FullReads

The Man-Who-Makes-Faces hastened to him, and halted him by grasping him about his fast-swaying legs. “You can’t run away from the Piper,” he reminded. “So—”

Gwendolyn was no longer frightened. In her search for money she had found the gold-mounted leather case. This she now clutched, receiving courage from the stiff upper-lip.

But the Policeman was far from sanguine. Now perspiration and not tears glistened on his forehead. He grasped his club with one shaking hand.

As for the little old gentleman, he held the curved knife out in front of him, all his thin fingers wound tightly around its hilt. “What’s the Piper got beside him?” he asked in a tone full of wonder. “Is it a rubber-plant?“

Gwendolyn looked. The Piper was leaning over the steering-wheel of the car. He was so near by now that she could make him out clearly—a lanky, lean-jawed young man in a greasy cap and Johnnie Blake overalls. Over his right shoulder, on a strap, was suspended a bundle. A tobacco-pipe hung from a corner of his mouth. But it was evidently not this pipe that had given him his title; but pipes of a different kind—all of lead, in varying lengths. These were arranged about his waist, somewhat like a long, uneven fringe. And among them was a pipe-wrench, a coupling or two, and a cutter.

Beside him on the seat, in the foot man’s place, was a queer object. It was tall, and dark-blue in color. (Or was it green?) On one side of it were what seemed to be seven long leaves. On the other side were seven similar leaves. And as the car rolled swiftly up, these fourteen long leaf-like projections waved gently.

She had no chance to examine the object further. Something else claimed her attention. The windowed door of the limousine suddenly swung wide, and through it, toward her, was extended a long black beckoning arm. Next, a freckled face filled the whole of the opening, spying this way and that. It was Jane!

“Come, dearie,” she cooed. (She had let go the front tongue-tip.) “I wouldn’t stay with them two any more. Here’s your beautiful car, love. This is what’ll take you fast to your papa and mamma.”

“No!” cried Gwendolyn. And to the Man-Who-Makes-Faces, “She was ‘fraid of the Piper just a little while ago. Now, she’s riding around with him. I think he’s—”

“Ssh!” warned the little old gentleman, speaking low. “We have to have him. And he has his good points.”

The Piper was staring at Gwendolyn impertinently. Now he climbed down from his seat, all his pipes tinkling and tankling as he moved, and gave her a mocking salute, quite as if he knew her—yet without removing the tobacco-pipe from between his lips, or the greasy cap from his hair.

“Well, if here ain’t the P.L.R.G.,” he exclaimed rudely.

As she got a better view of him she remembered that she had met him before—in her nursery, that fortunate morning the hot-water pipe burst. He was the very Piper that had been called in to make plumbing repairs!

“Good-evening,” said Gwendolyn, nodding courteously—but staying close to the little old gentleman. For Jane had summoned strength enough to topple out of the limousine and teeter forward. Now she was kneeling in the road, crooking a coaxing finger, and gurgling invitingly.

The Piper scowled at the nurse. “Say! What do you think you’re doin’?” he demanded. “Singin’ a duet with yourself?” Then turning upon the Policeman, “Off your beat, ain’t you?” he inquired impudently; when, without waiting for an answer, he swung round upon the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. “Old gent,” he began tauntingly, “I can’t collect real money for that dozen ears.” And threw out an arm toward the object on the driver’s seat.

Gwendolyn looked a second time. And saw a horrid and unnatural sight. For the object was a man, straight enough, broad-shouldered enough, with arms and legs, feet and hands, and a small head; but a man shockingly disfigured. For down either side of him, projecting from head and shoulders and arms, were ears—long, hairy, mulish ears, that wriggled horribly, one moment unfolding themselves to catch every sound, the next flopping about ridiculously.

“Why, he’s all ears!” she gasped.

The little old gentleman started forward. “It’s that dozen I boxed!” he announced. “Hey! Come out of there!”