you, and we need your help," answered Miss Peyton with her engaging smile that somehow made one feel that her way was the best way.
"Well, sitting is as cheap as standing and I want this peg leg to last as long as I do. It is astonishing how fast they wear out. Come in, come in, and tell me what it is you want me to help yez about," and he led the way into his little house.
It did not seem so small when you got in because it was so orderly. The lower berth from a wrecked Pullman served him as seat by day and bed by night. The very smallest cooking stove imaginable, almost a doll baby size, polished like the boots of a dandy, was at one side. Over it was a shelf with some blue and white china on it, and under the shelf a few cooking utensils and a dish pan and biscuit board.
"Sit down, sit down, and while the kittle is biling for tay, I can listen to your trroobles." We seated ourselves on the Pullman seat while the dear old man busied himself with the tea kettle. Bett, the bereaved mother, still nestled in Miss Peyton's arms, but after a moment she wriggled out and got into the box behind the stove. "You'd better look after your baby, you ould rip. I'm thinking these ladies are that fond of cats that they might be making off wid it."
"That's just it, Captain Leahy, these ladies are fond of cats, one of them especially," indicating Dee. "So fond of them that yesterday when the whole school was out on the Valley Road taking the dignified walk that is required, what should Miss Caroline Tucker do but rescue a poor little lost kitten, mewing by the roadside, carry it home in her muff without teacher or fellow pupil seeing her, and actually take it to bed with her. But, girls, you tell Captain Leahy about it yourselves," which we did at Miss Peyton's command.
He enjoyed the prank as much as Miss Peyton and laughed until the blue and white china danced on the little shelf.
"And now I know very well what ye have come for. Ye want me to take a boarder."
"Oh, will you, please?" implored Dee.
Bett, having nourished her lone offspring, now carried it in her mouth for Miss Peyton's inspection, and Dee, seeing her, jumped up in great excitement, dropping the box she had been holding so carefully and waking up Oliver Twist in the fall. "Look, look! Bett's kitten looks just like Oliver! I thought it was him at first." Dee was excited and we all excused her English. Oliver began to cry aloud and Bett tore around like one demented.
"Well, Bett, old girl, your baby has been restored to yez. If this don't beat all! On the Valley Road, yesterday, you say? I told that boy to be careful of the hole in the bag, that the runt might fall through it, and so he did. You call him Oliver, you say? Well, that is a handsome name for such a poor mite, but maybe it will give him some ambition to grow oop to it. There's an ould saying: 'If you escape drowning, you'll live to be hanged.' I hope not, Oliver, I hope not."
Now Bett, having one of her babies back, forgave her master and rubbed herself against his good leg; and then such another washing as she did give Oliver before she considered him fit to get into the box that she called home!
The kettle was boiling and the tea soon steeping in the pretty teapot. The Captain put up a little table exactly like the ones on the train and we had the merriest kind of a party.
"Your cats are so fat, Captain, what do you feed them on?" asked Dee, in her element with two cats in her lap.
"An ould frind of mine, who is schteward on a diner saves me all the schraps and the cats live high, higher than their master, by a long shot. But do you know the windfall I have had lately, Miss Peyton?"
"No; do tell me. I am so glad of any good fortune that comes to you, Captain."
"Bless your schwate heart for thim words! Well, I have always had a hard toime about my shoes since I lost me limb. Such an accumulation of rights as you never saw wid no one wanting of thim and no place to put thim and feeling it was to say the least a sin to be throwing thim away, when no doubt there was somewhere in the worrld a man who had lost his lift leg who would give anything for thim. Well, I came on this advertisement in a Washington paper: 'A man who has lost his left leg would like to get into communication with one who has lost his right. 11½ E.' I knew soon as I clapped eyes on it that some poor fellow was in exactly me own dilimma. I did get into communication wid him and now I am no longer trying to find a place for the right shoes I have no use for and on the other hand I have enough of the lifts to last me a lifetime. 11½ E's too, exactly my size."
"Well, that was a windfall surely," said Miss Peyton. ("More like a footfall," muttered Dum.) "But, Captain, I thought you were going to buy a fine jointed leg with a foot and then you would need your own right shoes."
"Oh, I have given oop the notion. You see my cats would miss the peg something awful, wid no place to sharpen their little claws; and thin I have found a poor widdy woman living down the track a piece and the right leg of me pants do come in so handy for the poor thing to make schuits for her little byes. It would seem a sin to use that warm cloth to cover cork, whin some poor little lamb is shivering in the cold."
"Ah, Captain, always thinking how you can be good to children and cats," said Miss Peyton.
Then with many thanks to the old Irishman for his hospitality and his kindness and the good time he had given us, we took our departure. I noticed that Dum, who had been very quiet and whose eyes had been misty several times, especially when the Captain told of the fate of his trouser legs, stepped back into the little house and I heard her whisper to the old man: "Please, Captain, take this half dollar and buy some toys for the little lambs who wear the pant legs." I happened to know it was the whole of her week's allowance, too.
CHAPTER VIII.
ABOUT MATHEMATICS AND ME
I was a very difficult pupil to place, having been overeducated in some subjects and absolutely neglected in others. I might have gone with the seniors in English and History; was normal in Latin, that is, sophomore, where girls of my age were put; was just beginning French; and had to go with the kids in Mathematics. I had never played a game of tennis in my life nor even seen a game of basketball, but I was naturally athletic from the free country life I had led, and it was soon realized in athletic circles that I would be on the team with a little coaching.
I was glad to see that Miss Cox was to teach me Arithmetic. Miss Peyton hoped I could get into Algebra by Christmas and then, with hard study and earnest coaching, perhaps catch up with the class. I had a feeling that Miss Cox and I were going to pull together if she could just let herself go. Her manner in the class was rather wooden, but she was an excellent teacher and the girls were quick to recognize that, so while she was not popular, she was not disliked.
I was such a stupid in Mathematics that I was afraid she might put me down as a dunce and lose all interest in me, but the fact that I read "Alice in Wonderland" seemed to be in my favor.
"Page, I will not have you look upon yourself as hopeless in Arithmetic," she said to me one day when I despaired of ever understanding what seemed to me a very intricate problem. "Lewis Carroll was a great mathematician and still he wrote the delicious classic that you and I are so fond of. Now I think minds that appreciate the same things must be similar. I believe there is a corner of your brain that is absolutely unexplored and that corner corresponds to the great fertile area in Lewis Carroll's. All it needs in you is working, digging, cultivating to produce fruit."
"Oh, Miss Cox, how splendid of you to look at it that way! I am going to try awfully hard to work my poor, little, neglected, unused plot of brain with all my might. If I can't grow anything but green persimmons, that would be better than nothing."
"Ambition, Distraction, Uglification and Derision are the hard things. If you look at it right, one side of Mathematics is really romantic."
Father always said the way to control me was through my imagination and Miss Cox had surely hit on my weakness. The result was that Mathematics was no longer dry-as-dust to me. I found it had been a closed book because I had never been interested enough to open it. I soon outstripped the kids in my class and was put in a higher one. I had to read frequent chapters of "Alice in Wonderland" to cheer me on, and Miss Cox used to quote Lewis Carroll to me when she and I were alone. I found the other girls in the classes looked upon her as nothing but a teacher and she regarded them as mere pupils, to be taught conscientiously and then dismissed.
One day I sailed safely through a problem that was noted as a regular stumper. As soon as the class was dismissed, Miss Cox exclaimed:
"'Come to my arms, my beamish boy. You've slain the Jabberwock.' Page, I really believe you are going to end by being a pretty good mathematician."
I answered:
"'He thought he saw a Garden Door
That opened with a key:
He looked again, and found it was
A Double Rule of Three:
'And all its mystery,' he said,
'Is clear as day to me!'
If I ever understand it, it will be thanks to you and Lewis Carroll!"
The Tuckers had been to school pretty steadily all their lives, so they were able to go into the sophomore class in everything. I bitterly regretted that my education had been so erratic, but determined to make the best of it. Dum helped me with my French and we tried to keep to our rule of talking French at the table; but as we did what Mammy Susan called our own "retching" and my vocabulary was somewhat limited, we had to resort to English a great deal or go unfed.
I know Dum and Dee felt sorry for me for being in a kids' class in Mathematics. I didn't really mind nearly so much as they thought I did. The kids were nice to me and I made some mighty good friends among them.
There was one little bunchy girl named Mary Flannigan who turned out in the end one of the best friends I ever had in my life. She was short and stumpy, with scrambled red hair and a freckled face and the very keenest sense of humor I had ever known. She was a year younger than I was but very well up in her classes, and she had a genius for mimicry that was irresistibly funny. She had some stunts that endeared her to all the girls. She could do a dog fight or cats on the back fence; and could go so like a mosquito that you were certain you would be bitten in a moment. She was something of a ventriloquist, which made these accomplishments especially delightful.
Mary and I were put into Algebra at the same time, and to our joy Miss Cox was to teach us. Mary had found out Miss Cox, too. Tweedles and I had religiously refrained from telling any of the girls about her mad revel on the day of our arrival, but we had tried to make them understand what a very good old girl she was if you could just find her out; and our attitude toward her was having its effect on the whole school. Miss Cox, realizing that she was really liked and understood, had a change of expression as well as heart. Her sad, crooked face was now a happy, crooked face and she no longer saved her jokes for Tweedles and me, but got them off indiscriminately, and very good jokes they were, too. The classes in voice culture became more popular, and more and more girls wrote home begging to be allowed to "take singing."
I shall never forget Mary's and my first lesson in Algebra. Miss Cox looked at us with her twisted smile.
"Algebra is rather a poetical-sounding name, don't you think?" she asked us.
"Maybe it is," said Mary, "but I bet it takes it out in sounding so."
"Oh, I don't know about that," and Miss Cox opened the book at the first page and read as follows: "'In Algebra, the operations of Arithmetic are abridged and generalized by means of Symbols.' That appeals to the imagination somewhat, I think. 'Symbols which represent numbers.' Just that word 'Symbol' sets me to dreaming. Arithmetic is the prose of Mathematics where everything is stated and nothing left to the imagination, but Algebra is very different. 'Known Numbers are usually represented by the first letters of the alphabet, as a, b, c. Unknown Numbers, or those whose values are to be determined, are usually represented by the last letters of the alphabet, as x, y, z.' The unknown numbers, – the mysterious numbers, – for what is unknown is in a measure mysterious and what is mysterious is romantic or poetic. That is the way I think of it. In working your Algebra, don't just look at it as hard, dry facts to be mastered, but let x, y, z be the Great Unknown that you are to find. Let the problem be a plot that you are to unravel as Poe did 'The Gold Bug.'"
You may well imagine that Mary and I set to with a will to get all we could out of such a thrilling subject. There were times when we felt that Miss Cox was drawing a little on her imagination to find poetry in such an example as this, for instance:
4x-2/3-3x-1/3-27=0
On the whole, though, Algebra was much more interesting than Arithmetic, and sometimes I had the realization that it did mean a lot to me; and Mary said she felt the same way. Anyhow, in the early spring we were able to take the sophomore tests and go on in that class. Miss Peyton said she considered it really wonderful that I should have progressed so rapidly, but I told her it was all due to Miss Cox's being so certain that Lewis Carroll and I had similar brains.