Angry as I was, I _had_ to laugh, and I don't know what next he mightn't have done--for Phil never knows when to stop--had we not just then caught the sound of a distant footstep. Phil didn't seem to mind, but I got so nervous that I didn't know what to do. "Oh, _won't_ you go?" I cried in despair. "He'll think we are crazy! Oh, where _am_ I to go?"

"Goodness only knows!" answered Phil, trying to straighten his bonnet; then, glancing around the room, "There isn't a piece of furniture here large enough to hide your corpulent form," he said. "There he comes!

_Now_, I hope you're satisfied; you _wouldn't_ go when you could."

Sure enough, the footsteps were almost at the door. I looked frantically about. I would gladly have escaped through the window, and climbed over the balcony to the ground; but to put aside the delicate lace curtains and unlatch the sash would have taken more time than we had to spare.

Suddenly Phil cried, "The _portieres_, you dunce!" giving me a push in that direction, and like a flash I got behind them. I heard Phil say "Bother!" under his breath, as he stumbled over a footstool in his haste to get seated, then the door opened, and some one entered the room.

Provoked as I was with Phil, I couldn't help hoping that his bonnet was straight, and that he had on his shawl, for his figure wasn't as good as mine. I heard a strange voice--Mr. Erveng's--say: "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long, but I am extremely busy. Will you be kind enough to state your business as briefly as possible?"

Then Phil began, imitating an old lady's voice to a nicety: "Having heard that you publish a great many books, I thought you would like to know of a very clever--really _re_markable--work which is being written by a well-known scholar who lives in this street, and that perhaps you would call on him and make him an offer for it." I knew the moment I heard this speech that Felix had made it up, and just coached Phil; it was certainly better than what I had thought of.

The portieres behind which I had hid only covered a door, and, though I squeezed up as tight as I could, I was awfully afraid they would part and show me underneath. But, all the same, I couldn't resist peeping to see what was going on. Phil had his back to me, but Mr. Erveng sat facing me in the swing-chair that was by his desk, and I noticed at once that he was the black-bearded man we'd seen the day the family moved in.

I listened eagerly for Mr. Erveng's answer. He said very coolly: "It is not our custom to make an offer for a work of which we know nothing.

Ma.n.u.scripts are generally submitted to us. What is the t.i.tle of this 'remarkable work'?"

I didn't like the way he said this, and I thought he looked very suspiciously at Phil; but Phil didn't seem to notice it, for he answered eagerly: "It's called the Fe--'History of Some Ancient Peoples,' and I've brought you a chapter or two to look at." Here I heard a rustling, and peeping between the portieres, what should I see but Phil handing Mr. Erveng some _pages of the Fetich_!

I was so perfectly amazed that I had to stuff the portiere into my mouth to keep from calling out; how _had_ Phil ever got hold of those chapters without papa's knowledge? I knew Nannie would never have helped him after what she had said on Sunday to Max, and how had Phil _dared_ to bring them here! What would papa say if he should know what he had done,--indeed, what we had both done! Oh, how sorry I was that I hadn't gone when Phil urged me to.

When I got over my surprise a little, and again looked through the portieres, Mr. Erveng stood holding the Fetich in his hands, and looking over the pages with a frown on his face. "This is curious," I heard him say. And then, suddenly, before I could guess what he was going to do, he crossed the room and drew my portieres aside! At first I held on to them, with a desperate desire to lose myself in the scanty folds; but they were firmly withdrawn, and there I stood,--a fac-simile of the fat, black-robed, black-veiled person who sat on the three-cornered chair by Mr. Erveng's desk!

"_Whew!_" whistled Phil, then tried to look as if he hadn't uttered a sound, while Mr. Erveng took hold of my arm and walked me over to where Phil stood. "Now," he said sternly, "I should like an explanation of this extraordinary behaviour."

But not a word said either of us,--I couldn't, I was so frightened; I a.s.sure you I wished myself home! And while we stood there--Mr. Erveng waiting for an answer--the door opened, and the boy that Max had said was Hilliard Erveng came into the room.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," he exclaimed, turning back, "I didn't know any one was with you."

But his father called out to him, "Stay here, Hilliard!" Then turning to us he said _very_ sternly, "I have reason to think that this ma.n.u.script"--he still held the Fetich in his hand--"has been stolen from its rightful owner, of whom I have heard, and to whom I shall take pleasure in restoring his property. Unless you both at once take off what I am convinced is a disguise, and offer a full and satisfactory explanation, I shall be under the painful necessity of calling in a policeman and giving you in charge."

"Oh, no! no! _no!_" I cried out. "We _didn't_ steal it--at least, it belongs to our father, and--"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THERE WE STOOD; A FINE PAIR WE MUST HAVE LOOKED!"]

But Phil strode over to my side. "Hush, Betty," he whispered; "I'll explain." Sweeping off his bonnet and veil, he threw them--nurse's best Sunday hat!--on a chair, and faced Mr. Erveng. You can't think how comical he looked, with his handsome boy's face and rumpled hair above that fat old woman's figure. And in a moment or two, I think, I must have looked almost as comical too; for before Phil could begin, Mr.

Erveng said, "I insist upon that person removing her bonnet and veil as well."

So off went mine, and there we stood; a fine pair we must have looked!

That boy Hilliard gave a little giggle,--Phil said afterwards he'd like to have "punched" him for it, and I felt awfully foolish,--but Mr.

Erveng frowned.

Then Phil began and told who we were, and how something that had been said by a friend of ours had given him, and me,--though neither knew about the other,--the idea of coming over and asking him, Mr. Erveng, to buy the Fetich (of course Phil called the Fetich by its proper name), and thinking he might like to see some of the ma.n.u.script, he had got hold of two chapters and brought them along to show.

"But why this absurd disguise, if all this is true?" asked Mr. Erveng of us, looking from one to the other.

I began: "Because Ma--" but Phil gave me a hard nudge of the elbow: "Max mightn't like us to tell that," he mumbled, which ended my explanation.

But I was determined to get in a few remarks: "Papa doesn't know a thing about our doing this," I said very fast, for fear Phil would interrupt again, "and we don't want him to. We just came here and told you about the Fe--his book, because we were sure he'd never tell you, or let you see it, himself, and we thought if you knew of it, you would want to buy it from him, and that would make him finish it up,--papa's been _years_ writing that book,--and then Felix could go to college and--"

"_Betty!_" broke in Phil, in such a sharp, angry tone, and with such a red face, that I moved away from him.

"That's where I've seen you,--at college," exclaimed the boy; he talks in a slow, deliberate way, something like Judge. "They _do_ live across the way, father; I've seen him"--with a nod of his head at Phil--"going in there."

"Ah, really, how kind of you to remember me!" cried Phil, with sarcasm.

"Please let me have that ma.n.u.script, Mr. Erveng, and we will go home."

"No," remarked Mr. Erveng, very decidedly. "There is something about the affair that I don't understand, and I shall not feel satisfied until I have restored this ma.n.u.script, which I know is valuable, to its owner, and found for myself that the story you have told me is true."

"All right, then," Phil cried recklessly. "Come, Betty, let's put on our 'bunnits' and go face the music."

Deeply mortified, we "dressed up" again, and went home under the escort of Mr. Erveng and his son. Hannah opened the door, and how she did stare at the two fat, black-robed, closely veiled ladies who waddled past her into the drawing-room! Hilliard did not come in with us, and when Mr.

Erveng found that neither Phil nor I would answer Hannah's "Please, what name shall I say?" he took a card out and gave it to her, saying, "Ask Mr. Rose if he will be kind enough to let me see him for a few minutes."

While we sat waiting, Fee came limping down the stairs and looked in on us. "Hullo!" he exclaimed in astonishment; "_two_ here? What's up?" Then he saw the stranger and stopped.

"Oh, we've had a dandy time!" said Phil, throwing back his veil, "and it isn't over yet. Mr. Erveng, allow me to introduce to you my brother, Felix Rose."

While the introduction was going on, papa came into the room, and the expression of his face was something that can't be described when he found that the two ladies to whom he had bowed when he entered were indeed Phil and I. Mr. Erveng stated the case as briefly as possible, making much more light of it than we had expected, and handed to papa the pages of the Fetich that Phil had brought to him. Papa said very little, but his face grew quite pale, and he accompanied Mr. Erveng to the door, where they stood talking for a few minutes; then Mr. Erveng went away.

Fee had disappeared with our bonnets and veils,--we would willingly have divested ourselves of the other garments as well, but we knew he was not equal to the acc.u.mulation of pillows, shawls, and gowns which that would involve,--and we were sitting in dead silence when papa returned, and, opening the folding doors, motioned us to go into the study.

Nannie sat there writing; but the merry little laugh with which she greeted our entrance died quickly away as she guessed what we had been doing, and her low, "Oh, Phil, oh, Betty, how _could_ you!" made me feel more ashamed than a scolding would have.

Papa put the two chapters of the Fetich carefully away; then he took his seat at his desk and said, "Now I wish to hear the meaning of this most extraordinary and unwarrantable behaviour."

For an instant neither of us spoke; then, just as I opened my mouth, Phil began. He made a very short story of it,--how, through Max, we had heard of Mr. Erveng's being a publisher, and how the story about his liking fat old ladies had put the idea into our heads to dress up and call on him, and interest him in papa's book.

Papa frowned at us over his gla.s.ses. "What has Mr. Erveng to do with my book?" he asked, sternly. "And why did my son put my most cherished work into a stranger's hands without my knowledge?"

"Because--" began Phil; then he got as red as a beet, and stood plucking at the skirt of nurse's gown without another word.

I felt sorry for Phil. I knew that, like me, he had done it in the interest of the whole family; so when papa said a little sharply, "I am waiting for an answer, Philip," I said very quickly, "Please don't be angry with Phil, papa; we did it because we thought if Mr. Erveng knew of the Fet--book, he'd want to buy it, and then perhaps you would finish it, and sell it for a lot of money, and then Fee--um--eh--we could do lots of things."

Just then the study door opened, and in came Felix, quite out of breath from hurrying up and down stairs. He saw Phil's downcast face, and hastening forward, laid his hand on Phil's shoulder, saying, "I deserve a full share of Phil's scolding, father. Betty evidently carried out her scheme without a.s.sistance, but I dressed Phil, and helped him to get off without being seen. So I know, sir, that I ought to share his punishment."

"I see; then this was a conspiracy to force me to finish my work and sell it," said papa, slowly, with a grieved, shocked look in his eyes; then, turning to Nannie, he asked unsteadily: "Are _you_ in it, too?

Margaret--your mother--used to urge me to--write slowly--but--perhaps I have lingered too long over it. I thank you," with a look at us, "for recalling me to my duty, though I think it would have been kinder to have spoken to me, rather than to have gone to a stranger in this way.

I will finish the History--as soon--as I can."

There was no anger in papa's voice, but a hurt tone that went right to my heart, and made me horribly ashamed, while Nannie flew to his side and threw her arms around his neck. "Don't take it to heart, dear papa," she pleaded, pressing her cheek against his face. "It was only thoughtlessness on their part; they _didn't_ mean to grieve you, I know they didn't. Oh, boys, Betty, speak up and a.s.sure papa of this."

I began to cry out loud. I _despise_ crying, and I know papa hates it, but I simply _had_ to sob, or I would have choked. The boys felt badly, too. Fee leaned on the desk and said, low and very earnestly, "I am _so_ ashamed of myself, father. And I know Phil is, too."

"I've made a great a.s.s of myself," growled poor Phil. "I wish, sir, that you'd give me a thrashing, as if I were a little shaver,--a sound one; I know I deserve it."

But papa loosed Nannie's arms from about his neck, and put her gently from him. "My dear," he said wearily, "I--I--wish you would make them all go; I want to be alone."