"Dear me! you are running!" said Adela, who hadn"t got it into her head what for, as she didn"t connect the scream with any of their party. And she walked just as fast as she could to catch up with them. As that was impossible, she gave a hasty glance around the shrubbery, and seeing no one to notice her, she broke out into a lively run.
"Yes, Phronsie," Grandpapa was saying, as the young people had left them, and the others had wandered off to enjoy the quiet, shady paths, "this place was the old Foret de Rouvray. It wasn"t a very pretty place to come to in those days, what with the robbers and other bad people who infested it. And now let us go and find a seat, child, and I"ll show you one or two little pictures I picked up in the shop this morning; and you can send them in your next letter, to Joel and David, if you like."
Old Mr. King took out his pocket-book, and had just opened it, when a man darted out from the thick shrubbery behind him, cast a long, searching glance around, and quick as lightning, threw himself against the stately old gentleman, and seized the pocket-book.
It was then that Phronsie screamed long and loud.
"What ho!" exclaimed Mr. King, starting around to do battle; but the man was just disappearing around the clump of shrubbery.
"Which way?" Tom Selwyn dashed up. It didn"t seem as if Phronsie"s cry had died on her lips.
Old Mr. King pointed without a word. And Polly and Jasper were close at hand. Polly flew to Phronsie, who was clinging to Grandpapa"s hand, and wailing bitterly. "What is it? Oh! what is it?" cried Polly.
"My pocket-book," said Grandpapa; "some fellow has seized it, and frightened this poor child almost to death." He seemed to care a great deal more about that than any loss of the money.
"Which way?" cried Jasper, in his turn, and was off like a shot on getting his answer.
Tom saw the fellow slink with the manner of one who knew the ins and outs of the place well,--now gliding, and ducking low in the spa.r.s.er growth, now making a bold run around some exposed curve, now dashing into a dense part of the wood.
"I"ll have you yet!" said Tom, through set teeth; "I haven"t trained at school for nothing!"
A thud of fast-flying feet in his rear didn"t divert him an instant from his game, although it might be a rescue party for the thief, in the shape of a partner,--who could tell? And realising, if he caught the man at all, he must do one of his sprints, he covered the ground by a series of flying leaps,--dashed in where he saw his prey rush; one more leap with all his might, and--"I have you!" cried Tom.
The man under him, thrown to the ground by the suddenness of Tom"s leap on him, was wriggling and squirming with all the desperation of a trapped creature, when the individual with the flying footsteps hove in sight. It was Jasper. And they had just persuaded the robber that it would be useless to struggle longer against his fate, when the parson, running as he hadn"t run for years, appeared to their view. And after him, at such a gait that would have been his fortune, in a professional way, was the little doctor. His hat was gone, and his toes scarcely seemed to touch the ground. He was last at the scene, simply because the news had only just reached him as he sauntered leisurely up to meet Mr. King in his promenade.
When the thief saw him, he looked to see if any more were coming, and resigned himself at once and closed his eyes instinctively.
He was a miserable-looking man--tall, thin, and stoop shouldered--they saw, when they got him on his feet. Unkempt and unwashed, his long, black hair hung around a face sallow in the extreme. And he shook so, as Tom and Jasper marched him back, escorted by the body-guard of the parson and the little doctor, that the two boys put their hands under his arms to help him along.
"Well--well--well!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. King, as he saw this array. Polly gathered Phronsie"s other hand in hers, while she clung closer than ever to Grandpapa.
"Here"s your pocket-book," said Tom, handing the article over; "he hasn"t spent much."
"Don"t, Tom," said Jasper, "joke about it."
"Can"t help it," said Tom. "Well, now, shall we turn him over to the _sergents de ville?"_
"Turn him over?" repeated Mr. King. "I should say so," he added drily, "and give him the best recommendation for a long term, too. What else is there to do, pray tell?"
"Grandpapa," suddenly cried Phronsie, who hadn"t taken her eyes from the man"s face, "what are you going to do--where is he going?"
"We are going to hand him over to the police, child," answered old Mr.
King, harshly. "And as soon as possible, too."
"Grandpapa, perhaps he"s got some little children at home; ask him, Grandpapa, do."
"No, no, Phronsie," said Mr. King, hastily. "Say no more, child; you don"t understand. We must call the _sergents de ville."_
At the words _sergents de ville_ the man shivered from head to foot, and wrenched his hands free from the boys" grasp to tear open his poor coat, and show a bare breast, covered with little, apparently, but the skin drawn over the bones. He didn"t attempt to say anything.
"Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed old Mr. King, starting backward and putting up his hands to his face to shut out the sight. "Cover it up, man--bless me--no need to ask him a question. Why, the fellow is starving."
His little children--four of them--his wife--all starving--hadn"t a bit to eat since, he could scarcely say when, it seemed so very long ago since he had eaten last--it all came out in a torrent of words that choked him, and like the true Frenchman that he was, he gestured in a way that told the story with his face and his fingers, as well as with his tongue.
A _sergent de ville_ strolled by and looked curiously at the group, but as Mr. King met his eye coolly, and the party seemed intelligent and well able to take care of themselves, it wasn"t necessary to tender his services--if they were talking to a worthless vagabond.
"Hum--hum--very bad case; very bad case, indeed!" Mr. King was exploding at intervals, while the torrent was rushing on in execrable French as far as accent went. No one else of the spellbound group could have spoken if there had been occasion for a word. Then he pulled out the pocket-book again, and taking out several franc notes of a good size, he pressed them between the man"s dirty fingers. "Go and get something to eat," was all he said, "and take care of the children."
XVII
"I"VE FOUND HIM!" EXCLAIMED JASPER
And for the next few days Phronsie talked about the poor man, and wished they could see his children, and hoped he had bought them some nice things to eat, and worried over him because he was all skin and bones.
"Ah! the bones were real, even if the children aren"t," Grandpapa would say to himself. "Well, I suppose I have been taken in, but at least the fellow hasn"t starved to death."
And then off they would go sight-seeing as fast as possible, to take up the mind of Phronsie, who watched for Grandpapa"s poor man in every wretched creature she saw. And there were plenty of them.
And then Adela went back to school, happy in the thought of the little pile of sketches she had to show as her summer"s work, and with ever so many studies and bits to finish up under Mademoiselle"s direction; and little old Mrs. Gray, breathing blessings on Mr. King"s head, departed for her English country home.
"Now, then, I have ever so much shopping to do," announced old Mr.
King, briskly, "and I shall want you to help me, Phronsie."
"I"ll help you, Grandpapa," promised Phronsie, well pleased, and gravely set herself to the task.
So they wandered away by themselves, having the most blissful of times, and coming home to the hotel, they would gaily relate their adventures; and Phronsie would often carry a little parcel or two, which it was her greatest delight to do; and then the trail of big boxes would follow them as they were sent home to the hotel to tell of their experiences in the shops.
"And Grandpapa is going to get me a new doll," announced Phronsie, on one of these days.
"Do you mean a peasant doll to add to the collection?" asked Polly; for old Mr. King had bought a doll in the national costume in every country in which they had travelled, and they had been packed away, together with the other things as fast as purchased, and sent off home across the sea.
"Yes," said Phronsie. "I do, Polly, and it"s to be a most beautiful French doll--oh!"
And sure enough, Mr. King, who knew exactly what kind of a doll he meant to purchase, and had kept his eyes open for it, stumbled upon it by a piece of rare good luck in a shop where he least expected to find it.
"Oh, may I carry her home, Grandpapa?" begged Phronsie, hanging over the doll in a transport. "Please don"t have her shut up in a box--but do let me carry her in my arms."
"Oh, Phronsie, she"s too big," objected Mr. King, "and very heavy."
"Oh, Grandpapa, she"s not heavy," cried Phronsie, not meaning to contradict, but so anxious not to have her child sent home shut up in a box, that she forgot herself.
"Well, I don"t know but what you may," said Grandpapa, relenting. "I will call a cab after we get through with this next shop," he reflected, "and it won"t hurt her to carry the doll that short distance." So they came out of the shop, and deciding to take a short cut, they started across the boulevard, he taking the usual precaution to gather Phronsie"s hand in his.
As they were halfway across the street, with its constant stream of pedestrians and vehicles, a sudden gust of wind flapped the doll"s pink silk cape up against Phronsie"s eyes, and taking her hand away from Grandpapa"s a second to pull down the cape, for she couldn"t see, she slipped, and before she knew it, had fallen on top of the doll in the middle of the street.