PAGE 5
Mr. Bob
by
He swung Daisy up on his shoulder, where, from that dizzy perch, she looked back shyly at the noisy pack behind her. Secure in the conquest of the ringleader, whom intuitively she felt stronger than the rest, and kinder and more resolute, with a heart beneath his rough exterior as simple and childlike as her own, she managed to keep up her courage in spite of the loud, frightening laughter and the tipsy boisterousness and horseplay that marked the inception of the Band of Hope. Her satisfaction was suddenly checked, however, by the sight of the Kanaka girls joining the procession and making as though to follow.
“No, they mustn’t come!” she cried out jealously. “Please, Mr. Mathison, tell them they mustn’t come! This is to be for men only!”
“Turn them back!” thundered Bob. “Don’t yer ‘ear the little lady’s h orders? Scamper, ye jades!”
Papa Benson struck up a quickstep on the concertina, and, marching beside Bob Fletcher, helped to lead the van. The mutineers, beach-combers, and traders fell in two by two. The rear was brought up by the guard, loutish, hobbling, and out of step, bearing their rusty Springfields at all angles. In this fashion they made the missionary’s house, swarmed into the neat bare inclosure of coral sand, and invaded the silent rooms.
A terrible irresolution was stealing over Daisy. Twelve slides, representing the wanderings of Saint Paul, began to seem too trifling a means of holding the attention of this enormous and expectant crowd. Besides, it came over her with a shock that she was a little hazy about Saint Paul; and then there were disturbing questions of sheets and darkened windows, and how to make it work. It was with dismay, verging on despair, that she saw the serried ranks of her recruits crowding the room to bursting, and all regarding her with humorous anticipation. But good Mr. Bob, holding her in his lap, and stroking her hair with an enormous red hand, showed a most comforting disposition to himself take the breach. At any rate, he roared for silence; told Mr. Mathison he’d cut his liver out if he didn’t belay with them there remarks, and assumed a tone of authority that calmed the tumult of Daisy’s misgivings.
“Friends,” he said, “and mates, and respected genelmen h all, we are here, two and three gathered togetherlike, for the purpose of h organizing a Band of ‘Ope.”
“Local Number One,” interrupted Billy Dutton, the donkey-man, who had had some trades’-union experience.
“Band of ‘Ope, Local Number One,” continued Mr. Bob, receiving the suggestion in an accommodating spirit. “And it is with great pleasure I propose the name of h our first president, Miss Daisy Kirke, of Apiang.”
Then, my stars, wasn’t there a cheer! Daisy hung her head, nestled closer to Mr. Bob, and felt all the joy of good works promptly bearing fruit.
“I don’t see no reason,” went on Mr. Bob, “why a false modesty, that ‘as been my h unfailing ‘andicap through life, should prevent me from nominating myself as your h esteemed vice president. I do not wish to seem a-soaring too ‘igh, or reaching out for honors that belong to h abler ‘eads nor mine; but I’ll take the sense of the meeting in a kindly spirit, and will abide peaceable by a show of ‘ands!”
When the applause had subsided, Billy Dutton sprang up, and wanted to know “what about a recording seckitary?”
“I don’t see no ‘arm in the honorable genelman h assuming the job ‘isself,” said Mr. Bob, “if ‘e thinks ‘e’s sufficient of a speller, and won’t run the band into ‘orrible extravagances for ‘igh-priced wines and luxuries. The assessments of this band is going to be low, and the diet plain. Who says Brother Dutton ain’t the man for the place? Is it you, Mr. Riley, I see raising your fist agin him? Oh, only to ax a question. Well, one thing at a time, Brother Riley. Does the meeting h endorse Mr. Willum Dutton for recording seckitary?”