Bobby Blake at Rockledge School: or, Winning the Medal of Honor

CHAPTER VIII
THE PEEP-SHOW

Very early on Saturday morning Bobby and Fred went down to Hurley Street and hung the painted banners upon the front of the show tent. As to their beauty, there might have been some question, but Fred had painted the words clearly, and there could be no mistaking their meaning.

The sheets on which the signs were painted stretched across the width of the tent, and the upper line read:

FOUR MARVELS OF THE WORLD

Underneath this startling statement, in no less emphatic letters, appeared the following:

ON EXHIBITION:

The Strongest Man in the World

The Handsomest Woman in the World

The Prettiest Girl in the World

The Smartest Boy in the World

The surprising nature of these signs began to draw a crowd almost at once – even before breakfast. The early comers were mostly boys, and Bobby and Fred were not yet ready to admit the curious.

The chums kept perfectly serious faces and refused to answer any of the questions, or respond much to the raillery of their young friends.

"You know that ain't so, Bobby Blake!" exclaimed one boy. "You can't have all those people in that tent. And where'd you get them? Huh! 'Strongest man in the world.' Who's that? Sandow, or John L. Sullivan? Bet you jest got a picture of Samson throwin' down the pillars."

"That's what it is – just pictures!" agreed the other curious ones.

Fred grinned at them and was – wonderful to relate! – as silent as his chum. They had agreed to say nothing in response to the chaffing.

"And who was the handsomest woman in the world?" scoffed another boy, who was rather better informed than most of his mates. "Cleopatra, maybe! And she was blacker than our Phoebe who washes for my mother. All Egyptians are black."

"I'd just like to know who you think is the prettiest girl, Bobby Blake?" demanded one of the bigger girls who went to school with the chums, her nose tip tilted to show her scorn. "What do you know about pretty girls?"

"If you want to see her, you can do so by paying your penny by and by," said Bobby politely.

"Humph! I'd like to see myself!" snapped the young lady – and at once went home and secured a penny for that very purpose!

"I s'pose you've got a photograph of your own self in there for the smartest boy, Reddy Martin!" suggested one of the big fellows who dared give Fred this hated nickname.

"Well," drawled Fred, his eyes sparkling, "if it lay between you and me who was the smartest, I don't believe you'd get any medal."

The boys took turns breakfasting on crackers and cheese in Mr. Martin's store. Fred's father was greatly amused by the signs in front of the tent and he wanted a private view of the wonders. But he was politely refused.

"We can't begin the show till Bobby's made the lecture, Dad," declared Fred. "And we're not going to begin till there's a crowd on the street. We'll pass them right into the store here, and I bet you and the clerks will be too busy waiting on customers to see the show at all," and he chuckled.

In only a single matter did the boys have help in the arrangements for the show. Mr. Blake, without being in the secret of the show itself, had written the lecture which Bobby was to deliver outside the tent every time a crowd gathered.

Bobby put on a shabby drum-major's coat, with one epaulet, which had been found in the Martins' attic. On his head he perched an old silk hat belonging to his father, with the band stuffed out so that it would not slip down over his ears and hide his face entirely.

He beat upon a tin pan with a padded drum-stick, and thus brought together the first crowd before the show-tent at about nine o'clock. His ridiculous figure and the noise of the drumming soon collected twenty or thirty grown people – mostly men at that hour – beside a crowd of boys, and a few timid girls who fringed the crowd.

Having called his audience together, Bobby, with a perfectly serious face, began his speech which he had learned by heart, and spoke as well as ever he recited "a piece" on Friday afternoons at school:

"Kind Friends:

"This wonderful exhibition has been arranged for the sole purpose of extracting money from your pockets and putting it into ours. We make this frank announcement at the start so that there may be no misunderstanding.

"This marvelous Museum is not a charitable institution nor is it for the benefit of any philanthropic cause.

"It is merely an effort and an invention to promote good humor; any person unable to appreciate a joke on himself, or herself, is respectfully requested not to patronize our stupendous and surprising entertainment.

"Where before, in any conglomeration of Wonders of the World, have four such marvelous creatures been placed simultaneously on exhibition?

"Now, kind friends, but one person is admitted to our entertainment at a time, and but one of these advertised marvels will be exhibited to each visitor. This is a positive rule that cannot be broken.

"The charge for our educational and startling exhibit is but a penny – a cent – the smallest coin of the realm. It will not make you, and it cannot break you.

"In addition, it is understood that the person paying his, or her, entrance fee to this Museum of Marvels, agrees to keep silent regarding what is shown within, for at least twenty-four hours. On that, and on no other terms, do we accept your penny.

"If one should not be satisfied that a penny's worth is given in exchange for the entrance fee, the same will be cheerfully refunded.

"Now, kind friends, one at a time," concluded Bobby, stepping down from the rostrum to the narrow entrance to the tent. "Form in line at the right, please. Have your pennies ready; we cannot make change. Doctor Truman is the first to enter the Hall of Marvels. Thank you, Doctor!" as the cheerful, chuckling physician, bag in hand, on his morning rounds to see his patients, pushed forward to the entrance of the tent.

There was a good deal of hanging back at first. Bobby had expected that. And Fred might have lost hope had he been outside where he could see the crowd that began to dwindle away when Bobby's funny speech was finished.

But in a moment the doctor's roar of laughter from within the tent brought some of the suspicious ones back. The doctor appeared at the store door, his plump sides shaking with laughter, and wiping the joyous tears from his eyes.

"What is it, Doc?" asked an old farmer. "What's them 'tarnal boys doin' in that tent?"

"Pay your penny and go in and see," exclaimed Doctor Truman, hurrying away. "If a laugh like that isn't worth a cent, I don't know what is!"

Fred's whistle had announced the departure of the first visitor by way of the shop door, and Bobby urged up another:

"Don't crowd, kind friends. The performance will continue all day and this evening – or until everybody desiring to do so has seen one of these four Wonders of the World."

Jim Hatton, the harness maker, followed the doctor. He didn't laugh, but the curious ones heard him exclaim, a moment after his disappearance:

"Well, I'll be jiggered!" which was Mr. Hatton's favorite expression, and he came out of the front door of Mr. Martin's shop, grinning broadly.

"What was it, Jim?" asked the same curious farmer.

"Can't tell ye, Jake. See it yourself – 'nless you're afraid o' riskin' a penny to find out just how smart our boys here in Clinton be," and Mr. Hatton went off to his shop still grinning.

Somebody pushed forward the very girl who had sharpened her wit on Bobby before the exhibition opened. She had her penny clutched tightly in her hand.

"Don't you let go of that cent, Susie," advised Bobby, grinning at her, "if you think you'll want it again for anything. For you won't be pleased by what you see – maybe."

Susie tossed her head and went inside. In just a minute Fred blew his whistle and Susie, with flaming cheeks, appeared at the front door of the store.

"What was it, Susie?" demanded one of her friends.

"Which did you see – the strong man, or the handsome lady, or the pretty girl, or the smart boy?" cried another.

But Susie shut her lips tightly, glanced once at Bobby, who was letting the curious old farmer pass into the tent, and then she ran home. The curiosity of the boys and girls mounted higher and higher.

The old farmer popped out almost as quick as he popped in. He was chewing a straw vigorously, and his face was flushed. It was hard to tell for a moment whether he was mad, or not.

"Wal, Neighbor Jake, did yet git your money's wuth?" demanded another rural character.

The bewhiskered old fellow turned on the speaker, and gradually a grin spread over his face.

"Say, Sam!" he drawled. "You never had none too much schoolin'. Your edication was frightfully neglected. You pay that there boy a cent and go in there, and you'll l'arn more in a minute than you ever did before in a day! You take it from me."

Thus advised his neighbor pressed forward and was the next "victim." When he came out his face was red likewise, while Jake burst into a mighty roar of laughter and rocked himself to and fro on the horseblock in front of the store door.

Soon the second farmer joined in the laughter, and thereafter, for an hour, the two stood about and urged everybody from out of town whom they knew to enter the peep-show.

Occasionally Bobby mounted the platform, banged on the pan, and lifted up his voice in the speech Mr. Blake had written for him. It coaxed the people to stop before the show every time. And between whiles, Bobby kept repeating:

"It is only a cent – and your money back if you are not satisfied! If it is a joke, keep it to yourself and let the next one find it out. Come on! Have your pennies ready, please, kind friends. See one of the four greatest wonders of the world."

At first none of the ladies who were out shopping did more than stop and listen and wonder among themselves "what that Blake boy was up to now." But the girl who worked in Mr. Ballard's real estate office ran across the street to see what the crowd was about, and was tempted to enter the tent.

She came out giggling, and greatly delighted, and pretty soon the girls who worked in the offices and stores along Hurley Street, were attracted to the show. They all seemed to be highly delighted, when they came out through the store.

"I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Hiram Pepper, to a neighbor, as they passed the peep-show again. "I've a mind to see what that means."

"It's some foolishness," said her friend, who was a rather vinegary maiden lady named Miss Prissy Craven. "I wonder what that boy's mother can be thinking of!"

"Why, Mrs. John Blake is as nice a lady as there is in town," declared Mrs. Pepper. "And I must say for Bobby that he's never in any mischief. He's full of fun – like any boy. But there ain't a smitch of meanness in him."

"Humph!" exclaimed the other lady, sourly.

"Now, you wait. I'm going in," declared Mrs. Pepper, fumbling in her purse for a penny.

She marched up to Bobby, eyeing him rather sternly. To tell the truth, for the first time the young showman quailed.

"Maybe you'd – you'd better not go in, Mrs. Pepper," he mumbled.

"Why not? Ain't it fit for a lady to see?" demanded she, with increasing sternness.

"Oh, yes!" and Bobby had to giggle at that. "But – but – Well, anyway, you mustn't tell, and you can have your money back if you don't like the show."

"Ha!" exclaimed Mrs. Pepper, "as though I was worried about the loss of a penny," and she went into the tent with her back very straight.

She came out shaking with laughter. The tears rolled down her face and she had to sit down on Mr. Martin's steps to get her breath. Miss Prissy Craven demanded, sharply: "What under the sun is the matter with you, Mis' Pepper? I never seen you behave so. What is it in that tent them boys have got? I sh'd think it was a giggle ball full o' tickle!"

"Ha, ha, ha!" chuckled the amused Mrs. Pepper. "You go in yourself, Prissy, and see what you think of it. I can't tell you."

"I'm going!" announced the maiden lady, nodding her head. "But lemme tell you," she added to Bobby, "if it's anything I don't like, you'll hear about it when I come out."

Bobby looked across at Mrs. Pepper doubtfully, but he had to grin. The lady who was laughing nodded to him vigorously, and he let Miss Craven through.

In less than a minute she flounced through the store and demanded, in her high, rasping voice:

"What did you mean by trickin' me that-a-way, Mis' Pepper? I never was so disgusted in all my life. A perfec' swindle – "

"You can get back your penny if you didn't like it," suggested Bobby, trying hard not to laugh.

"Well, I – "

But Mrs. Pepper broke in upon the angry spinster's possible tirade: "Jest what did you see, Prissy?" she asked the angry one, with emphasis. Miss Craven's mouth remained open for fully half a minute, but no sound came forth. The blood mounted into her face, and then she shut her lips and started off hastily for her own home. Evidently she did not want to tell!

This incident excited the curiosity of the bystanders more than ever. So far every person seeing the show had "played fair" and had refused to say what he or she had seen on the inside of the tent.

Bobby had refused to let the smaller boys or girls into the show, telling them that late in the day they might see it for nothing. That had been agreed upon with Fred, for the proprietors of the entertainment were afraid that the little folk would be tempted to talk the matter over among themselves and thus spoil the fun – as well as reduce the receipts.

And the pennies came in faster than Bobby or Fred had dared hope. During the morning those people who had business on Hurley Street came to see the show, and to listen to Bobby as "bally-hoo," and by noon-time wind of the peep-show had gone all over town.

Bobby's mother, and Fred's, too, heard of it from their husbands at luncheon, and they decided to see what their young hopefuls were about. Bobby was just a little bit scared when he saw his mother; he didn't know whether she would see the joke as his father had, earlier in the day – for Mr. Blake had come out of the tent roaring with laughter.

"It beats anything how those two youngsters have got the whole town guessing," he had said to Mr. Martin. "And they have hit on a positive human failing that shows more sober thought than I believed either of them capable of."

"Dare you let your mother in to see this show, Bobby Blake?" asked Mrs. Blake, seriously, when the boy's lecture – which he now rattled off glibly enough – was finished.

"There's no 'free list'," said Bobby, his eyes twinkling. "Pa told me to be sure not to let you in unless you paid. And I am sure, Mother, that you will see the handsomest woman in the world, if you want to, when you go inside."

"I declare! you have me puzzled, Bobby Blake," said easy going Mrs. Martin.

"Just a minute, please!" urged Bobby, detaining his chum's mother. "You'll have to take your turn. But one person is allowed to enter at a time. This way! this way, kind friends! The line forms on the right. Only a penny – a cent – the smallest coin of the realm. It won't make you and it can't break you!"

The two mothers joined each other afterward outside of Mr. Martin's store. They looked into each other's faces wonderingly.

"What do you think of those boys?" demanded Mrs. Martin. "What will they do next?"

"I – I don't know," admitted Mrs. Blake, with a sigh. "But I do fear that they will turn that school they are going to this fall topsy-turvy!"

CHAPTER IX
OFF FOR ROCKLEDGE

Trade at the peep-show was brisk until mid-afternoon. Bobby and Fred had been able to get only a bite of luncheon from the store "in their fists," and had compared notes but seldom.

Bobby's trouser-pockets were borne down with the weight of pennies. In refusing to make change it soon became very hard along Hurley Street to obtain pennies at all. All the copper money in the town was fast coming the way of the proprietors of the peep-show.

Neither Bobby nor Fred realized this fact – nor what it meant to them – until after the First National and the Old Farmers' Banks had closed their doors for the day. The storekeepers then began running around to borrow copper money, and it was some time before anybody knew what made the scarcity of pennies in the storekeepers' tills!

Meanwhile the financial adventure of Bobby Blake and Fred Martin was prospering.

Bobby suddenly saw the long-armed, white-headed Applethwaite Plunkit standing in the crowd eying him while he delivered his talk. The crowd before the rostrum laughed as usual, and those who had been in to see the show urged their friends to venture likewise.

The white-headed farm boy from Plunkit's Creek was pushing forward to enter the show. Bobby had hoped he would not venture, but when Ap approached, Bobby made up his mind quickly.

"You can't go in, Applethwaite," he said, decidedly. "We don't want you."

"Why not!"

"Never mind why not," said Bobby, firmly, looking straight into the flushed face of the boy who had treated him and Fred so meanly just a week before. "But you can't go in."

"Ain't my cent just as good as anybody else's?"

"Not here it isn't," declared Bobby, who knew very well that if the white head appeared in the tent where the red head was, there would be an explosion! Besides, he did not trust Ap. He believed Ap would do all he could to break up the show after he had seen it.

Ap began to bluster and threaten, but there were too many grown folk around for him to dare attack Bobby. "You jes' wait," he whispered. "I'll fix you some time."

Bobby did not know what Applethwaite might try to do, and when he saw him a little later with a group of boys who were pretty rough looking, he was worried. These boys stood across the street from the show and Bobby was afraid they were waiting for some slack time, when there were no grown folk about, to "rush" the tent.

He called Fred out and told him what he feared and Fred went through and told the biggest clerk in his father's store. The clerks were interested in the two young showmen, for they had been into the tent and were delighted with what they had seen.

The big fellow promised, therefore, to come running and bring the other clerks to help, if the boys whistled for assistance. This plan quieted Bobby's fears, and he gave his mind to the lecture, and to coaxing the audience into the show, one by one.

Suddenly the young lecturer saw Mr. Priestly in the crowd. He flushed up pretty red when he saw him, for Mr. Priestly was the minister at the church the boys attended, and Bobby thought he was about the finest man in town.

The clergyman was a young man who had made a name for himself in University athletics, and he had the biggest Boys' Club in town. Bobby and Fred were particular friends of the young minister, and for a moment Bobby wondered if Mr. Priestly would approve of the peep-show.

The gentleman's ruddy, smoothly shaven face was a-smile as he listened to Bobby's speech, and his blue eyes twinkled. He was the first to reach the tent entrance when Bobby stepped down from the platform.

"Which wonder am I to see, Bobby?" he asked, as he presented his penny to the youthful showman.

"We – we favor the clergy, Mr. Priestly," said Bobby, hesitatingly, yet with an answering smile. "You shall see two wonders." Then he called in to his partner: "Hey, Fred!"

"Hullo!" returned the red-haired one, coming to the entrance.

"Here's Mr. Priestly," said Bobby, in a low voice. "I want you to show him the strongest man in the world, and the very best man in Clinton!"

"Oh-ho!" cried Mr. Priestly. "That's the way of it, eh?" and he pinched Bobby's cheek as he went into the tent. "I believe I can guess your joke, boys."

"Never mind! nobody else has guessed it," chuckled Fred, going before him. "Stand right there, Mr. Priestly."

The oil lamp was in a bracket screwed to a post in the back of the tent. Just where its light shone best was a narrow red curtain. Fred became preternaturally solemn as he stepped forward and laid his hand upon the cords that manipulated the curtain.

"We will show you, Mr. Priestly," he said, "the Strongest Man in the World – and as Bobby says, the very best man in Clinton!"

He pulled aside the curtain and Mr. Priestly saw his own reflection in a long mirror that had been borrowed from the Martin attic.

"Well, well!" exclaimed the minister, nodding. "And is this all your show?"

"Anybody who is not satisfied with what he sees," returned Fred, chuckling, "can have the entrance fee refunded."

At that the clergyman burst into a great laugh. "You boys! you boys! You certainly have them there. One must be dissatisfied with himself to ask for the return of his penny. I – I am not altogether sure that this doesn't smack of a swindle; but it certainly is smart. You should show your own face in the glass, Fred, when the younger victims come in to see the Smartest Boy in the World."

"No, sir," grinned Fred. "Every fellow that comes in is better satisfied to see his own reflection, I reckon."

The clergyman went out, laughing. That the joke had kept up all day was the wonder of it. The audience became smaller as supper time drew near.

Then came Mr. Harrod, who kept the variety and ice cream store down the street. "Say," he said to Bobby. "You boys must have cornered all the pennies in town. I've got to have some. I'll give you a dollar bill for ninety cents, Bobby Blake."

"All right, sir," cried Bobby. "Is a dollar's worth all you want? I'll send them down to your store in a few moments."

"Send two dollars' worth," returned Mr. Harrod, hurrying away.

"Hi, Betty Martin!" shouted Bobby to Fred's "next oldest sister," who was on the fringe of the crowd. "Come here and count pennies – do, please!"

"Hi Betty Martin" stuck out her tongue promptly and did not stir. "Call me by my proper name, Mister Smartie!" she said, sharply.

"Oh, me, oh, my! I beg your pardon," laughed Bobby. "Miss Elizabeth Martin, will you please count some of these pennies and roll them into papers – right there on the box, please?"

"All right," said Betty, who did not like to be called after any Mother Goose character.

She was a bright girl and she counted the pennies correctly into piles of thirty, rolled them up that way, carried six of the rolls down to the variety store, and brought back a two dollar bill.

Then Mr. Martin needed copper money, and Betty counted a dollars' worth out for him – at the rate of exchange established by Mr. Harrod.

"Wow, Bobby!" murmured Fred, at the door of the tent. "We get them coming and going, don't we? Ten cents on the dollar, too! We're getting rich."

But the peep-show had had its run. Not many could be coaxed in after supper, and the boys were tired, too. They had not eaten a proper meal all day, and Mr. Martin advised them to shut up shop.

They took down the signs, put out the lamp, and went into the back room of the grocery to count the receipts. The amount was far beyond their expectations, and naturally Bobby and Fred were delighted.

"It takes you to think up the bright ideas, chum," said Fred, admiringly.

But Bobby looked thoughtful. "I wonder if Mr. Priestly thought it was just right?" he murmured. "I suppose we did fool them all," and he sighed.

"Shucks!" exclaimed Fred. "They didn't have to be fooled if they didn't want to. And even Prissy Craven didn't come back for her penny, did she?"

Only a few days more before they would start for Rockledge School. The chums bought the bats and mask and other things they craved. They packed their trunks two or three times over. They carried the books they liked best, and many treasures for which their troubled mothers could see no reason whatsoever.

"Now, this can of pins and nails, Bobby," urged Mrs. Blake, helplessly. "What possible good can they be? I do not see how I am to get your clothing into the trunk."

"Aw – Mother!" gasped Bobby. "Don't throw them away. A fellow never can tell when he'll want a pin – or a nail – or a button – or something. Never mind putting in so many stockings. Leave the can – do, Mother!"

All the Clinton boys who had been the chums' particular associates at school were greatly interested in what they termed Bobby's and Fred's "luck." They all had to be told, over and over again, of the expected wonders of Rockledge School.

"And I bet you and Fred turn things upside down there," said "Scat" Monroe, with an envious sigh.

"I bet we don't!" responded Bobby, quickly. "Dr. Raymond is awfully strict, they say. We'll have to walk a chalk line."

"Well, if Fred Martin ever walks a chalk-line," scoffed another of the fellows, "it'll be a mighty crooked one!"

However, the night before the boys were to start for Rockledge, the good natured groceryman gave his son a long talk, and Fred went to bed feeling pretty solemn. For the first time, he began to realize that he was not going away to boarding school merely for the fun there was to be got out of it!

"You haven't made much of a mark for yourself in the Clinton Public School, Frederick," said Mr. Martin, sternly; "but I do not believe that is because you are either a dunce, or stubborn. You have been frittering away your opportunities.

"I am tired of seeing your name at the foot of your class roster – or near it. Inattention is your failing. You are going where they make boys attend. And if you do not work, and keep up with your mates, you will be sent home. Do you understand that?

"And if you are sent home, you shall be sent to another school where you'll have very little fun at all for the rest of your life. I mean the School of Hard Experience!

"You shall be set to work in my store half of each day, like a poor man's son, and go to the public school the other half day, and your name will be on the truant officer's list."

"And I guess he meant it," said Fred to Bobby the next morning. "Father doesn't often scold, but he was mad at me for being so low in my classes last term."

The boys started for the railroad station with Mr. Blake, gayly enough, however. When Bobby had parted from his mother, he had to swallow a big lump in his throat, and he hugged her around the neck hard for a minute. But he had forced back the tears by the time they got to the Martins' house.

There the other children were all out on the front porch to bid their brother and Bobby good-by. "Hi Betty Martin" threw an old shoe after them.

"For luck," she said. "That's what they do when folks get married."

"But Bobby and I aren't getting married," complained Fred, rubbing his right ear where the shoe had landed. "And, anyway, no girl's got a right to shut her eyes tight and throw an old boot like that. How'd you know you wouldn't do some damage?"

"That's the luck of it," chuckled Bobby. "It's lucky she didn't hurt you worse."