five little peppers midway by margaret sidney to my little margaret who is phronsie pepper to all who know her this book is lovingly inscribed contents 1 phronsie's pie 2 cousin eunice chatterton 3 the rehearsal 4 welcome home! 5 after the play 6 the little brown house 7 old times again 8 some badgertown calls 9 a sudden blow 10 the party separates 11 poor polly! 12 new work for polly 13 a piece of news 14 mamsie's wedding 15 mrs. chatterton has a new plan 16 where is phronsie? 17 phronsie is found 18 the girls have polly again 19 phronsie is well again 20 the secret 21 the whitneys' little plan 22 joel 23 of many things 24 away i phronsie's pie "jefferson," said phronsie, with a grave uplifting of her eyebrows, "i think i will go down into the kitchen and bake a pie; a very little pie, jefferson." "bless you, miss," replied the cook, showing his white teeth in glee, "it is the making of the kitchen when you come it." "yes, jefferson," said phronsie slowly, "i think i will go down make one. it must be very, very full of plums, you know," looking up at him anxiously, "for polly dearly loves plums." "it shall be that plummy," said jefferson convincingly, "that you'd think you never saw such a one for richness. oh, my! what a pie that shall be!" exclaimed the cook, shutting up one eye to look through the other in a spasm of delight at an imaginary pie; "so it's for miss mary, is it?" "yes," said phronsie, "it is. oh, jefferson, i'm so glad you like to have me make one," she clasped her hands in silent rapture, and sat down on the lowest stair to think it over a bit, jefferson looking at her, forgetful that the under cook was fuming in the deserted domains over his delay to return. at last he said, bowing respectfully, "if you please, miss, it's about time to begin. such a pie ain't done without a deal of care, and we'd best have it a-baking as soon as may be." "yes," said phronsie, getting off from her stair, and surrendering her hand to his big black palm, "we ought to go right this very minute. but i must get my apron on;" she stopped and looked down at her red dress. "oh! you can take one of my aprons," said the cook, "they're as fine, and big, and white, and i'll just put you in one of 'em and tie you up as snug; you'll come out as clean and sweet when we're through, as you are now, miss." "tie me up?" laughed phronsie in glee. "oh! how nice, jefferson. do you know i love you very much, jefferson, you're so very good to me?" the big fellow drew a long breath. "no, miss, i'm big and black, and just fit to stay downstairs," he managed to say. "but i love you better because you are black, jefferson," insisted phronsie, "a great deal better. you are not like everybody else, but you are just yourself," clinging to his hand. "well, miss, i ain't just fit for a lily to touch and that's the truth," looking down at his palm that the small white hand grasped closely. "it's clean, miss," he added with pardonable pride, "but it's awful black." "i like it better black, jefferson," said phronsie again, "really and truly i do, because then it's your very, very own," in a tone that thrilled him much as if a queen had knighted him on the spot. this important declaration over, the two set forth on their way toward the kitchen, phronsie clinging to his hand, and chatting merrily over the particular pie in prospect, with varied remarks on pies in general, that by and by would be ventured upon if this present one were a success--and very soon tied up in one of the cook's whitest aprons she was seated with due solemnity at the end of the baking table, the proper utensils and materials in delightful confusion before her, and the lower order of kitchen satellites revolving around her, and jefferson the lesser sphere. "now all go back to your work," said that functionary when he considered the staring and muttered admiration had been indulged in long enough, "and leave us." "i want you," said his assistant, touching his elbow. "clear out," said jefferson angrily, his face turned quite from phronsie. but she caught the tone and immediately laid down the bit of dough she was moulding. "do go," she begged, "and come back quickly," smiling up into his face. "see, i'm going to pat and pat and pat, oh! ever so much before you come back." so jefferson followed the under cook, the scullery boy went back to cleaning the knives, susan, the parlor maid who was going through the kitchen with her dustpan and broom, hurried off with a backward glance or two, and phronsie was left quite alone to hum her way along in her blissful culinary attempt. "bless me!" exclaimed a voice close to her small ear, as she was attempting for the fifth time to roll out the paste quite as thin as she had seen jefferson do, "what is this? bless my soul! it's phronsie!" phronsie set down the heavy rolling-pin and turned in her chair with a gleeful laugh. "dear, dear grandpapa!" she cried, clasping her floury hands, "oh! i'm so glad you've come to see me make a pie all by myself. it's for polly, and it's to be full of plums; jefferson let me make it." "jefferson? and where is he, pray?" cried mr. king irately. "pretty fellow, to bring you down to these apartments, and then go off and forget you. jefferson!" he called sharply, "here, where are you?" "oh, grandpapa!" exclaimed phronsie in dire distress, "i sent him; jefferson didn't want to go, grandpapa dear, really and truly, he went because i asked him." "if you please, sir," began jefferson, hurrying up, "i only stepped off a bit to the cellar. bassett sent down a lot of turnips, they ain't first-rate, and"-"all right," said mr. king, cutting him short with a wave of his hand, "if miss phronsie sent you off, it's all right; i don't want to hear any more elaborate explanations." "little miss hasn't been alone but a few minutes," said jefferson in a worried way. "and see," said phronsie, turning back to her efforts, while one hand grasped the old gentleman's palm, "i've almost got it to look like jefferson's. almost, haven't i?" she asked, regarding it anxiously. "it will be the most beautiful pie," cried mr. king, a hearty enthusiasm succeeding his irritability, "that ever was baked. i wish you'd make me one sometime, phronsie." "do you?" she cried in a tremor of delight, "and will you really have it on the table, and cut it with aunt whitney's big silver knife?" "that i will," declared mr. king solemnly. "then some day i'll come down here again, jefferson," cried phronsie in a transport, "and bake one for my dear grandpapa. that is, if this one is good. oh! you do suppose it will be good, don't you?" appealingly at him. "it shall," said jefferson stoutly, and seizing the rolling-pin with extreme determination. "you want a bit more butter worked in, here," a dab with skillful fingers, and a little manipulation with the flour, a roll now and then most deftly, and the paste was laid out before phronsie. "now, miss, you can put it in the dish." "but is isn't my pie," said phronsie, and, big girl as she felt herself to be, she sat back in her chair, her lower lip quivering. "not your pie?" repeated the cook, bringing himself up straight to gaze at her. "no," said phronsie, shaking her yellow head gravely, "it isn't my pie now, jefferson. you put in the things, and rolled it." "leave your fingers off from it, can't you?" cried mr. king sharply. "goodness! this pie isn't to have a professional touch about it. get some more flour and stuff, whatever it is you make a pie of, and let her begin again. there, i'll sit down and watch you; then there'll be some chance of having things straight." so he drew up a chair to the side of the table, first calling off pete, the scullery boy, from his knives to come and wipe it off for him, and mrs. tucker who was in kitchen dialect "tucker," to see that the boy did his work well. "lor' bless you, sir," said tucker, bestowing a final polish with her apron, "'twas like satin before, sir--not a wisp of dust." "i don't want any observations from you," said the old gentleman, depositing himself in the chair. "there, you can go back to your work, mrs. tucker, and you too, pete. now i'll see that this pie is to your liking, phronsie." but phronsie still sat back in her chair, thoughtfully surveying jefferson. "grandpapa," she said at last slowly, "i think i'd rather have the first pie, i really would, grandpapa, may i?" she brought her yellow head forward by a sudden movement, and looked deep into his keen eyes. "bless my soul! rather have the first pie?" repeated the old gentleman in astonishment, "why, i thought you wanted to make one all yourself." "i think i'd rather do part of it," said phronsie with great deliberateness, "then polly'll like it, and eat it, and i'll do yours, grandpapa dear, just as jefferson fixed mine, all alone. please let me." she held him fast with her eyes, and waited for his answer. "so you shall!" cried mr. king in great satisfaction, "make mine all alone. this one would better go as it is. put away the flour and things, jefferson; miss phronsie doesn't want them." phronsie gave a relieved little sigh. "and, jefferson, if you hadn't showed me how, i couldn't ever in all this world make grandpapa's. now give me the little plate, do." "here 'tis, miss," said the cook, all his tremor over the blunder he had made, disappearing, since, after all, things were quite satisfactory. and the little plate forthcoming, phronsie tucked away the paste lovingly in its depths, and began the important work of concocting the mixture with which the pie was to be filled, mr. king sitting by with the gravity of a statue, even to the deliberate placing of each plum. "where's phronsie?" called a voice above in one of the upper halls. "oh! she's coming, polly is!" cried phronsie, deserting a plum thrust in endwise in the middle of the pie, to throw her little sticky fingers around jefferson's neck; "oh! do take off my apron; and let me go. she'll see my pie!" "stop!" cried mr. king, getting up somewhat stiffly to his feet, "i'll take off the apron myself. there, phronsie, there you are. whew! how hot you keep your kitchen, jefferson," and he wiped his face. "now we'll run," said phronsie softly, "and not make a bit of noise, grandpapa dear, and, jefferson, please put on my top to the pie, and don't let it burn, and i'll come down very, very soon again, and bake one all alone by myself for grandpapa." the old gentleman kept up very well with the soft patter of her feet till they reached the foot of the staircase. "there, there, child," he said, "there's not the least need of hurry now." "but she will come down," said phronsie, in gentle haste pulling at his hand, "then if she should see it, grandpapa!" "to be sure; that would indeed be dreadful," said mr. king, getting over the stairs very creditably. "there, here we are now. whew! it's terribly warm in this house!" but there was no danger from polly; she was at this very instant, not being able to find phronsie, hurrying off toward the library in search of mrs. whitney. "we want to do the very loveliest thing!" she cried, rushing in, her cheeks aflame. "oh! pray excuse me." she stopped short, blushing scarlet. "don't feel badly, polly dear," said mrs. whitney, over in the dim light, where the divan was drawn up in the east window, and she held out her hand and smiled; the other lady whose tete-a-tete was thus summarily disturbed was elderly and very tall and angular. she put up her eyeglass at the intrusion and murmured "ah?" "this is polly pepper," said mrs. whitney, as polly, feeling unusually awkward and shy, stumbled across the library to get within the kind arms awaiting her. "one of the children that your kindness received in this house?" said the tall lady, making good use of the eyeglass. the color mounted steadily on polly's already rosy cheek, at the scrutiny now going on with the greatest freedom. "one of the dear children who make this house a sunny place for us all," said mrs. whitney distinctly. "ah? i see. you are extremely good to put it in that way." a low, well-bred laugh followed this speech. its sound irritated the young girl's ear unspeakably, and the brown eyes flashed, and though there was really no occasion to feel what was not addressed to her, polly was quite sure she utterly disliked the lady before her. "my dear mrs. chatterton," said mrs. whitney in the gentlest of accents, "you do not comprehend; it is not possible for you to understand how very happy we all are here. the house is quite another place, i assure you, from the abode you saw last before you went abroad." mrs. chatterton gave another low, unpleasant laugh, and this time shrugged her shoulders. "polly dear," said mrs. whitney with a smile, "say good-morning to mrs. chatterton, and then run away. i will hear your wonderful plan by and by. i shall be glad to, child," she was guilty of whispering in the small ear. "good-morning, mrs. chatterton," said polly slowly, the brown eyes looking steadily into the traveled and somewhat seamed countenance before her. "good-morning," and polly found herself once more across the floor, and safely out in the hall, the door closed between them. "who is she?" she cried in an indignant spasm to jasper, who ran up, and she lifted her eyes brimming over with something quite new to him. he stopped aghast. "who?" he cried. "oh, polly! what has happened?" "mrs. chatterton. and she looked at me--oh! i can't tell you how she looked; as if i were a bug, or a hateful worm beneath her," cried polly, quite as much aghast at herself. "it makes me feel horridly, jasper--you can't think. oh! that old"--he stopped, pulling himself up with quite an effort. "has she come back--what brought her, pray tell, so soon?" "i don't know, i am sure," said polly, laughing at his face. "i was only in the room a moment, i think, but it seemed an age with that eyeglass, and that hateful little laugh." "oh! she always sticks up that thing in her eye," said jasper coolly, "and she's everlastingly ventilating that laugh on everybody. she thinks it high-bred and elegant, but it makes people want to kill her for it." he looked and spoke annoyed. "to think you fell into her clutches!" he added. "well, who is she?" cried polly, smoothing down her ruffled feathers, when she saw the effect of her news on him. "i should dearly love to know." "cousin algernon's wife," said jasper briefly. "and who is he?" cried polly, again experiencing a shock that this dreadful person was a relative to whom due respect must be shown. "oh! a cousin of father's," said jasper. "he was nice, but he's dead." "oh!" said polly. "she's been abroad for a good half-dozen years, and why she doesn't stay there when everybody supposed she was going to, astonishes me," said jasper, after a moment. "well, it will not be for long, i presume, that we shall have the honor; she'll be easily tired of america, and take herself off again." "she doesn't stay in this house, does she, jasper?" cried polly in a tone of horror. "no; that is, unless she chooses to, then we can't turn her off. she's a relative, you know." "hasn't she any home?" asked polly, "or any children?" "home? yes, an estate down in bedford county?-dunraven lodge; but it's all shut up, and in the hands of agents who have been trying for the half-dozen years she was abroad, to sell it for her. she may have come back to settle down there again, there's no telling what she will do. in the meantime, i fancy she'll make her headquarters here," he said gloomily. "oh, jasper!" exclaimed polly, seizing his arm, feeling that here was need of comfort indeed, "how very dreadful! don't you suppose something will happen to take her away?" "i don't see what can," said jasper, prolonging the gloom to feel the comfort it brought. "you see she has nobody who wants her, to step in and relieve us. she has two nephews, but oh! you ought to see them fight!" "fight?" repeated polly aghast. "yes; you can't dignify their skirmishes by any other name," said jasper, in disgust. "so you see our chances for keeping her as long as she condescends to stay are really very good." polly clung to his arm in speechless dismay. meanwhile conversation fast and brisk was going on between the two shut up in the library. "it is greatly to your discredit, marian," said mrs. chatterton in a high, cold voice, "that you didn't stop all this nonsense on your father's part, before the thing got to such a pass as to install them in this house." "on the contrary," said mrs. whitney with a little laugh, "i did everything i could to further the plan that father wisely made." "wisely!" cried mrs. chatterton in scorn. "oh, you silly child! don't you see what it will all tend to?" "i see that it has made us all very happy for five years," said mrs. whitney, preserving her composure, "so i presume the future doesn't hold much to dread on that score." "the future is all you have to dread," declared mrs. chatterton harshly. "the present may be well enough; though i should think existence with that low, underbred family here, would be a"? "you may pause just where you are, mrs. chatterton," said marian, still with the gentlest of accents, but with a determination that made the other look down at her in astonishment, "not another word shall you utter in that strain, nor will i listen to it." and with fine temper undisturbed in her blue eyes, she regarded her relative. "dear me, marian! i begin to notice your age more now. you shouldn't fly into such rages; they wear on one fearfully; and especially for a stranger too, and against your own people--how can you?" mrs. chatterton drew out a vinaigrette, then a fan from a silken bag, with clasps that she was always glad to reflect were heirlooms. "it's trying, i must confess," she declared, alternately applying the invigorating salts and waving the combination of gauze and sandalwood, "to come home to such a reception. but," and a heavy sigh, "i must bear it." "you ought to see father," cried mrs. whitney, rising. "i must go at once and tell him of your arrival." "oh! i don't know that i care about seeing cousin horatio yet," said mrs. chatterton carelessly. "he will probably fall into one of his rages, and my nerves have been upset quite enough by you. i think i'll go directly to my apartments." she rose also. "father must at once be informed of your arrival," repeated marian quietly. "i'll send him in to see you." "and i shall go to my apartments," declared mrs. chatterton determinedly. "hoity-toity!" exclaimed mr. king's voice, and in he came, with phronsie, fresh from the kitchen, clinging to his hand. ii cousin eunice chatterton phronsie dropped one small hand by her side, and stood quite still regarding the visitor. "oh, my goodness me," ejaculated mrs. chatterton, startled out of her elegance, and not pausing to adjust the glass, but using her two good eyes to the best advantage. "hoity-toity! so you are back again!" exclaimed mr. king by way of welcome. "well, and if i may ask, what brought you now, eunice?" mrs. chatterton gathered herself up and smiled in a superior way. "never mind my reasons, cousin horatio. what a fine child you have there;" now the glass came into play; "pray tell me all about her." "you have well said," observed mr. king, seating himself with the utmost deliberateness, and drawing phronsie to her accustomed place on his knee, where she nestled, regardless of his immaculate linen and fine waistcoat, "phronsie pepper is indeed a fine child; a very fine child, madam." "oh, my, and oh, my!" cried mrs. chatterton, holding up her hands, "to think that you can so demean yourself; why, she's actually mussing your shirt-front with her dirty little hands!" "phronsie pepper's hands are never dirty, madam," said the old gentleman gravely. "sit still, child," as phronsie in a state of alarm struggled to slip down from his lap, thrusting the two members thus referred to, well out before her. mrs. chatterton burst into a loud laugh. "to think i have come to see horatio king in such a state! jasper horatio king!" she repeated scornfully. "i heard about it through the bascombs' letters, but i wouldn't believe it till i used my eyes. it's positively dreadful!" mr. king put back his head and laughed also; so heartily, that phronsie ceased to struggle, and turned to regard him in silent astonishment; and mrs. whitney, charmed that the rage usually produced by conversation with cousin algernon's wife was not forthcoming, began to laugh, too, so that the amusement of the tall lady was quenched in the general hilarity. "what you can find in my words to cause such an unseemly outburst, i cannot see," she cried in a passion. "i'm under the impression that you led off the amusement yourself," said mr. king, wiping his eyes. "phronsie, it's all very funny, isn't it?" looking down into the little wondering face. "is it really funny?" asked phronsie. "does the lady like it?" "not particularly, i suspect," said mr. king carelessly. "and that you can talk with that chit, ignoring me, your cousin's wife, is insufferable." mrs. chatterton now arose speedily from the divan, and shook out a flounce or two with great venom. "i had intended to make you a visit. now it is quite impossible." "as you like," said the old gentleman, also rising, and placing phronsie on her feet, observing ostentatious care to keep her hand. "my house is open to you, eunice," with a wave of his disengaged hand in old-time hospitality, "but of course you must suit yourself." "it's rather hard upon a person of sensibility, to come home after a six years' absence," said cousin eunice with a pathetic sniff, and once more seeking her vinaigrette in the depths of the silken bag, "to meet only coldness and derision. in fact, it is very hard." "no doubt, no doubt," said the old gentleman hastily, "i can imagine such a case, but it has nothing to do with you. now, if you are going to stay, eunice, say so at once, and proceed to your room. if not, why you must go, and understand it is no one's fault but your own." he drew himself up and looked long and hard into the thin pale face before him. phronsie pulled at his hand. "i want to ask the lady to stay, grandpapa dear." "she doesn't need urging," said old mr. king quite distinctly, and not moving a muscle. "but, grandpapa dear, she isn't glad about something." "no more am i." "grandpapa," cried phronsie, moving off a bit, though not deserting his hand, and standing on her tiptoes, "i want her to stay, to see me. perhaps she hasn't any little girls." "to see you?" cried mr. king irately. "say no more, child, say no more. she's been abusing you right and left, like a pick-pocket." "what is a pick-pocket?" asked phronsie, getting down from her tiptoes. "oh! a scoundrel who puts his hands into pockets; picks out what doesn't belong to him, in fact." phronsie stood quite still, and shook her head gravely at the tall figure. "that was not nice," she said soberly. "now do you want her to stay?" cried the old gentleman. "insufferable!" repeated mrs. chatterton between her teeth, "to mix me up with that chit!" "yes, i do," said phronsie decidedly, "i do, grandpapa. now i know she hasn't any little girls--if she had little girls, she wouldn't say such very unnice things; i want the poor lady to stay with me." mrs. chatterton turned and went abruptly off to the door, hesitated, and looked back. "i see your household is in a very chaotic state, cousin horatio. still i will remain a few days," with extreme condescension, "on condition that these peppers are not thrust upon my attention." "i make no conditions," said the old gentleman coolly. "if you stay, you must accept my household as you find it." "come, marian," said mrs. chatterton, holding out her hand to mrs. whitney. "you may help me to my apartments if you like. i am quite unstrung by all this," and she swept out without a backward glance. "has she gone?" cried jasper, hurrying in with polly running after. "it's 'stay,' isn't it, father?" as he saw the old gentleman's face. "yes," said mr. king grimly, "it is 'stay' indeed, jasper." "well, now then, you've a piece of work on your hands about the biggest you ever did yet, polly pepper!" cried jasper, "to make things comfortable in this house. i shall be just as cross as can be imagined, to begin with." "you cross!" cried polly. "cross as a bear; marian will fight against the prevailing ill wind, but it will finally blow her down to a state of depression where her best friend wouldn't recognize her, and"-"you don't mention me, my boy," said mr. king dryly. jasper looked into his father's eyes, and they both laughed. "and if you, polly pepper, don't keep things bright, why, we shall all go to the dogs," said the old gentleman, sobering down. "so mind you do, and we'll try to bear cousin algernon's relict." "i will," said polly stoutly, though "relict" sounded very dreadful to begin with. "give us your hand, then," said jasper's father, putting out his palm. "there!" releasing it, "now i'm much more comfortable about matters." "and give me your hand, polly," cried jasper, his own brown hand flying to meet hers. "there! and now i'm comfortable too! so it's a compact, and a sure one!" "and i want to give my hand," cried phronsie, very much aggrieved. "here, jasper." "bless my soul, so you must!" cried old mr. king; "to think we didn't ask you first. there--and there!" "and, phronsie darling," cried polly in a rapture, "you must promise with me, after you have with the others. i couldn't ever get along in all this world without that." so the ceremony of sealing the compact having been observed with great gravity, phronsie drew a long breath, and now felt that the "poor lady" might come down at any time to find all things prepared for her. "now tell our plan," cried jasper to polly, "and put this disagreeable business out of our heads. it's a fine one," he added to his father. "of course it is," cried the old gentleman. "well, you know joel and davie and van and percy are coming home from school next week for the christmas holidays," began polly, trying to still the wild beating of her heart. "bless me! so they are," said mr. king. "how time flies, to be sure! well, go on, polly." "and we ought to do something to celebrate," said polly, "at least don't you think so?" she asked anxiously, looking up in his face. "to be sure i do," cried the old gentleman heartily. "well, what would you do, polly child, to show the youngsters we're proud of them, and glad to get them back--hey?" "we want to get up a little play," said polly, "jasper and i, and act it." "and have music," cried jasper. "polly shall play on the piano. the boys will be so delighted to see how she has improved." "and jasper will play too," cried polly eagerly. "oh, jasper! will you play that concerto, the one you played when mary gibbs was here at tea last week? do, jasper, do." "that nearly floored me," said jasper. "no; you said it was mary's watching you like a lynx--you know you did," said polly, laughing merrily. "never mind," said the old gentleman. "what next, polly? the play is all right." "i should think it was," cried jasper. "it's the three dragons, and the princess clotilde." "oh, my goodness," exclaimed mr. king, "what a play for christmas eve!" "well, you'll say it's a splendid hit!" cried jasper, "when you see it from the private box we are going to give you." "so you are intending to honor me, are you?" cried his father, vastly pleased to find himself as ever, the central figure in their plans. "well, well, i dare say it will all be as fine as can be to welcome these young scapegraces home. what next, polly?" "it must be kept a perfect surprise," cried polly, clasping her hands while the color flew over her face. "no one must even whisper it to each other, the day before christmas when the boys get here, for joel is so very dreadful whenever there is a secret." "his capacity certainly is good," said mr. king dryly. "we will all be very careful." "and phronsie is to be princess clotilde," cried jasper, seizing her suddenly, to prance around the room, just like old times. "oh, jasper! i'm eight years old," she cried, struggling to free herself. "nonsense! what of it--you are the baby of this household." but he set her on her feet nevertheless, one hand still patting the soft yellow waves over her brow. "go on, polly, do, and lay the whole magnificence before father. he will be quite overcome." "that would be disastrous," said mr. king; "better save your effects till the grand affair comes off." "jasper is to be one of the dragons," announced polly, quite in her element, "that is, the head dragon; ben is to be another, and we haven't quite decided whether to ask archy hurd or clare to take the third one." "clare has the most 'go' in him," said jasper critically. "then i think we'll decide now to ask him," said polly, "don't you, jasper?" "a dragon without 'go' in him would be most undesirable, i should fancy. well, what next do you propose to do, polly?" asked mr. king. "now that we know that you will allow us to have it," cried polly in a rapture, "why, we can think up splendid things. we've only the play written so far, sir." "polly wrote the most," said jasper. "oh, no, jasper! i only put in the bits," said polly. "he planned it?--every single bit, jasper did." "well, she thought up the dragons, and the cave, and"?-"oh! that was easy enough," said polly, guilty of interrupting, "because you see something has to carry off the princess clotilde." "oh, now! you are not going to frighten my little girl," cried mr. king. "i protest against the whole thing if you do," and he put out his hand. "come, phronsie," when, as of old, she hurried to his side obediently. "oh! we are going to show her the boys, and how we dress them up just like dragons," cried polly, "and while they are prancing around and slashing their tails at rehearsal, i'm going to keep saying, 'that's nothing but jasper and ben and clare, you know, phronsie,' till i get her accustomed to them. you won't be frightened, will you, pet, at those dear, sweet old dragons?" she ended, and getting on her knees, she looked imploringly into phronsie's brown eyes. "n--no," said phronsie, slowly, "not if they are really jasper and ben and clare." "they really will be," cried polly, enchanted at her success, "jasper and ben and clare; and they will give you a ride, and show you a cave, oh! and perfect quantities of things; you can't think how many!" phronsie clapped her hands and laughed aloud in glee. "oh! i don't care if they are true dragons, polly, i don't," she cried, dreadfully excited. "make 'em real big live ones, do; do make them big, and let me ride on their backs." "these will be just as real," said polly comfortingly, "that is, they'll act real, only there will be boys inside of them. oh! we'll have them nice, dear, don't you fear." "but i'd really rather have true ones," sighed phronsie. iii the rehearsal "now, phronsie," said polly, on her knees before the princess, who was slowly evolving into "a thing of beauty," "do hold still just a minute, dear. there," as she thrust in another pin, then turned her head critically to view her work, "i do hope that is right." phronsie sighed. "may i just stretch a wee little bit, polly," she asked timidly, "before you pin it up? just a very little bit?" "to be sure you may," said polly, looking into the flushed little face; "i'll tell you, you may walk over to the window and back, once; that'll rest you and give me a chance to see what is the matter with that back drapery." so phronsie, well pleased, gathered up the embyro robe of the princess and moved off, a bewildering tangle of silver spangles and floating lace, drawn over the skirt of one of mrs. whitney's white satin gowns. "there ought to be a dash of royal purple somewhere," said polly, sitting on the floor to see her go, and resting her tired hands on her knees. "now where shall i get it, and where shall i put it when i do have it?" she wrinkled up her eyebrows a moment, lost in thought over the momentous problem. "oh! i know," and she sprang up exultingly. "phronsie, won't this be perfectly lovely? we can take that piece of tissue paper auntie gave you, and i can cut out little knots and sashes. it is so soft, that in the gaslight they will look like silk. how fine!" "can't i be a princess unless you sew up that purple paper?" asked phronsie, pausing suddenly to look over her shoulder in dismay at polly. "why, yes, you can be, of course," said polly, "but you can't be as good a one as if you had a dash of royal purple about you. what's a bit of tissue paper to the glory of being a princess?" she cried, with sparkling eyes. "dear me, i wish i could be one." "well, you may have it, polly," said phronsie with a sigh, "and then afterwards i'll rip it all off and smooth it out, and it will be almost as good as new." "i think there won't be much left of it when the play is over," cried polly with a laugh; "why, the dragons are going to carry you off to their cave, you know, and you are to be rescued by the knight, just think, phronsie! you can't expect to have such perfectly delightful times, and come out with a quantity of tissue paper all safe. something has to be scarified to royalty, child." phronsie sighed again. but as polly approved of royalty so highly, she immediately lent herself to the anticipations of the pleasure before her, smothering all lesser considerations. "when you get your little silver cap on with one of auntie's diamond rings sewed in it, why, you'll be too magnificent for anything," said polly, now pulling and patting with fresh enthusiasm, since the "purple dash" was forthcoming. "princesses don't wear silver caps with diamond rings sewed in them," observed phronsie wisely. "of course not; they have diamonds by the bushel, and don't need to sew rings in their caps to make them sparkle," said polly, plaiting and pinning rapidly, "but in dressing up for a play, we have to take a poetic license. there, turn just one bit to the right, phronsie dear." "what's poetic license?" demanded phronsie, wrenching her imagination off from the bushel of diamonds to seize practical information. "oh! when a man writes verses and says things that aren't so," said polly, her mind on the many details before her. "but he ought not to," cried phronsie, with wide eyes, "say things that are not so. i thought poets were always very good, polly." "oh! well, people let him," said polly, carelessly, "because he puts it into poetry. it would never do in prose; that would be quite shocking." "oh!" said phronsie, finding the conversation some alleviation to the fitting-on process. "now this left side," said polly, twisting her head to obtain a good view of the point in question, "is just right; i couldn't do it any better if i were to try a thousand times. why won't this other one behave, and fall into a pretty curve, i wonder?" phronsie yawned softly as the brown eyes were safely behind her. "i shall gather it up anyway, so," and polly crushed the refractory folds recklessly in one hand; "that's the way mary gibbs's hat trimmings look, and i'm sure they're a complete success. oh! that's lovely," cried polly, at the effect. "now, that's the treatment the whole drapery needs," she added in the tone of an art connoisseur. "oh!" a rushing noise announced the approach of two or three boys, together with the barking of prince, as they all ran down the wide hall. "o dear, dear!" exclaimed polly, hurriedly pulling and pinning, "there come the boys to rehearse. it can't be four o'clock," as the door opened and three members of the cast entered. "it's quarter-past four," said jasper, laughing and pulling out his watch; "we gave you an extra fifteen minutes, as you had such a lot to do. dear me! but you are fine, phronsie. i make my obeisance to princess clotilde!" and he bowed low to the little silver and white figure, as did the other two boys, and then drew off to witness the final touches. "it's a most dreadful thing," cried polly, pushing back the brown waves from her brow, as she also fell off to their point of view, "to get up a princess. i had no idea it was such a piece of work." "you have scored an immense success," said jasper enthusiastically. "oh, phronsie! you will make the hit of the season." "you'll think it is even much nicer when it is done," said polly, vastly relieved that jasper had given such a kind verdict. "it's to have a dash of royal purple on that right side, and in one of the shoulder knots, and to catch up her train." "that will be very pretty, i don't doubt," said jasper, trying to resolve himself into the cold critic, "but it seems to me it is almost perfect now, polly." "oh! thank you so much," she cried, with blooming cheeks. "how do you like it, clare and bensie?" "i can't tell," said ben, slowly regarding the princess on all sides; "it's so transforming." "it's tiptop!" cried clare. "it out-princesses any princess i've ever imagined." "well, it's a perfect relief," said polly, "to have you boys come in. i've been working so over it that i was ready to say it was horrid. it's too bad, isn't it, that dick can't be here to-day to rehearse his part?" "to be sure," exclaimed jasper, looking around, "where is the princess's page?" "he's gone to the dentist's," said polly, making a wry face. "auntie had to make the appointment for this afternoon, and we couldn't put off the rehearsal; clare can't come any other time, you know." phronsie turned an anxious face to the window. "i hope he's not being hurt very much," she said slowly. "i don't believe he is," polly made haste to answer most cheerfully, "it was only one tooth, you know, phronsie, to be filled. auntie says dr. porter told her the rest are all right." but a cloud rested on the princess's face. "one tooth is something," she said. "just think how nice it will be when it is all over, and dick comes scampering in," cried jasper, with great hilarity. "do climb up on the sofa, phronsie," urged polly, looking into the pale little face, "you must sit down and rest a bit, you're so tired." "i will read the prologue while she rests," said jasper. "so you can," said polly. "take care, child," in alarm, "you mustn't curl up in the corner like that; princesses don't ever do so." "don't they?" said phronsie, flying off from the lovely corner, to straighten out again into the dignity required; "not when they are little girls, polly?" "no, indeed," said polly, with a rescuing hand among the silver spangles and lace; "they must never forget that they are princesses, phronsie. there now, you're all right." "oh!" said phronsie, sitting quite stiffly, glad if she could not be comfortable, she could be a princess. "'gentle ladies and brave sirs,'" began jasper in a loud, impressive tone, from the temporary stage, the large rug in front of the crackling hearth fire. clare burst into a laugh. "see here now," cried jasper, brandishing his text at him, "if you embarrass me like that, you may leave, you old dragon!" "you ought to see your face," cried clare. "jap, you are anything but a hit." "you'll be yet," declared jasper with a pretended growl, and another flourish of the manuscript. "go on, do," implored polly, "i think it is lovely. clare, you really ought to be ashamed," and she shook her brown head severely at him. "if i don't quench such melodrama in the outset," said clare, "he'll ruin us all. fair ladies and brave sirs," mimicking to perfection jasper's tones. "thank you for a hint," cried jasper, pulling out his pencil. "i didn't say 'fair'; that's better than 'gentle.' i wish critics would always be so useful as to give one good idea. heigho! here goes again: "'fair ladies and brave sirs, the player's art is to amuse, instruct, or to confuse by too much good advice, but poorly given: that no one follows, because, forsooth, 'tis thrown at him, neck and heels. the drama, pure and simple, is forgot in tugging in the moral'"? "i thought you were going to alter 'tugging in' to something more elegant," said polly. "lugging in," suggested clare, with another laugh. "morals are always tugged in by the head and shoulders," said jasper. "why not say so?" "we should have pretty much the whole anatomy of the human form divine, if you had your way," cried clare. "listen! "'because, forsooth, 'tis thrown at him, neck and heels' and 'tugging in the moral, head and shoulders.' now just add 'by the pricking of my thumbs,' etc., and you have them all." jasper joined as well as polly and ben in the laugh at the prologue's expense, but phronsie sat erect winking hard, her royal hands folded quite still in her lap. "you're bound for a newspaper office, my boy," said jasper at length. "how you will cut into the coming poet, and maul the fledgling of the prose writer! well, i stand corrected. "'the drama pure and simple, is forgot, in straining at the moral.'" "is that any better?" (to the audience.) "yes, i think it is," said polly, "but i do believe it's time to talk more elegantly, jasper. it is due to the people in the private boxes, you know." "oh! the boxes are to have things all right before the play is over; never you fear, polly," said jasper. "'a poor presentment, you will say we give; but cry you mercy, sirs, and'"? "i don't like 'cry you mercy,'" announced ben slowly, "because it doesn't seem to mean anything." "oh! don't cut that out," exclaimed polly, clasping her hands and rushing up to ben. "that's my pet phrase; you mustn't touch that, bensie." "but it doesn't mean anything," reiterated ben in a puzzled way. "who cares?" cried jasper defiantly. "a great many expressions that haven't the least significance are put in a thing of this sort. padding, you know, my dear sir." "oh!" said ben literally, "i didn't know as you needed padding. all right, if it is necessary." "it's antique, and perfectly lovely, and just like shakespeare," cried polly, viewing ben in alarm. "oh! let the bard of avon have one say in this production," cried clare. "go on, do, with your 'cry you mercy.' what's next, jap?" "are you willing, ben?" asked jasper, with a glance at polly. "ye--es," said ben, also gazing at the rosy face and anxious eyes, "it can go as padding, i suppose." "oh! i am so glad," exclaimed polly in glee, and dancing around the room. "and you won't be sorry, i know, bensie; the audience will applaud that very thing i'm almost sure," which made jasper sternly resolve something on the spot. "well, i shall never be through at this rate," he said, whirling over the manuscript to find his place. "oh! here i am: "'but cry you mercy, sirs and ladies fair, we aim but to be dragons, not mortals posing for effect. we have a princess, to be sure'"? "i should think we have," interrupted clare with a glance over at the sofa. "goodness me, she's fast asleep!" "poor little thing, she is tired to death," cried polly remorsefully, while they all rushed over to the heap of lace and spangles, blissfully oblivious of "prologues." "do let her sleep through this piece of stupidity," said jasper, bundling up another satin skirt that mrs. whitney had loaned for polly to make a choice from. "there," putting it under the yellow head, "we'll call her when the dragons come on." "take care," cried polly, with intercepting hand, "that's auntie's lovely satin gown." "beg pardon," said jasper, relinquishing it speedily. "here's the sofa pillow, after all," dragging it from its temporary retirement under the theatrical debris. "now let's get back to work; time is going fast." in a lowered voice: "'we have a princess, to be sure, a sweet and gracious clotilde, and a knight who does her homage, but the rest of us are fishy, scaly, horny and altogether horrid, and of very low degree who scarce know why we are upon the boards, except for your amusement, so prithee'"? "hold!" cried clare, "what stuff." "give me an inch of time," cried jasper, hurrying on, "and i'll end the misery: "'so prithee, be amused; we're undone, if you are not, and all our labor lost. pray laugh, and shake your sides, and say "'tis good; i' faith, 'tis very good." and we shall say "your intellects do you credit." and so we bid you a fond adieu, and haste away to unshackle the dragons, who even now do roar without.'" clare threw himself into the part of the dragons, and forgetful of phronsie, gave a loud roar. polly clapped her hands and tossed an imaginary bouquet as jasper bowed himself off. "hush!" said ben, "you'll wake up phronsie," but it was too late; there she sat rubbing her eyes in astonishment. "oh! you darling," cried polly, running over to her, to clasp her in her arms, "i'm so sorry i tired you all out, phronsie dear, do forgive me." "i'm not tired," said phronsie, with dewy eyes. "has jasper got through reading? what was it all about, polly?" "indeed and i have finished," he cried with a yawn and throwing the manuscript on the table, "and i don't know in the least what it is all about, phronsie." "just a lot of dreadful words," said clare over in the corner, pulling at a heap of costumes on the floor. "never mind; the horrible spell is broken; come on, you fellows, and tumble into your dragon skins!" with that the chief dragon deserted phronsie, and presently there resounded the rattle of the scales, the clanking of chains, and the dragging about of the rest of their paraphernalia. "now, phronsie," said jasper, coming back, half-within his dragon skin and gesticulating, "you see that it's only i in this thing. look, dear! here goes in my head," and he pulled on the scaly covering, observing great care to smile reassuringly the last thing before his countenance was obscured. phronsie screamed with delight and clapped her hands. "oh, jasper! let me have one on, do, jasper! i'd much rather be a dragon than a princess. really and truly i would, jasper." "i don't agree with you," said jasper, in a muffled voice. "phew! this is no end stuffy, fellows. i can't stand it long." "i'm all coming to pieces," said ben, turning around to regard his back where the scales yawned fearfully. "i'll run and ask mamsie to come and sew you up," cried polly, flying off. "she said she would help, if we wanted her." iv welcome home! "marian," said old mr. king, putting his head in at the door of her little writing-room, "can't you get her comfortably out of the way this morning? i want your services without interruption." "she's going down to pinaud's," said mrs. whitney, looking up from the note she was writing. "capital! when she once gets there, she'll stay the morning," declared mr. king, greatly pleased. "now, then, after she's cleverly off, you may come to me." "i will, father," said marian, going back with a smile to her correspondence. half an hour later thomas, with the aid of the horses and the shopping coupe having carried off mrs. chatterton, mrs. whitney pushed aside her notes, and ran down to her father's study. she found him in his velvet morning-gown seated before his table, busy with a good-sized list of names that was rapidly growing longer under his pen. "oh! i forgot," he said, looking up; "i intended to tell you to bring some of your cards and envelopes. i want some invitations written." "are you going to give a dinner?" asked marian, looking over his shoulder. "oh, no! i see by the length of your list it's an evening affair, or a musicale." "you run along, daughter," said the old gentleman, "and get what i tell you. this is my affair; it's a musicale and something else combined. i don't just know myself." and he laughed at the sight of her face. "if father is only pleased, i don't care what it is," said mrs. whitney to herself, hurrying over the stairs and back again, never once thinking of polly's and jasper's surprise for the boys. "you see, marian," said mr. king as she sat down by the table, and laid the cards and envelopes in front of him, "that i'm going to help out that affair that jasper and polly are getting up." "oh, father! how good of you!" exclaimed mrs. whitney in a delighted tone, which immensely pleased the old gentleman, to begin with. "they've been working very hard, those two, at their studies this autumn. i've seen them," cried mr. king with a shrewd air, "and i'm going now to give them a little pleasure." marian said nothing, but let him have the comfort of doing all the talking, which he now enjoyed to his heart's content. "whether the other chaps have done well, i don't know. davie may have kept at it, but i suspect the rest of the boys haven't killed themselves with hard study. but they shall have a good home-coming, at any rate." mrs. whitney smiled, and he proceeded: "now i'm going to send out these invitations"--he pushed the list toward her--"i shall have the drawing-room and music-room floors covered, and all extra seats arranged, give turner carte blanche as to flowers, if he can't furnish enough out of our own conservatories--and the evening will end with a handsome 'spread,' as jasper calls it. in short, i shall recognize their attempt to make it pleasant for the boys' holiday, by helping them out on the affair all i can." the old gentleman now leaned back in his big chair and studied his daughter's face. "and you'll never regret it, father," she cried, with an enthusiasm that satisfied him, "for these young people will all repay you a thousand-fold, i do believe, in the time to come." "don't i know it?" cried mr. king, getting out of his chair hastily to pace the floor. "goodness me! they repay me already. they're fine young things, every one of them--whitneys, peppers and my boy--as fine as they are made. and whoever says they're not, doesn't know a good piece of work when it's before his eyes. bless me!" pulling out his handkerchief to mop his face violently, "i don't want to see any finer." "i hope i shall have a sight of jasper's and polly's faces when you tell them what you intend to do," said mrs. whitney; "where are your cards, father?" "tell them? i shan't tell them at all," cried the old gentleman; "i'm going to have a surprise, too. no one must know it but you and mrs. pepper." "oh!" said mrs. whitney. "it was very stupid in me not to understand that. it will be all right, father; mrs. pepper and i will keep our secret, you needn't fear." "if you can only keep her out of the way," exclaimed mr. king, pointing irascibly in the direction of mrs. chatterton's apartments, "all will be well. but i doubt if you can; her meddlesome ears and tongue will be at work as usual," he added in extreme vexation. "here comes jasper," exclaimed mrs. whitney, which had the satisfactory result of bringing her father out of his irritation, into a flutter over the concealment of the party preparations. "jasper," cried polly that evening, as they ran into the music-room to play a duet, "we're all right about everything now, as your father says we may invite the girls and your friends." "and he said when i asked him if we ought not to have cake and coffee, 'i'll attend to that,'" said jasper, "so everything is all straight as far as i can see, polly." "the private boxes trouble me, i must confess," said polly, drumming absently on the keys, while jasper spread the sheet of music on the rack. "you know there must be two; one for dear mr. king and one for the boys as guests of honor. now how shall we manage them?" she took her hand off suddenly from the keys and folded it over its fellow on her knee, to study his face anxiously. "it's pretty hard to get them up, that's a fact," said jasper truthfully, "but then, you know, polly, we've always found that when a thing had to be done, it was done. you know the little brown house taught us that." "so it did," said polly, brightening up. "dear little old brown house, how could i ever forget it! well, i suppose," with a sigh, "it will come to us as an inspiration when it's time to fix them." "i suppose so too," said mrs. pepper, passing the door, as usual with her mending basket, "and when two people start to play a duet, i think they much better put their minds on that, and not waste precious time on all sorts of questions that will take care of themselves when the time comes." "you are right, mrs. pepper," cried jasper with a laugh, and seating himself before the piano. "come, polly!" "mamsie is always right, isn't she, jasper?" cried polly with pride, putting her hands down for the first chords. "indeed she is," responded the boy heartily. "here now, polly, remember, you slipped up a bit on that first bar. now!" the twenty-first of december came all too soon for polly and jasper, whose school duties had engrossed them till two days before, but after hard work getting up the stage properties, and the many rehearsals, everything was at last pronounced ready, the drawing-room and music-room locked, the keys given to mrs. whitney who promised faithfully to see that no one peeped in who should not, and polly hurried into her hat and jacket, to go to the station with jasper to meet the boys. thomas drove furiously, as they were a bit late, and they arrived only a minute before the train puffed in. "here they are!" cried polly, and "here they are!" cried jasper, together, in great excitement, on the platform. "halloo, polly!" cried joel, prancing out of the car first, and "how d'ye do, polly?" as they all hurried after. "halloo, jasper!" "oh, polly! it's good to see you!" this from davie, not ashamed to set a kiss on her red lips. van and percy looked as if they wanted to, but contented themselves with wringing her hand nearly off, while joel declared he would look after the luggage. "no, i will," cried van, dropping polly's hand. "you forget," said percy quietly, "i hold the checks, i'll attend to it myself." he unclosed his brown traveling glove, and van, at sight of them, turned back. "go along, do, then," he cried; "i don't want to, i'm sure; i'd much rather stay with polly. how d'ye do, thomas?" he called carelessly to the coachman on his box, who was continually touching his hat and indulging in broad smiles of content. polly was tiptoeing in very delight, holding davie's hand closely while her eyes roved from one to the other of the boys, and her tongue ran fast indeed. a group of girls, who had also come down to the station to meet friends, stopped a bit as they came laughing and chatting by. "how d'ye, boys?" they said carelessly to the three home-comers. "oh, polly! won't it be entrancing to-night?" cried one of them, seizing her arm as she spoke. "hush!" said polly, as she tried to stop her. "may i bring elsie fay? she's come on the train to stay over christmas with her aunt. may i, polly?" begged another girl eagerly. "yes, yes," said polly in a paroxysm of fear lest joel, who was crowding up between them, should catch a word; "do be still," she whispered. "bring anybody; only stop, alexia." "he won't hear," said alexia carelessly; "that boy doesn't mind our talking; his head's full of skating and coasting." "you're going to have something to-night that you don't want me to know about," declared joel, his chubby face set defiantly, and crowding closer; "so there; now i'm going to find out what it is." "if we don't want you to know, you ought not to try to find out, joel pepper," cried alexia. "and you shan't, either." "there, now you see," cried polly, unable to keep still, while her face grew red too. "o dear! what shall we do?" "you are--you are," cried joel, capering up and down the platform, his black eyes shining with delight. "now i know for certain, and it's at our house, too, for you asked polly if you might bring some other girl, elsie somebody or other, so! oh! i'll soon know." "joel," exclaimed jasper suddenly, clapping him on the shoulder, "i'm going round to the gymnasium; want to go with me?" joel stopped his capering at once, this new idea thrusting out the old one. "don't i, though!" he cried, with a nod at polly and her friends. "but i'll find out when i do get home," the nod declared plainly. but jasper also nodded. he said, "he won't get home till late; depend on me." and then "come on, joe," he cried; "i'm going to walk," and they were off. alexia pinched polly's gray woolen jacket sleeve convulsively. "what an escape," she breathed. "here comes percy," cried polly nervously, and she broke away from her and the other girls, and ran to meet him, and the two boys following. "where's jasper?" asked percy, rendered quite important in air and step, from his encounter with the baggage officials. "oh! he isn't going home with us," said polly. "come, do let us get in," and she scampered off to the carriage and climbed within. "that's funny," said percy, jumping in after. van opened his lips to tell where jasper had gone, but remembering percy's delight in such an expedition, he closed them quickly, and added himself to the company in the carriage. davie followed, and closed the door quickly. "stop! where's joel?" asked percy. "thomas, we've forgotten joe," rapping on the glass to the coachman. "no, we haven't; he isn't going to drive," said polly. "oh!" and percy, thinking that joel had stolen a march on them on his good strong legs, now cried lustily, "go on, thomas; get ahead as fast as you can," and presently he was lost in the babel of laughter and chatter going on in the coach. "i've a piece of news," presently cried van in a lull. "davie's bringing home a prize; first in classics, you know." "oh, davie!" screamed polly, and she leaned over to throw her arms around him; "mamsie will be so glad. davie, you can't think how glad she'll be!" davie's brown cheek glowed. "it isn't much," he said simply, "there were so many prizes given out." "well, you've taken one," cried polly, saying the blissful over and over. "how perfectly elegant!" van drummed on the carriage window discontentedly. "i could have taken one if i'd had the mind to." "hoh-oh!" shouted percy over in his corner. "well, you didn't have the mind; that's what was wanting." "you keep still," cried van, flaming up, and whirling away from his window. "you didn't take any, either. polly, his head was under water all the time, unless some of the boys tugged him along every day. we hardly got him home at all." "no such thing," contradicted percy flatly, his face growing red. "polly, he tells perfectly awful yarns. you mustn't believe him, polly, you won't, will you?" he leaned over appealingly toward her. "oh! don't, don't," cried polly, quite dismayed, "talk so to each other." "well, he's so hateful," cried van, "and the airs he gives himself! i can't stand them, polly, you know"-"and he's just as mean," cried percy vindictively. "oh! you can't think, polly. here we are," as thomas gave a grand flourish through the stone gateway, and up to the steps. "i'll help you out," and he sprang out first. "no, i will," declared van, opening the door on the other side, jumping out and running around the carriage. "here, polly, take my hand, do." "no, i got here first," said percy eagerly, his brown glove extended quite beyond van's hand. "i don't want any one to help me, who speaks so to his brother," said polly in a low voice, and with her most superb air stepping down alone, she ran up the steps to leave them staring in each other's faces. here everybody came hurrying out to the porch, and they were soon drawn into the warm loving welcome awaiting them. "oh, felicie! i don't want that dress," said polly as she ran into her room after dinner, to mrs. whitney's french maid, "i'm going to wear my brown cashmere." "oh, mademoiselle!" remonstrated felicie, adjusting the ruffle in the neck of the white nun's veiling over her arm. "oh, no, polly! i wouldn't," began mrs. pepper, coming in, "the white one is better for to-night." "mamsie!" cried polly, breaking away from the mirror where she was pulling into place the bright brown waves over her forehead, "how lovely! you've put on your black silk; and your hair is just beautiful!" "madame has ze fine hair," said felicie, "only i wish zee would gif it to me to prepaire." "yes, i have good hair," said mrs. pepper, "and i'm thankful for it. no one looks dressed up, in my opinion, with a ragged head. the finer the gown, the worse it makes careless hair look. no, polly, i wouldn't wear the brown dress to-night." "why, mamsie!" exclaimed polly in surprise, "i thought you'd say it was just the thing when only the girls and jappy's friends are coming to the play. besides, i don't want to look too dressed up; the princess ought to be the only one in a white gown." "you won't be too conspicuous," said her mother; adding slowly, "you might wear the nun's veiling well enough as you haven't any part in the play, polly," and she scanned the rosy face keenly. "i don't want any part," cried polly; "they all play better than i do. somebody must see that everything goes off well behind the scenes; that's my place, mamsie. besides, you forget i am to play my sonata." "i don't forget," said her mother; "all the more reason you should wear the white gown, then." "all right," cried polly, merrily dashing across the room to felicie, "put it over my head, do. well, i'm glad you think it is right to wear it, mamsie," as the soft folds fell around her. "i just love this dress. oh, auntie! how perfectly exquisite!" mrs. whitney came in smilingly and put a kiss on the tall girl's cheek. "do i look nicely?" she asked naively, turning around under the chandelier. "nicely?" exclaimed polly, lifting her hands, "why you are fresh from fairyland. you are so good to put on that lovely blue moire and your diamond cross, just for the boys and girls." "i am glad you like it," said mrs. whitney hastily. "now, polly, don't you worry about anything; i'll see that the last things are done." "well, i am worrying," confessed polly, quite in a tremble; "i must see to one corner of the private box for the boys. you know the last india shawl you lent me wasn't pinned up straight and i couldn't fix it, for van wanted me just then, and i couldn't get away without his suspecting something. oh, auntie! if you would see to that." "i will," said mrs. whitney, not daring to look at mrs. pepper, "and to all the other things; don't give a thought to them, polly." "how good you are," cried polly with a sigh of relief. "oh, auntie! we couldn't do anything without you." "and you don't need to go into the drawing-room at all," said mrs. whitney, going to the door. "just keep behind the scenes, and get your actors and phronsie ready, and your mother and i will receive your friends. come, mrs. pepper." "that is splendid," cried polly, left behind with the maid, "now i can get ready without flying into a flurry, felicie; and then for phronsie and the rest!" "there is a dreadful commotion in there among the audience," said jasper, out in the green room; "i imagine every one who had an 'invite,' has come. but i don't see how they can make such a noise." "oh! a few girls and boys make just about as much confusion as a good many," observed polly. "jasper, wouldn't you like to see joel's eyes when aunt whitney leads him into the private box?" she allowed herself time to exclaim. "yes," laughed jasper, pulling out his watch from beneath his dragon-skin; "well, we have only five minutes more, polly. we must have the curtain up sharp." "o dear, dear!" cried polly, flying here and there to bestow last touches on the different members of her cast. "now, clare, you must remember not to give such a shriek when you go on, mustn't he, jappy? just a dull, sullen roar, your part is." "well, i'm nearly dead under here," cried clare, glaring beneath his dragon face. "i'll shriek, or roar, just as i like, so!" "very well," said polly, "i don't know but it's as well, after all, that you are cross; you'll be more effective," she added coolly. "let me see--oh! the door of the cave wants a bit more of gray moss; it looks thin where it hangs over. you get it, will you, hannah?" to one of the maids who was helping. "and just one thing more," scanning hastily the stage setting, "another chinese lantern is needed right here," going toward the front of the stage, "and that green bush is tumbling over; do set it straight, somebody; there now, i believe everything is all ready. now let us peep out of the curtain, and get one good look at the audience. come, phronsie, here's a fine place; come, boys!" the different members of the cast now applied their eyes to as many cracks in the curtain as could be hastily managed. there was a breathing space. "what, what?" cried polly, gazing into the sea of faces, and the dragons nearly knocked the princess over as mr. king gave the signal for the band stationed in the wide hall, to send out their merriest strains. v after the play it was all over. phronsie had been swept off, a vision of loveliness, to the cave; the dragons had roared their loudest, and the gallant knight had covered himself with glory in the brilliant rescue of the princess; the little page had won the hearts of all the ladies; mr. king had applauded himself hoarse, especially during the delivery of the prologue, when "i cry you mercy, sirs, and ladies fair," rang out; the musical efforts of polly and jasper in the "wait" between the two acts were over, and the crowded house, in every way possible, had expressed itself delighted with all things from beginning to end. "phronsie, phronsie, they're calling you," whispered polly excitedly, out in the green room. "come, princess." the head dragon held out his hand. "hurry dear! see the flowers!" "they can't be for me," said phronsie, standing quite still; "polly has done all the work; they're hers." "nonsense, child!" cried polly, giving her a gentle push forward. "go on, and take them." "polly, you come too," begged phronsie, refusing to stir, and holding her by the gown. "i can't, phronsie," cried polly in distress; "don't you see they haven't called me. go on, child, if you love me," she implored. phronsie, not being able to resist this, dropped polly's gown and floated before the footlights. "thank you," she said, bowing gravely to the sea of faces, as her hands were filled with roses, "but i shall give these to polly, because we couldn't any of us have done it without her." and so she brought them back to put into dismayed polly's lap. "the authors--the authors of the play!" cried a strong voice, privately urged on by mr. king. "there, now's your turn," cried clare to polly. "and go ahead, old dragon," to jasper, "make your prettiest bow." so the chief dragon led up blushing polly to the front of the stage, to hear a neat little speech from mr. alstyne, thanking them for the pleasure of the evening and congratulating them on its success; and the band played again, the camp chairs were folded up and removed, the green-room and stage were deserted, and actors and audience mingled in a gay, confusing throng. phronsie, in her little silver and white gown and gleaming cap, began to wander among the guests, unconscious that she had not on the red cashmere dress she had worn all day. groups stopped their conversation to take her into their midst, passing her on at last as one might hand over a precious parcel to the next waiting hands. polly, seeing that she was well cared for, gave herself up to the enjoyment of the evening. "well, sir, how did you like it?" asked jasper, with a small pat on joel's back. "well enough," said joel, "but why didn't you make more of it? you could have crawled up on top of the cave, and slashed around there; and you old dragons were just three muffs in the last act. i'd rather have had polly in the play; she's twice the go in her. "so would we all have preferred polly," cried jasper, bursting into a laugh, "but she wouldn't act--she directed everything; she was all the play, in fact." polly meanwhile was saying to pickering dodge, "no, not to-night; you must dance with one of the other girls." "but i don't choose to dance with anybody but you," said pickering, holding out his hand. "come, polly, you can't refuse; they're forming the lancers. hurry!" polly's feet twitched nervously under her white gown, and she longed more than ever after the excitement she had passed through, to lose herself in the witching music, and the mazy dance. she hesitated a bit, but just then glancing across the room, "come," she said, "i want you to dance with ray simmons. you can't refuse," using his own words; and before he was conscious how it was done, he was by ray's side, and asking for the pleasure of the dance. polly stood quite still and saw them go away and take the last places in the set, and a sorry little droop fell upon the curves of the laughing mouth. she was very tired, and the elation that had possessed her over the success of the evening was fast dropping out, now that everybody was enjoying themselves in their own way, leaving her alone. she felt left out in the cold; and though she fought against it, a faint feeling of regret stole over her for what she had done. she almost wished she was standing there by the side of pickering dodge, one of the bright group on whom the eyes of the older people were all turned, as they waited for the first figure to begin. "well, polly"--it was mr. alstyne who spoke, and he acted as if he had come to stay by her side--"you've covered yourself with glory this evening." "have i, sir?" asked polly absently, wishing there had been less of the glory, and a little more fun. "yes, indeed," said mr. alstyne, his keen eyes searching her face. "well, now, polly, your dragons, although not exactly like any living ones extant, made me think of some i saw at the zoo, in london. do you want me to tell you how?" "oh! if you please," cried polly, her color coming back, and beginning to forget the dance and the dancers. "let us sit down here, then," said mr. alstyne, drawing her off to two chairs in a corner, "and you shall have the tale. no pun, polly, you know." and he plunged into it at once. "yes, alstyne has her all right," mr. king was saying at the further end of the drawing-room to mrs. pepper; he spied the whole thing; "he'll take care of her, you may depend." and two more people had seen; one was jasper. nevertheless his partner, alexia rhys, thought it necessary to enlighten him. "just think, polly's given up her chance with the best dancer in the room, and sent pickering dodge off with that horrid ray simmons." jasper pretended not to hear. "this is our figure," he said hastily, and they whirled off, finished it, and were back again. "isn't she a goose?" as he fanned her, and tried to introduce another subject. "i suppose she best pleases herself," said the boy indifferently. "why should any one else interfere in the matter?" "but some one else ought to interfere," cried alexia, with a little pout, provoked at his indifference; "that's just the way she does in school all the time. oh! i'm vexed at her, i can tell you. she's so silly--dear me, it's our turn again." by the next interim she had forgotten all about polly and whether she was having a nice time or the stupidest one imaginable, for joel, who held dancing in great contempt, sauntered up. "aren't you glad now that you didn't find out about the secret?" cried alexia radiantly. "oh! you are such a nuisance, joey," she added frankly. "phooh!" exclaimed joel, "it wasn't worth finding out, that old secret. but it's as good as girls ever get up," he finished with a supercilious air. "it was a perfectly splendid play!" cried alexia, "and much too good for a lot of boys. goodness, joey, i wouldn't celebrate if you four were coming home from school to our house. i'd have the jollification the night before you went back." "i wouldn't go home if 'twas to your house," declared joel with equal candor. "i'd run off to sea, first." "come, come, you two, stop sparring," cried jasper, holding out his hand; "its our turn again, alexia. joel, take yourself off." alexia flashing joel a bright, making-up smile, dashed off into the figure. "good-by," said joel with a smile as cheery, for he really liked her the best of all polly's girl friends. after the dance, supper was announced, and everybody marched out to the supper room; the dancers with their partners following. "will you allow me?" mr. alstyne seeing the movement, got out of his chair and offered his arm to polly with a courtly bow. "oh! don't think of me, sir," she began, blushing very hard. "joel will look out for me." "i much prefer waiting upon miss polly pepper to any other lady in the room," said mr. alstyne, with another bow, courtlier than the first, "since mrs. alstyne is provided for. see, polly, mr. king is taking her out. and your mother has her cavalier, in mr. cabot; and mrs. whitney has already gone out with mr. fairfax. so if you don't accept my services, i shall be entirely left out in the cold." he stood offering his arm, and polly, laughing merrily, put her hand within it. "it's very good of you, sir," she said simply, as they fell into step and joined the procession. "i'm afraid if you had trusted to joel's tender mercies, you would have fared hardly," said mr. alstyne, laughing. "look, polly, over yonder in the corner." they were just passing into the supper room, and now caught sight of joel chatting away to a very pretty little creature, in blue and white, as busily and unconcernedly as if he had done that sort of thing for years. "why!" cried polly quite aghast, "that can't be joel. he just hates girls, you know, mr. alstyne, and never goes to parties." "he seems to be able to endure it all very well to-night," said her companion dryly. "shall i get you an ice, miss polly?" "yes, thank you," said polly absently, not being able to take her eyes from joel and his friend. at last, by the force of attraction, he turned and looked at her. but instead of showing self-consciousness, his round eyes surveyed her coolly, while he went on talking and laughing with the little blue-and-white thing. "polly, polly," exclaimed alexia rhys, hurrying up, while jasper was storming the supper table for her, "do look at joel pepper! he actually brought in a girl to supper!" "i see," said polly, gazing at the two in a fascinated way. "on the other hand," said alexia, sending swift, bird-like glances around the supper room, "there are van and percy moping off by themselves as if they hadn't a friend in the world. what a pity; they used to be so lively at parties." polly wrenched her gaze away from the astonishing sight on which it had been fixed, and following alexia's glance, took a keen look over at the young whitneys. "oh! oh! i must go to them," she cried remorsefully. "tell mr. alstyne, please, when he comes back, where i am," and without another word she dashed back of some gaily dressed ladies just entering the supper room, and was out of the door. "if i ever did!" cried alexia irritably to herself, "see anything so queer! now she thinks she must race after those boys. i wish i'd kept still. jasper, she's just as funny as ever," as he came up with a plate of salad, and some oysters. "who?" said the boy; "is this right, alexia?" offering the plate. "why, polly," said alexia; "yes, that's lovely," with a comforted glance at the plate and its contents. "oh! she's gone off, mr. alstyne," to that gentleman, approaching with polly's ice. "you can't expect her to stay for the goodies," beginning to nibble at her own. "where is she?" cried mr. alstyne, laughing, and sweeping the room with his brown eyes. "oh! i see," his glance lighting on the whitney boys' corner. "yes, she told me to tell you," said alexia, between her mouthfuls of salad and oyster, "where she is," as he started. "oh, percy and van!" polly was whispering hurriedly, "i'm sorry i hurt your feelings, only it was so very dreadful, you know, to hear you go on so to each other." "we didn't mean anything," said percy, pushing one foot back and forth in an embarrassed way, and looking as if he did not know what to do with his hands, which confused him more than anything else, as he had been quite sure of them on all previous occasions. van thrust his into his pockets, and seemed on the point of whistling, but remembering where he was, took his lips speedily out of their curves, and looked the other way. just then mr. alstyne came up. "oh!" cried polly suddenly, the color rushing over her face. "could you, mr. alstyne, give that to some one else? percy and van are going to wait upon me." "yes, indeed," said mr. alstyne in a flash, "nothing easier;" and he disappeared as suddenly as he came. "now, boys," said polly, turning back to them and whispering busily, "i know you won't ever say such perfectly dreadful things to each other again. and so i'm going to ask you both to get me something to eat, will you?" "how do you know we won't?" cried percy slowly. he was sorry enough for the episode in the coach, yet couldn't resist the temptation to show he was not to be driven. "because i shall then have nothing whatever to eat," said polly merrily, "for of course i can't take a bit from anybody else after refusing mr. alstyne's kindness. don't you see? oh, percy! you wouldn't quite do that?" van laughed. "she's got us, percy," he said, "quite fast. you know you won't fight, and i won't again; we both said so a little while back; so what's the good of holding out now?" percy drew himself up very slowly and decidedly. "i won't trouble you so again, polly," holding out his hand. "now would you like oysters?" all in the same breath. "and here's mine," cried van, extending his brown one. "can't i bring you some salad?" "yes, yes," cried polly gaily, and she released their hands after a cordial grasp. "you may bring me everything straight through, boys," as they rushed off, heads erect, to the crowded supper-table. "you've had a good time?" asked mrs. pepper slowly, with a keen glance into the flushed face and sparkling eyes, as they turned up the gas in polly's bedroom. "dear me! it is half-past eleven." "splendid," said polly, shaking herself free from the white gown and beginning to braid her hair for the night. "percy and van were perfectly lovely, and mr. alstyne was so good to me. and oh! mamsie, isn't dear mr. king just the dearest dear, to give all this to the boys? we haven't thanked him half enough." "he is indeed," said mrs. pepper heartily. "why, where is phronsie?" looking around the room. "she was right back of you," said polly. "she wanted to take off her things herself. did you ever see such a sweet"--she began, but mrs. pepper did not stop to hear, hurrying out to the adjoining room, shared by the mother and her baby. "she isn't here," polly heard her say in bewildered tones. so polly, her long hair blown about her face, ran in, brush in hand. "why, where"--she began laughingly. "she wouldn't go downstairs, i don't think," said mrs. pepper, peering in all the corners, and even meditating a look under the bed. "no, no," cried polly, "the lights are all turned out," investigating all possible and impossible nooks that a mouse could creep into. "where can she be? phronsie--phronsie!" "well, of course she is downstairs," declared mrs. pepper at last, hurrying out of the room. "take a candle, mamsie, you'll fall," cried polly, and throwing on her bath wrapper, she seized the light from the mantel and hurried after her. half-way down she could hear phronsie's gay little laugh, and catch the words "good-night, my dear grandpapa," and then she came slowly out from mr. king's sitting-room, and softly closed the door. "phronsie!" exclaimed polly, sitting down on the middle of the stairs, the candle shaking ominously, "how could"-"hush!" said mrs. pepper, who had fumbled her way along the hall. "don't say anything. oh, phronsie dear, so you went down to bid grandpapa good-night, did you?" phronsie turned a glance of gentle surprise on her mother, and then looked up at polly. "no, not exactly to bid him good-night," she said slowly. "i was afraid he was sick; i heard him coughing, so i went down." "he is quite well, isn't he?" asked mrs. pepper. "here, give me your hand, child; we must get up to bed." "oh, yes! he is quite really and truly all well," declared phronsie, breaking into another glad little laugh. "he said he never had such a beautiful time in his life, and he is just as well as he can be. oh, polly!" as she picked up her princess gown and prepared to ascend the stairs, "how funny you look sitting there!" "funny?" said polly grimly. "i dare say, and i feel funny too, phronsie." vi the little brown house they were all sitting around the library fire; polly under the pretext of holding phronsie's head in her lap, was sitting on the rug beside her, the boys on either hand; old mr. king was marching up and down the long room, and looking at them. the merriest of stories had been told, polly urging on all the school records of jolly times, and those not so enjoyable; songs had been sung, and all sorts of nonsense aired. at last joel sprang up and ran over to pace by the old gentleman's side. "christmas was good enough," said the boy, by way of beginning conversation. "hey?" responded the old gentleman, looking down at him, "i should think it was. well, and how about the wonderful play on the twenty-first? and that was good enough, too, i dare say." "that was well enough," said joel indifferently, "i don't care for such stuff, though." "tut--tut!" cried mr. king in pretended anger, "now i won't have anything said against that wonderful production. not a thing, sir, do you hear?" joel laughed, his chubby face twinkling all over in secret amusement. "well, i know something better, if you'll only let us do it, sir, than a hundred old plays." "and pray what is it?" demanded mr. king, "let's have it at once. but the idea of surpassing the play! oh, no, no, it can't be done, sir!" "it's to go and see the little brown house," said joel, standing up on his tiptoes to a level with the old gentleman's ear, and one eye looking backward to see that nobody heard. mr. king started, pulled his handsome moustache thoughtfully, looked at joel sharply, and then over at the group in the firelight. "they don't know anything about it," cried the boy in a whisper, "don't tell them. it's my secret, and yours," he added generously. "oh! if we might only go and look at it." "it's winter," observed the old gentleman, and stepping to the window he put aside the draperies, to peer out into the black evening. "yes, it really is winter," he added with a shiver, to the boy who was close behind, and as if no longer in doubt about it, he added most emphatically, "it really is winter, joel." "well, but you never saw anything like it, how magnificent winter is in badgertown," cried joel in an excited whisper. "such hills to coast down; the snow is always crisp there, sir, not like this dirty town mud. and the air is as dry as punk," he added artfully. "oh! 'twould be such a lark;" he actually clasped his hands. "badgertown isn't so very far off," said mr. king thoughtfully, "i'll think about it and see if we can manage it." "ugh-ow!" squealed joel, utterly forgetful of his caution of secrecy, "we can, we can; we can open the little brown house, and build great fires there, and"--but he got no further. into the midst of van's liveliest sally, came the words "little brown house," bringing all the young people to their feet, phronsie running to the old gentleman's side, with, "what is it, grandpapa? he said the little brown house." "get away!" cried joel crossly to the besiegers, each and all wildly clamoring. "what is it? what are you talking about? it's my secret," he cried, "and his," pointing with a dismayed finger to mr. king. "well, it isn't a secret any longer," cried polly, flushing with excitement. "you said 'little brown house,' we heard you just as plainly; and you re getting up something, i know you are." "people don't usually select a roomful of listeners, and then shout out their secrets," said jasper. "you are in for it now, joe, and no mistake. go ahead, old fellow, and give us the rest of it." joel whirled away from them all in desperation. "you might as well," laughed the old gentleman, "the mischief is done now, and no mistake." so joel, thus set upon, allowed the whole beautiful plan to be wrung from him, by slow and torturing installments; how they all were to go to badgertown, open the little brown house, and stay there--here he glanced at mr. king--"perhaps a week," he brought out suddenly, filling the time with all sorts of frolics, and playing they were there again, and really and truly living in the old home. at last it was all out, to be received in different ways by the listeners. "oh, joe!" cried davie with shining eyes. "we never could come away again if we once get there, never!" polly stood quite still, a mist gathering before her glad eyes, out of which she dimly saw the little brown house arise and beckon to her. phronsie jumped up and down and clapped her hands in glee. "oh, grandpapa, grandpapa!" she screamed, "please take us to the little brown house, please!" that settled it. "i do not think we need to consider it longer," said mr. king, glancing at ben, whose face told what he thought, "children, we will go--that is, if mrs. pepper says yes. "i will ask her," cried joel with a howl, springing off. "come on," cried jasper, "let's all 'be in at the death.'" and the library was deserted in a twinkling. but mother was nowhere to be found. "upstairs, downstairs, and in the lady's chamber," they sought her wildly. "oh! i forgot," exclaimed polly, when at last they gathered in the wide hall, disposing themselves on the chairs and along the stairs, all tired out. "she has gone to evening meeting with auntie. how stupid of me not to remember that." "well, i declare!" cried a voice above them, and looking up they met the cold blue eyes of mrs. chatterton regarding them over the railing. "cousin horatio, do you keep a menagerie, or a well-ordered house, i beg to inquire?" "a menagerie," said mr. king coolly, leaning on the balustrade at the foot of the stairs, and looking up at her. "all sorts of strange animals wander in here, cousin." "hum; i understand. i'm not so dull as you think. well, you've changed, let me tell you, vastly, and not for the better either, in the last six years. who would ever suppose i see before me fastidious horatio king!" she exclaimed, lifting her long thin hands to show him their horror-stricken palms. "i dare say, i dare say, cousin eunice," assented mr. king carelessly, "but i consider all you say as a compliment." "compliment?" she repeated disdainfully, and added with a rising note of anger, forgetting herself, "there's no fool like an old fool." "so i think," said mr. king in the same tone as before. "children, come into my room now, and close the door." and cousin eunice was left to air further opinions to her own ear. but when mother pepper and mrs. whitney did come home from the meeting, oh! what a time there was. they all fell upon her, as soon as the door opened, and the whole air was filled with "little brown house." "may we--may we?" "a whole week." "two days, mamsie, do say yes," and phronsie's glad little chirp "grandpapa wants to go, he does!" ending every other exclamation. "what a babel," cried mrs. pepper, her black eyes roving over the excited group. "now what is it all about? baby, you tell mother first." phronsie was not too big to jump into the comfortable lap, and while her fingers played with the bonnet strings, she laid the whole delightful plan open, the others hanging over them in ill-suppressed excitement. "well, you see, mamsie," she began deliberately. "oh! you are so slow, phronsie," exclaimed polly, "do hurry." "let her take her own time," said mr. king, "go on, child." "dear grandpapa," proceeded phronsie, turning her yellow head to look at him, her hand yet among the bonnet strings, "is going to take us all, every single one, to see the little brown house, and just touch it once, and be sure it's there, and peek in the doors and windows and"-"no, no," roared joel, "we're going to stay, and a week too," hopping confidently up and down. "oh, joe! not a week," corrected polly with glowing cheeks, "perhaps two days; we don't know yet." "three--three," begged van, pushing his head further into the center of the group. "mrs. pepper, do say you want to stay three days," he begged. "i haven't said i wanted to go yet," she answered with a smile. "now, every one of you keep quiet," commanded mr. king, raising his hand, "or you'll spoil the whole thing. phronsie shall tell her story as she likes." thereupon the rest, with the shadow of his warning that the whole might be spoiled, fell back to a vigorous restraint once more. "perhaps," cried phronsie with shining eyes, and grasping the strings tighter she leaned forward and pressed her red lips on the mother's mouth, "we'll go in and stay. oh, mamsie!" that "oh, mamsie!" carried the day, and every one hanging on the conversation knew as soon as they heard it that a victory had been won. "it's no use to contend against the fates," said mrs. whitney, laughing, "mrs. pepper, you and i know that." "that's so," cried old mr. king, "and whoever finds it out early in life, is the lucky one. now, children, off with you and talk it over," he cried, dismissing them as if they were all below their teens. "i want to talk with mrs. pepper now." and in two days they were ready to go. mrs. chatterton with nose high in the air, and plentiful expressions of disgust at such a mid-winter expedition, taking herself off to make a visit of corresponding length to some distant relatives. "i hope and pray this may not get into a society paper," she cried at the last, as she was seated in the carriage, "but of course it will; outre things always do. and we shall be disgraced for life. one comfort remains to me, i am not in it." mr. king, holding the carriage door, laughed long and loudly. "no, cousin eunice," he said, "you are not in it. take comfort in that thought. good-by," and the carriage rolled off. mother pepper and the five little peppers were going back to the little brown house. "really and truly we are," as phronsie kept saying over and over again with every revolution of the car-wheels, in a crooning fashion, and making it impossible for mr. king to shiver in apprehension at the step he was taking. were not two cases of blankets and household comforts safely packed away in the luggage car? "it's not such a dreadful risk," said the old gentleman gruffly to himself, "it's quite a common occurrence nowadays to take a winter outing in the country. we're all right," and he re-enforced himself further by frequent glances at mrs. pepper's black bonnet, two seats off. it was to be a three-days' frolic, after all. not that the whole party were to stay in the little brown house. o dear, no! how could they? it was only big enough for the peppers. so mrs. whitney and her three boys, with mr. king, and jasper, who concealed many disappointed feelings, planned to settle down in the old hotel at hingham. and before anybody imagined they could reach there so soon, there they were at badgertown center, to find mr. tisbett waiting there on his stage-box as if he had not stirred from it for five years. "sho, now!" he called out from his elevated position to mrs. pepper, as she stepped down from the car, "it's good to see you, though. land! how many of ye be there? and is that phronsie? sho, now!" "did you get my letter?" exclaimed mother pepper to mrs. henderson, who was pressing up to grasp her hand, and preparing to fall on the young folks separately. the parson stood just back, biding his time with a smile. "is it possible?" he exclaimed; "are these tall boys and girls the five little peppers? it can't be, mrs. pepper," as at last he had her hand. "you are imposing on us." and then the village people who had held back until their pastor and his wife paid their respects, rushed up and claimed their rights, and it was high holiday indeed for badgertown. "my goodness!" exclaimed mr. king at a little remove and viewing the scene with great disfavor, "this is worse than the danger of taking cold. have they no sense, to carry on like this?" "they're so glad to see the peppers again, father," said mrs. whitney with bright eyes. "you took them away from all these good people, you know; it's but fair to give them up for one day." the old gentleman fumed and fretted, however, in a subdued fashion; at last wisely turning his back, he began to stalk down the platform, under pretense of examining the landscape. "your friends will stay with us," mrs. henderson was saying in a gently decisive manner, "the old parsonage is big enough," she added with a laugh. "oh! you are so good and thoughtful, dear mrs. henderson," cried mrs. pepper with delight at the thought of the homelike warmth of the parsonage life awaiting the old gentleman, for whom she was dreading the dreary hotel. "i'm good to ourselves," declared the parson's wife gaily. jasper gave a shout when the new arrangement was declared, as it presently was by percy and van, who flung themselves after him as he was seeing to the luggage with ben, and his face glowed with the greatest satisfaction. "that is jolly," he exclaimed, "and that's a fact! now, ben, we're but a stone's throw apart. rather different, isn't it, old fellow, from the time when i used to race over from hingham with prince at my heels?" dr. fisher's little thin, wiry figure was now seen advancing upon the central group, and everybody fell away to let him have his chance to welcome the peppers. "i couldn't get here before," he cried, his eyes glowing behind his spectacles. "i've left a very sick patient. this is good," he took them all in with a loving glance, but his hand held to polly. "now i'm going to drive you down in my gig," he said to her at last. "will you come?" "yes, indeed," cried polly in delight, as her mother smiled approval, and she ran off to let him help her in. "it's only yesterday since you took me to drive, dr. fisher, and you gave me my stove--is it?" and so she rambled on, the little doctor quite charmed to hear it all. but mr. tisbett had a truly dreadful time placing his party in the old stage, as the townsfolk, fearful that so good a chance for seeing the peppers would not happen during the three days' stay, insisted on crowding up close to the ancient vehicle, and getting in everybody's way, thereby calling forth some exclamations from mr. king that could not be regarded as exactly complimentary. and quite sure that he was a frightful tyrant, they fell back with many a pitying glance at the pepper family whom he was endeavoring to assist into their places. at last it was all accomplished in some way, and mr. tisbett cracked his whip, mrs. pepper and phronsie leaned out of the window to bow right and left into smiling faces, ben and davie did the same over their heads. "good-by," sang out joel, whom the stage driver had taken up beside him. "here we are, off for the little brown house. g'lang!" vii old times again "don't let me look--oh! don't let me look," cried polly in the old gig, and twisting around, she hid her face against the faded green cloth side. "i ought not to see the little brown house before mamsie and the others do." "i'll turn down the lane," said the little doctor, "so"; and suiting the action to the word, polly could feel that they were winding down the narrow little road over toward grandma bascom's. she could almost smell the violets and anemones under the carpet of snow, and could scarcely restrain herself from jumping out for a riotous run. "don't go too far away," she cried in sudden alarm. "we must be there by the time the stage does." and she applied her eye to the little circular glass in the back of the gig. "will it never come--oh! here it is, here it is, dear dr. fisher." and with a quick flourish around of the old horse, they were soon before the little brown house, and helping out the inmates of the stage, who with more speed than grace were hurrying over the steps. joel was down before mr. tisbett had fairly drawn up in front of the gate. "hold on," roared the stage driver, "i don't want you to break your neck with me." "it's really here!" cried phronsie with wide eyes, standing quite still on a hummock of frozen snow, with her eyes riveted on the house. "it really is!" polly had raced up the winding path, and over the flat stone to drop a kiss on the little old door. "oh! oh! mamsie, do come!" she cried to mrs. pepper on the path. "hum! i think, jasper, you and i will let them alone for a few moments," said mr. king, who was still within the stage. "here, my good fellow," to mr. tisbett, "you say it's all comfortable in there for them?" "yes, yes, sir," said mr. tisbett heartily. "good land! mis' henderson had her boys come down airly this mornin' and make the fires; and there's a mighty sight of things to eat." the stage-driver put one foot on the hind wheel to facilitate conversation, and smacked his lips. "all very well. now you may drive us down the road a bit," said mr. king, withdrawing his head to the depths of the lumbering old vehicle again. "ain't goin' in?" cried mr. tisbett, opening his round eyes at him in astonishment. "get up and drive us on, i say," commanded the old gentleman, "and cease your talking," which had the effect to send honest mr. tisbett clambering expeditiously up to the box, where he presently revenged himself by driving furiously over all the hard frozen ruts he could quickly select, determined not to stop till he was obliged to. "goodness!" exclaimed mr. king within, holding to the strap at the side, as well as to the leather band of the swinging seat in front. "what an abominable road!" "the road is well enough," said jasper, who couldn't bear to have a word uttered against badgertown, "it's the fellow's driving that makes it rough. here, can't you be a little more careful to keep the road?" he called, thrusting his head out of the window. but he only narrowly escaped losing his brown traveling cap for his pains, as the stage gave a worse lurch than before, to introduce a series of creakings and joltings hitherto unparalleled. "i cannot endure this much longer," said old mr. king, growing white around the mouth, and wishing he had strength for one-half the exclamations he felt inwardly capable of. outside, honest mr. tisbett was taking solid comfort in the reflection that he was teaching a rich city man that he could not approach with anything less than respect a citizen of badgertown. "ain't i as good as he?" cried mr. tisbett to himself, with an extra cut to the off horse, as he spied a sharp ragged edge of ice along the cart track in front of him. "now that's good; that'll shake him," he added cheerfully. "land! but i hain't been spoke to so since i was sassed at school by jim bently, and then i licked him enough to pay twice over. g'lang there--easy!" the first thing he knew, one of the glass windows was shivered to fragments; the bits flying off along the quiet road, to fall a gleaming shower upon the snow. "whoa!" called mr. tisbett, to his smoking horses, and leaning over, he cried, "what's the matter in there?" "the matter is," said jasper, putting his face out, "that as i could not possibly make you hear my calls, i chose to break the window. have the goodness to let my father and me at once out of this vehicle." mr. tisbett got down slowly over the wheel. "beg your pardon," he said awkwardly, pulling open the door, "ain't you goin' to ride back?" "heavens!" cried mr. king. he was glad to find he could ejaculate so much as he tremblingly worked his way out to terra firma. "nothing on earth would tempt me to step foot inside there again." "here is the money for your window," said jasper, putting a bill into the fur mitten, covering mr. tisbett's brawny right hand. "kindly bring our traps to the little brown house; here, father, take my arm," and he ran after the tall figure, picking its way along the frozen road. "hey--what's this?" exclaimed mr. tisbett, looking into the center of his fur mitten, "five dollars! gee--thumps! i ain't a-goin' to take it, after shaking that old party almost to pieces." he stood staring at the bill in stupid perplexity till the uneasy movements of his horses warned him that his position was not exactly the proper one for a stage-driver who was on his box from morning till night, so he clambered over the wheel, full of vexed thoughts, and carefully tucked the bill under the old cushion before he took his seat. "ill give it back to him, that's cert'in," he said, picking up the reins, "and p'raps they've had enough walkin' so they'll let me pick 'em up," which raised him out of his depression not a little. but the stern faces of the old gentleman and the tall boy smote him with a chill, long before he passed them, and he drove by silently, well knowing it would not do to broach the subject by so much as a look. not daring to go near the little brown house without the occupants of the stage who had driven down the road with him, mr. tisbett drew up miserably to a convenient angle, and waited till the two came up. then without trusting himself to think, he sprang to the ground, and with shame written all over his honest face, called out, "see here, you young chap, i want to speak to you, when you've got him in the house." "i will see you then," said jasper, as the two hurried on to meet the peppers rushing out from the little brown house, and down the small path. "i've made an awful mess for 'em all, and they just come home," groaned mr. tisbett; drawing his fur mitten across his eyes, and leading his horses, he followed at a funeral pace, careful not to stop at the gate until the door was closed, when he began furiously to unload. a footstep crunching the snow, broke into the noise he was making. "hoh! well," he exclaimed, pausing with a trunk half-off the rack, "it's a mighty awkward thing for a man to say he's sorry, but you bet i be, as cert'in as my name's john tisbett." his face became so very red that jasper hastened to put his young shoulder under the trunk, a movement that only added to the stage-driver's distress. "it don't pay to get mad, now i tell you," declared mr. tisbett, dumping the trunk down on the snow, and then drawing himself to his full height; "fust place, your pa sassed me, and"-"he didn't intend to," cried jasper eagerly, "and i'll apologize for him, if that's what you want." he laid his strong right hand in the old fur mitten. "good land! tain't what i want," cried honest john, but he gripped the hand nevertheless, a fact that the boy never forgot; "i say i'm sorry i shook up your pa." "his age ought to have protected him," said the boy simply. "sho! that's a fact," cried mr. tisbett, sinking in deeper distress, "but how is anybody to remember he's so old, when he steps so almighty high, as if he owned all badgertown--say!" "i think we shall be good friends, mr. tisbett," said jasper cordially, as he turned to wave his hand toward the little brown house; simultaneously the door opened, and all the young peppers and whitneys rushed out to help in the delightful unloading. it was well along in the afternoon. the dusk of the december twilight shut down speedily, around the little brown house and its happy occupants, but no one wanted the candles lighted till the last moment. "oh, polly!" cried joel, who was prancing as of old over the kitchen floor, "don't you remember that night when you said you wished you had two hundred candles, and you'd light them all at once?" "i said a good many silly things in those days," said polly meditatively, and smoothing phronsie's yellow hair that was lying across her lap. "some silly ones, and a good many wise ones," observed mother pepper, over in her little old rocker in the west window, where she used to sit sewing up coats and sacks for the village storekeeper. "you kept us together many a time, polly, when nothing else could." "oh! no, i didn't, mamsie," protested polly, guilty of contradicting, "you and bessie did. i just washed dishes, and swept up, and"-"baked and brewed, and fussed and stewed," finished joel, afraid of being too sentimental. "polly was just lovely in those days," said davie, coming across the room to lay a cool cheek against her rosy one. "i liked the rainy days best when we all could stay in the house, and hear her sing and tell stories while she was working." "she was cross sometimes," cried joel, determined not to let reminiscences become too comfortable; "she used to scold me just awfully, i know." polly broke into a merry laugh; yet she exclaimed, "you poor joey, i suppose i was dreadful!" "you didn't catch one half as bad scoldings as belonged to you," put in ben, thrusting another stick in the stove. "you were a bad lot, joe, in those days." "and not over good in these," cried old mr. king, ensconced in the snuggest corner in the seat of honor, the high-backed rocker that comforted phronsie after her little toe was hurt. "there, now, my boy, how's that?" with a grim smile. "do you remember when the old stove used to plague you, polly?" cried joel, suddenly changing the conversation. "and how ben's putty was everlastingly tumbling out? hoh--hoh!" "and you two boys were always stuffing up the holes for me, when ben was away," cried polly, with affectionate glances at davie and joel. "i didn't so much," said joel honestly, "dave was always giving boot-tops and such things." "boot-tops!" repeated mr. king in astonishment. "bless me, i didn't know that they had anything in common with stoves." "oh! that was before we knew you," said joel, ready in advance of any one else with the explanation; "it wasn't this stove. dr. fisher gave polly this one after she had the measles; but it was a lumbering old affair that was full of holes that had to be stopped up with anything we could get. and leather was the best; and davie saved all the old boot-heels and tops he could find, you know." "oh!" said the old gentleman, wondering if other revelations would come to light about the early days of the peppers. "isn't dr. fisher lovely?" cried polly, with sparkling eyes, "just the same as ever. mamsie, i ought to do something for him. "he is as good as gold," assented mrs. pepper heartily. "you've done something, i'm sure, polly. the medical books you bought out of your pocket money, and sent him, pleased him more than anything you could give him." "but i want to do something now," said polly. "oh! just think how good he was to us." "may we never forget it!" exclaimed mrs. pepper, wiping her eyes. "but he's very unwise," said mr. king a trifle testily, "not to take up with my offer to establish him in the town. a man like him could easily hold a good practice, because the fellow's got ability." "oh! dr. fisher wouldn't leave badgertown," cried all the peppers in a bunch. "and what would the poor people here do without him?" finished polly. "well, well, never mind, he won't come to town, and that's enough," said the old gentleman quickly. "aside from that, he's a sensible chap, and one quite to my liking." "oh, polly!" cried phronsie suddenly, and lifting her head, she fastened her brown eyes on the face above her, "wasn't mamsie's birthday cake good?" "the flowers were pretty, but the cake was heavy, don't you remember?" said polly, who hadn't recovered from that grief even yet. "i thought it was just beautiful," cried mrs. pepper hastily. "no one could have baked it better in the old stove you had. i'm sure we ate it all up, every crumb." "we kept it in the old cupboard," cried joel, rushing over to the corner to swing the door open. "and we never once peeked, mamsie, so afraid you'd suspect." "you kept staring at the cupboard door all the evening, joe, you know you did," cried ben; "you were just within a hair's breadth of letting the whole thing out ever so many times. polly and i had to drag you away. we were glad enough when you went to bed, i can tell you." "you were always sending me off to bed in those days," said joel, taking his head out of the cupboard to throw vindictive glances over to the group around the stove. "i wish we could do so now," said ben. "and those two," joel went on, pointing to polly and ben, "used to go whispering around a lot of old secrets, that they wouldn't tell us. oh! it was perfectly awful, wasn't it, dave?" bestowing a small pinch on that individual's shoulder. "i liked the secrets best not to know them till polly and ben got ready to tell us," said david slowly; "then they were just magnificent." phronsie had laid her head back in the waiting lap, and was crooning softly to herself. "i want to go and see dear good mr. beebe," she said presently, "and nice mrs. beebe, can i, mamsie?" looking over at her. "to be sure," cried mrs. pepper, "you shall indeed, child." "beebe-beebe, and who is he, pray?" demanded mr. king. "oh! he keeps the shoe shop over in the center," explained three or four voices, "and phronsie's new shoes were bought there, you know." "and he gave me pink and white candy-sticks," said phronsie, "and he was very nice; and i like him very much." "and mrs. beebe gave us doughnuts all around," communicated joel; "i don't know but that i liked those best. there was more to them." "so you always bought your new shoes of the beebes?" asked the old gentleman, a question that brought all the five peppers around his chair at once. "we didn't ever have new shoes that i can remember," said joel quickly, "except phronsie's, and once ben had a new pair. he had to, because he was the oldest, you know." "oh!" said mr. king. "you see," said phronsie, shaking her head gravely, while she laid one hand on his knee, "we were very poor, grandpapa dear. don't you understand?" "yes, yes, child," said old mr. king; "there, get up here," and he took her within his arms. "no, no, you're not going to talk yet," seeing percy and van beginning violent efforts to join in the conversation. "let the peppers have a chance to talk over old times first. see how good jasper is to wait." "i would much prefer to hear the peppers talk forever," said jasper, smiling down on the two whitneys, "than to have the gates opened for a general flood. go on, do, polly and ben, and the rest of you." "oh! there is so much," said polly despairingly, clasping her hands, "we shouldn't get through if we talked ten years, should we, ben? mamsie," and she rushed over to her, "can we have a baking time to-morrow, just as we used to in the old days? oh! do say yes." "yes, do say yes," echoed jasper, also rushing to the side of the little rocking-chair. "you will, won't you, mrs. pepper?" "hoh! hoh!" cried the two whitneys derisively, "i thought you could 'hear the peppers talk forever.' that's great, jasper." "well, when it comes to hearing a proposal for a baking frolic, my principles are thrown to the wind," said jasper recklessly. "why, boys, that's the first thing i remember about the little brown house. do say yes, mrs. pepper!" viii some badgertown calls "well, i declare!" exclaimed grandma bascom, opening the door and looking in, "i never!" "come in," cried mr. king sociably. his night over at the parsonage had been a most fortunate experiment. "i haven't slept so finely in ten years," he confided to mrs. whitney as they met at breakfast at the minister's table. so now, his face wreathed with smiles, he repeated his invitation. "come in, do, mrs. bascom; we're glad to see you." "i never!" said grandma bascom once more, for want of something better to say, and coming close to the center of operations. jasper, attired in one of mrs. pepper's long aprons, which was fastened in the style of the old days, by the strings around his neck, was busily engaged in rolling out under polly's direction, a thin paste, expected presently under the genial warmth of the waiting stove, to evolve into most toothsome cakes. ben was similarly attired, and similarly employed; while joel and david were in a sticky state, preparing their dough after their own receipt, over at the corner table, their movements closely followed by the three whitneys. phronsie, before a board laid across two chairs, was enlightening old mr. king who sat by her, into the mysteries of baking day. "do bake a gingerbread boy," he begged. "i never had anything half so good as the one you sent over to hingham." "you were my poor sick man then," observed phronsie, with slow, even pats on her bit of dough. "please, the rolling-pin now, grandpapa dear." "to be sure," cried the old gentleman; "here, jappy, my boy, be so good as to hand us over that article." "and you see," continued phronsie, receiving the rolling-pin, and making the deftest of passes with it over the soft mass, "i couldn't send you anything better, though i wanted to, grandpapa dear." "better?" cried mr. king. "i should think not; you couldn't have made me anything that pleased me more, had you tried a thousand times." phronsie never tired of hearing this, and now humming a soft note of thanks, proceeded with her task, declaring that she would make the best gingerbread boy that could possibly be achieved. grandma bascom was still reiterating "i never," and going slowly from one group to another to inspect operations. when she came to phronsie, she stopped short, raising her hands in surprise. "seems as ef 'twas only yesterday when the peppers went away, though land knows i've missed 'em all most dretfully, 'an there sets that blessed child baking, as big as any of 'em. i never!" "have you any more raisins to give us, grandma?" shouted joel across the kitchen. "they were terribly hard," he added in his natural voice; "almost broke our teeth." "hey?" called grandma back again. "raisins, grandma, or peppermints," cried joel. "oh, joe, for shame!" called ben. "i'm going to have the fun of going after them," declared joel, throwing down his dough-pat, and wiping his sticky fingers on his apron; "just like old times--so there!" "i'll go over and get 'em," said grandma; "you come along with me," looking admiringly up at the tall boy; so the two, joel laughing and hopping by her side as if he were five years younger, disappeared, well-pleased with each other. "now i shall take his dough," declared dick, rushing around the end of the table to joel's deserted place. "no such thing," declared van, flying out of his chair. "leave your hands off, youngster! that's to be mine." polly looked up from the little cookies she was cutting with the top of a tin baking powder box and their eyes met. "i didn't promise not to have it out with dicky," said van stoutly. "he's a perfect plague, and always under foot. i never thought of such a thing as not making him stand around, polly." but the brown eyes did not return to their task, as polly mechanically stamped another cooky. "i only promised not to have a bout with percy," van proceeded uncomfortably. and in the same breath, "go ahead, if you want it, dicky, i don't care." "i do want it," declared dick, clambering into van's chair, while van returned to his own, "and i'm going to have it too. i guess you think you'd better give it up now, sir; i'm getting so big." "softly there, dicky," said mrs. whitney, over in the window-seat with her fancy work; "if van gives up, you should thank him; i think he is very good to do it." and the bigger boy's heart warmed with the radiant smile she sent him. dick gave several vicious thrusts to his dough, and looked up at last to say very much against his will, "thank you," and adding brightly, "but you know i'm getting big, sir, and you'd better give up." "all right," said van, with that smile in his heart feeling equal to anything. "now," cried jasper, with a flourish of his baking apron, "mine are ready. here goes!" and he opened the oven door and pushed in a pan of biscuit. "jappy's always ahead in everything," grumbled percy, laboring away at his dough. "how in the world do you make the thing roll out straight? mine humps up in the middle." "put some more flour on the board," said polly, running over to him. "there, now see, percy, if that doesn't roll smooth." "it does with you," said percy, taking the rolling-pin again, to send it violently over the long-suffering dough, "and--i declare, it's going to do with me," he cried, in delight at the large flat cake staring up at him from the board. "now, says i, i'll beat you, jappy!" and presently the whole kitchen resounded with a merry din, as the several cakes and biscuits were declared almost ready for their respective pans. "but, i can tell you, this gingerbread boy is going in next," declared mr. king from phronsie's baking-board. "it's almost done, isn't it, child?" "not quite, grandpapa," said phronsie; "this eye won't stay in just like the other. it doesn't look the same way, don't you see?" pointing to the currant that certainly showed no inclination to do its duty, as any well-bred eye should. "wait just a moment, please; i'll pull it out and stick it in again." "take another," advised the old gentleman, fumbling over the little heap of currants on the saucer. "there, here's a good round one, and very expressive, too, phronsie." "that's lovely," hummed phronsie, accepting the new eye with very sticky fingers. "now, he's all ready," as she set it in its place, and took the boy up tenderly. "give me a pan, do, polly." "did you cut that out?" cried dick, turning around in his chair, and regarding her enviously, "all alone by yourself? didn't grandpapa help you just one teeny bit to make the legs and the hands?" "no; she made it all herself," said the old gentleman, with justifiable pride. "there, phronsie, here's your pan," as polly set it down before her with a "you precious dear, that's perfectly elegant!" phronsie placed the boy within the pan, and gave it many a loving pat. "grandpapa sat here, and looked at it, and smiled," she said, turning her eyes gravely on dick, "and that helped ever so much. i couldn't ever have made it so nice alone. good-by; now bake like a good boy. let me put it in the oven all by myself, do, polly," she begged. so phronsie, the old gentleman escorting her in mortal dread that she would be burned, safely tucked her long pan into the warmest corner, shut the door, and gravely consulted the clock. "if i look at it in twenty-one minutes, i think it will be done," she said, "quite brown." in twenty-one minutes the whole kitchen was as far removed from being the scene of a baking exploit as was possible. everything was cleared away, and set up primly in its place, leaving only a row of fine little biscuits and cookies, with phronsie's gingerbread boy in the midst, to tell the tale of what had been going on. outside there was a great commotion. deacon brown's old wagon stood at the gate, for the peppers and their friends; and, oh! joy, not the old horse between the shafts, but a newer and much livelier beast. and on the straw laid in the bottom of the wagon, the seats being removed, disported all the merry group, mr. king alone having the dignity of a chair. deacon brown, delighted with his scheme of bringing the wagon over as a surprise for the peppers to take a drive in, was on the side of the narrow foot-path, chuckling and rubbing his hands together. "you won't have to drive so easy as you used to, ben," he called out, "this fellow's chirk; give him his head. sho! what you goin' that way for?" as ben turned off down the lane. "to grandma bascom's," shouted two or three voices. "joel's over there," sang out polly. "we couldn't go without him, you know," chirped phronsie, poking a distressed little face up from the straw heap. "'twould serve him just right if we did," said van. "he's a great chap to stay over there like this." "no--no," cried dick in terror, "don't go without joel; i'd rather have him than any of you," he added, not over politely. phronsie began to cry piteously at the mere thought of joel's being left behind. "he wanted to see mr. beebe," she managed to say, "and dear mrs. beebe. oh! don't go without him." so mr. king made them hand her up to him, and at the risk of their both rolling out, he held her in his lap until the wagon, stopping at the door of grandma bascom's cottage, brought joel bounding out with a whoop. "jolly! where'd you get that, and where are you going?" all in one breath, as he swung himself up behind. "deacon brown brought it over just now," cried polly. "as a surprise," furnished percy. "isn't he a fine old chap? here's for the very jolliest go!" "we're going to see dear mr. beebe, and dear mrs. beebe," announced phronsie, smiling through her tears, and leaning out of the old gentleman's lap to nod at him. "hurrah!" screamed joel. "good-by, grandma," to the old lady, whose cap-frills were framed in the small window. "i've had a fine time in there," he condescended to say, but nothing further as to the details could they extract from him; and so at last they gave it up, and lent their attention to the various things to be seen as the wagon spun along. and so over and through the town, and to the very door of the little shoe-shop, and there, to be sure, was mr. beebe the same as ever, to welcome them; and joel found to his immense satisfaction that the stone pot was as full of sugary doughnuts as in the old days; and phronsie had her pink and white sticks, and mrs. beebe "oh-ed" and "ah-ed" over them all, and couldn't bear to let them go when at last it was time to say "good-by." and at last they all climbed into the old wagon, and were off again on their round of visits. it was not till the gray dusk of the winter afternoon settled down unmistakably, so that no one could beg to stay out longer, that they turned deacon brown's horse toward the little brown house. "it's going to snow to-morrow, i think," observed jasper, squinting up at the leaden sky, "isn't it, father?" "whoop!" exclaimed joel, "then we will have sport, i tell you!" "it certainly looks like it," said old mr. king, wrapping his fur-lined coat closer. "phronsie, are you sure you are warm enough?" "yes, grandpapa dear," she answered, curling up deeper in the straw at his feet. "do you remember how you would carry the red-topped shoes home with you, phronsie?" cried polly, and then away they rushed again into "oh, don't you remember this, and you haven't forgotten that?" jasper as wildly reminiscent now as the others, for hadn't he almost as good as lived at the little brown house, pray tell? so the whitneys looked curiously on, without a chance to be heard in all the merry chatter; and then they drew up at the gate of the parsonage, where they were all to have supper. when phronsie woke up in the big bed by the side of her mother the next morning, polly was standing over her, and looking down into her face. "oh, phronsie!" she exclaimed in great glee, "the ground is all covered with snow!" "o--oh!" screamed phronsie, her brown eyes flying wide open, "do give me my shoes and stockings, polly, do! i'll be dressed in just one--minute," and thereupon ensued a merry scramble as she tumbled out of the big bed, and commenced operations, polly running out to help mamsie get the breakfast. "mush seems good now we don't have to eat it," cried joel, as they all at last sat around the board. "'twas good then," said mrs. pepper, her black eyes roving over the faces before her. "how funny," cried percy whitney, who had run over from the parsonage to breakfast, "this yellow stuff is." and he took up a spoonful of it gingerly. "you don't like it, percy; don't try to eat it. i'll make you a slice of toast," cried polly, springing out of her chair, "in just one moment." "no, you mustn't," cried dick, bounding in in time to catch the last words. "mamma said no one was to have anything different, if we came to breakfast, from what the peppers are going to eat. i like the yellow stuff; give me some, do," and he slid into a chair and passed his plate to mrs. pepper. "so you shall, dicky," she said hastily. "and you will never taste sweeter food than this," giving him a generous spoonful. "grandpapa is eating ham and fried eggs over at the minister's house," contributed dick, after satisfying his hunger a bit. "ham and fried eggs!" exclaimed mother pepper, aghast. "why, he never touches them. you must be mistaken, my boy." "no, i'm not," said dick, obstinately. "the minister's wife said it was, and she asked me if i wouldn't have some, and i said i was going over to the peppers to breakfast; i'd rather have some of theirs. and grandpapa said it was good--the ham and fried eggs was--and he took it twice; he did, mrs. pepper." "took it twice?" she repeated, faintly, with troubled visions of the future. "well, well, the mischief is done now, so there is no use in talking about it; but i'm worried, all the same." "hurry up, percy," called joel across the table, "and don't dawdle so. we're going to make a double ripper, four yards long, to go down that hill there." he laid down his spoon to point out the window at a distant snow-covered slope. percy shivered, but recalling himself in time, said "splendid," and addressed himself with difficulty to his mush. "well, you'll never be through at that speed," declared joel. "see i've eaten three saucerfuls," and he handed his plate up, "and now for the fourth, mamsie." "oh! baked potatoes," cried ben, rolling one around in his hand before he took off its crackling skin. "weren't they good, though, with a little salt. i tell you, they helped us to chop wood in the old times!" "i really think i shall have to try one," said percy, who deeply to his regret was obliged to confess that indian meal mush had few charms for his palate. "there's real milk in my mug now," cried phronsie, with long, deep draughts. "polly, did i ever have anything but make-believe in the little brown house; ever, polly?" polly was saved from answering by a stamping of snowy boots on the flat doorstone. "hurrah, there!" cried van, rushing in, followed by jasper. "hoh, you slow people in the little brown house, come on for the double ripper!" ix a sudden blow "mamsie," cried polly, suddenly, and resting her hands on her knees as she sat on the floor before the stove, "do you suppose there is any one poor enough in badgertown to need the little brown house when we lock it up to-morrow?" "not a soul," replied mrs. pepper, quickly; "no more than there was when we first locked it up five years ago, polly. i've been all over that with the parson last evening; and he says there isn't a new family in the place, and all the old ones have their homes, the same as ever. so we can turn the key and leave it with a clear conscience." polly drew a long breath of delight, and gazed long at the face of the stove that seemed to crackle out an answering note of joy as the wood snapped merrily; then she slowly looked around the kitchen. "it's so perfectly lovely, mamsie," she broke out at length, "to see the dear old things, and to know that they are waiting here for us to come back whenever we want to. and to think it isn't wicked not to have them used, because everybody has all they need; oh! it's so delicious to think they can be left to themselves." she folded her hands now across her knees, and drew another long breath of content. phronsie stole out of the bedroom, and came slowly up to her mother's side, pausing a bit on the way to look into polly's absorbed face. "i don't think, mamsie," she said quietly, "that people ought to be so very good who've never had a little brown house; never in all their lives." "oh, yes, they had, child," said mrs. pepper briskly; "places don't make any difference. it's people's duty to be good wherever they are." but phronsie's face expressed great incredulity. "i'm always going to live here when i am a big, grown-up woman," she declared, slowly gazing around the kitchen, "and i shall never, never go out of badgertown." "oh, phronsie!" exclaimed polly, turning around in dismay, "why, you couldn't do that. just think, child, whatever in the world would grandpapa do, or any of us, pray tell?" "grandpapa would come here," declared phronsie decidedly, and shaking her yellow head to enforce her statement. "of course grandpapa would come here, polly. we couldn't live without him." "that's it," said polly, with a corresponding shake of her brown head, "of course we couldn't live without grandpapa; and just as 'of course' he couldn't leave his own dear home. he never would be happy, phronsie, to do that." phronsie took a step or two into the sunshine lying on the middle of the old kitchen floor. "then i'd rather not come, polly," she said. but she sighed and polly was just about saying, "we'll run down now and then perhaps, phronsie, as we have done now," when the door was thrown open suddenly, and joel burst in, his face as white as a sheet, and working fearfully. "oh, polly! you must tell mrs. whitney--i can't." polly sprang to her feet; mrs. pepper, who had just stepped into the pantry, was saying, "i think, polly, i'll make some apple dumplings, the boys like them so much." "what is it, joe?" cried polly hoarsely, and standing quite still. phronsie, with wide eyes, went up and took the boy's cold hand, and gazed into his face as he leaned against the door. "dick!" groaned joel; "oh! oh! i can't bear it," and covering his face with one hand, he would have pulled the other from phronsie's warm little palm, but she held it fast. "tell me at once, joe," commanded polly. "hush!--mother"--but mrs. pepper was already out of the pantry. "joel," said mrs. pepper, "whatever it is, tell us immediately." the look in her black eyes forced him to gasp in one breath, "dick fell off the double ripper, and both of his legs are broken--may be not," he added in a loud scream. phronsie still held the boy's hand. he was conscious of it, and that she uttered no word, and then he knew no more. "leave him to me, polly," said mrs. pepper, through drawn lips, "and then do you run as you have never run before, to the parsonage. oh! if they should bring him there before the mother hears." phronsie dropped the hand she held, and running on unsteady little feet into the bedroom, came back with polly's hood and coat. "let me go," cried polly wildly, rushing away from the detaining hand to the door, "i don't want those things on. let me go, phronsie!" "you'll be cold," said phronsie. with all her care, her little white lips were quivering as she held out the things. "please, polly," she said piteously. "the child is right; put them on," commanded mrs. pepper, for one instant taking her thought from her boy; and polly obeyed, and was gone. in the parsonage "best room" sat mrs. whitney. her rocking-chair was none of the easiest, being a hair-cloth affair, its cushion very much elevated in the world just where it should have been depressed, so that one was in constant danger of slipping off its surface; moreover, the arms and back of the chair were covered with indescribable arrangements made and presented by loving parishioners and demanding unceasing attention from the occupant. but the chair was drawn up in the sunshine pouring into the window, and mrs. whitney's thoughts were sunny, too; for she smiled now and then as she drew her needle busily in and out through the bright wools. "how restful it all is here, and so quaint and simple." she glanced up now to the high-backed mantel with its wealth of daguerreotypes, and surprising collection of dried leaves in tall china vases; and over the walls, adorned with pine-cone framed pictures, to the center table loaded with "annuals," and one or two volumes of english poetry, and then her gaze took in the little paths the winter sunshine was making for itself along the red and green ingrain carpet. "i am so glad father thought to bring us all. dear father, it is making a new man of him, this winter frolic. why"-she was looking out of the window now, and her hands fell to her lap as polly pepper came running breathlessly down the village street, her hood untied, and the coat grasped with one hand and held together across her breast. but it was the face that terrified mrs. whitney, and hurrying out of her chair, she ran out to the veranda as the girl rushed through the gateway. "polly, child," cried mrs. whitney, seizing her with loving arms and drawing her on the steps--"oh! what is it, dear?" polly's lips moved, but no words came. "oh!" at last, "don't hate us for--bringing you to the--little--brown house. why did we come!" and convulsively she threw her young arms around the kind neck. "oh, auntie! dicky is hurt--but we don't know how much--his legs, joel says, but it may not be as bad as we think; dear auntie." mrs. whitney trembled so that she could scarcely stand. around them streamed the same winter sunshine that had been so bright a moment since. how long ago it seemed. and out of gathering clouds in her heart she was saying, "polly dear, god is good. we will trust him." she did not know her own voice, nor realize when polly led her mercifully within, as a farmer's wagon came slowly down the street, to stop at the parsonage gate; nor even when dick was brought in, white and still, could she think of him as her boy. it was some other little figure, and she must go and help them care for him. her boy would come bounding in presently, happy and ruddy, with a kiss for mamma, and a world of happy nonsense, just as usual. it was only when mrs. henderson came in, and took her hand to lead her into the next room, that it all came to her. "oh, dick!" and she sprang to the side of the sofa where he lay. "my child--my child!" and then came dr. fisher, and the truth was known. one of dick's legs was broken below the knee; the other badly bruised. only jasper and the mother remained in the room while the little doctor set the limb; and after what seemed an age to the watchers, the boy came out. "he bore it like a trojan," declared jasper, wiping his forehead. "i tell you, dick's our hero, after this." "now i should like to know how all this happened," demanded mr. king. the old gentleman had remained at the parsonage to get a good morning nap while the snow frolic was in progress. and he had been awakened by the unusual bustle below stairs in time to hear the welcome news that dicky was all right since dr. fisher was taking care of him. he now presented himself in his dressing-gown, with his sleeping cap awry, over a face in which anger, distress and impatience strove for the mastery. "speak up, my boy," to jasper, "and tell us what you know about it." "well, the first thing i knew of any danger ahead," said jasper, "was hearing dick sing out 'hold up!' i supposed the double ripper all right; didn't you, ben?" "yes," said ben sturdily, "and it was all right; just exactly as we used to make them, we boys; there wasn't a weak spot anywhere in her, sir." "who was steering?" demanded old mr. king almost fiercely. "i was," said van, beginning boldly enough, to let his voice die out in a tremulous effort. "humph--humph," responded mr. king grimly. "a bad business," shaking his head. "van would"--began percy, but his eye meeting polly's he added, "we'd none of us done any better, i don't believe, sir, than van." van was now choking so badly that the greatest kindness seemed to be not to look at him. accordingly the little company turned their eyes away, and regarded each other instead. "well, so dick rolled off?" proceeded the old gentleman. "oh! no, he didn't," said all three boys together; "he stuck fast to the double ripper; we ran into a tree, and dick was pitched off head-first." "but honestly and truly, father," said jasper, "i do not think that it was the fault of the steerer." "indeed it was not," declared ben stoutly; "there was an ugly little gully that we hadn't seen under the snow. we'd been down four or five times all right, but only missed it by a hair-breadth; this time the ripper struck into it; i suppose dick felt it bump, as it was on his side, and sang out, and as quick as lightning we were against that tree. it was as much my fault as any one's, and more, because i ought to have known that old hill thoroughly." "i share the blame, ben," broke in jasper, "old fellow, if you pitch into yourself, you'll have to knock me over too." "come here, vanny," said old mr. king, holding out his hand. "why, you needn't be afraid, my boy," aghast at the tears that no power on earth could keep back. "now all leave the room, please." "where's polly?" asked ben, on the other side of the door. "she's run home," said david, "i guess. she isn't here." "and that's where i must be too," cried ben, bounding off. when van was next seen he was with old mr. king, and wearing all signs of having received his full share of comfort. phronsie, just tying on her little hood, to go down to the parsonage to ask after dicky, looked out of the window to exclaim in pleased surprise, "why, here comes dear grandpapa," and then she rushed out to meet him. "here's my little girl," cried the old gentleman, opening his arms, when she immediately ran into them. "now we're all right." "is dicky all right?" asked phronsie anxiously, as she fell into step by his side. "yes, indeed; as well as a youngster can be, who's broken his leg." phronsie shivered. "but then, that's nothing," mr. king hastened to add; "i broke my own when i was a small shaver no bigger than dick, and i was none the worse for it. boys always have some such trifling mishaps, phronsie." "ben never broke his leg, nor joel, nor davie," said phronsie. "must they yet, grandpapa?" "o dear, no," declared mr. king hastily; "that isn't necessary. i only meant they must have something. now you see, ben had the measles, you know." "yes, he did," said phronsie, quite relieved to think that this trial could take the place of the usual leg-breaking episode in a boy's career. "and so did joel, and davie--all of them, grandpapa dear." "exactly; well, and then ben had to work hard, and joel and davie too, for that matter. so, you see, it wasn't as essential that they should break their legs, child." "but jasper and percy and van don't have to work hard; oh! i don't want them to break their legs," said phronsie, in a worried tone. "you don't think they will, grandpapa dear, do you? please say they won't." "i don't think there is the least danger of it," said mr. king, "especially as i shall put an end to this double-ripper business, though not because this upset was anybody's fault; remember that, phronsie." van's head which had dropped a bit at the last words, came up proudly. "van, here, has acted nobly"--he put his hand on the boy's shoulder--"and would have saved dicky if he could. it was a pure accident that nobody could help except by keeping off from the abominable thing. well, here we are at the little brown house; and there's your mother, phronsie, waiting for us in the doorway." "halloo!" cried van, rushing over the flat stone, and past mrs. pepper, "where's joel? oh--here, you old chap!" "well, mrs. pepper," said the old gentleman, coming up to the step, phronsie hanging to his hand, "this looks like starting for town to-morrow, doesn't it?" "oh! what shall we do, sir?" cried mrs. pepper, in distress. "to think you have come down here in the goodness of your heart, to be met with such an accident as this. what shall we do?" she repeated. "goodness of my heart," repeated mr. king, nevertheless well pleased at the tribute. "i've had as much pleasure out of it all as you or the young people. i want you to realize that." "so does any one who does a kind act," replied mrs. pepper, wiping her eyes; "well, sir, now how shall we manage about going back?" "that remains to be seen," said mr. king slowly, and he took a long look at the winter sky, and the distant landscape before he ventured more. "it very much looks as if we all should remain for a few days, to see how dick is to get on, all but the four boys; they must pack off to school to-morrow, and then probably mrs. whitney will stay over with the boy till he can be moved. dr. fisher will do the right thing by him. oh! everything is all right, mrs. pepper." mrs. pepper sighed and led the way into the house. she knew in spite of the reassuring words that the extreme limit of the "outing" ought to be passed on the morrow. x the party separates "good-by to the little brown house!" joel and david, percy and van sang out in doleful chorus, from the old stage coach; two of the boys on the seat shared by john tisbett, the other two within as companions to mrs. pepper and jasper, who were going home to start the quartette off to school. "ben and i will take good care of everything, mamsie," said polly for the fiftieth time, and climbing up on the steps to tuck the traveling shawl closer. thereupon phronsie climbed up too, to do the same thing. "don't you worry; we'll take care of things," she echoed. "i shan't worry," said mrs. pepper in a bright assured way. "mother knows you'll both do just right. and phronsie'll be a good girl too," with a long look into the bright eyes peering over the window casing of the old coach. "i'll try," said phronsie. "good-by, mamsie," and she tried to stand on tiptoe to reach her mouth up. "goodness me!" cried polly, "you nearly tumbled off the steps. throw her a kiss, phronsie; mamsie'll catch it." "if that child wants to kiss her ma agen, she shall do it," declared mr. tisbett; and throwing down the reins, he sprang to the ground, seized phronsie, and swung her lightly over the window edge. "there you be--went through just like a bird." and there she was, sure enough, in mrs. pepper's lap. "i should like to go with you," phronsie was whispering under mrs. pepper's bonnet strings, "mamsie, i should." "oh, no, phronsie!" mrs. pepper made haste to whisper back. "you must stay with polly. why, what would she ever do without you? be mother's good girl, phronsie; you're all coming home, except auntie and dick, in a few days." phronsie cast one look at polly. "good-by," she said slowly. "take me out now," holding her arms towards mr. tisbett. "here you be!" exclaimed mr. tisbett merrily, reversing the process, and setting her carefully on the ground. "now, says i; up i goes," his foot on the wheel to spring to the box. "stay!" a peremptory hand was laid on his shaggy coat sleeve, and he turned to face old mr. king. "when i meet a man who can do such a kind thing, it is worth my while to say that i trust no words of mine gave offense. bless you, man!" added the old gentleman, abruptly changing the tone of his address as well as its form, "it's my way; that's all." john tisbett had no words to offer, but remained, his foot on the wheel, stupidly staring up at the handsome old face. "we shall be late for the train," called jasper within the coach, "if you don't start." "get up, do!" cried joel, who had seized the reins, "or i'll drive off without you, mr. tisbett," which had the effect to carry honest john briskly up to his place. when there, he took off his fur cap without a word, and bowed to mr. king, cracked his whip and they were off, leaving the four on the little foot-path gazing after them, till the coach was only a speck in the distance. "mamma dear," said dick, one afternoon three weeks later (the little brown house had been closed a fortnight, and all the rest of the party back in town), "when are we going home?" "next week," said mrs. whitney brightly; "the doctor thinks if all goes well, you can be moved from here." dick leaned back in the big chintz-covered chair. "mamma," he said, "your cheeks aren't so pink, and not quite so round, but i think you are a great deal nicer mamma than you were." "do you, dick?" she said, laughing. "well, we have had a happy time together, haven't we? the fortnight hasn't been so long for you as i feared when the others all went away." "it hasn't been long at all," said dick promptly, and burrowing deeper into the chair-back; "it's just flown, mamma. i like polly and phronsie; but i'd rather have you than any girl i know; i had really, mamma." "i'm very glad to hear it, dick," said mrs. whitney, with another laugh. "and when i grow up, i'm just going to live with you forever and ever. do you suppose papa will be always going to europe then?" "i trust not," said mrs. whitney fervently. "dicky, would you like to have a secret?" she asked suddenly. the boy's eyes sparkled. "wouldn't i mamma?" he cried, springing forward in the chair; "ugh!" "take care, darling," warned his mother. "you must remember the poor leg." dick made a grimace, but otherwise took the pain pluckily. "tell me, do, mamma," he begged, "the secret." "yes, i thought it would be a pleasant thing for you to have it to think of, darling, while you are getting well. dicky, papa is coming home soon." "right away?" shouted dick so lustily that mrs. henderson popped her head in the door. "oh! beg your pardon," she said; "i thought you wanted something." "isn't it lovely," cried mrs. whitney, "to have a boy who is beginning to find his lungs?" "indeed it is," cried the parson's wife, laughing; "i always picked up heart when my children were able to scream. it's good to hear you, dicky," as she closed the door. "is he--is he--is he?" cried dick in a spasm of excitement, "coming right straight away, mamma?" "next week," said mamma, with happy eyes, "he sails in the servia. next week, dicky, my boy, we will see papa. and here is the best part of the secret. listen; it has all been arranged that mr. duyckink shall live in liverpool, so that papa will not have to go across any more, but he can stay at home with us. oh, dicky!" that "oh, dicky!" told volumes to the boy's heart. "mamma," he said at last, "isn't it good that god didn't give boys and girls to mr. duyckink? because you see if he had, why, then mr. duyckink wouldn't like to live over there." "mr. duyckink might not have felt as your father does, dicky dear, about having his children educated at home; and mrs. duyckink wants to go to england; she hasn't any father, as i have, dicky dear, who clings to the old home." "only i wish god had made mr. duyckink and mrs. duyckink a little sooner," said dick reflectively. "i mean, made them want to go to england sooner, don't you, mamma?" "i suppose we ought not to wish that," said his mother with a smile, "for perhaps we needed to be taught to be patient. only now, dicky, just think, we can actually have papa live at home with us!" "your cheeks are pink now," observed dick; "just the very pink they used to be, mamma." mrs. whitney ran to the old-fashioned looking-glass hanging in its pine-stained frame, between the low windows, and peered in. "do i look just as i did when papa went away six months ago, dicky?" she asked, anxiously. "yes," said dick, "just like that, only a great deal nicer," he added enthusiastically. his mother laughed and pulled at a bright wave on her forehead, dodging a bit to avoid a long crack running across the looking-glass front. "here's dr. fisher!" shouted dick suddenly. "now, you old fellow, you," and shaking his small fist at his lame leg, "you've got to get well, i tell you. i won't wait much longer, sir!" and as the doctor came in, "i've a secret." "well, then, you would better keep it," said dr. fisher. "good morning," to mrs. whitney. "our young man here is getting ahead pretty fast, i should think. how's the leg, dicky?" sitting down by him. "the leg is all right," cried dick; "i'm going to step on it," trying to get out of the chair. "dicky!" cried his mother in alarm. "softly--softly now, young man," said dr. fisher. "i suppose you want me to cure that leg of yours, and make it as good as the other one, don't you?" "why, of course," replied dick; "that's what you are a doctor for." "well, i won't agree to do anything of the sort," said the little doctor coolly, "if you don't do your part. do you know what patience means?" "i've been patient," exclaimed dick, in a dudgeon, "forever and ever so many weeks, and now papa is coming home, and i"-and then he realized what he had done, and he turned quite pale, and looked at his mother. her face gave no sign, but he sank back in his chair, feeling disgraced for life, and ready to keep quiet forever. and he was so good while dr. fisher was attending to his leg that when he was through, the little doctor turned to him approvingly: "well, sir, i think that i can promise that you can go home saturday. you've improved beyond my expectation." but dick didn't "hurrah," nor even smile. "dicky," said mrs. whitney, smiling into his downcast face, "how glad we are to hear that; just think, good dr. fisher says we may go next saturday." "i'm glad," mumbled dick, in a forlorn little voice, and till after the door closed on the retreating form of the doctor, it was all that could be gotten out of him. then he turned and put out both arms to his mother. "i didn't mean--i didn't mean--i truly didn't mean--to tell--mamma," he sobbed, as she clasped him closely. "i know you didn't, dear," she soothed him. "it has really done no harm; papa didn't want the home people to know, as he wants to surprise them." "but it was a secret," said dick, between his tears, feeling as if he had lost a precious treasure entrusted to him. "oh, mamma! i really didn't mean to let it go." "mamma feels quite sure of that," said mrs. whitney gently. "you are right, dicky, in feeling sorry and ashamed, because anything given to you to keep is not your own but belongs to another; but, my boy, the next duty is to keep back those tears--all this is hurting your leg." dick struggled manfully, but still the tears rolled down his cheeks. at last he said, raising his head, "you would much better let me have my cry out, mamma; it's half-way, and it hurts to send it back." "well, i don't think so," said mrs. whitney, with a laugh. "i've often wanted to have a cry out, as you call it. but that's weak, dicky, and should be stopped, for the more one cries, the more one wants to." "you've often wanted to have a cry out?" repeated dick, in such amazement that every tear just getting ready to show itself immediately rushed back again. "why, you haven't anything to cry for, mamma." "indeed i have," she declared; "often and often, i do many things that i ought not to do"-"oh! never, never," cried dick, clutching her around the neck, to the detriment of her lace-trimmed wrapper. "my sweetest, dearingest mamma is ever and always just right." "indeed, dick," said mrs. whitney earnestly, "the longer i live, i find that every day i have something to be sorry for in myself. but god, you know, is good," she whispered softly. dick was silent. "and then when papa goes," continued mrs. whitney, "why, then, my boy, it is very hard not to cry." here was something that the boy could grasp; and he seized it with avidity. "and you stop crying for us," he cried; "i know now why you always put on your prettiest gown, and play games with us the evening after papa goes. i know now." "here are three letters," cried the parson, hurrying in, and tossing them over to the boy. "and polly pepper has written to me, too." dick screamed with delight. "two for me; one from ben, and one from grandpapa!" "and mine is from phronsie," said mrs. whitney, seizing an epistle carefully printed in blue crayon. but although there were three letters from home, none of them carried the news of what was going on there. none of them breathed a syllable that cousin eunice chatterton was ill with a low fever, aggravated by nervous prostration; and that mrs. pepper and polly were having a pretty hard time of it. on the contrary, every bit of news was of the cheeriest nature; jasper tucked on a postscript to his father's letter, in which he gave the latest bulletin of his school life. and polly did the same thing to ben's letter. even phronsie went into a long detail concerning the new developments of a wonderful kitten she had left at home, to take her visit to badgertown, so the two recipients never missed the lack of information in regard to the household life, from which they were shut out. only once mrs. whitney said thoughtfully, as she folded her letter and slipped it back into its envelope, "they don't speak of mrs. chatterton. i presume she has changed her plans, and is going to remain longer at her nephew's." "i hope she'll live there always," declared dick, looking up savagely from ben's letter. "what an old guy she is, mamma!" "dick, dick," said his mother reprovingly, "she is our guest, you know." "not if she is at her nephew's," said dick triumphantly, turning back to his letter. polly at this identical minute was slowly ascending the stairs, a tray in one hand, the contents of which she was anxiously regarding on the way. "i do hope it is right now," she said, and presently knocked at mrs. chatterton's door. "come in," said that lady's voice fretfully. and "do close the door," before polly and her tray were well within. polly shut the door gently, and approached the bedside. "i am so faint i do not know that i can take any," said mrs. chatterton. whether it was her white cashmere dressing-robe, and her delicate lace cap that made her face against the pillows seem wan and white, polly did not know. but it struck her that she looked more ill than usual, and she said earnestly, "i am so sorry i wasn't quicker." "there is no call for an apology from you," said mrs. chatterton coldly. "set the tray down on the table, and get a basin of water; i need to be bathed." polly stood quite still, even forgetting to deposit the tray. "set the tray down, i told you," repeated mrs. chatterton sharply, "and then get the basin of water." "i will call hortense," said polly quietly, placing the tray as desired. "hortense has gone to the apothecary's," said mrs. chatterton, "and i will not have one of the other maids; they are too insufferable." and indeed polly knew that it would be small use to summon one of them, as martha, the most obliging, had airily tossed her head when asked to do some little service for the sick woman that very morning, declaring, "i will never lift another finger for that madame chatterton." "my neck aches, and my side, and my head," said mrs. chatterton irritably; "why do you not do as i bid you?" for one long instant, polly hesitated; then she turned to rush from the room, a flood of angry, bitter feelings surging through her heart, more at the insufferable tone and manner, than at what she was bidden to do. only turned; and she was back by the side of the bed, and looking down into the fretful, dictatorial old face. "i will bathe you, mrs. chatterton," she said gently; "i'll bring the water in a minute." xi poor polly! "you are very awkward, child," observed mrs. chatterton to polly on her knees, "and abrupt. move the sponge more slowly; there, that is better." polly shifted her position from one aching knee to another, set her lips closer together, and bent all her young energies to gentler effects. but mrs. chatterton cried out irritably: "have you never taken care of a sick person, pray tell, or is it all your back-country training that makes you so heavy-handed?" "i helped mother take care of phronsie when she had the measles, and ben and joel," said polly, "five years ago; we haven't been sick lately." "humph!" ejaculated mrs. chatterton, not very elegantly. but what was the use of a fine manner when there was nobody but a little back-country maiden to see it? "i shall have to endure it till hortense returns," she said with a sigh; "besides, it is my duty to give you something useful to do in this house. you should be thankful that i allow you to bathe me." polly's eyes flashed, and the hand holding the sponge trembled. nothing but the fear of troubling mamsie, and dear old mr. king whose forbearance was worn to the finest of threads, kept her at her post. "now get the violet water," said mrs. chatterton, with an air she would never have dared employ towards hortense; "it is the bottle in the lower left-hand corner of the case." polly got up from her knees, and stiffly stumbled across the room to the case of silver-mounted toilet articles: in her tumult bringing away the upper right-hand corner vial. "stupide!" exclaimed mrs. chatterton among her pillows. "go back, and do as i bid you, girl; the lower left-hand corner bottle!" without a word polly returned, and bringing the right vial set about its use as directed, in a rapidly growing dismay at the evil feelings surging through her, warning her it would not be safe to stay in the room much longer. "do you understand," presently began mrs. chatterton, fastening her cold blue eyes upon her, "what your position is in this house? everybody else appears to be blind and idiotic to the last degree; you seem to have a little quickness to catch an idea." as polly did not answer, the question was repeated very sharply: "do you understand what your position is in this house?" "yes," said polly, in a low voice, and dashing out the violet water with a reckless hand, "i do." "take care," impatiently cried mrs. chatterton. then she pushed her pillow into a better position, and returned to the charge. "what is it, pray, since you understand it so well?" "i understand that i am here in this house," said polly, quite cold and white, "because dear mr. king wants me to be here." "dear mr. king!" echoed mrs. chatterton, in shrill disdain. "stuff and nonsense," and she put her head back for an unpleasant cackle; it could hardly be called a laugh. "what an idiot the man is to have the wool pulled over his eyes in this fashion. i'll tell you, polly"--and she raised herself up on her elbow, the soft lace falling away from the white, and yet shapely arm. this member had been one of her strongest claims to beauty, and even in her rage, mrs. chatterton paused a second to glance complacently at it in its new position--"you are, when all is said about your dear mr. king, and your absurd assumption of equality with refined people who frequent this house, exactly the same underbred country girl as you were in your old brown house, goodness knows wherever that is." "i'm glad i am," declared polly. and she actually laughed merrily, while she squared her sturdy shoulders. nothing could be sweeter than to hear it said she was worthy of the dear little old brown house, and didn't disgrace mamsie's bringing up. the laugh was the last feather that overthrew mrs. chatterton's restraint. she was actually furious now that she, widow of algernon chatterton, who was own cousin to jasper horatio king, should be faced by such presumption, and her words put aside with girlish amusement. "and i'll tell you more," she went on, sitting quite erect now on the bed, "your mother thinks she is doing a fine thing to get all her family wormed in here in this style, but she'll"-polly pepper, the girlish gladness gone from heart and face, waited for no more. "our mother!" she cried stormily, unable to utter another word--"oh--oh!" her breath came in quick, short gasps, the hot indignant blood mounting to the brown waves of hair on her brow, while she clasped her hands so tightly together, the pain at any other time would have made her scream. mrs. chatterton, aghast at the effect of her words, leaned back once more against her pillows. "don't try to work up a scene," she endeavored to say carelessly. but she might as well have remonstrated with the north wind. the little country maiden had a temper as well as her own, and all the more for its long restraint, now on breaking bounds, it rushed at the one who had provoked it, utterly regardless that it was the great mrs. algernon chatterton. for two minutes, so breathlessly did polly hurl the stinging sentences at the figure on the bed, cousin eunice was obliged to let her have her own way. then as suddenly, the torrent ceased. polly grew quite white. "what have i done--oh! what have i done?" she cried, and rushed out of the room. "polly--polly!" called jasper's voice below. she knew he wanted her to try a new duet he had gone down town to purchase; but how could she play with such a storm in her heart? and, worse than all else, was the consciousness that she had spoken to one whose gray hairs should have made her forget the provocation received, words that now plunged her into a hot shame to recall. she flew over the stairs--up, away from every one's sight, to a long, dark lumber room, partially filled with trunks, and a few articles of furniture, prized as heirlooms, but no longer admissible in the family apartments. polly closed the door behind her, and sank down in the shadow of a packing box half filled with old pictures, in a distress that would not even let her think. she covered her face with her hands, too angry with herself to cry; too aghast at the mischief she had done, to even remember the dreadful words mrs. chatterton had said to her. "for of course, now she will complain to mamsie, and i'm really afraid mr. king will find it out; and it only needs a little thing to make him send her off. he said yesterday dr. valentine told him there was nothing really the matter with her--and--dear! i don't know what will happen." to poor polly, crouching there on the floor in the dim and dusty corner, it seemed as if her wretchedness held no hope. turn whichever way she might, the dreadful words she had uttered rang through her heart. they could not be unsaid; they were never to be forgotten but must always stay and rankle there. "oh--oh!" she moaned, clasping her knees with distressed little palms, and swaying back and forth, "why didn't i remember what mamsie has always told us--that no insult can do us harm if only we do not say or do anything in return. why--why couldn't i have remembered it?" how long she stayed there she never knew. but at last, realizing that every moment there was only making matters worse, she dragged herself up from the little heap on the floor, and trying to put a bit of cheerfulness into a face she knew must frighten mamsie, she went slowly out, and down the stairs. but no one looked long enough at her face to notice its change of expression. polly, the moment she turned towards the household life again, could feel that the air was charged with some intense excitement. hortense met her on the lower stairs; the maid was startled out of her usual nonchalance, and was actually in a hurry. "what is the matter?" cried polly. "oh! the madame is eel," said the maid; "the doctaire says it is not a lie dees time," and she swept past polly. polly clung to the stair-railing, her face whitening, and her gaze fastened upon mrs. chatterton's door, where hortense was now disappearing. inside, was a sound of voices, and that subdued stir that gives token of a sick room. "i have killed her!" cried polly's heart. for one wild moment she was impelled to flight; anywhere, she did not care where, to shake off by motion in the free air this paralysis of fear. but the next she started and, rushing down the stairs and into mr. king's room, cried out, "oh! dear grandpapa, will mrs. chatterton die?" "no, no, i think not," replied the old gentleman, surprised at her feeling. "cousin eunice never did show much self-control; but then, i don't believe this piece of bad news will kill her." "bad news?" gasped polly, hanging to the table where mr. king was writing letters. "oh, grandpapa! what do you mean?" "bless me! where have you been, polly pepper," said mr. king, settling his eyeglass to regard her closely, "not to hear the uproar in this house? yes, mrs. chatterton received a telegram a half-hour since that her nephew, the only one that she was very fond of among her relatives, was drowned at sea, and she has been perfectly prostrated by it, till she really is quite ill." polly waited to hear no more, but on the wings of the wind, flew out and up the stairs once more. "where have you been, polly?" cried jasper, coming out of a side passage in time to catch a dissolving view of her flying figure. "polly--polly!" and he took three steps to her one, and gained her side. "oh! don't stop me," begged polly, flying on, "don't, jasper." he took a good look at her face. "anything i can help you about?" he asked quickly. she suddenly stopped, her foot on the stair above. "oh, jasper!" she cried, with clasped hands, "you don't know--she may die, and i said horribly cruel things to her." "who--mrs. chatterton?" said the boy, opening his dark eyes; "why, you couldn't have said cruel things to her, polly. don't be foolish, child." he spoke as he would to phronsie's terror, and smiled into her face. but it did not reassure polly. "jasper, you don't know; you can't guess what dreadful things i said," cried poor overwhelmed polly, clasping her hands tightly together at the mere thought of the words she had uttered. "then she must have said dreadful things to you," said the boy. "she--but, oh, jasper! that doesn't make it any better for me," said polly. "don't stop me; i am going to see if they won't let me do something for her." "there are ever so many people up there now," said jasper. "your mother, and hortense, and two or three maids. what in the world could you do, polly? come down into the library, and tell us all about it." but polly broke away from him with an "oh! i must do something for her," speeding on until she softly worked her way into the sick room. mrs. pepper was busy with the doctor in the further part of the room, and polly stood quite still for a moment, wishing she were one of the maids, to whom a bit of active service was given. she could not longer endure her thoughts in silence, and gently going up to her mother's side, with a timorous glance at the bed, as she passed it, she begged, "mamsie, can't i do something for her?" mrs. pepper glanced up quickly. "no--yes, you can; take this prescription down to oakley's to be prepared." polly seized the bit of paper from dr. valentine's hand, and hurried out. again she glanced fearfully at the bed, but the curtain on that side was drawn so that only the outline of the figure could be seen. she was soon out on the street, the movement through the fresh air bringing back a little color to her cheek and courage to her heart. things did not seem quite so bad if she only might do something for the poor sick woman that could atone for the wretched work she had done; at least it would be some comfort if the invalid could be helped by her service. thus revolving everything in her mind, polly did not hear her name called, nor rapid footsteps hurrying after. "wait!" at last cried a voice; "o, dear me! what is the matter, polly?" alexia rhys drew herself up flushed and panting at polly's side. "i'm on the way to the apothecary's," said polly, without looking around. "so i should suppose," said alexia; "o, dear! i'm so hot and tired. do go a bit slower, polly." "i can't," said polly. "she's very sick, and i must get this just as soon as i can." she waved the prescription at her, and redoubled her speed. "who?" gasped alexia, stumbling after as best she could. "mrs. chatterton," said polly, a lump in her throat as she uttered the name. "o, dear me! that old thing," cried alexia, her enthusiasm over the errand gone. "hush!" said polly hoarsely; "she may die. she has had bad news." "what?" asked alexia; the uncomfortable walk might be enlivened by a bit of stray gossip; "what is it, polly? what news?" "a telegram," said polly. "her favorite nephew was drowned at sea." "oh! i didn't know she had any favorite nephew. doesn't she fight with everybody?" "do be quiet," begged polly. "no; that is, perhaps, other people are not kind to her." "oh!" said alexia, in a surprised voice. "well, i think she's perfectly and all-through-and-through horrid, so! don't race like this through the streets, polly. you'll get there soon enough." but polly turned a deaf ear, and at last the prescription was handed over the counter at oakley's, and after what seemed an endless time to polly, the medicine was given to her. "now as soon as you carry that thing home," observed alexia, glancing at the white parcel in polly's hand, "i hope you'll come with us girls. that's what i ran after you for." "what girls?" asked polly. "why, philena and the cornwalls; we are going to have a sleighing party to-night, and a supper at lilly drexell's. mrs. cornwall chaperones the thing." polly was surprised to feel her heart bound. it hadn't seemed as if it could ever be moved by any news of girlish frolics, but that its dull ache must go on forever. "oh! i can't," she cried the next moment. "i must stay at home, and help take care of mrs. chatterton." "nonsense!" exclaimed alexia in a provoked tone; "you are not wanted there, polly pepper; the idea, with that great house full of servants." "well, i shall not go," declared polly sharply; "you needn't ask me, alexia. i shall stay home till she gets well." "you little idiot!" cried alexia, thoroughly out of temper. but as this produced no effect on polly, she began to wheedle and coax. "now, polly, do be reasonable. you know we can't go without you; you wouldn't spoil the whole thing; you know you wouldn't. i shall just tell the cornwalls that you are coming," and she turned off to the corner of the avenue. "indeed you will not," called polly after her. "don't you dare do that, alexia rhys," she said, with flashing eyes. "you are the most uncomfortable girl i ever saw," cried alexia, stopping, to come slowly back. "you spoil every bit of fun with your absurd notions. i'm quite, quite put out with you, polly." "i'm sorry," said poor polly, fairly longing for the snow-revel, and dismayed at disappointing the girls. "no, you're not," pouted alexia, "and i shall tell them all so," and she broke away and ran off in the opposite direction. polly was met at the door by mrs. pepper, who grasped the packet of medicine quickly. "isn't there anything else i can do, mamsie?" begged polly. "no; sit down and rest; you're hot and tired, you've run so." "i'm not tired," said polly, not daring to ask "is she better?" "well, you must be," said mrs. pepper, hurrying off, "going all the way down to oakley's." so polly had nothing to do but to sit out in the hall, and listen and watch all the movements in the sick room, every one of which but increased her terror. at least she could bear it no longer, and as dr. valentine came out, putting on his gloves, she rushed after him. "oh! will she die?" she begged; "please do tell me, sir?" "die? no indeed, i hope not," said dr. valentine. "she has had a severe shock to her nerves and her age is against her, but she is coming around all right, i trust. why, polly, i thought better things of you, my girl." he glanced down into the distressed face with professional disfavor. "i'm so glad she won't die," breathed polly, wholly lost to his opinion of her; and her face gleamed with something of her old brightness. "i didn't know you were so fond of her," observed dr. valentine grimly; "indeed, to speak truthfully, i have yet to learn that anybody is fond of her, polly." "now if you really want to help her," he continued thoughtfully, pulling his beard, as polly did not answer, "i can give you one or two hints that might be of use." "oh! i do, i do," cried polly with eagerness. "it will be tiresome work," said dr. valentine, "but it will be a piece of real charity, and perhaps, polly, it's as well for you to begin now as to wait till you can belong to forty charity clubs, and spend your time going to committee meetings." and he laughed not altogether pleasantly. how was polly to know that mrs. valentine was immersed up to her ears in a philanthropic sea with the smallest possible thought for the doctor's home? "now that maid," said the physician, dropping his tone to a confidential one, "is as well as the average, but she's not the one who is to amuse the old lady. it's that she needs more than medicine, polly. she actually requires diversion." poor polly stood as if turned to stone. diversion! and she had thrown away all chance of that. "she is suffering for the companionship of some bright young nature," dr. valentine proceeded, attributing the dismay written all over the girl's face to natural unwillingness to do the service. "after she gets over this attack she needs to be read to for one thing; to be told the news; to be made to forget herself. but of course, polly," he said hastily, buttoning his top coat, and opening the outer door, "it's too much to ask of you; so think no more about it, child." xii new work for polly it was saturday morning, and polly ran upstairs with a bright face, the morning journal in her hand. "i'm going to stay with mrs. chatterton, hortense," she announced to that functionary in the dressing-room. "and a comfairte may it gif to you," said hortense, with a vicious shake of the silk wrapper in her hand, before hanging it in its place. "madame has the tres diablerie, cross as de two steeks, what you call it, dis morning." polly went softly into the room, closing the door gently after her. in the shadow of one corner of the large apartment, sat mrs. chatterton under many wrappings in the depths of an invalid's chair. polly went up to her side. "would you like to have me read the news, mrs. chatterton?" she asked gently. mrs. chatterton turned her head and looked at her. "no," she was about to say shortly, just as she had repulsed many little offers of polly's for the past few days; but somehow this morning the crackling of the fresh sheet in the girl's hand, suggestive of crisp bits of gossip, was too much for her to hear indifferently, especially as she was in a worse state of mind than usual over hortense and her bad temper. "you may sit down and read a little, if you like," she said ungraciously. so polly, happy as a queen at the permission, slipped into a convenient chair, and began at once. she happened fortunately on just the right things for the hungry ears; a description of a large church wedding, the day before; two or three bits about society people that mrs. chatterton had lost sight of, and a few other items just as acceptable. polly read on and on, from one thing to another, not daring to look up to see the effect, until at last everything in the way of gossip was exhausted. "is that all?" asked mrs. chatterton hungrily. polly, hunting the columns for anything, even a murder account if it was but in high life, turned the paper again disconsolately, obliged to confess it was. "well, do put it by, then," said mrs. chatterton sharply, "and not whirl it before my face; it gives me a frightful headache." "i might get the town talk" suggested polly, as a bright thought struck her. "it came yesterday. i saw it on the library table." "so it is saturday." mrs. chatterton looked up quickly. "yes, you may, polly," her mouth watering for the revel she would have in its contents. so polly ran over the stairs with delighted feet, and into the library, beginning to rummage over the papers and magazines on the reading table. "where is it?" she exclaimed, turning them with quick fingers. "o dear! it was right here last evening." "what is it?" asked phronsie, from the depths of a big arm-chair, and looking up from her book. then she saw as soon as she had asked the question that polly was in trouble, so she laid down her book, and slid out of the chair. "what is it, polly? let me help you, do." "why, the town talk--that hateful old society thing," said polly, throwing the papers to right and left. "you know, phronsie; it has a picture of a bottle of ink, and a big quill for a heading. o dear! do help me, child, for she will get nervous if i am gone long." "oh! i know where that is," said phronsie deliberately, laying a cool little hand on polly's hot one. "where?" demanded polly feverishly. "oh, phronsie! where?" "jack rutherford has it." polly threw down the papers, and started for the door. "he has gone," said phronsie; "he went home almost an hour ago." polly turned sharply at her. "what did he want town talk for?" "he said it was big, and he asked grandpapa if he might have it, and grandpapa said, yes. i don't know what he wanted it for," said phronsie. "and he took other newspapers, too, polly; oh! ever so many." "well, i don't care how many he took, nor what they were," cried polly, "only that very identical one. o dear me! well, i'll ask jasper." and rushing from the library, phronsie following in a small panic over polly's distress, she knocked at the door of jasper's den, a little room in the wing, looking out on the east lawn. "oh! i am so glad you are here," she exclaimed as "come in!" greeted her, and both phronsie and she precipitated themselves with no show of ceremony, in front of his study table. "o jasper! could you get me a copy of "town talk?" jack rutherford has gone off with ours." "town talk!" repeated jasper, raising his head from his hands to stare at her. "yes; jack has taken ours off; grandpapa gave it to him. can you, jasper? will it break up your study much?" she poured out anxiously. "no--that is--never mind," said jasper, pushing the book away and springing from his chair. "but whatever in the world do you want that trash for?" he turned, and looked at her curiously. "mrs. chatterton will let me read it to her; she said so," cried polly, clasping her hands nervously, "but if i don't get the paper soon, why, i'm afraid she'll change her mind." jasper gave a low whistle as he flung himself into his coat. "inestimable privilege!" he exclaimed at last, tossing on his cap. "oh, jasper! you are so good," cried polly in a small rapture. "i'm so sorry to have to ask you." "i'll go for you, jasper," declared phronsie; "mamsie will let me; i almost know she will." "no, no, phronsie," said jasper, as she was flying off; "it isn't any place for you to go to. i shall get one at the hotel--the allibone. i'll be back in a trice, polly." polly went out, and sat down in one of the big oaken chairs in the hall to seize it as it came, and phronsie deposited herself in an opposite chair, and watched polly. and presently in came jasper, waving the desired journal. polly, with a beaming face, grasped it and rushed off upstairs. "polly," called the boy, looking after her, "it isn't too late now for you to go with them. lucy bennett met me at the corner and she said they will take the twelve o'clock train, instead of the eleven, and she wanted me to beg you to come." "no, no," tossed back polly, rushing on, "i am quite determined to stay at home." then she went into mrs. chatterton's room, and closed the door. but she couldn't so easily shut out the longings that would rise in her heart for the saturday outing that the other girls were to have. how lovely it would be! the run out to silvia horne's charming house some ten miles distant; the elegant luncheon they would have, followed by games, and a dance in the ball-room upstairs, that silvia's older sisters used for their beautiful parties. then the merry return before dusk, of the twelve girls, all capital friends at school! oh--oh! "you've been an unconscionable time," exclaimed mrs. chatterton in a sharp, high key, "just to get a paper. well, do sit down; i am quite tired waiting for you." polly sat down, and resolutely plunged into the column where the news items promised the most plentiful yield but in between the lines ran the doings of the girls: how they were all assembling by this time at lucy bennett's; how they were hurrying off to the train, and all the other delightful movements of the "outing" flashed before her eyes, as she finished item after item of her dreary task. but how mrs. chatterton gloated over it! at last polly, feeling as if she could not endure another five minutes of it, glanced up to see the old lady's eyes actually sparkling; her mouth had fallen into contented curves, and the jeweled hand resting on the chair-arm was playing with the fringe, while she leaned forward that she might not lose a word. "read that again, polly," she said, "the list of presents exhibited at arabella granger's wedding. i didn't hear any mention of the archibalds. it can't be that they have fallen out; and read more slowly." so polly began once more the long lists of gifts that ushered in the matrimonial happiness of mrs. john westover nee miss arabella granger; this time, however, stimulated by the pleasure she was giving, to find it an endurable task. it seemed to polly as if mrs. john westover had everything on earth given to her that could possibly be presented at a wedding; nevertheless the list was gone through again bravely, polly retracing her steps two or three times to read the items over for her listener's slow digestion. "the archibalds are not mentioned, either as being there or sending a gift, nor the harlands, nor the smythes, so i am very glad i didn't remember her," said mrs. chatterton, drawing herself up with a relieved sigh. "those presents sound fine on paper, but it isn't as well as she might have done if she had made a different match. now something else, polly," and she dismissed mrs. westover with a careless wave of her hand. polly flew off into the fashion hints, and was immediately lost in the whirl of coming toilets. no one noticed when the door opened, so of course no one saw mrs. whitney standing smiling behind the old lady's big chair. "well, polly," said a pleasant voice suddenly. down went town talk to the floor as polly sprang up with a glad cry, and mrs. chatterton turned around nervously. "oh, auntie--auntie!" cried polly, convulsively clinging to her, "are you really here, and is dicky home?" "dear child," said mrs. whitney, as much a girl for the moment as polly herself. and pressing kisses on the red lips, while she folded her close--"yes, dick is at home. there, go and find him; he is in mrs. pepper's room." "i am glad to see you so much better, mrs. chatterton," said mrs. whitney, leaning over the invalid's chair to lay the tenderest of palms on the hand resting on the chair-arm. "oh, yes, marian; i am better," said mrs. chatterton, looking around for polly, then down at the delicious town talk carelessly thrown on the floor. "will you send her back as soon as possible?" she asked with her old imperativeness. "who--polly?" said mrs. whitney, following the glance. "why, she has gone to see dick, you know. now, why cannot i read a bit?" and she picked up the paper. "you don't know what has been read," said mrs. chatterton as mrs. whitney drew up a chair and sat down, running her eye in a practiced way over the front page. "dear me, it makes me quite nervous, marian, to see you prowling around all over the sheet that way." "oh! i shall find something interesting quite soon, i fancy," said mrs. whitney cheerfully, her heart on her boy and the jolly home-coming he was having. "here is the washington news; i mean all about the receptions and teas." "she has read that," said mrs. chatterton. "now for the fashion department." mrs. whitney whirled the paper over dexterously. "do you know, mrs. chatterton, gray stuffs are to be worn more than ever this spring?" "i don't care about that," said mrs. chatterton quickly, "and besides, quite likely there'll be a complete revolution before spring really sets in, and gray stuffs will go out. find some description of tea gowns, can't you? i must have one or two more." "and here are some wonderfully pretty caps, if they are all like the descriptions," said mrs. whitney, unluckily dropping on another paragraph. "caps! who wants to hear about them?" cried mrs. chatterton in a dudgeon. "i hope i'm not at the cap period yet." "oh! those lovely little lace arrangements," said mrs. whitney hastily; "don't you know how exquisite they are at pinaud's?" she cried. "i'm sure i never noticed," said mrs. chatterton indifferently. "hortense always arranges my hair better without lace. if you can't find what i ask you, marian," raising her voice to a higher key, "you needn't trouble to read at all." fortunately the description of the gown worn by lady hartly cavendish at a london high tea, stood out in bold relief, as mrs. whitney's eyes nervously ran over the columns again, and she seized upon it. but in just two moments she was interrupted. "send that girl back again, marian," cried mrs. chatterton. "i had just got her trained so that she suits me. it tires me to death to hear you." "i do not know whether polly can come now," said mrs. whitney gently; "she"-"do not know whether polly can come!" repeated mrs. chatterton sharply, and leaning forward in her chair. "didn't i say i wanted her?" "you did." marian's tone did not lose a note of its ordinary gentleness. "but i shall ask her if she is willing to do it as a favor, mrs. chatterton; you quite understand that, of course?" she, too, leaned forward in her chair, and gazed into the cold, hard face. "just like your father," cried mrs. chatterton, settling herself irascibly back in the chair-depths again. "there is no hope that affairs in this house will mend. i wash my hands of you." "i am so glad that you consider me like my father," said mrs. whitney gleefully as a child. "we surely are united on this question." "may i read some more?" cried polly, coming in softly, and trying to calm the impetuous rush of delight as her eyes met mrs. whitney's. "yes; i am waiting for you," said mrs. chatterton. "begin where you left off." mrs. whitney bit her pretty lips and slipped out of her chair, just pausing a moment to lay her hand on the young shoulder as she passed, and a world of comfort fell upon polly, shut in once more to her dreary task. "how perfectly splendid that i didn't go to silvia home's luncheon party now!" cried polly's heart over and over between the lines. "if i had, i should have missed dear auntie's home-coming, and dicky's." she glanced up with luminous eyes as she whirled the sheet. mrs. chatterton, astonishing as it may seem, was actually smiling. "it's some comfort to hear you read," she observed with a sigh of enjoyment, "because you enjoy it yourself. i wouldn't give a fig for anybody to try to do it." polly felt like a guilty little thing to take this quietly, and she eased her conscience by being more glad that she was in that very room doing that very task. and so the moments sped on. outside, dick was holding high revel as every one revolved around him, the hero of the coasting accident, till the boy ran considerable danger from all the attention he was receiving. but one glance and a smile from mrs. whitney brought him back to himself. "don't talk any more about it," he cried a trifle impatiently. "i was a muff to stick on, when i knew we were going over. mamma, won't you stop them?" and she did. "do you know, dicky and i have a secret to tell all of you good people." the color flew into her soft cheek, and her eyes beamed. "really, marian," said her father, whose hand had scarcely ceased patting dick's brown head since the boy's home-coming, "you've grown young in badgertown. i never saw you look so well as you do to-day." mrs. whitney laughed and tossed him a gay little smile, that carried him back to the days when marian king stood before him looking just so. "now listen, father, and all you good people, to my secret--dicky's and mine; we are allowed to tell it now. papa whitney sailed in the servia, and he ought to be in to-day!" a shout of joy greeted her announcement. polly, off in her prison, could hear the merry sounds, and her happy heart echoed them. the misery of the past week, when she had been bearing an unatoned fault, seemed to drop away from her as she listened, and to say, "life holds sunshine yet." then a hush dropped upon the gay uproar. she did not know that dicky was proclaiming "yes, and he is never, never going back again. that is, unless he takes mamma and me, you know." mrs. chatterton turned suddenly upon the young figure. "do go!" she tossed an imperative command with her jeweled fingers. "you have ceased to be amusing since your interest is all in the other room with that boy." polly dashed the newspaper to the floor, and rushing impulsively across the room, threw herself, with no thought for the consequences, on her knees at mrs. chatterton's chair. "oh--oh!" she cried, the color flying up to the brown waves on her temples, "don't send me off; then i shall know you never will forgive me." "get up, do!" exclaimed mrs. chatterton, in disgust; "you are crushing my gown, and besides i hate scenes." but polly held resolutely to the chair-arm, and never took her brown eyes from the cold face. "i must say, polly pepper," cried mrs. chatterton with rising anger, "you are the most disagreeable girl that i ever had the misfortune to meet. i, for one, will not put up with your constant ebullitions of temper. go out of this room!" polly rose slowly and drew herself up with something so new in face and manner that the old lady instinctively put up her eyeglass and gazed curiously through it, as one would look at a strange animal. "humph!" she said slowly at last, "well, what do you want to say? speak out, and then go." "nothing," said polly in a low voice, but quite distinctly, "only i shall not trouble you again, mrs. chatterton." and as the last words were spoken, she was out of the room. "pretty doings these!" mr. king, by a dexterous movement, succeeded in slipping back of the portiere folds into the little writing-room, as polly rushed out through the other doorway into the hall. "a fortunate thing it was that i left dick, to see what had become of polly. now, cousin eunice, you move from my house!" and descending the stairs, he called determinedly, "polly, polly, child!" polly, off in her own room now, heard him, and for the first time in her life, wished she need not answer. "polly--polly!" the determined call rang down the passage, causing her to run fast with a "yes, grandpapa, i'm coming." "now, i should just like to inquire," began mr. king, taking her by her two young shoulders and looking down into the flushed face, "what she has been saying to you." "oh, grandpapa!" down went polly's brown head, "don't make me tell. please don't, grandpapa." "i shall!" declared mr. king; "every blessed word. now begin!" "she--she wanted me to go out of the room," said polly, in a reluctant gasp. "indeed!" snorted mr. king. "well, she will soon go out of that room. indeed, i might say, out of the house." "oh, grandpapa!" exclaimed polly, in great distress, and raising the brown eyes--he was dismayed to find them filling with tears--"don't, don't send her away! it is all my fault; indeed it is, grandpapa!" "your fault," cried mr. king irately; "you must not say such things, child; that's silly; you don't know the woman." "grandpapa," cried polly, holding back the storm of tears to get the words out, "i never told you--i couldn't--but i said perfectly dreadful words to her a week ago. oh, grandpapa! i did, truly." "that's right," said the old gentleman in a pleased tone. "what were they, pray tell? let us know." "oh, grandpapa, don't!" begged polly, with a shiver; "i want to forget them." "if you would only follow them up with more," said mr. king meditatively; "when it comes to tears, she must march, you know." "i won't cry," said polly, swallowing the lump in her throat, "if you will only let her stay." she turned to him such a distressed and white face that mr. king stood perplexedly looking down at her, having nothing to say. "i'm tired of her," at last he said; "we are all tired of her; she has about worn us out." "grandpapa," cried polly, seeing her advantage in his hesitation, "if you will only let her stay, i will never beg you for anything again." "well, then she goes," cried mr. king shortly. "goodness me, polly, if you are going to stop asking favors, cousin eunice marches instanter!" "oh! i'll beg and tease for ever so many things," cried polly radiantly, her color coming back. "will you let her stay, grandpapa--will you?" she clasped his arm tightly and would not let him go. "well," said mr. king slowly, "i'll think about it, polly." "will you?" cried polly. "dear grandpapa, please say yes." mr. king drew a long breath. "yes," he said at last. xiii a piece of news "collect the whole bunch of peppers and send them into my writing-room, marian." old mr. king mounting the stairs, turned to see that his command was heard. "you want mother pepper too, i presume?" said mrs. whitney, pausing at the foot. "mother pepper? no, indeed; the last person in the world i wish to see," cried her father irritably. "the bunch of pepper children, i want, and at once; see that they all report to me directly." with that he redoubled his efforts and was soon at the top of the long oaken steps. polly and ben closely followed by joel, david and phronsie soon rushed over the same ascending thoroughfare, and presented themselves, flushed and panting, at the writing-room door. "come in," called mr. king from within. "here we are, sir," said ben, spokesman by virtue of being the eldest. "yes, yes," said mr. king nervously, and turning away from some papers he was fumbling to occupy the waiting moments. "well, do sit down, all of you. i sent for you to have a talk about something that you--that you--well, do sit down." so all the peppers deposited themselves in various resting-places; all but joel. he immediately marched up to the old gentleman's chair. "if it's good news," he said abruptly, "please let us have it right this minute. but if it's bad, why," a gathering alarm stole over his chubby countenance, as he scanned the face before him, "i'm going out-doors." "it's good or bad news according as you take it," said the old gentleman. "it ought to be good. but there," pushing back his chair to look at the row of anxious figures the other side of the table, "do sit down with the rest, joe, and stop staring me out of countenance." polly at that, pushed a chair over toward joel, who persuading himself into it, sat uncomfortably perched on its edge, where he stared harder than ever. "hum! well, children, now you are all remarkably sensible boys and girls. remarkably sensible. i've always said so, and i see no reason to change my opinion of you now. and so, although at first my news may not be quite to your liking, why, you'll quickly make it so, and be very happy about it in the end. hem! well, did you ever think that--that your mother might possibly marry again?" the last words were brought out so abruptly, that to the five pairs of ears strained to catch their import, it seemed as if the news had shot by harmlessly. but after a breathing space the dreadful "marry," and "your mother," came back to them, bringing the several owners of the ears out of their chairs at one bound. "our mother!" ben hoarsely exclaimed. "oh! how can you?" cried polly passionately, a little white line showing around her mouth, "say such perfectly dreadful things, sir!" phronsie clasped her hands in silent terror, and raised big eyes to his face. david began to walk helplessly down the apartment. "see here!" said joel, turning to the others, "wait a minute, and hold on. perhaps it's you, sir," whirling back to question, with piercing eyes, the old gentleman, "who's going to marry our mother. then it's all right!" "me!" roared the old gentleman. "oh! bless my soul, what should i want to marry for at my time of life? oh! my goodness me." his distress was now so frightful to see, that it brought the peppers in a measure out of theirs; and they began at once to endeavor to soothe him. "don't--oh! don't," they cried, and a common trouble overwhelming them, they rushed around the table, seized his hands, and patted his shoulders and hair. "oh! this is very dreadful," gasped polly, "but don't you feel badly, dear, dear grandpapa." "i should think it was," said mr. king. "phronsie, here, child, get into my lap. i'll come to myself then. there, now, that's something like," as phronsie, with a low cry, hopped into her usual nest. "now perhaps i can communicate the rest of my news, when i get my breath." the peppers held theirs, and he began once more. "now, children, it isn't in the course of nature for such a fine bright woman as your mother to remain single the rest of her life; somebody would be sure to come and carry her off. i'm glad it's to be in my lifetime, for now i can be easy in my mind, and feel that you have a protector when i am gone. there, there, we won't talk about that," as the young faces turned dark with sudden pain, while joel rushed convulsively to the window, "you can see how i feel about it." "are you glad?" cried ben hoarsely. polly for her life could not speak. the whole world seemed turning round, and sinking beneath her feet. "yes, i am," said the old gentleman, "and it won't alter the existing state of things, for he will live here with us, and things will be just the same, if only you children will take it rightly. but i've no doubt you will in the end; no doubt at all," he added, brightening up, "for you are very sensible young people. i've always said so." "who is he?" the dreadful question trembled on all the lips; but no one asked it. seeing this, mr. king broke out, "well, now of course you want to know who is going to marry your mother, that is, if you are willing. for she won't have him unless you are to be happy about it. would you like dr. fisher for a father?" joel broke away from the window with a howl, while polly tumultuously threw herself within the kind arms encircling phronsie. "next to you," cried the boy, "why, he's a brick, dr. fisher is!" "why didn't you tell us before that it was he?" sobbed polly, with joyful tears running over her face. davie, coming out of his gloomy walk, turned a happy face towards the old man's chair, while ben said something to himself that sounded like "thank god!" phronsie alone remained unmoved. "what is dr. fisher going to do?" she asked presently, amid the chatter that now broke forth. "he's going to live here," said old mr. king, looking down at her, and smoothing her yellow hair. "won't that be nice, phronsie?" "yes," said phronsie, "it will. and he'll bring his funny old gig, won't he, and ill drive sometimes, i suppose?" she added with great satisfaction. "yes; you will," said the old gentleman, winking furiously to keep back the excited flow of information that now threatened the child. "well, phronsie, you love dr. fisher, don't you?" "yes, i do," said the child, folding her hands in her lap, "love him very much indeed." "well, he's going to be your father," communicated mr. king, cautiously watching her face at each syllable. "oh, no!" cried phronsie, "he couldn't be; he's dr. fisher." she laughed softly at the idea. "why, grandpapa, he couldn't be my father." "listen, phronsie," and mr. king took both her hands in his, "and i'll tell you about it so that you will understand. dr. fisher loves your mother; he has loved her for many years--all those years when she was struggling on in the little brown house. but he couldn't tell her so, because he had others depending on him for support. they don't need him now, and as soon as he is free, he comes and tells your mother and me, like a noble good man as he is, all about it. he's a gentleman, children," he declared, turning to the others, "and you will be glad to call him father." "i don't know what you mean," said phronsie, with puzzled eyes. "dear grandpapa, please tell me." "why, he is going to marry your mother, child, and we are all to live here together just the same, and everything is going to be just as happy as possible." phronsie gave a sharp and sudden cry of distress. "but mamsie, my mamsie will be gone!" and then she hid her face in the old gentleman's breast. "o dear, dear! get a glass of water, polly," cried mr. king. "one of you run and open the window. phronsie, phronsie--there, child, look up and let me tell you." but phronsie burrowed yet deeper in the protecting nest, regardless of his spotless linen. "polly, speak to her," he cried in despair; "where is she? gone for the water? o dear! here, ben, you try. dear, dear, what a blunderer i am." "phronsie," said ben, leaning over the shaking figure, "you are making grandpapa sick." up came phronsie's yellow head. "oh, grandpapa!" she wailed, putting out an unsteady little hand, "i didn't mean to, dear grandpapa, only--only mamsie will be gone now." "bless your heart, you'll have mamsie more than ever," cried mr. king heartily. "here, you children, tell her. polly, we don't want the water now, she's come to," as polly came rushing in with a glassful. "make her understand; i can't." so polly, setting down her glass, the others crowding around, took up the task of making the piece of news as delightful as possible, and presently phronsie came out of her despair, to ask questions. "are you really and truly very glad, polly?" she asked. "really and truly i am so glad i don't know what to do," said polly, kneeling down by the chair-side. "don't you see we are so much the richer, phronsie? we have lost nothing, and we gain dr. fisher. dear splendid dr. fisher!" "you've always wanted to repay dr. fisher for his kindness," said mr. king, "and now's your chance, polly." "i guess he'll get his pay back for his stove," cried joel in a burst; "polly will wait on him, and kill herself doing things for him." "and for your new eyes," sang phronsie in a pleased way. "oh, polly!" she jumped out of the old gentleman's lap, and began to dance around the room, softly clapping her hands and exclaiming, "oh, polly!" "well, now, children," said mr. king, as the excitement ran low, "you just run and tell your mother, every one of you, how happy she will make you by bringing dr. fisher here as your father. scamper, now!" no need to urge them. on the wings of the wind ran the five peppers up into mamsie's own room. mrs. pepper for once turning aside from the claim of her pressing duties, was standing by the work table. here stood the mending basket before her, piled to the brim with the weekly installment of stockings big and little, clamoring for attention. but the usually busy needle lay idle, and the busier hands were folded, as the mother-heart went over the words she knew were being rehearsed downstairs by the kind friend who had made a home for them. he was pleading her cause with her children. "they shall be happy, anyway," she said softly to herself, "bless their hearts!" as they burst in. "mother," said ben--how the boy's cheek glowed! and what a world of joy rang in the usually quiet tones!--"we want to thank you for giving us dr. fisher for a father." "mamsie," polly hid her happy face on the dear neck, "i've always loved him, you know; oh! i'm so glad." joel whooped out something incoherent, but his face told the words, while davie clasped one of the firm, closely folded hands. "if you'll take me in your lap as much as ever," said phronsie deliberately, and patting the other hand, "why i shall be really and truly glad, mamsie." "bless your dear heart!" cried mother pepper, clasping her tightly, "and you children, all of you," and she drew them all within her arms. "now i want you to understand, once for all, that it isn't to be unless you all wish it. you are sure mr. king hasn't persuaded you to like it?" "look at us," cried ben, throwing back his head to see her eyes. "do we act as if we had been talked over?" at that, polly burst into a merry laugh; and the others joining, mother pepper laughing as heartily as the rest, the big room became the jolliest place imaginable. "no, i don't really think you do," said mrs. pepper, wiping her eyes. "dear me!" cried jasper, putting his head in the doorway, "what good fun is going on? i'm not going to be left out." "come in, jasper," they all called. "and we've a piece of news that will make your hair stand on end," said joel gaily. "joe, don't announce it so," cried polly in dismay, who dearly enjoyed being elegant. "ben must tell it; he is the oldest." "no, no; let polly," protested ben. "polly shall," said jasper, hurrying in to stand the picture of patience before the group. "hurry, do, for i must say my curiosity is hard to keep within bounds." so polly was gently pushed into the center of the circle. "go on," said joel, "and hurry up, or i shall tell myself." "jasper," said polly, her breath coming fast, "oh! you can't think; we are so glad"--but she got no further, for phronsie, rushing out of mother pepper's arms, piped out suddenly: "dr. fisher is coming here to live always and forever, and i'm going to ride in his gig, and mamsie likes him, and i'm going to call him father; now, jasper, i told you!" "i should think you did," exclaimed ben. "whew!" cried jasper, "that is a piece of news all in one breath. well, mrs. pepper, i'm glad of it, too. i congratulate you." with that, he marched up to her, phronsie hanging to his arm, and shook her hand heartily. and in two days everybody in the king set knew that the mother of the five little peppers was going to be married. "i should think you'd want to be condoled with, ben," said pickering dodge, clapping him on the shoulder as he rushed down the aisle of the store occupied by cabot & van meter. "halloo!" said ben, "can't stop," rushing past. "i suppose not," said pickering carelessly, and striding after, "so i'll whisper my gentle congratulations in your ear 'on the wing.' but i'm awfully sorry for you, ben," he added, as he came up to him. "you needn't be," said ben brightly, "we are all as glad as can be." "sweet innocent, you don't know a stepfather," said pickering lugubriously. "i know dr. fisher," said ben, "that's enough." "well, when you want comfort, come to me," said pickering, "or your uncle!" "don't you fill ben's ears with your foolishness," said the senior partner, coming out of the counting-room. "take yourself off, pickering; you're hindering ben." pickering laughed. "i'm caught in the very act. now, ben, remember i'm your friend when you get into trouble with your dear pa. good-by, uncle," with a bright nod, and a lazy shake of his long figure. "trade always demoralizes me. i'll get back to my books," and he vanished as quickly as he came. "back to your books," said his uncle grimly, "hum, i wish you would. see here, ben," he put a controlling hand on the boy's shoulder, "one word with you," marching him into the private office of the firm. "don't you follow pickering too closely, my boy," he said abruptly; "he's a good lad in the main, but if he is my nephew, i must give you warning. he's losing ground." ben lifted his head in sudden alarm. "oh! i hope not, sir," he said. "it's a fact. master nelson says he could be first scholar in the grammar, but for the last six months he's failed steadily. there's no particular reason, only ambition's gone. and when you say that, you mean there's a general collapse of all my hopes concerning him." "oh! no, sir," ben kept on protesting, his ruddy cheek losing its color. "he'll take hold by and by and give a pull at his books again." "it isn't a pull now and then that gets a man up hill," observed mr. cabot, leaning back in his revolving chair to look into the blue eyes, "that you know as well as i. now, ben, i'm not going to see you throw away your prospects, too. don't let him influence you in the wrong way. he's bright and attractive, but don't pay attention to his ridicule of good things." "i've a mother," said ben proudly, "and i don't believe any boy could say much to me, that i'd think of twice, if she didn't like it." "you always tell her everything, do you, ben?" asked mr. cabot with a curious glance. "i should think so, sir," said ben, with a short laugh. "you'll do, then," said mr. cabot, bringing his palm down on a pile of unread letters awaiting him. "go ahead. i don't promise anything, but i will say this. if you work on as you have done these two years since you came in here as errand boy, ben, i'll make you a power in the house. understand i don't expect you to do brilliant things; that isn't in your line. you will be a success only as a steady, faithful worker. but keep at it, and hang on to cabot & van meter, and we'll hang on to you." xiv mamsie's wedding "polly," said dr. fisher, coming suddenly out of a corner of the library as she ran around the portiere folds, "you are sure you are willing--are willing it should go on?" the little man peered at her anxiously through his big glasses, and he looked so exactly as he did on that morning so long ago when polly's eyes were at their worst, that she could do nothing but gaze speechlessly into his face. "i see you don't consider it quite best, child," said the little doctor brokenly, "but you are trying with your good heart, to make it so. don't be afraid; it is not too late to end it all." "i was thinking," cried polly with a gasp, "how good you were to me, when you saved my eyes, and how you kept joel from dying of the measles. oh! i couldn't speak--but i love you so." she threw her young arms around him. "papa fisher--for you are almost my father now--i am the very, very happiest girl because you are going to live here, and now i can show you just how much i really and truly love you." the little man beamed at her. then he took off his spectacles, wiped them, and clapped them into place again. "you see, polly," he said deliberately, "it was impossible to see your mother and not love her. she has had--well, there, child, i cannot bear to talk about it," and he walked to the window, blew his nose violently on an immense pocket-handkerchief, leaving the words poised in mid-air. "it was the greatest trial of my life that i couldn't show her then when she was struggling so bravely to keep the wolf from the door, how i felt. but my hands were tied, child," he added, coming back, his usual self again. "now i can make her, she says, happy, that is, if you children like it. just think, polly, she said happy! it's stupendous, but she said so, polly, she really did!" he folded his hands and looked at her in astonishment, behind which shone an intense gratification, that lighted up his plain little face till he seemed to grow younger every instant. "indeed she did!" repeated polly like a bird, and laughing merrily. "oh, papa fisher! you ought to hear mamsie sing. she doesn't know i'm hearing her, but she sings at her work now." "does she?" cried the doctor radiantly. "well, polly, we must see that she sings every day, after this." "yes, let us," cried polly, clasping his hand; "we will." "and," proceeded the doctor, "after the wedding is over--i it really dread the wedding, polly--but after that is over, i do believe we shall all be comfortable together!" polly gave a little cry of delight. then she said, "you needn't dread the wedding one bit, papa fisher. there will be only the people that we love, and who love us--grandpapa promised that." "but that will make it very big," said dr. fisher, with round eyes and a small shiver he could not suppress. "oh, no!" said polly cheerily, "sixty-five friends; that's all we are going to ask; mamsie and i made out the list last night." "sixty-five people!" exclaimed dr. fisher in dismay. "oh! isn't is possible to be married without sixty-five friends to stare at you?" "oh! that's not many," said polly; "sixty-five is the very smallest number that we could manage. we've been over the list ever so many times, and struck out quantities of names. you see, everybody loves mamsie, and they'll want to see her married." "i know--i know," assented the doctor, "but that makes one hundred and thirty eyes. did you ever think of that, polly?" polly burst into such a laugh that jasper popped in, and after him, phronsie, and a general hilarity now reigning, the dreaded wedding preparations soon sank away from the doctor's perturbed vision. but they went on merrily nevertheless. all over the old stone mansion there were hints of the on-coming festivities; and though all signs of it were tucked away from the little doctor on his occasional visits, the smothered excitement flamed afresh immediately his departure became an assured thing. everybody had the wildest plans for the occasion; it appearing impossible to do enough for the one who had stood at the helm for five long years, and who was to be reigning housekeeper for as much longer as her services were needed. and dr. fisher never knew how perilously near he had been to the verge of brilliant evening festivities, in the midst of which he was to be ushered into matrimony. for polly had suddenly waked one morning, to find herself, not "famous," but alive with the sense of being--as her mother had so often expressed it--"mamsie's little right-hand woman." "it will be much better to have everything plain," said polly, communing with herself, as she turned on her pillow. "mamsie has always been without show, of any kind, and so," but here polly's heart stood still. dearly she loved the bright, conspicuous accompaniments to the wedding whereby mr. king was determined to show his respect for the family under his care. and her soul secretly longed for the five hundred guests named on a list of the old gentleman's drawing up. and the feast and the lights, and the pretty dresses, and the dancing party for the young people to follow. for mr. king had announced himself as about to usher in the brightest of days for the young peppers to remember. "besides it brings our new physician into notice," he would answer when any faint protest was made. "and we shall all have reason to be immensely proud of him, i tell you!" "oh, dear!" cried polly, burrowing deeper within the pillow folds, "why aren't pleasant things best to do? why, i wonder!" cherry, twittering in the window, chirped something vague and unsatisfactory. polly brought up her brown head suddenly and laughed. "nonsense! our happiness doesn't depend upon a lot of people coming together to help it along. mamsie's face, whenever grandpapa plans all this magnificence, is enough to make me feel wretched at the thought of it. dear mamsie! she's afraid of ingratitude if she doesn't try to like it. she shall have the little morning wedding with a few people around, and the gray silk gown instead of the lavender one grandpapa wants her to wear, for mamsie always knows just what is right." with that, polly sprang out of bed, and rushed at her toilet, and after breakfast she quietly captured mr. king on the edge of some other extravagant plan, and led him into the library. "everything is going on finely, polly," he cried in elation. "ring for thomas, child; stay, i'll do it myself. i shall go in an hour to give my orders for the wedding supper." "grandpapa," cried polly, turning quite pale, and laying a quick, detaining hand on his arm, "oh! do wait, dear grandpapa, i have something to say." "well, child," but he still retained his hand on the cord. "oh, grandpapa!" how could she say it! but she must. "mamsie will be ever so much happier if the wedding might be a quiet one. she really would, grandpapa." "no doubt mrs. pepper finds it a little hard to adjust her ideas to the large affair," said the old gentleman, considerably disturbed, and by no means relinquishing the bell-cord, "but it is due to you children to have a bright time, and i must see that you all have it. that is my affair," and this time the cord was pulled, and the bell rang a loud, insistent message. polly stood still in despair. "grandpapa," she said distinctly, finding it hard to proceed, with his face before her, "we children do not want the large party; that is i do not." it was all out at last. "stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed mr. king sharply, for his surprise was too great to allow of composure, "who has been putting this idea into your head? your mother couldn't have done it, for she promised it should all be as you young people wanted." "mamsie never said a word," cried polly, recovering herself as she saw a chance to make things right for mother pepper; "it all came to me, grandpapa, all alone by myself. oh! i hate the big display!" she declared with sudden vehemence, astonishing herself with the repulsion that now seized her. "hoity toity!" exclaimed mr. king, "it's not quite the thing, polly, my child, to express yourself so decidedly, considering your years." "grandpapa," cried polly, with a sudden rush of tears, "forgive me, do; i did not mean to be so naughty. i did not, dear grandpapa." she looked like phronsie now, and the old gentleman's heart melted. "but i am quite sure that none of us children would be a bit happy not to have it as mamsie would like." "well, but i am not sure that the others wouldn't like it," said mr. king persistently. "ben wouldn't," said polly triumphantly, "i know, for he all along shrank from the big party." "oh! well, ben, i suppose, would object somewhat," conceded the old gentleman slowly. "and davie," cried polly eagerly; "oh, grandpapa! david would much prefer the morning wedding and the plain things." "but how about joel and phronsie?" interrupted mr. king, utterly ignoring davie's claims to be heard. "ah! polly, my dear, until you tell me that they will prefer to give up the fine party, you mustn't expect me to pay any attention to what you say. it's due to phronsie that your mother's wedding is a thing worthy to remember as a fine affair." "perhaps joel and phronsie will think as we do," said polly. but her heart said no. "all right if they do," said mr. king easily, "but unless you come and tell me it is their own choice, why, i shall just go on with my plans as mapped out," he added obstinately. "thomas," as that functionary appeared in the doorway, "take the letters to the post at once; you will find them on my writing table." "all right, sir." "i'll give you till to-morrow to find out," said mr. king. "now come and kiss me, polly dear. you'll see it's all right after it's over, and be glad i had the sense to keep my mind about it." polly put up her lips obediently. but it was a sad little kiss that was set upon his mouth, and it left him feeling like a criminal. and running out, she met her difficult task without a moment of preparation. "halloo, polly!" whooped joel, rushing around an angle in the hall, "grandpapa promised me that i might go out with him, to give the supper orders, and all that kind of nonsense." polly's heart stood still. "joel," she began, seizing his jacket with trembling fingers, "come up into my room a minute." "what's up?" cried joel with curiosity; "some more mysteries? there's nothing but whisperings, and secrets, and no end of jolly understandings, ever since mamsie commenced to marry dr. fisher. go ahead, i'll come." "and phronsie, too," said polly, seeing the yellow head emerge from the breakfast-room doorway. "come on, phron," sang out joel, "up in polly's room--she wants you," and the three hurried off. "now, joel," said polly, closing the door and facing him desperately, "you are mamsie's own boy." "i should think so," said joel, "i'm not anybody's else. is that all you brought me up here to say?" thrusting his hands in his pockets and looking at her. "and you can make her happy, or just as miserable as i can't say what," went on polly incoherently. "what in the world are you firing at?" demanded the boy, visions of certain pranks at school unpleasantly before him. "don't shoot over my head, polly, but keep somewhere near your mark," he advised irritably. phronsie surveyed the two with wide eyes, and a not wholly pleased manner. "mamsie does not want a big wedding," declared polly, going to the heart of the matter, "but dear kind grandpapa thinks it will please us children, and so he wants to give her one." "and so it will," cried joel, "please us children. whoop la! give us your hand, phronsie, this is the way we'll dance afterwards at the party." "i don't want to dance," said phronsie, standing quite still in the middle of the room. the morning sun shone across her yellow hair, but no light came into the large eyes. "polly wants something, first; what is it, joel?" "i'm sure i don't know," said joel, poised on a careless foot, and executing a remarkable pas seul. "i don't believe she knows herself. polly is often queer, you know, phronsie," he added cheerfully. "tell me, polly, do," whispered phronsie, going over to her. "phronsie," said polly very slowly, "mamsie doesn't want a big party in the evening to see her married, but to have a cunning little company of friends come in the morning, and"-"ugh!" cried joel in disgust, coming down suddenly to both feet. "it will please mamsie best," went on polly, with a cold shoulder to joel. "and i never should be happy in all this world to remember that i helped to make my mamsie unhappy on her wedding day." phronsie shivered, and her voice held a miserable little thrill as she begged, "oh! make her be married just as she wants to be, polly, do." "now that's what i call mean," cried joel in a loud, vindictive tone back of polly, "to work on phronsie's feelings. you can't make me say i don't want mamsie to have a wedding splurge, so there, polly pepper!" polly preserved a dignified silence, and presented her shoulder again to his view. "you can't make me say it, polly pepper!" shouted joel shrilly. "oh, phronsie!" exclaimed polly in a rapture, throwing her arms around the child, "mamsie will be so pleased--you can't think. let us go and tell her; come!" "see here!" called joel, edging up, "why don't you talk to me?" "i haven't anything to say," polly condescended to give him, without turning her head. "come, phronsie," holding out her hand. "wait a minute." "well, what is it?" polly's hand now held phronsie's, but she paused on the way to the door. "i guess i can give up things as well as she can, if i know mamsie wants me to," said joel, with a deeply injured manner. "mamsie doesn't want any of us to give up anything unless we do it as if we were glad to," said polly. for her life, she couldn't conceal a little scornful note in her voice, and joel winced miserably. "i--i wish she wouldn't have the big party," he whined. "i thought you wanted it," said polly, turning to him. "i--i don't. i'd rather mamsie would be happy. o, dear! don't look at me so." "i'm not looking at you so," said polly. "you acted just as if you had your heart set on the party." "well, it isn't. i'll--i'll--if you say party to me again!" and he faced her vindictively. "joel pepper!" cried polly, holding him with her brown eyes, "do you really mean that you are glad to give up that big evening party, and have the little teeny one in the morning?" "yes," said joel, "as true as i live and breathe, i do!" "oh! oh! oh!" cried polly, and seizing his arm, she led off in a dance, so much surpassing his efforts, that phronsie screamed with delight to see them go. when they could dance no more, polly, flushed and panting, ran out of the room, leaving the two to find out as best they might, the cause of the strange demeanor. "grandpapa," polly rushing over the stairs, met him coming up to mrs. whitney's room, "joel says it's the little morning wedding--please; and phronsie too!" the old gentleman gave no sign of his defeat, beyond a "humph! and so i'm beaten, after all!" and dr. fisher never knew all this. mamsie's wedding-day! at last it came! was any other ever so bright and beautiful? phronsie thought not, and thereupon she impeded the preparations by running up to kiss her mother every few moments, until such time as felicie carried her off to induct her into a white muslin gown. polly, here, there, and everywhere, was in such a rapture that she seemed to float on wings, while the boys of the household, with the exception of jasper, lost their heads early in the day, and helplessly succumbed to all demands upon them. every flower had to be put in place by the young people. old turner for once stood one side. and polly must put the white satin boxes filled with wedding cake on the little table where one of the waiters would hand them to departing guests. and phronsie must fasten mamsie's pearl broach--the gift of the five little peppers--in her lace collar the very last thing. and jasper collected the rice and set the basket holding it safely away from joel's eager fingers till such time as they could shower the bride's carriage. and all the boys were ushers, even little dick coming up grandly to offer his arm to the tallest guest as it happened. and old mr. king gave the bride away! and dr. fisher at the last forgot all the one hundred and thirty eyes, and his "i will," rang out like a man's who has secured what he has long wanted. and ever so many of the guests said "what a good father he will make the children," and several attempted to tell the peppers so. "as if we didn't know it before," said joel indignantly. and alexia and all the other girls of polly's set were there, and joel's little blue and white creature came, to his great satisfaction, with her aunt, who was quite intimate in the family; and pickering dodge was there of course, and the alstynes, and hosts of others. and mother pepper in her silver-gray gown and bonnet, by the side of her husband, with phronsie clinging to one hand, heard nothing but heart-felt wishes for her happiness and that of the five little peppers. and there was not so much as the shadow of a skeleton at the wedding breakfast. and cousin mason whitney took charge of the toasts--and everybody felt that just the right things had been said. and then there was a flutter of departure of the bridal party, and in the rattle of the wheels phronsie piped out bravely as she threw the slipper after the departing coach: "mamsie has been taking care of us all these years; now we're going to be good and let her be happy." xv mrs. chatterton has a new plan "polly is learning to play beautifully," mused phronsie, nursing one foot contemplatively, as she curled up on the floor. "and ben is to be a capital business man, so papa fisher says, and joel is going to buy up this whole town sometime, and davie knows ever so many books from beginning to end, but what can i do?" down went the little foot to the floor, and the yellow head drooped over the white apron. "nothing," mourned phronsie, "just nothing at all; not even the wee-est teeniest bit of anything do i know how to do. o, dear!" outside, jasper was calling to prince. phronsie could hear the big dog rushing over the lawn in response, barking furiously as he went. but she did not move. "and mamsie will never be glad for me, unless i learn how to do things too. if i don't hurry, i shall never be grown up." "tweet--tweet--ch-r-r-r"--cherry in his cage over her head, chirped vigorously by way of consolation, but phronsie did not lift her head. cherry seeing all his efforts in vain, stopped his song and rolled one black eye down at her in astonishment, and soon became quite still. presently the rustle of a stiff black satin gown became the chief intruder upon the silence. it was so asserting that phronsie lifted her head to look into the face of mrs. chatterton, standing before her, playing with the rings on her long white hands, and regarding her as if she would soon require an explanation of such strange conduct. "what are you doing, phronsie?" at last demanded the lady. "thinking," said phronsie; and she laid her chin in her hand, and slowly turned her gaze upon the thin, disagreeable face before her, but not as if in the slightest degree given up to a study of its lines and expression. "so i perceive," said mrs. chatterton harshly. "well, and what are you thinking of, pray tell?" still phronsie looked beyond her, and it was not until the question had been repeated, that an answer came. "of many things," said phronsie, "but i do not think i ought to tell you." "and why not, pray?" cried the lady, with a short and most unpleasant laugh. "because i do not think you would understand them," said phronsie. and now she looked at the face she had before overlooked, with a deliberate scrutiny as if she would not need to repeat the attention. "indeed!" exclaimed mrs. chatterton angrily, "and pray how long since your thoughts have been so valuable?" "my thoughts are nice ones," said phronsie slowly, "because they are about nice people." "ah!" "and they won't tell themselves. and i ought not to make them. they would fly away then, and i should never find them again, when i wanted to think them." "your mother brought you up well, i must say," observed mrs. chatterton, deliberately drawing up a chair and putting her long figure within it, "to talk in this style to a lady as old as i am." phronsie allowed one foot to gently trace the pattern on the carpet before she answered. "i know you are very old," she said at last, "but i cannot tell my thoughts to you." "very old!" cried mrs. chatterton, her chin in the air. "indeed! well, i am not, i would have you know, miss phronsie," and she played with the silk cord of her satin wrapper. "i hate a child that is made a prig!" she added explosively under her breath. phronsie made no reply, being already deep in her own calculations once more. "now, phronsie," said mrs. chatterton, suddenly drawing herself out of her angry fit, and clearing her brow, "i want you to give your attention to me a moment, for i have something i must say to you. that's why i came in here, to find you alone. come, look at me, child. it isn't polite to be staring at the carpet all the time." phronsie, thus admonished, took her gaze from the floor, to bestow it on the face above her. "it's something that nobody is to know but just you and me," began mrs. chatterton, with a cautious glance at the door. then she got out of her chair, and going across the room, closed it carefully. "there, that's better; polly is always around. now we are quite alone," coming back to her seat. "you see, phronsie," she proceeded, not caring that the brown eyes were slowly adding to their astonishment an expression that augured ill for any plans she might be hoping to carry out toward propitiation. "it is necessary to be careful not to be overheard, for what i am going to say to you must be kept quite secret." "i must tell mamsie," said phronsie distinctly. "indeed you will not," declared mrs. chatterton. "she is the very one of all others who ought not to know. you can help her, phronsie, if you only keep quiet." phronsie's eyes now became so very large that mrs. chatterton hastened to add: "you know polly is learning to be a music teacher when she grows up." phronsie made no reply. "and a very creditable one she will be, from all acounts i can gather," contributed mrs. chatterton carelessly. "well, ben is doing well in cabot & van meter's, so he's no trouble to your mother. as for the two boys, i know nothing about them, one way or the other. but you, as you are a girl, and the only one not provided for, why, i shall show a little kindness in your direction. it's wholly disinterested and quixotic, i know," added mrs. chatterton, with a sweeping gaze at the walls and ceilings, "for me to give myself a thought about you or your future. and i shall never receive so much as a thank you for it. but i've passed all my life in thinking of others, phronsie," here she brought down her attention to the absorbed little countenance, "and i cannot change now," she finished pensively. a silence fell upon them, so great that mrs. chatterton broke it nervously. "goodness me, phronsie, you are not like a child; you are too uncanny for anything. why don't you ask questions about my secret?" "because i ought not to know it," said phronsie, finding her tongue. "haven't i told you that you will help your mother only by not telling her?" said mrs. chatterton. "how would you like to learn how to take care of yourself when you are a big girl?" a light slowly gathered in the brown eyes, becoming at last so joyous and assured, that mrs. chatterton's face dropped its hard lines, to lose itself in a gratified smile. "now you make me see some real hope that my scheme won't be wholly a wild piece of philanthropy," she exclaimed. "only look like that, phronsie, and i'll do anything for you." "if i can do anything for mamsie," cried phronsie, clasping her hands in rapture. "oh! do tell me, dear mrs. chatterton," she pleaded. "oh! now i am dear mrs. chatterton," cried that lady, with a hard, ill-favored smile. but she lowered her tone to a gentler one, and extending one jeweled hand, took the little folded ones in her clasp. "i will be a good friend to you, and show you how you can learn to do something so that when you grow up, you can take care of yourself, just as polly will. just think, phronsie, just as polly will," cried mrs. chatterton artfully. "how--how?" demanded phronsie, scarcely breathing. "listen, phronsie. now you know i haven't any little girl." phronsie drew a long breath. "well, i have been looking for one for a long time. i want one who will be a daughter to me; who will grow up under my direction, and who will appreciate what i sacrifice in taking her. she must be nice-looking, for i couldn't stand an ill-favored child. i have found several who were much better looking than you, phronsie; in fact, they were beauties; but i don't like the attitude of their families. the poor things actually thought they were doing me a favor by accepting my proposition for the children." as this statement required no remark on the part of the hearer, phronsie was silent, not removing her eyes from mrs. chatterton's face. "now, although you haven't as much to recommend you as many other children that i have fancied, i hope to make you serve my purpose. i am going to try you, at least. every day, phronsie, you can come to my room. it's lucky that you don't go to school, but do pretty much as you like in this house, so no questions will be asked." "i go to grandpapa's room every day," said phronsie, in a distressed tone, "to my lessons." "of course. i know that; a very silly thing it is too. there's no use in trying to break it up now, i suppose, or i'd put my hand to the attempt. but you can come to me after you've got through toadying mr. king." "what is toding?" asked phronsie. "never mind; that hasn't anything to do with the business in hand," replied mrs. chatterton impatiently. "now if you come to me every day, and give me as much time as you can, why, i'll show you what i want of you, and teach you many things. then after a while, phronsie, when you learn to appreciate it, i shall tell you what i am going to do. the adoption will be an easy matter, i fancy, when the child is interested," she added, taking the precaution to mutter it. "you must do everything as i tell you," mrs. chatterton leaned forward, and said with great deliberateness, "else you will lose this chance to help your mother. and you will never have another like it, but will grow up to be a good-for-nothing little thing when polly and all the rest are earning money for your mamsie, as you call her." "i shall earn money too," declared phronsie on a high note, and nodding her yellow head with great decision. "never!" mrs. chatterton brought her foot, incased in its black satin slipper, down with force on the carpet. "you will never earn a cent of money in all this world, unless you do exactly as i say; for you are a child who hasn't it in her to learn anything. but you can help me, and i shall teach you many things, and do well by you." "when i grow a big girl, will anybody want me to do those things that you are going to teach me?" asked phronsie, drawing near to lay her hand on the stiff black gown, and speaking earnestly. "then if they will, i'll try to do them just exactly as you tell me." "of course they will," declared mrs. chatterton carefully, edging off from the little fingers; "ever so many people will want you, phronsie. and i shall give you a great deal of money." "i shall give it all to mamsie," interrupted phronsie, her brown eyes dilating quickly, "every single twenty-five cents you give me. then i guess she will be glad, don't you?" she cried, clasping her hands in sudden rapture, while she began to dance up and down. "i shall give you so many twenty-five cents," cried mrs. chatterton, beginning to feel her old heart beat with more enthusiasm than she had known for many a day, "that you will be very rich, phronsie." "oh-oh!" cried phronsie, coming to an abrupt pause in the middle of the floor, her cheek paling in excitement. and then she could say no more. "but you must do exactly as i tell you." mrs. chatterton leaned forward suddenly, and seized the little hands, now so still in their delight. "remember, it is only when you follow my commands in every single thing that you will have any chance of earning all this money for your mother, and helping her just at polly is going to do. remember now, phronsie!" "i will remember," said phronsie slowly, as her hands were released. "very good. we will begin now then." mrs. chatterton threw herself back in her chair, and drew a long breath. "lucky i found the child alone, and so tractable. it's singularly good fortune," she muttered. "well," aloud, with a light laugh, "now, phronsie, if you are going to be your mother's helper, why, this is your first duty. let us see how well you perform it. run upstairs to the closet out of the lumber-room, and open the little black box on the shelf in front of the door--the box isn't locked--and bring me the roll of black velvet ribbon you will find there." phronsie was about to ask, "why does not hortense go up for it?" but mrs. chatterton forestalled the question by saying with a frown, "hortense has gone down to the dressmaker's. no child who calls me to account for anything i ask of her can be helped by me. do as you like, phronsie. no one will compel you to learn how to do things so that you can be a comfort to your mother. only remember, if you don't obey me, you will lose your only chance." after this speech, mrs. chatterton sat back and played with her rings, looking with oblique glances of cold consideration at the child. "i'll go," said phronsie with a long sigh, "and do every thing you say." "i do really believe i can bend one of those dreadful pepper children to my will," thought mrs. chatterton exultingly. "she is my only hope. polly does better than she did, but she is too old to be tractable, and she has a shrewd head on her practical body, and the others are just horrible!" she gave a shiver. "but phronsie will grow up to fit my purpose, i think. three purposes, i may say--to get the peppers gradually out from under horatio king's influence, and to train up a girl to wait on me so that i can get away from these french villains of maids, and to spite alexander's daughter by finally adopting this phronsie if she suits me. but i must move carefully. the first thing is to get the child fastened to me by her own will." phronsie, ascending the stairs to the lumber-room, with careful deliberateness, found no hint of joy at the prospect before her, reaching into the dim distance to that enchanted time when she should be grown up. but there was a strangely new sense of responsibility, born in an hour; and an acceptance of life's burdens, that made her feel very old and wise. "i shall be a comfort to my mother," she said confidently, and mounted on. xvi where is phronsie? phronsie shut the door of the lumber-room, and with a great sigh realized that she had with her own hand cut herself off from the gay life below stairs. "but they are not so very far off," she said, "and i shall soon be down again," as she made her way across the room and opened the closet door. a little mouse scurried along the shelf and dropped to the floor. phronsie peered into the darkness within, her small heart beating fearfully as she held the knob in her hand. "there may be more," she said irresolutely. "i suppose he wouldn't live up here all alone. please go away, mousie, and let me get the box." for answer there was a scratching and nibbling down in the corner that held more terrors for the anxious ears than an invading army. "i must go in," said phronsie, "and bring out the box. please, good mouse, go away for one moment; then you may come back and stay all day." but the shadowy corner only gave back the renewed efforts of the sharp little teeth; so at last, phronsie, plucking up courage, stepped in. the door swung to after her, giving out a little click, unnoticed in her trepidation as she picked her way carefully along, holding her red gown away from any chance nibbles. it was a low narrow closet, unlighted save by a narrow latticed window, in the ceiling, for the most part filled with two lines of shelves running along the side and one end. phronsie caught her breath as she went in, the air was so confined; and stumbling over in the dim light, put her hand on the box desired, a small black affair, easily found, as it was the only one there. "i will take it out into the lumber-room; then i can get the velvet roll," and gathering it up within her arms, she speedily made her way back to the door. "why"--another pull at the knob; but with the same result, and phronsie, setting the box on the floor, still with thoughts only of the mouse, put both hands to the task of opening the door. "it sticks, i suppose, because no one comes up here only once in a great while," she said in a puzzled way. "i ought to be able to pull it open, i'm sure, for i am so big and strong." she exerted all her strength till her face was like a rose. the door was fast. phronsie turned a despairing look upon the shadowy corner. "please don't bite me," she said, the large tears gathering in her brown eyes. "i am locked in here in your house; but i didn't want to come, and i won't do anything to hurt you if you'll let me sit down and wait till somebody comes to let me out." meanwhile mrs. chatterton shook out her black satin gown complacently, and with a satisfied backward glance at the mirror, sailed off to her own apartments. "madame," exclaimed hortense breathlessly, meeting her within the door, "de modiste will not send de gown; you must"-"will not send it?" repeated her mistress in a passion. "a pretty message to deliver. go back and get it at once." "she say de drapery--de tournure all wrong, and she must try it on again," said the maid, glad to be defiant, since the dressmaker supported her. "what utter nonsense! yet i suppose i must go, or the silly creature will have it ruined. take off this gown, hortense, and bring my walking suit, then ring and say i'd like to have thomas take me down there at once," and throwing off her bracelets, and the various buckles and pins that confined her laces, she rapidly disrobed and was expeditiously inducted by hortense into her walking apparel, and, a parlor maid announcing that thomas with the coupe was at the door, she hurried downstairs, with no thought for anything beyond a hasty last charge to her maid. "where's phronsie?" cried polly, rushing into mother fisher's room; "o dear me, my hair won't stay straight," pushing the rebellious waves out of her eyes. "it looks as if a brush wouldn't do it any harm," observed mother fisher critically. "o dear, dear! well, i've brushed and brushed, but it does no good," said polly, running over to the mirror; "some days, mamsie, no matter what i do, it flies all ways." "good work tells generally," said her mother, pausing on her way to the closet for a closer inspection of her and her head; "you haven't taken as much pains, polly, lately with your hair; that is the trouble." "well, i'm always in such a hurry," mourned polly, brushing furiously on the refractory locks. "there, will you stay down?" to a particularly rebellious wave. "one at a time is the best way to take things," said mrs. fisher dryly. "when you dress yourself, polly, i'd put my mind on that, if i were you." with that, she disappeared within the closet. "o dear, i suppose so," sighed polly, left to her own reflections and brushing away. "well, that's the best i can make it look now, for i can't do the braid over. where is phronsie, i wonder! mamsie," she threw down the brush and ran over to put her head in the closet, "where did she go?" "i told her she might run over to helen fargo's, right after breakfast," said mrs. fisher, her head over a trunk, from which she was taking summer dresses. "polly, i think you'll get one more season's wear out of this pink cambric." "oh! i am so glad," cried polly, "for i had such splendidly good times in it," with a fond glance at the pink folds and ruffles. "well, if phronsie is over at helen's, there's no use in asking her to go down town with us." "where are you going?" asked mrs. fisher, extricating one of phronsie's white gowns from its winter imprisonment. "down to candace's," said polly. "jasper wants some more pins for his cabinet. no, i don't suppose phronsie would tear herself away from helen for all the down-towns in the world." "you would better let her stay where she is," advised mother fisher; "she hasn't been over to helen's for quite a while, so it's a pity to call her away," and she turned to her unpacking again, while polly ran off on the wings of the wind, in a tremor at having kept jasper waiting so long. "candace" was the widow of an old colored servant of mr. king's; she called herself a "relict;" that, and the pride in her little shop, made her hold her turbaned head high in the air, while a perennial smile enwreathed her round face. the shop was on temple place, a narrow extension thrown out from one of the city's thoroughfares. she was known for a few specialties; such as big sugary doughnuts that appealed alike to old and young. they were always fresh and sweet, with just the proper amount of spice to make them toothsome; and she made holders of various descriptions, with the most elaborate patterns wrought always in yellow worsted; with several other things that the ladies protested could never be found elsewhere. jasper had been accustomed to run down to candace's little shop, since pinafore days, when he had been taken there by his nurse, and set upon a high stool before the small counter, and plied with dainties by the delighted candace. "the first thing i can remember," he had often told polly, "is candace taking out huge red and white peppermint drops, from the big glass jar in the window, and telling me to hold out both hands." and after the "pinafore days" were over, candace was the boy's helper in all his sports where a woman's needle could stitch him out of any difficulty. she it was who made the sails to his boats, and marvelous skate bags. she embroidered the most intricate of straps for his school-books, and once she horrified him completely by working in red cotton, large "j's" on two handkerchiefs. he stifled the horror when he saw her delight in presenting the gift, and afterwards was careful to remember to carry a handkerchief occasionally when on an errand to the shop. latterly candace was occupied in preparing pins for jasper's cabinet, out of old needles that had lost their eyes. she cleverly put on red and black sealing wax heads, turning them out as round as the skillful manipulation of deft fingers could make them. in this new employment, the boy kept her well occupied, many half-dollars thereby finding their way into her little till. "i wish phronsie had come," said polly, as she and jasper sorted the pins in the little wooden tray candace kept for the purpose. "how many red ones you will have, jasper--see--fifteen; well, they're prettier than the others." "ef little miss had come wid you," said candace, emerging from the folds of a chintz curtain that divided the shop from the bedroom, "she'd 'a' seen my doll i made for her. land! but it's a beauty." "oh, candace!" exclaimed polly, dropping the big pin she held, and allowing it to roll off the counter to the floor. "what a pity we didn't bring her! do let us see the doll." "she's a perfec' beauty!" repeated candace in satisfaction, "an' i done made her all myself fer de little miss," and she dodged behind the curtain again, this time bringing out a large rag doll with surprising black bead eyes, a generous crop of wool on its head, and a red worsted mouth. "dat's my own hair," said candace, pointing to the doll's head with pride, "so i know it's good; an' ain't dat mouf pretty?" "oh, candace!" exclaimed polly, seizing the doll, and skillfully evading the question, "what a lovely dress--and the apron is a dear"-"ain't it?" said candace, her black face aglow with delight. "ole miss gimme dat yeller satin long ago, w'en i belonged to her befo' de war. an' dat yere apun was a piece of ole miss's night-cap. she used to have sights of 'em, and dey was all ruffled like to kill, an' made o' tambour work." polly had already heard many times the story of madame carroll's night-caps, so she returned to the subject of the doll's beauty as a desirable change. "do you want us to take this to phronsie?" she asked. "jasper, won't she be delighted?" "land, no!" cried candace, recovering the doll in alarm; "i'd never sleep a week o' nights ef i didn't put dat yere doll into dat bressed child's arms." "then i'll tell phronsie to come over to-morrow," said polly. "shall i, candace?" "yes," said candace, "you tell her i got somefin' fer her; don't you tell her what, an' send her along." "all right," said jasper. "just imagine phronsie's eyes when she sees that production. candace, you've surpassed yourself." "you go 'long!" exclaimed candace, in delight, and bestowing a gentle pat of deprecation on his shoulder, "'tain't like what i could do; but la! well, you send de bressed chile along, and mabbe she'll like it." "jasper, we'll stop at helen's now," said polly as the two hurried by the tall iron fence, that, lined with its thick hedge, shut out the fargo estate from vulgar eyes, "and get phronsie; she'll be ready to come home now; it's nearly luncheon time." "all right," said jasper; so the two ran over the carriage drive to a side door by which the king family always had entree. "is phronsie ready to come home?" asked polly of the maid. "tell her to hurry and get her things on; we'll wait here. oh, jasper!" turning to him, "why couldn't we have the club next week, wednesday night?" "miss mary," said the maid, interrupting, "what do you mean? i haven't seen miss phronsie to-day." polly whirled around on the step and looked at her. "oh! she's upstairs in the nursery, playing with helen, i suppose. please ask her to hurry, hannah." "no, she isn't, miss mary," said hannah. "i've been sweeping the nursery this morning; just got through." she pointed to her broom and dustpan that she had set in a convenient corner, as proof of her statement. "well, she's with helen somewhere," said polly, a little impatiently. "yes; find helen, and you have the two," broke in jasper. "just have the goodness, hannah, to produce helen." "miss helen isn't home," said hannah. "she went to greenpoint yesterday with mrs. fargo to spend sunday." "why," exclaimed polly in bewilderment, "mamsie said she told phronsie right after breakfast that she could come over here." "she hasn't been here," said the maid positively. "i know for certain sure, miss mary. has she, jane?" appealing to another maid coming down the hall. "no," said jane. "she hasn't been here for ever so many days." "phronsie played around outside probably," said jasper quickly; "anyway, she's home now. come on, polly. she'll run out to meet us." "oh, jasper! do you suppose she will?" cried polly, unable to stifle an undefinable dread. she was running now on frightened feet, jasper having hard work to keep up with her, and the two dashed through the little gate in the hedge where phronsie was accustomed to let herself through on the only walk she was ever allowed to take alone, and into the house where polly cried to the first person she met, "where's phronsie?" to be met with what she dreaded, "gone over to helen fargo's." and now there was indeed alarm through the big house. not knowing where to look, each fell in the other's way, quite as much concerned for mr. king's well-being; for the old gentleman was reduced to such a state by the fright that the entire household had all they could do to keep him in bounds. "madame is not to come home to luncheon," announced hortense to mrs. whitney in the midst of the excitement. "she told me to tell you that de mees taylor met her at de modiste, and took her home with her." mrs. whitney made no reply, but raised her eyes swollen with much crying, to the maid's face. "hortense, run as quickly as possible down to dr. fisher's office, and tell him to come home." "thomas should be sent," said hortense, with a toss of her head. "it's not de work for me. beside i am madame's maid." "do you go at once," commanded mrs. whitney, with a light in her blue eyes that the maid never remembered seeing. she was even guilty of stamping her pretty foot in the exigency, and hortense slowly gathered herself up. "i will go, madame," with the air of conferring a great favor, "only i do not such t'ings again." xvii phronsie is found "i am glad that you agree with me." mrs. chatterton bestowed a complacent smile upon the company. "but we don't in the least agree with you," said madame dyce, her stiff brocade rustling impatiently in the effort to put her declaration before the others, "not in the least." "ah? well, you must allow that i have good opportunities to judge. the pepper entanglement can be explained only by saying that my cousin's mental faculties are impaired." "the rest of the family are afflicted in the same way, aren't they?" remarked hamilton dyce nonchalantly. "humph! yes." mrs. chatterton's still shapely shoulders allowed themselves a shrug intended to reveal volumes. "what jasper horatio king believes, the rest of the household accept as law and gospel. but it's no less infatuation." "i'll not hear one word involving those dear peppers," cried madame dyce. "if i could, i'd have them in my house. and it's a most unrighteous piece of work, in my opinion, to endeavor to arouse prejudice against them. it goes quite to my heart to remember their struggles all those years." mrs. chatterton turned on her with venom. was all the world arrayed against her, to take up with those hateful interlopers in her cousin's home? she made another effort. "i should have credited you with more penetration into motives than to allow yourself to be deceived by such a woman as mrs. pepper." "do give her the name that belongs to her. i believe she's mrs. dr. fisher, isn't she?" drawled livingston bayley, a budding youth, with a moustache that occasioned him much thought, and a solitary eyeglass. "stuff and nonsense! yes, what an absurd thing that wedding was. did anybody ever hear or see the like!" mrs. chatterton lifted her long jeweled hands in derision, but as no one joined in the laugh, she dropped them slowly into her lap. "i don't see any food for scorn in that episode," said the youth with the moustache. "possibly there will be another marriage there before many years. i'm sweet on polly." mrs. chatterton's face held nothing but blank dismay. the rest shouted. "you needn't laugh, you people," said the youth, setting his eyeglass straight, "that girl is going to make a sensation, i tell you, when she comes out. i'm going to secure her early." "not a word, mind you, about miss polly's preferences," laughed hamilton dyce aside to miss mary. "'tisn't possible that she could be anything but fascinated, of course," mary laughed back. "of course not. the callow youth knows his power. anybody else in favor of the peppers?" aloud, and looking at the company. "don't ask us if we like the peppers," cried two young ladies simultaneously. "they are our especial and particular pets, every one of them." "the peppers win," said hamilton dyce, looking full into mrs. chatterton's contemptuous face. "i'm glad to record my humble self as their admirer. now"-"well, pa!" mary could not refrain from interrupting as her father suddenly appeared in the doorway. "i can't sit down," he said, as the company made way for him to join them. "i came home for some important papers. i suppose you have heard the trouble at the kings? i happened to drop in there. well, dyce," laying his hand on that gentleman's chair, "i scarcely expected to see you here to-day. why aren't you at the club spread?" "cousin horatio! i suppose he's had a paralytic attack," interrupted mrs. chatterton, with her most sagacious air. "what's the trouble up there?" queried mr. dyce, ignoring the question thrust at him. "it's the little beauty--phronsie," said mr. taylor. "nothing's happened to that child i hope!" cried madame dyce, paling. "now, mr. taylor, you are not going to harrow our feelings by telling us anything has harmed that lovely creature," exclaimed the two young ladies excitedly. "phronsie can't be found," said mr. taylor. "can't be found!" echoed all the voices, except mrs. chatterton's. she ejaculated "ridiculous!" hamilton dyce sprang to his feet and threw down his napkin. "excuse me, miss taylor. come, bayley, now is the time to show our devotion to the family. let us go and help them out of this." young bayley jumped lightly up and stroked his moustache like a man of affairs. "all right, dyce. bon jour, ladies." "how easily a scene is gotten up," said mrs. chatterton, "over a naughty little runaway. i wish some of the poor people in this town could have a tithe of the attention that is wasted on these peppers," she added virtuously. madame dyce turned uneasily in her seat, and played with the almonds on her plate. "i think we do best to reserve our judgments," she said coolly. "i don't believe phronsie has run away." "of course she has," asserted mrs. chatterton, in that positive way that made everybody hate her to begin with. "she was all right this morning when i left home. where else is she, if she hasn't run away, pray tell?" not being able to answer this, no one attempted it, and the meal ended in an uncomfortable silence. driving home a half-hour later, in a cab summoned for that purpose, mrs. chatterton threw off her things, angry not to find hortense at her post in the dressing-room, where she had been told to finish a piece of sewing, and not caring to encounter any of the family in their present excitement, she determined to take herself off upstairs, where "i can kill two birds with one stone; get rid of everybody, and find my box myself, because of course that child ran away before she got it." so she mounted the stairs laboriously, counting herself lucky indeed in finding the upper part of the house quite deserted, and shutting the lumber-room door when she was well within it, she proceeded to open the door of the closet. "hortense didn't tell me there was a spring lock on this door," she exclaimed, with an impatient pull. "oh! good heavens." she had nearly stumbled over phronsie pepper's little body, lying just where it fell when hope was lost. "i have had nothing to do with it," repeated mrs. chatterton to herself, following mr. king and jasper as they bore phronsie downstairs, her yellow hair floating from the pallid little face. "goodness! i haven't had such a shock in years. my heart is going quite wildly. the child probably went up there for something else; i am not supposed to know anything about it." "is she dead?" cried dick, summoned with the rest of the household by mrs. chatterton's loud screams, and quite beside himself, he clambered up the stairs to get in every one's way. mrs. chatterton, with an aimless thrust of her long jeweled hands, pushed him one side. and dick boiled over at that. "what are you here for?" he cried savagely. "you don't love her. you would better get out of the way." and no one thought to reprove him. polly was clinging to the post at the foot of the stairs. "i shall die if phronsie is dead," she said. then she looked at mother fisher, waiting for her baby. "give her to me!" said phronsie's mother, holding out imperative arms. "you would better let us carry her; well put her in your bed. only get the doctor." mr. king was almost harsh as he endeavored to pass her. but before the words were over his lips, the mother held her baby. "mamsie," cried polly, creeping over to her like a hurt little thing, "i don't believe but that she'll be all right. god won't let anything happen to our phronsie. he couldn't, mamsie." dr. fisher met them at the door. polly never forgot the long, slow terror that clutched at her heart as she scanned his face while he took the child out of the arms that now yielded up their burden. and everything turned dark before her eyes--was phronsie dead? but there was mamsie. and polly caught her breath, beat back the faintness, and helped to lay phronsie on the big bed. "clearly i have had nothing to do with it," said mrs. chatterton to herself, stumbling into a room at the other end of the hall. but her face was gray, and she found herself picking nervously at the folds of lace at her throat. "the child went up there, as all children will, to explore. i shall say nothing about it--nothing whatever. oh! how is she?" grasping blindly at jasper as he rushed by the door. "still unconscious"-"stuff and--oh! well," muttering on. "she'll probably come to. children can bear a little confinement; an hour or two doesn't matter with them--hortense!" aloud, "bring me my sal volatile. dear me! this is telling on my nerves." she caught sight of her face in the long mirror opposite, and shivered to see how ghastly it was. "where is the girl? hortense, i say, come here this instant!" a maid, summoned by her cries, put her head in the door. "hadn't you better go into your own room, mrs. chatterton?" she said, in pity at the shaking figure and blanched face. "no--no," she sharply repulsed her. "bring hortense--where is that girl?" she demanded passionately. "she's crying," said the maid, her own eyes filling with tears. "i'll help you to your room." "crying?" madame chatterton shrieked. "she's paid to take care of me; what right has she to think of anything else?" "she says she was cross to phronsie once--though i don't see how she could be, and--and--now that she's going to die, she"--and the maid burst into tears and threw her apron over her face. "die--she shan't! what utter nonsense everybody does talk in this house!" madame chatterton seized her arm, the slender fingers tightening around the young muscles, and shook her fiercely. the maid roused by her pain out of her tears looked in affright into the gray face above her. "let me go," she cried. "oh! madame, you hurt me." "give me air," said madame chatterton, her fingers relaxing, and making a great effort not to fall. "help me over to the window, and open it, girl"--and leaning heavily on the slight figure, she managed to get across the room. "there--now," drawing a heavy breath as she sank into a chair and thrust her ashen face out over the sill, "do you go and find out how the child is. and come back and tell me at once." "madame, i'm afraid to leave you alone," said the girl, looking at her. "afraid? i'm not so old but that i can take care of myself," said mrs. chatterton with a short laugh. "go and do as i tell you," stamping her foot. "still unconscious"-would no one ever come near her but this detestable maid, with her still more detestable news? mrs. chatterton clutched the window casing in her extremity, not feeling the soft springy air as she gasped for breath. the maid, too frightened to leave her, crept into a corner where she watched and cried softly. there was a stir in the household that they might have heard, betokening the arrival of two other doctors, but no word came. and darkness settled upon the room. still the figure in the window niche held to its support, and still the maid cried at her post. as the gray of the twilight settled over the old stone mansion, phronsie moved on her pillow. "dear mouse,"--the circle of watchers around the bed moved closer,--"i'll go away when some one comes to open the door." "hush!" dr. fisher put his hand over the mother's lips. "don't please bite me very hard. i won't come up again to your house. oh! where's grandpapa?" old mr. king put his head on his hands, and sobbed aloud. the little white face moved uneasily. "grandpapa always comes when i want him," in piteous tones. "father," said jasper, laying a hand on the bowed shoulders, "you would better come out. we'll call you when she comes to herself." but mr. king gave no sign of hearing. a half-hour ticked slowly away, and phronsie spoke again. "it's growing dark, and i suppose they will never come. dear mouse"--the words died away and she seemed to sleep. "i shall not tell," mrs. chatterton was saying to herself in the other room; "what good could it do? oh! this vile air is stifling. will no one come to say she is better?" and so the night wore on. as morning broke, phronsie opened her eyes, and gave a weak little cry. polly sprang from her knees at the foot of the bed, and staggered toward the child. "don't!" cried jasper, with a hand on her arm. "let her alone," said dr. fisher quickly. "oh, polly!" phronsie raised herself convulsively on the bed. "you did come--you did!" winding her little arms around polly's neck. "has the mouse gone?" "yes, yes," said polly as convulsively; "he's all gone, phronsie, and i have you fast; just see. and i'll never let you go again." "never?" cried phronsie, straining to get up further into polly's arms. "no dear; i'll hold you close just as long as you need me." "and he won't come again?" "he can't phronsie; because, you see, i have you now." "and the door will open, and i'll have mamsie and dear grandpapa?" "yes, yes, my precious one," began mr. king, getting out of the large arm-chair into which they had persuaded him. "don't do it. stay where you are," said dr. fisher, stopping him half-way across the room. "but phronsie wants me; she said so," exclaimed old mr. king hoarsely, and trying to push his way past the doctor. "why, man, don't stop me." dr. fisher planted his small body firmly in front of the old gentleman. "you must obey me." obey? when had mr. king heard that word addressed to himself. he drew a long breath, looked full into the spectacled eyes, then said, "all right, fisher; i suppose you know best," and went back to his arm-chair. "i'm so tired, polly," phronsie was saying, and the arms, polly could feel, were dropping slowly from her neck. "are you, pet? well, now, i'll tell you what we'll do. let us both go to sleep. there, phronsie, now you put your arms down, so"--polly gave them a swift little tuck under the bed-clothes--"and i'll get up beside you, so"--and she crept on to the bed--"and we'll both go right to 'nid-nid-nodland,' don't you know?" "you're sure you won't let me go?" whispered phronsie, cuddling close, and feeling for polly's neck again. "oh! just as sure as i can be," declared polly cheerfully, while the tears rained down her cheek in the darkness. "i feel something wet," said phronsie, drawing back one hand. "what is it, polly?" "oh! that," said polly with a start. "oh--well, it's--well, i'm crying, phronsie; but i'm so glad--oh! you don't know how glad i am, sweet," and she leaned over and kissed her. "if you're glad," said phronsie weakly, "i don't care. but please don't cry if you are not glad, polly." "well, now we're fixed," said polly as gaily as she could. "give me your hand, pet. there, now, good-night." "good-night," said phronsie. polly could feel her tucking the other hand under her cheek on the pillow, and then, blessed sound--the long quiet breathing that told of rest. "oh! better, is she?" mrs. chatterton looked up quickly to see mrs. whitney's pale face. "well, i supposed she would be. i thought i'd sit here and wait to know, since you were all so frightened. but i knew it wouldn't amount to much. now, girl," nodding over to the maid still in the corner, "you may get me to bed." and she stretched her stiff limbs, and held out her hand imperatively. "it was very fortunate that i did not tell," she said, when the slow passage to her own apartments had been achieved. "now if the child will only keep still, all will be well." xviii the girls have polly again "phronsie shall have a baked apple this morning," said mother fisher, coming into the sunny room where phronsie lay propped up against the pillows. "did papa-doctor say so?" asked phronsie, a smile of supreme content spreading over her wan little face. "yes, he did," said her mother; "as nice an apple, red and shiny as we could find, is downstairs baking for you, phronsie. when it's done, sarah is to bring it up." "that will be very nice," breathed phronsie slowly. "and i want my little tea-set--just the two cups and saucers--and my own little pot and sugar-bowl. do let me, mamsie, and you shall have a cup of milk with me," she cried, a little pink color stealing into either cheek. "yes, yes, child," said mother fisher. "there, you mustn't try to lean forward. i'll bring the little table grandpapa bought, so;" she hurried over across the room and wheeled it into place. "now isn't that fine, phronsie?" as the long wing swung over the bed. "did you ever see such a tea-party as you and i'll have?" "breakfast party, mamsie!" hummed phronsie; "isn't that just lovely?" wriggling her toes under the bed-clothes. "do you think sarah'll ever bring that apple?" "yes, indeed--why, here she is now!" announced mrs. fisher cheerily. "come in, sarah," as a rap sounded on the door. "our little girl is all ready for that good apple. my! what a fine one." "bless honey's heart!" ejaculated sarah, her black face shining with delight. "ain't he a beauty, though?" setting down on the table-wing a pink plate in the midst of which reposed an apple whose crackling skin disclosed a toothsome interior. "i bring a pink sasser so's to match his insides. but ain't he rich, though!" "sarah," said phronsie, with hungry eyes on the apple, "i think he is very nice indeed, and i do thank you for bringing him." "bless her precious heart!" cried sarah, her hands on her ample hips, and her mouth extended in the broadest of smiles. "do get me a spoon, mamsie," begged phronsie, unable to take her gaze from the apple. "i'm so glad he has a stem on, sarah," carefully picking at it. "well, there," said sarah, "i had the greatest work to save that stem. but, la! i wouldn't 'a' brung one without a stem. i know'd you'd want it to hold it up by, when you'd eat the most off." "yes, i do," said phronsie, in great satisfaction fondling the stem. "and here's your spoon," said her mother, bringing it. "now, child, enjoy it to your heart's content." phronsie set the spoon within the cracked skin, and drew it out half-full. "oh, mamsie!" she cried, as her teeth closed over it, "do just taste; it's so good!" "hee-hee!" laughed sarah, "i guess 'tis. such works as i had to bake dat apple just right. but he's a beauty, ain't he, though?" phronsie did not reply, being just at that moment engaged in conveying a morsel as much like her own as possible, to her mother's mouth. "seems to me i never tasted such an apple," said mother fisher, slowly swallowing the bit. "did you, now?" cried sarah. downstairs polly was dancing around the music-room with three or four girls who had dropped in on their way from school. "give me a waltz now, polly," begged philena. "dear me, i haven't had a sight of you hardly, for so long, i am positively starved for you. i don't care for you other girls now," she cried, as the two went whirling down the long room together. "thank you, miss philena," cried the others, seizing their partners and whirling off too. "i feel as if i could dance forever," cried polly, when amy garrett turned away from the piano and declared she would play no more--and she still pirouetted on one foot, to come up red as a rose to the group. "look at polly's cheeks!" cried amy. "you've been a white little minx so long," said alexia, putting a fond arm around polly; "i went home and cried every day, after i would steal around the back way to see how phronsie was"-"won't phronsie be downstairs soon?" asked amy. "i don't know," said polly. "papa-doctor is going to be dreadfully careful of her, that she doesn't get up too soon." "say, polly," cried another girl, "don't you have to take a lot of pills and stuff, now that dr. fisher is your father?" polly threw back her head and laughed merrily. it sounded so strangely to her to hear the sound echoing through the room so long silent, that she stopped suddenly. "oh, girls! i can't hardly believe even yet that phronsie is almost well," she cried. "well, you'd better," advised alexia philosophically, "because she is, you know. do laugh again, polly; it's good to hear you." "i can't help it," said polly, "cathie asked such a funny question." "cathie's generally a goose," said alexia coolly. "thank you," said cathie, a tall girl, with such light hair and sallow face that she looked ten years older than her fourteen summers. "i sometimes know quite as much as a few other people of my acquaintance," she said pointedly. "i didn't say but that you did," said alexia composedly. "i said you were generally a goose. and so you are. why, everybody knows that, cath." "come, come, girls, don't fight," said polly. "how can you when phronsie is getting better? alexia didn't mean anything, cathie." "yes, she did," declared cathie with a pout; "she's always meaning something. she's the hatefullest thing i ever saw!" "nonsense!" said polly, with a gay little laugh. "she says perfectly dreadful things to me, and so i do to her, but we don't either of us mind them." "well, those are in fun," said cathie; "that's a very different matter"-"so you must make these in fun," said polly. "i would if i were you." but she drew away from alexia's arm. "polly, don't be an idiot and fight with me," whispered alexia in her ear. "go away," said polly, shaking her off. "polly, polly, i'll say anything if you won't look like that. see here, cathie, let's make up," and she ran over, seized the tall girl by the waist and spun her around till she begged to stop. "is that your way of making up?" cried cathie, when she had the breath to speak. "yes; it is as good as any other way. it spins the nonsense out of you. there!" with a last pat on the thin shoulder, she left her, and ran back to polly. "it's all done," she cried. "i'm at peace with the whole world. now don't look like an ogre any longer." "phronsie's actually hungry now all the time," confided polly in a glow, "and we can't get enough to satisfy her." "good--good!" cried the girls. "i'm going to send her some of my orange jelly," declared alexia. "i'll make it just as soon as i go home. do you think she will like it, polly?" she asked anxiously. "yes, i do believe she will," said polly, "because she loves oranges so." "well, i shan't make any old orange jelly," cried cathie, her nose in the air. "faugh! it's insipid enough!" "but 'tisn't when it's made the way alexia makes it," said polly, viewing in alarm the widening of the breach between the two. "i've eaten some of hers, and it's too splendid for anything." "i don't know anything about hers, but all orange jelly i have tasted is just horrid. i hate it! i'm going to make almond macaroons. they're lovely, polly." "oh! don't, cathie," begged polly in distress. "why not, pray tell," whirling on one set of toes. "you needn't be afraid they won't be good. i've made them thousands of times." "but she couldn't eat them," said polly. "just think, almond macaroons! why, papa-doctor would"-"now i know the doctor makes you take perfectly terrible things, and won't let you eat anything. and macaroons are the only things i can make. it's a shame!" and down sat cathie in despair on an ottoman. "what's the matter?" dr. fisher put his head in at the doorway, his spectacled eyes sending a swift glance of inquiry around. "o dear me!" exclaimed cathie in a fright, jumping up and clutching the arm of the girl next to her. "don't let polly tell him what i said--don't." "polly won't tell," said the girl, with a superb air; "don't you know any better, cathie harrison, you goose, you!" to be called a goose by two persons in the course of an hour was too much for cathie's endurance, and flinging off the girl's arm, she cried out passionately, "i won't stay; i'm going home!" and rushed out the door. dr. fisher turned from a deliberate look at the girl's white cheeks, as she ran past, to the flushed ones before him. "i'm very sorry that anything unpleasant has happened. i dropped in to tell you of a little surprise, but i see it's no time now." "oh, papa-doctor!" cried polly, flying up to him from the center of the group, "it was nothing--only"-"a girl's quarrel is not a slight thing, polly," said little dr. fisher gravely, "and one of your friends has gone away very unhappy." "oh! i know it," said polly, "and i'm so sorry." "we can't any of us help it," said alexia quickly. "cathie harrison has the temper of a gorilla--so there, dr. fisher." dr. fisher set his spectacles straight, and looked at alexia, but he did not even smile, as she hoped he would do. "i can't help it," she said, tracing the pattern of the carpet with the toe of her boot, "she makes us all so uncomfortable, oh! you can't think. and i wish she'd stay home forever." still no answer from the doctor. he didn't act as if he heard, but bowing gravely, he withdrew his head and shut the door. "o dear, dear!" cried alexia, when they had all looked at each other a breathing space. "why didn't he speak? i'd much rather he'd scold like everything than to look like that. polly, why don't you say something?" "because there isn't anything to say." polly got no further, and turned away, suspiciously near to tears. was this the first meeting with the girls to which she had looked forward so long? "to think of that cathie harrison making such a breeze," cried alexia angrily; "a girl who's just come among us, as it were, and we only let her in our set because miss salisbury asked us to make things pleasant for her. if it had been any one else who raised such a fuss!" meantime dr. fisher strode out to the west porch, intending to walk down to his office, and buttoning up his coat as he went along. as he turned the angle in the drive, he came suddenly upon a girl who had thrown herself down on a rustic seat under a tree, and whose shoulders were shaking so violently that he knew she was sobbing, though he heard no sound. "don't cry," said the little doctor, "and what's the matter?" all in the same breath, and sitting down beside her. cathie looked up with a gasp, and then crushed her handkerchief over her eyes. "those girls in there are perfectly horrid." "softly, softly," said dr. fisher. "i can't--help it. no matter what i say, they call me names, and i'm tired of it. o dear, dear!" "now see here," said the doctor, getting up on his feet and drawing a long breath. "i'm on my way to my office; suppose you walk along with me a bit and tell me all about it." cathie opened her mouth, intending to say, "oh! i can't"--instead, she found herself silent, and not knowing how, she was presently pacing down the drive by the doctor's side. "polly pepper!" exclaimed alexia, as a turn in the drive brought the two figures in view of the music-room windows, "did you ever see such a sight in your life? cathie is walking off with dr. fisher! there isn't anything her tongue won't say!" "did you tell polly?" cried jasper, a half-hour later, putting his head into dr. fisher's office. "oh! beg pardon; i didn't know you were busy, sir." "come in," said the doctor, folding up some powders methodically. "no, i didn't tell polly." "oh!" said jasper, in a disappointed tone. "i hadn't a fair chance"-"but she ought to know it just as soon as it's talked of," said jasper, fidgeting at a case of little vials on the table. "oh! beg pardon again. i'm afraid i've smashed that chap," as one rolled off to the floor. "i'm no end sorry," picking up the bits ruefully. "i have several like it," said the doctor kindly, and settling another powder in its little paper. "there were a lot of girls with polly when i looked in upon her on my way out. but we'll catch a chance to tell her soon, my boy." "oh! i suppose so. a lot of giggling creatures. how polly can stand their chatter, i don't see," cried jasper impatiently. "they've been shut off from polly for some time, you know," said dr. fisher quietly. "we must remember that." "polly doesn't like some of them a bit better than i do," said jasper explosively, "only she puts up with their nonsense." "it's rather a difficult matter to pick and choose girls who are in the same classes," said the doctor, "and polly sees that." "don't i know it?" exclaimed jasper, in an astonished tone. "dear me, dr. fisher, i've watched polly for years now. and she's always done so." he stopped whirling the articles on the office table, and bestowed a half-offended look on the little physician. "softly, softly, jasper," said dr. fisher composedly. "of course you've used your eyes. now don't spoil things by saying anything, but let polly 'go her own gait,' i beg of you." then he turned to his powders once more. "she will, anyway," declared jasper. "whatever she makes up her mind to do, polly does that very thing." "not a bad characteristic," laughed the doctor. "i should say not." "now when i come up home for dinner, you and i will find polly, and tell her the good news. if she's with a lot of those silly girls, i'll--i'll tear her off this time." dr. fisher glared so fiercely as he declared this determination that jasper laughed outright. "i thought no one was to disturb polly's good intentions in that line," he cried. "well, there's an end to all things, and patience ceases to be a virtue sometimes." "so i've thought a good many times, but i've borne it like a man." jasper drew himself up, and laughed again at the doctor's face. "oh! you go along," cried dr. fisher, his eyes twinkling. "i'll meet you just before dinner." "all right," as jasper rushed off. dr. fisher jumped to his feet, pushing aside the litter of powder papers, and bottles, and ran his fingers through the shock of gray hair standing straight on his head. "yes, yes," he muttered, walking to the window, "it will be a good thing for polly, now i tell you, adoniram." he always preferred to address himself by his first name; then he was sure of a listener. "a vastly good thing. it's quite time that some of the intimacies with these silly creatures are broken up a bit, while the child gains immensely in other ways." he rubbed his palms gleefully. "oh! good-morning, good-morning!" a patient walking in, looked up at the jolly little doctor. "i wish i could laugh like that," he ejaculated, his long face working in the unusual effort to achieve a smile. "you would if you had a gay crowd of children such as i have," cried the little doctor proudly. "why, man, that's better than all my doses." "but i haven't the children," said the patient sourly, and sitting down with a sigh. "i pity you, then," said dr. fisher, with the air of having been a family man for years. "well, besides owning the peppers, i'm going off with them to"--there he stopped, for before he knew it, the secret was well-nigh out. xix phronsie is well again but polly was not to be told yet. when papa fisher walked in to dinner, the merry party around the oak table were waiting over the ices and coffee for his appearance. "oh, papa fisher!" cried polly in dismay, turning from one of alexia's sallies, and dropping her spoon. "now you're all tired out--too bad!" mother fisher flushed up, and set her lips closely together. ben looked disapproval across the board, and polly knew that the wrong thing had been said. "oh! i didn't mean--of course you must take care of the sick people," she said impulsively. "yes, i must," said dr. fisher wearily, and pushing up the shock of gray hair to a stiffer brush over his brow. "that's what i set out to do, i believe." "but that's no reason why you should tire yourself to death, and break down the first year," said mr. king, eyeing him sharply. "zounds, man, that isn't what i brought you up from the country for." dr. fisher looked into his wife's eyes and smiled. "i believe you brought me," the smile said. but he kept his tongue still. "and you must get accustomed to seeing suffering that you can't help. why, man alive, the town's full of it; you can't expect to stop it alone." "i'll do what i can to help," said the little doctor between his teeth, and taking a long draught of the coffee his wife put by his plate. "i suppose there's no objection to that. now, that's good," smacking his lips in a pleased way. "of course not, if you help in the right way," said old mr. king stoutly, "but i'll wager anything that you're picking up all sorts of odd jobs among the poor, that belong to the young doctors. your place is considerably higher, where you can pick and choose your patients." dr. fisher laughed--an odd little laugh, that along with its pleasant note, carried the ring of a strong will. "oh! well, you know, i'm too old to learn new ways," he said. "better let me wag on at the old ones." mr. king gave an exclamation of disapproval. "it's lucky your time is short," he said grimly, and the secret was nearly out! "phronsie is coming downstairs to-morrow, isn't she?" asked jasper quickly, over to the doctor. "oh! no, indeed, i think not," answered mr. king before dr. fisher had time to reply. "she would better wait a day or two longer. isn't that so, doctor?" at last appealing to him. "i don't agree with you," the little doctor drew off his attention from his plate. "you see she has regained her strength remarkably. now the quicker she is in the family life again, the better for her." "oh, good! good!" cried polly, delighted at the safe withdrawal from the precipice of dangerous argument. "alexia, now you must help us think up something to celebrate her coming downstairs." "not so fast, polly." the little doctor beamed at her in a way surprising to see after the morning's affair. "phronsie won't be ready for any celebration before next week. then i think you may venture." alexia pouted and played with her spoon. "o dear!" cried dick dolefully, "what's the reason we must wait a whole week, pray tell?" "because father fisher says so," replied ben across the table; "that's the principal reason--and it doesn't need any more to support it"-"well, i tell you," broke in polly in her brightest way, "let us think up perfectly splendid things. it's best as it is, for it will take us a week to get ready." "i shall get her a new doll," declared mr. king. the rest shouted. "her others must be quite worn out." "what could you get her," cried mr. whitney, "in the way of a doll? do tell us, for i really do not see." "why, one of those phonograph dolls, to be sure," cried mr. king promptly. "are they on sale yet?" asked jasper. "i thought they had not perfected them enough for the market." "i think i know where one can be bought," said his father. "they must be perfected--it's all nonsense that i can't find one if phronsie wants it! yes, she shall have a phonograph doll." "that will be perfectly elegant," exclaimed polly, with sparkling eyes. "won't phronsie be delighted when she hears it talk?" "she ought to have a punch and judy show," said mrs. whitney, "she's always so pleased with them, father." mr. king pushed away his coffee-cup, and pulled out his note-book. "'punch and judy,' down that goes," he said, noting it after "phonograph doll." "what else?" "can't we have some of those boys up from the orphan asylum?" asked polly, after a minute in which everybody had done a bit of hard thinking. "phronsie loves to hear them sing when she goes there. oh! they are so cunning." "she'll want to give them her best toys and load them down with all her possessions. you see if she doesn't," warned jasper. "well, she won't give away her new doll, anyway," cried polly. "no, she never gives away one of the dolls you've given her, father," said mrs. whitney slowly, "not a single one. i tried her one day, asking her to give me one to bestow on a poor child, and she quite reproached me by the look in her brown eyes. i haven't asked her since." "what did she say?" asked mr. king abruptly. "'i can't, auntie; dear grandpapa gave them to me himself.' then she ran for her savings bank, and poured out the money in my lap. 'let's go out and buy the poor child a doll,' she begged, and i really had to do it. and there must be at least two hundred dolls in this house." "two hundred dolls!" cried alexia in astonishment, and raising her hands. "why, yes; father has been bringing phronsie dolls for the last five years, with the greatest faithfulness, till her family has increased to a painful extent." "o dear me!" cried alexia, with great emphasis. "i should think they'd be under foot in every room." "well, indeed they're not," said polly; "she keeps them up in her playroom." "and the playroom closet," said mrs. whitney, "that is full. i peeped in there yesterday, and the dolls are ranged according to the times when father gave them to her." "and the baby-house is just crowded," laughed jasper. "i know, because i saw her moving out her chairs and tables to make room." "o dear me!" exclaimed alexia again, for want of something else to say. "i just hate dolls," exploded dick. "faugh! how can girls play with them; they're so silly. and phronsie always has something to do for hers, so she can't come when i want her to. i wish they were burned up," he added vindictively. mr. king rubbed his forehead in a puzzled way. "perhaps she has enough," he said at last. "yet what shall i give her if i don't buy a doll?" "i'd give her the phonograph one, father," said mrs. whitney, "anyway." "yes, of course; but after that, what shall i do?" he looked so troubled that mrs. whitney hastened to say, "oh, well, father! you know when you are abr"--and the secret was nearly out for the second time! but they were saved by the appearance of alexia's father, who often dropped in on the edge of the dinner hour, for a second cup of coffee. the next morning phronsie was waiting for grandpapa king, who insisted that no one else should carry her downstairs, the remainder of the household in various stages of delight and expectation, revolving around her, and curbing their impatience as best they might, in hall and on staircase. "oh, grandpapa! do hurry," begged dick, kicking his heels on the stairs. "hush, dicky boy," said mamma. "grandpapa can't come till his agent is gone. don't you hear them talking in the library?" "well i wish mr. frazer would take himself off; he's a nuisance," declared the boy. "he's been here a whole hour." "here comes grandpapa!" announced polly gleefully, from a station nearer the library. "hush, now, mr. frazer's going!" the library door opening at this announcement, and a few sentences charged with business floating up the staircase, the bustle around phronsie became joyfully intense. "mamsie, don't you think she ought to have a shawl on?" cried polly anxiously, running over the stairs. "she's been shut up so long!" "no," said mother fisher. "doctor told me particularly not to bundle her up. it was the last thing he said before he went to his office." "well," said polly with a sigh, "then there isn't absolutely anything more to do for her. why doesn't grandpapa come?" "you are worse than dicky," said mrs. fisher with a little laugh. "dear me, polly, just think how old you are." phronsie stood quite still in the middle of the floor and folded her hands. "i want to see grandpapa all alone when he comes up," she said. "what for?" cried polly, pausing in astonishment. "do you want us all to go out, phronsie?" asked her mother slowly. "yes," said phronsie, shaking her yellow head with great decision, "please every single one go out, mamsie. i want to see grandpapa quite alone." "all right, child," said mrs. fisher, with a look at polly. so after a little demur and consequent delay on the part of the others, the door was closed and she was left standing all alone. phronsie drew a long breath. "i wish grandpapa would come," she said to herself. "and so you wanted me, did you, dear?" cried mr. king joyfully, as he hurried in and closed the door carefully. "well, now, see if i can guess what you want to tell me." "grandpapa," said phronsie, standing quite still and turning a puzzled face toward him, "i don't want to tell you anything; i want to ask you something." "well, well, dear, what is it?" old mr. king, not stopping for a chair, leaned over her and stroked her yellow head. "now, then, look up, and ask me right off, phronsie." "must a person keep a promise?" asked phronsie, "a really and truly promise, grandpapa?" "yes, yes," said the old gentleman with great abruptness, "to be sure one must, phronsie. to be sure. so now if any one has promised you anything, do you make him stick to it. it's mean enough to break your word, child." phronsie drew a long breath. "that's all, grandpapa," she said, and lifting up her arms; "now take me downstairs, please." she laid a cool little cheek against his, as he raised her to his shoulder. "remember what i say, phronsie," laughed mr. king, his mind more intent on the delightful fact that he was carrying down the longed-for burden to the family life, than on what he was saying, "and if any one has promised you anything, keep him up sharp to pay you. i verily believe it is that scamp dick. here goes!" and reaching the door he threw it wide. "forward, march!" "well, is the important conference over?" asked polly, with a keen look at them both. mrs. fisher's eyes did their duty, but she said nothing. "yes, indeed," declared mr. king, marching on gaily. "now clear the way there, all you good people. here, you dick, drumming your heels, go ahead, sir." "i'm glad enough to," shouted dick, racing down the remainder of the stairs. "halloo, phronsie," waving his hand at her, "three cheers and a tiger! bother! here comes mrs. chatterton." which was quite true. to every one's astonishment the door of that lady's apartment opened slowly, disclosing her in new morning wrapper, preparing to join the cavalcade. "good morning, cousin eunice," cried mr. king gaily. he could be merry with any one this day. "come on, this is a festal occasion, you see; phronsie's going downstairs for the first time. fall into line!" "i'm not able to go down," said mrs. chatterton, coming slowly out into the hall, "but i'll stand here and see the parade." "bully!" exploded dick softly, peering up from the foot of the stairs. phronsie looked over mr. king's shoulder at her as she was borne down the stairs, and, putting out her hand, "i'm all well now," she said. "yes, i see," said mrs. chatterton. then she pulled up her white shawl with a shiver. "it's rather cold here," she said; "after all, i believe i must get back to my room." nobody noticed when she crept back, the hilarity now being so great below stairs. "i certainly am losing ground," she muttered, "every little thing affects me so. i'll step into bartram's office next time i go down town and set that little matter straight, since i've made up my mind to do it. it never would do to let him come to the house. horatio would suspect something to see my lawyer here, and the whole household imagine i was going to die right off. no, no; i must go there, that's clear. then if it's attended to, i'll live all the longer, with nothing on my mind." phronsie, meanwhile, was going around from room to room in a pleased way, and touching different objects gently "everything's new, isn't it, polly," she said at last, "when you stay upstairs? oh! there's my kittens in the basket," pointing to a bisque vase on the table. "yes," said polly; "mamsie brought it in here. and we've some flowers; alexia sent them over. they're out in the back hall; we saved them for you to put in yourself." "oh!" exclaimed phronsie, "that's so good in you, polly." "don't stop now," cried dick in disgust. "faugh! you can fix flowers any time. come out into the dining-room--and you'll see something you'll like." phronsie smothered a sigh, and turned slowly away from the kittens waiting in their basket for alexia's flowers. "come on!" shouted dick, seizing her hand. "you never can guess what it is, in all this world." "is it a new dog?" asked phronsie fearfully, whose memory of dick's latest purchase was not altogether happy. "no," said dick, pulling her on, "better than that." "don't hurry her so," said polly. "what have you got, dick?" "now, do you mind, sir," cried jasper, "else well stop your pretty plan." "i won't hurry her," said dick, slackening his gait. "well, here we are," opening the dining-room door. "why, jane has let it out!" phronsie fell back a step at this and tried to cover her feet with her gown, searching the floor for the "it." "lookout!" cried dick suddenly. "there he goes!" and something whirred over phronsie's head. "oh! what is it?" she cried, tumbling into jasper's arms and clasping his neck. "oh! oh!" "why, it's a swallow," cried dick, in the babel that ensued, "a beautiful one, too. i've just caught him, and i made jane let me bring it in here to surprise you," he added proudly. "well, you've succeeded," cried jasper, holding phronsie close. "there, there, child, it's all right. it's a bird, phronsie, and he's gone upstairs." "he'll frighten my dolls," cried phronsie in new alarm, hanging to jasper's neck. "oh! do let us go upstairs, and tell them he's only a bird." "run along, dick, and catch your old bird," cried jasper, "and clear out with him--quick now!" "he's the best thing there is in this house," cried dick, going over the back stairs two at a time. "girls are so silly." "bring him down," said polly, moving along to the foot, "and i'll show him to phronsie, and tell her about him. then she'll like him, dick." "i'll like him, dick," echoed phronsie, "if he doesn't frighten my dolls." this episode taking the family life to the rear of the house, no one noticed that soft footsteps were passing through the open front door, that jane, who was sweeping the vestibule, had left ajar to run and tell dick that she had not let the bird out of the dining-room. so the uninvited guest to the household let himself up easily to the scene of his hopes--the location of the ladies' jewel-boxes. xx the secret mrs. chatterton, standing by her toilet table, carefully examining her wealth of gray hair to note the changes in its tint, was suddenly surprised in the very act of picking out an obnoxious white hair, by a slight noise in the further corner of the apartment. and dropping her fingers quickly and turning away from the glass, she exclaimed, "how dare you, hortense, come in without knocking?" "if you make a noise i'll kill you," declared a man, standing in the shadow of a portiere and watching her underneath a slouched black hat. there was a slight click that caused the listener's nerves to thrill. but her varied life had brought her nothing if not self-control, and she coolly answered, "if you want my money, say so." "not exactly money, ma'am," said the man, "for i don't suppose you have much here. but i'll thank you to hand over that there box of diamonds." he extended the other hand with its dingy fingers toward a large ebony jewel-case elaborate with its brass hinges, and suggestive of double locks, on a corner of the table. "if you are determined to take it, i suppose i must give it to you," said mrs. chatterton, with evident reluctance handing the box designated, very glad to think she had but a few days before changed the jewels to another repository to escape hortense's prying eyes. in making the movement she gave a sweeping glance out the window. should she dare to scream? michael was busy on the lawn, she knew; she could hear his voice talking to one of the under gardeners. "see here, old lady," warned the man, "you keep your eyes in the room. now then," his greedy glance fastened on the glittering gems on her fingers, "i'll thank you to rip them things off." dick, racing along the further end of the hall after his bird with a "whoop, la--i've almost caught you," startling him, he proceeded to perform the service for himself. "there he goes!" cried dick, "in her room. bother! well, i must catch him." so without the preamble of knocking, the boy dashed into the dressing-room. the bird whizzing ahead of him, flashed between the drawn folds of the portiere. "excuse me," cried dick, rushing in, "but my swallow--oh!" "go back!" cried mrs. chatterton hoarsely, "you'll be killed." the bird flying over his head, and the appearance of the boy, disconcerted the robber for one instant. he held the long white hand in his, tearing off the rings. there was no chance for her to escape, she knew, but she could save dick. "go back!" she screamed again. there was only a moment to think, but dick dashed in, and with a mighty spirit, but small fists, he flung himself against the stalwart arms and shoulders. "o heavens!" screamed mrs. chatterton. "he's but a boy, let him go. you shall have the rings. help--help!" dick, clutching and tearing blindly at whatever in the line of hair or ragged garment he could lay hold of, was waging an unequal warfare. but what he did was accomplished finely. and the bird, rushing blindly into the midst of the contention, with whirrings and flappings indescribable, helped more than an army of servants, to confuse the man. notwithstanding, it was soon over, but not before mrs. chatterton had wrenched her fingers free, and grasped the pistol from its loose hold in his other hand. the box under his arm fell to the floor, and dick was just being tossed to the other side of the room; she could hear him strike the cheval-glass with a dull thud. "i can shoot as well as you," said mrs. chatterton, handling the pistol deftly. "make a noise, and i will." he knew it, by her eyes, and that she had taken good aim. "where are you, dick?" cried polly's voice outside, and rapping at the door. "mrs. chatterton, have you seen him?" "come in," called mrs. chatterton, with firmest of fingers on the trigger and her flashing eyes fastened upon the seamed, dirty face before her. polly threw wide the door. "we have a man here that we don't want," said mrs. chatterton. "i'll take care of him till you get help. hurry!" "oh, dick!" cried polly in a breath, with a fearful glance at the boy lying there. "i think he's all right, polly." she dared say no more, for dick had not stirred. polly clasped her hands, and rushed out almost into jasper's face. "a burglar--a burglar!" and he dashed into mrs. chatterton's room. "don't interfere," said mrs. chatterton. "i'm a splendid markswoman." "you needn't shoot," said the man sullenly. "i won't stir." "no, i don't think you will," said the gray-haired woman, her eyes alight, and hand firm as a rock. "well, here are the men." jasper had seized a table-spread, and as michael and the undergardeners advanced, he went back of the robber, and cleverly threw it over his head. it was easy to secure and bind him then. polly rushed over to dick. "turn the creature over and let us see how he looks," said mr. king, hurrying in as the last knot of the rope was made fast. the old slouched hat had fallen off in the struggle, and the man's features came plainly to view. "he's no beauty, and that's a fact." "i've seen that fellow round here for many a day," said michael, giving the recumbent legs a small kick. "oncet he axed me ef we wanted ony wourk done. i mind yees, yer see," with another attention from his gardening boot. "i want to tie one rope," cried a voice. dick opened his eyes, rubbed them, and felt of his head. "i'm all right, polly. i saw stars, but i've got over it, i guess. let me give him the last knot." he staggered blindly to his feet. "i'll tie for you," said jasper, "trust me, dick's all right, only stunned," he telegraphed to the rapidly increasing group. "tell his mother so, do, somebody," said old mr. king. "well, cousin eunice, you've covered yourself with glory," he turned on her warmly. she had thrown aside the pistol, and now sank into a chair. "never mind," she waved it off carelessly, "i'll imagine the compliments. just now i want a glass of wine. call hortense, will you?" the man on the floor tried to raise his head. but he couldn't, so was obliged to content himself with an ugly grin. "that bird has flown," he said. "i'll peep. she put me up to it; we was goin' shares on the old lady's stuff." with that mrs. chatterton's spirit returned. she sprang from her chair, and rushed around from bureau to closet to see the extent of her maid's dishonesty. but beyond a few minor deficiencies of her wardrobe, there was no robbery to speak of. evidently hortense had considered it unwise to be burdened with much impedimenta. so the robber was hauled off to justice, and phronsie, coming wonderingly up the stairs, came softly in upon them, in time to see dick rush up to mrs. chatterton with a "you're a brick!" before them all. after that, there was no more hope of keeping things quiet in the house for phronsie's sake. meanwhile the bird, who had played no mean part in the engagement, now asserted himself, and blindly rushed into capture. "isn't he lovely!" cried phronsie, tearing her gaze off from the wonderful wings, as the swallow fluttered under the mosquito netting speedily brought in. "yes, his wings are," said polly. "oh, dick! do tell over again how it all happened." so dick rehearsed once more as far as he knew the story, tossing off lightly his part of it. "your poor head, does it ache?" cried polly, feeling of the big bump on the crown. "no, not a bit," declared dick, shaking his brown poll. "i'm glad i didn't crack the glass." "that heavy plate?" cried polly, looking over at the cheval-glass with a shiver. phronsie deserted the fascinating bird, and began to smooth dick's head with both hands. "do let me bathe it," she begged. "i'll get the pond's extract." "no, i won't," said dick. "it smells awfully, and i've had so much of it for my leg. i'm all right, phronsie. see his wings now--he's stretching." but phronsie was not to be diverted from her purpose. "i'll get bay rum," she said. "may i?" dick made a wry face. "worse and worse." "cologne, then." "no, i hate it." "he doesn't want it bathed, phronsie dear," said polly. "boys like to get hurt, you know. 'tisn't manly to be fixed up." phronsie gave a sigh, which so went to dick's heart, that he said, "all right, bring on some water if you want to. but don't get any brown paper; i had enough of that when i was a boy." and at the end of that exciting day, the secret came out, after all, in rather a tame fashion. dr. fisher and jasper met polly in an angle of the hall, as she was running upstairs after dinner for her schoolbooks. "polly," asked the little doctor, putting both hands on her shoulders, and looking into the brown eyes, "should you be willing to go abroad with your mother and phronsie, mr. king and jasper?" "oh!" polly gasped. "but you?" came in a later breath, "we couldn't leave you," she cried loyally. "well, i suppose i should go along too," said the little doctor, enjoying her face. "why, jasper elyot king!" cried polly, slipping out from under the doctor's palms, and seizing the two hands extended, she began to spin around as in the olden days, "did you ever, ever hear of anything so perfectly magnificent! but ben and joel and davie!" and she paused on the edge of another pirouette. dr. fisher made haste to answer, "polly, mrs. whitney will take care of them." and jasper led her off into the dance again. "how can we ever leave the boys! oh! i don't see," cried polly, a bit reproachfully, her hair blown over her rosy cheeks. as they danced lightly down the long hall, dr. fisher leaned against a pillar, and watched them. "have to," said jasper, guiding his partner deftly in the intricacies of the chairs and statuary. "that's a good spin, polly," he said, as they brought up by the little doctor's side. "lovely!" said polly, pushing back her locks from the sparkling eyes. "i'm almost tempted to dance myself," said dr. fisher. "if i wasn't such an old fellow, i'd try; that is, if anybody asked me." "i will," said polly, laughing. "come, papa fisher," holding out her hand, "do give me the honor." "all right," said dr. fisher bravely. so jasper took the deserted post by the pillar, and whistled a strauss waltz. thereupon a most extraordinary hopping up and down the hall was commenced, the two figures bobbing like a pair of corks on a quivering water-surface. the doors opened, and several faces appeared, amongst the number mrs. fisher's. "i couldn't help it," said the little doctor, coming up red and animated, and wiping his forehead. his spectacles had fallen off long since, and he had let them go. "it looked so nice to see jasper and polly, i thought i'd try it. i didn't suppose i'd get on so well; i really believe i can dance." "humph!" laughed mr. king, "it looks like it. just see polly." "oh, papa fisher!" cried polly with a merry peal in which jasper, unpuckering his lips from the strauss effort, had joined, "we must have looked"--here she went off again. "yes," said jasper, "you did. that's just it, polly, you did. lucky you two caperers didn't break anything." "well, if you've got through laughing," observed dr. fisher, "i'll remark that the secret is out." "do you like it, polly?" asked mr. king, holding out his hand. "say, my girl?" and then before she could answer, he went on, "you see, we can't do anything without a doctor on our travels. now providence has given us one, though rather an obstinate specimen," he pointed to father fisher. "and he wants to see the hospitals, and you want to study a bit of music, and your mother wants rest, and jasper and phronsie and i want fun, so we're going, that's all." "when?" demanded polly breathlessly. "in a month." xxi the whitneys' little plan "i think it's a mean shame," cried joel, on a high vindictive key. "you've had burglars here twice, and i haven't been home." "you speak as if we appointed the meeting, joe," said ben with a laugh. "well, it's mean, anyway," cried joel, with a flash of his black eyes. "now there won't any come again in an age." "goodness, i hope not," ejaculated mr. king, lowering his newspaper to peer over its top. "i'd have floored him," declared joel, striking out splendidly from the shoulder, "if i'd only have been here." "all very well," said percy negligently, "but you weren't here," and he laughed softly. "do you mean to say that i couldn't have handled the burglar?" demanded joel belligerently, and advancing on percy, "say? because if you do, why, i'll try a bout with you." "i didn't say anything what you could or couldn't do. i said you weren't here, and you weren't. that's enough," and percy turned his back on him, thrust his hands in the pockets of his morning jacket and stalked to the window. van opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it, and gave a low whistle. joel, finding no enthusiasm for tales of his fighting prowess, ran off to interview dick on the old topic of the burglary and to obtain another close account of its details. "to think phronsie saw the other burglar five years ago, and now dick was on hand for this one--those two babies," he fumed, "and none of us men around." "percy," said van, "come out in the hall, will you?" "what do you want?" asked percy lazily. "oh! you come along," cried van, laying hold of his jacket. "see here," dropping his voice cautiously, as he towed him successfully out, "let's give joe a chance to see a burglar; he wants to so terribly." "what do you mean?" asked percy, with astonished eyes, his hands still in his pockets. van burst into a loud laugh, then stopped short. "it'll take two of us," he whispered. "oh, van!" exclaimed percy, and pulling his hands from their resting places, he clapped them smartly together. "but we ought not, i really suppose," he said at last, letting them fall to his sides. "mamma mightn't like it, you know." "she wouldn't mind," said van, yet he looked uneasy. "it would be a great comfort to every one, to take joe down. he does yarn so." "it's an old grudge with you," said percy pleasantly. "you know he beat you when you were a little fellow, and he'd just come." "as if i cared for that," cried van in a dudgeon, "that was nothing. i didn't half try; and he went at me like a country sledge-hammer." "yes, i remember," percy nodded placidly, "and you got all worsted and knocked into a heap. everybody knew it." "do you suppose i'd pound a visitor?" cried van wrathfully, his cheeks aflame. "say, percy whitney?" "no, i don't," said percy, "not when 'twas joe." "that's just it. he was polly's brother." at mention of polly, percy's color rose, and he put out his hand. "beg pardon, van," he said. "here, shake, and make up. i forgot all about our promise," he added penitently. "i forgot it, too," declared van, quieting down, and thrusting out his brown palm to meet his brother's. "well, i don't care what you say if you'll only go halves in this lark," he finished, brightening up. "well, i will," said percy, to make atonement. "come up to our room, then, and think it out," cried van gleefully, flying over the stairs three at a bound. "sh--sh! and hurry up!" just then the door-bell gave a loud peal, and jencks the butler opened it to receive a box about two feet long and one broad. "for miss phronsie pepper," said the footman on the steps, holding it out, "but it's not to be given to her till to-morrow." "all right," said jencks, taking it. "that's the sixth box for miss phronsie that i've took in this morning," he soliloquized, going down the hall and reading the address carefully. "and all the same size." "ding-a-ling," jencks laid the parcel quickly on one of the oaken chairs in the hall, and hurried to the door, to be met by another parcel for "miss phronsie pepper: not to be given to her till to-morrow." "and the i-dentical size," he ejaculated, squinting at it as he went back to pick up the first parcel, "as like as two peas, they are." upstairs polly was at work with happy fingers, alexia across the room, asking every third minute, "polly, how does it go? o dear! i can't do anything unless you look and see if it's right." and polly would turn her back on a certain cloud of white muslin and floating lace, and flying off to alexia to give the necessary criticism, with a pull here and a pat there, would set matters straight, presently running back to her own work again. "you see," she said, "everything must be just right, for next to mamsie's wedding, this is to be the most important occasion, alexia rhys, that we've ever known. we can't have anything too nice for phronsie's getting-well party." "that's so," said alexia, twitching a pink satin bow on the handle of a flower-basket. "o dear me! this bow looks like everything! i've tried six different times to make it hang down quite careless and refined. and just to provoke me, it pokes up like a stiff old thing in my face. do come and tie it, polly." so polly jumped up again, and laying determined fingers on the refractory bow, sent it into a shape that alexia protested was "too lovely for anything." "are you going to have a good-by party?" asked alexia after a minute. "i suppose so," said polly. "grandpapa said i would better, but o dear me, i don't believe i can ever get through with it in all this world," and polly hid her face behind a cloud of muslin that was slowly coming into shape as a dress for one of phronsie's biggest dolls. "it will be dreadful," said alexia, with a pathetic little sniff, and beginning on a second pink bow, "but then, you know, it's your duty to go off nicely, and i'm sure you can't do it, polly, without a farewell party." "yes," said polly slowly, "but then i'd really rather write little notes to all the girls. but i suppose they'll all enjoy the party," she added. "indeed they will," declared alexia quickly. "o dear me, i wish i was going with you. you'll have a perfectly royal time. "i'm going to work hard at my music, you know," declared polly, raising her head suddenly, a glow on her round cheek. "oh! well, you'll only peg away at it when you've a mind," said alexia carelessly, and setting lazy stitches. "most of the time you'll be jaunting around, seeing things, and having fun generally. oh! don't i wish i was going with you." "alexia rhys!" cried polly in astonishment, and casting her needle from her, she deserted the muslin cloud summarily. "only peg away when i have the mind?" she repeated indignantly. "well, i shall have the mind most of the time, i can tell you. why, that's what i am going abroad for, to study music. how can i ever teach it, if i don't go, pray tell?" she demanded, and now her eyes flashed, and her hands worked nervously. "oh! nonsense," cried alexia, not looking at the face before her, and going on recklessly, "as if that meant anything, all that talk about your being a music-teacher, polly," and she gave a little incredulous laugh. polly got out of her chair somehow, and stood very close to the fussing fingers over the pink satin bow. "do you never dare say that to me again," she commanded; "it's the whole of my life to be a music-teacher--the very whole." "oh, polly!" down went the satin bow dragging with it alexia's spool of silk and the dainty scissors. "don't--don't--i didn't mean anything; but you really know that mr. king will never let you be a music-teacher in all this world. never; you know it, polly. oh! don't look like that; please don't." "he will," said polly, in a low but perfectly distinct voice, "for he has promised me." "well, he'll get out of it somehow," said alexia, her evil genius urging her on, "for you know, polly, it would be too queer for any of his family, and--and a girl of our set, to turn out a music-teacher. you know, polly, that it would." and alexia smiled in the most convincing way and jumped up to throw her arms around her friend. "if any of the girls in our set," said polly grandly, and stepping off from alexia, "wish to draw away from me, they can do so now. i am to be a music-teacher; i'm perfectly happy to be one, i want you all to understand. just as happy as i can possibly be in all this world. why, it's what i've been studying and working for, and how else do you suppose i can ever repay dear grandpapa for helping me?" her voice broke, and she stopped a minute, clasping her hands tightly to keep back the rush of words. "oh, polly!" cried alexia in dismay, and beginning to whimper, she tried again to put her arm around her. "don't touch me," said polly, waving her off with an imperative hand. "oh, polly! polly!" "and the rest of our set may feel as you do; then i don't want them to keep on liking me," said polly, with her most superb air, and drawing off further yet. "polly, if you don't stop, you'll--you'll kill me," gasped alexia. "oh, polly! i don't care what you are. you may teach all day if you want to, and i'll help get you scholars. i'll do anything, and so will all the girls; i know they will. polly, do let me be your friend just as i was. o, dear, dear! i wish i hadn't said anything--i wish i had bitten my tongue off; i didn't think you'd mind it so much," and now alexia broke down, and sobbed outright. "you've got to say it's glorious to teach," said polly, unmoved, and with her highest air on, "and that you're glad i'm going to do it." "it's glo--glorious to teach," mumbled poor alexia behind her wet handkerchief. "and i'm glad you're going to do it," dictated polly inflexibly. "i'm glad you're going to do it," echoed alexia in a dismal tone. "then i'll be your friend once more," consented polly with a slow step toward alexia, "that is, if you never in all this world say such a dreadful thing again, alexia rhys." "don't ask me. you know i won't," promised alexia, her spirits rising. so polly went over to her and set a kiss on her wet cheek, comforting her as only polly could, and before long the pink satin bow, with the spool of silk hanging to it, and the scissors were found under the table, and polly attacked the muslin cloud with redoubled vigor, and the girls' voices carried merry laughter and scraps of happy talk, and mrs. chatterton stole out of the little reading-room next to them and shut herself up in her own apartment. "dear me, how fine that doll's gown is to be, polly," exclaimed alexia after a bit. "is the lace going on all around the bottom?" "yes," said polly, biting off her thread, and giving the muslin breadths a little shake; "felicie is tucking the flounce; then i shall have to sew on the lace." "how many dolls are there to refurbish before to-morrow?" asked alexia suddenly. "four--no, five," said polly, rapidly counting; "for the one that grandpapa gave her christmas before last, celestine, you know, does need a new waist. i forgot her. but that doesn't count the new sashes, and the hair ribbons and the lace ruffles around the necks; i guess there are almost fifty of them. dear me, i must hurry," and she began to sew faster yet. "what a nuisance all those dolls are," said alexia, "they take up every bit of your spare time." "that isn't the worst of it," said polly. "alexia, i don't know what we shall do, for phronsie works over them till she's quite tired out. you ought to see her this morning." "she's up in the play-house at it now, i suppose," said alexia, "dressing every one of them for the party to-morrow." "yes," said polly, "she is." "well, i hope no one will give her a doll to-morrow," said alexia, "at least no one but mr. king. of course he will." "oh! no one else will," declared polly cheerfully. "of course not, alexia." and then jencks walked in with his seven boxes exactly alike as to size, and deposited them solemnly in a row on the blue and white lounge. "for miss phronsie pepper, and not to be opened till to-morrow, miss mary." "polly," said alexia in a stage whisper, and jumping up as jencks disappeared, to run over to the row, "do you suppose they are dolls?" "i shall die if they are," declared polly desperately, and sitting quite still. "they surely look like dolls on the very covers," said alexia, fingering the cords. "would it be so very wrong to open one box, and just relieve our suspense? just one, polly?" "no, no, don't," cried polly sharply. "they belong to phronsie. but o dear me!" "and just think," said alexia, like a job's comforter, and looking over at the clock, "it's only half-past eleven. polly pepper, there's time for oceans more to come in yet." "it's perfectly horrid to get such a scrap of an outing," said joel that night, sprawling on the rug before the library fire, "only four days! why couldn't mr. marks be sick longer than that, if he was going to be sick at all, pray?" "these four days will give you strength for your 'exams,' won't they, joe?" asked van. joel turned his black eyes on him and coolly said "yes," then made a wry face, doubled up a bit of paper, and aimed it at van. davie sighed, and looked up anxiously. "i hope mr. marks will come out all right so that we can go back monday." "i only hope he'll stay ill," said joel affectionately. "'tisn't safe anyway for us to go back monday. it may be typhoid fever, you know, mamsie," looking over at her. "they'll let us know soon enough if that's the case," said mother fisher in the lamp-light over by the center-table. "no, i expect your letter to-morrow will say 'come monday.'" "well, it's a downright shame for us to be pulled off so soon," cried joel indignantly, sitting straight. "think how soon the term ends, joe," cried polly, "then you have such a long outing." she sighed as she thought of the separation to come, and the sea between them. "that's nothing; only a dreadful little time--soon will be gone," grunted joel, turning his face to look at the brightly-leaping flames the cool evening had made necessary. ben glanced over at polly. "don't talk of the summer," he was going to say, but stopped in time. phronsie set her doll carefully in the corner of the sofa, and went over to joel. "does your head ache often at school, joel?" she asked, softly laying her cool little palm on his stubby hair. "yes," said joel, "it does, awfully, phronsie; and nobody cares, and says 'stop studying." a shout greeted this. "that's too bad," said phronsie pityingly, "i shall just write and ask mr. marks if he won't let you stop and rest when it aches." "'twouldn't do any good, phronsie," said joel, "nothing would. he's a regular old grinder, marks is." "mr. marks," said phronsie slowly, "i don't know who you mean by marks, joel. and what is a grinder, please?" getting down on her knees to look in his face. "and he works us boys so, phronsie--you can't think," said joel, ignoring the question. "what is a grinder, joel, please tell me," repeated phronsie with gentle persistence. "oh! a grinder is a horrid buffer," began joel impatiently. "joel," said mrs. fisher, reprovingly. the fire in her black eyes was not pleasant to look at, and after one glance, he turned back to the blazing logs once more. "i can't help it," he muttered, picking up the tongs to poke the fire. "don't ever let me hear that excuse from a son of mine," said mother fisher scornfully. "can't help it. i'd be master of myself, that's one thing." joel set the tongs back with an unsteady hand. they slipped and fell to the hearth with a clang. "mamsie, i didn't mean," he began, finding his feet. and before any one could draw a long breath, he rushed out of the room. there was a dreadful pause. polly clasped her hands tightly together, and looked at her mother. mrs. fisher quietly put her sewing into the big basket and got out of her chair. "oh! what is the matter with joey?" cried phronsie, standing quite still by the deserted hearth-rug. "mamsie, do you suppose his head aches?" "i think it must," said mrs. fisher gravely. then she went out very quietly and they could hear her going up the stairs. with a firm step she went into her own room, and turned up the gas. the flash revealed joel, face downward on the broad, comfortable sofa. mrs. fisher went over and closed the door, then came to his side. "i thought, my boy," she said, "that i should find you here. now then, tell mother all about it," and lifting his head, she sat down and took it into her lap. "o dear!" cried joel, burrowing deep in the comfortable lap, "o dear--o dear!" "now, that is silly, joey," said mother fisher, "tell me at once what all this trouble is about," passing her firm hands over his hot forehead, and trying to look in his face. but he struggled to turn it away from her. "in the first place i just hate school!" he exploded. xxii joel "hate school?" cried mother fisher. "oh, joey! think how ben wanted more schooling, only he wouldn't take the chance when mr. king offered it to him because he felt that he must be earning money as soon as possible. oh, joey!" that "oh, joey!" cut deeply. joel winced and burrowed deeper under his mother's fingers. "that's just it," he cried. "ben wanted it, and i don't. i hate it, and i don't want to go back." "don't want to go back?" repeated mrs. fisher in dismay. "no, i don't. the fellows are always twitting me, and every one gets ahead of me, and i'm everlastingly staying in from ballgames to make up lessons, and i'd like to fire the books, i would," cried joel with venom. mrs. fisher said nothing, but the hands still stroked the brown stubby head in her lap. "and nobody cares for me because i won't be smart like the others, but i can't help it, i just hate school!" finished joel in the same strain. "joel," said mrs. fisher slowly, "if that is the case, i shall go down to mr. king and tell him that we, father fisher and i, polly and phronsie, will not go abroad with him." joel bolted upright and, putting down his two hands, brought his black eyes to bear on her. "what?" "i shall go directly downstairs and tell mr. king that father fisher and i, polly and phronsie, will not go abroad with him," repeated his mother slowly and distinctly while she looked him fully in the face. "you can't do that," said joel in amazement. "he's engaged the state-rooms." "that makes no difference," said mrs. fisher, "when a woman has a boy who needs her, nothing should stand in the way. and i must stay at home and take care of you, joel." joel sprang to his feet and began to prance up and down the floor. "i'm big enough to take care of myself, mother," he declared, coming up to her, to prance off again. "so i thought," said mrs. fisher composedly, "or i shouldn't have placed you at mr. marks's school." "the idea, mamsie, of your staying at home to take care of me," said joel excitedly. "why, feel of that." he bared his arm, and coming up, thrust it out for inspection. "isn't that splendid? i do verily believe i could whip any fellow in school, i do," he cried, regarding his muscles affectionately. "if you don't believe it, just pinch them hard. you don't mean it really, mamsie, what you said, of course. the idea of staying at home to take care of me," and he began to prance again. "i don't care how many boys you can whip," observed mother fisher coolly, "as long as you can't whip your own self when you're naughty, you're too weak to go alone, and i must stay at home." joel stopped suddenly and looked at her. "and before i'd give up, a boy of thirteen, and beg to be taken away from school because the lessons were hard, and i didn't like to study, i'd work myself to skin and bone but i'd go through creditably." mrs. fisher sat straight now as an arrow in her corner of the sofa. "i've said my say, joel," she finished after a pause, "and now i shall go down and tell mr. king." "mother," howled joel, dashing across the room to her, "don't go! i'll stay, i will. don't say that again, about my having to be taken care of like a baby. i'll be good, mother, and study." "study doesn't amount to much unless you are glad of the chance," said mrs. fisher sharply. "i wouldn't give a fig for it, being driven to it," and her lips curled scornfully. joel wilted miserably. "i do care for the chance," he cried; "just try me, and see." mrs. fisher took his sunburnt face between her two hands. "do you really wish to go back to school, and put your mind on your books? be honest, now." "yes, i do," said joel, without winking. "well, you never told me a lie, and i know you won't begin now," said mother fisher, slowly releasing him. "you may go back, joe; i'll trust you." "phronsie," said jasper, as the sound of the two voices could be heard in mother fisher's room, "don't you want to come into my den? i've some new bugs in the cabinet--found a regular beauty to-day." phronsie stood quite still just where joel had left her; her hands were clasped and tears were rolling slowly down her cheeks. "no," she said, without looking at him, "jasper, i don't." "do come, phronsie," he begged, going over to her, and holding out his hand. "you can't think how nice the new one is, with yellow stripes and two long horns. come and see it, phronsie." "no, jasper," said the child quietly. then in the next breath, "i think joey must be very sick." "oh! mamsie is taking care of him, and he'll soon be all right," broke in polly cheerily. "do go with jasper, phronsie, do, dear." she took hold of the clasped hands, and smiled up into the drooping face. but phronsie shook her head and said "no." "if grandpapa should come in and find her so 'twould be very dreadful!" exclaimed polly, looking over at the five boys, who in this sudden emergency were knocked speechless. "do let us all play some game. can't some one think of one?" "let us play 'twenty questions,'" proposed jasper brightly. "i'll begin it, i've thought of something." "that's horrid," cried van, finding his tongue, "none of us want to play that, i'm sure." "i do," said david. "i think 'twenty questions' is always nice. is it animal, vegetable or mineral, jasper?" "i'm sick of it. do play something not quite as old as the hills, i beg." "well, you think of something yourself, old man," said jasper, nodding furiously at him. "hurry up." "i'd rather have polly tell a story than any game you could possibly think of," said van, going over to her, where she sat on the rug at phronsie's feet. "polly, will you?" he asked wheedlingly. "don't ask her to-night," interposed jasper. "yes, i shall. it's the only time we shall have," said van, "before we go back to school. do, polly, will you?" he begged again. "i can't think of the first thing," declared polly, pushing back little rings of brown hair from her forehead. "don't try to think; just spin it off," said van. "now begin." "you're a regular nuisance, van!" exclaimed jasper indignantly. "polly, i wouldn't indulge him." "i know phronsie wants a story; don't you, phronsie?" asked van artfully, and running over to peer into her face. but to his astonishment, phronsie stood perfectly still. "no," she said again, "i don't want a story; joey must be sick." "jasper," cried polly in despair, and springing up, "something must be done. grandpapa's coming; i hear him." "phronsie," said jasper, bending to speak into her ear, "do you know you are making polly feel very unhappy? just think; the next thing i don't know but what she'll cry." phronsie unfolded her hands. "give me your handkerchief, polly," she said, winking back the rest of the tears. "now, there's a dear," cried polly, pulling out her handkerchief and wiping the wet, little face. none too soon; the door opened and mr. king came in. "well--well--well!" he exclaimed, looking over his spectacles at them all. "playing games, hey?" "we're going to," said ben and jasper together. "no, polly is going to tell a story," said van loudly, "that is, if you want to hear it, grandpapa. do say you do," he begged, going over to whisper in his ear. "i want immensely to hear it!" declared the old gentleman, pulling up an easy-chair to the fireside. "there now," sitting down, "i'm fixed. now proceed, my dear." van softly clapped his hands. "phronsie," mr. king beckoned to her, and then suggestively touched his knee, "here, dear." phronsie scurried across the room to his side. "yes, grandpapa." "there, up she goes!" sang mr. king, swinging her into position on his lap. "now then, polly, my child, we are all ready for the wonderful tale. stay, where is joel?" "joel went upstairs a little while ago," said jasper quickly. "well, now, polly, do begin." "i'll tell how we went to buy phronsie's shoes," said polly, drawing up an ottoman to mr. king's side. "now, boys, bring your chairs up." "joel ought to know that you are going to tell a story, polly," said mr. king. "one of you boys run out and call him at the foot of the stairs." "he's in mamsie's room," said ben. "i suppose when she gets through with him, he'll come down." "oh! ah!" said the old gentleman. "well, polly, then perhaps you would better proceed." so polly began on the never tiresome recital, how phronsie fell down the stairs leading from the kitchen to the "provision room" in the little brown house, with the bread-knife in her hand; and how, because she cut her thumb so that it bled dreadfully, mother decided that she could at last have a pair of shoes bought especially for her very own self; and how deacon brown's old horse and wagon were procured, and they all set forth, except mother, and how they rode to town, and how the beebes were just as good as gold, and how the red-topped shoes fitted as if they were made for phronsie's feet, and how they all went home, and how phronsie danced around the kitchen till she was all tired out, and then went to bed carrying the new shoes with her, and how she fell asleep with-"why, i declare," exclaimed polly, reaching this denouement in a delightfully roundabout way, "if she isn't asleep now!" and indeed she was. so she had to be carried up to bed in the same old way; only this time it was jasper instead of polly who held her. "don't you believe we'd better put it off till some other night?" whispered percy to van on the way upstairs to bed, the library party having broken up early. "a fellow doesn't want to see a burglar on top of the time joel has had." "no, no," said van; "it'll be good for him, and knock the other thing out of his head, don't you see, percy? i should want something else to think of if i were joel. you can't back out; you promised, you know." "well, and i'll do it," said percy testily. "it's no use trying to sleep," declared joel, in the middle of the night, and kicking the bed-clothes for the dozenth time into a roll at the foot, "as long as i can see mamsie's eyes. i'll just get up and tackle that latin grammar now. whew! haven't i got to work, though! might as well begin at it," and he jumped out of bed. stepping softly over to the door that led into david's little room, he closed it carefully, and with a sigh, lighted the gas. then he went over to the table where his schoolbooks ought to have been. but instead, the space was piled with a great variety of things--one or two balls, a tennis racket, and a confusion of fishing tackle, while in front, the last thing that had occupied him that day, lay a book of artificial flies. joel set his teeth together hard, and looked at them. "suppose i shan't get much of this sort of thing this summer," he muttered. "here goes!" and without trusting himself to take another look, he swept them all off down to the floor and into a corner. "there," he said, standing up straight, "lie there, will you?" but they loomed up in a suggestive heap, and his fingers trembled to just touch them once. "i must cover up the things, or else i know i'll be at them," he said, and hurrying over to the bed, he dragged off the cover-lid. "now," and he threw it over the fascinating mass, "i've got to study. dear me, where are my books?" for the next five minutes joel had enough to do to collect his working instruments, and when at last he unearthed them from the corner of his closet where he had thrown them under a pile of boots, he was tired enough to sit down. "i don't know which to go at first," he groaned, whirling the leaves of the upper book. "it ought to be latin--but then it ought to be algebra just as much, and as for history--well there--here goes, i'll take them as they come." with a very red face joel plunged into the first one under his hand. it proved to be the latin grammar, and with a grimace, he found the page, and resting his elbows on the table, he seized each side of his stubby head with his hands. "i'll hang on to my hair," he said, and plunged into his task. and now there was no sound in the room but his hard breathing, and the noise he made turning the leaves, for he very soon found he was obliged to go back many lessons to understand how to approach the one before him; and with cheeks growing every instant more scarlet with shame and confusion, the drops of perspiration ran down his forehead and fell on his book. "whew!" he exclaimed, "it's horribly hot," and pushing back his book, he tiptoed over to the other window and softly raised it. the cool air blew into his face, and leaning far out into the dark night, he drew in deep breaths. "i've skinned through and saved my neck a thousand times," he reflected, "and now i've got to dig like sixty to make up. there's dave now, sleeping in there like a cat; he doesn't have anything to do, but to run ahead of the class like lightning--just because he"-"loves it," something seemed to sting the words into him. joel drew in his head and turned abruptly away from the window. "pshaw! well, here goes," he exclaimed again, throwing himself into his chair. "she said, 'i'd work myself to skin and bone but i'd get through creditably.'" joel bared his brown arm and regarded it critically. "i wonder how 'twould look all skin and bone," and he gave a short laugh. "but this isn't studying." he pulled down his sleeve, and his head went over the book again. outside, a bright blue eye applied to the keyhole, gave place to a bright brown one, till such time as the persons to whom the eyes belonged, were satisfied as to the condition of the interior they were surveying. "what do you suppose he's doing?" whispered the taller figure, putting his face concealed under a black mask, closely to the ear of the other person, whose countenance was similarly adorned. "don't know," whispered the second black mask. "he acts dreadfully queer, but i suppose he's got a novel. so you see it's our duty to break it up," he added virtuously. the taller figure shook his head, but as it was very dark on their side of joel's door, the movement was unobserved. "well, come on," whispered the second black mask. "are you ready?" yes. "come then." "o, dear, dear!" grunted joel, "i'd rather chop wood as i used to, years ago, to help the little brown house out," swinging his arms up over his head. "why"-and he was left in darkness, his arms falling nervously to his side, while a cautious step across the room made his black eyes stand out in fright. "a burglar--a burglar!" flashed through his mind. he held his breath hard and his knees knocked together. but mamsie's eyes seemed to look with scorn on him again. joel straightened up, clenched his fist, and every minute expecting to be knocked on the head, he crept like a cat to the further corner, even in this extremity, grumbling inwardly because mr. king would not allow firearms. "if i only had them now!" he thought. "well, i must get my club." but there was no time to get it. joel creeping along, feeling his way cautiously, soon knew that there were two burglars instead of one in the room, and his mind was made up. "they'll be after grandpapa's money, sure," he thought. "i have got to get out, and warn him." but how? that was the question. getting down on all-fours, holding his breath, yet with never a thought of danger to himself, he crept along toward the door leading into the hall, then stopped and rested under cover of the heavy window drapery. but as quick as a flash, two dark figures, that now, his eyes becoming more accustomed to the darkness, he could dimly distinguish, reached there before him, and the key clicking in the lock, joel knew that all hope from escape by that quarter was gone. like a cat, he sprang to his feet, swung the drapery out suddenly toward the figures, and in the next second hurled himself over the window-sill, hanging to the edge, grasping the blind, crawling to the next window, and so on and over, and down, down, by any friendly thing he could grasp, to the ground. two black masks hung over the deserted window-edge. "joe--joe! it's only we boys--percy and van. joe--joe!" "he'll be killed!" gasped van, his face as white as joel's robe fluttering below them in his wild descent. "stop him, percy. oh! do stop him." percy clung to the window-sill, and danced in distress. "stop him!" he was beyond uttering anything more. "yes, oh, joe! don't you see it's only percy and van?" cried van persuasively, and hanging out of the window to the imminent danger of adding himself to joel's company. percy shoved him back. "he's 'most down," he said, finding his breath. "now we'll run downstairs and let him in." van flew off from the window. "i'll go; it's my scrape," and he was unlocking the door. "i'm the oldest," said percy, hurrying to get there first. "i ought to have known better." this made van furious, and pushing percy with all his might, he wriggled out first as the door flew open, and not forgetting to tiptoe down the hall, he hurried along, percy behind him, to hear the noise of men's feet coming over the stairs. van tried to rush forward shouting, "thomas, it's we boys--percy and van." instead, he only succeeded in the darkness, in stumbling over a chair, and falling flat with it amid a frightful racket that drowned his voice. old mr. king who had been awakened by the previous noise, and had rung his burglar alarm that connected with thomas's and jencks's rooms in the stable, now cried out from his doorway. "make quick work, thomas," and percy saw the gleam of a pistol held high in thomas's hand. up with a rush came bare feet over the back stairs; a flutter of something white, and joel sprang in between them. "it's percy--it's percy!" he screamed, "don't you see, thomas?" "i'm percy--don't shoot!" the taller burglar kept saying without intermission, while the flaring of candles and frightened voices, told of the aroused household. "make quick work, jencks!" shouted mr. king from his doorway, to add to the general din. thomas, whose blood was up, determined once for all to put an end to the profession of burglary as far as his master's house was concerned, now drew nearer, steadying his pistol and trying to sight the nearest fellow. this proved to be van, now struggling to his feet. joel took one wild step forward. "thomas--don't shoot! it's van!" "make quick work, thomas!" called mr. king. there was but a moment in which to decide. it was either van or he; and in an instant joel had stepped in front of the pistol. xxiii of many things van threw his arms around joel. "make quick work, thomas," called mr. king from his doorway. the pistol fell from thomas's hand. "i've shot one of the boys. och, murther!" he screamed. and everybody rushing up supposed it was van, who was writhing and screaming unintelligibly in the corner. "oh! i've killed him," they finally made out. "who--who? oh, van! who?" "joey," screamed van, bending over a white heap on the floor. "oh! make him get up. oh! i've killed him." the mask was hanging by one end from his white face, and his eyes protruded wildly. up flew another figure adorned with a second black mask. "no, no, it was i," and percy rushed forward with an "oh, joel, joel!" somebody lighted the gas, that flashed suddenly over the terrified group, and somebody else lifted the heap from the corner. and as they did so, joel stirred and opened his eyes. "don't make such a fuss," he said crossly. one hand had gripped the sleeve of his night-dress, trying to hold it up in a little wad on the shoulder, the blood pouring down the arm. at sight of this, van collapsed and slid to the floor. "don't frighten mamsie," said joel, his head drooping, despite his efforts to hold it up. "i'm all right; nothing but a scratch. ugh! let me be, will you?" to mr. whitney and jasper, who were trying to support him. and mother fisher, for the first time since the children had known her, lost her self-control. "oh, joey! and mother was cross to you," she could only sob as she reached him. polly, at a nod from the little doctor's night-cap and a few hurried words, ran as in a dream for the case of instruments in his bedroom. "all right, mamsie!" exclaimed joel in surprise, and trying to stagger to his feet. "good heavens and earth!" cried old mr. king, approaching. "what? oh! it's monstrous--joel!" "och, murther!" thomas sidled along the edge of the group, rolling fearful eyes at them, and repeating over and over, "i've shot that boy--that boy!" all this occupied but an instant, and joel was laid on his bed, and the wound which proved to be only a flesh one, the ball cutting a little furrow as it grazed the shoulder, was dressed, and everybody drew a long breath. "tell van that i'm all right," joel kept saying all the time. polly undertook to do this. "van--van!" she cried, running out into the hall to lay a shaking hand on his arm, where he lay on the floor. "joel sent me to say that he is all right." "polly, i've killed him!" van thrust his head up suddenly and looked at her, with wild eyes. "i have--don't speak to me, or look at me. i've killed joel!" "take off this dreadful thing," said polly with a shiver, and kneeling down, she seized the strings that tied the mask. "o dear! it's all in a knot. wait, i'll get the scissors," and she found her feet, and ran off to her room. "now you are all right;" he gave a little sob as the mask tumbled off. "oh! how could you?" she wanted to say, but van's distress was too dreadful for anything but comfort. "don't you see," said polly, sitting down on the floor and cuddling up his head in her lap, "that joel is really all right now? suppose we hadn't a father fisher who was a doctor, what should we do then?" and she even managed a faint laugh. "o dear! but i've killed joel." van covered his face with the folds of her flannel dress and wailed on. "now, just see here, van whitney," said polly, with the air of authority, "i tell you that joel is all right now. don't you say that again--not once more, vanny." "but i have ki--i mean i saw thomas shoot, and i couldn't stop him," and van writhed fearfully, ending with a scream "i've ki"--but polly, clapping her hand over his mouth, kept the words back. meanwhile percy had rushed out of the house. "oh!" cried polly, when this new alarm sprang up, and everybody was running hither and thither to comfort him by the assurance that joel was not much hurt, "do, uncle mason and jasper, let me go with you." "no, no, you stay here, polly," cried jasper, throwing wide the heavy front door. "brother mason and i will find him. don't worry, polly." "i know i could help," said polly, hanging over the stair-railing. "oh! do let me," she begged. "no, no, child," said mr. whitney, quickly. "stay where you are, and take care of the others. now, then, jasper, is jencks ready with the lantern?" "all right," said jasper. "come on." polly, longing to fly to the window to watch, at least, the lantern's twinkling light across the lawn, hurried off to comfort aunt whitney, who at this new stage in the affairs, was walking her room, biting her lips to keep from screaming the terror that clutched at her heart. "oh, polly!" she cried, "i'm so glad you've come. i should die if left alone here much longer;" her soft hair floated down the white robe, and the blue eyes were filled with tears. "do tell me, don't you think they will find percy?" "yes, indeed!" declared polly, cuddling up to the little woman. "oh, auntie! remember when dicky's leg was broken." "but this is much worse," said mrs. whitney, sobbing, and holding close to polly's warm hand. "but we thought he was dead," and polly gave a little shiver. "don't--don't," begged mrs. whitney, clasping her hands; "oh, polly! don't." "but he wasn't, you see, auntie," polly hurried on, "and so now you know it will come out all right about per--there! oh! they've found him!" as a shout from the lawn rang out. "do you suppose it, polly?" cried mrs. whitney, breathlessly. "oh! do run to the window and see!" so polly ran to the window in the next room that overlooked that part of the lawn where mr. whitney and jasper were searching, and strained her gaze up and down, and in every direction. "have they? oh! have they?" cried mrs. whitney. "oh, polly! do tell me." "i don't see any of them," said polly, listening eagerly for another cry, "but i do believe they've found him." "do come back," implored mrs. whitney; "there, now, don't go again, polly," as polly hurried to her side, "but just hold my hand." "i will," said polly, "just as tight as i can, auntie." "oh--oh! percy is so much worse off than joel," wailed mrs. whitney. "oh! to do such a thing, polly!" she groaned. "they only meant it in fun," said polly, swallowing hard the lump in her throat, "don't let us talk about it, auntie." "and van," cried mrs. whitney, running on. "oh! my poor, poor boys. will your mother ever forgive me, polly?" "oh, auntie! don't talk so," said polly tenderly; "and we both ought to be out helping. there's van, auntie; just think how he feels." "i can't go near him," cried mrs. whitney in distress, "as long as he is in joel's room, for i can see your mother's eyes, polly. it would kill me to have her look at me." the door opened at this, and the trail of a long silken wrapper was heard on the floor. "mrs. chatterton," said mrs. whitney, raising her head and looking at the new-comer with as much anger as her gentle face could contain, "i really cannot see you in my room to-night. excuse me, but i am unstrung by all that has occurred. will you please not come in"-"i thought i might sit with you," said mrs. chatterton. in the brief interval since the arousing of the household, she had contrived to make a perfect breakfast toilet, and she folded her hands over her handsome gown. "polly might then be with her mother. but if you don't wish me to remain, i will go." "i do not need you," said mrs. whitney, decidedly, and she turned to polly again. mrs. chatterton moved away, and closed the door after her. "auntie," said polly, "she really wants to help you." "polly, you needn't say anything about it," exclaimed mrs. whitney, like many other gentle creatures, when roused, becoming unreasonably prejudiced; "i cannot bear the sight of that woman. she has been here so long, and is so intensely disagreeable to us all." polly's eyes became very round, and she held her breath in astonishment. "don't look so, child," said mrs. whitney at length, "you don't understand, my dear. but you would if you were in my place"-"she's sorry for it," said polly, finding her tongue at last. "and father is nearly worn out with her," continued mrs. whitney. "and now to come parading her attentions upon me, it"-"who--who?" dicky, now that the excitement in joel's room had died down, had lost his relish for it, and he now pranced into mrs. whitney's room. "who, mamma?" "mrs. chatterton," said mrs. whitney unguardedly. "she has disagreeably intruded herself upon me." "has she been in here?" asked dick in astonishment. "yes; asking if she can sit with me," and polly started at the look in the usually soft blue eyes. "and you wouldn't let her?" asked dick, stopping short and regarding his mother curiously. "of course not, dicky," she made haste to say. "then i think you did very wrong," declared dick flatly. "oh, dick!" exclaimed polly in consternation. "and you don't act like my mother at all," said dick, standing quite stiffly on his sturdy legs, and gazing at her with disapprobation. "didn't mrs. chatterton save my life," he exploded, "when the real burglar was going for me? say, didn't she?" he cried. "i have yet to find out that is the truth," said mrs. whitney, finding her voice. "oh, dicky," she added, hurt that he should defend another, worst of all, mrs. chatterton, "don't talk about her." "but i ought to talk about her," persisted dick. "she saved me as much as she could. because she won't let anybody thank her, i like her more myself. i'm going to stay with her." with that, he held his head high, and marched to the door. "dick, dick!" called his mother, "come back, dear." dick slowly turned and made his way to her side, but he still regarded her with disapproval. "dick, i want you to go to mrs. chatterton's room, and say that i am sorry i refused her offer to help, and that i would like to have her sit with me. remember, say i am sorry i refused her offer to help, dicky." she leaned forward and kissed her boy, her long, soft hair falling like a veil around the two faces. dick threw his arms around her neck. "now, you're a brick!" he declared impulsively. "i'll bring the old lady, and we'll both sit with you." so polly was free to run back to mamsie. on the way there she opened the door of phronsie's little room, just out of father and mother fisher's. "how good it is that she sleeps through it all," said polly, listening to the regular breathing. then she stole across the room and stood beside the small bed. "she looks just as she did the night she took her new shoes to bed," thought polly; "one hand is over her head, exactly as it was then. oh, phronsie! to think that you're to have no party to-morrow," and she turned off with a sigh, went out, and closed the door. "percy's here--all right!" cried jasper, running over the stairs to meet her at the top. his eyes were gleaming with excitement, and his face was torn and bleeding. "are you hurt?" cried polly, feeling as if the whole family were bound to destruction. "oh, jasper! did you fall?" "nothing but a scratch. i was fool enough to forget the ledge, and walked off for my pains"-"oh, jasper!" cried polly, with paling cheeks, "let me bathe it for you, do;" her strength began to return at the thought of action, and she sprang for a basin of water. "nonsense. no, polly!" cried jasper, with a quick hand detaining her, "it's nothing but a mere scratch, i tell you, but i suppose it looks terribly. i'll go and wash it off. run and tell his mother that percy is found." "is he all right?" asked polly fearfully, holding her breath for the answer. "sound as a nut," declared jasper; "we found him streaking it down the locust path; he said he was going to run off to sea." "run off to sea!" repeated polly. "oh, jasper!" "well, he was so frightened, of course he didn't know what to say," replied jasper. "and ashamed, too. he didn't care to show his head at home. i don't know as i blame him, polly. well, it's too bad about phronsie's party, isn't it?" added jasper, mopping up his face as the two went down the hall. "yes," said polly with a sigh, stopping at mrs. whitney's door, "but, oh! think how happy we are now that percy is safe, jasper." "still, it's too bad for phronsie," repeated jasper, looking back. but joel flatly declared that the first one that even so much as hinted that a single item of the arrangements for phronsie's getting-well party should be changed, he'd make it disagreeable as only he knew how, for that one when he got up from his bed. "yes, sir!" and he scolded, and fretted, and fussed, and laid down the law so generally to all, not excepting the doctor, that at last it was decided to let the party go on. then he lay back against the pillows quite exhausted, but with a beatific face. "i should think you would be tired, joe," exclaimed jasper, "you've bullied us so. dear me! people ought to be angelic when they're sick, at least." "if you'd had him to take care of as i did," observed dr. fisher, "you'd know better; goodness me! the little brown house scarcely held him when he was getting over the measles." "what's the use of being sick," said joel reflectively, turning on his pillow, "if you can't make people stand around, i'd like to know. now that point's settled about phronsie's party, won't you all go out? i'd like to speak to father fisher a moment." "you don't mean me, joey?" said mother fisher at the head of the bed, holding her boy's hand. "yes; you, too, mamsie," said joel, giving her an affectionate glance, "it's something that only the doctor and i are to know." "you're not hurt anywhere else, are you, joey?" asked his mother, a sudden alarm leaping to her black eyes. "not a scratch," said joel promptly. "i want to see father fisher about something. sometime you shall know, mamsie." he gave her hand a sudden pressure, then let it go. "perhaps you would better step out, my dear," said the little doctor, nodding to his wife. so mrs. fisher, smothering a sigh, went out reluctantly. "all out?" asked joel, trying to raise his head to see for himself. "every soul," said dr. fisher. "well, see here, will you," said joel, pointing to the table, the schoolbooks scattered as he had left them, "pack those things all away in the closet on the shelf, you know, and put the rubbish on the floor there, back on the table?" dr. fisher could not for his life, refrain from asking curiously, as he did as requested, "been having a pull at the books, eh, joe?" "um--um--maybe," said joel, twisting uneasily. "well, now, come here, please, father fisher." the little man turned away from the table, with its sprawling array of delightful things, to stand by the bedside. "you must get me well as soon as you can," said joel confidentially. "all right; i understand," dr. fisher nodded professionally. "and whatever you say, don't let it be that i must be careful of my eyes," said joel. "all right; that is, if you get up quickly," agreed the doctor. "that's all," said joel in great satisfaction. "now, call mamsie in and the others." and in the morning, no one told phronsie what had happened the night before. she only knew that joel was not very well, and was going to keep his room; all her pleadings to do something for him being set one side by grandpapa's demands upon her instant attention whenever the idea suggested itself to her. and so the time wore along till the party began. alexia was the first to arrive, her bowl of orange jelly in her hand, and after her, a tall slight figure jumped from the carriage, her flaxen hair streaming out in two pale braids. "i thought i'd pick cathie up," said alexia carelessly; "had to pass her door, you know. o dear me, what perfectly dreadful times you had last night, polly pepper." "i didn't bring macaroons," said cathie, "as i really think that they wouldn't be good for phronsie. besides, i've forgotten how to make them, and our cook was cross and said i shouldn't come into her kitchen. but i bought a doll for phronsie; my mother said it would be a great deal more sensible present," and she hugged the long box under her arm with great satisfaction. "o dear! dear!" groaned alexia, falling back with polly as the three raced along the hall, "she showed it to me in the carriage, and it's a perfect guy, besides counting one more." but afflictions like this were small to polly now, and although for the next hour it rained dolls into phronsie's puzzled hands, polly helped her to thank the givers and to dispose them safely on neighboring chairs and tables and sofas. mrs. chatterton's was the pattern of old mr. king's phonograph doll, at which discovery he turned upon her with venom in his eye. "my gift to my little granddaughter," taking especial care to emphasize the relationship, "has always been a doll, i suppose you knew that, cousin eunice; and to try to procure one exactly like the one i have purchased, is very presuming in you, to say the least." "and why may i not present a doll to phronsie pepper, if i care to, pray tell?" demanded mrs. chatterton in a high, cold tone. "why? because you have always showed a marked dislike for the child," cried old mr. king angrily, "that's why, cousin eunice." "grandpapa--grandpapa," said phronsie, laying her hand on his arm. "and to parade any special affection, such as the presentation of a gift indicates, is a piece of presumption on your part, i say it again, cousin eunice." "grandpapa!" said phronsie again at his elbow. "now, phronsie," turning to her, "you are to take that doll," pointing to a gorgeous affair reposing on the sofa, with mrs. algernon chatterton's card attached to it, "and go over to mrs. chatterton, and say, very distinctly, 'i cannot accept this gift;' mind you say it distinctly, phronsie, that there may be no mistake in the future." "oh, grandpapa!" cried phronsie in dismay. "yes, child; i know what is best for you. take that doll, and do exactly as i bid you." a dreadful pause fell upon the room. polly clasped her hands, while alexia and the other girls huddled into a corner saying softly, "oh! how perfectly dreadful!" "no use to say anything to father when he looks like that," groaned jasper, when polly besought him to try his influence, "his blood is up now; he's borne a good deal, you know, polly." "o dear, dear!" whispered polly, back again, "just look at mrs. chatterton's face, and at poor phronsie's; can't you do something, jasper?" "i'm afraid not," said jasper gloomily. "no; he's making her give it back; see, polly." "you'll know it's for the best," mr. king was repeating as he led the child to mrs. chatterton standing cold and silent at the end of the room, "sometime, child, and then you'll thank me that i saved you from further annoyance of this sort. there, cousin eunice, is your gift," taking the doll from phronsie's hand, and placing it in the long, jeweled one. "my little granddaughter receives presents only from those who love her. all others are unwarranted, and must be returned." phronsie burst out tearfully, "she's sorry, grandpapa, i know she is, and she loves me now. please let me keep the doll." but mrs. chatterton had left the room, the doll in her hand. xxiv away and after that everybody had to be as gay as possible, to keep phronsie's sad little face from being flooded with tears. "dear me!" exclaimed jasper, "here comes candace! now what do you suppose she has for you, phronsie?" candace sailed through the doorway with ample satisfaction with everything and herself in particular. "whar's little miss?" she demanded, her turban nodding in all directions, and her black eyes rolling from side to side. "there, candace," said some one, "over in the corner with jasper." "oh! i see her," said candace, waddling over to them. "well, now, phronsie, seein' you couldn't come to me for somethin' i made 'xpressly fer you, w'y, candace has to come to you. see dat now, chile!" she unrolled the parcel, disclosing the wonderful doll adorned with candace's own hair, and "ole missus' ruffles," then stood erect, her bosom swelling with pride and delight. "o my goodness me!" exclaimed alexia, tumbling back after the first and only glance, and nearly overturning cathie who was looking over her shoulder. "polly pepper, o dear me!" then she sat down on the floor and laughed till she cried. "hush--hush!" cried polly, running over to her, "do stop, alexia, and get up. she'll hear you, and we wouldn't hurt her feelings for the world. do stop, alexia." "o dear me!" cried alexia gustily, and holding her sides while she waved back and forth; "if it had been--a--respectable doll, but that--horror! o dear me!" "stop--stop!" commanded polly, shaking her arm. but alexia was beyond stopping herself. and in between candace's delighted recital how she combed "de ha'r to take de curl out," and how "ole missus' ruffles was made into de clothes," came the peals of laughter that finally made every one in the room stop and look at the girls. "candace, come into my 'den' and get a pattern for some new pins i want you to make for me," cried jasper, desperately dragging her off. "it's no use to lecture me," said alexia, sitting straight as candace's feet shuffled down the hall, and wiping her face exhaustedly. "i know it was dreadful--o dear me! don't anybody speak to me, or i shall disgrace myself again!" "now, phronsie, what do you suppose we are to do next?" phronsie looked up into old mr. king's face. "i don't know, grandpapa," she said wonderingly. "well, now, my dear, you've had punch and judy, and these nice children," waving his hand to indicate the delegation from the orphan asylum, "have sung beautifully for you. now what comes next, phronsie?" "i don't know, grandpapa," repeated phronsie. "when gifts become burdensome they no longer are kindnesses," said mr. king. "now, phronsie, i have found out--never mind how; little birds, you now, sometimes fly around telling people things they ought to know. well, i have discovered in some way that my little girl has too many children to care for." here phronsie's brown eyes became very wide. "and when there are too many children in the nest, phronsie, why, they have to go out into the world to try their fortunes and make other homes. now there are so many poor little girls who haven't any children, phronsie. think of that, dear; and you have so many." phronsie at this drew nearer and stole her hand into his. "now what is to be done about it?" asked the old gentleman, putting his other broad palm over her little one and holding it fast. "hey, my pet?" "can't we buy them some children?" asked phronsie with warm interest. "oh, grandpapa dear, do let us; i have money in my bank." "phronsie," said the old gentleman, going to the heart of the matter at once and lifting her to his lap, "i really think the time has come to give away some of your dolls. i really do, child." phronsie gave a start of incredulity and peered around at him. "i really do. you are going abroad to be gone--well, we'll say a year. and your dolls would be so lonely without anything to do but to sit all day and think of their little mother. and there are so many children who would love them and make them happy." now mr. king's white hair was very near the yellow waves floating over his shoulder, so that none but phronsie's ears caught the next words. "it's right, phronsie dear; i'd do it if i were you," he said in a low voice. "do you want it, grandpapa?" asked phronsie softly. "i do, child; but not unless you are willing"-"then i do," declared phronsie, sitting quite straight on his knee. and she gave a relieved sigh. "oh, grandpapa, if we only had the poor children now!" she exclaimed, dreadfully excited. "come, then." old mr. king set her on her feet. "clear the way there, good people; we are going to find some poor children who are waiting for dolls," and he threw wide the door into a back passage, and there, presided over by jencks, and crowding for the first entrance, was a score of children with outstretched hands. "oh--oh!" exclaimed phronsie with cheeks aflame. "please, he said we was to have dolls," cried one hungry-eyed girl, holding out both her hands. "i've never had one. please give me one quick." "never had one?" echoed phronsie, taking a step toward her. "only a piece, miss, i found in a rag-barrel. please give me one quick." "she's never had a doll--only a piece," repeated phronsie, turning back to the family, unable to contain this information. "ask the others if they have had any," said mr. king, leaning against a tall cabinet. "try that girl there in a brown plaid dress." "have you ever had a doll?" asked phronsie obediently, looking over at the girl indicated, and holding her breath for the answer. at this, the girl in the brown plaid dress burst into tears, which so distressed phronsie that she nearly cried. "yes, but it died," said the girl after a little. "oh, grandpapa, her doll died!" exclaimed phronsie in horror. "no, it didn't, jane," corrected another girl, "the dog et it; you know he did." "yes, i know," said jane, between small sobs, "it died, and we couldn't have any fun'ral, 'cause the dog had et it." "well, now, phronsie," exclaimed mr. king, getting away from the support of the cabinet, "i think it's time that we should make some of these children happy. don't you want to take them up to the playroom and distribute the dolls?" "no, no," protested phronsie suddenly. "i must go up and tell my children. they will understand it better then, grandpapa. i'll be back in a very few minutes," and going out she went quickly upstairs, and after a while returned with both arms full. "this doll is for you," she said gravely, putting a doll attired in a wonderful pink satin costume into jane's arms. "i've told her about your dog, and she's a little frightened, so please be careful." "what's the fun down there now?" asked joel of van, who with percy could not be persuaded to leave his bedside a moment, "open the door, do, and let's hear it." so van threw wide the door. "go out and listen, percy, will you?" he said. "i don't want to," said percy, who shared van's wish to keep in the background. "you two fellows act like muffs," said joel. "now if you want me to get well, go out, do, and tell me what the fun is going on down there." so persuaded, the two boys stole out into the hall in time to see phronsie go down the stairs with her armful, and carefully using their ears they soon rushed back with "phronsie's giving away her dolls!" "stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed joel, "if you can't bring back anything better than that yarn, you might as well stay here." "but i tell you it's true," declared van, "isn't it, percy?" "yes, it is," said percy. "i heard her distinctly say, 'this doll is for you'--and she had her arms full, so i suppose she's going to give those away too"-"a likely story," said joel, bursting into a laugh. at the noise up in the boys' room, mother fisher ran quickly over the stairs. "oh, boys! what is it? joel, are you worse?" "no, indeed," said joel, "i was laughing. percy and van have been telling such a big story. mamsie, they actually said that phronsie was giving away her dolls." "is that all?" cried mrs. fisher in relief. "well, so she is, joel." "phronsie giving away her dolls, mamsie?" screamed joel. "why, what does grandpapa say?" "he's the very one that proposed it," said mrs. fisher. "there, joey, don't get excited, for i don't know what the doctor will say," as joel sank back on his pillow, overcome by this last piece of news. when phronsie went to bed that night she clasped mr. king's new gift to her breast. "grandpapa, dear," she said confidingly as they went up the stairs together, "do you know i really think more of this doll, now that the others are gone? really i do, grandpapa, and i can take better care of her, because i shall have more time." "so you will, dear," assented mr. king. "well, phronsie, i think you and i, dear, haven't made a bad day's work." "i think my children will be happy," said phronsie with a small sigh, "because you see it's so nice to make good times for their new mothers. and, grandpapa, i couldn't play with each one more than once a week. i used to try to, but i couldn't, grandpapa." "why didn't you tell me, phronsie," asked the old gentleman a bit reproachfully as they reached the top step, "how it was, dear? you should have given them away long ago." "ah, but," said phronsie, slowly shaking her head, "i didn't want to give them away before; only just now, grandpapa, and i think they will be happy. and now i'm going to take this newest one to bed, just as i used to take things to bed years ago, when i was a little girl." and after all, there was an extension of time for the three boys' vacation, dr. marks not getting up from his sudden attack of fever as quickly as was expected. but there came a day at last, when percy, van and david bade joel "good-by." "it won't be for long," observed that individual cheerfully, "you'll be back in three weeks." "o dear!" groaned percy when safe within the coach, "we've ruined all his chances. he certainly will be plucked now--with those three weeks to make up." van gathered himself up and leaned forward in his corner. "don't look so, dave," he cried desperately. david tried to smooth the troubled lines out of his face, but only succeeded in making it look worse than before. "and it will kill mrs. fisher," percy continued gloomily, "if he does get plucked, as of course he will." "keep still, will you?" cried van, his irritation getting beyond bounds. "what's the use of talking about a thing till it's done," which had the effect to make percy remember his promise to polly and close his mouth. but joel's wound healed quicker than any one supposed it possibly could, and percy and van, who both hated to write letters, gave up much time on the playground to indite daily bulletins, so that he declared that it was almost as good as being there on the spot. and mother fisher and her army of servants cleaned the great stone house from top to bottom, and sorted, and packed away, and made things tidy for the new housekeeper who was to care for them in her absence, till dr. fisher raised his eyebrows and hands in astonishment. "i really must," he said one day, "put in a remonstrance, wife, or you'll kill yourself before we start." "oh! i'm used to working," mrs. fisher would say cheerily, and then off she would fly to something so much worse that the little doctor was speechless. and polly set herself at all her studies, especially french, with redoubled vigor, notwithstanding that she was hampered with the faithful attentions of the schoolgirls who fought among themselves for her company, and showered her with pathetic "o--dear--me--ow--i--shall--miss--you," and with tears when they got over it. and jasper buried himself in his den, only bursting forth at meal times, and mrs. whitney bemoaned all preparations for the travelers' departure, and wished a thousand times that she had not given her promise to keep the house and look after the boys. and everybody who had the slightest claim to a calling acquaintance, now dropped in upon the kings, and polly had her "good-by party," and it was pronounced perfectly elegant by alexia and her set, and the three boys came home for the long vacation--and in two days the party would sail. "who do you think is going abroad with us?" asked mr. king suddenly, as they all sat in the library for a last evening talk; "guess quickly." "who?" cried several voices. "why, i thought you didn't want any outsiders, father," exclaimed jasper in surprise. "well, and i didn't when i said so, but circumstances are changed now--come, guess quickly, some one?" "the cabots," said jasper at a venture. "no, no; guess again." "mr. alstyne?" "no; again." "the bayleys, the dyces, the herrings," shouted mr. whitney and van and joel. "no, i know," broke in percy, "it's mrs. chatterton," with a quick glance to make sure that she was not in the room. "no!" thundered mr. king. "oh! how stupid people can be when they want to. two persons are to meet us in new york to-morrow. i didn't tell you till i was sure; i had no desire that you should be disappointed. now guess again." "auntie, do you know?" asked polly suddenly, leaning back, as she sat on the rug in front of the fire, to lay her head in mrs. whitney's lap. "no, i'm sure i don't," said mrs. whitney, stroking lightly the brown hair, with a pang to think how long it would be before she should caress it again. "how any one can desire to cross the ocean," remarked mr. whitney, folding his hands back of his head and regarding meditatively the glowing fire, "is more than i can see. that i never shall do it again unless whipped over, i'm morally certain." "are the persons men?" asked ben suddenly. "one is," replied mr. king. "and the other is a woman?" "the other is a woman," said mr. king. "well, what are their names? isn't anybody smart enough to guess them? dear me, i've always said that the peppers were remarkably bright, and the rest of you children are not behind other young people. go on, try again. now who are they?" polly took her head out of mrs. whitney's lap, and rested her chin in her hands, davie walked up and down the room, while ben and the two whitney boys hung over mother fisher's chair. "dear me!" fumed joel. "who ever could guess. there's such a lot or people in the world that grandpapa knows. it might be any two of them that he had asked." little dr. fisher's eyes roved from one to the other of the group. "i couldn't begin to guess because i don't know many of your friends," he said quietly. "you know these two people very well," said mr. king, laughing, to see the little man's face. "now i think i know," said jasper slowly, a light coming into his gray eyes, "but i don't suppose it's fair to guess, for i saw the address on a letter father was writing two or three weeks ago." "you did, you young scamp, you!" cried mr. king, turning on him. "well, then, 'tisn't a guess for you, jasper. keep still, my boy, and let them work away at it. will no one guess?" "mamsie," cried polly, bounding up from the ring, nearly upsetting phronsie, who was sitting beside her in a brown study, "can it be--do you suppose it is nice, dear mr. and mrs. henderson?" "well, polly," said mr. king, beaming at her, "you've done what the others couldn't. yes, it is mr. and mrs. henderson, and they are going with us to stay until the autumn." "good, good!" cried every one till the big room seemed full of joy. "oh, father!" exclaimed mrs. whitney, "i'm so glad you've done this. they were so kind to dicky and to me when he was hurt." "they were kind to dicky and to you," said her father; "and besides, marian, mr. henderson is a man who doesn't preach at you only once a week, and mrs. henderson is a fine woman. so it's a pity not to ease up things for them now and then. well, how do you like the plan?" he spoke to dr. fisher, but his gaze took them all in. "immensely," said the little doctor; which being again echoed heartily by all the rest, old mr. king began to feel very much elated at his part in the proceedings, and in a quarter of an hour it seemed as if the expedition had been especially planned for the benefit of the hendersons, so naturally had it all come about. and on the morrow, the whole family, kings, whitneys, fishers and peppers, turned their backs on the gray stone mansion and went down to the city. and alexia rhys persuaded her aunt to do her semi-annual shopping at this time, and to take her too; and mr. alstyne also had business that necessitated his going, and mr. cabot and mary taylor, and her father found they must go along too; and hamilton dyce was there, and pickering dodge, of course, went to be company for ben on the way back. and at the last moment who should jump on the train but livingston bayley. "had a telegram," he explained; "must be there at noon. so glad of the unexpected pleasure of meeting you all." and cousin eunice chatterton went; for, at the last minute, she had suddenly discovered that she had visited at the gray stone mansion as long as she cared to, and notified the family accordingly. and mr. king had so far made up for his part in the late unpleasantness as to ask her to go with the party, on her way to her nephew's in the city. so there she was with the others, bidding them good-by on the steamer. "phronsie," she said slowly, under cover of the babel of tongues, "you are a good child, and i've done well by you. this little bit of paper," putting it into her hands, "contains a message to mr. king, which you are to give him after you have started." "i will go and give it to him now," said phronsie, her fingers closing over the bit. "no, no," said mrs. chatterton sharply, "do as i say. remember, on no account to let any one see it till after you have started. you are a good child, phronsie. now, remember to do as you are bidden. and now, will you kiss me, child?" phronsie lifted her eyes and fixed them on the long, white face, and suddenly raising herself on her tiptoes, she put up her lips. "look at phron," cried joel in the midst of the group, "actually kissing mrs. chatterton!" and everybody turned and stared. cousin eunice dropped her veil with a quick hand, and moved off with a stately step, but not in time to lose young bayley's drawl: "'pon me word--it's the most extraordinary thing. phronsie, come here, and tell us what 'twas like." but phronsie stood quite still as if she had not heard. "yes, i hope you'll have a nice time," pickering dodge was saying for the dozenth time, with eyes for no one but polly, "now don't stay away for a year." polly with her heart full of the boys, who were hanging on either side, answered at random. "oh, ben! i can't go," she was exclaiming, and she hid her head on his shoulder, so pickering turned off. but joel set his teeth together. "you must," he said, for ben was beyond speech with the effort to control himself. "i can't," said poor polly, "leave you, ben, and the boys." and then mrs. whitney came up just as polly was near breaking down. "my dear child," she said, taking polly's hands, "you know it is right for you to go." "yes, i know," said polly, fighting her tears. "then, polly, be brave, dear, and don't begrudge me my three new boys," she added playfully. "just think how happy i'm to be, with six such splendid fellows to call my own." polly smiled through her tears. "and one thing more," said mrs. whitney in a low voice, "when you feel badly," looking steadily at polly and the three boys, "remember what dr. fisher said; that if your mother didn't stop working, and rest, she would break down." "i'll remember," said ben hoarsely. "so will i," said david. "and i will," said joel, looking everywhere but into polly's eyes. "well, i hope, miss polly," said young mr. bayley, sauntering up, "that you'll have an uncommonly nice time, i do indeed. i may run across in september; if i do, we shall probably meet." "miss mary pepper?" suddenly asked a man with a huge basket of flowers, and pausing in front of her. young mr. bayley smiled indulgently as he could not help reading the card thrust into the flowers. "she will receive my flowers at intervals all the way over, if the steward doesn't fail me," he reflected with satisfaction, "while this boy's will fade in an hour." "miss mary pepper?" the florist's messenger repeated, extending the basket to polly. "it's for you, miss polly," said young mr. bayley. "let me relieve you," taking the basket. "oh! are they for me?" cried polly. "i believe you are miss mary pepper," said young bayley. "pretty, aren't they?" fingering the roses, and glad to think that there were orchids among the flowers to which his card was attached, and just placed under the steward's care. "i suppose i am," said polly, with a little laugh, "but it seems as if i couldn't be anything but polly pepper. oh! thank you, pickering, for these lovely roses," catching sight of him. "glad you like them," said pickering radiantly. "say, polly, don't stay away a whole year, will you?" young mr. bayley set the basket in his hand and turned on his heel with a smile. "come, polly, i want you," cried alexia, trying to draw her off. "you know she's my very best friend, pickering, and i haven't had a chance to say one word to her this morning. come, polly." "polly, come here," called mrs. fisher. "o dear!" cried alexia impatiently, "now that's just the way it always is. it's polly here, and polly there," as polly deserted her and ran off with her basket of roses. "you don't do any of the calling, of course," said pickering, with a laugh. "well, i'll have her to myself," declared alexia savagely, "before it's time for us to get off the steamer, see if i don't." "i don't believe it," said pickering. "look at her now in a maelstrom of relatives. you and i, alexia, are left out." and the next thing alexia knew somebody unceremoniously helped her from the steamer with a "beg pardon, miss, but you must get off," and she was standing on the wharf in a crowd of people, looking in a dazed way at polly pepper's fluttering handkerchief, while fast-increasing little ripples of greenish water lay between them. and phronsie was running up to mr. king: "here, grandpapa, mrs. chatterton wanted me to give you this," unclasping her warm little palm where the bit of white paper lay. "the dickens she did," exclaimed the old gentleman; "so she has had a last word with you, has she? well, she won't get another for a long spell; so never mind. now, let's see what cousin eunice says. something interesting, no doubt." he spread the crumpled bit straight and read, phronsie standing quite still by his side: cousin horatio: i have made phronsie pepper my sole heir. you may like it or not, as you please. the thing is done, and may god bless phronsie. eunice chatterton. [illustration: "well, amy, child, how can i help you?"] five little peppers grown up by margaret sidney contents chapter i. polly gives music lessons chapter ii. getting ready fob christmas chapter iii. christmas at dunraven chapter iv. the festivities chapter v. bad news chapter vi. of many things chapter vii. phronsie chapter viii. polly looks out for charlotte chapter ix. polly's recital chapter x. phronsie has a plan chapter xi. things are getting mixed chapter xii. polly tries to do what is right chapter xiii. the accident chapter xiv. joel chapter xv. the farmhouse hospital chapter xvi. on the borderland chapter xvii. jasper chapter xviii. mr. king attends to matters chapter xix. mother fisher and charlotte chapter xx. straightening out affairs chapter xxi. polly tries to help jasper chapter xxii. mr. king and polly chapter xxiii. that settles many things chapter xxiv. home! list of illustrations "well, amy child, how can i help you?" "why, polly pepper, what do you mean?" "baby ought to have a christmas tree," said phronsie slowly "oh!" said jack loughead. then he tapped his boot with his walking stick "joel's gone," panted phronsie, flying back joel swinging a big box, rushed into dunraven hall "and did we," cried phronsie, "find it out, polly, and spoil it all?" "will you?" asked phronsie, looking down into their faces "we don't know how to tell it, grandpapa" "now do set us to work, joel" "oh, you don't know how i miss those boys!" "and please make dear papa give her the right things" charlotte, standing composedly in one corner of the hall alexia coolly read on, one arm around polly "my dear alexia," cried miss salisbury, quite softened, "don't feel so" "i'll not sing a note!" "for shame, polly, if the little brown house teachings are forgotten like this" polly turned and waved her music-roll at them "i'm not going to lecture you" "don't stop me," cried pickering crossly "i'm going home," declared charlotte "what do you say?" cried polly "oh, polly, are you hurt?" old mr. king drew up his chair to oversee it all "you come along yourself, dobbs," said joel pleasantly "i'll help you; i'm strong," said charlotte. "it's so nice, everybody is getting on so well," said polly then phronsie glanced back again, and softly jogged the cradle "why do you put your apron up there?" asked phronsie in gentle reproach "an old gentleman in my room," repeated jasper, turning on the stairs "good-morning," said mr. marlowe; "business all right?" "how you can sit there and laugh when joe is in danger, i don't see," exclaimed percy irritably. "well, now i have two babies," said mother fisher "i've always found," said dr. fisher, "that all you had to do to start a thing, was to begin" "phronsie, get a glass of water; be quick, child!" "i think it was a mean shame!" began dick wrathfully "oh, why did i speak?" cried polly over and over "are you sick, polly?" cried phronsie anxiously "polly hasn't had all the milk," said phronsie amy "nothing can be too good for polly pepper!" cried alexia, starting forward he walked off, leaving polly alone in the lane "my! what a sight of fish!" exclaimed mrs. higby, dropping to her knees beside the basket "now, jasper, you begin," cried polly, "and we'll tell mamsie all about it, as we always do when we get home" "polly, do come with us!" "and you will be my own brother, jasper," said phronsie chapter i. polly gives music lessons. "miss pepper--miss pepper!" polly turned quickly, it was such an anxious little cry. "what? oh, amy loughead." amy threw herself up against polly's gown. "oh, if i may," she began, flushing painfully. "you see my brother is coming to-morrow--i've a letter--so if you will let me." "let you what?" cried polly, with a little laugh; "go on, amy, don't be afraid." "you see it is just this way," amy twisted her fingers together, drew her breath hard, and rushed on nervously; "jack--he's my brother, you know--promised me--i never told you--if i would only learn to play on the piano, he'd take me to europe with him next time, and now he's coming to-morrow, and--and, oh! what shall i do?" amy was far gone now, and she ended with a little howl of distress, that brought two or three of the "salisbury girls" flying in with astonishment. "go back," said polly to them all, and they ran off as suddenly as they had popped in, to leave amy and the music teacher alone. "now, amy," said polly kindly, getting down on her knees beside the girl where she had thrown herself on the broad lounge, "you must just understand, dear, that i cannot help you unless you will have self-control and be a little woman yourself." "you told me i would be sorry if i didn't practice," mourned amy, dragging her wet little handkerchief between her fingers, "but i didn't suppose jack was coming for six months, and i'd have time to catch up, and now--oh dear me!" and she burrowed deeper into miss salisbury's big sofa-pillow. "take care!" warned polly, with a ready hand to rescue the elaborate combination of silk and floss, "it would be a very dreadful thing if this should get spoiled." amy loughead brought her wet cheek off suddenly. "there isn't a single tear on it, miss pepper," she gasped. "that's very fortunate," said polly, with a relieved breath. "well, amy child, how can i help you?" she sat down now, and drew the girl's hot little hand within her own. "i can almost play that horrible 'chopin,'" said amy irrelevantly; "that is, i could, if--oh miss pepper," she broke off suddenly and brought her flushed face very near to the one above her, "could you help me play it--just hear me, you know, and tell me things you did, over again, about it, if i practice all the afternoon? could you?" "this evening, do you mean?" asked polly, a trifle sharply. "yes," said amy faintly, and twisting her handkerchief. "oh dear me, i know you're so tired. what shall i do?" "but you don't understand," cried polly, vexed with herself that she couldn't help her annoyance from being seen. "i shall put some one else out if i give up my evening. i have an engagement, amy. no, i don't see how i can do it, child; i'm sorry." and then before she knew how, she put both arms around the little figure. "don't cry, dear, i suppose i must. i'll get out of the other thing. yes, fly at chopin, and keep your courage up, and i'll be over at seven. then to-morrow brother jack will say 'how fine!' and off you'll go over the seas!" outside, polly, after enlisting miss salisbury's favor for the evening's plan, was hurrying along the pavement, calling herself an hundred foolish names for helping an idle girl out of a scrape. "and to think of losing the only chance to hear d'albert," she mourned. "well, it's done now, and can't be helped. even jasper when he hears of it, will think me a silly, i suppose. now to make my peace with pickering." she turned down the avenue running out from the street that had the honor to contain "miss salisbury's boarding and day school for young ladies," and met face to face, suddenly, a young man, about whose joy at meeting her, there could be no doubt. "oh, polly!" he cried, "here, let me take that detestable thing!" trying to get the music-roll out of her hand. "take care how you talk against this," cried polly, hugging it closer. "indeed you shall not touch it, till you are glad that i am a music teacher. oh, i must tell you--i was on my way to your house because i was afraid you wouldn't understand a note. i can't go to-night." "can't go to-night?" repeated pickering, in his astonishment forgetting all his manners. "why, polly pepper, what do you mean?" "why, i must give it up," cried polly nervously; "don't ask me--or perhaps i ought to tell you, pickering, then you'll see i can't help myself." and polly rapidly unfolded her plan for the evening, omitting all details as to amy's careless waste of her lessons despite all efforts to make her practice. at the end of the recital, pickering dodge came to a full pause on the sidewalk, regardless of all passers-by, and turned a glowering face on polly, who was forced to stand still also, and look at him. "what idiocy!" he exclaimed, "to give up d'albert for that ignoramus! polly, are you losing your senses?" "i don't know," said poor polly, who had lost the first flush of enthusiasm over her plan, and to whom nothing now seemed so delightful as the sight and sound of d'albert and his wonderful melody. "well, it's done, so don't tempt me to feel badly, pickering." "indeed, and it's not done," said pickering angrily; "you made the engagement, polly. i never knew you to break one before," he added stingingly. the tears flew into polly's brown eyes, and every bit of color deserted her round cheek. "don't call it that, pickering," she implored, putting out her hand. "i shall call it just what it is," declared pickering, in his stiffest fashion. "it's a broken engagement, polly pepper, nothing more nor less." "then," said polly, all her tears dried, "i must go with you, if you hold me to it." she raised her head, and looked him full in the eyes. "i will be ready," and she moved off with her most superb air, without deigning a good-by. [illustration: "why, polly pepper, what do you mean?"] "oh, polly," cried pickering, starting forward to overtake her, "see here, if you very much wish it, why, of course, polly--polly, do look around!" "what do you wish to say?" asked polly, not looking around as he gained her side. "why, of course," cried pickering, his words stumbling over each other, "if you can't go, i'll--i'll give it up, and stay at home." "and why should you stay at home?" cried polly, suddenly giving him a glimpse of her face; "you've lovely seats; do ask alexia." "alexia!" exclaimed pickering angrily. "indeed i will not. i don't want any one if i can't have you, polly." he was really miserable now, and needed comfort, so she turned around and administered it as only polly could. by the time the talk was over, she hurried off with a radiant face, and pickering with an expression only one remove from that of absolute gloom, retraced his steps to lay one of "the lovely seats" for the d'albert concert, before miss rhys, for her acceptance. phronsie came slowly down the hall to meet polly as usual; this day with one of her company white gowns on. polly always knew when these were donned that something unusual was to be expected from the daily routine of the household. "are you really and truly home, polly?" asked phronsie, taking the music-roll to tuck it under her own arm. "yes, pet;" polly set a kiss on the red lips. "and i am as hungry as a beaver, phronsie." "so you must be," said phronsie, with a little sigh, "for you were so long in coming home. well, do hurry now, polly." this last as polly was skipping over the stairs to her own room to freshen up a bit. then phronsie turned into the dining-room to be quite sure that the butler had made the belated luncheon as fine as polly could desire it. "she didn't ask why i had on this gown," mused phronsie, softly disposing again the flowers at polly's plate, "and it's funny, i think, for polly always sees everything;" and she began to look troubled at once. [illustration: phronsie came slowly down the hall.] "this is just as splendid as it can be," cried polly, coming in, and picking up one of the roses at her plate. "phronsie, you are just a dear to have everything so nice," and she fastened it at her belt. "why, dear me! you've a fine gown on! what is going to happen?" "and you didn't see it," said phronsie, a bit reproachfully, as she gently smoothed the front breadth of mull. "forgive me, dear," begged polly. "well, what is it, pet? do tell me; for i'm dying of curiosity, as the salisbury girls say." phronsie stood up on tiptoe, and achieved polly's ear. "who do you think is coming to-night?" she whispered impressively. "to-night? oh, dear me! i can't possibly guess," said polly, beginning to think that this one evening of all the year held supreme moments for her. "who is it, phronsie? do tell me quickly." "well," said phronsie, drawing off to see the surprised delight sure to come on polly's face, "it's jasper himself." "not jasper?" exclaimed polly, quite gone with joy. "oh, phronsie pepper, you can't mean that?" "but i do," said phronsie, forgetting her age, to hop up and down on the rug, "we've a letter while you were at the school, and i wasn't to tell you suddenly, so i put on one of my nice gowns, so you would know." "but how could i possibly suppose that jasper would come now," cried polly, seizing phronsie's hands to execute one of the old-time dances. "now i almost know he is going to stay over christmas." "he is--he is!" cried phronsie in a little scream; "you've guessed it, polly. and mamsie said--she's gone down town with grandpapa; he's going to get tickets for the concert to-night, so that you can all go together, even if you can't sit together, and she said that"-"oh, phronsie!" exclaimed polly in dismay and she stood quite still. "aren't you glad?" asked phronsie, her joy suddenly hushed. "and i've done it myself--spoiled all this loveliness," cried polly passionately, little white lines coming around her mouth, "and jasper here!" "oh, polly, polly!" phronsie clasped her gown imploringly, "don't, polly." "i just won't go to the school," declared polly at white heat; "i don't care for the concert, but i'll send a note over to say that i am detained at home." "what is it, polly?" begged phronsie, all sorts of dreadful surmises seizing her, "do tell me, polly, won't you?" "it's--nothing; you wouldn't understand, child," said polly quickly. "there, don't ask." phronsie crept away in a grieved fashion, to be presently folded into polly's warm arms. "i'm bad to-day, phronsie dear. there, pet, now you are all right, aren't you?" as she hugged her close. "i am, if you are, polly," said phronsie doubtfully. "well, i'm all right now," said polly, her brow clearing; "the bad has gone at last, i hope, to stay away, phronsie. now i must hurry and eat this nice luncheon you've fixed for me;" and she sprang toward the table. "don't you want to write a note first?" asked phronsie, wondering at polly's strange mood, and following her to the table-edge, "you said so." "no; i've given it up," said polly, sitting down and beginning on her chop and toast. "bless you, dear, you've given me an orchid," glancing down between her mouthfuls to the bouquet at her plate; "you should have saved them all for jasper." "turner said i might have it," said phronsie triumphantly, "and i knew you'd give it to jasper, so it's all right." "it surely shall do double duty," said polly merrily, with a tender glance for the orchid. "well, how's baby?" "he is very nice," said phronsie, with a grown-up air, "and didn't cry a bit for mamsie. and now if you are really all right, polly, i'll go up to the nursery and look at him." "so i would," said polly approvingly. "yes, i'm all right; see, i'm on my chop no. 2." phronsie smiled with great satisfaction at this, and went off. at a quarter of seven, polly, in a storm of remonstrance from all but one, hurried off to help poor amy loughead through her slough of despond. jasper alone, just arrived for dinner, was the only one who remained silent when the storm of disapproval broke forth over polly and her doings. after the first astonished exclamation, he had absolutely refused to say anything save "polly knows best." "i don't know how to thank you," said polly out in the wide hall, where he hurried to meet her, as she ran downstairs with her plainest walking things on, "for i don't believe they would have let me go. i never saw mamsie feel so, jasper." and now polly could not keep the tears back. "she'll see it all right to-morrow," said jasper soothingly. he put his hand out and grasped hers, as in the old days in the little brown house, and polly answered through her tears, "i know, jasper." and then the maid appearing, who was to accompany her to miss salisbury's, polly came out from her tears, and said, "i'm ready, barbara." "you are not needed, barbara," said jasper, reaching up for his top-coat from the oaken rack. "what are you going to do?" gasped polly, her hand on the door-knob, and glancing back. "walk over with you to that center of culture and wisdom," said jasper coolly, close beside her now, his hat in his hand. "o, jasper!" exclaimed polly in dismay, her face growing quite pale, "don't; you'll be late for the concert. barbara, barbara!" polly looked past him to summon the departing maid. "barbara is a good girl, and understands the duty of obedience," said jasper laughingly. "there's no help for it, polly; you must accept my escort," and he opened the door. "but grandpapa! he will be terribly disappointed not to have you go to the concert with him," cried polly, getting down the steps with a dreadful weight at her heart. "i made it all right with father," said jasper, "as soon as i heard of your plan; and mr. alstyne is on his way over to take my place; at least he ought to be in response to my note. don't worry, polly; come." "oh! what perfectly elegant seats," exclaimed alexia rhys, waving her big ostrich fan contentedly, and sweeping the audience with a long gaze. "everybody is here to-night, pickering." "that's not so," said pickering savagely, and bestowing a thump on his unoffending opera hat, already reduced to the smallest possible bulk. "don't spoil it," advised alexia coolly, with a sidelong gaze at his face. "well, of course i mean everybody except polly; and i'm sure, pickering, it isn't my fault that she didn't come; polly always was queer about some things." pickering did not answer, but bestowed his glance on the programme in his hand. "and now she is queerer than ever," said alexia, glad to think that the dainty blue affair on her head, she called a bonnet, was already doing its work, as she heard a lady in the seat back of them, question if it were not one of the newest of madame marchaud's creations. so she sat more erect, and played nonchalantly with her fan. "yes, and it's all because of those dreadfully horrid music lessons." pickering coughed, and rattled his programme ominously, which alexia pretended not to hear. "why mr. king lets her do it, i can't see," she went on. "do stop," said pickering shortly, and casting a nervous glance back of her shoulder. "never mind if they do hear," said alexia sweetly, "all the better; then they'll know we don't approve of her doing so, at any rate." "i do approve," said pickering, his face flaming, "if she wants to; and we've got to, any way, because we can't help ourselves. i do wish, alexia, you wouldn't discuss our friends in this public way." "and i don't think it is a very sweet thing to invite a girl to a concert, and then get up a fight," said alexia, back at him. "goodness--who's fighting?" exclaimed pickering under his breath. "you are--i wish you could see your face; it's as black as a thunder cloud," said alexia, with the consciousness that her own was as calm as a june morning. "and i'm sure if you don't want to attract people to our conversation, you might at least look a little pleasanter." pickering threw two or three nervous glances on either side, to prove her words, and was by no means reassured to see the countenance of billy harlow, one of his young business friends, across the aisle, suffused with an attempt to appear as if he hadn't been a witness to the little by-play. "well, i'm morally certain i won't trouble you with another invitation to a concert," he said, too furious to quite know his own words. "you needn't," said alexia, swinging her fan with an even hand, and still smiling sweetly, this time including in it billy, who had no girl with him. "i really could endure life at home better than this bliss." and then d'albert came on the stage, and it was the proper thing to keep quiet, so the hostilities died down. going out of the opera house, billy harlow ran up to the two. "lovely time you've had," he said on alexia's side, and with a little grimace. "haven't i?" said alexia back again, with the air of a martyr. pickering stalking along by her side, had the air of a man who didn't care what was being said about him. "just look at him now," said alexia softly, "isn't he sweet? and fancy my bearing it for two hours. i don't think any other girl in our set, could." "why didn't miss pepper come this evening?" asked mr. harlow curiously; "pickering said he'd asked her." "oh! she gave it up to help some girl," said alexia carelessly. "she's the music teacher at miss salisbury's school, you know." "oh! is she?" asked mr. harlow innocently, forgetting to mention the daily interviews he sustained with his sisters kitty and grace who were "salisbury girls," on miss pepper's movements. "and at the last minute he asked me to take her place," said alexia with perfect frankness, "and i was goose enough to do it." "isn't miss pepper going to give a recital pretty soon?" asked mr. harlow, incidentally, as they worked their way along to the entrance. "yes, she is," said alexia sharply, "at the exeter--we can't stop her; she says she's proud to do it, and it shows the girls' wonderful ability; and all that sort of thing--and--and--oh dear me! after she's once done that, she'll always be 'miss pepper the music teacher.' isn't it horrid!" "i believe that is our carriage," said pickering stiffly, and without so much as a half-glance at billy. "come, alexia." chapter ii getting ready for christmas. "baby ought to have a christmas tree," said phronsie slowly. "ah--king-fisher, how is that? do you want a christmas tree?" jasper dropped to all-fours by the side of the white bundle in the center of the library rug, as he propounded the momentous question. the baby plunged forward and buried both fat hands in the crop of brown hair so suddenly brought to his notice. "is that the way to show your acknowledgment, sir?" cried jasper, springing to his feet, baby and all. "well, there you go--there, and there, and there!" tossing the white bundle high in the air. "goodness! what a breeze you two contrive to raise," exclaimed joel; "mamsie," as mother fisher put her head in the doorway, "the little chap is getting the worst of it, i tell you." "joel's jealous," said jasper, with a laugh. "take care, king-fisher, that really is my hair, sir." mrs. fisher nodded and chuckled to the baby, and hurried off. "he didn't really mean to pull your hair, jasper," said phronsie in a worried way; and getting up from the floor where she had been deserted by the baby, she hurried over to the two flying around in the center of the room. "but he does pull dreadfully, though," said polly, laughing, "don't you, you little king!" pinching baby's toes as jasper spun him past her. "my goodness!" exclaimed mr. king, coming in the opposite doorway, "i should think it was a menagerie here! what's the matter, phronsie?" "baby is pulling jasper's hair," said phronsie slowly, and revolving around the two dancers, "but he really doesn't mean to, grandpapa." "oh! i hope he does," said old mr. king cheerfully, coming in and sitting down in his favorite chair. "i'm sure it speaks well for the young man's powers of self-defense, if he gives jasper a good tweak." "father!" cried jasper in pretended astonishment. "well, king-fisher, as popular opinion is against me, i'll set you down again, and nurse my poor scalp," and down went the white bundle again to the floor, phronsie going back to her post as nurse. "there's been a terrible scheme worked up since you were out, sir," announced joel to the old gentleman. "hey--what's that?" demanded mr. king, staring at polly. "oh! it isn't polly this time," said joel with a laugh. "generally it is polly that sets all dreadful things going; but this time, it is some other ringleader." "then i am sure i sha'n't approve if polly isn't in it," declared the old gentleman flatly. "but i am in it, grandpapa," polly made haste to say. "i think it is very, very nice." "that alters the case," said mr. king. "so what is it, joe? out with it." "it's nothing more nor less than to upset this house from top to bottom," said joel, "and get up a dreadful howling, tearing christmas tree." [illustration: "baby ought to have a christmas tree," said phronsie slowly.] "oh, joe pepper!" ejaculated polly reproachfully, "and you've always had such fun over our christmas trees. how can you!" "it's for baby," cried phronsie, with a pink flush on her cheek. "he's never seen one, you know, grandpapa." "no, i should think not," said the old gentleman, looking down at the white bundle. "well, and so you want a christmas tree for him, phronsie child?" "i think we ought to have one," said phronsie, "because you know, he's never, never seen one. and we all have had so many beautiful trees, grandpapa." "to be sure, to be sure," said mr. king. "well now, phronsie child, come here and tell me all about it," and he held out his hand. phronsie cast an anxious glance at the bundle. "can i leave him, grandpapa?" she asked. "leave him? mercy, yes; it does babies good to be left alone. he'll suck his thumbs or his toes." "i'll stay with him," said polly, running out of her corner to get on her knees before the baby. "there now, sir, do you know what a blessed old care you are?" smothering him with kisses. "yes, i really think we ought to have a christmas tree," phronsie was saying, "grandpapa dear," huddling up against his waistcoat as usual. "then we surely will have one," declared old mr. king, "so that is settled. do you hear, young people," raising his voice, "or does that little scamp of a baby take all your ears?" "we hear, grandpapa," said polly from the floor, "and i'm very glad. it will be good fun to get up a christmas tree." "seeing you never have had that pleasing employment," said jasper _sotto voce_, on the rug before the fire. "never mind; it'll be just as good fun again," said polly. "and not a bit of work--oh, no!" "don't throw cold water on it," begged polly under her breath, while the baby scrambled all over her, "don't, jasper; phronsie has set her heart on it." "all right; but i thought you wanted every bit of time to get ready for your recital, and the other things; and then, besides, there's phronsie's performance down at dunraven." "well, so i did," confessed polly, with a sigh, "but i can get the time some way." "out of 'the other things,'" said jasper grimly. "polly, you'll have no fun from the holidays. it isn't too late to stop this now." he darted over toward his father. "jasper!" cried polly imploringly. "what is it, my boy?" asked mr. king, quite deep in the plans for the tree, joel having added himself to their company. "oh, nothing; polly wants it, and we must make it a good one," said jasper, rather incoherently, and beginning to retreat. "of course it will be a good one," said his father, a trifle testily, "if we have it at all. when did we ever get up a poor tree, pray tell?" polly drew a relieved breath, and gathering the baby up in her arms, she hurried over to the old gentleman's chair with a "now when do you want to have the tree, phronsie?" "must we have it christmas day?" asked phronsie, looking at her anxiously. "christmas day? dear me, no! why, what would the dunraven children do, phronsie, if you took that day away from them?" cried old mr. king in astonishment. phronsie turned slowly back to him. "i thought perhaps we ought to let baby have the tree christmas day," she said. "no, indeed," again said mr. king. "come here, you little scamp," catching the baby out of polly's hand, to set him on his other knee; "there now, speak up like a man, and tell your sister that you are not particular about the time you have your tree." "ar--goo!" said the fisher baby. "that's it," said the old gentleman with approval, while the others shouted. "so now, as long as your brother says so, phronsie, why, i should have your tree the day before christmas." "oh, polly wants to go"--began jasper. "ugh!" cried polly warningly to him. "yes, phronsie; you much better have it the day before, as grandpapa says." "and you don't suppose baby will feel badly afterwards when he gets bigger, and cry because we didn't give him christmas day," said phronsie, "do you, grandpapa?" "indeed, i don't," declared the old gentleman, pinching the set of pink toes nearest to his hand; "if he does, why, we'll all let him know what we think of such conduct." "then," said phronsie, clasping her hands, "i should very much rather not take christmas day from the dunraven children, because you know, grandpapa, they expect it." "of course they do," said old mr. king. "bless me! why, we shouldn't know it was christmas at all, if we didn't go down to bedford and carry it; and as for those children"-the picture that this brought up, of dunraven without a christmas, threw such a shadow over phronsie's face, that polly hastened to say reassuringly: "oh, grandpapa! we wouldn't ever think of not carrying a christmas to dunraven, would we, pet?" and she threw her arms around phronsie. "of course not," chimed in jasper and joel, in a way to bring back the smiles to the little downcast face. and the baby crowed, and seized phronsie's floating yellow hair with both hands, and they all got in one another's way to rescue it; and mrs. pepper hurried in again, this time for baby; and he was kissed all around, phronsie giving him two for fear he might think she was hurt; and one of the maids popped in with "there is a gentleman in the reception room to see miss mary." jasper turned off with an impatient gesture. "i do suppose it is mr. loughead," said polly, "for he wanted to come some time and talk about amy. o, dear! i hope i shall say the right thing." "doesn't the fellow know better than to come when we are home for the christmas holidays?" grumbled joel. jasper looked as if he could say as much, but instead, walked to the window, and looked out silently. "he's very anxious about amy," said polly, running off to the door, where she paused and looked back for sympathy toward her little protege. "i should think he would be," grunted joel; "she's a goose, and beside that, she doesn't know anything." "o, joe! she hasn't any father nor mother," cried polly in distress. joel gave an inaudible reply, and polly ran off, carrying a face on which the sunshine struggled to get back to its accustomed place. "beg pardon for troubling you," said a tall young man, getting off from the divan to meet her, as she hurried into the reception room, "but you were good enough to say that i might talk with you about my sister, and really i am very much at sea to know what to do with her, miss pepper." it was a long speech, and at the end of it, polly and the caller were seated, she in a big chair, and he back on the divan opposite to her. "i am glad to see you, mr. loughead," said polly brightly, "and i hope i can help you, for i am very fond of amy." "it's good of you to say so," said jack loughead, "for she's a trying little minx enough, i suspect; and miss salisbury tells me you've had no end of trouble with her." "miss salisbury shouldn't say that," cried polly involuntarily. then she stopped with a blush. "i mean, i don't think she quite understands it. amy does really try hard to study." "oh!" said jack loughead. then he tapped his boot with his walking-stick. "so you really think my sister will amount to something, miss pepper?" he looked at her keenly. polly started. "oh, yes, indeed! why, she must, mr. loughead." he laughed, and bit his moustache. "and really, i don't think that amy is quite understood," said polly warmly, and forgetting herself; "if people believe in her, it makes her want to do things to please them." "she says herself she has bothered you dreadfully," said jack, with a vicious thrust of the walking-stick at his boot. "she has a little," confessed polly, "but not dreadfully. and i do think, mr. loughead, now that you have come, and that she sees how much you want her to study and practice, she will really do better. i do, indeed," said polly earnestly. outside she could hear the "two boys," as she still called them, and grandpapa's voice in animated consultation over the ways and means, she knew as well as if she were there, of spending the holidays, and it seemed as if she could never sit in the reception room another moment longer, but that she must fly out to them. [illustration: "oh!" said jack loughead. then he tapped his boot with his walking stick.] "amy has no mother," said jack loughead after a moment, and he turned away his head, and pretended to look out of the window. "i know it." polly's heart leaped guiltily. oh! how could she think of holidays and good times, while this poor little girl, but fifteen, had only a dreary sense of boarding-school life to mean home to her. "and oh! i do think," polly hastened to say, and she clasped her hands as phronsie would have done, "it has made all the difference in the world to her. and she does just lovely--so much better, i mean, than other girls would in her place. i do really, mr. loughead," repeated polly. "and no sister," added jack, as if to himself. "how is a fellow like me--why, i am twenty-five, miss pepper, and i've been knocking about the world ever since i was her age; my uncle took me then to australia, into his business--how am i ever to 'understand,' as you call it, that girl?" it was impossible not to see his distress, and polly, with a deaf ear to the chatter out in the library, now bent all her energies to helping him. "mr. loughead," she said, and the color deserted her round cheek, and she leaned forward from the depths of the big chair, "i am afraid you won't like what i am going to say." "go on, please," said jack, his eyes on her face. "i think if you want to understand amy," said polly, holding her hands very tightly together, to keep her courage up, "you must love her first." "hey? i don't understand," said jack, quite bewildered. "you must love her, and believe she's going to do nice things, and be proud of her," went on polly steadily. "how can i? she's such a little beggar," exclaimed jack, "won't study, and all that." "and you must make her the very best friend you have in all this world, and let her see that you are glad that she is your sister, and tell her things, and never, never scold." then polly stopped, and the color flew up to the waves of brown hair on her brow. "i wish you'd go on," said jack loughead, as she paused. "oh! i've said enough," said polly, with a gasp, and beginning to wish she could be anywhere out of the range of those great black eyes. "do forgive me," she begged; "i didn't mean to say anything to hurt you." jack loughead got up and straightened himself. "i'm much obliged to you, miss pepper," he said. "i think i'm more to blame than amy, poor child." "no, no," cried polly, getting out of her chair, "i didn't mean so, indeed i didn't, mr. loughead. oh! what have i said? i think you have done beautifully. how could you help things when you were not here? oh! mr. loughead, i do hope you will forgive me. i have only made matters worse, i'm afraid," and poor polly's face drooped. jack loughead turned with a sudden gesture. "perhaps you'll believe me when i say i've never had anything do me so much good in all my life, as what you said." "what are those two talking about all this unconscionable time," joel was now exclaiming in the library, as he glanced up at the clock. "i could finish that amy loughead in the sixteenth of a minute." old mr. king turned uneasily in his chair. "who is this young loughead?" he asked of jasper. jasper, seeing that an answer was expected of him, drew himself up, and said quickly, "oh! he's the brother of that girl at the salisbury school, father. you know polly goes over there to help her practice." "ah!" said his father, "well, what is he doing here this morning, pray tell?" "that's what i should like to know," chimed in joel. "well, last evening," said jasper, with an effort to make things right for polly, "he was there when they were playing, and he seemed quite put out at his sister." "don't wonder," said joel; "everybody says she's a silly." "and polly tried to help amy, and make the best of her. and the brother asked if he might have a talk some time about his sister. polly couldn't help telling him 'yes,'" said jasper, but with a pang at the handsome stranger's delight as she said it. "a bad business," said the old gentleman irritably. "we do not want your lougheads coming here and taking up our time." "of course not," declared joel. "and i suppose he is an idle creature. polly said something about his traveling a good deal. it's a very bad business," repeated mr. king. "oh! he's all right in a business way," said jasper, feeling angry enough at himself that he was sorry at jack loughead's success. "he has to travel; he's a member of the bradbury and graeme company." "the sydney, australia, house?" asked mr. king in a surprised tone. "so you've looked him up, have you, jasper?" "oh! i happened to run across hibbard crane yesterday," said jasper carelessly, "and he gave me a few facts. that's about all i know, father." and in came polly, looking like a rose; and following her a tall young man, with large, black eyes, whom she immediately led up to mr. king's chair. "grandpapa," she said, "this is mr. loughead, amy's brother, you know"-and jasper went forward and put out his hand, as an old acquaintance of the evening before, and joel was introduced, and mumbled something about "glad to know you," immediately retreating into the corner, and then there was a pause, which polly broke by crying: "o, grandpapa! i am going to ask amy to play at dunraven for phronsie's poor children. why, where is phronsie?" looking around the room. "oh! she went out a little while after baby's exit," said jasper, trying to speak lightly. "mr. loughead thinks she'd do it, if i asked her," polly went on in her brightest way. "now, that will be lovely, and the children will enjoy it so much." "isn't there anything i could do?" asked jack loughead, after the dunraven entertainment had been a bit discussed. mr. king bowed his courtly old head. "i don't believe there is anything. you are very kind, i'm sure." "don't speak of kindness, sir," he said. "my time hangs heavy on my hands just now." "he would like to be with his sister," said jasper, after a glance at polly's face, and guilty of an aside to his father. "oh!--yes," said mr. king, "to be sure. well, mr. loughead, and what would you like to do for these poor children of phronsie's christmas day? we shall be very glad of your assistance." "i could bring out a stereopticon," said jack; "no very new idea, but i've a few pictures of places i've seen, and maybe the children would like it for a half-hour or so." "capital, capital," pronounced the old gentleman quite as if he had proposed it. and before any one knew how it had come about, there was jack loughead talking over the run down to bedford with them all on christmas morning, as a matter of course, and as if it had been the annual affair to him, that it was to all the others. "quite a fine young man," said mr. king, when jack had at last run off with a bright smile and word for all, "and phronsie will be so pleased to think of his doing all this for her poor children. bless her! well, david, my man, are you back so soon?" "so soon, grandpapa?" cried david, hurrying in from a morning down town with another "harvard fresh," also home for the holidays. "why, it is luncheon time." "impossible!" exclaimed old mr. king, pulling out his watch. "er--bless me! the boy is right. now, polly, my child, you and i must put off our engagement till afternoon. then we'll have our christmasing!" chapter iii. christmas at dunraven. "grandpapa," cried phronsie, flying down the platform, "the box of dolls isn't here!" "goodness me!" exclaimed old mr. king, whirling around, "'tisn't possible, child, that we've come off without that. it must be with the other luggage." "o, no, grandpapa dear!" declared phronsie in great distress, and clasping her hands to keep the tears back, "it really, surely hasn't come; polly says so." "well, then, if polly says so, it must have been left at home," said the old gentleman, "and there's no use in my going to look over the luggage," he groaned. "what's the matter?" cried joel, rushing up, his jolly face aglow. "the worst thing that could possibly happen," said mr. king irritably; "phronsie's box of dolls is left behind." then he began to fume up and down the platform, wholly lost to everything but his indignation. "whew!" ejaculated joel, "that is a miss!" and he looked down at phronsie, but her broad hat had drooped, the brown eyes seeking the platform floor. "see here, phronsie." phronsie didn't speak for a breathing-space. "what is it, joey?" then she said, not looking up. "i'll go back after it; don't you worry, child." "oh, but you can't," cried phronsie, throwing her head back quickly, "the train will come, and then you won't be here." "i'll take the next train; of course i can't get back for this," said joel, swallowing hard. "i'll bring the box all right," and he dashed off. "joel--oh, joel!" cried phronsie, running after him, "don't go!" she implored. "here! here! what's the matter?" cried old mr. king, forgetting his indignation to hurry after her. "phronsie, wait; what is it, dear?" "joel's gone," panted phronsie, flying back, her broad hat falling off to her shoulders, "oh, do stop him, grandpapa dear! i'd rather not take the dolls than to have joel left." "stop him? i can't. bless me, here--somebody!" turning off to the little knots of his party scattered over the platform, "where are you all?" polly came running up at this, with a pale face. "oh, grandpapa!" she began at sight of him. "joel's gone home," announced phronsie, clasping her hands in distress, "after the box of dolls, and"-"joel's gone home!" echoed polly, standing quite still. "yes," said phronsie, "oh, polly, do stop him and bring him back." "she can't," cried the old gentleman; "that boy's legs have carried him half over the town by this time. nobody could stop him, child." and then, most of the little knots heard the commotion, and came hurrying up with "what is it?" and "oh dear, what's the matter?" in time to hear polly groan, "and joe thought so much of going down to dunraven with us!" [illustration: "joel's gone," panted phronsie, flying back.] "well, where is he?" cried jasper, whirling around to look in all directions; while ben took a few long strides to peer around the station, and david and the other "harvard fresh." who had been invited to keep him company, ran, one up, and the other down, the long platform. "see here now," shouted old mr. king so sharply that all the flying feet were arrested at once, "every one of you come back! goodness me, the idea of the bedford party being scattered to the four winds in this fashion!" "i'd help if i could," said mr. hamilton dyce, "but i really don't know what it's all about yet." "oh dear--dear!" polly was yet wailing. then she remembered, and threw her arms around phronsie who was standing quite still by her side. "phronsie, precious pet," and she picked up her pretty stuff gown to kneel on the platform-floor to look into the little face, "don't feel badly, dear. joel will come on the next train." "but he won't be with us," said phronsie slowly, and turning her brown eyes piteously to polly. "i know it," polly smothered a sigh, "but we can't help it now. grandpapa is feeling dreadfully; oh, phronsie, you wouldn't make him sick, dear, for all the world!" phronsie unclasped her hands, and went unsteadily over to the old gentleman. "joel will come on the next train, grandpapa," she said. "bless me, yes, of course," said mr. king, seizing her hand; "i don't see what we are making such a fuss for. he'll come on the next train." "what's the riot?" asked livingston bayley, sauntering up, and whirling his walking-stick, "eh?" "joel's absconded," said mr. dyce briefly. "eh?" "gone back after phronsie's box of dolls," explained somebody else. "oh dear me," cried alexia rhys, trying to get near polly, "just like that boy." she still called him that, in spite of his being a harvard man, "he's always making some sort of a fuss." "perhaps the train will be late," suggested mrs. dyce, who, as mary taylor, never could bear to see phronsie unhappy. "hamilton, if you don't do something to help that child, i shall be sorry i married you," she whispered in her husband's ear. "late? it's late already," said ben, pulling out his watch, "it's five minutes past time." "well, it may be our luck to have it late enough," said jasper, with a glance at polly, "as it's christmas day and a big train; so he may possibly get here--he'll find a cabby that can make good time," he added, with a forlorn attempt at comfort. jack loughead sauntered up and down, on the edge of the group, longing to be of service, but feeling himself too new a friend to offer his sympathy. "who the dickens is that cad?" asked mr. bayley in smothered wrath, to mrs. dyce. "why, don't you know? he's another friend of polly's," said mary taylor dyce, smiling up sweetly into his face, "and he's going down to help entertain phronsie's poor children. isn't he nice?" "nice?" repeated livingston bayley with a black look at the tall figure stalking on. "how do i know? who is the fellow, any way?" but there was no time to reply. "here comes the train!" cried alexia. the warning bell struck, and the rush of travelers from the waiting-room, began. "oh dear me!" then she forgot all about her late unpleasantness with pickering dodge, and running up to him, she seized his arm, "oh, pickering, do make the conductor wait for that horrid boy." "i can't," said pickering, "the train's late, any way. there, get on, alexia," putting out his hand to help her up the steps. "oh, i forgot," she cried, drawing back, "that we'd had a fight. tisn't proper for you to help me, pickering, and you oughtn't to ask it, till you've begged my pardon." "then it will be a long day before you receive my assistance," said pickering, lifting his cap, and turning on his heel at the same time. jasper tried to get up to polly's side, as she was hurrying phronsie to the car, old mr. king holding fast to phronsie's other hand, but livingston bayley got there first. "allow me, miss phronsie," he was saying, with extended hand. "'pon me word, it's a beastly crowd going to-day, sir." "she will do very well with my assistance," said the old gentleman, still holding phronsie's little glove. "and i suppose christmas day belongs to everybody, eh, bayley?" hurrying in. polly, her foot on the lower step, turned and sent a despairing glance down the platform, and jasper who saw it through the crowd, fell back a little to give a last look for joel. "all aboard!" sang out the conductor, waving his hand. "come--oh, come!" called polly with a frantic gesture, from the doorway of the car, as the train moved off. "oh, jasper!" as he swung himself up beside her. "the next train runs down in an hour; don't feel badly, polly," jasper had time to beg before they were drawn into the confusion of the car. but no one could pretend, with any sort of success, that joel wasn't missed; and polly had all that she could do to chase away the sorrowful expression of phronsie's little face. and everybody tried his and her best to make it as festive a time as possible; and the other passengers nudged one another, and sent many an envious glance at the merry party. "it's mr. king's family going down to bedford," said the conductor to one inquiring mind. "i take 'em every year," proudly. "he's powerful rich; but this ain't his affair. it all b'longs to that little girl with the big hat." then he dashed off, and called a station; and after the stopping and moving of the train again, he came back and sat on the arm of the seat to finish his account. "you see, there was an old lady, a cousin of the old gentleman's, and she made a will in favor of this child with the big hat." the conductor pointed his thumb at phronsie, leaning over mr. king's shoulder, the better to hear a wonderful story he was concocting for her benefit. "why, she's got some two or three millions." "what--that child?" cried the listeners, in amaze. [illustration: joel swinging a big box rushed into dunraven hall.] "yes--the old lady was tough, but"--he dashed off again, called a station, slammed the door, and was back in position in less time than it takes to tell it--"she was took sudden, while mr. king's folks was in europe, and now that child has turned a handsome old place down yonder"--he pointed with his thumb in the direction of bedford-"dunraven lodge, the old lady always called it, into a sort of a home, and she's chucked it full of children, mostly those whose fathers and mothers are dead; and every christmas day mr. king takes down a big crowd, and"-here somebody called him off, not to be seen again till he put his head in the doorway, and shouted "bedford!" * * * * * joel, swinging a big box as only joel could, rushed into the spacious hall at dunraven lodge. "how are you all!" phronsie disentangled herself from a group around the big fire-place where the long hickory logs snapped and blazed. "oh, josey!" she cried, precipitating herself into his long arms. "here is the toggery," cried joel, setting down the doll-box, while he gathered phronsie up in his arms. "and you, josey," cried phronsie, with a happy little hum, "you are all here yourself," as the group left the fire, and surrounded them. "well--well--well!" cried old mr. king, lifting his head in its velvet lounging cap from the sofa where he had been napping. "are you really here, joe!" "just like you," greeted alexia, running down the broad oaken stairs. "here, he's come!" to polly, appearing at the head. "we were finishing the tree, and we heard the noise. dear me, joe, i should think it was a cyclone," as she joined the group, polly close behind. joel tossed her a saucy answer, while polly got on her tiptoes and caught his crop of short black hair in her two hands. "oh, joe," she said, dropping a kiss on it, "it was lovely in you to go back." joel felt well repaid for losing the jolly run down, and the grand _entree_ into dunraven, his soul loved, but he covered up what he thought, by pulling phronsie into the middle of the hall. "come on, phron," he said, "for a spin like old times." "see here," cried alexia, "we ought to get back to that tree, polly pepper, or it won't be ready. dear me, i dropped a box of frost all over the stairs; joel made such a noise." at the mere mention of such a possibility as the tree not being ready, everybody started; the last one in the procession, picking up the doll-box, their movements somewhat quickened, as loud calls were now set up above stairs, for "polly--polly!" "come on," sang out joel, who had paid his respects in a flying fashion to grandpapa's sofa, and leaping the stairs. "goodness me, alexia, i should think you did spill this frost. why didn't you go over more ground?" "i don't believe we can save one bit," mourned alexia, peering up the stair-length, each step sparkling with myriad little frosty gems, as if jack frost himself had sprinkled it with a christmas hand. "oh, dear, why did you come in with such a noise, joe pepper?" "just like a girl," said joel; "jumps at everything and drops whatever she has in her hand. you all go up the other stairs; i'll sweep this in a minute, and save what i can." "oh, joe, don't stop; we want you for the tree," begged polly. "phronsie has been waiting downstairs all this time for you to come. let one of the maids do it;" joe already had his head in a closet he knew of old, opening into the big hall. "give me the broom," said a voice close beside him. "eh--what?" cried joel, pulling out what he wanted--a soft floor brush. "oh, is that you, loughead?" turning around. "i believe so," said jack, laughing. "here, give me the broom. i'm no help about a tree; i'll have the stuff up there soon," and before joel knew it, he was racing over the back stairs, wondering how it was he had let that disagreeable jack loughead get hold of that broom. "it makes me think of our first tree, in some way," said polly softly, with glistening eyes, looking up at the beautiful branching spruce, its countless arms shaking out brilliant pendants, and gay with streamers and candles, wherever a decoration could be placed, the whole tipped with a shining star. "oh, bensie, can you ever forget that?" ben looked down from the top of the step-ladder where he was adjusting some last bit of ornament. "never, polly," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "that was so beautiful," cried polly. "and we had it in our 'provision room,' and mrs. henderson brought my bird over, and the other things the last minute, and"-"i had to," broke in mrs. henderson with a laugh, and shaking the snips of green from her white apron, "for you and ben would have discovered the whole surprise. you were dreadful that day." "i'm glad somebody else was dreadful in those times, besides me," observed joel from among the branches, where he was tying on the several presents alexia handed to him. "well, you see," said polly, with rosy cheeks, "it was our first tree, and we were so afraid the children would find it out, and spoil all the surprise." "and did we?" cried phronsie, in intense excitement, emerging from the depths of the tree, the better to look at polly, "did we, polly, and spoil it all?" "no, pet," cried polly, "you were just as good as could be." "i remember," said joel, "you told us stories, polly, in the kitchen, and"-"we tooted on our tin horns," finished david; "oh, joe, do you remember those horns?" "and that molasses candy," said joel, smacking his lips, "i remember i ate mine up before breakfast." "and did i have any?" asked phronsie, turning from one to the other. "yes, indeed, you did," answered joel. "why, did you think we'd forget you, phronsie?" asked polly, a bit reproachfully. "and don't you remember it?" said david. "no," said phronsie. "i don't; but i remember seraphina's bonnet." "it was trimmed with some of grandma bascom's chicken's feathers," said joel. "and mamsie made it out of an old bonnet string," said polly. "oh dear, if only mamsie were here to-day!" and a cloud came over her face. "but we've baby fisher now," said ben cheerfully, looking down at her. "he's worth staying at home for, polly." "of course he is," said polly, her gayety returning. "and dear papa fisher was master of ceremonies then; but he wouldn't enjoy it to-day without mamsie. so we oughtn't to wish him here." [illustration: "and did we," cried phronsie "find it out, polly, and spoil it all?"] "i wish you wouldn't begin about that little brown house, and what elegant times you had in it," exclaimed alexia, twitching at a present joel had just tied on, to be sure it was secure; "i shall think this tree is perfectly horrid, if you do, polly pepper." "go on--do go on," begged several voices. meanwhile, jack loughead had come silently up into the long hall, and deposited a neat boxful of the gleaming frost on the table, without any comments. "dear me, there is so much to tell," cried polly, with a little laugh, "if we begin about jappy's tree." "who's tree?" cried livingston bayley, who had been wrinkling his brows in great perplexity all through the recital. "why, jasper's," said polly and ben together; joel and david coming in as echoes. "you see," said phronsie distinctly, "that jasper and dear grandpapa sent the beautiful things to us." "mrs. pepper and polly and ben had gotten the tree ready before," said jasper hastily. "oh! didn't i want to be there!" he added. "yes; polly almost cried because you couldn't be," said joel in among the branches. "but she couldn't quite cry," said davie, "because you see we children would have found it out. polly always sang in those days." "do you remember how we used to run behind the wood-pile when we wanted to plan the tree, polly," asked ben, "to get away from joel and dave?" "you spent most all your time in the little brown house in sneaking off from us," said joel vindictively. "well, we had to, if we ever did anything," said ben coolly. "i should think so," remarked livingston bayley, delighted to give a thrust at somebody. "and weren't the gilt balls pretty?" cried polly, quite gone now in the reminiscences, though her fingers kept on at their task; "you did cover those nuts beautifully, bensie. i don't see how you could, with such snips of paper." "how did he make the balls?" asked alexia, forgetting herself in her interest, and coming up to polly. "why, we had some bits of bright paper, little bits, you know, and ben covered hickory nuts with them, and pasted them all as smoothly; you can't think!" "oh, my!" exclaimed alexia. "and polly strung all the pop-corn, and fixed the candle-ends somebody gave mamsie, and"-"candle-ends? why didn't you have whole ones?" cried alexia. "why, we couldn't," said polly, "and we were glad enough to get these. oh! the tree looked just beautifully with them, i tell you." "you see," said phronsie, drawing near to look into alexia's face, "we were very, very poor, alexia. so polly and bensie made the tree. don't you understand?" "it was really bensie's tree," said polly honestly, "for i didn't believe at first we could do it." "oh, yes, you did, polly," corrected ben hastily; "at any rate, you saw it in a minute." "and it's the first time you didn't believe a thing could be done, i imagine," declared jasper, with a bright nod at polly. "well, bensie thought of this tree, and made me see that we could do it," persisted polly, giving a little quirk to a rebellious pendant. mrs. henderson put the corner of her white apron to her eyes. "i always have to," she said to mrs. dyce, "when the little brown house days bring those blessed children back to me." jack loughead drew nearer yet; so near that he lost never a word. "you ought to have seen what a santa claus ben made!" polly was saying. "i cut your performance yesterday at baby's tree, all out, old fellow," declared ben, descending from the step-ladder and bestowing an affectionate clap on jasper's shoulder. "i don't doubt it," jasper gave back. "we made the wig out of mamsie's cushion hair," laughed polly. "and we had such a piece of work putting it all back the next morning." "and polly shook flour all over me, for the snow," said ben, laughing. "come back, alexia, and hand me some more gimcracks, do," cried joel, poking his head out of the branches to look at his late assistant. "well, do go on about your tree in the brown house," begged alexia, tearing herself away to answer joel's demands, "seeing you have begun. what did you do next, polly?" "well, we all marched into the 'provision room,'" went on polly, her cheeks aglow, "expecting to see our tree just as we had left it; all but ben, he was going to jump into the window at the right time, when the first thing"-"polly sat right down on the floor, saying, 'oh!'" cried joel, taking the words out of her mouth. "i couldn't help it, i was so surprised," said polly, with shining eyes. "there was a most beautiful tree, full of just everything; and there was mamsie, almost crying, she was so happy; and there was cherry singing away in his cage, and the corner of the room was all a-bloom with flowers, and"-"and grandma bascom was there--wasn't she funny? she used to give us hard old raisins sometimes," said joel, afraid to show what he was feeling. "and phronsie screamed right out," went on polly, "and davie said it was fairyland." by this time, alexia had dropped the present she was holding, and had run back to polly's side again, and somehow most of the other workers followed her example, the circle of listeners closing around the little bunch of peppers. "and jasper sent a christmas greeting, beside the tree," polly ended, "and it was perfectly lovely." "and santa claus and polly took hold of hands and danced around the tree," said joel; "i'll never forget that." "well, you would better take hold of hands and dance down to the recitation room," said parson henderson's deep voice, as he suddenly appeared in their midst, "the children are all ready to give their carols. come." chapter iv. the festivities. phronsie looked down into the sea of eager faces "oh, grandpapa," she exclaimed softly, and plucking his sleeve, "don't you think we might hurry and begin?" "dear me, phronsie," cried the old gentleman, whirling around in his big chair to look at her, "why, they aren't all in, child," glancing down the aisle where jasper as chief usher with ben and the others were busily settling the children. "bless me, what is joel doing?" phronsie looked too, to see joel hurrying up to the platform with a little colored child perched on his shoulder. she was crying all over his new coat, and at every step uttered a sharp scream. "toss the little beggar out," advised livingston bayley, as joel shot by with his burden. "here, joe, i'll give her a seat" cried david from a little knot of children, all turning excitedly around at the commotion, "there's just one here." "much obliged," said joel, stalking on, "but she says she wants to see phronsie about something." polly, who caught the last words, looked down reproachfully at him from the platform where phronsie always insisted that she should sit close to her. "can't help it," joel telegraphed back, "i can't stop her crying." phronsie heard now, and getting out of her chair, she stepped to the platform edge. "let me take her," she begged. "phronsie, you can't have her up here!" polly exclaimed, while old mr. king put forth an uneasy hand to stop all such proceedings, and two or three of the others hurried up to remonstrate with joel. "she wants to see me," said phronsie, putting her cool cheek against the dark little one; "it's the new child that came yesterday," and she took her off from joel's shoulder, and staggered back to her seat by polly's side. "phronsie, do put her down," whispered polly, "it's almost time to begin," glancing off at the clock under its wealth of evergreen at the farther end of the hall. "here, do let me take her." but phronsie was whispering so fast that she didn't hear. "what is it? please tell me quickly, for it is almost time to have the tree." at mention of the tree, the little creature sat straight in phronsie's white lap. "may i have some of it, if i am black?" she begged, her beady eyes running with tears. "yes," said phronsie, "i've tied a big doll on it for you my very own self." then she put her lips on the dark little cheek. "now you must get down, for i have to talk to the children, and tell them all about things, and why they have a christmas." but the little thing huddled up against phronsie's waist-ribbons. "i'm the only one that's black," she said. "i want to stay here." "now you see, joel," began old mr. king harshly. phronsie laid a soft hand on his arm. "please, grandpapa dear, may she have a little cricket up here? she feels lonely down with the other children, for she's only just come." "oh, dear--dear!" groaned polly, looking down at the little black object in phronsie's lap. "now what shall we do?" this last to jasper as he hurried up. "i suppose we shall have to let her stay," he began. "when phronsie looks like that, she won't ever let her go," declared ben, with a wise nod over at the two. "she's just as determined as she was that day when she would send mr. king her gingerbread boy," cried polly, clasping her hands. jasper gave her a bright smile. "i wouldn't worry, polly," he said. "see, joel has just put a cricket--it's all right," looking into polly's troubled eyes. phronsie, having seated her burden on the cricket at her feet, got out of her own chair, and took one step toward the platform edge, beginning, "dear children." but the small creature left behind clutched the floating hem of the white gown, and screamed harder than ever. "bless me!" ejaculated mr. king in great distress. "here, will somebody take this child down where she belongs?" while polly with flushed cheeks, leaned over, and tried to unclasp the little black fingers. "go up there, joe, and stop the row," said livingston bayley from the visitor's seat at the end of the hall; "you started it." jack loughead took a step or two in the direction of the platform, then thought better of it, and got back into his place again, hoping no one had noticed him in the confusion. phronsie leaned over as well as she could for the little hands pulling her back. "jasper," she begged, "do move the cricket so that she may sit by me." and before anybody quite knew how it was done, there was the new child sitting on her cricket, and huddled up against the soft folds of phronsie's white gown, while phronsie, standing close to the platform edge, began again, "dear children, you know this is christmas day--your very own christmas day. and every christmas day since you came to the home, i have told you the story of the dear beautiful lady; and every single christmas i am going to tell it to you again, so that you will never, never forget her." here phronsie turned, and pointed up to a large, full-length portrait of mrs. chatterton hanging on the wall over the platform. it was painted in her youth by a celebrated french artist, and represented a beautiful young woman in a yellow satin gown, whose rich folds of lace fell away from perfectly molded neck and arms. all the children stared at the portrait as usual in this stage of the proceedings. "now you must say after me, 'i thank my beautiful lady for this home,'" said phronsie slowly. "i thank my beautiful lady for this home," said every child distinctly. "because without her i could not have had it," said phronsie. "you must always remember that, children. now say it." she stood very patiently, her hands folded together, and waited to hear them repeat it. "because without her i could not have had it," said the children, one or two coming in shrilly as a belated echo. [illustration: "will you?" asked phronsie, looking down into their faces.] "and i thank her for the beautiful tree," said phronsie. "now say it, please." "i thank her for the beautiful tree," shouted the children, craning their necks away from the portrait to get a glimpse of the curtain-veiled tree in the other room. "please can't we have it now?" begged several voices. "no; not until you all hear the story. well, now, god took the beautiful lady away to heaven; but she is always going to be here too," again phronsie pointed to the portrait, "just as long as there is any home. and she is going to smile at you, because you are all going to be good children and try to study and learn all that dear mr. henderson teaches you; and you are going to obey every single thing that dear mrs. henderson tells you, just as soon as she speaks," said phronsie slowly, and turning her head to look at the different rows. "i hope we'll be forgiven for sitting here and listening to old lady chatterton's praises," whispered mrs. hamilton dyce to her husband. "it makes me feel dreadfully wicked to swallow it all without a protest." "oh, we've swallowed that annually for three years now," said mr. dyce with a little laugh, "and grown callous. your face is just as bad as it was the first time phronsie eulogized her." "i can't help it," declared his wife, "when i think of that dreadful old"-"oh, come," remonstrated her husband, "let's bury the past; phronsie has." "phronsie!" ejaculated mrs. dyce. "oh, that blessed child! just hear her now." "so on this christmas day," phronsie was saying in clear tones, "you are to remember that you wouldn't have had this tree but for the beautiful lady; and on every single other day, you must remember that you wouldn't ever have had this home; not a bit of any of it"--here she turned and looked around the picture-hung walls, and out of the long windows to the dark pines and firs of the broad lawn, tossing their snow-laden branches, "but for the beautiful lady. and you must every one of you help to make this home just the very best home that ever was. will you?" and then she smiled down into their faces while she waited for her answer. "oh, yes, yes," screamed the children, every one. the little black creature got off from her cricket at phronsie's feet to look into her face. "and i will too," she cried. "and now you all want to thank miss phronsie for her kind words, we know," jasper cried at this point, hurrying into the middle of the aisle, "and so, children, you may all stand up and say 'thank you,' and wave your handkerchiefs." up flew all the rows of children to their feet, and a cloud of tiny white squares of cambric fluttered in the air, and the children kept piping out, "thank you--thank you." and old mr. king began a cheer for phronsie, and another for the children; and then somebody down at the end of the long hall set up another for mr. king, and somebody else started one for mr. henderson, and another for mrs. henderson, and there was plenty of noise, and high above it all rang the peals of happy, childish laughter. and when it was all done, everybody pausing to take breath, then amy loughead sent out the finest march ever heard, from the grand piano, and polly and jasper and all the rest marshaled the children into a procession, and phronsie clinging to old mr. king's hand on the one side, and holding fast to the small black palm on the other, away they all went, the visitors falling into line, around and around the big hall, till at last--oh! at last, they turned into the enchanted land that held the wonderful christmas tree. and when they were all before it, and phronsie in the center, she lifted her hand, and the room became so still one could hear a pin drop. and then the little children who had sung the carols in the morning stepped forward and began, "it came upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old"-and phronsie drew a long breath, and folded her hands, not stirring till the very last word died on the air. and then jasper and the others slowly drew aside the white curtain; and oh! the dazzling, beautiful apparition that greeted every one's eyes! no one could stop the children's noisy delight, and the best of it was, that no one wanted to. so for the next few moments it was exactly like the merry time over the tree in the "provision room" of the little brown house years ago, just as polly had said; only there was ever so much more of it, because there were ever so many more children to make it! and polly and ben were like children again themselves; and david and joel were everywhere helping on the fun; in which excitement the other harvard man and even livingston bayley were not ashamed to take a most active part, as jasper, who had borrowed santa claus' attire for this occasion, now made his appearance with a most astonishing bow. and then the presents began to fly from the tree, and jack loughead seemed to be all arms, for he was so tall he could reach down the hanging gifts from the higher branches, so that he was in great demand; and pickering dodge, one eye on all of polly's movements, worked furiously, and alexia rhys and cathie harrison didn't give themselves hardly time to breathe; and there was quite enough for mr. alstyne and the cabots and hamilton dyce to do, and everybody else, for that matter, to pass around the presents. and in the midst of it all, a big doll, resplendent in a red satin gown, and an astonishing hat, was untied from the tree. "o, i want to give it to her myself!" cried phronsie. "so you shall," declared jasper, handing it to her. "susan, this is your very own child," said phronsie, turning to the little colored girl at her side. "now you won't feel lonely ever, will you?" and she laid the doll carefully into the outstretched arms. and at last the green branches had shaken off their wealth of gifts, and the shining candles began to go out, one by one. "grandpapa," cried polly, coming up to old mr. king and phronsie, with a basket of mottoes and bonbons enough to satisfy the demands of the most exacting children's home, "we ought to get our paper caps on." "bless me!" ejaculated old mr. king, pulling out his watch, "it can't be time to march. ah, it's a quarter of four this minute. here, child," to phronsie, "pick out your bonbon so that i can snap it with you." phronsie gravely regarded the pretty bonbons in polly's basket. "i must pick out yours first, grandpapa," she said slowly, lifting a silver paper-and-lace arrangement with a bunch of forget-me-nots in the center. "i think this is pretty." "so it is; most beautiful, dear," said the old gentleman, in great satisfaction. "now we must crack it, i suppose." so he took hold of one end, and phronsie held fast to the other of the bonbon, and a sharp little report gave the signal for all the bonbons to be opened. thereupon, everybody, old and young, hurried to secure one, and great was the snapping and cracking that now followed. "oh, grandpapa, isn't your cap pretty?" exclaimed phronsie in pleased surprise, drawing forth a pink and yellow crinkled tissue bit. "see," smoothing it out with a gentle hand, "it's a crown, grandpapa!" "now that's perfectly lovely!" cried polly, setting down her basket. "here, let me help you, child--there, that's straight. now, grandpapa, please bend over so that phronsie can put it on." instead, the old gentleman dropped to one knee. "now, dear," he said gallantly. so phronsie set the pink and yellow crown on his white hair, stepping back gravely to view the effect. "it is so very nice, dear grandpapa," she said, coming back to his side. so old mr. king stood up, with quite a regal air, and phronsie had a little blue and white paper bonnet tied under her chin by grandpapa's own hand. and caps were flying on to all the heads, and each right hand held a tinkling little bell that had swung right merrily on a green branch-tip. and away to amy loughead's second march--on and on, jangling their bells, the procession went, through the long hall, till old mr. king and phronsie who led, turned down the broad staircase, and into the dining-room; and here the guests stood on either side of the doorway while the little home children passed up through their midst. and there were two long tables, one for the home children, with a place for phronsie at its head, and another for old mr. king at the foot. and the other table was for the older people; both gay with christmas holly, and sweet with flowers. and when all were seated, and a hush fell upon the big room, phronsie lifted her hand. _we thank thee, oh lord, for this christmas day, and may we love thee and serve thee alway. for jesus christ the holy child's sake. amen._ it rang out clear and sweet in childish treble, floating off into the halls and big rooms. "now, candace," phronsie lifted a plate of biscuits, and a comfortable figure of a colored woman, resplendent in the gayest of turbans and a smart stuff gown, made its appearance by phronsie's chair. "i'm here, honey," and candace's broad palm received the first plate to be passed, which opened the ceremony of the christmas feast. oh, this christmas feast at dunraven! it surpassed all the other dunraven christmases on record; everybody said so. and at last, when no one could possibly eat more, all the merry roomful, young and old, must have a holly sprig fastened to the coat, or gown, or apron, and the procession was formed to march back to the hall; and mr. jack loughead's stereopticon flashed out the most beautiful pictures, that his bright descriptions explained to the delighted children; and then games and romps, and more bonbons, and favors and flowers; and at last the sleighs and barges for mr. king's party were drawn up in the moonlight, at the door of dunraven, and the christmas at the home was only a beautiful memory. "miss mary"--mr. livingston bayley put out his brown driving glove--"this way," trying to lead her off from the gay group on the snow-covered veranda. "why, i don't understand," began polly, in the midst of trying to make phronsie see that it was not necessary to go back and comfort susan with another good-by, and turning a bewildered face up at him. "why, i certainly supposed you accepted my offer to drive you to the station," said mr. bayley hurriedly, and still extending his hand. "come, miss pepper." "come, polly, i've a seat for you," cried alexia, just flying into the biggest barge. "do hurry, polly." "polly," called jasper. she could see that he stood by one of the sleighs, beckoning to her. meantime, phronsie had been borne off by old mr. king, and polly could hear her say, "somebody get polly a seat, please." "i considered it a promise," livingston bayley was saying under cover of the gay confusion. "and accordingly i prepared myself. but of course if you do not wish to fulfill it, miss pepper, why, i"-"oh, no, no," cried polly hastily, "if you really thought i promised you, mr. bayley, i will go, thank you," and without a backward glance at the others, she moved off to the gay little cutter where the horse stood shaking his bells impatiently. "where's polly?" somebody called out. and somebody else peered down the row of vehicles, and answered, "mr. bayley's driving her." and they were all off. polly kept saying to herself, "oh, dear, dear, what could i have said to make him think i would go with him?" and livingston bayley smiled happily to himself under the collar of his driving coat; and the sparkling snow cut into little crystals by the horse's flying feet, dashed into their faces, and the scraps of laughter and merry nonsense from the other sleighs, made polly want nothing so much as to cower down into the corner of the big fur robes, for a good cry. and before she knew it, mr. bayley had turned off, leaving the gay procession on the main road. "oh!" cried polly then, and starting forward, "mr. bayley, why, we're off the road!" "i know a short cut to the depot," he answered hastily, "it's a better way." "but we may miss the train--oh, do turn back, and overtake them," begged polly, in a tremor. "this is a vastly better road," said mr. bayley, and instead of turning back, he flicked the horse lightly with his whip. "you'll say, miss mary, that it's much better this way." he tried to laugh. "isn't the sleighing superb?" "oh, yes--oh dear me!" cried poor polly, straining her eyes to catch a sight of the last vehicle with its merry load. "indeed, mr. bayley, i'm afraid we sha'n't get to the depot in time. there may be drifts on this road, or something to delay us." "oh, no, indeed!" cried livingston bayley confidently, now smiling again at his forethought in driving over this very identical piece of roadway, when the preparations for the christmas festivity were keeping all the other people busy at dunraven, and leaving him free to provide himself with sleighing facilities for the evening. "don't be troubled, i know all about it; i assure you, miss mary, we shall reach the depot as soon as the rest of the party do, for it's really a shorter cut." polly beat her foot impatiently on the warm foot-muff he had wrung with difficulty from the livery keeper, and counted the moments, unable to say a word. "miss mary"--suddenly mr. livingston bayley turned--"everything is forgiven under such circumstances, i believe," and he laughed. polly didn't speak, only half hearing the words, her heart on the rest of the party, every instant being carried further from her. "and you must have seen--'pon me word it is impossible that you didn't see that--that"-"oh, dear," burst out polly suddenly, and peering anxiously down the white winding highway. "if there should be a drift on the road!" livingston bayley bit his lip angrily. "'pon me word, miss mary," he began, "you are the first girl i ever cared to speak to, and now you can't think of anything but the roads." still polly peered into the unbroken whiteness of the thoroughfare, lined by the snow-laden pines and spruces, all inextricably mixed as the sleigh spun by. it was too late to turn back now, she knew; the best that could be done, was to hurry on--and she began to count the hoof-beats and to speculate how long it would be before they would see the lights of the little station, and find the lost party again. "i might have spoken to a great many other girls," livingston bayley was saying, "and i really don't know why i didn't choose one of them. another man in my place would, and you must do me the justice to acknowledge it; 'pon me word, you must, miss mary." polly tore off her gaze from the snowy fields where the branches of the trees were making little zigzag paths in the moonlight, to fasten it on as much of his face as was visible between his cap and his high collar. "and i really shouldn't think you would play with me," declared mr. bayley, nervously fingering the whip-handle, "i shouldn't, don't you know, because you are not the sort of girl to do that thing. 'pon me word, you're not, miss mary." "i? what do you mean?" cried poor polly, growing more and more bewildered. "why i--i--of course you must know; 'pon me word, you must, miss mary, for it began five years ago, before you went abroad, don't you know?" polly sank back among her fur robes while he went on. "and i've done what no other fellow would, i'm sure," he said incoherently, "in my place, kept constant, don't you know, to one idea. been with other girls, of course, but only really made up my mind to marry you. 'pon me word, i didn't, miss mary." "and you've brought me out, away from the rest of the party, to tell me this," exclaimed polly, springing forward to sit erect with flashing eyes. "how good of you, mr. bayley, to announce your intention to marry me." "you can't blame me," cried mr. bayley in an injured way. "that cad of a loughead means to speak soon--'pon me word, the fellow does. and i've never changed my mind about it since i made it up, even when you began to give music lessons." "oh, how extremely kind," cried polly. "don't put it that way," he began deprecatingly. "i couldn't help it, don't you know, for i liked you awfully from the first, and always intended to marry you. you shall have everything in the world that you want, and go everywhere. and my family, you know, has an _entree_ to any society that's worth anything." "i wouldn't marry you," cried polly stormily, "if you could give me all the gold in the world; and as for family," here she sat quite erect with shining eyes, "the peppers have always been the loveliest people that ever lived--the very loveliest--oh"--she broke off suddenly, starting forward--"there's something on the road; see, mr. bayley!" and spinning along, the horse now making up his mind to get to the depot in time, they both saw a big wagon out of which protruded two or three bags evidently containing apples and potatoes; one of the wheels determining to perform no more service for its master, was resting independently on the snowy thoroughfare, for horse and driver were gone. "i beg your pardon," exclaimed mr. livingston bayley suddenly, at sight of this, "for bringing you around here. but how was i to know of that beastly wreck?" "we must get out," said polly, springing off from her side of the sleigh, "and lead the horse around." but this was not so easy a matter; for the farmer's wagon had stopped in the narrowest part of the road, either side shelving off, under its treacherous covering of snow. at last, after all sorts of ineffectual attempts on mr. bayley's part to induce the horse to stir a step, polly desperately laid her hand on the bridle. "let me try," she said. "there, you good creature," patting the horse's nose; "come, that's a dear old fellow," and they never knew quite how, but in the course of time, they were all on the other side of the wreck, and mr. livingston bayley was helping her into the sleigh, and showering her with profuse apologies for the whole thing. "never mind," said polly, as she saw his distress, "only never say such perfectly dreadful things to me again. and now, hurry just as fast as you can, please!" and presently a swift turn brought the twinkling lights of the little station to view, and there was the entire party calling to them as they now spied their approach, to "hurry up!" and there also was the train, holding its breath in curbed impatience to be off. chapter v. bad news. "oh, mamsie," cried polly in dismay, "must papa fisher know?" "certainly," said mrs. fisher firmly, "your father must be told every thing." "dear me!" exclaimed polly, turning off in dismay, "it seems so--so unfair to mr. bayley. mightn't it be just as if he hadn't spoken, mamsie?" she came back now to her mother's side, and looked anxiously into the black eyes. "but he has spoken," said mother fisher, "and your father must be told. why, polly, that isn't like you, child, to want to keep anything from him," she added reproachfully. "oh! i don't--i couldn't ever in all this world keep anything from father fisher," declared polly vehemently, "only," and the color flew in rosy waves over her face, "this doesn't seem like my secret, mamsie. and mr. bayley would feel so badly to have it known," and her head drooped. "still it must be known by your father," said her mother firmly, "and i must tell mr. king. then it need go no further." "oh, mamsie!" exclaimed polly, in a sharp tone of distress, "you wouldn't ever in all this world tell grandpapa!" "i most certainly shall," declared mrs. fisher. "he ought to know everything that concerns you, polly, and each one of you children. it is his right." polly sat down in the nearest chair and clasped her hands. "grandpapa will show mr. bayley that he doesn't like it," she mourned, "and it will hurt his feelings." mrs. fisher's lip curled. "no more do i like it," she said curtly. "in the first place to speak to you at all; and then to take such a way to do it; it wasn't a nice thing at all, child, for mr. bayley to do," here mrs. fisher walked to the window, her irritation getting the better of her, so that polly might not see her face. "but he didn't mean to speak then--that is"--began polly. "he should have spoken to your father or to mr. king," said mrs. fisher, coming back to face polly, "but i presume the young man didn't know any better, or at least, he didn't think, and that's enough to say about that. but as for not telling mr. king about it, why, it isn't to be thought of for a minute. so i best have it over with at once." and with a reassuring smile at polly she went out, and closed the door. "oh, dear me," cried poor polly, left alone; and springing out of her chair, she began to pace the floor. "now it will be perfectly dreadful for mr. bayley. grandpapa will be very angry; he never liked him; and now he can't help showing what he feels. oh! why did mr. bayley speak." "polly," called jasper's voice, out in the hall. for the first time in her life, she felt like running away from his call. "oh! i can't go out; he'll guess something is the matter," she cried to herself. "polly?" and there was a rap at the door. "yes," said polly from within. "can i see you a minute?" polly slowly opened the door, and tried to lift her brown eyes to his face. "oh, polly," he pretended not to notice any thing amiss with her, "i came to tell you first; and you can help me to break it to father." "oh, what is it?" cried polly, looking up quickly. "oh, jasper," as she saw that his face was drawn with the effort not to let her see the distress he was in. he tried to cover up his anxiety, but she saw a yellow paper in his hand. "oh, jasper, you've a telegram," she cried breathlessly. "polly," said jasper. he took her hand and held it firmly, "you will help father and me to bear it, i know." "oh, jasper, i will," promised polly, clinging to his hand. "don't be afraid to tell me, jasper." "listen; marian has been thrown from her sleigh this morning; the horses ran," said jasper hurriedly. "the telegram says 'come.' she may be living, polly; don't look so." for the room grew suddenly so dark to her that she wavered and would have fallen had he not caught her. "i won't faint," she cried, "jasper, don't be afraid. there, i'm all right. now, oh, what can i do?" "could you go with me when i tell father?" asked jasper. "i am so afraid i shall break it to him too sharply; and you know it won't do for him to be startled. if you could, polly." for the second time, everything seemed to turn black before her eyes, but polly said bravely, "yes, i'll go, jasper." and presently, they hardly knew how, the two found themselves at old mr. king's door. there was a sound of voices within. "oh, dear me!" exclaimed polly, "i forgot mamsie was here." jasper looked his surprise, but said nothing, and as they stood there irresolutely, mrs. fisher opened the door and came out. "why, polly!" she exclaimed. "oh, mrs. fisher," cried jasper, "we can't explain now, we must see father. but polly will go and tell you," and in another minute they were both standing before mr. king. the old gentleman was walking up and down his apartment, fuming at every step. "the presumption of the fellow! how did he dare without speaking to me! oh, eh, polly"--and then he caught sight of jasper, back of her. "father," began jasper, "i've had a telegram from brother mason." "oh, now what has he been doing?" cried mr. king irritably. "i do wish mason wouldn't be so abrupt in his movements. i suppose he is going abroad again. well, let's hear." jasper tried to speak, but instead, looked at polly. "dear grandpapa," cried polly, going unsteadily to the old gentleman's side, and taking his hand in both of hers. "oh, we must tell you something very bad, and we don't know how to tell it, grandpapa." she looked up piteously into his face. old mr. king put forth his other hand, and seized the back of a chair to steady himself. "tell me at once, polly," he said hoarsely. "it isn't--marian?" it was all he could do to utter the name. "she is hurt," said polly, going to the heart of the matter without delay, "but oh, grandpapa, it may not be very badly, and they want jasper to go on to new york." [illustration: "we don't know how to tell it, grandpapa."] mr. king turned to jasper. "give me the telegram, my boy," he said through white lips; when it was all read, "now tell philip to pack me a portmanteau." "father," said jasper, "you are not going?" "no questions are to be asked, jasper," said his father. "be so good as to see that philip packs quickly, and that you are ready. and now, polly," the old gentleman turned to her, "i want to take you along, child, if your mother is willing. will you go?" "oh, grandpapa," cried polly, "if i only may; oh, do take me." "i don't want to go without you," said mr. king. "there, run, child, and ask your mother if you may go. send phronsie to me; i must explain matters to her and bid her good-by." alexia and some of the other girls were hurrying in the east doorway of the king mansion, an hour later. "oh, where's polly, mrs. fisher?" cried cathie harrison. "polly has gone," said mrs. fisher, coming down the stairs. she looked as if she wanted to cry, but her hands held the basket of sewing as firmly as if no bad news had fallen upon the home. "gone?" cried all the girls. "oh, mrs. fisher, where? do tell us where polly is?" for answer mrs. fisher made them all go into the little reception room in an angle of the hall, where she told them the whole story. "if that isn't perfectly dreadful," cried alexia rhys, throwing her muff into a chair, and herself on an ottoman. "why, we were going to make up a theater party for to-morrow night. mrs. fisher, and now polly is gone." her look of dismay was copied by every girl so exactly, that mrs. fisher had no relief in turning to any of the other four. "and there is her recital--what will she do about that?" cried alexia, rushing on in her complaint. "perhaps she'll give it up, after all," she added, brightening. "now i most know she will, mrs. fisher," and she started up and began to pirouette around the room. "of course she has had to postpone it," said mrs. fisher, looking after her, "and she told joel to write the notes to the pupils explaining matters. but never you fear, alexia, that polly will give up that recital for good and all," she added, with a wise nod at her. "well, she must give it up for now anyway," said alexia, coming to a pause to take breath, "that's some comfort. to think of joe writing polly's notes to the girls, oh, dear me!" "let us go and help him," proposed cathie harrison suddenly. "he must hate to do such poky work." "oh, dear me," began alexia, taking up her little bag to look at the tiny watch in one corner. "we haven't the time. yes--come on," she burst out incoherently; "where is he, mrs. fisher?" "in the library, hard at work," said mrs. fisher, with a bright smile at them all. "come on, girls," said alexia, rushing on. "now that's what i admire mrs. fisher for," she said, when they were well in the hall, "she shows when she's not pleased, and when she likes what a body does, as well." "i think she's just elegant," declared cathie harrison, who had privately done a good deal of worshiping at mrs. fisher's shrine. "she's a dear," voted alexia. "well, do come on. oh, joe!" as they reached the library door. joel sat back of the writing table, a mass of polly's note paper and envelopes sprawled before him, his head on his hands and his elbows on the table. back of him paced pickering dodge with a worried expression of countenance. "you do look so funny," burst out alexia with a laugh; "doesn't he, girls?" to the bright bevy following her. "i guess you would if you were in my place," growled joel, scarcely giving them a glance. "go away, alexia; you can't get me into a scrape this morning--i've to dig at this." "i don't want to get you into a scrape," cried alexia, with a cold shoulder to pickering, who had been claimed by the other girls, "we're going to help you." "is that so?" cried joel radiantly; "then i say you're just jolly, alexia," and he beamed at her. "yes, we want to help," echoed cathie, drawing up a chair to the other side of the table. "now do set us to work, joel." "indeed and i will," he cried, spreading a clear place with a reckless hand. "take care," warned alexia, "take care; you are spoiling all polly's note paper. i wouldn't let you at my things, i can tell you, joel pepper!" "as if i'd ever do this sort of thing for you, alexia," threw back joel. "well, do let us begin," begged cathie, impatiently drumming on the table, as the other two girls and pickering dodge drew near. "yes, do," cried the girls, "and we'll toss those notes off in no time." "i'll help you clear the table," cried pickering; "do let me. i can't write those notes, but i can get the place ready;" and he began to pile the books on a chair. as he went around to alexia's place she looked up and fixed her gaze past him, not noticing his attempt to speak. "all right; if she wants to act like that, i'm willing," said pickering to himself savagely and coolly going on with his work. "oh, dear me," groaned cathie harrison, "isn't it perfectly dreadful to have that dear sweet mrs. whitney hurt?" "ow!" exclaimed joel. "do stop," cried alexia with a nudge. "haven't you any more sense, cathie harrison, than to speak of it?" [illustration: "now do set us to work, joel"] cathie smothered a retort, and bit her lips to keep it back. "well, dear me, we are not working much," cried alexia, pulling off her gloves; "how many notes have you to write, joe?" "oh, a dozen, i believe," said joel; "that is, counting this one." "to whom is that?" asked alexia, peering over his shoulder. "oh, to amy loughead." "yes, i promised polly this should go first. that loughead girl was expecting her over this morning. oh, she's a precious nuisance," grumbled joel, dipping his pen in the ink. "well, then, i will write to desiree frye," said alexia. "she was going to play a solo, polly said, at the recital. oh, dear me, what shall i say?" "polly said tell them all what had happened, and that she should stay away as long as aunty needed her, but she hoped to be home soon, and she would write them from new york." "oh, joe, what a lot," exclaimed alexia, leaving her pen poised in mid air. "cut it short, then," said joel. "i don't care, only that's the sense of it." "oh, dear," began one of the girls, "i can't bear to write of the accident, and in the holidays, too." alexia made an uneasy gesture, scrawled two or three words, then threw down her pen and got out of her chair. "it's no use," she cried, running up to pickering, who, his hands in his pockets, had his back to them all, and was looking out of the window. "i can't let myself do anything till i've said i'm sorry i was so cross," and she put out her hand. "eh?" exclaimed pickering, whirling around in astonishment. "oh, dear me!" and he pulled his right hand out of his pocket, and extended it to her. "mrs. whitney has got hurt, and she was always sweet, and never said cross things, and oh, dear me!" cried alexia incoherently, as he shook her hand violently. "and i'm glad enough to have it made up," declared pickering decidedly. "it's bad enough to have so much trouble in the world, without getting into fights with people you've known ever since you can remember." "trouble?" repeated alexia wonderingly. "oh, yes, mrs. whitney's accident, you mean; i know it's awful for all of us." pickering dodge turned on his heel and walked off abruptly, and she ran back to her work with a final stare at him. "i know now," she said to herself wisely, "and i've been mean enough to hurt him when he was bearing it. oh, dear me, things are getting so mixed up!" "polly, you won't leave me, will you, till i get able to sit up?" cried mrs. whitney one day, a week after. "no, aunty, indeed i won't," declared polly, leaning over to drop a kiss on the soft hair against the pillows. mrs. whitney put up her hands to draw down the young face. "oh, aunty!" exclaimed polly in dismay, "be careful; you know doctor said you mustn't raise your arms." "well, just let me kiss you, dear, then," said mrs. whitney with a wan little smile. "oh, polly," when the kiss and two or three others had been dropped on the rosy cheek, "you are sure you can stay with me?" "i'm sure i can, and i will," said polly firmly. "oh, aunty, i shall be so glad to be with you; you can't think how glad." she softly patted the pillows into the position mrs. whitney best liked, and then stood off a bit and beamed at her. "it's dreadfully selfish in me to keep you," said mrs. whitney, "when you love your work so; and what will the music scholars do, polly?" "oh, they are all right," said polly gaily, "they're working like beavers. indeed, aunty, i believe they'll practice a great deal more than if i were home to be talking to them all the while." "you are a dear blessed comfort, polly," said mrs. whitney, turning on her pillow with a sigh of relief. "now i do believe i shall get up very soon. but jasper must go back; it won't do for him to stay away any longer from his business. promise me, polly, that you will make him see that he ought to go." "i'll try, aunty," said polly, "and now that you are so much better, why, i do believe that jasper will be willing to go." "oh, do make him," begged mrs. whitney, and then she tucked her hand under her cheek, and the first thing polly knew she heard the slow, regular breathing that told she was asleep. "now that's just lovely," cried polly softly, "and i will run and speak to jasper this very minute, for he really ought to go back to his business." but instead of doing this, she met a young girl, as she was running through the hall, who stopped her and asked, "can i see mr. king?" "what!" cried polly, astonished that the domestics had admitted any one, as it was against the orders. "oh, i am a relation," said the girl coolly, "and i told the man at the door that i should come in; and he said then i must wait, for i could not see mr. king now, and he put me up in that little reception room, but i just walked out to meet the first person coming in the hall. will you be so kind as to arrange it?" she looked as if she fully expected to have her wish fulfilled, and her gaze wandered confidently around the picture-hung wall, until such time as polly could answer. "i'll see," said polly, who couldn't help smiling, "what i can do for you; but you mustn't be disappointed if grandpapa doesn't feel able to see you. he is very much occupied, you know, with his daughter's ill"-"oh, i understand," said the other girl, guilty of interrupting, "but he will see me, i know," and her light blue eyes were as calm as ever. "who shall i tell him wants to see him?" asked polly, her own eyes wide at the stranger and her ways. "oh, you needn't tell him any name," said the girl carelessly. "then i certainly shall not tell him you wish to see him, unless i carry your name to him," polly said quite firmly, and she looked steadily into the fair face before her. "oh, dear me," said the girl; "well, you may say i am mr. alexander chatterton's daughter charlotte." polly kept herself from starting as the name met her ear. "very well," she said, "i will do what i can," moving off. "o, grandpapa!" for down the hall came mr. king in velvet morning jacket and cap. "hoity-toity, i thought no one was to be admitted," he exclaimed, as he neared the door. "grandpapa," polly endeavored to draw him off, but the young girl ran past her. "mr. king," she said quickly, "i am charlotte chatterton." "the dickens you are!" exclaimed the old gentleman, looking her full in the face. "yes, sir; and my father is very ill." for a moment her voice trembled, but she quickly recovered herself. "it isn't money i want, mr. king," and she threw her head back proudly, "but oh, will you come and see father?" mr. king looked at her again, then over at polly. "bring her in here," he said, pointing to the same little reception room that charlotte had deserted, "i want you to stay, too, polly," and the door closed upon them. chapter vi. of many things. "and father has asked her to go home when you and he go!" cried jasper in irritation. "yes," said polly; "oh, jasper, never mind; i daresay it will be for the best; and i'm so sorry for charlotte." "she'll be no end of bother to you, i know," said jasper. "and you must take her everywhere, polly, and look out for her. what was father thinking of?" he could not conceal his annoyance, and polly put aside her own dismayed feelings at the new programme, to help him into his usual serene mood. "but think, jasper, how she has never had any fun all her life, and now her father is sick." "she'd much better stay and take care of him," declared jasper. "but he's sick because he has worried so, i do believe," polly went on, "for you ought to have seen his face when we took charlotte home, and grandpapa talked with him, and asked him to let charlotte pass the rest of the winter with us. oh, i am glad, jasper, for i do like charlotte." "the girl may be well enough," said jasper shortly, "but she will bother you, nevertheless, polly, i am afraid." "never mind," said polly brightly, with a little pang at her heart for the nice times with the girls that now must be shared with another. "grandpapa thought he ought to do it, i suppose, and that's enough." "it does seem as if the chattertons would never be done annoying us," said jasper gloomily. "now when we once get this girl fastened on us, there'll be an end to the hope of shaking her off." "perhaps we sha'n't want to," said polly merrily, "for charlotte may turn out perfectly lovely; i do believe she's going to." and then she remembered her promise to mrs. whitney, and she began: "aunty is worrying about your staying away so long from your business, jasper, and she wants you to go back." a shade passed over his face. "i suppose i ought to go, polly," he said, and he pulled a letter from his pocket and held it out to her, "i was going to show this to you, only the other matter came up." polly seized it with dread. "we need your services very much" [the letter ran] "and cannot wait longer for your return. we are very sorry to be so imperative, but the rush of work at this time of the year, makes it necessary for all our force to be in place. "very sincerely "david marlowe." "you see they are getting all the books planned out, and put in shape for the next year; and business just rushes," cried jasper, with shining eyes, showing his eagerness to be in the midst of the bustle of manufacture. "what, so early!" cried polly, letting the letter drop. "why, i thought you didn't do anything until spring, jasper--about making the books, i mean." he laughed. "the travelers go out on the road then," he said, "with almost all the books ready to sell." "out on the road?" repeated polly in amaze. "oh, what do you mean, jasper?" "well, you see the business of selling is a good part of it done by salesmen, who travel with samples and take advance orders," said jasper, finding it quite jolly to explain business intricacies to such an eager listener. "oh!" said polly. "and when i get back i shall be plunged at once into all the thick of the manufacturing work," he went on, straightening himself up; "mr. marlowe is as good as he can be, and he has waited now longer than he ought to." "oh, you must go, jasper," cried polly quickly; "at once, this very day," and her face glowed. "if you think sister marian is really well enough to spare me," he said, trying to restrain his impatience to be off. "yes--yes, i do," declared polly. "doctor palfrey said this morning that all danger was over now from inflammation, and really it worries her dreadfully to think of your being here any longer. it really does hurt her, jasper," repeated polly emphatically. "in that case i'm off, then, this afternoon," said jasper, with a glad ring in his voice. "polly, my work is the very grandest in all the world." "isn't it?" cried polly, with kindling eyes; "just think--to make good books, jasper, that will never stop, perhaps, being read. oh, i wish i was a man and could help you." "polly?" he stopped a minute, looked down into her face, then turned off abruptly. "you are sure you won't bother yourself too much with charlotte?" he said awkwardly coming back. "yes; don't worry, jasper," said polly, wondering at his unusual manner. "all right; then as soon as i've seen father i'll throw my traps together and be off," declared jasper, quite like the business man again. but old mr. king was not to hear about it just then, for when jasper rapped at his door, it was to find that his father was fast asleep. "see here, jasper," said mr. whitney, happening along at this minute, "here's a nice piece of work. percy declares that he shall be made miserable to go back to college to-morrow. his mother is able now for him to be settled at his studies; won't you run up and persuade him--that's a good fellow." "i'm going back to my work to-night," cried jasper, pulling out his watch, "that is, if father wakes up in time for me to take the train." "is that so? good," cried mr. whitney. "well, run along and tell percy that, for the boy is so worried over his mother that he can't listen to reason." so jasper scaled the stairs to percy's den. "well, old fellow, i thought i'd come up and let you know that i'm off to my work," announced jasper, putting his head in the doorway. "eh!" cried percy, "what's that?" "why, i'm off, i say; back to dig at the publishing business. your mother doesn't want us fellows hanging around here any longer. it worries her to feel that we are idling." "is that so?" cried percy. "how do you know?" "polly says so; she let me into the secret; says sister marian requested me to go back." "did polly really say so?" demanded percy in astonishment. "yes, in good plain english. so i'm off." "well, if polly really said that mamma wanted you to go, why, i'll get back to college as soon as i can," said percy. "but if she should be worse?" he stopped short. "they can send for you instantly; trust polly for that," said jasper. "but she won't be worse; not unless we worry her by not doing as she wishes. well, good-by, i'm off." "so am i," declared percy, springing up to throw his clothes into traveling order. "all right, i'll take the train with you, jappy." "now you see how much better i'm off," observed van, coming in to perch on the edge of the bed while percy was hurrying all sorts of garments into the trunk with a quick hand. "i tell you, percy, i struck good luck when i chose father's business. now i don't have to run like a dog at the beck of a lot of professors." "every one to his taste," said percy, "and i can't bear father's business, for one." "no, you'd rather sit up with your glasses stuck on your nose, and learn how to dole out the law; that's you, percy. i say, i wouldn't try to keep the things on," with a laugh as he saw his brother's ineffectual efforts to pack, and yet give the attention to his eyeglasses that they seemed to demand. "see here now, van," cried percy warmly, "if you cannot help, you can take yourself off. goodness! i have left out my box of collars!" "here it is," cried van, throwing it to him from the bed, where it had rolled off under a pile of underclothing. "well, you don't know how the things make you look. and polly doesn't like them a bit." "how do you know?" demanded percy, growing quite red, and desisting from his employment a minute. "oh, that's telling; i know she doesn't," replied van provokingly. for answer van felt his arms seized, and before he knew it percy was over him and holding him down so that he couldn't stir. "now how do you know that polly doesn't like my eyeglasses?" he demanded. "ow--let me up!" cried van. "tell on, then. how do you know she doesn't like them?" "because--let me up, and i'll tell." "no, tell now," said percy, having hard work to keep van from slipping out from under his hands. "boys," called polly's voice. "oh dear me--she's coming!" exclaimed percy, jumping to his feet, and releasing van, who, red and shining, skipped to the door. "come in, polly." "i thought i'd find you up here," said polly in great satisfaction. "percy, can't i do something for you? jasper says you are going back to college right away." "yes, you can," said percy, "take van off; that would help me more than anything else you could do." polly looked at van and shook her brown head so disapprovingly that he came out of his laugh. "oh, i'll be good, polly," he promised. "see that you are, then," she said. then she went over to the trunk and looked in. "percy, may i take those things out and fold them over again?" she asked. "yes, if you want to," said percy shamefacedly. "i suppose i have made a mess of them; but it's too hard work for you, polly." "i should like nothing better than to attack that trunk," declared polly merrily. "now, van, you come and help me, that's a dear boy." and in five minutes polly and van were busily working together; he putting in the things, while she neatly made them into piles, and percy sorted and gave orders like a general. "he does strut around so," said van under his breath, "just see him now." "hush--oh, van, how can you? and he's going back to college, and you won't see him for ever so many weeks." van swallowed something in his throat, and bent all his energies to settling the different articles in the trunk. "percy," said polly presently in a lull, "i do just envy you for one thing." "what for, pray?" asked percy, settling his beloved eyeglasses for a better view of her. "why, you'll be with joel and davie," said polly. "oh, you don't know how i miss those boys!" she rested both hands on the trunk edge as she knelt before it. [illustration: "oh, you don't know how i miss those boys!" ] "i wish you'd been our sister," said van enviously, "then we'd have had good times always." "oh, i don't see much of joel," said percy. "dave once in a while i run across, but joel--dear me!" "you don't see much of joel," repeated polly, her hands dropping suddenly in astonishment. "why, percy whitney, why not, pray tell?" "why, joel's awful good--got a streak of going into the prayer-meetings and that sort of thing," explained percy, "and we call him deacon pepper in the class." "he goes to prayer-meetings, and you call him deacon pepper," repeated polly in amazement, while van burst out into a fit of amusement. "yes," said percy, "and he has a lot of old fogies always turning up that want help, and all such stuff, and i expect that he is going to be a minister." he brought this out as something too dreadful to be spoken, and then fell back to see the effect of his words. "can you suppose it?" cried polly under her breath, still kneeling on the floor, "oh, boys, can you?" looking from one to the other. "yes; i'm afraid it's true," said percy, feeling that he ought to be thrashed for having told her, while van laughed again. "oh--oh! it's too lovely. dear, beautiful, old joel!" cried polly, springing suddenly to her feet; "just think how good he is, boys! oh, it's too lovely to be true!" percy retreated a few steps hastily. "and oh, how much better we ought to be," cried polly in a rush of feeling. "just think, with joel doing such beautiful things, oh, how glad mamsie will be! and he never told--joel never told." "and he'll just about kill me if you tell him i've let it out," said percy abruptly. "oh, dear me, how he'll pitch into me!" exclaimed percy in alarm. "i never shall speak of it," declared polly in a rapture, "because joel always hated to be praised for being good. but oh, how lovely it is!" and then grandpapa called, and she ran off on happy feet. "whew!" exclaimed percy, with a look over at van. "i tell you what, if you want to get into polly's good graces, you've just got to brush up on your catechism, and such things," remarked van; "eyeglasses don't count." percy turned off uneasily. "nor suppers, and a bit of card-playing, eh, percy?" "hold your tongue, will you?" cried his brother irritably. "nor swell clothes and a touch-me-if-you-dare manner," said van mockingly, sticking his fingers in his vest pockets. percy made a lunge at him, then thought better of it. "leave me alone, can't you?" he said crossly. van opened his mouth to toss back a teasing reply, when percy opened up on him. "i'd as soon take my chances with her, on the suppers and other things, as to have yours. what would polly say to see you going for me like this, i'd like to know?" it was now van's turn to look uncomfortable, and he cast a glance at the door. "oh, she may come in," said percy, bursting into a laugh, "then you'd be in a fine fix; and i wouldn't give a rush for the good opinion she'd have of you." van hung his head, took two or three steps to the door, then came back hurriedly. "i cry 'quits,' percy," he said, and held out his hand. "all right," said percy, smoothing down his ruffled feelings, and putting out his hand too. van seized it, wrung it in good brotherly fashion, then raced over the stairs at a breakneck pace. "polly", he said, meeting her in the hall where she had just come from mr. king's room, "i've been blackguarding percy, and you ought to know it." "oh, van!" cried polly, stopping short in a sorry little way; "why, you've been so good ever since you both promised years ago that you wouldn't say bad things to each other." "oh, that was different," said van recklessly; "but since he went to college, percy has been a perfect snob polly." polly said nothing, only looked at him in a way that cut him to the heart, as she moved off slowly. "aren't you going to say anything?" asked van at last. "i've nothing to say," replied polly, and she disappeared into mrs. whitney's room and closed the door. that evening jasper and percy, who went together for a good part of the way, had just driven to the station, when the bell rang and a housemaid presently laid before polly a card, at sight of which all the color deserted her cheek. "oh, i can't see him," she declared involuntarily. "who is it?" asked old mr. king, laying down the evening paper. "o, grandpapa!" cried polly, all in a tremor at the thought of his displeasure, "it does not matter. i can send word that i do not see any one now that aunty is ill, and"-"polly, child," said the old gentleman, seriously displeased, "come and tell me at once who has called upon you." so polly, hardly knowing how, got out of her chair and silently laid the unwelcome card in his hand. "mr. livingston bayley," read the old gentleman. "humph! well, upon my word, this speaks well for the young man's perseverance. i'm very tired, but i see nothing for it but that i must respond to this;" and he threw aside the paper and got up to his feet. "grandpapa," begged polly tremblingly at his elbow, "please don't let him feel badly." "it isn't possible, polly," cried mr. king, looking down at her, "that you like this fellow--enough, i mean, to marry him?" "o, grandpapa!" exclaimed polly in a tone of horror. "well, then, child, you must leave me to settle with him," said the old gentleman with dignity. "don't worry; i sha'n't forget myself, nor what is due to a bayley," with a short laugh. and then she heard him go into the drawing-room and close the door. when he came back, which he did in the space of half an hour, his face was wreathed in smiles, and he chuckled now and then, as he sat down in his big chair and drew out his eyeglasses. "well, polly, child, i don't believe he will trouble you in this way again, my dear," he said in a satisfied way, looking at her over the table. "he wanted to leave the question open; thought it impossible that you could refuse him utterly, and was willing to wait; and asked permission to send flowers, and all that sort of thing. but i made the young man see exactly how the matter stood, and that's all that need be said about it. it's done with now and forever." and then he took up his paper and began to read. "mamsie," said phronsie, that very evening as she was getting ready for bed, and pausing in the doorway of her little room that led out of mother fisher's, "do you suppose we can bear it another day without polly?" "why, yes, phronsie," said mother fisher, giving another gentle rock to baby's cradle, "of course we can, because we must. that isn't like you, dear, to want polly back till aunty has got through needing her." phronsie gave a sigh and thoughtfully drew her slippered foot over the pattern of the carpet. "it would be so very nice," she said, "if aunty didn't need her." "so it would," said her mother, "but it won't make polly come any quicker to spend the time wishing for her. there, run to bed, child; you are half an hour late to-night." phronsie turned obediently into her own little room, then came back softly. "i want to give baby, polly's good-night kiss," she said. "very well, you may, dear," said mrs. fisher. so phronsie bent over and set on baby's dear little cheek, the kiss that could not go to polly. "if dear grandpapa would only come home," and she sighed again. "but just think how beautiful it is that aunty was not hurt so much as the doctors feared," said her mother. "oh, phronsie, we can't ever be thankful enough for that." "and now maybe god will let grandpapa and polly come back pretty soon," said phronsie slowly, going off toward her own little room. and presently mrs. fisher heard her say, "good-night, mamsie dear, i'm in bed." a rap at the door, and jane put in her head, in response to mrs. fisher's "what is it?" "oh, is dr. fisher here?" asked jane in a frightened way. [illustration: "and please make dear papa give her the right things."] "no; he is downstairs in the library," said mother fisher. "what is the matter, jane? who wants him?" "oh, something dreadful is the matter with helen fargo, i'm afraid, ma'am," said jane. "griggs has just run over to say that the doctor must come quick." "hush!" said mrs. fisher, pointing to phronsie's wide-open door; but she was standing beside them in her little nightdress, and heard the next words plainly enough. "run down stairs, jane," commanded mother fisher, "and tell the doctor what griggs said; just as fast as you can, jane." and in another minute in rushed the little doctor, seized his medicine case, saying as he did so, "i sha'n't come back here, wife, if it is diphtheria, but go to my office and change my clothes. there's considerable of the disease around. good-night, child." he stopped to kiss phronsie, who lifted a pale, troubled face to his. "don't worry; i guess helen will be all right," and he dashed off again. "now, phronsie, child," said mrs. fisher, "come to mother and let us talk it over a bit." so phronsie cuddled up in mamsie's lap, and laid her sad little cheek where she had been so often comforted. "mamsie," she said at last, lifting her head, "i don't believe god will let helen die, because you see she's the only child that mrs. fargo has. he couldn't, mamsie." "phronsie, darling, god knows best," said mrs. fisher, holding her close. "but he wouldn't ever do it, i know," said phronsie confidently; "i'm going to ask him not to, and tell him over again about helen's being the very only one that mrs. fargo has in all the world." so she slipped to the floor, and went into her own room again and closed the door. "dear jesus," she said, kneeling by her little white bed, "please don't take helen away, because her mother has only just helen. and please make dear papa give her the right things, so that she will live at home, and not go to heaven yet. amen." then she clambered into bed, and lay looking out across the moonlight, where the light from helen fargo's room twinkled through the fir-trees on the lawn. chapter vii. phronsie. "i can't tell her," groaned mrs. pepper, the next morning, at sight of phronsie's peaceful little face. "i never can say the word 'diphtheria' in all this world." phronsie laughed and played with baby quite merrily, all such time as miss carruth, the governess, allowed her from the schoolroom that morning. "everything is beautiful, king dear," she would say on such little flying visits to the nursery. "grandpapa and polly, i do think, will be home pretty soon; and helen is going to get well, because you know i asked god to let her, and he wouldn't ever, in all this world, take her away from her mother. he wouldn't, king," she added confidentially in baby's small ear. all day long the turreted fargo mansion gleamed brightly in the glancing sunlight, giving no hint of the battle for a life going on within. mrs. fisher knew when her husband sent for the most celebrated doctor for throat diseases; knew when he came; and knew also when each hour those who were fighting the foe, were driven back baffled. and several times she attempted to tell phronsie something of the shadow hanging over the little playmate's home. but phronsie invariably put aside all her attempts with a gentle persistence, always saying, "he wouldn't, you know, mamsie." and at nightfall helen had gone; and two white little hands were folded quietly across a young girl's breast. no one told phronsie that night; no one could. and she clambered into her little white bed, after saying her old prayer; then she lay in the moonlight again, watching helen's house. "the light is out, mamsie," she called, "in helen's room. but i suppose she is asleep." and presently mrs. fisher, stealing in, with unshed tears in her eyes, found her own child safe--folded in restful slumber, her hand tucked under her cheek. but the next morning, when she must hear it! "phronsie," said mrs. fisher, "come here, dear." it was after breakfast, and phronsie was running up into the school-room. "do you mean i am not to go to miss carruth?" asked phronsie wonderingly, and fingering her books. "yes, dear. oh, phronsie"--mrs. fisher abruptly dropped her customary self-control, and held out her arms. "come here, mother's baby; i've something bad to tell you, and you must help me, dear." phronsie came at once, with wide-open, astonished brown eyes, and climbed up into the good lap obediently. "phronsie," said mrs. fisher, swallowing the lump in her throat, and looking at the child fixedly, "you know helen has been very sick." "yes, mamma," said phronsie, still in a wonder. "well--and she suffered, dear, oh, so much!" a look of pain stole over phronsie's face, and mrs. fisher hastened to say, "but oh. phronsie, she can't ever suffer any more, for--for--god has taken her home, phronsie." "has helen died?" asked phronsie, in a sharp little voice, so unlike her own that mrs. pepper shivered and held her close. "oh, darling--how can i tell you? yes, dear, god has taken her home to heaven." "and left mrs. fargo without any little girl?" asked phronsie, in the same tone. "my dear--yes--he knows what is best," said poor mrs. fisher. the startled look on phronsie's little face gave way to a grieved expression, that slowly settled on each feature. "let me get down, mamsie," she said, quietly, and gently struggling to free herself. "oh, phronsie, what are you going to do?" cried mrs. fisher. "do sit with mother." "i must think it out, mamsie," said phronsie, with grave decision, getting on her feet, and she went slowly up the stairs, and into her own room; then closed the door. and all that day she said nothing; even when mother fisher begged her to come and talk it over with her, phronsie would say, "i can't, mamsie dear, it won't talk itself." but she was gentle and sweet with baby, and never relaxed any effort for his amusement. and at last, when they were folding helen away lovingly in flowers, from all who had loved her, mrs. fisher wrote in despair to polly, telling her all about it, and adding, "you must come home, if only for a few days, or phronsie will be sick." "i shall go, too," declared old mr. king, "for marian can spare me now. oh, that blessed child! and i can come back here with you, polly, if necessary." and polly had nothing for it but to help him off, and charlotte's father being ever so much better, she joined them; and as soon as it was a possible thing, there they were at home, and thomas was driving them up at his best speed, to the carriage porch. "polly!" phronsie gasped the word, and threw hungry little arms around polly's neck. "there, there, pet," cried polly cheerily, "you see we're all home. here's grandpapa!" "where's my girl?" cried old mr. king hastily. "here, phronsie," and she was in his arms, while the tears rained down her cheeks. "bless me!" exclaimed the old gentleman, putting up his hand at the shower. "well, that is a welcome home, phronsie." "oh, grandpapa, i didn't mean to!" said phronsie, drawing back in dismay. "i do hope it hasn't hurt your coat." "never mind the coat, phronsie," said mr. king. "so you are glad to get us home, eh?" phronsie snuggled close to his side, while she clung to his hand without a word. "well, we mustn't forget charlotte," cried polly, darting back to a tall girl with light hair and very pale blue eyes, standing composedly in one corner of the hall, and watching the whole thing closely. "mamsie, dear, here she is," taking her hand to draw her to mrs. fisher. "don't mind me," said charlotte, perfectly at her ease. "you take care of the little girl," as polly dragged her on. mrs. fisher took a good long look at charlotte chatterton. then she smiled, "i am glad to see you, charlotte." [illustration: charlotte, standing composedly in one corner of the hall.] charlotte took the firm fingers extended to her, and said, "thank you," then turned off to look at phronsie again. and it wasn't till after dinner that phronsie's trouble was touched upon. then polly drew her off to a quiet corner. "now, then, phronsie," she said, gathering her up close in her arms, "tell me all about it, pet. just think," and polly set warm kisses on the pale little cheek, "how long it is since you and i have had a good talk." "i know it," said phronsie wearily, and she drew a long sigh. "isn't it good that dear aunty is so much better?" cried polly cheerily, quite at a loss how to begin. "yes, polly," said phronsie, but she sighed again, and did not lift her eyes to polly's face. "if anything troubles you," at last broke out polly desperately, "you'd feel better, phronsie, to tell sister about it. i may not know how to say the right things, but i can maybe help a little." phronsie sat quite still, and folded and unfolded her hands in her lap. "why did god take away helen?" she asked suddenly, lifting her head. "oh, polly, it wasn't nice of him," she added, a strange look coming into her brown eyes. [illustration: phronsie went over to the window.] "oh, phronsie!" exclaimed polly, quite shocked, "don't, dear; that isn't like you, pet. why, god made us all, and he can do just as he likes, darling." "but it isn't nice," repeated phronsie deliberately, and quite firmly, "to take helen now. why doesn't he make another little girl then for mrs. fargo?" and she held polly with her troubled eyes. "phronsie"--cried polly; then she stopped abruptly. "oh, what can i say? i don't know, dearie; it's just this way; we don't know why god does things. but we love him, and we feel it's right. oh, phronsie, don't look so. there, there," and she drew her close to her, in a loving, hungry clasp. "i told you i didn't think i could say the right things to you," she went on hurriedly, "but, phronsie, i know god did just right in taking helen to heaven. just think how beautiful it must be there, and so many little children are there. and helen is so happy. oh, phronsie, when i think of that, i am glad she is gone." "helen was happy here," said phronsie decidedly. "and she never--never would want to leave her mother alone, to go off to a nicer place. never, polly." polly drew a long breath, and shut her lips. "but, phronsie, don't you see," she cried presently, "it may be that mrs. fargo wouldn't ever want to go to heaven unless helen was there to meet her? it may be, phronsie; and that would be very dreadful, you know. and god loved mrs. fargo so that he took helen, and he is going to keep her happy every single minute while she is waiting and getting ready for her mother." phronsie suddenly slipped down from polly's lap. "is that true?" she demanded. "yes, dear," said polly, "i think it is, phronsie," and her cheeks glowed. "oh, can't you see how much nicer it is in god to make mrs. fargo happy for always with helen, instead of just a little bit of a while down here?" phronsie went over to the window and looked up at the winter sky. "it is a long way off," she said, but the bitter tone had gone, and it was a grieved little voice that added, "and mrs. fargo can't see helen." "phronsie," said polly, hurrying over to her side, "perhaps god wants you to do some things for mrs. fargo--things, i mean, that helen would have done." "why, i can't go over there," said phronsie wonderingly. "papa fisher says i am not to go over there for ever and ever so long, polly." "well, you can write her little notes and you can help her to see that god did just right in taking helen away," said polly; "and that would be the very best thing you could do, phronsie, for mrs. fargo; the very loveliest thing in all this world." "would it?" asked phronsie. "yes, dear." "then i'll do it; and perhaps god wants me to like heaven better; does he, polly, do you think?" "i really and truly do, phronsie," said polly softly. then she leaned over and threw both arms around phronsie's neck. "oh, phronsie, can't you see--i never thought of it till now--but he has given you somebody else instead of helen, to love and to do things for?" phronsie looked up wonderingly. "i don't know what you mean, polly," she said. "there's charlotte," cried polly, going on rapidly as she released phronsie. "oh, phronsie, you can't think; it's been dreadfully hard and dull always for her at home, with those two stiff great-aunts pecking at her." "tell me about it," begged phronsie, turning away from the window, and putting her hand in polly's. "well, come over to our corner then." so the two ran back, phronsie climbing into polly's lap, while a look of contentment began to spread over her face. "you see," began polly, "charlotte's mother has always been too ill to have nice times; she couldn't go out, you know, very much, nor keep the house, and so the two great-aunts came to live with them. well, pretty soon they began to feel as if they owned the house, and charlotte, and everybody in it." "oh dear!" exclaimed phronsie, in distress. "and charlotte's father, mr. alexander chatterton, couldn't stop it; and beside, he was away on business most of the time, and charlotte didn't complain--oh, she behaved very nice about it; phronsie, her father told grandpapa all about it; and by and by her mother died, and then things got worse and worse; but mr. chatterton never knew half how bad it was. but when he was sick it all came out, and it worried him so that he got very bad indeed, and then he sent for grandpapa--charlotte couldn't stop him; he made her go. you see he was afraid he was going to die, and he couldn't bear to have things so very dreadful for charlotte." "and is he going to die?" broke in phronsie excitedly. "oh no, indeed! he was almost well when we came away; it was only his worrying over charlotte that made him so bad. oh, you ought to have seen him, phronsie, when grandpapa offered to take charlotte home with us for the winter. he was so happy he almost cried." "i am so glad he was happy," cried phronsie in great satisfaction, her cheeks flushing. "and so now i think god gave charlotte to you for a little while because you haven't helen. i do, phronsie, and you can make charlotte glad while she is here, and help her to have a good time." "can i?" cried phronsie, her cheeks growing a deep pink. "oh, polly, how? charlotte is a big girl; how can i help her?" "that's your secret to find out," said polly merrily. "well, come now," kissing her, "we must hurry back to grandpapa, or he'll feel badly to have you gone so long." "polly," cried phronsie, as they hurried over the stairs, "put your ear down, do." "i can't till we get downstairs," laughed polly, "or i'll tumble on my nose, i'm afraid. well, here we are. now then, what is it?" and she bent over to catch the soft words. "i'm sorry," said phronsie, her lips quite close to polly's rosy cheek, "that i said god wasn't nice to take helen away. oh, i love him, polly, i truly do." "so you do," said polly, with, a warm clasp. "well, here's grandpapa," as the library door opened, and mr. king came out to meet them. polly, running over the stairs the next day to greet alexia and some of the girls who were determined to make the most of her little visit at home, was met first by one of the maids with a letter. [illustration: alexia coolly read on, one arm around polly.] "oh, now," cried alexia, catching sight of it, "i almost know that's to hurry you back, polly. she sha'n't read it, girls." with that she made a feint of seizing the large white envelope. "hands off from my property," cried polly merrily, waving her off, and sitting down on the stair she tore the letter open. alexia worked her way along till she was able to sit down beside her, when she was guilty of looking over her shoulder. "oh, alexia rhys, how perfectly, dreadfully mean!" cried one of the other girls, wishing she could be in the same place. alexia turned a deaf ear, and coolly read on, one arm around polly. "oh, girls--girls!" she suddenly screamed, and jumping up, nearly oversetting polly, she raced over the remaining stairs to the bottom, where she danced up and down the wide hall, "polly isn't going back--she isn't--she isn't," she kept declaring. "what!" cried all the girls. "oh, do stop, alexia. what is it?" meantime cathie harrison ran up and quickly possessed herself of the vacated seat. "why, mr. whitney writes to say that polly needn't go back--oh, how perfectly lovely in him!" cried alexia, bringing up flushed and panting. "oh, dear me, i can't breathe!" "oh! oh!" cried all the girls, clapping their hands. "but that doesn't mean that i shall not go back," said polly, looking up from her letter to peer through the stair-railing at them. "i think--yes, i really do think that i ought to go back." "how nonsensical!" exclaimed alexia impatiently. "if mr. whitney says you are not needed, isn't that enough? beside he wrote it for mrs. whitney; i read it all." "no, i don't think it is enough," answered polly slowly, and turning the letter with perplexed fingers, "for i know dear aunty only told him to write because she thought i ought to be at home." "and so you ought," declared alexia, very decidedly. "she's quite right about it, and now you're here, why, you've just got to stay. so there, polly pepper. hasn't she, girls?" "yes, indeed," cried the girls. polly shook her brown head, as she still sat on her stair busily thinking. "here comes mr. king," cried cathie harrison, suddenly craning her neck at the sound of the opening of a door above them. "now i'm just going to ask him," and she sprang to her feet. "cathie--cathie," begged polly, springing up too. "i just will," declared cathie, obstinately scampering up over the stairs. "oh, mr. king, mayn't polly stay home? oh, do say yes, please!" "yes, do say yes, please," called all the other girls in the hall below. "hoity-toity!" exclaimed the old gentleman, well pleased at the onslaught. "now then, what's the matter, pray tell?" "i just won't have cathie harrison tell him," said alexia, trying to run up over the stairs. "let me by, polly, do," she begged. "no, indeed," cried polly, spreading her arms. "it's bad enough to have one of you up there besieging grandpapa." "then i'll run up the back stairs," cried alexia, turning in a flash. "oh, yes, the back stairs!" exclaimed the other girls, following her. "oh, do hurry! polly's coming after us." but speed as she might, polly could not overtake the bevy, who, laughing and panting, stood before mr. king a second ahead of her. "a pretty good race," said the old gentleman, laughing heartily, "but against you from the first, polly, my girl." "don't listen to them, grandpapa dear," panted polly. "mayn't she stay at home--mayn't she?" "hush, girls," begged polly. "oh, grandpapa dear, don't listen to them. aunty told uncle mason to write the letter, and you know"-"well, yes, i know all you would say, polly. but i've also had a letter from mason, and i was just going to show it to you." he pulled out of his vest pocket another envelope corresponding to the one in polly's hand, which he waved at her. "oh, grandpapa!" exclaimed polly, quite aghast at his so easily going over to the enemy. with that, all the girls deserted the old gentleman, and swarmed around polly. "see here, now," commanded mr. king, "every single one of you young things come back here this minute. goodness me, polly, i should think they'd be the death of you." polly didn't hear a word, for she was reading busily: "marian says 'don't let polly come back on any account. it worries me dreadfully to think of all that she is giving up; and i will be brave, and do without her. she must not come back.'" polly looked up to meet old mr. king's eyes fixed keenly upon her. "you see, polly," he began, "i really don't dare after that to let you go back." "oh--oh--oh!" screamed all the girls. "there, i told you so," exclaimed alexia. chapter viii. polly looks out for charlotte. "second floor--room no. 3," said buttons, then stood like an automaton to watch the tall young man scale the stair. "he did 'em beautifully," he confided afterward to another bell-boy. "mr. king himself can't get over them stairs better." "come in!" cried jasper, in response to the rap. "halloo, old fellow!" cried pickering dodge, rushing in tumultuously. "well, well, so this is your den," looking around the small room in surprise. "yes. now this is good to see you!" exclaimed jasper, joyfully leaping from his chair to seize pickering's hand. "well, what brought you? there's nothing wrong?" he asked, anxiously scanning pickering's face. "no--that is, everything's right; all except polly." "there isn't anything the matter with polly?" jasper turned quite white, scarcely speaking the words. "no, she's all right, only"--pickering turned impatiently off from the chair jasper pulled forward with a hasty hand, and stalked to the other side of the little room. "she's--she's--well, she's so hard to come at nowadays. everybody has a chance for a word with her but old friends. and now the recital is in full blast." jasper drew a long breath, and began to get his color again. "oh, yes--well, it's all going on well, the recital, i mean, isn't it?" he asked. "i believe so," said pickering in a gloomy way. "the girls are wild over it; you can't hear anything else talked about at home. but," he broke off abruptly, "got a cigar, jasper?" and he began to hunt the mantel among the few home-things spread around to enliven the hotel apartment. "haven't such an article," said jasper. "i forgot you don't smoke," said pickering with a sigh. "dear me! how will you bear trouble when it comes, old chap?" he came back to the table, and thrust his hands in his pockets, looking dismally at jasper. "i'm afraid a cigar wouldn't help me much," said jasper, with a laugh; "but if you must have one, i can get it, eh?" "yes, i must," said pickering in despair, "for i've something on my mind. came over on purpose to get your help, and i can't do it without a weed." "very well," said jasper, shoving the chair again toward pickering. "sit down, and i'll have one sent up," and he went over and touched the electric button on the wall. "yes, sir?" buttons ran his head in the doorway, and stared at them without winking. "a cigar for this gentleman," said jasper, filliping a coin into the boy's hand. "is that the way you order cigars?" demanded pickering, whirling around in his chair. "yes, when i order them at all," said jasper, laughing; "a weed is a weed, i suppose." "indeed, and it is not, then," retorted pickering. "i'll have none of your ordering. you needn't bring it up, boy; i'll go down to the office and pick some out for myself." "all right, sir," said buttons, putting down the coin on the table with a lingering finger. "keep it," said jasper, with a smile. "he's a gentleman," observed buttons, on the way downstairs, pickering treading his heels. "he ain't like the rest of 'em that boards here. they orders me around with a 'here, you!' or a 'hoi, there, boy!' they're gents; he's the whole word--a first-class gentleman, mr. king is," he repeated. "now, then, for it," said jasper, when at last the gleam of pickering's cigar was steady and bright, "open your budget of news, old fellow," he added, with difficulty restraining his impatience. "it ought not to be any news," declared pickering, with extreme abruptness, "for i've never tried to conceal it. i love polly." jasper started so suddenly his arm knocked from the table a slender crystal vase, that broke into a dozen pieces. "never mind," he said, at pickering's dismayed exclamation, "go on." whew--puff! floated the rings of cigar smoke over pickering's head. "and i can't stand it, and i won't, waiting any longer to tell her so. why, man," he turned savagely now on jasper, "i've loved her for years, and must i be bullied and badgered out of my rights by men who have only just been introduced to her--say?" "whom do you mean?" asked jasper huskily, his fingers working over the table-cloth, under the pretense of pulling the creases straight. "why, that loughead chap," said pickering, bringing his hand down heavily on the table; "he has more sweet words from polly pepper in a week than i get in a month--and i such an old friend!" "polly is so anxious to help his sister," jasper made out to say. "well, that's no reason why the fellow should hang around forever," declared pickering angrily. "why, he's gone abroad!" exclaimed jasper, "long ago." "ah, but he's coming back," said pickering, with a sage nod, and knocking off the ashes from his cigar end. "is that so?" cried jasper, in astonishment. "yes, 'tis," declared pickering, nodding again, "and i don't like it. you know as well as i do," squaring around on jasper, "that he don't care a rap about his sister's getting on; he's only thinking of polly, and _i_ love her." seeing that something was expected of him, jasper made out to say, "you do?" "of course i do; and you know it, and every one knows it, or ought to; i haven't ever tried to conceal it," said pickering proudly. "how do you know that loughead is coming back?" asked jasper abruptly. "how do i know? the best way in the world." pickering moved uneasily in his chair. "hibbard crane had a letter yesterday; that's the reason i threw my traps together and started for you." "for me?" cried jasper, in surprise. "yes. you've got to help me. i can't stand it, waiting around any longer. it has almost killed me as it is." pickering threw his head on the chair-back and took savage pulls at the cigar between his teeth. "i help you?" cried jasper, too astonished to do much more than to repeat the words. "how in all this world can i do anything in the matter?" he demanded, as soon as he could find his voice. "why, you can tell polly how it is; you're her brother, or as good as one; and she'll see it from you. and you must hurry about it, too, for i expect that loughead will turn up soon. he means mischief, he does." "see here, pick," cried jasper, getting out of his chair hastily to face pickering, "you don't know what you are asking. why, i couldn't do it. the very idea; i never heard of such a thing! you--you must speak to polly yourself." "i can't," said pickering, in a burst, and bringing up his head suddenly. "she won't give me the ghost of a chance. there's always those girls around her; and she's been away an age at mrs. whitney's. and everlastingly somebody is sick or getting hurt, and they won't have anybody but polly. you know how it is yourself, jasper," and he turned on him an injured countenance. "well, don't come to me," cried jasper, beginning to pace the floor irritably. "i couldn't ever speak on such a subject to polly. beside it would be the very way to set her against you. it would any girl; can't you see it, pick?" he added, brightening up. "girls are queer," observed pickering shrewdly, "and the very thing you think they won't like, they take to amazingly. oh, you go along, jasper, and let her see how matters stand; how i feel, i mean." "you will do your own speaking," said jasper, in his most crusty fashion, and without turning his head. "i did; that is, i tried to last night after i met crane," began pickering, in a shamefaced way, "but i couldn't get even a chance to see polly." "how's that?" asked jasper, still marching up and down the floor; "wasn't she home?" "why, she sent charlotte chatterton down to see me," said pickering, very much aggrieved, "and i hate that chatterton girl." "why couldn't polly see you?" went on jasper, determined, since his assistance was asked, to go to the root of the matter. "oh, somebody in the establishment, i don't know who, had a finger-ache, i suppose," said pickering, carelessly throwing away his cigar end and lighting a fresh one, "and wanted polly. never mind why; she couldn't come down, she sent word. so i gave up in despair. see here now, jasper, you must help me out." "i tell you i won't," declared jasper, with rising irritation, "not in that way." "you won't?" "no, i won't. i can't, my dear fellow." "well, there's a great end of our friendship," exclaimed pickering, red with anger, and he jumped to his feet. "do you mean to say, jasper king, that you won't do such a simple thing for me as to say a word to your sister polly, when i tell you it's all up with me if you don't speak that word--say?" "you oughtn't to ask such a thing; it's despicable in you," cried jasper, aghast to find his anger rising at each word. "and if you insist in making such a request when i tell you that i cannot speak to polly for you, why, i shall be forced to repeat what i said at first, that i won't have anything to do with it." "do you mean it," pickering put himself in front of jasper's advancing strides, "that you will not speak to polly for me?" "i do." "i tell you," declared pickering, now quite beside himself, "it's absolutely necessary for me to have your word with her, jasper king." "and i tell you i can't give that word," said jasper. then he stopped short, and looked into pickering's face. "i'm sorry, old chap," and he put out his hand. pickering knocked it aside in a towering passion. "you needn't 'old chap' me," he cried. "and there's an end to our friendship, king." he seized his hat and dashed out of the room. "miss salisbury!" alexia rhys, in real distress, threw herself against her old teacher, who was hurrying through the long school-room. "well, what is it?" asked miss salisbury, settling her glasses for a look at her former pupil. "you mustn't hinder me; i'm on my way to the recitation room," and her hand made a movement toward her watch. "oh, don't think of time, miss salisbury!" begged alexia, just as familiarly as in the old days, "when polly pepper needs to be looked out for." "if polly pepper needs me in any way, why, i must stop," said the principal of the "young ladies' select boarding and day school," "but i don't see how she can need me, alexia," she added in perplexity, "polly is fully capable of taking care of herself." "oh, no, she isn't," cried alexia abruptly. "beg your pardon, but polly is a dear, sweet, dreadful idiot. oh dear me! what do you suppose, miss salisbury, she has gone and done?" "i am quite at a loss to guess," said miss salisbury calmly, "and i must say, alexia, i am very much pained by your failure to profit by my instructions. to think that one of my young ladies, especially one on whom i have spent so much care and attention as yourself, should be so careless in speech and manner, as you are constantly. 'gone and done'--oh, alexia!" she exclaimed in a grieved way. "oh, i know," cried alexia imperturbably, "you did your best, dear miss salisbury, and it isn't your fault that i'm not fine. but oh, don't waste the time, please, over me, when i want to tell you about polly." "what is it about polly?" demanded miss salisbury, fingering her watch-chain nervously. "really, alexia, i think polly would do very well if you didn't try so hard to take possession of her. i quite pity her," she added frankly. alexia burst into a laugh. "it's the only way to catch a glimpse of her. miss salisbury," she cried, "for everybody is trying to take possession of polly pepper. and now--oh, it's getting perfectly dreadful!" miss salisbury took an impatient step forward. "oh, miss salisbury," cried alexia in alarm, "wait just a minute, do, dear miss salisbury," she cried, throwing her arms around her, thereby endangering the glasses set upon the fine roman nose, "there can't any one help in this but just you." "it is very wrong," said miss salisbury, yet yielding to the embrace, "for me to stay and listen to you in this way, but--but i've always been fond of you, alexia, and"-"i know it," cried alexia penitently, "you've just been a dear, always, miss salisbury, to me. if you hadn't, why, i don't know what i should have done, for i had nobody but aunt," with a little pathetic sniff, "to look after me." "my dear alexia," cried miss salisbury, quite softened, "don't feel so. you are very dear to me. you always were," patting her hand. "and so what is it that you want to tell me now? pray be quick, dear." "well, then, will you promise to make polly pepper do what she ought to, miss salisbury?" cried alexia, quite enchanted with her success thus far. miss salisbury turned a puzzled face at her. "will i make polly pepper do as she ought to?" she repeated. "my dear alexia, what a strange request. polly pepper is always doing as she ought." "well, polly is just hateful to herself," declared alexia, "and if it wasn't for us girls, she'd--oh, dear me! i don't know what would happen. what do you suppose, miss salisbury, she's gone and--oh dear, i didn't mean to--but what do you suppose polly has just done?" [illustration: "my dear alexia," cried miss salisbury, quite softened, "don't feel so."] before miss salisbury could reply, alexia rushed on frantically. "if you'll believe me, polly has gone and asked that charlotte chatterton to sing at her recital; just think of that!" exclaimed alexia, quite gone at the enormity of such a blunder. "why, doesn't charlotte chatterton sing well?" asked miss salisbury, in surprise. "oh, frightfully well," said alexia, "that's just the trouble. and now polly's recital will all be part of that chatterton girl's glory. and it was to be so swell!" and alexia sank into a chair, and waved back and forth in grief. "swell! oh, alexia," exclaimed miss salisbury in consternation. "oh, do excuse me," mumbled alexia, "but polly really has spoiled that elegant recital. it won't be all polly's, now. oh, dear me!" miss salisbury drew a long breath. "i'm very glad polly has asked miss chatterton to sing," she said at last. "it was the right thing to do." "very glad that polly has asked that chatterton girl to sing?" almost shrieked alexia, starting out of her chair. "yes," said miss salisbury decidedly. "very glad indeed, alexia." "and now you won't make polly see that charlotte chatterton ought not to be stuck into that recital?" cried alexia wildly. "oh, dear me! and you are the only one that can bring polly to her senses--oh, dear me!" "certainly not," said miss salisbury, with a little dignified laugh. "the recital is polly's, and she knows best how to manage it." "well, we won't applaud, we girls won't," declared alexia, stiffening up, "when that charlotte chatterton sings; but we'll all just look the other way--every single one of us." "alexia rhys!" slowly ejaculated miss salisbury in real sorrow. "well, we can't; it wouldn't be right," gasped alexia. "don't look so, miss salisbury. oh, dear me, why will polly act so! oh, dear me! i wish charlotte chatterton was in the red sea." miss salisbury gathered herself up in quiet disapproval; and with a parting look prepared to leave the room. "oh, miss salisbury," cried alexia, flying after her, to pluck her gown, "do turn around. oh, dear me!" and she began to cry as hard as she could. "when you have come to your better self, alexia, i will talk with you," said miss salisbury distinctly, and she went out, and closed the door. "did she say she would--did she--did she?" cried a group of the "old girls," as miss salisbury's present scholars called polly and her set, as they came tiptoeing in. "why, where are you, alexia?" "here," said a dismal voice from the depths of a corner easy chair. they all rushed at her. "i've had an awful time with her," sobbed alexia, her face buried in her handkerchief, "and i suppose it really will kill me, girls." "nonsense!" cried one or two. "well, what did she say about making polly listen to reason?" "oh, dreadful--dreadful!" groaned alexia gustily. "you can't think!" "you don't mean to say that she approves, after all that polly pepper has worked over that old recital, to"---"have some one else come in and grab the glory?" finished another voice. "oh, dear--dear!" groaned alexia in between. "and miss salisbury would kill you, clem, if she heard you say 'grab.'" "well, do tell us, what did miss salisbury say?" demanded another girl impatiently. "she said it was right for polly to ask charlotte chatterton to sing, and she was glad she was going to do it." "oh, horrors!" exclaimed the group in dismal chorus. "the idea! as much as she loves polly pepper!" cried sally moore. "and i hate the word 'right,'" exploded alexia, whirling her handkerchief around her fingers. "now! it's poked at one everlastingly. i think it's just sweet to be wicked." "oh, alexia rhys!" "well, just a little bit wicked," said alexia. cathie harrison shook back the waves of light hair on her brow. "girls," she began hesitatingly. but no one would listen; the laments were going on so fast over polly and her doings. "it _is_ right!" cried cathie at last, after many ineffectual attempt to be heard. "do stop, girls, making such a noise," she added impatiently. "that's a great way to preach," said clem, laughing, "lose your temper to begin with, cathie." "i didn't--that is, i'm sorry," said cathie. "but, anyway, i want to say i ought to have been ashamed to act so about that chatterton girl. where should i have been if polly pepper hadn't taken me up?" she looked down the long aisle to a seat in the corner. "there's where i sat," pointing to it, "and you all know it, for a whole week, and i thought i should die; i did," tragically, "without any one speaking to me. and one day polly pepper came up and asked wouldn't i come to her house to the bee you were all going to get up to fit out that horrible old poor white family down south. and i wanted to get up and scream, i was so glad." "cathie harrison," exclaimed alexia, springing to her feet defiantly, "what do you want to bring back those dreadful old times for! you are the most uncomfortable person i ever saw." "you needn't mind it now, alexia," cried cathie, rushing at her, "for you've been too lovely for anything ever since--you dear!" "i lovely? oh, girls, did you hear?" cried alexia, sinking into her chair again, quite overcome. "she said i was lovely--oh, dear me!" "and so you are," repeated cathie stoutly; "just as nice and sweet and lovely to me as you can be. so!" throwing her long arms around alexia. "i didn't want to be; polly made me," said alexia. "i know it; but i don't care. you are nice now, any way." "and i suppose we must be nice to that chatterton girl now, if she does break up our fun," said alexia with a sigh, getting out of her chair. "come on, girls; let us go and tell polly it's just heavenly that charlotte is to sing." chapter ix. polly's recital. charlotte chatterton stood back of the portiere pulling a refractory button of her glove into place, as a gay group precipitated themselves into the dressing-room of the exeter. "now remember, girls," cried alexia, rushing at the toilet table to bestow frantic twitches at the fluffy waves of hair over her forehead, "that we must applaud the very minute that she gets through singing. oh dear me, just look at my bangs; they are perfect frights. hateful things!" with another pull at the offending locks. "it's a swell house," exclaimed one of the girls delightedly. "just let miss salisbury catch you saying 'swell,'" warned alexia. "take care now, sally moore, this is a very proper and select occasion." "well, do let some of us have that glass a minute," retorted sally, "and mend your manners before you take occasion to correct my speech." "my bangs are worse than yours, sally," cried another girl, crowding up; "do let me get one corner of that glass," trying to achieve a view of her head over alexia's shoulder. alexia calmly picked at the fluffy bunch of hair on her brow, giving it a little quirk before she said, "don't fight, girls; it quite spoils one's looks; i never do when i'm dressed up." "of course not," said sally moore, "for you get everything you want without fighting." "the idea!" exclaimed alexia, with an injured expression, "when i never have my own way. why, i give up and give up the whole time to somebody. well, never mind; let's talk about the recital. oh, it's going to be quite elegant for polly pepper. there's a regular society cram in the hall." "well, i don't think 'society cram' is a bit better than a 'swell affair,'" said clem forsythe, slipping out of her opera cloak. "nor i either," cried three or four voices. "oh, i don't object to 'swell affair' myself," said alexia; "i have used the words on more than one occasion, unless my memory is treacherous. i only wanted to spare miss salisbury's nerves." "pity you didn't give more attention to miss salisbury's nerves five or six years ago," said sally. "do get away from that glass." "it's no time to talk about me now," observed alexia. "all our minds should be on polly, and her recital. girls, _did_ you see jack loughead down at the door?" "didn't we?" cried the girls. "he's as handsome as a picture, isn't he?" cried alexia, with another little pull at her rebellious hair. "isn't he?" hummed the girls. "well, he won't look at you, for all your fussing over those bangs," said sally vindictively. "did you suppose i thought he would?" cried alexia coolly. "why, it's polly pepper, everybody knows, that brings him here." "what's become of mr. bayley?" asked one of the girls suddenly. "hush--sh! you mustn't ask," cried alexia mysteriously, and turning away from the mirror, with a lingering movement; "there, it looks shockingly, but it is as good as i can fix it." "your hair always does look perfectly horrid," declared sally moore, deftly slipping into the vacated place. "well, do tell all you know about mr. bayley and polly," begged the girl who had raised the question, "i'm just dying to know." "alexia rhys doesn't know a thing more than we do, frances," said clem, "only she pretends she's in the secret." "i was down at dunraven at the christmas splurge," said alexia, "and you were not, clem. that's all i shall say," and she leisurely disposed herself in a big chair, and began to draw on her gloves, with the air of one who could reveal volumes were she so disposed. "polly wouldn't ever send him off," said one of the girls, "i don't believe. why, he's horribly rich; and just think of marrying into the bayley family--oh my!" "i should think the shock of being asked to enter that family, would kill any girl, to begin with," said clem. "why, he goes back to william the conqueror, doesn't he? and there's an earl in the family, and i don't know what else. and then beside, there's his mother; the idea of sitting opposite to her at the table every single day--oh dear me! i know i should drop my knife and fork and things, from pure fright." "i'm sure i don't see why anybody is proud to have his family go back all the time," said alexia rhys; "for my part i should want to start things forward a little myself." "well, who does know anything about it, why mr. bayley has gone off suddenly?" demanded frances. "no one knows," said clem. alexia hummed a tune provokingly. "we all guess, and it's easy enough to guess the truth; but polly won't ever let it out, so that's all there is about it." "well, now, girls," said alexia suddenly, "we must remember what we promised each other." "what do you mean?" asked frances; "i didn't promise anything to anybody." "you weren't with us when we promised, my dear," answered alexia, "and i'll rise and explain. you see we don't any of us like that charlotte chatterton; not a single one of us. she's a perfect stick, i think." "so do i," said another girl; "this is the way she walks." thereupon followed a representation given to the life, of charlotte chatterton's method of getting her long figure over the ground, which brought subdued peals of laughter from the girls looking on. "and she has no more feeling than an oyster," pursued alexia, when she had recovered her breath, "or she might see that polly was just giving up all her fun and ours too, by dragging her into everything that is going on." "i know it," said the girls. "and i'm so sick of her taking in everything so as a matter of course," observed alexia; "oh! she's quite an old sponge." "it's bad enough to be called an oyster, without having old sponge fastened to one," said sally moore, coming away from the mirror, thereby occasioning another rush for that useful dressing-room appointment. "well, she is both of those very things," declared alexia, "nevertheless we must applaud her dreadfully when she's finished singing. that's what we promised each other, frances. it will please polly, you know." "you better hurry, or you will lose your seats," announced a friendly voice in the doorway, which had the effect to send the whole bevy out as precipitately as they had hurried in. when she was quite sure that no one remained, charlotte chatterton shook herself free from the friendly portiere-folds, and stepped to the center of the deserted room. "i'll not sing one note!" she declared, standing tall, "not one single note!" just then, in ran amy loughead. "oh dear, and oh dear!" "what is the matter?" asked charlotte, not moving. "oh, i'm so frightened," gasped amy, shivering from head to foot, "there are so many people in there, oh--oh! i can't play!" beating her hands together in terror. "you must," said charlotte unsympathizingly. "i can't--i can't. oh, i shall die! the hall is full, and they keep coming in. oh--miss pepper!" for polly, in her soft white gown, was coming quickly into the dressing-room. "your hands are just as cold as ice," said polly, gathering up amy's shaking little palms into her own. "there now, we'll see if we can't coax them into playing order," rubbing them between her own warm ones. "oh, i can feel all those people's eyes staring through me," cried amy, huddling up against polly. "you mustn't think of their eyes, child," laughed polly. but there was a little white line around her mouth. just then a messenger came in with a note. "any answer?" asked polly. "oh, stay; i would better read it before you go." and she tore it open. "i am so sorry that i cannot keep my engagement to play the duet with miss porter, but the doctor has just been here, and he says i must not go out. i should have written this morning that i had a sore throat, but i thought i could manage to go. i'm so sorry--oh, miss pepper, i'm so sorry! "julia anderson." [illustration: "i'll not sing a note!"] the note fell to polly's lap, and for a minute she could not speak. "there is no answer," at last she said to the messenger. "oh, miss pepper, what is it?" cried amy loughead, brought out of her own fright, by the dread of a new trouble. "julia anderson is sick and cannot be here," said polly. "oh, dear! and she was going to play with miss porter. what will you do?" cried amy in consternation. "why, i shall have to take her place," said polly, forcing herself to speak. "oh, dear--dear!" exclaimed amy, trying not to burst into tears. "everything is just as bad and horrid as it can be. oh, dear, dear, and i can't play; i should disgrace you!" "oh, no, no, amy," said polly, trying to smile, "that you'll never do." she threw the note on the floor now, and began to rub the cold little hands again. "but--but, i'm so frightened," gasped amy. charlotte chatterton walked to the window. "i may be a stick, and an oyster, and an old sponge, and everybody wish me out of the way, but i'm not such a villain as to bother her now by telling her i won't sing. if they only won't applaud!" she shut her teeth tightly, and turned back again. "i wouldn't, miss loughead," she began. but her voice sounded cold and unsympathetic, and amy clung to polly tighter than ever. ben now looked in. "come, polly," he said. "you really ought to be out here, and it's almost three o'clock." amy gave a gasp. "what shall i do?" "you may stay in here, if you really wish," said polly in a low voice, charlotte chatterton looking on with all her eyes, "and i will excuse you." "and will--will you be disappointed in me?" amy brought out the question shamefacedly. "very much," said polly. "and will you never try me again--and never give me music lessons?" asked amy fearfully. "i do not seem to teach you successfully," said polly very slowly, "so it would be no use to continue the lessons." and she put aside the clinging hands. "you may stay here, amy; i am coming, ben," looking over at him. "i'll play," cried amy loughead desperately. "i'd rather, oh, dear me, if they were bears and gorillas looking on--and i just know i shall die--but i'd rather, miss pepper, than to have you give me up." charlotte chatterton drew a long breath. "what's the matter?" asked ben in dismay. "miss loughead was a little scared, i believe," said charlotte, with a touch of scorn in her manner. ben gave an uneasy exclamation. "everything seems to be all right now," he said, in a relieved way, looking off at polly and amy. "oh, yes; a scare don't amount to much if one has a mind to put it down," said charlotte. "i should think you'd be scared," said ben, looking at her admiringly, "to stand up and sing before all those people. but i suppose you never are; you don't seem to mind things like the rest of us." charlotte shrugged her shoulders, but said nothing. "we are all ready," said polly cheerfully coming up with amy. "oh, charlotte, you are such a comfort," she found time to whisper. charlotte clasped her hands tightly together so that an ominous rent appeared in one of her pretty gloves. "i'll sing," she kept saying to herself all the way out to the platform, "oh, i'll sing--i'll sing." and later on, while looking down into the eyes of the girls waiting to applaud, "i'll sing--i'll sing," she had to declare to herself till her name was announced. as the last note died away, "who is that girl?" went around the hall. charlotte chatterton had made a sensation. alexia rhys, angry at the effect of the song, still clapped steadily together her soft-gloved hands, looking at polly with the air of a martyr all the while. "charlotte--oh, i'm glad!" whispered polly radiantly, "they want you to sing again," trying to pull her forward, as the storm of applause went on. "i'll not sing!" cried charlotte passionately. "never! don't ask it, polly." "why, charlotte!" implored polly, astonished at the passion in the girl usually so cold and indifferent. still the applause continued, polly's set keeping at it like veterans. ben ran up the platform steps with shining eyes. "grandpapa requests charlotte to sing again," he whispered to polly. "there, you hear, charlotte." said polly. "grandpapa wishes it." "very well," said charlotte, resuming her ordinary manner, and looking as if it really made no difference to her whether she sang or was quiet, she walked to her place. polly slipped back of the piano, and began the accompaniment, and again charlotte's singing carried all by storm. polly, looking down into jasper's face, saw him smile over to his father, and nod in a pleased surprise; and she was aghast to feel a faint little wish begin to grow in her heart, that charlotte chatterton had not been asked to sing. "of course jasper is surprised, as he has never heard her sing," said polly to herself, "and her voice is so beautiful in this big hall, oh, it's so very beautiful!" as charlotte came back, apparently not hearing the expressions of delight that rang over the concert-room. "that chatterton girl will be all the rage now," whispered alexia savagely to clem who sat next to her. "look at mrs. cabot. she has her 'i'll-take-you-up-and-patronize-you air' on, and i know she's making up her mind to give charlotte a musicale." other people also, scattered here and there in the hall, were making up their minds to introduce miss chatterton to their friends; as a girl with such a wonderful voice, it would be quite worth one's while to bring out. polly, by this time, explaining to the audience, the failure of miss anderson to take her part in the duet, caught little ends of the whispers going on beneath her, such as "perfectly exquisite." "most wonderful range." "shall certainly ask her to sing." and again she saw jasper's beaming face, while ben took no pains to conceal his delight. and she sat down to the piano mechanically, and began in a dazed way to help miss porter through with the duet that was to have been one of the finest things on the carefully prepared programme. [illustration: "for shame, polly, if the little brown house teachings are forgotten like this"] suddenly, in the midst of a slow movement, polly glanced down and caught her mother's eye. "polly," it said, just as plainly as if mrs. fisher had spoken, "is this my girl? for shame, if the little brown house teachings are forgotten like this." polly straightened up, sent mamsie down a bright smile that made mrs. fisher nod, and flash back one in return, then bent all her energies to making that duet speak its message through the concert-room. people who had rather languished in their chairs, now gathered themselves up with fresh interest, and clapped their hands at the brilliant passages, and exclaimed over the ability of the music teacher who could change an apparent failure to such a glorious success. everybody said it was wonderful; and when the duet was over, the house rang with the charming noise by which the gratified friends tried to express their delight. but polly saw only mamsie's eyes, filled with joy. meantime, charlotte chatterton had hurried out to the dressing-room, tossing on her walking things with a quick hand; and held fast for a minute as she crept out into the broad passage, by the duet now in full progress, she went softly down the stairs. when it was all over, everybody crowded around polly. "oh, miss pepper, your recital is lovely! oh, how beautifully miss chatterton sang!" and, "oh, miss pepper, i am delighted with your pupils' progress; and what an exquisite voice miss chatterton has!" and then it was, "oh, it must have been so hard, miss pepper, for you to excuse miss anderson at the last minute; and we can't thank you enough for letting us hear miss chatterton sing." "oh, i shall fly crazy to hear them go on," cried alexia to a little bunch of girls back of the crowd; "will nothing stop them?" wringing her hands angrily together. "it's all chatterton, chatterton now; and after polly's magnificent playing too. oh dear me, i knew it would be so!" polly turned, with a happy face, to pull charlotte forward to hear the kind things. "why, where"-"oh, she's gone home," answered alexia, stepping forward hastily--"hasn't she, girls?" appealing to them. "she must have; she went out like a shot. don't, polly, how can you?" she begged, turning back to twitch polly's arm, "you've done enough, i should think." "what did she run off for?" cried jasper, scaling the platform steps. polly glanced quickly up into his beaming face. "oh, jasper, she has gone home--i couldn't help it," and her face fell. he looked annoyed. "never mind, polly," he said, his brow clearing, "father wanted to introduce her to some friends, that's all. well, and wasn't it a grand success, though!" and he beamed at her. "yes," said polly, settling amy's music with an unsteady hand. "and charlotte really surprised us all," he went on gaily. "why, polly, who would think that we have--or you rather, for you have done it all--the honor to bring out a nightingale! here, let me do that for you." he was fairly bubbling over with delight, and as he essayed to take the music out of polly's hand, he laughed again. "dear me, how stupid i am," as a piece fluttered to the floor. "and didn't amy do nicely?" asked polly beginning to feel a bit tired now. "yes, indeed," assented jasper enthusiastically, as he recovered the piece. "just splendidly! i didn't know she had so much music in her. oh, here comes a horde of congratulations, polly." he threw her the brightest of smiles as he moved to make way for a group of friends hurrying up to shower polly with compliments, and every one had something delightful to add of charlotte chatterton's singing. "jasper couldn't help but be happy over charlotte's singing," said polly to herself, and looking after him, "it's so beautiful," as they came up. "where are you going, polly?" called alexia at last, when it was all over, and the janitor was closing the big outer door, as polly ran ahead of the girls and down the long steps of the exeter. [illustration: polly turned and waved her music-roll at them] polly turned and waved her music-roll at them for a reply. "now somebody is going to carry her off," grumbled alexia; "hurry up, girls, let's see who it is." so they ran as lightly as polly herself, after her, down the steps, only in time to see old mr. king help her into the carriage with mrs. fisher and phronsie, and drive rapidly off. "whatever in the world is the matter?" cried alexia, running up to jasper who was watching them speed away. "why, polly thinks charlotte is sick," explained jasper, "because she went home before the recital was out." "stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed alexia angrily. "what is the matter with polly, jasper? she grows worse and worse. why can't she let charlotte chatterton alone, pray tell. i, for one, should think mischief enough had been done by that girl." "you should think mischief enough had been done by charlotte?" repeated jasper in astonishment. "i must say, alexia, that i fail to understand you." "to hear people praise to the very skies that chatterton girl," cried alexia in a passion--she was actually stamping her foot now--"oh, oh! why don't some of you say something?" she cried, appealing suddenly to the girls. "you all feel as i do about polly's pushing forward that girl; and there you stand and make me do all the talking." jasper looked grave at once. "there is no occasion for any one to exert herself to talk over this," he said. "it is polly's affair, and hers alone." he raised his hat to her, and to the rest of the group, and walked off. chapter x. phronsie has a plan. phronsie was the first to reach charlotte's door. "charlotte?" she called softly through the keyhole. there was no answer, and after one or two ineffectual attempts, phronsie turned fearfully away. "i do believe something is in the room with charlotte," she said, as polly came running up the stairs. then she sat down on the top step and clasped her hands. "i heard it raging up and down." "oh, no, phronsie," said polly reassuringly, "there couldn't be anything in there with charlotte. i'll try," and she laid a quick hand on the knob. "oh, charlotte, do open the door; you are worrying us all so," called polly imploringly. charlotte flung wide the door. two red spots burned on her cheeks, and her pale blue eyes snapped. but when she saw polly, she said, "i'm sorry i frightened you, but i'm best alone." "isn't there really anything in here with you, charlotte?" asked phronsie, getting off from her stair, to peer past polly. "oh, i'm sure i heard it raging up and down." "that was i," said charlotte; "i was the wild beast, phronsie." "oh, dear," breathed phronsie. "and oh!" exclaimed polly. "charlotte," said phronsie, coming in to slip her hand into charlotte's, "it was just beautiful when you sang; i thought it was birds when you went clear up into the air. i did really, charlotte." "oh, don't!" begged charlotte, looking over at polly. "come down to dinner, charlotte," said polly quickly. "really you must, else i am afraid grandpapa will be up here after you." "i don't want any dinner," said charlotte, drawing back. "indeed, but you must come down," said polly firmly, holding out her hand. "come, charlotte." "let me smooth your hair," begged phronsie, standing on tiptoe; "do bend down just a very little, please. there, that's it," patting charlotte's head with both hands; "now you look very nice; you really do--doesn't she, polly." "yes, indeed," said polly cheerily, "just as fine as can be. there, they are coming after us," as quick footsteps sounded in the hall below. "hurry, charlotte, do. we're coming, boys," she called. they had just finished dinner, when a note was handed polly. it ran thus: "do, dear polly, run over to-morrow morning early. i want to consult you in regard to asking miss chatterton to sing at my next 'at home.' i should be charmed to have her favor us. "felicia a. cabot." "the very thing!" exclaimed jasper, with only a thought for polly's pleasure, when polly had cried, "how nice of mrs. cabot!" "don't you say so, father?" he added. "assuredly," said old mr. king with great satisfaction in polly's pleasure, and at her success in drawing charlotte out. and then he thought no more about it, and the bell ringing and mr. alstyne coming in, he went off into the library for a quiet chat. and after this, there were no more quiet days for charlotte chatterton. everybody who was musical, wanted to revel in her voice; and everybody who wasn't, wanted the same thing because it was so talked about. so she was asked to sing at musicales and receptions without end, until alexia exclaimed at last, "they are all raving, stark-mad over her, and it's all polly's own fault, the whole of it." phronsie laid down the note she was writing to mrs. fargo, a fortnight later, and said to herself, "i would better do it now, i think," and going out, she went deliberately to old mr. king's room, and rapped at the door. "come in!" called the old gentleman, "come in! oh, bless me, it's you, phronsie!" in pleased surprise. "yes, grandpapa," said phronsie, coming in and shutting the door carefully, "i came on purpose to see you all alone." "so you did, dear," said mr. king, highly gratified, and pushing away his writing table, he held out his hand. "now, then, phronsie, you are never going to be too big, you know, to sit on my knee, so hop up now." "oh, no, grandpapa," cried phronsie in a rapture, "i could never be too big for that," so she perched up as of old on his knee, then she folded her hands and looked gravely in his face. "well, my dear, what is it?" asked the old gentleman presently, "you've come to tell me something, i suppose." "yes, grandpapa, i have," said phronsie decidedly, "and it is most important too, grandpapa, and oh, i do wish it so much," and she clasped her hands tighter and sighed. "well, then, phronsie, if you want it, i suppose it must be," said mr. king, quite as a matter of course. "but first, child, tell me what it is," and he stroked her yellow hair. "grandpapa," asked phronsie suddenly, "how much money did mrs. chatterton say i was to have?" "oh, bless me!" exclaimed mr. king, with a start. "why, what makes you ask such a question? oh, she left you everything she had, phronsie; a couple of millions or so it is; why?" "grandpapa," asked phronsie, looking intently at him, "isn't charlotte very, very poor?" "charlotte poor?" repeated the old gentleman. "why, no, not exactly; her father isn't rich, but charlotte, i think, may do very well, especially as i intend to keep her here for a while, and then i shall never let her suffer, phronsie; never, indeed." "grandpapa," said phronsie, "wasn't mrs. chatterton aunt to charlotte?" "yes; that is, to charlotte's father," corrected mr. king. "but what of that, child, pray? what have you got into your head, phronsie?" "if mrs. chatterton was aunt to charlotte," persisted phronsie slowly, "it seems as if charlotte ought to have some of the money. it really does, grandpapa." "but cousin eunice didn't think so, else she'd have left it to charlotte," said mr. king abruptly, "and she did choose to leave it to you. so there's an end of it, phronsie. i didn't want you to have it, but the thing was fixed, and i couldn't help myself. and neither can we do anything now, but take matters as they are." "i do think," said phronsie, without taking her eyes from his face, "that maybe mrs. chatterton is sorry now, and wishes that she had left some money to charlotte. don't you suppose so, grandpapa?" and one hand stole up to his neck. "maybe," said the old gentleman, with a short laugh, "and i shouldn't wonder if cousin eunice was sorry over a few other things too, phronsie." "wouldn't it make her very glad if i gave charlotte some of the money?" phronsie's red lips were very close to his ear now, "oh, i do want to so much; you can't think, grandpapa, how much!" for answer, mr. king set her down hastily on the floor, and took two or three turns up and down the room. phronsie stood a moment quite still where he left her, then she ran up to him and slipped her hand within his. "oh, i do so wish i might," she said, "there's so much for a little girl like me. it would be so nice to have charlotte have some with me." still no answer. so phronsie went up and down silently by his side for a few more turns. then she spoke again. "does it make you sorry, grandpapa dear, to have me want charlotte to have the money with me?" she asked timidly. "no, no, child," answered mr. king hastily, "and yet i don't know what to say. i don't feel that it would be right for you to give any of your money to her." "right?" cried phronsie, opening her brown eyes very wide. "why, isn't the money my very own, grandpapa?" "yes, yes, of course; but you are too young to judge of such things," said the old gentleman decidedly, "as the giving away of property and all that." "oh, grandpapa!" exclaimed phronsie, in gentle reproach, and standing very tall. "why, i am thirteen." "and when you get to be ten years older, you might blame me," said mr. king, "and i can't say but what you'd have reason if i let you do such a thing as to give away any money to charlotte." "blame you? why, grandpapa, i couldn't." phronsie drew a long breath, then threw herself convulsively into his arms, her face working hard in her efforts not to cry. but it was no use, and mr. king caught her in time to see the quick drops roll down phronsie's cheek and to feel them fall on his hand. "oh, dear me!" he cried in great distress, "there, there, child, you shall give away the whole if you wish; i've enough for you without it--only don't cry, phronsie. you may do anything you like, dear. there," mopping up her wet little face with his handkerchief, "now that's a good child; phronsie, you are not going to cry, of course not. there, do smile a bit; that's my girl now," as a faint light stole into phronsie's eyes. "i didn't mean you'd really blame me, only"-"i couldn't," still said phronsie, and it looked as if the shower were about to fall again. "i know, child; you think your old grandpapa does just about right," said mr. king soothingly, and highly gratified. "he's ever and always right," said phronsie, still not moving. "bless you, child," cried the old gentleman, much moved, "i wish i could say i believed what you say. but many things in my life might have been bettered." "oh, no, grandpapa," protested phronsie in a tone of horror, "they couldn't have been better. don't, grandpapa, don't!" she caught him around the neck imploringly. "well, i won't, child," promised mr. king, holding her close. "and now, phronsie, i'll tell you; i'll think of all this that you and i have talked over, and i'll let you know by and by what you ought to do about it, and you mustn't say anything about it to anybody, not to a single soul, child. it shall be just a secret between you and me." "i won't, grandpapa," said phronsie obediently, and patting his broad back with her soft hand. "and, meantime," said mr. king, quite satisfied, "why, charlotte is having pretty good times, i think. polly is looking out for that." "polly is making her have beautiful times," said phronsie happily, "oh, very beautiful times indeed, grandpapa." "i expect she's an awful nuisance," the old gentleman broke out suddenly. "oh, grandpapa!" exclaimed phronsie, breaking away from him to look into his face. "well, well, perhaps i shouldn't say quite that," said mr. king, correcting himself. "but, well, now, phronsie, you run back to your play, child, and i'll set to work at once to think out this matter." "i was writing a note to mrs. fargo," said phronsie, putting up her lips for a kiss. "you are sure you won't make your head ache thinking about it, grandpapa?" she asked anxiously. "sure as i can be, phronsie," said old mr. king, smiling. "good-by, dear." * * * * * "see here, pickering," mr. cabot threw wide the door of his private office with a nervous hand. "it is time i had a good talk with you. come in; i never get one nowadays." "can't stop, uncle," said pickering hastily. "besides, what would be the use, you never see anything encouraging about me or my career. and i believe i am going to the dogs." "indeed you are not, pickering," cried mr. cabot quickly, the color rising to his cheek. "there, there, my sister's boy shall never say that. but come in, come in." he laid hold of pickering's arm and gently forced him into the little room. not to be ungracious, the young man threw himself into a chair. "well, what is it, uncle? do out with it; i'm in no mood for a lecture, though, this morning." "i'm not going to lecture you, my boy," said mr. cabot, closing the door, then going to the mantel to lean one elbow on it, a favorite attitude of his, while he scanned his nephew. "but something worse than common has come to you. can i help in any way?" "no, no, don't ask me," ejaculated pickering, striking his knee with one glove, and turning apprehensively in his chair. "oh, hang it, uncle, why can't you let me alone?" "i've seen this thing, whatever it is, coming upon you for sometime," said mr. cabot, too nervous to notice the entreaty in pickering's voice and manner, "and i cannot wait any longer to find out the trouble. it's my right, pickering; you have no father to see to you, and i've always wanted to have the best success be yours." he turned away his head now, a break coming in his voice. [illustration: "i'm not going to lecture you."] "you have, uncle, you have," assented pickering, brought out a trifle from his distress, "but then i'm not equal to the strain my relatives put upon me. not worth it, either," he added, relapsing into his gloom. then he shoved his chair so that he could not look his uncle in the face, and bent a steady glance out of the window. mr. cabot gave a nervous start that carried him away from the mantel a step or two. but when he was there, he felt so much worse, that he soon got back into the old position. "i don't see, pickering," he resumed, "why you shouldn't get along. you're through college." "which is a wonder," interpolated pickering. "well, i can't say but that i was a good deal disturbed at one time," said mr. cabot frankly; "but never mind that now, you are through," and he heaved a sigh of relief, "and nicely established with van metre and cartwright. it's the best law firm in the town, pickering." mr. cabot brought his elbow off from the mantel enough to smite his palms together smartly in enthusiasm. "i got you in there." "i know you did, uncle," said pickering; "you've done everything that's good. only i repeat i'm not worth it," and he drummed on the chair-arm. "for heaven's sake, pickering!" cried his uncle, darting in front of the chair and its restless occupant, "don't say that again. it's enough to make a man go to the bad, to lose hope. what have you been doing lately? do you gamble?" "what do you take me for?" demanded pickering, starting to his feet with flashing eyes, and throwing open his top-coat as if the weight oppressed him. "i've been a lazy dog all my life, and a good-for-naught; but i hope i've not sunk to that." "oh, nothing, nothing--i'm sure i didn't mean," cried mr. cabot, starting back suddenly in astonishment. "dear me, pickering," taking off his eyeglasses to blow his nose, "you needn't pick me up so violently. i've been much worried about you," settling his glasses again for another look at his nephew. "and i can't tolerate any thoughts i cannot speak." "i should think not," retorted pickering shortly; "the trouble is in having the thoughts." "and i am very much relieved to find that my fears are groundless--that you've been about nothing that my sister or i should be ashamed of," and he picked up courage to step forward gingerly and pat the young man on the shoulder. "you are in trouble, though, and i insist on knowing what it is." pickering dropped suddenly beneath his uncle's hand, into the nearest chair. chapter xi. things are getting mixed. "how can you ask me, uncle?" cried pickering passionately. "because i will know." mr. cabot was quite determined. "well, then, if you must have it, it's--it's polly pepper." pickering could get no further. "it's polly pepper!" ejaculated mr. cabot. then a light broke over his face, and he laughed aloud, he was so pleased. "you mean, you are in love with polly pepper?" "as if everybody didn't know it?" cried pickering hotly. "don't pretend, uncle, that you are surprised;" he was really disrespectful now in manner. "oh, beg pardon, sir," recovering himself. "never mind," said mr. cabot indulgently, "you are over-wrought this morning. my boy," and he came over and clapped his nephew on the back approvingly, "that's the best thing you ever told me; you make me very happy, and"-"hold, uncle," cried pickering, darting away from the hand, "don't go so fast. you are taking too much for granted." mr. cabot for answer, bestowed another rap, this time on pickering's arm, indulging all the while in the broadest of smiles. just then some one knocked at the door, and in response to mr. cabot's unwilling "come in," ben's head appeared. "beg pardon, mr. cabot, but mr. van metre wants you out here." pickering lunged past ben. "don't stop me," he cried crossly, in response to ben's "well, old fellow." ben stared after him with puzzled eyes as he shot down the long store; and all that afternoon he could not get pickering and his strange ways out of his mind, and on the edge of the twilight, jumping out of his car at the corner nearest home, he buttoned up his coat and rushed on, regardless that billy harlowe was making frantic endeavors to overtake him. "what's got into the old chap," said ben to himself, pushing on doggedly with the air of a man who has thoughts of his own to think out. "i declare, if i should know pickering dodge lately; i can't tell where to find him." [illustration: "don't stop me," cried pickering crossly.] and with no light on his puzzle, ben turned into the stone gateway, and strode up to the east porch to let himself in as usual, with his latch key. as he was fitting it absently, all the while his mind more intent on pickering and his changed demeanor than on his own affairs, he heard a little rustling noise that made him turn his head to see a tall figure spring down the veranda floor in haste to gain the quickest angle. "charlotte, why, what are you doing out here?" exclaimed ben, leaving his key in the lock to look at her. "don't speak!" begged charlotte hastily, and coming up to him. "somebody will hear you. i came out here to walk up and down--i shall die in that house; and i am going home to-morrow." she nervously twisted her handkerchief around her fingers, and ben still looking at her closely, saw that she had been crying. "charlotte, what are you talking about?" he cried, opening his honest blue eyes wide at her. "why, i thought you had ever so much sense, and that you were way ahead of other girls, except polly," he added, quite as a matter of course. "don't!" cried charlotte, wincing, and, "but i shall go home to-morrow." "look here," ben took out his key and tucked it into his pocket, then faced charlotte, "take a turn up and down, charlotte; you'll pull out of your bad fit; you're homesick." ben's honest face glowed with pity as he looked at her. "i'm--i'm everything," said charlotte desperately. "o, ben, you can't think," she seized his arm, "polly is just having a dreadful time because i'm here." "see here, now," said ben, taking the hand on his arm in a strong grip, as if it were polly's, "don't you go to getting such an idea into your head, charlotte." "i can't help it," said charlotte; "it was put there," she added bitterly. ben gave a start of surprise. "well, you are not the sort of girl to believe such stuff, any way," he said. charlotte pulled away her hand. "i'm going home," she declared flatly. "indeed you are not," said ben, quite as decidedly. "o, yes, i am." "we'll see;" he nodded at her. "take my advice, charlotte, and don't make a muff of yourself. "it's very easy for you to talk," cried charlotte, a little pink spot of anger rising on either cheek, "you have everybody to love you, and to be glad you are here; very easy, indeed!" with that, she walked off, swinging her gown disdainfully after her. "whew!" ejaculated ben, "well, i must say i'm surprised at you, charlotte. i didn't suppose you could be jealous." "jealous?" charlotte flamed around at him. "o, ben pepper, what do you mean?" "you are just as jealous as you can be," said ben honestly, "absolutely green." "i'd have you to know i never was jealous in my life," said charlotte, quite pale now, and standing very still. "you don't know it, but you are," said ben imperturbably; "when people begin to talk about other folks being loved and happy and all that, they're always jealous. why in the world don't you think how everybody is loving you and wanting to make you happy?" it was quite a long speech for ben, and he was overcome with astonishment at himself for having made it. [illustration: "i'm going home." declared charlotte.] "because they are not," said charlotte bitterly, "at least, they can't love me, if they do try to make me happy." "stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed ben. "and polly"--then charlotte pulled herself up. "well, what about polly?" demanded ben. "oh, nothing." charlotte twisted uneasily, and shut her lips tightly together. "if you think my sister polly doesn't love you and want to make you happy, there's no use in my talking to you," said ben, in a displeased way. "i didn't say so," cried charlotte quickly. "oh, don't go. you are the only one who can help me," as he made a movement toward the door. "i never told anybody else, and they don't guess." "and it's a pity that they should now," said ben. "i tell you, charlotte, if you never say anything like this again, i'll believe that you're the girl i thought you, with plenty of sense, and all that. there, give us your hand. hurry up, now; here comes phronsie." charlotte slowly laid her hand in ben's big palm, as phronsie opened the oaken door, and peered out into the darkness. "i can't think what makes ben so late," she said softly to herself. "i'm going into the other door," said charlotte, springing off down the veranda. "halloo, pet!" ben rushed into the hall, and seized phronsie for a good hug. "o, ben, you're so late!" cried phronsie. "well, i'm here now," said ben comfortably. "you can't think what has happened," said phronsie, with a delightful air of mystery. "to be sure i can't; but you are going to tell me," declared ben with assurance. "o, bensie, i'd so much rather you would guess," said phronsie, clasping her hands. "well, then, you have a new cat," said ben at a hazard, while he disposed of his coat and hat. "o, ben," cried phronsie in reproach, "why, i've given up having new cats; indeed i have." "since when?" asked ben. "why, last week. i really have. i'm not going to get any more," said phronsie. ben shouted. at the sound of his voice, somebody called over the stairs, "o, ben, are you home? come up here." "come on, pet," cried ben, "we're wanted," seizing phronsie, and hurrying off to the stairs. "i did so want to tell you myself," mourned phronsie on the way. "then you shall." ben set her on the floor suddenly. "i'll come up in a minute or so," he called. "there now, phronsie, we'll have the wonderful news. out with it, child." "i don't suppose you ever could guess," said phronsie, pausing a moment, "i really don't, ben, because this is something you never would think of." "no, i'm quite sure i should never guess in all the world," said ben decidedly, "so let us have it." "grandpapa has promised to give us a surprise party," announced phronsie, with careful scrutiny to see the effect of her news. "a surprise party? goodness me!" exploded ben, "what do you mean, phronsie?" "a surprise party to go and see jasper; and we are to start to-morrow. now, ben!" and phronsie, her news all out, beamed up into his face. "oh, so it's jasper's surprise party," cried ben. "yes, and it's ours too; because you see we didn't any of us think grandpapa was going to do it," said phronsie. "well, it's my surprise party, too," said ben lugubriously, "for i'm astonished; and beside i'm left out in the cold." "o, ben, can't you go?" cried phronsie, her face falling instantly. "no, pet; wait till you get to be a business man and you'll see that surprise parties can't be indulged in very often." "won't mr. cabot let you go?" asked phronsie, with an anxious droop of the head. "o, i think he will; truly i do." "i sha'n't ask him," said ben; "i'm sure of that." "but grandpapa will," said phronsie, her face changing. "no, no, pet; you mustn't say anything about that. i'd rather stick to the business. there, come on; they're wild, i suppose, upstairs, to tell the news." just then some one called phronsie. "oh, dear," she sighed involuntarily, as ben sped over the stairs without her. "i thought you were never coming home, ben," said polly, meeting him in the upper hall. "oh, we've such a fine thing to tell you!" "i'm going to guess," said ben wisely. "oh, you never can," declared polly; "never in all this world. don't try." "can't i, though? give me a chance. you are to have a surprise party, and go to see jasper. there!" "how did you guess?" cried polly in wide-eyed astonishment. ben burst into a hearty laugh. "well, i met phronsie, if you must know." "of course," laughed polly; "how stupid in me! well, was ever anything so fine in all this world?" and she danced down the hall, and came back flushed and panting. "and grandpapa has written to tell mr. cabot how it is, and to ask for a day or two off for you," she said, with a little pat on his back. "o, polly!" exclaimed ben, in dismay, "grandpapa shouldn't--i mean, i ought not to go. i'd really rather not." "well, grandpapa says that you are working too hard, bensie, and it's quite true," polly gave him another pat, this time a motherly one; "and so you are going." but ben shook his head. "and we start to-morrow," ran on polly, "and jasper doesn't know a word about our coming; and we are going to stay at the hotel two or three days." and here phronsie ran eagerly up the stairs. "and it's going to be lovely, and not rain any of the time; and we are to take jasper a box full of everything," she announced in great excitement. "we began to pack it the very minute that grandpapa told us we were to go." "that's fine! well, i'll drop something into that box," said ben. "of course," said polly, in great satisfaction. "and jasper wouldn't like it not to have something of ben's in it," said phronsie. "well, now, bensie, run down after dinner and ask pickering dodge to go. that's a good boy." polly patted the broad back coaxingly this time. ben's face fell. "how do you know that grandpapa would like to have him along?" he asked abruptly. "as if i'd ask you to invite him," cried polly, "unless grandpapa had said he could go. the very idea, ben!" "well, something is the matter with pick," confessed ben unwillingly, "and i don't want to ask him." "something the matter with pickering?" repeated polly in dismay. "o, ben, is he sick?" "no," said ben bluntly, "but he's cross." "o, ben, then something very bad must have happened," said polly, "for pickering is almost never cross." "well, i don't know what to make of him," said ben; "he's been queer for a week now, more or less, and to-day he wouldn't speak to me; just shot off telling me to let him alone;" and ben rapidly laid before polly the little scene of the morning in the store. "now, ben," said polly, when it was all over, "i know really that something dreadful is the matter with pickering, and i shall send him a note to come here to-night. he must tell us what it is. i'm going to write it now." and polly sped off to her room, followed by phronsie. ben went slowly down the hall to get ready for dinner. "i don't know how it is," he said, "but everything seems to be getting mixed up in this house, and all our good, quiet times gone. and now what can charlotte have heard to make her want to go home?" and all the time during dinner, ben kept up a steady thinking, until polly, looking across the table, caught his eye. "don't worry," her smile said, "i've sent a note to pickering, and we'll find out what the trouble is." ben sat straight in his chair, and nodded back at her. "i can't tell her now that pick is not what i'm stewing over," he said to himself, "and i can't tell her any time, either, for charlotte has heard something that makes her think polly is bothered by her being here. i must just fuss at it myself till i straighten it out." so when pickering dodge, with a radiant face at being sent for by polly's own hand, ran lightly up the steps of the king mansion, about an hour later, ben hurried off to find charlotte chatterton. "i can't come down," called charlotte from the upper hall, "i'm tired; good-night." "so am i tired," declared ben, "but i'm going to talk to you, charlotte," he added, decidedly. "no; i don't want to talk," said charlotte, shaking her head. "good-night. thank you, ben," she added a bit pleasanter, "but i'm not going down." "indeed you are!" said ben obstinately. "i'm not going to stir from this spot," he struck his hand on the stair railing, "until you are down here. come, charlotte." "no," began charlotte, but the next moment she was on the stairs, saying as she went slowly down, "i don't want to talk, ben. there isn't anything to say." "now that's something like," observed ben cheerfully, as she reached his side. "come in here, do, charlotte," leading the way into mother fisher's little sewing-room. "but i'm not going to talk," reiterated charlotte, following him in. "you are going to talk enough so that i can know how to get this ridiculous idea out of your head," said ben, as he closed the door on them both. mr. cabot hurried into his wife's room, his face lighted with great satisfaction. "well, felicia," he said, "i believe i needn't worry about that boy any more." "who, pickering?" asked mrs. cabot, with a last little touch to the lace at her throat. "of course pickering. well, he's in better hands than mine. oh, i'm so glad to be rid of him;" and he threw himself into an easy chair and beamed at her. "what in the world do you mean, mr. cabot?" demanded his wife. "you haven't had another fuss with pickering? oh, i'm quite sure he'll do well in the law, if you'll only have patience a little longer." "nonsense, felicia," said mr. cabot, "as if i'd get him out of that office, when it was such a piece of work to fasten him in there. well, to make a long story short, he loves polly pepper. think of that, felicia!" and mr. cabot, in his joy, got out of the chair and began to rush up and down the room, rubbing his hands together in glee. "o, mr. cabot--mr. cabot," cried his wife, flying after him, "you don't mean to say that pickering and polly are betrothed? was ever anything so lovely! oh! never mind about dinner; i couldn't eat a mouthful. i must go right around there, and get my arms around that dear girl. tell biggs to put the horses in at once." "stop just one moment, felicia, for heaven's sake!" cried mr. cabot, putting himself in front of her; "that's just like a woman; only hear the first word, and off she goes!" "do order the carriage," begged mrs. cabot, with dancing eyes. "i can't wait an instant, but i must tell polly how glad we are. and of course you'll come too, mr. cabot. oh, dear, it's such blessed news!" "i didn't say they were engaged," began mr. cabot frantically, "i--i"-"didn't say that polly and pickering were engaged?" repeated mrs. cabot. "well, what did you say, mr. cabot?" "i said he loved her," said mr. cabot. "o, felicia, it's the making of the boy," he added jubilantly. mrs. cabot sank into her husband's deserted chair, unable to find a word. chapter xii. polly tries to do what is right. "o, pickering!" polly actually ran into the drawing-room with outstretched hands. "why did jencks put you in here?" "i asked to come in here," said pickering. "i don't want to see a lot of people to-night; i only want you, polly." "but mamsie could help you--she'd know the right thing to say to you," said polly. "no, no!" cried pickering in alarm, and edging off into a corner. "do sit down, polly, i--i want to talk to you." so polly sat down, her eyes fastened on his face, and wishing all the while that mamsie would come in. "i don't wonder you think i'm in a bad way," began pickering nervously; "it was awfully good in you to send for me, polly, awfully." "why, i couldn't help it," said polly. "you know it's just like having one of the boys in trouble, to have you worried, pickering." "yes, yes," said pickering, "i know." "well, i want to tell you something," began polly radiantly, thinking it better to cheer him up a bit with her news before getting at the root of his trouble. "do you know that grandpapa is going to take us all to-morrow to see jasper? it's to be a surprise party." "ah," said pickering, all his gladness gone. "yes; and grandpapa wants you to go with us, pickering," polly went on. "oh, dear me--i can't--can't possibly!" exclaimed pickering, in a tone of horror. "don't ask me, polly. anything but that." "o, yes, you can," laughed polly, determined to get him out of his strange mood. "why, pickering, we don't want to go without you. it would spoil all our fun." "well, i can't go," cried pickering, in an agony at being misunderstood. "i'd do anything in the world you ask, polly, but that." "why not, you ridiculous boy?" asked polly, quite as if it were joel who was before her. "because jasper and i don't speak to each other," pickering bolted out; "we had a fight." [illustration: "what do you say?" cried polly.] polly sprang to her feet. "what do you say?" she cried. "it's beastly, i know," declared pickering, his face aflame, "but, polly, if you knew--i really couldn't help it; jasper was"-"don't tell me that it was any of jasper's doings," cried polly vehemently, clasping her hands tightly together, so afraid she might say something to make the matter worse. "i know, pickering, it was quite your own fault if you won't speak." "o, polly!" exclaimed pickering, the hot blood all over his face, "don't say that; please don't." "i must; because i know it is the truth," said polly uncompromisingly. "if it isn't, why, then come with us to-morrow, pickering," and her brow cleared. "i can't, polly, i can't possibly," cried pickering in distress; "ask me anything but that, and i'll do it." "this is the only thing that you ought to do," said polly coldly. "o, pickering, suppose that anything should happen so that you never could speak!" she added reproachfully. "i'm sure i don't want to speak to a man when i've broken friendship with him," said pickering sullenly. "what is there to talk about, i'd like to know?" "if you've broken friendship with jasper, i'm quite, quite sure it is your own fault," hotly declared polly again; "jasper never turned away from a friend in his life." and polly broke off suddenly and walked down the long room, aghast to find how angry she was at each step. "don't you turn away from me, polly," begged pickering in such a piteous tone that polly felt little twinges of remorse, and in a minute she was by his side again. "i didn't mean to be cross," she said quickly, "but you mustn't say such things, pickering." "i must tell you the truth," said pickering doggedly, "and that is that i've broken friendship with jasper, and i can't speak to him." "pickering," said polly, whirling abruptly to get a good look at his face, "you must speak to jasper," and she drew a long breath. "i tell you i can't," said pickering, his face paling with the effort to control himself. "then," said polly, very deliberately, yet with a glow of determination, "you can't speak to me; so good-night, pickering," and she ran out of the room. pickering stared after her a moment in a dazed way, then picked up his hat, and darted out of the house, shutting the door hard behind him. polly, hurrying over the stairs to her own room, kept saying to herself over and over, "oh! how could i have said that--how could i? when i want to help him--and now i have made everything worse." "polly," called mrs. fisher, as polly sped by her door, "you are going to take the noon train, you know, to-morrow, mr. king says; so you can pack in the morning easily." "i'm not going, mamsie; that is--i hope we are not any of us going," said polly incoherently, as she tried to hurry by. "not going! polly, child, what do you mean?" cried mrs. fisher aghast. "o, mamsie, don't ask me," begged polly, having hard work to keep the tears back. "do forgive me, but need i tell?" and polly stopped and clung to the knob of the door. "no, polly, if you cannot tell mother your trouble willingly, i will not ask it, child." and mrs. fisher turned off, and began to busy herself over her work. polly, quite broken down by this, deserted her door-knob, and rushed into the bedroom. "o, mamsie, it's about--about other people, and i didn't know as i ought to tell. need i?" cried polly imploringly, seizing her mother's gown just as phronsie would. "no more had you a right to tell, polly," said her mother, "if that is the case," and she turned a cheerful face toward her; "i can trust my girl, that she won't keep anything that is her own, away from me. there, there;" and she smoothed polly's brown hair with her hand. "how i used to be always telling you to brush your hair, and now how nice it looks, polly," she added approvingly. "it's the same fly-away hair now," said polly, throwing back her rebellious locks with an impatient toss of the head. "oh! how i do wish i had smooth hair like charlotte's." "fly-away hair, when it's taken care of as it ought to be," observed mrs. fisher, "is one thing, and when it's all sixes and sevens because a girl doesn't have time to brush it, is another. your hair is all right now, polly, there, go, child;" and she dismissed her with a final loving pat. "i can trust you, and when your worry gets too big for you, why, bring it to mother." so polly, up in her own room at last, crept into a corner, and there went over every word, bitterly lamenting what she had done. at last she could endure it no longer, and she sprang up. "i'll write a note to pickering and say i am sorry," she cried to herself. "maybe ben will take it to him. o, dear! i forgot; ben is vexed with him; but perhaps he will leave it at the door. any way, i'll ask him." so polly scribbled down hastily: dear pickering: i am so sorry i said those words to you; i don't see how i came to. do forget them, and forgive polly. "ben, ben!" polly ran over the stairs, nervously twirling the little note. "o, dear me, where are you, ben?" "here," called ben, "in mamsie's sewing-room." "oh! i beg your pardon," exclaimed polly, throwing wide the door on the tete-a-tete ben was having with charlotte. "come in, polly," cried ben, his blue eyes glowing with welcome. "that's all right; you don't interrupt us. charlotte and i were having a bit of a talk, but we're through. now what's the matter?" with a good look at polly's face. "o, ben, if you could," began polly fearfully, "it's only this," waving the note with trembling fingers. "now do say you will take this note to pickering dodge." "why, i thought you sent him a note before dinner," said ben in surprise. "so i did; and he came," said polly, her head drooping in a shamefaced way, "and i was cross to him." "o, polly, you cross to him!" exclaimed ben; "as if i'd believe that!" while charlotte stared at her with wide eyes. "i truly was," confessed polly. "there, don't stop, ben, to talk about it, please, but do take this note," thrusting it at him. but ben shook his head. "i thought i told you, polly, that pick don't want to speak to me. how in the world can i go at him?" at this charlotte stared worse than ever. "you needn't go in the house," said polly, "just leave it at the door. ah, do, ben;" she went up to him and coaxingly patted his cheek. "all right, as long as you don't want me to bore him," said ben, slowly getting out of his chair. "here, give us your note, polly. of course you'll make me do as you say." "you're just as splendid as you can be," cried polly joyfully. "there, now, bensie," pushing the note into his hand, "do hurry, that's a good boy." and in a quarter of an hour, ben rushed in, meeting polly in the hall, kis face aglow, and eyes shining. "here, polly, catch it," tossing her a note; "that's from pick." "why, did you see him?" asked polly, in amazement. "yes; couldn't help it--he was rushing out the door like a whirlwind, and we came together on the steps," said ben, with a burst of laughter at the remembrance, "and we spoke before we meant to; couldn't help it, you know; just ran into each other--and he read your note, and then he flew into the house, and was gone a moment or two, and came back mumbling it was all his fault, and he'd written; that you'd understand, or something of that sort, and he gave me this note to carry back; and i guess pick is all right, polly." ben drew a long breath of relief after he got through; he was so unaccustomed to long speeches. polly tore open her note, and stooped to read it by the dancing flames of the hall fire. to show that i forgive you, polly, i'll go to-morrow with you all to see jasper. pickering. "won't jasper be surprised?" phronsie kept exclaiming over and over, when they were once fairly in the cars; much to old mr. king's delight, who never tired of congratulating himself on planning the outing. "grandpapa dear, i do think it was, oh! so lovely in you to take us all." "well, jasper has been working hard lately," said the old gentleman, "and it will be no end of good to him even if it doesn't agree with you, my pet," pinching phronsie's ear. "oh, but it does agree with me," said phronsie in great satisfaction, "very much, indeed, grandpapa." "so it seems," said the old gentleman. "well, now, phronsie," glancing around at the rest of his party, "everything is moving on well, and i believe i'll take a bit of a nap; that is, if that youngster," with a nod toward the end of the car, "will allow me to." "i don't believe that baby will cry any more," said phronsie, with a hopeful glance whence the disturbing sounds came, "he can't, grandpapa; he's cried so much. now do lean your head back; i'm going to put this rug under it;" and phronsie began to pull out a traveling blanket from the roll. polly, across the car aisle, laid down her book, and clambered out her seat. "let me take baby," she said, coming up unsteadily to the pale little woman who was endeavoring to pacify a stout, red-cheeked boy a year old, just beginning on a fresh series of roars. an old gentleman in the seat back, laid down the paper he had been trying to read, to see the fresh attempts on the small disturber. "he'll tire you out, miss," said the pale little woman deprecatingly. "there, there, johnny, do be still," with an uneasy pull at johnny's red skirt. "indeed he won't," laughed polly merrily. hearing this, johnny stopped beating the window in the vain effort to get out, and deliberately looked polly over. "i like babies," added polly, "and if you'll let me," to the little mother, "i'm going to play with this one." and without waiting for an answer, she sat down in the end of the seat, and held out her hands alluringly to johnny. "young lady, there are babies and babies," observed the old gentleman solemnly, and leaning over the back of the seat, he regarded polly over his spectacles with pitying eyes, "and i'd advise you to have nothing to do with this particular one." but johnny was already scrambling all over polly's traveling gown, and she was laughing at him. and presently the pale little woman was stretched comfortably on the opposite seat, her eyes closed restfully. "well done!" cried the old gentleman; "i'll read my paper while the calm spell lasts;" as the train rumbled on, the sound only broken by johnny's delighted little gurgles, as polly played "rabbit and fox" for his delectation. phronsie looked down the intervening space, and heaved a sigh at polly's employment. "don't worry; i like it," telegraphed polly, nodding away to her. so phronsie turned again to her watch, lest grandpapa's head should slip from the blanket pillow in a sudden lurch of the cars. "i'd help her if i knew how," charlotte, several seats off, groaned to herself, "but that lump of a baby would only roar at me. dear, dear, am i never to be any good to polly?" she leaned her troubled face against the window-side, her chin resting on her hand, and gave herself up to the old thoughts. "what did ben say?" she cried suddenly, flying away from the window so abruptly that she involuntarily glanced around to be quite sure that none of her fellow-passengers were laughing at her. "'you may be sure, charlotte, if you keep on the lookout, there will a time come for you to help polly.' that's what he said, and i'll hold fast to it." on and on the train rumbled. the little mother woke up with a new light in her eyes, and a pink color on her cheeks. "i haven't had such a sleep in weeks," she said gratefully. then she leaned forward. "i'll take johnny now," she said; "you must be so tired." but johnny roared out "no," and beat her off with small fists and feet. "he's going to sleep," said polly, looking down at him snuggled up tightly within her arm, his heavy eyelids slowly drooping, "then i'll put him down on the seat, and tuck him up for a good long nap." at the word "sleep" johnny screamed out, "no, no!" and thrust his fat knuckles into his eyes, while he tried to sit up straight in polly's lap. "there, there," cried polly soothingly, "now fly back, little bird, into your nest." johnny showed all the small white teeth he possessed, in a gleeful laugh, and burrowed deeper than before within the kind arm as he tried to play "bo-peep" with her. "you see," said polly, to the little mother's worried look; "he'll soon be off in nodland," she added softly. "i've never had any one be so good to me," said johnny's mother brokenly, "as you, miss." "is johnny your only little boy?" asked polly, to stop the flow of gratitude. "yes, miss; i've buried four children." "oh!" exclaimed polly, quite hushed. the little mother wiped away the tears from her eyes, and looked out of the window, steadily fixing her gaze on the distant landscape. and the train sped on. "but the worst is, the father is gone." she turned again to polly, then glanced down at her black dress. "johnny and me have no one now." "don't try to tell me," cried polly involuntarily, "if it pains you." she would have taken the thin hand in hers, but johnny's uneasy breathing showed him still contesting every inch of progress the "children's sandman" was making toward him, and she didn't dare to move. "it does me good," said the little woman, "somehow, i must tell you, miss. and now i'm going to fall river. somebody told me i'd get work there in the print mills. you see, i haven't any father nor mother, nor anybody belonging to johnny's father nor me." "are you sure of getting work when you reach fall river?" asked polly, feeling all the thrill of a great lonely world, for two such little helpless beings to be cast adrift in it. "no'm," said the little woman; "but it's a big mill, they say, and has to have lots of women in it, and there must be a place for me. i do think that times are going to be good now for johnny and me, and"-a crash like that when the lightning begins on deadly work; a surging, helpless tossing from side to side, when the hands strike blindly out on either side for something to cling to; a sudden fall, down, down, to unknown depths; a confused medley of shouts, and one long shuddering scream. "oh! what"--began polly, holding to johnny through it all. and then she knew no more. chapter xiii. the accident. a roaring sound close to her ear made polly start, and open her eyes. johnny's fat arms were clutched around her neck so tightly she could scarcely breathe, while he was screaming as hard as he could. --"is the matter?" cried polly, finishing her sentence. a pair of strong arms were lifting her up, and pulling her from beneath something, she could not tell what, that was lying heavily over her, while johnny rolled off like a ball. "o, ben!" cried polly gratefully, as the arms carried her off. and then she saw the face above her: "why, pickering!" "are you hurt anywhere?" gasped pickering, speaking the words with difficulty. "what is it?" cried polly, in a dazed way. "there's been an accident," said pickering. "oh, polly, say you're not hurt!" as he set her carefully down. "an accident!" exclaimed polly, and she sprang to her feet and glanced wildly around. "pickering--where--where"--she couldn't ask "are phronsie and ben and grandpapa?" but pickering cried at once, "all right--every single one. here comes phronsie, and ben too." and phronsie running up, with streaming hair and white cheeks, threw glad arms around her neck. "oh, polly, are you hurt?" and ben seized her, but at that she winced; and her left arm fell heavily to her side. "where's baby?" cried polly, trying to cover up the expression of pain; "do somebody look after him." "charlotte has him," said phronsie, looking off to a grassy bank by the railroad track, where charlotte chatterton sat with johnny in her lap. polly followed the glance, then off to the broken car, one end of which lay in ruins across the rails, and to the crowds of people running to the scene, in the midst of which was the fearful hush that proclaimed death. "oh! do come and help," called polly, and before they knew it, she was dashing off, and running over the grass, up to the track. "there was a woman--johnny's mother," she cried, pushing her way into the crowd, phronsie and ben and pickering close behind--"in the seat opposite me." two or three men were picking up a still figure they had just pried out from the ruins of the car-end, dropped helplessly on its side, just as it fell when the fatal blow came. "let me see her," said polly hoarsely. they turned the face obediently; there was a long, terrible gash on the forehead that showed death to have come instantly to johnny's mother, and that "good times" had already begun for her, and her weary feet were safely at rest in the heavenly home. polly drew a long breath, and bending suddenly dropped a kiss on the peaceful cheek; then she drew out her handkerchief, and softly laid it over the dead face. "take her to that farmhouse." she pointed to a large white house off in the fields. "i will go there--but i must help here first." [illustration: "oh, polly, are you hurt?"] "yes, miss," said the men obediently, moving off with their burden. "polly--polly, come away," begged pickering and ben. "grandpapa is sitting on the bank over there," pointed phronsie, with a beseeching finger. "oh, do go to him, polly; i'll stay and help the poor people." "and no one was hurt," said ben quickly, "only in this end of the car. see, polly, everybody is out," pointing past the crowd into the car, to the vacant seats. "there was an old gentleman in the seat back of me," cried polly, in distress. "hasn't any one seen him?" running up and down the track; "an old gentleman with a black velvet cap"--amid shouts of "keep out--the car is taking fire. don't go near it." a little tongue of flame shooting from one of the windows at the further end of the car proclaimed this fact, without the words. "has no one seen him?" called polly, in a voice so clear and piercing that it rose above the babel of the crowd, and the groans of one or two injured people drawn out from the ruin, and lying on the bank, waiting the surgeon's arrival. "then he must be in the car. oh, ben--come, we must get him out!" and she sprang back toward the broken car end. "keep back, polly!" commanded ben, and "i shall go," cried pickering dodge. but polly ran too, and clambered with them, over the crushed car seats and window frames of the ruin. "he's not here," cried ben, while the hot flame seemed to be sweeping with cruel haste, down to catch them. "look--oh, he must be!" cried polly wildly, peering into the ruin. "oh, ben, i see a hand!" but a rough grasp on her shoulder seized her as the words left her mouth. "come out of here, miss, or you'll be killed," and polly was being borne off by rescuers who had seen her rush with the two young men, in amongst the ruin. "i tell you," cried polly, struggling to get free, "there is an old gentleman buried in there; i saw his hand." "everybody is out, miss," and they carried her off. but ben and pickering were already in a race with the flames, for the possession of the old gentleman, whose body, after the car seat was removed, could plainly be seen. "there's the axe," cried ben hoarsely, pointing to it, where it had fallen near to pickering. pickering measured the approach of the flames with a careful eye. "he is probably dead," he said to ben. "shall we?" "hand the axe," cried ben. already the car was at a stifling heat, and the roar of the flames grew perilously near. would no one come to help them? must they die like animals in a trap? well, the work was to be done. two--three ringing blows breaking away a heavy beam, quick, agile pulling up of the broken window frame, and in the very teeth of the flames, young arms bore out the old body. a great shout burst from the crowd as they staggered forth with their burden. pickering had only strength to look around for polly, before he dropped on the grass. and when he looked up, the tears were raining on his face. "o, pickering!" cried polly. "now there isn't anything more to long for. you are all right?" pickering lifted his head feebly, and glanced around. the walls of the "spare room" at the farm-house, gay in large flowered paper, met his eyes. "why, where am i?" he began. "at good farmer higby's," said polly. and then he saw that her arm was in a sling. "that's nothing," she finished, meeting his look, "it's all fixed as good as can be, and has nothing to do but get well--has it, ben?" ben popped up his head from the depths of the easy chair, where he had crouched, afraid lest pickering should revive and see him too suddenly. "how are you, old fellow?" he now cried, advancing toward the bed. "there, don't try to speak," hurriedly, "everything is all right. wait till you are better." "how long have i been here?" asked pickering, looking at polly's arm. "only a day," said polly, "and now you must have something to eat," starting toward the door. "i couldn't eat a mouthful," said pickering, shutting his mouth and turning on the pillow. "indeed you will," declared polly, hurrying on. "the doctor said as soon as you could talk, you must have something to eat; and i shall tell mrs. higby to bring it up." so she disappeared. "goodness me! have i had the doctor?" asked pickering, turning back to look after her. "yes," said ben. then he tried to turn the conversation. but pickering broke in. "did polly break her arm at--at the first?" he asked, holding his breath for the answer. "yes," said ben, "don't talk about it," with a gasp--"polly says that she is so glad it isn't her right arm," he added, with an attempt at cheerfulness. "and the doctor promises it will be all right soon. it's lucky there is a good one here." pickering groaned. "it's a pity i wasn't in the old fellow's place, ben," he said, "for i've got to tell polly how i wanted to leave him, and i'd rather die than see her face." "see here," cried ben, "if you say one word to polly about it, i'll pitch you out of the window, sick as you are." "pitch ahead, then," said pickering, "for i shall tell polly." "not to-day, any way. now promise," said ben resolutely. "well--but i shall tell her sometime," said pickering. "i'd rather she knew it--but i wish we could have saved him." "he's in the other room," said ben suddenly. "poor old thing--to die like that." "die? he's as well as a fish," said ben; "sitting up in an easy chair, and to my certain knowledge, eating dried herrings and cheese at this very minute." "he's eating dried herrings and cheese!" repeated pickering, nearly skipping out of bed. "why, wasn't he dead when we brought him out?" "no, only stunned. there, do get back," said ben, pushing pickering well under the blankets again, "the doctor says on no account are you to get up until he came. do keep still; he'll be here presently," with a glance at mrs. higby's chimney clock. "the doctor--who cares for him!" cried pickering, nevertheless he scrambled back again, and allowed ben to tuck him in tightly. and presently in came polly, and after her, a bright apple-cheeked woman bearing a tray, on which steamed a bowl of gruel. [illustration: old mr. king drew up his chair to oversee it all.] and in less time than it takes to tell it, pickering was bolstered up against his pillows, and obediently opening his mouth at the right times to admit of the spoonfuls polly held out to him. and phronsie came in and perched on the foot of the four-poster, gravely watching it all. and old mr. king followed, drawing up the easy chair to the bedside, where he could oversee the whole thing. and before it was over, the door opened, and a young man, with a professional air, looked in and said in great satisfaction, "that's good," coming up to the bed and putting out his hand to pickering. "here's the doctor," cried old mr. king, with a flourish of his palm. "well, doctor bryce, your patient is doing pretty well, i think." "i should say so," answered the doctor, with a keen glance at pickering. "o, he's all right. how is the arm?" to polly. "that is all right too," said polly cheerfully, and trying to talk of something else. "let me feed pickering, do," begged phronsie, slipping from the bed, "while doctor looks at your arm, polly." "i can wait," said the doctor, moving down to the foot of the four-poster, where he stood looking at the feeding process, "and i can go in and see mr. loughead meanwhile." pickering dodged the spoon, nearly in his mouth. "who?" he cried. "dear me," cried polly, trying to save the gruel drops from falling on mrs. higby's crazy quilt, "how you frightened me, pickering." "who did he say?" demanded pickering, as dr. bryce went out. "pickering," said polly, with shining eyes, "who do you think you and ben saved so bravely? jack loughead's uncle, who has just got here from australia, and he's"-pickering gave a groan and turned on his pillow. "don't give me any more, polly," he said, putting up his hand. polly set the spoon in the gruel bowl, with a disappointed air. "never mind," said the young doctor, coming back again, "he's eaten enough. now may i see your arm?" he turned to polly gently. "we must go in the other room for that," with a nod at pickering. a thrill went over phronsie, which she tried her best to conceal, and she turned quite pale. polly smiled at her as she went over toward the door, followed by the doctor, old mr. king and ben. pickering dodge clenched his hand under the bedclothes, and looked after them, then steadfastly gazed at the large flowers blooming with reckless abandon up and down over the dark-green wall-paper. "phronsie," said polly, hearing her footsteps joining the others out in the hall, "will you go in and see how charlotte is getting on with johnny? do, dear," she whispered in phronsie's ear, as she gained her side. "i'd rather stay with you, polly," said phronsie wistfully, "and hold your other hand." "but i do so want you to help charlotte," said polly beseechingly. "will you, phronsie?" and she set a kiss on phronsie's pale cheek. "i will, polly," said phronsie, with a sigh. but she looked back as she went slowly along to the opposite end of the hall. "please don't hurt polly," she said imploringly to the doctor. "i won't, little girl," he replied, "any more than i can help." "good-by," called polly cheerfully, and she threw her a kiss with her right hand. * * * * * mrs. farmer higby stood on her flat door-stone, shading her eyes with her hand. "seems's if i sha'n't ever get over the shock," she said to herself, looking off to the railroad track, shining in the morning sunlight. "to look up from my sewing and see--la! and 'twas the first time i ever sat down to that rag-rug since i had to drop it and run over and take care of simon, when they brought me word he was 'most cut to pieces in the mowing machine. my senses! i'm afraid to finish the thing." the frightened look in her eyes began to deepen, and she shook as if the chill of a winter day were upon her, instead of the soft air of a mild morning in spring. "i want to get out in the woods and holler," she declared; "seems's if then i'd feel better. to look up, expecting to see the cars coming along real lively and pleasant, just as they always do so sociable-like when i'm sewing, and then--oh, dear me!" she wrung her fat hands together, "there, all of a sudden, were two of 'em bumping together, one end smashed into kindling wood, and t'other end sticking up straight in the air. oh! my senses, i don't wonder i thought i was going crazy, and that i let the rug fly and jumped into the middle of the floor, till i heard the screaming, and i run to help, and there was that poor soul they were bringing here, and she dead as a stone. oh, dear, dear!" mrs. higby turned away so that she could not see the shining railroad track, and looked off over the meadow, while a happier expression came over her features. "i'm awful tickled this house is big," she said, with a good degree of comfort, "so's jotham and me could take 'em in. now i'm glad we didn't sell last spring, when mary ann was married, and move down to the village. seems's if providence was in it. gracious, see that man running here! i hope there ain't anything else happened!" and with her old flutter upon her, mrs. higby turned to meet a young man advancing to the door-stone, with more speed than was ordinarily exhibited by the natives of brierly. "is this mr. jotham higby's house?" asked the stranger. and although he was very pale and evidently troubled, he touched his hat, and waited for her answer. "yes," said mrs. higby; "what do you want? do excuse me," all in the same breath, "but i'm all upset; there was an awful railroad accident along here yesterday. you haven't come to tell of anything else bad, have you?" and she was sharper than ever. "no," said the young man, "my friends are here; you took them in so kindly. do show me the way to them." he was quite imperative now, moving over the flat stone, and into the square entry like one accustomed to being obeyed. "which way?" he asked, glancing up the stairs. "oh, my!" exclaimed mrs. higby, "excuse me, sir; the rooms upstairs"--nodding like a mandarin in the direction named, "any of 'em--all of 'em; they've got 'em all; you can't make a miss." the young man was already opening the door of the room where dr. bryce was examining polly's arm, old mr. king and ben looking on anxiously. polly saw him first. "oh, jasper!" she cried, with a sudden start. "take care!" exclaimed dr. bryce, looking off from the bandages he was nicely adjusting, to bestow a keen glance on jasper. jasper gave one hand to his father in passing, but went straight to polly's side, and laid his other hand on her shoulder. "it's all right, jasper," said polly, seeing he couldn't speak. "doctor says my arm is doing beautifully." "well, well," said old mr. king, trying to speak cheerfully, but only succeeding in a nervous effort, "this isn't just the most successful way to give you a surprise party, jasper, but it's the best we could do. and we had to send you a telegram, for fear you'd see it in the papers. so you thought you'd come on and see for yourself, eh?" as jasper showed no inclination to talk. "yes," said jasper, still confining himself to monosyllables. "and that's the sensible thing to do," said ben, with a grateful look at jasper, "than to wait till we are able to move on--pickering and all." "is pickering dodge with you?" exclaimed jasper, quickly. polly turned in her chair, and looked into his eyes. "yes; pickering came with us expressly to see you, jasper." then without waiting for an answer, "he is in the next room; do go and see him." "very well," said jasper, "i'll be back in a moment or two, father," going out. pickering dodge still lay, gazing at the sprawling flowers on the wall, and doing his best not to count them. the door opened suddenly. "well, well, old fellow." jasper came up to the bedside with the air of one who had been in the habit of running in every little while. "it's good to see you again, pick," he added, affectionately, laying his hand, that good right hand, on the nervous one playing with the coverlids. "of course you couldn't do what i asked, jasper; no one could," said pickering, rolling over to look at him. "and i was a fool to ask it." "but i might have been kinder," said jasper, compressing his lips; "forget that, pick." "don't say any more," said pickering, his face flushing, "and i know it's all up with me, any way, jasper." and he turned pale again. "we pulled an old fellow out of the wreck, at least ben did the most of it--polly wanted us to; and who do you suppose he is? why, jack loughead's uncle. of course _he_'ll be here soon, and it's easy to see the end." at that, pickering bolted up in bed to a sitting position, and clutched at the collar of his morning jacket with savage fingers. "don't, pick," begged jasper, in an unsteady voice. "i'm going to get up," declared pickering deliberately. "clear out, jasper," with a forbidding gesture, "or i'll pitch into you." "you'll lie down," said jasper decidedly; "there, get in again," with a gentle push on pickering's long legs. "aren't you ashamed of yourself, though, to act like this!" trying to speak playfully. pickering scrambled back into bed, fuming every instant. "to lie like a log here, while that fellow dashes around carrying everything before him--it's--it's--abominable and atrocious! let me out, i say!" and he dashed toward the edge of the bed, nearly knocking jasper over. "hold on, there," cried jasper, pinning down the clothes with a firm hand, "don't you see"--while pickering struggled to toss them back "take care, you'll tear this quilt!--that i'll help you on to your feet all in good time? and if you behave yourself, you'll be around, and a match for any jack loughead under the heavens. there, now, will you be still?" "send that dunce of a doctor to me as soon as you can," said pickering, rolling back suddenly once more, into the hollow made in the center of the four-poster. "dear me, he's sweet on polly too!" he groaned under the clothes. "whew!" exclaimed jasper, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe his forehead. "i won't agree to hold you in bed again, pick. i'll send the doctor," he added, going out, "but you see that you don't lose your head while i'm gone." "i'll promise nothing," said pickering softly to himself, the moment the door closed, and slipping neatly out of bed, he tiptoed over and turned the key in the lock. "there," snapping his fingers in the air, "as if i'd have that idiot of a doctor around me." then he proceeded to dress himself very rapidly, but with painstaking care. "i'm all right," and he gave himself a final shake; "that doctor would have made a fool of me and kept me in bed, like enough, for a week. and with that jack loughead here!" he gave a swift glance into the cracked looking-glass hanging over the high shelf, and with another pull at his necktie-end, unlocked the door and went out. "halloo!" "oh, beg pardon!" a long figure that had just scaled the stairs, came suddenly up against pickering, stalking along the narrow hall. "how d'ye do?" said pickering quite jauntily, and extending the tips of his fingers; "just got here, i take it, loughead?" "yes," returned jack loughead. pickering was made no more steady in his mind, nor on his feet, by seeing the other's evident uneasiness, but he covered it up by a careless "well, i suppose you have come to look up your uncle, hey?" "yes, oh, yes," said jack, "of course, my uncle. well, were any of the others hurt?" "yes; one woman was killed." pickering could not trust himself to mention polly's broken arm yet. jack loughead's face carried the proper amount of sympathy. "no one of your party was hurt, i believe?" he said quickly. "oh, look us over, and see for yourself," said pickering, beginning to feel faintish, and as if he would like to sit down. and then the door at the end of the hall was opened, and out came all the others and the doctor, who was saying, "i'll just step in and look at the young man, though he's doing well enough--oh, my gracious!" "thank you, i am doing well enough," said pickering, with his best society manner on, and extending his hand, "much obliged, i'm sure; what i should have done without you, i don't know, of course; send in your bill, and i shall be only too happy to make it all right." jack loughead rushed up to polly. "no one told me--is your arm--" he couldn't say "broken," being quite beyond control of himself. "how are you, mr. loughead?" said old mr. king rather stiffly, at being overlooked, and putting out his courtly old hand. "oh, beg pardon." jack mumbled something about being an awkward fellow at the best, and extended a shaking hand. "you are anxious to see your uncle, of course," continued the old gentleman, leading off down the hall, "this way, mr. loughead." "of course, yes, indeed," stammered jack loughead, having nothing to do but to follow. chapter xiv. joel. joel threw down his books in an uneasy way. "i must give it up; there's no other way," he exclaimed. "halloo, joe!" "you here?" cried joel, whirling in surprise. "come out of your hole, dave," peering into the niche between the book-shelves and the bed. "what are you prowling in there for?" "oh! my cuff-button rolled in here somewhere," said david, emerging crab-wise, and lifting a red face. "give us a hand, joe, and help pull out the bed. plague on this room for being such a box! there!" with an impatient shove. joel burst into a fit of laughter, and then stared; it was such an unusual thing to see a frown on david's placid face. "what's come over you, any way? stand out of the way; i'll have this bed over there in a jiffy," rolling it into the center of the small room as he spoke. david sprang to one side lightly. "whew! what a dust you kick up," he cried, snapping his clothes gingerly. "so you are in your best toggery," exclaimed joel, standing straight, his labors over the bed being completed. "yes, i'm going to the parrotts' to dinner," said david, hurrying off for the whisk broom to remove the last speck of dust from his dress suit. "of course you've forgotten it, joe, though i don't suppose you'd go, any way." "no, i wouldn't go, any way," said joel, tossing back his black locks from his forehead. "you forget, dave, it's the association night." david let another little frown settle on his face. "no, i didn't forget that, joe, but i do wish you'd think it possible to take a thursday evening off once in a while for the sake of your friends, if for no other reason." "well, i can't," said joel, getting down on all-fours to hunt for the button, "so don't let's go over old arguments. where in time is that thing? oh"--and he came up bright and shining to his feet, holding the button between his thumb and finger. "my compliments to you," presenting it to david. "there, stick it in before it gets lost again, and hurry off; you look pretty as a pink." "stop your nonsense, joe," cried david sharply, who hated being reminded of his girlish beauty. "well, i'll make the usual excuses for you. good-by," and not forgetting to pick up his walking stick with his hat, he ran off on his way to the florist's for the _boutonniere_ that must go on before he presented himself at the parrotts' dinner party. joel shoved back the bed into position with one long thrust that would have been a godsend to a lagging boat crew; then dashed to the table and sat down, doggedly throwing open the first book that came to hand. "i'd rather chop wood," he exclaimed in the old way, leaning his head on his hands. "whew! weren't those good days, though, in the little brown house, when we had all outdoors to work in!" he dropped his arms to pinch the muscles of one with his other fingers. "isn't that beautiful?" he said affectionately. then he swung them over his head, tilting back his chair restfully. "what did mamsie say?" he cried, bringing the chair down with a remorseful thud. "'i'd work myself to skin and bone but i'd go through creditably.' here goes!" and by the time that davie was handing in miss lulu parrott to dinner joel clapped together his last book, threw on his hat, and rushed out to a hasty supper at commons, _en route_ to the christian association meeting. little perkins ran up to him at the close of the meeting. "stop a bit. pepper, do," he begged; "johnson's gone back to his cups, and we can't do anything with him." a cloud fell over joel's face. "where is he?" he asked. "oh, in the little room back. he won't show his face here, and yet he can't keep away, he says. you must get your hand on him, pepper," and little perkins hurried off. joel dashed into the "little room back." "how d'ye, johnson?" putting out his hand "come out for a walk, do; why, this room is stifling." "i can't," said johnson miserably; "you don't know, mr. pepper, i've been drinking, or you wouldn't ask me." "nonsense--but i would, though," said joel sharply. "come out, i say, johnson; it's enough to make you drink again to stay in such a room." johnson not getting out of his chair, joel went in and laid hold of his arm. "it's no use, johnson," he said, "i can't talk to you here; it's too hot and close. and i do want a walk, so let's have it together. there, button up your coat," as they were well out in the hall, and johnson flung his hat on his head with a reckless hand. as they hurried down the steps they ran against a crowd of college boys. johnson shrank up miserably against the stone fence, and tried to look as small as possible. glances of recognition passed, and joel spoke to right and left as the boys went by. but a few hisses, low and insistent, were all he got. "do let me go," begged johnson, still hugging the fence, "you can't save me; and they hate you enough for such work." "come on!" roared joel at him, and plucking him off from the fence with a determined hand. "it's time we went for him," said one of the college boys, with a backward glance at joel and his companion, "the deacon is absolutely insulting. the idea of his speaking to us." "let's have it over to-night," said another. "what do you say?" to the others. "where's davina?" asked another. "oh, pink-and-white is out dining," said the first voice. "my pretty little girl is safe at the parrotts'." "sure?" "as a gun. met him with a posy in his button-hole, and sweet as a little bud himself, and he told me so." "all right. he'll stay away late, then; the parrotts always have music or a dance after their dinners. come on." the last speaker rolled up his sleeves, and boxed imaginary rounds in a scientific manner in the air. "agreed?" the tall fellow who proposed it looked over the whole crew. "do you all want to have it done to-night?" as they came to a standstill on the pavement. "yes--yes." "hush--that cop is looking. move on, will you? now, not a man of you backs out, you understand; if he does, he gets worse than the deacon will. all right." "_we're all such jolly good fellows, we're all such jolly good fellows_"-everybody smiled who passed them singing their way down town. "it always does me good to hear those students sing. they're so happy, and so affectionate toward each other," said one lady, hanging on her escort's arm. he, being a college man, said rapturously, "oh yes!" joel, back in his own room, threw himself in his easy chair, first turning down the gas. "just so much less of a bill for grandpapa. our debt is rolling up fast enough without burning up the money. dear me, if johnson drinks after this, i shall be in despair." he threw up his long legs, and rested them on the mantel, while he thrust his hands in his pockets, to think the better. a knock at the door. "come in!" called joel, not looking around, till a rushing sound of feet trying to step carefully, called him out of himself. "now--now!" two or three swifter than the others, darted for the chair, but joel was not in it. on the other side of it, looking at them, his hands out of his pockets, he stood, saying, "what do you want?" "oh, come, pepper, it's no use," said a tall fellow, wiry and agile, "too many against you in this little call. come along," and he advanced on joel. "you come along yourself, dobbs," said joel pleasantly, and holding up a fist that looked hard to begin with, "and you'll get this; that's all." [illustration: "you come along yourself, dobbs," said joel pleasantly.] "come on, fellows!" dobbs looked back and winked to the others. "now!" there was a shoulder-to-shoulder rush; a wild tangle of arms, followed by a wilder tangle of legs, and joel was through the ranks, his black eyes blazing, and tossing his black hair from his forehead. "do you want some more?" he cried, flirting his fists in the air, "or will you leave my room?" "lock the door!" "get up, bingley," and, "stop your roaring." "no, we'll give it to you now, and no mistake." "if you won't come quietly, you shall some way, deacon." these were some of the smothered cries. "now!" and there was another blind rush; this time, over bingley, who didn't heed the invitation to get up. joel, watching his chance to reach the door, had no time before they were on him, and he heard the key click in the lock. "it's for mamsie now, sure--and for polly!" he said, setting his teeth hard. on they came. but joel, in rushing through as before, was so mindful of stepping over bingley carefully, that it lost him an instant; and a grasp firm as iron, was on his arm. the others rallied, and closed around him. "unhand me!" yelled joel, beating them off. but he might as well have fought tigers, unless he could knock off, with cruel aim, the one hanging to his arm. it was no time to mince matters, and joel, only careful to avoid the face, struck a terrible blow that felled dobbs flat. "now will you go?" roared joel, aghast at what he had done, yet swinging his arms with deadly intent on either side, "or, do you want some more?" there lay two valiant fellows on the floor. the rest drew off and looked at them. "you'll pay for this, deacon," they declared under their breath. "i suppose so," said joel, still swinging his arms for practice; "probably you'll wait for me with kindly intent some dark night behind a tree, as you know i don't carry a pistol. why don't you have it out now? come on if you want to." but no one seemed to want to. "there'll be a row over this," said one or two, consulting together; "as long as those thin-skinned fellows don't get up," pointing to the floor, "we must wait." suddenly the door was unlocked, and the whole crew stampeded. "see here," cried joel, bounding after them, "come back and take care of your two men." but the crew disappeared. bingley lifted his head feebly. "just like dobbs," he said, "get us into a scrape, and then cut." "hush--don't say anything," said joel, rushing frantically back, "i think he's dead--oh, bingley, i'm sorry i hurt you too." he was rapidly pouring water into the basin, and dashing it into dobbs' unconscious face. "i must go for the doctor," he groaned. "bingley, he can't be dead--do say he isn't!" in a flood of remorse. bingley managed to roll over and look at his late leader. "he looks like it," he said; "i shouldn't think you'd be sorry, pepper." "oh!" groaned joel, quite horror-stricken, and dashing the water with a reckless hand, feeling like a murderer all the time. "bingley, could you manage to do this?" at last he cried in despair. "i must run for a doctor, there's not a minute to lose." "i wouldn't go for any doctor," advised bingley cautiously; "see; his eyelids are moving--this row will be all over town if you do." but joel was flying off. "come back!" called bingley, "i vow he's all right; he's opened his eyes, pepper." joel turned; saw for himself that dobbs was really looking at him, and that his lips moved as if he wanted to say something. "what is it, dobbs?" cried joel, throwing himself down on his knees by dobbs' side. "let him alone, and help me up," said bingley crossly, "i'm hurt a great deal more. he's tough as a boiled owl. give us a hand, pepper." but joel had his ear down to dobbs' mouth. "where are the fellows?" asked dobbs in a whisper. "gone," answered joel, briefly. "gone--and left me here like a dog?" said dobbs. "yes," said joel. "they couldn't wait, my friend," observed bingley sarcastically, "for people of such trifling consequence, as you and i." "the deuce! you here, bingley?" exclaimed dobbs, in his natural voice, and trying to get his head up. "oh, you are coming to, are you?" said bingley carelessly. "well, dobbs, i think you better get on your feet, and help me out, since pepper won't; for i vow i can't stir." "oh, i'll help you," declared joel, getting up to run over and put his hands under bingley's arms, paling as he exclaimed, "i didn't mean to hurt you so, bingley, on my honor i didn't." "and you didn't," said bingley, wincing with the pain, as joel slowly drew him to his feet; "it wasn't your stinger of a blow, pepper, but some of those dastardly cads stepped all over me; i could feel them hoofing me. there, set me in that chair, and i'll draw a long breath if i can." "now, i shall go for a doctor," declared joel, setting bingley within the easy-chair, and making a second dash for the door. "i tell you, you will not," cried bingley, from his chair. "wait a minute, till i see where i'm hurt. i'm coming out of it better than i thought. come back, pepper." "really?" joel drew off from the door, and looked at him. "yes; go and take care of dobbs; he was only shamming," said bingley, leaning his head comfortably on the chair-back. dobbs already was on his feet, and slowly standing quite straight. "sure you don't want any help?" asked joel, putting out his hand. "thanks, no," said dobbs scornfully, not looking at the hand, but making for the door. "let him alone, pepper," advised bingley; "a mean, low-lived chap like that isn't hurt; you couldn't kill him," as joel looked out anxiously to watch dobbs' progress along the hall, at last following him along a bit. "he's in his own room, thank fortune," exclaimed joel, coming back, "and i suppose i can't do any more. but oh, i do wish, bingley, it hadn't happened." joel leaned his elbow on the mantel, and looked down at the easy-chair and its occupant. "perhaps you'd rather be lying there," said bingley, pointing to the floor, "instead, with a flopper under your ear, like the nasty one you gave me, pepper." "i am so sorry for that, too," cried joel, in a fresh burst of remorse. "i got no more, i presume, than was good for me," said bingley, feeling the bump under his ear. "and don't you worry, pepper, for your mind must be toned up to meet those fellows. they'll be at some neat little game to pay you up for this, you may rest assured." "i suppose so," said joel indifferently. "well, now are you sure i can't do anything for you, bingley?" "sure as a gun," said bingley decidedly; "i'm getting quite limbered out; so i'll go, for i know my room is better than my company, pepper," and he dragged himself stiffly out of his chair. "don't go," said joel hospitably; "stay as long as you want to; i should be glad to have you." bingley turned a pair of bright eyes on him. "thank you," he said, "but davina will be in soon, and things will have to be explained a little, and i'm not quite up to it to-night. no, i must go," moving to the door; "i don't feel like making a pretty speech, pepper," he said, hesitating a bit, "or i'd express something of what's on my mind. but i think you understand." "if you want to do me a favor," said joel steadily, "you'll stop calling david, davina. it makes him fearfully mad, and i don't wonder." "he's so pretty," said bingley, with a smile, and wincing at the same time, "we can't help it. it's a pity to spoil that lovely name." "but you must," declared joel, growing savage; "i tell you, it just ruins college life for dave, and he's so bright, and leads his class, i don't see how you can." "oh, we're awfully proud of him," said bingley, leaning heavily on the table, "of course, and trot him out behind his back for praises and all that, but when it comes to giving up that sweet name--that's another thing," he added regretfully. "however, i'll do it, and make the other fellows, if i can." "good for you!" cried joel gratefully. "good-night, bingley; sure you don't want any help to your room?" "sure," declared bingley, going out unsteadily and shutting the door. joel threw himself on his knees by the side of the easy-chair, and burrowed his head deep within it. "oh, if i only had mamsie's lap to lay it in," he groaned, "and mamsie's hands to go over it." "joe--joe!" david flung wide the door, "where are you?" he cried. joel sprang to his feet. "here's a telegram," said david, waving a yellow sheet at him. "i just met the boy bringing it up. the folks were going to see jasper--on a surprise party; something happened to the cars, and polly has her arm broken--but that's all," delivered david, aghast at joel's face. "polly? oh, not polly?" cried joel, putting up both hands, and feeling the room turn around with him. "yes, polly," said david; "don't look so, joe," he begged, feeling his own cheeks getting white, "it's only broken--it can't be bad, for we are not to go, grandpapa says; see," shaking the telegram at him. "but i shall go--we both must," declared joel passionately, beginning to rush for his hat behind the door; "the idea--polly hurt, and we not to go! come on, dave, we can catch the midnight train," looking at his watch. "but if it makes polly worse," said david doubtfully. joel's hand carrying the hat to his head, wavered, and he finally tossed the head-gear into the nearest corner. "i suppose you are right, dave," he said helplessly, and sinking into a chair. chapter xv. the farmhouse hospital. jack loughead marched into his uncle's room. "well--well--well," exclaimed the old gentleman with a prolonged look, and sitting straight in his chair. "so this really is you, jack? i must say, i am surprised." "surprised?" echoed jack, getting his uncle's hands in both of his. "why, uncle, i cabled crane brothers just as soon as i got your letter, that i was coming." "this is the first thing i've heard of it," said old mr. loughead. "well, how did you track me here, for goodness' sake?" "why, i saw an account of your accident in the new york paper as soon as i landed," said jack. "oh! confound those papers," exclaimed his uncle ungratefully. "well, i came near being done for, jack," he added. "in fact, i was left in the wreck." jack shuddered. "but that little girl there," pointing toward the next room, where the talking seemed to be going on busily, "insisted that i was buried in the smash-up, so they tell me, and she made them come and look for me. none too soon, i take it, by all accounts." the old gentleman placidly tore off two or three grapes from the bunch in the basketful, put at his elbow, and ate them leisurely. "phronsie is a good child," said jack loughead, with feeling, "and an observing one, too." "phronsie? who's talking of phronsie?" cried his uncle, pushing back the fruit-basket. "it was the other one--polly; she wouldn't let them give over till they pulled me out. so the two young men tell me; very well-meaning chaps, too, they are, jack." "you said it was a little girl," jack managed to remark. "well, and so she is," said old mr. loughead obstinately, "and a nice little thing, too, i should say." "miss pepper is twenty years old," said his nephew suddenly. then he was sorry he had spoken. "nonsense! not a day over fifteen," contradicted the old gentleman flatly. "and i must say, jack, you've been pretty expert, considering the time spent in this house, in taking the census." "oh! i knew her before," said jack, angry to find himself stammering over what ought to be a simple account enough. "hem--hem!" exclaimed the old gentleman, bestowing a keen scrutiny on his nephew. "well, never mind," he said at last; "now, let's to business." "are you strong enough?" asked jack, in duty bound, yet longing to get the talk into safe business channels. "strong enough?" repeated the old gentleman, in a dudgeon, "i'm really better than i was before the shake-up. i'm going home tomorrow, i'd have you to know, jack." "you would better not move too soon," said his nephew involuntarily. then he added hastily, "at least, take the doctor's advice." "hem--hem!" said his uncle again, with a shrewd smile, as he helped himself to a second bunch of grapes. "well, now, as to that matter you sent me over to london about," began jack, nervously plunging into business. "draw up that chair, and put your mind on the matter, and we'll go over it," interrupted old mr. loughead, discarding the grape-bunch suddenly, and assuming his commercial expression at once. so jack drew up his chair, as bidden; and presently the financial head of the bradbury & graeme company, and the enterprising young member who was the principal part of "company," were apparently lost to all else in the world, but their own concerns. meantime, pickering dodge was having a truly dreadful time of it. the doctor, washing his hands of such a troublesome patient, had just run downstairs, jumped into his little old gig in displeasure, and was now half across a rut worn in the open meadow, dignified by the name of the "short road." "do go to bed," implored ben, studying pickering's pale face. "hoh, hoh!" pickering made out to exclaim, "if i couldn't say anything original, i wouldn't talk. you're only an echo to that miserable little donkey of a medical man." [illustration: "i'll help you; i'm strong," said charlotte.] "but you really ought to go back to bed," ben insisted. "really ought?" repeated pickering, in high disdain; "as if i'd put myself again under that quack's thumb. no, sir!" and snapping his fingers derisively at ben, he straightened up jauntily on his somewhat uncertain feet. "all i want is a little air," stumbling off to the window. "well, i'm going to tell phronsie that my arm is all right," said polly, hurrying off; "beside i want to see johnny"-"it's time for me to look after that young man, too," said old mr. king, following her; "i haven't heard him roar to-day. come on, jasper; you must see johnny." as they disappeared, ben ran over to pickering, and was aghast to find that the face laid against the window-casing was deathly white, and that all his shaking of the broad shoulders could not make pickering open his eyes. "jasper," called ben, in despair. "hush!" some one came hurrying up. "don't call jasper; then polly will know. let me help." ben looked up. "o, charlotte! that's good. pick's done up. call mrs. higby, will you? we must get him to bed." "i'll help you; i'm strong." charlotte held out her long arms. ben looked them over approvingly. "you're right," he said; "it's better not to stir mrs. higby up. there, easy now, charlotte; put your hands under there. you are sure it won't hurt you?" "sure as i can be," said charlotte, steadily moving off in pace with ben, as they carried pickering between them. "excuse me!" ben rushed in without knocking upon the bradbury & graeme company. "do you mind"--to jack--"i'm awfully sorry to ask it, but i can't leave him. will you run to the doctor's and fetch him? mrs. higby, the landlady downstairs, you know, will tell you where to find him." ben was all out of breath when he got through, and stood looking at young loughead. "what's the doctor wanted for?" cried company, springing to his feet, and seizing his hat from the table. "why, of course i'll go--delighted to be of use--who for?" "pickering dodge--got up too soon--keeled over," said ben briefly. "i've got to stay with him--he's in bed--and we don't want grandpapa or polly to know." but jack loughead after the first word, was half over the stairs. "see here," cried old mr. loughead suddenly, as ben was rushing out, "can't i see your sister? i'm horribly lonesome," turning in his chair; "that is, if her arm will let her come," he added, as a second thought struck him. "don't ask her if you think she's in pain." "doctor has fixed polly's arm," said ben, "and i know she'll like to come in and sit with you. it's a shame," and his honest face flamed with regret, "i had to ask such a favor as"-"tut, tut! go along with you," commanded the old gentleman imperatively, "and send polly here; then i'll make by the operation," and he began to chuckle with pleasure. so ben ran off, and presently polly, her arm in a sling, came hurrying in. "bless my soul," cried the old gentleman, "if your cheeks aren't as rosy as if you had two good arms, and this was an every-day sort of excursion for pleasure." [illustration: "so nice, everybody is getting on so well," said polly] "it's so nice," said polly, sitting down on one of mrs. higby's spare-room ottomans, on which that lady had worked a remarkable cat in blue worsted reposing on a bit of green sward, "to think that everybody is getting on so well," and she hugged her lame arm rapturously. "hem--hem! i should say so," breathed old mr. loughead, regarding her closely. "where have they buried that woman?" he demanded suddenly. polly started. "out in the meadow," she said softly. "mrs. higby wanted it here instead of in the churchyard. it is under a beautiful oak-tree, mr. loughead, and mr. higby is going to make a fence around it, and grandpapa is to put"-"up the stone, i suppose you mean," interrupted the old gentleman. "well, and when that's done, why, what can be said upon it, pray tell? you don't know a thing about it--who in christendom the woman was--not a thing." "johnny's mother," said polly sorrowfully, the corners of her mouth drooping; "that's going to be on it, and grandpapa is to have the letters cut, telling about the accident; and mrs. higby hopes that sometime somebody will come to inquire about it. but i don't believe anybody ever will come in all this world," added polly softly, "because there is no one left who belongs to johnny," and she told the story the pale little mother had just finished when the car went over. old mr. loughead "hemmed," and exclaimed impatiently, and fidgeted in his chair, all through the recital. when it was over, and polly sat quite still, "what are you going to do with that horrible boy?" he asked sharply. "almshouse, i suppose, eh?" "o, no!" declared polly, in horror. "phronsie is going to take him into the home." "phronsie is going to take that little rat into her home?" cried old mr. loughead in disgust. "you don't know what you are talking of. i shall speak to mr. king." "johnny is just a dear," cried polly, having great difficulty not to spring from her chair, and turn her back on the old gentleman, then and there. "but into your home," repeated old mr. loughead, his disgust gaining on him with each word; "it's monstrous--it's"-"oh! i didn't mean our home," explained polly, obliged to interrupt him, he was becoming so furious. "johnny is going down to dunraven, to the children's home," and then she began on the story of phronsie's company of children, and how they lived, and who they were, with many little side stories of this small creature, who was "too cunning for anything," and that funny little boy, till the old gentleman sat helplessly listening in abject silence. and the latch was lifted, and young mr. loughead put his head in the doorway, looking as if he had finished a long tramp. "come in, jack," said his uncle, finding his tongue. "we've a whole orphan asylum in here, and i don't know what all; every charity you ever heard of, rolled into one. do come in, and see if you can make head or tail to it." "oh! mr. loughead knows all about it," cried polly brightly, while her cheeks glowed, "for he went down to dunraven with us at christmas, and he showed the children stereopticon pictures, and told them such nice stories of places that he had seen." "he--my jack!" exploded the old gentleman, starting forward and pointing to his nephew. "great caesar! he never did such a thing in his life." "ah!" said polly, shaking her brown head, while she looked only at the old gentleman, "you ought to have seen, sir, how happy the children were that day." "my jack went to an orphan asylum to show pictures to the children!" reiterated the old gentleman, unable to grasp another idea. "do be still, uncle," begged his tall nephew, jogging his elbow. "here--here's polly!" cried jasper's voice. and at the same moment in sped little dr. fisher, his glasses shining with determination, as he gazed all over the room for polly. "my dear, dear child," he cried, as he spied her. and "papa fisher!" joyfully from polly, as she sprang from mrs. higby's ottoman, and precipitated herself into the little doctor's arms. "softly, softly, child," he warned; "you'll hurt it," tenderly covering the poor arm with his right hand, while he fumbled in his pocket with the other, for his handkerchief. "dear me!" and he blew his nose violently. "yes; well, you're sure you're all right except this?" and he held polly at arm's length and scanned her closely. "i am all right if you will only tell me that mamsie is well, and isn't worried about us," said polly, an anxious little pucker coming on her forehead. "your mother is as bright as a button," declared father fisher emphatically. "come, come!" ejaculated mr. king, appearing in the doorway; "this isn't just the way to take possession of mr. loughead's apartment. jasper, i don't see what you were thinking of. come, fisher, my room is next; this way." polly blushed red as a rose as old mr. loughead said briskly, "oh! i sent for her to cheer me up, and now, i wish you'd all stay." "beg pardon for this inroad," said little doctor fisher, going up to the old gentleman's chair and offering his hand. "well, well, loughead," to jack, "this is a surprise party all round!" "no inroad at all, at least a pleasant one," old mr. loughead kept saying, while polly ran up to jasper: "did pickering's uncle come with papa fisher?" "no," said jasper, with his eyes on jack loughead, "the doctor was all alone, polly." and then the door of pickering's room opened, and out came dr. bryce, with bad news written all over his face. "i fear brain fever," he said to dr. fisher after the introduction was over, making the two physicians acquainted. "come," and the door of pickering's room closed on them both. and twilight settled down on the old square white house, and on the new-made grave under the oak in the meadow; and brierly people, by twos and threes, came to inquire for "the sick young man," going away with saddened faces. and a messenger from the telegraph office drove up just as mr. higby was pulling on the boots to his tired feet for a long walk to the village, handing in the message: mrs. cabot and i will take the midnight train. richard a. cabot, [illustration: then phronsie glanced back again, and softly jogged the cradle.] and then there was nothing more to do, only to wait for the coming of pickering's uncle and aunt. and the next day pickering's calls were incessant for "polly, polly," sometimes upbraiding her as the brown eyes were fastened piteously on his wild face; and then begging her to just smile at him and remember how he had loved her all these years. "and now i am going to die," he would cry. "o, polly! polly!" mrs. cabot would wring her hands and beg at such times, a world of entreaty in her voice. and then old mr. king would interfere, carrying polly off, and declaring it was beyond all reason for her to be so annoyed. and phronsie would climb up on the bed and lay her cool little hand gently on the hot forehead. then the sick boy's cries would drop into unintelligible murmurs, while his fingers picked aimlessly at the coverlet. "there! he is better," phronsie would say softly to the watchers by the bed, "and i guess he is going to sleep." but the quiet only ushered in worse ravings when pickering lived over once more the horror of the train-wrecking, and then it took many strong arms to hold him in his bed. "come on, ben," he would shout, struggling hard; "leave him alone--we shall be caught--the fire! the fire!" until his strength died away, and he sank to a deathly stupor. * * * * * phronsie sat down to write a letter to mrs. fargo. one like it was dropped every morning into the basket set on mrs. higby's front entry table, ready for the neighbor's boy to take to the village post-office. dear mrs. fargo: [wrote phronsie, looking off from the wooden cradle that mrs. higby had dragged down from its cobwebby corner under the garret eaves, with the remark, "i guess johnny'll sleep well; all the higbys since the first one, has been rocked in it."] i must tell you that dear pickering isn't any better. [then she glanced back again, and softly jogged the cradle, as johnny turned over with a long sigh.] and papa fisher and the other doctor don't think he is going to get well. and mrs. cabot cries all the time, and polly cries sometimes too. and we don't know what to do. but i guess god will take care of us. and charlotte is going to take johnny down to the dunraven home in a day or two. she says she can, though i know she don't like babies, especially boy-babies; she said so once. and so he will be happy. and that's all i can write to-day, mrs. fargo, because every minute i'm afraid polly will want me. from phronsie and just the very minute when phronsie was dotting the "i" in her name. mrs. higby came toiling up the stairs, holding her gingham gown well away from her feet. "say!" she cried in a loud whisper, and pausing midway to wave a large square envelope at phronsie, curled up on the hall window-seat. phronsie got down very softly, and tiptoed over to the stair-railing to grasp the letter mrs. higby thrust between the bars, going back to her old post, to open it carefully. dear phronsie: i think god meant that i was to have johnny for my very own. so won't you give him to me, dear? let charlotte bring him soon, please, for my heart is hungry for a baby to hold. i will make him happy all my life, phronsie, so i know you will give him to helen's mother. chapter xvi. on the borderland. phronsie came into the higby kitchen, her hands full of wind-blossoms and nodding trilliums. "pickering will like these," she said to herself in great satisfaction, and surveying her torn frock with composure, "for they are the very first, mrs. higby," addressing that individual standing over by the sink in the corner. "please may i wash my hands? i had to go clear far down by the brook to get them." but mrs. higby, instead of answering, threw her brown-checked apron high over her head. phronsie stood quite still. "why do you put your apron there, mrs. higby?" she asked at last. "and you do not answer me at all," she added in gentle reproach. "land!" exclaimed mrs. higby, in a voice spent with feeling, "i couldn't, 'cause i was afraid i sh'd burst out crying, and i didn't want you to see my face. o, dear! he's had a poor spell since you went out flowerin' for him, and your pa and dr. bryce say he's dyin'. o, dear!" down came the apron, showing mrs. higby's eyelids very red and swollen. phronsie still stood holding her flowers, a breathing-space, then turned and went quickly to the back stairs. "sh! don't go," called mrs. higby in a loud whisper after her; "it's dreadful for a little girl like you to see any one die. do come back." "they will want me," said phronsie gravely, and going up carefully without another word. when she reached pickering's door, she paused a moment and looked in. "i don't believe it is as mrs. higby said," she thought, drawing a long breath, a faint smile coming to her face as she went gently in. but old mr. king put up his hand as he turned in his chair, at the foot of the bed, and phronsie saw that his face was white and drawn. and dr. bryce turned also, looking off a minute from the watch that he held, as if he were going to bid her go away. [illustration: "why do you put your apron up there?" asked phronsie in gentle reproach. ] "phronsie," said grandpapa, holding out both arms hungrily. phronsie hurried to him, a gathering fear at her heart, and getting into his lap, laid her cheek against his. "oh! my dear, you oughtn't to be here--you are too young," said mr. king brokenly, yet holding her close. "i am not afraid, grandpapa," said phronsie, her mouth to his ear, "and i think pickering would like me to be here. i brought him some flowers." she moved the hand holding the bunch, so that the old gentleman could see it. "he likes wild flowers, and i promised to get the first ones i could." "o, dear!" groaned old mr. king, not trusting himself to look. "may i lay them down by him?" whispered phronsie. "yes, yes, child," said the old gentleman, allowing her to slip to the floor. the group around the bedside parted to let her pass, and then phronsie saw polly. mrs. cabot was holding polly's well hand, while her head was on polly's shoulder. "grandpapa said i might," said phronsie softly to the two, and pointing to her flowers. "yes, dear." it was polly who answered; mrs. cabot was crying so hard she could not speak a word. phronsie's little heart seemed to stop beating as she reached the bedside. she had not thought that she would be afraid, but it was so different to be standing there looking down upon the pillow where pickering lay so still and white, and with closed eyes, looking as if he had already gone away from them. she glanced up in a startled way and saw dr. fisher at the head of the bed; he was holding pickering's wrist. "yes," he motioned, "put them down." so phronsie laid down her blossoms near the poor white face, and stole back quickly, only breathing freely when she was as close to polly as she could creep, without hurting the broken arm. "i'm dying--i'm not afraid," suddenly said pickering's white lips. dr. fisher sprang and put a spoonful of stimulant to them, while mrs. cabot buried her face yet deeper on polly's shoulder, her husband turning on his heel, to pace the floor and groan. "polly, polly!" called pickering quite distinctly, in a tone of anguish. "o, polly, polly! he's dying--go to him do!" mrs. cabot tore her hand out of polly's, almost pushing her from the chair. "quick, dear!" polly put phronsie aside, and stepped softly to the bedside; pickering's eyes eagerly watched for her face. he smiled up at her, "polly," and tried to raise his hand. she laid her warm, soft palm on the cold one lying on the coverlid. he clasped his thin fingers convulsively around it. "i am here, pickering," said polly, unable to find voice for anything else. "don't--ever--leave me," she could just make out the words, bending close to catch them. "i never will," said polly quietly. a sudden gleam came into his face, and he tried to smile, grasping her hand tighter as his eyes closed. "it has come," said dr. fisher in a low voice to mr. cabot; "tell your wife," and he bent a professional ear over the white face on the pillow, while dr. bryce hurried forward; then brought his head up quickly, a peculiar light in the sharp eyes back of the spectacles. "he is sleeping!" * * * * * polly was sitting, a half-hour by the bedside, pickering's thin fingers still tightly grasping her hand. they had made her comfortable in an easy chair, jasper bringing one of mrs. higby's biggest cushions for her to lean her head against. he now stood at the side of her chair, phronsie curled up on the floor at her feet. "don't stay." polly's lips seemed to frame the words rather than speak them, looking up at him. he shook his head, resting his hand on the back of the chair. polly tried to smile up a bit of comfort into his eyes. "jasper loved pickering so," she said to herself, "that he cannot leave him; but oh! he looks so dreadfully, i wish he would go and rest," and she began to have a worried look at once. "what is it?" asked jasper, catching the look at once, and bending to whisper in her ear. "you will be sick if you do not go and rest," whispered back polly. "i cannot--don't ask it." jasper brought the words out sharply, with just a bitter tone to them. "he thinks it is strange that i ask it; he is so fond of pickering," said polly to herself. "and now i have grieved him--o, dear!" "i won't leave pickering," she said, lifting her brown eyes quickly. a spasm came over jasper's face, and his brow contracted. "don't," he begged, and polly could feel that the hand resting on the back of the chair grasped it so tightly that it shook beneath her. "i ought to have remembered that jasper couldn't leave him; he loves him so," mourned polly. "oh! why did i speak?" in the room at the end of the hall mrs. cabot was excitedly walking the floor, twisting her handkerchief between her nervous fingers, and talking unrestrainedly to charlotte chatterton. "i do believe this will melt polly's heart," she cried. "oh! it must, it must! don't you think it must, miss chatterton?" "i don't know what you mean," said charlotte chatterton in a collected manner, as she bent over the cradle to tuck the shawl over johnny's legs where he had kicked it off in his sleep. "oh! you know quite well what i mean, miss chatterton," declared mrs. cabot, in her distress losing her habitually polite manner. "why, everybody knows that pickering has loved polly since they were boy and girl together." not knowing what was expected of her, charlotte chatterton wisely kept silent. "and now, why, it's just a providence, i do believe--that is, if he gets well--that brought all this about, for of course polly must be touched by it. she must!" brought up mrs. cabot quite jubilantly. and this time she waited for charlotte to speak, at last exclaiming, "don't you see it must be so?" "i think love goes where it is sent," said charlotte slowly. "sent? well, that is just it. isn't it sent here?" cried mrs. cabot impatiently. "i don't know," said charlotte. then she said distinctly, "i know love is very different from pity"-"of course it is--but then, sometimes it isn't," said mrs. cabot nervously. "well, any way, polly has almost as good as promised to marry pickering," she finished triumphantly--"so--and you are very cruel to talk to me in this way, miss chatterton." charlotte chatterton turned away from johnny and faced mrs. cabot. "you don't mean to say you think polly would feel bound by what she said when we all thought he was dying?" "i do, certainly--knowing polly as i do--if pickering took it so. and i am quite sure he will say so when he gets well; quite sure. polly isn't a girl to break her word," added mrs. cabot confidently. "then i'm sure providence hasn't had anything to do with this," said charlotte shortly, "and polly shall never be tormented into thinking it her duty either," and she turned off to pick up a new gown "in the works" for johnny. "what you think duty, miss chatterton, wouldn't be polly pepper's idea of duty in the least," said mrs. cabot, getting back into the refuge of her society manner again, now that her confidence in polly grew every moment, "so we will talk no more about it if you please," she added icily, as she went toward the door. "only mark my words, my dear boy and that dear girl will be engaged, and quite the appropriate match it will be too, and please every one." * * * * * "you must go back, my boy," said old mr. king two days later. "it's just knocking you up to stay," studying jasper's face keenly. "goodness me! i should think you'd fallen off a dozen pounds. upon my word i should, my boy," he repeated with great concern. "never mind me, father," said jasper a trifle impatiently, "and as to my work, mr. marlowe will give me a few more days. he's goodness itself. i shall telegraph him this morning for an extension." "you will do nothing of the kind," declared mr. king testily. "what can you do here, pray tell, by staying? you would be quite a muff in a few more days, jasper," he added, "you are so down-hearted now. no, i insist that you go now." "very well," said jasper quite stiffly, "i will take myself off by the afternoon train, then, father, since i am in the way." "how you talk, jasper!" cried his father in astonishment. "you know quite well that i am only thinking of your own good. what's got into you--but i suppose this confounded hospital we're in, has made you lose your head." "thank you, father," said jasper, recovering himself by a great effort, "for putting it so, and i beg you to forgive me for my hasty words." he came up to the old gentleman and put out his hand quickly, "do forgive me, father." "forgive you? of course i will, though i don't know when you've spoken to me like that, jasper," said his father, not yet able to shake himself free from his bewilderment. "well, well, that's enough to say about that," seeing jasper's face, "and now get back to your work, my boy, as soon as you can, and you'll thank me for sending you off. and as soon as pickering dodge is able to be moved home, why, the rest of us will finish our trip, and give you that surprise party--eh, jasper?" and mr. king tried to laugh in the old way, but it was pretty hard work. * * * * * "well, now, polly," said dr. fisher, a week after as he held her at arm's length, and brought his spectacles to bear upon her face, "remember what i say, child; you are to take care of yourself, and let mrs. cabot look out for things. it will do the woman good to have something to do," he added, dropping his voice. "i don't like to carry home your face, child; it won't do; you're getting tired out, and your mother will be sure to find it out. i really ought to stay and take care of you," and the little doctor began to look troubled at once. "indeed, papa fisher," cried polly, brightening up, "you will do nothing of the kind. why, my arm is doing famously. you know you said you never saw a broken arm behave so well in all your life." "it isn't your arm, polly, that worries me," said father fisher; "that's first-rate, and i shouldn't wonder if it turned out better perhaps for breaking, but it's something different, and it quite puzzles me; you look so down-hearted, child." "do i?" said polly, standing quite straight, and rubbing her forehead with her well hand; "there, now, i will get the puckers and wrinkles out. there, papa fisher, are they all gone?" she smiled as cheerily as ever, but the little man shook his head, then took off his spectacles, wiped them, and set them back on his nose. "no; it won't do; you can't make your old father believe but what you've something on your mind, polly. i think i shall have to send your mother down here," he said suddenly. "o, father fisher!" cried polly, the color flying over her face, "you wouldn't ever do that, i am sure! why, it would worry mamsie so, and besides she can't leave king fisher"-he interrupted her as she clung to his arm. "i know that, but what can i do? if you'd only promise now, polly," he added artfully, "that you won't tire yourself all out trying to suit mrs. cabot's whims--why, i'd think about taking back what i said about sending your mother down." "oh! i won't--i won't," promised polly gladly. "and now, dear papa fisher, you'll take it all back, won't you?" she begged. "yes," said dr. fisher, glad to see polly's color back again, and to have her beg him for some favor. so the next half-hour or so they were very cheery--just like old times; just as if there had been no sickness and the shadow of a loss upon them in the past days. "though why we should be always acting as if we were in the midst of it now, i don't see," said the little doctor at last. "we're all straightened out, thank god, and pickering mending so fast that he's a perfect marvel. it would be a sin and a shame for us to be in the dumps forever. well, now, polly, remember. whew! hear that youngster!" this last being brought out by johnny's lusty shouts in the next room. "i don't envy mrs. fargo her bargain, and i do pity myself having to see him safely there." "oh! charlotte will take all the care of him," said polly quickly. "she's just beautiful with him; you don't know how beautiful, papa fisher, because you've been so busy, since you've been here, and charlotte has kept him away from everybody so he needn't worry any one. and isn't it lovely that he is to have such a beautiful home?" added polly with shining eyes. "um--yes, for johnny," said dr. fisher. "well, good-by, polly." he gathered her up in his arms for a final kiss. "oh! here's charlotte come to bid you good-by, too." "polly," said charlotte, drawing her off to a quiet corner, as the little doctor went away, leaving the two girls together, "i must say something, and i don't know how to say it." polly looked at her with wide eyes. "it's just this," said charlotte, plunging on desperately; "polly, don't let mrs. cabot pick at you and talk about duty. oh! i hate to hear her speak the word," exploded charlotte, with a volume of wrath in her tone. "what do you mean, charlotte?" cried polly in a puzzled way. "oh! she may--never mind how--she's quite peculiar, you know," said charlotte, finding her way less clear with each word. "never mind, polly; only just fight her if she begins on what is your duty; if she does, then fight her tooth and nail." "but it may be something that i really ought to do," said polly. charlotte turned on her in horror. "o, never!" she cried. "don't you do it, polly pepper. just as sure as she says you ought to do it, you may know it would be the worst thing in all the world. promise me, polly, that you won't do it." "but, charlotte, i ought not to promise until i am quite sure that it wouldn't be my duty to do what mrs. cabot advises. don't you see, charlotte, that i ought not to promise?" but charlotte was too far gone in anxiety to see anything, and she could only reiterate, "do promise, polly, do; there's mr. higby calling us; the carriage is at the door. do, polly! i never will ask you anything else if you'll only promise me this." but polly could only shake her head, and say, "i ought not," and then johnny had to be kissed and wrenched from phronsie, who insisted on carrying him downstairs to set him in the carriage, and mrs. cabot came in, and old mr. king wanted a last word with charlotte, so that at last she was in mr. higby's carryall, shut in on the back seat looking out over johnny's head, with a pair of very hopeless eyes. but her lips said, "do, polly!" and still polly, on the flat door-stone, had to shake her head. "i shall tell mrs. fisher, and beg her to come right down here," determined charlotte chatterton to herself, "just as soon as i get in the house. that is exactly what i shall do," she declared savagely, as mr. higby whipped up the mare for the quarter-mile drive to the little station. chapter xvii. jasper. "halloo, king, mr. marlowe wants you." jasper, his hands full of papers, hurried down the long warehouse, through the piles of books, fresh from the bindery, stacked closely to the ceiling. the busy packers who were filling the boxes, looked up as he threaded his way between them. "mr. marlowe is down there," indicating the direction with a nod, while the hands kept mechanically at their task. "i want to see you about that last lot of paper," mr. marlowe began, before jasper had reached him; "it is thin and of poorer quality than i ordered. the loss must be charged back to withers & co." "is that so?" exclaimed jasper. "they assured me that everything should be right, and like the sample that we ordered it from." "and jacob bendel writes that the edition we gave him of _history of great cities_ to print will be shipped to us within a fortnight, when his contract was to be filled on thursday. of course we lose all the chicago orders by this delay." "what's the reason?" asked jasper, feeling all the thrill of the disappointment as keenly as if he were the head of the house. "oh! a strike among the printers; his best men have gone out, and he's at the mercy of a lot of inferior workmen who are being intimidated by the strikers; but he thinks he can get the edition to us in ten days or so." mr. marlowe leaned against an empty packing case and viewed the assistant foreman of the manufacturing department calmly, with the air of a man to whom disappointments were in the usual order of things. "can't we give it to another printer?" asked jasper. "who?" "morse brothers?" "they are full and running over with work. i inquired there yesterday; we may want a little extra done as the rush over those primary readers is coming on. no, i can't think of a place where we could crowd it in, if we took it away from bendel." jasper's gaze thoughtfully followed the drift of a shaving blown by the draft along the warehouse floor. "i think i'll send you down to new york to see bendel, and find out how things are. i don't get any satisfaction from letters," said mr. marlowe in a minute. "beside you can attend to some other matters; and then there is that troy job; you can do that." "very well, sir." "can you take the night express?" mr. marlowe pulled out his watch. it was ten minutes of three. "can i leave the ransom bills i was checking off? mr. parker said they were the most important of the lot." "parker must give them to richard; he knows pretty well how to do them, unless he can find time for them himself." "i was to be at the green printing-office at nine to-morrow morning," said jasper. "what for?" "they sent down to mr. parker yesterday that we had made a mistake about price for doing those five hundred _past and present_; and wanted him to go to their office, and see mr. green himself." "if mr. green thinks any mistake has been made, let him come to us," said mr. marlowe coolly. "you tell parker to send a note to that effect; courteously written, of course, but to the point. we don't go running around after people who think mistakes are made. let them bring their grievances here, if they have any. is that all that detains you?" jasper held out his hand full of papers. "these were to come in between when they could, sir." "hem--hem"--mr. marlowe read them over with a practiced eye; rolled them up, and handed the roll to jasper. "tell parker to set danforth on those. anything more?" "i was to go to-morrow if there was time to get prices for best calendered paper of patterson & co. and withers; but the next day will do." "parker must attend to all that," said mr. marlowe decidedly. "very well, sir. i believe that is all that hurries particularly." "come this way; i'll give you instructions what to say to bendel," and mr. marlowe led the way out to a quiet corner of the warehouse, where he sat down by a desk, and rapidly laid the points of the business before his assistant. the next morning in new york, jasper ran across mr. whitney on broadway. "well said; that you, jasper? why aren't you up at the house?" "i came on the night express," said jasper, finding it hard to wait a minute, "on a matter of importance for mr. marlowe. sorry, brother mason, but i can't stop now." "you'll be up to-night, of course," said mason whitney. "i can't; i'm off for troy," said jasper concisely, "and i don't come back this way." "goodness! what a man your marlowe is. and your sister marian wants to hear about polly and all the others; you've seen them so lately." "it's impossible," began jasper; "you see i can't help it, brother mason; mr. marlowe's orders must be carried out." "he's a beast, your marlowe is," declared mr. whitney hotly. "i don't know what marian will say when i tell her you are here in new york and won't stop for even a word with her." "sister marian will say it's all right," said jasper, a trifle impatiently, and feeling the loss of every moment a thing to be atoned for. "mr. marlowe is loaded up with trouble of all kinds. now i must go." "hold on a minute," cried mason whitney. "well, how are you getting on? seems to me the publishing business doesn't agree with you. you look peaked enough," scanning jasper's face closely. "i'm well enough," said jasper abruptly. "tell sister marian i will write her very soon," pulling out his watch; "good-by," and he was lost in the crowd surging down broadway. mr. whitney standing still a moment to look after him, turned, and went directly to his office. "that call on hendryx & co. can wait," he muttered to himself on the way, "but jasper can't. the boy looks badly, and his father ought to know it; although it seems funny enough for me to be meddling with jasper's affairs. but i won't leave anything to worry about afterward; they can't say i ought to have told them." so a letter went out by next mail from mr. whitney's office, saying that jasper looked poorly enough when he was met in new york; that he seemed incapable of breathing any other air than that saturated with business; that he had evidently mistaken his vocation when he chose to be a publisher. "beside, there isn't any money now in the publishing business," added mr. whitney as a clincher; "there are too many of the fellows cutting each other's throats to make it pay; and books are slaughtered right and left, and jasper much better get into some other business, in my opinion." meanwhile jasper finished, to the letter, the instructions for jacob bendel, did up the other matters entrusted to him, and set out on his troy expedition. here he was detained a day or two, mr. marlowe's instructions being to wait over and telegraph if the business could not be adjusted satisfactorily. but the fourth day after leaving home, jasper, just from the night express, mounted the stairs to his hotel in the early morning, his bag in his hand, and the expression on his face of a man who has accomplished what he set out to do. "there's an old gent up in your room," announced buttons, tumbling off, a sleepy heap, from one of the office chairs, to look at him. "an old gentleman in my room," repeated jasper, turning on the stairs. "why was any person put in my room?" "we didn't put the person there," said the boy, yawning fearfully, "he put himself there. he's a tiger, he is, and he blows me up reg'lar 'cause you ain't home," he added. jasper scaled the rest of the stairs, and tried the knob of his door with no gentle hand. then he rapped loudly. "open the door--this is my room." "oh! i'm coming," said a voice he knew quite well, and presently old mr. king stood before him, his velvet cap and morning jacket both awry from impatient fingers. [illustration: "an old gentleman in my room," repeated jasper, turning on the stairs.] "father!" ejaculated jasper. and "goodness me, jasper!" from the old gentleman, "what an unearthly hour to come home in." jasper hurried in, set his bag in the corner, then turned and looked at his father anxiously. meanwhile old mr. king was studying his son's countenance with no small degree of alarm. "what is it," cried jasper at last, coming close to him, "that has brought you?" "what?--why, you." "me?" cried jasper, in amazement. "yes; dear me, jasper, with all the worries i have had lately, it does seem a pity that you couldn't take care of yourself. it really does," repeated mr. king, his feelings nowise soothed by picking up his watch and finding it half-past six o'clock. when he made sure of the time, he set down the watch quickly, and stared at jasper worse than ever. "now, father," said jasper, "there's a mistake somewhere, but never mind now; you must get back to bed again. i don't know when you've been up at this hour." he tried to laugh, while he laid his hand on the old gentleman's arm. "do get back to bed, father." "it certainly is a most outrageous hour in which to arise," remarked his father, not able to suppress a yawn, "and i don't mind if i do turn in--but where will you sleep, jasper?" whirling around on his son. "i've come to look after you, and i shouldn't begin very well to monopolize your bed," with a short laugh. "oh, i'll camp out on the lounge," said jasper carelessly; "in two minutes i could be asleep there or anywhere else. don't mind me, father." "if you say so, then i will," said the old gentleman, "and you are too tired to talk before you've had a nap." so he lay down on the bed, jasper dutifully tucking him up, and presently his regular breathing told that he had picked up the threads of his broken slumber. jasper threw himself on the lounge, but unable to close his eyes, his gaze fell on a sheet of paper, lying on the floor just within reach. it was impossible to avoid reading the words: "and jasper better get into some other business, in my opinion," and signed "mason whitney." jasper jumped to his feet and strode up and down the room in growing indignation; then seized his hat and darted out to cool himself off before his father should awake. when he returned, old mr. king was half-dressed, and berating buttons for his failure to have the morning paper at the door. "now for breakfast," cried jasper, his own toilet quickly made, "then i presume you want to see me in my business surroundings, father?" as they went down the stairs together. "i most certainly do," said the old gentleman decidedly; and they turned into the breakfast room. so after a meal in which jasper, by skillful management of all conversational topics, allowed no chance word of business to intrude, old mr. king and he started for the publishing house of d. marlowe & co., jasper filling up all gaps that might suggest time for certain questions that seemed to be trembling on the tip of mr. king's tongue, while that gentleman was making a running commentary to himself something in this wise: "just like mason; send me off here when there is not the slightest need of it. the boy is well enough; quite well enough," he added, in his energy speaking the last words aloud. "what is it, father?" jasper paused in the midst of a descriptive fire concerning the new buildings going up on either hand, with many side stories of the men who were erecting them; and he paused for an answer. "nothing--nothing of importance," said his father hastily. "i only observed that you appeared to be doing quite well; and as if the business agreed with you," he added involuntarily. "i should think it did, father," cried jasper enthusiastically, while his cheek glowed; "it's the grandest work a man can do, in my opinion." "hem, hem! well, we shall see," observed mr. king drily, determined not to yield too easily. "you've been at it only six months. you know the old adage, jasper: 'you must summer and winter' a thing before you decide." jasper drew a long breath. "i shall never be anything but a publisher, father," he said quietly. "hoity, toity! well, that is for me to decide, i take it," responded his father. "you've never disobeyed me yet, jasper, and i don't believe you ever will. and if i think it's best for you to change your business, of course you'll do it." jasper's brow darkened, and he closed his lips tightly for a moment. then something polly said once when his father was in a particularly determined mood, came to his mind: "you better make him happy, jasper, any way." that "any way" carried the day now. "it shall be as you wish, father," he said, the frown disappearing; "i want you to be pleased, any way," unconsciously using polly's word. "i don't know as i should be at all pleased to have you leave the publishing business, jasper," said old mr. king, veering around quickly. "i can't tell till i've seen just how it suits you. but i am going to the root of the matter, now that i am here. oh! is this the place?" as they came up against a large window, behind whose plate glass, rows and rows of books in all styles of bindings, met the view of the passer-by. "this is it," said jasper, with a thrill that he was part of the "it," and the satisfaction in his completed commission, that had been lost by his father's words, now bounded high again. "now then, father, you must meet mr. marlowe," turning up the steps. old mr. king walked down the store-length as if he owned the whole with several others of its kind thrown in, and on jasper's pausing before a small office-door, marked "private," heard him say through its open window, "good-morning, mr. marlowe." "ah, good-morning," came back quickly, and mr. king saw a pleasant-faced gentleman of middle age, whose keen gray eyes seemed to note everything with lightning-like rapidity--"business all right?" "yes, sir," said jasper. "very well; you may come to me in a quarter of an hour and report. i shall be through with these gentlemen," indicating one sitting by his side at the desk, and another awaiting his turn. "tell him that i am here, jasper," said mr. king pompously, with an admonitory touch upon jasper's arm. "it's impossible, father; he can't see you now," said jasper hurriedly, trying to draw his father off to a quieter corner. "impossible? can't see me? what is there to prevent, pray tell?" cried the old gentleman irately. [illustration: "good morning," said mr. marlowe quickly. "business all right?"] "he has business men with him; they'll be through in a quarter of an hour," jasper brought out in distress that was by no means lightened by the knowledge that half of the clerks through the long salesroom were becoming acquainted with the conversation. "it's atrocious. i never was kept waiting in my life," fumed mr. king. "he doesn't know i am here--i will announce myself." he started forward. "father," cried jasper, darting after him, "let me get you a chair over here by the table and some books to look at." "i want no books," said the old gentleman, now thoroughly determined, by this time looking in the open window of the private office. "good-morning, sir," stiffly to the middle-aged gentleman sitting before the desk. this gentleman looked up, nodded carelessly and said, "excuse me, but i am at present engaged." "i am mr. jasper king's father," announced the old gentleman with extreme dignity; and again the look of being able to buy out this and several other such establishments, spread over his face. "i shall be very glad to see you, sir," said the middle-aged man imperturbably, "in a quarter of an hour. excuse me," and he turned back to finish his sentence to the other business man. "jasper," cried mr. king, taking short, quick steps to where jasper stood, "give me a sheet of paper so that i may write to this fellow, and take you out of his contemptible trade--or stay, i will write from the hotel," and he started for the door. "father," exclaimed jasper in a low tone, but so distinctly that every one standing near might hear, "mr marlowe is just right; he always is." "eh?" cried his father, turning and grasping the back of a chair to steady himself. "mr. marlowe is just right about these things. he really couldn't see you, father." "i have never been obliged to wait for any one in all my life, jasper," declared his father impressively, "and i never will." "i wonder what polly would do now," thought jasper in despair. "and that you could tolerate such impertinence to me," continued mr. king with growing anger, "is more than i can understand; but since you've come into trade it's vastly changed you. if you do not choose to come to the hotel with me, i must go alone," which with great dignity he now proceeded to do. the first business man who had finished his conference with mr. marlowe now came down the salesroom. "how d'ye, king," he said cordially to jasper in passing. jasper's face lighted as he gave an equally cordial response. "such familiarity, jasper!" exclaimed his father in a fresh burst of irritation. "dear me, i only trust you're not completely spoiled before i get you out of this." the business man turned around and gave a significant look to a knot of the salesmen, but happening to catch jasper's eye, he said, "it's a fine day, king," carelessly, and passed out, but not before "stuck-up old money-bag" fell upon the old gentleman's ear. "we would better go to the hotel now, i think, father," said jasper quietly. "frank," to the nearest salesman, "will you tell mr. marlowe when it is ten minutes past," glancing at the clock, "that i was obliged to go with my father, but i will be back at ten o'clock?" "you need give yourself no such trouble, jasper, as all this," said his father decidedly; "i will wait if it is absolutely necessary that you see him," with a patronizing wave of his gloved hand toward the private office. "it is absolutely necessary," said jasper. "very well; i wait, then," said his father, accepting with the air of a martyr, the chair by the table of books. and just then the private office-door opened and out came the other business man, followed by mr. marlowe. "frank," he called briskly, "ask jasper's father to step here." chapter xviii. mr. king attends to matters. old mr. king kept on turning the books with a careless hand. "father," begged jasper in a low voice, and putting his hand on the old gentleman's arm, such a world of entreaty in his face, that his father turned in spite of himself. "after all i much better have it over with now, i really think," said mr. king; "yes, jasper, we will go back," with a marked emphasis on the word "back." "i can't thank you enough, father," exclaimed jasper gratefully. "well, well, say no more," said old mr. king abruptly, as they reached the private office. mr. marlowe's hands were mechanically adjusting the loose papers on his desk, so as not to lose an instant's time as mr. king and jasper came up, but he turned a face, over which a bright smile shot suddenly, lighting up the gray eyes, then quickly whirled around in his office chair. "glad to see you," he said, putting out a cordial right hand. mr. king bowed, but evidently did not see the hand; which mr. marlowe not appearing to notice, the old gentleman was more furious than ever. "set a chair for your father, jasper," said mr. marlowe quietly, "and get one for yourself." then he leaned back in his office chair and pleasantly surveyed old mr. king, waiting for him to speak. "i have come, sir," said mr. king, as he settled his courtly old figure in the chair jasper had put for him beside the desk, "to see you about my son; i am not satisfied with his appearance, nor, i am sorry to say, with his surroundings." "indeed,?" said the head of the publishing house of d. marlowe & co., still with a pleasant smile on his face. "i am very sorry," repeated jasper's father, "to have to say it, but my attention has been called to the fact, and i cannot now ignore it." "hardly by jasper," remarked mr. marlowe, bringing the revolving chair so that he could see jasper's face. "indeed, no," cried jasper involuntarily, "it is something father has heard elsewhere, mr. marlowe, and i know he will feel quite differently when he comes to see things as they really are." the grave look on mr. marlowe's face disappeared as he turned back to old mr. king. "well," he said at last, as the other showed no sign of continuing the conversation, and still playing with the paper cutter on his desk. "permit me to say, sir," mr. king broke out, finding to his astonishment it was not an easy matter to talk to this imperturbable man entrenched behind his own desk, "that i am disappointed in the atmosphere in which i find my son. it smells of trade, sir, too much to suit my fancy." "did you suppose for an instant, mr. king," asked mr. marlowe, dropping the paper-cutter to pick up the pencil, "that our books came out ready for libraries, without any intervening process?" "i certainly supposed jasper was to be in charge of a literary department of the house, when i gave my consent to his coming here--" declared mr. king very decidedly. "father!" exclaimed jasper, unable longer to keep silent, "how could i take charge of any department, until i had learned it all myself?" "you have been through harvard," his father turned on him, "and it seems to me are fully competent to do the literary work required here." "and as for the manufacturing department," continued jasper, finding it more difficult to keep still, "it was the only place for me; i had to begin at the bottom, if i'm ever to be a publisher--which is what my work is to be--" "not so fast--not so fast," cried the old gentleman excitedly. "you are not to be a publisher, i take it, if i do not wish it. you've given your word you will not." "i have given my word, father," said jasper with a long breath, "and i'll not go back on it," but his lips whitened. all this while mr. marlowe still played with the little articles on his desk, sitting very quietly and watching the two. he now threw them down with an abrupt movement, whirled the revolving chair around suddenly and sent a lightning-like glance of stern inquiry toward old mr. king. "be so kind, sir, as to define exactly what your intentions are as to your son's future. time is very valuable here, and every fraction squandered has to be made up in some way." "my intentions are," said the old gentleman, in a lofty way, "to take my son out of the business--entirely out, sir," he waved his hand in a stately and comprehensive manner; then glanced to see the effect on the head of the house. but there was no effect whatever, except a quick business-like acceptance of the situation on mr. marlowe's implacable face. "father!" began jasper. but old mr. king was beyond hearing a word. "i had intended," he went on condescendingly, "to have my son put in a large interest in the business, supposing it turned out to be the proper one for him. in fact, his and my financial support would have made it one of the finest publishing houses in the world." mr. marlowe bowed. "thank you," he said politely. "james," turning to the window opening into the book-keeping department, "make out jasper king's account and settle at once. i believe you wish to go as soon as you can, do you not," to jasper, "that is, after you have given me the report of the business you did on the trip?" jasper could not speak for a moment. then he said: "but i can't leave my work in this way--it's," and he sprang to his feet. "jasper," mr. marlowe stopped a moment and seemed to swallow something in his throat, then went on, "your father wishes it, and you will make him happy"--jasper started at polly's own words--"that's enough for one life time. i'm sorry to lose you, my boy," he suddenly grasped jasper's hand, "but allow me to say, sir," turning to old mr. king, "that for you and your money i have very little consideration. you don't own enough to make it worth while for the house of david marlowe & co. to extend an invitation to you to enter it. and now, if you will excuse me, i will hear jasper's account of the business he was sent on." with that, seeing it was expected of him, old mr. king got out of his chair, by the side of the desk, and passed into the long salesroom. "i hope you'll believe," began jasper brokenly, feeling as if the whole world were going awry, "that this strange idea was never gained from me. why, i _love_ the business." his gray eyes glowed as he spoke the word. "my boy," mr. marlowe's face was alight with feeling, "don't explain, i understand it all; you've the misfortune to be born into a rich family, and your father probably never had to raise his hand to earn a penny. he isn't to be blamed, only i did hope"-"that i was different," finished jasper, his head drooping a bit with the shame of it. "oh, mr. marlowe, father is so splendid--he's just a magnificent man," he added, the head coming up, with jasper's old habit of throwing it back, "if you only knew him and he could have shown you his old self." "don't i know it," responded mr. marlowe heartily, "and i also know that you must stick by him. only i did hope--and now i will finish what i was going to say--that you could stay and help me, for you are after my own heart, jasper," he added abruptly, a rare tremble in his voice. jasper put out his hand instinctively. "thank you, mr. marlowe," he said as the head of the house grasped it warmly, "i shall never forget this." and then, as if nothing but the ordinary business had occurred, jasper sat down and went carefully over every detail of the commission he had been sent on, heard mr. marlowe's terse, "that's good, jasper; you've done it all well," and passed out for the last time, from the private office, and joined his father in silence, for the walk to the hotel. that night jasper's father wanted to go to a concert, so jasper got a box, and sat through it all, not seeing anything but polly's face, and hearing, "i'd make him happy, any way." down in the audience sprinkled here and there, or in the galleries, were some of the d. marlowe & co. salesmen and workers staring often up at him, and the handsome white-haired old gentleman by his side. "there's that old snob," they would exclaim at first recognition, to their companions, "look at him," and under pretense of gazing at the stage, the opera glasses would be turned on the box. "looks as if he owned the whole town, eh?" "he is awfully handsome, isn't he?" every salesman's companion would exclaim, looking at jasper pale and quiet, in the most secluded part of the box. "yes," said every one of the men, only seeing the old gentleman, "but he's too toploftical to live"--or something to that effect--and then they would forget all about it till the companion's opera glasses leveled in the same direction, brought the conversation around to the old topic. "they had a flare-up with mr. marlowe this morning," confided one salesman to his friend in the _entr'acte_, "and he's off," with a nod over to jasper's private box. "oh dear me!" exclaimed the young girl, with a pang at her heart, "has he left your business?" "yes," said the salesman, and a real regret passed over his careless face, "and it's a shame, for no one would have thought he owned a penny; he was just digging at the business all the time, like the rest of us." "is he very rich?" asked the young girl. "well, i should say," began the salesman, unable to find words to express jasper's financial condition. then the curtain rang up. the next morning, old mr. king broke the egg into his cup thoughtfully. "i suppose i might as well look about a bit, now that i'm here, jasper. i haven't been in this town for twenty years or so." "very well, father," said jasper, trying not to be listless. "where shall we go to-day?" "oh, i'll look around by myself," said his father quickly. "you go to bed--you look all done up," scanning his son's face anxiously. "indeed, you will not go alone," said jasper, rousing himself with shame. "we'll have a good day together." "indeed we will not," retorted the old gentleman. "i shall have a cab and go by myself. you'll go to bed, or i'll call in the doctor. goodness me, jasper, you don't look like the same boy that started out in business six months ago; you're all worn out." jasper said nothing, only redoubled his efforts on the breakfast before him that now assumed colossal proportions, and as if it could never be eaten in the world, hoping to persuade his father into allowing him to go on the tour of inspection. but it was no use. mr. king on finishing his morning repast, stalked out to the office, and ordered a carriage, and presently departed, with last injunctions to jasper, "to lie down and take things easy." as his father closed the door, jasper sank into a chair by the table and allowed his head to drop into his hands; but only for a minute, then he sprang to his feet, and paced the floor rapidly. "if polly is only happy," he said to himself over and over. how long he walked thus he never knew--it was only by hearing a vigorous knock on the door that he stopped, and called, "come in." "they told me," said jack loughead, answering the knock, "at the marlowes,' that i should find you here, unless you had left the town. are you sick?" he asked with concern. "no; sit down, do, loughead," said jasper, dragging forward a chair, and falling into one himself, just beginning to be conscious of a stiff pair of legs. jack loughead set his hat on the table, and himself in the chair that jasper proffered. then he fell to tapping the tip of his shining boot with his walking stick. "king, i came here to ask you something, that if i didn't trust you so well i could never ask in all the world. but i feel i can trust you." "oh, don't--don't," begged jasper, putting up an unsteady hand to ward off the dreaded subject. "don't tell me anything, loughead." "well, i will ask you something, then," said jack loughead coolly. "i'm a business man, king, and i must come to the point in a business way. first, let me tell you that uncle and i start for australia in a fortnight;" jasper drew a long breath of relief. "yes, i must get back; and you will see that i cannot go without," jack loughead paused--then went on abruptly. "does miss pepper care for pickering dodge?" "how do i know--how can i tell?" cried jasper desperately, and springing from his chair, he began to pace the floor again. "excuse me, loughead, i'm not myself to-day. i've left d. marlowe & co. and"-"yes, i know," interrupted jack, and drawing a long breath of relief on his part at being able to speak on this subject now that the ice was broken; "well, i'm glad, of course, king, if you didn't care to stay," he said. "but i did," cried jasper, stopping short, to emphasize this. "mr. marlowe is a royal man, through and through, and i'd work for him all my life. but my father thought best not; that's enough," he added in the abruptest fashion, beginning to walk again. "yes; well, i see," said jack. "i know a little what well-meaning relatives can do to make a young man's life miserable. i'm sorry, king," and he looked truly wretched over it. "and you must forgive anything strange about me to-day," said jasper, walking on hurriedly, "for i am all upset." "yes, i know," repeated jack loughead, "nothing breaks a man up like wrenching him from his work. king," he sprang to his feet and joined jasper walking on by his side down the room, "you are miss pepper's brother, or as good as one. can you tell me if i shall wrong pickering dodge if i speak to her?" jasper was saved from answering by old mr. king coming in with a "oh, how d'ye, loughead? well, well, jasper, you've had a good nap, i take it." and then all three went down to luncheon, and jasper managed not to be left alone with jack loughead until at the last when he said, "i shall go and tell the whole story to mrs. fisher; of course i must speak to her first." * * * * * "halloo, dave!" it was such a remarkable cry that david turned at once, although he was almost on a dead run across the campus. "hey, there!" shouted percy whitney as david turned. "whew! how you do go, dave." "what's the matter?" cried david, running lightly back to stand in front of percy. "dear me, percy, you have lost your eyeglasses!" with a glance at the other's flushed face; "wait, i'll find the things." "i yelled my lungs sore," said percy in irritation, dropping down on his knees to pass his hands carefully over the campus grass, "and now i've lost these. bad luck to you, dave, for it!" "oh! go without 'em," said david, getting gingerly down on all-fours to prowl around on the greensward. "go without 'em?" repeated percy, sitting straight in indignation. "how could i see, pray tell? don't be a donkey, dave." david said nothing, but fell to a more diligent search, while percy bewailed his loss, watching eagerly david's nimble fingers moving in and out of the little tufts of grass. "shades of the departed specs," cried david, also sitting straight and peering with his keen blue eyes in a birdlike way along the sward. "it's a mysteri--oh, great caesar!" then he fell on his back on the campus, and rolled and laughed, to bring up red and shining, only to tumble over and roll again. "of all the idiots in the universe, dave pepper," fumed percy. "what's the matter?" "your trouble has gone to your head," said david faintly. "feel and see; oh dear!" [illustration: "how you can sit there and laugh when joe is in danger, i don't see," exclaimed percy irritably.] percy's hand flew up to his thick mane of brown hair, that not all his disgust and tireless training could persuade to lie smoothly, when he picked off his beloved glasses, after an angry twitch or two. "how you can sit there and laugh when joe is in danger, i don't see," he exclaimed irritably, adjusting them to his nose. "i've nearly killed myself to catch you, and"-"joe in danger!" cried david, on his feet in an instant. "oh, percy, what do you mean?" his cheeks whitening, and his blue eyes agleam. "joel's brought it on himself," said percy, his irritation not going down. "i must say, dave, if he'd behave more like the rest of us, he'd be"-then polly's words, "oh, dear, beautiful joel!" came to mind, and he coughed violently, holding fast the eyeglasses in their place. "what danger?" demanded david, in his impatience shaking percy's arm. "well, you must know, after last night's performance over joe, that they wouldn't let him alone." "last night's performance over joel?" repeated david in astonishment. "what yarn are you spinning now, percy?" "goodness sake, you are yarning yourself," retorted percy indignantly, "to pretend that you don't know that last night a dozen or more fellows called on joe, and he handled 'em without gloves, so that bingley and dobbs can't hardly step to-day." "it's the first word i've heard of it," said david slowly, but emphatically, and staggering back a step or two to look at percy. "i was out all the evening. oh, magnificent old joe!" "magnificent old joe!" repeated percy, "you better say 'poor joe,' when you know what they are intending to give him." chapter xix. mother fisher and charlotte. david's blue eyes flashed dangerously. "tell all you know, percy," he said briefly. "dobbs heads it, as he did the first one," said percy; "they've changed their tactics, and will get at joe on their way home from that confounded meeting. dave, can't you keep him from that?" and percy, forgetting himself, peered anxiously over his glasses. "no," said david shortly, "and i sha'n't try." "you're an idiot," cried percy, in a passion, "a stupid, blind old donkey! joe will be mauled dreadfully," he howled, beating his hands together in distress; "no help for it but to keep him away from that old association meeting." "anything more to tell?" asked david. "no," percy shot out. "bingley told me all he knew; but they wouldn't let him catch much of it, because he's left the gang"-david's feet by this time were flying over the campus, so that percy was obliged to shout the remainder of the sentence after him. the consequence was that several heads were popped out of as many windows in the long gray dormitory fronting the campus, their owners all engaged in the pleasing duty of staring at percy and the flying figure across the grass. "now i'm in for it, for there's dobbs, i vow," exclaimed percy to himself, in dismay; "he'll guess i've given dave warning," and he tried to strike a careless attitude, picking off his glasses to hold them up and gaze long and earnestly through them into the nearest tree. "you can't come it," jeered dobbs, from his window. "no birdsnesting, i promise you, whitney; ha, ha!" and the other heads popped farther out than ever, to add a few hisses. percy, maddened by the failure of his plan to divert suspicion, now lost his head entirely, and sticking his eyeglasses on again, ran off like lightning to his room, followed by "little coward, we'll treat you too--look out!" * * * * * "well, jasper; now i'm bound for the next thing--percy and joel and david," declared old mr. king as jack loughead was cleverly off; "we are so near, it's a pity not to drop down on them." "don't you think you ought to hurry back to brierly?" asked jasper, having hard work not to show that he cared anything about it one way or the other. "no, i don't," answered his father, in his crispest fashion. "no one needs me there; mrs. cabot is a host in herself, and those boys may--who knows? at any rate, i must see how they are getting on, so we will go as soon as you can get your things packed and sent home," and the old gentleman glanced around the room at the various keepsakes and family adornings that jasper had brought with him to make life less lonely while he made a business man of himself. "very well, father," said jasper, he could not trust himself to say more; and for the first time had to hurry away that his father might not see his face. but old mr. king was the farthest removed from carrying the look of a person holding any interest whatever in jasper's trouble, for he went on to say, "and i do hope you will get it over with as quickly as possible, jasper, so that we may be off," then he fell to reading the evening paper with great gusto. jasper seized his hat, rushed down stairs two steps at a time, nearly overturning buttons leaning on the post at the foot. "oh! beg pardon," said jasper, quite as if it had been a gentleman he had run against. "you hain't hurt me none," said buttons, staggering back to his support, where he craned his neck in curiosity to watch young mr. king's impatience. once out in the park, a half-mile away, his hands thrust in their pockets, jasper slackened his pace, and breathed freer. before him seemed to be the little brown house; it was the first time he had seen mrs. pepper--and they had just finished their long talk, when the mother had thanked him for rescuing phronsie from the organ-grinder. the five little peppers were begging him to come over again to see them, but mrs. pepper laid her hand on his arm. "be sure, jasper," she warned, "that your father is willing." he could see her black eyes looking down into his face. what would she say now? jasper threw himself down on one of the seats under a friendly tree. "at least, polly, you sha'n't be ashamed of me," he said in a moment or two, "and dear mrs. fisher," then he walked quietly off to make the last preparations that his father had ordered. * * * * * "well, now, charlotte," said mrs. fisher, "you needn't worry, not a single bit," and she went on calmly sorting out the small flannel petticoats in her lap. "that is rather thin," she said, holding up one between her eyes and the light; "king fisher, how you do kick things out!" "mrs. fisher!" exclaimed charlotte chatterton in amazement, "how can you sit picking over flannel petticoats, when perhaps polly will--oh, do excuse me," she broke off hastily, "for speaking so." "polly? i'd trust my girl to know what was sense, and what was nonsense," declared mother fisher crisply, and not taking off her attention in the slightest from baby's petticoats. "ar-goo--ar-goo!" screamed little king. "so we would--wouldn't we, birdie?" she said, nodding at him. "but people do such very strange things in--in--love," said charlotte, her face full of distress, "i mean when love is in the question, mrs. fisher." "polly doesn't," said mrs. fisher scornfully. "polly has never been in love; why, she is only twenty." charlotte gave an uneasy whirl and rushed off to the window. "and there's that dreadful, hateful mrs. cabot," she cried, plunging back, her pale eyes afire. "oh! i feel so wicked, mrs. fisher, whenever i think of her, i'd like to tear her, i would, for picking at polly," she declared with venom. "you needn't be afraid," repeated mrs. fisher calmly, "polly knows mrs. cabot through and through, and will never be influenced by anything she says." "oh, dear, dear, dear!" cried charlotte, wringing her long hands, "and there's that mr. loughead, and everything is mixed up, and i can't frighten you." "now, just see here, charlotte," cried mother fisher, casting aside the flannel petticoats to look up, "you must just put your mind off from all this; i should never know you, my girl, you are always so sensible and quiet. why, charlotte, what has gotten into you?" "that's just it," cried charlotte, a pink passion in her sallow cheeks, "everybody thinks because i don't rant every day, that i haven't any more feeling than a stick or a stone. oh! do excuse me, mrs. fisher, but i love polly so!" and she flung herself down on her knees, burying her face among the little flannel petticoats in mother fisher's lap. "there--there, my dear," said mrs. fisher, smoothing charlotte's pale straight hair, "of course you love polly; everybody does." "and i don't--don't want her to marry that pickering dodge," mumbled charlotte. "certainly not; and she's no more likely to marry him than you are," said mrs. fisher coolly, giving gentle pats to charlotte's head, while king fisher screamed and twitched his mother's gown in anger to see the petting going on. "well, now i have two babies," said mother fisher, with a smile, lifting him up to her lap, where he amused himself by beating on charlotte's head with both fat fists, till his mother seized them with one hand, while she gently smoothed the girl's hair with the other. "polly can be trusted anywhere; and when she is in too much of a dilemma, then she brings everything to mother." charlotte sat up straight and wiped her eyes. "and we've got somebody else to worry about much more, and all our sympathies ought to go out to him," said mrs. fisher gravely. "charlotte, i don't mind telling you that i am dreadfully sorry that grandpapa has taken jasper away from his business." she sat king fisher abruptly on the floor, all the little petticoats tumbling after him, and walked away so that charlotte could not see her face. "poor jasper, he loved his work so." [illustration: "well, now i have two babies," said mother fisher] "and that's just it," gasped charlotte, somehow finding her feet to hurry over to mrs. fisher, "jasper has lost his work, and now oh dear!--oh! can't you see, mrs. fisher"--and then frightened at her boldness, she ran back to baby. "charlotte chatterton!" exclaimed mrs. fisher. there was something so dreadful in her tone, that charlotte, without a word, ran out of the room--to meet little dr. fisher hurrying upstairs with his hands full of letters. "a whole budget from brierly," he announced joyfully; "two for you, my girl," casting them into her hands. "and the folks are coming home next week; that is, our folks--good news--eh, charlotte?" then he sped on to find his wife. and at dinner charlotte, sitting pale and immovable amidst all the chat, let the news of mr. and mrs. mason whitney's and dick's determination to come on to greet the arrivals from the brierly farmhouse, fall on apparently unheeding ears. "charlotte!" cried dr. fisher at last, looking at her through his big spectacles, "why, i thought you would rejoice with us," he added reproachfully. "adoniram," exclaimed mrs. fisher across the table, for the first time in her life looking as if she would like to step on his toes. the little doctor stared at her a moment--"oh--er--never mind, my dear," he cried abruptly, turning to charlotte. "i suppose you do not feel well." "yes, i do feel well," said charlotte truthfully, not daring to look at mrs. fisher, but keeping her eyes on the tablecloth. "i have a letter from mr. king--a very long one; he is going to see joel and david," mother fisher made haste to say; "i hope he hasn't heard anything wrong about them," and a little anxious pucker came on her forehead. charlotte chatterton glanced up quickly, and seeing it, "oh, i do believe everything is all right, mrs. fisher," she exclaimed involuntarily. mother fisher looked straight at her with one of her brightest smiles. "i guess so," she said, her brow clearing. and after they had pulled back their chairs from the table, and the little doctor had gone into his office for a minute, mrs. fisher followed charlotte out into the hall. "charlotte," and she put both hands on the girl's shoulders, "you and i won't meddle with the lord's will for polly. promise me that you'll not say one word of what we were talking, to any one." "i won't!" said charlotte chatterton. "and now," said mother fisher, dropping her arms and resuming her usual cheery manner, "you and i, charlotte, have got to put our minds on getting ready for the whitneys and the home-coming, and we must make it just the brightest time that ever was. i'm no good at thinking up ways to celebrate," added mrs. fisher, with a little laugh, "polly always did that; so you must do it for me, you and the doctor, charlotte. and you better run in to his office now and make a beginning, for next week will come before we know it," and with a motherly pat, and a "run along, child," mrs. fisher waited to see charlotte well on the way before she turned to her own duties. "come in!" cried little dr. fisher, as she rapped at the office door. "oh, it's you, charlotte," with a sigh of relief; "i'm sure i don't feel much like dragging on my boots and going off to the land's end to-night, on a call." "mrs. fisher thought i ought to come and see you, sir, about getting up a plan to celebrate the home-coming next week," said charlotte, feeling her heart bounding already with delight. would they really all be together in a week? "now that's something like," exclaimed dr. fisher joyfully, and pushing aside with a reckless hand his books and vials on the table; "sit down, do, charlotte; there," as charlotte settled her long figure in the opposite chair. "now then!" "i never got up a plan to celebrate anything in my life," said charlotte, folding her hands in dismay. "nor i either," confessed the little doctor in an equal tremor, "polly was always great at those things. but i suppose that's the reason my wife set us two together, charlotte, for she's the wisest of women, and perhaps we ought to learn how to get up celebrations." "if only phronsie were home," breathed charlotte wistfully. "i'm so afraid our affair will be worse than nothing." "i dare say," replied the little doctor cheerily, "but we can try, and that goes a great way, charlotte--trying does." [illustration: "i've always found," said dr. fisher, "that all you had to do to start a thing, was to begin."] charlotte drew a long breath and moved uneasily in her chair. "if we only knew how to begin," she said at last doubtfully. "i've always found," said dr. fisher, springing from his chair, "that all you had to do to start a thing was to--begin." "yes, that's just it," ruminated charlotte, bringing up her hands to hold her head with, "i think we are in a tight place, dr. fisher." "hum, that may be," assented the little man, "i like tight places. now, then, charlotte, how do you say begin?" charlotte sat lost in thought for a minute, then she said, "any way, i think it would be best for us to get up something very simple, so long as we are beginners." "i think so too," agreed dr. fisher, "so that's settled. now for the first thing; what do you say we should do, charlotte?" "how would it do," asked charlotte suddenly, "to invite everybody after they have gotten over the first of the home-coming--after dinner, i mean--into the drawing-room, and then tell them that we are not smart enough to think up things, and ask them to give a recitation apiece, or something of that sort?" "charlotte chatterton!" exclaimed the little doctor, cramming his hands into the side pockets of his office coat and staring at her. "i am ashamed of you! that would be shabby enough--not so bad either," he added quickly, a sudden thought striking him, "as you'll do your part in singing." "oh! i couldn't sing," cried charlotte, drawing back into her shell of coldness again, "they don't any of them care for it; they've heard me so much," she finished, trying to smooth her refusal over. "you'll sing," declared the little doctor decidedly, "we could never be tired of hearing you; and for the rest, i have a notion that this might suit. see here," and he threw himself into his office chair, and looked charlotte squarely in the face, "why not ask alexia and cathie and the others, to take hold and get up some fandango--eh?" charlotte caught herself on the edge of saying "no," then drew a long breath and said, "well," trying not to seem indifferent over the plan. "don't like it--eh?" asked dr. fisher, regarding her keenly. "it might be the best thing in the world," said charlotte slowly. "those girls act splendidly; they've had little plays so often, and polly has drilled them, that they'll know just how to go to work, and it will please polly. oh, yes, do let us have that," she cried, beginning to wax quite enthusiastic. "it will please them too," said the little man, not withdrawing his gaze. "yes, it will please them," said charlotte, after a minute, "and i will run over in the morning and ask them." "that's good!" cried dr. fisher, bringing his hands together with a joyful clap; and getting out of his chair he began to skip up and down like a boy. "and let amy loughead do the piano music, do; that will please polly to see how the child has gone ahead. i can't hardly believe miss salisbury; she tells me the chit practices every minute she can save from other things. be sure to have her asked, charlotte, child." "i will ask amy," promised charlotte, with a pang at the thought of the delight over jack loughead's handsome face at her invitation. "and you are to sing," cried the little doctor jubilantly. "now we are all capitally fixed. it takes you and me to get up celebrations, doesn't it?" and he stood as tall as he could and beamed at her. "i'd go over as early as i could, charlotte," he advised, "and tell those girls, because you know a week isn't much to get ready in." "i will," said charlotte, "go the very first thing after breakfast." and after breakfast, the next morning, she tied her hat on, and not trusting herself to think of her expedition, actually ran down the long carriage drive to the avenue--then walking at her best pace, she stood before alexia rhys' door and rang the bell. "there, now, i can't go back," she said to herself, and in a minute or two she was in the reception room, and alexia rhys was running over the stairs and standing with a puzzled expression on her face, before her. "oh, my goodness me--oh, oh!" exclaimed alexia, with a little laugh. "is this you, miss chatterton?" "yes," said charlotte chatterton, "i came to ask if you would get up something nice to celebrate the home-coming of all the family from brierly; and mr. whitney's family are to come too, next week. will you, miss rhys?" "well, i never!" cried alexia rhys, sinking into the first chair she could find. "you want me--i shouldn't think you would," she added truthfully. "i didn't at first," said charlotte chatterton, "but i do now, miss rhys--oh! very much, you and miss harrison, and all those girls--you can get up something beautiful; and dr. fisher and i don't in the least know how, and we want you to do it." then she sat quite still. "well, i declare!" cried alexia rhys, unable to find another word. then she looked out of the window. "oh, here's clem," and, rushing out, charlotte could hear a whispered consultation with, "did you ever?" and "i'm awfully ashamed," while clem's voice said, "so am i." "well, come in," said alexia audibly at last, dragging clem after her into the reception room, "we've got to do what's right now, any way." "i'm awfully ashamed, miss chatterton," said clem forsythe, going straight to charlotte's chair and putting out her hand; "we girls haven't been right to you since you came, and i, for one, want to ask your pardon." "dear me, so do i," cried alexia, crowding in between with an eager hand stretched out, "but what good will that do--we said things, at least i did the most. oh, my hateful tongue!" "if you'll only take hold and make a nice celebration for polly and all the others, that will be all i'd want," said charlotte. "thank you, you are so good," she brought up happily. "and then we'll do something for you some time," declared alexia, "all for yourself, won't we, clem--something perfectly elegantly splendid?" chapter xx. straightening out affairs. two days after, old mr. king was walking over the college campus, bound for joel's and david's room in the "old brick dormitory." "i am glad i sent jasper ahead to the hotel; i much rather pop in on the boys by myself," soliloquized the old gentleman in great satisfaction. "ah, here it is," beginning to mount the stairs. "come in," yelled a voice, as he rapped with his walking-stick on the door of no. 19, "and don't make such a piece of work breaking the door down--oh, beg pardon!" as mr. king obeyed the order. a tall figure sprawled in the biggest chair, his long legs carried up to the mantel, where his boots neatly reposed; while a cloud of smoke filling the room, made mr. king cough violently in spite of himself. "'tis a nasty air," said the tall young man, getting his legs down in haste from the mantel, and himself out of the chair, though with much difficulty; "take a glass of water, sir," hobbling over to a side table, and pouring one out, to work his way with it to old mr. king. "thank you," said the old gentleman, when he could speak, and accepting it quickly, "you say truly, the air is beastly," glancing around the room in displeasure at the plentiful signs of its inmates' idea of having a good time at college. "are joel and david pepper soon to be in?" as he spoke, he lifted up the cover of a french novel thrown on the lounge near him, and dropped it quickly as he read the title. "hey? oh! i see--a little mistake," exclaimed the tall youth, going unsteadily back to his chair. "their room is 19, in the extension. i am robert bingley, sir." "i'm very glad," cried old mr. king heartily, "for i don't mind telling you, my young friend, that i shouldn't want joel's and david's room to look like this." "i don't blame you in the least, sir," said bingley, nowise abashed, "but you needn't worry, for the peppers aren't my kind. you must be grandfather king?" he added. "yes, i am," said old mr. king, straightening up, and throwing back his white hair with a proud gesture. "so you've heard about me?" he asked, in a gratified way. "i should rather think we had," said bingley, "why, all of us know about you, sir." here he got out of his chair again. "you won't care to, after you know all, but i should like to shake hands with you, sir." "most certainly," responded the old gentleman heartily, "although your room isn't to your credit." thereupon he bestowed a courtly hand-shake upon the young man, with the utmost cordiality, making bingley, who seemed to have a good deal of trouble with his legs, to retreat to his chair in a high state of satisfaction. "it was mean of me to ask you such a favor, sir," said bingley, gazing up at the ceiling, "before i had told you all, but i couldn't help it, some way, and i knew you wouldn't touch my hand after you'd heard. well, i was one of a gang who went to joe pepper's room last week for the purpose of lamming him." "you went to joe pepper's room for the purpose of lamming him?" repeated old mr. king, darting out of his chair. "yes, sir"--bingley still kept his gaze glued to the ceiling--"but we didn't do it, though; joe lammed us." "oh!" "so the rest of the gang are going for him to-night; i'm not able to," said bingley, trying to appear careless. "joel to be in such business--how could he!" fumed old mr. king. "a gentleman--and i thought so much of his turning out well. it will kill his mother--oh, how could he?" turning fiercely on bingley. "see here, now," cried that individual, tearing his gaze from the ceiling, to send a sharp glance at the white-haired old gentleman, "joe is all right; straight as a brick. you can bet your money on that, sir." "oh--oh!" cried mr. king, more and more horrified, "is this what you all come to college for? i should consider, sir," very sternly, "it a place to keep up the dignity of one's family in, and that of such a venerable institution," waving both shapely hands to include the entire pile of buildings by which they were surrounded. bingley gave vent to an uncontrollable laugh. "beg pardon, sir, but the dignity isn't worth a rush. we are in the old hole, and all we look out for is to have a good time, and scrape through." "old hole--and scrape through! oh, dear--oh, dear!" groaned old mr. king. "that's what our set do," said bingley, to give him time to recover, "joe and davina--ah, i mean david--don't train in our crowd; the other one, whitney"-"don't tell me that he does," interrupted percy's grandfather sharply. "it wouldn't be possible." "no, he doesn't affect us," said bingley coolly, "it's all he can do to take care of those eyeglasses of his; and he'd muss his clothes. whitney is something of a softy, sir." old mr. king drew a long breath of relief. but he looked so troubled, that bingley for the life of him couldn't keep up his assumed carelessness. "sit down again, do, sir," he begged involuntarily, "and i will tell you all about it," and mr. king, resuming his chair, presently had a graphic account of joel's course in college, with a description of the trouble in his room, till the whole thing was laid bare. "how i wish i had been here to see my boy," exclaimed the old gentleman, with sparkling eyes; "i might have helped him a bit." he stretched out a handsome fist and looked at it as admiringly as any college athlete could view his own. "well," dropping his arm, "i am interrupting you, mr."--groping for the name. "bingley, sir." "ah, yes; bingley. well, mr. bingley, pray go on. did you not say that another attempt was to be made on my grandson?" bingley nodded. "to-night after he comes from the association rooms," he added. "we shall see--we shall see," exclaimed the old gentleman drily, in a manner that delighted bingley and made him tingle all over to "be in at the death" himself. "dobbs has planned it to"-"dobbs?" interrupted the old gentleman sharply, "what family? not the ingoldsby dobbs, i trust"-"this chap's name is ingoldsby dobbs," said bingley; "he's a high-flyer, i tell you! lives up to his name, i suppose he thinks." "oh, i'm so sorry," mourned mr. king; "i have known his father ever since we were boys; he's capital stock. well, go on, mr. bingley, and let me know what this young rascal is up to," he added, with extreme irritation. "he is going to have his men close in on joe in the middle of the park. pepper often comes that way to 'old brick'--short, you know, for 'old brick dormitory'--with a poor miserable cuss--excuse me, sir--he's trying to get up on to sober legs. there are twenty fellows pledged to do the job, i've found out." bingley didn't think it worth while to mention how the plan was discovered, nor that heavy vengeance was vowed upon his head if he divulged it. "i gave it away to whitney. i couldn't get at davi--er, dave, to see if it wasn't possible to keep joe away from that meeting." "it would come some time--it better be to-night," said the old gentleman briefly. "well, is that all?" "yes, sir; only that they are to toss a cloak over joe's head, and carry him off for a little initiation fun." "ah!" old mr. king sat quite straight. "thank you, mr. bingley," he said, getting out of his chair. he didn't offer to shake hands, and bingley, though pretending not to notice any omission of that sort, felt considerably crest-fallen about it. the moment the door was shut and he heard mr. king go down the stairs, robert bingley ran his fingers through his hair, giving a savage pull at the innocent locks. "curse my luck!" he growled, taking out the angry fingers to shake them at his legs, "tied here by these two beggars, and he thinks that i'm sneaking out of standing up for joe!" old mr. king fumed to himself all the way down the stairs, becoming more angry with each step. when he reached the lower hall he turned and passed through the building instead of going out, and meeting a young collegian on a run, asked, "have the goodness to tell me, sir, does mr. ingoldsby dobbs room in this building?" "no. 23-4-5 in the extension," said the undergraduate, not slackening speed, and pointing the direction. so the old gentleman climbed the staircase to the wing, and presently rapped on the door marked 23. uproarious shouts of laughter greeted him as he opened the door in response to a loud "come in!" the noise stopped as suddenly as it was possible for the inmates of the room to check it when they saw the visitor, but not before "we'll season pepper well and make the deacon howl!" came distinctly to his ears. "good afternoon, young gentlemen," said old mr. king, bowing his white head; and holding his hat in his hand, he advanced to the table, around which sat six or eight of them. "i beg of you not to go," as some of them made a sudden movement to leave; "i should like to see you all, though i called especially upon mr. ingoldsby dobbs." a tall, wiry youth with sallow face and high-bred nose, disentangled himself from the group and came forward. "i don't remember where i have met you, sir," he said, yet extending his hand, with his best manner on. "aristocratic old party," whispered one man to his neighbor, "dobbsey needn't be afraid to claim him." "i am very thankful to say i never have met you before, young man," observed mr. king coolly, not seeing the slender hand waiting for his, "your father honors me with his friendship. this may tell you who i am," and he threw a card upon the table. young dobbs' sallow face turned a shade paler as he picked up the card and read it. "glad to see you--sit down, won't you?" he mumbled, dragging up a comfortable chair. "any friend of father's is welcome here," he went on awkwardly, while the rest of the men stared at him, one of them exclaiming under his breath, "first time dobbs' cheek deserted him, i'll wager." the old gentleman looked first into ingoldsby dobbs' thin face, then surveyed them all quite leisurely. "i understand you paid my grandson, joel pepper, a call a short time since, when instead of abusing him, some of you got your deserts." the men started, and angry exclamations went around the room: "he's turned coward, the mean sneak! we'll pay him up!" and remarks of a like nature being quite audible. old mr. king turned on them. "silence!" he commanded. "my grandson joel doesn't know i am here. i heard the story since my arrival. if any one says one word against him, i'll cane him from the top of the stairs to the bottom," and he looked as if he could do it. "'twas bingley, then," said dobbs sullenly. the old gentleman completely ignored him, addressing his words to the crowd. "there are four men in this class who are going to be protected from your insults. those are my three grandsons and mr. robert bingley; and this is to be done without appealing to the college authorities either. that puts a stop to your fine plan, mr. dobbs," at last looking at him, "and any other idea of the same sort your fertile brain may chance to think up. the first intimation of any hostility, and your father and the fathers of these men here with you," waving his hand at them all, "and of the others in this interesting plan, will be informed, and you will be dealt with exactly like any other disturber of the peace--villains in college or out of it ought to be served to the same punishment, in my opinion. now have any of you remarks to make?" it was so like joel's invitation to "come on and have it out now," that not a single man of them stirred. "then i will have the pleasure of bidding you good-by," said mr. king, and the next moment he was outside of no. 23, while perfect silence reigned within. polly came slowly down mrs. higby's front stairs and looked at phronsie standing at the further end of the entry. "what's the matter, phronsie?" at last she asked. for the first time in her life phronsie seemed unable to answer polly, and she stood quite still, her gaze fastened on the big-flowered muslin curtain that swung back and forth in the breeze that came through the open window. "now, phronsie," said polly very decidedly, and going up to her, "you must tell me what the matter is." "i can't," said phronsie, in a low tone, "don't ask me, polly." "can't tell me everything?" cried polly. "dear me, what nonsense, phronsie. come now, begin, there's a dear." "but i am not to tell," persisted phronsie, shaking her head. then she drew a long breath, and looked as if she were going to cry. "who has been telling you things?" cried polly, her brown eyes flashing, "that you are not to tell? it is mrs. cabot. i know it is, for there is no one else here who would do it." "don't ask me," pleaded phronsie in great distress, and clutching polly's gown. "oh, don't say anything more about it, polly." "indeed i shall," declared polly. "no one has a right to command you in this way, and i shall just speak to mrs. cabot about it." "oh, no, no," protested phronsie, huddling up closer to polly in dismay; "please, polly, don't say anything to her about it, please." "mamsie wouldn't ever allow you to be annoyed about anything," said polly, with increasing irritation, "and if mrs. cabot has said anything to you, phronsie, to make you feel badly, why, i must know it. don't you see, child, that i really ought to be told?" phronsie folded her hands tightly together, trying to keep them quiet, and her cheeks turned so very white that polly hastened to put her well arm around her, saying quickly, "there, there, child, you needn't tell me now if you don't want to. wait a bit." "i had rather tell it now," said phronsie, "but oh, i do wish that grandpapa was here," she added sadly. "whatever can have been said to you, phronsie?" exclaimed polly in dismay. "you frighten me, child. do tell me at once what it was." "jasper isn't going to be at mr. marlowe's any more," said phronsie, with distinctness. "jasper isn't going to be at mr. marlowe's any more." repeated polly wildly, and holding phronsie so closely that she winced. "oh, what do you mean! who has told you such nonsense?" "mrs. cabot," said phronsie; "she told me this morning--and i was not to tell you, polly. but i did not promise not to. indeed i didn't." "what perfect nonsense!" exclaimed polly, recovering herself, and trying to laugh, "well, phronsie, child, didn't you know better than to believe any story that mrs. cabot might tell? how in the world could she know of jasper's affairs, pray tell?" and she laughed again, this time quite gaily. "ah, but," said phronsie, shaking her head, "she had a letter from mr. cabot; it came in this morning's mail; she opened it and said out loud this dreadful thing about jasper, and then she saw me, and she said i was not to tell you." polly dropped phronsie's arm and rushed down the hall. "where are you going?" cried phronsie, hurrying after--"oh, polly!" "i am going to make mrs. cabot tell me everything she knows," said polly hoarsely, and not looking back; "she shall let me have every syllable. it can't be true!" she threw wide the door of mrs. higby's "keeping-room" where that lady was engaged in putting a patch on the chintz-covered sofa, and talking gossip with a neighbor at the same time. "i thought as this was a-going so fast, mr. higby sets it out so, and we were all so comfortable to-day, i'd get at it kinder early," said mrs. higby apologetically; "anything i can do, miss polly?" she asked, flying away from her patch, and dropping her scissors on the floor. "no," said polly, turning back hastily. "never mind, mrs. higby." "now 'twas something you wanted me for," cried mrs. higby, ambling toward the door, "i ain't a mite busy, miss polly; that old patch can wait. la! i can tell mr. higby to set on the other end till i get time to attend to it. what was it, miss polly?" polly turned back, mrs. higby's tone was so full of entreaty. "oh, nothing, only if it isn't too much trouble, would you ask mrs. cabot to come down stairs a moment, i want to see her." "oh, cert'in," cried mrs. higby, ambling off toward the stairs. and presently mrs. cabot in a pink morning gown came down the hall toward polly, and put both arms around her. [illustration: "phronsie, get a glass of water; be quick, child!"] "what is it, dear?" she asked caressingly. "come out of doors," begged polly, "i can't breathe here. come, mrs. cabot." and mrs. cabot, her arms still around polly, was drawn out to the old porch, phronsie following. then polly shook herself free. "is it true?" she began--"i made phronsie tell me--that jasper," she caught her breath, but went on again hurriedly, "has left mr. marlowe?" "oh, dear me!" exclaimed mrs. cabot in consternation, "what shall i do? yes; but i wasn't to tell you; mr. king is coming back. do wait, polly, and ask him about it." "i shall not wait," declared polly passionately, facing her. "tell me all you know, mrs. cabot; every single word." "i don't know a thing about it," cried mrs. cabot in a frightened way, "only mr. cabot writes that mr. king has made jasper leave mr. marlowe. that's all i know about it, polly," she added desperately, "and i wish mr. cabot had been asleep before he wrote it. phronsie, oh! get a glass of water; be quick, child!" as polly sank down on the old stone floor of the porch. chapter xxi. polly tries to help jasper. "i think it was a mean shame," began dick wrathfully. "dick--dick!" exclaimed his mother gently. mr. whitney tapped his knee with a letter he had just placed within its envelope, then threw it on the table. "it's the best job i ever did," he cried jubilantly, "to get jasper out of that business." dick sent his two hands deep within their pockets. "oh! how can you say so?" he cried. "and how can you question what your father does?" exclaimed mrs. whitney. "why, that isn't like you, dick!" with a face full of reproach. "oh! let the boy say what he wants to, marian," broke in her husband easily. "so, dicky, my lad, you don't think i did just the right thing for jasper--eh?" he leaned back in his chair, and surveyed his young son with a twinkle in his eye. "no, i don't," declared dick, beginning to rage up and down the room on young indignant feet. "i say it's mean to meddle with a fellow's business. i wouldn't stand it!" he added stoutly. mr. whitney laughed long and loud, despite his wife's shocked, "dicky, don't, dear!" "well, if i didn't know that in a year's time jasper will come to me and say, 'i thank you!' i should never have gone through with the job in the world," said his father, when he came out of his amusement. "it isn't the pleasantest piece of work a man could select, 'to meddle,' as you call it, with another's affairs." "jasper never will thank you in the world--never!" exclaimed dick, cramming his irritated hands deeper in their pockets, and turning on his father. "you see," said his father, nodding easily. "and you see, papa," cried dick, turning hastily in front of him, looking so exactly like his father that mrs. whitney forgot to chide, in admiring them both. "and i think it's too bad," went on dick. "everybody pitches into jasper, and wants him to do things; and grandpapa is always picking at him. i'd--i'd fight--sometimes," he added. "softly--softly there, my boy," said mr. whitney; "you'll have plenty of practice for all your fighting powers by and by; a fourteen-year-old chap doesn't know everything." "well, i know one thing," declared dick, more positively, "grandpapa has always been meddling with jasper, and you know it, papa." "that's because he expects great things from jasper, and that he will hold up the king name; we all do," replied his father. dick turned on an impatient heel. "and so he would have done, if you'd let him be a publisher," he declared. his father laughed again, and leaned out of his chair to pinch his son's ear, but dick, resenting this indignity, retreated to a safe position, declaring, "and i'm going to be one when i'm through college--so!" [illustration: "i think it was a mean shame' began dick wrathfully.] "mr. king's a-coming down the road, and mr. jasper!" screamed mrs. higby, coming out suddenly to the porch. "i see 'em from the keepin'-room window. my! what's the matter with miss polly?" "nothing," said polly, opening her eyes; "that is, not much," and sitting up straight. "are grandpapa and jasper really coming?" she asked. "dear me, polly," exclaimed mrs. cabot, before mrs. higby could answer, and putting shaking hands on polly's shoulders, "i never was so frightened in my life! i thought your arm was worse--and you so near well! o, dear! are you sure you are right?" peering around into her face. "here comes phronsie with the water--that's good!" polly took the glass and smiled up reassuringly into phronsie's troubled face. "oh! how good that is, phronsie," she cried. "there now, i'm all right. don't let grandpapa or jasper know," and she sprang to her feet, while mrs. higby hurried off to see if her preparations for dinner were all right, now that mr. king had come back a day sooner than he wrote he intended. "phronsie, you go and meet them; do, dear," begged polly; and as phronsie ran off obediently, polly walked up and down the porch with hasty steps, holding her hands as tightly locked together as the injured arm would allow. "oh! if i only had time to think--but i ought to try, even if i don't say just exactly the right words, for mr. marlowe may not be able to take him back if i wait," and then grandpapa came hurrying out with, "where's polly?" and she was kissed and her cheeks patted--he not seeming to notice anything amiss in her--he was so glad to get back; and through it all, polly saw only jasper's face, and, although everything seemed to turn around before her, she made up her mind that she would tell grandpapa just what she thought, and beg him to change his mind, the very first instant she could. and so, before the first greetings of the homecoming were fairly over, polly, afraid her courage would give out if she waited a moment longer, put her hand on mr. king's arm. "what is it, dear?" asked the old gentleman, busy with phronsie, who hung around his neck, while she tried to tell him everything that had happened during his absence; and he peered over her shoulder into polly's face. "grandpapa," cried polly in a tremor, "could you let me talk to you a little just now? please, grandpapa." "well, yes, dear, after phronsie has"-"oh! phronsie will wait," cried polly, guilty of interrupting; "i know she will." for the first time in her life, phronsie said rebelliously, "oh! i don't want to wait, polly. dear grandpapa has just got home, and i must tell him things." "so you shall, phronsie," declared old mr. king, drawing her off beyond polly's reach. "there, now you and i will get into this quiet corner," and he sat down and drew phronsie to his knee. "now, pet, so you are glad to get your old grandpapa home, eh?" polly, in an agony at being misunderstood, followed, and without stopping to think, she threw her arms around phronsie and cried, "o, phronsie! do trust me, dear, and let grandpapa go. i must see him now!" mr. king gave polly's burning cheeks a keen glance, then he set phronsie on the floor abruptly. "phronsie, see, dear, polly really needs me. come, child," and he gathered up polly's hand into his own, and marched out of the room with her. "suppose we go in here," said the old gentleman, "and have our talk," unceremoniously opening the door of mrs. higby's best room as he spoke; "nobody is likely to disturb us here." polly, not caring where she went, but with the words she must speak weighing heavily on her mind, followed him unsteadily into the parlor, and while he threw open a blind or two to light up the gloom that usually hung over mrs. higby's best room, she busied herself trying to think how she should begin. "there, now, my dear," said mr. king, coming up to her, and drawing her off to a big haircloth sofa, standing stiffly against the wall, "we will sit down here, and then we can go over it comfortably together and settle what is on your mind," he added, feeling immensely gratified at the impending confidence. "grandpapa," cried polly in desperation, and springing from the sofa, where he had placed her by his side, to stand in front of him, "i don't know where to begin. oh! do help me." she clasped her hands, and stood the picture of distress, unable to say another word. "why, how can i help you to tell me, child," cried old mr. king in astonishment, "when i don't know in the least what it is you want to say?" "oh! i know it," cried polly, twisting her hands, unable to hold them quite still. "o, dear! what shall i do? grandpapa, it's just"-"well, what, my dear?" asked the old gentleman, and taking one of her hands encouragingly. "are you afraid of me? why, polly!" polly started at his tone of reproach, and threw her well arm around his neck, exactly as phronsie would have done, which so pleased the old gentleman that it was easier for her to begin again to tell him what was on her mind. but when she had gotten as far as "it's just this"--she stopped again. "well, now, polly," said mr. king, sitting straight on the sofa, with displeasure, "i must say, i am surprised at you. i should never think this was you, polly, never in all the world," which so unnerved her, that she plunged at once into what she had set herself to do, saying the most dreadful thing that was possible. "o, grandpapa!" she cried, "do you think it can be right to take jasper away from his work?" "hoity-toity! well, i must say, polly," exclaimed the old gentleman in the greatest displeasure, and rising abruptly from the sofa, brushing her aside as he did so, "that i never have been so surprised in my life, as to have you come to teach me my duty. right? of course it is--it must be, if i wish it. i have always looked out for jasper's good," with that he walked up and down the parlor, fuming at every step, and looking so very dreadful, that polly, rooted to the spot, had only to stand still, and watch him in despair. "if you could have seen jasper, the way he was when i found him," said mr. king, tired at last of vituperating, and coming up to polly sternly, "you would be glad to have me get him out of the wretched business. it smelt so of trade, and everybody was grossly familiar; while that mr. marlowe--i have no words for him, polly. he insulted me." "oh!--oh!" cried polly, with clasped hands and flaming cheeks. "how could he, grandpapa? jasper has always said he was such a gentleman." "jasper's ideas of what a gentleman should be, and mine, are very different," exploded the old gentleman, beginning to walk up and down the parlor again. "i tell you, polly, that my boy is sadly changed since he went into that contemptible trade." "but jasper loves his work," mourned polly, her color dying down. "loves his work? well, he shouldn't," cried mr. king in extreme irritation. "it's no sort of a work for him to love, brought up as he has been. a profession is the only thing for him. now he studies law"-"o, grandpapa!" cried polly, quite white now, and she precipitated herself in front of the old gentleman's angry feet, "jasper just hates the law. i know, for he has often said so; and if you do fasten him down all his life to what he don't like, and make him be a lawyer, it will kill him. he'll do it, grandpapa"--polly rushed on, regardless of the lightning gleam of anger in the sharp eyes above her; and, although she knew that after this she should never be the same polly to him as of old, she kept on steadily--"because you want him to; he'll do anything to please you, and make you happy, grandpapa, and he won't say anything, but it will kill him; it surely will, for he loves his work with mr. marlowe so." then polly stopped, aghast at the effect of her words. "and what am i to do now, pray, to please you?" asked old mr. king, and drawing off to look at her quite coldly. "oh! nothing to please me," cried poor polly; "only for jasper. do let him go back to mr. marlowe, grandpapa." "he shall never go back to mr. marlowe with my consent," declared the old gentleman stiffly, his anger rising again, "and you have displeased me very much, polly pepper, by all this. now you may go; and remember, not another word about jasper and his work. i will arrange everything concerning him without interference." and polly, not knowing how crept out of mrs. higby's parlor, and shut the door. [illustration: "oh, why did i speak?" cried polly over and over.] "polly!" somebody called, as she hurried on unsteady feet over the stairs to her own little room that she had begged under the farmhouse eaves. but she didn't even answer, only rushed on, and locked the door behind her. then she threw herself on her knees by the bed, and buried her face in her hands. this was worse than the day so long ago when she sat in the old rocking-chair in the little brown house, with eyes bound closely to shut out all outside things; and all of them had been afraid she was going to be blind. for now she felt sure that she had spoiled whatever chance there might have been for jasper. "oh! why did i speak--why did i?" she cried, over and over in her distress, as she buried her face deeper yet in mrs. higby's gay patch bedquilt. after a while--polly never could tell how long she had staid there--somebody rapped at the door. it was phronsie; and she cried in a grieved little voice, "polly, are you here? i've been under the apple-trees--and just everywhere for you. do let me in." "i can't now, pet," cried polly, trying not to let her voice sound choked with tears; "you run away, dear; polly will let you in by and by." "are you sick, polly?" cried phronsie anxiously, and kneeling down to put her mouth to the keyhole. "no, not a bit," said polly hastily, and trying to speak cheerfully. "really, polly?" "really and truly, phronsie; there, run away, dear, if you love me." phronsie, at this, unwillingly crept off, and still polly knelt on, with the wild remorse tugging at her heart that she had been the one to injure jasper's prospects for life. and then the dinner-bell rang, and polly, who was never known to be late at a meal, heard mrs. higby come out into the hall again, and shake the big bell till it seemed to fill the whole farmhouse with its noise. "oh! i can't go down--i can't!" moaned poor polly to herself, quite lost to everything but the dreadful distress at the mischief she had wrought. and then phronsie came again, this time imploring, with tears--for polly felt quite sure that she could hear her crying--that polly would only open the door, "and let me see you just once, polly!" and even mrs. cabot came, and polly thought she should go wild to have her stand outside there and beg and insist that polly should come down to them all. [illustration: "are you sick, polly?" cried phronsie anxiously.] "i don't want any dinner," said polly over and over. "i just must be alone a little while," and at last she spoke quickly to mrs. cabot's persistent pleadings, "have the goodness, mrs. cabot, not to call me again." and then she was sorry the minute she had spoken the words, and she opened her door a little crack to call after mrs. cabot, as she sailed downstairs in great displeasure, "oh! do forgive me, dear mrs. cabot, for speaking so. i am very sorry, but i cannot come down just yet." "i shall send you up your dinner, then," said mrs. cabot, only half appeased, and pausing on the stairs. "no, no!" begged polly, and she seemed so distressed at the mere thought, that mrs. cabot unwillingly let her have her way about it. it was in the middle of the afternoon, and polly, exhausted by weeping, had fallen asleep just where she was, on her knees by the bed, her head on the gay bedquilt, when a low knock on the door startled her and made her rub her eyes and listen. "polly," said a voice--it was jasper's--"won't you undo the door? i want to speak to you." "o, jasper!" cried polly, springing to her feet, and running over to the door, "i can't; don't ask me--not just yet." "i won't ask you again," said jasper, "if you don't wish it, polly." his voice showed his disappointment, and polly, full of dismay at the trouble she had made for him, couldn't find it in her heart to cause him this new worry. "you won't want to speak to me, jasper," she cried, unlocking the door with trembling fingers, "when you know what i have done." "what, polly?" he cried, trying not to show how he felt at sight of the swollen eyelids and downcast face. meanwhile he drew her out gently into the hall. "there, let us sit down here," pausing before the wide window-seat; "it's quiet here, and nobody will be likely to come here." he waited till polly sat down, then made a place for himself beside her. "jasper," cried polly, lifting her brown eyes, now filling with tears again, "you can't think what i've done. i've ruined your whole life for you!" "how, polly?" jasper's face grew pale to his lips. "oh! do tell me at once," yet he seemed to be afraid of what she was about to say. "o, jasper! i thought perhaps i could help you. i never knew till this morning, just before you came, that you had lost your place. mrs. cabot had a letter from her husband, and she told me. and i spoke to grandpapa and begged him to let you go back, and, o, jasper!" here polly's tears, despite all her efforts to keep them back, fell in a shower, "you can't guess how dreadfully grandpapa feels, and he says--oh! he says that you are to study law, and never, never go back to mr. marlowe." "is that all?" exclaimed jasper in such a tone of relief that polly sprang to her feet and stared at him through dry eyes. "all?" she gasped. "o, jasper! i thought you loved your work." chapter xxii. mr king and polly. "so i do love my work," cried jasper in a glow, "but, polly," and he sprang to his feet and walked away so that she couldn't see his face, "i thought that you were going to say something about yourself." then he turned around and faced her again. "o, jasper!" exclaimed polly reproachfully, "what could i possibly have to say about myself! how can i think of anything when you are in trouble?" "forgive me, polly," broke in jasper eagerly, and he took her hand, "and don't worry about me; i mean, don't think that what you said to grandpapa made any difference." "but indeed it did, jasper," declared polly truthfully; "oh! i know it did, and i have done it all." "polly--polly!" begged jasper in great distress, "don't, dear!" "and now you must give it all up and go into the law--oh! the horrid, hateful law; oh! what will you do, jasper?" and she gazed up into his face pityingly. "i shall have to go," said jasper, drawing his breath hard, and looking at her steadily. "you know you yourself told me long ago to make my father happy any way, polly." he smiled as he emphasized the last word. "oh! i know," cried polly in despair, "but i didn't think it could ever be anything as bad as this, jasper." "'any way' means pretty hard lines sometimes, polly," said jasper. "well, there's no help for it now, so you must help me to go through with it." "and just think," mourned polly, looking as if the shower were about to fall again, "how i've made it worse for you with grandpapa. o, jasper! i shall never be any help to you." "polly!" exclaimed jasper, in such a tone that she stopped to look at him in astonishment. "there, now, i'll tell you all about it," he added with his usual manner, and sitting down beside her again, "and then you'll see that nothing on earth made any difference to father. this was the way of it," and jasper proceeded to lay before her every detail of mr. king's visit to him, and all the circumstances at the store, not omitting mr. whitney's part in the affair, as shown by the letter that jasper had seen. "oh, oh! how mean," interrupted polly at this point, with flashing brown eyes; "how could he?" and her lips curled disdainfully. "oh! mason thought he was doing me the greatest favor in the world, i don't doubt," answered jasper. "you know, polly, he never could bear to hear of the publishing business, and he was so disappointed when i wouldn't go into the law." "i know," said polly, "but this was dreadful, to meddle--after you had once decided; very, very dreadful!" "i think so," said jasper, with a laugh; feeling surprisingly light-hearted, it was so beautiful to be talking it all over with polly, "but the trouble is, mason don't. well, and then came that dreadful misunderstanding about mr. marlowe; that hurt me worse than all. o, polly! if you only knew the man," and jasper relapsed into gloom once more. "o, dear, dear!" cried polly sympathetically, and clasping her hands. "what can we do; isn't there anything to do?" "no," said jasper, "absolutely nothing. when father once makes up his mind about anything, it's made up for all time. i must just lose the friendship of that man, as well as my place." with that his gloom deepened, and polly, feeling powerless to utter a word, slipped her hand within his as it lay on his knee. he looked up and smiled gratefully. "you see, polly, we can't say anything to him." "oh! no, no," cried polly in horror at the mere thought; "i've only made it a great deal worse." "no, you haven't made it worse, dear; but we shouldn't do any good to talk to him about it." "i don't believe i could live," cried polly, off her guard, "to have him look at me, and to hear him speak so again, jasper." jasper started, while a frown spread over his face. "i can bear anything but that you should be hurt, polly," he exclaimed, his fingers tightening over hers. "oh! i don't mind it so much," cried polly, recovering herself hastily, "if i hadn't made mischief for you." "and that you never must think of again. promise me, polly." "i'll try not to," said polly. "you must just put the notion out of your mind whenever it comes in," said jasper decidedly; "you'll promise that, polly, i know you will." "well," said polly reluctantly, "i will, jasper." "all right," exclaimed jasper, in great satisfaction. "polly--polly." phronsie's yellow head came up above the stairs, and presently phronsie came running up to them in great haste. "o, polly!" and she threw her arms hungrily around polly and hugged her closely. "o, dear!" letting her arms fall, "i wasn't to stop a minute. grandpapa wants you to drive with him, polly, and you are to go right down as soon as you get your hat on." "grandpapa!" screamed polly, jumping off from the window-seat so hastily that phronsie nearly fell over, while jasper was hardly less excited. "why, phronsie, you can't mean it. he"-"father really wants you, polly, i know," broke in jasper, with a look into the brown eyes. but his voice shook, and if phronsie hadn't been so worried over polly, she would certainly have noticed it. "polly hasn't had any dinner," she said in a troubled way. "oh! i don't care for dinner," cried polly, with another look at jasper, and beginning to dance off to her room for her hat. "but you must have some," declared phronsie in gentle authority, going toward the stairs, "and i shall just ask grandpapa to wait for you to get it. mrs. higby saved your dinner for you, polly"-"oh! i couldn't eat a morsel," protested polly from her little room, "and don't ask grandpapa to wait an instant, whatever you do, phronsie. see, i'm ready," and she ran out into the hall, putting on her hat as she spoke. "get her a glass of milk, phronsie," called jasper, standing by the stair-railing; "that's a good child." polly flashed him a grateful look as she dashed down the stairs, drawing on her gloves, and not daring to look forward to meeting grandpapa. but when she came out to the back piazza, phronsie following her with the glass, and begging her to drink up the rest left in it, old mr. king, standing by the little old-fashioned chaise, received her exactly as if nothing had happened. "well, i declare, polly," he said, turning to her with a smile, "i never saw anybody get ready so quickly as you can. there, hop in, child," and he put aside her dress from the wheel in his most courtly manner possible. "polly hasn't had all the milk," said phronsie, by the chaise-step, holding up the glass anxiously. "well, i don't believe she wants it," said old mr. king. [illustration: "polly hasn't had all the milk," said phronsie] "no, i don't," said polly, from the depths of the old chaise. "i couldn't drink it, dear." mr. king bent his white head to kiss phronsie, and then they drove away, and left her standing in the lilac-shaded path, her glass in her hand, and looking after them. all sorts of things mr. king talked of in the cheeriest manner possible, just as if polly and he were in the habit of taking a drive like this every morning; and he never seemed to notice her swollen eyelids, or whether she answered, but kept on bravely with the conversation. at last polly, at something he said, laughed in her old merry fashion; then mr. king drew a long breath, and relaxed his efforts. "i declare, polly," he said, leaning back in a comfortable way against the old cushion, and allowing the neighbor's horse, hired for the occasion, to amble along in its own fashion, "now we are so cosy, i believe i'll tell you a secret." polly stopped laughing and gazed at him. "how would you like to take a little journey, just you and i, to-morrow?" he asked, looking down into her face. "a journey, grandpapa?" asked polly wonderingly. "yes; about as far as---say, well, to the place where jasper has been all winter. the fact is, polly," went on mr. king very rapidly, as if with the fear that if he stopped he would not be able to finish at all, "i want you to look over the ground--jasper's work, i mean. it seems an abominable place to me--a perfectly abominable one," confided the old gentleman in a burst of feeling, "but there," pulling himself up, "maybe i'm not the one to say it. you see, polly, i never did a stroke of work in my life, and i really can't tell how working-places ought to look. and i suppose a working man like mr. marlowe might be different from me, and yet be a decent sort of a person, after all. well, will you go?" he asked abruptly. "o, grandpapa!" cried polly, aghast, and turning in the chaise to look at him with wide eyes. "yes, i really mean it," nodded old mr. king, in his most decided fashion, "although i don't blame you for thinking me funny, child." "i was only thinking how good you are grandpapa!" exclaimed polly fervently, and creeping up close to his side. "there--there, polly, child," said the old gentleman, "no more of that, else we shall have a scene, and that's what i never did like, dear, you know. well, will you go with me--you haven't said yes yet." "oh! yes, yes, yes," cried polly, in a rapturous shout, not taking her glowing eyes off from his face. "take care, you'll scare the natives," warned old mr. king, beaming at her. "brierly folks couldn't have any such transports, polly," as they turned down a shady lane and ambled by a quiet farmhouse. "well, they ought to," replied polly merrily, peering out at the still, big house. "o, grandpapa! i just want to get out and jump and scream. i don't feel any bigger than phronsie." "well, i much rather have you here in this carriage with me," said the old gentleman composedly. "now that's settled that we are going, polly. of course i asked the doctor; i sent down a letter to him after dinner, to ask if your arm would let you take a little journey with me, and of course he said 'yes,' like a sensible man. why shouldn't he, pray tell--when we were all going home in a day or two? now, of course, that must be postponed a bit." "never mind," polly hastened to say, "if jasper is only fixed up." "now, polly," mr. king shifted his position a bit, so that he might see her the better, "perhaps mr. marlowe won't take jasper back. judging from what i know of the man, i don't think he will," and the old gentleman's face, despite his extreme care, began to look troubled at once. "oh! maybe he will," cried polly warmly. "grandpapa, i shouldn't wonder at all--he must!" she added positively. "i don't know, polly," he said, in a worried way. "i think it's very doubtful; indeed, from what i know of business now, i don't believe at all that he will. but then, we can try." "oh! we can try," echoed polly hopefully, and feeling as if, since god was good, he would let jasper back into his chosen life-work. "well, we'll start early to-morrow morning on our little trip, polly," said the old gentleman, catching her infectious spirit, and giving the old horse a fillip with the whip. "meantime, not a word, my dear, of our little plan!" so polly promised the deepest secrecy, and that no one should even have a hint from her looks, of what grandpapa and she were to do. and the next morning, although everybody was nearly devoured by curiosity, no one dared to ask questions; so old mr. king and polly, with two well-filled portmanteaus, departed for a journey of apparently a few days; and polly didn't dare to trust herself alone with jasper, but ran a race with him around all the angles of the old farmhouse, always cleverly disappearing with a merry laugh when there was the least chance of his overtaking her and cornering her for an explanation. and pickering dodge, in his invalid chair drawn close to the window, heard the merry preparations for the journey, and fretfully declared "that people seem to be happy, with never a thought for a poor dog like me," while old mr. loughead, who, despite doctor bryce's verdict, had never seemed quite well enough in his own estimation for his departure from the "higby hospital," on the contrary brightened up, exclaiming, "now, that is something like--to hear miss polly laugh like that--bless her!" "good-by, pickering," said polly, coming into his room, old mr. king close behind; "i am going away with grandpapa for a day or two," and she came up in her traveling hat and gown close to his chair. "so i heard," said pickering, lifting his pale face, and trying to seem glad, for polly's joy was bubbling over. but he made rather a poor show of it. "good-by to you, my boy," said mr. king, laying a soft palm over the thin fingers on pickering's knee. "now see that you get up a little more vigor by the time we are back. goodness! all you want is a trifle more backbone. why, an old fellow like me would beat you there, i do believe. i am surprised at you," cried the old gentleman, shaking his fingers at mr. loughead, with whom he was on the best of terms, but never feeling the necessity to weigh his words, "that you, being chief nurse, don't set up with that boy and make him get on his feet quicker." "so i could do," cried old mr. loughead, whose chief object in life since pickering had been pronounced out of danger, had been to browbeat the trained nurse, and usurp the authority in pickering's sick-room, "if mrs. cabot would keep out, or take it into her head to return home. to state it mildly," continued the old gentleman, not lowering his tone in the least, "that lady doesn't seem to be gifted with the qualities of a nurse. providence never intended that she should be one, in my opinion." "don't tell him to bully me worse than he does," cried pickering. "he shows a frightful hand when he wants his own way." "that's it," cried old mr. king delightedly; "only just keep it up. you'll get well fast, as long as you can fight. come on, polly, my girl, or we shall be late for the train." the evening before, jack loughead ran up the steps to miss salisbury's "select school for young ladies," and pulled the bell hastily. amy ran down as quickly to the little room where she was always allowed to see her brother. "well, amy, child," cried jack, when they had gone through with the preliminaries always religiously observed on his visits: how she had progressed in her music under the new teacher miss pepper had recommended during her enforced absence, and how far she had pleased miss salisbury, and all the other things an elder brother who had come to his conscience rather late, would be apt to look into. "and so you really think you are getting on in your practice?" "o, yes, jack!" cried amy confidently. "come and see; i've a new beethoven for you," and she laid hold of his arm with eager fingers. "now, you'll be immensely surprised, jack--immensely." "no doubt, no doubt," answered jack hastily, and not offering to get up from the sofa, "but you needn't play it now." "why, jack," cried amy, no little offended, "what's the matter? you've asked me regularly to play you my pieces, and now to-night when i offer to, you won't have any of it," and she began to pout. "that's shabby in me," declared jack, with remorse; and getting off the sofa, to his feet, he dutifully spread the music on the rack, and paid his little sister such attention, that she was soon smilingly launched into the new piece, and lost to everything else but her own melody. "that's fine!" pronounced jack, as amy declared herself through, and whirled around on the music-stool for his applause. but his heart wasn't in it, and amy's blue eyes soon found it out. "you're not a bit like yourself to-night, brother jack," she cried, with another pout and staring at him. "you're right; i'm not, amy," declared jack. "come over to the sofa, and i'll tell you about it." so the two turned their backs on the piano; and pretty soon, amy, her hand in her brother's big brown palm, was nestled up against him, and hearing a confidence that made her small soul swell with delight. "amy," said jack, putting his arm closer around her, "when miss pepper had the courage to tell me of my duty to you, i made up my mind that you should never want for anything that my hand could supply." "and i never have," cried little amy, poking her head up from its nest to look at him. "all the girls say you are just splendid to me; that they never saw such a brother; and i don't believe they ever did, jack," she added proudly. "so now, what i am about to do," said jack, speaking with great effort, "isn't to bring anything but the greatest happiness to you, amy, as well as to me. if only i can secure it!" he added under his breath. "what are you going to do, jack?" demanded amy, springing away from him to stare into his bronzed face. "oh! i know; you are going to europe again, and will take me this time--oh! goody, goody!" she screamed like a child, clapping her hands gaily. "hush, amy," cried jack, trying to speak lightly, "or miss salisbury will come in, and send me off, saying i spoil your manners. there, come back here to me; i can talk better then," and he drew her to his side again. "no, it is something much more beautiful than any trip to europe would be." "it can't be. jack," cried amy positively, and burrowing her sunny head into his waistcoat. [illustration: amy.] "listen--and don't interrupt again," said her big brother. "amy--how can i tell it? amy, if miss pepper will--will marry me, i will bless god all my life!" this time amy sprang to the middle of the floor of miss salisbury's small reception-room. "marry you, brother jack!" she screamed. "oh! how perfectly elegant! it's too lovely for anything--oh! my darling miss pepper," and so on, till jack couldn't make her hear a word. "amy--amy," at last he said, getting up to her, to lay an imperative hand on her arm, "what would miss pepper say--don't get so excitable, child--to see you now? do hush!" "i know it," said amy, stopping instantly, and creeping humbly back to the sofa; "miss pepper was always telling me how to stop screaming at everything i liked; and not to cry at things i didn't like," she confessed frankly. "well, then, if you love her," said jack, going back to sit down by her again, "you will try to do what she says. and you do love her, i am quite sure, amy." "i love her so," declared amy, "that i would do any and everything she ever asked me to, brother jack." "i thought so," said jack. "well, now, amy, i must tell you that i went to see mrs. fisher to-day, to ask her if i may speak to miss pepper. and she gives me full permission; and so i shall go to brierly to-morrow, and try my fate." "it won't be any trying at all," cried amy superbly, and stretching her neck to look up with immense pride at her tall brother. "she can't help loving you, jack! oh! i am so happy." jack loughead's dark face had a grave look on it as he glanced down at her. "i hope so," he said simply. chapter xxiii. that settles many things. "it's perfectly dreadful," cried alexia rhys, wrinkling her brows, "to try to get up anything with polly away. if we only had joel to help us, that would be something"-"well, it's got to be done," said clem forsythe, in a matter-of-fact way. "of course it has," cried alexia gustily. "dear me," in a tone of horror, "did you suppose that we'd let polly pepper go on year after year getting up perfectly elegant things for us, and then we not celebrate for her, when she comes home, and with a broken arm, too? the idea, clem!" "well, then i think we much better set to work to think up something," observed clem wisely, "if we are going to do anything." "we can't think of a single thing--not one," bemoaned alexia; "it will be a perfectly horrid fright, whatever we get up. oh, dear! what shall we do, girls?" "alexia, you are enough to drive anybody wild," cried sally moore; "it's bad enough to know there isn't an idea in all our heads put together, without having you tell us of it every minute. cathie harrison, why don't you say something, instead of staring that wall out of countenance?" "because i haven't anything to say," replied cathie, laughing grimly and leaning back in her chair resignedly. "oh, dear! i think just as alexia does, it will be utterly horrid whatever we do." "don't you be a wet blanket," cried two or three of the girls, "if alexia is. oh, dear! miss chatterton, you are the only one of sense in this company. now do give us an idea," added one. "i don't know in the least how to help," said charlotte chatterton slowly, and leaning her elbows on her knees she rested her head in her hands. "i never got up a play or tableau, nor anything of the kind in my life; and we never celebrated anything either; there was never anything to celebrate--but i should think perhaps it would be better not to try to do great things." "why, miss chatterton," exclaimed alexia rhys, in great disapproval, and starting forward in the pretty pink-trimmed basket chair. "i'm perfectly surprised at you--nothing can be too good for polly pepper. we must get up something perfectly magnificent, or else i shall die!" she cried tragically. "nothing can be too good for polly," repeated charlotte, taking her head out of her hands and looking at alexia, "but isn't it better not to try to be too grand, and have something simple, because, whatever we do, polly must always have had things so much nicer." "in other words, it's better to hit what you aim at, than to shoot at the clouds and bring down nothing," said clem sententiously. "yes--yes, i think so," cried cathie, clapping her hands; "it's awfully vulgar to try to cut a dash--that is, if you can't do it," she added quickly. [illustration: "nothing can be too good for polly pepper!" cried alexia, starting forward.] "don't say 'awfully,'" corrected alexia, readjusting herself in her pink-and-white chair. "well, i suppose you are right, miss chatterton; you're always right; being, as i said, a person of sense." charlotte gave a short laugh, but with a little bitter edge to it. why would the girls who now seemed to be so glad to have her in the center of all their plans, persist in calling her miss chatterton? it gave her a chill every time, and she fairly hated the name. "and now since we are going to follow your advice," went on alexia, "be so good as to tell us a little bit more. now what shall we do in the way of a simple, appropriate fandango--a perfect idyl of a thing, you know?" "well," said charlotte quietly, "you know in the olden time at christmas"-"but this isn't christmas," cried alexia, interrupting with an uneasy gesture. "do be still," cried the other girls, pulling at her, "and let miss chatterton finish"-"at christmas ages ago, when special honor was done to entertain the king wherever he was lodged," went on charlotte, "there was a lord of misrule, who gathered together a company of ladies and gentlemen, who rummaged the old castles for grotesque costumes and furbelows. and then masked, they all came in and marched before the king, and danced, oh--everything--we might have minuets and highland flings, and all the rest. and they did everything the lord of misrule directed, and"-"charlotte chatterton, you are a jewel!" cried alexia, tumbling out of her chair, and flying at her, which example was followed by all the other girls. "thank you," cried charlotte, with glistening eyes. "thank you? i guess we do thank you," cried sally moore heartily, "for getting us out of this scrape." "oh! i don't mean that," said charlotte indifferently, "i mean because you called me by my first name, the same as you girls always talk to each other." there was a little pause. "oh! we didn't know as you'd like it," broke in alexia hastily, "you are so tall, and you never seem in a hurry, nor as if you cared a straw about being like a girl, and we didn't dare. but now, oh, charlotte--charlotte!" and she gave her a hug that well repaid charlotte for all the past. "that's a regular bear-hug," she cried at last, releasing her and taking a long breath, "and equal to a few dozen common every-day ones." "if charlotte can breathe after that," said clem, turning on charlotte a pair of glowing eyes, "she'll do well. we are just as glad to call you charlotte, aren't we, girls," whirling around on the group, "as alexia, for all her bear-hug." "yes--yes," cried the whole bevy. "well, now, girls," said alexia, running over to give clem a small shake, "let's to business. there isn't any time to waste. charlotte chatterton, will you tell us the rest of it, and who will be the lord of misrule?--dear me, if we only had joel here!" "i think doctor fisher would be the lord of misrule," said charlotte; "he said he'd do anything we wanted of him, to help out." the girls one and all gave a small howl, and clapped their hands, crying, "capital--capital!" "let's go and ask him now!" cried alexia, who wasn't anything if not energetic; and running to her closet, she picked off her hat from the shelf and tossed it on her head. "oh, how slow you are, girls--do hurry!" as the others flew to the bed where their different head-gear had been thrown. "but it's his office hours," said charlotte, hating in her new-found happiness at being one with the girls, to put a damper on their plan. "bother! supposing it is," exclaimed alexia, in front of her pink-and-white draped mirror, while she ran the long hat pins through her fluffy hair, "it's as important to take care of us girls, as if we were a lot of patients. we shall be, if we don't get this fixed. come on, girls!" she seized a lace scarf from some mysterious corner, and pranced to the door, shaking her gloves at the group. "i don't think we ought to go, now," said charlotte distinctly, not offering to join the merry scramble for the wearing apparel on the bed. "charlotte chatterton!" cried alexia, thoroughly annoyed, "aren't you ashamed of yourself? don't listen to her, girls, but come on," and she ran out to the head of the stairs. the other girls all stopped short. "i don't think polly would like it, and it isn't right," said charlotte, hating to preach, but standing her ground. at this alexia, out in the hall, came running back. "oh! dear--dear, it's perfectly dreadful to be with such good people! there, now, charlotte, don't look like that," rushing up to the tall girl and standing on tiptoe to drop a kiss on the sallow cheek--"we won't go; we'll stay at home and be martyrs," and she began to tear off her hat with a tragic air. "why not go to madam dyce's and ask her to loan us some of her old brocades and bonnets?" proposed cathie harrison suddenly. "she's got a perfect lot of horrible antiques." "the very thing!" cried alexia, the others coming in as chorus. charlotte chatterton rushed as happily as any of them for her walking things. "and then doctor fisher's office hours may be over, and we may stop there on our way home," she cried. doctor fisher's office hours were not only over, but the little doctor assured one and all of the eager group that precipitated themselves upon him, that nothing would give him greater delight than to be a lord of misrule at the celebration to be gotten up for the home-coming. "and it's a very appropriate way to celebrate, my dears," he said, beaming at them over his large spectacles; "for it will be for the coming of the king; king by name as well as nature," and he laughed enjoyably at his own pun. "and i'm sure nobody ever did rule his kingdom so well as our grandpapa. so let's have a splendid mummery, or masquing, or whatever you call it; and in my opinion, you were very smart to think it up." thereupon alexia pulled charlotte chatterton unwillingly into the center of the group that surrounded the little doctor. "we didn't; it was all charlotte," she said. doctor fisher took a long look at the pink spot on charlotte's sallow cheek, and into her happy eyes, then he turned and surveyed the bevy. "we'll have a good time, my dears," he said. * * * * * "now, polly," exclaimed old mr. king, drawing her back an instant before stepping into farmer higby's big carryall, waiting at the station as the train came in, "you mustn't even look as if you had any secret on your mind--oh, come now, that won't do, my dear," turning her around to study the dancing eyes and rosy cheeks. "i can't take you home looking like that, i really can't, my dear." polly tried to pull down her face, but with such poor success that the old gentleman sighed in dismay. "well, you must be careful to keep away from everybody as much as you can," he whispered, as he helped her into the ancient vehicle, "and whatever you do, don't say much to jasper, or you'll surely let the whole thing out," and he got in beside her. "there, drive on, do, mr. higby." "you'll tell jasper that he is to go back to mr. marlowe?" polly leaned over and was guilty of whispering behind farmer higby's broad back. "oh, grandpapa! you won't keep him waiting to know that, will you?" she begged anxiously. "no; that shall be at once, as soon as i see my boy," replied the old gentleman; "but, the rest, polly; how mr. marlowe is coming to look in upon us at our own home, and to meet us the very evening we arrive--that's to be kept as dark as possible." "yes, indeed," cried polly, getting back into her own corner with a happy little wriggle, all unconscious of grandpapa's conspiracy with mother fisher in regard to the home-coming. "for if i can't have the surprise party i started for," declared the old gentleman to himself, "i'll have a jollification at the other end." so he had telegraphed to mrs. fisher an additional message to his many letters, all on the same subject--"have what celebration you like, and invite whom you like. and let it be gay, for the college boys have got leave, and they bring a friend." and at such intervals when he could take his mind from jasper and his affairs, it afforded mr. king infinite delight to tap a certain letter in his breast pocket, that opened, might have revealed in bold characters, a great deal of gratitude for his kindness in inviting the writer on with joel, which was gladly accepted and signed robert bingley. "where's jasper?" said mr. king, as he and polly got out of the carryall into the bustle of the farmhouse delight over their return. "he's gone fishing with phronsie," said mrs. cabot; "we didn't any of us expect you till this afternoon." "goodness me! couldn't they go fishing any other day?" cried the old gentleman irascibly. "well, i suppose there's no help for it. ah! loughead, that you?" extending a cordial hand to the tall figure waiting at the end of the porch till the family greetings were over; "glad to see you." but jack loughead had no eyes for anybody but polly's happy face; and he barely touched the extended palm, while he mumbled something about being glad to be there; then awkwardly stood still. mrs. cabot, who evidently did not regard him in the friendliest of lights, turned her back upon him, keeping her arm around polly. "pickering is waiting to see you," she said, and trying to draw her off. "i'll come in a minute," said polly, breaking away from her, and taking a step toward jack loughead. "how do you do?" she said, putting out her hand. jack loughead seized it eagerly. "may i see you--just now?" he asked in a quick, low voice. "i have your mother's permission to tell you something"--"from mamsie," cried polly, her beaming face breaking into fresh smiles; "yes, indeed, mr. loughead." "about--myself," stumbled jack truthfully, "but your mother gave me permission to speak to you. will you go down the lane, miss pepper, while i can tell you?" [illustration: he walked off, leaving polly alone in the lane] so polly, despite mrs. cabot's calls "come, polly," nodded to grandpapa, who said, "all right, child, don't be gone long," and moved off with jack loughead "down the lane," fresh with spring blossoms and gay with bird songs. "i don't know how," said jack loughead, after a moment's pause, during which polly had lifted her face to look at him wonderingly, "to tell you. i have never been among ladies, and my mother died when i was fifteen; since that i have been working hard, and known no other life. you have been so kind to amy," he said suddenly, as if there were a refuge in the words. "oh, don't put it that way," cried polly, full of sympathy, "amy is a dear little thing; i am very fond of her." he turned glad eyes on her. "yes, i know. and when you spoke to me and showed me my duty, i"-"oh!" cried polly, with cheeks aflame, "don't make me think of that time. how could i speak so, and to you, who know so much more of duty than i ever could imagine? pray forget it, mr. loughead," she begged. "i can't," said jack loughead gravely, "for it was the kindest thing i ever supposed one could say to another--and then--i from that time--loved you, miss pepper!" polly pepper stopped short in the lane. "oh, don't--don't!" she begged, and covered her face with her hands. "i must tell you," said jack loughead, still gravely, and standing quietly to look at her; "and i have come to ask you to marry me." "oh!" cried polly again, and not daring to look at him, "i am so sorry," she cried, "i wouldn't hurt you for all the world, mr. loughead." "i know it," he said, waiting for her to finish. "for--for, i do like you so much--so very much," cried poor polly, wishing the birds wouldn't sing so loud. "you have taught me so much, oh, so much, i can't tell you, mr. loughead, about being true and noble, and"-he waited patiently till she began again. "but i couldn't marry you; oh, i couldn't," here polly forced herself to look at him, but her head went down again at sight of his face. "you sha'n't be troubled," said jack loughead gently, "i'll take myself out of the way, and make all excuses at the house." [illustration: "my! what a sight of fish! exclaimed mrs. higby, dropping to her knees beside the basket.] "oh! do forgive me," polly sprang after him, to call. he turned and tried to smile, then walked off, leaving polly standing in the lane. * * * * * "jasper," said mrs. cabot in great irritation, when jasper and phronsie wandered into mrs. farmer higby's neat kitchen a half-hour later, with torn garments and muddy shoes, "they got home while you were away, and that tiresome mr. loughead came a little before them; and he made polly go to walk with him; actually made her!" mrs. cabot leaned her jeweled hands on mrs. higby's spotless pine table, and regarded him in great distress. jasper bent his broad straw hat over the basket of fish a minute. "oh!" screamed phronsie, clapping grimy little hands and darting off, "have they come?" "my! what a sight of fish," exclaimed mrs. higby, getting down on her knees before the basket. "now i s'pose you want some fried for dinner, don't you, mr. jasper?" "yes," said jasper, bringing his gaze off from the fish, "i think they better be, mrs. higby," and he went out of the kitchen without looking at mrs. cabot. up at the head of the stairs he ran against jack loughead. "it's all against me, king," said jack unsteadily. jasper lifted heavy eyes, that, all at once, held a lightning gleam. then he put his good right hand on jack's shoulder. "i'm sorry for you," he said. "one thing, king," said jack gratefully, "will you have an eye to my uncle? he won't come with me now, but insists on going with your father who kindly invited us both to go home with you all. and when he is ready, just telegraph me and i will meet him at new york." "i'll do it gladly," said jasper, quite shocked at jack's appearance; "anything more, loughead? do let me help you." "nothing," said jack, without looking back. chapter xxiv. home! "i don't want to leave you, mrs. higby," said phronsie slowly. mrs. higby looked as if she were about to throw her apron over her head again. "you blessed child!" she exclaimed, half-crying and allowing her hands to rest on the rim of the dish-pan. "you have been so very good to us," continued phronsie, shaking her yellow head decidedly. "i love you, mrs. higby, very much indeed." with that she clasped the farmer's wife around her stout waist and held her closely. "dear--dear!" cried mrs. higby, violently caressing phronsie; "you precious lamb, you, to think i sha'n't hear you pattering around any more, nor asking questions." "i've made you ever so much trouble, mrs. higby," said phronsie, in a penitent little voice, and enjoying to the fullest extent the petting she was receiving. "and i'm so sorry." "trouble!" exploded the farmer's wife, smoothing phronsie's yellow hair with her large red hands, "the land! it's only a sight of comfort you've been. why, i've just set by you!" "i've come in here," said phronsie, reflectively peering around at the spotless kitchen floor, "with muddy boots on and spoiled it; and i've talked when you wanted to weigh out things, and make cake, and once, don't you remember, mrs. higby, i left the pantry door open and the cat got in and ate up part of the custard pudding." "bless your heart!" exclaimed mrs. higby, with another squeeze, "i've forgot all about it." "but i haven't," said phronsie, with a sigh, "and i'm sorry." "well, now," said the farmer's wife, "i'll tell you how we will settle that; if you'll come again to the farm, and give my old eyes a sight of you, that'll make it all right." "you're not old," cried phronsie, wriggling enough out of mrs. higby's arms to look at the round red cheeks and bright eyes. "oh, mrs. higby! and you're just as nice!" with that she clasped her impulsively around the neck. "and pickering likes you too, mrs. higby," continued phronsie, "he says you're as good as gold." "you don't say so!" cried mrs. farmer higby, intensely gratified; "well, he's as nice a boy as ever lived, i'm sure, and i'm just as tickled as i can be that that fever was broke up so sudden, for you see, phronsie, he's got the making of being a right smart man yet." "grandpapa is going to have pickering go home with us," said phronsie, confidentially, and edging away from the farmer's wife to facilitate conversation. "and he's going to stay at our house with us till he gets nice and strong." "well, i'm dreadful glad of that," declared mrs. higby heartily, "for that a'nt of his--well, there, phronsie, she ain't to my taste; she is such a making sort of woman--she comes in here and she wants to make me do this, and do that, till i'm most out of my wits, and i'd like to take my broom and say 'scat' as i do to the cat," and a black frown settled on mrs. higby's pleasant face. phronsie began to look quite grave. "she loves pickering," she said thoughtfully, "and when he was so bad she cried almost all the time, mrs. higby." "oh! she loves him well enough," answered mrs. higby, "but she fusses over him so, and wants her way all the same. it would be good if she thought somebody else knew something once in a while," and she began to splash in the dish-pan vigorously to make up for lost time, quickly heaping up a pile of dishes to drain on the little old tray. "let me wipe them, do, mrs. higby," begged phronsie eagerly, and without waiting for the permission she felt quite sure of, phronsie picked up the long brown towel and set to work. upstairs jasper and his father were going over again all the incidents of mr. king's and polly's trip, that the old gentleman was willing to communicate, and jasper, despite his eagerness to know all the whys and wherefores, held himself in check as well as he could, scarcely realizing that he was really to go back to mr. marlowe's. and polly and mrs. cabot were busily packing, with the aid of a farmer's daughter who lived near, while polly, who dearly loved to do it all herself, was forced to stand by and direct matters; and old mr. loughead divided his time between stalking out to the piazza where pickering was slowly pacing back and forth in his "constitutional," to insist that he shouldn't "walks his legs off," and calling polly from her work, "just to help me a bit, my dear"--when he got into a tight place over the packing that he insisted should be done by none but his own two hands. and the whole farmhouse was soon thrown into such a bustle and ferment, that any one looking in would have known without the telling, that "mr. king's family are going home." and after a day or so of all this, farmer higby carried a wagon-load of trunks down to the little station, and his wife drove the carryall, in the back of which pickering was carefully tucked with mrs. cabot, who insisted on being beside him, and old mr. loughead in front--the others of the party merrily following in a large old vehicle of no particular pattern whatever--and before anybody could hardly realize it, the train came rushing in, and there were hurried good-bys, and hand-shakes, and they were off--phronsie crying as she held to her, "i wish you were going too, i do, dear mrs. higby." and the farmer and his wife were left on the platform, staring after them with sorry eyes. "well, now, phronsie," said mr. king, as they quieted down, and phronsie turned back after the last look at the little station, "i think it is time to answer your question, so as to let you go home without anything on your mind." "about charlotte, you mean, grandpapa?" whispered phronsie softly, with wide eyes, and glancing back to see that no one else heard. "to be sure--about charlotte," said the old gentleman. "well, i've concluded you ought to have your way, and make charlotte a gift of some money, if you want to." "oh, grandpapa!" cried phronsie, in a suppressed scream, and having great difficulty not to clap her hands; "oh, how good!" then she sat quite still, and folded them in silent rapture. "and i'll see that it is fixed as soon as may be after we get home," said the old gentleman, "and i'm sure i'm glad you've done it, phronsie, for i think charlotte is a very good sort of a girl." "charlotte is just lovely," cried phronsie, with warmth, "and i think, grandpapa, that dear mrs. chatterton up in heaven, is glad too, that i've done it." old mr. king turned away with a mild snort, and then not finding any words to say, picked up the newspaper, and phronsie, full of her new happiness, looked out the window as the cars sped along. "there's thomas!" cried jasper, at sight of that functionary waiting on his carriage-box as he had waited so many other times for them; now for the jolliest of all home-comings. "and the girls," finished polly, craning her neck to look out the car window at a knot of them restlessly curbing their impatience on the platform as the train moved into the station and--"why, mamsie. oh, jasper! how slow we are!" pickering dodge shook his long legs impatiently as he got out of his seat. "don't try to help me, mr. loughead," he said testily, as the old gentleman offered his arm; "i'm not sick now. no, thanks, i'll go out alone." jasper now ran up, but he didn't offer to help, but waited patiently for pickering's slow movements as he worked his way unsteadily down the aisle. "don't stop by me," said pickering, rather crossly, "go ahead, jasper, and get the fun." "nonsense!" exclaimed jasper, yet feeling his heart bound at the merry din as polly was surrounded, and the babel of voices waxed louder; for everybody was now out of the car but pickering and himself--"here we are now," as they neared the car step. alexia rhys, back on the platform hanging to polly who had one hand in mother fisher's at the expense of all the other girls who couldn't get the chance, looked up and saw pickering dodge, and dropping polly's arm she ran lightly across the stream of passengers and put out her hand. "how do you do, pickering? it's so good to see you back." pickering shot her an astonished glance, then he said gratefully, "thank you, alexia," and he actually let her help him down the steps, which so astonished her that it took away her breath and left her without a word to say. and the rest was all bustle and confusion--mr. king declaring it was worse than a boarding-school--everybody talking together--and jasper ran off to see to the luggage for the whole party, followed by ben trying to help. and old mr. loughead had to be introduced all around, and little doctor fisher tried to get them all settled in the carriages, but at last gave it up in despair. "charlotte, my girl, go and tell polly to get in, will you?" he said, turning to charlotte chatterton. "phronsie won't stir till polly is settled." "oh, polly! let me drive you home; i've got my dog-cart here," cried clem forsythe alluringly, and trying to pull her off as charlotte ran up with her message. "no, no," cried sally moore, "i brought my phaeton on purpose; you know i did, clem--come with me, polly, do." "you'll have to get in here," called doctor fisher, waiting at the carriage, "to end it." "yes, i think i shall," said polly merrily, and running to him followed by phronsie. "girls, come over this evening, won't you?" she looked back to call after them. "yes, we'll be over this evening," cried the girls back again, and phronsie hopping in after her, the carriage-door was shut, and off they rolled. and old turner was waiting at the steps as the carriage rolled up the winding drive, with a monstrous bouquet of his choicest blossoms for polly, and one exactly like it only a little smaller, for phronsie; and prince came rushing out getting in every one's way and nearly devouring phronsie; and there was king fisher running away on toddling feet from his nurse to meet them, screaming with all his might; and mrs. fargo with johnny in her arms crowing with delight--all stood on the broad stone porch. "oh--oh!" cried polly, jumping out, her cheeks aflame; "are we really at home!" "oh--oh!" echoed phronsie, flying at them all, and trying to keep hold of prince at the same time. and there in the wide hall drawn back within the shadow of the oaken door, were mr. and mrs. whitney and dick ready to pounce upon them in a moment. and no one ever hinted a suspicion that the college boys were steaming along as fast as they could, for the evening's festivities; and old mr. king appeared superbly indifferent to the fact that mr. marlowe was waiting at a hotel for that hour to arrive; and everybody rushed off to get ready for dinner, with the exception of polly and jasper and phronsie. "oh! we must go in the conservatory just for a minute," begged phronsie, flying off on eager feet. "we'll only take one peep," said polly, just as eagerly, "come on, jasper." and then polly had to run into the long drawing-room, and just look at her piano, and lay her fingers lovingly on the keys. "don't try it with your lame hand, polly," begged jasper, close beside. "no, i won't," promised polly, running light scales with the fingers of the other hand. "but oh! jasper, i do verily believe i could. my arm feels so well." "well, don't, polly," begged jasper again. "no, of course i won't," said polly, with a little laugh, "but it won't be many weeks, you dear"--this to the piano, as she unwillingly got up from the music-stool, and let jasper lead her off--"before you and i have all our good times together!" * * * * * polly, in a soft white gown, sat on a low seat by mother fisher's side, her head in mamsie's lap. it was after dinner, and the gas was turned low. "mamsie," said polly, and she threw one hand over her head to clasp mother fisher's strong fingers closer, "it's so good to be home--oh! you can't think how i wanted you." just then somebody looked into mother fisher's bedroom. "oh! beg pardon," said jasper, as he saw them. but there was so much longing in the voice that polly called out, "oh! come, jasper. may he, mamsie?" "yes," said mrs. fisher; "come in, jasper." jasper came in quickly and stood a moment looking down at them. "it's so lovely to be home, jasper," said polly, looking up at him and playing with her mother's fingers. "isn't it?" cried jasper, with feeling, "there never was anything so nice! mrs. fisher, may i sit down by you here?" and he went over to her where she sat on the sofa--it was the same big comfortable affair where joel had flung himself, when he declared he could not keep on at school; and where mamsie had often sat when the children brought her their troubles, declaring it was easier to tell her everything on the roomy, old-fashioned sofa, than anywhere else. "yes, indeed!" cried mrs. fisher cordially, and making way for him to sit down by her side. "now isn't this nice!" breathed polly, lifting her head out of her mother's lap to look at him on mamsie's other side. "now, jasper, you begin, and we'll tell her all about it, as we always do, you know, when we get home from places." "i want to tell her something--and to you too, polly," began jasper quietly. "mrs. fisher--may i speak?" he leaned over and looked into the black eyes above polly's shining brown hair. "yes," said mother fisher as quietly. "how funny you are, jasper," cried polly with a laugh, "asking mamsie in such a solemn way. there now, begin, do." "polly," said jasper, "look at me, do, dear!" polly lifted her brown eyes quietly. "why, jasper?" [illustration: "now, jasper, you begin," cried polly, "and we'll tell mamsie all about it, as we always do when we get home!"] "i waited because i thought i ought," said jasper, trying not to speak too quickly. "it seemed at one time as if you were going to be happy, and i should spoil it, polly, if i spoke; but now--oh, polly!" he put out his hand, and polly instinctively laid her own warm palm within it. "do you think you could love me--i've loved you ever since the little brown house days, dear!" "oh, jasper!" polly cried, with a glad ring in her voice, "how good you are," and she clung to his hand across mamsie's lap. "will you, polly?" cried jasper, holding her hand so tightly that she winced a bit, "tell me quickly, dear." "will i what?" asked polly wonderingly. "love me, polly." "oh! i do--i do," she cried; "you know it, jasper. i love you with all my heart." "polly, will you marry me? tell her, mrs. fisher, do, and make her understand," begged jasper, turning to mother fisher imploringly. "polly, child," said mamsie, putting both arms around her, careful not to disturb jasper's hand over polly's, "jasper wants you to be his wife--do you love him enough for that?" polly, not taking her brown eyes from jasper's face, laid her other hand upon his, "i love him enough," she said, "for that; oh, jasper!" old mr. king walked proudly down the long drawing-room with polly on his arm. everybody was in the highest possible spirits. the lord of misrule had made a triumphant entree, covering himself with glory and winning great applause for his long train of masquers; whose costumes if not gotten up on strict historical lines, made up any lack by the variety of other contrivances, each one following his own sweet will in dressing. they had gone through with the minuet and the pantomimes; and charlotte, in a peaked hat and a big flowered brocade gown rich with tambour lace, had sung "like a nightingale," as more than one declared, and now the room was in a buzz of applause. old mr. king took this time to walk up and down the long room with polly several times quite pompously; and once in a while the little lord of misrule would rush up to them, say something very earnest, seize polly's hand and give it a shake and then dart away; which proceeding joel would imitate, at such times leaving robert bingley to his own devices--until joel, evidently struck by remorse, would as suddenly fly back and introduce his college friend violently to right and left, to make up for lost time. "that's three times you've introduced me to that girl in blue," said bingley, on one of these occasions, when he could get joel aside for a minute. "do let me alone--i was having a good enough time where i was." "did i?" cried joel, opening his black eyes at him, "oh! beg pardon," and off he rushed at polly again. "how queerly they do act!" cried alexia, to a knot of the girls. "and just look at mr. king, he holds on to polly every minute--i'm going to see what it's all about." so she hurried across the room as fast as her high-heeled slippers would let her. "polly--polly, did you really like it all?" she asked breathlessly. "oh! dear me, this ruff will be the death of me," picking at it with impatient fingers. "don't, alexia," cried polly, "it's so pretty--it was all just as fine as could be, and splendidly gotten up!" "well, it nearly killed us," declared alexia, fanning herself violently, "and this old ruff will end me. there!" and she made a little break in the starched affair under her chin, "that's one degree less of misery." "what would queen bess do to you?" cried polly, saying the first thing that came in her head, to keep off questions she saw trembling on alexia's tongue. "queen bess was an old goose to wear such a thing," retorted alexia. "oh, polly! do come with us. let her, do, mr. king," to the old gentleman who made all sorts of signs that served to show he meant to keep polly to himself. "we girls want her now," she added saucily. "you keep away," said old mr. king, with an emphatic nod and a twinkle in his eye, "and the other girls; i'm going to have polly tonight; you can come over in the morning and see her." and he moved off coolly, carrying polly with him. [illustration: "polly, do come with us!"] alexia stood a moment transfixed with astonishment. "joel--joel, what is it?" she cried in a stage whisper, as that individual pranced by in one of his fits of remorse looking up bingley. "do tell me what's come over polly, and why does mr. king act so queerly?" joel flashed her a smile, but wouldn't say anything, and his eyes twinkled so exactly like mr. king's, that alexia lost all patience. "oh! you horrid boy," she cried, and ran back dismally to the girls, with nothing to tell. and charlotte chatterton walked as if she disdained the ground, her peaked hat towering threateningly, while her sallow face was wreathed with smiles; and it seemed as if she couldn't sing enough, throwing in encores in a perfectly reckless fashion. "what is it? oh! i shall die if i don't know," exclaimed alexia, over and over. "girls, if some of you don't find out what's going on, i shall fly crazy!" and the room buzzed and buzzed with delight, the growing mystery not lessening the hilarity. "that's an uncommonly fine fellow i've just been talking with," said mason whitney, coming up to old mr. king still keeping polly by his side; "i haven't met such a man in one spell; he's a thorough-going intellectual chap, and he's been around the world a good deal, it's easy to see by his fine manner. where did you pick him up?" "whom are you talking of, mason?" asked mr. king, in his crispest fashion. "why, that new man--mr.--mr.--i didn't catch the name when i was introduced, that you invited here to-night," said mr. whitney, with a little touch of the asperity yet remaining over the failure of his plan for jasper, and he jerked his head in the direction of mr. marlowe. "he?--oh! that's jasper's publisher, mr. marlowe," said the old gentleman, trying to speak carelessly; then he burst into a laugh at mr. whitney's face. "whew!" exclaimed that gentleman, as soon as he could speak, "i've got to eat humble pie before my fourteen-year-old son dick, and you've taken my breath away, polly," looking at her blooming cheeks and happy eyes, "with that piece of news, and"-"what news--oh, what news?" cried alexia, coming up, too frantic to remember her manners. "please tell us girls, for we are dying to know." "you come away!" retorted mr. whitney unceremoniously, and mr. king laughed, and polly shook her white fan at them as the two moved off, and it was just as bad as ever! "pickering, do you know?" at last demanded alexia, as he leaned against the doorway surveying the bright crowd. "yes, i know enough--that is, i can guess--don't ask me." "oh, what!" breathlessly cried alexia, seizing his arm; "do tell me, pickering, that is a dear--oh, i thought i was talking to the girls--i don't know what i'm doing anyway, polly has so upset me." "well, she has upset me, too, alexia," said pickering gloomily, "but it isn't her fault; she couldn't help it." alexia, feeling that here was coming something quite worth her while to hear, waited patiently. "you all know i've loved polly for years," said pickering steadily; "i made no secret of it." "i know it," said alexia, full of sympathy, and not daring to breathe, lest she should spoil it all. "well, go on." "and when i was sick, i hoped that things might be different--for polly was sorry for me. but one day aunt was talking about it to me, in a way that made me mad, and i knew that polly would be bothered awfully if she ever got at her, so i told polly the first chance i got, that she was never to be sorry for me any more, for i'd made up my mind not to think of her in that way again; which was an awful lie," declared pickering suddenly, standing quite erect, "for i can't help it." "oh, dear--dear!" exclaimed alexia, quite gone in sympathy, "aren't things just shameful in the world! of course you oughtn't to be allowed to marry polly, for you are not half good enough for her, pickering," she added frankly, "but i'm so sorry for you!" and she put out her hand instinctively. pickering took it, and held it a minute in a calm grasp, with the air of a man considering it better to take the little, since he couldn't get all he wanted. [illustration: "and you will be my own brother, jasper," said phronsie.] "but now tell why polly and mr. king and all the family act so funnily?" cried alexia, pulling away her hand and suddenly awaking to the fact that this important piece of news had not been made known to her. "can't you see for yourself?" cried pickering, with an impatient stare. "why, alexia, where are your eyes?" which was all she could get him to say, as pickering walked off immediately. jasper all this while seemed to find it impossible to be separated from mother fisher; and together they wandered up and down the drawing-room, phronsie clinging to his hand. "i always longed since the little brown house days, to call you mamsie," he said affectionately, looking down into mrs. fisher's face, "and now i can!" "and you will really and truly be my very own brother, jasper," said phronsie, as they walked on. five little peppers abroad by margaret sidney illustrated by fanny y. cory preface when the friends of the pepper family found that the author was firm in her decision to continue their history no further, they brought their appeals for the details of some of those good times that made the "little brown house" an object-lesson. in these appeals, the parents were as vigorous as the young people for a volume of the stories that polly told, to keep the children happy in those hard days when her story-telling had to be a large factor in their home-life; and also for a book of their plays and exploits, impossible to be embodied in the continued series of their history, so that all who loved the "five little peppers" might the better study the influences that shaped their lives. those requests were complied with; the author realising that the detailed account held values, by which stronger light might be thrown on the family life in the "little brown house." and now the pressure is brought to bear for a book showing the little peppers over the ocean, recorded in "five little peppers midway." and the author is very glad to comply again; for foreign travel throws a wholly different side-light upon the pepper family. so here is the book. it is in no sense to be taken as a story written for a guide-book,--although the author lives in it again her repeated enjoyment of the sights and scenes which are accurately depicted. a "baedeker," if carefully studied, is really all that is needed as a constant companion to the traveller; while for supplementary helps and suggestions, there are many valuable books along the same line. this volume is given up to the peppers; and they must live their own lives and tell their own story while abroad just as they choose. as the author has stated many times, her part is "simply to set down what the peppers did and said, without trying to make them say or do anything in particular." and so over the ocean they are just as much the makers of their own history as when they first opened the door of the "little brown house" to margaret sidney. contents chapter i. over the ocean ii. two english friends iii. phronsie goes visiting iv. steamer life v. a fish story and other things vi. a little surprise vii. off for holland viii. "we will come again and stay a week" ix. a box for the pepper boys x. danger xi. the two birthdays in old holland xii. the henderson box xiii. "the cleanest place in all holland" xiv. the island of marken xv. mr. king does his duty xvi. "let us fly at those books" xvii. polly wrote a nice little note xviii. bayreuth and old friends xix. mr. king has a little plan for polly xx. "i should make him happy," said phronsie xxi. on the rigi-kulm xxii. polly tries to help xxiii. in the shadow of the matterhorn xxiv. the round robin xxv. on the _mer de glace_ xxvi. "well, here we are in paris!" xxvii. "i've found him!" exclaimed jasper xxviii. "well, i got him here," said the little earl illustrations "now don't you want to get off?" he clung to his pear with both hands and ate away with great satisfaction "fan-ny!--the earl of cavendish!" she could go no further phronsie sat opposite him "mamsie's got her two bothers," said polly "look at that girl!" she picked up the skirt of her gown phronsie ducked and scuttled in as she could _five little peppers abroad_ i over the ocean "dear me," said polly, "i don't see wherever she can be, jasper. i've searched just everywhere for her." and she gave a little sigh, and pushed up the brown rings of hair under her sailor cap. "don't worry, polly," said jasper, with a reassuring smile. "she's with matilda, of course. come, polly, let's you and i have a try at the shuffle-board by ourselves, down on the lower deck." "no, we can't," said polly, with a dreadful longing at her heart for the charms of a game; "that is, until we've found phronsie." and she ran down the deck. "perhaps she is in one of the library corners, though i thought i looked over them all." "how do you know she isn't with matilda, polly?" cried jasper, racing after, to see polly's little blue jacket whisking ahead of him up the companion-way. "because"--polly stopped at the top and looked over her shoulder at him--"matilda's in her berth. she's awfully seasick. i was to stay with phronsie, and now i've lost her!" and the brown head drooped, and polly clasped her hands tightly together. "oh, no, she can't be lost, polly," said jasper, cheerfully, as he bounded up the stairs and gained her side; "why, she couldn't be!" "well, anyway, we can't find her, jasper," said polly, running on. "and it's all my fault, for i forgot, and left her in the library, and went with fanny vanderburgh down to her state-room. o dear me!" as she sped on. "well, she's in the library now, most likely," said jasper, cheerfully, hurrying after, "curled up asleep in a corner." and they both ran in, expecting to see phronsie's yellow head snuggled into one of the pillows. but there was no one there except a little old gentleman on one of the sofas back of a table, who held his paper upside down, his big spectacles on the end of his nose, almost tumbling off as he nodded drowsily with the motion of the steamer. "o dear me!" exclaimed polly; "now we shall wake him up," as they tiptoed around, peering in every cosey corner and behind all the tables for a glimpse of phronsie's little brown gown. "no danger," said jasper, with a glance over at the old gentleman; "he's just as fast asleep as can be. here, polly, i think she's probably tucked up in here." and he hurried over to the farther side, where the sofa made a generous angle. just then in stalked a tall boy, who rushed up to the little old gentleman. "here, granddad, wake up." and he shook his arm smartly. "you're losing your glasses, and then there'll be a beastly row to pay." "o dear me!" cried polly aghast, as she and jasper whirled around. "hey--what--what!" exclaimed the old gentleman, clutching his paper as he started forward. "oh,--why, i haven't been asleep, tom." "ha! ha! tell that to the marines," cried tom, loudly, dancing in derision, "you've been sleeping like a log. you'd much better go down and get into your state-room. but give me a sovereign first." he held out his hand as he spoke. "hurry up, granddad!" he added impatiently. the old gentleman put his hand to his head, and then rubbed his eyes. "bustle up," cried the boy, with a laugh, "or else i'll run my fist in your pocket and help myself." "indeed, you won't," declared the old gentleman, now thoroughly awake. "ha! ha!" laughed the boy. "you see if i won't, granddad." yet he dropped his imperious tone, and waited, though impatiently, while the big pocket-book was drawn out. "what do you want with money on board the boat?" demanded the old gentleman. "give me a sovereign, granddad," cried tom, controlling his impatience as best he might, with many a cross look at the wrinkled old face under the white hair. his grandfather slowly drew out the coin, and tom twitched it eagerly from the long, thin fingers. "i don't see how you can need money on board the boat," repeated the old gentleman. "never you mind what i want it for, grand-daddy," said tom, laughing loudly and shaking the sovereign at him as he ran off; "that's my business, and not yours." polly had not taken her eyes off their faces. now she turned toward jasper. "oh, how very dreadful!" she gasped--then would have given everything if she had kept still, for the old gentleman whirled around and saw them for the first time. "hey--who are you--and what are you listening there for--hey?" he demanded sharply. he had little black eyes, and they now snapped in a truly dreadful way at them. "we came to find her little sister," said jasper, politely, for polly was quite beyond speaking. "sister? i don't know anything about your sister," said the old gentleman, irascibly. "and this room isn't a place for children, i can tell you," he added, as if he owned the library and the whole ship. jasper made no reply. "phronsie isn't here." polly clasped her hands again tighter than ever. "and, oh, jasper!" and she looked at the angry old face before them with pitying eyes. "what i say to my grandson, tom, and what he says to me, is our own business!" exclaimed the old gentleman in a passion, thumping the table with his clenched hand. "and no one else has a right to hear it." "i am so very sorry we heard it," said polly, the colour which had quite gone from her cheek now rushing back. "and we are going right away, sir." "you would much better," said the old man, nodding angrily. "and you, boy, too; i suppose you think yourself better than my tom. but you are not--not a bit of it!" and suddenly he tried to start to his feet, but lurched heavily against the table instead. polly and jasper rushed over to him. "lean on me, sir," said jasper, putting both arms around him, while polly ran to his other side, he was shaking so dreadfully. the old gentleman essayed to wave them off. "let me alone," he said feebly; "i'm going after my grandson, tom." his voice sank to a whisper, and his head dropped to his breast. "he's got money--he's always getting it, and i'm going to see what he's doing with it." "polly," said jasper, "you help me put him back on the sofa; there, that's it," as the old man sank feebly down against the cushions; "and then i'll run and find his grandson." it was just the time when everybody seemed to be in the state-rooms, or out on deck in steamer chairs, so polly sat there at the old man's head, feeling as if every minute were an hour, and he kept gurgling, "tom's a bad boy--he gets money all the time, and i'm going to see what he's doing with it," with feeble waves of his legs, that put polly in a fright lest he should roll off the sofa at every lurch of the steamer. "tom is coming," at last she said, putting her hand on the hot forehead. "please stay still, sir; you will be sick." "but i don't want tom to come," cried the old gentleman, irritably. "who said i wanted him to come? hey?" he turned up his head and looked at her, and polly's hand shook worse than ever when the little snapping eyes were full on her face, and she had all she could do to keep from running out of the room and up on deck where she could breathe freely. "i am so sorry," she managed to gasp, feeling if she didn't say something, she should surely run. "does your head feel better?" and she smoothed his hot forehead gently just as phronsie always did grandpapa's when it ached. and when she thought of phronsie, then it was all she could do to keep the tears back. where could she be? and would jasper never come back? and just then in ran tom with a great clatter, complaining noisily every step of the way. "i told you you'd much better get off to your stateroom, granddad!" he exclaimed. "here, i'll help you down there." and he laid a hasty hand on the feeble old arm. "i think he is sick," said polly, gently. jasper came hurrying in. "phronsie is all right," he had time to whisper to polly. "oh, jasper!" the colour rushed into her cheek that had turned quite white. "i am so glad." "nonsense!" exclaimed tom, abruptly. "it's only one of his crotchets. you don't know; he gets up plenty of 'em on occasion." "what did you want a sovereign for?" asked the old gentleman, querulously, taking his sharp little eyes off polly to fasten them on his grandson's face. "say, i _will_ know." "and i say no matter," retorted tom, roughly. "and you ought to come down to your state-room where you belong. come, granddad!" and he tried again to lay hold of his arm. but the little old gentleman sank back, and looked up at polly again. "i think i'll stay here," he said. "i say," began the boy, in an embarrassed way, "this is dreadfully rough on you," and then he looked away from polly to jasper. "and if you knew him as well as i do," nodding his head at his grandfather, "you wouldn't get in such a funk." polly was busy smoothing the hot forehead under the white hair, and appeared not to notice a word he said. "your grandfather really appears ill," said jasper. "and the doctor might give him something to help him." tom burst into a short laugh and kicked his heel against the table. "hoh! hoh! i say, you don't know him; oh, what muffs you are! he's well enough, only he's determined not to go to his state-room where he belongs, but to kick up a row here." "very well," said jasper, coolly, "since you are determined to do nothing for his relief, i shall take it upon myself to summon the doctor." he stepped to a table a bit further off, and touched the electric button back of it. "here, don't do that," remonstrated tom, springing forward. but it was too late, and the steward who attended to calls on the library stepped in. "it isn't the hour for giving out books," he began. tom was stamping his foot impatiently, and scowling at jasper, alternately casting longing glances out the nearest port-hole. "it isn't books we want," said jasper, quickly, "but this old gentleman"--whose head was now heavily sunken on his breast, and whose cheek was quite white--"appears to be very ill, and to need the doctor." "is that so?" the steward leaned over and peered into the old face. "well, he doesn't look just right, and that's a fact. is he your father?" "oh, no," said jasper, quickly, "i don't know who he is. but, do hurry, for he's sick, and needs the doctor at once." "i'll get dr. jones." off ran the steward toward the surgeon's cabin. "see what you've done," cried tom, in a towering passion. "kicked up a pretty mess--when i tell you i've seen my grandfather just as bad a hundred times." jasper made no reply, and polly continued to stroke gently the poor head. "well--well--well!" exclaimed mr. king, coming in, "to be sure, it's very stupid in me not to think of looking in the library for both of you before. o dear me--bless me!" and he came to a dead stop of astonishment. "father," cried jasper, "this poor man seems very ill." "oh, yes," breathed polly, pitifully, "he really is, grandpapa." and she put out her hand to seize one of mr. king's. "and jasper has sent for the doctor." "and none too soon, i should say," remarked mr. king, grimly, with a keen glance into the old man's face. "raise his feet a little higher, jasper; put a pillow under them; there, that's it. well, the doctor should be hurried up." he glanced quickly around. "here, you boy," seeing tom, "run as you never have run before, and tell the doctor to come quickly." "there isn't any need," began tom. "do you _go_!" commanded mr. king, pointing to the door. and tom went. "father, that boy is his grandson," said jasper, pointing to the sick man. mr. king stared into jasper's face, unable to make a reply. "he is," declared polly. "oh, grandpapa, he really is!" then she buried her flushed face up against mr. king's arm. "there is no need to waste words," said mr. king, finding his tongue. "there, there, polly, child," fondling her brown head, "don't feel badly. i'm sure you've done all you could." "'twas jasper; he did it all--i couldn't do anything," said polly. "oh, polly, you did everything," protested jasper. "yes, yes, i know, you both did," said mr. king. "well, here's the doctor, thank the lord!" and then when nobody wanted them, the library seemed to be full of people, and the news spreading out to the decks, many of the passengers got out of their steamer chairs, and tried to swarm into the two doorways. tom, who never knew how he summoned dr. jones, being chiefly occupied in astonishment at finding that he obeyed a command from a perfect stranger, did not come back to the library, but kept himself with the same amazed expression on his face, idly kicking his heels in a quiet corner of the deck near by. he never thought of such a thing as being worried over his grandfather, for he couldn't remember when the old gentleman hadn't been subject to nervous attacks; but somehow since "a row," as he expressed it, "had been kicked up," it was just as well to stay in the vicinity and see the end of it. but he wasn't going inside--no, not he! after awhile, tom was just beginning to yawn, and to feel that no one could expect him to waste time like that, and probably his grandfather was going to sleep it out on the sofa, and the stupid doctor would find that there was nothing the matter, only the old man was nervous. "and i'm going back to the fellows," decided tom, shaking his long legs. "oh, here you are!" cried jasper, running up to him. "come quickly," seizing his arm. "hey, here, what are you about?" roared tom at him, shaking off the hand. "you must excuse me for wasting no ceremony," said jasper, sternly. it struck tom that he looked very much like the old gentleman who had told him to _go!_ "your grandfather is very ill; something is the matter with his heart, and the doctor has sent me for you. he says he may not live an hour." it was necessary to tell the whole of the dreadful truth, for tom was still staring at him in defiance. ii two english friends "i don't want you," muttered the old gentleman, feebly, turning his head away from tom, and then he set his lips tightly together. but he held to polly's hand. "you would better go out," dr. jones nodded to tom. "it excites him." the second time tom was told to go. he stood quite still. "he's my grandfather!" he blurted out. "can't help it," said dr. jones, curtly; "he's my patient. so i tell you again it is imperative that you leave this room." then he turned back to his work of making the sick man comfortable without taking any more notice of the boy. tom gave a good long look at as much of his grandfather's face as he could see, then slunk out, in a dazed condition, trying to make himself as small as possible. jasper found him a half hour afterward, hanging over the rail away from curious eyes, his head buried on his arms. "i thought you'd like to know that your grandfather is better," said jasper, touching the bent shoulder. "get away, will you?" growled tom, kicking out his leg, unmindful where it struck. "and the doctor has gotten him into his state-room, and he is as comfortable as he could be made." jasper didn't add that dr. jones had asked him to come back, and that the old man was still insisting that polly should hold his hand. "in that case," declared tom, suddenly twitching up his head, "i will go down there." his face was so drawn that jasper started, and then looked away over the sea, and did not appear to notice the clenched hand down by the boy's side. "i--i--didn't know he was sick." tom brought it out in gusts, and his face worked worse than ever in his efforts not to show his distress. the only thing he could do was to double up his hand tighter than ever, as he tried to keep it back of him. "i understand," nodded jasper, still looking off over the blue water. "and now i'll go down," said tom, drawing a long breath and starting off. oh! and dr. jones had said the last thing to jasper as he rushed off with the good news to tom, "on no account let that boy see his grandfather. i won't answer for the consequences if you do." "see here," jasper tore his gaze off from the shimmering water. "the doctor doesn't--doesn't think you ought to see your grandfather now." "hey!" cried tom, his drawn lips flying open, and his big blue eyes distending in anger. "he's my grandfather. i rather think i shall do as i've a mind to," and he plunged off. "tom!" jasper took long steps after him. "beg your pardon, this is no time for thinking of anything but your grandfather's life. dr. jones said you were not to see him at present." the truth must be told, for in another moment the boy would have been off on the wings of the wind. "and do you think that i will mind in the least what that beastly doctor says?" cried tom, getting redder and redder in the face, his rage was so great. "hoh! no, sir." "then your grandfather's life will be paid as a sacrifice," said jasper calmly. and he stood quite still; and surveyed the boy before him. neither spoke. it seemed to jasper an age that they stood there in silence. at last tom wavered, put out his hand unsteadily, leaned against a steamer chair, and turned his face away. "let us do a bit of a turn on the deck," said jasper, suddenly, overcoming by a mighty effort his repugnance to the idea. tom shook his head, and swallowed hard. "oh, yes," said jasper, summoning all the cheerfulness he could muster to his aid. "come, it's the very thing to do, if you really want to help your grandfather." tom raised his head and looked at him. "i never supposed the old man was sick," he said brokenly, and down went his head again, this time upon his hands, which were grasping the top of the chair. "i don't believe you did," answered jasper. "but come, tom, let's walk around the deck; we can talk just as well meanwhile." two or three young men, with cigarettes in their mouths, came sauntering up. "tom selwyn, you're a pretty fellow--" tom raised his head and looked at them defiantly. "to give us the slip like this," cried one, with a sneer, in which the others joined, with a curious look at jasper. "well, come on now," said one. "yes--yes--come along," said another; "we've waited long enough for you to get back." "i'm not coming," declared tom, shortly. "not coming back? well--" one of the young men said something under his breath, and the first speaker turned on his heel, tossing his cigarette over the railing. "no," said tom, "i'm not coming. did you hear me?" "i believe i had that pleasure," said the last named, "as i am not deaf. come on, fellows; our little boy has got to wait on his grandpappy. good-by, kid!" he snapped his fingers; the other two laughed derisively, and sauntered off down the deck as they came. tom shook with passion. "i'd like to walk," he said, drawing a long breath, and setting off unsteadily. "all right," said jasper, falling into step beside him. meantime the old gentleman, in his large handsome state-room, showed no sign of returning to the consciousness that had come back for a brief moment. and he held to polly's hand so tightly, as she sat at the head of the berth, that there was no chance of withdrawing her fingers had she so desired. and father fisher with whom dr. jones had of course made acquaintance, before the steamer fairly sailed, sat there keeping watch too, in a professional way, the ship's doctor having called him in consultation over the case. and phronsie, who had been in deep penitence because she had wandered off from the library with another little girl, to gaze over the railing upon the steerage children below, thereby missing polly, was in such woe over it all that she was allowed to cuddle up against polly's side and hold her other hand. and there she sat as still as a mouse, hardly daring to breathe. and mr. king, feeling as if, after all, the case was pretty much under his supervision, came softly in at intervals to see that all was well, and that the dreadful boy was kept out. and the passengers all drifted back to their steamer chairs, glad of some new topic to discuss, for the gossip they had brought on board was threadbare now, as they were two days at sea. and the steamer sailed over the blue water that softly lapped the stout vessel's side, careless of the battle that had been waged for a life, even then holding by slender threads. and fanny vanderburgh, whose grandfather was a contemporary in the old business days in new york with mr. king, and who sat with her mother at the next table to the king party, spent most of her time running to mrs. pepper's state-room, or interviewing any one who would be able to give her the slightest encouragement as to when she could claim polly pepper. "o dear me!" fanny cried, on one such occasion, when she happened to run across jasper. "i've been down to no. 45 four times this morning, and there's nobody there but that stupid matilda, and she doesn't know or won't tell when polly will get through reading to that tiresome old man. and they won't let me go to his state-room. mrs. fisher and your father are there, too, or i'd get them to make polly come out on deck. we all want her for a game of shuffle-board." jasper sighed. so did he long for a game of shuffle-board. then he brought himself up, and said as brightly as he could: "mr. selwyn begs polly to stay, and won't have any one else read to him, miss vanderburgh, so i don't see as it can be helped. he's been very sick, you know." fanny vanderburgh beat the toe of her boot on the deck floor. "it's a perfect shame. and that horrible old man, he's so seedy and common--just think of it--and spoiling all our fun!" jasper looked off over the sea, and said nothing. "as for that dreadful boy, his grandson, i think he's a boor. goodness me--i hope nobody will introduce him. i'm sure i never'll recognise him afterward." jasper turned uneasily. "please, mr. king, do make polly listen to reason," begged fanny. "there isn't another girl on board i care to go with--at least not in the way i would with her. the griswolds are well enough to play games with, and all that; but you know what i mean. do make her come out with us this morning, and listen to reason," she repeated, winding up helplessly. "but i think she is just right," said jasper, stoutly. "right!" cried fanny, explosively; "oh, how can you say so, mr. jasper! why, she is losing just every bit of the fun." "i know it," said jasper, with a twinge at the thought. "well, there is nothing more to be said or done, miss vanderburgh, since polly has decided the matter. only i want you to remember that i think she is just right about it." fanny vanderburgh pouted her pretty lips in vexation. "at least, don't try to get that dreadful boy into our own set to play games," she cried venomously, "for i won't speak to him. he's a perfect boor. 'twas only yesterday he brushed by me like a clumsy elephant, and knocked my book out of my hand, and never even picked it up. think of that, mr. king!" "i know--that was dreadful," assented jasper, in dismay at the obstacle to the plan he had formed in his own mind, to do that very thing he was now being warned against. "but you see, miss vanderburgh, he's all upset by his grandfather's sickness." "and i should think he would be," cried fanny vanderburgh, with spirit. "mrs. griswold says she's heard him domineering over the old man, and then his grandfather would snarl and scold like everything. she has the next state-room, you know. i don't see how those selwyns can afford such a nice cabin," continued fanny, her aristocratic nose in the air, "they look so poor. anyway that boy is a perfect beast, mr. king." "he's very different now," said jasper, quickly. "he had no idea his grandfather was so poorly. now i'll tell you, miss vanderburgh," jasper turned sharply around on his heel so that he faced her. it was necessary with a girl like her to state plainly what he had to say, and to keep to it. "i am going to ask tom selwyn to play games with all us young people. if it distresses you, or any one else, so that you cannot join, of course i will withdraw, and i know polly will, and we will get up another circle that will play with him." it was almost impossible to keep from laughing at fanny's face, but jasper was very grave as he waited for an answer. "o dear me, mr. jasper," she cried, "haven't i told you i don't really care for any one on board but polly pepper, and mamma doesn't want me to mix up much with those griswolds?" she lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder. "it would make it so awkward if they should be much in new york, and we should meet. so of course i've got to do as polly and you do. don't you see?--it's awfully hard on me, though," and she clasped her hands in vexation. "very well, then," said jasper; "now that's decided. and seeing it is, why the next thing to do, is to bring tom down, and we'll get up a game of shuffle-board at once. he's not needed by his grandfather now." he didn't think it necessary to add, "for the old gentleman won't see him, and tom is forbidden the room by the doctor." fanny's aristocratic nose went up in alarm, and her whole face was overspread with dismay. it was one thing to anticipate evil, and quite another to find it precipitated upon one. "i--i don't--believe i can play this morning, mr. jasper," she began hurriedly, for the first time in her young life finding herself actually embarrassed. she was even twisting her fingers. "very well," said jasper, coolly, "then i understand that you will not play with us at any time, for, as we begin to-day, we shall keep on. i will set about getting up another party at once." he touched his yacht cap lightly, and turned off. "i'll go right down on the lower deck with you now." fanny ran after him, her little boot heels clicking excitedly on the hard floor. "the steward has marked it all for us. i got him to, while i ran to find polly so as to engage the place," she added breathlessly. "that's fine," said jasper, a smile breaking over the gloom on his face; "now we'll have a prime game, miss vanderburgh." fanny swallowed hard the lump in her throat, and tried to look pleasant. "do you go and collect the griswolds," cried jasper, radiantly, "and i'll be back with tom," and he plunged off. it was all done in a minute. and the thing that had been worrying him--how to get tom into good shape, and to keep him there--seemed fixed in the best way possible. but tom wouldn't go. nothing that jasper could do or say would move him out of the gloom into which he was cast, and at last jasper ran down for a hurried game with the party awaiting him, to whom he explained matters in the best way he could. at last, old mr. selwyn was able to emerge from his state-room. mr. king and he were the best of friends by this time, the former always, when polly read aloud, being one of the listeners. at all such hours, indeed, and whenever polly went to sit by the invalid, phronsie would curl up at polly's side, and fondle the doll that grandpapa gave her last, which had the honour to take the european trip with the family. phronsie would smooth the little dress down carefully, and then with her hand in polly's, she would sit motionless till the reading was over. mamsie, whose fingers could not be idle, although the big mending basket was left at home, would be over on the sofa, sewing busily; and little dr. fisher would run in and out, and beaming at them all through his spectacles, would cry cheerily, "well, i declare, you have the most comfortable place on the whole boat, mr. selwyn." or dr. jones, whom polly thought, next to papa fisher, was the very nicest doctor in all the world, would appear suddenly around the curtain, and smile approval through his white teeth. at last on the fifth day out, the old man was helped up to sun himself in his steamer chair on deck. and then he had a perfect coterie around him, oh-ing and ah-ing over his illness, and expressing sympathy in every shape, for since mr. king and his party took him up, it was quite the thing for all the other passengers to follow suit. when a few hours of this sort of thing had been going on, the old man called abruptly to polly pepper, who had left him, seeing he had such good company about him, and had now skipped up with jasper to toss him a merry word, or to see if his steamer rug was all tucked in snugly around him. "see here, polly pepper, do you play chess?" "what, sir?" polly thought she had not heard correctly. "do you play chess, i say?" demanded old mr. selwyn, bringing his sharp little eyes to bear on her. "no, sir, that is--only a little," stammered polly. "well, that will do for a start," the old gentleman nodded in satisfaction. "and i'll give you some points later on about the game. well, and you play backgammon, of course." he didn't wait for her to answer, but finished, "these people here drive me almost crazy, asking me how i feel, and what was the matter with me, and all that rubbish. now, i'm going into the library, and you shall go too, and we'll have a game of backgammon." he flung back his steamer rug with a determined hand. jasper began, "oh, polly!" in dismay, but she broke in, "yes, indeed, i do play backgammon, mr. selwyn, and it will be fine to have a game." and together they helped him up and into a cosey corner of the library. "there, now," said polly, with a final little pat on the sofa pillows tucked up at his back. "i believe you are as comfortable as you can be, mr. selwyn." "indeed i am," he declared. "and now, jasper, do get the backgammon board," cried polly. "there it is over there," spying it on a further table. old mr. selwyn cast a hungry glance on it as it was brought forward, and his sharp little eyes sparkled, as polly threw it open. he even chuckled in delight as he set the men. tom selwyn came up to the door, and standing in its shadow, looked in. jasper flung himself down on the sofa by the old gentleman's side to watch the game. suddenly he glanced up, caught sight of tom, although the latter's head was quickly withdrawn, and jumping up, he dashed after him. "here--see here, tom!" he called to the big figure before him, making good time down the stairs. "i can't go chasing you all over the boat in this fashion. stop, will you?" "what do you want?" demanded tom, crossly, feeling it impossible to elude such a pursuer, and backing up against a convenient angle. "i want you to come up into the library and watch the game. do, it'll be the best time,"--he didn't say "to make it all up." "can't," said tom, "he won't see me." "oh, yes, he will; i almost know he will," declared jasper, eagerly feeling this minute as if the most unheard-of things were possible. "and beside, your sister--i mean the pepper girl--miss pepper--" tom corrected himself clumsily. "she can't bear me--i won't come." "oh, yes, she can now," said jasper, just as eagerly, "especially since i've told her all you've told me." "well, i hate girls anyway," declared tom, in his most savage fashion; "always have hated 'em, and always shall. i won't come!" iii phronsie goes visiting "grandpapa," said phronsie, softly, as she clung to his hand, after they had made the descent to the lower deck, "i think the littlest one can eat some of the fruit, don't you?" she asked anxiously. "never you fear," assented old mr. king, "that child that i saw yesterday can compass anything in the shape of food. why, it had its mouth full of teeth, phronsie; it was impossible not to see them when it roared." "i am so glad its teeth are there," said phronsie, with a sigh of satisfaction, as she regarded her basket of fruit, "because if it hadn't any, we couldn't give it these nice pears, grandpapa." "well, here we are," said mr. king, holding her hand tightly. "bless me--are those your toes, young man?" this to a big chubby-faced boy, whose fat legs lay across the space as he sprawled on the deck; "just draw them in a bit, will you?--there. well, now, phronsie, this way. here's the party, i believe," and he led her over to the other side, where a knot of steerage passengers were huddled together. in the midst sat a woman, chubby faced, and big and square, holding a baby. she had a big red shawl wrapped around her, in the folds of which snuggled the baby, who was contentedly chewing one end of it, while his mother had her eyes on the rest of her offspring, of which there seemed a good many. when the baby saw phronsie, he stopped chewing the old shawl and grinned, showing all the teeth of which mr. king had spoken. the other children, tow headed and also chubby, looked at the basket hanging on phronsie's arm, and also grinned. "there is the baby!" exclaimed phronsie, in delight, pulling grandpapa's hand gently. "oh, grandpapa, there he is." "that's very evident," said the old gentleman. "bless me!" addressing the woman, "how many children have you, pray tell?" "nine," she said. then she twitched the jacket of one of them, and the pinafore of another, to have them mind their manners, while the baby kicked and crowed and gurgled, seeming to be all teeth. "i have brought you some fruit," said phronsie, holding out her basket, whereat all the tow headed group except the baby crowded each other dreadfully to see all there was in it. "i'm sorry the flowers are gone, so i couldn't bring any to-day. may the baby have this?" holding out a pear by the stem. the baby settled that question by lunging forward and seizing the pear with two fat hands, when he immediately sank into the depths of the old shawl again, all his teeth quite busy at work. phronsie set down her basket on the deck, and the rest of the brood emptied it to their own satisfaction. their mother's stolid face lighted up with a broad smile that showed all her teeth, and very white and even they were. "grandpapa," said phronsie, turning to him and clasping her hands, "if i only might hold that baby just one little bit of a minute," she begged, keenly excited. "oh, phronsie, he's too big," expostulated mr. king, in dismay. "i can hold him just as easy, grandpapa dear," said phronsie, her lips drooping mournfully. "see." and she sat down on a big coil of rope near by and smoothed out her brown gown. "please, grandpapa dear." "he'll cry," said mr. king, quickly. "oh, no, phronsie, it wouldn't do to take him away from his mother. you see it would be dreadful to set that child to roaring--very dreadful indeed." yet he hung over her in distress at the drooping little face. "he won't cry." the mother's stolid face lighted up a moment. "and if the little lady wants to hold him, he'll sit there." "may i, grandpapa?" cried phronsie, her red lips curling into a happy smile. "oh, please say i may, grandpapa dear," clasping her hands. "the family seems unusually clean," observed mr. king to himself. "and the doctor says there's no sickness on board, and it's a very different lot of steerage folks going this way from coming out, all of which i've settled before coming down here," he reflected. "well, phronsie--yes--i see no reason why you may not hold the baby if you want to." and before the words were hardly out of his mouth, the chubby-faced woman had set the fat baby in the middle of the brown gown smoothed out to receive him. he clung to his pear with both hands and ate away with great satisfaction, regardless of his new resting-place. "just come here!" mrs. griswold, in immaculately fitting garments, evidently made up freshly for steamer use, beckoned with a hasty hand to her husband. "it's worth getting up to see." he flung down his novel and tumbled out of his steamer chair. "look down there!" "_whew!_" whistled mr. griswold; "that _is_ a sight!" "and that is the great horatio king!" exclaimed mrs. griswold under her breath; "down there in that dirty steerage--and look at that child--reginald, did you ever see such a sight in your life?" "on my honour, i never have," declared mr. griswold, solemnly, and wanting to whistle again. "sh!--don't speak so loud," warned mrs. griswold, who was doing most of the talking herself. and plucking his sleeve, she emphasised every word with fearful distinctness close to his ear. "she's got a dirty steerage baby in her lap, and mr. king is laughing. well, i never! o dear me, here come the young people!" polly and jasper came on a brisk trot up the deck length. "fifteen times around make a mile, don't they, jasper?" she cried. "i believe they do," said jasper, "but it isn't like home miles, is it, polly?"--laughing gaily--"or dear old badgertown?" "i should think not," replied polly, with a little pang at her heart whenever badgertown was mentioned. "we used to run around the little brown house, and see how many times we could do it without stopping." "and how many did you, polly?" asked jasper,--"the largest number, i mean." "oh, i don't know," said polly, with a little laugh; "joel beat us always, i remember that." "yes, joe would get over the ground, you may be sure," said jasper, "if anybody could." polly's laugh suddenly died away and her face fell. "jasper, you don't know," she said, "how i do want to see those boys." "i know," said jasper, sympathisingly, "but you'll get a letter, you know, most as soon as we reach port, for they were going to mail it before we left." "and i have one every day in my mail-bag," said polly, "but i want to _see_ them so, jasper, i don't know what to do." she went up to the rail at a remove from the griswolds and leaned over it. "polly," said jasper, taking her hand, "you know your mother will feel dreadfully if she knows you are worrying about it." "i know it," said polly, bravely, raising her head; "and i won't--why jasper elyot king!" for then she saw grandpapa and phronsie and the steerage baby. jasper gave a halloo, and waved his hand, and polly danced up and down and called, and waved her hands too. and phronsie gave a little crow of delight. "see, grandpapa, there they are; i want polly--and jasper, too." and old mr. king whirled around. "o dear me! come down, both of you," which command it did not take them long to obey. "well, i never did in all my life," ejaculated mrs. griswold, "see anything like that. now if some people"--she didn't say "we"--"should do anything like that, 'twould be dreadfully erratic and queer. but those kings can do anything," she added, with venom. "it's pretty much so," assented mr. griswold, giving a lazy shake. "well, i'm going back to my chair if you've got through with me, louisa." and he sauntered off. "don't go, reginald," begged his wife; "i haven't got a soul to talk to." "oh, well, you can talk to yourself," said her husband, "any woman can." but he paused a moment. "haven't those pepper children got a good berth?" exclaimed mrs. griswold, unable to keep her eyes off from the small group below. "and their mother pepper, or fisher, or whatever her name is--i declare it's just like a novel, the way i heard the story from mrs. vanderburgh about it all." "and i wish you'd let me get back to my book, louisa," exclaimed mr. griswold, tartly, at the mention of the word "novel," beginning to look longingly at his deserted steamer chair, "for it's precious little time i get to read on shore. seems as if i might have a little peace at sea." "do go back and read, then," said his wife, impatiently; "that's just like a man,--he can't talk of anything but business, or he must have his nose in a book." "we men want to talk sense," growled her husband, turning off. but mrs. griswold was engrossed in her survey of mr. king and the doings of his party, and either didn't hear or didn't care what was remarked outside of that interest. tom selwyn just then ran up against some one as clumsily as ever. it proved to be the ship's doctor, who surveyed him coldly and passed on. tom gave a start and swallowed hard, then plunged after him. "oh, i say." "what is it?" asked dr. jones, pausing. "can i--i'd like--to see my grandfather, don't you know?" dr. jones scanned him coolly from top to toe. tom took it without wincing, but inwardly he felt as if he must shake to pieces. "if you can so conduct yourself that your grandfather will not be excited," at last said the doctor,--what an age it seemed to tom,--"i see no reason why you shouldn't see your grandfather, and go back to your state-room. but let me tell you, young man, it was a pretty close shave for him the other day. had he slipped away, you'd have had that on your conscience that would have lasted you for many a day." with this, and a parting keen glance, he turned on his heel and strode off. tom gave a great gasp, clenched his big hands tightly together, took a long look at the wide expanse of water, then disappeared within. in about half an hour, the steerage baby having gone to sleep in phronsie's arms, the brothers and sisters, finding, after the closest inspection, nothing more to eat in the basket, gathered around the centre of attraction in a small bunch. "i hope they won't wake up the baby," said phronsie, in gentle alarm. "never you fear," said old mr. king, quite comfortable now in the camp-chair one of the sailors had brought in response to a request from jasper; "that child knows very well by this time, i should imagine, what noise is." but after a little, the edge of their curiosity having been worn off, the small group began to get restive, and to clamour and pull at their mother for want of something better to do. "o dear me!" said phronsie, in distress. "dear, dear!" echoed polly, vainly trying to induce the child next to the baby to get into her lap; "something must be done. oh, don't you want to hear about a funny cat, children? i'm going to tell them about grandma bascom's, jasper," she said, seeing the piteous look in phronsie's eyes. "yes, we do," said one of the boys, as spokesman, and he solemnly bobbed his tow head, whereat all the children then bobbed theirs. "sit down, then," said polly, socially making way for them, "all of you in a circle, and i'll tell you of that very funny cat." so the whole bunch of tow-headed children sat down in a ring, and solemnly folded their hands in their laps. jasper threw himself down where he could edge himself in. old mr. king leaned back and surveyed them with great satisfaction. so polly launched out in her gayest mood, and the big blue eyes in the round faces before her widened, and the mouths flew open, showing the white teeth; and the stolid mother leaned forward, and her eyes and mouth looked just like those of her children, only they were bigger; and at last polly drew a long breath and wound up with a flourish, "and that's all." "tell another," said one of the round-eyed, open-mouthed children, without moving a muscle. all the rest sat perfectly still. "o dear me," said polly, with a little laugh, "that was such a good long one, you can't want another." "i think you've gotten yourself into business, polly," said jasper, with a laugh. "hadn't we better go?" polly gave a quick glance at phronsie. "phronsie dear," she said, "let us go up to our deck now, dear. shall we?" "oh, no, polly, please don't go yet," begged phronsie, in alarm, and patting the baby softly with a gentle little hand. polly looked off at grandpapa. he was placidly surveying the water, his eyes occasionally roving over the novel and interesting sights around. on the other side of the deck a returning immigrant was bringing out a jew's-harp, and two or three of his fellow-passengers were preparing to pitch quoits. old mr. king was actually smiling at it all. polly hadn't seen him so contented since they sailed. "i guess i'll tell another one, jasper," she said. "oh, about a dog, you wanted, did you?" nodding at the biggest boy. "yes," said the boy, bobbing his tow head, "i did;" and he unfolded and folded his hands back again, then waited patiently. so polly flew off on a gay little story about a dog that bade fair to rival grandma bascom's cat for cleverness. he belonged to mr. atkins who kept store in badgertown, and the pepper children used to see a good deal of him, when they took home the sacks and coats that mamsie sewed for the storekeeper. and in the midst of the story, when the stolid steerage children were actually laughing over the antics of that remarkable dog, jasper glanced up toward the promenade deck, took a long look, and started to his feet. "why, polly pepper, see!" he pointed upward. there, on the curve, were old mr. selwyn and tom walking arm in arm. iv steamer life and after that, it was "my grandson, thomas," on all occasions, the old gentleman introducing the boy to the right and to the left, as he paraded the deck, his old arm within the younger one. and the little, sharp black eyes snapped proudly and the white head was held up, as he laughed and chattered away sociably to the passengers and the ship's crew, at every good opportunity. "yes, my grandson, thomas, is going back to school. we've been running about in your country a bit, and the boy's mother went home first with the other children--" polly heard him say as the two paused in front of her steamer chair. "indeed!" ejaculated mrs. vanderburgh, as he addressed her, and raising her eyebrows with a supercilious glance for his plain, unprepossessing appearance. "yes, madam, and glad shall i be to set my foot on old england again hey, tom, my boy, don't you say so?" tom looked off over the sea, but did not speak. neither did mrs. vanderburgh answer, but turned her face away in disdain that was very plainly marked. "home is the best place, madam," declared old mr. selwyn emphatically. "well, old england is our home, and nothing will induce me to leave it again, i can assure you." again mrs. vanderburgh did not reply, but looked him up and down in cold silence. old mr. selwyn, not appearing to notice, chattered on. at last she deliberately turned her back on him. "isn't he common and horrid?" whispered fanny vanderburgh, in the steamer chair next to polly, thrusting her face in between her and her book. and she gave a little giggle. "hush!" said polly, warningly, "he will hear you." "nonsense--it's impossible; he is rattling on so; and do look at mamma's face!" he didn't hear, but tom did; and he flashed a glance--dark and wrathful--over at the two girls, and started forward, abruptly pulling his grandfather along. "o dear me!" exclaimed polly, in distress, dropping her book in her lap; "now he _has_ heard." "oh, that dreadful boy," said fanny, carelessly, stretching out in her steamer chair comfortably; "well, who cares? he's worse than his grandfather." "yes, he has heard," repeated polly, sorrowfully looking after the two, tom still propelling the old gentleman along the deck at a lively rate; "now, what shall we do?" "it isn't of the least consequence if he has heard," reiterated fanny, "and mamma has been frightfully bored, i know. do tell us, mamma," she called. mrs. vanderburgh turned away from the rail, where she had paused in her constitutional when addressed by the old gentleman, and came up to the girls. "do sit down, mamma, in your steamer chair," begged fanny; "i'll tuck you up in your rug." and she jumped lightly out of her own chair. "there, that's nice," as mrs. vanderburgh sank gracefully down, and fanny patted and pulled the rug into shape. "now tell us, wasn't he the most horrible old bore?" as she cuddled back into her own nest, mrs. vanderburgh laughed in a very high-bred manner. "he was very amusing," she said. "amusing! i should say so!" cried fanny. "i suppose he would have told you all his family history if he had stayed. o dear me, he is such a common, odious old person." polly twisted uneasily under her rug. mrs. vanderburgh glanced into the steamer chair on the other side. it had several books on top of the rug. "i don't believe he can take that seat," she said; "still, fanny, i think it would be well for you to change into it, for that old man may take it into his head, when he makes the turn of the deck, to drop into it and give us the whole of his family history." "horrors!" ejaculated fanny, hopping out of her chair again. "i'll make sure that he doesn't. and yet i did so want to sit next to polly pepper," she mourned, ensconcing herself under the neighbouring rug, and putting the books on the floor by her side. "don't do that; give them to me," said her mother; "i'll put them in your chair unless miss polly will take that place, only i don't like to disturb you, dear," she said with a sweet smile at polly. "why, that would make matters' worse, mamma," said fanny. "don't you see, then, that old bore would put himself into polly's chair, for he likes her, anyway. do leave it as it is." so mrs. vanderburgh smiled again. "i don't know but that you are right," she said, and leaned back her head restfully. "dear me, yes, he _is_ amusing." "they are terribly common people," said fanny, her aristocratic nose well in the air, "aren't they, mamma? and did you ever see such a clumsy thing as that dreadful boy, and such big hands and feet?" she held up her own hands as she spoke, and played with her rings, and let the jingling bracelets run up and down her wrists. "fanny, how often must i tell you to wear gloves on shipboard?" said her mother, in a tone of reproof. "nothing spoils the hands so much as a trip at sea. they won't get over it all summer; they're coarsened already," and she cast an alarmed glance at the long, slender fingers. "i'm so tired of gloves, mamma." fanny gave a restful yawn. "polly pepper doesn't wear them," she cried triumphantly, peering past her mother to point to polly's hands. mrs. vanderburgh hesitated. it wouldn't do to say anything that would reflect against the peppers--manners, or customs, or bringing up generally. so she leaned over and touched polly's fingers with her own gloved ones. "you don't wear gloves, do you, my dear?" she said, in gentle surprise, quite as if the idea had just struck her for the first time. "no, mrs. vanderburgh, i don't," said polly, "at least not on shipboard, unless it is cold." "there, now, mamma," laughed fanny, in a pleased way; "you'll stop teasing me about wearing them, i'm sure." mrs. vanderburgh turned and surveyed her daughter; but she didn't smile, and fanny thought it as well to begin again on the old topic. "they're awfully common people, aren't they, mamma,--those selwyns?" "they are, indeed," replied mrs. vanderburgh, "quite commonplace, and exceedingly tiresome; be sure and not speak to them, fanny." "trust me for that," said fanny, with a wise little nod. "the old man stopped me and asked me something this morning, as i was coming out of the dining room, after breakfast, but i pretended i didn't hear, and i skipped upstairs and almost fell on my nose." "you were fortunate to escape," said her mother, with a little laugh. "well, let us drop the subject and talk of something else much more important. polly, my dear." she turned again and surveyed the young girl at her side. "you are coming home this autumn, aren't you?" "oh, no," said polly, "grandpapa expects to stay over in europe a year." "is that so?" said mrs. vanderburgh, and her face fell; "i regret it exceedingly, for i should be glad if you would visit fanny this winter in new york." "thank you; but i couldn't anyway," said polly. then the colour flew up to her cheek. "i mean i am in school, you know, mrs. vanderburgh, but i thank you, and it is so good of you to want me," she added, hurriedly, feeling that she hadn't said the right thing at all. "i do want you very much, my dear child," said mrs. vanderburgh, "and i am very sorry you are to remain abroad over the winter, for your grandfather would be persuaded, i feel quite sure, to have you leave school for a while, and come to us for a visit." "oh, no, he wouldn't," cried polly, quickly. "i beg pardon, mrs. vanderburgh, but i never leave school for anything unless i am sick, and i am almost never sick." "well, then, you could come for the christmas holidays," said mrs. vanderburgh, with ladylike obstinacy like one accustomed to carrying her point. "the christmas holidays!" exclaimed polly, starting forward in her chair. "oh, i wouldn't leave home for anything, then, mrs. vanderburgh. why, we have the most beautiful times, and we are all together--the boys come home from school--and it's just too lovely for anything!" she clasped her hands and sighed--oh, if she could but see ben and joel and david but once! mrs. vanderburgh was a very tall woman, and she gazed down into the radiant face, without speaking; polly was looking off over the sea, and the colour came and went on her cheek. "we would soon get her out of all such notions, if we once had her with us, wouldn't we, mamma?" said fanny, in a low tone close to her mother's ear. mrs. vanderburgh gave her a warning pinch, but polly's brown eyes were fastened on the distant horizon, and she hadn't heard a word. "well, we'll arrange it sometime," said fanny's mother, breaking the silence; "so you must remember, polly dear, that you are engaged to us for a good long visit when you do come home." "i will tell grandpapa that you asked me," said polly, bringing her eyes back with a sigh to look into mrs. vanderburgh's face. "oh, he will fall into the plan quite readily, i think," said mrs. vanderburgh, lightly. "you know we are all very old friends--that is, the families are--mr. vanderburgh's father and mr. king were very intimate. perhaps you don't know, polly,"--and fanny's mamma drew herself up to her extreme height; it was impossible for her to loll back in her chair when talking of her family,--"that we are related to the earl of cavendish who owns the old estate in england, and we go back to william the conqueror; that is, fanny does on her father's side." fanny thereupon came up out of her chair depths to sit quite straight and gaze with importance at polly's face. but polly was still thinking of the boys, and she said nothing. "and my family is just as important," said mrs. vanderburgh, and she smiled in great satisfaction. "really, we could make things very pleasant for you, my child; our set is so exclusive, you could not possibly meet any one but the very best people. oh, here is your mother." she smiled enchantingly up at mrs. fisher, and held out her hand. "do come and sit here with us, my dear mrs. fisher," she begged, "then we shall be a delightful group, we two mothers and our daughters." "thank you, mrs. vanderburgh." mrs. fisher smiled, but she didn't offer to take the steamer chair. "i have come after polly." "mamsie, what is it? i'll come," said polly, tumbling out of her steamer chair in a twinkling. "o dear me!" exclaimed mrs. vanderburgh, in regret, "don't take polly away, i do implore you, my dear mrs. fisher--i am _so_ fond of her." "i must," said mother fisher, smiling again, her hand now in polly's, and before any more remonstrances were made, they were off. "oh, mamsie!" breathed polly, hanging to the dear hand, "i am so glad you came, and took me away." "polly," said mother fisher, suddenly, "grandpapa asked me to find you; he thinks you could cheer old mr. selwyn up a bit, perhaps, with backgammon. i'm afraid tom has been behaving badly again." "oh, mamsie!" exclaimed polly, in dismay. and then the story came out. "grandpapa," said phronsie, pulling at his hand gently, as they walked slowly up and down the deck, "does your head ache?" and she peered anxiously up into his face. "no, child--that is, not much," said old mr. king, trying to smooth his brows out. he was thinking--for it kept obtruding at all times and seasons--of that dreadful scrap of paper that cousin eunice had imposed upon him at the last minute before they sailed, announcing that she had had her way, and would at last compel acceptance of such a gift as she chose to make to phronsie pepper. "if it aches at all," said phronsie, decidedly, "i wish you would let me rub it for you, grandpapa. i do, truly." "well, it doesn't," said grandpapa; "that is it won't, now that i have you with me. i was thinking of something unpleasant, phronsie, and then, to tell you the truth, that old mr. selwyn tires me to death. i can't talk to him, and his grandson is a cad." "what is a cad?" asked phronsie, wonderingly. "oh, well, a boy who isn't nice," said mr. king, carelessly. "grandpapa, why isn't that boy nice to that poor old man?" asked phronsie, a grieved look coming into her blue eyes. "goodness me, child, you ask me too much," said mr. king, quickly; "oh, a variety of reasons. well, we must take things as we find them, and do what we can to help matters along; but it seems a hopeless case,--things were in better shape; and now they seem all tangled up again, thanks to that boy." "grandpapa," said phronsie, earnestly, "i don't believe that boy means to be bad to that poor old man, i don't really and truly, grandpapa," she added, shaking her head. "well, he takes a queer way to show it, if he means to be good," said old mr. king, grimly. "oh, is that you, master tom?" as they turned a corner to find themselves face to face with tom selwyn. "mr. king," tom began very rapidly so that the words ran all over each other, "i'm no end sorry--don't think hard things of me--it's not my fault this time; grandfather heard it as well as i--at least, i caught a little and he asked me what it was, and i had to tell him, and it upset him." old mr. king stood gazing into the big boy's face in utter bewilderment. "as i don't know in the least what you are trying to tell me, my boy," at last he said, "i shall have to ask you to repeat it, and go slowly." so tom tried again to tell his story, and by the time that it was all out, mr. king was fuming in righteous indignation. "well, well, it's not worth thinking of," at last he said at sight of the flashing eyes before him and the angry light on the young face. "you take my arm, or i'll take yours, master tom,--there, that's better,--and we'll do a bit of a turn on the deck. your grandfather'll come out of it, for he's busy over the backgammon board. but it was an ugly thing to do just the same." just then mrs. vanderburgh and fanny passed them, all sweet smiles for him and for phronsie, but with no eyes for the boy. v a fish story and other things "oh, polly! polly!" phronsie came running along the deck, and up to the little group playing shuffle-board; "there's such a very big whale." and she clasped her hands in great excitement. "there truly is. do come and see him." "is there, pet?" cried polly, throwing down her shovel, "then we must all go and see him. come, jasper, and all of you," and she seized phronsie's hand. "he is very dreadful big," said phronsie, as they sped on, jasper and the other players close behind. "and he puffed, polly, and the water went up, oh, so high!" "that's because he came up to breathe," said polly, as they raced along. "dear me, i hope he won't be gone when we get there." "can't he breathe under the water?" asked phronsie, finding it rather hard work to perform that exercise herself in such a race. "what does he stay down there for, then, say, polly?" "oh, because he likes it," answered polly, carelessly. "take care, phronsie, you're running into all those steamer chairs." "i'm sorry he can't breathe," said phronsie, anxiously trying to steer clear of the bunch of steamer chairs whose occupants had suddenly left them, too, to see the whale. "poor whale--i'm sorry for him, polly." "oh, he's happy," said polly, "he likes it just as it is. he comes up for a little while to blow and--" "i thought you said he came up to breathe, polly," said phronsie, tugging at polly's hand, and guilty of interrupting. "well, and so he does, and to blow, too,--it's just the same thing," said polly, quickly. "is it just exactly the same?" asked phronsie. "yes, indeed; that is, in the whale's case," answered polly, as they ran up to grandpapa and the rest of their party, and the knots of other passengers, all staring hard at a certain point on the sparkling waste of water. "i thought you were never coming," said old mr. king, moving away from the rail to tuck polly and phronsie in where they could get a good view. "oh, there he is--there he is--jasper, look!" cried polly. "there he is!" crowed phronsie, now much excited. "oh, isn't he big, grandpapa?" "i should say he was," declared mr. king. "i think i never saw a finer whale in my life, phronsie." "he comes up to blow," said phronsie, softly to herself, her face pressed close to the rail, and her yellow hair floating off in the breeze; "and polly says it doesn't hurt him, and he likes it." "what is it, phronsie child?" asked old mr. king, hearing her voice. "grandpapa, has he got any little whales?" asked phronsie, suddenly raising her face. "oh, yes, i imagine so," said old mr. king; "that is, he ought to have, i'm sure. porpoises go in schools,--why shouldn't whales, pray tell?" "what's a porpoise?" asked phronsie, with wide eyes. "oh, he's a dolphin or a grampus." "oh," said phronsie, much mystified, "and does he go to school?" "well, they go ever so many of them together, and they call it a school. goodness me--that _is_ a blow!" as the whale spouted valiantly, and looked as if he were making directly for the steamer. "oh, grandpapa, he's coming right here!" screamed phronsie, clapping her hands in delight, and hopping up and down,--polly and jasper were almost as much excited,--while the passengers ran hither and thither to get a good view, and levelled their big glasses, and oh-ed and ah-ed. and some of them ran to get their cameras. and mr. whale seemed to like it, for he spouted and flirted his long tail and dashed into the water and out again to blow, till they were all quite worn out looking at him. at last, with a final plunge, he bade them all good-by and disappeared. phronsie, after her first scream of delight, had pressed her face close to the rail and held her breath. she did not say a word, but gazed in speechless enjoyment at the antics of the big fish. and grandpapa had to speak two or three times when the show was all over before she heard him. "did you like it, phronsie?" he asked, gathering her hand up closely in his, as he leaned over to see her face. phronsie turned away with a sigh. "oh, grandpapa, he was so beautiful!" she drew a long breath, then turned back longingly. "won't he ever come back?" she asked. "maybe not this one," said old mr. king; "but we'll see plenty more, i imagine, phronsie. at least, if not on this voyage,--why, some other time." "oh, wasn't it splendid!" exclaimed polly, tossing back the little rings of brown hair from her brow. "well, he's gone; now we must run back, jasper, and finish our game." and they were off, the other players following. "i'd like to see this very whale again," said phronsie, with a small sigh; "grandpapa, i would, really; he was a nice whale." "yes, he was a fine one," said old mr. king. "i don't know as i ever put eyes on a better specimen, and i've seen a great many in my life." "tell me about them, do, grandpapa," begged phronsie, drawing nearer to him. "well, i'll get into my steamer chair, and you shall sit in my lap, and then i'll tell you about some of them," said mr. king, much gratified. as they moved off, phronsie clinging to his hand, she looked back and saw two children gazing wistfully after them. "grandpapa," she whispered, pulling his hand gently to attract attention, "may that little boy and girl come, too, and hear about your whales?" "yes, to be sure," cried mr. king. so phronsie called them, and in a few minutes there was quite a big group around grandpapa's steamer chair; for when the other children saw what was going on, they stopped, too, and before he knew, there he was perfectly surrounded. "i should very much like to hear what it is all about." mrs. vanderburgh's soft voice broke into a pause, when old mr. king stopped to rest a bit. "you must be very fascinating, dear mr. king; you have no idea how pretty your group is." she pulled fanny forward gently into the outer fringe of the circle. "pray, what is the subject?" "nothing in the world but a fish story, madam," said the old gentleman. "oh, _may_ we stay and hear it?" cried mrs. vanderburgh, enthusiastically, clasping her gloved hands. "fanny adores such things, don't you, dear?" turning to her. "yes, indeed, mamma," answered fanny, trying to look very much pleased. "take my word for it, you will find little to interest either of you," said mr. king. "oh, i should be charmed," cried mrs. vanderburgh. "fanny dear, draw up that steamer chair to the other side." but a stout, comfortable-looking woman coming down the deck stopped directly in front of that same chair, and before fanny could move it, sat down, saying, "this is my chair, young lady." "that vulgar old woman has got it," said fanny, coming back quite crestfallen. "ugh!" mrs. vanderburgh shrugged her shoulders as she looked at the occupant of the chair, who surveyed her calmly, then fell to reading her book. "well, you must just bear it, dear; it's one of the annoyances to be endured on shipboard." "i suppose the lady wanted her own chair," observed mr. king, dryly. "lady? oh, my dear mr. king!" mrs. vanderburgh gave a soft little laugh. "it's very good of you to put it that way, i'm sure. well, now do let us hear that delightful story. fanny dear, you can sit on part of my chair," she added, regardless of the black looks of a gentleman hovering near, who had a sharp glance on the green card hanging to the back of the chair she had appropriated and that bore his name. so fanny perched on the end of the steamer chair, and mr. king, not seeing any way out of it, went on in his recital of the whale story, winding up with an account of some wonderful porpoises he had seen, and a variety of other things, until suddenly he turned his head and keenly regarded fanny's mother. "how intensely interesting!" she exclaimed, opening her eyes, and trying not to yawn. "do go on, and finish about that whale," feeling that she must say something. "mamma!" exclaimed fanny, trying to stop her. "i ended up that whale some five minutes ago, madam," said mr. king. "i think you must have been asleep." "oh, no, indeed, i have been charmed every moment," protested mrs. vanderburgh sitting quite erect. "you surely have the gift of a _raconteur_, mr. king," she said, gracefully recovering herself. "o dear me, here is that odious boy and that tiresome old man!" as tom selwyn came up slowly, his grandfather on his arm. mr. king put phronsie gently off from his lap, still keeping her hand in his. "now, children, the story-telling is all done, the whales and porpoises are all finished up--so run away." he touched his sea-cap to mrs. vanderburgh and her daughter, then marched up to the old man and tom. "i am tired of sitting still," he said. "may my little granddaughter and i join you in a walk?" tom shot him a grateful look. old mr. selwyn, who cared most of all for polly, mumbled out something, but did not seem especially happy. but mr. king did not appear to notice anything awry, but fell into step, still keeping phronsie's hand, and they paced off. "if you know which side your bread is buttered, mamma," said fanny vanderburgh, shrewdly, looking after them as they disappeared, "you'll make up to those dreadful selwyn people." "never!" declared her mother, firmly. "fanny, are you wild? why, you are a vanderburgh and are related to the english nobility, and i am an ashleigh. what would your father say to such a notion?" "well, papa isn't here," said fanny, "and if he were, he'd do something to keep in with mr. king. i hate and detest those dreadful selwyns as much as you do, mamma, but i'm going to cultivate them. see if i don't!" "and i forbid it," said her mother, forgetting herself and raising her voice. "they are low bred and common. and beside that, they are eccentric and queer. don't you speak to them or notice them in the slightest." "madam," said the gentleman of the black looks, advancing and touching his cap politely, "i regret to disturb you, but i believe you have my chair." mrs. vanderburgh begged pardon and vacated the chair, when the gentleman touched his cap again, and immediately drew the chair up to the one where the stout, comfortable-looking woman sat. "it seems to me there are more ill-bred, low-lived people on board this boat than it has been my lot to meet on any voyage," said mrs. vanderburgh, drawing her sea coat around her slight figure and sailing off, her daughter in her wake. vi a little surprise "sir," said little mr. selwyn, bringing his sharp black eyes to bear upon old mr. king, "you've been very good to me, and i've not been always pleasant. but it's my way, sir; it's my way." mr. king nodded pleasantly, although deep in his heart he agreed with the choleric old gentleman. "but as for polly, why, she's good--good as gold, sir." there was no mistaking mr. selwyn's sentiments there, and his old cheek glowed while giving what to him meant the most wonderful praise to be paid to a person. old mr. king straightened up. "you've said the right thing now," he declared. "and i wish i could see that girl when she's grown up," added the little old gentleman. "i want really to know what sort of a woman she'll make. i do, indeed, sir." "it isn't necessary to speculate much on it," answered mr. king, confidently, "when you look at her mother and remember the bringing up that polly pepper has had." the little old gentleman squinted hard at the clouds scudding across the blue sky. "that's so," he said at last. "well, i'm sorry we are to part," he added. "and, sir, i really wish you would come down to my place with your party and give me a fortnight during your stay in england. i really do, sir, upon me word." there was no mistaking his earnestness as he thrust out one thin, long-fingered hand. with the other, he set a card within mr. king's fingers. "arthur selwyn, the earl of cavendish," met mr. king's eyes. "i had a fancy to do this thing," said the little old gentleman, "to run across from america in simple fashion, and it pleased the boy, who hates a fuss. and we've gotten rid of all sorts of nuisances by it; interviews, and tiresome people. and i've enjoyed it mightily." he chuckled away till it seemed as if he were never going to stop. old mr. king burst out laughing, too; and the pair were so very jolly that the passengers, grouped together waiting for the liverpool landing, turned to stare at them. "just see how intimate mr. king is with that tiresome, common, old mr. selwyn!" exclaimed mrs. vanderburgh to her daughter. "i never was so surprised at anything in all my life, to see that he keeps it up now, for i thought that aristocratic horatio king was the most fastidious being alive." "the kings have awfully nice times," grumbled fanny, picking her gloves discontentedly. "and you keep me mewed up, and won't let me speak to anybody whose grandfather wasn't born in our set, and i hate and loathe it all." "you'll be glad when you are a few years older, and i bring you out in society, that i always have been so particular," observed mrs. vanderburgh, complacently, lifting her head in its dainty bonnet, higher than ever. "i want some nice times and a little fun now," whined fanny, with an envious glance over at polly and jasper with the dreadful selwyn boy between them, and phronsie running up to join them, and everybody in their party just bubbling over with happiness. "i wish mr. king and his party would go to paris now," said her mother, suddenly. "oh, don't i just wish it!" cried fanny, in a burst. "did you ask him, mamma?" "yes, indeed; i talked for fully half an hour yesterday, but it was no use. and he doesn't seem to know how long he is going to stay in england; 'only a few days,' he said, vaguely, then they go to holland." "oh, why couldn't we go to holland!" exclaimed fanny, impulsively, and her eyes brightened; "splendid holland, that would be something like, mamma!" "you forget the van dykes are to be in paris awaiting us." "oh, those stupid van dykes!" exploded fanny. "mamma, don't go there now. do change, and let us go to holland with the kings. do, mamma," she implored. "why, fanny vanderburgh!" exclaimed her mother, sharply, "what is the matter with you? you know it was settled long ago, that we should meet mrs. van dyke and eleanor in paris at just this very time. it would never do to offend them, particularly when eleanor is going to marry into the howard set." "and i'll have the most stupid time imaginable," cried fanny, passionately, "dragging around while you and the van dykes are buying that trousseau." "yes, that's one thing that i wanted the kings to go to paris for," said mrs. vanderburgh; "you could be with them. and really they are much more important than any one to get in with. and i'd keep up the friendship with the van dykes. but that mr. king is so obstinate, you can't do anything with him." a frown settled all across her pretty face, and she beat her foot impatiently on the deck. "you spoil everything, mamma, with your sets and your stupid people," declared fanny, her passion by no means cooled. "when i come out in society i'm going to choose my own friends," she muttered to herself, and set her lips tightly together. mr. king was saying, "thank you, so much, mr. selwyn, for i really think i'd prefer to call you so, as i knew you so first." "so you shall," cried the little earl, glancing around on the groups, "and it's better just here, at all events," and he chuckled again. "then you really will come?" and he actually seized mr. king's hand and wrung it heartily. "no, i was about to say it is quite impossible." the earl of cavendish stared blankly up out of his sharp little black eyes in utter amazement into the other's face. "my stay in london is short, only a few days," mr. king was saying, "and then we go directly to holland. i thank you all the same--believe me, i appreciate it. it is good of you to ask us," he cordially added. the little earl of cavendish broke away from him, and took a few hasty steps down the deck to get this new idea fairly into his brain that his invitation had not been accepted. then he hurried back. "my dear sir," he said, laying his hand on mr. king's arm, "will you do me the favour to try to come at some future time--to consider your plans before you return to america, and see if you can't manage to give me this great pleasure of welcoming you to my home? think of it, i beg, and drop me a line; if at home, i shall always be most glad to have you with me. i should esteem it a privilege." the earl of cavendish was astonished to find himself beseeching the american gentleman without a title. and then they awaked to the fact that the groups of passengers were merging into a solid mass, and a slow procession was beginning to form for the stairway, and the landing episode was well under way. mrs. vanderburgh, determined not to bid good-by on the steamer but to be with the kings till the last moment, rushed up to them on the wharf, followed by fanny. "oh, we are _so_ sorry you are not going to paris with us," cried mrs. vanderburgh, while fanny flew at polly pepper and engrossed her hungrily. "can't you reconsider it now?" she asked, with a pretty earnestness. "no, it is impossible," answered mr. king, for about the fiftieth time. "our plans will not allow it. i hope you and your daughter will have the best of times," he remarked politely. "yes, we shall; we meet old friends there, and paris is always delightful." mrs. vanderburgh bit her lip in her vexation. "i was going to see you and beg you even now to change your plans, while we were on the steamer waiting to land," she went on hurriedly, "but you were bored--i quite pitied you--by that tiresome, common, old mr. selwyn." "yes, i was talking with him," said mr. king, "but excuse me, i was not bored. he is peculiar, but not at all common, and he has many good qualities as a man; and i like the boy immensely." "how can you?" mrs. vanderburgh gave a little high-bred laugh. "they are so insufferably common, mr. king, those selwyns are." "excuse me," said mr. king, "that was the earl of cavendish; it will do no harm to mention it now, as they have gone." "who--who?" demanded mrs. vanderburgh in a bewildered way. "i did not know it till this morning," mr. king was explaining, "but our fellow-passenger, mr. selwyn, chose to cross over keeping his real identity unknown, and i must say i admire his taste in the matter; and anyway it was his affair and not mine." it was a long speech, and at its conclusion mrs. vanderburgh was still demanding, "who--who?" in as much of a puzzle as ever. "the earl of cavendish," repeated mr. king; "mr. selwyn is the earl of cavendish. as i say, he did not wish it known, and--" "fanny--fanny!" called her mother, sitting helplessly on the first thing that presented itself, a box of merchandise by no means clean. "fan-ny! the--the earl of cavendish!" she could get no further. little dr. fisher, who administered restoratives and waited on mrs. vanderburgh and her daughter to their london train, came skipping back to the liverpool hotel. "i hope, wife, i sha'n't grow uncharitable,"--he actually glared through his big spectacles,--"but heaven defend us on our travels from any further specimens like that woman." "we shall meet all sorts, probably, adoniram," said his wife, calmly; "it really doesn't matter with our party of eight; we can take solid comfort together." the little doctor came out of his ill temper, but he said ruefully, "that's all very well, wife, for you and the hendersons; for you steered pretty clear, i noticed, of that woman. well, she's gone." and he smiled cheerfully. "now for dinner, for i suppose mr. king has ordered it." "yes, he has," said his wife. "and you have a quarter of an hour. i've put your clothes out all ready." "all right." the little doctor was already plunging here and there, tearing off his coat and necktie and boots; and exactly at the time set, he joined the party, with a bright and shining face, as if no mrs. vanderburgh, or any one in the least resembling her, had ever crossed his path. "jasper," cried polly, as they hurried along out of the harwich train to the steamer that was to take them to the hook of holland, "can you really believe we are almost there?" * * * * * "no, i can't," said jasper, "for i've wanted to see holland for such a time." "wasn't it good of grandpapa," cried polly, "to take us here the first thing after london?" "father always does seem to plan things rightly," answered jasper, with a good degree of pride. "and then 'it's prime,'" "as joel used to say," he was going to add, but thought better of it, as any reference to the boys always set polly to longing for them. "indeed, he does," exclaimed polly, in her most earnest fashion; "he's ever and always the most splendid grandpapa. oh, i wish i could do things for him, jasper," she mourned; "he's so good to us." "you do things for him all the while, polly," jasper made haste to say, as they ran along to keep up with the parson and mrs. henderson's comfortable figures just before them; "you are all the while doing something for him." "oh, no, i don't," said polly, "there isn't anything i can do for him. don't you suppose there ever will be, jasper?" she asked imploringly. "yes, indeed," said jasper; "there always are things that hop up to be done when people keep their eyes open. but don't you worry about your not doing anything for him, polly. promise me that." jasper took her hand and stopped just a minute to look into her face. "i'll try not to," promised polly, "but, oh, jasper, i do so very much wish there might be something that i could do. i do, indeed, jasper." "it was only yesterday," said jasper, as they began to hurry on once more, "that father said 'you can't begin to think, jasper, what a comfort polly pepper is to me.'" "did he, jasper?" cried polly, well pleased, the colour flying over her cheek, "that was nice of him, because there isn't anything much i can really do for him. o dear! there is grandpapa beckoning to us to hurry." so on they sped, having no breath for words. and presently they were on the boat, and little dr. fisher and mr. henderson went forward into the saloon, where the rooms reserved beforehand were to be given out, and the rest of the party waited and watched the stream of people of all ages and sizes and nationalities who desired to reach holland the next morning. to polly it was a world of delight, and to jasper, who watched her keenly, it was a revelation to see how nothing escaped her, no matter how noisy and dirty or turbulent the crowd, or how annoying the detention,--it was all a marvel of happiness from beginning to end. and jasper looking back over the two times he had been before to europe with his father, although he had never seen holland, remembered only a sort of dreary drifting about with many pleasant episodes and experiences, it is true, still with the feeling on the whole of the most distinct gladness when their faces were turned homeward and the journeying was over. "mamsie," cried polly, poking her head out from the upper berth of the stuffy little state-room assigned to mrs. fisher, mrs. henderson, phronsie, and herself; "was anything ever so delicious as this boat?--and to think, mamsie,"--here polly paused to add as impressively as if the idea had never been voiced before,--"that we are really to see holland to-morrow." "you'd better go to sleep now, then," said mrs. fisher, wisely, "if you want to be bright and ready really to see much of holland in the morning, polly." "that's so," answered polly, ducking back her head to its pillow, and wriggling her toes in satisfaction; "phronsie is asleep already, isn't she, mamsie?" "yes," said mrs. fisher, "she dropped off as soon as her head touched the pillow. good night, polly, you would better do the same." "good night, mamsie," said polly, with a sleepy little yawn, "and good night, dear mrs. henderson," she added, already almost in dreamland. vii off for holland it seemed to polly as if she had only breathed twice, and had not turned over once, when there was mamsie's voice calling her, and there was mamsie's face looking into hers over the edge of the berth. "wake up, polly, child, you have only about ten minutes to dress in." "o dear me! what--where?" exclaimed polly, springing to a sitting position, thereby giving her brown head a smart thump on the ceiling of the berth, "where are we, mamsie? why, it is the middle of the night, isn't it?" she cried, not stopping to pity her poor head. "we are almost at the hook of holland," said mrs. fisher, busily buttoning phronsie's shoes. phronsie sat on the lower berth, her sleepy little legs dangling over the edge, and her sleepy little head going nid-nodding, despite all her efforts to keep herself awake. "o dear me!" cried polly, remorsefully, when she saw that. "i ought to have dressed phronsie. why didn't you wake me up earlier, mamsie?" "because i wanted you to sleep all you could," said mrs. fisher, "and now if you'll only dress polly pepper as quickly as possible, that's all i ask." "i will dress polly pepper in a twinkling, mamsie," declared polly, laughing merrily; "o dear me, where _is_ my other stocking?" she stuck out one black foot ready for its boot. "is it down there, mamsie?" all the while she was shaking the bedclothes violently for any chance glimpse of it in the berth. "where did you put it last night when you took it off, polly?" asked mrs. fisher, buttoning away for dear life on phronsie's shoes. "there now, pet, those are done; hop out now, and fly into your clothes." "i thought i put 'em both in the corner here," cried poor polly, twitching everything loose. thereupon her big hat, hung carefully upon a high hook, slipped off and fell to the floor. "take care, polly," warned her mother, "haste only makes matters worse." "but i can't go with only one stocking on," said polly, quite gone in despair now. "oh, dear mrs. henderson, don't you see it on the floor?" for that good woman had dropped to her knees, and was busily prowling around among the accumulation of bags and clothing. "that's what i'm hoping to do," she answered, "but i don't see it as yet, polly." "i'll help polly to find it," cried phronsie, now thoroughly awake and dropping her small skirts to get down on the floor by mrs. henderson's side. "don't feel badly, polly; i'll find your stocking for you." "no, phronsie," said her mother, "you must get into your own clothes. and then mrs. henderson is nearly all ready, and you can go out with her, and that will leave more room, so that polly and i can search more carefully. and the stocking has got to come, for it couldn't walk off of itself," she added cheerily as she saw polly's face. "why--what?" as she happened to look upward. and then polly looked, too, and there was her stocking dangling from the very high hook where the big hat had been. "you tossed it up there, i suppose, when you shook up the bedclothes so quickly," said mrs. fisher. "well, now," as polly pounced on the stocking, "see how fast you can hop into your clothes, daughter." then she began to put the things for the bags into their places, and matilda, coming in, finished the work; and polly flew around, buttoning and tying and patting herself into shape, and by the time that little dr. fisher's voice called at the door, "well, wife, are you ready?" there they all were, trim and tidy as ever for a start. "where is it, grandpapa?" asked phronsie, peering around on either side,--dr. fisher and jasper had gone off to attend to the examination of the luggage by the customs inspectors,--and then coming up gently to pull his arm. "i don't see it anywhere." "what, child?" answered grandpapa, looking down at her. "see here, wait a minute," to the others who were ahead, "phronsie has lost something." "oh, no, grandpapa, i haven't," began phronsie, in gentle protestation, "all my things are in here." she patted her little bag that hung on her arm, a gift of old mr. king's for her to carry her very own things in, that yielded her immense satisfaction every time she looked at it, which was very often. "didn't you say you wanted to find something, dear?" he asked, quite puzzled, while the others surrounded them wonderingly. "no," said phronsie, "only where is the hook, grandpapa? i don't see it." she lifted her little face and gazed up at him confident that he knew everything. "she has lost her button-hook!" exclaimed polly, "the cunning little silver one auntie whitney gave her christmas. i'll run back and get it; it must be in the state-room." "stay, polly," commanded mr. king. and, "oh, no, i haven't," piped phronsie, as polly was flying off. "it's here in my bag," patting grandpapa's gift hanging on her arm. "i couldn't lose that, polly," she cried in horror at the thought, as polly hurried back. "well, what is it, then, you've lost?" demanded polly, breathlessly. "i haven't lost anything," reiterated phronsie, pushing back the yellow hair from her face. "grandpapa, tell them, please, i haven't lost anything," she kept repeating, appealing to him. "she says she hasn't lost anything, so we won't say that again," echoed old mr. king. "now, phronsie, child, tell me what it is you mean; what hook you want." "the hook," said phronsie; "here, grandpapa," and she looked all around in a troubled way, "they said it was here; i don't see it, grandpapa." "she means the hook of holland," burst out polly, "don't you, phronsie pet?" and she threw her arms around her while mr. henderson exclaimed, "of course, why didn't we think of it, to be sure?" "yes, polly." phronsie gave a glad little cry, and wriggled in great satisfaction in her arms. "grandpapa, where is it,--the hook of holland?" "oh, bless me, child!" exclaimed mr. king, "that is the name of the place; at least, to be accurate, it is hoek van holland. now, just as soon as we get fairly started on our way to rotterdam, i'll tell you all about it, or polly shall, since she was clever enough to find out what you meant." "oh, no, grandpapa," cried polly, "i'd so much rather you told her--please do, dear grandfather?" "and so i will," he promised, very much pleased, for mr. king dearly loved to be the one to relate the history and anecdotes about the places along which they travelled. and so, when they were steaming off toward rotterdam, as he sat in the centre of the compartment he had reserved for their use, phronsie next to him, and polly and jasper opposite, he told the whole story. the others tucked themselves in the remaining four seats, and did not lose a word. matilda and mr. king's valet, in a second-class compartment, took charge of the luggage. "i like it very much," declared phronsie, when the story was all finished, and smoothing down her little brown gown in satisfaction. "i like it very much, grandpapa's telling it," said polly, "but the hook of holland isn't anything to what we shall see at rotterdam, while, as for the hague and amsterdam--oh, grandpapa!" that "oh, grandpapa" just won his heart, and mr. king beamed at her as her glowing face was turned first to one window and then to the other, that she might not lose anything as the train rumbled on. "just wait till we get to marken," broke in jasper, gaily, "then if you want to see the dutch beat the dutch--well, you may!" he ended with a laugh. "oh, jasper, do they really beat each other?" cried phronsie, quite horrified, and slipping away from grandpapa to regard him closely. "oh, no! i mean--they go ahead of everything that is most dutch," jasper hastened to say; "i haven't explained it very well." "no, i should think not," laughed his father, in high good humour. "well, phronsie, i think you will like the folks on the island of marken, for they dress in funny quaint costumes, just as their ancestors did, years upon years ago." "are there any little children there?" asked phronsie, slipping back into her place again, and nestling close to his side. "hundreds of them, i suppose," replied mr. king, with his arm around her and drawing her up to him, "and they wear wooden shoes or sabots, or klompen as they call them, and--" "wooden shoes!" cried phronsie; "oh, grandpapa," clasping her hands, "how do they stay on?" "well, that's what i've always wondered myself when i've been in holland. a good many have left off the sabots, i believe, and wear leather shoes made just like other people's." "oh, grandpapa," cried phronsie, leaning forward to peer into his face, "don't let them leave off the wooden shoes, please." "i can't make them wear anything but what they want to," said old mr. king, with a laugh; "but don't be troubled, child, you'll see all the wooden shoes you desire, in rotterdam, and the hague, too, for that matter." "shall i?" cried phronsie, nestling back again quite pleased. "grandpapa, i wish i could wear wooden shoes," she whispered presently in a burst of confidence, sticking out her toes to look at them. "bless me! you couldn't keep them on," said mr. king. "don't the little dutch children keep them on?" asked phronsie. "oh, grandpapa, i think i could; i really think i could," she added earnestly. "yes, they do, because they are born and brought up to it, although, for the life of me, i don't see how they do it; but you couldn't, child, you'd fall the first minute and break your nose, most likely." phronsie gave a sigh. "should i, grandpapa?" "yes, quite likely; but i'll tell you what i will do. i will buy you a pair, and we will take them home. that will be fine, won't it, dear?" "yes," said phronsie, wriggling in delight. then she sat quite still. "grandpapa," she said, reaching up to whisper again, "i'm afraid it will make araminta feel badly to see me with my beautiful wooden shoes on, when she can't have any. do you suppose there are little teenty ones, grandpapa dear, and i might get her a pair?" "yes, indeed," cried grandpapa, nodding his white head in delight, "there are shoals of them, phronsie, of all sizes." "what are shoals?" queried phronsie. "oh, numbers and numbers--so many we can't count them," answered mr. king, recklessly. phronsie slid down into her place again, and sat quite still lost in thought. so many wooden shoes she couldn't count them was quite beyond her. but grandpapa's voice roused her. "and i'll buy a bushel of them, phronsie, and send them home, so that all your dolls at home can each have a pair. would that suit you, pet?" phronsie screamed with delight and clapped her hands. polly and jasper who had changed places, as dr. fisher and mr. henderson had made them take theirs by one window, now whirled around. "what is it?" cried polly of phronsie. "what is it?" "i'm going to have wooden shoes," announced phronsie, in a burst of confidence that included everybody in the compartment, "for my very own self, and araminta is going to have a pair, and every single one of my children at home, too. grandpapa said so." "whew!" whistled jasper. "oh, what fun," sighed polly. "and you shall have a pair, too, if you want them, polly," grandpapa telegraphed over to her in the corner. "and jasper can, too, can't he, grandpapa? and, oh, thank you _so much,_" cried polly, all in one breath. "i guess it's as well i shall be on hand to set the broken bones," said little dr. fisher, "with all you children capering around in those wooden abominations." "oh, dr. fisher, we are not going to fall!" exclaimed jasper, in disdain, at the very thought. and "no, indeed," came merrily from polly. and then they all fell to work admiring the numberless windmills past which their train was speeding toward rotterdam. "to think it is only six o'clock!" exclaimed polly, looking at her little travelling watch that grandpapa had given her. "now, what a fine long day we are going to have, jasper, for sightseeing in rotterdam." as the train came to a standstill, the guards threw open compartment doors, and all the people poured out calling for porters to see to their luggage, and everything was in confusion at once on the platforms. "indeed, you won't, miss polly," declared mr. king, overhearing it, as they waited till all was ready for them to get into the hotel coach,--"we are all going to spend this day at the hotel--first, in getting a good breakfast, and then, dear me, i shall sleep pretty much all of the morning, and i'd advise the rest of you to jump into your beds and get good naps after the experience on that atrocious steamboat last night." "oh, grandpapa, must we really go to bed?" cried polly, in horror at the mere thought. "well, not exactly into your beds," laughed mr. king, as jasper, announcing that all was ready, piloted them into the coach, "but you've got to rest like sensible beings. make up your mind to that. as for phronsie," and he gallantly lifted her up to the step, "she's half asleep already. she's got to have a splendid nap, and no mistake." "i'm not sleepy," declared phronsie, stumbling into the high coach to sit down next to mother fisher. "no, grandpapa dear, not a bit." and before anybody knew it, and as soon as the coach wheels spun round, she rolled over into mamsie's lap. there she was as fast asleep as could be! viii "we will come again and stay a week" they had been several days at the hague, running about in a restful way in the morning, and driving all the long golden afternoons. "don't you dare to go into a picture-gallery or a museum until i give the word," grandpapa had laid down the law. "i'm not going to begin by being all tired out." so polly and jasper had gone sometimes with mr. king and phronsie, who had a habit of wandering off by themselves; or, as the case might be, mr. henderson would pilot them about till they learnt the ways of the old town. and mrs. fisher and mrs. henderson would confess now and then that they would much rather take a few stitches and overlook the travelling clothes than do any more sight-seeing. and then again, they would all come together and go about in a big party. all but dr. fisher--he was for hospitals every time. "that's what i've come for, wife," he would reply to all remonstrance, "and don't ask me to put my head into a cathedral or a museum." to mr. king, "land alive, man, i've got to find out how to take care of living bodies before i stare at bones and relics," and mr. king would laugh and let him alone. "he's incorrigible, that husband of yours, mrs. fisher," he would add, "and we must just let him have his way." and mamsie would smile, and every night the little doctor would tome from his tramps and medical study, tired but radiant. at last one morning grandpapa said, "now for scheveningen to-day!" "oh, goody!" cried polly, clapping her hands; then blushed as red as a rose. they were at breakfast, and everybody in the vicinity turned and stared at their table. "don't mind it, polly," said jasper, her next neighbour, "i want to do the same thing. and it will do some of those starched and prim people good to hear a little enthusiasm." polly knew whom he meant,--some young englishmen. one of them immediately put up his monocle and regarded her as if she had been a new kind of creature displayed for his benefit. jasper glared back at him. "yes, we'll go to scheveningen this morning," repeated mr. king, smiling approvingly at poor polly, which caused her to lift her head; "the carriages are ordered, so as soon as we are through breakfast we will be off." "oh, father," exclaimed jasper, in dismay, "must we go in carriages?" "how else would you go, jasper?" asked his father. "oh, by the tramway; oh, by all means," cried jasper, perfectly delighted that he could get his father even to listen to any other plan. "the dirty tram-cars," ejaculated mr. king, in disgust. "how can you ask it, jasper? no, indeed, we must go in carriages, or not at all." "but, father," and jasper's face fell, "don't you see the upper deck of the tram-car is so high and there are fine seats there, and we can see so much better than driving in a stupid carriage?" polly's face had drooped, too. mr. king, in looking from one to the other, was dismayed and a good bit annoyed to find that his plan wasn't productive of much happiness after all. he had just opened his mouth to say authoritatively, "no use, jasper, either you will go in the way i have provided, or stay at home," when phronsie slipped out of her chair where she happened this morning to be sitting next to mother fisher, and running around to his chair, piped out, "oh, grandpapa, if you please, do let us sit up top." "we'll do it now, polly," whispered jasper, in a transport, "when phronsie looks like that. see her face!" "do you really want to go in a dirty old tram-car, phronsie, instead of in a carriage?" old mr. king pushed back his chair and looked steadily at her. "oh, yes, yes, grandpapa, please"--phronsie beat her hands softly together--"to ride on top; may we, _dear_ grandpapa?" that "dear grandpapa" settled it. jasper never heard such a welcome command as that mr. king was just issuing. "go to the office and countermand the order for the carriages, my son; tell them to put the amount on my bill, the same as if i'd used them, unless they get a chance to let them to some one else. they needn't be the losers. now then," as jasper bounded off to execute the command, "get on your bonnets and hats, all of you, and we'll try this wonderful tram-car. i suppose you won't come with us, but will stay behind for the pleasures of some hospital here," he added to dr. fisher. "on the contrary," said the little doctor, throwing down his napkin and getting out of his chair. "i am going, for there is a marine hospital for children there, that i wouldn't miss for the world." "i warrant you would find one on a desert island," retorted old mr. king. "well, hurry now, all of you--and we will be off." "now, then, all scramble up here. phronsie, you go with me," cried old mr. king, as they stood in _plein_, and the tram-car halted before them. he was surprised to find that he liked this sort of thing, mixing with a crowd and hurrying for seats just like common ordinary individuals. and as he toiled up the winding stairs, phronsie in front of him, he had an exhilaration already that made him feel almost as young as polly and jasper, scampering up the circular stairway at the other end. "well, bless me, we are up, aren't we?" he exclaimed, sitting down and casting a glance around. "did you ever see anything so fascinating?" cried polly pepper, clasping her hands in delight, and not stopping to sit down, but looking all around. "you had better sit down," advised mother fisher, "else when the car starts you may go over the railing." "oh, i can't fall, mamsie," said polly, carelessly, yet she sat down, while jasper got out of his seat and ran up to old mr. king. "now, father, don't you like it?" he cried. "and isn't it better than a stuffy old carriage?" "yes, i do, my boy," answered his father, frankly. "now run off with you, you've planned it well." so jasper, made happy for the day, rushed back to his seat. a hand not over clean was laid on it, and a tall individual, who was pouring out very bad provincial french at a fearful rate, was just about to worm himself into it. polly, who sat next, had turned around to view the scenery from the other side, and hadn't seen his advance. "excuse me," said jasper, in another torrent of the same language, only of a better quality, "this is my seat--i only left it to speak to my father." but the frenchman being there, thought that he could get still further into the seat. so he twisted and edged, but jasper slipped neatly in, and looked calmly up at him. the frenchman, unable to get his balance, sat down in jasper's lap. but he bounded up again, blue with rage. "what's all this?" demanded mr. king, who never could speak french in a hurry, being very elegant at it, and exceedingly careful as to his accent. phronsie turned pale and clung to his hand. "nothing," said jasper, in english, "only this person chose to try to take my seat, and i chose to have it myself." "you take yourself off," commanded mr. king, in an irate voice to the french individual, "or i'll see that some one attends to your case." not understanding the language, all might have gone well, but the french person could interpret the expression of the face under the white hair, and he accordingly left a position in front of jasper to sidle up toward mr. king's seat in a threatening attitude. at that jasper got out of his seat again and went to his father's side. little dr. fisher also skipped up. "see here you, frenchy, stop your parley vousing, and march down those stairs double quick," cried the little doctor, standing on his tiptoes and bristling with indignation. his big spectacles had slipped to the end of his nose, his sharp little eyes blazing above them. "frenchy" stared at him in amazement, unable to find his tongue. and then he saw another gentleman in the person of the parson, who was just as big as the doctor was small. with one look he glanced around to see if there were any more such specimens. at any rate, it was time to be going, so he took a bee-line for the nearest stairway and plunged down. but he gave the little doctor the compliment of his parting regard. "well," ejaculated mr. king, when his party had regained their seats and the car started off, "if this is to be the style of our companions, i think my plan of carriages might be best after all. eh, my boy?" with a sly look at jasper. "but anything like this might not happen again in a hundred times, father," said jasper. "i suppose i must say 'yes, i know it' to that," said his father. and as everybody had regained composure, he was beginning to feel very happy himself as the car rumbled off. "this is fine," he kept saying to himself, "the boy knew what was best," and he smiled more than once over at jasper, who was pointing out this and that to polly. jasper nodded back again. "don't let him bother you to see everything, polly," called grandpapa. "take my advice--it's a nuisance to try to compass the whole place on the first visit." but polly laughed back, and the advice went over her head, as he very well knew it would. "was anything ever more beautiful?" exclaimed mother fisher, drawing in long breaths of delight. the little doctor leaned back in his seat, and beamed at her over his big glasses. she began to look rested and young already. "this journey is the very thing," he declared to himself, and his hard-worked hand slipped itself over her toil-worn one as it lay on her lap. she turned to him with a smile. "adoniram, i never imagined anything like this," she said simply. "no more did i," he answered. "that's the good of our coming, wife." "just see those beautiful green trees, so soft and trembling," she exclaimed, as enthusiastically as polly herself. "and what a perfect arch!" and she bent forward to glance down the shaded avenue. "oh, adoniram!" "what makes the trunks look so green?" polly was crying as they rumbled along. "see, jasper, there isn't a brown branch, even. everything is green." "that's what makes it so pretty," said jasper. "i don't wonder these oaks in the _scheveningsche boschjes_--o dear me, i don't know how to pronounce it in the least--are so celebrated." "don't try," said polly, "to pronounce it, jasper. i just mark things in my baedeker and let it go." "our baedekers will be a sight when we get home, won't they, polly?" remarked jasper, in a pause, when eyes had been busy to their utmost capacity. "i rather think they will," laughed polly. "mine is a sight now, jasper, for i mark all round the edges--and just everywhere." "but you are always copying off the things into your journal," said jasper, "afterward. so do i mark my baedeker; it's the only way to jot things down in any sort of order. one can't be whipping out a note-book every minute. halloo, here we are at the chã¢teau of the grand duke of saxe-weimar. look, polly! look!" as they looked back in the distance to the receding ducal estate, polly said: "it isn't one-half as beautiful as this delicious old wood is, jasper. just see that perfectly beautiful walk down there and that cunning little trail. oh, i do so wish we could stay here." "some day, let us ask dr. fisher to come out with us, and we will tramp it. oh, i forgot; he won't leave the hospitals." "mr. henderson might like to," said polly, in a glow, "let's ask him sometime, anyway, jasper. and then, just think, we can go all in and out this lovely wood. how fine!" "father will come over to scheveningen again and stay a few days, maybe," said jasper, "if he takes a fancy to the idea. how would you like that, polly?" "i don't know," said polly, "because i haven't seen it yet, jasper." "i know--i forgot--'twas silly in me to ask such a question," said jasper, with a laugh. "well, anyway, i think it more than likely that he will." "i just love the hague," declared polly, with a backward glance down the green avenue. "i hope we are going to stay there ever so long, jasper." "then we sha'n't get on to all the other places," said jasper. "we shall feel just as badly to leave every other one, i suppose, polly." "i suppose so," said polly, with a sigh. when they left the tram-car at the beginning of the village of scheveningen they set off on a walk down to the _curhaus_ and the beach. old mr. king, as young as any one, started out on the promenade on the undulating terrace at the top of the dunes, followed by the rest of his party. down below ran a level road. "there is the boulevard," said grandpapa. "see, child," pointing to it; but phronsie had no eyes for anything but the hundreds and hundreds of bath chairs dotting the sands. "oh, grandpapa, what are they?" she cried, pulling his hand and pointing to them. "those are chairs," answered mr. king, "and by and by we will go down and get into some of them." "they look just like the big sunbonnets that grandma bascom always wore when she went out to feed her hens, don't they, jasper?" "precisely," he said, bursting into a laugh. "how you always do see funny things, polly." "and see what queer patches there are all up and down the sides of some of them," cried polly. "whatever can they be, jasper?" "oh, those are the advertisements," said jasper. "you'll find that everything is plastered up in that way abroad." "just as the omnibuses in london are all covered over with posters," said polly; "weren't they funny, jasper?" "yes, indeed,--'lipton teas,'--i got so tired of that. and these,--cocoa or chocolate. you know holland is full of manufactories of it." "and isn't it good?" cried polly, smacking her lips, as she had feasted on it since their arrival in holland, grandpapa considering it especially good and pure. "i should say so," echoed jasper, smacking his lips, too. "dr. fisher--" the parson turned to address his neighbour, but there was no little doctor. "oh, he is off long ago," said his wife, "to his beloved hospital. what is it, samuel?" "i was only going to remark that i don't believe i ever saw so many people together before. just look!" he pointed down to the boulevard and off to the sands along the beach. "it is a swarm, isn't it?" said his wife. "well, we must go, for mr. king is going down to the boulevard." polly and jasper, running in and out of the fascinating shops by the concert terrace, had minds divided by the desire to stay on the sands, and to explore further the tempting interiors. "we must get something for the boys," she declared, jingling her little silver purse; "just let us go in this one now, then we'll run after grandpapa; he's going down on the sands." "he's going to sit with phronsie in some of those big sunbonnets of yours, polly," said jasper. "there they are," pointing to them. "well, we'll go in this shop. i want to get a pair of those wooden shoes for joel." and they hurried in. "oh, how fine!" exclaimed polly. "well, i saw a carved bear i think davie would like, and--" the rest was lost in the confusing array of tempting things spread out for their choice by deft shopkeepers. when they emerged, polly had a china windmill, and an inkstand of delft ware, and several other things, and jasper carried all the big bundles. "o dear me," said polly, "now we must run, or we sha'n't have much time to stay on the beach; and besides, grandpapa will worry over us if we're not there." "we can't run much, loaded down with this," said jasper, looking at his armful and laughing, "or we'd likely drop half of them, and smash them to pieces. wait a bit, polly, i'm going to buy you some fruit." they stopped at the top of the stone stairway leading down to the sands, where some comely peasant women, fishermen's wives, held great baskets of fruit, and in one hand was a pair of scales. "now, then, what will you have, polly?" "oh, some grapes, please, jasper," said polly. "aren't they most beautiful?" "i should say they were; they are black hamburgs," declared jasper. "now, then, my good woman, give us a couple of pounds." he put down the coin she asked for, and she weighed them out in her scales, and did them up in a piece of a dutch newspaper. "we are much worse off now, jasper," laughed polly, as they got over the stairs somehow with their burdens, "since we've all these grapes to carry. o dear me, there goes one!" "never mind," said jasper, looking over his armful of presents, to investigate his paper of grapes; "if we don't lose but one, we're lucky." "and there goes another," announced polly, as they picked their way over and through the thick sand. "well, i declare," exclaimed old mr. king, peering out of his bath chair, "if you children aren't loaded down!" he was eating black hamburg grapes. phronsie sat opposite him almost lost in the depth of another bath chair, similarly occupied. and at a little remove was the remainder of the party, and they all were in bath chairs, and eating black hamburg grapes. "we've had such fun," sighed polly, and she and jasper cast their bundles on the soft sand; then she threw herself down next to them, and pushed up the little brown rings from her damp brow. jasper set his paper of grapes in her lap, then rushed off. "i'll get you a bath chair," he said, beckoning to the attendant. "oh, jasper, i'd so much rather sit on the sand," called polly. "so had i," he confessed, running back and throwing himself down beside her. "now, then, do begin on your grapes, polly." "we'll begin together," she said, poking open the paper. "oh, aren't they good, though!" "i should rather say they were," declared jasper; "dear me, what a bunch!" "it's not as big as mine," said polly, holding up hers to the light. "you made me take that one, jasper." "it's no better than mine," said jasper, eating away. "i'm going to hop into one of the chairs just a minute before we go," said polly, nodding at the array along the beach, and eating her grapes busily, "to see how they feel." "oh, polly, let me get you a chair now," begged jasper, setting down the remainder of his bunch of grapes, and springing up. "oh, i don't want to, i really and truly don't, jasper," polly made haste to cry. "i like the sand ever and ever so much better. i only want to see for a minute what it's like to be in one of those funny old things. then i should want to hop out with all my might, i just know i should." "i'm of your mind," said jasper, coming back to his seat on the sand again. "they must be very stuffy, polly. well, now you are here, would you like to come back to scheveningen for a few days, polly?" "i think i should," said polly, slowly, bringing her gaze around over the sea, to the dunes, the beach, with the crowds of people of all nationalities, and the peasant folk, "if we could stay just as long, for all that, at the dear old hague." and just then old mr. king was saying to phronsie, "we will come out here again, child, and stay a week. yes," he said to himself, "i will engage the rooms before we go back this afternoon." "grandpapa," asked phronsie, laying her hand on his knee, "can i have this very same little house next time we come?" "well, i don't know," said mr. king, peering up and down phronsie's bath chair adorned with the most lively descriptions of the merits of cocoa as a food; "they're all alike as two peas, except for the matter of the chocolate and cocoa trimmings. but perhaps i can fix it, phronsie, so that you can have this identical one," mentally resolving to do that very thing. "well, come, phronsie, we must go now and get our luncheon." "i am so glad if i can have the same little house," said phronsie, with a sigh of contentment, as she slowly got out of her bath chair. "it is a nice little house, grandpapa, and i love it very much." ix a box for the pepper boys "mamsie, have we been here a whole week in amsterdam," cried polly, leaning out of the window to look up and down the canal where the many-coloured boats lay, "beside all those days at scheveningen? i can't believe it!" "it doesn't seem possible," mother fisher answered musingly, and her hands dropped to her lap, where they lay quietly folded. "mamsie,"--polly suddenly drew in her gaze from the charming old canal and its boats, and sprang to mrs. fisher's side,--"do you know, i think it was just the loveliest thing in all the world for grandpapa to bring dear mr. and mrs. henderson abroad with us? i do, mamsie." "mr. king is always doing good, kind things," said mrs. fisher, coming out of her revery, as polly threw herself down on the floor and laid her head in her mother's lap, just as she used to do at home. "i haven't done this for so long," she said, "and it is so good!" "that is the only drawback about travel," observed mother fisher, her hand passing soothingly over polly's head, "that there never seems to be time for the little home ways that are so good. now we must make the time and keep it, polly." "indeed we will," cried polly, seizing mamsie's other hand to cuddle it under her chin, "and i'm going to begin right now. it makes me think of the little brown house, mamsie, whenever you smooth my hair. what good times we used to have there!" mrs. fisher's hand trembled a bit, but the black eyes were as serene as ever. "you used to work pretty hard, polly," she said. "oh, but it was fun!" said polly, merrily, "only i didn't like the old stove when it acted badly. but then came my new stove. mamsie, wasn't papa fisher splendid? and then he saved my eyes. just think, mamsie, i never can love him half enough. i wish i could do something for him," she mourned, just as she did in the old days. "you do, polly; you are doing something every day of your life," said her mother, reassuringly. "never think that you don't do anything. why, it was only this very morning that your father told me that you were his little helper, and that he depended on you to cheer him up." "did he say that?" asked polly, much gratified, poking up her head to look at her mother. "oh, i want to be, but i don't know how to help him. papa fisher always seems to be doing something for other people, and not to need anybody to do things for him." "ah, polly, when you have lived longer," said mrs. fisher, "you will know that those who are doing things always for other people, are the very ones who need cheering up, for they never complain. your father, in going about as he does, day after day, to the hospitals and everywhere, where he can learn anything that will make him a better doctor, is working very hard indeed, and yet think how cheerful he is when he comes home! and he says you help to keep him so, polly." she bent over and set a kiss on polly's red cheek. "mamsie," cried polly, with a glow where the kiss had dropped, "i'm going to try harder than ever to see wherever i can find a time to help papa-doctor. and i hope that one will come soon." "and you'll find just such a time will come; it never fails to when you watch for it," said mother fisher, wisely. just then the door opened, and phronsie, fresh from the hands of matilda, who had been changing her gown, came in with araminta in her arms. when she saw polly on the floor with her head in mamsie's lap, she got down by her side and curled up there, too. "smooth my hair, do, mamsie," she begged. "mamsie's got her two bothers," said polly, with a little laugh. "mamsie doesn't mind her bothers," said mrs. fisher, her other hand going softly over phronsie's yellow hair, at which phronsie gave a small sigh of content, and wriggled her toes as they were stretched out straight before her on the carpet, "if only they grow up a little better every day than they were the day before." "we'll try to, mamsie," said polly, "won't we, pet?" leaning over and kissing her. "i'll try to," promised phronsie, with another wriggle of her small toes. "that's right," said mother fisher, smiling approval. "mrs. fisher!" called grandpapa's voice at the door. thereupon polly and phronsie sprang to their feet, and a lively race ensued to see which should be there the first to open it. the consequence was that both faces met him at once. "bless me!" cried old mr. king, laughing gaily, as the door flew open, and they both rushed into his arms; "so you did like to have your old grandfather come to see you," he exclaimed, mightily pleased. "i should think we did!" cried polly, as they escorted him in, and led him to the seat of honour, a big carved arm-chair, with a faded tapestry covering. "i should very much like to get into your lap, grandpapa dear," said phronsie, surveying him gravely as he sat down and leaned his head against the chair back. "so you shall," cried mr. king, lifting her up to his knee, araminta and all. she perched there in quiet content, while he set forth his business which he had come to talk over with mother fisher. "now, you know those three boys of yours are the most splendid boys that ever were in all this world, and they are working away at home, studying and all that, joel and david are, and ben is pegging away at business." old mr. king thought best to go to the heart of the matter at once without any dallying. mrs. fisher's cheek grew a shade paler, but she said not a word as she fastened her black eyes on his face. "hem--well, we don't talk much about those boys," observed the old gentleman, "because it makes us all homesick after them, and it's best that they should be there, and that we should be here, so that was settled once for all by our coming." still mrs. fisher said not a word. "well, now, the fact of it is," continued old mr. king, still keeping to the main point with wonderful directness, "i think the time has come for us to act, which is much better than talking, in my opinion; and i want to do something for those boys." a pin could have been heard to drop. polly leaned over his chair and hung on his words, while mrs. fisher never took her eyes from his face. "in short," continued old mr. king, well pleased with the attention of his audience, "i propose that we send a box of good things of various descriptions to ben and joel and david." a small howl of delight from polly broke the silence. when she heard that, phronsie gave a little crow. "oh, grandpapa!" exclaimed polly, "do you really mean it?" and she threw her arms around his neck. phronsie immediately clambered up and did the same thing. "that's just as your mother shall decide," said mr. king, immensely pleased with the way his news was received. "she hasn't said a word yet whether she likes the idea or not." "it's just because i couldn't speak at first," said mrs. fisher, wiping her eyes; and her voice trembled. "but it's the very thing; and oh! thank you, sir, for thinking of it. the boys won't be so homesick for us when they get the box. and it will be the best thing in the world for us to keep busy, so we can't worry about them." "mamsie _has_ said 'yes'!" exclaimed polly, flying off to dance around and around in the middle of the room. "oh, i wish jasper was here!" she cried regretfully, breaking short off. "go and call him, then,--he's down in the reading room, writing to the boys,--and bring him up here," said old mr. king. "no, no, phronsie, you want to stay and take care of me," as phronsie showed signs of slipping down from his lap to go too. "i'll stay and take care of you," said phronsie, obediently; "just let me lay araminta down, grandpapa, on the sofa, and then i'll come back and rub your head." so she got down and set araminta up straight against the sofa back, and then came and clambered up again into his lap. by this time polly and jasper, racing along the hall, had reached mother fisher's room. "that's regularly splendid, father." jasper tossed his dark hair back from his forehead, and his eyes sparkled. "oh, can't we go out right away and begin to buy the presents?" "i shouldn't think that idea was a half-bad one," said old mr. king. "what do you say, mrs. fisher? if we are going to send the box, why isn't it best to begin the work at once? there's never so good a time as now, in my opinion. i'm sure you agree with me." on mother fisher saying "yes," all three of the young people took hold of hands, and danced around the room in glee. for old mr. king set phronsie down, with, "there, go, child, and spin with the others; then all hurry and get your hats on, and we'll be off." and in less time than it takes to write it, old mr. king and mother fisher and jasper and polly and phronsie all hurried out of the hotel, and began a round of the shops to get the things together for the wonderful box to go home to the boys. and though polly didn't know it, several other things, that boys wouldn't be supposed to care for in the least, were slyly added to the purchases, when she wasn't looking, to be sent home to the hotel in separate parcels to mr. king. for polly was going to have a birthday before very long; though she had quite forgotten it in the excitement over this box for ben and joel and david. "it's just like buying things for christmas, isn't it, jasper?" said polly, as they hung over the show-cases and peered into windows; "only everything is so funny here. oh, no, phronsie, that won't do; it's too big," as phronsie protested that nothing was so nice as a huge delft plate hanging on the wall. there was a big windmill and several little windmills in the distance along a dutch canal, and two or three cows in the foreground, and a peasant girl with a basket in her hand. phronsie stood and gazed at it all the time they were in this particular shop. "i like that little girl," she said, "and those cows; and they are like deacon blodgett's cows at home in badgertown. and ben would like it, and joel, and david." and all polly could do, she would still say, "i like it, polly, and i want grandpapa to send it." at last polly turned in despair to jasper. "oh, what can we do?" she cried; "she is just as determined as she was when she would send the gingerbread boy to grandpapa." "well, i think we would better not try to get her away from the idea," said jasper, with a look at the rapt little face. phronsie was now kneeling on a flemish oak chair, and studying the delft plate with absorbed attention. "no," said polly, with a sigh, "i suppose it isn't any use to try when she looks like that." just then old mr. king, who had been busy in a farther corner with the proprietor of the shop, picking out some small articles that struck his fancy, turned and called phronsie. she didn't hear him, being too absorbed. and so he laid down the little silver paper-cutter he was looking at, and came over to see what was the matter. "well, child," he said, looking over her shoulder. "and so you like that, hey?" phronsie drew a long breath. "i do, grandpapa, like it very much indeed," she said. "well, then, i don't see but what you must have it. and it shall hang in your own little room at home, phronsie." "but i don't want it for my very own, grandpapa," said phronsie; "it must go in the box for ben and joel and david." "dear me! you think they would like it, phronsie?" he asked doubtfully, and just on the point of saying, like polly, "it's too big, child," when he stopped himself and finished up--"and so it pleases you, phronsie?" "yes, it does," said phronsie, with an emphatic little nod; "i love that nice cow, and that little girl. grandpapa, i think i should like to live in a windmill." "bless me! i think you wouldn't want to live there very long, child. well, the plate shall go to the boys, and i only hope they will like it," he said to himself, dubiously. "he is going to send it," jasper and polly said to each other, peering round an angle in the shop at the two. "well, it's a mercy it's got a cow on it instead of a cat," said jasper. "how joel would howl if phronsie sent him the picture of a cat!" "she would if there were a cat to be found," said polly; "don't you believe, jasper, but what she would?" x danger well, the box that went home across the seas to the pepper boys was a marvel, stuffed in every nook and cranny where there was a possibility that the tiniest parcel could be tucked, until phronsie, who kept bringing up more bundles, had to be told by polly and jasper, who did the packing, that no more could go in. "they are very small," sighed phronsie, curling up on the floor by the side of the big box, almost overflowing with billows of the soft white paper on top, and holding up two pudgy little bundles. "so you've said for the last hour, phronsie," exclaimed polly, in despair, and sitting quite straight, her hands in her lap. "jasper, what _shall_ we do?" he was over by the window laying out the long nails that were to fasten the cover on; for no one must touch this precious box, but the loving hands that got it ready. "oh, we can't," began jasper. then he turned and saw phronsie's face. "perhaps one might be crowded in," he added, with a look at polly. "which one would you rather have polly make a try at, phronsie?" "this one," she said, holding up the pudgiest bundle, "because this is the china cat, and i want joel to have that." down went polly's head on the edge of the box. jasper dropped the long nails and hurried over to her. "i can't help it." polly's shoulders were shaking, and she added gustily, "o dear me--and joel does so hate cats!" "phronsie, i think i can tuck in that parcel," jasper made haste to say. "there, give it to me, child," and he took it out of her hand. "for joel" was written across it in unsteady letters. "is polly sick?" asked phronsie, wonderingly, as she resigned her cat into his hands. "no, only a bit tired, i think," answered jasper. "well, now, phronsie, i think there is just room enough to tuck that parcel in this corner," said jasper, crowding his fingers down in between the various bundles to make a space. "there, in it pops!" suiting the action to the word. "i am so very glad," said phronsie, smoothing her brown gown in great satisfaction; "for then joel will know that i sent it all by myself." "he'll know that nobody else sent it," said polly to herself. "and i know it's a perfectly awful cat, for phronsie always picks out the very ugliest she can find." well, the box was off, at last, the pepper children and jasper seeing it till the very last minute. and old mr. king was nearly as excited as the young folks, and the parson and mrs. henderson said it reminded them of christmas times over again, and mother fisher and the little doctor were in a great state of happiness. and that night when polly was in bed, and mother fisher came into her room and phronsie's, which opened into her own, to say "good night," polly turned on her pillow. "mamsie," she said, "i do so very much wish that we could send a box to the henderson boys. they must be so homesick for their mother and father." mrs. fisher stopped and thought a bit, "a very good idea, polly," she said, "and i'm glad you thought of it. i'll speak to your father and see if he approves, before we say anything to mr. king." "you see," said polly, rolling over to get hold of one of mother fisher's hands, and speaking very fast, "of course the henderson boys are having a good time at dear deacon blodgett's, but then their mother and father are away off. oh, mamsie!" she reached over and threw both arms around her mother and hugged her tightly. "yes, i know, polly," said mother fisher, holding her big girl to her heart, "and we must look out for other people's boys; that's what you mean to say, isn't it?" "yes," said polly, happy that mamsie always understood, "and now that ben's and joel's and david's box is off, why, i wish we could, mamsie, send the other one." "i really think it can be done," said mrs. fisher, "but i must ask your father first. and now, daughter, go to sleep, like phronsie." she glanced over at the other little bed, where phronsie's yellow head was lost in dreams. "you know we are going to marken tomorrow." "i know," said polly, with a happy little wriggle under the bedclothes. "and it never would do for you to be all tired out in the morning. that would be very unkind to dear mr. king, who is trying so hard to make us all happy," continued mrs. fisher. "i know," said polly, again. "well, good night, mamsie." she set three or four kisses on mother fisher's cheek, then turned over, with her face to the wall. "i'll shut the door until you get to sleep, polly," said mrs. fisher, "then i will open it again," as she went out. as mother fisher had said, they were going to the island of marken to-morrow; and polly tumbled asleep with her head full of all the strange things they were to see there, and that jasper and she had been reading about,--how the people wore the same kind of funny costume that their great-great-ever-so-many-times great-grandfathers and grandmothers had worn; and how the houses were of different colours, and built in different layers or mounds of land, with cunning little windows and scarcely any stairs; and how they were going in the haying season when everybody would be out raking up and gleaning--and--and--polly was completely lost in her happy dreams. somebody seemed to be pulling her arm. what! oh, she remembered they were going to marken, and she must hurry and get her bath and fly into her clothes. "yes, mamsie!" she cried, flying up to sit straight in the bed. "i'll get right up and dress; oh, won't we have fun!" "polly," said mother fisher. she had on a dressing-gown, and her black hair was hanging down her back. she looked pale and worried; polly could see that, although she blinked at the sudden light. "it isn't morning, but the middle of the night. you must get up this minute. pull on your shoes; don't stop for stockings, and slip into your wrapper. don't ask questions," as polly's lips moved. polly obeyed with an awful feeling at her heart. she glanced at phronsie's little bed; she was not there! mrs. fisher threw the pink wrapper over her head; polly thrust her arms into the sleeves, feeling as if she were sinking way down. "now come." and mamsie seized her hand and hurried her through her own room without another word. it was empty. father fisher and phronsie were nowhere to be seen. and now for the first time polly was conscious of a great noise out in the corridor. it seemed to spread and fasten itself to a number of other noises, and something made polly feel queerly in her throat as if she should choke. she looked up in her mother's eyes, as they sped through the room. "yes, polly," said mother fisher, "it is fire. the hotel is on fire; you will be brave, my child, i know." "phronsie!" gasped polly. they were now in the corridor and hurrying along. "she is safe; her father took her." "oh, mamsie, jasper and grandpapa!" "they know it; your father ran and told them. obey me, polly; come!" mrs. fisher's firm hand on her arm really hurt polly, as they hurried on through the dense waves of smoke that now engulfed them. "oh, mamsie, not this way; we must find the stairs." but mrs. fisher held her with firmer fingers than ever, and they turned into a narrower hall, up toward a blinking red light that sent a small bright spark out through the thick smoke, and in a minute, or very much less, they were out on the fire-escape, and looking down to hear--for they couldn't see--jasper's voice calling from below, "we are all here, polly," and "be careful, wife, how you come down," from dr. fisher. "oh," cried polly, as the little group drew her and mamsie into their arms, "are we all here?" "yes, polly; yes, yes," answered jasper. and "oh, yes," cried old mr. king, his arm around phronsie, "but we shouldn't have been but for this doctor of ours." "and mr. and mrs. henderson?" cried polly, shivering at grandpapa's words. "we are here, dear child," said the parson's wife, pressing forward, and then the crowd surged up against them this way and that, and more people came down the fire-escape, and some were screaming and saying they had lost everything, and they must go back for their jewels, and one woman brought down a big feather pillow, and set it carefully on the grass, she was so crazed with fright. "o dear, dear, can't we help them?" cried polly, wringing her hands, "look at that girl!" she was about as old as polly, and she rushed by them plunging into the thickest of the crowd surging up against the fire-escape. "i'm going up," she kept screaming. polly remembered her face as she flashed by. she sat at the next table to theirs in the dining room, with a slender, gentle, little old lady whom she called "grandmamma." "o dear!" groaned polly, "we _must_ help her!" jasper dashed after the girl, and polly ran, too. he laid his hand on the arm of the flying figure as she broke through the crowd, but she shook him off like a feather. "she's up there," pointing above, "and i must get her." one of the firemen seized her and held her fast. jasper sprang for the fire-escape. "_jasper!_" called polly, hoarsely, "it will kill grandpapa if you go--oh!" she turned at a cry from the girl, whose arms were around a bent, shaking, little figure, and they had both sunk to the ground. "i brought her down long ago," said another fireman, who could speak english, pointing to the white-haired old lady, who, on hearing her granddaughter's voice, had pushed her way through the crowd, as dr. fisher hurried up. and then mr. king and his party gathered his group, and they hurried to another hotel close by, jasper and mr. henderson and mother fisher waiting to see to the belongings of the party; for the fire was now subdued, although the guests had to go elsewhere for shelter, and the little doctor was in his element, taking care of the old lady, and then he rushed off to look after a score or more of other fainting women. but nobody was really hurt--the smoke and the panic had been the worst, only the poor thing who had dragged down the feather pillow sat by it till the little doctor, discovering her, called two stout men, who took her up in their arms--she screaming all the while for her treasure--and bore her to a neighbouring house that kindly opened its doors to some of the people so suddenly thrown out of shelter. and it wasn't till near breakfast time that the little doctor came to the hotel that was now their home. "brain-fever patient," he said briefly. "wife, i must get a cold plunge, or i'll be having it next." and when breakfast was really set before their party, he appeared with the others fresh from his bath, and as cheery as if nothing had happened to break his good night's rest. "o dear me! how did you ever get so many things over here, in all this world, and why didn't you let me stay with you?" polly had exclaimed in one breath, looking at the array of dresses, sacks, and hats disposed around the room. and mamsie was kneeling before an open trunk to take out more. "it wasn't best, polly," said her mother, who had longed for polly as no one knew better than did mother fisher herself. "you were really needed here with grandpapa and phronsie. you truly were, my dear." "i know," said polly. "well, do let me take those out, mamsie; you're tired to death, already. oh, and you've brought my dear little american flag!" she seized it and hugged it with delight. "did you suppose i could come back without that flag," exclaimed mother fisher in a reproving tone, "when you've put it up in your room every place where we've stopped?--why, polly!" "no, mamsie, i really didn't think you could," answered polly, quickly, and running to her, little silk flag and all, to throw her arms around her neck, "only it's so good to see the dear thing again." "you may take the things from me, and hang them up somewhere," said her mother; "that will help me the most," giving her an armful. "i don't see how you ever thought of so many things, mamsie!" exclaimed polly going off with her armful. "i brought all i thought we needed just at first," said mother fisher, diving into the trunk depths again. "how did you ever do it?" cried polly, for the fiftieth time, as she sorted, and hung the various garments in their proper places. "oh, jasper helped me pack them, and then he got the hotel porter to bring over the trunks," answered mother fisher, her head in the trunk. "i've locked up our rooms, and got the keys, so i can get the rest by and by." "but how did you first hear of the fire?" asked polly, when they were all finally seated around the breakfast table, little mrs. gray--for so the white-haired old lady was called--and her granddaughter adela being invited to join, "do tell me, mamsie, i don't understand," she added in a puzzled way. "no, you were talking about marken in your sleep," said mother fisher, "when i went to call you, and how you would be ready in the morning." "marken?" repeated old mr. king, looking up from the egg he was carefully breaking for phronsie so that she might eat it from the shell. "so we were going there this morning. well, we won't see that island now for a good many days; at least, till we get over this fright. beside, we have things to settle here, and to get comfortably fixed. but we'll have that excursion all in good time, never fear." "well, how did you, mamsie," polly begged again, "first hear of the fire? do tell me." "somebody made a good deal of noise down in the corridor," said mother fisher, "and your father went out to see what was the matter, and then he came back and told me what to do, and he took phronsie and went for old mr. king. but he had sent a porter to warn them in 165, and they would tell the hendersons in the next room, before he ran upstairs to me." it was a long speech for mother fisher. "mamsie," asked polly, suddenly, after she had leaned across her mother and beamed at the little doctor, which so delighted him that his big spectacles nearly fell off in his plate, "how _did_ you know where the fire-escape was?" "oh, that was your father's doings, too," said mother fisher. she couldn't help but show her pride. "he told me all about it the first day we got to the hotel. he always does; he says it's better to know these things." "wife--wife," begged the little doctor, imploringly. "i'm going to tell, adoniram," said mother fisher, proudly, "the whole story; they ought to know." "indeed we had; and so you shall," commanded mr. king, from the head of the table. "i can't help it! i really must!" exclaimed polly, hopping out of her chair,--there were no other people in the breakfast room beside their party, so really it wasn't so very dreadful after all,--and she ran back of her mother's chair, and threw her arms around the little doctor's neck. "oh, papa fisher," she cried, setting ever so many kisses on his cheeks under the big spectacles, "you've saved all our lives." "there--there, polly," cried the little doctor, quite overcome. "and ours, too," said little mrs. gray, in a shaking voice. xi the two birthdays in old holland and polly never knew about a certain shelf in grandpapa's closet, nor how full it was getting, when jasper ran every now and then to add the gifts as fast as the different members of the party picked up pretty things in the shops for the coming birthday--now very near. and she actually forgot all about the birthday itself; all her mind being set on the henderson box, so soon to sail off over the sea. and mother fisher would look over at her absorbed face, and smile, to watch her in the shops, picking out things for the henderson boys; and old mr. king would send many a keen glance at her, and jasper had hard work not to exclaim, "oh, polly, father has got you a--" and then he'd pull himself up, and rush off into some great plan to buy peletiah henderson something that a badgertown boy ought to have. and phronsie was carefully guarded on all sides these days, lest she should let out the great secret, for, of course, she ought to be in the very centre of all these preparations to celebrate polly's birthday in old amsterdam, so she knew everything just as soon as it was planned. but sometimes, with all this care, the whole thing nearly popped out. "mr. king!" it was mother fisher who called after him, and her voice didn't sound like hers, for it had an excited little ring. "oh, are you going out?" for she didn't see that he held his hat in his hand till he turned in the corridor. "i can wait just as well if it's anything you want, mrs. fisher," he said gladly, controlling his surprise at her unusual manner. "i was only about to run down to the kalver-straat for a little matter i just thought of for the birthday. can i do anything for you?" he begged. "yes, it's just that," said mrs. fisher, hurriedly; "it's about the birthday--i must speak quickly--i've just found out,--" she glanced up and down the corridor as if fully expecting to see polly dash around a corner,--"that adela gray's birthday is to-morrow--" "the dickens! you don't say so!" exploded mr. king. "well, now, i call that very clever on your part to have found it out. very clever indeed, mrs. fisher," he repeated, beaming at her. "and just in time, for it would have been a dreadful thing, indeed, to have had that poor little girl left out, and her birthday too! dear me!" "it would, indeed," said mrs. fisher, heartily, with a shiver at the mere thought. "and we might as well have had no celebration in such a case, for polly wouldn't have enjoyed a single bit of it--not an atom!" declared old mr. king, bringing his walking stick heavily down on the floor. "what is it--oh, grandpapa, what is it?" and polly came hurrying along the corridor, and jasper after her. "here she comes!" exclaimed grandpapa, in a fright. "glad you told me--hush--o dear me--i'll take care of the gifts." "and i'm to do the rest--just the same--doctor fisher and i. remember!" it was all mrs. fisher had time to utter. even then, polly caught the last words in the flurry. "oh, what is it, mamsie--is anything the matter with papa-doctor?" and her brown eyes filled with alarm at her mother's unusual manner. "polly," mrs. fisher looked into the brown eyes with a steady glance, and all the hurry was gone out of her voice, "your father is all right. and now, run away, you and jasper." she looked over polly's shoulder at him as she spoke. "no, not another word, child." and away mrs. fisher hurried, while old mr. king slipped off in the opposite direction. "how funnily they act," said polly, looking first after one and then another, with a puzzled face. "what can it be, jasper?" "oh, well, i suppose they are in a hurry," said jasper, as carelessly as he could. "never mind, polly, everything is all right. oh, i say, let's fix our stamp books." "but i was going to ask grandpapa to go out with us, and now he's gone by himself," and polly's face grew more puzzled than ever. "polly," said jasper, desperately, "i really think we ought to fix our stamp books. i really do," and he took her hand. "my stamps are all in heaps in the envelopes, and in a mess generally. come, let's begin now--do." and he led her back down the corridor. "i suppose so," said polly, with a reluctant little sigh, as they went off. and that afternoon, there was another narrow escape, when it seemed as if the secret really must pop out. polly, rushing along to the reading room opposite the big dining room, saw mother fisher in consultation with the head waiter, and he was saying "cake," and then he stopped suddenly, and mrs. fisher turned and saw her. and mamsie came across the hall, and into the reading room, and sat there a bit, while polly tossed off a letter to alexia rhys, that had been worrying her for days. and there was a funny little smile tucked away in the corners of mother fisher's mouth, and polly thought that things were getting queerer than ever. "i am glad you are writing that letter," said mrs. fisher, with an approving smile that chased the funny little one all around the strongly curved mouth, "for alexia will feel badly not to hear often from you, polly." "i know it," said polly, wrinkling her brows, "and i didn't mean to let this wait so long," scribbling away as fast as she could. "take care, polly," warned her mother; "a carelessly written letter is no compliment, and it gets you in a bad way. don't hurry so, child," as polly's pen went scratching across the paper at a fearful rate. "but there are so many letters to write to all the girls," said polly, stopping a minute to look at her mother, "and i've only just got all the letters in my steamer mail-bag answered. i _must_ write to cathie and philena, and amy garrett too, to-day, mamsie," she added, in distress. "polly," said mother fisher, looking into the flushed face, "i tell you what would be the best way for you to do. all the letters in your mail-bag are answered, you said?" "yes, indeed," declared polly. "oh, mamsie, you didn't think i could put those off?" she asked reproachfully. "no, polly, i really didn't," mrs. fisher made haste to assure her. "well, now, mother will tell you what will be the best way for you to do. write as good a letter as you can to alexia, and tell her to send it around to all the girls, for a kind of a bulletin, and--" "oh, mamsie fisher," cried polly, not stopping to hear the rest, but deserting the writing table to run and throw her arms around her mother's neck, "you're the bestest, dearest mother in all this world--oh--oh! now i sha'n't have but one letter to write! how fine!" "and you must write that one letter very nicely, polly, and take ever so much pains with it," said mother fisher, her black eyes shining at the happy solution; "and that is much better than to hurry off a good many slovenly ones. besides, it is not well to take your time and strength for too much letter writing, for there are the boys, and mrs. whitney and--" "grandma bascom and dear mrs. beebe," finished polly. "oh, i couldn't ever forget them, mamsie, in all this world." she stopped cuddling mother fisher's neck, to peer into the black eyes. "no, you mustn't ever forget them," repeated mrs. fisher, emphatically, "in all this world, polly. well, get to work now over your one letter that's to be a bulletin!" "i shall tear this one up," declared polly, running back to get into her chair again. "o dear me, what a horrible old scrawl," she cried, with a very red face. "i didn't know it did look so bad" and she tore it clear across the page, and then snipped it into very little bits. "that's the result of hurry," observed mother fisher, wisely, "and i would begin all over again, polly." so polly took a fresh sheet and set to work; and mrs. fisher, seeing her so busily occupied, soon stole out. and there was the head waiter waiting for her in the dining room, and polly never heard a word they said, although "cake" was mentioned a great many times, and several other things too. but the next morning polly pepper woke up to the fact that it was her birthday. for there was mamsie leaning over her pillow, the first thing she saw the minute her eyes were opened. and phronsie was sitting on the end of the bed with her hands folded in her lap. when she saw polly's eyes open, she gave a little crow and darted forward. "oh, i thought you never would wake up, polly," she said, throwing her arms around polly's neck. "yes, this child has been sitting there a whole hour, polly." mother fisher gave a merry little laugh, and then she began to drop kisses on polly's rosy cheek--ever so many of them. polly's dewy eyes opened wide. "it's your birthday, don't you know!" exclaimed phronsie, trying to drop as many kisses and as fast, on polly's other cheek, and to talk at the same time. "mamsie fisher!" cried polly, springing up straight in the middle of the bed, nearly knocking phronsie over. "why, so it is. oh, how could i forget--and sleep over. and i'm fifteen!" "you're fifteen," repeated mother fisher, setting the last little kiss on polly's cheek,--"and it's the best thing you could possibly do, to sleep over, child. now, then, phronsie, let us help her to get dressed." wasn't there a merry time, though, for the next half-hour, till polly had had her bath, and was arrayed, mother fisher and phronsie here, there, and everywhere, helping to tie and to hook polly's clothes--phronsie bringing her little silver button-hook that auntie whitney gave her, declaring that she should button polly's boots. "oh, no, child," protested polly. "i'll button them myself," flying off for the boots. but phronsie piped out, hurrying after her, "i have them, polly," and, sure enough, there they were, one under each arm; "do let me, polly--do, please!" she begged. "i would, polly," advised mrs. fisher, "for phronsie really has set her heart on doing it." so polly sat down in the low chair, and put out her foot, feeling very queer indeed, and as if she ought to be doing up phronsie's boots instead. and phronsie curled up on the floor, and patiently drew every one of the buttons into place, and buttoned them fast. and then on with the other boot. "there, now, i did do them all by myself," she announced, getting up from the floor, and smoothing down her gown with much importance. "i did truly, polly." "so you did, pet," cried polly, sticking out both feet to look at them. "you buttoned every single one of those buttons up splendidly, phronsie pepper. now my toes will be just as happy all day; oh, you can't think how happy they'll be." and she seized her, half smothering her with kisses. "will they?" cried phronsie, coming out of the embrace to peer up into polly's face, in a transport. "will your toes really and truly be happy, polly?" "they'll be so happy," declared polly, with a little wriggle of each foot, "that they'll want to sing, only they can't," and she burst out into a little laugh. "put on your blue dress, polly," said mother fisher, coming out of the closet to hurry operations a bit. "oh, mamsie," begged phronsie, "mayn't polly wear her white one? do, mamsie, please!" she ran up to her mother pleadingly. "polly will wear a white gown to-night," said mother fisher, her eyes shining, and the same funny little smile hiding in the corners of her mouth; "but this morning she would better put on her blue gingham." "yes, that's best," said polly, reassuringly, running off to get it out of the big bureau drawer. "it's all done up spick and span," drawing it out. "mamsie, don't these dutch women do up things well, though?" "they do, indeed," assented mrs. fisher, with a critical eye for the blue gingham; "but i really suppose the swiss beat them, polly." "well, they must be just perfect, then," said polly, putting the blue gown carefully over her head. "mamsie, i just love this dress." "yes, it is pretty," said mother fisher, with an approving eye for the dainty ruffles, "and you keep your clothes cleaner than you used to, polly; you're improving." "i used to get them all mussed up just as soon as could be," mourned polly, her cheeks rosy at the remembrance. "mamsie, how much trouble i've made you." she stopped dressing, and sprang over to mrs. fisher. phronsie, trying to button on the waistband, and clinging to it, went stumbling after. "take care," warned mrs. fisher, "don't muss it; it looks so nice now." "there, there, phronsie, i'll do that," said polly, a trifle impatiently, looking over her shoulder. "oh, i want to, polly," said phronsie, fumbling for the button. "do let me; i want to." "no, i can do it myself," said polly, trying to whirl off from the busy little fingers. "polly," began mother fisher, who saw what polly couldn't, phronsie's little face very red with her exertion, and the brown eyes filling with tears. "well, i declare," cried polly, at sound of her mother's tone; "so you shall, phronsie. now i'll stand just as still as a mouse, and you shall make that old button fly into its hole." "so he shall, old button fly into his hole," laughed phronsie through her tears. and presently she declared it was done. and with a final pat, this time from mother fisher's fingers, polly was released, and the rest of the dressing was soon done. and there, waiting at the end of their corridor, was jasper, in every conceivable way trying to get the better of his impatience. when he did finally see polly, he dashed up to her. "well, are you really here?" "yes," cried polly, scampering on, with phronsie clinging to her hand, "i really believe i am, jasper. but don't let's go faster than mamsie," looking back for her. "you all run on," said mother fisher, laughing, "i shall get there soon; and really, mr. king has waited long enough," she added to herself. and, indeed, mr. king thought so too, and he couldn't control his delight when the three danced into the little private parlour, opening out from his bedroom, and came up to his side. "i slept over," said polly, in a shamefaced little way; "i'm sorry, grandpapa dear." "you needn't be; not a bit of it," declared grandpapa, holding her off at arm's length to scan her rosy face; "the best thing you could possibly do"--mamsie's very words. so polly felt relieved at once. "and now we will wait for mrs. fisher," he added, with a glance at the door. "here she is," piped phronsie, who had been regarding the door anxiously. "yes, here she is," repeated old mr. king, in great satisfaction, holding polly fast. "well, now, mrs. fisher, that you have come, we'll begin our festivities. our polly, here, is fifteen years old to-day--only think of that!" still he held her fast, and bent his courtly white head to kiss her brown hair. polly clung to his other hand. "it can't be a house celebration, polly, my dear, with a party and all that, but we'll do the best we can. and to add to our pleasure, and to be company for you" (not a suggestion of the pleasure he was to give), "why, we've another little girl with us who has chosen this very day for her birthday, too. adela, come here." adela gray, who had been standing silently, looking on with a sad heart at finding herself with a birthday on her hands, and no one to celebrate it with her, though for that matter all her birthdays had been rather dismal affairs at the best, in the paris school, now shrank back at mr. king's sudden summons, and hid behind her grandmother's black gown. "come, adela," commanded mr. king, in a tone that brooked no further delay. so she crept out, and stood in front of him. "oh, adela!" exclaimed polly, in a transport, drawing her up by her other hand, for still grandpapa held her fast. "is it your birthday too? how perfectly elegant! oh, oh!" and everybody said, "how fine!" and they all were smiling at her. and adela found herself, before she knew it, coming up out of her old despair into brightness and warmth and joy. and she never knew when old mr. king proclaimed her fourteen years old, and dropped a kiss--yes, he actually did--on her head. and then she found herself on his other side, by the big centre table, that was covered with a large cloth. and polly made her put her hand under it first, saying, "oh, no, grandpapa, please let adela pull out the first parcel." and lo, and behold--she held a neat little white-papered bundle tied with a blue ribbon. "open it," cried jasper, as she stood stupidly staring at it, in her hand. "don't you see it's got your name on it?" but adela didn't see anything, she was so dazed. so jasper had to open it for her. "we may thank our stars the first parcel happened to be for her," he was thinking busily all the time he was untying the ribbon. and there was just what she had wanted for, oh, so long--mrs. jameson's little books on art--her very own, she saw as soon as her trembling fingers opened the cover. after that, the skies might rain down anything in the shape of gifts, as it seemed to be doing for polly and for her; it didn't matter to adela; and she found herself, finally, looking over a heap of white papers and tangled ribbons, at polly pepper, who was dancing about, and thanking everybody to right and to left. "why don't--why don't--you--thank him?" old mrs. gray mumbled in her ear, while the tears were running down her wrinkled cheeks. "let her alone," said old mr. king, hearing her. "she's thanked me enough. now then, to breakfast, all of us! come, polly--come, adela--jasper, you take mrs. gray," and the others falling in, away they all went down to the big dining room, to their own special table in the centre. "i do so love what joey sent me, and ben and davie," breathed polly, for about the fiftieth time, patting her little money-bag which she had hung on her belt. then she looked at the new ring on her finger very lovingly, and the other hand stole up to pinch the pin on her trim necktie, and see if it were really there. "oh, jasper, if the boys were only here!" she whispered, under cover of the chatter and bustle around the table. "don't let us think of that, polly," jasper made haste to say; "it will make father feel so badly if he thinks you are worrying." "i know it," said polly, pulling herself out of her gloom in an instant, to be as gay as ever, till the big sombre dining room seemed instinct with life, and the cheeriest place imaginable. "what good times americans do have!" exclaimed a lady, passing the door, and sending an envious glance within. "yes, if they're the right kind of americans," said her companion, wisely. all that wonderful day the sun seemed to shine more brightly than on any other day in the whole long year. and the two girls who had the birthday together, went here and there, arm in arm, to gladden all the tired, and often discontented, eyes of the fellow-travellers they chanced to meet. and when finally it came to the dusk, and polly and adela were obliged to say, "our birthday is almost all over," why then, that was just the very time when mother fisher and the little doctor (for he was in the plan, you may be very sure, only he wanted her to make all the arrangements, "it's more in a woman's way, my dear," he had said),--well, then, that was their turn to celebrate the double birthday! "where are those girls?" cried the little doctor, fidgeting about, and knocking down a little table in his prancing across the room. jasper ran and picked it up. "no harm done," he declared, setting the books straight again. "o dear, did i knock that over?" asked dr. fisher, whirling around to look at the result of his progress. "bless me, did i really do that?" "it's all right now," said jasper, with a laugh at the doctor's face. "lucky there wasn't anything that could break on the table." "i should say so," declared the little doctor; "still, i'm sorry i floored these," with a rueful hand on the books. "i'd rather smash some other things that i know of than to hurt the feelings of a book. dear me!" "so had i," agreed jasper, "to tell you the truth; but these aren't hurt; not a bit." he took up each volume, and carefully examined the binding. when he saw that this was so, the little doctor began to fidget again, and to wonder where the girls were, and in his impatience he was on the point of prancing off once more across the room, when jasper said, "let us go and find them--you and i." "an excellent plan," said dr. fisher, hooking his arm into jasper's and skipping off, jasper having hard work to keep up with him. "here--where are you two going?" called mr. king after them. and this hindered them so that polly and adela ran in unnoticed. and there they were on time after all; for it turned out that the little doctor's watch was five minutes ahead. well, and then they all filed into the big dining room, and there, to be sure, was their special table in the centre, and in the middle of it was a tall dutch cake, ornamented with all sorts of nuts and fruits and candies, and gay with layers of frosting, edged and trimmed with coloured devices, and on the very tip-top of all was an elaborate figure in sugar of a little dutch shepherdess. and around this wonderful cake were plates of mottoes, all trimmed in the dutch fashion--in pink and green and yellow--while two big bunches of posies, lay one at each plate, of the two girls who had a birthday together in old amsterdam. "oh--oh!" cried polly, seizing her bunch before she looked at the huge dutch cake, and burying her nose deep among the big fragrant roses, "how perfectly lovely! who did do this?" but no one said a word. and the little doctor was as sober as a judge. he only glared at them over his spectacles. "grandpapa," gasped polly, "you did." "guess again," advised grandpapa. "mamsie--" polly gave one radiant look at mother fisher's face. then dr. fisher broke out into a hearty laugh. "you've guessed it this time, polly, my girl," he said, "your mother is the one." "your father really did it," corrected mother fisher. "yes, adoniram, you did,--only i saw to things a little, that's all." "which means that pretty much the whole business was hers," added the little doctor, possessing himself of her hand under cover of the table. "well, girls, if you like your birthday party fixings, that's all your mother and i ask. it's dutch, anyway, and what you won't be likely to get at home; there's so much to be said for it." xii the henderson box and as mother fisher observed, they would all enjoy marken better for the delay, for there would be more time to anticipate the pleasure; and then there was the henderson box to get ready, for grandpapa king had not only approved the plan; he had welcomed the idea most heartily. "it will be a good diversion from our scare," he said, when polly and jasper laid it before him. "and give us all something to do," he added, "so go ahead, children, and set to work on it." and polly and jasper had flown off with the good news, and every one did "set to work" as grandpapa said, diving into the shops again. phronsie tried to find the mate to her china cat, that was by this time sailing over the sea to joel; and it worried her dreadfully, for, try as she would, she never could see another one. and she looked so pale and tired one night that mr. king asked her, in consternation, as they were all assembled in one corner of the drawing-room, what was the matter. "i wish i could find a cat," sighed phronsie, trying not to be so tired, and wishing the prickles wouldn't run up and down her legs so. "we've walked and walked, grandpapa, and the shop wouldn't come, where it must be." "what kind of a cat is it you want?" asked adela gray. "it was just like joey's," said phronsie, turning her troubled blue eyes on adela's face. "well, what colour?" continued adela. "it was yellow," said phronsie, "a sweet little yellow cat." "with green eyes?" "no, i don't think it's eyes were green," said phronsie, slowly trying to think, "but they were so pretty; and she had a pink ribbon around her neck, and--" "oh, that settles it," declared adela, quite joyful that she could help the little pepper girl in any way, "at least the pink ribbon round its neck does, for i know where there is a cat exactly like that--that is, the one i saw had green eyes, but everything else is like it--it's sitting upon a shelf in a shop where i was just this very day, phronsie pepper." "oh!" phronsie gave a little gurgle of delight, and, slipping out of her chair, she ran over to adela. "will you show me that shop to-morrow?" she begged, in great excitement. "to be sure i will," promised adela, just as happy as phronsie; "we will go in the morning right after breakfast. may we, mrs. fisher?" looking over to her, where she sat knitting as cosily as if she were in the library at home. "for i think people who travel, get out of their everyday habits," she had said to her husband, before they started, "and i'm going to pack my knitting basket to keep my hands out of mischief." and old mr. king had smiled more than once in satisfaction to glance over at mother fisher in her cosey corner of an evening, and it made him feel at home immediately, even in the dreariest of hotel parlours, just the very sight of those knitting needles. and so, in between the picture galleries and museums, to which some part of every day was devoted, the peppers and jasper and adela, and old mr. king, who always went, and mother fisher, who sometimes was of the party, the ransacking of the lovely shops took place. and it really seemed as if everything that the henderson boys could possibly want, was in some of those places--no matter how out-of-the-way--and waiting to be bought to fly over the sea to badgertown. at last off that box went. then polly was quite happy, and could enjoy things all the more, with a mind at rest. "now we are all ready for marken," she cried that night, after dinner, when the box was on its way to the steamer, "and i do hope we are going to-morrow." jasper and she had a little table between them, and they were having a game of chess. "yes, we are, i think," said jasper, slowly considering whether he would better bring down one of his knights into the thick of the battle, or leave it to protect his queen. "oh, how fine!" exclaimed polly, unguardedly moving the pawn that held at bay a big white bishop, who immediately swooped down on her queen, and away it went off the board; and "oh, how perfectly dreadful!" all in one and the same breath. "you may have it back," said jasper, putting the black queen in place again. "no, indeed--it's perfectly fair that i lost it," said polly; "oh, i wouldn't take it back for anything. i was talking; it was all my own fault, jasper." "well, you were talking about marken, and i don't wonder, for we have been so long trying to go there. do take it back, polly," he begged, holding it out. "no, indeed!" declared polly again, shaking her brown head decidedly, "not for the world, jasper." "what is going over in that corner?" called grandpapa's voice, by the big reading table. he had finished his newspaper, and was now ready to talk. so jasper and polly explained, and that brought out the subject of marken, and old mr. king said yes, it was perfectly true that he had made all the arrangements to go the following day if the weather were fine. so polly and jasper swept off the remaining pieces on the chessboard, and packed them away in their box, and ran over to hear all the rest of it that he was now telling to the family. "so you see it didn't make any difference about that old queen anyway," said polly, as they hurried over to him, "for nobody has beaten." "i'm glad i didn't beat," declared jasper. "i've that satisfaction, anyway, because you wouldn't have moved that pawn, polly, if you hadn't been talking of marken." the next day was fine enough to warrant the trip, though not absolutely sunshiny. old mr. king wisely deciding that the fun of the expedition would lose its edge if postponed again, said, "start!" so after breakfast they all went down to the wester dock and embarked on the little steamer bound for the island of marken in the zuyder zee. "oh, polly, look," said jasper, "doesn't amsterdam look fine?" as the little steamer slowly put forth. polly leaned over the rail and drew in long breaths of delight. "come, adela," she called, "here is a good place;" for the little old lady was still too much shaken up to make much attempt at travelling, so polly had begged mother fisher and grandpapa to ask adela to come with them on their sightseeing trips. and this was done, and the young girl was happy as a bird. so here she was, going down to marken too. adela ran and kneeled down on the seat by polly's side and hung over the rail too. "don't the houses lean over queerly?" she said, pointing to the long narrow buildings they were leaving behind. "they look worse from the water than when we are in the midst of them." "it's just as if they were holding each other up," said polly. "dear me, i should think they'd tumble over some fine day. "what makes them sag so?" asked adela, intently regarding them. "that's because the city is built on piles, i suppose," said jasper. "it's mostly sand in holland, you know, particularly around amsterdam, and so they had to drive down piles to get something strong enough to put their houses on. that's what--who was it?--oh i know--erasmus--meant when he said, 'i know a city whose inhabitants dwell on the tops of the trees like rooks.'" "o dear me," said adela, quite impressed; "well, what makes them not sag any more?" she asked at length. "because they've sagged all they want to, i suppose'" said jasper, laughing. "anyway they've stood so for years on years--probably, so it's fair to believe they're all right." "and i think they're ever so much prettier leaning every which way," declared polly. "we can see plenty of straight houses at home, so it's nice to see crooked ones over here. oh, jasper, there's the king's palace!" "yes and there is the dome of the lutheran church," said jasper. "look at that woman with the boy," said adela, on the wharf. she's got a little black bonnet tied on top of her white cap.". "that's nothing to what we shall see at marken, i suppose," said polly. "i'm going to take ever so many photographs." she tapped her kodak lovingly, as it hung from the strap on her shoulder. "i wish i'd brought mine," said adela. "why didn't you?" cried polly, whirling around to scan adela. "i forgot it," said adela. "i put it on the table last night close to my hat and gloves, and then walked off this morning without it." "now that's too bad!" exclaimed polly in sympathy. then she turned back uncomfortably, and began to talk of something else. "i'm not going to," she said to herself; "it isn't my fault she forgot her kodak, and i want every one of my films myself. and i care a great deal more for marken than for almost any other place." the next moment mamsie seemed to say, "is that my polly?" and although she was at the other end of the boat, polly's head drooped as if she had heard the words. "o dear me--and adela hasn't any one but a sick grandmother--and i have just--everybody," she thought "you shall use my kodak," cried polly, aloud, "one-half the time, adela." "oh, no," protested adela; but she looked hungrily at polly's kodak swinging over her shoulder. "yes, you shall too," declared polly, cheerily. "i can take all the pictures i want in that time, and i have lots of films." "i'll divide with you, polly," said jasper. "i brought ever so many, and will go shares with my kodak, too." but polly made up her mind that jasper's kodak was to be used for his own special pictures, for she knew he had set his heart on taking certain ones, and a good many of them, too. "isn't that water just perfectly lovely!" she exclaimed; "such a bluish grey." "i think it's a greyish blue," said adela, squinting along its surface critically. "well, what's the difference?" asked polly, laughing. "not much," said jasper, "i should think." "well, anyway, it's lovely," declared polly; "i just wish i could paint it." "do you paint?" asked adela, suddenly. "no," said polly, "not a bit" "polly is all for music," said jasper, quickly. "you ought to hear her play." "oh, i can't play much now," said polly, "but i mean tot some time. jasper, how long it is since we have had a duet." her face dropped its cheery curves and a sad little look crept into her eyes. "that's the bother of travelling about; one can't play in a hotel," said jasper. "but wait till we get to dresden, polly." "oh, i can't bear to wait," said polly. "i don't want to hurry on, jasper--but oh, i do wish we could play on a piano." her fingers drummed on the rail in her eagerness. "why, you are playing now," said adela, bursting into a laugh, "or pretending to, polly pepper." "i know it," said polly, laughing too; "well, that's what i always used to do in the little brown house,--drum on the table." "in the little brown where?" demanded adela in astonishment. "the little brown house," answered polly, and her eyes lightened as she seemed to see it before her. "that's where we used to live, adela--oh, the sweetest place, you can't think!" polly's fingers stopped drumming now, and the colour flew up to her cheek; she forgot all about adela. "oh, i suppose it had everything beautiful about it," said adela, delighted to make polly talk, "big gardens, and terraces, and--" "oh, no," said polly, "it didn't have gardens at all, adela, only a little bit of a green grass-plot in front. but there was an apple tree at the back." "apple tree at the back?" echoed adela, faintly. "yes, and we had beautiful plays under it," cried polly, rushing on in remembrance; "and sometimes when all the work was finished, mamsie would let us spend the whole afternoon out there. you can't think what perfectly splendid times we had there, adela gray!" adela by this time was beyond words, but stared up at polly's face speechlessly. "and what fun it was on baking days, polly," cried jasper, unable to keep quiet any longer; "do you remember when i burnt all my cakes around the edges?" "well, that was because the old stove acted so," said polly; "one minute it wouldn't bake at all, and the next it burnt things black." "and the washing the dishes and things up afterward," said jasper, reflecting; "i think i liked that just as well as the baking, polly." "it was good fun," said polly; "and how funny you looked with one of mamsie's aprons tied round under your chin, jasper." "i know it," said jasper, bursting into a laugh. "i must have looked like--i don't know what. but it was good fun, polly." and then phronsie came running up, and after her came grandpapa to see that she got there all right. "oh, polly, do you see the windmills?" she cried, clapping her small hands. "yes, pet," said polly, looking all along the soft curves of the shore, "there are hundreds of them, aren't there?" "there was a girl coming out of the door of one of them," announced phronsie, climbing up on the seat and putting her arm around polly's neck. "polly, i'd like to live in a windmill; i would," she whispered close to her ear. "would you, pet?" "yes, i would truly," she said. "why couldn't i, polly, just like that girl i saw coming out of the door?" she asked, looking back wistfully. "well, that girl never had a little brown house to live in," said polly; "think of that, phronsie." xiii "the cleanest place in all holland" "oh, polly, see the cunning little doll-houses!" exclaimed phronsie in a little scream, flying about from grandpapa at the head of his party on their way up from the boat-landing, and then back to the rear of the procession, which happened to be polly and jasper. "hush, phronsie, don't talk so loud; they are not doll-houses," said polly. "people live in them." "people live in them!" echoed phronsie, standing quite still on the paved road, that shone as if just freshly scoured. "yes, yes; come along, child, the people will hear you," said polly, seizing her hand. phronsie suffered herself to be piloted along, but she stumbled more than once over the cobbles, her eyes were so busy. "take care, phronsie," warned polly, "you came near falling on your nose that time." "i'll go on the other side," said jasper; "there, now, phronsie, give us your hand. well, i don't wonder you are surprised. i never saw such a place as this broek is." "they've just washed it all up, haven't they, jasper?" asked polly, her brown eyes scanning the little walks along each tiny garden they passed. everything shone alike. "they're always washing up, i believe," answered jasper, with a laugh. "i suppose they live in a pail of water, so to speak." "oh, jasper, in a pail of water!" exclaimed phronsie, between them, poking her head out to look for such a strange and unwarrantable sight provided by the inhabitants of broek. "i mean they're always scrubbing, so they can never be separated from their pails of water," said jasper. "it seems almost too bad to step on such clean roads," said polly, getting up on her tiptoes, and stepping gingerly off. when phronsie saw polly do that, she got up on her tiptoes too, and tried to get over the ground with her. "you can't do that long," said jasper, with a laugh for both, "and it wouldn't do any good, polly, if you could, for these broek women will have to come out and scrub up after us all the same." "i suppose they will," said polly, with a sigh of relief, coming down on to the rest of her feet, which proceeding, phronsie was very glad to copy. "and it isn't as nice as it looks to walk on the tips of your toes. jasper, do see those cunning little windows and those china images inside!" "it seems as if they were all windows," said jasper, scanning the tiny panes shining at them from all the cottages. "dear me, the broek women have something to do, don't they, to keep everything so shiny and clean?" "haven't they!" cried polly. "well, i don't wonder it is the cleanest place in all holland. they must have to sit up all night and wash and scrub." "it's the cleanest place on the whole earth, i imagine," laughed jasper. "but i should love to see some boys playing with mud pies," sighed polly, running her glance up and down the immaculate road, and compassing all the tiny gardens possible to her range of vision. "mud pies!" exclaimed jasper, in mock surprise. "polly, how can you mention such a thing as dirt or mud here!" "jasper, do you suppose the children can have a good time here?" pursued polly, anxiously, willing to give up the mud pies, if only reassured on the latter point, which seemed to her a very doubtful one. "we'll hope so," answered jasper. "see the klompen outside that door, polly. well, here we are at the dairy, polly." "and can i see the cows?" cried phronsie. "oh, grandpapa is calling me," and off she ran. and so he was calling her, as he and the parson had now reached the dairy door, under cover with the dwelling, which seemed much less an object of painstaking care than the house where the cows resided and the cheeses were made. but everything was as neat as a pin in the house, though, and polly and jasper concluded they would explore the two rooms, as everybody seemed to be expected to do, after the main object of the visit was accomplished and the dairy inspected. "dear me, do they have to take their shoes off before they go in the house?" cried polly. "i suppose so," said jasper. "well, it isn't much trouble to get out of those sabots, that's one comfort for them." "dear me," mrs. fisher was saying, "if they haven't a carpet on the floor for the cows to walk on!" and there, surely, were strips of carpeting all down the walks between the rows of stalls, and something that looked like braided hemp in the bottom of the stalls themselves. and everything was tiled where it could be, with little tiles, and all these and every bit of the woodwork itself shone beautifully--it was so clean and polished. mrs. fisher's black eyes shone, too. "it's beautiful," she said to her husband, "to see everything so clean for once in the world." "what are those hooks for?" asked jasper of the stolid dutchman, who showed them about, and who spoke english fairly well. "we hook the cows' tails up so they won't shake any dirt on their sides," said the dutchman. "o dear me!" exclaimed polly pepper, and everybody laughed--but she didn't. "i think that is cruel," she said. "what do the poor things do to beat off the flies, pray tell?" "flies?" said mother fisher. "i don't suppose they ever see a fly here, polly." "they'd chase one worse than the dirt, i guess," said the little doctor. "oh," said polly, with a sigh of relief. "come, polly, let us go into the cheese room," suggested jasper, peering in, for everything was connected and under one roof. "there's a man in there, and he is telling something;" so they skipped in, while phronsie was bewailing that there were no cows there, and where were they? "why, phronsie, they are all out in the fields. you wouldn't have them shut up this hot day," said grandpapa. "no," said phronsie, swallowing the lump in her throat, "i wouldn't, grandpapa; i'd much rather know they are having a nice time. i don't want them in here, i truly don't." "that's a nice child," said old mr. king, approvingly. "well, now, we'll see how they make these wonderful edam cheeses, phronsie." "i shall call this place the cheesery," announced polly, running about between the vats and the big press. "oh, polly, that's a capital name," said jasper. "so shall i call it the 'cheesery' in my journal. look at the rows and rows of them, polly." "and how round and yellow they are," said polly; "just like pumpkins, aren't they? wouldn't it be fine if we could take some home, to send to badgertown? dear mrs. beebe is so fond of cheese, jasper." "it is a pity; but we couldn't take cheeses very well. fancy our trunks, polly!" he wrinkled up his face; at sight of it polly laughed merrily. "no, of course not," she said; "but oh, how fine they look!" "grandpapa, i'd like to buy one," said phronsie, overhearing a bit of this, and opening her little bag that hung on her arm, to get her purse. "what in the world can you do with a dutch cheese, child?" exclaimed old mr. king. "but i would like to buy one," persisted phronsie. and after much diving phronsie produced the little silk purse--"polly wants one, grandpapa," she got up on her tiptoes to whisper confidentially. "oh, is that it?" said mr. king. "well, now, phronsie, i don't really believe polly wants one. you would better ask her. if she wants one you shall buy it for her." so phronsie ran off. "do you, polly? do you?" then she gently pulled polly's sleeve to make her hear, for polly and jasper were hanging on the description that the man in attendance was pouring forth. "do i what?" cried polly, only half understanding, and lost in the thought of how much fun it must be to make little yellow cheeses, and set them up in rows to be taken to market. "--want one of those dear sweet little cheeses?" finished phronsie. "yes, indeed," answered polly, bobbing her head, and listening to the man with all her might. "yes, she does, grandpapa," declared phronsie, flying back, "she told me so her very own self." "the goodness, she does!" exclaimed old mr. king, "well then, she shall have one. but pick out a small one, phronsie, the very smallest you can find." this was so much a work of time, phronsie laying aside one selection after another, each yellow cheese looking so much better on comparison, that at last old mr. king was almost in despair, and counselled the purchase of the last one that phronsie set her eyes on. but meantime she had spied one on the upper shelf of all. "there it is, grandpapa," she cried, clapping her hands in delight, "the very littlest of all, and isn't it beautiful, grandpapa, dear?" "indeed it is," assented grandpapa, and he had the man lift it down and do it up; a piece of a dutch newspaper again doing duty, when phronsie held out her arms to receive it. "you can't carry it, child; give it to me. what in the world shall we do with the thing?" all this grandpapa was uttering in one breath. "oh, grandpapa, dear, i do so want to carry polly's little yellow cheese," said phronsie, the tears beginning to come in her eyes. grandpapa, who had taken the round parcel from her arms, looked from it to her with increasing perplexity. "have the goodness to put a string around it, will you?" he said to the man who was regarding him stolidly, after satisfying himself that the coin phronsie had drawn out of her purse and put in his hand was a good one. "yah, yah," said the man, and he brought out of one of his pockets a long piece of thick twine. this with much hard breathing accompanying the work, he proceeded to twist and interlace around the paper containing the little yellow cheese in such a way that when it was completed, phronsie was carrying what looked like a little net basket, for there was a good strong twine handle sticking up, into which she put her small hand in great satisfaction. when they all gathered in the living room of the house that had open doors into the cow-house and dairy, all being under one roof, they found a huge pile of photographs displayed of various views of the premises indoors and out. "but they aren't half as nice as ours will be," whispered jasper; "how many did you take, polly?" "three," said polly. "oh, polly, didn't you get more than that?" said jasper, quite disappointed for her, for polly dearly loved to take photographs. "oh, you've let adela gray take your kodak," he added; "it's a shame i didn't give you mine. take it now, polly," he begged, slinging off the leather strap from his shoulder. "no, no," said polly, "i don't want to, jasper, and i wanted adela to take it, and don't let her hear us, she may come back from the other room;"--for adela had disappeared with the kodak; "and it's all right, jasper," she finished up incoherently. "aren't these queer beds, mrs. fisher?" the parson's wife was saying, peering into the shelves against the side of the wall, boarded up, with doors swung open inviting inspection. "the idea of sleeping in one of them!" exclaimed mrs. fisher, inspecting the interior with a sharp eye. "they're clean enough and as neat as a pink"--with a critical glance along the white lace spread and the immaculate pillow--"but to be shut up in a box like that. i should as soon go to bed in a bureau drawer." "so should i," laughed the parson's wife; "and look at the artificial flowers hanging up over the head, and that picture pinned, above the foot. well, well, well, and so that is a dutch bed!" "there are a good many kinds and sorts of dutch beds, i suppose," observed mrs. fisher, turning away, "just as there are a good many american ones; but i hope there aren't many of this particular kind." "jasper," exclaimed polly, as they all filed decorously out of the "model farm," "how i do wish you and i could race down to the boat-landing!" jasper looked longingly down the washed and shining road. "so do i, polly," he said, "but i suppose it wouldn't do; we should shock these natives." "i suppose so," assented polly, ruefully. just then phronsie came up holding with both hands her paper-covered, twine-netted little round yellow cheese. "what in the world has phronsie got!" exclaimed polly, catching sight of her. "come here, pet," she called. phronsie hesitated. on polly's calling her again she drew near, but more slowly than was her wont. "what have you got, phronsie?" asked polly, wondering and not a little hurt by her manner. "a little basket of string; isn't it funny, and where did you get it?" "it isn't a basket," corrected phronsie, "and i cannot tell you now, polly," said phronsie, shaking her head. "why, phronsie," began polly in surprise; and she couldn't help it, her voice quavered in spite of her. when phronsie heard that, she was equally distressed, and at once decided to present the gift then instead of carrying it back to the hotel for polly as she had at first intended. so she cast her burden into polly's hands and piped out, "it's for you, polly, a sweet little yellow cheese; you said you wanted it," and stood smiling and triumphant. "oh, my goodness me!" exclaimed polly pepper, standing quite still. then she did shock the natives, for she sat right down in the road, with the cheese in her hands. xiv the island of marken when the boat was nearing the island of marken, the little yellow cheese had been presented with all due formality to one of the sailors who had been specially kind in the matter of securing good seats for mr. king's party, polly and phronsie having held a whispered conference in a retired nook, to come out of it bright and smiling. "and now it has made two people happy, phronsie," polly had said, when the presentation was well over, and she ended up with a kiss. "it made me happy in the first place because you thought of me, and then, just think, pet, that poor sailor, how glad he will be to take it home." "will he, polly?" asked phronsie, in a rapture; "and do you think he has got any little girls?" "perhaps so," said polly, "and at any rate, he can eat it himself. and he looks hungry enough." "i'd rather he had some little girls, polly," said phronsie, thoughtfully, "and have him give them each a piece." "well, maybe he has some; we'll think so, anyway," polly answered. "oh, see, jasper is calling us." to be sure, there he was on the other side of the boat nearest marken, with a big group of passengers, intently watching the marken children running along in their clacking sabots, on the high bank, and holding out their arms, singing something all the while in a shrill, high key. "they want some stuivers," cried jasper. "come, polly and phronsie, let us toss them some." whiz--spin--went the coins, to fall into the thick stubby grass on the bank. the children, stopping their song in mid-air, scrambled and sprawled all over each other in their efforts to secure the coveted money. so jasper and polly threw the bits next time in the other direction. then there was a shout and a rush, and the same thing was repeated till only a tangle of arms and legs could be seen. but some one of them always got the money. "dear me! they've eyes just like birds!" exclaimed parson henderson; "to think of finding anything in that thick grass." "let them alone for that," laughed old mr. king; "their wits are sharpened by practice." "look out, phronsie!" exclaimed jasper. "your stuivers went into the water. here, i'll hold you up, then you can throw it farther. there you go," swinging her to his shoulder. "now, then"--he guided her hand, and away spun the coin. "it did, it did," crowed phronsie, from her high perch. "it did, jasper, go right straight down in the grass just like yours and polly's." "so it did, pet. well, now, here is another." "there's a little girl back there and she hasn't any," mourned phronsie. "oh, dear, i want to give her some." "to be sure," said jasper. "well, we must give her some, and that's a fact." the small girl kept on at a dog-trot along the bank, her eyes fixed on the wonderful people who tossed out such magic wealth, and holding out her arms and singing her shrill song. but when the money was thrown, she was always a bit too late, and the other children, scrambling and scuffling, had pounced upon it, and had made off with it. "here, you boys, keep away; you've had enough; we're going to give this to the little girl," jasper shouted to them as they threw coin after coin. "they don't know what you are saying, my boy," said old mr. king, laughing heartily at the performance, "and they wouldn't mind you in the least if they did." "i suppose not," said jasper in chagrin. "oh, the mean little beggars!" "hold up your apron," screamed polly to the little girl. "that's a good idea," said jasper. "why didn't we think of it before?" "she won't understand any better than the boys," said old mr. king. "you forget, children, that these youngsters don't know our language." "what a bother," exclaimed jasper, "it is to have so many different languages, anyway!" "and she hasn't any apron, polly," corrected her mother; "that is her brown gown." polly was already going through the motions of holding up an imaginary apron. and at last the little girl understood by gestures what she could not possibly get into her head by words, so she picked up the skirt of her gown in her sturdy little fists, and one, two, three clinking coins fell safely into it. but the boys racing along in advance soon discovered this successful trick, and completely swarmed around her, howling dreadfully, so she hastened off, happy in her prize, which she huddled up in her gown as she ran. "isn't this just richness?" exclaimed polly, gazing all about her in an ecstasy. "oh, jasper, what pictures we'll take--and do see that woman's cap! and those pot-hooks of hair over her eyes, and that funny, long dangling curl!" "take care, polly, you almost stepped off backward down the bank," warned adela, pulling her back, as they got off the steamboat and stopped a bit to look around. "dear me, did i?" said polly. "well, it's enough to make any one step backward to see such funny clothes; and they are hay-making, adela gray, as sure as you live." "didn't you suppose they would be?" answered adela, composedly. "why, that's one of the things i specially wanted to see." "yes, so did i," said polly. "well, it's too, too splendid for anything. i'm going to begin to take pictures right straight off." then she stopped and looked at adela. "you may first," she said. "no, i'm not going to," declared adela. "yes, yes," said polly, "i'd rather you did first; i truly had, adela." she ran after her, for adela had retreated down the bank, and made as if she were going to follow the party. "now, adela, be good and listen to reason." but adela ran off. "now that's too bad," mourned polly, "for i'm afraid she'll keep away from me all the while we're on this island, and then i can't get a chance to give her my kodak at all." "she had it at the 'model farm,'" said jasper, by way of comfort, for polly's face fell. "oh, that was nothing," said polly, "such a little bit of a while doesn't count." "well, let us take pictures as fast as we can," suggested jasper, "and then when we do come up with adela, why you'll have yours done." so polly roused out of her dejection and set to work, and presently the hay-makers, and the marken boys and girls, the funny little houses that looked as if they dropped down pellmell from the clouds and settled where they had dropped--the high ridges along which the men and boys, walking in their full baggy trousers, looked as if they were blown up, and formed a dutch perspective perfectly awful--all these queer, delightful things were presently imprisoned in the two kodaks. jasper looked up. "there, that's my last picture," he declared. "at any rate, for now." "oh, one more! i must get a good picture of those girls raking hay." polly ran off a few steps and sat down on a log to focus. the marken girls happened to look up, and immediately whirled around and presented their backs to her. "oh, dear, how hateful!" she exclaimed; "that would have been a splendid picture." "never mind," said jasper; "you can catch them unawares, and have another try at them." "not so good as that," said polly, sorrowfully. "well, it can't be helped." so she was just going to get up from her log, when the girls, thinking from her attitude that she had given up the idea of taking a picture of them, turned back to their work. as quick as a flash polly focussed again, and was just touching the button, when a hand came in front of her kodak, and she saw the grinning face of a marken girl under its pot-hook of hair and with the long, dangling curl on one side, close to her own. "too late!" exclaimed polly. "and don't you ever do that again." and the hand was withdrawn, and the girl clattered off as fast as she could run in her wooden shoes. "i got them," said polly, running back in triumph to jasper. "yes, and i took a picture of the saucy girl while she was trying to stop yours," said jasper. "so she didn't do much harm, after all. oh, here is a splendid group! see them standing by that old tumble-down house, polly," he added excitedly. "i thought you had taken your last picture, jasper," said polly, bursting into a laugh. "well, i had then, but i've begun again," said jasper, recklessly. he walked up to the group and held out his hand, then pointed to his kodak. they smiled and nodded, showing all their teeth, and the mother took the littlest baby, for there seemed to be a very generous number of the smaller members of the family, and sat down with it in her lap on the rickety step. then they all drew up stiff as sticks, and didn't even wink. "that's capital," said jasper, in huge satisfaction, pouring the coins into the mother's lap, where they rolled underneath the fat baby. polly and he hurried on. "oh, polly, i'm so very glad you've come," said phronsie, as polly and jasper ran up to a doorway through which they could see their party. phronsie stood just inside, and appeared to be watching for them. "there's a woman here who's been showing us things." there was mrs. fisher up by the tiny window, bending over an old woman who had spread out in her lap some white embroidered garments, while a young woman hovered near, smiling and blushing, and very happy at all this notice. and the rest of the party crowded up as close as they could. "they are her daughter's wedding clothes," said mrs. fisher, "i do believe." for, the old woman was working fearfully hard to make them understand, and pointing first to the white garments and then to the young woman. "wedding clothes?" asked mrs. fisher, speaking very slowly. the old woman seemed to understand the one word "wedding," for she nodded furiously and smiled well pleased; and then devoted her whole time and energy to the display of the garments. and she even laughed aloud when old mr. king put some coins in her hard hand. polly took the time to study her headgear. "i think there is a round board under the cap," she confided to jasper when once out of doors; "how else could they be pulled so tight? and they look as hard as a drum." "i didn't investigate," he said, laughing. "i'll leave that to you, polly." "well, it's funny anyway," she said, "that all the women and girls dress alike in those queer gowns in two parts, and those embroidered jackets over their waists, and those caps and horrible pot-hooks and long curls." "it's well that we've got so many pictures, for the people at home would never believe our stories without them." "and these houses," continued polly, squinting up at a crooked row, "all colours--green stripes and black stripes--and, o dear me! jasper king, just look at phronsie!" jasper followed the direction of polly's finger. there sat phronsie on a grassy bank a little above them, with one of the fattest marken babies in her lap. a variegated group of natives was near by, watching her intently. but phronsie didn't appear to notice them. "polly, i wish we had a baby just like this," sighed phronsie, giving motherly pats to the stout little legs dangling down from her lap. "come, children,"--grandpapa emerged from the little old house,--"we must hurry on, else we sha'n't get through this island. come, phronsie--goodness me!" as he saw how she was occupied. "may i carry her?" begged phronsie, staggering to her feet--"she's mine"--and dragging the marken baby up with her. "goodness me! no, child!" exclaimed grandpapa, in horror. "put her down, phronsie; she's ever so much too heavy for you, dear." he put forth a protesting hand, but the tears ran down phronsie's cheeks and fell on the baby's stiff white cap. at that old mr. king was quite gone in despair. "phronsie," polly bent over and whispered close to the wet little cheek, "don't you see grandpapa is feeling badly? i'm afraid he will be sick, phronsie, if he is unhappy." phronsie dropped the pudgy little hand, and threw herself into old mr. king's arms. "don't be sick, grandpapa," she wailed, struggling with her tears. "i'd rather not have my baby, please; i don't want her. please be all well, grandpapa, dear." xv mr. king does his duty polly's face appeared over adela's shoulder. "don't!" said adela, shrinking away into the corner of the big sofa, and putting her hands over something she held in her lap. "excuse me!" exclaimed polly, tumbling back in amazement. "i wasn't looking. i don't want to see. i only meant to surprise you." she kept backing off toward the door, the colour all over her round cheek. "you mustn't get mad, polly," cried adela, flying up straight to look at her, but still keeping her lap well covered. jasper, running in, heard the words. "polly never gets mad," he said slowly, standing quite still. "well, she is now--just as mad as can be," said adela, in a fretful little voice; "look at her." "oh, i'm not mad, adela," began polly, "only sorry. and it's my fault, jasper," seeing his face darken, "for i looked over her shoulder. i only wanted to surprise her; and adela, of course, thought i wanted to see what she was doing." "yes," said adela, "i did think so, polly pepper, and i don't want anybody to see it." with that she huddled the thing, whatever it was, down by her side, and ran out of the room as fast as she could go. "a disagreeable creature," began jasper, hotly; "and she's been a perfect nuisance all along to take her everywhere. now we drop her, polly." he looked more like his father at this moment than polly had ever seen him before. "oh, no, jasper," she remonstrated in dismay. "yes, we drop her like a hot cake," said jasper, decidedly; "that would be my opinion, polly." "but we can't, she's so alone," went on polly; "and, besides, she's troubled about something. that's what makes her feel so." "it's a queer way to bear trouble, i should think, to abuse you," said jasper, "when you've been bothering yourself about her all this time." "oh, i don't mind," said polly, brightening up, "if only you won't talk of our dropping her, jasper." jasper turned on his heel, and walked to the window. when he looked back, the annoyance had dropped out of his face, and he was just saying, "all right, polly, it ought to be as you say, i'm sure," when adela gray rushed into the room and up to polly, and flung her arms around her neck. "there, and there, and there!" and something tumbled into polly's hands. "i didn't want anybody to see it," mumbled adela, "for i've spoiled it; and i was trying to rub out the spots when you came in, and i made it worse than ever. but i'll give it to you now, polly; and please tear it up, and i'll make you another." when this long speech was all mumbled out, polly was looking at a little sketch of phronsie holding the fat marken baby, and the marken people looking on. "oh, jasper!" screamed polly, "do come here! oh, adela, did you draw this? and oh! how perfectly beautiful!" all in one breath. "it _is_ a good thing," said jasper, taking the drawing from polly's hand and examining it critically, while polly threw her arms around adela, and oh-ed and ah-ed her delight at finding that she could draw and sketch so beautifully; and now to think of having this lovely picture of phronsie! "but, you must tear it up," said adela, in alarm, "else i'm sorry i gave it to you, polly." "tear it up!" repeated polly, in astonishment; "tear up this lovely picture of phronsie! what do you mean, adela gray?" "oh, i've a copy, of course," said adela, carelessly; "and i'm going to do you another better one." "where did you learn to draw so well?" asked jasper, in admiration of the bold, accurate lines, and the graceful curves. "in school, at paris," said adela, quietly. polly looked over jasper's arm, and scanned the sketch. "i never saw anything so lovely!" she exclaimed. "and it's just alive! isn't it, jasper?" "yes, it is splendid," he said enthusiastically; "and that's the best part of it--it's alive, polly, as you say." "i'd give anything in all this world, adela, if i could draw like that," mourned polly. "i'd rather play on the piano," said adela, "than do all the drawing in the world. but i can't learn; the music master said there was something the matter with my ear, and i never could tell one note from another by the sound. i do so wish i could play on the piano, polly pepper!" she added discontentedly. "well, jasper can do both,--play on the piano, and draw, too," said polly. "i can't draw like this," said jasper, holding the sketch off at arm's length to view it again. "i couldn't if i were to try a thousand years." "oh, jasper!" exclaimed polly, who couldn't bear to think there was anything that he could not do. "well, i can't," said jasper. "let me see some of your sketches," begged adela. "it's so nice to find some one else who can draw. do show me some." "oh, no," protested jasper, in dismay, "not after this," pointing to adela's drawing. "do, jasper," begged polly, imploringly, "get your portfolio." "oh, i couldn't bring them all in," said jasper. "i wouldn't show those old things for the world, polly." "well, bring some of them, do," she begged, while adela said, "i showed mine, and i didn't want to, i'm sure." so jasper ran up to his room, and pretty soon he came back with his portfolio. "you did bring it, after all," exclaimed polly, in satisfaction, patting the brown leather cover. "oh, how nice of you, jasper," as they ran over and ensconced themselves in a cosey corner. "i took out the worst ones," said jasper, with a laugh. "and i'm awfully sorry i didn't leave behind more of the others." "i hope you brought that woman with a basket of vegetables we saw at the market the other day," said polly, as he opened the portfolio. "do tell me, jasper, you did bring that, didn't you?" beginning to fumble through the pile. "yes, i did, polly," said jasper; "she's in there all safe and sound." so for the next hour, there was great turning over and comparing of sketches, and much talk about vertical lines and graceful curves, and shading and perspective, and expression, and dear knows what all, as the three heads bent over the portfolio. so intent were they all, that no one heard grandpapa come in, and he sat there in a farther corner, for a good quarter of an hour. at last polly looked up and saw him. "oh, grandpapa!" she cried, flying off from the group, and carrying adela's sketch in her hand. "just see what a perfectly beautiful picture of phronsie! adela gray made it. she draws splendidly, grandpapa." old mr. king took the little sketch and fairly beamed at it. "it's very like,--it is excellent," he declared, caring nothing for its merits as a drawing, but only seeing phronsie as she sat with the big marken baby in her lap on the stubbly bank. "isn't it, grandpapa?" cried polly, overflowing with happiness; "and she has given it to me, grandpapa. oh, isn't she good!" "she is, indeed," assented old mr. king, just as well pleased as polly. "a very good girl, indeed. come here, adela." adela, whose sharp ears had caught most of this dialogue at the other end of the room,--although jasper was keeping a steady fire of talk to drown it if possible,--was looking in dismay at him. "o dear me, i wish they'd stop," she breathed in distress. "i thought you said you had no ear," said jasper, laughing at her face. "i can't tell music notes," she said, "but i can hear things." "yes, i should think you could," he said. and then came old mr. king's "come here, adela," so she had to go across the room, shaking every step of the way, and stand in front of him. "i didn't know we had such a good little artist among us," said grandpapa, wonderfully well pleased and smiling kindly at her. "that is nothing," said adela, in despair at ever stopping the flow of praise. "i spoiled it, and i'm going to do polly a better one." "nothing could be better, my dear," said grandpapa, blandly; "it is a fine likeness of phronsie." and then he questioned her as to her training in the art, and what she meant to do in the future, and where she intended to study and all that, getting an immense amount of information so artfully that adela never for an instant suspected his reason. all the time he was holding the sketch of phronsie in his hand, and intently gazing on it most of the time. "well," he said at last, "i won't keep you young people any longer,"--for jasper had thrown down the portfolio and joined the group,--"so run back to your own corner. dear me," pulling out his watch, "it's only twenty minutes to luncheon. how time does fly, to be sure! to-morrow morning, remember, we are off for antwerp." "o dear, dear!" exclaimed polly, as they ran back and bent over the portfolio again, "we haven't half seen amsterdam, jasper." "no, and you wouldn't if you stayed a year," observed jasper, wisely. "we must go over to the ryks museum once more," said polly. "yes, let us go there directly after luncheon," proposed jasper. "i know what you want to do, polly,--sit in front of 'the night watch' again." "yes, i do," said polly. "i couldn't go away without seeing that picture once more, jasper." "i don't like that 'night watch,'" said adela, "it's too dark and too smutty. i don't see why people like it so much." "well, i do like it very much," reiterated polly. "i know it's dreadfully dark, but the people in front seem to be stepping right out of the shadows, and to be alive. it seems to me they are just going to come right up toward me, as i sit there." "and that, after all, i suppose is the best thing one can say of a picture," said jasper. "and it is always the finest time to look at that picture in the afternoon, you know, so we will go there, polly, after luncheon." "and then phronsie will want to see that picture of a woman with a cat, i suppose," said polly. "dear me, who was it that painted that, jasper? i never can remember the artists' names." "metsu was it--jan--no, gabriel--metsu," answered jasper, wrinkling his brows. "neither can i remember all those fellows' names. yes, indeed, you'll find phronsie won't let us go there without paying respects to her special picture." "and then i suppose grandpapa will take us for a last drive in vondel park. oh, what nice times we have had, jasper king!" exclaimed polly, leaning back against the sofa, and clasping her hands restfully. "i just love amsterdam! and i hate to leave it!" "so you said about the hague, polly," observed jasper, turning to her with a little laugh. "well, wasn't it perfectly beautiful?" asked polly, flying up straight again. "just think of that dear 'house in the wood,' jasper." "i know it; you wanted to go there day after day," laughed jasper. "why, we only went there three times," said polly, "i'm sure, jasper. and the picture-gallery--" "that is in the maurit--rit, whatever is the rest of it? oh, i know," said jasper, guilty of interrupting, "mauritshuis, that is where the picture-gallery is, polly." "yes, that's it," echoed polly; "it's fine--paul potter's 'bull' is there." "oh, i want to see that picture very much!" exclaimed adela. "i've never been to the hague." "well, you'll go, perhaps, sometime," said polly, with an uncomfortable feeling that she ought not to enjoy the things that adela hadn't seen. "and you are going to antwerp with us to-morrow, anyway," she added, brightening up. "yes," said adela, "grandmamma is really going there. but that's all; for we go straight over to england then, and i sha'n't see you ever again, polly pepper," she finished gloomily. and that evening grandpapa sat down by little old mrs. gray in the parlour after dinner, and though he began about something as far distant as possible, before long he was talking about adela, and her wonderful talent. and the most surprising thing about it all was, that the little old lady, not intending to do it in the least, nor really comprehending how much she was telling, soon had him informed on all that he had set his heart on learning--how adela had just been taken from the paris school, because the little fortune her father had left, had somehow shrunk up, and there was no more money to keep her there. "i can't tell how it is, sir," she mourned, raising her faded eyes under the widow's cap to the kind old face above her, "i thought there was enough to educate my grandchild; it wasn't a big sum, but i supposed it was quite sufficient; but now it appears to be almost gone, and i have only just enough to keep me." she didn't add that the curate, her husband, when he crept into his grave, in the english churchyard, had left her nothing but the memory of his good name, her small means coming as a legacy from some of his grateful friends, they, too, long since dead. old mr. king made no comment, only passed on with a few little leading remarks when the information seemed to be on the wane. and then he said he thought he would like a game of backgammon, and he challenged the parson to come on and be beaten. and at an early hour the party broke up. "for remember," said grandpapa, for about the fiftieth time that day, "it's antwerp to-morrow!" so it was at antwerp that the whole splendid business was concluded. and when the story of it came out, there was a regular jubilee all around. for were not adela and adela's grandmother going with the king party around a bit more on the continent, and then off to paris again, and back to the beloved school--grandpapa's gift to the girl with the talent, to keep it alive! and the little widow, stunned at first by the magnitude of the gift, could do nothing but feebly protest, "oh, no, sir!" and put up both shaking hands to ward off the benefaction. "it's your duty, madam," said mr. king, sternly, at which she shrank down farther in her chair. "who knows what such talent will do in the world? and it's my duty to see that it is kept alive,--nothing more nor less than a question of duty." he stamped up and down the room vehemently, and the little old lady protesting that she wanted to do her duty,--she was sure she always did,--the hardest part was over, and old mr. king chuckled to himself triumphantly. "and now," cried polly, in a transport, when the first surprise was over, and everybody had settled down to the quiet enjoyment of it all, "we've really and truly got a celebrated artist all to ourselves," and she drew herself up in pride. "i'm not celebrated yet," said adela, with two little red spots on her cheeks, and with happy eyes on her grandmother. "you had better wait till i am." "oh, well; you will be," said polly, confidently, "sometime, and then we can say 'yes, we knew her when she was a girl,' and we'll go to picture-galleries the same as we do here, and see your name stuck up in the corners of the very best ones, adela." xvi "let us fly at those books" "now, polly, in antwerp," said jasper, "we can see rubens to perfection. won't we just revel in his paintings, though!" "won't we!" ejaculated polly. "i'm so glad grandpapa came here to this hotel." she leaned out of the window as she spoke. "under the very eaves of the cathedral, almost, isn't it?" said jasper, in satisfaction. the chimes just then pealed out. indeed, it seemed as if they did nothing but ring, so short were the intervals. but to polly and jasper they brought only echoes of delight. "there are forty of those bells, aren't there?" asked polly, resting her elbows on the window-sill. "i believe so," answered jasper, absently. polly looked at him curiously. "polly," he said abruptly, "do you know what i mean to do?" "no," said polly; "tell me, do, jasper." "well, i mean to sit right down and finish my book. i'm ashamed to confess that it's not up to date." "neither is mine," confessed polly. "well, now, that won't do," said jasper, decidedly. "you see if we once let those books get behindhand, we're lost. we never can catch up, in all this world." "we've had so much to do and to see," began polly. "that won't be any excuse that will amount to anything," said jasper, shaking his head. "let's fly at them and tackle them now, polly." "i say so, too," she cried, and deserting the window, they surrounded the centre-table, and soon had the big journals, photographs, and pictures, of every sort and size, the ink bottle, and library paste, scissors, and all the rest of the paraphernalia, spread out on it. "it's good that grandpapa is lying down and doesn't wish to go out," remarked polly, snipping away at a fearful rate, and pausing only to write down the dates and other bits of information around each picture, as she pasted it in. "now we'll have all this morning to finish these books up to to-day." "and none too much for the job," said jasper, sagely. "i declare i shall feel like enjoying myself twice as well, when once they're up to date. they've been hanging round my conscience every day since i slackened work on them." "and i am so glad you made me come away from that window, and set to work," said polly, "or i never would have commenced on mine to-day." "oh, yes, you would, i think, polly," said jasper. "well, we are at it now, and that's enough. now says i, i'm on book no. 2!" and he flapped down the cover of the completed one. "that's done, thank fortune!" "oh, jasper, have you the green one done?" asked polly. "why, i have three more pages of mine to do." "well, you'll catch up on the red one, i dare say," said jasper, opening no. 2. "we are getting on famously, aren't we, polly?" glancing over at her work. "yes, and i'm so glad you proposed this way to keep a journal," said polly, "to have them labelled 'my notes on my european journey,' and to have no. 1 green, and no. 2 red, and so on all through the rest of the colours." "that will help us to find them in a hurry," said jasper, "and keep them distinct; but i didn't propose it, polly, about the books. it was your plan as much as mine." "no." polly was guilty of contradicting. "i never should have thought of having the books of different colours and labelling them in that way, jasper." "well, you first thought of cutting out pictures and all sorts of items, and then writing the dates and whatever else we wanted to around the pictures," said jasper. "i'm sure that's more important than the title of the book, polly." "well, won't the boys love to see them," asked polly, suddenly, with a light in her eyes, ignoring the question as to her claim to the idea, "when we get home, jasper?" "won't they, though!" he responded, falling to work with a will. and so antwerp was entered with clear consciences as to journals, and a strict determination not to fall behind again on them. but polly slipped in so many of the beautiful photographs of the "descent from the cross," and the other two famous pictures by rubens, that her red book was closed the third day of their stay in the old town of antwerp; and the photographs had even overflowed into the yellow book, no. 3. they had a habit, most of their party, of dropping into the cathedral once a day at least, usually in the morning, and sometimes before service. and then when it was quiet, and before the ordinary throng of sight-seers trailed through, jasper would hire some chairs of one of the old women who always seem to be part and parcel of european cathedrals; and they would sit down before the painting, its wings spread over the dingy green background, and study what has made so many countless travellers take long and oftentimes wearisome journeys to see. and polly always wanted to go after that to see the "assumption," which is the altar-piece, and then the "elevation of the cross," both by rubens. "and i am sure, grandpapa," she would always say, "i like them as well as i do the famous painting." "and so do i, polly, in a way," grandpapa would invariably reply. "they are all marvellous, and that is all we can say, for no expressions could give the truth about them." after the cathedral, which they loved all the more,--"for being perched under its eaves" (as polly always said when speaking of the hotel that was for the time being their home),--polly and jasper set next in their regard the musã©e plantin-moretus. they were never tired of running down there to the marchã© du vendredi, until it became a regular question every day at dinner, "well, what more have you discovered at the musã©e plantin?" and old mr. king would often answer, for he was as interested as the young people, "marvellous things." and then he would expatiate on the antique furniture, the paintings, engravings, and tapestries, till the little doctor, fresh from his hospital visitations, would remark that it was just as good as if he had time to visit the place, to hear grandpapa tell it all. and adela would bring out her little sketches, which now she was not averse to showing, since everybody was so kind and sympathising, and there would be some little nook or corner of corridor or court that polly would fall upon and pronounce, "just perfect, and how did you get it?" "oh, i just drew a bit now and then when you were looking at things," said adela, carelessly. "everything just dances off your pencil," said polly, wishing she could draw, and wondering if it was any use for her to try to learn. and every afternoon they would go to drive as usual, very often around the docks, which gave them all a good idea of this wonderful port. they were never tired of watching the hydraulic cranes, of inspecting the dry docks; the intertwining railways by which all the docks, large and small, are connected, and the two basins, le petit and le grand bassin. "dear me!" exclaimed jasper, on one of these occasions, "i thought amsterdam docks were huge affairs, but antwerp!" and he left his sentence in mid-air, which was more impressive after all. but parson henderson liked the church of st. jacques best of all things in antwerp, and he used to steal away mornings to go there again and again. and he asked polly and jasper to go there with him one day, and polly begged to have adela go too, and they all came home as enthusiastic as he was. and then suddenly mr. king would wrench them all off from this delightful study and put his foot down peremptorily. "no more cathedrals for a time," he would declare; "my old head cannot carry any more just yet." and he would propose a little in-letting of fun. and then off they would go a-shopping, or to the zoological gardens; and they always had concerts, of course, wherever they were, for polly and jasper's sakes, if for no other reason. and by and by somebody announced, one fine morning, that they had been in antwerp a fortnight. and then one day mother fisher looked into polly's brown eyes, and finding them tired, she calmly tucked polly quietly in bed. "why, mamsie," declared polly, "i'm not sick." "no, and i'm not going to have you be," observed mrs. fisher, sensibly. "this running about sight-seeing is more tiresome, child, than you think for, and dreadfully unsettling unless you stop to rest a bit. no, jasper," as he knocked at the door, "polly can't go out to-day, at least not this morning. i've put her to bed." "is polly sick, mrs. fisher?" called jasper, in great concern. "no, not a bit," answered mrs. fisher, cheerily, "but she's tired. i've seen it coming on for two or three days back, so i'm going to take it in time." "and can't she come out, to-day?" asked jasper, dreadfully disappointed, with a mind full of the host of fine things they had planned to do. "no, jasper," said mother fisher, firmly, "not to jaunt about." so jasper took himself off, feeling sure, despite his disappointment, that polly's mother was right. and there was another person who wholly agreed with mother fisher, and that was old mr. king. "if you can stop those young folks from killing themselves running about to see everything, you'll do more than i can, mrs. fisher," he observed. "it makes no difference how long i plan to stay in a town, so as to do it restfully, if they won't rest." "that is a fact," said mother fisher. "well, that's my part to see that they do rest." "i don't envy you the job," said the old gentleman, drily. polly fidgeted and turned on her pillow, knowing mamsie was right, but unable to keep from thinking of the many beautiful plans that jasper and she had formed for that very morning, till her head spun round and round. "i can't get to sleep," she said at last. "don't try to," said her mother, dropping the heavy wool curtains till the room was quite dark; "that's the worst thing in the world to do, if you want to rest. just lie still and don't try to think of anything." "but i can't help thinking," said poor polly, feeling sure that jasper was dreadfully disappointed at the upsetting of all the plans. "never say you can't help anything, polly," said her mother, coming over to the bedside to lay a cool hand on polly's hot forehead, and then to drop a kiss there; and somehow the kiss did what all polly's trying had failed to accomplish. "that's good, mamsie," she said gratefully, and drew a long, restful breath. mother fisher went out and closed the door softly. it was just three o'clock that afternoon when polly woke up. "oh, i'm dreadfully ashamed!" she exclaimed when she found it out. "i've slept almost this whole day!" mother fisher smiled, "and it's the best day's work you've done in one long while, polly," she said. "and here's my girl, polly," cried grandpapa, when she ran down to him, and holding her at arm's length, he gazed into her bright eyes and on her rosy cheeks. "well, well, your mother's a clever woman, and no mistake." so polly knew if she didn't take care and not get tired again, she would be tucked into bed another fine day. it was a long summer morning, and they were sailing up the rhine, with the delights of brussels and cologne behind them, and in between the covers of the purple book, no. 4, polly had been looking at ruined castles and fortresses, at vine-clad terraces, and chã¢lets, until she turned to grandpapa with a sigh. "tired, polly, little woman?" he said, cuddling her up against him. "no, not tired, grandpapa," said polly, "but, oh, there's so very much of it over here in europe." "if you've found that out, you've learned the lesson early," said old mr. king, with a laugh. "as many times as i've been over here, there's nothing that surprises me so much as the presumption with which we travellers all rush about, expecting to compass all there is." "but we ought to see everything," said polly, "oughtn't we, grandpapa, when we've come so far to see it?" and she looked troubled. "there's just where you are wrong, polly, child," said old mr. king. "and this 'ought to see,' why, it's an old dragon, polly, lying in wait to destroy. don't you let it get hold of you, but take my advice and see only what you can make your own and remember. then you've got it." xvii polly wrote a nice little note "polly," said jasper, running down the stairs after her, on her way to the little garden on the terrace at heidelberg, "here's something for you; just came in the mail." "for me," said polly, as he put a little parcel in her hand. "yes," said jasper, "father just gave it to me." "what can it be!" cried polly, wonderingly; "oh, something from alexia or one of the other girls, most likely," and she tore off the outer wrapper. "it is registered," said jasper, "and mr. henderson got it out for you, father said; that can't be from one of the girls, polly," as the next layer of paper dropping off, disclosed the name of one of the biggest of big london jewellers across a wooden box. "what can it be!" gasped polly, tugging at the cover. "here--let me." jasper essayed to open it, but it stuck fast in the slide. another pull, and a little red leather case appeared in view. "what in the world--" began polly; "oh, it can't be for me!" and she stood staring at it, without any attempt to take it out. "it must be for you, polly," said jasper. "there couldn't be any other miss mary pepper, and besides it is addressed to father's care, and comes through our bankers,--see here." he stooped, and picked up the outer wrapper; it was torn almost in two, but the name and address was all there. so polly lifted out the little red leather case, still feeling very much as if she were opening a parcel belonging to some one else, and touching a spring at the end, the top flew up, and there on a white satin bed lay a little green enamelled watch set with diamonds. "o dear me!" exclaimed polly, tumbling back in the utmost distress, "now i _have_ got some one else's box, jasper. how very dreadful!" "let us go to father," said jasper, feeling this quite beyond him. "shut the box up tight, polly; it might tumble out on the way." "you carry it, do, jasper," begged polly, with an eye askance at the little case; and snapping the cover down, she set it in his hand. "all right, now, then," said jasper. "we must carry these papers, and wooden box, and the whole business. don't worry, polly," seeing her face, "father will straighten it out." "give me the wrapper, jasper, and the wooden box, if only you'll take the other," said polly, feeling very much depressed at coming into possession of other people's property; and jasper followed with the little enamelled watch. and grandpapa was just as much astounded as was polly herself; and all the family congregating in mother fisher's room, the little watch was handed about from one to the other, and everybody stared at everybody else, and the mystery thickened every moment. and the strangest thing about it was that no one opened the little back cover where any one might have read:-"polly pepper, from her grateful friend, arthur selwyn." --until the middle of the night, when jasper was awakened by a noise as if some one were prowling around in his father's room. he started up and listened. "it's i," said old mr. king's voice. so jasper threw on his wrapper, and hurried in. there sat his father, in dressing-gown and slippers, by the table, with the little enamelled watch in his hand. "of all the idiots, jasper," he exclaimed, "your father is the very worst. i've only just this moment thought to look in here." he flashed the little watch around in jasper's face; it was now opened at the back. "dear me!" cried jasper, for want of anything better to say, as he read the inscription. then he looked helplessly at his father. "earl or no earl, this piece of foolishness goes back," fumed old mr. king, getting out of his chair, and beginning to march back and forth across the floor as he always did when irritated. "yes, sir, the very first thing in the morning," he repeated, as vehemently as if jasper had contradicted him. "but, father--" began the boy. "yes, sir, it goes back, i tell you," repeated his father, now well wrought up to a passion. "what right has he to send such a piece of foolishness to my polly pepper? i can give her all the watches she needs. and this trumpery," pointing to the jewelled gift still lying in jasper's hand, "is utterly unfit for a schoolgirl. you know that yourself, jasper." "but polly was kind to him," began jasper, again. "kind to him!" snorted his father, "don't i know that? of course she was. polly pepper would be kind to any one. but that's no reason why the old idiot should presume to give her such a silly and expensive present as that. the man doesn't know anything who would do such a thing. and this one is queerer than the average." "as you say, he is eccentric," observed jasper, seeing here a loophole by which to get in a soothing word. "eccentric? that's a mild way to put it," fumed his father. "he's odder than dick's hatband. heaven save old england if many of her earls are like him. well, i shall just write the fellow a decent sort of a note, and then i'll pack the box off to him, and that'll be the end of the matter." "i'm afraid polly will be sorry," said jasper, feeling at a standstill so far as finding the right word was concerned, for everything he uttered only seemed to make matters worse. so he said the best thing he could think of, and stopped short. "sorry?" old mr. king came to a dead stop and glared at him. "you can't mean that polly pepper would like me to keep that watch. it's the last thing on earth that she would want, such a gewgaw as that. why, the child hates the sight of it already as much as i do." "i don't think polly would want the watch," said jasper, quickly. "i know she doesn't like it, and i'm sure i wish i could smash it myself," he added in a burst. "that's the most sensible thing you've said yet, jasper," said his father, with a grim smile. "but she would feel dreadfully for you to send it back, for don't you see, father, that would hurt his feelings? and polly would worry awfully to have that happen." old mr. king turned uneasily, took a few steps, then came back to throw himself into his chair again. "and this old gentleman has such ill attacks," said jasper, pursuing his advantage, "that it might be the very thing to bring one on if he should get that watch back." "say no more, say no more, jasper," said his father, shortly; "put this thing up for tonight, and then get back to bed again." and jasper knew that was the end of it. and the next day polly wrote a nice little note, thanking the old earl for his gift, and hoping that he was quite well; and with so many other pleasant things in it, that if she could have seen him when he received it, she would have been glad indeed. and then she handed the little red leather case to mr. king. "keep it for me, grandpapa," she said simply. "all right, polly, my child," he said. and then everybody forgot all about the episode and proceeded to enjoy heidelberg. "i'm so sorry for people who are not going to bayreuth, adela!" exclaimed polly, looking out of the compartment window, as the train steamed rapidly on from nuremberg where they had passed several days of delight revelling in the old town. adela, with her mind more on those past delights, had less attention for thoughts of music, so she answered absently, "yes. oh, polly, wasn't that pentagonal tower fine? what is it they call it in german?" but polly didn't hear, being absorbed in the wagner festival of which her mind was full, so jasper answered for her. "alt-nuenberg, you mean, the oldest building of all nuremberg." "yes," said adela, "well, i got two or three sketches of that tower." "did you?" cried jasper, "now that's good." "and i got that horrible old robber-knight,--what's his name?--sitting inside his cell, you know." "eppelein von gallingen," supplied jasper. "well, he was a horrible-looking customer, and that's a fact." "oh, i liked him," said adela, who rejoiced in ugly things if only picturesque, "and i got into one corner of the cell opposite him, so as to sketch it all as well as i could in such a dark place, and a lady came down the little stairs; you remember them." "i rather think i do," said jasper, grimly. "i was trying to get out of the way of a huge party of tourists, and i nearly broke my neck." "well, this lady came down the stairs. i could see her where i sat, but she couldn't see me, it was so dark in the cell; and she called to her husband--i guess he was her husband, because he looked so _triste_." adela often fell into french, from being so long at the paris school, and not from affectation in the least. "and she said, 'come, henry, let us see what is in there.' and she took one step in, and peered into that robber-knight's face; you know how he is sitting on a little stool, his black hair all round his face, staring at one." "yes, i do," said jasper; "he was uncanny enough, and in the darkness, his wax features, or whatever they were made of, were unpleasantly natural to the last degree." "well," said adela, "the lady gave a little squeal, and tumbled right back into her husband's arms. and i guess she stepped on his toes, for he squealed, too, though in a different way, and he gave her a little push and told her not to be a goose, that the man had been dead a thousand years more or less and couldn't hurt her. so then she stepped back, awfully scared though, i could see that, and then she caught sight of me, and she squealed again and jumped, and she screamed right out, 'oh, there's another in there, in the corner, and it glared at me.' and i didn't glare at all," finished adela, in disdain. "and then i guess he was scared, too, for he said, 'that old cell isn't worth seeing, anyway, and i'm going down into the torture chamber,' and they hurried off." "that torture chamber!" exclaimed jasper; "how any one can hang over those things, i don't see; for my part, i'd rather have my time somewhere else." "oh, i like them," said adela, in great satisfaction, "and i've got a picture of the 'iron virgin.'" "that was a good idea, to put the old scold into that wooden tub concern," said jasper; "there was some sense in that. i took a picture of it, and the old tower itself. i got a splendid photograph of it, if it will only develop well," he added. "oh, but the buildings--was ever anything so fine as those old nuremberg houses, with their high-peaked gables! i have quantities of them--thanks to my kodak." "what's this station, i wonder?" asked polly, as the train slowed up. two ladies on the platform made a sudden dash at their compartment. "all full," said the guard, waving them off. "that was fanny vanderburgh," gasped polly. "and her mother," added jasper. "who was it?" demanded old mr. king. his consternation, when they told him, was so great, that jasper racked his brains some way to avoid the meeting. "if once we were at bayreuth, it's possible that we might not come across them, father, for we could easily be lost in the crowd." "no such good luck," groaned old mr. king, which was proved true. for the first persons who walked into the hotel, as the manager was giving directions that the rooms reserved for their party should be shown them, were mrs. vanderburgh and her daughter. "oh!" exclaimed mrs. vanderburgh, as if her dearest friends were before her, "how glad i am to see you again, dear mr. king, and you all." she swept mrs. fisher and mrs. henderson lightly in her glance as if toleration only were to be observed toward them. "we have been perfectly _dã©solã©e_ without you, polly, my dear," she went on, with a charming smile. "fanny will be happy once more. she has been disconsolate ever since we parted, i assure you." polly made some sort of a reply, and greeted fanny, as of old times, on the steamer; but mrs. vanderburgh went on, all smiles and eagerness--so rapidly in her friendly intentions, that it boded ill for the future peace of mr. king's party. so mr. king broke into the torrent of words at once, without any more scruple. "and now, mrs. vanderburgh, if you will excuse us, we are quite tired, and are going to our rooms." and he bowed himself off, and of course his family followed; the next moment fanny and her mother were alone. "if this is to be the way," said mrs. vanderburgh, with a savage little laugh, "we might much better have stayed in paris, for i never should have thought, as you know, fanny, of coming to this out-of-the-way place, seeing that i don't care for the music, if i hadn't heard them say on the steamer that this was their date here." "well, i wish that i was at home," declared fanny, passionately, "and i never, never will come to europe, mamma, again as long as i live. you are always chasing after people who run away from you, and those who like me, you won't let me speak to." "well, i shall be thankful for the day when you are once in society," said her mother, every shred of self-control now gone; "and i shall sell my tickets for this old wagner festival, and go back to paris to-morrow morning." at that, fanny broke into a dismal fit of complaining, which continued all the time they were dressing for dinner, and getting settled in their room, and then at intervals through that meal. polly looked over at her gloomy face, three tables off, and her own fell. "you are not eating anything, child," said grandpapa, presently, with a keen glance at her. "let me order something more." "oh, no, grandpapa," and "yes, i will," she cried, incoherently, making a great effort to enjoy the nice things he piled on her plate. jasper followed her glance as it rested on the vanderburgh table. "they will spoil everything," he thought. "and to think it should happen at bayreuth." "yes, we are going," said fanny vanderburgh as they met after dinner in the corridor. her eyes were swollen, and she twisted her handkerchief in her fingers. "and i did--did--did--" here she broke down and sobbed--"so want to hear the wagner operas." "don't cry," begged polly, quite shocked. "oh, fanny, why can't you stay? how very dreadful to lose the wagner music!" polly could think of no worse calamity that could befall one. "mamma doesn't know anybody here except your party," mumbled fanny, "and she's upset, and declares that we must go back to paris to-morrow. oh, polly pepper, i hate paris," she exploded. and then sobbed worse than ever. "wait here," said polly, "till i come back." then she ran on light feet to grandpapa, just settling behind a newspaper in a corner of the general reading room. "grandpapa, dear, may i speak to you a minute?" asked polly, with a woful feeling at her heart. it seemed as if he must hear it beating. "why, yes, child, to be sure," said mr. king, quite surprised at her manner. "what is it?" and he laid aside his paper and smiled reassuringly. but polly's heart sank worse than ever. "grandpapa," she began desperately, "fanny vanderburgh is feeling dreadfully." "and i should think she would with such a mother," exclaimed the old gentleman, but in a guarded tone. "well, what of it, polly?" "grandpapa," said polly, "she says her mother is going to take her back to paris tomorrow morning." "how very fine!" exclaimed mr. king, approvingly; "that is the best thing i have heard yet. always bring me such good news, polly, and i will lay down my newspapers willingly any time." and he gave a pleased little laugh. "but, grandpapa--" and polly's face drooped, and there was such a sad little note in her voice, that the laugh dropped out of his. "fanny wanted above all things to hear the wagner operas--just think of losing those!" polly clasped her hands, and every bit of colour flew from her cheek. "well, what can i do about it?" asked the old gentleman, in a great state of perturbation. "speak out, child, and tell me what you want." "only if i can be pleasant to fanny," said polly, a wave of colour rushing over her face. "i mean if i may go with her? can i, grandpapa, this very evening, just as if--" she hesitated. "as if what, polly?" "as if we all liked them," finished polly, feeling as if the words must be said. there was an awful pause in which polly had all she could do to keep from rushing from the room. then grandpapa said, "if you can stand it, polly, you may do as you like, but i warn you to keep them away from me." and he went back to his paper. xviii bayreuth and old friends jasper turned around to gaze at the vast audience filing into the wagner opera house before he took his seat. "this makes me think of oberammergau, polly," he said. "to think you've seen the passion play," she cried, with glowing cheeks. "that was when i was such a little chap," said jasper, "ages ago,--nine years, polly pepper,--just think; so it will be as good as new next year. father is thinking a good deal of taking you there next summer." "jasper," cried polly, her cheeks all in a glow, and regardless of next neighbours, "what can i ever do to repay your father for being so very good to me and to all of us?" "why, you can keep on making him comfortable, just as you are doing now, polly," replied jasper. "he said yesterday it made him grow younger every minute to look at you. and you know he's never sick now, and he was always having those bad attacks. don't you remember when we first came to hingham, polly?" as they took their seats. "o dear me, i guess i do, jasper, and how you saved phronsie from being carried off by the big organ man," and she shivered even now at this lapse of years. "and all the splendid times at badgertown and the little brown--" just then a long hand came in between the people in the seat back of them. "i'm no end glad to see you!" exclaimed a voice. it was tom selwyn. "i'm going over into that vacant seat." tom forgot his fear of polly and his hatred of girls generally, and rushed around the aisle to plunge awkwardly into the seat just back of jasper. "i'll stay here till the person comes." his long arms came in contact with several obstacles, such as sundry backs and shoulders in his progress, but he had no time to consider such small things or to notice the black looks he got in consequence. "now, isn't this jolly!" he exclaimed. jasper was guilty of staring at him; there seemed such a change in the boy, he could hardly believe it was really and truly tom selwyn. "my grandfather is well now, and he would have sent some message to you if he knew i was to run across you," went on tom, looking at jasper, but meaning polly; "did you get a little trifle he sent you some weeks ago? he's been in a funk about it because he didn't hear." wasn't polly glad that her little note was on the way, and perhaps in the old gentleman's hands at this very time! "yes," she said, "and he was very kind and--" tom fumbled his tickets all the while, and broke in abruptly. "i didn't know as you'd like it, but it made him sick not to do it, and so the thing went. glad it didn't make you mad," he ended suddenly. "he meant it all right, i'm sure," said jasper, seeing that polly couldn't speak. "didn't he though!" exclaimed tom. "and it didn't come till the day we left heidelberg," said polly, finding her tongue, and speaking rapidly to explain the delay; "that was a week ago." "whew!" whistled tom; "oh, beg pardon!" for several people turned around and stared; so he ducked his head, and was mostly lost to view for a breathing space. when he thought they had forgotten him, he bobbed it up. "why, grandfather picked it out--had a bushel of things sent up from london to choose from, you know, weeks and weeks ago, as soon as he got up to london. that's no end queer." "no," said polly, "it didn't come till then. and i wrote to your grandfather the next morning and thanked him." "now you did!" exclaimed tom, in huge delight, and slapping his knee with one long hand. "that's no end good of you." he couldn't conceal how glad he was, and grinned all over his face. at this moment mrs. vanderburgh, who, seeing fanny so happy again, concluded to stay on the strength of resurrected hopes of polly pepper's friendship, sailed into the opera house, with her daughter. and glancing across the aisle, for their seats were at the side, she caught sight of the party she was looking for, and there was a face she knew, but wasn't looking for. "fanny," she cried, clutching her arm, "there is tom selwyn! well, now we _are_ in luck!" and tom saw her, and again he ducked, but for a different reason. when he raised his head, he glanced cautiously in the direction he dreaded. "there's that horrible person," he whispered in jasper's ear. "who?" asked jasper, in astonishment. "that woman on the steamer--you knew her--and she was looking straight at us. duck for your life, jasper king!" "oh, that," said jasper, coolly, following the bob of his head. "yes, mrs. vanderburgh, i know; and she is at our hotel." "the dickens! and you're alive!" tom raised his head and regarded him as a curiosity. "very much so," answered jasper, smothering a laugh; "well, we mustn't talk any more." polly was sitting straight, her hands folded in her lap, with no thought for audience, or anything but what she was to see and hear on that wonderful stage. old mr. king leaned past parson henderson, and gazed with the greatest satisfaction at her absorbed face. "i pity anybody," he said to himself, "who hasn't some little peppers to take about; i only wish i had the boys, too. but fancy joel listening to 'parsifal'!" this idea completely overcame him, and he settled back into his seat with a grim smile. polly never knew that mamsie, with a happy look in her black eyes, was regarding her intently, too, nor that many a glance was given to the young girl whose colour came and went in her cheek, nor that jasper sometimes spoke a low word or two. she was lost in the entrancing world of mystery and legend borne upward by the grand music, and she scarcely moved. "well, polly." old mr. king was smiling at her and holding out his hand. the curtains had closed for the intermission, and all the people were getting out of their chairs. polly sat still and drew a long breath. "oh, grandpapa, must we go?" "yes, indeed, i hope so," answered mr. king, with a little laugh. "we shall have none too much time for our supper, polly, as it is." polly got out of her seat, very much wishing that supper was not one of the needful things of life. "it almost seems wicked to think of eating, jasper," she said, as they picked up their hats and capes, where he had tucked them under the seats. "it would be more wicked not to eat," said jasper, with a little laugh, "and i think you'll find some supper tastes good, when we get fairly at it, polly." "i suppose so," said polly, feeling dreadfully stiff in her feet, and beginning to wish she could have a good run. "and what we should do with you if we didn't stop for supper," observed jasper, snapping the case to the opera-glasses, "i'm sure i don't know, polly. i spoke to you three times, and you didn't hear me once." "oh, jasper!" exclaimed polly, in horror, pausing as she was pinning on her big, flowered hat, with the roses all around the brim; "o dear me, there it goes!" as the hat spun over into the next row. "i'll get it," cried tom selwyn, vaulting over the tops of the seats before jasper had a chance to try for it. just then mrs. vanderburgh, who hadn't heard any more of the opera than could fit itself into her lively plans for the campaign she laid out to accomplish in siege of tom selwyn, pushed and elbowed herself along. "of course the earl isn't here--and the boy is alone, and dreadfully taken with jasper king, so i can manage him. and once getting him, i'll soon have the earl to recognise me as a relation." then, oh! visions of the golden dream of bliss when she could visit such titled kin in old england, and report it all when at home in new york, filled her head. and with her mind eaten up with it, she pushed rudely by a plain, somewhat dowdy-looking woman who obstructed her way. the woman raised a quiet, yet protesting face; but mrs. vanderburgh, related to an earl, surveyed her haughtily, and pressed on. "excuse me," said the plain-looking woman, "but it is impossible for me to move; the people are coming out this way, madam, and--" "and i must get by," answered mrs. vanderburgh, interrupting, and wriggling past as well as she could. but the lace on her flowing sleeve catching on the umbrella handle of a stout german coming the other way, she tore it half across. a dark flush of anger rushed over her face, and she vented all her spite on the plain-looking person in her path. "if you had moved, this wouldn't have happened!" she exclaimed. "it was impossible for me to do so," replied the woman, just as quietly as ever. just then tom selwyn rushed up: "mother!" to the plain-looking woman; "well, we _did_ get separated! oh!" and seeing her companion he plunged back. fanny vanderburgh, well in the rear, a party of young german girls impeding the way, felt her mother's grasp, and looked around. "oh, you've torn your lace sleeve!" she exclaimed, supposing the black looks referred to that accident. "torn my sleeve!" echoed her mother, irately, "that's a trifle," while fanny stared in surprise, knowing, by past experience, that much lesser accidents had made black days for her; "i'm the unluckiest person alive. and think of all the money your father has given me to spend, and it won't do any good. fanny, i'm going straight back to paris, as quickly as possible." "why, i'm having a good time now," said fanny, just beginning to enjoy herself. "polly pepper is real nice to me. i don't want to go home a bit." all this as they slowly filed out in the throng. "well, you're going; and, oh, those peppers and those kings, i'm sick to death of their names," muttered her mother, frowning on her. "why can't we wait for polly?" asked fanny, not catching the last words, and pausing to look back. "because you can't, that's why. and never say a word about that polly pepper or any of the rest of that crowd," commanded her mother, trying to hurry on. "polly pepper is the sweetest girl--the very dearest," declared fanny, in a passion, over her mother's shoulder, "and you know it, mamma." "well, i won't have you going with her, anyway, nor with any of them," answered her mother, shortly. "because you can't," echoed fanny, in her turn, and with a malicious little laugh. "don't i know? it's the same old story--those you chase after, run away from you. you've been chasing, mamma; you needn't tell me." "oh, jasper," polly was saying, "did you really speak to me?" "three times," said jasper, with a laugh, "but you couldn't answer, for you didn't hear me." "no," said polly, "i didn't, jasper." "and i shouldn't have spoken, for it isn't, of course, allowed. but i couldn't help it, polly, it was so splendid," and his eyes kindled. "and you didn't seem to breathe or to move." "i don't feel as if i had done much of either," said polly, laughing. "isn't it good to take a long stretch? and oh, don't you wish we could run, jasper?" he burst into another gay little laugh, as he picked up the rest of the things. "i thought so, polly, and you'll want some supper yet. well, here is tom coming back again." "indeed i shall, and a big one, jasper," said polly, laughing, "for i am dreadfully hungry." "come to supper with us," jasper said socially over the backs of several people, in response to tom selwyn's furious telegraphing. "can't," said tom, bobbing his head; "must stay with my mother. thought you never would turn around." jasper looked his surprise, and involuntarily glanced by tom. "yes, my mother's here; we've got separated, she's gone ahead," said tom, jerking his head toward the nearest exit. "she says we'll go and see you. where?" "hotel sonne," said jasper. tom disappeared--rushed off to his mother to jerk himself away to a convenient waiting-place till the disagreeable woman on the steamer had melted into space. then he flew back, and in incoherent sentences made mrs. selwyn comprehend who she was, and the whole situation. the earl's daughter was a true british matron, and preserved a quiet, immovable countenance; only a grim smile passed over it now and then. at last she remarked coolly, as if commenting on the weather, "i don't believe she will trouble you, my son." never a word about the lace episode or the crowding process. tom sniffed uneasily. "you haven't crossed on a steamer with her, mother." "never you mind." mrs. selwyn gave him a pat on the back. "tom, let us talk about those nice people," as they filed slowly out with the crowd. not a word did tom lisp about the invitation to supper, but tucked his mother's arm loyally within his own. "sorry i forgot to engage a table!" he exclaimed, as they entered the restaurant. "why, there is tom!" exclaimed jasper, craning his neck as his party were about to sit down. "father, tom selwyn is here with his mother, and they can't find places, i almost know, and we might have two more chairs easily at our table," he hurried it all out. "what is all this about?" demanded old mr. king; "whom are you talking about, pray tell, jasper?" so jasper ran around to his father's chair and explained. the end of it all was, that he soon hurried off, being introduced to tom's mother, to whom he presented his father's compliments, and would she do him the favour to join their party? and in ten minutes, every one felt well acquainted with the english matron, and entirely forgot that she was an earl's daughter. and tom acquitted himself well, and got on famously with old mr. king. but he didn't dare talk to polly, but edged away whenever there was the least chance of matters falling out so that he would have to. and then it came out that the selwyns thought of going to munich and down to lucerne. "and the bernese alps," put in jasper, across the table. "how is that, tom, for an outing? can't you do it?" for it transpired that mrs. selwyn had left the other children, two girls and two smaller boys, with their grandfather, on the english estate. they all called this place home since the father was in a business in australia that required many long visits, and tom's mother had decided that he should have a bit of a vacation with her, so they had packed up and off, taking in the wagner festival first, and here they were. "yes," after she considered a bit, "we can do that. join the party and then over to lucerne, and perhaps take in the bernese alps." only supposing that polly's letter hadn't gone to the little old earl, jasper kept saying over and over to himself. just for one minute, suppose it! and in the midst of it all, the horn sounded; the intermission was over, chairs were pushed back hastily, and all flocked off. no one must be late, and there must be no noisy or bustling entrances into the opera house. and if polly pepper sat entranced through the rest of the matchless performance, tom selwyn--three seats back and off to the left--was just as quietly happy. but he wasn't thinking so much of "parsifal" as might have been possible. "it's no end fine of the little mother to say 'yes,'" he kept running over and over to himself, with a satisfied glance at the quiet face under the plain, english bonnet. "it's funny we don't see fanny vanderburgh anywhere," said polly, as they went through the corridor and up the hotel stairs that night. "she and her mother probably came home earlier," said mrs. fisher; "you know we were delayed, waiting for our carriages. you will see her in the morning, polly." but in the morning, it was ten o'clock before mr. king's party gathered for breakfast, for grandpapa always counselled sleeping late when out the night before. and when polly did slip into her chair, there was a little note lying on her plate. "fanny vanderburgh has gone," she said, and turned quite pale. it was too true. mrs. vanderburgh had sold her two tickets to the "flying dutchman," to be presented that evening, and departed from bayreuth. "it's no use, polly," fanny's note ran, "trying to make me have a good time. mamma says we are to go back to paris; and go we must. you've been lovely, and i thank you ever so much, and good-by." mother fisher found polly, a half-hour later, curled up in a corner of the old sofa in her room, her face pressed into the cushion. "why, polly," exclaimed her mother, seeing the shaking shoulders, and, bending over her, she smoothed the brown hair gently, "this isn't right, child--" polly sprang up suddenly and threw her arms around her mother's neck. her face was wet with tears, and she sobbed out, "oh, if i'd done more for her, mamsie, or been pleasant to mrs. vanderburgh, she might have stayed." "you haven't any call to worry, polly, child," said mother fisher, firmly. "you did all that could be done--and remember one thing, it's very wrong to trouble others as you certainly will if you give way to your feelings in this manner." "mamsie," exclaimed polly, suddenly wiping away the trail of tears from her cheek, "i won't cry a single bit more. you can trust me, mamsie, i truly won't." "trust you," said mother fisher, with a proud look in her black eyes, "i can trust you ever and always, polly; and now run to mr. king and let him see a bright face, for he's worrying about you, polly." xix mr. king has a little plan for polly "oh jasper," exclaimed polly, clasping her hands, "do you suppose we'll ever get to a piano where it's all alone, and nobody wants to play on it--" "but just you and i," finished jasper. "i declare i don't know. you see we don't stay still long enough in any one place to hire a decent one; and besides, father said, when we started, that it was better for us to rest and travel about without any practising this summer. you know he did, polly." "i know it," said polly; "but oh, if we could just play once in a while," she added mournfully. "well, we can't," said jasper, savagely; "you know we tried that at brussels, when we thought everybody had gone off. and those half a dozen idiots came and stared at us through the glass door." "and then they came in," added polly, with a little shiver at the recollection. "but that big fat man with the black beard was the worst, jasper." she glanced around as if she expected to see him coming down the long parlour. "well, he didn't hear much; there didn't any of them," said jasper; "that's some small satisfaction, because you hopped off the piano stool and ran away." "you ran just as fast, i'm sure, jasper," said polly, with a little laugh. "well, perhaps i did," confessed jasper, bursting into a laugh. "who wouldn't run with a lot of staring idiots flying at one?" he brought up in disgust. "and we forgot the music," went on polly, deep in the reminiscence, "and we wouldn't go back--don't you remember?--until the big fat man with the dreadful black beard had gone, for he'd picked it up and been looking at it." "yes, i remember all about it," said jasper; "dear me, what a time we had! it's enough to make one wish that the summer was all over, and that we were fairly settled in dresden," he added gloomily, as he saw her face. "oh, no," exclaimed polly, quickly, and quite shocked to see the mischief that she had done. "we wouldn't have the beautiful summer go a bit faster, jasper. why, that would be too dreadful to think of." "but you want to get at your music, polly." "i'll fly at it when the time comes," cried polly, with a wise little nod, "never you fear, jasper. now come on; let's get phronsie and go out and see the shops." old mr. king in a nook behind the curtain, dropped the newspaper in his lap and thought a bit. "best to wait till we get to lucerne," he said to himself, nodding his white head; "then, says i, polly, my child, you shall have your piano." and when their party were settling down in the hotel at lucerne, ending the beautiful days of travel after leaving munich, jasper's father called him abruptly. "see here, my boy." "what is it, father?" asked jasper, wonderingly; "the luggage is all right; it's gone up to the rooms--all except the portmanteau, and francis will go down to the station and straighten that out." "i'm not in the least troubled in regard to the luggage, jasper," replied his father, testily; "it's something much more important than the luggage question about which i wish to speak to you." jasper stared, well knowing his father's views in regard to the luggage question. "the first thing that you must unpack--the very first," old mr. king was saying, "is your music. don't wait a minute, jasper, but go and get it. and then call polly, and--" "why, father," exclaimed jasper, "there isn't a single place to play in. you don't know how people stare if we touch the piano. we can't here, father; there's such a crowd in this hotel." "you do just as i say, jasper," commanded his father. "and tell polly to get her music; and then do you two go to the little room out of the big parlour, and play to your hearts' content." and he burst into a hearty laugh at jasper's face, as he dangled a key at the end of a string, before him. "now i do believe, father, that you've got polly a piano and a little room to play in," cried jasper, joyfully, and pouncing on the key. "you go along and do as i tell you," said mr. king, mightily pleased at the success of his little plan. "and don't you tell polly pepper one word until she has taken her music down in the little room," as jasper bounded off on the wings of the wind. and in that very hotel was the big fat man with the dreadful black beard, resting after a long season of hard work. but polly and jasper wouldn't have cared had they known it, as long as they had their own delightful little music room to themselves--as they played over and over all the dear old pieces, and polly revelled in everything that she was so afraid she had forgotten. "i really haven't lost it, jasper!" she would exclaim radiantly, after finishing a concerto, and dropping her hands idly on the keys. "and i was _so_ afraid i'd forgotten it entirely. just think, i haven't played that for three months, jasper king." "well, you haven't forgotten a bit of it," declared jasper, just as glad as she was. "you didn't make any mistakes, hardly, polly." "oh, yes, i made some," said polly, honestly, whirling around on the piano stool to look at him. "oh, well, only little bits of ones," said jasper; "those don't signify. i wish father could have heard that concerto. what a pity he went out just before you began it." but somebody else, on the other side of the partition between the little music room and the big parlour, had heard, and he pulled his black beard thoughtfully with his long fingers, then pricked up his ears to hear more. and it was funny how, almost every day, whenever the first notes on the piano struck up in mr. king's little music room, the big fat man, who was so tired with his season of hard work, never seemed to think that he could rest as well as in that particular corner up against that partition. and no matter what book or paper he had in his hand, he always dropped it and fell to pulling his black beard with his long fingers, before the music was finished. and then, "oh, polly, come child, you have played long enough," from mother fisher on the other side of the partition; or old mr. king would say, "no more practising to-day, miss polly;" or phronsie would pipe out, "polly, grandpapa is going to take us out on the lake; do come, polly." and then it was funnier yet to see how suddenly the big fat man with the dreadful black beard seemed to find that particular corner by that partition a very tiresome place. and as the piano clicked down its cover, he would yawn, and get up and say something in very rapid german to himself, and off he would go, forgetting all about his book or newspaper, which, very likely, would tumble to the floor, and flap away by itself till somebody came and picked it up and set it on the sofa. one morning old mr. king, hurrying along with his batch of english mail to enjoy opening it in the little music room where jasper and polly were playing a duet, ran up suddenly against a fat heavy body coming around an opposite angle. "oh, i beg your pardon, sir," exclaimed mr. king in great distress, the more so as he saw that the stranger's glasses were knocked off his nose by the collision. "i do trust they are not broken," he added, in a concerned tone, endeavouring to pick them up. but the big man was before him. "not a beet, not a beet," he declared, adjusting them on his nose again. then he suddenly grasped old mr. king's hand. "and i be very glad, sir, _very_ glad indeed, dat i haf roon into you." "indeed!" exclaimed mr. king, releasing his hand instantly, and all the concern dropping out of his face. "_very_ glad indeed!" repeated the big man, heartily; then he pulled his black beard, and stood quite still a moment. "if you have nothing more to remark, sir," said mr. king, haughtily, "perhaps you will be kind enough to stand out of my way, and allow me to pass. and it would be as well for you to observe more care in the future, sir, both in regard to your feet, and your tongue, sir." "yes, i am _very_ glad," began the big man again, who hadn't even heard mr. king's tirade, "for now--" and he gave his black beard a final twitch, and his eyes suddenly lightened with a smile that ran all over his face, "i can speak to you of dis ting dat is in my mind. your--" "i want to hear nothing of what is on your mind," declared old mr. king, now thoroughly angry. "stand aside, fellow, and let me pass," he commanded, in a towering passion. the big man stared in astonishment into the angry face, the smile dropping out of his own. "i beg to _ex_cuse myself," he said, with a deep bow, and a wave of his long fingers. "will you pass?" and he moved up as tightly as possible to the wall. old mr. king went into the little music room in a furious rage, and half an hour afterward polly and jasper, pausing to look around, saw him tossing and tumbling his letters and newspapers about on the table, fuming to himself all the while. "father has had bad news!" exclaimed jasper, turning pale; "something about his agents, probably." "o dear me! and here we have been playing," cried polly in remorse, every vestige of colour flying from her cheek. "well, we didn't know," said jasper, quickly. "but what can we do now, polly?" he turned to her appealingly. "i don't know," she was just going to say helplessly, but jasper's face made her see that something must be done. "let's go and tell him we are sorry," she said; "that's what mamsie always liked best if she felt badly." so the two crept up behind old mr. king's chair: "father, i'm _so_ sorry," and "dear grandpapa, i'm _so_ sorry," and polly put both arms around his neck suddenly. "eh--what?" cried mr. king, sitting bolt upright in astonishment. "oh, bless me, children, i thought you were playing on the piano." "we were," said polly, hurrying around to the side of the table, her face quite rosy now, "but we didn't know--" and she stopped short, unable to find another word. "--that you felt badly," finished jasper. "oh, father, we didn't know that you'd got bad news." he laid his hand as he spoke on the pile of tumbled-up letters. "bad news!" ejaculated old mr. king, in perplexity, and looking from one to the other. "no, we didn't," repeated polly, clasping her hands. "dear grandpapa, we truly didn't, or we wouldn't have kept on playing all this time." mr. king put back his head and laughed long and loud, as he hadn't done for many a day, his ill humour dropping off in the midst of it. "the letters are all right," he said, wiping his eyes, "never had better news. it was an impertinent fellow i met out there, that's all." "father, who has dared--" began jasper, with flashing eyes. "don't you worry, my boy; it's all right, the fellow got his quietus; besides, he wasn't worth minding," said mr. king, carelessly. "why, here is your mother," turning to polly. "now then, mrs. fisher, what is it; for i see by your eye some plan is on the carpet." "yes, there is," said mrs. fisher, coming in with a smile, "the doctor is going to take a day off." "is that really so?" cried mr. king, with a little laugh. "what! not even going to visit one of his beloved hospitals?" while polly exclaimed, radiantly, "oh, how perfectly elegant! now we'll have papa-doctor for a whole long day!" phronsie, who had been close to her mother's gown during the delivery of this important news, clasped her hands in a quiet rapture, while polly exclaimed, "now, grandpapa, can it be the rigi?" jasper echoing the cry heartily. "i suppose it is to be the rigi," assented old mr. king, leaning back in his chair to survey them all, "that is, if mrs. fisher approves. we'll let you pick out the jaunting place," turning to her, "seeing that it is the doctor's holiday." "i know that dr. fisher wants very much to go up the rigi," said his wife, in great satisfaction at the turn the plans were taking. "and we'll stay over night, father," cried jasper, "won't we?" "stay over night?" repeated his father, "i should say so. why, what would be the good of our going up at all, pray tell, if we didn't devote that much time to it and have a try for a sunrise?" "we're to go up the rigi!" exclaimed polly, giving a little whirl, and beginning to dance around the room, repeating, "we're to go up the rigi," exactly as if nobody knew it, and she was telling perfectly fresh news. "here--that dance looks awfully good--wait for me," cried jasper. and seizing her hands, they spun round and round, phronsie scuttling after them, crying, "take me, too. i want to dance, polly." "so you shall," cried polly and jasper together; so they made a little ring of three, and away they went, polly this time crying, "just think, we're going to have the most beautiful sunrise in all this world." and on the other side of the partition, in his accustomed nook in the big parlour, the big fat man with the black beard sat. he pulled this same black beard thoughtfully a bit, when mr. king was telling about the impertinent fellow. then he smiled and jabbered away to himself very hard in german; and it wasn't till the king party hurried off to get ready for the rigi trip, that he got up and sauntered off. and almost the first person that old mr. king saw on getting his party into a car on the funicular railway, was the "impertinent fellow," also bound for the top of the rigi. "oh, grandpapa!" polly got out of her seat and hurried to him with cheeks aflame, when midway up. "i know--isn't it wonderful!" cried grandpapa, happy in her pleasure, and finding it all just as marvellous as if he hadn't made the ascent several times. "yes, yes!" cried polly. "it is all perfectly splendid, grandpapa; but oh, i mean, _did_ you hear what that lady said?" and she dropped her voice, and put her mouth close to grandpapa's ear. "i'm sure i didn't," said old mr. king, carelessly, "and i'm free to confess i'm honestly glad of it. for if there is one thing i detest more than another, polly, my girl, it is to hear people, especially women, rave and gush over the scenery." "oh, she didn't rave and gush," cried polly, in a whisper, afraid that the lady heard. "she said, grandpapa, that herr bauricke is at lucerne; just think, grandpapa, the great herr bauricke!" she took her mouth away from the old gentleman's ear in order to look in his face. "polly, polly," called jasper from his seat on the farther end, "you are losing all this," as the train rounded a curve. "do come back." "now, i'm glad of that," exclaimed grandpapa, in a tone of the greatest satisfaction, "for i can ask him about the music masters in dresden and get his advice, and be all prepared before we go there for the winter to secure the very best." "and i can see him, and perhaps hear him play," breathed polly, in an awestruck tone, quite lost to scenery and everything else. jasper leaned forward and stared at her in amazement. then he slipped out of his seat, and made his way up to them to find out what it was all about. "how did she know?" he asked, as polly told all she knew; "i'm just going to ask her." but the lady, who had caught snatches of the conversation, though she hadn't heard mr. king's part of it, very obligingly leaned forward in her seat and told all she knew. and by the time this was done, they all knew that the information was in the american paper printed in paris, and circulated all over the continent, and that the lady had read it that very morning just before setting out. "the only time i missed reading that paper," observed old mr. king, regretfully. "and he is staying at our very hotel," finished the lady, "for i have seen you, sir, with your party there." "another stroke of good luck," thought old mr. king, "and quite easy to obtain the information i want as to a master for polly and jasper." "now then, children," he said to the two hanging on the conversation, "run back to your seats and enjoy the view. this news of ours will keep." so polly and jasper ran back obediently, but every step of the toilsome ascent by which the car pushed its way to the wonderful heights above, polly saw everything with the words, "herr bauricke is at _our_ hotel," ringing through her ears; and she sat as in a maze. jasper was nearly as bad. and then everybody was pouring out of the cars and rushing for the hotel on the summit; all but mr. king's party and a few others, who had their rooms engaged by telegraphing up. when they reached the big central hall there was a knot of germans all talking together, and on the outside fringe of this knot, people were standing around and staring at the central figure. suddenly some one darted away from this outer circle and dashed up to them. it was the lady from their hotel. "i knew you'd want to know," she exclaimed breathlessly; "that's herr bauricke himself--he came up on our train--just think of it!--the big man in the middle with the black beard." she pointed an excited finger at the knot of germans. old mr. king followed the course of the finger, and saw his "impertinent fellow who wasn't worth minding." xx "i should make him happy," said phronsie polly got jasper away into a side corridor by a beseeching little pull on his sleeve. "oh, just to think," she mourned, "i called that great man such unpleasant things--that he was big and fat, and--oh, oh!" "well, he _is_ big and fat," declared jasper. "we can't say he isn't, polly." "but i meant it all against him," said polly, shaking her head. "you know i did, jasper," she added remorsefully. "yes, we neither of us liked him," said jasper, "and that's the honest truth, polly." "and to think it was that _great_ herr bauricke!" exclaimed polly. then her feelings overcame her, and she sank down on the cushioned seat in the angle. jasper sat down beside her. "i suppose it won't do to say anything about people after this until we know them. will it, polly?" "jasper," declared polly, clasping her hands, while the rosy colour flew over her cheek, "i'm never going to say a single--" just then the big form of herr bauricke loomed up before them, as he turned into the corridor. polly shrank up in her corner as small as she could, wishing she was as little as phronsie, and could hop up and run away. herr bauricke turned his sharp eyes on them for a moment, hesitated, then came directly up, and stopped in front of them. "i meant--i _in_tended to speak to your grandfader first. dat not seem best _now_." the great man was really talking to them, and polly held her breath, not daring to look into his face, but keeping her gaze on his wonderful fingers. "my child," those wonderful fingers seized her own, and clasped them tightly, "you have great promise, mind you, you know only a leedle now, and you must work--_work--work_." he brought it out so sharply, that the last word was fairly shrill. "but i tink you will," he added kindly, dropping his tone. then he laid her fingers gently in her lap. "oh, she does, sir," exclaimed jasper, finding his tongue first, for polly was beyond speaking. "polly works all the time she can." "dat is right." herr bauricke bobbed his head in approval, so that his spectacles almost fell off. "i hear dat, in de music she play. no leedle girl play like dat, who doesn't work. i will hear you sometime at de hotel," he added abruptly, "and tell you some tings dat will help you. to-morrow, maybe, when we go down from dis place, eh?" "oh, sir," exclaimed polly, springing off from her cushion before jasper could stop her. "you are _so_ good--but--but--i cannot," then her breath gave out, and she stood quite still. "eh?" exclaimed herr bauricke, and pushing up his spectacles to stare into her flushed and troubled face. "perhaps i not make my meaning clear; i mean i _geef_ you of my time and my best _ad_vice. now you understand--eh?" he included jasper in his puzzled glance. "yes, sir," jasper made haste to say. "we do understand; and it is so very good of you, and polly will accept it, sir." "for father will make it all right with him as to the payment," he reflected easily. "ah, now," exclaimed herr bauricke, joyfully, a light beaming all over his fat face, "dat is someting like--to-morrow, den, we--" "but, oh, sir," polly interrupted, "i cannot," and she twisted her hands in distress. "i--i--didn't like you, and i said so." then she turned very pale, and her head drooped. jasper leaned over, and took her hand. "neither did i, sir," he said. "i was just as bad as polly." "you not tink me nice looking--so?" said herr bauricke. "well, i not tink so myself, eeder. and i scare you maybe, wid dis," and he twisted his black beard with his long fingers. "ah, so; well, we will forget all dis, leedle girl," and he bent down and took polly's other fingers that hung by her side. "and eef you not let me come to-morrow to your leedle music room, and tell you sometings to help you learn better, i shall know dat you no like me _now_--eh?" "oh, sir," polly lifted her face, flooded with rosy colour up to her brown hair, "if you only will forgive me?" "i no forgeef; i not remember at all," said herr bauricke, waving his long fingers in the air. "and i go to-morrow to help you, leedle girl," and he strode down the corridor. polly and jasper rushed off, they scarcely knew how, to grandpapa, to tell him the wonderful news,--to find him in a truly dreadful state of mind. when they had told their story, he was as much worse as could well be imagined. "impossible, impossible!" was all he could say, but he brought his hand down on the table before him with so much force that jasper felt a strange sinking of heart. what could be the matter? "why, children, and you all" (for his whole party was before him), exclaimed mr. king, "herr bauricke is that impertinent person who annoyed me this morning, and i called him 'fellow' to his face!" it was so very much worse than jasper had dreamed, that he collapsed into the first chair, all polly's prospects melting off like dew before the sun. "hum!" little dr. fisher was the first to speak. he took off his big spectacles and wiped them; then put them on his nose and adjusted them carefully, and glared around the group, his gaze resting on old mr. king's face. polly, who had never seen jasper give way like this, forgot her own distress, and rushed up to him. "oh, don't, jasper," she begged. "you see i can't allow herr bauricke to give any lessons or advice to polly after this," went on mr. king, hastily. "of course he would be paid; but, under the circumstances, it wouldn't do, not in the least. it is quite out of the question," he went on, as if some one had been contradicting him. but no one said a word. "why don't some of you speak?" he asked, breaking the pause. "dr. fisher, you don't generally keep us waiting for your opinion. speak out now, man, and let us have it." "it is an awkward affair, surely," began the little doctor, slowly. "awkward? i should say so," frowned mr. king; "it's awkward to the last degree. here's a man who bumps into me in a hotel passage,--though, for that matter, i suppose it's really my fault as much as his,--and i offer to pick up his spectacles that were dropped in the encounter. and he tells me that he is glad that we ran up against each other, for it gives him a chance to tell me what is on his mind. as if i cared what was on his mind, or on the mind of any one else, for that matter," he declared, in extreme irritation. "and i told him to his face that he was an impertinent fellow, and to get out of my way. yes, i did!" a light began to break on little dr. fisher's face, that presently shone through his big spectacles, fairly beaming on them all. then he burst into a laugh, hearty and long. "why, adoniram!" exclaimed mother fisher, in surprise. polly turned a distressed face at him; and to say that old mr. king stared would be stating the case very mildly indeed. "can't you see, oh, can't you see," exploded the little doctor, mopping up his face with his big handkerchief, "that your big german was trying to tell you of polly's playing, and to say something, probably pretty much the same that he has said to her and to jasper? o dear me, i should like to have been there to see you both," ended dr. fisher, faintly. then he went off into another laugh. "i don't see much cause for amusement," said old mr. king, grimly, when this idea broke into his mind, "for it's a certain fact that i called him a fellow, and told him to get out of the way." "well, he doesn't bear you any malice, apparently," said the little doctor, who, having been requested to speak, saw no reason for withholding any opinion he might chance to have, "for, if he did, he wouldn't have made that handsome offer to polly." "that may be; the offer is handsome enough," answered mr. king, "that is the trouble, it's too handsome. i cannot possibly accept it under the awkward circumstances. no, children," he turned to polly and jasper, as if they had been beseeching him all the while, "you needn't ask it, or expect it," and he got out of his chair, and stalked from the room. jasper buried his face in his hands, and a deep gloom settled over the whole party, on all but little dr. fisher. he pranced over to polly and jasper just as merrily as if nothing dreadful had happened. "don't you be afraid, my boy," he said; "your father is a dreadfully sensible man, and there's no manner of doubt but that he will fix this thing up." "oh, you don't know father," groaned jasper, his head in his hands, "when he thinks the right thing hasn't been done or said. and now polly will miss it all!" and his head sank lower yet. "nonsense!" exclaimed dr. fisher. yet he had a dreadful feeling coming over him, and he turned to polly imploringly. "oh, i do believe it, jasper," cried polly, "what papa-doctor says. and just look at mamsie!" she cried, beneath her breath. and truly mother fisher was having a hard time to control herself. that jasper could see as he lifted his head. and the little doctor also saw, and skipped back across the room to her side. and phronsie, feeling plunged into the deepest woe by all this dreadful state of affairs, that had come too bewilderingly for her to rally to grandpapa's side, first began to cry. and then, thinking better of it, went softly out of the door, and no one noticed her when she went--with the tears running down her cheeks. down the long corridor she hurried, not knowing which way grandpapa went, but turning into the little reading room, she spied him sitting by the table. the apartment was otherwise empty. he wasn't reading, not even looking at a paper, but sitting bolt upright, and lost in thought. "grandpapa," she said, laying a soft little hand on his arm. "oh, i'm so glad i found you." and she nestled up to his side. "eh? oh, phronsie, child." old mr. king put his arm around her, and drew her closely to him. "so you came after your old grand-daddy, did you?" "yes, i did," said phronsie, with a glad little cry, snuggling up tighter to him, while the tears trailed off down his waistcoat, but not before he had seen them. "now, phronsie, you are not to cry any more," he said, with a pang at the sight. "you won't, dear; promise me that." so phronsie promised; and he held her hands, and, clearing his throat, he began, "well, now i suppose they felt pretty badly, back there in the room, your mother and all--eh, phronsie?" "yes, grandpapa," said phronsie, her round face falling. yet she had promised not to cry, and, although she had a hard time of it, every tear was kept back valiantly. "and polly, now--" asked old mr. king, cautiously, "and jasper--how were they feeling?" "grandpapa," phronsie did not trust herself to reply, but, springing up, she laid her rosy little mouth close to his ear. "what does it all--the dreadful thing mean?" she whispered. "it means," old mr. king whispered back, but very distinctly, "that your old granddaddy is an idiot, phronsie, and that he has been rude, and let his temper run away with him." "oh, no, grandpapa dear," contradicted phronsie, falling back from him in horror. "you couldn't ever be that what you say." and she flung both arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "what? an idiot? yes, i have been an idiot of the worst kind," declared mr. king, "and all the rest just as i say; rude and--why, what is the matter, phronsie?" for the little arms clutched him so tightly he could hardly breathe. "oh, grandpapa," she wailed, and drawing away a bit to look at him, he saw her face convulsed with the effort not to cry. "don't say such things. you are never naughty, grandpapa dear; you can't be," she gasped. "there, there, there," ejaculated old mr. king, frightened at the effect of his words and patting her yellow hair, at his wits' end what to say. so he broke out, "well, now, phronsie, you must tell me what to do." thereupon phronsie, seeing there was something she could really do to help grandpapa, came out of her distress enough to sit up quite straight and attentive in his lap. "you see i spoke rudely to a man, and i called him a fellow, and he was a gentleman, phronsie; you must remember that." "yes, i will, grandpapa," she replied obediently, while her eyes never wandered from his face. "and i told him to get out of the way and he did," said mr. king, forcing himself to a repetition of the unpleasant truth. "o dear me, nothing could be worse," he groaned. "and you are sorry, grandpapa dear?" phronsie leaned over and laid her cheek softly against his. "yes, i am, phronsie, awfully sorry," confessed the old gentleman; "but what good will that do now? my temper has made a terrible mess of it all." "but you can tell the gentleman you are sorry," said phronsie. "oh, grandpapa dear, do go and tell him now, this very minute." she broke away from him again, and sat straight on his knee, while a glad little smile ran all over her face. "i can't--you don't understand--o dear me!" mr. king set her abruptly on the floor, and took a few turns up and down the room. phronsie's eyes followed him with a grieved expression. when she saw the distress on his face, she ran up to him and seized his hand, but didn't speak. "you see, child,"--he grasped her fingers and held them closely,--"it's just this way: the gentleman wants to do me a favour; that is, to help polly with her music." "does he?" cried phronsie, and she laughed in delight. "oh, grandpapa, how nice! and polly will be so happy." "but i cannot possibly accept it," groaned old mr. king; "don't you see, child, after treating him so? why, how could i? the idea is too monstrous!" he set off now at such a brisk pace down the room that phronsie had hard work to keep up with him. but he clung to her hand. "won't that make the gentleman sorry?" panted phronsie, trotting along by his side. "eh--oh, what?" exclaimed old mr. king, coming to a dead stop suddenly. "what's that you say, phronsie?" "won't the gentleman feel sorry?" repeated phronsie, pushing back the waves of yellow hair that had fallen over her face, to look up at him. "and won't he feel badly then, grandpapa?" "eh--oh, perhaps," assented mr. king, slowly, and passing a troubled hand across his brow. "well, now, phronsie, you come and sit in my lap again, and we'll talk it over, and you tell me what i ought to do." so the two got into the big chair again, and phronsie folded her hands in her lap. "now begin," said old mr. king. "i should make the gentleman happy, grandpapa," said phronsie, decidedly. "you would--no matter what you had to do to bring it about?" asked grandpapa, with a keen pair of eyes on her face. "eh? think now, phronsie." "i should make the gentleman happy," repeated phronsie, and she bobbed her head decidedly. "i really should, grandpapa." "then the best way is to have it over with as soon as possible," said old mr. king; "so come on, child, and you can see that the business is done up in good shape." he gathered her little fingers up in his hand, and setting her once more on the floor, they passed out of the apartment. the door of the private parlour belonging to mr. king's rooms was flung wide open, and into the gloomy interior, for mother fisher and jasper were still inconsolable, marched old mr. king. he was arm in arm, so far as the two could at once compass the doorway, with herr bauricke; while phronsie ducked and scuttled in as she could, for the big german, with ever so many honorary degrees to his name, held her hand fast. old mr. king continued his march up to mother fisher. "allow me to introduce herr bauricke, professor and doctor of music, of world-wide distinction," he said, bowing his courtly old head. and then mother fisher, self-controlled as she had always been, astonished him by turning to her husband to supply the answering word. "glad to see you!" exclaimed the little doctor, bubbling over with happiness, and wringing the long fingers extended. "my wife is overcome with delight," which the big german understood very well; and he smiled his knowledge of it, as he looked into her black eyes. "she is like to mein frau," he thought, having no higher praise. and then he turned quickly to polly and jasper. xxi on the rigi-kulm for all that grand old rigi's summit claimed them, it was some time before mr. king's party left the little parlour. herr bauricke surely didn't want to until he had gotten it settled just what he did mean about polly's music. that she showed great promise, that some faults in the way she had been taught were there, but it was by no means too late to mend them, that she had spirit and expression and love for the art. "ah, dat is eet, after all." herr bauricke clasped his long fingers and beamed at her, and then swept the entire party. "lofe, ah, how one must lofe eet! eef not, shame, shame!" his countenance darkened frightfully, and he fairly glared at them, as he unclasped his hands and swung one over his head, while his black beard vibrated with each word. "goodness me!" exclaimed tom selwyn, "it takes a musical man to sling around. i say, jasper, i'd like to do a bit of boxing or cricketing with him." but jasper didn't hear or see anything but herr bauricke and polly; and, indeed, the whole room was given up to the "musical man" and his words. at last polly drew a long breath; grandpapa was taking her hand. "let us all go out and explore a bit," and off they went, the entire party. and the "musical man," as tom still continued to call him in private, proved to be as expert in the use of his feet as his fingers, for he led them here, there, and everywhere that promised the least chance of a good view. but polly saw only the glorious future when, on the morrow, herr bauricke would really show her on the piano how best to study and to work! and the rosy glow of sunset wasn't one-half as bright as all her dreams. "polly," said phronsie, pulling her hand gently, as she peered up into her face, "are you looking at it?" "what, pet? oh, yes," said polly, starting out of her revery with a little laugh, "you mean the sunset?" "yes," said phronsie, "i do mean that. are you looking at it, polly? because if you are not looking, i wish you would, polly." "well, i suppose i am looking at it, phronsie," said polly, with another little laugh, "but perhaps not in just the right way, for you see, phronsie, i can't seem to see anything but just the splendid thing that is coming to-morrow. oh, phronsie pepper, just think of that." "i know," said phronsie, with a little gurgle of delight at polly's happiness, "and i am so glad, polly." "of course you are," declared polly, warmly, "just as glad as can be, phronsie," and she threw her arm around her. "and now i'm going to look at the sunset in the right way, i hope. isn't it beautiful, child?" "polly," declared phronsie, suddenly wriggling away from polly's arm, to stand in front of her with a beaming face, "i think it's just as beautiful as it can be up top here. i can see right in between that red cloud and that little pink teenty one. and i wish i could just go in, polly." "wouldn't it be nice?" echoed polly, enthusiastically. "what?" asked adela, hurrying up from a point of rocks below, where she had been sketching. "oh, to go in between those clouds there and see it all," said polly. "dear me!" exclaimed adela, "i shouldn't like it. i'd much rather stay down here, and sketch it." "we could go sailing off, oh, ever so far," said polly, swinging her arms to suit the action to the words. "and you'd be stuck to your rock here, adela; while, phronsie, you and i would sit on the edge of a cloud, and let our feet hang over; and oh, adela, you could sketch us then as we went sailing by." "how that would look!" exclaimed adela, with such a face that polly burst out into a merry laugh, and phronsie, joining with her little crow of delight and clapping her hands at the idea of such fun, brought pretty much the whole party around them. "what's up?" cried tom to jasper, on the way to the girls with some fear, for he didn't dare even yet to talk much to polly. as for adela, he let her severely alone. "don't know," said jasper, "but we'll soon find out," and they did, by phronsie's flying away from polly and skipping down over the rocks to meet them. "oh, jasper, polly's telling how we would sail on that beautiful cloud," announced phronsie, her yellow hair flying from her face as she sped along, heedless of her steps. "take care or you'll fall," warned jasper. "see, your mother is looking worried." and, truth to tell, mrs. fisher, on a point of rocks a little way off with the others, was getting a bit alarmed as she saw the progress of her baby. "i'll take care," said phronsie, sobering down at thought of mamsie's being troubled, and beginning to pick her way carefully. and jasper gathered up her fingers in his, thinking of the time when she toiled up and down the long stairway, when she first came to what was now her home, blessed thought! and polly and he sat down at the foot to watch her. "and so polly and you are going to try sailing on that cloud there," said jasper, squinting up at the brilliant sky. "we aren't really going, jasper," said phronsie, shaking her head, soberly, "because you see we can't. but polly's pretending it all; and we're to sit on the edge and swing our feet. and adela is going to make a picture of us." "whew!" whistled jasper. "and i say, polly,"--for now they had scrambled up to the two girls,--"isn't there room for us on that cloud too?" while tom kicked pebbles, and wished he knew how to talk to girls. "perhaps," said polly, gaily. "oh, i suppose that those who couldn't get on our cloud could take the next one." "i'd rather have your cloud, polly," said jasper. "and grandpapa must come too," cried phronsie, in alarm at the very thought of his being left out. "i want him on our cloud, polly." "yes, and mamsie and papa-doctor," finished polly, ready for any nonsense, she was just bubbling over so with joy at thought of the morrow and what it would bring. "well, it is good the cloud is big," squinting up at the radiant sky. "and, tom, you are coming on that cloud-boat." jasper pulled him forward with a merry laugh, giving him a clap on the back at the same time. "eh--oh, i can't--no, thank you," stammered tom, thus suddenly brought into notice. "excuse me," just as if the invitation had been a _bona fide_ one. polly never smiled, but adela giggled right out. tom's face flushed, and he rushed off furiously, determined never to chance it again whereby he'd be mortified before girls--not he! all the gay time was flown, and the red and pink and purple clouds looked down upon a sorry, uncomfortable little group. jasper spoke first. "i must go after him," and he dashed down the rocks. "o dear me, i couldn't help it," said adela, twisting uncomfortably, "it was so silly in him to take it all in earnest." "he didn't really think we meant it," said polly, her brown eyes very grave. would jasper really persuade him to forget that laugh? "but he is shy, and he said the first thing that came into his head." "boys haven't any right to be shy," said adela, fussing with her little sketching block and pencil, "they are so big and strong." "why did tom run away so fast?" asked phronsie, only half comprehending. "never mind, child," said polly, with a reassuring pat on her head. "and isn't jasper coming back?" asked phronsie, in great distress. "yes, oh, i guess so," said polly. "well, there, the pretty glow has all faded; see, phronsie," pointing up to the leaden clouds that no one who had failed to see a few moments before could have imagined alive with colour. "now we ought to run over to the others, for they'll be going back to the hotel." "it's all gone," said phronsie, sadly, looking up at the darkening sky. "polly, where has the pretty red and pink gone to?" "oh, i don't know," said polly, thinking only of tom, and what a hard time jasper must be having with him. "take care, phronsie, don't look up now--you'll fall! there, take my hand; now come on." "o dear me, i didn't mean to laugh," adela was saying to herself as she fell back in the zig-zag path down the rocks. "i wish i hadn't--i'll--i'll--" what she meant to do wasn't very clear in her mind; what she did do, was to run up to her grandmother's and her room, and toss her sketch-book on the table, and herself on the bed, for a good hearty cry. polly found her there, when they couldn't find her anywhere else, with much searching and running about. little old mrs. gray was worrying dreadfully, so afraid she had been blown from the rocks; for the wind had now risen, and all the travellers were seeking the shelter and warmth of the hotel corridor and parlours. "oh, adela, how _could_ you?" polly was going to say. and then she thought that would be the very worst thing in all the world, for adela's shoulders were shaking, and it would only make her cry worse. and besides, polly remembered how she had sometimes given way in just this fashion, and how much worse she would have been, had it not been for a wise, good mother. so she ran out in the hall. "i must tell her grandmother," she said to herself. "have you found her?" asked jasper, looking up from the foot of the staircase. "yes," said polly, "i have." "all right." and jasper vanished, and polly went slowly back, wishing she could be downstairs with all the dear people, instead of trying to comfort this dismal girl. the next moment she was kneeling down by the side of the bed, and trying to get hold of one of adela's hands. but adela bounced over to the farther side, and she cried out angrily, "it's all very well for you to say so, because you didn't do it. and everybody likes you. o dear me--tee--hee--boo--hoo!" "but i've often done things just as bad," confessed polly, "and, adela, i've cried like this, too. but mamsie--oh, adela! she made me see it was wrong; so i had to stop it, you know." "how is it wrong?" asked adela, rolling over, and taking the handkerchief away from one eye enough to see polly pepper's face. "i can cry, i guess, if i want to, without asking anybody." "oh, no, you can't," said polly, decidedly. "i mean no one can." "why not, pray tell?" said adela, sniffing very hard. "my eyes are my own, and i shall cry, too, whenever i want to." "well, i can't just tell you exactly why you can't cry when you want to," said polly, afraid she wasn't going to say the right word, "but mamsie could if she were here. i'll go and call her, adela." and polly sprang to her feet. "she'll come, i know." "oh, no--no," cried adela, in mortal alarm. "i don't want her--i mean i'd rather have you. you're a girl; and a woman talking at me scares me." "then you mustn't cry if i stay," said polly, stopping short, and seeing her advantage, "for i surely shall go, adela," she added firmly, "unless you stop crying." "o dear me." adela squirmed all over the bed. "i can't stop--i've always cried as much as i wanted to. o dear me--boo-hoo-hoo! i mean--i'll stop, don't go--" sopping up her wet face with a nervous hand. "see, pol-_ly_!" for polly had slipped out of the room. adela flew off from the bed. "polly--polly, pol-_ly_!" she called, in a piteous little tone. polly, halfway down the stairs, looked back. "oh, you are up," she said, with a smile. "now that's fine; come." and she held out her hand. "mercy me, and o my!" cried adela. "i can't go looking like this; why, i'm a perfect sight, i know, polly pepper! and my nose feels all bunged out of shape and as big!" "never mind," said polly, as reassuringly, "just dash some water over it, and it'll be all right. i'll wait here for you." so polly stood on her stair while adela, bemoaning all the way that she didn't look fit to be seen, and that she was a perfect sight, and she couldn't go down among them all, stumbled back into her room. and pretty soon polly heard a big splash. "o dear me--oh, what shall i do?" "what _is_ the matter?" cried polly, deserting her stair, to run in and up to the washstand. "just see what i've done," exclaimed adela, holding out one arm. it was dripping wet, and the water was running off in a stream and down to meet a small puddle where the splash had struck on the floor. "the pitcher slipped--o dear me--ugh--" cried adela, wriggling all over. "stand still," said polly, "do, adela, till i wipe your sleeve dry." and she got the towel and began to sop and to pat adela's arm. "it never'll feel dry, it's perfectly awful--ugh--polly pepper," declared adela, twisting away from polly's fingers; "it's just like a wet snake--ugh--o dear me! and it gives me the creeps." "you'll have to put on another waist, i do think," said polly, hanging up the towel, aghast to find herself growing angry at all this delay, and with half a mind to run and leave adela to herself. "o dear me, and there's this water running all over the floor," cried adela, stepping gingerly over the pool, and trying to pick off the wet sleeve from her arm at the same time. "i'll fix it," said polly, as cheerily as she could, "while you get your waist on." and she sopped the water up. "there, that's done," she announced with satisfaction; "now do hurry, adela." "i can't get out of this old, horrid, wet sleeve," said adela, very red in the face, and pulling and twitching at it. "take care, you'll tear it," warned polly. "i don't care if i do," said adela, peevishly. "o dear me, somebody's coming!" with that she flew into the closet and pulled to the door. "why, polly!" exclaimed mother fisher, in surprise, "what is the matter? we are all waiting to go in to dinner." "oh, i'm so sorry," began polly, feeling as if nothing would be so delightful as to have a good cry in mamsie's arms and tell all the story. "well, you must come right away," said mrs. fisher. "why, where is adela?" looking around the room. "i'm here," said adela, from the closet. "come out here, adela," said mrs. fisher. so adela came out, the wet sleeve still on her arm; but she had gotten out of the rest of the waist. "that's too bad," said mrs. fisher; and in a minute adela's wet arm was free and nicely dried, and a clean waist being found, it was soon on, and then mother fisher took up the hairbrush. "we must have this all nice and smooth," she said. and adela stood still, liking it all very much; and her hair was brushed, much as if she had been phronsie, and then mother fisher released her with a smile. "there, now you are ready," she said. "she didn't scold a bit," said adela, going after her with polly down the stairs, and forgetting her red eyes and swollen nose. "our mother never scolds," declared polly, with her head very high, "never in all this world, adela gray." and at dinner tom selwyn looked across the table, and when he caught sight of adela's face, and saw that some one else could feel as badly as he could, and he guessed the reason, he made up his mind what he was going to do next. and as soon as the meal was over, without giving himself time to think, he marched up to adela. "say, i didn't much mind because you laughed, don't you know," and held out his hand. "i've been crying ever since," said adela, "and i didn't mean to laugh." "i know it," said tom to the first part of her sentence, and looking at her nose. "well, never mind now, so it's quits, and shake hands." "i don't know what quits is," said adela, putting out her hand. "oh, it's when things are evened up somehow," said tom; "not exactly that, but it will do well enough by way of explaining." "and i'm never going to laugh again at anybody," said adela, lifting her red eyes. "well, come on, don't you want a game of draughts?" said tom, awkwardly. "draughts?" repeated adela, very much puzzled. "i don't know it." "why, what a whopper!" tom was going to say, but changed it to, "why, i saw you playing it last night with polly pepper." "why, no, you didn't," said adela, not very politely, "that was checkers." "that's the same thing," said tom, triumphantly, "only you americans call it that funny name." "well, i think it's a great deal nicer name than draughts," said adela; "that's silly." "well, checkers; that's senseless," retorted tom, "and, besides, you americans always say 'nice' at everything." then he looked at her red eyes and poor little nose, and added kindly, "well, never mind, call it checkers, then, i don't care; let's have a game," and he rushed for the board. mrs. selwyn looked from her corner where she had taken a book, and smiled to see him playing a game with a girl. then she nodded over to jasper, and he smiled back. and adela never once thought how she looked. and she beat tom twice, and that quite set her up. and then for the next three games he routed her men completely off the board. and, strange to say, she kept her temper, and even smiled at the disaster. "that's a good game." old mr. king came up as the last one was going on. "tom, my boy, you play a fine one." "and she fights well," said tom, generously. "she beat me twice." "you don't say so," exclaimed mr. king. "well, that's doing pretty well, adela, to get ahead of the english lad. but you don't stand much of a chance this time; tom's got the game, sure." and so it proved in less time than it takes to write it. and then everybody said "good night" to everybody else; for the alpine horn would sound at the earliest dawn to waken the sleepers to see the sunrise. "mamsie," cried polly, raising her head suddenly as she cuddled into bed, "supposing we shouldn't hear that horn--just supposing it! oh, can't i stay awake? do let me, mamsie." "your grandfather has made arrangements for us all to be called," said mrs. fisher, "so we won't have to depend on the horn, and now you must go to sleep just as fast as ever you can. then you'll be as bright as a button in the morning, polly." "mamsie," said polly, "i don't think grandpapa has kept from doing anything he could to make us happy, do you, mamsie? not a single thing." "no," said mother fisher, "i don't, polly." xxii polly tries to help "mamsie, what shall we do?" polly clasped her hands in despair, and looked down on phronsie, sleeping away as if she meant to take her own time to wake up, regardless of sunrise on the rigi. "o dear me, and she went to bed so early last night on purpose." "you go right along, polly," said mother fisher. "put on your golf cape over your jacket, child, it's dreadfully cold out there. i shall stay with phronsie, for of course we wouldn't leave her alone with matilda, and all go off for a nice time." "no, of course not," cried polly, in horror at the mere thought. "and she's in such a nice sleep and so warm, that it's a pity to wake her up," finished mrs. fisher. "o dear me," cried polly, in distress, "i'd rather stay, mamsie, and have you go." "no," said mrs. fisher, firmly, "i shall stay, so that is all there is about it, polly. now run along, child, and tell matilda to hurry out too, for she wants to see the sunrise." polly still lingered, until her mother looked up in surprise. "why, polly," she said, reprovingly. "o dear me!" exclaimed polly, "i didn't mean to disobey, mamsie, i really didn't; i'll go." and setting a kiss on mother fisher's black hair, she ran out on unsteady feet, and with all her comfort gone. when she joined her group it would have been rather hard to distinguish any of them, as everybody was wrapped up in shawls and rugs, if jasper hadn't been a sort of scout in waiting for her and mrs. fisher and phronsie. and tom could easily be picked out, for he hung around in jasper's wake, and besides, he was so very big. "where are they?" asked jasper, looking down the corridor back of her. "oh, mamsie isn't coming, nor phronsie either, for she's asleep. and mamsie made me come," finished polly, dismally. "o dear me," said jasper, quite gone in sympathy. tom selwyn poked his head forward to hear, but, as it was something quite beyond his powers to help, he thrust his hands into his pockets, and kicked aimlessly on the floor. "well, come on, polly," said jasper, wishing he could lift the gloom from polly's face, and feeling quite dismal himself. little dr. fisher, muffled up in a big plaid shawl so that only his spectacles gleamed in between the folds and his cap, suddenly edged up back of polly, and dropped the folds away from his ears so that he could hear what was going on. and when the group hurried out of the door, into the cold gray dawn, he was skipping down to his wife's room, in the liveliest way imaginable. old mr. king had gone on ahead with the parson, as he couldn't scramble so fast. and now he met them with, "well, are you all here--where's phronsie?" "oh, jasper, i can't tell him," gasped polly, up on the tiptop bunch of rocks, and trying to be glad of the promise of the beautiful sunrise to come, for everybody agreed that it was apparently to be the best one that had gladdened the hearts of travellers for years. then she whirled around and stared with all her might, "if there isn't mamsie coming!" "as true as you live it is!" cried jasper, with a good look, and springing down the rocks to help her up. tom selwyn plunged after him, getting there first. so in the bustle, nobody answered mr. king. and he, supposing from the merry chatter that phronsie was in the midst of it, concluded it best not to interrupt their fun, even if he could make them hear. "your father made me come, polly," said mrs. fisher, coming up between the two boys. "but i'd so much rather that he saw it." and her downcast face looked so very much like polly, that jasper thought matters hadn't bettered themselves any. "but, mamsie," said polly, creeping up to her with all the comfort she could, "it makes him happy, just as it made you happy to have me go." "i know it," said mother fisher, with a sigh, "but he has so few pleasures, polly, and he works so hard." and her gaze wandered off to the distant clouds, slowly beginning to break away. polly held her breath as they waited and looked, although her heart was sad when the wee little streak of light began to come over in the east. "isn't that just beautiful!" exclaimed jasper, trying to enjoy it as much as he had expected; "see, polly, the stars seem going out--daylight's coming!" "i know," said polly, "so it is." sure enough, a little strip of gold touched up the leaden sky, and spread slowly. "see, it's turning pink." mrs. selwyn's plain, quiet face glowed. "see, polly, look at that peak bathed in colour." just then a little voice said, "oh, isn't that beautiful!" and whirling around on her rock, polly saw little dr. fisher staggering along with a big bundle in his arms, out of which was peering phronsie's face. mother fisher had turned too. "oh, adoniram!" was all she said, as polly sprang off to meet them. "give her to me," cried tom selwyn, of course reaching there first, before either polly or jasper; and before dr. fisher quite knew how, phronsie was perched on the broad shoulder, and tom was prancing up the rocky path as easily as if a bird had lighted on his arm. "she woke up, luckily," said little dr. fisher, "and she's bundled up so there isn't a chance of her taking cold. wife, this is grand!" he gained her side, and drew her hand under the big shawl. "you've come just in time," cried polly, skipping around on her rock to the imminent danger of falling on her nose, and varying the exercises by cuddling phronsie's toes, done up in a big bundle. "i declare if papa fisher hasn't tied them up in one of the blankets," she announced merrily. "a blanket is just as good as anything when the sunrise is waiting for you," said the little doctor, coolly. "isn't it!" cried polly, back at him, happily. "oh--oh!" everybody echoed, "oh-oh!" then stood hushed to silence. a rosy blush spread from peak to peak, and all the shadows fell away. everything below, towns, villages, lakes, and forests, stood out in the clear cold dawn, and at last the sun burst forth in all his glory. "i'm so glad that people don't chatter," said polly, when at last they turned away, for the swift clouds had shut it all out. "did you see phronsie's face, jasper, when that light burst out?" "yes, and father's," answered jasper. "i expect he'd been looking for her; everybody is so bundled up you can hardly find your best friend. and then he saw her." "yes, and she saw him and called him," said polly, "didn't you hear her?" "didn't i, though?" said jasper; "who could help it? wasn't father pleased when he got up to us, tom, to think you had phronsie in such good shape? phronsie, you're in luck," pinching as much of her toes as the bundle of blanket would allow; "you've got the best place of any of us, up on that perch." "i like it," said phronsie, in grave delight, "very much, indeed," surveying them out of the depths of the shawl, "and i wish it needn't stop." "well, it must," said polly, with a sigh. "dear me, see those people run." "well, it's cold," said jasper; "let's you and i race to the hotel, polly." "and the show is over," said tom, "why shouldn't they run?" as jasper and polly set off, and he strode after, getting there nearly as soon. an hour later, polly, who couldn't get to sleep again, for a nap before breakfast, went out to the little balcony window just outside her door, where she might sit and write in her journal, and meantime catch any chance view that the grey scudding clouds might afford. in this way she strove to work off the impatience possessing her for the beautiful hour to come after breakfast. "i can hardly believe it now," she thought, and she gave herself a little pinch to see if she were really awake; "it seems too good to be true to think that the great professor bauricke is actually going to tell me how to learn to play well!" "say," a voice struck upon her ear, "oh, i'm in the most awful distress." polly clapped her book to, and looked up. "o dear, dear!" it was a tall, spare woman with a face that had something about it like grandma bascom's. it must have been the cap-frills flapping around her cheeks. "what can i do for you?" asked polly, springing up. "oh, do take my chair and sit down and tell me about it." "oh, will you help me? the land! i couldn't set when i'm in such trouble," declared the old woman. "my senses, i should fly off the handle!" polly, feeling that she was in the presence of some dreadful calamity, stood quite still. "you see, me and my sister--she's in highstrikes now in there." the old woman tossed her head to indicate a room further down the hall, whereat the cap-frills flapped wilder than ever. "bein' as it belonged to both of us, she feels as bad as i do, but as i was the one that lost it, why it stands to reason i've got to shake around and get it again. say, will you help me? you've got a pair of bright eyes as ever i see in a head; and what's the good of 'em if you can't help in trouble like this?" polly, feeling that her eyes would never forgive her if she didn't let them help on such an occasion, promised. "what is it you have lost?" she asked. "don't you know?" cried the old woman, impatiently. "mercy me! how many times shall i tell you? my buzzom pin; it was took of pa when he was a young man and awful handsome, and i didn't want to leave it in the room when we went out, cause somebody might get in, and they'd be sure to want it, so i pinned it on my nightcap strings and it's gone, and i a-gallivanting round on them rocks, a-looking at the sunrise, and i can see that to home all i want to. i must have been crazy." "oh, i see; and you want me to go out and help you look for it," said polly, her brow clearing. "of course," assented the old woman, impatiently. "land, your intellects ain't as bright as your eyes. my sakes!--how many times do you expect me to tell you? i've been a-looking and a-peeking everywhere, but my eyes are old, and i don't dare to tell any one to help me, for like enough they'd pick it up when i warn't seein', and slip pa in their pocket, and i never'd see him again." polly, feeling, if pa were slipped in a pocket and carried off, it would be a calamity indeed, said heartily, "i'll get my jacket and cap and come right out." "she looks honest; i guess i hain't done no harm to tell her about our buzzom pin," said the old woman to herself as polly disappeared. mamsie being asleep, polly could say nothing to her, but feeling that she would allow it if she knew, she threw on her things and ran out to meet the old woman, with a shawl tied over her nightcap and a big long cape on. "i tell you she's in highstrikes," said the old woman, going down the hall. "that's our room, 37, an' i've seen you an' your folks goin' by, so i feel in some ways acquainted. an' if i don't find pa, i'll be flabbergasted myself." "do let us hurry," said polly, her mind now only on pa. so they went down the stairs and out by the door and up the rocky path just where the old woman said she and sister car'line took when they went out to see the sunrise. "an' i wish we'd kept in bed," ejaculated polly's companion. "i most lost my teeth out, they chattered so; and so did car'line hers. but that wouldn't 'a' been nothin' to losin' pa, cause we could 'a' got more teeth; but how could we 'a' got him took when he was nineteen and so handsome? there! here we stopped, just at this identical spot!" "well, i think we shall find it," said polly, consolingly. "how did the pin look?" she asked, for the first time remembering to ask, and beginning to poke around in the crevices. "my land sakes! i never see such a girl for wanting to be told over and over," exclaimed the old woman, irritably, picking up first one ample gaiter and then another to warm her cold toes in her hands. "haven't i told you he was awful handsome? well, he had on his blue coat and big brass buttons for one thing, an' his shirt front was ruffled. and--" "was it gold around it?" asked polly, poking away busily. "gold? i guess it was; and there was dents in it, where car'line an' i bit into it when we were babies, 'cause mother give it to us when our teeth was comin'--'twas better'n a chicken bone, she said." "oh," said polly. "well, now you know," said car'line's sister, "an' don't for mercy's sakes ask any more useless questions. i'm most sorry i brung you." "i might go down and get the boys, jasper and tom--they'd love to help," said polly, feeling that she was very much out of place, and there was no hope of finding pa under the circumstances. the old woman clutched her arm and held her fast. "don't you say a single word about any boys," she commanded. "i hate boys," she exploded, "they're the worry of our lives, car'line and mine,--they get into our garden, and steal all our fruit, and they hang on behind our chaise when we ride out, and keep me a-lookin' round an' slashin' the whip at 'em the whole livelong time; o my--_boys!_" "what in the world is polly pepper doing up on those rocks?" cried jasper, just spying her. "come on, tom, and let's see." and they seized their caps, and buttoned their jackets against the wind which had just sprung up, and dashed off to see for themselves. "ugh--you go right away!" screamed car'line's sister, as their heads appeared over the point of rocks, and shaking both hands fiercely at them. "whew!" whistled jasper, with his eyes in surprise on polly. "and what old party are you?" demanded tom, finding it easy to talk to her, as she was by no means a girl. "and do you own this mountain, anyway?" "oh, don't," begged polly. "and jasper, if you would go away, please, and not ask any questions." "all right," said jasper, swallowing his disappointment not to know. "come on, tom, polly doesn't want us here." "an' i won't have you here," screamed the old woman, harder than ever. "so get away as soon as you can. why, you are boys!" "i know it." tom bobbed his head at her. "we've always been, ma'am." "an' boys are good for nothing, an' lazy, an' thieves--yes, i wouldn't trust 'em." so she kept on as they hurried back over the rocky path. "that's a tiger for you!" ejaculated tom. then he stopped and looked back a little anxiously. "aren't you afraid to leave polly with her?" "no," said jasper; "it would trouble polly to have us stay." yet he stopped and looked anxious too. "we will wait here." and after a while, down came the two searchers--the old woman quite beside herself now, and scolding every bit of the way,--"that she didn't see what bright eyes were for when they couldn't find anything--an' now that pa'd gone sliding down that mountain, they might as well give up, she an' car'line"--when a sudden turn in the path brought the boys into view waiting behind the rocks. then all her fury burst upon them. "see here, now," cried tom, suddenly squaring up to her and looking at the face between the nodding cap-frills, "we are ready to take a certain amount of abuse, my friend and i, but we won't stand more, i can tell you." "oh, don't," began polly, clasping her hands. "oh, tom, _please_ keep still. she doesn't know what she's saying, for she's lost her pin with her father on." "hey?" cried jasper. "say it again, polly," while tom shouted and roared all through polly's recital. "was it an old fright with a long nose in a blue coat and ruffles, and as big as a turnip?" he asked between the shouts. while polly tried to say, "yes, i guess so," and miss car'line's sister so far overcame her aversion to boys as to seize him by the arm, tom shook her off like a feather. "see here, old party," he cried, "that ancient pin of yours is reposing in the hotel office at this blessed moment. jasper and i," indicating his friend, "ran across it on the rocks up there more than an hour ago, and--" "oh, pa's found!" exclaimed the old woman, in a shrill scream of delight, beginning to trot down to the hotel office. "yes, it would have been impossible for pa to have got off this mountain without making a landslide," said tom, after her. xxiii in the shadow of the matterhorn they had been days at dear interlaken, walking up and down the _hoheweg_, of which they never tired, or resting on the benches under the plane and walnut trees opposite their hotel, just sitting still to gaze their fill upon the _jungfrau_. this was best of all--so polly and jasper thought; and phronsie was content to pass hour after hour there, by grandpapa's side, and imagine all sorts of pretty pictures and stories in and about the snow-clad heights of the majestic mountain. and the throng of gaily dressed people sojourning in the big hotels, and the stream of tourists, passed and repassed, with many a curious glance at the stately, white-haired old gentleman and the little yellow-haired girl by his side. "a perfect beauty!" exclaimed more than one matron, with a sigh for her ugly girls by her side or left at home. "she's stunning, and no mistake!" many a connoisseur in feminine loveliness turned for a last look, or passed again for the same purpose. "grandpapa," phronsie prattled on, "that looks just like a little tent up there--a little white tent; doesn't it, grandpapa dear?" "yes, phronsie," said grandpapa, happily, just as he would have said "yes, phronsie," if she had pointed out any other object in the snowy outline. "and there's a cunning little place where you and i could creep into the tent," said phronsie, bending her neck like a meditative bird. "and i very much wish we could, grandpapa dear." "we'd find it pretty cold in there," said grandpapa, "and wish we were back here on this nice seat, phronsie." "what makes it so cold up there, grandpapa, when the sun shines?" asked phronsie, suddenly. "say, grandpapa, what makes it?" "oh, it's so far up in the air," answered old mr. king. "don't you remember how cold it was up on the rigi, and that was about nine thousand feet lower?" "oh, grandpapa!" exclaimed phronsie, in gentle surprise, unable to compass such figures. mr. king's party had made one or two pleasant little journeys to the lauterbrunnen valley, staying there and at mã¼rren, and to grindelwald as well; but they came back to sit on the benches by the walnut and the plane trees, in front of the matchless jungfrau. "and this is best of all," said polly. and so the days slipped by, till one morning, at the breakfast table, mrs. selwyn said, "tomorrow we must say good-by--my boy and i." "hey--what?" exclaimed mr. king, setting his coffee-cup down, not very gently. "our vacation cannot be a very long one," said tom's mother, with a little smile; "there are my father and my two daughters and my other boys in england." tom's face was all awry as mr. king said, "and you mean to say, mrs. selwyn, that you really must move on to-morrow?" "yes; we really must," she said decidedly. "but oh," and her plain, quiet face changed swiftly, "you cannot know how sorry we shall be to leave your party." "in that case, mrs. fisher,"--old mr. king looked down the table-length to mamsie,--"we must go too; for i don't intend to lose sight of these nice travelling companions until i am obliged to." tom's face was one big smile. "oh, goody!" exclaimed polly, as if she were no older than phronsie. jasper clapped tom's back, instead of wasting words. "so we will all proceed to pack up without more ado after breakfast. after all, it is wiser to make the move now, for we are getting so that we want to take root in each place." "you just wait till you get to zermatt," whispered polly to phronsie, who, under cover of the talk buzzing around the table, had confided to her that she didn't want to leave her beautiful mountain. "grandpapa is going to take us up to the gorner grat, and there you can see another mountain,--oh, so near! he says it seems almost as if you could touch it. and it's all covered with snow, phronsie, too!" "is it as big as my mountain here?" asked phronsie. "yes, bigger, a thousand feet or more," answered polly, glad that she had looked it up. "is it?" said phronsie. "every mountain is bigger, isn't it, polly?" "it seems to be," said polly, with a little laugh. "and has it a little white tent on the side, just like my mountain here?" asked phronsie, holding polly's arm as she turned off to catch the chatter of the others. "oh, i suppose so," answered polly, carelessly. then she looked up and caught mamsie's eye, and turned back quickly. "at any rate, phronsie, it's all peaked on the top--oh, almost as sharp as a needle--and it seems to stick right into the blue sky, and there are lots and lots of other mountains--oh, awfully high,--and the sun shines up there a good deal, and it's too perfectly lovely for anything, phronsie pepper." "then i want to go," decided phronsie. "i do so want to see that white needle, polly." "well, eat your breakfast," said polly, "because you know we all have ever so much to do to-day to get off." "yes, i will," declared phronsie, attacking her cold chicken and roll with great vigour. "it seems as if the whole world were at zermatt," said the parson, looking out from the big piazza crowded with the hotel people, out to the road in front, with every imaginable tourist passing and repassing. donkeys were being driven up, either loaded down to their utmost with heavy bags and trunks, or else waiting to receive on their patient backs the heavier people. phronsie never could see the poor animals, without such distress coming in her face that every one in the party considered it his or her bounden duty to comfort and reassure her. so this time it was tom's turn to do so. "oh, don't you worry," he said, looking down into her troubled little face where he sat on the piazza railing swinging his long legs, "they like it, those donkeys do!" "do they?" asked phronsie, doubtfully. "yes, indeed," said tom, with a gusto, as if he wished he were a donkey, and in just that very spot, "it gives them a chance to see things, and to hear things, too, don't you know?" went on tom, at his wits' end to know how he was going to come out of his sentences. "oh," said phronsie, yet she sighed as she saw the extremely fat person just being hauled up to a position on a very small donkey's back. "you see, if they don't like it," said tom, digging his knife savagely into the railing, "they have a chance to kick up their heels and unsettle that heavy party." "o dear me!" exclaimed phronsie, in great distress, "that would hurt the poor woman, tom." "well, it shows that the donkey likes it," said tom, with a laugh, "because he doesn't kick up his heels." "and so," ran on tom, "why, we mustn't worry, you and i, if the donkey doesn't. just think,"--he made a fine diversion by pointing with his knife-blade up to the slender spire of the matterhorn--"we're going up on a little jaunt to-morrow, to look into that fellow's face." phronsie got out of her chair to come and stand by his side. "i like that white needle," she said, with a gleeful smile. "polly said it was nice, and i like it." "i should say it was," declared tom, with a bob of his head. "phronsie, i'd give, i don't know what, if i could climb up there." he thrust his knife once more into the railing, where it stuck fast. "don't." begged phronsie, her hand on his sleeve, "go up that big white needle, tom." "no, i won't; it's safe to promise that," he said grimly, with a little laugh. "good reason why; because i can't. the little mother wouldn't sleep nights just to think of it, and i promised the granddaddy that i wouldn't so much as think of it, and here i am breaking my word; but i can't help it." he twitched his knife out suddenly, sprawled off from the railing, and took several hasty strides up and down the piazza. "well, that's all right, phronsie," he said, coming back to get astride the railing again; this time he turned a cold shoulder on phronsie's "white needle." "now, to-morrow, we'll have no end of fun." and he launched forth on so many and so varied delights, that phronsie's pleased little laugh rang out again and again, bringing rest to many a wearied traveller, tired with the sights, sounds, and scenes of a european journey. "i wish we could stay at this nice place," said phronsie, the next morning, poking her head out over the side of the car, as it climbed off from the riffelalp station. "take care, child," said grandpapa, with a restraining hand. "you would want to stop at every place," said polly, from the seat in front, with a gay little laugh. "and we never should get on at that rate. but then i am just as bad," she confessed. "so am i," chimed in jasper. "dear me, how i wanted to get a chance to sketch some of those magnificent curves and rapids and falls in the visp river coming up." "oh, that dear, delicious visp river!" echoed polly, while adela began to bemoan that it was the best thing they had seen, and the car whizzed them by so fast, she couldn't do a thing--o dear! "i got some snap-shots, but i don't believe they are good for anything," said jasper, "just from the pure perversity of the thing." "take my advice," said tom, lazily leaning forward, "and don't bother with a camera anyway." "as if you expected any one to take up with such a piece of advice," ejaculated jasper, in high disdain. "say something better than that, tom, if you want to be heard." "oh, i don't expect to be heard, or listened to in the slightest," he said calmly. "anybody who will trot round with a kodak hanging to his neck by a villanous strap--can't be--" "who's got a villanous strap hanging to his neck?" cried jasper, while the rest shouted as he picked at the fern-box thus hanging to tom. "oh, that's quite a different thing," declared tom, his face growing red. "i know; one is a kodak, and the other is a fern-box," said jasper, nodding. "i acknowledge they are different," and they all burst out laughing again. "well, at least," said tom, joining in the laugh, "you must acknowledge, too, that i go off by myself and pick up my wild flowers and green things, and i'm not bothering round focussing every living thing and pointing my little machine at every freak in nature that i see." "all right," said jasper, good-naturedly, "but you have the strap round your neck all the same, tom." and phronsie wanted to stay at the riffelberg just as much; and old mr. king was on the point of saying, "well, we'll come up here for a few days, phronsie," when he remembered mrs. selwyn and her boy, and how they must get on. instead, he cleared his throat, and said, "we shall see it after dinner, child," and phronsie smiled, well contented. but when she reached the corner grat station, and took grandpapa's hand, and began to ascend the bridle path to the hotel, she couldn't contain herself, and screamed right out, "oh, grandpapa, i'd rather stay here." "it _is_ beautiful, isn't it?" echoed old mr. king, feeling twenty years younger since he started on his travels. "well, well, child, i'm glad you like it," looking down into her beaming little face. "you are very much to be envied, sir. i can't help speaking to you and telling you so," said a tall, sober-looking gentleman, evidently an english curate off on his vacation, as he caught up with him on the ascent, where they had paused at one of the look-offs, "for having that child as company, and those other young people." "you say the truth," replied old mr. king, cordially; "from the depths of my heart i pity any one who hasn't some children to take along when going abroad. but then they wouldn't be little peppers," he added, under his breath, as he bowed and turned back to the view. "there's dear monte rosa," cried polly, enthusiastically. "oh, i just love her." "and there's castor and pollux," said jasper. "and there's the whole of them," said tom, disposing of the entire range with a sweep of his hand. "dear me, what a lot there are, to be sure. it quite tires one." "oh, anybody but a cold-blooded englishman!" exclaimed jasper, with a mischievous glance, "to travel with." "anything on earth but a gushing american!" retorted tom, "to go round the world with." "i wish i could sketch a glacier," bemoaned adela, stopping every minute or two, as they wound around the bridle path, "but i can't; i've tried ever so many times." "wait till we get to the _mer de glace_," advised tom. "you can sit down in the middle of it, and sketch away all you want to." "well, i'm going to," said adela, with sudden determination. "i don't care; you can all laugh if you want to." "you can sketch us all," suggested jasper, "for we shall have horrible old stockings on." "i sha'n't have horrible old stockings on," said adela, in a dudgeon, sticking out her foot. "i wear just the same stockings that i do at home, at school in paris, and they are quite nice." "oh, i mean you'll have to put on coarse woollen ones that the peasant women knit on purpose,--we all shall have to do the same, on over our shoes," explained jasper. "o dear me!" cried adela, in dismay. "and i think we shall slip and slide a great deal worse with those things tied on our feet, than to go without any," said polly, wrinkling up her brows at the idea. "'twouldn't be safe to go without them," said jasper, shaking his head, "unless we had nails driven in our shoes." "i'd much rather have the nails," cried polly, "oh, much rather, jasper." "well, we'll see what father is going to let us do," said jasper. "wasn't that fun snowballing--just think--in july," cried polly, craning her neck to look back down the path toward the riffelberg station. "did you pick up some of that snow?" asked adela. "didn't we, though!" exclaimed jasper. "i got quite a good bit in my fist." "my ball was such a little bit of a one," mourned polly; "i scraped up all i could, but it wasn't much." "well, it did good execution," said tom; "i got it in my eye." "oh, did it hurt you?" cried polly, in distress, running across the path to walk by his side. "not a bit," said tom. "i tried to find some to pay you back, and then we had to fly for the cars." the plain, quiet face under the english bonnet turned to mrs. fisher as they walked up the path together. "i cannot begin to tell you what gratitude i am under to you," said tom's mother, "and to all of you. when i think of my father, i am full of thankfulness. when i look at my boy, the goodness of god just overcomes me in leading me to your party. may i tell you of ourselves some time, when a good opportunity offers for a quiet talk?" "i'd like nothing better," said mother fisher, heartily. "if there is one person i like more than another, who isn't of our family, or any of our home friends, it's mrs. selwyn," she had confided to the little doctor just a few days before. "she hasn't any nonsense about her, if she is an earl's daughter." "earl's daughter," sniffed the little doctor, trying to slip a collar button into a refractory binding. "dear me, now that's gone--no, 'tisn't--that's luck," as the button rolled off into a corner of the bureau-top where it was easily captured. "let me do that for you, adoniram," said mother fisher, coming up to help him. "i guess you'll have to, wife, if it's done at all," he answered, resigning himself willingly to her hands; "the thing slips and slides like all possessed. well, now, i was going to say that i wouldn't hate a title so much, if there was a grain of common sense went along with it. and that mrs. selwyn just saves the whole lot of english nobility, and makes 'em worth speaking to, in my opinion." and after they had their dinner, and were scattered in groups in the bright sunshine, sitting on the wooden benches by the long tables, or taking photographs, or watching through the big glass some mountain climbers on one of the snowy spurs of the matterhorn, "the good opportunity for a quiet talk" came about. "now," said mother fisher, with a great satisfaction in her voice, "may we sit down here on this bench, mrs. selwyn, and have that talk?" tom's mother sat down well pleased, and folding her hands in her lap, this earl's daughter, mistress of a dozen languages, as well as mistress of herself on all occasions, began as simply and with as much directness as a child. "well, you know my father. let me tell you, aside from the eccentricities, that are mere outside matters, and easily explained, if you understood the whole of his life, a kinder man never lived, nor a more reasonable one. but it was a misfortune that he had to be left so much alone, as since my mother's death a dozen years ago has happened. it pained me much." a shadow passed over her brow, but it was gone again, and she smiled, and her eyes regained their old placid look. "i live in australia with my husband, where my duty is, putting the boys as fast as they were old enough, and the little girls as well, into english schools. but tom has always been with my father at the vacations, for he is his favourite, as of course was natural, for he is the eldest. and though you might not believe it, mrs. fisher, my father was always passionately fond of the boy." "i do believe it," said mother fisher, quietly, and she put her hand over the folded ones. mrs. selwyn unclasped hers, soft and white, to draw within them the toil-worn one. "now, that's comfortable," she said, with another little smile. "and here is where his eccentricity became the most dangerous to the peace of mind of our family," continued mrs. selwyn. "my father seemed never able to discover that he was doing the lad harm by all sorts of indulgence and familiarity with him, a sort of hail-fellow-well-met way that surprised me more than i can express, when i discovered it on my last return visit to my old home. my father! who never tolerated anything but respect from all of us, who were accustomed to despotic government, i can assure you, was allowing tom!--well, you were with him on the steamer," she broke off abruptly. the placid look was gone again in a flash. "yes," said mother fisher, her black eyes full of sympathy; "don't let that trouble you, dear mrs. selwyn; tom was pure gold down underneath--we saw that--and the rest is past." "ah,"--the placid look came back as quickly--"that is my only comfort--that you did. for father told the whole, not sparing himself. now he sees things in the right light; he says because your young people taught it to him. and he was cruelly disappointed because you couldn't come down to visit him in his home." "we couldn't," said mother fisher, in a sorry voice, at seeing the other face. "i understand--quite," said tom's mother, with a gentle pressure of the hand she held. "and then the one pleasure he had was in picking out something for polly." "oh, if the little red leather case _had_ gone back to the poor old man!" ran through mother fisher's mind, possessing it at once. "i don't think his judgment was good, mrs. fisher, in the selection," said mrs. selwyn, a small pink spot coming on either cheek; "but he loves polly, and wanted to show it." "and he was so good to think of it," cried mother fisher, her heart warming more and more toward the little old earl. "and as he couldn't be turned from it, and his health is precarious if he is excited, why, there was nothing to be done about it. and then he insisted that tom and i come off for a bit of a run on the continent, the other children being with him. and as my big boy"--here a loving smile went all over the plain face, making it absolutely beautiful--"had worried down deep in his heart over the past, till i was more troubled than i can tell you, why, we came. and then god was good--for then we met you! oh, mrs. fisher!" she drew her hands by a sudden movement away, and put them on mother fisher's shoulders. and then that british matron, rarely demonstrative with her own children, even, leaned over and kissed polly's mother. "i can't see why it's so warm up here," said polly, racing over to their bench, followed by the others. "dear me, it's fairly hot." and she pulled off her jacket. "don't do that, polly," said her mother. "oh, mamsie, it's so very hot," said polly; but she thrust her arms into the sleeves and pulled it on again. "i know; but you've been running," said mrs. fisher, "and have gotten all heated up." "well, it's perfectly splendid to travel to places where we can run and race," said polly, in satisfaction, throwing herself down on the rocks. the others all doing the same thing, mr. king and the parson and mrs. henderson found them, and pretty soon the group was a big one. "well, well, we are all here together, no--where is mrs. gray?" asked mr. king, presently. "she is resting in the hotel," said mother fisher, "fast asleep i think by this time." "yes," said adela, "she is. i just peeked in on her, and she hasn't moved where you tucked her up on the lounge." "grandpapa," asked polly, suddenly, from the centre of the group, "what makes it so very warm up here, when we are all surrounded by snow?" "you ask me a hard thing," said old mr. king. "well, for one thing, we are very near the italian border; those peaks over there, you know,--follow my walking-stick as i point it,--are in sunny italy." "well, it is just like sunny italy up here," said polly, "i think," blinking, and pulling her little cap over her eyes. "it's all the italy you will get in the summer season," said grandpapa. "you must wait for cold weather before i take one of you there." xxiv the round robin "dear me, how the summer is going!" mourned polly, as they caught on the return journey the last glimpse of the roaring, tumbling visp, and not all the craning of the necks could compass another view, as the cars drew them away from the rushing river. "never mind, polly," said jasper, "there's all next summer; and after our winter in dresden, and all our hard work over music, won't it be fine, though, to jaunt round again?" and his eyes glistened. "dresden!" echoed polly, sitting quite straight with very red cheeks;--"oh, jasper!" the magic word, "dresden," had unlocked visions of months of future delight, bringing back every word of dear herr bauricke; all the instruction he had given her, on those happy days at lucerne, that polly felt quite sure were engraven deep on her heart to last forever and ever. "and won't i study, though!" exclaimed polly, to herself, "and make the professor that herr bauricke has engaged for me, glad that he teaches me, oh, won't i!" "well, i'm sorry the summer is going," said adela, "because then i've got to leave you at paris, and go into school." "but you like your school," said polly, brightly, "you've said so a dozen times, adela." "yes, i do," said adela, "and i've got some sketches to take back, and mademoiselle will be glad of that." "and you'll go on drawing and painting until you get to be a great artist," ran on polly, enthusiastically, "and then we'll see something you've done, in the louvre, maybe." "the louvre!" cried adela; "o dear me, polly pepper." "i don't care," said polly, recklessly, pushing back the little rings of brown hair from her brow, "they'll be good enough, the pictures you are going to do, to put into the louvre, anyway, adela gray." tom selwyn had been very sober during all this merry chatter; and now in his seat across the narrow aisle, he drummed his heels impatiently on the floor. his mother looked over at him, and slipping out of her seat, went over to him. "any room here, tom, for mother?" she said. "oh,--ah,--i should say so!" tom slipped out, gave her the window seat, then flew back. "now, this is comfy," observed mrs. selwyn, as the train sped on. "tom, see here!" "what's up, little mother?" asked tom, in surprise, at her unusual manner. "it's just this, tom. you know we are going to chamonix and up the _mer de glace_ with mr. king's party." tom bobbed his head, not allowing himself to exclaim, "but that will be only a short journey, now, and we must soon say 'good-by.'" "well, i've been thinking that i should like to go on to geneva, and to paris," continued mrs. selwyn, "only you dislike paris so much, tom," she added. "oh, you're the bulliest--i mean--excuse me--you're no end a brick--oh, i mean--i can't say what i mean," brought up tom, in despair. and he ran one long arm around her neck very much to the detriment of her neat collar. "then you can overcome your dislike to paris enough to go there?" asked his mother, with a little twinkle in her eye. "my dislike!" roared tom, "o dear me!" as everybody looked around. "why, i just love paris!" he finished in an awful whisper, close to the plain, black bonnet. when the news was circulated, as it was pretty soon, that the party was not to be broken into at all till paris was a completed story, the jubilation was such as to satisfy even tom. and as this particular party had the car entirely to themselves, it wasn't so very dreadful as it seems, and the elder members allowed indulgent smiles at it all. that night in the market-place at martigny, jasper, who was ahead with his father, ran back to polly, and the others lingering behind. "oh, do hurry," he begged, "it's the prettiest sight!" "oh, what is it?" cried polly, as they scampered off. there, in the centre of the market-place, was a ring of little girls, hand-in-hand, singing a little french song, and going round and round in a circle. they were of all ages and sizes, the littlest one in a blue pinafore, being about three years of age, and so chubby she had to be helped along continually by a big girl, evidently her sister. this big sister stopped the ring game, every now and then, to kiss the round face by the side of her gown; an example that was followed by so many of the other girls, that the game seemed to be never quite finished. and once in a while, big sister would pick up the chubby, little, blue-pinafored maiden and carry her through a considerable portion of the game, then down she would put her on her two chubby feet, and away they all circled without any break in the proceedings at all. "oh! isn't it 'oats, peas, beans, and barley grow'?" cried polly, as they watched them intently. "ever so much like it," said tom. "see those boys; now they are going to make trouble." "oh, they sha'n't!" declared polly. "o dear me!" as one boy drew near, on the side next to the travellers, and watching his chance, picked at a flying apron or two. but the ring of girls paid no more attention to him, than they had to any other outside matters, being wholly absorbed in the game. so polly and the others breathed freely again. but up came another boy. "o dear me!" cried polly, aghast. when number three put in an appearance, she gave up all hope at once. "they're jealous chaps," cried tom, "and are vexed because they can't get into the game! hear them jeer!" and his long arm went out and picked a jacket-end of an urchin, who, incautiously regarding such quiet travellers as not worth minding, had hovered too near, while trying to tease the girls. "here, you, sir," cried tom, with a bit of a shake, and a torrent of remarkably good french not to be disregarded; then he burst into a laugh. and the urchin laughed too, thinking this much better fun to tussle with the tall lad, than to hang around a parcel of girls. and presently a woman came and took little blue pinafore off, and then the rest of the girls unclasped their hands, and the ring melted away, and the game was over. "i'm glad the girls over here have fun," said polly, as grandpapa and his party moved off. "isn't it nice to think they do?" "it isn't much matter where you live, there's a good deal to be gotten out of life; if you only know how," said the parson, thinking busily of the little brown house. two or three days of rest at martigny put everybody in good shape, and gave them all a bit of time to pick up on many little things that were behindhand. tom looked over all his floral treasures, with their last additions made at the riffelalp, and discarded such as hadn't pressed well. and jasper and polly rushed up to date with their journals, and wrote letters home; and adela worked up her studies and sketches. tom looked on silently when polly and jasper were scraping their pens in a lively fashion in the little writing room of the hotel. "that's my third letter, polly," announced jasper, on the other side of the table. "now, i am going to begin on joel's." "one, two," said polly, counting, "why, i thought i'd written three; well, this one is most finished, jasper." "yes," said jasper, glancing over at her, "is that your last page, polly?" "yes," said polly, hurrying away. then she thought of what mamsie had said, and slackened her speed. tom cleared his throat, and tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come nicely, so he burst out, "i say, i wish you'd write to my granddaddy, both of you," and then he stood quite still, and very red in the face. polly looked up quickly, her pen dropping from her fingers, and jasper deserted his fourth letter and stared. "why," said polly, finding her tongue, "we wouldn't dare, tom selwyn." "dare!" said tom, delighted to think that no terrible result had really ensued from his words, that after they were out, had scared him mightily. "oh, if you knew granddaddy!" and he sank into a chair by the table, and played with the heap of picture postal cards that polly was going to address next. "we might," said polly, slowly, "write a letter, all of us. a kind of a round robin thing, you know, and send that." "so we could," cried jasper; "how would that do, tom?" "the very thing!" exclaimed tom, striking his hand so heavily on the table, that for a minute it looked as if the ink-bottle hopped. "take care, there's no reason you should knock things over because you are overjoyed," cried jasper, gaily. "well, let's leave our letters to-day, polly, and set to on the round robin." "all right," said polly, glad to think there was anything she could really do to please the little old earl, "but would your mother like it, tom?" she stopped slowly in putting her unfinished letter into the little writing-case, and looked at him. "if you think there's a shadow of doubt on that score, i'd best run and ask her now." tom got himself out of the chair, and himself from the room, and in an incredibly short space of time, back there he was. "my mother says, 'thank polly for thinking of it; it will do father more good than anything else could possibly do.'" "i don't suppose you want any more answer," said tom, quite radiant, and looking down at polly. "no, only i didn't think first of it," said polly, in a distressed little tone. "why, polly pepper!" exclaimed tom, "i certainly heard you say 'round robin,' when i'll venture to say not a soul of us had even thought of it; we certainly hadn't said so." "well, you spoke of the letter first," said polly, unwilling to take the credit for all the comfort going to the little old earl, "and i shall tell your mother so, tom." "but i didn't say 'round robin,'" persisted tom, "wasn't smart enough to think of it." "and let's get to work," cried jasper, huddling up his three letters. "i'll post yours, too, polly; give them here." "o dear, my stamps are all gone," said polly, peering into the little box in one corner of her writing-case. "i've plenty," said jasper, hurrying off; "i'll stick on two for you." "oh, no, jasper," cried polly, after him, "you know mamsie would not allow me to borrow." "it isn't borrowing," said jasper, turning back slowly. "i'll give them to you, polly." "but mamsie said when we started i should get my stamps when i needed them," said polly. "you know she did, jasper." "yes, she did," said jasper, uncomfortably. then his face brightened, and he said, "and she's right, polly," while polly fished a franc out of joel's little money-bag that hung at her belt. "do get the stamps, please, jasper, and put them on," as he took up her two letters. and she gave the bag a little pat for joel's sake, wishing it was his stubby black hair that her fingers could touch. "dear me, you are dreadfully particular about taking two postage stamps, seems to me," said adela, who had taken that time, as she hadn't any letters to write, to work up one of her studies from memory of the visp. tom's blue eyes flashed dangerously, then he cleared his throat, whistled, and walked to the window. "i don't know where we are going to get nice white paper for our 'round robin,'" said polly, leaning her elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands. "i know!" ejaculated tom, whirling on his heel, and dashing out. in he came, swinging three or four goodly sheets. "filched 'em out of the old woman's room," he said. "oh, tom!" began polly. "i mean, the housekeeper--matron--conciergerie--whatever you call the gentle lady who runs this house--was fortunately at our desk where she has the pleasure of making up our bills, and i worked on her feelings till she parted with 'em," explained tom. "oh!" said polly; "well, i'm glad she gave them." "never you fear but what they'll be in our bills, polly," said tom, who couldn't believe by this time that he hadn't always known polly pepper. "it's dreadfully thin paper," said adela, critically, getting off from the sofa to pick at one corner of the sheet polly was beginning to divide. "i'm glad we have any," hummed polly, happily. "thank your stars you have," said tom, as gaily. and jasper running in, the table was soon surrounded by the makers of the round robin, adela deserting her sketch-book and pulling up a chair. "and phronsie must come," said polly, snipping away to get the paper the right width. "o dear me, i can't cut it straight. do you please finish it, jasper." "that's all right," said jasper, squinting at it critically, "only--just this edge wants a little bit of trimming, polly." and he snipped off the offending points. "i'll fetch phronsie," cried tom, springing off. "and hurry," cried polly and jasper, together, after him. "polly," said phronsie, as tom came careering in with her on his shoulder. "i want to write, too, i do," she cried, very much excited. "of course, you shall, pet. that's just what we want you for," cried polly, clearing a place on the table; "there, do pull up a chair, jasper." "now, phronsie, i think you would better begin, for you are the littlest," and she flapped the long strip down in front of her. "oh, polly, you begin," begged tom. "no, i think phronsie ought to," said polly, shaking her head. "i want polly to," said phronsie, wriggling away from the pen that polly held out alluringly. "but polly wants you to," said jasper. "i really would, phronsie dear, to please her." to please polly, being what phronsie longed for next to pleasing mamsie, she gave a small sigh and took the pen in unsteady fingers. "wait a minute, phronsie!" exclaimed polly, in dismay, "i believe we've made a mistake, jasper, and got the wrong sheet." and polly turned off with him to examine the rest of the paper. phronsie, who hadn't heard what polly said, her small head being full of the responsibility of beginning the important letter, and considering, since it was to be done, it was best to have it over with as soon as possible, fell to scribbling the letters as fast as she could, all of them running down hill. "well, i'm glad to see that we haven't made any mistake," cried polly, turning back in relief. "oh, phronsie, you haven't begun!" she spoke so sharply that phronsie started, and a little drop of ink trembling on the point of her pen concluded to hop off. so it did and jumped down on the clean white paper to stare up at them all like a very bad black eye. "oh, see what she's written!" cried polly, quite aghast, and tumbling into her chair, she pointed at the top. "deer mister erl," scrawled clear across the top. "i didn't--mean--oh, you said do it, polly." phronsie threw herself out of her chair, and over into polly's lap, burrowing and wailing piteously. "o dear me, how could i say anything?" cried polly, overcome with remorse and patting phronsie's yellow hair; "but it is so very dreadful. o dear me! phronsie, there, there, don't cry. o dear me!" tom's mouth trembled. "it's all right. granddaddy'll like it," he said. "oh, tom selwyn," gasped polly, looking up over phronsie's head, "you don't suppose we'd let that letter go." "i would," said tom, coolly, running his hands in his pockets. "i tell you, you don't know my granddaddy. he's got lots of fun in him," he added. "phronsie," said jasper, rushing around the table, "you are making polly sick. just look at her face." phronsie lifted her head where she had burrowed it under polly's arm. when she saw that polly's round cheeks were really quite pale, she stopped crying at once. "are you sick, polly?" she asked, in great concern. "i sha'n't be," said polly, "if you won't cry any more, phronsie." "i won't cry any more," declared phronsie, wiping off the last tear trailing down her nose. "then you will be all well, polly?" "then i shall be all as well as ever," said polly, kissing the wet little face. when they got ready to begin on the letter again, it was nowhere to be found, and tom had disappeared as well. "he took it out," said adela, for the first time finding her tongue. "i saw him while you were all talking." while they were wondering over this and were plunged further yet in dismay, tom came dancing in, waving the unlucky sheet of the round robin over his head. "my mother says," he announced in triumph, "that father will get no end of fun over that if you let it go. it will cheer him up." so that ended the matter, although polly, who dearly loved to be elegant, had many a twinge whenever her eye fell on the letter at which phronsie was now labouring afresh. "we must put in little pictures," said polly, trying to make herself cheery as the work went busily on. "polly, you always do think of the best things!" exclaimed jasper, beaming at her, which made her try harder than ever to smile. "i wouldn't feel so badly, polly," he managed to whisper, when phronsie was absorbed with her work; "he'll like it probably just as father did the gingerbread boy." "but that was different," groaned polly. "pictures!" tom selwyn was saying, "oh, there's where i can come in fine with assistance. i'm no good in a letter." and again he rushed from the room. "that's three times that boy has gone out," announced adela, "and he joggles the table awfully when he starts. and he made me cut clear into that edge. see, polly." she was trimming the third strip of paper, for the round robin was to be pasted together and rolled up when it was all done. "he seems to accomplish something every time he goes," observed jasper, drily. "halloo, just look at him now!" in came tom with a rush, and turned a small box he held in his hand upside down on the table. "o dear me!" exclaimed adela, as her scissors slipped, "now you've joggled the table again!" then she caught polly's eye. "aren't those pictures pretty?" she burst out awkwardly. "aren't they so!" cried tom, in satisfaction, while polly oh-ed and ah-ed, and phronsie dropped her pen suddenly making a second blot; only as good fortune would have it, it was so near the edge that they all on anxious examination decided to trim the paper down, and thus get rid of it. "i don't see how you got so many," said jasper, in admiration, his fingers busy with the heap. "oh, i've picked 'em up here and there," said tom. "i began because i thought the kids at home might like 'em. and then it struck me i'd make a book like yours." "well, do save them now," said jasper, "and we'll give some of our pictures, though the prettiest ones are in our books," he added regretfully. "rather not--much obliged," tom bobbed his thanks. "i want to donate something to granddaddy, and i tell you i'm something awful at a letter." "all right, seeing you wish it so," said jasper, with a keen look at him, "and these are beauties and no mistake; we couldn't begin to equal them." when the letter was finally unrolled and read to grandpapa, who strayed into the reading room to see what phronsie was doing, it certainly was a beauty. picture after picture, cut from railroad guide books, illustrated papers, and it seemed to jasper gathered as if by magic, with cunning little photographs, broke up the letter, and wound in and out with funny and charming detail of some of their journey. "i wrote that all myself," hummed phronsie, smoothing her gown, in great satisfaction, pointing to the opening of the letter. "o dear me!" exclaimed polly, softly, for she couldn't even yet get over that dreadful beginning. "the rest of it is nice," whispered jasper, "and i venture to say, he'll like that the best of all." mr. king thought so, too, and he beamed at phronsie. "so you did," he cried; "now that's fine. i wish you'd write me a letter sometime." "i'm going to write you one now," declared phronsie. since grandpapa wanted anything, it was never too soon to begin work on it. "do," cried old mr. king, in great satisfaction. so he put down the round robin, adela crying out that she wanted her grandmother to see it; and polly saying that mamsie, and papa-doctor, and the parson and mrs. henderson must see it; "and most important of all," said jasper, breaking into the conversation, "mrs. selwyn must say if it is all right to go." at that polly began to have little "creeps" as she always called the shivers. "o dear me!" she exclaimed again, and turned quite pale. "you don't know my mother," exclaimed tom, "if you think she won't like that. she's got lots of fun in her, and she always sees the sense of a thing." "but she's so nice," breathed polly, who greatly admired mrs. selwyn, "and so elegant." tom bobbed his head and accepted this as a matter of course. "that's the very reason she understands things like a shot--and knows how to take 'em," he said; "and i tell you, polly," he declared with a burst of confidence that utterly surprised him, "i'd rather have my mother than any other company i know of; she's awful good fun!" "i know it," said polly, brightly, with a little answering smile. "well, i hope she'll like it." "never you fear," cried tom, seizing the round robin; and waving it over his head, it trailed off back of him like a very long and broad ribbon. "come on, now, all fall into line!" "take care!" cried jasper, as he ran after with polly and adela, "if you dare to tear that, sir!" while phronsie at the big table laboured away on her letter, grandpapa sitting by to watch the proceedings, with the greatest interest. and one look at mrs. selwyn's face, as she read that round robin, was enough for polly! and then to post it. "dear me," said polly, when that important matter was concluded, "suppose anything should happen to it now, before it gets there!" xxv on the _mer de glace_ "well, we can't all get into one carriage," said polly, on the little brick-paved veranda of the hotel, "so what is the use of fussing, adela?" "i don't care," said adela, "i'm going to ride in the same carriage with you, polly pepper, so there!" and she ran her arm in polly's, and held it fast. jasper kicked his heel impatiently against one of the pillars where the sweetbrier ran; then he remembered, and stopped suddenly, hoping nobody had heard. "the best way to fix it is to go where we are put," he said at last, trying to speak pleasantly. "no, i'm going with polly," declared adela, perversely, holding polly tighter than ever. "i'm going with you, polly," cried phronsie, running up gleefully, "grandpapa says i may." "well, so am i," announced adela, loudly. tom selwyn gave a low whistle, and thrust his hands in his pockets, his great and only comfort on times like these. "anything but a greedy girl," he sniffed in lofty contempt. meanwhile the horses were being put in the carriages, the stable men were running hither and thither to look to buckle and strap, and a lot of bustle was going on that at any other time would have claimed the boys. now it fell flat, as a matter of interest. "halloo--k-lup!" the drivers gave the queer call clear down in their throats, and hopped to their places on the three conveyances, and with a rattle and a flourish the horses now spun around the fountain in the little courtyard to come up with a swing to the veranda. "now, then," said grandpapa, who had been overseeing every detail, "here we are," running his eyes over his party; "that's right," in great satisfaction. "i never saw such a family as i have for being prompt on all occasions. well then, the first thing i have to do is to get you settled in these carriages the right way." adela, at that, snuggled up closer than ever to polly, and gripped her fast. "now, mrs. fisher," said old mr. king, "you'll ride with mrs. selwyn in the first carriage, and you must take two of the young folks in with you." "oh, let polly and me go in there!" cried adela, forgetting her wholesome fear of the stately old gentleman in her anxiety to get her own way. "polly is going with me and phronsie," said mr. king. "hop in, adela, child, and one of you boys." tom ducked off the veranda, while adela, not daring to say another syllable, slowly withdrew her arm from polly's and mounted the carriage step, with a miserable face. "come on, one of you boys," cried mr. king, impatiently. "we should have started a quarter of an hour ago--i don't care which one, only hurry." "i can't!" declared tom, flatly, grinding his heel into the pebbles, and looking into jasper's face. "very well,"--jasper drew a long breath,--"i must, then." and without more ado, he got into the first carriage and they rattled off to wait outside the big gate till the procession was ready to start. old mrs. gray, the parson's wife and the parson, and little dr. fisher made the next load, and then grandpapa, perfectly delighted that he had arranged it all so nicely, with polly and phronsie, climbed into the third and last carriage, while tom swung himself up as a fourth. "they say it is a difficult thing to arrange carriage parties with success," observed mr. king. "i don't find it so in the least," he added, complacently, just on the point of telling the driver to give the horses their heads. "but that is because i've such a fine party on my hands, where each one is willing to oblige, and--" "ugh!" exclaimed tom selwyn, with a snort that made the old gentleman start. "i'm going to get out a minute--excuse me--can't explain." and he vaulted over the wheel. "bless me, what's come to the boy!" exclaimed mr. king; "now he's forgotten something. i hope he won't be long." but tom didn't go into the hotel. instead, he dashed up to carriage number one. "get out," he was saying to jasper, and presenting a very red face to view. "i'm going in here." "oh, no," said jasper; "it's all fixed, and i'm going to stay here." and despite all tom could say, this was the sole reply he got. so back he went, and climbed into old mr. king's carriage again, with a very rueful face. old mr. king viewed him with cold displeasure as the driver smacked his whip and off they went to join the rest of the party. "you must go first," sang out the little doctor, as grandpapa's carriage drove up; "you are the leader, and we'll all follow you." "yes, yes," shouted the parson, like a boy. and the occupants of carriage number one saying the same thing, grandpapa's conveyance bowled ahead; and he, well pleased to head the procession, felt some of his displeasure at the boy sitting opposite to him dropping off with each revolution of the wheels. but tom couldn't keep still. "i didn't want to come in this carriage, sir!" he burst out. "eh! what?" old mr. king brought his gaze again to bear upon tom's face. "well, you are here now," he said, only half comprehending. "because jasper won't take the place," cried tom, setting his teeth together in distress. "that's what i got out for." "oh, i see," said mr. king, a light beginning to break through. tom wilted miserably under the gaze that still seemed to go through and through him, and polly looked off at her side of the carriage, wishing the drive over the _tãªte noire_ was all ended. old mr. king turned to phronsie at his side. "well, now," he said, taking her hand, "we are in a predicament, phronsie, for it evidently isn't going to be such an overwhelming success as i thought." "what is a predicament?" asked phronsie, wrenching her gaze from the lovely vine-clad hills, which she had been viewing with great satisfaction, to look at once into his face. "oh, a mix-up; a mess generally," answered grandpapa, not pausing to choose words. "well, what's to be done, now,--that is the question?" tom groaned at sight of the face under the white hair, from which all prospect of pleasure had fled. "i was a beastly cad," he muttered to himself. phronsie leaned over mr. king's knee. "tell me," she begged, "what is it, grandpapa?" "oh, nothing, child," said grandpapa, with a glance at polly's face, "that you can help, at least." polly drew a long breath. "something must be done," she decided. "oh, i know. why, grandpapa, we can change before we get to the halfway place," she cried suddenly, glad to think of something to say. "can't we? and then we can all have different places." "the very thing!" exclaimed mr. king, his countenance lightening. "come, tom, my boy, cheer up. i'll put jasper and every one else in the right place soon. here you, stop a bit, will you?"--to the driver. "k-lup!" cried the driver, thinking it a call to increase speed; so the horses bounded on smartly for several paces, and no one could speak to advantage. "make him hold up, tom!" commanded mr. king, sharply. and tom knowing quite well how to accomplish this, grandpapa soon stood up in the carriage and announced, "in half an hour, or thereabout, if we come to a good stopping-place, i shall change some of you twelve people about in the carriages. pass the word along." but adela didn't ride with polly. for rushing and pushing as the change about was effected, to get her way and be with polly, she felt her arm taken in a very light but firm grasp. "no, no, my dear,"--it was old mr. king,--"not that way. here is your place. when a little girl pushes, she doesn't get as much as if she waits to be asked." "it had to be done," he said to himself, "for the poor child has had no mother to teach her, and it will do her good." but he felt sorry for himself to be the one to teach the lesson. and so they went over the _tãªte noire_ to catch the first sight of mont blanc. * * * * * "i'm going to have a donkey for my very own," confided phronsie, excitedly, the next morning, to jasper, whom she met in the little sun-parlour. "no!" cried jasper, pretending to be much amazed, "you don't say so, phronsie!" "yes, i am," she cried, bobbing her yellow head. "grandpapa said so; he really did, jasper. and i'm going to ride up that long, big mountain on my donkey." she pointed up and off, but in the wrong direction. "oh, no, phronsie, that isn't the way we are going. the montanvert is over here, child," corrected jasper. "and i'm going to ride my donkey," repeated phronsie, caring little which way she was going, since all roads must of course lead to fairy-land, "and we're going to see the water that's frozen, and grandpapa says we are to walk over it; but i'd rather ride my donkey, jasper," confided phronsie, in a burst of confidence. "i guess you'll be glad enough to get off from your donkey by the time you reach the top of montanvert," observed jasper, wisely. "well, now, phronsie, we are not going for a day or two, you know, for father doesn't wish us to be tired." "i'm not a bit tired, jasper," said phronsie, "and i do so very much wish we could go to-day." "o dear me!" exclaimed jasper, with a little laugh, "why, we've only just come, phronsie! it won't be so very long before we'll be off. goodness! the time flies so here, it seems to me we sha'n't hardly turn around before those donkeys will be coming into this yard after us to get on their backs." but phronsie thought the time had never dragged so in all her small life; and, although she went about hanging to grandpapa's hand as sweet and patient as ever, all her mind was on the donkeys; and whenever she saw one,--and the street was full, especially at morning and in the late afternoon, of the little beasts of burden, clattering up the stony roads,--she would beg to just go and pat one of the noses, if by chance one of the beasts should stand still long enough to admit of such attention. "oh, no, phronsie," expostulated old mr. king, when this pleasing little performance had been indulged in for a half a dozen times. "you can't pat them all; goodness me, child, the woods are full of them," he brought up in dismay. "do they live in the woods?" asked phronsie, in astonishment. "i mean, the place--this whole valley of chamonix is full of donkeys," said grandpapa, "so you see, child, it's next to impossible to pat all their noses." "i hope i'm going to have that dear, sweet little one," cried phronsie, giving up all her mind, since the soft noses couldn't be patted, to happy thoughts of to-morrow's bliss. "see, grandpapa," she pulled his hand gently, "to ride up the mountain on." "well, you'll have a good one, that is, as good as can be obtained," said the old gentleman; "but as for any particular one, why, they're all alike to me as two peas, phronsie." but phronsie had her own ideas on the subject, and though on every other occasion agreeing with grandpapa, she saw good and sufficient reason why every donkey should be entirely different from every other donkey. and when, on the next morning, their procession of donkeys filed solemnly into the hotel yard, she screamed out, "oh, grandpapa, here he is, the very one i wanted! oh, may i have him? put me up, do!" "he's the worst one of the whole lot," groaned grandpapa, his eye running over the file, "i know by the way he puts his vicious old feet down. phronsie, here is a cunning little fellow," he added, artfully trying to lead her to one a few degrees better, he fondly hoped. but phronsie already had her arms up by her particular donkey's neck, and her cheek laid against his nose, and she was telling him that he was her donkey, for she thought grandpapa would say "yes." so what else could he do, pray tell, but say "yes"? and she mounted the steps, and was seated, her little brown gown pulled out straight, and the saddle girth tightened, and all the other delightful and important details attended to, and then the reins were put in her overjoyed hands. she never knew how it was all done, seeing nothing, hearing nothing of the confusion and chatter, of the mounting of the others, her gaze fixed on the long ears before her, and only conscious that her very own donkey was really there, and that she was on his back. and it was not until they started and the guide who held her bridle loped off into an easy pace, by the animal's head, that she aroused from her dream of bliss as a sudden thought struck her. "what is my donkey's name?" she asked softly. the man loped on, not hearing, and he wouldn't have understood had he heard. "i don't believe he has any name," said old mr. king just behind. "phronsie, is your saddle all right? do you like it, child?" all in one breath. "i like it very much," answered phronsie, trying to turn around. "don't do that, child," said grandpapa, hastily. "sit perfectly still, and on no account turn around or move in the saddle." "i won't, grandpapa," she promised, obediently, and presently she began again, "i want to know his name, grandpapa, so that i can tell my pony when i get home." "oh, well, we'll find out," said grandpapa. "here you, can't you tell the name of that donkey?" he cried to the guide holding phronsie's bridle. "oh, i forgot, he doesn't understand english," and he tried it in french. but this was not much better, for old mr. king, preferring to use none but the best of french when he employed any, was only succeeding in mystifying the poor man so that he couldn't find his tongue at all, but stared like a clod till the old gentleman's patience was exhausted. at last jasper, hearing what the trouble was, shouted out something from his position in the rear, that carried the meaning along with it, and phronsie the next minute was delighted to hear "boolah," as the guide turned and smiled and showed all his teeth at her, his pleasure was so great at discovering that he could really understand. "why, that's the name of my donkey," said polly, patting the beast's rough neck. "he told me so when he helped me to mount." "so it is mine," announced jasper, bursting into a laugh. "i guess they only have one name for the whole lot." "well, don't let us tell phronsie so," said polly, "and i shall call mine 'greybeard' because he's got such a funny old stiff beard and it is grey." "and i shall christen mine 'boneyard,'" declared jasper, "for he's got such a very big lot of bones, and they aren't funny, i can tell you." and so with fun and nonsense and laughter, as soon as they wound around by the little english church and across the meadows, and struck into the pine wood, the whole party of twelve, grandpapa and all, began to sing snatches from the newest operas down to college songs. for grandpapa hadn't forgotten his college days when he had sung with the best, and he had the parson on this occasion to keep him company, and the young people, of course, knew all the songs by heart, as what young person doesn't, pray tell! so the bits and snatches rolled out with a gusto, and seemed to echo along the whole mountain side as the procession of sure-footed animals climbed the steep curves. "oh, polly, your donkey is going over," exclaimed adela, who rode the second in the rear after polly; "he flirts his hind legs right over the precipice every time you go round a curve." "well, he brings them round all right," said polly, composedly; and, with a little laugh, "oh, isn't this too lovely for anything!" she cried, with sparkling eyes. "well, don't let him," cried adela, huddling up on her donkey, and pulling at the rein to make him creep closer to the protecting earth wall. "na--na," one of the guides ran up to her, shaking his head. adela, fresh from her paris school had all her french, of the best kind too, at her tongue's end, but she seemed to get on no better than mr. king. "my french is just bad enough to be useful," laughed jasper. so he untangled the trouble again, and made adela see that she really must not pull at her bridle, but allow the donkey to go his own gait, for they were all trained to it. "your french is just beautiful," cried polly. "oh, jasper, you know monsieur always says--" "don't, polly," begged jasper, in great distress. "no, i won't," promised polly, "and i didn't mean to. but i couldn't help it, jasper, when you spoke against your beautiful french." "we've all heard you talk french, jasper, so you needn't feel so cut up if polly should quote your monsieur," cried tom, who, strange to say, no matter how far he chanced to ride in the rear, always managed to hear everything. "that's because we are everlastingly turning a corner," he explained, when they twitted him for it, "and as i'm near the end of the line i get the benefit of the doubling and twisting, for the front is always just above me. so don't say anything you don't want me to hear, old fellow," he sang out to jasper on the bridle path "just above," as tom had said. "now, don't you want to get off?" cried jasper, deserting his donkey, and running up to phronsie, as they reached the summit and drew up before the hotel. "oh, somebody take that child off," groaned old mr. king, accepting the arm of the guide to help him dismount, "for i can't. every separate and distinct bone in my body protests against donkeys from this time forth and forevermore. and yet i've got to go down on one," he added ruefully. "no, i don't want to get down," declared phronsie, still holding fast to the reins; "can't i sit on my donkey, jasper, while you all walk over on the frozen water?" "oh, my goodness, no!" gasped jasper. "why, phronsie, you'd be tired to death--the very idea, child!" "no," said phronsie, shaking her yellow hair obstinately, "i wouldn't be tired one single bit, jasper. and i don't want to get down from my donkey." "well, if you didn't go over the _mer de glace_, why, we couldn't any of us go," said jasper, at his wits' end how to manage it without worrying his father, already extremely tired, he could see, "and that's what we've come up for--" phronsie dropped the reins. "take me down, please, jasper," she said, putting out her arms. "how are you now, father?" cried jasper, running over to him when he had set phronsie on the ground. "it's astonishing," said old mr. king, stretching his shapely limbs, "but all that dreadful sensation i always have after riding on one of those atrocious animals is disappearing fast." "that's good," cried jasper, in delight. "well, i suppose we are all going to wait a bit?" he asked, and longing to begin the tramp over the _mer de glace_. "wait? yes, indeed, every blessed one of us," declared his father. "goodness me, jasper, what are you thinking of to ask such a question, after this pull up here? why, we sha'n't stir from this place for an hour." "i supposed we'd have to wait," said jasper, rushing off over the rocks, feeling how good it was to get down on one's feet again, and run and race. and getting polly and tom and adela, they ran down where the donkeys were tethered and saw them fed, and did a lot of exploring; and it didn't seem any time before an alpine horn sounded above their heads, and there was grandpapa, tooting away and calling them to come up and buy their woollen socks; for they were going to start. so they scrambled up, and picked out their socks, and, each seizing a pair in one hand and an alpenstock with a long, sharp spike on the end in the other, they ran off down the zigzag path to the glacier, two or three guides helping the others along. at the foot of the rocky path the four drew up. "o dear, it's time to put on these horrible old stockings," grumbled adela, shaking hers discontentedly. "'good old stockings,' you'd much better say," broke in jasper. "they're better than a broken neck," observed tom, just meaning to ask polly if he could put hers on for her. but he was too slow in getting at it, and jasper was already kneeling on the rocks and doing that very thing. "now i'm all ready," announced polly, stamping her feet, arrayed in marvellous red-and-white striped affairs. "thank you, jasper. oh, how funny they feel!" "shall i help you?" asked tom, awkwardly enough, of adela. "oh, i don't want them on, and i don't mean to wear them," said adela, with a sudden twist. "i'm going to throw them away." "then you'll just have to stay back," said jasper, decidedly, "for no one is to be allowed on that glacier who doesn't put on a pair." "i won't slip--the idea!" grumbled adela. yet she stuck out her foot, and tom, getting down on his knees, suppressed a whistle as he securely tied them on. then the boys flew into theirs instanter. "mine are blue," said phronsie, as the others filed slowly down the winding path between the rocks, and she pointed to the pair dangling across her arm. "i am so very glad they are blue, grandpapa." "so am i, pet," he cried, delighted to find that he was apparently as agile as the parson. no one could hope to equal little dr. fisher, who was here, there, and everywhere, skipping about among the rocks like a boy let loose from school. "well, well, the children are all ready," exclaimed old mr. king, coming upon the four, impatient to begin their icy walk. "didn't you expect it?" cried little dr. fisher, skipping up. "well, to say the truth, i did," answered old mr. king, with a laugh. "now, phronsie, sit down on that rock, and let the guide tie on your stockings." so phronsie's little blue stockings were tied on, and after grandpapa had gallantly seen that everybody else was served, he had his pulled on over his boots and fastened securely, and the line of march was taken up. "you go ahead, father," begged jasper, "and we'll all follow." so old mr. king, with phronsie and a guide on her farther side, led the way, and the red stockings and the brown and the black, and some of indescribable hue, moved off upon the _mer de glace_. "it's dreadfully dirty," said adela, turning up her nose. "i thought a glacier was white when you got up to it." "oh, i think it is lovely!" cried polly; "and that green down in the crevasse--look, adela!" "it's a dirty green," persisted adela, whose artistic sense wouldn't be satisfied. "o dear me!" as her foot slipped and she clutched mrs. henderson, who happened to be next. "now, how about the woollen stockings?" asked tom, while polly and jasper both sang out, "take care," and "go slowly." adela didn't answer, but stuck the sharp end of her alpenstock smartly into the ice. "something is the matter with my stocking," at last said the parson's wife, stopping and holding out her right foot. the guide nearest her stopped, too, and kneeling down on the ice, he pulled it into place, for it had slipped half off. "now be very careful," warned grandpapa, "and don't venture too near the edge," as he paused with phronsie and the guide. the others, coming up, looked down into a round, green pool of water that seemed to stare up at them, as if to say, "i am of unknown depth, so beware of me." "that gives me the 'creeps,' polly, as you say," mrs. henderson observed. "dear me, i shall never forget how that green water looks;" and she shivered and edged off farther yet. "supposing any one _should_ fall in!" "well, he'd go down right straight through the globe, seems to me," said tom, with a last look at the pool as they turned off, "it looks as if it had no end, till one would fetch up on the other side." "i love to hop over these little crevasses," said polly, and suiting the action to the word. "something is the matter with my stocking again," announced mrs. henderson to the guide, presently. "i am sorry to trouble you, but it needs to be fixed." he didn't understand the words, but there was no mistaking the foot thrust out with the woollen sock, now wet and sodden, half off again. so he kneeled down and pulled it on once more. before they reached the other side, the parson's wife had had that stocking pulled on six times, until at last, the guide, finding no more pleasure in a repetition of the performance, took a string from his pocket, and bunching up in his fist a good portion of the stocking heel, he wound the string around it and tied it fast, cut off the string, and returned the rest to his pocket. "why do you tie up the heel?" queried mrs. henderson. "i should think it much better to secure it in front." but he didn't understand, and the rest were quite a good bit in advance, and hating to give trouble, she went on, the stocking heel sticking out a few inches. but she kept it on her foot, so that might be called a success. the little widow gray was not going over the _mauvais pas_, neither was mrs. selwyn, as she had traversed it twice before. so, on reaching the other side, they were just about bidding good-by to the others, when, without a bit of warning, the parson's wife, in turning around, fell flat, and disappeared to the view of some of them behind a boulder of ice. all was confusion in an instant. the guides rushed--everybody rushed--pellmell to the rescue; tom's long legs, as usual, getting him there first. there she was in a heap, in a depression of ice and snow and water. "i'm all right, except"--and she couldn't help a grimace of pain--"my foot." the little doctor swept them all to one side, as they seated her on one of the boulders of ice. "humph! i should think likely," at sight of the tied-up stocking heel. "you stepped on that, and it flung you straight as a die and turned your foot completely over." "yes," said mrs. henderson. then she saw the guide who had tied the stocking looking on with a face of great concern. "oh, don't say anything, it makes him feel badly," she mumbled, wishing her foot wouldn't ache so. little dr. fisher was rapidly untying the unlucky stocking; and, whipping off the boot, he soon made sure that no ligaments were broken. then he put on the boot and the woollen sock, being careful to tie it in front over the instep, and whipping out his big handkerchief he proceeded to bandage the ankle in a truly scientific way. "now, then, mrs. henderson, you are all right to take the walk slowly back to the hotel." parson henderson took his wife's hand. "come, sarah," he said, gently helping her up. "oh, you are going over the _mauvais pas_," she cried in distress at the thought of his missing it. "come, sarah," he said gently, keeping her hand in his. "i'll go back with her too," said little dr. fisher. "oh, adoniram!" exclaimed his wife, but it was under her breath, and no one heard the exclamation. "i think dr. fisher ought to go with the other party; he will be needed there," mrs. selwyn was saying, in her quiet way. "and i will bathe mrs. henderson's foot just as he says it should be done, so good-by," and any one looking down with a field glass from the montanvert hotel, could have seen at this point, two parties, one proceeding to the _mauvais pas_ and the _chapeau_, and the other of three ladies, the parson and a guide, wending their way slowly on the return across the crevasses. xxvi "well, here we are in paris!" notwithstanding all the glory of the shops, and the tempting array of the jewellery and trinkets of every description therein displayed, after a few days of sailing on the exquisite lake, and some walks and drives, polly, down deep in her heart, was quite ready to move on from geneva. and, although she didn't say anything, old mr. king guessed as much, and broke out suddenly, "well, are you ready to start, polly?" "yes, grandpapa," she answered. "i have the presents for the girls. i'm all ready." "why, polly, you haven't anything for yourself," mother fisher exclaimed, as polly ran into her room and told the news--how grandpapa said they were to pack up and leave in the morning. "you haven't bought a single thing." "oh, i don't want anything," said polly. "i've so many things at home that grandpapa has given me. mamsie, isn't this pin for alexia just too lovely for anything?" she curled up on the end of the bed, and drew it out of its little box. "i think she'll like it," with anxious eyes on mother fisher's face. "like it?" repeated her mother. "how can she help it, polly?" "i think so too," said polly, happily, replacing it on the bed of cotton, and putting on the cover to look over another gift. mrs. fisher regarded her keenly. "well, now, polly," she said, decidedly, "i shall go down and get that chain we were looking at. for you do need that, and your father and i are going to give it to you." "oh, mamsie," protested polly, "i don't need it; really, i don't." "well, we shall give it to you," said mother fisher. then she went over to the bed and dropped a kiss on polly's brown hair. "mamsie," exclaimed polly, springing off the bed, and throwing her arms around her mother's neck, "i shall love that chain, and i shall wear it just all the time because you and papa-doctor gave it to me." when they neared paris, adela drew herself up in her corner of the compartment. "i expect you'll stare some when you get to paris, polly pepper." "i've been staring all the time since we started on our journey, adela, as hard as i could," said polly, laughing. "well, you'll stare worse than ever now," said adela, in an important way. "there isn't anything in all this world that isn't in paris," she brought up, not very elegantly. "i don't like paris." tom let the words out before he thought. "that's just because you are a boy," sniffed adela. "oh, polly, you ought to see the shops! when mademoiselle has taken us into some, i declare i could stay all day in one. such dreams of clothes and bonnets! you never saw such bonnets, polly pepper, in all your life!" she lifted her hands, unable to find words enough. "and the parks and gardens, i suppose, are perfectly lovely," cried polly, feeling as if she must get away from the bonnets and clothes. "yes, and the bois de boulogne to drive in, that's elegant. only mademoiselle won't take us there very often. i wish i was rich, and i'd have a span of long-tailed, grey horses, and drive up and down there every day." polly laughed. "well, i should like the tram-ways and the stages," said polly. "oh, those don't go into the bois de boulogne," cried adela, in a tone of horror. "why, polly pepper, what are you thinking of?" she exclaimed. this nettled tom. "of something besides clothes and bonnets," he broke out. then he was sorry he had spoken. "well, there's the louvre," said polly, after an uncomfortable little pause. "yes," said adela, "that's best of all, and it doesn't cost anything; so mademoiselle takes us there very often." "i should think it would be," cried polly, beaming at her, and answering the first part of adela's sentence. "oh, adela, i do so long to see it." "and you can't go there too often, polly," said jasper. "it's the only decent thing in paris," said tom, "that i like, i mean; that, and to sail up and down on the seine." "we'll go there the first day, polly," said jasper, "the louvre, i mean. well, here we are in paris!" and then it was all confusion, for the guards were throwing open the doors to the compartments, and streams of people were meeting on the platform, in what seemed to be inextricable confusion amid a babel of sounds. and it wasn't until polly was driving up in the big cab with her part of mr. king's "family," as he called it, through the broad avenues and boulevards, interspersed with occasional squares and gardens, and the beautiful bridges here and there across the seine, gleaming in the sunshine, that she could realise that they were actually in paris. and the next day they did go to the louvre. and adela, who was to stay a day or two at the hotel with them before going back into her school, was very important, indeed. and she piloted them about, the parson and mrs. henderson joining their group; the others, with the exception of the little widow gray, who stayed at home to look over adela's clothes, and take any last stitches, going off by themselves. "i do want to see the venus de milo," said polly, quite gone with impatience. "oh, adela, these paintings will wait." "well, that old statue will wait, too," cried adela, pulling her off into another gallery. "now, polly, mademoiselle says, in point of art, the pictures in here are quite important." "are they?" said poor polly, listlessly. "yes, they are," said adela, twitching her sleeve, "and mademoiselle brings us in this room every single time we come to the louvre." "it's the early french school, you know," she brought up glibly. "well, it's too early for us to take it in," said tom. "come, i'm for the venus de milo. it's this way;" and adela was forced to follow, which she did in a discontented fashion. "oh!" cried polly, catching her breath, and standing quite still as she caught sight of the wonderful marble, instinct with life, at the end of the long corridor below stairs. "why, she's smiling at us," as the afternoon sunshine streamed across the lovely face, to lose itself in the folds of the crimson curtain in the background. the parson folded his arms and drew in long breaths of delight. "it's worth fifty journeys over the ocean to once see that, sarah," he said. "do come back and look at the pictures," begged adela, pulling polly's arm again after a minute or two. "oh, don't!" exclaimed polly, under her breath. "oh, she's _so_ beautiful, adela!" "well, it's much better to see the pictures," said adela. "and then we can come here again to-morrow." "oh, i haven't seen this half enough," began polly, "and i've wanted to for so long." then she glanced at adela's face. "well, all right," she said, and turned off, to come directly into the path of grandpapa, with phronsie clinging to his hand, and the rest of his part of the "family" standing in silent admiration. "we thought we'd come here first," said old mr. king. "i don't mean to see anything else to-day. the venus de milo is quite enough for me. to-morrow, now, we'll drop in again, and look at some of the pictures." "there is beauty enough in that statue," said a lady, who just passed them, to the gentleman with her, "to satisfy any one; but living beauty after all is most appealing. just look at that child's face, edward." they were guilty of standing in a niche at a little remove, and studying phronsie with keen, critical eyes. "it's a wonderful type of beauty," said edward; "yellow hair and brown eyes,--and such features." "i don't care about the features," said the lady, "it's the expression; the child hasn't a thought of herself, and that's wonderful to begin with." "that's about it," replied edward, "and i suppose that's largely where the beauty lies, evelyn." "let us walk slowly down the corridor again," said evelyn, "and then come up; otherwise we shall attract attention to be standing here and gazing at them." "and i'd like to see that little beauty again," remarked edward, "i'll confess, evelyn." so evelyn and edward continued to gaze at intervals at the living beauty, and mr. king and his party were absorbed in the marble beauty; and adela was running over in her mind how she meant to have polly pepper all to herself at the visit to the louvre the next afternoon, when she would show her the pictures she specially liked. but they didn't any of them go to the louvre that next day, as it happened. it was so beautifully bright and sunshiny, that grandpapa said it would be wicked to pass the day indoors; so they had all the morning in a walk, and a sail on the seine,--and that pleased tom,--and all the afternoon, or nearly all, sitting up in state in carriages, driving up and down the bois de boulogne. and _that_ pleased adela. and when they tired of driving, old mr. king gave orders for the drivers to rest their horses. and then they all got out of the carriages, and walked about among the beautiful trees, and on the winding, sheltered paths. "it's perfectly lovely off there," said polly, "and almost like the country," with a longing glance off into the green, cool shade beyond. so they strolled off there, separating into little groups; polly and jasper in front, and wishing for nothing so much as a race. "i should think we might try it," said jasper; "there is no one near to see. come on, polly, do." "i suppose we ought not to," said polly, with a sigh, as adela overtook them. "ought not to what?" she asked eagerly. "jasper and i were wanting to run a race," said polly. "why, polly pepper! you are in paris!" exclaimed adela, quite shocked. "i know it," said polly, "and i wish we weren't. o dear! this seems just like the country, and--" just then a child screamed. "that's phronsie!" exclaimed polly, her cheek turning quite white. and she sped back over the path. "oh, no, polly," jasper tried to reassure her, as he ran after her. they were having their race, after all, but in a different way from what they had planned. "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 fã´ret 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 sparser 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!" ejaculated 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. a reckless cabby, driving as only a french cabman can, came dashing down the boulevard directly in her path, while a heavily loaded omnibus going in the opposite direction was trying to get out of his way. ever so many people screamed; and some one pulled mr. king back as he started to pick her up. it was all done in an instant, and every person expected to see her killed, when a long, gaunt individual in a shabby coat dashed in among the plunging horses, knocked up the head of the one belonging to the reckless cabby, swung an arm at the other pair to divert their course, and before any one could quite tell how, he picked up phronsie and bore her to the curbstone. some one got mr. king to the same point, too exhausted with fright to utter a word. when he came out of his shock, the shabby man was standing by phronsie, the crowd that saw nothing in the incident to promise further diversion, having melted away, and she was holding his hand, her little, mud-stained face radiant with happiness. "oh, grandpapa," she piped out, "it's your poor man!" "the dickens it is!" exploded mr. king. "well, i'm glad to find you. here, call a cab, will you? i must get this child home; that's the first thing to be done." the shabby man hailed a cab, but the cabman jeered at him and whirled by. so the old gentleman held up his hand; phronsie all this time, strange to say, not mentioning her doll, and mr. king, who wouldn't have cared if a hundred dolls had been left behind, not giving it a thought. now she looked anxiously on all sides. "oh, where is she, grandpapa dear?" she wailed, "my child; where is she?" "never mind, phronsie," cried mr. king, "i'll get you another one to-morrow. there, get in the cab, child." "but i want her--i can't go home without my child!" and phronsie's lip began to quiver. "oh, there she is, grandpapa!" and she darted off a few steps, where somebody had set the poor thing on the pavement, propped up against a lamp-post. "oh, you can't carry her home," said mr. king, in dismay at the muddy object splashed from head to foot, with the smart pink cape that had been the cause of the disaster, now torn clear through the middle, by the hoof of a passing horse. he shuddered at the sight of it. "do leave it, phronsie, child." "but she's sick now and hurt; oh, grandpapa, i can't leave my child," sobbed phronsie, trying with all her might to keep the tears back. all this time the shabby man stood silently by, looking on. a bright thought struck the old gentleman. "i'll tell you, phronsie," he said quickly. "give the doll to this man for one of his little children; they'll take care of it, and like it." "oh, grandpapa!" screamed phronsie, skipping up and down and clapping her muddy little hands, then she picked up the doll and lifted it toward him. "give my child to your little girl, and tell her to take good care of it," she said. as phronsie's french had long been one of grandpapa's special responsibilities in the morning hours, she spoke it nearly as well as polly herself, so the man grasped the doll as he had seized the money before. "and now," said mr. king, "you are not going to run away this time without telling me--oh, bless me!" this last was brought out by an excited individual rushing up over the curbstone to get out of the way of a passing dray, and the walking-stick which he swung aloft as a protection, coming into collision with mr. king's hat, knocked it over his eyes. "a thousand pardons, monsieur!" exclaimed the frenchman, bowing and scraping. "you may well beg a thousand pardons," cried mr. king, angrily, "to go about in this rude fashion through the street." "a thousand pardons," repeated the frenchman, with more _empressement_ than before, and tripping airily on his way. when old mr. king had settled his hat, he turned back to the man. "now tell me--why--" the man was nowhere to be seen. "it surely does look bad," said the old gentleman to himself as he stepped into the cab with phronsie; "that man's children are a myth. and i wanted to do something for them, for he saved phronsie's life!" this being the only idea he could possibly retain all the way home to the hotel, he held her closely within his arm, phronsie chattering happily all the way, how the little girl she guessed was just receiving the doll, and wondering what name she would give it, and would she wash its face clean at once, and fix the torn and muddy clothes? "oh, yes, yes, i hope so," answered grandpapa, when she paused for an answer. jasper came running out as the cab drove into the court. "oh!" he exclaimed, at sight of phronsie's face, then drove the words on his tongue back again, as he lifted her out. "give her to polly to fix up a bit," said his father. "she's all right, jasper, my boy, i can't talk of it now. hurry and take her to polly." and for the following days, mr. king never let phronsie out of his sight. a new and more splendid doll, if possible, was bought, and all sorts and styles of clothes for it, which phronsie took the greatest delight in caring for, humming happily to herself at the pleasure the poor man's little girl was taking at the same time with her other child. "grandpapa," she said, laying down the doll carefully on the sofa, and going over to the table where mr. king had just put aside the newspaper, "i do wish we could go and see that poor man and all his children--why didn't he tell us where he lived?" "the dickens!" exclaimed old mr. king, unguardedly, "because the fellow is an impostor, phronsie. he saved your life," and he seized phronsie and drew her to his knee, "but he lied about those children. o dear me!" and he pulled himself up. "then he hasn't any little children?" said phronsie, opening her eyes very wide, and speaking very slowly. "er-oh-i don't know," stammered grandpapa; "it's impossible to tell, phronsie." "but you don't believe he has any," said phronsie, with grave persistence, fastening her brown eyes on his face. "no, phronsie, i don't," replied old mr. king, in desperation. "if he had, why should he run in this fashion when i was just asking him where he lived?" "but he didn't hear you, grandpapa," said phronsie, "when the man knocked your hat off." "oh, well, he knew enough what i wanted," said mr. king, who, now that he had let out his belief, was going to support it by all the reasons in his power. "no, no, phronsie, it won't do; the fellow was an impostor, and we must just accept the fact, and make the best of it, my child." "but he told a lie," said phronsie, in horror, unable to think of anything else. "well." mr. king had no words to say on that score, so he wisely said nothing. "that poor man told a lie," repeated phronsie, as if producing a wholly fresh statement. "there, child, i wouldn't think anything more of it," said grandpapa, soothingly, patting her little hand. "grandpapa," said phronsie, "i've given away my child, and she's sick because she fell and hurt her, and there isn't any little girl, and--and--that poor man told a lie!" and she flung herself up against grandpapa's waistcoat, and sobbed as if her heart would break. old mr. king looked wildly around for polly. and as good fortune would have it, in she ran. this wasn't very strange, for polly kept nearly as close to phronsie in these days, as grandpapa himself. "here, polly," he called brokenly, "this is something beyond me. you must fix it, child." "why, phronsie!" exclaimed polly, in dismay, and her tone was a bit reproachful. "crying? don't you know that you will make grandpapa very sick unless you stop?" phronsie's little hand stole out from over her mouth where she had been trying to hold the sobs back, and up to give a trembling pat on old mr. king's cheek. "bless you, my child," cried grandpapa, quite overcome, so that polly said more reproachfully, "yes, very sick indeed, phronsie, unless you stop this minute. you ought to see his face, phronsie." phronsie gathered herself up out of his arms, and through a rain of tears looked up at him. "are you sick, grandpapa?" she managed to ask. "yes, dear; or i shall be if you don't stop crying, phronsie," said mr. king, pursuing all the advantage so finely gained. "i'll stop," said phronsie, her small bosom heaving. "i really will, grandpapa." "now, you are the very goodest child," exclaimed polly, down on her knees by grandpapa's side, cuddling phronsie's toes, "the very most splendid one in all this world, phronsie pepper." "and you'll be all well, grandpapa?" asked phronsie, anxiously. "yes, child," said old mr. king, kissing her wet face; "just as well as i can be, since you are all right." "and, oh, grandpapa, can't we go to fontainebleau to-day?" begged polly. "phronsie, just think--it will be precisely like the country, and we can get out of the carriages, and can run and race in the forest. can't we, grandpapa?" "all you want to," promised grandpapa, recklessly, and only too thankful to have something proposed for a diversion. "the very thing," he added enthusiastically. "now, polly and phronsie, run and tell all the others to get ready, just as fast as they can, and we'll be off. goodness me, jasper, what makes you run into a room in this fashion?" "i've found him!" exclaimed jasper, dashing in, and tossing his cap on the table, and his dark hair back from his forehead. "and he's all right--as straight as a die," he panted. "now what in the world are you talking of?" demanded his father, in extreme irritation. "can't you make a plain statement, and enlighten us without all this noise and confusion, pray tell?" polly, who had phronsie's hand in hers, just ready to run off, stood quite still with glowing cheek. "oh, i do believe--grandpapa--it is--it is!"--she screamed suddenly--"your poor man! isn't it, jasper--isn't it?" she cried, turning to him. "yes, polly," said jasper, still panting from his run up the stairs; "and do hurry, father, and see for yourself; and we'll all go to him. i'll tell you all about it on the way." when mr. king comprehended that the man was found, and that he was "all right," as jasper vehemently repeated over and over, he communicated that fact to phronsie, whose delight knew no bounds, and in less time than it takes to write it, tom, who was the only one of the party to be collected on such short notice, had joined them, and they were bowling along in a big carriage, jasper as guide, to the spot where the man was waiting. "you see it was just this way," jasper was rapidly telling off. "i was going down by the madeleine, and i thought i would bring phronsie some flowers; so i stopped at the market, and i couldn't find a little pot of primroses i wanted, though i went the whole length; and at last, when i had given up, i saw just one in front of a woman who sat at the very end." "do hurry, jasper, and get to the conclusion," said his father, impatiently. polly dearly loved to have the story go on in just this way, as she leaned forward, her eyes on jasper's face, but she said nothing, only sighed. "well," said jasper, "i'll tell it as quickly as i can, father. and there were a lot of children, father, all round the woman where she sat on a box, and she was tying in a bunch some flowers that were huddled in her lap, and the children were picking out the good ones for her; and just then a man, who was bending over back of them all, breaking off some little branches from a big green one, straightened up suddenly, and, father, as true as you live," cried jasper, in intense excitement, "it was your poor man!" "the children?" asked mr. king, as soon as he could be heard for the excitement. "are all his," cried jasper, "and he took the money you gave him, and set his wife up in the flower business down in front of the madeleine. oh! and phronsie, the doll you gave him was sitting up on another box, and every once in a while the littlest girl would stop picking out the flowers in her mother's lap, and would run over and wipe its face with her apron." xxviii "well, i got him here," said the little earl they were really on their way to see the little old earl, after all! how it came about, mr. king, even days after it had all been decided, couldn't exactly remember. he recalled several conversations in paris with tom's mother, who showed him bits of letters, and one in particular that somehow seemed to be a very potent factor in the plan that, almost before he knew it, came to be made. and when he held out, as hold out he did against the acceptance of the invitation, he found to his utmost surprise that every one, mother fisher and all, was decidedly against him. "oh, well," he had declared when that came out, "i might as well give in gracefully first as last." and he sat down at once and wrote a very handsome note to the little old earl, and that clinched the whole business. and after the week of this visit should be over, for old mr. king was firmness itself on not accepting a day more, they were to bid good-by to mrs. selwyn and tom, and jaunt about a bit to show a little of old england to the hendersons, and then run down to liverpool to see them off, and at last turn their faces toward dresden, their winter home--"and to my work!" said polly to herself in delight. so now here they were, actually driving up to the entrance of the park, and stopping at the lodge-gate. an old woman, in an immaculate cap and a stiff white apron over her best linsey-woolsey gown which she had donned for the occasion, came out of the lodge and courtesied low to the madam, and held open the big gate. "how have you been, mrs. bell?" asked mrs. selwyn, with a kind smile, as the carriage paused a bit. "very well, my lady," said mrs. bell, her round face glowing with pride. "and the earl is well, bless him! and we are glad to welcome you home again, and master tom." "and i'm glad enough to get here, mrs. bell," cried tom. "now drive on at your fastest, hobson." hobson, who knew very well what master tom's fastest gait was, preferred to drive through the park at what he considered the dignified pace. so they rolled on under the stately trees, going miles, it seemed to polly, who sat on the back seat with tom. he turned to her, unable to conceal his impatience. "anybody would think this pair were worn out old cobs," he fumed. "polly, you have no idea how they can go, when hobson lets them out. what are you wasting all this time for, crawling along in this fashion, hobson, when you know we want to get on?" thus publicly addressed, hobson let the handsome bays "go" as tom expressed it, and they were bowled along in a way that made polly turn in delight to tom. "there--that's something like!" declared tom. "don't you like it, polly?" looking into her rosy face. "like it!" cried polly, "why, tom selwyn, it's beautiful. and these splendid trees--" she looked up and around. "oh, i never saw any so fine." "they're not half bad," assented tom, "these oaks aren't, and we have some more, on the other end of the park, about five miles off, that--" "five miles off!" cried polly, with wide eyes. "is the park as big as that, tom?" he laughed. "that isn't much. but you'll see it all for yourself," he added. then he rushed off into wondering how his dogs were. "and, oh, you'll ride with the hounds, polly!" just then some rabbits scurried across the wood, followed by several more pattering and leaping through the grass. "oh, tom, see those rabbits!" cried polly, excitedly. "yes, the warrens are over yonder," said tom, bobbing his head in the right direction. "what?" asked polly, in perplexity. "rabbit-warrens; oh, i forgot, you haven't lived in england. you seem so much like an english girl, though," said tom, paying the highest compliment he knew of. "well, what are they?" asked polly, quite overcome by the compliment coming from tom. "oh, they are preserves, you know, where the rabbits live, and they are not allowed to be hunted here." "oh, do you ever hunt rabbits?" cried polly, in horror, leaning out of her side of the big coach to see the scurrying little animals. "not often," said tom, "we mostly ride after the fox. you'll ride with the hounds, polly," he cried with enthusiasm. "we'll have a hunt while you're here, and we always wind up with a breakfast, you know. oh, we'll have no end of sport." he hugged his long arms in huge satisfaction. and away--and away over the winding road and underneath the stately trees, rolled the big coach, to be followed by the other carriages, like a dream it seemed to polly, and more than ever, when at last they stopped in front of a massive pile of buildings with towers and arches and wings. and the little old earl was kissing her rosy cheek in the most courtly fashion, and saying while he shook her hand in his long fingers, "and how do you do, my dear?" and mrs. selwyn was by his other side. and tom was screeching out, "how do you do, granddaddy!" and then, "oh, elinor and mary!" to two quiet, plain-looking girls standing in the background. and "ah, how d'ye kids!" as the faces of his two small brothers appeared. and polly forgot all about the fact that she was in an earl's house, and she laughed and chatted; and in two minutes one of tom's sisters was on either side of her, and the small boys in front, and the little groups were moving in and out of the old hall, as grandpapa and the rest came in, and the head housekeeper in a black silk gown that seemed quite able to stand alone, and a perfect relay of stiff figures in livery were drawn up underneath the armour hanging on the wall. and the little old earl worked his way up to her, and he had grandpapa on his arm. "well, i got him here," he said with twinkling eyes, and a chuckle. but the next morning--oh, the next morning!--when polly tried to compass as much of the thronging attractions as she could, and jasper was at his wits' end whenever he was appealed to, to decide what he wanted to do first--"cricket," or "punting on the river," that ran through the estate, or "riding through the park, and to the village owned by his grandfather"? "i always go see the tenantry as soon as i get home," said tom, simply. "oh, then, let us go there by all means," said jasper, quickly. "i mean--oh, i'm no end awkward," exclaimed tom, breaking off, his face covered with confusion. "it's not necessary to go at once; we can fetch up there to-morrow." "oh, do let us go, tom," begged polly, clasping her hands. "i should dearly love most of all to see the tenantry and those dear little cottages." and so that was decided upon. and tom had his beloved hunt, several of the gentry being asked. and polly rode a special horse selected by the little old earl himself. "it's perfectly safe; he has an excellent disposition," he declared to old mr. king, "and he'll carry her all right." "i'm not afraid," said mr. king, "the child rides well." "so she must--so she must, i was sure of it," cried the little old earl, with a series of chuckles. and he busied himself especially with seeing her mounted properly when the party gathered on the lawn in front of the old hall. the hounds were baying and straining at the leashes, impatient to be off; the pink hunting-coats gave dashes of colour as their owners moved about over the broad green sward,--under the oaks,--and polly felt her heart beat rapidly with the exhilarating sights and sounds. it was only when they were off, and tom riding up by her side expatiated on the glory of running down the fox and "being in at the death," that the colour died down on her cheek. "oh, tom!" she said, reining in her horse. if he hadn't been the possessor of a good disposition, he certainly would have bolted in his disappointment at being pulled up so abruptly. "it's so cruel to kill the poor fox in that way." "eh--what!" exclaimed tom, not hearing the words, falling back to her side, consternation all over his face. "why, i never knew meteor to break in this way before." "oh, it isn't his fault," said polly, hastily, and patting her horse's neck. "i pulled him up. oh, tom, it's all so very cruel." "eh?" said tom, in a puzzled way. "to kill the fox in this way," said polly, her heart sinking as she thought how dreadful it was for her to object, when visiting, to anything her host might plan. "o dear me!" and she looked so distressed that tom turned comforter at once. "we all do it," he was saying, as jasper rode up. "anything the matter?" he asked in great concern. "what's happened?" "nothing," said tom, "only polly doesn't like the fox-hunt." "it's so cruel," cried polly, turning to jasper, with a little pink spot coming in either cheek. "i ought to have thought of it before, but i didn't; it only seemed so very splendid to be rushing along with the horses and dogs. but to chase that poor fox to death--o dear me!" "we'll go back," suggested tom, in distress; "don't be afraid, polly, i'll make it all right with granddaddy." he concealed as best he might his awful disappointment as the echoes of the horn, the baying of the dogs, and now and then a scrap of chatter or a peal of laughter was borne to them on the wind. "polly," said jasper, in a low voice, "it isn't quite right, is it, to disturb the party now? just think, tom will go back with us." the pink spots died out on polly's cheek. "no, jasper," she said, "it isn't right. tom, you needn't say one word about going back, for i am going on." she gave the rein to meteor and dashed off. "we'll have a race through the park some day, polly," called tom, as he sped after her, "without any fox." "too bad, polly, you weren't in at the death," said the little old earl, sympathisingly, when at the hunt-breakfast following, the brush dangling to a victorious young lady's belt, had been admired as an extremely fine one. "never mind; better luck next time, little girl." but the fãªte to the tenantry, oh! that was something like, and more to polly's taste, when this annual affair, postponed while tom's mother and tom were away, took place. for days before, the preparations had been making, the stewards up to their eyes in responsibility to carry out the plans of the little old earl, who meant on this occasion to outdo all his former efforts, and show his american friends how an englishman treats those under his care. oh, the big joints of beef, the haunches of venison, the fowls, the meat pies and the gooseberry tarts, the beer and the ale, and the tea for the old women, with nuts and sweeties for the children! oh, polly knew about it all, as she went about with the little old earl while he gave his orders, her hand in his, just as if she were no older than phronsie, and not such a tall, big girl. and mrs. selwyn was busy as a bee, and mother fisher was just in her element here, in helping her; for flannel petticoats were to be given out, and stuff frocks, and pieces of homespun, and boots and shoes, as prizes for diligent and faithful service; or an order for coals for the coming winter for some poor cottager, or packages of tea, or some other little comfort. and before any of them quite realised it, the days flew by, and in two more of them the king party would be off. "it's perfectly useless to mention it," said the little old earl, quite confident in his power to influence old mr. king to remain when he saw how happily everything was running on. "my dear sir, you were asked for a fortnight." "and i accepted for a week," retorted mr. king, "and i go when that time is up. we've had a visit--i can't express it to you, what a fine time--as near to perfection as it is possible for a visit to be; but day after to-morrow we surely must leave." tom was so despondent, as well as the old earl, that it was necessary to cheer him up in some way. "just think what a splendid thing for us to be in the midst of that fãªte for the peasantry," exclaimed polly, with sparkling eyes. "it's quite too lovely for our last day." but tom wasn't to be raised out of his gloom in this way. "we've had only one game of cricket," he said miserably. "and one afternoon at tennis, and we've been out punting on the river three times," said polly. "what's that? only a bagatelle," sniffed tom, "compared to what i meant to do." "well, let's have the race on horseback this afternoon," proposed polly, "down through the park, that you said you were going to have, tom. wouldn't that be nice?" "do," urged jasper. "it would be so capital, tom." "all right," assented tom, "if you'd really rather have that than anything else; but it seems as if i ought to think up something more for the last afternoon, but the fãªte; and that doesn't count." "oh, nothing could be finer," declared polly, and jasper joined. so tom rushed off to the stables to give the orders. and polly on meteor was soon flying up and down with the boys, and elinor and mary. and the two small lads trotted after on their shetland ponies, in and out the winding roads of the park confines, without any haunting fear of a poor red fox to be done to death at the end. and on the morrow, the sun condescended to come out in all his glory, upon the groups of tenantry scattered over the broad lawns. there were games in abundance for the men and boys; and others for the children. there were chairs for the old women, and long benches for those who desired to sit under the spreading branches of the great oaks to look on. and there were cups of tea, and thin bread and butter passed around by the white-capped maids, superintended by the housekeeper and the butler, quite important in their several functions. this was done to appease the hunger before the grand collation should take place later. and there was music by the fiddlers on the upper terrace, and there was,--dear me, it would take quite too long to tell it all! and at last, the order was given to fall into line, and march around the long tables resplendent with their cold joints and hot joints; their pasties, and tarts, and cakes, and great flagons of ale. and over all was a wealth of bloom from the big old english gardens in the rear of the old hall. the posies filled polly with delight, as she and tom's sisters and phronsie had gathered them under the direction of the gardeners in the early morning; and then--oh, best of all--mrs. selwyn had allowed her to give the finishing touches to them as they became the decoration for the feast. and the little old earl called the large assemblage to order, and the vicar asked the grace, and the feast was begun! and then one of the tenants found his feet, and leaning on his staff, he thanked the earl of cavendish for all his goodness, and he hoped there would be many blessings in store for 'im and 'is, and sank on his bench again, mopping his face with his big red handkerchief. and then the little old earl responded in as pretty a speech as could well be imagined, in which he forgot nothing that he ought to say. and there were many "god bless 'ims!" to follow it, and then there were cries of "master tom, master tom," who appeared to be an immense favourite; and the earl, well pleased, pulled him forward, saying, "go ahead, youngster, and give it to them." and tom, extremely red in the face, tried to duck away, but found himself instead in front of the longest table, with everybody looking at him. and he mumbled out a few words and bobbed his head. and every one was just as well pleased. and then they gave cheer on cheer for the earl, and as many more for his oldest grandson. and then the little old earl raised his hand and said, "and now, my men, give a rousing good one for my dear american friends!" and didn't they do it! and on the following morning, the old hall, with its towers and its wings, had only the memory of the happy week to sustain it. * * * * * jasper ran up to polly on the deck. "we ought to go," he said, "the order has been given to leave the steamer." "yes, polly," said mother fisher, "we must go, child." "give my love to dear grandma bascom," said polly, for about the fiftieth time. "oh, mrs. henderson, and don't forget to take over the new cap just as soon as you can, will you?" "i won't forget," promised the parson's wife. "and take mine to my dear mrs. beebe," begged phronsie, twitching gently at mrs. henderson's sleeve, "and tell her i got pink ribbon because i know she loves that best." "i won't forget," said mrs. henderson, again. "oh, and give the big handkerchief to my dear mr. beebe," said phronsie, "please, mrs. henderson, to tie his throat up in, because, you know, he says it gets so cold when he goes out." "i'll remember every single thing," promised the parson's wife. "don't you worry, children. oh, how we hate to leave you, only we are going to see our boys. we really are, polly!" and her eyes shone. "polly! polly!" called jasper. "all off who aren't going!" roared the order out again. "polly!" the little doctor seized one arm and phronsie's hand. "there now, here you are!" and whisked them off, amid "good-by--good-by"--and a flutter of handkerchiefs. "and give my love to dear grandma bascom," piped phronsie, on the wharf by old mr. king's side, as the big steamer slowly pushed from its moorings. the adventures of joel pepper by margaret sidney [illustration: "'why, it's the man who stole polly's bread!' he almost screamed."] contents i. joel and the snake ii. what dave heard iii. deacon brown's nail pile iv. the muffin man and the tramp v. on bandy leg mountain vi. ab'm's birthday party vii. joel goes a-fishing viii. why they said no ix. the bag of rye flour x. mamsie's surprise xi. dr. fisher's visit xii. at grandma bascom's xiii. passengers for the boxford stage xiv. deacon blodgett's bonfire xv. old man peters' cent xvi. the stage-coach ride xvii. the fight at strawberry hill xviii. in the little brown house xix. circus plans xx. circus or menagerie? xxi. joel's circus xxii. the minister's chickens xxiii. the blackberries and the bull xxiv. how joel started the fire xxv. joel sells shoes for mr. beebe xxvi. miss parrott's coach and the coasting xxvii. princes and princesses the adventures of joel pepper i joel and the snake "come on, dave!" it was joel's voice, and polly pricked up her ears. "'tisn't going to hurt you. hoh! you're a 'fraid-cat--old 'fraid-cat!" "no, i'm not 'fraid-cat," declared little davie, trying to speak stoutly; "i'm coming, joel," and his little rusty shoes pattered unevenly down the rickety board walk. "jo-_el_!" called polly, thinking it quite time now to interfere. joel scuttled behind the old woodshed, and several smothered grunts proclaimed his disapproval at the interruption. "now i know you're up to some mischief," declared polly, "so you just come into the house, joel pepper, and tell me what it is." "'tisn't," said joel, loudly insisting. "_don't go, dave_," in a loud whisper. thereupon ensued a lively scuffle, evidently, by the noise they made. "i must," said little davie; "polly called us." "no, she didn't call _you_," declared joel. "you stay here. she said 'joel.'" "bo-_oys_!" sang out polly's voice, not to have any doubt in the matter. "there, she did call me," cried davie, wriggling to get free from joel's clutch; "she said 'boys!'" "she's always calling us," said joel, in an injured voice, dragging himself away from the charms of the woodshed to straggle slowly back to the house. there sat polly on the big stone that served as a step for the back door, with her hands folded in her lap. little davie skipped by joel, and ran up to her, with a flushed face. "now i should like to know what you've been up to, joey pepper?" said polly, her brown eyes full on him. "haven't been up to anything," mumbled joel, hanging his chubby face. "yes, you have, i know," declared polly, in her most positive fashion; "now tell me what it is, and right straight off, joel. begin." she kept her hands still folded in her lap. "what were you going to do?" joel squirmed all over the little patch of ground before the flat doorstone, and dug the toes of his shoes into the dirt. "don't do so," cried polly. "you'll get bigger holes in 'em. oh, joel, to think how naughty you are, and mamsie away!" at that joel gave a loud howl, nearly upsetting polly from her stone; then, digging his two fists into his eyes, he plunged forward and thrust his black head on the folded hands in her lap. "i ain't naughty," he screamed. "i ain't, and mamsie won't care. o dear--ooh--ooh!" "tell me what you were going to do, before i can say you are not naughty," said polly, dreadfully frightened at his outburst, but not unfolding her hands. "i was only going to--going to--going to--" mumbled joel, trying to burrow past her hands, and get into the comforting lap. "going to do what?" demanded polly, still not moving. "i was going to--going to--" said joel, in smothered tones. "stop saying you were going to," commanded polly, in her firmest tones. "you told me to tell you," said joel. "o dear! i was going to--" "well, tell then, at once; what were you going to do? hurry up, joe; now go on." "i was going to--" began joel again. "o dear me! i was going to--" he mumbled, burrowing deeper yet. "joel pepper!" cried polly, in a tone that brought him bolt upright, his round face streaked with tears that his dirty little hands had tried to wipe off, the rest of them trailing over his round nose. "o dear me! now you must go into the 'provision room' and stay. don't you remember mamsie said you'd have to go there the next time you wouldn't tell what you'd done?" and polly looked as if she were going to cry at once. "oh, no--no!" screamed joel, in the greatest distress, and clutching polly's arm. "i'll tell you, polly; i'll tell." and he began to rattle off a lot of words, but polly stopped him. "no, it's too late now. i've said it, and you must go; for mamsie wouldn't like it if you didn't." thereupon joel gave a terrible howl. little davie, in distress, clapped his hands to his ears. "oh, polly, don't make him," he was saying, when heavy steps came around the corner of the house. "any ra-ags to sell?" sang out the voice of a very big man. joel took one black eye away from his brown hands, and shot a sharp look at him. then he howled worse than ever. "no," said polly, "not to-day, mr. biggs. there was a bagful mamsie said i might sell, but i can't get it now." "sho! that's too bad," ejaculated mr. biggs. "what's the matter with him?" pointing a square, dingy thumb at joel. "stomach-ache?" "no," said polly, sadly, "it's worse than that. please go away, mr. biggs, and come some other day." "worse'n stomach-ache," said mr. biggs, in astonishment, and slapping his big hands together; "then i can't take him with me. but t'other one might go, if you say so, marm." he always called polly marm, and she liked it very much. he now pointed to david. "where are you going?" asked polly, while david took away his hands from his ears to hear, too. "why, you see, marm, mis' pettingill, up to th'east quarter--you know mis' pettingill?" "no," said polly. "i do," roared joel, forgetting his distress. "i know, polly. she lives in a nice yellow house, and there's a duck-pond, and cherry trees." he pranced up to mr. biggs, smiling through his tears. "that's it," cried mr. biggs, delighted at being understood. "this boy knows." he laid his hand heavily on joel's shoulder. "well, he seems to be better now, so i'll take him and t'other one along of me, marm, if you say so. ye see, mis' pettingill told me to come up there sometime, 'cause she's got a lot o' rags--ben a-makin' quilts, she said, all winter, and i laid out to go to-day, so here i be, on my way." "whickets!" shouted joel, the last tear gone. "come on, dave. oh, won't we have fun! i'm going to sit in the middle. let me drive. let me, mr. biggs." he swarmed all over the big rag-man. little david stood perfectly still and clasped his hands in delight. [illustration: "'whickets!' shouted joel, the last tear gone"] polly drew a long breath, and the rosy color flew out of her cheek. "you can't go, joe," she said slowly. "mamsie wouldn't like it, after you've been naughty." joel's arms fell down at his side, and he stared wildly at her a moment. then he flung himself flat on the ground and roared. "he's worse agin," said mr. biggs, in great distress. "i guess he wants pep'mint. my mother used to give me that when i'd et green apples." but polly shook her head. "he can't go, mr. biggs," she said; "but davie can." at this little davie gave a squeal of joy, and took three steps down the grass plot, but stopped suddenly. "all right," said mr. biggs, heartily. "come on, boy; i must be off. it's a good piece down to mis' pettingill's. and she always wants me to take time a-weighin' her rags." and he began to lumber off. "i don't want to go if joel can't," said davie, slowly, and turning his back to the red rag-wagon waiting out in the road. he twisted his fingers hard, and kept saying, "no, i don't want to go, polly, if joel can't." "all right, davie," said polly, beginning to cuddle him; "only you must remember, mr. biggs won't go again this summer out to mrs. pettingill's, most likely." davie shook his head again, and twisted his fingers worse than ever. "i don't want to go if joel can't," he said, while joel roared harder still, if that were possible. so polly had to run down the grassy slope to overtake mr. biggs, who was now getting up into his red cart, in front of the dangling tin dishes, brooms, and pails with which it was filled. "if you please, sir," she said, the rosy color all over her cheek, "there can't either of the boys go." "hey? what's the matter with the littlest one," cried mr. biggs, turning around with one foot on the shaft. "is he took sick, too?" "no--no," said polly, clasping her hands in distress, "but he won't go unless joel goes. oh, i do thank you so much, mr. biggs, for asking them." "sho now! that's too bad," said the rag-man, his foot still on the shaft, and his big face wrinkled perplexedly. "beats all, how suddint they're took. now you better give 'em a dose o' pep'mint, marm, both on 'em." but polly shook her head as she ran back up the grassy slope again. so mr. biggs had nothing to do but to drive off, which he did, staring hard at them; and every little while he turned back, to gaze in astonishment over his shoulder, until the big red wagon went round the slope of the hill and was lost to view. "now, joel," said polly, firmly, "you must just stop making such a noise, and go right into the provision room, and get the stool, and sit down till i tell you to get up." to sit down on the old wooden stool in the middle of the provision room, with the door shut, was one of the worst punishments that mrs. pepper inflicted; and polly's cheek got quite white. little davie, on seeing this, untwisted his fingers and went up to her. "don't cry, polly," he said suddenly, as he saw her face, and laid his hand in hers. joel stopped roaring, and looked up at her through his tears. "i'm not going to cry," said polly, "because i know joel will be good now, and go at once and get on his stool in the provision room." joel swallowed hard and stumbled up to his feet, wiping his cheeks with the back of one grimy hand. "that's right," said polly; "now go right in and shut the door." "o dear me," said little davie, hiding his face in polly's gown, as joel went slowly off. they could hear the provision room door shut. then polly turned. "oh, davie," she cried. then she stopped, at the sight of his face. "now you and i must go in the house and think of something to do for mamsie before she gets home," she cried in a cheery burst. so they both hurried in over the old flat stone. "now what will it be, davie?" asked polly, with another glance at his pale little face. "let's think," she wrinkled her brows in perplexity. "we can't wash the dishes," said davie, slowly, standing quite still in the middle of the old kitchen, "'cause they're all done, polly." "no, and we can't wash the floor, 'cause that's all done," said polly, wrinkling her forehead worse than ever. "dear me, we must think of something, davie. o dear me, what can it be?" "we might," said little david, slowly, "try to write some letters, polly. that would make mamsie glad, i guess." "o dear me," exclaimed polly, in dismay, "i suppose it would, davie." she sighed, and stood quite still. "i s'pose mamsie would say, 'how nice,'" said little david, reflectively. "and you and i ought to get right at it this very minute," declared polly, all her energy returning to her after that one dreadful pause, "so come on." and presently the two had the old table against the wall pulled out into the middle of the kitchen floor, and polly ran and got the big piece of foolscap paper laid away carefully in the upper bureau drawer in the bedroom. across the top ran the letters set there by the minister in obedience to mrs. pepper's request. "i'll get the brown paper--let me, polly," cried david, quite in his usual spirits now. and he clambered up, and got out a carefully folded piece laid away after it had come home wrapped around one of the parcels of coats and sacks mrs. pepper had taken to sew. "won't it be most beautiful when we can write on the white paper, polly?" he cried, as he ran back into the kitchen, waving the brown paper at her. polly set the precious copy along the top of the white foolscap, straight on the table. "oh, that will be a long time, davie," she said, gazing in an awe-struck way at the array of wonderful letters parson henderson had made for them. "mamsie won't ever let us try until we can make 'em good and straight. o dear me, i don't s'pose i'll ever get a chance." she sighed; for writing bothered polly dreadfully. "the old pen twists all up whenever i get it in my hand, and everything goes crooked." "oh, polly, you're going to write real nice, by and by," said little davie, setting down the brown paper, and smoothing out the creases. "now where's the ink-bottle? let me get it, polly, do," he begged, running over to the corner cupboard. "no, you mustn't, dave," said polly in alarm, "you'll spill it. i'll get it," hurrying after him. "i won't spill it, polly"--but polly was already on her tiptoes, and lifting down the old black ink-horn that had been father pepper's. "isn't it nice that mrs. henderson filled it up for us so good?" she said, carrying it over carefully to set on the table. "you can get the pen, davie." so david ran over to the shelf where, in a corner behind the little china mug given to phronsie when she was a baby, lay the pen in its long black holder. getting up on a chair, he seized it. "if phronsie hadn't gone with mamsie, she'd want to write," he said, "wouldn't she, polly?" as he hopped down again. "yes, indeed," said polly, drawing up the inkstand into the best place, and sighing. "well, dear me, i'd ever so much rather hold her hand while she writes, than to do it myself." and she gave a long stretch. "then you wouldn't ever learn yourself," said little davie, wisely, and putting the pen down carefully. "no," said polly, with a little laugh, "i s'pose i shouldn't, davie." o dear me, she thought, i ought not to laugh when joel's in there all alone in the provision room. "well, now we're all ready. i'm just going to peek and see if he's all right. you stay here, davie." with that she hopped off down the little steps to look through the big crack in the old door of the provision room. "why--where--" she started back and rubbed her eyes, and stared again. "oh! davie," she screamed. then she clapped her hands over her mouth. "it never'd do to scare him," she said. and she opened the provision room door and rushed in. the old stool stood in the middle of the floor, but there was no joel to be seen. polly ran here and there. "joel--_joel_!" she cried, peering into every corner, and looking into the potato bag and behind some boxes that the storekeeper had given the boys to make things out of, and that were kept as great treasures. "o dear me, what shall i do? i must tell davie now, so he can help me find him--" when she heard a funny noise, and rushing outside, she heard joel say, "don't come, polly, he's 'most dead." polly gave a gasp, and bounded to his side, as joel flopped around on the ground, his back toward her, his black eyes fastened on something doubled up in his fists. "o dear me, joel, what is it?" cried polly, bending over him. "ow--go way!" roared joel, twisting worse than ever, and squeezing his brown hands together tightly; "he'll get away, maybe, and bite you." "oh, he'll bite you, joe," cried polly, in great alarm. "o dear me, let me see what it is! i can help, joel, i can help." she flung herself down on the ground close to his side. just then out rushed davie from the provision room. "keep him away, keep him away," screamed joel, trying to turn his back on both of them. but polly caught sight of a dangling thing hanging from his clenched hands. "oh, joel!" she gave one scream, "it's a snake!" "i know it," said joel, trying to twitch back again; "it's an ugly mean old adder, polly, but he's most dead. i've squeezed his neck." "let me see him," cried polly. "turn around, joel. i'll help you. o dear me!" as joel whirled back, the long body of the snake flopping from one side to the other. "if he'd keep still, i could cut off his tail high up. i'll go and get the hatchet--" and she ran off. "hoh! you needn't," cried joel after her, in great dudgeon, and giving a final wrench. "there, i've deaded him; see, polly--see, dave!" and he held the snake up triumphantly. "a snake!" screamed davie, tumbling over backward on the grass. "o dear me, it's a snake, polly!" and he huddled up his feet and tucked them under him. "ain't he big?" cried joel, swinging the long dangling body at davie as polly ran back. "don't scare him, joel," she cried. "o goodness me! what a big one, and a gray adder, too. oh, joel, are you sure he didn't bite you anywhere? do throw him down and let me see," she begged anxiously. but joel swung the snake back and forth. "hoh, i guess not!" he said scornfully, "not a single snip, polly. ain't he big! i killed him all alone by myself." "yes--yes, but do put him down, joel," she begged, "and let me see if you're all right." so joel at last set his snake on the ground, and straightened out his tail; then he commenced to run all around him. "ain't he a buster, polly!" he cried, his eyes shining. polly looked at him reprovingly out of her brown eyes. "mamsie wouldn't like you to say that word," she began. "but you won't again, i know," seeing his face. "no," said joel, brightening up, "i won't, polly. but ain't he big! you couldn't a-killed him, dave," he cried at little davie tucking up his toes under him on the grass. "no," said davie. "o dear me, he may be alive and bite us all now." "hoh!" exclaimed joel, "he's just as dead as anything. see!" and he twitched up the long gray snake by the tip of the tail and swung it over his head. "oh, don't, joe!" begged polly, running over to put her arms around david, who burrowed into them as far as he could. "do put him down, and come and tell us how you killed him. there, let's all sit down on the doorstep. come, boys." "i'm going to hold my snake," announced joel, stopping the swing in mid-air to pat the adder's head lovingly. "ain't he sweet, polly?" davie shivered and turned his eyes away. "no, you must not hold him," said polly, decisively. "if you do, you can't sit on the step beside us." "then i won't hold him," said joel, running up to them, "but i'll have him close to me," and he laid the snake by the side of the doorstep. "i'm going to sit here by you, polly." little davie thrust up his head and looked fearfully around polly. "you can't have that snake here, joel," announced polly, in her most determined tone. "put him off on the grass in the orchard," as the one scraggy apple tree was called. "now hurry, like a good boy, and then come and tell us how you killed him." "i can't see him good, 'way off there," grumbled joel, and picking up his snake he dragged him through the grass. "just a little bit nearer," he pleaded. "not a single bit of an inch nearer, joel pepper," said polly, firmly. so joel laid the snake down and ran back and sat down on the end of the step by polly. "now begin," said polly. "well, i was sittin' on the old stool," said joel, his chubby face getting very red, "when i heard a scrunchin' an' a swishin', an' i thought 'twas you, polly, so i didn't look round." "no," said polly, with a little shiver, "it wasn't me. go on, joey." "well, it scrunched an' it swished, and it didn't stop, so then i looked around." "o dear me!" exclaimed polly, throwing one arm around joel, and drawing him to her. little davie sat up quite straight and folded his hands. "and he was sticking up his head behind the potato bag, looking at me just like this." joel flew off the doorstep and stood up as tall as possible and ran out his tongue. little davie gave a loud scream. "oh, you brave joel!" exclaimed polly, tumbling off from the doorstep to throw her arms around him, and kiss his stubby black hair. "phoo! that's nothing!" cried joel, who always hated to be praised. "and i'm just as proud of you as i can be," polly ran on with kindling eyes. "oh, joel!" joel wriggled all over with delight at that "oh, joel!" "and now come back and tell us the rest," said polly, hanging to his brown hand. "go on, joel," as they sat down again on the doorstep. "well, he looked at me, and i looked at him," said joel, "and then i said 'squish!' and he bobbed down his head, just a minute, and i jumped and i grabbed him by the neck, and that's all, polly." and joel gave a long stretch. but polly had her arms around his neck. "oh, you brave, brave joel," she cried. "mamsie'll be so proud of you! think what she'll say when she comes home!" ii what dave heard "dave," said joel, in a whisper. it was the middle of the night, and the loft was very still, save for ben's breathing over in his bed in the corner. "don't say a word!" joel laid his mouth close to the ear on the straw pillow; "if you do, i'll nip you and snip you." "ow!" said little davie, huddling down under the scanty blanket and dragging it over his head. "sh--, be still!" cried joel, with a wrathful pinch. "ben'll hear you,--there now, just see!" "what's the matter, boys?" asked ben, sleepily. down flew joel in a heap under his end of the blanket, where he bestowed a kick from one set of toes on david in a little heap against the wall. the loft was as still as a mouse, so ben turned over again. "i guess joel wanted a drink of water, and he's gone to sleep and forgot all about it. now, that's good," and off he went again. joel's black stubby head popped up, and he peered into the darkness. "now, i've got to wait ever'n ever so long," he grumbled softly to himself. "no, there he goes!" he added joyfully, as ben breathed hard. "now, dave," he rolled over and ducked under the blanket-end, "if you scream again, i'll snip, and snip, and snip you, most dreadful." "i won't," declared little david, fearfully. "oh, i won't, joe," huddling off from the little brown fingers. "promise, now, you'll never tell,--black and blue,--hope to die if i do." "we must tell mamsie," said david. joel gave an impatient wriggle. "mamsie won't care, and she's too busy. now say it, 'black and--"' "and we must tell polly," cried little davie, in a smothered voice. "oh, joel, we _must_ tell polly." "_sh!_" cried joel, with a warning pinch on the small arm that sent david into a worse heap than before. "now, you've gone and waked ben up again," and he pricked up one ear from under the bedclothes. "oh!" exclaimed little david, thinking of mamsie and polly whom he was not to tell. joel drew a long breath, as ben did not stir. "well, say 'black and blue--hope to die if i do,'" commanded joel, sliding back again under the blanket. "hurry up, dave." "'black and--blue--hope--to die if i do,'" mumbled poor little david, stuffing the end of the blanket into his mouth, trying not to cry as he thought of mamsie and polly. "now, you know i've found a cave, and i'm goin' up there to live some day," announced joel in a smothered whisper, his mouth close to david's ear. "where?" cried david, fearfully. "_sh!_ don't speak so loud. over in 'bandy leg mountain.'" "ooh,--dear me!" cried david, stopping himself in the middle of a scream. "won't old 'bandy leg' catch you, joel?" "hoh--no, i ain't afraid!" declared joel. "he's been dead a hundred years, i guess. an' beside, i could knock him flat, yes, sir-ree!" he doubled up his little brown fist, and bounced up in the middle of the old shake-down. "what's the matter, joe?" called ben, sleepily; "turn over and go to sleep, and you'll forget again about the drink of water." joel flung himself flat, and burrowed along the whole length of the bed, knocking davie's shins all the way. "you're pullin' all the blanket off me," said davie, clutching his end from joel's frantic grasp. "go to sleep, boys," said ben, sharply. "and joe, stop grumbling for a drink of water. now you've waked up david." joel gripped davie fast and clapped one hand over his mouth. "dear me, i think ben might stay asleep a minute," he muttered in an injured voice. "now, don't you speak a single word and i'll tell you all about it," after a long pause, in which they heard nothing but a rat nibbling away in the corner. "i'm goin' up there to-morrow, an' i'm goin' to take my gun, an' some things to eat, an'--" "oh, joel!" interrupted little david, "you can't ever in all this world. polly won't let you." "polly'll let us go an' play some to-morrow," said joel, sturdily, "'cause there ain't any work to do. so there now! an' maybe i'll see a bear. an'----" "o dear me!" exclaimed little davie, quite overcome, and trembling in every limb. "he'll eat you. joel, i'm going to tell polly." "you can't," said joel, coolly; "you said 'black-an-blue-hopeto-die-if-i-do,' and i'm goin' to take you." "oh, i can't go," declared davie, bouncing up in terror. "i ain't goin'. i ain't, joey. i ain't----" "_sh-sh_!" warned joel, with another nip. "i ain't--i ain't--" cried david, softly, through his tears. "pshaw! i guess there ain't any bear up there," said joel, scornfully. "be still, dave!" "an' old--old bandy legs'll catch--catch me," mumbled david, digging his small knuckles into his eyes. "old bandy legs has been dead ever'n ever so long. i guess a thousand years," said joel; "an' there's flowers there--oh, most beautiful ones!" "are there?" asked david, taking down his hands. "what kinds, joel?" "oh, all sorts. the most be-yewtiful flowers, red and yellow and green, you can't think, dave pepper." "i never saw a green flower," said little david, thoughtfully. "well, they're up there. oh, sights an' sights," said joel, recklessly. "an' pink and blue an'----" "are you sure there are green flowers up there, joel?" asked david, huddling up to him close. "sh--stop talking--oh, the most _beyewtiful_ things, i tell you, grow up by that cave." "i might go up and get some not very near the cave, joel," said davie, after a long breath. "not very near." "so you could," said joel, quickly. "then i guess you'll be glad, dave pepper, that you came up with me." "i shall bring down most of the green ones, joey," cried little david, joyfully, "'cause i can get the others down below the mountain." "yes--yes," whispered joel, impatiently. "an' if i plant 'em, they'll grow, and then mamsie'll be glad, an' polly too," he whispered, dreadfully excited. "won't polly be glad though, joe? she's never seen a green flower." "yes; now go to sleep," cried joel, with a nudge, "and remember not to say a word to me to-morrow about it." "can't i say anything to you behind the wood pile?" asked david, in surprise. "no, not a teenty word. an' don't you look at me. if you do, old bandy legs'll come after you." "you said he was dead," cried david in a fearful whisper, and crouching tight to joel and gripping him with both arms. "o dear me!" "so he is; but he'll catch you if you say a single word. now go to sleep, an' when i tell you to come with me to-morrow, you must start just as quick as scat." "i shall take a basket for the green flowers," said davie, trying not to think of "old bandy legs." "no, you mustn't; you can bring 'em down in your arms." "i can't bring many," said little david, swallowing hard. "i can't bring many, joe, an' polly'll want some in her garden." "well, old bandy legs won't let you get any, if you don't stop," said joel, crossly, "so there now!" and he rolled off to the edge of the old straw bed, and in two minutes was fast asleep, leaving little davie peering up at the rafters to watch for the first streak of light, determined to get as many green flowers as he possibly could for polly's garden. "i'll twist up a birch-bark basket, to bring 'em down in," he decided. and the first thing either of them knew, there was polly shaking their arms and laughing. "you lazy little things, you--get up! i've been calling and calling and calling you to breakfast." joel and david flew up into the middle of the bed. "joe was teasing all night for a drink of water," said ben, as polly ran down into the kitchen. "an' i was just going to get up and fetch him some, when he tumbled to sleep again." "dear me," said polly, rushing at her work; "well, i'll keep their porridge warm. now, phronsie, you can't help me about these dishes." "i'm just as big since yesterday," said phronsie, standing up on her tiptoes to turn an injured face to polly. "see, polly." "so you are," said polly, bursting into a laugh. "well, i tell you, pet, what you might do that would help me more." "more than to wash the dishes, polly?" cried phronsie, tumbling down from her tiptoes. "oh, do tell me, polly!" and she ran up to her, and seized polly's check apron with both fat little hands. "why, you see i can't do the dishes, all of 'em, till the boys get through their breakfast," said polly, with a sober face, looking at the old clock, as she thought of the seams on the sacks she was going to fly at as soon as the work was done in the kitchen. how nice it was that mamsie had promised she might try this very morning while mrs. pepper was down at the parsonage, mending the minister's study carpet. "now i guess the money'll begin to come in, and mamsie won't have to work so hard," thought polly over and over, and her heart beat merrily, and the color flew over her cheek. "tell me, polly," begged little phronsie, holding the apron tight. "well, now, pet, there's a snarl of thread in the work-basket. don't you remember, the spool rolled under the table, and nobody saw it go, and the boys kicked it up and made it into a mess, an' mamsie put it into the little bag, an' i was to pick it out when i got time? if you only could do that, phronsie, just think how it would help." phronsie gave a long sigh. she dropped the apron, and folded her hands. "would it help so very much, polly?" she asked. "ever an' ever so much," said polly. "you needn't do but a little now, an' some other day p'raps you could do some more." "i'm going to do it all," said phronsie, shaking her yellow head determinedly. so she got her little wooden chair from against the wall, and set it in the middle of the kitchen floor, and then brought the little cotton bag out of the old work-basket. "i shall do it all this very one minute," she declared softly, as she sat down and drew out the snarl of thread. "now, boys," called polly, as she took one look at her, and just stopped to drop a kiss on the yellow hair, "you must just come downstairs this very minute. if you don't, you can't have any breakfast." "coming," sang joel, and presently down he tumbled, two steps at a time, pulling on his jacket as he went. "such a long time to stay abed," reproved polly; "just think of it, it's after seven o'clock, joel pepper, and mamsie's been gone half an hour!" "an' i'm working," said phronsie, twitching at the end of the thread with an important air. "i'm going to pick out the whole of this, i am, for mamsie. see, joey!" she held up the snarl, and away the spool raced, as if glad to get off once more. "hoh!" said joel, "you're making it worse'n ever, phron." "no, i'm not," cried phronsie, clutching the snarl with both little fists. "oh, no, i'm not; am i, polly?" and the big tears began to race over her round cheeks. "no," said polly. "oh, for shame, joel, to make phronsie cry!" "i didn't make her cry," denied joel, stoutly, his face working badly. "i'll get the spool--i'll get the spool. see, polly, here 'tis," and he dived under the table, and came up bright and shining with it in his hand. "there now, phronsie; see, joel's got it for you," said polly, beaming at him. "now, pet, i'll tell you what, let's put mamsie's basket on the floor, and old mr. spool in it. there, joey, drop him in, then he can't run away again. now, then!" "mr. spool can't run away again," smiled phronsie through her tears, and leaning out of her little wooden chair to see joel drop the spool in. "that's nice, polly, isn't it? now he can't run away again," she hummed. "indeed, it is," sang polly, delighted; "he's fast now, so fly at your snarl, pet, mamsie'll be so pleased to think you've picked out some of it." "i'm going to pick it all out," declared phronsie in a tone of determination. and wiping off the tears on the back of her fat little hand, she set to work, humming away again to herself. "now, whatever keeps david!" cried polly, dishing out joel's mush from the kettle on the stove, and setting the bowl on the table. "he's coming," said joel, hastily. "o dear me, i wish we ever had anything, polly pepper, but mush and molasses for breakfast!" "some people don't have anything half as good," said polly, starting for the stairs. "what don't they have?" asked joel in alarm, as he watched her go. "oh, i don't know; different things. da-_vid!_" she called. "you said they didn't have things half as good," said joel, stopping with a spoonful of porridge halfway to his mouth. "so you know what they are, now, polly pepper." "oh, well, they don't. plenty and plenty of people don't get near as good things as we have every day for breakfast." "what are they, the things the plenty and plenty of people get?" persisted joel, beginning on his breakfast comfortably, since polly was going to talk. "oh--let me see," said polly, pausing at the foot of the stairs. "old bread, for one thing." "is it mouldy?" asked joel. "um--yes, i s'pose so," answered polly, wrinkling up her face. "eat your own breakfast, joe, and not stop to think of what other people have. da-_vid!_'" "you said 'things,'" said joel, severely, "and you only told me mouldy old bread, polly pepper! what else?" "o dear, i don't know." "you _said_----" "i mean--well, cold potatoes, for one thing. i s'pose most everybody has potatoes. now eat your breakfast, joey pepper. those are things. eat your breakfast this minute!" when polly spoke in that tone, the three little peppers knew they must obey. joel ducked his head over his bowl of mush, and began to hurry the spoonfuls as fast as he could into his mouth. "i must go up and see what is the matter with david," said polly, preparing to run up the stairs. just at this moment he appeared coming slowly down. "oh, here you are!" cried polly, brightly, running over to the old stove to dish out his bowl of mush. "now, davie, fly at your breakfast, 'cause i've got to sew all the morning just as hard as ever i can." iii deacon brown's nail pile "now, boys," said polly, as joel pushed back his chair, "i want you to help me, that is, as soon as davie has finished his breakfast." "oh, that's too bad," grumbled joel, loudly, "when we got all our kindlings chopped yesterday, an' there ain't anything else to do. you know you said we could play to-day, polly pepper!" "i didn't say all day; but of course you can," replied polly, with a fine scorn, "if you don't _want_ to help, joel. i'm sure the little brown house can get along without a boy who isn't glad to make it as nice as he possibly can." the idea of the little brown house getting along without him made joel aghast at once, and he stood quite still. davie laid down his spoon, and got out of his chair quickly. "what is it, polly?" he cried, the pink color all over his cheek. "dear me!" cried polly, merrily, "the very idea of a boy trying to help who hasn't finished his breakfast. go back and eat every bit of that mush and molasses, davie dear; then, says i, we'll see what you can do." "i'll be through in just a minute, polly." david ran back and clambered into his chair, plying his spoon so fast that polly cried in dismay, "oh, davie, you'll choke yourself!" "no, i won't," said davie, with a very red face, and swallowing hard, "it's all slipping down. there, see, polly. i'm all through; truly i am." he got out of his chair again, and ran up to her. "so you are," said polly, glancing approvingly at the bare bowl. "well now, i'll tell you, davie, what you can do. you know that pile of old nails that deacon brown said ben might have? well, 'tisn't nice, you know, to play all day, so you may pick over some of 'em, and get the good ones out. ben will be so surprised, even if you don't get but a few ready." "i'm going to work all the morning at 'em," declared little davie, gladly, hopping off toward the door. "no, i don't want you to work but a little while," said polly, decisively, and picking up the breakfast dishes to wash. "you can have most all to-day to play in. and then some other day, when there isn't any other work to do, you can pick over some more; and pretty soon, before you know it, they'll all be done, and ben'll be so surprised, for they'll be ready when he wants to mend the woodshed." "i don't want to pick over any crooked old nails," proclaimed joel, loudly, and knocking his heels against the pantry door. "i sh'd think deacon brown might have given us some good ones." "for shame, joel!" said polly, hurrying across the floor with the pile of dishes; "it's fine of him to give us these. and there are lots of good ones amongst 'em." "you told me not to say 'lots,' the other day," said joel, with a sharp look out of his black eyes to see if polly would relent. "so i did," she cried, and the color flew over her cheek. "dear me, it is so hard not to say things that you don't like to hear other people say." "well, i don't want to pick over old rusty nails," said joel, ignoring this remark, "and it's real mean, polly pepper, to make me, when i want to go and play!" and he kicked his heels worse than ever. "i don't make you," said polly, pouring the hot water into the dish-pan and dashing in the soap, "but i shouldn't think it was nice to go out to play right after breakfast. you might work an hour, and then you'd enjoy the play all the better." "i'd enjoy the play now. and a whole hour, too!" cried joel, in a dudgeon. "why, polly pepper! a whole hour!" "that's right, davie," said polly, smiling brightly at him, as the little fellow ran out into the woodshed. then she began to sing, without looking at joel. "a whole hour," shouted joel. but polly kept a cold shoulder toward him, running up and down in a merry song till a little bird outside the window trilled away as hard as he could, to keep her company. "a whole hour--" joel ran up and pulled her dress. "it's as mean as it can be to make me work a whole hour, polly pepper!" "chee--chee--chee," called the little bird, and away polly sang, splashing the dishes up and down in the hot soap-suds, till the old kitchen seemed full of merry bustle. joel regarded her closely for two or three minutes, and then went slowly out. david was up on top of the wood bin in the shed, and tugging at the box of nails that ben had put on one of the beams. "i can't get it down," he said. "come help me, joel, do." but joel kicked his feet on the woodshed floor. so little david gave another pull at the box, wavered, and clutched wildly at the air, and before joel could speak, came tumbling down, and after him, the heavy box, spilling the nails as it fell. he lay quite still, and joel only stopped to take one look. "oh, polly, dave's killed, i guess," he screamed, rushing into the kitchen, his face working fearfully. polly stopped her song in mid-air, and turned quite white. "oh, no, i guess not," she said with a gasp, as she saw his face. then she remembered phronsie. "come out here, joe," and she gently pushed him out into the little entry. "i guess i'll go, too," said phronsie, who had been humming a soft refrain to polly's song, and laying down the snarl carefully in mamsie's big work-basket she went softly out after them. "now, joel," polly was saying out of white lips, "don't you scream. think of phronsie, and--" "what is it, polly?" asked phronsie's soft voice. "o dear me! what shall i do!" polly turned. "phronsie dear, you mustn't come now." joel had sunk down and covered his face with his hands, trying not to scream. "go right back to your chair, polly says so. be a good girl, pet." she looked straight into the blue eyes wide with astonishment at being sent back. "please let me, polly," begged the little girl. "no," said polly, firmly, "mamsie wouldn't like it. go back, phronsie, and shut the door." phronsie turned without a word and went slowly back, and as polly seized joel's hand and sped into the woodshed, they could hear the kitchen door shut, and knew that she had gone back to her chair. when polly and joel reached little david, joel was beyond words, and he fell down and flung his arms around the little figure. davie stirred and moaned. "help me lift him up, joe," cried polly, hoarsely. "i couldn't get the nails," said david, "and then they all spilled. i'm sorry, polly," and he opened his eyes and looked up into her white face. when joel saw that david could speak, he gave a great gasp. "it was my fault," he sobbed. "never mind, davie dear," said polly, soothingly. "we can pick the nails up." "i'll pick 'em up," cried joel, delighted to find something to do, and he sprang up and went scrambling around and sweeping them into a pile with his fingers, while the big tears trailed down his round cheeks. "see, now," said polly, trying to speak gayly, "how the old nails have to hop into the box again." "so they do," said david, with a wan little smile. then he shut his eyes. "run as fast as you can, joe," said polly, "and ask grandma bascom to come over." then she lifted davie and struggled with him to a pile of grain bags in the corner. "i can't get him into the bedroom till joel helps me, and besides, i must get phronsie out of the kitchen first," she thought. "oh, god! _please_ don't let davie die," she cried deep in her heart. joel flew on the wings of the wind, his heart beating like a trip-hammer, over down across the lane to grandma bascom's little cottage. grandma, with a tin pan full of wet corn meal, was just going out to feed her hens, when he dashed up behind her. "please come!" he shouted, his trembling mouth close to her cap-border. "polly wants you!" [illustration: "'please come!' he shouted close to her cap-border"] "polly's here, now that's nice!" said grandma, well pleased. "you just wait a minute, and i'll be ready to see her. come, biddy-biddy," she called, and waddling off, she gathered up a handful of the wet corn meal. "oh, come now!" roared joe, and seizing her hand, he pulled her back toward the kitchen. "dear grandma bascom, please come; dave's killed, i guess," and before she knew it, she was halfway to the little brown house, and in a minute or two more there she was before davie lying on the pile of grain bags, and polly holding his hand, and fanning him with an old newspaper. "he's all right," said grandma, with a practised eye; "only just fainted a bit. now 'tisn't anything to what my son john's abram did one summer he spent with me. used to tumble over most every day." "he fell," said polly. she could say no more, but pointed up to the beam. then she found her voice. "the box of nails--i didn't know 'twas up there, see!" and she pointed to them, where joel had tried to gather them up. "he fell down from there?" asked grandma, looking up at the beam. polly nodded, not trusting herself to speak. joel wrung his hands together, and stood quite still. "in that case," said grandma, "this boy must go for dr. fisher just as soon as he can." "run, joe, as hard as ever you can," gasped polly. no need to tell joel that. over the fields and across lots he ran like a deer, scaling stone walls in a flash, only to reach the doctor's house to be told that he was away twenty miles into the country. then joel sat down on the grass by the roadside, and burying his face in his hands, cried as if his heart would break. he didn't mind that a pair of spirited black horses were coming down the road, the bright horses all a-jingle, and the carriage all a-bloom with gay colors, and merry with cheery voices. "what's the matter?" called somebody to him, but he cried on as hard as he could. then his little shoulder in his homespun jacket was shaken smartly. "see here, my boy, either you tell me what you're screaming for, or i'll pick you up and carry you off." joel looked up, the streams of tears making muddy paths along his face, where he had rubbed it with his grimy hands. "dave's killed," he burst out, "and the--the doctor's gone away!" "come on." it was a kind face that was over him, and in a minute joel felt himself lifted by a pair of strong arms that presently tossed him into the carriage, in amongst the occupants, while the owner of the arms jumped in beside him. "do you know the way home?" he asked. "of course," said joel; "it's the little brown house--" then he began to cry again. "see here, my lad, look at me." joel rolled his eyes up at the man, the rest of the people keeping quite still to listen. "you are a brave boy, i know. now i'm a doctor, and if you'll just take me to your house, i'll have a look at that dave of yours. which way?" joel sat bolt upright as well as he could, being crammed in between a big fat man and his kind friend, and directed this way and that way, his tears all gone, and before any one could hardly think twice, the pair of black horses and the jingling harness and big carriage had stopped before the little brown house, and the doctor was springing over the stepping-stones in such a lively fashion that joel had to run to keep up with him, until there they were, with grandma bascom waddling around in search of some herbs that were drying in the corner of the woodshed, and polly still holding david's hand as he lay on the pile of grain bags. and in five minutes the new doctor had all the examination made, and davie was sitting up, his head on polly's shoulder; and no bones were broken, and all the trouble was the fright produced by the shock of the fall. and the color flew back into polly's cheek, and grandma bascom kept saying, "praise the lord--and who be ye, anyway?" bobbing her cap-border at the new doctor. and he laughed and didn't tell her. but he did tell some funny stories. and little davie laughed; and when they saw that, they all laughed, and the people out in the carriage said, "just like dr. herman," and one tall girl, with her hat all covered with red roses, said, "uncle john is always doing such queer things. i do wish he would hurry and come. it is too bad to have our driving tour interrupted like that." and pretty soon down the stepping-stones he came, as light and quick as could be, grandma bascom lifting both hands and calling after him, "well, you're an angel of the lord, anyway," and the new doctor was laughing. but he had stopped to look into polly's brown eyes. "don't worry, little girl, he's all right," he said. joel squeezed past them through the doorway, and ran after him. "please stop just a minute," he begged. "hey?" said the doctor, turning his foot on the step. the tall girl in the hat with big red roses looked impatient enough, and beat her foot on the carriage floor, but joel kept on. "i like you," he burst out, "ever'n ever so much." the doctor put one hand on joel's stubby black hair, and turned his grimy face up. "you've got to be a man," he said; "now look out for it while you're a boy. i guess you'll do." he jumped into the carriage and drove the black pair of horses off at a smart gait down the road, while joel stood on the roadside grass to see him go. iv the muffin man and the tramp so when the time came that was to bring mamsie home that night, tired, but happy to fold her baby to her heart, for phronsie always climbed into her lap to untie her bonnet-strings, there was david, running around brisk as a bee, his cheeks pink as a rose, and joel, who had stuck to the old box of nails all day, despite polly's pleadings to stop and rest, gave a shout that the last was done, and stretched his tired legs. then he gave a hop and skip and jump around and around the grass before the little brown house. "whickets! that feels good!" he cried, stopping for a long breath by the old green door; then away again, kicking up his heels like a colt. "he's done 'em almost every one," said davie, mournfully, standing on the doorstone to see him go; "he wouldn't let me help only a teenty bit, and he's so tired, polly." "joel wanted to do 'em, davie dear," said polly, coming to the door, on hearing that, and giving him a loving little pat. "i know all about it, why he wanted to do it"--for joel had told her the whole story--"and mamsie'll be glad he did it. how i wish she'd come!" peering down the dusty road. "how i wish she'd come!" echoed phronsie, poking her head in between polly's gown and the door jamb. "dear me," cried polly, whirling around, "are you there, pet? well, mamsie's coming pretty soon. i think i see--no, 'tisn't," as david started to scamper over the stepping-stones--"it's a man turning the road. anyway, she'll be here before we hardly know it, i guess. now let's play something, and that'll make the time go faster." "oh, hooray!" cried little davie, and, "hooray!" piped phronsie. "_joel--joel!_" screamed david; and phronsie clapped her hands and screamed too, and polly laughed and called as hard as she could, for joel, imagining himself a gay trotting horse, was slapping his legs with a switch, and careering around the back of the little brown house in a great state of excitement. now hearing the calls, he came whooping around, making all the noise he possibly could, so there was a perfectly dreadful din, and no wonder that the man polly had seen turning the road came nearer without any one noticing him. he thought it was so convenient for him that all the children in the house should be out in the front yard, that perhaps he had better hop over the stone wall and go quietly in at the back door; for really he was very hungry, and there must be as much as a piece of bread, although the little brown house didn't look as if it held much meat and pie and cake. so over the wall he went, and slunk in through the tall grass, just as polly was marshalling her forces on the greensward in front and saying, "now, children, what shall we play?" "tag--tag!" screamed joel, crowding up in front. "now begin, polly, do, and let me be it." "i'd rather have the muffin man," said davie, wistfully. "muffin--man--muffin--man," echoed phronsie, beating her small hands. "oh, polly, please do let us have the muffin man," she cried, her yellow hair flying over her flushed face as she hopped up and down. "please, polly!" "pshaw!" joel exclaimed, contemptuously, "that old muffin man, he's no fun. i say 'tag.' do begin, polly," he pulled her sleeve impatiently. "the muffin man is so very nice," said davie, reflectively, "and we haven't played it in so long." "that old--" began joel, crossly. then he caught polly's eye. "all right, dave," he cried. "go on, polly. and let dave be the muffin man, do, polly." polly shot him a beaming glance. "now that's nice," and she took phronsie's hand, who was so overcome with delight she could not stand still, but was engaged in making a cheese, and tumbling over in a heap on the grass. "come on, pet," and polly pulled her up, "don't you see the muffin man is waiting for us?" for there was david standing off at the end of the grass-plot, as stiff as a stick, and most dignified, all ready to receive his visitors. it was after the merry line was dancing back into place that joel happened to glance up at the window of the kitchen. and as quick as a shot he dropped polly's hand and skipped off on the tips of his toes over the grass and around the back of the house. "dear me!" cried polly, "whatever can have happened to joel?" "do come on, polly," begged phronsie, pulling at her other hand, and lifting her flushed face pleadingly, "and let us see the muffin man once more." "so we will, dear," said polly. "now then!" so they danced off gayly. "we all know the muffin man--the muffin man--the muffin man. we all know the muffin man, that lives in crumpet lane." meantime, joel rushed in over the back doorstep and into the kitchen before the man he had seen through the kitchen window could hear him and turn away from the old cupboard. when he did, he said something that wouldn't have sounded nice had joel stopped to hear it. as it was, he bounded in. "what are you doing in our house?" he cried, doubling up his fists. "hey?" said the man. he wasn't very nice to look at either, and he peered over and around joel's sturdy figure, to see if more of the children were coming after. when he saw that joel was alone, and could hear the gay voices out on the grass-plot, he looked perfectly wicked, and he laughed as he pointed a long and dirty hand at him. "you scream, or stir from your tracks, and i'll make mincemeat of you!" he hissed. "i ain't a-goin' to scream," declared joel, scornfully, "an' i'm goin' to drive you out of our house." with that he dashed at the man with both small brown fists well doubled up, pommelling right and left, and butting his stubby black head into the stranger's waistcoat. and the next minute he was caught in the long hands and tossed with a thump to the old kitchen floor, and the wicked eyes were over him as he lay there panting. "what did i tell you!" cried the man. "now i'm going to make mincemeat of you." "we all know the muffin man that lives in crumpet lane," sang polly and phronsie merrily, out on the grass-plot, as they danced away. "where _is_ joel?" cried polly, as they stopped to take breath. "just once more," begged phronsie, pulling her hand; "please, polly." so down to see the muffin man again they danced. meantime, joel was tied up tight and fast with the clothes-line to the table leg, and in order that he should not use his tongue, seraphina's clothes, where phronsie had thrown her on the floor, were torn off and crammed into his mouth. "now i guess you'll keep still," said the man, turning back to the cupboard with a grin; "and as long as those youngsters are at their noise out there, i'm safe enough," and he pulled out polly's bread she had just baked that day, done up in a clean old towel. "humph!" as he thrust his tousled head into the cupboard, and searched for butter, and ran his dirty hands all over the clean, bare shelves--"well, this will keep me from starving." so he rolled the towel as tightly as he could over the bread, and slouched off, shaking his fist at joel with a parting scowl. "now, phronsie, i can't play another single time," said polly. "i must see where joel is." so she dropped the fat little hand and raced off, the other children after her. "joel--joel--" they all cried, and just then mamsie was coming down the road--oh! so tired, as she had had to stay later than usual, for the conference was to meet at the minister's house next day, and besides the study carpet to be put down, there were ever and ever so many things to be done. but she had an extra quarter of a dollar in her pocket, and polly was to run over after the conference dinner and get a basket of the eatables. "if they leave any," miss jerusha, the minister's sister, had said grimly, "which isn't very likely. i've heard 'em preach often enough of starved souls. la! 'tisn't a circumstance to the starved bodies they bring along to conference." so mrs. pepper was turning in at the dooryard of the little brown house in a happy frame of mind, when she heard a babel of voices, and phronsie's little shrill voice above them all. "goodness me, the house must be afire!" she exclaimed, hurrying over the grass and in at the door. there was joel, tied hand and foot, his black eyes blazing, while he was talking as fast as he could rattle, and polly was untying the clothes-line, little davie getting in the way, with trembling fingers, while phronsie stood still and screamed. "he's got all our bread!" shouted joel. "oh, mamsie!" phronsie turned and saw mrs. pepper, and ran to her with outstretched arms. "whatever in all this world," exclaimed mother pepper, grasping her baby tightly. "there--there--phronsie, don't cry, mammy's here." "oh, mamsie--mamsie!" mourned polly, tugging at the knots in the clothes-line. davie scuttled over to mother pepper and tried to get within her arms, too. "our bread!" screamed joel, in a rage, and kicking at the knots. "let me up! i'm going after him. he's got it all out of the cupboard, i tell you!" "joel," said mrs. pepper, kneeling down by him, with phronsie by her side, and putting both arms around his struggling figure, "mother doesn't care about the bread; she's got you safe." joel snuggled up close to her. "i couldn't help his gettin' it," he sniffled, "mamsie, i couldn't." then he broke out into a loud sob. "mother knows you couldn't," said mrs. pepper, and she shivered as she thought of what might have been. "you're my brave boy. but you mustn't go after him, nor out of the house." "oh, mammy!" exclaimed joel, lifting up his head, his tears all gone. "i can catch him." he gave an impatient pull at the knots. "take care, joe," cried polly, "you're pulling 'em tighter. oh, mammy, let us all go after him," she begged with flashing eyes. "we can catch the bad wicked man." "no," said mrs. pepper, firmly, "not a single one of you must stir out of this house unless i tell you. and as for bread, why, we can do without it so long as joel is safe." "phooh!" said joel, "he didn't hurt me any," just as polly got the last knot out that tied his arms. then he set to work to help her get his legs free. and in a trice he jumped to his feet and ran to the window. "oh, mamsie," he teased, craning his neck to look up and down the road, "do let me go. i can get some sticks in the woodshed, and i guess i can scare him then." "all of us," pleaded polly, hurrying to mrs. pepper; "just think, mamsie, with big sticks. do let us." but mother pepper shook her head. "we'll all go over to grandma bascom's and see if he went there. then ben'll be home, and he can run over and tell deacon brown. he'll know how to catch the thief." "i'm goin' with ben," announced joel, decidedly, and coming into the middle of the kitchen with a bound. "he's my thief. an' i'm goin' with mr. brown to catch him. so there!" mrs. pepper shivered again, but smiled at phronsie, who clutched her tightly with her little arms around the neck. "well, i declare!" she said with a cheery laugh, "aren't you going to untie mother's bonnet-strings, baby?" "yes, phronsie," said polly, with another little laugh, "so you ought to. i declare, we're all so excited we don't know what to do. i'm going to make your tea, mamsie," and she spun off to the old stove. mrs. pepper smiled at her approvingly. "i won't wait for that now; we ought to get over and see how grandma bascom is. i don't believe he went there, but we'll see." "i forgot all about her," said polly, in a shamefaced way. "i'll run down the lane and see. you don't need to come, mamsie. we three will go." "i'm goin'. i'm goin'," screamed joel, rushing for the door. "joel," called his mother, "come here." joel slowly retraced his steps. "remember one thing. you stay with polly, and do just as she says. and now, children, hurry along. and if you see the man, you call me." and mrs. pepper went to the door, and, with phronsie in her arms, watched them scramble down the lane, and up to grandma's little cottage. but grandma bascom hadn't seen anybody pass that way, and wasn't a bit afraid. there she sat, drinking her bowl of tea out under the lilac bushes. "run in an' get some pep'mint drops out o' the cupboard," she said sociably, "they're in the big green dish. be careful of it, for it's cracked." "we can't," said polly, "mamsie wants us to come right home." joel's mouth watered. "'twon't take but a minute, polly," he said. "no, joe, we mustn't," said polly, firmly. "good-by, grandma. now, let's run, boys, as fast as we can, home to mamsie, and see which will get there first." v on bandy leg mountain and so joel finally went to the cave alone. but not before a good many weeks, for the two boys didn't get play-day again in a long while. there was work to do picking rocks for the neighboring farmers; and then came potato-planting time when they could help ben as he worked for deacon brown, who always paid them well in potatoes that kept them through the winter. and, dear me, there was always wood to pick up and split, ben doing the heaviest part of the chopping; and errands down to the store for indian meal and molasses and flour, and to fetch and carry back the coats and sacks that mamsie was always sewing up. so at it they kept all the pleasant days. and, of course, on the rainy days no one could think of getting off to the woods. so presently joel almost forgot about wanting to go, until one day when polly broke out, "now, boys, you can play a good while to-day; your work's all done up." joel twitched davie's arm and hauled him out to the woodpile behind the shed. "now come on, dave, let's go to old bandy leg mountain." "no, i don't want to. i'm never goin' there," said davie, shrinking back. "not after the flowers?" said joel, aghast at that. david looked longingly off to the tip of the mountain overhanging badgertown. "n-no," he said slowly. "you see," said joel, wheedlingly, "there must be such a very great lot up there, and nobody to pick 'em, dave." davie turned his blue eyes full of delight: "i might go a little way; but i'm not going to the cave; only just after the flowers--the green ones and the others." "all right," said joel, carelessly, thinking that after davie got started he could persuade him to keep on. "now, you wait here till i get my gun." joel's gun was an old willow branch out of which he had knocked the pith; then he would put in round pebbles, when he wanted to use it, and punch them out suddenly with another stick, screaming out at the same time, "look out, my gun's going off. _bang!_" so he ran off nimbly and got his gun from the corner of the woodshed, where he had hidden it, and then in to polly in the kitchen. "give us somethin' to eat, polly, please. dave an' me." "you can get some bread in the tin pail in the provision room, joe," she said, without looking up. she was trying to sew up a long seam in one of the coats mother pepper was making for mr. atkins, and it bothered her dreadfully, for it wouldn't look like mamsie's, try as she would. and she had picked it out three times, and was just threading her needle to begin again, when joel rushed in. "why, you've only been through breakfast a little while," she said quickly. "dear me, joe, seems to me you're always hungry." "how i wish 'twas gingerbread!" cried joel, tumbling over the rickety steps in a trice. "polly, why don't we ever have any?" he called back, twitching off the cover of the pail. it fell to the floor and rattled off, making a great noise. "stop banging that pail, joe," called polly, in a sharp little voice, and twisting the end of the thread tighter. "dear me, this hateful thing won't go in that eye. go in, you!" with a push that sent the thread way beyond the needle. "i ain't bangin' the pail," contradicted joel, in a loud, injured voice; "the old thing fell down. 'twarn't my fault." and he ran noisily across the provision room to pick it up. "well, set it on tight," said polly, "and you're a very naughty boy, joel, and always making a fuss over the bread pail." joel didn't hear her, as he was busily engaged in cramming the cover on the pail, and in a minute or two he came up with his pockets full of dry bread, and his chubby face beaming with satisfaction. polly tried again, without avail, to thread her needle, and at last, as he ran out with a good whoop, she laid it down and put her head back against mamsie's big chair in which she was sitting. "o dear," she sighed, "how i wish i could go off to-day and play just once! how good it must be in the woods!" "don't you suppose you'll go when you are a big woman?" asked phronsie, laying down seraphina, where she sat on the floor, and regarding her gravely. "ever, polly?" "o dear me, yes," said polly, twitching up her head again, and picking up the needle and thread. "and i'm a bad, naughty girl, phronsie, to fret," she added, her ill-humor flying. "there, now you've concluded to go in, have you?" this to the eye of the needle. "you're never bad, polly," said phronsie, taking up seraphina once more, feeling that everything was right, as she had seen polly smile, and beginning to tie on a remarkable bonnet upside down. "yes i am, pet, often and often," said polly, with very red cheeks, "and i ought to be put in the corner." "oh, polly,--put in the corner!" cried phronsie, in a tone of horror. "why, you couldn't be. you're polly!" "well, i need it," said polly, shaking her brown head, while the needle flew in and out merrily. suddenly she laid it down. "i must go out and tell joel i'm sorry. i was cross to him. i'll be back in a minute," and she sped off. when she came back she looked very sober. "they've gone down to the brook, i suppose," glancing at the clock. "well, i'll tell joe just as soon as he gets home," and slipping into the big chair again, she set to work, and presently the old kitchen was very quiet, except for the little song that phronsie was crooning to seraphina. at last this stopped, and polly, looking off from her work, saw that phronsie had fallen over on the floor, and was fast asleep. "poor thing!" exclaimed polly, "she wants her nap." so she took her up, and carried her into the bedroom, and laid her on the big four-poster, and came out and shut the door. "now i do believe i'll have time to finish these two seams, if i fly at 'em," she said joyfully. "then, says i, this old coat's done, and mamsie can send the bundle back to-night when she gets home"--for mrs. pepper was away helping one of the village housekeepers to make her supply of soft soap. many and many such an odd job did mother pepper get, for which she was thankful enough, as it helped her to eke out her scanty pittance. joel and david trotted on as fast as possible, by many a short cut through the woods, till they reached the foot of "bandy leg mountain," so called because the hermit who had lived and died there had short crooked legs. and at last they began to climb up its face, david peering on every side for any chance at spying out the wonderful flowers. "i most b'lieve there aren't any," at last he said, his feet beginning to drag. "come on," cried joel, way ahead. "hoh! what you stoppin' down there for? of course you won't find any until you get up nearer the top. come on!" and he disappeared in a thick clump of undergrowth. "where are you, joel?" cried davie. he was now too frightened to move, and he was sure he heard a lion roar, though it was only his heart beating and thumping; so he sat down on the moss and pine needles, and waited. joel would surely come back. meantime a little bird came up and perched on the branch above his head, and sang to him, so he felt less lonely. joel, supposing davie was close behind him, trudged on and on. "hooray, we're most there!" he shouted at last. "come on, dave," and he turned around. "why--dave--dave!" "i guess he's just back there," and joel ran on, for there was the big hole in the rocks, and perhaps he'd really see a bear! and, o dear! he must have his gun ready. and joel soon stopped thinking about david, but bounded ahead as fast as he could, and squirmed in through the narrow slit, and wriggled along down toward the end of the cave. suddenly a very funny noise struck his ear; it wasn't a bit like a bear, nor even a wood-chuck, for they couldn't talk. and there surely were a number of voices. joel stopped squirming, and stared with wide eyes into the darkness. it smelt dreadfully in there, so close and hot, and before he could stop it he gave an awful sneeze. "what's that?" exclaimed one of the voices. then they whispered, and joel heard some one say, "we're found out." and another one said a bad word, and laughed, saying nobody'd ever find them there. "i guess there's lots in there," said joel, "an' i better go," so he wriggled back out into the light. and he hadn't been there but a minute when something came squirming down along after him. joel flew into the bushes and peered out between the branches. "why, it's the man who stole polly's bread!" he almost screamed. the man went past the bush, so near that his long dirty fingers could have picked him out in a minute, and then went down the other way, looking around carefully, and whistling away softly to himself, and presently returned to the cave. and as soon as he had gone in again, joel hopped out of his bush, and ran at a lively pace down the mountain-side, thinking only of meeting david, and then to get ben and deacon brown and a lot of men, "and won't we come back and catch every single one of 'em, then!" there was david fast asleep under his tree, and the little bird singing to him. "dave--dave!" shouted joel, shaking him hastily, "wake up! the man that stole our bread's up there. the cave's full of 'em. i'm goin' to get ben, an' catch 'em!" "i'm goin'--to--get--the--flowers," said little davie, sitting up straight and blinking. joel seized his hand and spun him along as fast as he could around the rocks and boulders that now stood in the way. ben was at deacon blodgett's, and looked up to see joel and david, hot and panting, rush into the field. "i'm so tired," said davie, and sank down; "o dear me, ben, i'm so tired." joel told his story, rattling it off so that ben had to shake his jacket many times. "hold on there, joe," he said, "you haven't seen half that. you've been asleep." "come up and see," cried joel, excitedly. "oh, ben, come up and see." "what's all this?" asked farmer blodgett, drawing near. so ben told it as well as he could for joel, who wanted to go over every word again, and at last they made him understand. "now that boy," said mr. blodgett, shifting his quid of tobacco into the other cheek, "bein's he's a pepper, knows what he's a-talkin' of. i'm of th' opinion pretty strong that i'm a-goin' up bandy leg." "oh, good! mr. blodgett," exclaimed joel, hopping up and down in his delight. "do please hurry this minute and come on." "bein's i've lost more hens and chickens the last two weeks than i ever have in my life before, and only yest'day wife had a hull pan o' doughnuts took off from the back steps where she'd set 'em to cool, why i'm of the opinion pretty strong that bandy leg mountain will bear lookin' into. so i'll call peter an' jed, an' we'll hoof it up there right away." "oh, mr. blodgett, do hurry," begged joel, "and come." and he began to dance off impatiently. "hold on!" cried the farmer, turning back, "you ain't goin'." joel stood absolutely still. "not going!" "th' idee o' takin' a leetle chap like you," laughed deacon blodgett. "why, i couldn't look your ma in the face, joel pepper, ef i sh'd do sech a thing." joel scanned ben's face. "i'm sorry, joe," said ben, "but mamsie wouldn't like it, you know." joel gave a howl. "they're mine. and he's my man who stole our bread; an' they all b'long to me, for i found 'em." he kept screaming on. "mercy me!" cried ben, shaking his arm, "stop screaming so, joe, you're scaring all mr. blodgett's men. they'll think you're half killed. see 'em running here." "i don't have to go after 'em, to call 'em, s'long as you yell like that," observed farmer blodgett, grimly. "an' they all b'long to me, every single one of 'em," screamed joel, harder than ever, "so there! an' mamsie'd let me," he added in a fresh burst. "well, i can't let you," declared ben, decidedly, "without she says so; and if we wait here much longer, all those fellows will be slipping off, maybe. they can hear you up there, for all i know, you make such a noise." "see here," cried deacon blodgett, sternly, "joe pepper, you stop that noise! ain't you 'shamed, bein' mrs. pepper's boy, to take on so? now i'll tell you what i'll do. you've done a good thing a-drummin' up those scamps, an' i don't wonder you want to go an' see 'em ketched." "i want to help catch 'em, and they're mine," said joel, through his tears. "well,"--and the farmer smiled grimly,--"i don't wonder, so now i'll tell you what i'll do. peter shall go along with you home, an' if your ma says come, he'll bring you after us. so march lively." "mother isn't home," said ben. "she's at miss perkins' working, to-day." while joel screamed shrilly, "oh, dear-dear-dear, p'r'aps she won't let me go!" "then you hadn't ought to want to," said deacon blodgett, sternly. "start lively, now, and see." but mrs. pepper, looking into her boy's eyes, and hearing his story, stood quite still, and joel's heart went down to his toes. "i think a boy who can act as bravely as you have, joe," she said at last, slowly, "ought to go and see the job finished. mother can trust you. run along," and joel's feet twinkled so fast that peter could hardly see them go. vi ab'm's birthday party the robbers were caught, and were lodged in the county jail, and all the farmers who had hen-roosts robbed, and the farmers' wives who had their doughnuts stolen, kept coming over to the little brown house or stopping mrs. pepper after church on sunday to thank her for what her boy had done, until it got so that when joel saw a bonnet coming along the dusty road, or a wagon stop in front, he would run and hide. "i won't have 'em put their hands on my head and call me good boy," he cried, shaking his black hair viciously. "i'll kick 'em--so there!" so one day, when he caught sight of a wagon just about to stop, he ran, as usual, as fast as he could, off over to grandma bascom's. "now that's too bad," said a big tall woman, who got out of the wagon and made her way up to the door, "for mis' beebe said in partic'ler i was to bring joel, an' he ain't to home." "go and call him, polly," said mrs. pepper, "come in, won't you, and sit down?" phronsie tried to drag forward a chair, while polly ran out the back door, calling, "joel--joel!" "bless her heart!" exclaimed the visitor, looking at phronsie. "no, i can't set; i've got to keep an eye on that horse." as mr. beebe, who ran the little shoe shop up in the town, owned a horse that nothing but a whip could make go, this seemed unnecessary. however, mrs. pepper only smiled hospitably, while the woman went on. "you see, i've only jest about come, as 'twere, on from the west, an' bein' my boy's got a birthday, an' him bein' grandson, as you may say, to mis' beebe, she thought she'd give him a party." "oh, are you mr. beebe's daughter?" asked mrs. pepper, in perplexity. "i thought the old people hadn't any children." "no more'n they hain't," said the visitor, leaning composedly against the door jamb and keeping her eye on the horse; "but as you may say, ab'm's their grandson, for my husband's mother was sister to mis' beebe, an' she's dead, so you see it's next o' kin, an' it comes in handy to call her grandma." "oh, yes," said mrs. pepper. "well, an' so mis' beebe's goin' to give ab'm a party. la! she's been a-bakin' doughnuts all this mornin', got up at four o'clock an' begun 'em. i never see such sugary ones. they're sights, i tell you." polly now ran in. "i can't find joel, mamsie," she said sadly. "well, mis' beebe said i was to bring him most partic'ler; she'd rather see him than any of the rest o' you. she said, 'marinthy, be sure to bring that boy who was so brave about them robbers. tell him i've made some doughnuts special for him.'" "o dear!" exclaimed polly, clasping her hands, "whatever can we do, mamsie, to find him?" "you must not wait any longer," said mrs. pepper, remembering how, the day before, joel, had run down to the brook, and been gone for hours, following along its course, never coming home till dinner-time. "get phronsie ready, and davie and yourself. but i'm sorry for joey to lose the treat," she said sadly. "so'm i," said abram's mother, "an' mis' beebe'll feel dreadful bad. well, i'm afraid that horse'll start, so i'll get in, an' you can all come out when you get ready." pretty soon polly emerged from the bedroom with a sad look on her rosy face, and her brown eyes drooped as she led phronsie along as fresh and sweet as a rose, all ready. "tisn't nice a bit to go without joel, mamsie," said polly, disconsolately. "you can't help it, polly," replied her mother, "and it won't do to keep abram's mother waiting. so go on, and take care of the children, and see that they behave nicely. and don't let phronsie eat more than one doughnut. and be careful to tie the shawl over her when she comes home." "i'll remember, mamsie," said polly, and wishing there wasn't such a thing in the world as a party, she put phronsie into the wagon, and climbed up beside her. davie, with a very sober face at thought of leaving joel behind, craned his neck and watched for him as long as the little brown house was in sight. "you see," said abram's mother, twitching the reins, when at last the old horse decided to start, "i had to hurry away an' get in. i sh'd a-liked to a' set an' passed the time o' day longer with your ma, but i didn't darst to. it's dretful to have a horse run. i couldn't never a-catched him in all this world, stout as i be. land! i hain't run a step for ten years, 'cept last spring i was to sister jane's, an' her cow took after me, an' i had to." "o dear," breathed phronsie, turning her face up as she sat squeezed in between abram's mother and polly, "did he hurt you?" "bless your heart!" exclaimed the woman, beaming at her, "no, for he didn't catch me. you see i had on a red shawl, an' the critter didn't like it." "oh!" said phronsie. "no; sho there, easy, you!" cried abram's mother, holding the old leather reins as tightly as possible, and bracing back; "i guess he won't run, bein's i'm so strong in my hands. well, you see jane she hollered out o' th' window, 'throw away your shawl, m'rinthy, he'll kill you.'" "o dear me!" exclaimed phronsie. "an' did he kill you, mrs. big woman?" she asked anxiously. "no; why here i be," said abram's mother, with a hearty laugh. "well, how could i throw off my shawl an' me a-runnin' so, an' 'twas all pinned across me, an' my brother'd brought it from over seas. so i had to run." phronsie sighed, and kept her troubled eyes raised to the big face above her. "an' the first thing't ever i knew, i went down kerslump into a big compost heap, an'--" "what's a compost heap?" asked davie, getting up to stand in the wagon back of them. "oh, manure an' sich, all gone to rot," said abram's mother. "o dear me!" said davie. "an' that cow--'twas a bull, i forgot to tell you, jane's husban' told me afterwards--he kept right on over my head, couldn't stop, you know, an' he went bang up against a tree on t'other side, an' it knocked him flat." "did it hurt him?" asked phronsie, in a sorry tone. "i s'pose so," said abram's mother, "for he didn't know nothin', an' th' men folks came who'd seen me runnin' an' heard jane hollerin' an' took him off before he came to, which he did after a spell, as lively as a cricket. an' they dragged me up, more dead'n alive, an' i hain't run a step since." phronsie drew a long breath of relief that no one was killed. davie gazed at abram's mother in great satisfaction. "tell us some more," he said. "an' i might as well have flung off that red shawl," she went on, ignoring his request, "if i could a' got out that pin, for it was all smutched up, fallin' in that mess, an' i couldn't put it on my back. it beats all how you never know what's best to do; but then, says i, you've no call to worry afterwards, if you decide in a hurry. sho now, go easy, you!" and at last they drew up at mrs. beebe's door. there she stood in the doorway, in a cap with new pink ribbons, and old mr. beebe just a little back, smiling and rubbing his hands, and in the little window where the shoes and rubbers and slippers were hanging was a big round face plastered up against the small panes of glass. "there's ab'm, now," exclaimed his mother, proudly. "i guess when you see him you'll say there never was sech a boy. well, i'm glad we're here safe an' sound, an' this horse hain't run nor nothin'. now, hop out,"--which injunction was not needed. good mrs. beebe ran her eye over the little bunch of peppers as they jumped down over the wheel. "why, where's joel?" she cried. "in the bottom o' th' wagon, i s'pose," she added, laughing and shaking her fat sides. "yes, where's joel?" cried mr. beebe, rubbing his hands together harder than ever. "i want him to tell me all about how he ketched them robbers." polly was just going to tell all about joel, and why he couldn't come, when the big woman shouted out, "they couldn't find him, for he warn't to home." "sho, now, that's too bad!" ejaculated mr. beebe, dreadfully disappointed. mrs. beebe already had phronsie in her arms, and was whispering to her some of the delights to come. "well, well, well, come right in, all of you, and make yourselves to home. i'll take care of the horse, marinthy; go in an' set down." "i'm sure i'm glad to," said marinthy, getting over the little steps quickly after the pepper children, and nearly knocking down david, who came last. "ab'm, come here an' make your manners," she called. ab'm got down from the pile of boxes where he had been looking out of the window, and slouched forward, his finger in his mouth. "speak up pretty, now," said his mother, pulling his jacket down with a twitch, and looking at him admiringly; "these children's come to your party. say how do you do, an' you're glad to see 'em." "how do you do, an' you're glad to see 'em--" "land sakes alive!" cried his mother, with a shake; "hain't you no more manners'n that? do say it right." "you told me to say it so," said ab'm, doggedly. "no, i didn't," retorted his mother with another shake. the little bunch of peppers turned quite pale, and scarcely breathed. "did anybody ever see sech a boy, an' he that's had no pains spared 'n his bringin' up? well, he's ten to-day, thank fortune, an' he'll soon be a-takin' care o' himself." phronsie crept closer to polly. "take me home," she said. "i want my mammy." "o dear me," thought polly, "whatever shall i do! it will make dear mr. and mrs. beebe feel so badly if i don't stop her. phronsie," and she drew her off one side of the shop, old mrs. beebe having gone into the inner room, "you know mamsie told us all to be good." "yes," said phronsie, her lips quivering, and the tears beginning to come in her blue eyes. "well, it would just about make dear mrs. beebe and dear mr. beebe sick to have you feel badly and go home." "would it?" asked phronsie, swallowing hard. "yes," said polly, decidedly, "it would. people never go to a party, and then say they must go home." "don't they, polly?" asked the little girl. "no," said polly, decidedly, "i never heard of such a thing. and just think, phronsie pepper, how mamsie would look! oh, you can't mean to be a naughty girl." "i--won't--be a naughty--girl, polly," promised phronsie, battling with her tears, "an' i won't look at the big woman, nor the boy. then i'll stay." so polly kissed her, and pretty soon mrs. beebe bustled in, her round face quite red with the exertions she had been making, and mr. beebe having seen to his horse, came in rubbing his hands worse than ever, saying, "now, if we only had joel, we'd be all right." "now, my dears,"--began mrs. beebe. "why, you haven't laid off your things yet!" to the peppers. "no'm," said polly, "but we will now, thank you, mrs. beebe," and she untied phronsie's sun-bonnet and took off the shawl, david putting his cap down on the counter, keeping a sharp, disapproving eye on ab'm every minute. "when are you coming for a new pair of shoes?" whispered mr. beebe, getting hold of phronsie and lifting her to his knee. phronsie thrust out her little foot. "see," she cried gleefully, forgetting for a moment the big woman and the boy, "dear, nice mr. beebe, they're all here." then she poked out the other foot. "i buttoned 'em up all myself." "no?" cried mr. beebe, greatly delighted; "well, now, when those are worn out, you come and see me again, will you?" "they aren't ever going to be worn out," said phronsie, positively, and shaking her head. "hoh, hoh!" laughed ab'm, suddenly finding his tongue, "your shoes ain't never goin' to wear out! ma, did you hear her?" phronsie started and hid her face on mr. beebe's fat shoulder. polly hurried to her side. "be still!" cried his mother; "hain't you no manners, an' they're company? ab'm bennett, i'm ashamed of ye." with that she leaned over and gave him a box on the ear. it was perfectly dreadful, and polly had all she could do to keep from bursting out crying. and what they would have done, no one knows, if mrs. beebe hadn't said, "won't you all walk out into the parlor an' set down to the table? come, pa, you lead with phronsie." "ab'm oughter," said his mother; "that's style, seein' th' party's fer his birthday." "well, you go first then, marinthy," said old mr. beebe, dryly, "with him, an' phronsie an' i'll foller on. now then, my dear." he set her on the floor, and bent his old white head down to smile into her face reassuringly, while her trembling fingers held his hand fast. "polly," said little david, as they brought up the rear of the procession, "i am so very much afraid of that boy." "the party will soon be through," said polly, encouragingly. "i'm so glad that joel isn't here, for he'd say something, i'm afraid, if ab'm scares phronsie again," and she gave a sigh of relief. oh, the table! there were doughnuts, sure enough, as mrs. marinthy had said, "the biggest i ever see, and the sugariest." no wonder good mrs. beebe got up at four o'clock to make them! and a great dish of pink and white sticks and cunning little biscuits with real butter on them, and a cake, with little round candies sprinkled all over the top. was there ever such a beautiful birthday party! phronsie, clinging to good mr. beebe's hand, thought not, and her glances wandered all up and down in delight, to bring her eyes at last up to polly's brown ones, when her little face broke into a happy smile. ab'm was so intent on choosing which of the pink and white sticks he should pick for, that he could think of nothing else, so mrs. beebe got them all seated without any further trouble. old mr. beebe was just saying, "now, if joel was only here, we'd be all right," when the shop door opened suddenly, and into the little parlor ran joel, very red in the face. "now that's nice enough," cried mrs. beebe, getting out of her chair, her pink cap-ribbons all in a flutter, while old mr. beebe exclaimed, with a beaming face, "well, i declare! ef i ain't glad to see you. set right down by me." "no, he'll set here, pa," said mrs. beebe, pushing up the chair next to ab'm; "there's more room this side." so joel marched up and got into his seat. "an' so you thought you'd come," said mr. beebe, with a jolly little laugh. "now we'll have fine times, won't we, phronsie?" patting her hand. "how'd you git here?" "i walked," said joel, who couldn't for his life keep his eyes from the doughnuts, "'cept when i met a man with a load of hay. an' he was so slow i got down again, for i was afraid i'd miss the party." "hee, hee, hee!" chuckled mr. beebe; "well, wife, do give joel a doughnut; he must be tired, a-comin' so far." "oh, thank you," cried joel, thrusting out his hand eagerly. "'tain't style, where i come from out west, to help the doughnuts first, an' specially when that boy's just come," said mrs. marinthy, with a great air. joel dropped his doughnut to his plate as if it had been a hot cake, and leaned over to fasten his black eyes on her big face. "well, pass the biscuits, do, then," said old mr. beebe, good-naturedly; "let's get somethin' a-goin', ma." so the little biscuits were passed, but joel did not take one; he still sat regarding ab'm's mother. "ma, ma," said ab'm in a loud whisper, and twitching her elbow, "this strange boy's a-lookin' at you all the time. make him stop, do." at this phronsie gave a little cry. "don't let 'em hurt joey," she gasped, turning to mr. beebe. "there shan't nothin' hurt joel, don't you be afraid," he whispered back. "hoh, hoh!" cried ab'm, pointing a big fat finger at her, that might have been cleaner; "hear her now. an' she said her shoes warn't never goin' to wear out. hoh, hoh!" "you let our phronsie alone," screamed joel, tearing his black eyes off from mrs. marinthy's face to fasten them on her son. "ow! he pinched me," roared ab'm, edging suddenly off to his mother. "i didn't," cried joel, stoutly; "i did't touch him a single bit! but he shan't scare phronsie, or i'll pitch into him. yes, sir-ree!" "joel!" cried polly, in great distress, across the table. "well, he shan't scare phronsie," cried joel, "this boy shan't, or i will pitch into him," and his black eyes blazed, and he doubled up his little brown fists. "joel," commanded polly, "do you stop, this very minute," and, "oh, sir!" looking up at mr. beebe, and, "oh, marm!" and her brown eyes were fixed imploringly on mrs. beebe's round countenance, "i do feel so ashamed, and mamsie will be so sorry. but please will you let us go home?" and poor polly could say no more. "an' i sh'd think you'd better go home," said ab'm's mother, with asperity; "a-comin' to a birthday party and abusin' the boy it's give for. i never see th' like. an' to think how i driv' you clear over here, an' that horse most runnin' away all the time." polly got out of her chair and sorrowfully went up to joel. "we'll sit out in the shop, if you please, dear mr. and mrs. beebe, till you get through the party. and then, if you please, we'd like to go home." joel's head dropped, and his little brown fists fell down. "i'm sorry," he mumbled. mrs. beebe picked off the biggest pink stick from the pile on the dish and slid it on joel's plate. "eat that," she whispered. "ab'm's goin' home in a week, an' then, says i, you shall come over an' visit with me." and mr. beebe looked over at him and nodded his white head, and joel was quite sure he winked pleasantly at him. but the pink stick and doughnut lay quite untouched on his plate, and after a time, polly having crept back to her seat, the biscuits had been passed around again, and the grand cake with the candies on top had been cut, the pink and white sticks were divided, and the doughnuts went up and down the table, and lo and behold! the party was over. "i've had a birthday party," said ab'm, with great satisfaction, sliding out of his chair with a black look for joel, and stuffing what he couldn't eat into his pocket. "you come with me," said mrs. beebe to joel, "and let the others go back into the shop." so he followed her into a little entry, and out of that opened a cupboard. "now there's a paper bag up on that shelf," said mrs. beebe. "you can climb up and git it; that's right. now, says i." she waddled back to the supper table. "come here, joel, my boy, and hold it open there and there." in went the biggest doughnuts that were left, some little biscuits, several pieces of the fine cake, and last of all, three or four pink and white sticks. "you tell your ma," said mrs. beebe, speaking very soft, "that mr. beebe an' me thinks a sight o' you, an' that you're a-comin' out here to spend the day just as soon as ab'm goes. now remember." "yes'm, i will," said joel, twisting up his bag. "an' i'll come, mrs. beebe, if mamsie'll let me." "an' take care the things don't fall out," warned mrs. beebe. joel gave the bag another twist, and gripped it fast. "an' i guess pa's got the horse around all right," said mrs. beebe, going out into the shop, "so i s'pose you all must go, though sorry i be to have you." she gave polly a motherly little pat on the shoulder, and fairly cried over phronsie. "well, you've got to go, i s'pose," she said again, "'cause pa's a-waitin'; yes, pa," she called, "they're a-comin'." and presently the little peppers, except phronsie, all clambered over the wheel; then polly and joel lifted her up, and away they went, mrs. beebe watching them off till a turn of the narrow street hid them from view. "that ab'm," said mr. beebe, after they had gone quite a piece, and glancing back over his shoulder, "well, he ain't reelly no kin to us, thank the lord, an' they're a-goin' next week. i can tell you one thing, polly, he an' his ma don't git inside our house agin." vii joel goes a-fishing joel sat on the back doorstep and kicked his heels disconsolately. davie was lying down on mamsie's bed, fast asleep. he was tired out picking rocks all the forenoon, and polly had shut the door and said he mustn't be waked up. so there he lay, his arm thrown up over his flushed cheeks; and the long hot summer afternoon ahead of joel, and he must spend it alone. "all the birds have lots of themselves to play with," grumbled joel, idly slinging a stone at a pack of chattering young ones who could not contain their pride at being able to fly so finely, but kept screaming every minute, "look at me. chee-chee-chee. see-me-chee-chee-chee!" now they cocked their little heads and stared down with their black beady eyes at joel; when they saw it was he, they chirped and twittered worse than ever. "see me. chee-chee-chee! look-at-me-chee-chee-chee!" "stop it!" cried joel, crossly, looking up at them; "davie's abed, an' i haven't any one to play with, an' you have, lots an' lots." then a smile broke out and ran all over his chubby face, and he flung another stone he had picked off as far as he could into the grass. the little birds, glad to see him smile, fluttered their wings and flew off, screaming proudly, "see-me-chee-chee-chee!" "i'm going fishing down to cherry brook," said joel, left alone with not a bird in sight. even the squirrels seemed to have business at a distance that afternoon; so he hopped off from his stone and ran to get his old tin pail and the remnant of an iron spoon that polly had given the boys to dig worms with; and very soon he had a good quantity wriggling and squirming away, and he came shouting, flushed and happy, by the window where she sat sewing. "i'm goin' fishin', polly," he said, slinging his birch pole over his shoulder. "all right," said polly, nodding and smiling away at him. "sh, joel, don't make such a noise. you'll wake up davie." "then he could go with me," declared joel, on the edge of another whoop. "no, indeed, mister joel," said polly, with a decisive nod of her brown head, "you needn't think it. davie's legs aren't so strong as yours, and he's all tired out." "my legs are dreadful strong, polly," said joel, well pleased at polly's words. and he set down his pail of angleworms, and the pole carefully beside it. "see, polly," and he flopped over suddenly, turning two or three somersaults, to stand still on his head. "oh, joel--joel!" cried polly, forgetting all about david, and dropping her work to her lap "don't. you mustn't do that. stop it!" "pooh! that's nothing," said joel, wiggling his legs far apart, and peering at her out of his sharp black eyes. "joel!" screamed polly, "get up this minute, and don't you go upside down again! mamsie wouldn't like it. get up, i say!" "pooh! that's nothing," again declared joel, slowly flopping over to lie still on the grass. then he began to slap his legs up and down. "ain't i dreadful strong, polly? ain't i?" "and your face is dreadfully red," said polly; "i shouldn't wonder if sometime you burst a blood vessel in you, if you do that perfectly awful thing." "how could it burst?" cried joel. "tell me, polly," bringing his legs down quite still to hear the answer. "tell me, polly." "you'd know, i guess," answered polly. "don't, joel, you make me feel as if i sh'd fly to even think of it, and here i ought to be sewing every single minute." just then the bedroom door opened, and out walked david, dewy-eyed, and with very pink cheeks. "did you call, polly?" he asked; "i heard you say something." "now you've gone and waked davie up," exclaimed polly, in a tone of great vexation. "goody!" screamed joel, "now you will let him go fishing, won't you?" and he jumped to his feet and ran to the window to thrust his stubby head over the sill. "dave, dave, come out an' see the lot o' worms i've dug." "no," said polly, feeling dreadfully at the sight of david's face, as it fell at her words. "i'm sorry, davie, but you were real tired, an' mamsie wouldn't like you to go off any this afternoon." "it's only to cherry brook," cried joel, loudly. "now, polly pepper, i think you're real mean to keep him in, an' we'd catch a whole lot o' fish, an' maybe have some for supper." it was always joel's ambition to catch a fish big enough to cook, but as the brook, a little tumbling stream over a few ragged rocks, on the edge of deacon brown's meadow lot, only held minnows, with an occasional turtle and frog, this had never as yet happened. phronsie laid down the bit of calico she was puckering up by drawing through it a needle to which a coarse thread was tied, and looked gravely at joel. "you must not say so of my polly," she said gravely, shaking her head. joel's black hair ducked beneath the window. "i didn't mean--" he mumbled. "polly, i didn't, truly." then he flung himself on the grass and burst into tears, kicking over the pail. the angleworms wriggled along till they got to the edge, then quietly took themselves off. david drew a long sigh and folded his hands. "i'm not a bit tired, and i should like to go, polly," he said. "no, davie dear," said polly, kindly, "you'd be tired before you'd gone halfway. and mamsie wouldn't like it. do go back and lie down again on the bed." "oh, i can't," said little david, shrugging his shoulders, "it's all alone in there, polly." "well, i can't leave my sewing, and you must have it dark, or else you won't go to sleep. do try, davie, that's a good boy." but little davie still shrugged his shoulders, and wouldn't even look at the bedroom door, but kept his back toward it. "dear me, phronsie," cried polly, in despair. "now, if you'd go in and lie down by his side and hold his hand, maybe he'd go to sleep. he's half sick, and i don't want mamsie to come home and find him so." "i've got to sew, polly," said phronsie, with an important air, and holding up her mangy bit of calico, where all but one corner was in a pucker, "so i must stay right here and finish it. truly, i must, polly." "o dear me!" exclaimed polly, quickly, "then i don't know what is to be done. and mamsie will come home, and then what will she say?" with another worried glance at david's flushed cheeks. phronsie drew a long breath and set another crooked stitch. "i'll go, polly," at last she said, with a long sigh, putting the puckered calico bit, with the needle hanging, carefully on the floor by her side. then she got slowly out of her little wooden chair. "now, that's a good girl," cried polly, reaching out her arms to catch her, and nearly smothering her with kisses. "whatever should i do without you, phronsie, pet? i'm sure i don't know." "you couldn't do without me, could you, polly?" cried phronsie, very much pleased as polly let her go and flew back to her sewing again. "no in-_deed_!" cried polly, warmly. "there, take davie's hand, and both of you go into the bedroom like good children, and shut the door and go to sleep. that's nice!" and she smiled approvingly at them as they disappeared. joel cried on and on, his tears trailing off into the grass, till at last, as polly took no notice of him, he raised his head to look in at the window at her. she didn't seem to see him, but sewed on and on quite composedly, as if joel were not there. so he finally jumped up, and seeing his tin pail overturned on its side, he hurried to investigate. "oh, my worms have all run off!" he shouted. "polly, the bad old things have every single one of 'em run away!" and he beat the bottom of the pail with the broken iron spoon in his vexation. "joel pepper!" cried polly, a little red spot coming in either cheek as she flung down her work on the floor by phronsie's calico bit, "that's twice you've made a most awful noise; now you'll wake davie up again, you bad, naughty boy," and without stopping to think, she dashed out doors, and before joel could hardly breathe, she seized his shoulders and shook him smartly. "oh, what have i done! what have i done!" she exclaimed, and throwing herself down on the grass, she covered her face with her hands, waving back and forth in distress. "you shook me!" cried joel, his black eyes sparkling in anger. "now i'll beat you, polly pepper," and he raised the old broken iron spoon. there they were--two little peppers--oh, dreadful, to tell it--and mamsie away! "you may, joe," said polly, brokenly, and rocking back and forth, while the big tears dripped down between her fingers, "for i've been bad to you, and mamsie away." she could hardly speak for her sobs. "how could i! oh, joey, i'm so sorry. o dear--dear--dear!" she went off now into such a gust of crying, that joel forgot all about his anger. he threw away the spoon, and kneeling beside her, he put his arms about her neck. "don't cry, polly," he begged, "please don't." "i can't help it, joe," said polly, struggling with her sobs. "o dear me! i can't ever forgive myself. i don't see how i came to do it. o dear me!" at last joel, in despair, jumped to his feet. "i'm going to get grandma bascom." "oh, no, you mustn't, joe," cried polly, bringing a very red face suddenly to view, the tears running in little rivers down her nose and cheeks. "there, see! i'm not going to cry any more. come back, joe," for he was starting off at a lively pace. "sure?" cried joel, stopping a minute. "yes, i won't cry any more," cried poor polly, swallowing very hard--"there, see, joey dear," and she wiped off the last tear. "now i'll help you dig some more worms," she said, racking her brains to think of something by which to make up to joel for the shaking. "will you?" cried joel, in delight. "oh, polly, how nice! here's the spoon--here's the spoon," and he ran and picked it out of the long grass. "yes, i will," promised polly, stifling a sigh as she thought of the work to be made up in some way on the coat seams. "and i'll sit here and see you," remarked joel, doubling up in an easy position on the grass, "'cause you see there isn't but one spoon, polly. now dig a good lot," he said with a restful stretch. so polly dug and dug away, being careful to select long, fat worms. and presently there was a good number all wriggling away in the bottom of the pail. and at last joel hopped up and peered in. "oh, polly, what a lot! an' they're juicy ones, and a great deal better'n mine. now i guess i'll catch some fish, an' you shall fry 'em for supper." he seized the pail, and slung the pole over his shoulder again, and trudged off. "all right," said polly, with a loving little pat, "and oh, joey, i'm so sorry i was cross and shook you." "i don't care," said joel, pleasantly, "'cause you dug my worms for me, polly," and he raced off. but polly went into the little brown house with a very sober face. and it wasn't till all the children, ben and all, were abed that night, and she crept into mamsie's arms and sobbed it all out on her breast, that she felt better and like being polly again. joel rushed through the undergrowth and tangle of berry bushes, breaking through the wild grape vines that slapped him in the face and caught his pole; and, creeping and ducking under them, at last he struck the little path to the cherry brook, that gurgled its way along farmer brown's meadow. underneath the cool trees it was dank and mossy, and he flung himself down to rest, first carefully setting his precious pail up against a big stone. "i'm just goin' to catch the biggest fish you ever saw, joel pepper," he exclaimed to himself, for want of company. "yes sir-_ree_," untwisting the string which, for want of a fishing line, he had tied to his pole. "then i guess, when polly sees it, she'll be glad. now i'll get the very juiciest worm in the pail." so he went to the pail, and was just leaning over to investigate its depths, when he heard voices. joel knew in a minute whose they were, and he tried to scrabble his things together and run and hide them in the thick bushes, when the boys to whom the voices belonged broke through the undergrowth on the other side of the brook. "it's the pepper boy," said one of them in an awful whisper. then they stood still a minute, all three staring at each other. at last joel picked up his pole and started to march away. "hold on," called one of the boys, the biggest and dirtiest, and he jumped across the brook. joel went steadily along as well as he could for the vines and stubby trees, determined not to turn back for anybody's call, at any rate that dirty jim belden. but jim gave him no chance to think, and the first thing he knew, joel was seized roughly by the shoulder. "gimme them worms," and jim tugged at the handle of the pail. "i won't; they're my worms," screamed joel, hanging on for dear life; "so there, now! you go right away. polly dug 'em, polly dug 'em," he kept saying. but the scuffle was short, as the other boy raced up, and pulled too, so that pretty soon joel was tumbled heels over head, into the brook, and the pail was in the hands of the biggest boy, who cried out joyfully, "oh, see what a lot! now we'll go up to th' 'pool.'" this was a deep spot a half mile or so away, where the stream widened. mrs. pepper never allowed the two boys to go there, unless ben could go too, which was seldom indeed, and only looked upon as a very great treat. joel burst out in a great passion, as soon as he could scramble out of the brook, "give me back my pail!" and he looked so very fierce, although he was so small, that without another word the other two ran away as fast as they could. joel plunged after them, angrier every minute, and instead of turning off to the "pool," jim and the other boy ran straight across deacon brown's field. "oh, now he'll catch 'em," thought joel, joyfully, without a thought of giving up the race. there was a man off in the further corner of the field. "mr. br-own," screamed joel, shrilly. "mr. br-own!" jim and the other boy, seeing their mistake, turned off to the undergrowth. "hold on there!" commanded deacon brown, in a dreadful voice. so there was nothing to do but stop. [illustration: "'give me back my pail!'"] but when he got to the spot where they stood rooted to the ground, there were no worms in the pail, they having been jiggled out in the chase. so joel had to go back, and pick up his pole with the string hanging to it, and carry that home and his empty pail. "but that jim belden didn't have the worms, anyway," he said, with great satisfaction. viii why they said no ben came in and hung his cap up on its peg behind the door. polly didn't see his face, for she was tying on phronsie's eating apron, and mother pepper was in the pantry, else some one would have discovered that he was strangely excited. "come," said polly, "we can't wait any longer for those boys. can we, mamsie?" she called. "no, we better sit down," said mrs. pepper, coming out with a plate in her hand. "i'm sorry they're late, for i've got a surprise for you all to-night." she set the plate on the table, and her black eyes sparkled. "now, then, see that!" "ooh!" cried polly, her brown eyes very wide, while phronsie stopped climbing into her chair to precipitate herself into the midst of the group. "see, ben! see!" exclaimed polly, "it's white cake with real frosting on top. oh, mammy, where did you get it?" ben looked at the six big slices lying across the plate, but he didn't seem to see them. however, polly didn't notice, for she was dancing around the table with phronsie, to see which side the cake looked the best. "white on top--real white on top!" sang phronsie, beating her little hands together. "i know it," cried polly, almost as much excited. "oh, how i wish those two boys were here! mamsie, where _did_ you get it? from dear mrs. henderson, i s'pose." "no, guess again," said mrs. pepper, cheerily. then she looked at ben steadily out of her black eyes. "i was going past miss barber's, and she knocked on the window, and when i stopped she ran out, and gave it to me all done up. 'i've been watching for you,' she said, 'for i knew you were helping at deacon brown's to-day. we had comp'ny last night, and i want you to have some of sister's cake. she's had real good luck.' so that's all the story about the cake, polly." mother pepper still looked at ben, though she spoke as cheerily as ever. "i'm so glad miss barber did have company last night," said polly, her mouth watering for the taste of "sister's cake." "i want a piece," said phronsie, stopping her dance suddenly, to hold out both hands. "oh, no, phronsie," said polly, with a little laugh, "you must eat your bread first. folks don't ever eat cake first." "don't they?" asked phronsie. "no, indeed; there, hop up into your chair." polly flew into her own. "why don't those boys come?" she cried in a vexed little way. "it won't make them come any quicker to fret over it," observed mother pepper, composedly, and getting into her chair. "come, ben, sit down, and we'll begin." so the grace was said, and the bread was passed. "oh, ben!" exclaimed polly, in dismay, "you didn't wash your hands!" as he was going to take a piece. "i forgot it," said ben, looking down at them. then he got out of his chair and went out into the woodshed, where a tin basin and a towel and soap were always ready, for mother pepper said they might be poor, and that they couldn't help, but they could keep clean and nice. polly nibbled at her dry bread, but she couldn't keep her eyes off the cake, and phronsie bit little pieces all around the edge of her slice. then she laid it down. "now i'm ready for the cake," she said, holding out both hands again. "please give it to me, mammy." "oh, no, phronsie," said mrs. pepper, shaking her head, "mother can't give it to you till you've eaten all your slice. besides, you must wait till polly is through, and i will pass it to her first." "i don't want any more bread, mammy dear," said phronsie, gravely. "you must eat it," said mrs. pepper, firmly. "see, phronsie, mine's going fast," cried polly, with another bite that rapidly diminished her slice. "oh, you can't think how soon it will be gone, if you begin to eat." and polly munched away determinedly, but she kept looking at the cake. ben came in, and slid into his chair, and took a piece of bread. "why don't those boys--" began polly. "oh, i forgot, mamsie," with a little laugh, and the door opened, and in burst joel and david with very red faces, and talking at once. "oh, it's comin'!" "over at hillsbury--" "horses and--" "monkeys--" "and a big elephant and--" "a band--" this from joel, who screamed it above davie's faint treble. "and a bear, and a hippi--hoppi--" polly dropped her bread-slice in astonishment, and mrs. pepper sat quite straight in her chair. phronsie had just concluded to try again and do like polly, so she sat quite still and stared, with her bread halfway to her mouth. ben's head drooped over his plate, and he pushed his bread in rapidly, nearly choking himself. "boys," said mrs. pepper, "don't both talk together. joel, you may begin, because you are the oldest." but it was impossible to stop them, as they rushed up to her and threw their arms around her. "oh, mammy," cried little davie, his cheeks aflame, "you can't think--there's monkeys!" at that phronsie gave a little squeal, and before polly could stop her, she slipped out of her chair and plunged over to her mother. "oh, mammy, i want a monkey, i do." "and bears--and horses," shouted joel, winding both arms around mother pepper's neck. "whatever in all this world!" exclaimed mrs. pepper, looking over their heads. then her eyes fell on ben. "do you know anything of all this?" she asked. "yes'm," said ben, his head dropping lower yet, while joel and david howled on, and phronsie screamed to be taken up in her mother's lap, and that she wanted a monkey too. polly sat as if paralyzed. "what is it?" asked mrs. pepper. "the circus," said ben, slowly, "coming over to hillsbury." polly sprang from her chair, upsetting it, and plunged over to mrs. pepper. "oh, mamsie!" she screamed, as loud as the others, "the circus! the circus! oh, oh! can't we go? we must!" poor mrs. pepper sank back in her chair, with the four little peppers swarming all around her, and all pleading together, till the kitchen seemed fairly to ring with the noise. "we can't, polly," said ben, hoarsely. "you know we can't. and joel and david ought not to have told." polly turned a deaf ear, and kept on, "oh, mamsie, we've never seen one, 'cept the pictures. we must go!" on hearing this from polly, joel and david made as much worse clamor as was possible, drowning phronsie's voice. "aren't you ashamed, polly!" cried ben over at her. "you know we can't go, so what's the use?" "we can go," cried polly, passionately, back at him, "if mamsie'll only say so. we've never seen one, and we _must_ go." "now, children," said mother pepper, in a firm voice that rose above the din, "stop, every one of you, at once, and go and sit down." when mamsie spoke like that, the five little peppers always knew that she meant to be obeyed, so they drew off from her and tumbled into their chairs; all but phronsie. "i'll take you into my lap," said mother pepper, so phronsie snuggled, well-contented, in her usual nest, and folded her small hands. "now, then," said mrs. pepper, "as it is quiet enough so i can think, i'll hear the story. ben, you may begin." "oh, let me--let me, mamsie," begged joel. "you said i might, 'cause i'm the oldest." "that was because it was between you and david to tell it, and you didn't take the chance," said mother pepper, coolly. "now ben must do it." "why, there's a big yellow paper down to the store," began ben, slowly, and trying to make it as short as possible, "and--" "it's got pictures of all the horses," interrupted joel, springing up from his seat, his black eyes dancing, "and--" "joel, sit down," said mrs. pepper, sternly, "and don't interrupt. go on, ben." joel dropped, as if shot, back into his chair. "and it's comin' to hillsbury next week wednesday," went on ben, unwillingly, "and that's all, mamsie. only joe and david shouldn't a-told." "tisn't all," declared polly, defiantly, with very red cheeks; "we must go! we've never seen a circus, and now it's goin' to be in hillsbury, we _must_ go!" she seemed unable to stop herself. ben stared at her in amazement. "must is a hard word to use, polly," said mother pepper, dryly. "i mean you'll let us, i 'most know," mumbled polly, her cheeks turning scarlet, and twisting her hands together. "won't you, mamsie?" "won't you, mamsie?" piped phronsie, poking her head up like a little bird out of her nest, to look into mother pepper's face. "how much does it cost, ben?" asked mrs. pepper, smiling down at her baby, but not answering. "fifteen cents for any one over twelve, and ten cents for boys and girls under twelve," said ben. "um, that would be one fifteen cents for you, and ten cents for polly and joel, and--" "why, you must go, mamsie," cried polly; "we shouldn't any of us want to go without you, should we, ben?" "no, indeed," said ben. "but we ain't any of us going, polly," he finished. at this there was another howl, breaking out from the two boys. polly turned quite pale, but said nothing. "be quiet, joel and david," said mrs. pepper, turning her black eyes on them. "no, children, if i could let you go at all, i should trust you with such a boy as ben, and such a girl as polly, to look after you." polly raised her head, that had drooped at her mother's reproof, and ben sat quite straight in his chair. "but i don't see as it's right for me to let you go." there was a sign of another outbreak, but something in mamsie's eyes stopped it halfway. "in the first place, it's five miles to hillsbury," said mrs. pepper, slowly, as if trying to put off the final decision as long as possible; "and you younger children couldn't walk it." "i could, mamsie," declared joel, springing up again. "sit down, joel; well, davie couldn't. i shouldn't be willing for him to try, and walk clear back. and phronsie--" mrs. pepper looked down at phronsie's yellow head, and smiled. it wasn't necessary for her to say a word. "mr. tisbett'll be goin' over," said little davie, hopefully, "an' he can take us." "and that would cost money," said mrs. pepper. "somebody will let us sit in behind," said joel, confidently; "there'll be lots of wagons goin'." "and ever so many people going in them," added mrs. pepper. "no, my children shan't ever be a burden to other folks," and she lifted her head proudly. "polly, run into the bedroom and get the stocking-leg." the stocking-leg, in the upper drawer of the big bureau that belonged to father pepper's mother, always held the stray quarters and half dollars laid up for a nest-egg against a rainy day. polly jumped out of her chair, glad to have something to do, and ran into the bedroom. "i sh'd have screamed if i'd sat there another minute longer," she said, leaning up against the bureau. "o dear me! we _must_--i mean, what shall we do if we can't go? i guess mamsie will let us go." and she pulled open the upper drawer, took out the stocking-leg, and ran back to put it in mrs. pepper's hand. mrs. pepper slowly untied the red flannel string and shook out the contents on the table, the eyes of all five little peppers riveted on them. there were six silver quarters, three halves, two ten-cent pieces, and eight pennies. "three dollars and twenty-eight cents," said mrs. pepper, slowly, as she set the pieces in a row. no one dared to speak, except joel. "what a lot!" he cried joyfully; "now we can go, mammy, can't we? oh, whickets!" and he clapped david on the back. "children," said mrs. pepper, and her eyes swept the whole circle around the table, but they rested on polly's face, "there won't anything pay very well, circus or anything else, if we go when we hadn't ought to. we haven't got a debt, thank the lord, but that money--" she pointed to the row--"is all that keeps us from it." it was impossible for joel not to see by polly's and ben's faces, more than by what mrs. pepper had said, that they were not really to go, and he flung himself out of the chair and face downward on the floor, breaking into heartrending sobs, little davie at once joining him. polly got out of her seat and hurried over to them on unsteady feet. "boys," she said in a broken little voice, "don't cry so. you make mamsie feel badly. look at her face." but they didn't hear her. "boys,"--she got down close to them and put her mouth to joel's ear,--"you are making mamsie sick," she said; "just look at her face." at the word "sick," joel stopped screaming, and bobbed up his head to take a good look at mrs. pepper. "mamsie, don't be sick," he screamed, now thoroughly frightened. and jumping up, he ran to throw his arms around her, and hug her tightly. "mother won't be sick as long as she's got such good children as she has," cried mother pepper, putting her arms around joel, to draw him close to her. but her lips were very white. "now, boys," said ben, "i sh'd think you were two big babies, you act so. joel's most a man, he's so big." "i'm big, too, ben," said david, getting up from the floor and wiping off the tears with the back of a grimy hand. "i'm most as tall as joel is," and he stood very straight. "hoh! he isn't either," contradicted joel, turning his round face, all tear-stained and streaky. "now just look here, ben," and he sprang out from mother pepper's arms and rushed up to david's side. "there, sir!" "well, you are both of you big enough to act better," said ben, coolly. "come on, now, to supper." "you're standing on your tiptoes," cried little david, getting down on the floor by joel to investigate. "isn't he, polly? come and see." "i'm not either," cried joel, flatly; "hear my heels." and he slapped them down on the floor smartly. "children, don't quarrel," said polly, finding her voice, "and come to supper. i don't b'lieve you know what we've got." "what?" asked joel, indifferently, feeling quite sure of the dry bread and possible molasses. "come and see," called polly, trying to speak gayly. "i see," piped david, craning his neck. since he couldn't be as tall as joel, it was well to turn his attention to other matters. "_cake!_" "yes," said phronsie, poking her head up again to shake it very gravely, "it's cake. and please may i have some, mammy?" holding out her hand. "so you shall," said her mother; "dear knows, i can't expect you to wait any longer for it. polly, give her a good piece." when joel saw polly handing out cake with white frosting on top, his black eyes stuck out, and he rushed without delay for his seat, teasing for a piece at once. but on polly's assuring him that the bread must be eaten first, he began at once on the slice she cut for him. and being really very hungry, now that they had time to think about it, the two boys soon had their portions eaten, nobody discovering, in the excitement, that the little hands were grimy, until phronsie spoke. "see joey's hands, polly," and then everybody looked. "my!" exclaimed polly, quite herself, now. "i never saw such hands, joel pepper! go right away and wash 'em as soon as ever you can." "smutty hands and cake!" exclaimed mother pepper. joel was so busy cramming the cake into his mouth that he didn't half hear. "i'm most through," he mumbled. "lay down your cake, and go and wash your face and hands at once, joel," commanded mrs. pepper. "dave'll eat it," said joel, his mouth half full. "oh, no, i won't," said little david, "and i'm going too, to wash mine." so he laid his cake-slice on his plate, and ran into the woodshed. "you had a bigger piece than mine," said joel, getting the tin basin first, and filling it at the pump. "no, i didn't," said david; "they were just alike." "well, it's bigger now," said joel, bringing the basin to set it on the wood bench and thrust his face in. then he splashed his hands, and gave them a hasty wipe on the long brown towel hanging from the rack. "anyway, it's bigger now. there, i'm done, and you ought to give me a bite of yours." little david gave a sigh. "well, you may have just one," he said slowly. then he threw out the water from the basin, and carefully filled it again, while joel dashed back gleefully into the kitchen. "joel, what are you doing, biting davie's cake!" exclaimed polly, a minute afterward, and looking across the table while she snipped off a little piece of the white frosting from her slice, wishing the whole world was made of cake with white on top, and wondering how long she could make hers last. "dave said i might," said joel, with a very red face, and one cheek very much puffed out, while he turned david's slice over so that it didn't show where the big bite had been taken off. but his face grew quite red, and he didn't look in her brown eyes. "for shame, joe!" cried ben at him, in a way that made mother pepper look around. she hadn't heard polly. down went joe under the table, and in a minute or two david hurried in. nobody said a word. david picked up his cake, and his face fell as he saw the big hole. but he said nothing, and fell to nibbling. "i'd give some back, but mine's et up," said joel, miserably, under the table. "it's too bad, david," said polly; "here now, you may have some of mine," and she broke off a generous bit. "i told him he might have a bite," meekly said david, who never could bear to have joel blamed. "i wanted him to have it," he added cheerfully. "o dear-dear-dear," boohooed joel. davie dropped his cake in a worried way. "don't, joey," he said, leaning over to look at him. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry," blubbered joel. "o dear me!" david, unable to bear it any longer, slipped out of his chair, and crept under the table to comfort joel. but it wasn't till polly said, "come, joey," that he would show his face. then he twisted his knuckles into his eyes, and hung his head. mother pepper said never a word, only held out her arms, and joel walked straight into them, bursting into the loud sob he had held back so long; and then she took his hand and led him into the bedroom, and the rest of the children sat still and very uncomfortable, and davie wouldn't look at his cake. when they came out again, joel marched straight to david, and said, "you may have my knife." joel's knife, with the tip of one blade broken, and the other all gone, was his dearest treasure. it had been given to him by deacon brown, and its possession had made him very proud and boastful. it was the one thing davie longed for, above all others. "oh, no, joe, not your knife!" he cried, aghast, and shrinking back. "yes, you may have it," said joel, decidedly, and running out into the entry to hurry into the woodshed to the wooden box where he kept his treasures. "yes, davie, i would take it," said mrs. pepper. "joel feels very sorry he's taken any of your cake, and he'd rather you had the knife." "but it's joel's knife," said davie, "and he loves it." "not so much as he does to grow up a good boy," said mother pepper, proudly, as joel came running in and laid the knife on the table in front of david. "it's yours, and i'm sorry i et your cake," he said in one burst. polly hopped out of her seat, and ran around the table to take joel's black stubby head in her two hands. "oh, joel! i'm so glad!" she cried, in a happy little gust. "good for you, joe!" cried ben, approvingly. "pooh!" exclaimed joel, twisting off, his face getting redder and redder. "mamsie, stop 'em--do;" yet he liked it very much. "oh, ben," cried polly, after the last scrap of the wonderful cake had disappeared, the dishes were cleared away, and phronsie put to bed, and everything was spick-span once more, "i've just thought of something perfectly splendid!" "what is it?" cried joel, who, despite all his efforts, was just beginning to think of the circus again. "do tell, polly! now you're goin' to whisper with ben, and you won't tell us." "no, i shan't--and yes, i will," said polly, all in the same breath. "it's this, mamsie. mayn't we have a little play out in the orchard next wednesday, and can't joel and david sit up a little longer to-night to talk it over? i've just thought of something splendid to act." "oh, may we, may we?" cried the two boys, in a tumult. "instead of the circus," polly's brown eyes were saying. "do, mammy." "yes, you may," said mrs. pepper, indulgently, "sit up half an hour longer." "we've had a cake to-night, and now mamsie's going to let you two boys sit up. i think nobody ever had such a perfectly beautiful time," declared polly, as they dragged their chairs around the table again, and mamsie got out her big mending basket, "did you, ben pepper?" "no, i never did, polly," said ben, happy in seeing her face bright and rosy once more, with the little smiles running all over it. "now begin," cried joel, drumming impatiently on the table; "what's the play to be, polly? i'm going to be a bear," he announced. "oh, joel, you were a bear last time," said polly, with a little frown between her eyebrows. "i don't care, i'm going to be a bear," repeated joel, obstinately. "see here, now, polly makes this play, and you've got to be just what she says," said ben. "i'm so tired making plays with bears in 'em," said polly, pushing off the little rings of brown hair with an impatient hand. then she caught her mother's eye. "never mind, joey," she said with a gay little laugh, "i'll make the bear." "yes, you must be tired," declared ben. "joe, you oughtn't to tease polly so. it's bad enough to have to make the plays, i think." "oh, i don't care," laughed polly. "well, now here's the play. you see, we want something quite fine and extra," and she looked at ben meaningly. he nodded, so she rushed ahead, well pleased. "well, the name is mr. primrose and his cat." "and the bear," shouted joel. "and i know what i'm going to do, polly, i'm going to eat the cat up." "oh, no, you mustn't, joe," said polly, "for the cat is going to be phronsie. now you must be good and not scare her." "i'll tell her i'm nothing but joel, and i ain't a bear," said joel. "hush about your old bear, joe," said ben. "polly can't get on at all if you don't keep still." "i'll fix it, joey," said polly, kindly, "so you can be a bear, only you must promise not to roar too much and scare phronsie." "i won't scare her a single bit, polly," promised joel, eagerly. so then joel and his bear being settled, polly launched forth on the wonderful play, and mother pepper glanced up now and then from her mending, and a smile began to come on the face that had been soberly bent on her work. "poor things!" she said to herself. "and bless 'em, for the comforts they are!" but she sighed as she glanced around the bare old kitchen. ix the bag of rye flour all that week mother pepper kept joel and david away from the store, and polly or ben had to go, whenever the errands made it necessary. polly, when it was her turn, did not trust herself to look at the flaming yellow sheets of paper with the big staring letters across them, stuck up in the dirty store windows, or hung from the beams in among the kitchen utensils, or breadths of calico and gingham, wherever they would attract the most attention. one, in particular, was nailed up just inside the door. it was pretty hard to avoid this, but polly turned her head away, and tried not to think of it, but keep her mind on what mamsie said just before starting. "don't keep looking at what you want and can't have, but keep busy over what you can have;" so she set her brain hard to work over the play, trying to decide whether she would have mr. primrose, who was to be ben, rescue from the bear the white cat, who was to be phronsie, in the remains of the old white fuzzy mat that mrs. henderson had given them to play with, or whether she (polly), who was to be the fairy, should change her back into the small damsel she was at first, or whether-"well, polly, my girl," said mr. atkins, with a hearty laugh, "i've spoke to you three times, and you seem deef to-day." he was a jolly good-tempered man, and very kind to mrs. pepper, sometimes giving her sacks and coats to make when he really didn't need them just then; and though he never waited for his money but once, and that was when the children had the measles, and joel nearly died, he used to give large measures of things, and sometimes he'd slip in an apple or two, and once a whole fine orange went into the bag of indian meal, so as to be a surprise when it was opened at home. so polly liked mr. atkins very much. now she blushed rosy red. "oh, i didn't mean--" she began, and was just going to say, "please, i'd like three pounds rye flour, mr. atkins," when he broke out, "i s'pose you're athinkin' about the circus--don't wonder--i got my mind some on it myself." "o dear, no," cried polly, hastily, all in a tremble, and only anxious to get it out of her mind as soon as possible, and whirling around with her back to the wonderful picture. "i s'pose, now, your ma don't approve of 'em," he said, looking quite solemn all at once; "well there, i s'pose they ain't quite 'xactly the thing, but they look pretty nice on paper. see that fellow, now, polly, a-flyin' through that ring. beats all how they do it. makes my head spin to look at him. see there!" and mr. atkins pointed a stubby forefinger, shaking with excitement, to the big poster hanging by the counter. "oh, i can't look, mr. atkins," she said hastily. "please do hurry and give me the flour." and then she got so very miserable, for fear she had been rude, that she stood quite still, and the color flew out of her cheek. "i s'pose your ma don't approve," observed mr. atkins again, not being able to tear his gaze off from the splendid evolutions of the man flying through the ring, and others of a like nature; "well-well-well, i d'no's 'tis 'xactly the thing, but then--an' then them horses. why, polly, this man is a-ridin' five great strong prancing ones all to once, dancing like ginger." polly gave a great gasp. "oh, if joel could only see those horses once! it was too bad--it was cruel." her heart seemed to jump into her throat, and to choke her. "we _must_ go!" it seemed to her as if she screamed it, as she started suddenly and ran out of the store on wild little feet. but mr. atkins, and the men and boys and women and girls left behind, were all staring open-mouthed at the pictures, and spelling out the no less wonderful descriptions of the staring yellow posters with the big flaring letters, so no one noticed her particularly, until the storekeeper tore his gaze away from the man flying through the paper rings, and the other one riding five prancing horses, and remarked, "i declare, i don't b'lieve i put up that rye flour for polly pepper, after all. well, she'll come back for it, most likely, so i'll get it ready. three pounds, she said." so he weighed it out, and tied it up, and set it to one side, saying to the frowsy-haired boy who helped him, "jim, that's mrs. pepper's little girl's bundle, now remember." "yes," said jim, with no eyes or ears for anything but the circus posters. polly ran across the road, and into mr. slimmen's meadow opposite, and to the further end, where she flung herself down on the stone wall, and pushed off the brown hair from her hot forehead. "o dear me, how could i!" she cried, twisting her hands tightly together. "what would mamsie say! now she never'll trust me to go to the store again. oh, i shall cry! o dear, dear!" "_moo!_" said mr. slimmen's cow, coming close to the stone wall, to lay a friendly nose on polly's gingham sleeve, and to stare with wide eyes of surprise at her being there at all. "o dear me!" cried polly, glad of anything to speak to, and laying her hot face against the soft one so near, and she threw her arms up over the cow's neck. "_moo!_" said mr. slimmen's cow, as if she quite understood the matter, and no one need explain. and polly felt quite comforted, although the dreadful thought of going back into the store nearly overcame her. but remembering that mamsie would be waiting for her, and worry if she did not soon come back, polly made a desperate effort and hopped off the stone wall. "_moo!_" said mr. slimmen's cow, as if sorry to have her go, as polly ran off, determined to get it over with as soon as possible. she had her bundle tucked under her arm, glad that no one had spoken to her; for jim just pointed to it, when she laid the money down on the counter, and then turned back to study the poster again, and was skipping over the ground, when she met joel coming at a lively pace down the road. "oh, polly, what a lot of time you've been gone!" he exclaimed. "mamsie sent me after you." "did she?" cried polly, in dismay. "well, we must hurry back then, as fast as we can." "i'm goin' to the store," said joel, edging down toward mr. atkins'. "what for?" demanded polly, stopping a moment. "did mamsie send you for anything?" "n-no--not exactly," said joel, digging his bare toes into the sand; "but i might--might--p'r'aps get a letter, polly," he added, as a bright idea struck him. mr. atkins, besides being the storekeeper, was also postmaster. "nonsense!" exclaimed polly; "why, mamsie never has any letters, joel. there isn't anybody to write to her." "she may, p'r'aps," said joel, confidently "there may be one this afternoon. i'm goin' to see," and he darted off before polly had time to stop him. "_joel_!" she called, running after him. but as well try to stop the north wind. joel raced up over the steps and disappeared within the store. polly, endeavoring to reach him before he saw the yellow and red posters again, put forth all her effort, but stubbed her toe against a big stone, and fell flat. away flew her bundle of flour--thud went the paper bag, and off came the string, and there it was all spilled on the ground. joel didn't ask about the letter for mamsie, but the minute his black eyes fell on those horses careering and prancing and dancing, he was nearly beside himself. and pushing in between the men and boys of the largest group, he stared, spellbound, and lost to everything else. "now that's too bad!" said a voice that polly loved dearly to hear, and some one lifted her up out of the sandy road. the dust was all in her eyes, so she couldn't see for a minute, but she knew 'twas parson henderson. "well, polly, i don't believe you are much hurt," he said kindly. "a tumble in the dirt isn't the worst thing in the world, is it?" polly looked around for her bundle, anxiously. all the while she was saying, "oh, thank you, sir. i'm not hurt a bit." but all the money for the rye flour gone! she could get no more, for mamsie never had things charged, although mr. atkins was quite willing to do so. "'tisn't safe," mrs. pepper always said; "if i do it once, i may again, so i'll pay as i go." parson henderson looked off the road over his spectacles and saw the rye flour all sprinkled on every side, just where it had flown. "now that's too bad!" he said. "well, polly, they say it's no use to cry over spilt milk, and i suppose spilt flour is just as bad," and he took her hand. "let us see if mr. atkins hasn't some more." but polly hung back; still, she must go into the store and get joel. so she started forward again, and said impulsively, "i won't get any more flour, please, mr. henderson, but joel's there, and he must come home with me." "i'm intending to get some flour to send to mrs. pepper," said parson henderson, "and you don't have anything to do about it, but to carry the bundle, polly," he added lightly. so they were presently in the centre of the store. when mr. atkins saw the minister, he got away from the red and yellow poster as soon as he could, and came forward, rubbing his hands. so mr. henderson, not saying a word about polly's accident, bought some rye flour, and several other things for the parsonage, chatting pleasantly all the time. but the storekeeper didn't say a word about the circus. polly was up by joel, where he stood, his round face plastered up to the flaming sheet. "come home, joey," she whispered, trying to draw him off. "gee-wheezes!" exclaimed joel, his cheeks red as fire, and his black eyes sticking out. "see, polly, i can ride as good as that man," pointing to the one who had so roused mr. atkins' admiration, "if i had five horses. yes, sir-_ree_!" the farmers standing about burst out laughing, and punched each other to see him. "joel," said polly, in a low voice, and putting her arm around him, "come home at once, that's a good boy!" "look at that white horse, polly!" cried joel, quite gone with excitement. "see him dance, like this, polly," and he slapped his sturdy leg, and kicked out suddenly. everybody laughed, the farmers guffawing in delight; and one small girl on the edge of the group who burst out, "tehe-ee!" couldn't stop. joel suddenly turned and saw them all; and he doubled up his little brown fists, and squared his shoulders. "stop laughing at me!" he cried, throwing back his head defiantly, his black eyes sparkling in anger. [illustration: "'gee-wheezes! i can ride as good as that man'"] "joel!" commanded polly, in great distress. then a hand reached over between them and touched him on the shoulder. "come here, my boy," said parson henderson, and before joel knew it, there he was marching off out of the store. parson henderson said not a word, only, "run back, polly, and get the bundle of rye flour for me. tell mr. atkins i'll step in for the other things." and polly, doing as she was bidden, and catching up with them as they walked slowly down the dusty road, heard the minister say, "well now, joel, i should like to go fishing with you some day." joel, who had hung his head sheepishly, now raised it. "oh, would you?" he cried; "that would be prime!" "yes," said parson henderson, "i think it would be, joel," and he laughed gayly. "o dear, isn't he good!" cried polly, softly, to herself, as she gained joel's other side. then she suddenly ran around him, and stepped up to the minister. "i think you might walk next to me," said joel, in a dudgeon, craning his neck to look past parson henderson. "so i will, joel," answered polly, "in a minute." then she looked up into the minister's face. "oh, thank you so very much, sir!" she said, the color rushing all over her round cheeks. "all right, polly," said the minister, smiling down at her. "i've enjoyed my walk very much, and joel and i are going fishing together, some day. now i must say good-by," and he stopped. "here is your bundle," said polly, handing up the rye flour. "that's mrs. pepper's bundle," answered parson henderson, cheerily, and he was gone. "what's in the bundle?" cried joel, crowding up to polly. "let me see; let me see, polly." "take care, joe," said polly, whirling around and covering the bundle with her arms as best she could, "or you'll spill it again." "spill it again?" repeated joel, wonderingly. "i haven't spilled any bundle, polly pepper. let me see what's in it?" and he tried to get hold of one end that stuck out. "joel pepper!" exclaimed polly, quite worn out, "you've been a bad, wicked boy, and now you're going to tear this bundle all to pieces. stop it!" she commanded sharply. "i haven't been a bad, wicked boy," contradicted joel, in a loud, vehement tone, and stamping with his bare heel in the dust that flew up in their faces in a little cloud, "so there now, polly pepper!" and there they were, those two little peppers, in the middle of the road, in such a state, and mamsie smiling over her work as she thought of her children! x mamsie's surprise polly cried herself to sleep that night, although mother pepper had comforted and cuddled her when the whole story had come out on their return; how in a minute the passion had died down when the two children thought of mamsie as they stood there in the road. "joel was the first to be sorry," polly had said generously, when confessing it all. "no, i wasn't," contradicted joel, "polly looked sorry first." "polly was older," mother pepper had said gravely. "i know it," said polly, and her head drooped lower yet. "but joey was very naughty indeed in mr. atkins' store and besides, he ought not to have gone there." and mrs. pepper's face looked very sad indeed. the two children, not having a word to say to this, stood very mournfully in front of her. the bedroom door was shut fast, and ben was doing his best out in the kitchen to keep the other two children amused, in this unwonted state of affairs. "i wish you'd punish me, mammy," said polly, in a broken little voice, "real hard." "and me, too," cried joel, sniffling. "i've never punished you children since you were big enough to know better," said mother pepper, slowly, "and i don't believe i can begin now. and it seems to me it's the best way for you to punish yourselves. so i'll leave you to think over it," and she went out and closed the door on them. how long they sat there, polly didn't know, and as for joel, he was in such a state of mind, he couldn't tell anything, only that polly and he finally crept out in the gathering dusk of the long afternoon. no one but mother pepper ever knew the reason for the many unwelcome little tasks that joey did after that, and, strange to relate, without a single grumble, while as polly couldn't very well do more work than she did at present, and as there were no luxuries to give up in the way of eatables, the peppers having butter and other nice things only when people were good enough to send them some, it is hard to think what she could do to punish herself. but that was mother pepper's and joel's and her secret. and then mamsie cuddled them and comforted them. only polly, when she went to bed that night, felt the tears drop quite fast on her pillow, and that was the last thing she remembered before she dropped to sleep. meantime, it was rather hard work rehearsing the little play. "we'd give that up, mamsie," cried polly, though joel made a wry face as he agreed to it, "but the others want it so much." "but that wouldn't be a very good way: to make other people suffer for your faults," mrs. pepper had replied. so the work over the little play went on, as if nothing sad had happened. but polly carried a sorry little face about, until phronsie would look at her wonderingly, or davie would forget to smile; on such occasions mrs. pepper would look at her and raise her finger warningly, and polly would exclaim, "oh, i forgot," and then she would toss them a merry little bit of nonsense that made them happy at once. but down in her heart polly had many sad thoughts. at last it was the great day. nobody said "circus," but all the five little peppers shouted it was the play day! and it really didn't rain, and the sky was as blue as could be, and mamsie stayed home that day, and oh! polly was quite sure she smelt something very nice, when she raced into the kitchen in the middle of the morning. mother pepper had sent them all out to rehearse the play in the orchard, and in the midst of it polly cried out that she had forgotten the wings she was to put on as fairy godmother, when she appeared in time to rescue the little white cat, and to change her into a small girl again. she had made them, with the greatest trouble, out of thin paper and some old wire, and for fear they would get broken in the woodshed, mamsie had said she might put them in the lower drawer of the big bureau in the bedroom, where phronsie's red-topped shoes were always kept wrapped up. so now polly dashed suddenly into the kitchen to run after them. "oh, mamsie!" she exclaimed suddenly, wrinkling up her nose at the unwonted smell of something baking. mother pepper was stooping over the oven door, which was open. she closed it quickly, and stood straight. "polly," she said, and there was a little laugh in her eyes, although her firm lips were closed, "you are not to say anything what you think to the other children." "no, mamsie, i won't," promised polly, with a wild thought at her heart, "could mamsie possibly be making a cake?" as she rushed into the bedroom, got the wings, and raced out again. and all through the rehearsing she kept thinking how good it smelt when that little whiff from the oven flew out. and mother pepper smiled away to herself, and the voices from the orchard, with its one scraggy apple tree, came pealing in through the open window, as the rehearsal for the grand play was in progress. and then the whole bunch of little peppers hurried off to get some wild flowers, "for it won't be much," polly had said, "without some posies to put on the table" (the big stone ben had tugged home from deacon brown's meadow). "i'm glad polly'll have her posies," said mrs. pepper, hearing that, and seeing them go on the flower-hunt, as she paused a moment at the window. "now they'll be good to trim the ca--" and it almost popped out, and she didn't mean to whisper the secret, even to herself! when the children came back from roaming the fields and woods, with the blossoms and green vines gathered in their aprons and arms, and they were all nicely set in the cracked teacup with the handle gone that mamsie had given them some time before, and some other dishes that mrs. pepper had handed out with strict charges to be careful of 'em, they all stood off in a row from the stone table, in delighted admiration. "isn't it perfectly beautiful!" exclaimed polly, in a rapture, and clasping her hands. "perfectly beautiful!" breathed little david. "be-_yew_-ful!" echoed phronsie, hopping up and down with very pink cheeks, and her hair flying. "it looks very well, polly," said ben, in a practical way. "i wish we had somethin' to eat," began joel. "oh, joey!" cried polly, reproachfully. but her heart jumped at the recollection of the lovely smell that came from the oven, and mamsie's face. "now, children," she said, "we've got everything all done," with a quick glance around, "and phronsie must have her nap, so's to be a nice little wide-awake white cat. oh, ben, leave the fur rug and the other things out under the table," as ben began piling them up to carry back to the woodshed. "mamsie said, always put everything back when we'd got through playing," said ben. "well, she'll let us put them there, we're going to use them so soon, i know," said polly, "if you tuck 'em in neatly. won't you, mamsie?" she cried, running to the window to thrust her brown head in. "yes," said mrs. pepper. "and may we all come in now?" asked polly. "yes," said mother pepper again. "don't forget your wings, polly," cried joel, picking them up where polly had carefully laid them against the tree, and rushing to her, waving them aloft. "take care, joel" warned ben, but too late. one wing flopped over, and caught in a knobby old branch of the apple tree, and in a minute there was a big hole right in the middle! "oh, you--" began polly, passionately, when she turned and saw what was done. in a minute she dashed over to joel and threw her arms around him. "you couldn't help it," she finished, "and i can paste a piece of paper over it, and it will be most as good as new," while the children stood aghast at the mischief, and ben exclaimed, "how could you, joe! why didn't you let it alone?" "i didn't mean to. and now it won't fly--fly," screamed joel, in a gust. "oh, yes, it will," declared polly, merrily; "you'll see. and when i get it on, joey pepper, look out and look if you don't see me sailing up to the sky." joel came out of his sobs and looked up to the blue sky, and smiled through his tears, and when david and phronsie saw polly so merry, they smiled too, and ben caught polly's eye and didn't say any more. so they all marched into the house, and phronsie was tucked up on mamsie's bed, for her nap, and polly sat down to mend her broken wing. mrs. pepper, going on with her work, sent her a smile and loving look, that said just as plainly as words could speak it, "you're trying hard, polly, my girl, and mother knows it." so polly began to hum at her task, and presently the kitchen became the very cheeriest place possible. what they would have done if any of them had happened to spy out what was on the upper shelf of the cupboard, covered carefully with a clean old towel, cannot possibly be told. at last it came to be three o'clock, the hour of the grand play. mrs. pepper, as audience, was seated in her big rocking chair that ben had brought out from the kitchen and placed in the best spot on the grass to see it all, and polly and ben and joel and david and phronsie were in the depths of excitement, and flitting here and there, polly, as chief director, having a perfectly awful time to get them into their parts, particularly as phronsie would keep rushing up, the old white fur rug nearly tripping her up every step, to lay her soft face against mother pepper's, and cry out, "i'm to be a white cat, mamsie. i truly am!" and joel would insist on roaring like a bear, and prancing and waving his arms, around which polly had tied a lot of black hair that mamsie had let her take out of her cushion. [illustration: "'i'm to be a white cat, mamsie'"] "joel, you spoil everything!" cried ben at him. "see here, now all your hair is tumbling off from your arms." "they ain't arms. they're paws," said joel, stopping suddenly to look with dismay at the damage he was making. "polly didn't tie it on good," he said, trying to stuff back the loose hair. "yes, she did, too, real good," retorted ben, "only you are flourishing round so, nothing would keep on you. keep still, can't you!" "and i'll tie it on again," said polly, "if you'll wait till i fix davie--just a minute--there, davie, you're all right. now, says i, mr. bear," and she flew over to joel again. once more mother pepper sent her a swift approving smile, and polly's heart was so warm that a little sunbeam seemed suddenly to have hopped right down there. and the little play went on from first to last perfectly splendidly, and mrs. pepper, feeling very strange indeed to be sitting there in the middle of the afternoon with nothing in her hands to work over, clapped them together and applauded enough for a big audience. and there never was such a good time in all this world--no, not even under the big white circus tent over in hillsbury! "i'm glad you like it!" cried polly, tumbling over in a heap on the grass when it was all over, and the audience got out of the big rocking chair. "it was very nice indeed, polly," said mother pepper, with shining eyes. "indeed it was!" declared ben with enthusiasm, which meant a great deal from him. "and now, children," said mrs. pepper, "you rest on the grass and talk it over, and i will call you into the house by and by." "i don't ever want to go in," declared joel, positively, and rolling over on the grass to wave his legs in the air, while little davie lay quite still. "it was good to be in the play, polly," he said, "but it's nice to rest here." "i was a white cat, polly," said phronsie, sitting down on the grass as close to polly as she could get, and tucking up her feet under her. "so you were, pet," cried polly, "the loveliest, sweetest white cat in all the world, phronsie dear," giving her a little hug. "o dear me, i'm glad it's done, and that it was nice." "it was the nicest thing you've ever done, polly," declared ben, with emphasis. "chil-_dren_!" mamsie's voice, and it had a new sound. but joel gave his sturdy legs another wave. "i wish we could stay out here longer," he said. so it happened that he was last in the procession filing into the little brown house, instead of first, as was usually the case. "_oh, mamsie_!" cried polly, and, "_oh, mamsie_!" exclaimed every one of the others, while joel pushed in between them as fast as he could, anxious to see what it all was. there was the table drawn out in the middle of the kitchen and spread with a clean white cloth. and on it stood a cake, yes, a big one, and there was--yes, there actually was white on top! when polly saw that, she sat right down in the first chair. as for ben, he was just as much astonished, and couldn't stop the children from reaching out to pick at the cake. "i took some of your flowers, polly, to trim it with," said mother pepper, pointing to the wreath running around the big cake. "now, children, all of you sit down, and polly shall cut it, for she made the play." she handed polly the big knife, sharpened up till it shone as bright as could be. "let me--let me!" screamed joel, with no eyes now for anything but the sharp knife "i've never cut a cake. mammy, let me!" "neither has polly," said mrs. pepper, quietly. "no, joe, polly made the play, else you couldn't any of you have had this nice time." "and she's worked herself most to death to get us through it," said ben. polly had seized the big knife, and taken one step toward the wonderful cake. now she stopped, and looked over at joel. "you may," she said, smiling brightly. "oh, goody!" cried joel, plunging forward. then he stopped suddenly, on meeting his mother's eye. "i'd rather not," he said. "go on, polly, joel's right," said mrs. pepper, in satisfaction. so the slices were cut very slowly, polly breathing hard with anxiety. but the white frosting didn't fall off a bit, and each piece was soon laid on a plate by mother pepper, and passed, first to ben and then to the others, and to phronsie last of all, of course, because she was the youngest. when it was all over, this delightful surprise of mamsie's, and polly and mrs. pepper were clearing up, joel nudged david. "come on, dave," he whispered, and the two boys ran out to the orchard again. "i'm goin' to be bear again," cried joel. "o dear me! ben's taken in all the black hair," he cried, in great disappointment. "he had to put it back in mamsie's cushion again," said david. "you know he promised." "he might have left it a little bit of a while," grumbled joel. "he said he'd do it right away," persisted david, "so he had to, joel." "well, anyway, i'll be bear again without the black hair, then," declared joel. "now, look out, dave, 'cause i'm goin' to climb up th' apple tree." "bears don't climb up trees," observed little david, critically, watching joel's progress, quite content to sit down on the grass meanwhile. "well, i'm goin' to, when i'm a bear," cried joel, now well up in the midst of the gnarled branches. "i'm goin' to climb trees, and do everything i want to, so there, dave pepper!" little david said nothing, and turned his gaze downward, and a big green worm, that had somehow lost his way in the tall grass, meandered past him, trying to get home. so he put forth a gentle finger, bending down the biggest spears accommodatingly, and was so absorbed in the matter that he forgot joel, until he heard a voice, "hi, there; look, dave, look!" "o dear me, joe!" exclaimed david, letting the green spears swing back abruptly, and viewing joel in alarm, "you'll fall. do come down." "pooh! i can bend way out. see, dave! see!" cried joel, twisting his legs around the branch on which he sat, almost at the very tip of the apple tree, and he swung both arms exultingly. there was a crack, a swish, and something came tumbling through the air, and before david could utter a sound, there lay joel on the grass at his feet. xi dr. fisher's visit ben picked him up, as mother pepper and the others hurried out, on hearing david scream. joel lay so still and white in ben's arms that polly turned quite faint. but when she saw mamsie's face, she bent over to phronsie. "come here, pet," she tried to say, as she drew her off that she might not see. "what is it, polly?" asked phronsie, wonderingly. "what is ben carrying joey for?" "now i must wash off the cake-crumbs, they're all over your face, phronsie," said polly, desperately. "carry him into the bedroom," mother pepper was saying. "come, child," polly pulled phronsie hastily toward the woodshed, "you must really let me wash your face." "why do you want to wash it in the woodshed, polly?" asked phronsie, obstinately, holding back. "i want to wash it in mamsie's nice bowl." "oh, phronsie, please come," begged polly, still holding her arm. "see, if you don't, i shall cry." which was the truth as the tears were beginning to come in polly's brown eyes. seeing this, phronsie yielded, and pattered along by polly's side obediently, and allowed her little face to be scrubbed and wiped quite dry, polly's heart all the while going like a triphammer, and her ears pricked up for any word that might tell her of joel. at last she could bear it no longer. "phronsie," she said, when the round cheeks and hands were as clean as clean could be, "now look at me, dear." phronsie lifted her blue eyes and fixed them in wide-eyed astonishment on polly's face. "what makes you do so, polly?" she asked wonderingly. "never mind," said polly, with an awful feeling at her heart, it was so still out in the kitchen and bedroom. "now, you must do just as i tell you, and not ask me any questions. polly wants you to do it, to go and sit down on that bench," pointing to a little low one in the corner, "and not stir till i call you." phronsie looked over at the little bench. "i'll go, polly," she said with a sigh, "if you want me to." polly dropped a hasty kiss on the yellow hair, then fled on unsteady feet through the kitchen and into the bedroom. mother pepper was bending over joel. ben was holding the bowl of water, and davie was crying and wringing his hands at the foot of the bed, with his eyes on joel's face. "you better go for dr. fisher, ben," mrs. pepper said hoarsely, putting the wet cloth into the bowl. polly crept up to her side. "hasn't grandma bascom anything?" she asked. "shall i go and see?" "no," said mrs. pepper. "and the doctor must see if he's broken any limbs, or is hurt inside." ben was already out and running down the road at top speed. it seemed an hour. it was really but ten minutes, when a step bounded out in the kitchen. mrs. pepper looked at polly, who stole silently out, and with a gasp almost tumbled into the arms of a little man with very big spectacles. "oh, dr. fisher!" she cried, "i'm _so_ glad!" "and i'm glad, too," said little dr. fisher, beaming at her. "why, what's the matter, polly, my girl?" as polly seemed to be almost tumbling over. "you see, i've come to take phronsie to ride. i haven't been able to a good while back," he mourned, "but perhaps you'd better go," setting his spectacles to take a keen look at her. "oh, dr. fisher! ben's gone for you," gasped polly, seizing his hand, to draw him to the bedroom door. "gone for me!" repeated dr. fisher, taking the words out of her mouth. "who's sick?" and his face paled abruptly. "joel," gasped polly; "he fell from the apple tree. oh, do come, dear dr. fisher." the little doctor was by this time in the bedroom. "don't worry, ma'am," he said to mrs. pepper, then he hurried to the side of the bed and bent over joel. "i ain't sick," exclaimed joel, opening his eyes to look up into the big spectacles. "i wish people'd let me alone," and he gave an irritable flounce. "oh--it's dr. fisher," he finished joyfully. "so it is," assented the little doctor, bobbing his head amiably, so that the big spectacles slipped down to the end of his nose. then he looked to the others to keep still. "you'll take me to ride with you in the gig, won't you, dr. fisher?" begged joel. his face was still white, but his eyes were as bright as ever. "maybe," said the little doctor. "well, now let's see. you've been playing up in the apple tree, haven't you?" meanwhile, his long thin fingers were going rapidly all over joel's bones and muscles. "yes," said joel, nodding. "and i was a bear, dr. fisher." "i used to play bear when i was no bigger than you are, joel," said dr. fisher, whose fingers seemed to be everywhere at once. "i don't b'lieve you were as big a bear as i was," said joel, sturdily. "no, sir-_ree_! and i went clear out to the tip of th' apple tree. now could you do that, dr. fisher?" he asked triumphantly. "i wouldn't try it again, if i were you," said the little doctor, ignoring the question, while his fingers went rapidly on their work. "and may i go to ride in your gig?" begged joel, twisting away to the other side of the bed, "and what are you feeling my legs all over for?" little dr. fisher stood up quite straight and looked across at mrs. pepper. "he's sound as a nut," he said. "praise the lord!" exclaimed mother pepper. polly ran up to her and threw her arms around her. "mamsie, just think, joel's all well!" she cried convulsively. little davie threw himself flat on the floor and cried as hard as he could. polly ran over to him, "why, davie," she cried, getting down on the floor by his side, "don't you understand? joel's all well. dr. fisher says so." "i know it," sobbed davie, "but i can't stop. i'm so happy, polly." "well, you must stop," commanded polly, firmly, "'cause you'll make joel feel badly if he hears you, davie." so davie hushed his tears. since joel might hear him, there must be no crying. but he sat on the floor, and wouldn't get up. and then the door opened suddenly, and ben hurried in with a white, disappointed face. "he isn't home, and they don't know when--why!" for there sat little dr. fisher laughing and peering at him over his big spectacles. "yes, joel may go to ride," said dr. fisher, when ben had gotten over his surprise a bit; "that is, if polly will give up her seat,--for i'd invited her," and he looked over at her. "yes, i will, indeed," said polly, with a happy little laugh. "oh, joe, you'll have such a good time!" kissing his cheek, into which the color was slowly coming back. "i know it," said joel, wheeling over to give a roll out of bed. "take it easy," said dr. fisher, "there's plenty of time. feel all right, my boy?" "no, i don't," said joel, standing on the floor. mrs. pepper's cheek paled, and an anxious look came into her black eyes at once. "whereabouts do you feel badly?" asked the doctor, in surprise. "here," said joel, laying his hand on his jacket-front. "i'm so hungry." "do give him something to eat, mrs. pepper," said dr. fisher, laughing heartily, "then we'll be off. and polly, you and i will have a ride next time," he said, darting off before mrs. pepper had a chance to pay him, or even to thank him. "but that i never could do enough," she said, wiping her eyes on her apron, "but the lord will, i know." joel was already in the gig, peeping out at them, and teasing dr. fisher to hurry. they had driven off, and been gone some time, when suddenly polly started in dismay as she was setting the table for supper. "you most dropped that dish, polly," said little davie, looking at her in amazement. "i forgot--phronsie--o dear!" gasped polly, setting the dish in her hand suddenly on the table, and plunging out of the room. there sat phronsie in the woodshed on the little bench, her rusty little shoes placed patiently before her, and her hands folded in her lap. "i'm so tired, polly," she said plaintively. "so you must be!" cried polly, in a spasm of remorse, and lifting her up. "well, now we'll have such a nice time, phronsie, you can't think," covering her with kisses. "you never came, polly," said phronsie, mournfully shaking her yellow head, "never at all." "don't, phronsie," cried polly, almost smothering her as she hugged her tightly. "oh, polly, you hurt me!" cried phronsie. "did i, pet? well, i won't do so any more. now, says i, one, two--three, here we go into the kitchen!" and polly set her down on the floor. "it is nice to walk with my feet," said phronsie, giving a long stretch to her fat little legs. "little things kept sticking into 'em, polly, most all the time." "the prickles, from sitting still," said polly. "oh, phronsie dear, i never shall forgive myself for forgetting you," as phronsie pattered across the kitchen, to clamber into mother pepper's lap. but notwithstanding all the wonderful things that happened that day, joel didn't quite forget the circus, and he whispered to david that night, after they had hopped into bed, and pulled the sheet over their heads, "i'm goin' to have a circus of my own, so there!" little david was all worn out with the exciting events of the day, and he didn't hear him, as he fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. so joel, not finding it very much fun to talk when there was no one to listen, closed his eyes, and before he knew it, he was asleep too. ben, looking across at the two little faces, as he came up into the loft to go to bed, said to himself, "well, i'm thankful that joe's asleep." and he gave a sigh of relief. the next days were full of work. "play can't come all the time," mrs. pepper observed wisely. she sent polly down with the money for the doctor's visit, pinned up carefully in a paper, which the little doctor promptly returned the next day, polly having left it, as he was away on his rounds. so mrs. pepper could do nothing but tie it into the old stocking-leg again, in the bureau drawer. "children," she said, drawing them all up around her, "we must never forget to do something for dr. fisher, and may the lord give us a chance soon. he's been so good to us." "there never'll come a chance, mamsie," said polly, disconsolately, "we're so poor." "chances come, if people look for 'em," observed mrs. pepper, shortly, as she shut the drawer. "we ain't poor," cried joel, who never could bear to be called so. "yes, we are," said polly, positively, "we are poor, joel. that's the truth, joel, and you oughtn't to mind hearing it." "well, we ain't goin' to be poor," declared joel, confidently. "when joel's ships come in, i s'pose he means," said ben, and the children shouted. "i don't care," said joel, when the laugh died down, "we ain't goin' to be poor when i git to be a man. i'm goin' to be awful rich." "well, you'll have to work when you're a boy, then," said mrs. pepper, sensibly. "riches don't tumble into lazy folks' laps." "then i'm goin' to work right straight off," cried joel, springing away on nimble feet. "come on, dave, and help pick those old rocks." but a terrible shower came on, and drove them all within doors, and it grew so dark that polly couldn't see to sew. so the three youngest children gathered around her and clamored for a story. "yes," said polly, "i will. let's get down on the floor in a ring." so they all sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor, after some delay, caused by joel's vociferous demand to sit next to polly. "phronsie must be one side," said polly, "of course." "yes, i must, joey," said phronsie, cuddling up closer yet to polly. "well, the other side, then," said joel, struggling to slip in between polly and little david, and twitching davie's arm. "stop, joe, and sit down over here," cried ben, seizing him by the jacket, "else you shan't sit anywhere." "ow!" howled joel, pulling smartly at david. "davie got here first," said polly, "and he's younger. how can you, joe?" she added reproachfully. "he's always younger," said joel, gloomily, "and i never sit next to you, polly." "oh!" cried polly, "yes, you did, joel pepper, just the very last time i told stories." "well, that was just forever ago," said joel, still holding david's arm, and showing no disposition to give up. "well, i think if mamsie should come in now," warned polly, for mrs. pepper had gone over to grandma bascom's--the old lady having been sick for a day or two--and been caught there by the sudden shower, "and should see you, you'd feel badly, joey." at the mention of mamsie, joel's grasp on davie's arm dropped, and he slunk back. then ben pulled him into a place next to him, quiet was restored, and polly was soon launched on one of her wonderful stories, "mr. kangaroo and the silly little duck," and presently they were all so absorbed that no one noticed the sun was shining brightly, until they heard a voice, "well, i declare, sitting down in the day-time to tell stories!" polly sprang to her feet and stared. "ugh!" cried joel, taking one look at their visitor. "i should think," said miss jerusha, the minister's sister, in a very tart voice, and raising her black mitts very high, "that children as old as you are could find some work to do, without sitting down to fold your hands and tell good-for-nothing stories." "they aren't good-for-nothing," shouted joel. "you haven't heard 'em; they're just beautiful!" "be still, joe," commanded ben. but joel broke away from him, and jumped to his feet. "and mamsie lets polly tell us stories," he blurted out fiercely. "well, then, she's a very unwise woman," said miss jerusha, calmly seating herself in mrs. pepper's rocking chair. "she ain't!" screamed joel, quite beside himself with rage. "our mother's just right," said ben, slowly getting to his feet. there was a light in his pale blue eyes as he bent them on miss jerusha, that made her look away a minute, but she soon returned to the charge. "_i_ never was allowed to sit idle in the day-time," she said, "when i was a little girl." "i don't believe you ever were little," said joel, bluntly, and glaring at her across the kitchen. "joel, joel!" cried polly, in great distress. "oh, please excuse him, ma'am, he never talks so, and mamsie will feel so very badly, when she knows it." "i am very glad i came," said miss jerusha, sitting up stiff and tall, "for you children need some instruction, i can plainly see. poor things! well, it's not to be wondered at, when we consider you've had no bringing up." "we have had bringing up, miss jerusha," said ben. "children, you go into the bedroom, and shut the door, and stay there," he said to the three little ones. and never having seen him so before, the two boys went off wonderingly, without a word, and holding phronsie by the hands. "our mother is our mother," went on ben, proudly, "the very best mother in all the world, and she's brought us up, oh, how she has worked to bring us up! and if we're naughty, it's all our own fault!" it was a long speech for ben to make, and polly stared at him in an amazement mingled with pride, while her breast heaved, and she clasped her hands tightly together, so afraid she should speak a word and spoil it all, for miss jerusha was really uncomfortable, that they could both see. meantime, joel was climbing out of the bedroom window. "i'm goin' to grandma bascom's for mamsie," he cried passionately. "we must stay here, phronsie," said little davie, holding tightly to her hand, and standing still in the middle of the floor, "'cause ben told us to, you know." "ugh!" they could hear joel exclaim, as he jumped clear of the window sill to the grass beneath; but they didn't know that the old cracked pane of glass had given away under his hand, nor that a little stream of blood was trickling down his wrist, as he raced over through the lane, and rushed into grandma bascom's little cottage. xii at grandma bascom's "the land sakes!" exclaimed grandma bascom, seeing him first. she was propped up in bed, and mrs. pepper was heating some gruel on the stove out in the shed. "what's the matter?" as joel held his arm out, and the blood was dripping down his little blouse. "nothin'," said joel, shortly; "where's mamsie?" "out in the shed," said grandma. "now you show her your arm as soon as you can." "tisn't my arm," said joel, "it's my hand," and he ran into the shed. "come over home, mamsie, do," he implored. "that old woman up to the minister's is at our house." "i can't come," said mrs. pepper, not turning around, "till i fix grandma comfortable. and for shame, joel, to speak so of miss jerusha! remember how good parson henderson is to us; and his wife, too." "that ain't miss jerusha," said joel, setting his teeth together, and wishing his hand wouldn't ache so; "and she's talking awful, and ben's sent us all out." "then she must be disagreeable," said mrs. pepper, beginning to look worried. "well, i'll soon have this done, then i'll be over. ben'll have to bear it as best he can," and she sighed. so joel turned off and went out of doors, and the little stream of blood kept on trickling. "has he cut it bad?" asked grandma, anxiously, when mrs. pepper brought in the cup of steaming gruel a few minutes later. "who?" asked mother pepper, absently. "why--joel. hain't you seen it?" screamed grandma, who, like a great many deaf people, always spoke her loudest, especially when she was excited. "the blood was all runnin' like everything down his arm. i guess he's most cut it off," she added with a groan, for grandma always had a warm spot in her heart for joel. mrs. pepper's face grew very pale, and she set the cup of gruel down hastily on the little stand by the bed-head, where grandma could reach it. then she hurried to the door. "_joel_!" she called, prepared to run over home if he didn't answer. "what?" said a miserable little voice, as unlike joel's as possible. there he sat crouching down under the big "laylocks," as grandma always called them. it wasn't a moment, then, before mother pepper had him in the kitchen and the blood washed off, and as well as she could see, for the little stream that flowed again, she found out where the trouble was, in the long zigzag cut down the fleshy part of joel's little brown hand. "mother'll fix you up all right," she kept saying. and joel, who didn't mind anything, now that he had mamsie, watched every movement out of attentive black eyes. "has he cut it bad? o dear me!" shouted and groaned grandma from the bed. "no," screamed joel, "'tain't hurt at all." "oh, joey!" reproved mrs. pepper, tying up the poor hand in a bit of old cloth. "now run in and show grandma, and i'll ask her if she has got any court plaster." so joel ran in and sat on the edge of grandma's bed, on top of the gay patched quilt, and recounted just how it all happened. "hey?" exclaimed grandma, every minute. "i can't make her hear nothin'," said joel at last, in despair, turning to his mother. "what gets into folks' ears to make 'em deaf, mamsie?" "oh, it often comes on when they're old," answered mrs. pepper, who had been searching all this time in all the cracked bowls and cups for the scraps of court plaster. "it will be such a piece of work to get her to tell me where it is," she said to herself. "i ain't ever goin' to be deaf when i'm old," declared joel, in alarm. "you don't know whether you will or not," said mrs. pepper, rummaging away, "so you better use your ears to good advantage now, while you've got 'em." "i'll always have 'em," said joel, putting up both hands to feel of these appendages and see if they were there. "i guess they can't get off," and he shook his head smartly. "how'd you cut it?" asked grandma, shrilly, for the fiftieth time. joel slipped off the gay patched bedquilt, and ran up to his mother, drawing a long breath. "o dear me!" exclaimed mrs. pepper, seeing the bandage of old cloth, which was quite red and damp. "go and sit down and hold your hand still. i must ask grandma where that court plaster is. i know she has some, because when polly cut her finger, you know, grandma gave her a piece." "you can't make her hear," said joel, despairingly, and sitting down as his mother bade. "i must," said mrs. pepper, firmly; "and if a thing has to be done, why it has to be, that's all; we've got to have that court plaster." so she put her ear close to grandma's cap-border, and after a great deal of explaining on mother pepper's part, and as many interruptings on grandma bascom's, who wanted everything said over again, at last it was known that the court plaster lay between the leaves of the big bible, on the stand under the old looking-glass between the windows. "i put it there so's to have it handy," screamed grandma, leaning back in great satisfaction against her pillows again. mrs. pepper, feeling quite worn out, got the court plaster and cut off a piece. "now then, joel," she said, coming up to him. "the cloth's all wet and soppy," said joel, beginning to twitch at the bandage. "don't do that, joey," commanded mother pepper, quickly, "you'll make it bleed worse'n ever. dear me! i should think it was wet!" suppressing a shiver, as she rapidly unwound the old cloth, now very red. "come here, over the basin." and presently the poor hand was washed off again with warm water, the long cut closed, and the strip of black court plaster stuck firmly over the wound. "why don't you put cold water on, mammy?" asked joel; "it would feel so good." "is it cut bad?" grandma kept screaming. "you can go and let her see it, joey, now that it's all done up nicely. there's no use in trying to tell her," said mother pepper, clearing away the traces of the accident. so joel hopped up on the big bed again and displayed his wounded hand, and grandma oh-ed and dear me-ed over it, and then she reached over to the little drawer in the stand at the head of the bed. "put your hand in, joel," she said, "and take as many's you want." joel's black eyes stuck out as he saw the big peppermint drops, pink ones and white ones, rolling round in the drawer the minute it was pulled open. "can i have as many as i want, grandma?" he screamed, hopping off from the bed to hang over the drawer. "yes," said grandma, delighted to think she could do something to help, "'cause you've hurt your hand." "i'm glad i hurt it!" exclaimed joel. "o my! what a lot, grandma!" which grandma didn't hear, only she knew he was pleased by the sight of his chubby face; so she smiled, too. mrs. pepper found them so when she came up to the bed. "i'm going home now, grandma," she said. "i'll be over again by and by, or polly will." "hey?" said grandma. so mrs. pepper nodded and smiled and pointed to the door, and grandma seemed satisfied. "she told me i might have as many's i wanted," said joel, with great satisfaction. "i like grandma ever so much." "take care, joey, you don't take too many," said mrs. pepper. "grandma's good to you, so you must be good to her, and come right home from here. you may stay half an hour," pointing to the old clock. "miss jerusha will be gone by that time," she said to herself with a grim smile. "i'll come right home, mamsie," said joel, quite upset in his mind whether to take two white peppermint drops and two pink ones, or if it would do to take three apiece. "and don't let any cold water get on that hand," charged mrs. pepper the last thing. "why, mamsie?" asked joel, looking up. "'cause it would be very bad," said mother pepper, shaking her head warningly, "very bad, joel. remember, now." "what would it do to me?" asked joel. "i don't know," said mrs. pepper; "it might almost kill you to chill it. maybe you'd have lockjaw, joel pepper." "what's that?" demanded joel, deserting the peppermint drops for a minute to run to the door and seize his mother's gown. "what's lockjaw, mammy?" "i guess you'd find out if you had it," said mrs. pepper, grimly. "why, you can't open your jaws. let go of my gown, joel. i must hurry home." and with visions of miss jerusha in the little brown house, she hurried off as fast as she could down the lane. "huh!" exclaimed joel, left quite alone staring after her. "i guess i ain't going to have any old lockjaw. and i could open my jaws, too." thereupon wide apart flew his two sets of white teeth, at such a distance that he seemed to be all mouth. then he snapped them together again so quickly that it made him wink violently; repeating this operation till he was quite convinced that nothing should ever be the matter with his jaws. "and if they ever do get locked up, i'm goin' to keep the key myself." then he ran back to his peppermint drops again, quite satisfied. grandma bascom was sound asleep. joel softly moved two pink peppermint drops over to one side of the drawer, and set two white ones next to them. "they're awful small," he said to himself, and changed the pink ones for two others of the same color. then the same thought occurring to him in regard to the white ones, those had to go back and two different white ones take their places. then he drew back, and gazed at them admiringly. "i don't s'pose mamsie'd care if i took one more, if 'twas a little one," he presently thought. but the difficulty was, should it be a pink one or a white one? it took joel so long to decide this, that at last he put one of each over in his collection at the side of the drawer, then hastily pushed the rest of grandma's into a pile at one end. "there, she's got a lot," he exclaimed. and as he looked at them, the pile seemed to grow bigger yet; so he picked off one, a great pink drop, from the very top. "now i must get a white one to match it," he said, fumbling over the pile till he had flattened it quite out. they looked so many more when this was done, that joel felt quite right in extracting the last two. "it might a' made her sick. p'r'aps she's been eating too many." and as this thought struck him, he pulled out two more, picked up the ones he had set to one side, slammed to the drawer, by this time realizing that grandma could not hear, and ran out of the bedroom to the "laylock" bushes, where he sat down to enjoy the peppermint drops. he had demolished the third one, eating as slowly as possible, in a way phronsie had of nibbling around the edges to make it last as long as possible; and then, with his cut hand, there wasn't anything he could do; when suddenly mamsie's words, "be good to grandma," swept through his mind, with an awful twinge. joel stopped eating and looked at the heap of pink and white peppermint drops he had laid down on the grass by his side; then turned his back to them, and began his nibbling again. "she's got enough," he said, munching on. "she said, take as many's i wanted. so there now!" but in a minute he had hopped to his feet, and snatched up the pink and white pile, raced through the kitchen and into the bedroom, and twitching open the drawer to the little stand, he dumped his fistful in, all except one. then, without trusting himself to look at them, he slammed the drawer quite tight, and leaning over grandma, he put his mouth close to her cap-border where she lay snoring away. "i put 'em all back, grandma," he whispered, "except four." something made him glance up at the old clock. it was five minutes past the half hour, and joel, with a dreadful feeling at his heart, for disobedience was a thing mamsie never overlooked, fled over to the little brown house. xiii passengers for the boxford stage "i declare, that's fine!" said ben, the next day. it was dull and cloudy, and he squinted up at the sky. "there isn't a bit of wind. now mr. blodgett'll have that bonfire, i guess; that'll suit you, joe, as you can't have much fun with that hand." joel squealed right out. "that's prime! and i can pile in the sticks and straw just as well with my other hand." "you aren't goin' to touch that bonfire, once it's lighted," declared ben, in his most decided way. "now you remember that, joe pepper!" "there ain't any good in it, if i can't help," cried joel, horribly disappointed. "you can see it," said ben, "same's david." "hoh! what's that!" cried joel; "that won't be any fun." "then you can stay at home," said ben, coolly. "as for having you, joe, careering round that fire, and cutting up your capers, we ain't goin' to let you. like enough you'd be half burnt up." "phoo!" cried joel, in high disdain, and snapping the fingers of his well hand, "i wouldn't get afire." "i wouldn't trust you. you'd be afire before you knew it. you needn't tease, joe; mamsie wouldn't allow it." and ben walked off and shut the door. "ben never let's me do anything," howled joel, twisting his face up into a dreadful knot, and wishing there was something he could do with his left hand, for the other was all tied up in a sling, mother pepper wisely concluding that to be the only way to keep it still. "if i tie it up, joel, you can't use it," she had said, fastening the broad strip of white cloth firmly over his shoulder. and joel, knowing there was no use in protesting, had borne it as well as he could, making davie wait on him, and driving polly almost to despair in her efforts to amuse him, while she did up the morning work, mother pepper being away. "why don't you play stage-coach, joel?" proposed polly now, as joel couldn't vent his disappointment loudly enough. "that's no fun, with one hand," said joel, disconsolately, drumming on the window pane. "some folks always drive with their left hand," said polly. "mr. tisbett doesn't," said joel, gloomily regarding the bunch of white cloth that covered his right hand. "he always drives with this one," sticking it out, "'cept when he takes both." "well, you can play there's been an accident, and you got hurt, and so you had to drive with that hand," said polly. "so i can," cried joel, bounding away from the window, "so i can, polly pepper. i'll have it right now, and it's to be a perfectly awful one. come on, dave, let's fix up the coach, and you get inside, and i'll upset you, and most smash everything to death." and joel ran hither and thither, dragging the chairs, and phronsie's little cricket, and everything movable into place as well as he could with one hand. "take care, joe," warned polly, wondering if she hadn't done wrong in proposing stagecoach, "don't fly round so. you'll hurt your hand. i'd get up on the front seat if i were you, and begin to drive." "would you have the horses run into something, polly, kersmash," cried joel, tugging at mamsie's rocking chair to bring it into line, "or make the stage-coach tumble over and roll down hill?" "dear me," cried polly, going into the pantry to mix up her brown bread, and wondering which would be the less of the two evils, "i'm sure i don't know, joel." "i'm goin' to have 'em do both," decided joel. "dave, pull this up, will you?" so little david ran and gave a lift on the other side of the big rocking chair, to haul it into place. "we'll run into somethin' an' th' horse'll shy, and that'll make the old stage-coach roll down hill. gee-whickets!" he brought up, in huge delight. "i shan't let you play it at all," said polly, from the pantry, "if you say such words, joel. you'll just have to stop and go and sit down. so remember." joel was clambering up into mr. tisbett's seat on the box, but he ducked his head at polly's rebuke. "get in, dave," he shouted, recovering himself. "hurry up. you're the passenger that wants to go to boxford. you're awful slow. i'll drive off without you if you don't make haste," he threatened, gathering up in his left hand the bits of string that were fastened to a nail in the corner of the shelf. little david, feeling it a dreadful calamity to be left behind when he wanted to go to boxford, hopped nimbly into the opening in the pile of chairs that represented the stage-coach, and off they drove. "i can't hold my whip," cried joel in distress, after a minute or so of bowling along on the road to boxford, accompanied with much shouting to mr. tisbett's pair of black horses, and excitement generally as the stage-driver tried to get out of the way of the great number of teams on the turnpike. "o dear, it ain't any fun without the whip!" and the whole establishment came to a dead stop. "i'll hold the whip," cried the passenger, eagerly, poking his head out of the stage-coach window. "no, you won't, either," cried joel. "you're the passenger. o dear me, there ain't any fun without th' whip!" "then i can drive," said little david. "do let me, joel," he pleaded. "i won't either," declared joel, flatly. "i'm mr. tisbett, and besides, there won't be anybody inside if you get up here." "phronsie might be passenger," said david, reflecting a moment. "goody, oh, so she might!" cried joel, "and seraphina too. and that'll make more upset. then you may come up here, dave," he promised. but when polly was made acquainted with this fine plan, she refused to allow phronsie to enter into such a noisy play. and joel's face dropped so dismally that she was at her wits' end to know how to straighten out the trouble. just then one of the henderson boys came up to the door with a little pat of butter in a dish for mrs. pepper. "here comes peletiah henderson," announced polly, catching sight of him through the window. "now, p'r'aps he can stop and play with you, joel." "he ain't much good to play," answered joel, who never seemed to be able to wake up the quiet boy to much action. "oh, joel, he'll play real pretty, i guess," said polly, reprovingly, "and he's such a good boy." "he might be the passenger," said joel, thinking busily, as polly ran to the door to let the henderson boy in. "we'll play he's the minister goin' over to preach in boxford, and we'll upset him just before he gets there. jump out, dave, and get up here." "i don't know as we ought to upset him if he's the minister," objected david, doubtfully, as he clambered up to joel's side. still, a perfect thrill of delight seized him at his promotion to the seat of honor, and his little hands trembled as joel laid the precious whip within them. "no, i guess i'd rather you had the reins," decided joel, twitching away the whip to lay the bits of string in david's little brown hands. "you can drive first, 'cause i want to crack the whip awful loud as we start. and then i'll take 'em again." david, who would much rather have cracked the whip, said nothing, feeling it bliss enough to be up there on the box and doing something, as peletiah, a light-haired, serious boy, walked slowly into the kitchen. "you're the passenger," shouted joel at him, and cracking his whip, "and you're going over to boxford. hurry up and get into the stage-coach. i'm mr. tisbett." [illustration: "'you're the passenger!' shouted joel"] "and i'm helping, peletiah," cried david, turning a very pink and happy face down toward him. "i don't want to go to boxford," said peletiah, deliberately, and standing quite still, while polly ran into the pantry to slip the little pat of butter on to another plate. "oh, how good it looks!" she said, longing for just one taste. "well, you've got to go," said joel, obstinately, "so get in." "i don't want to go to boxford," repeated peletiah, not stirring. joel cracked the whip angrily, and glared down at him. "p'r'aps he wants to go somewhere else," said little david, leaning forward and clutching the reins carefully, "and that'll be just as good." "do you?" asked joel, crossly. "want to go anywheres else, peletiah?" peletiah considered so long over this that joel, drumming with his heels on the dashboard, got tired out, and shouted, "hurry up and get in--th' stage-coach's goin'!" which had the desired effect, to make the passenger skip in much livelier than he intended. "now we're goin' to boxford," announced joel, positively, cracking his whip at its loudest. "be careful, david; hold the horses up." "he said he didn't want to go to boxford," put in little david, trembling all over at the vast responsibility of holding in mr. tisbett's black horses, and the passenger's being taken where he didn't want to go. "well, he didn't tell us where he did want to go," said joel, "and th' stage is goin' to boxford. boxford, box," he screamed to imaginary people along the road. "anybody want to go to boxford?" "i said i didn't want to go to boxford," interrupted the passenger in the general din. "well, you've got to," said joel, "'cause the stage is goin' there. boxford--boxford! anybody goin' to boxford? want to go, marm?" an imaginary old woman sitting on a stone by the roadside. "i'm goin' to get out," announced peletiah, in a tone that convinced joel that remonstrance was useless. "no, you mustn't," cried joel, "and you can't, either, for th' accident's comin' now," he added cheerfully. davie held his breath, and clutched the lines tighter yet, and joel screamed shrilly, "look out!" and gave an awful kick with his heels to the back of the top chair, and before anybody could say a word, over it came, knocking davie with it, and before the passenger could get out, mr. tisbett and his assistant and the best part of the whole establishment seemed to be on top of him. polly heard the noise and came rushing out. "oh, boys--boys!" she cried in a fright, "are you hurt?" for everything seemed to be in a heap together, with some small legs kicking wildly about, trying to extricate the persons to whom they belonged. "i ain't," announced joel, hopping out of the heaps and shaking the black hair out of his eyes. "oh, polly, it was such fun!" he cried. "davie! davie and peletiah!" cried polly, an awful dread at her heart, on account of the little guest, as she hung over the wreck, pulling busily at the chairs, "are you all safe?" little david tried to speak, but his head ached dreadfully, and the breath seemed to have left his body. peletiah said slowly, "i barked my shin, and i didn't want to go to boxford." "o dear me," exclaimed polly, fishing him out, "that's too bad! joel, you oughtn't to have taken him to boxford if he didn't want to go." "that wouldn't 'a' made any difference," declared joel, "'cause we had to get upset, anyway." "well, davie's hurt, i expect," said polly, looking peletiah carefully all over, as in duty bound to a guest, as he stood up before her. "oh, no, i ain't, polly," said little david, trying to speak cheerfully, and crawling out with a big lump on his forehead. "o dear me!" exclaimed polly, at sight of it. "well, i'm glad, child, it's no worse," as she rapidly examined the rest of him. "now you must have some pieces of wet brown paper on that." "i'm glad i haven't got to have wet brown paper all over me," declared joel, with a grimace--"old, slippery, shiny brown paper." "i barked my shin," gravely announced peletiah, standing quite still. "oh, so you did," cried polly, with a remorseful twinge. "now you must wait, davie, till i fix peletiah up, for he's company, you know." "i guess grandma's got some wormwood--the stuff she made for phronsie's toe when 'twas pounded," suggested joel, quite oblivious to the black looks which peletiah was constantly casting on him. "you may run over and see," said polly. "o dear me, no, you can't, joe, just look at your hand!" as she happened to glance up. joel looked down quickly at the big white bundle in the sling. "there ain't nothin'--" he was going to say, "the matter with my hand, polly," when he saw some very red spots spreading quickly along its surface. "oh, now you've burst open the cut," cried polly, forgetting herself, and turning quite white. "what shall we do, and mamsie away!" little david, at that, burst into a loud cry, and joel tried to say, "no, i haven't," but looking very scared at polly's scream. "oh, i'll fix it, joe," she exclaimed in haste, though how she managed to get the words out she never knew. "let me see, mamsie would untie it if she were here, and put on court plaster. now, david, you run over to grandma's and ask her to give us some more. she told us to come if we wanted it, and i'll put on a fresh piece just as tight, oh, you can't think!" polly kept talking all the time, feeling that she should drop if she didn't, and little david, forgetting all about the lump on his forehead, that now was most as big as an egg, ran off as fast as he could, and presently returned with the court plaster, waving it over his head. polly took off the bloody rag, setting her lips tightly together, until she saw joel's face again. then she began quickly, "oh, what a nice time you're goin' to have at the bonfire, joe!" "is there goin' to be a bonfire?" asked peletiah, with more interest than he had hitherto shown. "yes," said polly, "there is, peletiah. mr. blodgett's goin' to burn up all that rubbish left after he pulled down his cow-pen, you know." "when's he goin' to burn it?" continued peletiah. "this afternoon," said polly. "ben's over there, and joel's goin', and david." all the while she was dabbing off the blood running out of the side where the court plaster slipped when the stage went over. then she cut off another bit from the piece grandma sent over, and quickly pasted it over the edge of the old piece. "there now, joey," she cried, "that's as nice as can be! now i'll get you a fresh piece of cloth to tie it up in." "i don't want it tied up," cried joel, wiggling his fingers; "they feel so good to be out, polly." "oh, you must have 'em tied up," cried polly, decisively, running back with the cloth. "hold your hand still, joe; there now, says i, that's all done!" she gave a great sigh of relief, when at last joel's arm was once more in its sling. "i'm glad it's all back again, polly," said little david, viewing the white bundle with satisfaction. "so am i, i declare," said polly, folding her hands to rest a bit. "i guess i'll go to that bonfire," observed peletiah. at the sound of his voice, polly came to herself with a little gasp. "oh, i forgot all about you, peletiah, and david's head. i'll see your shin first, 'cause you're company." when peletiah's small trouser leg was pulled up, polly saw with dismay a black and blue spot rapidly spreading. "o dear me," she cried, down on her knees, "what will dear mrs. henderson say? and she's so good to us!" "and i didn't want to go to boxford, either," said peletiah. "well, david, you must just run back and ask grandma if we may have a little wormwood," said polly. "i'd go, but i don't like to leave you children alone," in distress as she saw davie's lump on his forehead, and his hot, tired face. "i'm sorry, for you've just been over." "i'll go," cried joel, springing off, but polly called him back. "no, you can't, joe," she cried, "you'll burst that cut open again, maybe. davie must go. tell grandma one of the minister's boys has got hurt." so davie ran over again, trying not to think how his head ached, and in he came in a few minutes with the bunch of wormwood dangling at his side. "she said--grandma did--pound it up and tie it on with a rag, if you haven't got time to steep it," said davie, relinquishing the bundle into polly's hand, "and to put some on my head, too," he added, feeling this to be a calamity as much worse as could be imagined than to have on the brown paper bits. "so i will," declared polly. "oh, how good of grandma! boys, we must do ever and all we can for her, she's so nice to us. now i must pound this up, just as she said." this operation was somewhat delayed by all three of the boys hanging over her and getting in the way. and phronsie, who had been busy with seraphina in the bedroom, now running out to add herself to the number, it was a little time before peletiah's small leg had the wet rag tied on. "well, now you're done," said polly, thankfully, "and you'd better run home, peletiah, and tell your mother all about it, and how sorry we are." "yes," said peletiah, slowly moving off, "i will, 'cause she told me to come right back." "oh, peletiah!" exclaimed polly, in horror, "and you've been here all this time!" "and i didn't want to go to boxford," said peletiah, going off. pretty soon, back he came, just as polly finished bathing davie's head. "i'll take the dish," he said. "mother said bring it back." xiv deacon blodgett's bonfire but that afternoon it began to rain smartly, so nobody went to the bonfire after all. "p'r'aps," polly had kept saying to herself, "all mr. atkins' sacks will be sewed up by the next time mr. blodgett tries to burn up his rubbish, and then i can go," but she didn't speak a word to her mother, for then mrs. pepper would find out how dreadfully disappointed polly had been at the thought of not seeing the grand spectacle. so she worked on busily, expecting every day to hear ben say, "now we're goin' to set it off to-day," for he was at work pretty steadily now, for farmer blodgett. but he never did. at last one day, ben came home very late to supper, so late that polly ran to the window ever so many times, exclaiming, "bensie never was so late before." phronsie had long been in bed, and the boys were anxiously looking up at the clock to see if it were anywhere near half-past seven, when ben came in. "why, ben pepper!" exclaimed polly, aghast, "whatever is the matter?" "i should ask so, too," said mother pepper, "only i know ben will tell when he is rested. let him eat his supper, polly, and don't bother him with questions." so polly took off the clean towel that had covered ben's supper on the table, and hovered over him, watching every mouthful. but she didn't say a word. "you see," said ben, when he had appeased his appetite somewhat, and eating more slowly, "i really couldn't help it, for the bonfire was such a big one." "the bonfire?" screamed polly. "what do you mean, ben?" "why, mr. blodgett's bonfire, to be sure," said ben. "whatever else could i mean, polly?" leaning back to look over his shoulder at her. "you haven't gone and had that bonfire without telling us, ben pepper!" cried polly, in amazement. "oh, how could you do such a dreadful mean thing!" she added passionately. "polly--polly!" cried mother pepper, in dismay. "well, i don't care," said polly, recklessly, "it was perfectly awfully mean, mamsie, to go and have that bonfire without telling us a single thing about it. now we can't one of us ever see it," she mourned. "better not judge ben till you hear the reason, polly," advised mother pepper, gravely. "i'll warrant he had some good one." "so i have," cried ben, with a dreadful feeling at his heart that his comrade polly blamed him. "mr. blodgett told me i mustn't run home and tell you, though i begged him as hard as i could to let me." "then he is a very mean man," exploded polly, with flashing eyes and a little red spot on either cheek. "take care, polly," said mrs. pepper. "i don't think so," said ben, decidedly, shaking his head in disapproval of polly; "he's been as good as gold to me, and--" "so he has, ben," mother pepper was guilty of interrupting. "and he's been bothered to death to get the right time to work on that old bonfire, and today the men said the rubbish ought to be got off, 'cause two of 'em can come only a day more, and they want to get the ground ready for planting. so all of a sudden mr. blodgett comes over to the south meadow and calls out, 'come, boys, we're going to set to on that bonfire!' and then i begged him to let me just run home and tell you all, and he couldn't, and that's all," said ben, calmly finishing the account. "i don't see how you could help it, ben," said his mother, "nor mr. blodgett either, for that matter." polly stood quite still, the waves of color spreading over her face. then she took a step forward, and threw her arms around ben's neck. "oh, ben!" she cried convulsively, "i'm so sorry i was cross." "all right, polly," said ben, reassuringly, and patting her cheek, "and i guess next time you'll wait and hear about things." "i surely will," promised poor polly. so no one saw the wonderful blodgett bonfire, after all, except peletiah henderson, who was going past that farm when the excitement was at its height. but ben comforted them all, and polly helped out wonderfully, by repeating everything he said. "now, children, i'll watch; there'll be other bonfires, i expect. maybe before long; so i shouldn't wonder if we got another chance to see a big fire." it came sooner than they expected, but it wasn't a bonfire. it was one night about a week after. the little brown house was as still as a mouse, everybody abed and asleep. suddenly phronsie woke up with a fretful little cry. "i want a drink of water," she wailed, sitting straight in the trundle bed. "oh, no, you don't," said polly, sleepily. "hush, phronsie, and lie down again. you'll wake mamsie." phronsie's little lips quivered. in the darkness polly couldn't see the small face and its sorrowful eyes, so she turned over again on her pillow. "go to sleep, like a good girl," she said, almost asleep. "i can't, polly," said phronsie, almost ready to cry out, "and i am truly thirsty. please, polly, a drink of water." she put out her little hand to feel for polly's, but in a minute the regular breathing told her that polly had fallen asleep. so phronsie sat still in the middle of the trundle bed, and choked back the tears. but her little throat was parched and dry, and at last the tears rolled over the round cheeks. "i won't wake poor polly up," she said; "i can get it myself," and she crawled out of the trundle bed, having some difficulty in getting over the side, and made her way out into the kitchen. it was very bright there, at which phronsie stared wonderingly, as there was no candle lighted, so she easily found her way to the pail of water which ben always got the last thing at night and set on the bench by the window. "i can reach the dipper," said phronsie, standing on tiptoes, and seizing it, she thrust it into the pail. how it happened, she didn't know, and there was no one else there to see, but over with a great clatter came the pail and the dipper to the floor. polly started up in bed. mamsie, who was very tired, still slept on. "phronsie," cried polly, remembering in a flash about the drink of water, "i'll get it for you," and she put out her hand to pat the little figure in the trundle bed. there was no phronsie there! polly hopped wildly out into the kitchen, to hear phronsie gurgling out her distress, as she stood in her little white nightie, her hands stuck straight out, and the water dripping from her every pore. the pail and dipper were rolling away at their own sweet wills across the old kitchen floor. and over all shone a great light as bright as day, only it was tinged with red. "phronsie pepper!" exclaimed polly, and "what's this light?" all in the same breath. and huddling phronsie up in her arms, polly raced along to the window. a great burst of light, red and glaring, shot across the sky, and lighted up the whole heavens. "oh, we're burning up! something's afire! grandma bascom!" screamed polly. "ben--ben--wake up! mamsie! fire--fire!" she called. she could hear ben spring out of bed, and mrs. pepper was in the kitchen in a minute, and joel and david were tumbling downstairs at ben's heels, and they all threw on their clothes and rushed out of doors. but it wasn't grandma bascom's. her little cottage stood peaceful and quiet, with only the dreadful red light playing over it. "i can't think where it is," said ben. "it seems so near, and we know it isn't, 'cause grandma's is the only house for more'n half a mile." meanwhile, the smoke was pouring into the sky, and when it cleared there was that dreadful red light glare again. "oh, ben!" exclaimed polly, with clasped hands, as they all stood in front of the little brown house, breathlessly watching, "it must be parson henderson's." "no," said ben, "that isn't the right direction." "it's nice mrs. beebe's, i know," said joel, racing around excitedly. "and now it will burn up all those boots and shoes," which, luckily, phronsie didn't hear. "nonsense!" exclaimed ben, "it isn't anywhere near mr. beebe's shop. it's ever so far off. and a barn, i guess, 'cause it burns like hay." "i hope there aren't any horses in it," sighed polly, with a shiver, sitting down on the doorstone, and holding phronsie very closely in her arms. "wherever it is, you ought to go and help, ben," said his mother. "i was thinking so myself, now i know 'tisn't near here, and i can leave you all," said ben, hurrying off. "i'm goin', i'm goin'," cried joel, wildly darting off. "no--no, joel," said mrs. pepper, "you're too little to go to a fire." "i'd pass buckets," said joel, "and climb the ladders--and--" "no," said his mother, firmly. he was afraid to cry, lest she should send him in the house, so he ran out into the road and watched impatiently to see if anybody was coming along to go to the fire. presently they all heard wagon wheels. "somebody's comin'!" screamed joel, running back into the yard. "oh, mammy, mayn't i ride with 'em and just see the fire? i won't get out of the wagon; truly, i won't." "no," said mrs. pepper, "it's no use to ask it, joel," and he knew it wasn't. "it's hard enough to let ben go, though that's his duty. you can ask the people in the wagon if they know where the fire is." and joel, delighted that there was some part in the excitement for him, tore madly down to the roadside and demanded this of the people in the team. "it's deacon blodgett's barn," they screamed at him as the old horse spun by, raising a cloud of dust. "what did he say?" asked mrs. pepper, as joel raced back breathlessly. "it's deacon blodgett's barn," screamed joel, quite overcome. "o dear me! so we are seeing his bonfire, ain't we, mammy?" "polly," said mrs. pepper, her face looking ghastly in the red light, "this is perfectly dreadful for poor mrs. blodgett and the good deacon. oh, if we could only help them!" she looked off at the clouds of smoke now obscuring the red glare, and her hands usually so quiet were wringing each other. "ben's there by this time," said polly, feeling that nothing was hopeless with ben close by. "think of that, mamsie." "i'm so glad of that," breathed mrs. pepper, thankfully. "now he'll have a chance to show his gratitude for what deacon blodgett's done for him." "polly," said phronsie, suddenly raising her head where she had hidden it on polly's arm, "do you suppose mr. blodgett's nice mooly cow is going to burn up?" she clasped her fat hands as she brought out the question fearfully. "no, i hope not, pet," said polly, soothingly. "don't let's think of it," but her heart ached, nevertheless. how good mrs. blodgett had been to send down that sweet, rich milk, once in a while, for phronsie. "see! oh, ain't it a buster!" shouted joel out in the road, hoping some other team would come by. "joel," called mrs. pepper, even in her anxiety over good friends' trouble, unwilling to let the word pass, "what did you say?" "well, it's a big fire, anyway," said joel. "come on, dave, out here and see it," for dave, at the first glimpse, had slunk down on the grass silently to watch the sky. "no," said little david, "i don't want to go, joel. mamsie--" and he turned a troubled face to her--"do you suppose god's going to let good mr. blodgett's barn burn up?" "no," said mrs. pepper, "i don't b'lieve god had anything to do with it, davie. like enough it's some man been in there with a pipe, but we'll hope the fire'll be put out. and don't you be troubled; god wouldn't let any one be hurt, least of all a good man like deacon blodgett." "oh," said little david, quite relieved. and when ben came home in the early dawn--mamsie and the rest of the bunch of the little peppers sitting up for him, for phronsie wouldn't go to bed, so polly held her in her arms--they found this was just the case. "and they've caught the tramp who was smoking the pipe," cried ben, excitedly, "but that won't save the barn, and the horse and--" "hush!" cried polly, with a look at phronsie. but her eyes were closed, and her head was bobbing sleepily on polly's breast. "better lay her on my bed now, polly," said her mother, "and she'll doze off, most likely." "yes, the cow has gone with the rest of the tools and wagons," said ben, mixing things up inextricably. "o dear me!" and he rested his streaked face on his grimy hands. "oh, ben," cried joel, "you're as black as you can be! how i wish i could 'a' gone!" he added, feeling it the highest state of bliss to come home looking like that from working in a fire. "well, i feel black," said ben, and down went his head lower yet in his hands. his mother went swiftly over to him and pressed her hand gently on his hair. "you couldn't help it, ben," she said, "you'd 'a' saved it, if you'd been able." "yes," said ben, brokenly, "i would, mamsie." xv old man peters' cent joel was walking along the road very slowly, swinging on his arm the tin pail that was to bring home the molasses. "i wish some one would come along who'd give me a ride," he thought, feeling hot, and wishing he were home, to lie on the cool grass in the orchard, after he had first drunk all he wanted to at the well. "i could drink the whole bucketful," he declared. "my, ain't i thirsty! oh, goody, i hear a wagon!" and he hopped to one side of the road. "ugh--it's old man peters!" mr. peters slackened up as he passed joel, but he didn't offer to let him ride. and joel didn't want to, anyway. after a grumpy look at the pepper boy, the old man in the wagon put the well-worn leather reins between his knees and took out a battered pocket-book, scowling above its contents as he went over a business transaction just completed at badgertown. then he slapped it together and stuck it into his pocket, and seizing the reins, he doubled them up, cutting the horse across the thin flanks. "gee-lang, there--will you!" cried old man peters, shrilly, "or i'll make ye!" joel stepped back into the middle of the road, and began to trudge along in the wake of the wagon. suddenly he stopped, and stared at something shining in the road. it was little and round, but it sent up a bright gleam that found an answering one in joel's black eyes. "oh, i've found a whole cent!" he exclaimed joyfully. then his heart stood quite still. it must belong to old man peters. "i don't care," said joel, defiantly, to himself, "he left it in the road. it's mine, now, for i picked it up." and he clutched it tightly in his warm little palm, and dug his heels into the hot sand, glad enough he had had to go to the store after that molasses, for otherwise he wouldn't have found that cent. "it doesn't belong to you." it seemed as if mamsie was walking there beside him, and had said the words, and involuntarily joel glanced on either side. "i don't know as he dropped it," he said to himself, walking very fast, and trying to shake off the unwelcome thoughts; "i didn't see him." "but you did see him take his pocket-book out, and you ought to hurry after him and give it back," and joel started on a lively run, without giving himself a chance to think twice. "mr. peters! mr. peters!" he cried, running along, and screaming after the retreating wagon. mr. peters looked back and shook his whip at him. "i ain't a-goin' to give you a ride," he said, "an' you needn't think you can catch on behind." so he gave the horse another cut, that made him amble along at his best speed. joel chased as long as he was able to, the perspiration streaming from his red face, screaming when he could find breath, "stop, mr. peters, a minute," till mr. peters shook his fist at him as well as his whip. at last joel dropped from sheer exhaustion on the roadside grass. "that pepper boy--th' one they call joel--is a perfect nuisance," snarled mr. peters, after putting his horse up in the barn, and going into the house. "i passed him on the road, and he looked as if he 'xpected me to give him a lift." "oh, pa, why didn't you?" said mrs. peters, pityingly, "they have such a hard time, those little pepperses. i s'pose he was dreadful tired." "s'pose he was," said mr. peters, going into the keeping room to sit down over the weekly paper. "i warn't a-goin' to take him up; and then the imperdent little chap started to run after me, a-yellin' all the way. i'd a horsewhipped him if i c'd 'a' reached him." "i wish you wouldn't feel so about boys," deprecatingly said his wife, a little woman; "they don't hurt you none, and i wish you wouldn't, pa." "well, i ain't a-goin' to have 'em round me," snarled mr. peters. "an' there ain't no call for you to say any more about's fur's i know, marindy," and he jerked open the newspaper, put his feet on the round of another chair, got his spectacles out of their case and on his nose, and prepared to be comfortable. he never knew when his paper slid to the floor, and his bald head was bobbing over his empty hands. mrs. marinda peters was upstairs sorting rags to give the rag-man when next he came by, the only way she could earn a little money for her own use, and the daughter was away; so joel pepper walked in without any one's knowing it. he had knocked and knocked at the kitchen door until his knuckles were sore, and tired of waiting, concluded to walk in by himself; for go home he would not, with mr. peters' cent in his pocket. so he marched in and stood by the old man's chair. "here's your cent," he said, holding it out in his hot fingers. his empty pail struck suddenly on the edge of the chair with a clang, the noise, more than the words, waking the old man up. "hey? what d'ye want?" cried mr. peters, his eyes flying open suddenly. "your cent," said joel, holding it out. "a cent? i hain't any money to give ye," snarled old mr. peters, now fully aroused, "and d'ye git out of this house soon's ye can, or i'll give ye suthin' to git for." his spectacles slipped to the end of his nose as he started to get out of the chair. "i don't want any cent," said joel, hotly, sticking the one between his finger and thumb up under the old man's nose. "here, take it. don't you see it? it's yours." "mine? my cent?" repeated the old man, staring at it. "what d'ye mean? i hain't give ye no cent." "i found it in the road. you dropped it," said joel, feeling tired to death. and dropping it hastily on the window-ledge he hurried off, swinging his tin pail violently. "what's the matter?" asked mrs. peters, at the sound of the voices; and, leaving the rag-bag suddenly, she hurried over the stairs. old mr. peters, hearing her coming, picked up the cent, and, not stopping to put it in the old leather pocket-book, slipped it into his vest pocket, and seizing the newspaper, fell to reading. "joel," called mrs. peters, as joel was running out of the untidy yard, "what is it? come here and tell me." "let th' boy alone, can't ye, marindy?" screamed mr. peters, irritably; "beats all how you allers interfere in my business--just like a woman!" he fumed, as joel came back slowly. [illustration: "'hey, what d'ye want?' cried mr. peters"] but mrs. peters was as persistent in her way as her husband, and she soon had the whole story laid bare. when that was done, she took joel into the buttery and gave him a big wedge of custard pie. "you better go t'other way, and not past the keepin' room window," she said, "and eat it." joel, with enthusiasm considerably abated as he examined his pie in the shadow of the big seringa bushes, concluded he didn't want it very much. but feeling very hungry, which was his usual condition, he finished it to the last crumb. "there warn't any sugar in, for one thing," he said critically. "i wonder why folks can bake pies who don't know how, and mamsie never can have any." "that boy found your cent in th' road, and brought it clear way up here," cried mrs. marindy, on a high key, going into the keeping room, where the old man sat absorbed in his paper. "s'pose he did?" grunted old mr. peters. "i sh'd think you'd 'a' give it to him, pa. it's a shame. such a hot day as 'tis, too." "i don't have no cents to throw away," snarled old mr. peters. "and i wish you'd let me read my paper in peace and quiet." "well, i sh'd think anybody who'd got a heart in their bosom 'ud feel sorry for them five little pepperses. i don't s'pose they see a cent to spend from one year's end to another." and she made up her mind to bake a whole custard pie, sometime, and smuggle it down to mrs. pepper. "though how i'll manage," she lamented, "would puzzle the dutch and tom walker. but i'll try, just the same." meanwhile, joel, though he made light of the cent business, was relating his visit to the peters' homestead, and the presentation of the piece of pie. "'twas most horrid old pie," he said, with a wry face. "oh, joey," said mrs. pepper, "when mrs. peters tried to be kind to you. you ate it, didn't you?" and she laughed with the others when he said yes. "but 'twas horrid," cried joe. "i can't help it, mamsie. there wasn't any sugar in it, and it was black and smutty and thin. why don't we ever have any pie in the little brown house, mamsie?" he asked suddenly. "why don't little boys talk sensibly?" asked mrs. pepper. "it's a great deal to have the little brown house, anyway, joel, i sh'd think you'd know that." "mamsie," said polly, hearing this, "s'posin' we didn't have the little brown house; just s'posin', mammy," and her cheek turned quite white. "i know it, polly," said mrs. pepper, quickly, setting busy stitches on davie's jacket, where she was rapidly sewing a patch, "that's the way to talk. just supposing we hadn't any little brown house." "but we have got it, mamsie," said joel, throwing himself flat on the floor, to indulge in a long and restful roll. "well, we may not always have it. if folks don't appreciate their blessings, sometimes they fly away." "how's the little brown house going to fly away, mamsie?" demanded joel, sitting quite straight. "well, it may," said mrs. pepper, with a wise little nod. "mercies often take to themselves wings. come, polly, you may pick out these basting threads; that patch is done, thank fortune!" joel hopped to his feet, and ran swiftly out, craning his neck to see the tip of the chimney on the little house, and surveying it critically on all sides. "it isn't going to fly--it isn't," he declared, quite relieved. polly humming away some merry nonsense to mamsie, neither of them heard him. so he came close to their chairs and repeated it: "say, the little brown house can't fly away--there ain't any wings." "you take care you don't say anything discontented about not having pie and other things," said mother pepper with a smile, looking off from her work for a minute to let her eyes rest on his face, "and i guess the wings won't grow, joey." "anyway, i'm glad i don't live at old man peterses house," said joel, going back to his resting-place on the floor, and waving his feet in the air. "mamsie, do you suppose old mr. peters ever was a little boy?" asked davie, thoughtfully. "dear me, yes," said mrs. pepper, abstractedly, as she was lost in thought over the question, could she get the patch on joel's little trousers before dark? "a real boy?" persisted david. "yes, of course," answered mother pepper, moving her chair to get a little more of the waning light. "but i don't know what kind of a boy," she added. "i don't think he was a very nice boy, mamsie," declared david. "not a real, very splendid one." "huh!" cried joel, in a tone of contempt. "i guess he wasn't, dave pepper! i wouldn't have played with him at all," he added, in great disgust. "wouldn't you, joel?" cried little david, running over to sit down by him on the floor, and observing great care to keep clear of the waving legs. "no, indeed, sir," declared joel. "i wouldn't have played once with him, not if he'd lent me his knife. an' his skates and--" "oh, joel, not even if he'd lent you his skates?" cried david, incredulously. "no, sir-ree! nor if he'd let me have his horse to drive as much as i wanted to," declared joel, most positively, with another wave of his legs. little david collapsed on the floor by his side, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, as he lay and thought it over. "i'd 'a' said, 'go right away, you bad old peters boy.'" cried joel, delighted at impressing david so completely, "'or i'll take a stick to you.'" "and then you'd be very much like old mr. peters yourself, joel," said polly, catching the last words. xvi the stage-coach ride "children," said mrs. pepper, and how her eyes shone! "i've got something very nice to tell you--that is, for joel and david. your turn will come sometime, polly," and mother pepper smiled encouragingly at her. "polly's turn never comes," said ben, gloomily, who felt dreadfully fretted to think he couldn't earn money enough to do something nice for her. "we eat it all up as fast as we get paid," he had once said to his mother. "and that's what we have mouths for," she had answered brightly. it never would do for ben to get discouraged, so she kept all the little ache in her heart out of sight. now she beamed at ben. "oh, polly's time's coming," she said; "never fear, ben." ben looked ashamed when he heard mamsie's hopeful words, and brightened up at once. "thank you, ben," she said, going up to his chair to lay her hand on his shoulder. "mother doesn't know what she'd do if her big boy failed her. well now, children, i must hurry and tell you the good news about joel and david. mr. tisbett has invited them to go on the stage to-morrow to strawberry hill." once a week mr. tisbett ran the stage down to strawberry hill, returning by the east district. it was quite the prettiest ride out of badgertown, following now and then the course of cherry brook, and past fertile fields and forests, by a winding, rambling thoroughfare. and when once the settlement of strawberry hill was reached, there were green's tavern and the stop for dinner! joel and david greeted this announcement with howls of delight. phronsie caught the spirit and danced around the old kitchen in a clean pink calico dress, and cheeks to match. "oh, phronsie, i don't believe you know what you're dancing for," cried ben with a laugh, and seizing her as the bustle died down a bit. "yes, i do, bensie," said phronsie, struggling to get down to dance again. "well, what is it then?" "joel and davie said 'o-oh' and 'goody'!" hummed phronsie, beginning to dance harder than ever. "i thought so," laughed ben. "don't tease her," begged polly, coming up. "polly, i wish you were going too," said ben, suddenly, who couldn't help saying it. "dear me, i couldn't go and leave all the work, ben," exclaimed polly, "even if mr. tisbett had asked me." "well, i wish you could go, all the same," sighed ben. polly shook her head, and clapped her hands at phronsie, and tried to forget what ben had said. but it stayed there, deep in her heart, nevertheless. joel and david could hardly sleep that night for thinking of the splendid treat of the morrow. oh, if it should rain! they trembled as they rolled over on their backs and listened for any chance pattering on the roof. "it doesn't rain a single drop," declared joel, rolling over on his side again, and carrying most of the bedclothes with him. "but it may, joel," said little davie, fearfully. "no, it isn't going to," said joel, confidently. "mamsie said we were to be good boys," said david, after a pause, in which joel was lost in the wildest imaginings of sometime driving mr. tisbett's black horses. "don't you know she did, joey?" twitching his arm. "well, i'm going to be good. i'm always good," said joel, jerking away his arm. "oh, joel," cried little davie, involuntarily. "well, i'm going to be good to-morrow, anyway," declared joel. "you'll see, dave; as good as pie." "because mamsie said she'd trust us," continued david, "and we'd make trouble for mr. tisbett unless we minded him." joel didn't reply, trying to decide whether he should hold the reins both together in one hand or use two, mr. tisbett observing both methods. "i guess i'll hold 'em in two hands," he said at last, "'cause most likely he won't let me take the whip at the same time. ain't i glad i haven't cut the right one any more!" he held it up and squinted at it as well as he could for the darkness. there wasn't even a scar to be seen, thanks to mother pepper's good care. "boys--boys, go to sleep," called polly's voice over the stairs. "they're so excited," she said, going back to her mother, "about tomorrow. mamsie, isn't it good that they're going?" she cried, with shining eyes. mrs. pepper looked at her keenly. "yes, 'tis, polly," she answered simply. what a time they had getting the boys ready for their unwonted journey! joel rebelled at the thorough scrubbing that polly insisted on before he was inducted into his clean clothes. "we wash all the time. mamsie makes us," he grumbled. "ow, polly, you're rubbing my ear off." "that's only every day," said polly, who dearly loved to fix up with extra preparations on important occasions. "and this--why, joel pepper, you've never been away on a journey before. just think, you're going on a stage-coach clear over to strawberry hill!" "i know it," said joel, trying to appear as if it were an everyday affair, while little david turned pale with excitement. "well, now then, i believe you're nice and clean," said polly, standing off and viewing joel, red and shiny from her efforts. "all except this other ear must be washed a little bit more." "oh, polly," cried joel, viewing her soapy cloth in alarm, "you've done it enough. mamsie," he howled, "polly's a-washing me just dreadful." but mother pepper did not seem to hear, so polly finished, and then began on joel's hair. this was so much worse an undertaking, that the whole household were very glad indeed when it was over. "i hope no one will ask you again to go anywhere, joel," said ben. "goodness me, polly, i sh'd think you'd be all tired out getting him ready!" "well, he's done now," said polly, pushing back the damp rings of hair from her own brow, while she pulled joel's jacket straight with the other hand. "now, joe, if you go and sit down and don't move, you'll be all nice when mr. tisbett comes; and i'll take davie." to little david the whole task of washing and combing his hair, and arranging him in his neatly mended best clothes, was one long, tremulous delight. he wouldn't have had it omitted for the world. at last he was patted and brushed, and pronounced "just perfect," polly sealing her approval by a kiss that she meant for his forehead, but it fell on the tip of his nose instead. "you didn't kiss me," said joel, in an injured voice. "well, you didn't stand still long enough," retorted ben, answering for polly. "goodness me, joel, i'd as soon dress an eel as you!" "g'lang there! _whoa!_" and the stagecoach rattled up in fine shape. "mr. tisbett's come! mr. tisbett's come!" roared joel, as if everybody couldn't see and hear the stage-driver's hearty tones, to say nothing about the stamping of the horses and the rumble of the wheels. and darting out, he flew over the grass. "let me sit up there with you, mr. tisbett," he screamed, trying to get up on the wheel. "sho, there! so you may. give us your hand, joe, my boy," said mr. tisbett, brimming over with good humor, and a warm feeling at heart at making the peppers so happy, and he put out his brawny hand, gave a jerk, and in a minute there was joel smiling and shouting and waving his hat to david and the others escorting him down to the roadside. "remember what i told you, joel," said mother pepper, fixing her black eyes on him. "yes'm," said joel, nodding his head, "i'll remember, mammy. i'm going to sit next to mr. tisbett," he cried, seeing the preparations to lift davie up to a seat on the box. "joel," warned his mother. "i'm a-goin' to have you up top here, along of me," said mr. tisbett, "so's i can look out for you. and i'm a-goin' to tell where you'll set, too, joel. now, you just hist over there, and let davie in betweenst us; he's littler. there you be," as joel promptly obeyed and took the outside seat. "good-by, mammy," shrilled little david, stretching forward to look past mr. tisbett's burly figure, and longing for another kiss. "good-by, davie." "good-by. good-by, joel." "crack-snap!" went mr. tisbett's whip. off pranced the two black horses, and round went the wheels. he never made such a fine start in his life, mr. tisbett decided, when suddenly, "stop! oh, stop!" screamed joel, and the stage-driver, looking around at him, saw his face convulsed with the effort not to cry, as he yelled again, flinging out his hands frantically, "stop!" [illustration: "'crack-snap!' went mr. tisbett's whip"] "whoa!" cried mr. tisbett to the prancing black horses, so suddenly they nearly sat back on their haunches. "what's the matter of ye, for the land's sakes o' goshen?" "i want to get down," cried joel, with a frantic lunge. "let me get down!" "hold on there, or you'll break your neck," roared mr. tisbett. "what you want to get down for?" and he scratched his head, his habit when in perplexity. "i want to kiss my mamsie," stammered joel, and now the tears began to come. "sho!" cried mr. tisbett, "so you shall. there. now then!" joel, in some way, was lifted up and swung clear of the wheel, when he set out for a run to the little brown house. mrs. pepper and polly and ben were standing still in the front yard and watching them, while phronsie was making cheeses, holding out her little pink calico frock to sink slowly in a puff on the grass. "good-by, mamsie," cried joel, flinging his arms around her neck, "i'll be good, i truly will." "i know you will, joel," said mrs. pepper, drawing him close to her, while she kissed and fondled him to his heart's content. then he rushed back again. mr. tisbett leaned down and gave him his brawny hand once more, and up he flew. "crack! snap!" went the whip--off pranced the horses--round went the wheels--and away they all went! joel hung to the railing of the seat against which he leaned, with a blissful feeling that he was rushing through the air, and he saw nothing but those black horses below him. as for little davie, he didn't dare to breathe, but peered out from his place between mr. tisbett's long, square figure and joel, seeing nothing, only conscious that everything was perfectly beautiful. mr. tisbett slackened up after about a mile of this sort of driving. he always liked to give a good impression in going through the town. folks invariably rushed to the windows, and said, "the stage is going by," and they never seemed to be tired of such amusement. so mr. tisbett always gratified them to the fullest extent. to-day, as he hadn't many passengers till he came to the four corners, he let the horses go at their utmost speed, occasionally glancing at the rapt faces of the pepper boys, when he would roll his quid from one cheek to the other, and smile in great satisfaction. "easy there, now," he said to the black horses, holding them up a bit. "well now, that's something like, eh, joel?" and he leaned over to see joel's face. joel was slow in finding his tongue. at last he answered, "yes, sir," but continued to stare at the horses. "i guess this ere boy likes it, if you don't," exclaimed mr. tisbett, somewhat disappointed at joel's lack of appreciation, and peering down at davie. "eh, david?" "i think it's just like heaven," said little david, with a long-drawn sigh of bliss. "that's a fact," cried mr. tisbett, well pleased. "and so you liked it?" "i loved it, mr. tisbett," declared david, solemnly. "and you've said it about right," declared mr. tisbett, the smile dropping away from his jolly face, but the satisfaction remaining. "and i love them two horses's if they was folks. fact!" and mr. tisbett slapped the toe of his big boot with his whip. "now jerry's a trifle the smartest, and--" "no! no!" howled joe, in protest, and leaning clear over david so abruptly that the stage-driver started and involuntarily pulled up his horses smartly. "i like bill the best." "hey--sho, now!" exclaimed mr. tisbett, relaxing his tight grip on the reins. "you've waked up, have ye? well, you set back and hang on to that there railing, or you'll break your neck. then what would your ma say to me? and i shouldn't never take you again." "mr. tisbett," said little davie, deliberately, "i like jerry the best, too. i do." "no, you don't," screamed joel, with a nudge in davie's side, "bill's the best. say so, dave." "i can't," said little david, quite decidedly, "'cause i think just as mr. tisbett does." "they're both good; good as gold," mr. tisbett here made haste to say. "an' sometimes i think one's better'n t'other, an' then again i don't know. so, boys, the only way to fix it up straight is to like 'em both best. well, we're comin' to my first passenger," and the stage-driver chirked up the horses. "now step lively there." and presently the turn of the road brought them to a white house with green blinds and a big piazza across one end. there was a tall woman walking up and down in front of the house, and by the roadside a great collection of boxes, and a huge carpet bag, two baskets, and a bird-cage. "beats all how women act," exclaimed mr. tisbett, in vexation. "why can't she set in th' house and wait for me? i ain't never been late. now i s'pose she'll take my head off." david glanced up in terror at mr. tisbett's shaggy head under the big straw hat, and then at the tall woman who was to take it off. "joel," he whispered, "we mustn't let her." but joel had no ears for anything that davie might say, but was occupied in seeing the stage-driver flourish up to meet the passenger. "good mornin', miss beaseley," said mr. tisbett, in his pleasantest way, springing over the wheel the moment the horses stopped. "i've been a-waitin' here," said mrs. beaseley, tartly, "the longest time. i thought you never'd come." "'twould 'a' been a sight easier to 'a' waited in th' house," observed mr. tisbett, composedly, proceeding to pack the array of boxes and bags in the coach, "bein's i warn't schedooled to reach here till quarter past seven. and it's just three minutes to that time now, marm." he stopped to pull out an immense silver watch, the only thing that could draw joel's attention from the black horses. now he stared at it until it disappeared again in mr. tisbett's waistcoat pocket. "well, you needn't waste the time now," said mrs. beaseley, in asperity. "i'm sure there's little enough left. put that carpet bag in careful, mr. tisbett; it's got some cups and sassers in i'm a-takin' to my daughter in strawberry hill." "all right, marm," said mr. tisbett, setting the carpet bag, that seemed in danger of bursting, so full was it packed, on one of the seats. "i hain't never broke any o' my passengers' belongings yet, and i'm too old to begin to-day." to which mrs. beaseley deigned no reply, only to say, "you put 'em all in, and i'll get in last." so mr. tisbett put in the bandbox and a smaller box, and one two or three sizes larger, and the rest of the bags and the two baskets, and a bundle. then he picked up the birdcage. "you let that be!" screamed mrs. beaseley. "i'm a-goin' to take that in my hand; you'll scare that bird to death." "you get in and set down, and i'll hand it in to you," said mr. tisbett. "i ain't a-goin' to scare your bird. i've seen 'em before, and handled 'em, too, for that matter." "i shan't set foot in that stage till all my things is in, and packed to suit me," declared mrs. beaseley, positively. "you gimme the bird;" with that she seized the bird-cage, and holding it well before her, she stepped up the first step. the next minute she was precipitated on the floor of the stage, with the birdcage under her. when she was helped up, and the bird-cage was set on the seat opposite, mr. tisbett slammed to the stage door quickly, and hopped nimbly to the box, leaving her straightening her bonnet. all the while she was giving vent to a torrent of abuse because the stage-coach steps were too high, the bird screaming and fluttering wildly in fright. "didn't i tell you she'd take my head off?" said mr. tisbett, with a sly wink at the boys, and a little chuckle as he resumed the reins and they started off. little david drew a long breath of relief, and gazed again at the shaggy head under the old straw hat. "it isn't off, mr. tisbett," he said, "and i'm so glad." "hey?" exclaimed mr. tisbett, staring at him. "what's the boy mean? oh,--my soul an'--body!" and he slapped his thigh with his brawny hand, and burst out into a hearty laugh that seemed to echo on every side, as the stage-coach spun along. "i sh'd think you'd laugh," exclaimed mrs. beaseley, in withering scorn, inside the vehicle, "when i've smashed my best bonnet, and shook that bird to death--like enough he'll die--and tromped all up the front breadth to my dress." but as there was no one to hear her, and mr. tisbett still laughed on, seeming unable to stop himself, the stage-coach contributed a very merry spectacle to those privileged to see it, as they bowled along to the next passenger for strawberry hill. "so you thought she'd really took my head off, did ye?" asked mr. tisbett at last, and mopping his face with his bandanna. "o dear me! hee-hee-hee!" "you said she was going to, mr. tisbett," said little david, gravely. "so i did. i see i must be careful what i say, after this. well, david, she'd like to 'a' took my head off, an' would, if she'd had her way." "o dear!" exclaimed little david, greatly shocked. "but she hain't, yer see," finished mr. tisbett, cheerfully, "it's on, an' set stiddy. sho, now, easy there, bill and jerry! we must stop for mr. filbert." the next passenger was a thin, wiry little man, who seemed to beg pardon constantly for being in somebody's way. and after mr. tisbett had slung his hair trunk on the rack, mr. filbert stepped gently into the stage-coach. "excuse me, marm," he said to the woman. "did i step on your toes?" "you hain't hurt me none," said mrs. beaseley, "and you hain't teched my toes. goodness me, after the treatment i've had, an' th' sass i've took, i guess i won't complain." the little wiry man sank into the furthest corner and pulled out from his pocket a newspaper, which he tried to read. but mrs. beaseley, beginning on the statement of what she had suffered waiting for mr. tisbett, and every minute since the journey was begun, mr. filbert never got more than ten lines down the first page. at last, after picking up a little girl, and a boy who spent his time in thrusting out his head from the swinging vehicle to stare enviously up at joel, the stage-coach rattled in fine fashion, bringing everybody to the doors and windows, into strawberry hill, and pulled up at the tavern. here all the passengers got down; mrs. beaseley insisting that she ought to pay but half price, considering all things, and with very black looks, when mr. tisbett coolly waited till every cent was in his palm. the little thin man skipped nimbly out of the coach, and, with a backward alarmed look at her, hurried to get into a wagon waiting a little distance off, in which mr. tisbett deposited the hair trunk. "say, how'd you get up there?" asked the boy, tumbling out of the coach to stare up at joel. the small girl, who was going to spend sunday at her grandmother's, got out with dignity, carrying her best clothes in a bundle. she stopped a minute to hear what joel said. "i stepped up," said joel; "how'd you s'pose?" "how'd he let you?" persisted the boy, pointing with a dingy thumb to the stage-driver. "he never let me." '"cause he did," said joel, curtly, "that's the reason." "oh!" said the boy, and mr. tisbett coming back, he moved off. but he still continued to watch. "now, says i, we'll hop down," cried mr. tisbett, which joel proceeded to do in a trice, glad enough to stretch his legs. "here, david, give us your hand." and the stage-driver soon had little david on the ground. "now, bill and jerry, it's your turn." and very soon mr. tisbett was busy in unbuckling straps and tackling, to release the big horses, joel in a wild delight getting dreadfully in the way, and being, as he thought, an immense help. little david stood off and watched the proceeding, longing to help too, but too timid to say so. the other boy rushed up. "oh, let me help!" he cried, thrusting a tousled head in between the two busy with the harness. the stage-driver shot him a keen look. "it will be time enough for you to help in this ere job, jim," he said, "when i ask you." so jim slunk off, to stare at a distance again. and at last the horses were led off to the big barn to get their dinner of oats and hay, and then mr. tisbett drew joel and david away. but this was a hard task, for joel hung over bill and jerry in delight, watching every mouthful. "can't i climb up on his back and sit there while he eats?" he begged, pointing at bill, while even little david much preferred the old barn with its sweet odor, and the big haymows, to any other place. "no, you can't," said mr. tisbett, answering joel. "and you ain't a-goin' to be in this barn. i can't leave you here alone. your ma wouldn't like it. and besides, you've got to have somethin' to eat. i always get my dinner here. so come along; you're my company to-day, an' i told mrs. pepper not to put you up anything to eat." strangely enough, at the mention of dinner, joel still clung to the hope of remaining with the horses. seeing which, the stage-driver wasted no more words, but picked an end of his jacket in his fingers and bore him off. once within the cosey little dining room, with the green paper shades flapping in the summer breeze, and seated at the table with the tavern-keeper's wife bustling around to lay on the hot dishes, joel thought differently, and had a hard time to keep his tongue still. little davie watched everything silently, with wide-open blue eyes. "i'm goin' to hev ham an' eggs," said mr. tisbett. "fried on both sides, mrs. green, an' plenty of 'em." "all right," said the tavern-keeper's wife, with a smile for the jolly stage-driver who always made it pleasant for them all when he took his dinner there once a week. "now, what's these boys goin' to have?" "as good a dinner as you've got in the house, mrs. green," said mr. tisbett, heartily; "these are the little pepperses, and they live over to badgertown, marm." he said this with an air much as he might have announced, "this is the lord mayor of london," if he had been called upon to introduce that functionary. "oh!" exclaimed mrs. green, much impressed, "i'll do my best. well now, i've got boiled dinner an' a raspb'ry shortcake. do you think they'd like that?" she appealed to the stage-driver. "yes sir-_ree_!" cried joel, smacking his lips; "we don't have anything but potatoes and salt for our dinner. oh, david!" he seized little davie's arm tightly, "raspberry shortcake, she said; that's what polly was telling about she hoped we could have sometime." xvii the fight at strawberry hill "now, then," exclaimed mr. tisbett, when dinner was over, and the little peppers declared they couldn't eat any more, "i'm a-goin' to set out on th' porch a minute or two. i allers let bill an' jerry rest a full hour," pulling out the big silver watch again. "when i'm a man," cried joel, leaning back in his chair, wishing he could eat some more raspberry shortcake, "i'm goin' to have a watch just like yours, mr. tisbett." "i thought you were going to have horses just like bill an' jerry," said mr. tisbett, in surprise. "oh, i am!" cried joel, in alarm at being misunderstood; "exactly like bill and jerry." "you ain't goin' to have horses an' a watch!" cried the stage-driver, keeping very sober. "you must choose between the two." "then i'll take the horses," decided joel, quickly. "you've got two, mr. tisbett," observed david, quietly. "eh? oh, so i have!" cried mr. tisbett. "well, p'r'aps we'll let joe have 'em both, then; that is, if he's a good boy. well, can't either on you eat any more? what a pity, an' mrs. green has such good things." the tavern-keeper's wife cried out that some way her raspb'ry shortcake wasn't quite so light as what she had day before yest'day. "la, mr. tisbett!" she exclaimed, smoothing her apron delightedly, "if you'd only happened along then, 'twould 'a' melted in your mouth." "this suits me to a t," said mr. tisbett. "now, joel, if you and david will play round here real pretty, an' be good boys, i'll set on th' porch an' pass th' time o' day with the folks." the little peppers promising they would be as good as could be, mr. tisbett slouched off to the big arm-chair, where he always took his accustomed rest at strawberry hill while the horses were put up in the barn. joel ran back to tell mrs. green, "i like you,--i do; you make awful nice things," and david echoed the same, as they both scampered out of the house. "i declare, they're as pretty-behaved children's i ever see," confided the tavern-keeper's wife to the rest of the family who were at home, the tavern-keeper himself being away for the day. "poor things, although they were so hungry, an' they don't get much to eat at home, they didn't grab an' pick at things." and she made up her mind to put up a little bundle of her sugar cookies for them to eat on the way back. "i wish we could have taken some of the raspberry shortcake home to polly," mourned davie, speaking out what had been running in his mind all through the dinner. "she's never tasted any." "well, we couldn't," said joel, with a qualm of conscience because he hadn't thought of it before; "mamsie's told us it isn't nice to speak of taking things home. hurry up, dave," as they raced on. "i know it," said little davie. but he sighed, nevertheless. "now where'll we go?" asked joel, leaning breathless against the big maple on the edge of the back dooryard. "mr. tisbett said we were to play round here," said little davie. "of course," assented joel, in a superior way "well, let's peek in th' barn the first thing." "oh, joe, we mustn't go in!" exclaimed little david, holding him back. "mr. tisbett said we weren't to be in the barn." "i know it," said joel, twitching away. "i said peek, dave. mr. tisbett didn't say not to do that." so both boys got as far as they could on the threshold of the big sweet-smelling barn, without stepping over the sill, and craned their necks to get a sight of the two black horses. "i can't see 'em! o dear me!" cried joel, grumpily. "i wish there was a window we could climb up to." "we can hear 'em eating," said little david, taking great satisfaction in that. "hoh--what's that! i want to see 'em," joel ran on discontentedly. "o dear me! mr. tisbett wouldn't care if we just stepped in up to that post." "yes, he would," cried davie, in alarm lest joel should really step over. "let me alone," cried joel, crossly. "o dear me! i can't see a bit of 'em." and in a minute, without stopping to think, he hopped over the door-sill and jumped into the barn. little david stood still in terror. "come here, dave," called joel, in glee, being careful not to go beyond the big post, "you can see 'em just as good's can be. bill's got his mouth full of hay, an' he's bobbing his head, and the wisps are tickling jerry, an' he don't like it," and joel laughed heartily. suddenly somebody slapped david on the back, precipitating him over the sill, and "jim" ran in past him. "helloa. what are you doin'?" he asked joel. joel looked at him, but didn't answer. "i live here," said jim, "over in strawberry hill. an' mrs. green's my a'nt; and i've just come home from my grandmother's." joel said nothing as to this family history, but continued to gaze at the horses. david picked himself up from the barn floor, and hurrying out over the sill, began to dust his clothes, glad that joel had not seen him tumble in. "i knocked him over," snickered jim. "hee-hee! cry-baby!" and he pointed to little david, whose face was quite red as he tried to brush his best clothes clean again. "i'm not crying," said davie, indignantly, and raising his hot face. "you knocked him over!" cried joel, boiling with wrath, and, deserting the big post, he squared off toward the strawberry hill boy, and doubled up his little brown fists. "then you've got to fight me." "all right," said jim, glad he was so much bigger. "i know a place down in th' cow-pasture where i can lick you's easy's not." "you ain't a-goin' to lick me," cried joel, sturdily, "i'm goin' to lick you," while little david, sick with terror, screamed out that he wasn't hurt; that he didn't care if jim did push him over, and for joel to come back--come back! but joel and jim were already halfway to the cow-pasture, and davie, wild with fright, stumbled over across the barnyard, and off to the house to find mr. tisbett. "he's just gone into th' house," said one of the farmers who always took this hour, on the occasion of the stage-driver's weekly visit, to come to the tavern porch and get the news. "he'll be out in a minute or two. sit down, sonny; you're dreadful hot." but david wrung his hands, and rushed into the tavern. the dining room was dark and cool, all the dinner things being carried out, except the pickle dish and the sugar bowl; and the crumbs swept off from the table, and the green blinds pulled to. he could hear the rattle of the dish-washing and the clearing-up generally out in the kitchen, and he plunged in. "where--where's mr. tisbett?" he cried, his breath most gone, from fright, and his little face aflame. "goodness me, how you scart me!" exclaimed the tavern-keeper's wife, who, with another woman, was flying around to get the work done up. "oh, it's one of the pepper boys. what's the matter, dear?" with a glance at david's hot face. "what you ben a-runnin' so for?" "joel." it was all david could say, as he pointed off where he thought the cow-pasture was. "somethin's happened to that other boy. didn't you say his name was--joel?" said the other woman, fastening very small but sharp eyes on david. "mercy me! you don't think it!" exclaimed the tavern-keeper's wife, her ruddy face taking a scared expression. "dear me! i must call mr. tisbett. mr. tisbett!" she screamed, running, if the speed she now exercised could be called by that name, for it was more like waddling, out to the porch. "he isn't there," gasped david, following her. "oh, dear mrs. green, please hurry and find him," he implored. "i don't know no more'n the dead where he is, child," said mrs. green, turning a perplexed face to david, after the old farmer had said the same thing over again. "mr. tisbett's got the run o' the place, an' likely as not, he's stepped to one o' the neighbors," pointing to a small cluster of houses a quarter of a mile away. little david groaned and clasped his small hands in distress. "then nothing can stop their fighting?" he exclaimed in despair. "fighting? who's fighting?" demanded mrs. green, sharply. "joel and jim," said david, glad to think he'd remembered what mr. tisbett called the boy, yet sorry, as it flashed over him, that the tavern-keeper's wife was his "a'nt." "he pushed me down," and his face turned more scarlet yet. but it was necessary to tell the dreadful thing, else mrs. green would think joel was to blame in beginning the fight. but the tavern-keeper's wife had her own reasons for believing differently. and without wasting her breath on words, except to ask david, "where?" she flung her dish-towel, which she had been carrying in her hand, across her arm, and picking up her skirts, she made remarkably good time across the barnyard by a shorter cut, which she was familiar with, to the cow-pasture. jim saw her coming first, and much as he disliked on ordinary occasions to see his "a'nt," he now hailed her approach with secret delight, for the badgertown boy was giving him all he could do to protect himself. so he now shouted out, "my a'nt's comin'. stop!" "i don't care," cried joel, pommelling away. so jim struck back as well as he could, longing to hear mrs. green scream out, "stop!" which she did as soon as she had breath enough, and shaking her dish-towel at them. "you wait there, jim," she commanded, on top of her call, as she came panting on; and jim, looking all ways for escape, saw there was no use in attempting it. when she did reach him, she seized him and shook him till his head seemed to wobble on his shoulders. then, with a resounding box on the ear, that seemed like a clap of thunder, she paused to take breath. "oh," begged little david, "don't hurt him, dear mrs. green." "why did you stop us?" glowered joel, wrathfully, turning his bloody little nose up in scorn. "i could 'a' done that to him's easy as not, if you'd let me." mrs. green stamped her ample shoe on the ground. "you start for home," she said to jim, "an' tell your pa if he lets you show your face over here for a long spell, he'll settle with me." jim took one dive across the cow-pasture, scaled the fence, and disappeared. "now you come along of me," said mrs. green. "goodness land alive! i'm all shook to pieces," and she started for the tavern. "i'll wash your face," to joel; "then i guess you ain't hurt much," yet she regarded him anxiously. "i ain't hurt a bit," declared joel, stoutly, and wiping off the blood with the back of one chubby hand. "and i could 'a' licked him's easy as nothin'," he added regretfully. "i wish i'd let you, before i took him in tow," said the tavern-keeper's wife, hastily, getting over the ground as well as she could. "mamsie wouldn't have liked it," cried little davie, running on unsteady feet by joel's side, and looking at him sadly. "oh, no, she wouldn't, dear mrs. green." "i don't s'pose she would now," said mrs. green. "well, jim's a bad boy, if i am his a'nt. like enough he'll git a trouncing from his father," she added cheerfully, as some compensation. "what is a trouncing?" asked joel, suddenly, as they hurried on. "the land alive, don't know what a trouncing is!" ejaculated the tavern-keeper's wife. "it's a whipping, and jim's father knows how to give it good, i tell you." joel stood still. little david stared in horror in mrs. green's face. "i don't want him to be whipped," said joel, slowly. it was one thing to fight it out with fists in the cow-pasture, but quite another to go home to be whipped by a father. "oh, yes, he will," repeated mrs. green, in her cheeriest way, and shaking her head at him. "you needn't fear, joel, he'll catch it when he gets home." "but i don't want him to," declared joel, loudly, not moving. "he mustn't! stop his father from whipping him! he shan't." and before mrs. green could recover from her astonishment, he plunged her deeper yet, by bursting into tears. she gazed from him to david, still shaking her head helplessly. "well, if i ever!" she exclaimed, when she came out of it. "and i shall just run and tell his father not to," blubbered joel, realizing if jim was to be saved from that awful whipping, he must be the one to do it. "where does he live?" he cried, emerging from his tears at the chance of action. "over there," answered the tavern-keeper's wife. "well, if i ever!" pointing to a yellow house. she kept ejaculating this over and over, as she pursued her way to the house, thoughtfully swinging her dish-towel. joel, with david at his heels, ran off across the cow-pasture, tumbled over the fence, and followed the direction that jim had taken and that mrs. green had pointed, leading to the dingy yellow house. long before they reached it, they could hear squeals that were not pleasant to hear, and that made them quicken their pace, to run around the house-place, and plunge almost into the face of an untidy woman who hurried to the door. "what d'ye want?" she demanded, as the two boys stopped panting before her. "jim," gasped joel. "and his father," added little david, breathlessly "they're both out there," said the woman, pointing with the hand holding the dish-towel, to the dilapidated woodshed. "he's gittin' a lickin', and pa's a-givin' it." the squeals were now so much worse that joel gave a plunge that carried him to the woodshed door, and little david, his heart in his mouth at thought of jim's father, followed as best he could. joel dashed in. "oh, do stop!" he screamed. jim's father turned; he had a big stick in his hand. when little david saw it he shuddered and sat down helplessly on the woodshed floor, in among all the clutter and dirt. jim, with his knuckles twisted into his streaming eyes, whirled around from under the big hand grasping his collar. when he saw joel, he screamed worse than ever. "don't let him kill me, pa," he roared, huddling up to him. joel sprang up to a tall, big-shouldered man with a bearded face. "oh, sir," he cried, "please don't whip jim any more--p'r'aps he didn't mean to push david over, i don't b'lieve. don't whip him." he put out his little brown hand, and boldly seized the stick. "hey?" roared the big man. "well, i'm beat all to smithereens," and his hand holding the stick dropped to his side. jim stopped from sheer amazement, the roar dying in his throat. "if you'll only let him go," said joel, "i'd be much obliged, sir," remembering how mamsie said he should be polite when asking a favor. the big man grinned all over his bearded face. "i don't see but what i've got to, you ask me so pretty," he said, showing nearly every tooth in his head. "well, jim, you're let off for this time. i hadn't only just begun," he added to joel, as he hung up the stick on a beam. jim bounded off, climbed a tree, and watched to see the boys go away. [illustration: "oh sir,' he cried, 'please don't whip jim any more'"] "what's your name?" asked his father, as joel helped david to his feet, and they started off. "joel pepper," he answered, "and this is my brother david. say how do you do, dave," he whispered, pulling his sleeve. but little davie was too far gone in distress to speak, only to smile faintly. "and we live over in badgertown in a little brown house," continued joel, feeling that he ought to make up for david's silence. "oh!" said jim's father. "and we must go now," said joel, keeping hold of david's jacket, "'cause you see mr. tisbett may be wanting us"--very desirous of getting away. "did ye come with mr. tisbett?" asked the big man. "yes, we did," said joel. "come on, dave. we must go, sir. good-by." and pulling david along, he ran at a smart pace off toward the tavern. mr. tisbett was standing on the porch, just starting for them, when the two boys ran up. and in front of him was the tavern-keeper's wife, telling the whole story as far as she knew it, the old farmer hitching forward his chair to catch every word. when the stage-driver saw them, he hemmed loudly, and made a sign for mrs. green to stop. "well, now, i s'pose," he drawled, "it's about time to hitch up them horses. want to come and help, joe and david?" joel gave a skip of delight and released davie's jacket. "oh, whickety--yes!" he cried. little david did not answer, but smiled his pleasure, and the tavern-keeper's wife went into the house to get her bundle of cookies ready. but just as they got to the barn joel hung back suddenly. "i ain't goin' in," he said. mr. tisbett didn't hear him, but marched on. little david stopped in perplexity. "no, i can't," said joel, growing very sober, "'cause i was naughty and went in. mr. tisbett doesn't know it. o dear me!" "you can tell him," suggested david, thoughtfully. "o dear, dear!" exclaimed joel, just ready to cry, as he could hear mr. tisbett lift down the harness, and call out, "stand still, there, bill--good jerry." "why, boys!" exclaimed the stage-driver suddenly, coming to the door, the harness in his hand. "what on earth's the matter? i thought ye was jest crazy to come in, joel," he added reproachfully. then joel burst right out. "i've been naughty--and went in." and he flung himself across the threshold, shaking with disappointment at losing the best chance of the whole day. mr. tisbett looked at davie for explanation. so david, telling it as well as he could, got through with the story finally. "i can't say that ye warn't naughty, joel," said the stage-driver, slowly, "'cause ye were. but i'm a-goin' to let ye in, and besides, i need ye to help me with them horses," and mr. tisbett began to look very worried at once. joel sat very straight. "oh, i'll help you, mr. tisbett," he cried joyfully. and in a minute they were all three in the big stall, and joel was in the very midst of things, and even david forgot his fright enough to lend a helping hand, and to feel his importance, and presently the big black horses were led out of the barn, and harnessed into the stage-coach. "now, hop up!" cried mr. tisbett, when he had gone carefully around and around the big coach, to see that every strap and buckle was in place, and had got down on his knees to be quite sure the springs were all right. then he gave david a lift up to the box, joel clambering up on the other side. "we'll drive up to th' door," he said, "an' get th' passenger," for there was one woman going over to badgertown. "oh, let me drive!" begged joel; "just up to the door, mr. tisbett," he implored. "we don't want to be upset under folks' noses," said mr. tisbett. "land! i'd rather 'twould happen where there warn't no one to see, if 'twas going to." "i wouldn't upset it for anything," promised joel. "please, mr. tisbett." but mr. tisbett sat down and gathered up the reins and drove round with such a flourish that it never had been surpassed, it seemed to the people on the tavern porch. and the one woman got in with her basket, and the tavern-keeper's wife ran down the steps and stood on her tiptoes and handed up to joel the bundle of cookies, begging them to come again. and the old farmer said "good day," and the woman with little sharp eyes, who had been washing the dishes, hurried out, pulling down her sleeves, to see them off. and away they rattled, with faces turned toward home and mamsie. they had proceeded about a quarter of a mile, when mr. tisbett suddenly asked, "want to drive, joel? come along over here," and he reached past david and took his hand. "now, then, i'm goin' to set in the middle a little spell," and before joel could recover from his astonishment, he found the old leather reins in his brown hands. he was driving mr. tisbett's black horses! xviii in the little brown house the delights of that day at strawberry hill never died out of remembrance, as joel and david went over it constantly, so that the whole pepper family soon felt that they had been of the company in the stage-coach along with mr. tisbett. only when once the story was told of the trouble with jim, as it was by david, mrs. pepper decided that that should never be referred to again. but her black eyes glowed when little david proudly related how joel had stopped the beating that jim's father was giving him, although the account was much delayed, davie was in such a tremble. but the dinner! the two boys couldn't tell enough times to suit themselves or their audience, about that wonderful meal. "how did it taste?" asked polly, as joel finished the description of mrs. green's raspberry shortcake, and smacked his lips over it. "just like all the best things you ever tasted in your life, polly pepper," he answered. "and the juice ran out all over it, and there was sugar on top." "oh, joel," cried polly, incredulously, "not sugar on top, and inside too!" and she paused to think how such a fine shortcake could taste. "yes, there was," said joel; "lots and lots of sugar, polly pepper, was all sprinkled on top. wasn't it, dave?" "yes," said little davie, and his mouth watered as he thought of it. "and sugar inside--was it sweet?" persisted polly, still standing quite still. "as sweet as anything," declared joel, positively, and bobbing his stubby black head. "you can't think what a shortcake that was, polly, if you try ever so hard." "mamsie," cried polly, suddenly, "do you suppose we'll ever have one? do you?" "maybe," said mrs. pepper, not looking into the brown eyes, but keeping her own bent on her work; "but i wouldn't think of it, polly, if i were you. things don't happen if you sit down and fold your hands and watch for 'em." "well, i don't b'lieve it will ever happen that we do get a shortcake, any more than we had a chicken pie," said polly, turning away with a sigh. "why, you had your chicken pie, polly," cried joel, "only 'twas a goose." "old gray goose!" said polly, scornfully. "it was trimmed with a posy, though, and that was nice, wasn't it, mammy?" brightening up. "yes, indeed," cried mrs. pepper, cheerily; "and you baked it so good, polly." "so it was baked good," said polly, all her good humor returning. "and it did not make so much matter, did it, mamsie, that he was tough?" "no, indeed," said mrs. pepper, laughing; "he lasted all the longer, you know, polly." "mean old gray goose!" exclaimed joel, at the remembrance; "he most broke my teeth, trying to eat him." "do you remember, joe, how you teased for the drumstick?" laughed polly. "you soon put it down on your plate, didn't you?" "yes," said joel, bobbing his head, "i remember, polly. i couldn't bite a single thing off. mean old goose!" "he looked nice," said little davie, thoughtfully, "he was so brown, and there were polly's flowers on top of him." "yes," said polly, "those were nice, children. well, p'r'aps we'll get a really and truly chicken pie sometime. and if the old stove would behave, and not have these dreadful holes coming all the time, where the putty tumbles out, it would be perfectly splendid. now," cried polly, running up to the stove, and shaking her brown head at it, "you've got to do your very best. if you don't, i'm sure i shall just give up!" "will you cry, polly?" asked phronsie, creeping up behind her. "yes, maybe," said polly, recklessly. "yes, i really think i shall have to cry, phronsie, if that old stove lets the putty ben put in last week tumble out again." "then it mustn't, polly," said phronsie, very decidedly, "let the--what is it ben put in?" "the putty, child," said polly. "it mustn't let the putty tumble out," said phronsie. then she ran up to the stove, and laid her little face up against its cold, black surface, for on summer afternoons there was never any fire in it. "you mustn't be naughty, old stove," she said, "for then polly will cry." "oh, phronsie!" cried polly, "you've smutted your face, and blacked up your nice clean dress," and she pulled her back in dismay. "o dear!" whimpered phronsie, in distress, as she looked down at the long black streak across her pink calico gown. "i didn't mean to, polly; truly, i didn't." "never mind," said mrs. pepper, looking across the kitchen; "mother'll wash it out for you by and by. put on another one, polly." "let me wash it, mammy," begged polly, carrying phronsie off to wash her face and get her into another gown. "no, you'll only spread it more, for you don't know how, polly," answered mother pepper. so polly, feeling as if there were a great many things she must grow up and learn, hurried off with phronsie into the bedroom. and then it was that joel suddenly thought of the circus he meant to have whenever the time came ready. "come on out to the woodpile, dave," he said, "and let's talk it over." it was a good two hours after when joel and david clambered down from the woodpile, and ran into the house. "joel," said mother pepper, "you forgot to fill up the wood box; see, it's nearly empty." "it's always empty," joel began, his head nearly bursting with big plans for his circus. "joel," said mrs. pepper, sternly, "don't let me ever hear you fret at your work again. go straight out and bring in the kindlings." "and i'm going to help, too," cried david, skipping after. so it wasn't very long before the two boys had brought in two good basketsful of kindlings, which just filled the wood box behind the stove. "i'm glad it's done," remarked joel, with great satisfaction, knocking off the little splinters sticking to his fingers. "people always are glad when their work is finished," said mrs. pepper, breaking off a fresh needleful of thread. "shall you be glad, mamsie?" suddenly asked joel, who never could get over the idea that it was a perfect delight to his mother to sit and sew. "of course she will," cried polly, unguardedly. "mamsie's tired to death sewing and working all the time." little david's face grew very long, and he turned away, hoping no one would see him cry. joel burst into a loud fit of sobbing. "i think--it's--too--too bad," he blubbered, covering his face with his arm, "that mamsie has--has--to sew and work--all the time." "now you see, polly," said mrs. pepper, putting aside her work and drawing joel on her lap, "what mischief a few words can do. there, there, joel, don't cry," and she patted his black hair. "mother's glad to work for her children, and she gets rested when they're good." but joel sobbed on, and she had to repeat it many times before he would wipe his tears, and be comforted. little davie drew near silently, to hear what she said. phronsie, in the bedroom, saw joel in mamsie's lap, and davie hanging over her chair, and she pattered across the kitchen floor. "take me, too, do mamsie," holding out her arms. "so mamsie will," cried mrs. pepper, heartily, and drawing her up to sit next to joel, on her lap. when little davie saw that, "i wish there was room," he said softly, "to hold me, too, mamsie." "well, there is," said mother pepper, opening her arms, "and for polly, too," for she saw polly's head drooping from her reproof. "oh, mamsie!" cried polly, running over to her, to get within the good arms, though she couldn't sit on her lap, of course, as there were three little peppers there already; "i'm sorry i spoke, but i didn't think." "didn't think makes most all of the trouble in this world," said mrs. pepper, gravely; "so see to it that next time you don't have to make that excuse, polly child," and she dropped a kiss on polly's red cheek. "it's just this way, children," she went on, smiling on all the bunch; "mother is really glad to work, and every stitch she puts in, she keeps thinking, now that's for ben and polly and joel and david and phronsie." mother pepper's black eyes went lovingly around on all the faces so near her own. "and i keep looking ahead, too, to the time when the little brown house people are going out into the world and--" "oh, we aren't ever going out into the world, mammy," declared polly, in alarm. "we are going to stay in the little brown house forever'n ever." "forever'n ever," echoed phronsie, folding her hands tightly together; while the two boys vociferously protested that nothing should ever drive them out of the little brown house. "no, not even to live over in strawberry hill with nice mrs. green." "well, anyway, we must all live and grow up so that the little brown house won't be ashamed of us," said mrs. pepper, "and that's what mother is working for; so don't let me hear any more crying about it. now remember, all of you." with that she opened her arms wide again. "now scamper off," she said, with a bright smile, and she picked up her sewing and sent her needle cheerily in and out once more. that evening, after the supper things were all cleared away, joel began by drawing davie off in a corner to whisper mysteriously. "let him alone, polly," said ben, in a low voice. "joe'll tell of his own accord, pretty soon." and sure enough, it wasn't ten minutes. mother pepper had gone into the bedroom to tuck phronsie away for the night, when joel said triumphantly, "we know something, dave and me, and we won't tell what 'tis." "all right," said ben, coolly. "polly, i guess i'll mend mamsie's washboard. i shan't have another chance so good this week." "i wish you would, bensie," said polly, well pleased, for polly dearly loved everything kept mended up, and "shipshape," as mrs. pepper used to say. "i'll spread the paper down so you don't get any mess on the floor." so she ran to the pile of old weekly newspapers her mother always saved, when any of the badgertown people sent her a copy, as they did once in a while, and flapping one open, she soon had a "paper carpet," as she said merrily, on the floor. and ben, coming out from the woodshed, with the washboard in his hand, together with the hammer and nails, the kitchen began to hum with the noise. "yes," said joel, loudly, "we do; we know something real fine, dave and i. don't we, dave?" with a nip on davie's little arm. "ow!" said davie. "that so?" assented ben, coolly. "yes, and we aren't goin' to tell, either," said joel, "not a single word; so there, ben!" then he began to whisper as fast as he could to david. "you'll tell, yourself, joe, without anybody's asking," said ben, as joel began again with: "it's perfectly splendid, ben pepper. and oh, polly, you don't know what we do; does she, dave?" "polly and i will know pretty soon," added ben. "no, you won't, either," contradicted joel. "we aren't ever in all this world goin' to tell of the circus i'm goin' to--" "there!" shouted ben, throwing down the hammer. "you've told it, joe, just the same as i knew you would. ha, ha!" "don't, ben," begged polly, "it teases joel. well, we don't know what kind of a circus you are going to have, joey," she said kindly, "so we'll be just as much surprised when we see it." "will you?" cried joel; "well, then, polly, i'd rather tell the whole, if you'll be surprised when you see all the animals." "i guess you will," said ben, in a low voice; "there's no danger in promising that." "i truly will, joey," promised polly. "do be still, ben." "well, to begin with, polly, there's going to be a rhodo--what's that you told us about in your story of the circus?" "hoh, hoh!" laughed ben, busily at work over the washboard, "there's your rhododendron, polly. i thought joel wouldn't forget to have one in his circus." "go on, joel," said polly, with a cold shoulder for ben. "now i know your circus is going to be perfectly elegant," she cried enthusiastically, running over to their corner. "do tell us about it, joel." joel, vastly complimented that polly took such an interest in his plan, now began lustily to set it forth, and little davie piped in whenever there was a chance for a word, which wasn't often. and finally ben said, "i guess i'll move my washboard and the 'paper carpet' up there with you all," and polly said, "oh, do, ben." and presently they were all so very jolly, ben deciding not to say anything more of polly's rhododendron, that none of them knew when mother pepper said above their heads, "i thought you didn't know 'twas five minutes past your bedtime, joel and david," pointing to the clock. xix circus plans joel practised the part of so many animals in the next week that the little brown house people became quite accustomed to any strange grunting or roaring they might chance to hear, as if a whole menagerie were let loose. only mamsie forbade that such noise should be allowed within doors. and every once in a while joel would rush into the kitchen, with "polly, how does an elephant scream?" and "tell me, polly, does a kangaroo cry this way?" until polly was quite worn out. "i guess you'll be glad when that circus of joe's is over with," said ben. "i pity you, polly. i'd enough sight rather chop wood for mr. blodgett." "well, you needn't," cried polly, "pity me, ben, for joel's so very happy. and poor mr. blodgett! o dear, it's too bad his barn's all burnt up." "and the horse and the cow," said ben, very soberly. "hush!" warned polly, looking around to see if phronsie heard. luckily, she was in the bedroom, sitting down by the lower bureau drawer, which was open, and trying on her red-topped shoes, getting every button into the wrong button-hole. "oh, ben," polly rushed up to whisper in his ear, "i do think that was too dreadful for anything." "yes," said ben; "it was mrs. blodgett sent you word she was sorry she hadn't any milk to send to phronsie now and then." "good mrs. blodgett!" exclaimed polly, with the tears in her brown eyes. "oh, i do wish we had something to send her!" she sighed. and ben sighed too. because, as he had been working at deacon blodgett's pretty steadily the last few weeks since the fire, he had noticed how the neighbors and friends had been sending in things to show how sorry they were for the blodgett family, and it grieved him dreadfully that the peppers seemed to be about the only ones left out. so now he preserved a gloomy silence. "well, come, dear me," cried polly, when she saw this, and, remembering her mother's advice, to think first before she spoke the words that might work mischief, she brightened up. "p'r'aps some chance will come to us to show dear mrs. blodgett that we are sorry for 'em, if we can't send 'em things." "p'r'aps," said ben. but he still looked gloomy. "i can do my work just as well's i know how," he thought; "but i'm going to do that, anyway, so i don't see what other chance there'll be." "whom are you going to invite to see your circus, joel?" asked polly, a few nights later, when, as usual, after supper, joel was haranguing loudly on the great show to take place, and even little david was wound up to such a pitch of enthusiasm that mrs. pepper, on seeing his red cheeks, felt a dozen times inclined to send him to bed ahead of the time. but his happy little face appealed to her strongly, and she argued to herself, "i don't know but what 'twould hurt him quite as much to disappoint him, as to let him sit up half an hour longer. thank fortune, it's seven o'clock now!" so david was saved being sent off to bed, until it was time for joel to go too. "i ain't a-goin' to invite any one," said joel; "no, sir-_ree!_ everybody's got to pay to come into my show." "how much do we pay?" asked polly. "o dear me, joe, i don't b'lieve you'll get many people to see it." "pins, i s'pose," said ben. "yes," said joel, "pins, an' good ones, too, not crooked, bent old things." "pins cost money," said mrs. pepper, looking up from her work-basket. "i suppose you know that, joel?" "well, we can't let folks in without paying," said joel, in deep anxiety. "'twouldn't be a circus if we did." "i tell you," said polly, seeing his forehead all puckered up in wrinkles; "why don't you have some tickets, joel, made out of paper, you know, and marked on 'em for ten cents and five cents?" "where'd you get the paper, polly?" asked ben, who was very practical. "better not propose anything you can't carry out. look at joe's face," he whispered, under cover of the shouts from the two boys. "o dear me!" cried polly, whispering back, "we never have anything! it's perfectly dreadful, ben; and we must help joe. and you know yourself there aren't any pins hardly in the house, and mamsie couldn't give us one of those." "you must think of something else besides paper, for that's just as bad as pins," said ben, with perfect faith that polly would contrive a good way out of the difficulty. polly put her head into her two hands, while joel was vociferating, "oh, tickets! goody! polly's going to make 'em! polly's going to make 'em!" in a way to fill her with dismay, while she racked her brains to think what would satisfy joel as entrance money to his circus. "now, children," she said briskly, lifting her head, her hands falling to her lap, "ben says we can't manage the tickets very well, because we haven't any paper." she hurried on, "be still, joe!" as she saw signs of a howl. "but i'll tell you something else you might have, joel, and we've got plenty of 'em, and they're round, and oh, so nice!" by this time her voice had such a confident ring, and she laughed so gayly, that little davie cried out, "i know it's nice, polly," and even joel looked enthusiastic. "it's just as nice," declared polly, clasping her hands. "oh, you can't think! and i'll help you gather some." "what is it?" screamed joel; "do tell, polly." "it's cheeses," said polly; "don't you know, joe, out in the yard?" they were the little, round, green things, so called by the children, that grew on a little plant in the grass, and they used to pick and eat them. "oh, they're not money," said joel, falling back, horribly disappointed. "neither are tickets money," said polly, airily; "they only mean money; and the cheeses can mean it just as well. besides, they're round." "and i think the cheeses are a great deal better than anything, to pay with," said ben, coming to polly's rescue. "and you can charge as much as you want to, you know, joe, 'cause they're plenty." "so i can," cried joel, quite delighted at this. "well, you must pay fifty, no, seventy-five cheeses to get in, ben." "oh, i guess i shall spend my time picking seventy-five cheeses!" cried ben; "you must let me in cheaper'n that, joel." "you may come in for ten, then," said joel, coming down with a long jump, very much alarmed lest ben should not be able to get in. and as for having the circus without him--why, that would be dreadful! "you do think up such perfectly beautiful things, polly," cried david, huddling up close to her, and lifting his flushed cheeks. "dear me!" exclaimed polly, catching sight of them, "your face is awful red." and she caught mother pepper's eye. "i know it," said mrs. pepper, the troubled look coming back. she laid down her work. "come here, david, and let mother see you." so davie got up from the ring on the floor, and ran over to his mother, and climbed in her lap. "i don't see what 'tis," she said, looking him over keenly. then she made him open his mouth, and she got a spoon and looked down his throat. "it isn't red," she declared, "and i don't believe it's sore." "no," said little davie, "it isn't sore, mammy. mayn't i go back, now?" he asked, looking longingly over at the group on the floor. "i know what's the matter with dave," said ben, wisely. "he's been so many animals this week, joel's made him, that he's tired to death." "i think you're right, ben," said mrs. pepper. "well now, davie, mother is sorry to send you to bed before the time--it's ten minutes yet to half-past seven; but she thinks it best." "do you, mamsie?" said davie. "yes, i do," said mrs. pepper, firmly. "i really think it's best. you're all tired out, and to-morrow i guess you'll wake up as bright as a cricket." "then i'll go if you want me to," said david, with a sigh, and sliding out of her lap he went slowly out and up to the loft. "i haven't got to go for ten minutes," sang joel after him. "goody, ain't i glad!" "it's too bad davie had to go," mourned polly; "but i suppose it's best." "yes," said ben, "he'd be sick if he didn't. it's most too bad he has to go alone, though," and his blue eyes rested on joel's face. joel began to squirm uncomfortably. "don't you think 'twould be nice, joe," said polly, "for you to go with davie? he's so much littler; it's too forlorn for him to go up to bed alone." "no, i don't," snapped joel. "i'm going to stay down and talk over my circus. you may get in for ten cheeses, too, polly," he said magnificently. "thank you," said polly, coldly. joel gave her a queer look. "and i'm going to let sally brown in for ten. no, she's got plenty of cheeses in her yard, she's got to pay more," he rattled on. polly and ben said nothing. "i'll go if you want me to, polly," at last joel sniffed out. "i don't want you to," said polly, still with a cold little manner, "unless you want to go yourself, joel. but i should think you would want to, when you think of poor little davie going up there alone. you know you don't like to do it, and you're such a big boy." joel struggled to his feet. "i'll go, polly," he shouted. mamsie flashed him a smile as he dashed past and stumbled up the steps of the loft. but the next morning david didn't seem to be bright and wide awake as a cricket, and although there was nothing the matter with him, except he still had his red cheeks and complained when any one asked him if he felt sick, that he was tired, that that was all, mother pepper kept him in bed. and that night he came down to sleep in mamsie's big bed, and polly had a little shake-down on the floor. "i wish i could ever be sick!" said joel, when he saw the preparations for the night. "oh, joel, don't wish such perfectly dreadful things," said polly. "well, i never sleep with mamsie," said joel, in an injured tone. "and davie gets all the good times." "now, joel," said mrs. pepper, the morning after that, "i'm sorry to disappoint you, but you can't have your circus awhile yet, till davie gets real strong. so you must rest your animals," she said with a smile, "and they'll be all the better when the right time comes." joel, swallowing his disappointment as best he could, went out and sat on the back steps to think about it. he sat so very still, that polly ran out after a while to look at him. "oh, joe, you aren't crying!" she said in dismay. "no," said joe, lifting his head; "but, polly, i'm afraid my animals will all run away if i don't have the circus pretty soon. don't you s'pose mamsie'll let me have it in the bedroom dave could sit up in the bed and see it." "dear me, no," cried polly. "the very idea!" whenever polly said, "the very idea!" the children knew it was perfectly useless to urge anything. so now joel sank back on the doorstep and resigned himself to despair. "i tell you what i'd do if i were you, joey," said polly, kindly, and running down to sit beside him. "i'd think up all sorts of different things, and get all ready, every speck. there's really a great deal to do. and then i'd pick cheeses all the spare time i had. oh, i'd pick lots and lots!" polly swept out her arms as if enclosing untold numbers. "and--" "what do i want to pick cheeses for?" asked joel, interrupting. "the folks that pay has to pick 'em, i sh'd think." "i know it," said polly; "but if you pick a good many cheeses, you can give away some tickets, you know--comple--comple--well, i don't just know what they call 'em. but they let folks in without paying." "and that's just what i don't want to do," cried joe, in high dudgeon. "hoh, polly pepper, i sh'd think you'd know better'n that!" "it's just this way, joel," said polly, trying to explain. "folks that give a show always send some tickets to their friends, so they don't have to pay. i should think you'd want to; why, just think," she jumped off from the step and stood before him in great excitement, "i never thought of it before," and the color rose high on her cheek. "you can ask dear mrs. beebe, and mr. beebe, and--" "i won't have ab'm," cried joel; but he was very much impressed, polly could see, by her plan. "no, of course not," said polly. "ab'm has gone back west." "and mrs. beebe says she ain't ever going to have him again at her house," added joel. "well, never mind; and you can ask mrs. blodgett. she was so good to send phronsie milk; and she's had her barn burnt." "well, sally brown'll have to pay," said joel, as mrs. pepper called polly to come in to her work. and he jumped off the step and began to pick cheeses with all his might. xx circus or menagerie? "you tell joel," said mrs. beebe, standing in the doorway of the little shop, "that i've got some animals i'm goin' to send down to his circus this afternoon, if so be i can't come myself and bring 'em." "yes'm," said polly; "and oh, thank you, dear mrs. beebe." "whatever can they be?" she cried to herself, racing home on the wings of the wind. "dear me, won't joe have the most splendid time! and dear little davie, it's good he's rested and well," and polly's mind was flying as busily as her feet, as she set all her wits to work to think up everything that could possibly be achieved to help out the great event. when she got home joel was in a great tribulation. "polly, polly," he mourned, "the tiger's run away." "yes, she has," declared davie, mournfully, "and she was the best of the whole. oh, polly!" and he sat down on the step in despair. "now that's too bad!" cried polly; "but then, dear me, joe, p'r'aps we can find her. doesn't sally know where she is?" "no--no," cried joel, quite gone in distress, and twisting his chubby fingers to keep from crying; "and mrs. brown doesn't know either. she says that cat never ran away before in all her life, and i'd just got her tamed to carry seraphina. o dear, dear!" "joel," cried polly, "i do believe that cat is up in a tree, maybe, near the browns'. i just mean to run over and call her with all my might." "we've called and called, and every one of the browns has called," said joel, "and she won't come." david's head sank, and he covered his face with both hands, unable to say a word. "well now, joel," said polly, "i wouldn't care, if i were you; and oh," she cried suddenly, with delight at the comfort she could give him, "mrs. beebe says she's going to send you some animals, if she can't come and bring 'em herself. think of that, joe!" "oh--oh!" screamed joel, in an ecstasy. "now i don't care if that old cat has run away. she bit me awfully yesterday," and he held up his thumb; "and she's a mean old thing, and she wasn't a very good tiger, anyway." "mrs. beebe's animals will be a good deal nicer," said little davie, bringing up a shining face as his hands fell away. "what kinds are they, polly?" "i don't know," said polly; "that's all she told me." "and we've got the monkey left, 'cause i'm going to be the monkey," said joel, with a bob of his black head; "and dave's going to be a kangaroo, only he don't jump as big as he ought to." "i jump as high as i can, polly," said little david, getting off from his step to go to her side, and look up into her face anxiously. "oh, i know you'll be a lovely kangaroo, davie," said polly, giving him a reassuring little hug, "and they don't always jump high, joel." "don't they?" asked joel, in surprise. "no, indeed, not unless they want to," said polly. "but why don't you be the kangaroo, then, joe, and let davie be something else? give him the snake, then he won't have to jump, and it's easier to wriggle." "oh, no--no--no," cried joel, in alarm, "i'm going to be the snake myself, and slash around like everything. dave can't be the snake." "well, something else that's as easy as the snake, then," said polly, laughing. "you mustn't tire him all out, joel, for then mamsie will have to stop the circus, and _that_ would be perfectly dreadful, you know." this made joel decide at once that he would change his animals round a bit; so he said, "i'll be the kangaroo myself, dave. see here," and he executed such a remarkable series of leaps and hops, and long and short steps, that his audience of two were quite overcome with admiration. "oh, i am so glad, joel, that you'll be the kangaroo," said davie, with a long breath of relief, "for it tired me so to try, and i couldn't do him good." "no," said joel, coming up bright and shining, as he finished his last hop, "you couldn't, davie. now you must take some of the others then, if you aren't to be the kangaroo." and he threw himself on the grass at polly's feet, as she and david now sat on the step. "only one," said polly; "you mustn't give him but one, joe, to take the place of the kangaroo." "well, the kangaroo was a big one," said joel; "he ought to take two others to make up." "no, only one," said polly, decidedly. "i'd rather be a bird," said little davie, timidly. "pshaw! a bird!" exclaimed joel, in high disdain. "i'm not going to have any old birds. folks don't have 'em in a circus." "well, this is going to have a menag--menag--" said polly, who sometimes found it hard to manage all the big words she wanted to use. "anyway, what ben called it the other night. he heard 'em talking of it at the blodgetts'." "i know," said joel, steering clear of the word. "do they have birds in that thing that ben told about?" he asked doubtfully. "oh, yes--beautiful ones--trained to do anything, joel pepper," cried polly "oh, your show wouldn't be anything without a bird!" "then i'll have one, and dave shall be it," decided joel, veering around. "and i'll do things," cried little davie, very much excited, and getting off from his step to hop along the path. "i'll sing." "that's nothing!" said joel, in scorn. "and i'll hop and pick up crumbs," added david, anxious to please and do everything that a well-brought-up bird should do. "hoh! that won't be anything!" exclaimed joel, with a withering look. "i'll tell you, joel, let's play that you trained davie, who's a bird, you know, to drag seraphina around. we can tie her on a board real nicely." "oh, yes, that's prime!" cried joel, seeing hope ahead for david's bird, if polly only took hold of it. "and then you can tell the audience that the trained bird is going to ride on the monkey's back," cried polly. "oh, hooray!" shouted joel, prancing off to hop with david down the path and over the grass. "and then when you've got through showing him off, david must sing a little song to show he is a bird. this way," and polly threw back her head and twittered twee-dee-ed, and chee-chee-ed, and trilled in a way she had, till the boys looked up in the branches of the old scraggy apple tree to see if there really was any little bird there. "that's fine!" cried joel, clapping his hands and drawing a long breath. "oh, i never can do it so nice as polly," said david, in despair, growing quite sober. "polly," cried joel, suddenly, "couldn't you stay behind the bushes and sing? and folks will think it's dave,--the bird--i mean." "why, yes, joel, if davie doesn't want to sing," said polly; "but he's the bird, you know, so it must be as he wants." "but he can't sing good, you know," said joel, impatiently. "i'd rather you'd sing the bird, polly," said little david, "'cause i can't do it good like you; and i'll _be_ the bird." and he repressed the sigh he felt like giving. "then i will, gladly," said polly, who loved dearly to sing. "and, polly, will you play the band?" cried joel, who had been so busy getting his various animals planned for and ready, that the music was left out of the reckoning. "dear me, joe!" exclaimed polly, in consternation. yet she felt quite flattered. "we haven't any table out here, except the stone one," glancing at it, "and my fingers won't make any noise on that. so i don't see how we can have the band." polly always made her fingers fly up and down on the kitchen table while she sang, pretending it was a piano and she was a great musician, for it was the dearest wish of her heart to learn to play on a piano. "ben can get us a board, i know," cried joel, confidently; so he ran off to find him in the woodshed, for ben was home to-day, chopping wood. and pretty soon joel came running back, proclaiming that ben had said yes, if polly would play, that the board should be all ready. "o dear me!" cried polly. "well, then, i must hurry and go in and practise," as she called drumming on the kitchen table; she said this with quite an important air, as she hurried into the house. "ben's going to be the elephant, isn't he, joel?" she asked, turning around in the doorway, for joel changed his animals about so often it was difficult to keep track of them. "no," said joel, "i'm going to be that." "why, i thought you were to be the bear," said polly, in surprise. "i am, and mr. tisbett's black horses, and--" "you can't be two horses, joe," said polly. "dear me. ben must be one of them." "well, i'm going to be bill, anyway," said joel, in alarm. "ben can be jerry. and i'm going to be mr. tisbett and make 'em go." "you can't be mr. tisbett if you're bill," said polly, in distress. "oh, joel, some one else must be stage-driver." "this isn't stage-driver," corrected joel, in a superior way. "hoh! don't you know anything, polly pepper! it's circus! and the horses do things. i saw 'em in the big picture." "well, then, i can be mr. tisbett," said polly, tingling to her finger-tips at the prospect. "mr. tisbett isn't a girl," said joel, in scorn. "but i can put on ben's coat, and you can tell 'em i'm mr. tisbett, same's you introduce all the animals," persuasively said polly, feeling as if nothing could be quite as nice as to be mr. tisbett and manage those black horses. "yes, let polly be mr. tisbett," begged little david, longing to be that personage himself. "she'll make the circus splendid." "all right," said joel. "well, i'm going to jump through the paper hoops, anyway, on ben's back. are they safe?" he asked anxiously. "yes, indeed," said polly, who had a terrible time in making them, joel being the most critical of individuals, "as safe as can be, in the bedroom cupboard;" and she ran off to get them, but not so fast as joel, who rushed eagerly past her. "take care, joe, you mustn't get 'em," warned polly, dashing into the bedroom at his heels. but too late! joel's hands were on the paper rings, and he clutched them so tightly that, lo and behold, one little brown fist went clear through one of them, to come out on the other side! "now, see," began polly, desperately. joel gave one look, then burst into a flood of tears. "i've spoiled it! i've spoiled it! oh, i can't jump through it now!" he wailed, still holding them closely. "oh, polly, i've spoiled--" "well, it's your own fault!" polly was just going to say, knowing that she would have to make a new one, and where should she get the paper! then her brow cleared, and she gave a sunny smile. "never mind, joey!" she cried. "there, p'r'aps it isn't much hurt," and she took the broken one, and began to smooth it out. "but it's bursted," cried joel, trying to look through the rain of tears. "oh, polly! i was going to make the hole when i jumped through." "um!--" said polly, busily considering. then she sat down and rested her elbows on her knees, first setting up the poor bursted ring against the bureau; and, with her chin in her hands, looked at it steadily. "i tell you, joel, what we'll do," at last she cried; "those edges where it is torn can be pasted together, and--" "but it'll be a hole!" shouted joel, who had stopped crying while polly was thinking, knowing that she would get over the trouble some way. now he cried worse than ever. "there wasn't goin' to be any hole, till i made one. o dear me!" and he flung himself flat on the floor, to cry as if his heart would break. "joe, joe," cried polly, running over to him to shake his arm, "you must stop crying this very minute. if you don't, i shall not do anything for your circus. i won't be one of the animals, nor i won't play any music, nor anything." joel gave a great gasp. "i'll stop," he promised. "well, now, you must stop at once," said polly, firmly, seeing the advantage she had gained. "so sit up, joe, that's a good boy," as he very unwillingly brought himself up. "now, then, i'll tell you what i'm going to do," and polly seized the poor ring, and, tossing back her brown hair, began to pat and to pull the crooked edges together. "you see, joey, i'm going to put a little border of red paper all around it," she said, patting and pulling away, "then it'll be--" "oh, now that's goin' to be better than the other one," declared joel, in huge delight, his round face wreathed in smiles. "and i'm going to break and smash the other one," and he doubled up his brown fist and dashed toward it. "no, you won't, joe," cried polly, in alarm. "i've only red paper enough to go on the broken one, so if anything happens to the other one, deary me! i don't know whatever in the world we could do. now run and get the cup of paste in the woodshed, and in the shake of a lobster's whisker i'll have it all done," sang polly, gayly. "lobsters don't have whiskers," said joel, as he ran for the paste cup. "cats do, polly, but lobsters don't," as he brought it back. "oh, yes, they do," contradicted polly; "those long thin things that stick out under their eyes. but never mind, anyway, and don't talk about them, for i've got to put all my mind on this dreadful ring." "polly, i wish i'd had a lobster in my circus," said joel, after a minute's panic, in which polly pinched and snipped and pasted and trimmed with red paper all around the hole, till any one looking on would have said this was going to be the most splendid circus ring in the whole world. "dear me, if you haven't enough animals and reptiles and things in your circus, joey pepper!" exclaimed polly. "you wouldn't have had room for the lobster, anyway." "but i wish i had him," repeated joel, stolidly. "and you must leave something for next time," said polly, taking up the big ring to whirl it around over her head, to watch the effect of the red strip. "oh, polly!" screamed joel, his black eyes sparkling with delight, "that's perfectly splendid! and i'll come right smash through that red ring. yes, sir-_ree!_" and he danced around the bedroom, bumping into every object, as he was stretching his neck to look at the ring polly was whirling so merrily. "well, now that's done," said polly, with a sigh of relief; "and i'm thankful, joey pepper. yes, it does look nice, doesn't it?" and she surveyed the red border with pride. "wasn't it good that mamsie gave me those strips of paper? whatever should we have done without them! well, now, says i, you've got to hurry to get all ready. three o'clock comes pretty soon after dinner, and there's ever and ever so much yet to do before you can have your circus, joey pepper." xxi joel's circus "joel," cried little david, his cheeks aflame, "mrs. beebe has brought your animals. come out to th' wagon." with that david's heels twinkled down the narrow path to the gate. joel dropped the wooden box that was to be the tiger's den, if deacon brown's cat should come back, and ran on the wings of the wind to the big green wagon standing out in the road. his black eyes roved anxiously over all the various things with which good mrs. beebe had loaded the vehicle, as she had many errands on her mind, and his heart beat fast at the sight of two or three boxes that stuck up above the rest, and an old canvas bag on top of them. "here, joel," said mrs. beebe, her face beaming with satisfaction. "you climb up behind and fetch down that bag." joel's black eyes stuck out with delight, and he hopped over the back wheel in a twinkling and laid his hand on the old canvas bag. "not that one," said mrs. beebe. "mercy me, them's pa's oats he told me to bring home--the other bag, joel." "i don't see any other," said joel, staring around at the various things, while his hand fell off from the canvas bag. he had been almost sure he heard something stir within it. "dear me, child," exclaimed mrs. beebe, grasping the old leather reins in one hand, while she leaned back over the seat, "there they be," pointing to a paper bag laid nicely in between the two boxes, so it couldn't fall out. "oh!" exclaimed joel, swallowing hard. then he wasn't to get one of those big wooden boxes, after all. "yes, an' i guess you'll like 'em." mrs. beebe nodded and winked at him, and smiled all over her round face. "now you take 'em and git out, that's a good boy, an' be quick, 'cause i've got some more arrants to do, an' i'm a-goin' to try to come to your show, joel, seein' you've invited me so pretty." and with another bob of her big bonnet she twitched the reins smartly, and the old horse fell into a jog-trot, while joel did as he was bidden, and with his paper bag in his hand, sat down on the grass, trying very hard not to cry. "she _said_ animals," muttered joel, swallowing something that seemed to stick in his throat. "look in and see," whispered little david, with a very distressed face, and sitting down on the grass to put one arm around joel. joel clutched his bag and stared gloomily. it didn't matter what it held; mrs. beebe had said "animals," and to find that she hadn't spoken the truth, made him feel so dreadfully that he longed to scream out after her, and tell her he didn't like her any more. he wouldn't ever like anybody who told a lie; and mamsie wouldn't ever let him go to see her, and polly's brown eyes would fill with scorn. oh, he could feel just exactly how polly would look, and he shivered. "don't cry, joe," said little davie, feeling the thrill, and hugging him tightly; "and do see what's in it." joel gave one plunge at the bag, untwisted it, and thrust in his hand. suddenly he started back, nearly upsetting david. "oh!" "what is it?" cried davie, fearfully; "a snake, joel?" "no--that is, i guess so," answered joel, dragging out a whole handful of sugar cooky animals, and spinning them on the grass in various directions. "i guess there's a snake there. she _said_ animals, and they _are_ animals, dave," and a smile broke all over his chubby face. david took one look at the sugar cooky animals flying over his head. "oh, joe, and they've got currant eyes!" he screamed, and clapped his hands. "see, there's a el'phant! oh, and a goose, and a monkey!" with a dive at the last. "that isn't a monkey!" retorted joel, with a pause in the work of emptying the bag to investigate the animal in david's hand, "that's a wild-cat." "oh, joel, is it?" cried davie. "um!" suddenly joel took it out of david's little palm, and popped one end of it into his mouth. "oh, goody!" was all he said. "have some, dave?" and he shook the bag with the rest of its contents at him. but david was sprawling over the grass, picking up the scattered ones. suddenly he stopped, with one halfway to his mouth. "don't you s'pose mrs. beebe wants you to keep 'em for the circus, and give the folks some of them?" joel squirmed uncomfortably, taking large bites of the biggest animals he could pick out, but said nothing. david laid his pig down on the grass, and looked at it wistfully. "they're mine," said joel, crossly, and speaking as distinctly as he could for his mouthful, and bolting a rabbit and a hippopotamus together; "an' i'm goin' to eat 'em now." david still gazed at his pig, but didn't offer to touch it. suddenly joel threw down the bag. "i'm sorry i et 'em," he said ruefully. "you've got ever so many left," said davie, cheerfully. "an' we'll pick up those on the grass," said joel, suiting the action to the word, "an' save the rest for th' folks." and he soon had the remainder safe in the bag, when both the boys rushed into the house to display mrs. beebe's gift. after this, it was all commotion; so much so that mrs. pepper said she didn't know as she should ever let another circus come into the orchard. but her black eyes twinkled, and she patted joel's head when she said it, and the anxious look ran away from joel's face; and then the dinner of potatoes and brown bread was soon finished, and polly somehow or other got the dishes all washed up, and the kitchen as clean as a new pin, ever so much quicker than on other days, and pretty soon joel and all his animals and the musician were out in the orchard in a perfectly dreadful state of hurry and confusion. but at last the show was in full progress; on the seats of honor were mother pepper and mrs. beebe, who got in at the last minute, just before they were to begin. and grandma bascom, who was delighted to be able to hear for once, as she now could, all the roars of the various animals, while sally brown and the henderson boys made up the rest of the audience. and everybody clapped their hands, and said, "oh, isn't that good!" and, "i think that is fine!" and grandma said, "la me!" and lifted her black mitts, which she had put on to do honor to the occasion, "and who would have thought it!" and sally brown and the henderson boys stared with envy, and wished they were some of the animals and having such a good time. and peletiah solemnly determined within himself to get up a circus the very next week. and the excited animals thrilled with delight when it came the monkey's time to perform and jump through the big paper rings. joel bobbed out from behind the bushes, and told the audience what was coming; then he bobbed in again, and polly and ben got him into the monkey skin,--an old brown flannel petticoat that grandma bascom had given the children to play with, "'cause it's so et up with moths, 'tain't fit to set a needle into to fix up," as she said. and ben made a long, flapping tail out of an old, frayed rope, and polly had sewed a little tuft of hair, that came out of mamsie's cushion, on top of the monkey's head, pulling it all around the face for some whiskers; so, when joel was really inside of it, he was perfectly awful. particularly as he showed all his teeth, and rolled and blinked his black eyes every minute, so that phronsie, who sat on the grass at mamsie's feet, when she wasn't an animal and needed to perform, shivered, and clung close to mrs. pepper. "take me, mamsie," she begged. "'tisn't a real, true, live monkey," cried polly, rushing out from behind the bushes as she heard her, "it's only joel, phronsie." "it's me," cried joel, who had been making faces at peletiah, but stopping the minute he heard phronsie. "it's me, phronsie." "i want a monkey," said phronsie, bringing her face out from under her mother's arm, "but not joey. please don't let joey be a monkey," and she patted mrs. pepper's cheek. "hush, dear," said mother pepper, "you'll spoil joel's circus if you talk. see, phronsie, the monkey's going to jump through the rings." so phronsie sat up very straight in mrs. pepper's lap, and the wonderful act began, polly being the musician, and singing her merriest, while she drummed with her fingers on the board that ben had fixed across the stone table, running up and down with so many little quirks and quavers it was really very remarkable to hear. ben held up a big ring, saving the one with the red border for the last. "hold it higher," said joel, in between his roars and grimaces. "no, sir," said ben, firmly, "you aren't going to jump any higher. go on." "tisn't half as high as i jumped the other day," grumbled joel. "go on," commanded ben, "or i won't hold it at all," and polly bobbed her head at him as she drummed away. "hurry up," she seemed to say. so joel sprang off from the lower branch of the apple tree and went zip-tear-bang, at the paper ring. but instead of going through, he knocked it out of ben's hand, and went with it, rolling over and over on the ground. when he got up to his feet, the big paper ring was all in tags, and the hair on the monkey's head was all over his eyes, and covering his red face. "never mind, joe," said polly, running away from her piano, to pull him out straight and fix him nice again, "you'll do it fine next time, i guess." "ben jiggled it," announced joel, stoutly, and with a rueful face as he saw the broken ring. "no, i didn't," declared ben; "i kept it as steady as could be. but you sprawled your legs and knocked it out of my hand. take a good flying leap, joe, and keep your eye on the red border." "yes; i'm so glad there's a red border on it," said polly, hopping back to make her fingers run merrily up and down her piano once more. so joel took a flying leap, keeping his black eyes fixed on the red border, and came through the ring so splendidly that everybody hopped up to their feet, and shouted and clapped their hands, grandma exclaiming, "la--for the land's sake!" while phronsie slid out of mrs. pepper's lap and gave a squeal of delight. "hoh! that's nothing!" declared joel, and before ben could say anything he ran and jumped up on the lower limb of the apple tree, and winding his sturdy legs around the trunk, and then springing from one branch to another, there he was, before any one knew it, on the topmost bough! "o mercy me--he'll be killed!" screamed grandma, who saw it first. mother pepper turned swiftly. "joel!" she was going to exclaim. but in a minute she knew it would be the worst thing in the world to do. so she tried to smile and to say, "come down, joey, and be careful." but joel was swinging and slashing the long rope tail, and having a delightful time up there in the branches, and roaring and screaming so, that mother pepper's quiet tones couldn't possibly be heard. polly's face turned very white. "oh, ben, he'll be killed!" she exclaimed. "he won't look at us, and we can't make him hear," for by that time everybody was shouting at him to come down, and phronsie was crying as if her heart would break. "i'm goin' to hang by my tail," screamed joel at them, and before any of them could realize what he was doing, he had swung the long rope over a branch and twisted it up in a knot, then he swung himself out, and let his feet free from the bough. mrs. pepper seized ben's arm and said hoarsely, "go up after him." ben was halfway up the trunk as fast as he could go, which wasn't very good speed, as he was always slower at such things than the other little peppers. when joel, head downward, saw him coming up, he screamed, "ha! i'm a monkey, and you can't catch me," and he swung farther out than ever. the knot he had thought so safe untwisted, and down, down, he went, the long rope curling through the air to wind around his legs. it was all done in one dreadful moment, and when they ran to pick him up, everything seemed to turn black around polly's eyes. she never knew how it happened, but there was mother pepper sitting on the grass with joel's head in her lap, and mrs. beebe hurrying into the kitchen for water and cloths to wash the blood away, and grandma waddling down the lane to get things from the cottage. and ben sliding down the tree, the rest of the little peppers crouching up in misery around mamsie and her boy. polly's white lips only formed the words, "dr. fisher--i'll go--you stay here and help mamsie," and she was off in a flash. for polly could run the swiftest of any of them, her feet hardly touching the ground. somebody called her name as she spun along the dusty ground, but she didn't stop--only sped on. but by laying the whip smartly over the back of his horse, the man in the wagon came up by her side and yelled at her, and then she saw that it was mr. tisbett. "oh, i can't stop, sir!" she wailed, clasping her hands, "for joel's dead, i guess." "now you just git in here," commanded mr. tisbett, getting down to the ground; and without waiting for polly to obey, he picked her up and set her on the seat. "i take it you're goin' after th' doctor. now he ain't to home, for this is his day for hillsbury, ye know. but i tell you," he added briskly, as he saw polly's face, "i'm a master hand at doctorin', an' i'm goin' to take a look at joel." all this time he was getting over the wheel and into his seat, and turning down the road toward the little brown house. "what's th' matter with joel?" he asked at length, after slapping black bill smartly, who now ran at his liveliest pace. "he fell from the apple tree," said polly, in a low voice. "oh, mr. tisbett, could you go a little bit faster, please?" she implored. "yes, yes," said mr. tisbett, obligingly, and applying the whip again to the horse's flanks. "now it's lucky enough my stage-coach got a mite broke this morning, an' i had to wait over a trip, and so i've met you. we'll soon be there, polly, don't you worry a mossel. i fell out o' apple trees time after time when i was a boy, and it hain't hurt me none. git ap, bill! an' at any rate, i'll fix joel up. i used to be a doctor 'fore i was a stage-driver. ye hain't never known that, hev ye, polly?" and he smiled down on her. "no," said polly, with a thrill of hope at her heart. "oh, if black bill only would go a little faster!" "fact," said mr. tisbett, rolling the tobacco quid into his other cheek. "i was what ye might call a nat'ral doctor, bone-setter, and all that; never took a diplomy--but land sakes alive, i donno's it's necessary, when ye got to make a bone into shape, to set an' pint to a piece o' paper to tell where ye was eddicated. git up an' set th' bone, i say, an' if ye can do it all right, i guess it's a good enough job to the feller what owns the bone. git ap, bill!" and they drew up in front of the little brown house. mr. tisbett never waited to ask questions, although mrs. pepper looked at him inquiringly, but just took hold of the job he had come to do, and polly explained to mamsie. and presently everybody was obeying the stage-driver just as soon as he spoke a word. and his big hands were just as gentle and light, and his fingers, that always seemed so clumsy holding the old leather reins, were a great deal softer in their touch than mother pepper's own, as they wandered all over joel's body. "that boy's all right, and bound to scare ye a great many times, marm," at last he said. "don't you worry a mite, mrs. pepper, he'll come out o' it, when he gits ready." but mother pepper shook her head as she hung over her boy. "mammy," said polly, crawling up to her like a hurt little thing, "i do believe mr. tisbett knows," she whispered. "i do, mammy." but mrs. pepper only shook her head worse than ever. "what shall we do, ben?" cried polly, rushing up to him; "just look at her, ben. oh, what can we do for mamsie! she's never been like that." "nothing," said ben, gloomily; "we can't any of us do anything till joel comes to himself. there won't anything else help her." but mrs. pepper suddenly raised her head and looked at them keenly. "come here, polly," and at the same instant it seemed, so quickly she obeyed, polly was at her side. "mother feels that her boy will be all right," said mrs. pepper. and she even smiled. xxii the minister's chickens mr. tisbett was right. and before he left, joel was sitting on his knee, and hearing various accounts of black bill; how he ran away once when he was a colt, and mr. tisbett never caught him till he'd chased him over into hillsbury; and how once, when the pole broke going down a hill, black bill had held jerry from kicking and plunging loose, and brought 'em all down in safety to the bottom. "i tell you, sir," declared mr. tisbett, bringing his big fist down on his knee, "that's a horse for you, ef ever there was one. and you shall go along of me sometime, joe, and have a ride in th' stage-coach again, if your ma'll let you." "hooray!" cried joel, hugely pleased. "when i'm a man, mr. tisbett, i'm goin' to have a stage just like yours, and two horses just exactly like black bill." "take my advice," said the stage-driver, "an don't try to get two horses exactly alike, 'cause you're bound to be disappointed. now there's jerry; ain't a mite like black bill, but he's awful good to run along with him." "then i shall have one like jerry, instead," decided joel, folding his hands in great satisfaction, since mr. tisbett advised it so. "now i'm going to finish my circus, and be monkey." and he began to get down from the stage-driver's knee. "you hold on there," said mr. tisbett, firmly; "you've been monkey long enough, and scart your ma and all on us nigh almost to death. don't you go up that tree again, joel pepper! if you do, i won't take you on no more stage rides with me. you hear me, now." yes, joel did hear, so although he whimpered and teased, and declared he hadn't played monkey more than a half a minute, and he'd lost most all his circus, mr. tisbett sat up stiff and straight, holding him tightly, and said, "if i hear of you goin' up that ere tree again, you don't go with me." so joel promised he would be very good, and then he hopped down and got into mamsie's lap, and let himself be cuddled to his heart's content. "my land!" exploded mrs. beebe, when quiet was restored. "i declare, i'm all beat out. you could knock me down with a feather," she confided to polly. "well, well, well, that boy's saved for something. now, joel, why don't you have the animals now? did you like 'em?" and she settled her glasses to get a good look at him, and assure herself that he was really uninjured. "it's a miracle," she kept saying to grandma, who bobbed her cap all the while, as if she heard every word. "they were awful good," said joel, in satisfaction. "give me the rest of 'em, polly," and he held out his hand. "so you shall have 'em, joel," cried polly, glad to think there was something she could do, and she ran and brought the little sugar cooky animals where she had fixed them in some large leaves ready for joel to pass them around among the company at the close of the performance. "mamsie must have the first one," said joel, picking out the biggest and best, with the largest currant eyes, to force it between mrs. pepper's pale lips, "then polly next." "oh, no, joe," said polly, "i'm not company. give one to grandma and to mrs. beebe first." "oh, you pretty creature you!" exclaimed grandma. "so you want me to have a cake?" as joel turned to her with one in his hand. "tisn't a cake--it's an animal," corrected joel, irritably. "yes, yes--so 'tis a cake," repeated grandma bascom, taking the animal. "'tisn't," said joel. "mamsie, make her stop saying things that aren't so, over and over." "joel," said polly, quickly, "mrs. beebe hasn't any animal. why don't you give her a--let me see," and she considered deeply. "i'd give her a bird, joel, here's a lovely one," and she pounced on a most remarkable specimen in the bird line one would wish to see. "mrs. beebe, wouldn't you like that?" she asked. "oh, i should so," replied mrs. beebe, smiling all over her face to see how well joel was, and putting out her hand. "bless your heart, joel, i'd rather have the bird than any other." "had you?" asked joel, greatly pleased. "yes, indeed i had. i always set dreadfully by birds," said mrs. beebe. so joel gave her the bird, then he leaned over and picked out a horse, very much baked on one side, and with one leg shorter than the other "that's for you, mr. tisbett," he said. "that suits me," said mr. tisbett, heartily. "well, now i never! seems to me i can't eat it, 'twould be almost like chewing up a critter, but i'll keep it to remember you by," and he slipped it into his big pocket. then he got up and shook himself. "and now i must be a-goin'. don't you be a mite worried, mrs. pepper, take my advice; that boy'll scare you more times than you can count. so you might as well get used to it. now look sharp, joe, and remember what you promised." "phronsie must have the--" "oh, joey, i want the piggie, i do," cried phronsie, whose eyes had been fastened on the cooky animals ever since polly had brought them up on the beautiful green leaves. "may i, joel?" she begged. "hoh, that isn't good!" said joel, disdainfully. "he's a horrid old pig." "hush, joey," said polly, and her face turned rosy red, remembering mrs. beebe. but old mrs. beebe only laughed, and said she knew the pig wasn't baked good, he would whirl over on one side in the pan. and sometime she would bake joel a good nice one. but phronsie kept on pleading for this particular pig. "do, joel, please," she begged, "give me the dear, sweet piggie." so joel put it in her hand, when she cuddled it lovingly up against her fat little neck, not thinking of such a thing as eating it. and then david must pick out the one he wanted, and then ben. and then all over again, around and around, till there wasn't another cooky animal left. and when he saw that, joel hopped down from mamsie's lap and marched up to mrs. beebe. "your animals were better'n mine," he said. "they don't tumble out of trees," said mrs. beebe, laughing. and then everybody got very merry, and polly said, could they play a game? and mrs. pepper looked at joel hopping about, and she said, yes, with a glad thrill that her boy was safe. "it will help him to forget his accident," she said to polly. so after all, the circus wound up with a fine ending. and in the midst of it mrs. brown came panting over, having run nearly every step of the way. when she saw joel spinning around in the barberry bush, she leaned against the side of the little brown house, and said, "o my!" mrs. pepper hurried over to her. "sally ran home and said joel had tumbled from a tree, so i brought these over as soon's i could," panted mrs. brown, opening her apron, and there were ever so many bottles of medicine. "o dear me!" exclaimed mrs. pepper, with a thankful throb to think they were not wanted, and, "you are so good, mrs. brown." "so we go round the barberry bush," sang joel, piping out the loudest of any one, and kicking up his heels as he danced. "dear me!" said mrs. brown, "i never did, in all my life! just hear that boy!" and she hadn't been gone but a moment or two, carrying her apron full of medicines with her, before mrs. henderson came hurrying along down the dusty road. her face was flushed, and she looked anxious enough. mrs. pepper said, "run, polly, and meet her, and tell her joel is all right. bless her! she is a parson's wife!" so polly ran with all her might, and stood before mrs. henderson, flushed and almost breathless. "joey's all well," she managed to say. "thank you, polly," said mrs. henderson, smiling down into the flushed face. "and i am so glad to know it, for peletiah came home very frightened. well, take your mother this. stay, i better go and see her, i guess." so she went up to the little group back in the orchard, and heard all about joel's accident from himself, as he wanted to tell it all, up to the time when they picked him up. mrs. henderson wiped her eyes many times during the recital, then she drew joel to her. "you must come over to see my new chickens some day." "i'll go to-morrow," said joel, sociably, "if mamsie'll let me." "oh, joey!" reproved mrs. pepper. "please excuse him," to mrs. henderson, "he doesn't think what he is saying." "so you shall, joey," said the parson's wife, with a pleasant smile, "and bring the others with you. let them come, mrs. pepper, do." "ben can't go, of course," said mrs. pepper, "and polly can't, either," and her face grew sober, "for mr. atkins says i may get some more coats to-morrow morning, and she's getting so she helps me a good deal." "never mind," said polly, trying to laugh. how she would love to see those new chickens! "polly shall come some other time," said mrs. henderson, with a kindly smile on her face. "to-morrow afternoon, mrs. pepper, at three o'clock, please let them come over." so the next afternoon joel, with many injunctions to be good, escorted the other two children to parson henderson's, mrs. pepper and polly watching them from the door stone as they trudged off down the road, phronsie clinging to joel's hand, and david on the other side. "she's a parson's wife, now!" said mrs. pepper for the fiftieth time, as the children turned the bend in the road, and wiping her eyes she went back into the house to pick up her sewing and go to work. "well, polly, you and i will have a fine time to fly at this now." the two needles clicked away busily enough as polly sat down on the cricket at mrs. pepper's feet. "whatever should we do without mr. atkins, too, mamsie?" she said. "polly," said mother pepper, suddenly, and she laid down her work a moment, although time was precious enough, "mother's sorry you couldn't go, too. but a nice time will come for you sometime, i hope," though she sighed. "never mind me, mammy," said polly, cheerily. "but i can't help minding, polly," said mrs. pepper, sadly, "when i think how few nice times you have. but i'll try all the harder." and she picked up her work again, and made the needle fly faster than ever. "and it's so very nice that joel can go and see those new chickens," said polly, suppressing a sigh, "after he fell yesterday, and phronsie, oh, you can't think, mamsie! how she runs on about the chickens she saw there once." "yes, it is nice," said mrs. pepper, but she sighed again. meantime joel was in a state of supreme delight. kneeling down in front of the coop, with his face pressed close to the bars, he was watching every movement of the fluffy little things, counting them over and over, and speculating what he would do if they were his, phronsie crouching down by one side, while david was as close on the other, and all three children speechless with delight. presently joel broke the silence. "i'm going to take out one," he said. "oh, no, joe!" cried davie, in alarm, and tumbling backward from the coop. "yes, i am," said joel, obstinately, who never could brook interference. "it won't hurt it a bit, and i'll put it right back." phronsie didn't hear him, her whole attention being absorbed by the wonderful chickens. so joel cautiously pulled up one slat of the coop a very little way. "there, you see," he cried in exultation, "i can do it just as easy as not;" when a bee, humming its way along, stung him smartly on the arm, and joel twitched so suddenly that up went the slat quite high, and before he could stop them, out walked the old mother hen, and two of her children. "oh, joe, joe! they're out!" screamed david. phronsie rolled over on the grass in a little ball, as joel knocked against her, and nobody thought for a moment of shutting the bar down. so three more chickens stepped out and hopped away over the grass. "oh, joe, joe, they're all coming out!" cried david, quite beside himself with horror. "shut the bar! shut the bar!" screamed joel, running hither and thither, and only making the mother frantic, in her efforts to get away from him, and to protect her brood. "i can't," mourned davie, tugging bravely at it. so joel stopped chasing the hen and the chickens, and rushed up to slam down the bar, and two more chickens having hopped out in the meantime, there they were--seven downy little balls, hurrying about in a great state of excitement to reach mother, who was clucking noisily for them to hurry and come under her wing. "oh, joe! see what you've done," cried davie, in distress, trying to help in every direction, but only succeeding in getting in the way. "o dear me! you can't ever get 'em back in the coop, in all this world." phronsie, meanwhile, picked herself up, and eagerly entered into the chase, gurgling in delight as she pattered first after one little fluffy ball, and then another. "yes, i can," said joel, confidently, rushing here and there. "you stand still, dave, and don't let 'em get by you. then i'll drive 'em up." but after about five minutes of this sort of work, joel found that he couldn't do it very well, for as fast as he got one chicken headed for david, the others all scattered in every direction, while mistress biddy scampered and waddled and clacked to her children, till the parsonage garden seemed full of hens and chickens. at last joel stopped and wiped his hot face, david looking at him from a distance in despair. "you stay there, dave, i'm going to tell 'em," and joel marched off with an awful feeling at his heart. but he didn't dare to stop to think about it, but mounted the steps of the parsonage and went down the wide hall. there was nobody to be seen, and joel was just going to run out to the kitchen, if, perhaps, mrs. henderson could be found there. suddenly the study door opened, and there stood the minister himself in the doorway. "well, joel," said parson henderson, kindly, "i'm glad to see you. do you want anything, my boy?" joel's knees knocked together, but he answered, "i've let all the hens and chickens out." "you've let all the hens and chickens out?" repeated the minister, but he only half understood, and stood staring down into joel's black eyes. "yes, sir," said joel, twisting his brown hands together tightly. if he should cry now, before his story was told, maybe the minister would never get those chickens into the coop. he must make him understand. "they're all running everywhere in the grass," he added miserably. "do you mean mrs. henderson's new chickens?" asked the minister, starting a bit. then he added composedly, "oh, no, joel, they're quite safe. she is very particular about looking after the coop herself." "but they are," gasped joel. then he forgot that it was the minister, and seized his hand. "please--they're running awfully, and they'll die, maybe." parson henderson bestowed on him a long searching gaze. "how did they get out?" he asked. "i let 'em out," blurted joel, "and they're all running. do come, sir." and he fairly tugged at the minister's hand as if it had been david's. the parson went swiftly down the long hall, joel hanging to his hand. just then a voice called down the winding stairs, _"jotham! jotham!"_ it was miss jerusha. joel gave one glance up the stairs, and held tighter than ever to the minister's hand. "do come," he cried, in an agony. "oh, please! sir." "mehitable's chickens are out!" screamed miss jerusha, now appearing at the top of the stairs. she was in a short gown and petticoat, and had been doing up her hair, having just taken the ends of the side wisps out of her mouth, where she had conveyed them for the easier combing of the back locks. "i know it," said parson henderson, quietly; "joel has just told me." with that he pressed the little brown hand that was in his own. "go back to your room, jerusha," he said. "i'll see to the chickens." "and there's those other two pepper children," cried miss jerusha after him, with a tart look at joel, "all over the place. and mehitable is baking a cake for 'em--think of it!" "is she baking a cake for us?" cried joel, finding his tongue, as the minister, still holding his hand, went out toward the garden. "yes," said parson henderson, "she is, joel." "and i've let out all her hens and chickens!" cried joel. "o dear, dear!" and the tears he couldn't hold back any longer rained all down his chubby face. "see here," parson henderson stopped a minute, "if you're going to help me, joel, you can't cry, that's very certain. why, i expect you and i will have every one of those chickens safe and sound in that coop in--well, in next to no time." "i'll help you!" cried joel, dashing off the tears at once, and swallowing hard. "oh, do hurry, please, mr. henderson," pulling hard at the kind hand. "softly--softly there, joel, my boy," said the minister. "if we're going to get those chickens into that coop, we mustn't scare them to begin with. now, you run into the barn, and get a little corn in the quart measure." so joel, glad of something to do, dropped the minister's hand, and ran off at lightning speed, and soon raced back again with the quart measure half full of corn. "that's well," said parson henderson, approvingly. "now then, the first thing to do is to make the mother go back into the coop. here, mrs. biddy, take a bit of this nice corn." he flung out a kernel or two to the hen, whose feathers that had started up in a ruffle and fluff, at sight of joel, now drooped, and her excited clacking stopped. "keep perfectly still, joel," said parson henderson, over his shoulder. all this time, phronsie and david, at sight of parson henderson's approach, had stood as if frozen to the ground, never taking their eyes from his face, except to look at joel. the parson then went along a few steps nearer to the coop, scattering one or two kernels as he went. mistress biddy eyed them all wistfully. "come on," said the minister, gently. "cluck--cluck," said the mother hen, sociably, and she waddled slowly, and picked up the first kernels. these were so good that she came readily after the next, and so followed the parson, as he let fall two more. the little fluffy balls, when they saw their mother so employed, all scampered like mad after her, to surround her. at last, she was so busily employed, that she didn't notice that she was running into an angle formed by the coop and the end of the barn. there was a rush. a sudden squawk, and the parson emerged from this corner, with mistress biddy in his hands. "now, joel, you can help me so much," he said cheerily. "run and push up the bar to the coop. be careful not to let any more chickens out. there, that's right!" in went mistress biddy, who gave an indignant fluff to her gray feathers, and then cackled crossly, and the bar flew down into place. "that's fine!" exclaimed the minister in great satisfaction, getting up straight again. "now, joel, it won't be such a task to catch the little chickens. come away from the coop, and they'll run up when they hear her call," which was indeed the fact. they soon began to scamper as hard as they could from all directions as mistress biddy set up a smart "cluck, cluck," until all of the seven were swarming over each other to get into the coop to mother. it was surprising, then, to see the minister's hands; they seemed to be here, there, and everywhere, and to pounce upon those little fluffy balls with unerring aim, and presently, there they were, joel lifting the bar when bidden, in the coop, "peeping" away and huddling up to the dear gray feathery nest. the chickens who hadn't run out came up, as if wanting to hear the story, and what it was like to be out in the world. mr. henderson sat down on the long grass. "that's a very good job done, joel," he said. just then the kitchen door opened, and a pleasant voice called, "come, joel and david and phronsie pepper, i've got a new baked cake for you." xxiii the blackberries and the bull "now, joel," said polly, a few days after, "you mustn't tease for the pie, you know, 'cause mamsie may not be able to get the white flour." "p'r'aps she will," said joel, swinging his tin pail, and kicking the sweet fern with his bare feet; "then, polly, we could have it, couldn't we?" "maybe," said polly, with her thoughts not so much on blackberry pie, as how good it was to be out of doors for a whole afternoon. "oh, joe, what a big butterfly!" "hoh--that's nothing!" said joel, who was rather tired of butterflies. "i'm going to pick bushels and bushels of blackberries, polly." "you'll do well if you pick a quart," said polly, laughing, remembering his past experiences. "oh, joel, isn't it just lovely to go blackberrying like this!" and her brown eyes sparkled. "the bushes scratch like everything," said joel, with another kick at the sweet fern. "it's nice to go blackberrying," hummed phronsie, holding fast to a little tin cup the rag-man had presented her on his last visit. "i'm going to pick ever and ever so many, to carry home to my mamsie." "so you shall," cried polly, rapturously; "and, children, i never saw anything so perfectly beautiful as it is this afternoon! isn't the sky blue!" little david looked up and smiled. joel threw back his head and squinted critically. "i wish i could go sailing up there on that cloud," he said. "i don't," said polly, merrily, swinging her tin pail. "i'd rather be down here and going blackberrying with you children. well, come on, we ought to hurry, 'cause we want to take home as many as we can." "you're always hurrying us, polly pepper," grumbled joel, lagging behind. "what for, if we can't have any pie?" "well, we can carry home the berries to mamsie, anyway," said polly, moving on very fast. phronsie trotted after her with a very happy face. "now, children," said polly, when they reached the place where the bars were to be taken down, "we must keep together, and not straggle off. remember, joe; then when we're ready to go home, it won't be such a piece of work to get started." joel was already pulling at the bars. "come on, dave, and help," he called. "we'll go right across this corner," said polly, when the bars were put back, and they were on the other side, "and then, says i, we'll soon be at the blackberry patch. o my, just see that bird!" "polly's always stopping to look at birds," said joel. "i like 'em, too," said david. "and that one is just beautiful." "it's just beautiful," hummed phronsie, who wanted to stop every moment and pick clover blossoms, or the big waving green grasses. "well, come on, pet," said polly, seeing this, "or we shan't ever get to the blackberry patch; and then, says i, what would mamsie ever do for her berries!" at this, such a dreadful distress seized the whole bunch of little peppers, that they one and all scuttled as fast as they could through the long grass, phronsie not looking back once to pick a single blossom; and polly presently had her company all marshalled up in good order in a perfect thicket of blackberry bushes, where the berries hung as thick and ripe as could be. for a few minutes no one spoke; the big blackberries tumbling into the tin pails making the only noise, though phronsie dropped hers into the grass as often as she put one in her little cup. and they worked so fast, that no one noticed that polly's blue sky was getting overcast by white patches of puffy clouds that looked as if they were chasing each other. at last joel said, "ow!" and began to complain that he was all scratched up by the prickly bushes, and when phronsie heard that, she set down her tin cup and held up her fat little arms. "see, polly," she said gravely. "o dear me, now that's too bad, pet!" so polly had to come out from her nice little clump where she was picking fast, and kiss the little red marks on phronsie's arms. "now don't lean in the bushes again; i'll show you a place. there," and polly pointed to some low branches that stood out; and the blackberries on them were thick and ripe. "ooh!" said phronsie, when she saw them; and she forgot all about her arms, that prickled and ached, and polly flew back to her clump again. rumble--rumble! "oh, boys!" gasped polly, "there can't be a thunder-storm coming!" and she poked her head out from her clump, and stared up at the sky in dismay. "there surely is! now we must run home like everything." she skipped out and seized phronsie's arm. "come, pet," and not stopping to look, she set out upon a run. phronsie began to wail, and then pulled back. "i've left my cup, polly," she said. "didn't you bring it?" cried polly, pausing a minute. "boys," as she saw that they hadn't started, "come this minute, and bring phronsie's cup," she screamed. "now come on, child; they run so much faster they will soon overtake us." phronsie, with her mind at rest about her cup, kept up as well as she could by polly's side. "i guess i shall have to carry you," at last said polly, as the boys came rushing up in high glee over their dash across the meadow. "where's my cup?" asked phronsie, holding out eager hands. "here," said joel, thrusting it at her. "now come on, dave, let's see who will get to the bars first." phronsie peered within the tin cup. "why--where--" she began. then she turned two big sorrowful eyes up toward polly. "they aren't there," she said. "what--the berries? oh, never mind, pet, you shall have some of mine," said polly, whose only thought was how to get home as quickly as possible. "goodness me, child!" as a raindrop splashed on her nose. "i really shall have to carry you," and polly picked her up, and tried to hurry over the ground. "but they won't be mine i picked," wailed phronsie. "polly, i want my very own." "well, the boys spilled 'em, i s'pose," said polly, staggering on, her own tin pail swinging from her arms, while phronsie grew heavier and heavier every minute, and the clouds blacker and blacker. "dear me, i didn't think it was so far across this meadow!" when suddenly joel screamed out, "oh, polly, he's coming!" and there, from the further corner of the field, was walking quite smartly a bull, and he was looking straight at her and phronsie. "i mustn't run," said polly; "mamsie said once, i remember, i must look straight at any cross animal, and not let 'em see that i was afraid." so she set phronsie down on the ground. "now, pet, don't run, but walk to joel as fast as you can," for joel and david were over the bars, which they hadn't taken the trouble to take down for themselves, intending to do it for polly and phronsie when they should come up. phronsie set off at once, since polly had told her to do so, and was soon nearly at the bars. joel sprang over to meet her. "don't run, joe," called polly, in a warning voice; "just take her over the bars." then she slowly went backward, keeping her brown eyes fastened on the bull, who still walked toward her, with his eyes fixed on her face. joel got phronsie safely over the bars, david, with trembling fingers, pulling her from the other side, and all was going on well when polly stepped backward into a little gully, and over she went in a heap. in a minute, the bull tossed his head and quickened his pace, and by the time she was up on her feet, he was coming on toward her at a trot, and with an angry light in his eyes. all of a sudden, joel shot past her. "i'll stop him, polly," he said cheerily, and he dashed in between her and the bull, who, not liking this interference, now shook his head angrily. joel then turned off, and the animal went after him. "joel, you'll be killed!" cried polly, rushing after him, to make the bull turn from the chase. but it was useless; for both were now well across the field, joel running like wildfire, and the bull snorting and kicking up the ground in his rage after him. and polly, straining her eyes, pretty soon saw joel turn swiftly and duck, and the bull run with full force against a tree, before he could stop himself. and there was joel clambering over a high stone wall. then she started and rushed for the high bars, climbed them in a flash, and when the disappointed bull came running back, there she was, with the other two, huddled up in a place of safety. and in a minute joel scrambled around from his stone wall. so there they were, all together, safe and sound! "oh, joel, are you really here?" exclaimed polly, laughing and crying over him together. "yes," said joel, "i am, polly;" then he looked up from her arms that she had thrown around his neck. "you've lost your berries, polly pepper, and the tin pail. now what will mamsie say?" "i guess she won't say anything," said polly, with a little shiver. "come, children, we must run, now, as fast as we can, for it is going to rain like everything." "joey," said polly, when they paused a moment to take breath, "you must give phronsie some of your berries when we get home; that's a good boy, for i promised her some of mine. hers got spilt, and now i haven't any." "well, mine shook out of the pail," said joel, dismally, "when i swung it at that old bull's face." "i'll give her mine," declared davie. "you shall have 'em all, phronsie." phronsie, at that, could not express her delight, but she clasped her hands, and gave a great sigh of satisfaction. when they all reached home, there was mamsie watching for them anxiously. and they all scampered in out of the rain like so many rabbits. "children, i've got such a surprise for you," said mother pepper, as soon as she could take off the wet clothes from phronsie, and get her into something dry. "now, you all better get your things off, and hang 'em to dry by the stove, and get on some clean clothes." "i ain't wet, and we haven't got any berries, 'cept dave, an' he gave 'em to phronsie," said joel. "they all got shook out of the pails, polly's and mine did, when the bull chased us." "when the bull chased you!" repeated mrs. pepper, while her black eyes roved from one to the other. "oh, joel, don't tell mamsie this way," said polly, pulling his jacket. "besides, phronsie doesn't know what we ran for." "david," said mrs. pepper, "take phronsie into the bedroom and shut the door. now then, polly and joel, tell me all about it, every word." so they did, not sparing themselves a bit of the account, joel cutting in when he thought polly didn't tell enough what she did. "but oh, mamsie, you can't think how splendid joe was!" cried polly, with shining eyes; "he couldn't have done better if he'd had a sword and gun." then she told it all over--his part--dilating at great length upon it, until joel got down on the floor and rolled and kicked in dismay, because he couldn't stop her. "make her stop, mamsie," he howled. "and oh, when ben comes home, won't i have a splendid story to tell him!" finished polly. "how i wish he'd come now," and the queerest thing was, the door opened, and in he walked. "i got through earlier than i expected," he said. "why, what makes you all look so queer?" "we've had enough to make us look queer," answered mrs. pepper. her eyes shone too! "polly will tell you," she added. so polly, glad enough to tell the story, went over it all, bit by bit. when she came to joel's part, ben seized him from off the floor. "see here, i'll give you a ride, joe, in honor of it," and setting him on his shoulder, ben pranced around and around the old kitchen, till joel screamed with delight. "i tell you what, that was fine!" declared ben, and his eyes shone too. then phronsie drummed on the bedroom door, and begged to be let out, in spite of all that davie could do to stop her. "do run and let her out, and davie, too," said mrs. pepper, quite as excited as either polly or ben. "i'll go," said joel, flying off with alacrity. so phronsie and david came running in, well pleased to be once more in the midst of things; and then it was time for supper, and all the while she was laying the cloth and getting out the dishes, polly was looking at joel, and her brown head went up proudly, and every once in a while she would run over and drop a kiss on his stubby hair. and when davie went up to the loft back of him that night, as they were going to bed, joel turned around on the upper stair. "we'll play bull to-morrow, dave," he said. "no, i don't want to," said little davie, with a shiver. "pooh! i do; it's splendid! you may be the bull, if you want to," said joel, generously. "i don't want to," protested davie, fretfully, and hurrying off his clothes, to tuck into bed, where he huddled down. "well, you've got to," said joel, determinedly, giving his jacket a fling to the corner, "'cause if you don't, i'll be the bull, and chase you just awful. so there now, dave pepper!" but davie was spared that tribulation, for when the next day came, mrs. pepper had so much work for them all to do, that the chase dropped entirely out of joel's mind, even if he had a moment in which to accomplish it. the great surprise that mrs. pepper had told them of, now came out, everybody being so full of the adventure with the bull, that it completely crowded out everything else. "now you can't guess," said mrs. pepper, smiling at them all, when she had repeated, "such a surprise, children," "so i might as well tell you. it was--" "oh, mammy, let us guess," howled joel. "i know--it is a horse! somebody's given you one." a perfect shout greeted this, but joel was in no wise dashed. "i don't care," he said, "that would be a surprise." "yes, i think it would be," laughed ben. "guess again, joe, and don't give such a wild one." "then i guess it's some candy," said joel, coming down with a long jump to a possibility; "and do give us some right away." "no, it isn't candy," said mrs. pepper, smiling at him. "then i don't care what it is," declared joel, turning off indifferently; "and say, polly, what have you got for breakfast?" "the same as ever," said polly, with only half an ear for him, her mind being intent on the splendid surprise; "you know, joel; what makes you ask?" "mean old breakfast!" said joel, with a grimace. "polly, why don't we ever have anything but mush?" "you know that too, joe," said polly, with a cold shoulder for him. "do let me be, i want to guess mamsie's surprise. o dear me! whatever can it be?" she wrinkled up her brows, and lost herself in a brown study. "i guess i know," said ben, slowly, after a good look at mrs. pepper's face. "what?" roared joel, interested again, since ben had guessed it. "it's blackberries," answered ben, with a shrewd nod of his head. "isn't it, mamsie?" "yes, it is," said mrs. pepper; "you've guessed it, sure enough, bensie." "hoh--old blackberries!" cried joel, dreadfully disappointed, and falling back to the other corner. "the blackberries aren't to be ours," said mrs. pepper; "that is--" "not to be ours," repeated the children together, while even ben looked surprised. "no." mrs. pepper laughed outright to see their faces. "you can't guess," she said again, "so i'll tell you. mrs. brown is sick, and i'm to make her blackberry jell over here; and she's given me some sugar, besides the pay she'll give me, so now we can have our pie." there was a perfect babel at this, the five little peppers having always before them the hope of some day hearing their mother say they should have a blackberry pie--to make up for not being able to accomplish the chicken pie that polly and all the others had so longed for--and which was quite beyond their expectations. now the blackberry pie was really coming! "make it now. make it now, mamsie, do," begged joel, his mouth watering. "goodness me!" exclaimed polly; "why, it's before breakfast, joe. the idea of teasing mamsie to do it now." "and i can't do it just after breakfast, either," said mrs. pepper, "for i must begin as soon as i can on the jell, and you must all help me. there is ever so much you can all be useful in, about making jell. all but ben, he's got to go to work, you know." "when will you make the pie, then?" cried joel, trying to smother his disappointment, and finding it hard work to do so. "just as soon as ever this jell is done and out of the way," said mother pepper, in her cheeriest tones. "so, polly, fly at getting the breakfast ready, and when that's eaten, we'll all, except ben, tackle the jell." when the dishes were all cleared off, and polly was washing them, mrs. pepper turned to joel. "run over to mrs. brown's now, joe, and get her kettle." "what kettle?" asked joe, who didn't relish being turned out of the kitchen in all the bustle of getting ready for the jelly-making. "the preserve-kettle," answered mrs. pepper. "she'll tell you where 'tis. i told her i'd send you over for it. and be real still, joe, and don't ask her questions, 'cause she's miserable, and is in for a long sick spell if she doesn't look out." so joel went off, wishing there weren't any such things in the world as preserve-kettles, and presently, back he came, dragging it after him "bump-bump." "oh, joe," cried mrs. pepper, in dismay, "how could you!" "i don't b'lieve he's hurt it, mamsie," said polly, running up to examine the kettle closely; "he couldn't, could he? it's all iron." "no, i don't suppose he could really hurt it any," said mrs. pepper, "but he oughtn't to drag it along and bump it. things that don't belong to us should be handled extra carefully. well now, joe, set down the kettle, and go and wash your hands, you and davie, and then come back and pick over these blackberries, and polly'll take hold as soon as she gets through with the work." "o dear, i don't want to pick over old blackberries," whined joel. "then i suppose you don't care for any of the pie when it's baked," said his mother, coolly; "folks who can't help along in the work, shouldn't have any of the good things when they're passed around." "oh, yes, i do want some pie," declared joel, vehemently. "dave and me both want some; don't we, dave?" "yes, i do," said little davie, "very much indeed, mamsie." "and i want some pie," echoed phronsie, hearing the last words, and smoothing down her pink apron. "so you shall have, phronsie," promised mrs. pepper, "and so shall every one of you who's glad to work, and be useful." "we'll be useful and work," cried joel, tumbling out into the woodshed to wash up. "come on, dave; then we'll get our pie when it's baked." xxiv how joel started the fire "now," said polly, to the old stove, "just remember how you acted that day when mamsie made mrs. brown's jelly!" she was standing in front of it, and she drew herself up very straight. "you ought to be ashamed, you naughty thing, you! to make such trouble. now i've stuffed you up all good and nice in the holes, and when i come home i'll build a fresh fire, and then, says i, you've got to bake a whole batch of bread just as nice!" and polly shook her brown head very decidedly, and whirled off to the bedroom door. "come, phronsie," she called, "hurry up, pet. o dear me!" phronsie still sat on the floor by the big bureau, with one red-topped shoe in her hand, and patting it. "the other one is on, polly," said phronsie, as she saw polly's face; "truly it is," and she stuck one foot out. "i sh'd think it was," laughed polly; "every button is in the wrong button-hole, phronsie." phronsie looked at the little shoe very gravely, then her lip quivered. "deary me, that's no matter," exclaimed polly. "we'll have that all right in a twinkling." so she sat down on the floor, and took phronsie's foot in her lap, and unbuttoned and buttoned up the shoe. "there now, that's done as spick-span as can be." "what is 'spick-span,' polly?" said phronsie. "oh, nice--just right. dear me, it means ever so many things," said polly, with a little laugh. "now then, let's have the other shoe on," and she held out her hand for it. "let me put it on," cried phronsie, and drawing it back in alarm; "let me, polly, oh, i want to put it on my very own self, i do!" "well, so you shall," promised polly, "if you'll hurry, for you know i've got to bake my bread when i get back." "isn't there any bread?" asked phronsie, drawing on the little shoe, and pausing, lost in thought, when it was half on. "yes, just enough to last till i get the new loaves baked," said polly, longing to give the shoe a twitch and expedite matters; "that is, i think so. i never know how much joel will eat." "o dear me!" exclaimed phronsie, much troubled. "see here now, pet," cried polly, decidedly, "if you don't pull on that shoe quickly, i shall have to do it, for we must start--" which had the effect to make the little red-topped shoe slip on to phronsie's fat foot in a trice. "now then, we're ready," said polly at last, tying on phronsie's pink sunbonnet. "come, phronsie," and she took her hand. "joel," she called, as they went out the doorway, "where are you?" "here," said joel, thrusting his head down the loft stairs, where he had heard every word that polly had said to the old stove. "now you and davie must look after the little brown house," said polly, feeling very grown up and important, "and be good boys while we're gone down to the store after the bundle of sacks mr. atkins has got for mamsie." "yes," said joel, "we will, polly." so polly ran over the stairs and kissed joel and little davie, who crowded up for one also, and then phronsie had to come up to be kissed too. "what are you two boys doing?" asked polly. "nothin'," said joel. david was silently digging his toes back and forth on the floor. "well, you better come right down and play in the kitchen," said polly, "then you can look after things;" and she helped phronsie downstairs and took her hand, and they walked down the path and off on to the road in a very dignified way, for polly loved to be fine, and it was always a gala occasion when she could dress phronsie up neat and nice, for a walk to the store. "i very much wish we had a parasol," sighed polly, who never could get over the longing for one, ever since she saw miss pettingill's green sunshade, with waving fringe, that she carried to church; "but then, i don't suppose i'll ever get one," and she sighed again. "it's nice to be walking down to the store, polly," observed phronsie, peering up at her from the depths of the pink sunbonnet, and smoothing her pink calico gown down in front. "so it is, chick," said polly, with a merry laugh. "i don't b'lieve anybody ever had such perfectly good times as we do, in all this world." "no, i don't b'lieve they ever did," said phronsie, shaking her yellow head, delighted to see polly gay once more. so they walked on quite contentedly. meanwhile, joel turned to davie up in the loft. "we'll keep the crickets in the box," he said, "till by'n by, an' go down, 'cause polly said so. and i'm goin' to help her; you'll see." with these mysterious words he shoved a tin box half full of hopping black crickets under the bed, saying, "there, the cover's on. come on, dave," and scrambled down the stairs to the kitchen. little david went down more slowly, as if something were on his mind. when he reached the kitchen, joel was standing in front of the stove, a pile of paper was down on the floor at his feet, and he had a match in his hand. davie stared at him in amazement. "i'm going to help polly," declared joel, loudly, holding his match quite fast with one hand, while he twitched off one of the covers, with the lifter. "oh, joe, you aren't going to make a fire?" cried little david, horror-stricken, and rooted to the spot. "of course i am," declared joel, boldly. "i heard polly talking to the old stove just before she went away, and she's got to bake bread when she gets home, an' it's all right, an' she'll be so glad to see it ready for her." all the time he was talking he was stuffing the paper into the stove; then he ran into the woodshed, bringing out some kindlings. "we've got to fill the wood box, dave," he said, to make talk and divert david's mind; and he crammed the wood in after the paper, till there wasn't much room left. "you ought not to do it, joe. o dear me, do stop," implored david, clasping his hands. "i'm big enough," declared joel, strutting around and pulling at the things that polly said were dampers--though why they should be damp, when there was a fire in the stove every day, he never could see. "and when polly sees that i can make it as good's she can, she'll let me do it every day. yes, sir-_ree!_" with that he drew the match, and held it to an end of the paper, sticking up. and forgetting to put back the cover, he raced off to the wood, shed again for another armful of kindling. _"joel!"_ screamed david, left behind in the kitchen. "come! oh, we're afire! we're afire!" joel dropped his kindlings and the heavier pieces of wood he had gathered up, and went like a shot back to the stove again. great tongues of flame were shooting up toward the dingy ceiling. "why didn't you put the cover on?" cried he, terribly frightened, for he began to think, after all, perhaps it would be quite as well to let polly make the fire. "it'll be all right, i'll have it on in a minute," suiting the action to the word, as he stuck the lifter into the cover and advanced to the stove. "oh, joe, you'll be burnt up," cried david, in a dreadful voice, and wringing his hands. joel made a dash, but the flames swirled out at him, so he backed off. "you can't do it," screamed davie; "don't try it, joe, you'll be all burnt up." when davie said that he couldn't do it, joel made up his mind that he would. besides, the very thought of the little brown house taking fire turned him desperate with fright; so he made a second dash, and somehow, he never could tell what made it, the cover slid on, and the flames muttered away to themselves inside, in a smothered kind of way, and there they were, shut up as tight as could be. "'twas just as easy as nothing," said joel, drawing a long breath, and beginning to strut up and down, still carrying the cover-lifter. "you're such a 'fraid-cat, dave," he added scornfully. david was beyond caring whether or no he was called a 'fraid-cat, being stiff with fright, so joel strutted away to his heart's content. "now i must put in more wood," he declared, and, twitching off the cover, he crammed the stove as full as it would hold, on top of the blazing mass. then he wiggled the dampers again, to suit him, paying particular attention to the little one in the pipe, then wiped his grimy hands, in great satisfaction, on his trousers. "you see 'tisn't anything to make a fire," he observed to david; "an i'm goin' to build it every single day, after this. polly'll be so s'prised. now come on, dave, let's go an' play," and joel gave a long and restful stretch. little david, seeing the stove behaving so well, gave a sigh of relief, and coming slowly out of his fright, clattered after joel, and soon they were down back of the house, where they had scooped out the ground, and filling it with water, had made what they called a pond. here they now began to sail boats made out of bits of paper. "hi--there--you!" shouted a harsh voice. joel and david, absorbed in getting their boats across the pond without running into each other, didn't hear. "_hi!_" yelled the voice again, "your house is afire!" joel lifted his black head and stared. "come here, you!" screamed a man, jumping out of a wagon in the middle of the road, in front of the little brown house. he was big and redheaded, and he held a whip in his hand. this he shook frantically up toward the roof, screaming, _"your house is afire!"_ sure enough. great volumes of smoke came pouring out of the chimney, which wasn't any too good, and once in a while a tongue of flame would sweep out, licking the sides of the bricks, as much as to say, "you can't shut me up entirely, you see." oh, how merrily they danced! [illustration: "''twas just as easy as nothing,' said joel"] "get a bucket. step lively, if you want to save your house!" roared the man at joel, who took one good look at the chimney, then sprang for mamsie's pail. "get something, dave," he screamed, "and bring some water." now that the fire had really come, david, strange to say, felt all his fright dropping from him. it was as if mamsie said, "save the little brown house, dears," and he rushed on the wings of the wind over down across the lane, and helped himself to grandma bascom's big bucket, always standing on a bench beside her kitchen door. and, with it almost full of water, he soon stood by the big red-headed man's side. "you're a likely-headed pair o' chaps," said the man, as joel dashed up with his pail, which he hadn't been able to find at once, as mamsie had put some cloth she was going to bleach into it, and set it in the woodshed. "now, then, i must climb the roof, an' you two boys must keep a-handin' up th' water as smart as you can." "oh, i'm goin' up on the roof," cried joel, and springing up the gutter-pipe. "do ye think ye kin?" asked the man. but joel was already halfway up. and presently the first pail of water was handed up, and splash it went on the flames, by this time coming out very lively at the chimney-top. but it didn't seem to do any good, only to sizzle and siss, for just as soon as a pailful of water was dashed on, out they popped again, as bright as ever. a boy, coming whistling down the road, stopped suddenly, took one look, and ran like lightning over across the fields on a short cut. "fire--_fire!_" he screamed, and pretty soon, by dint of jumping stone walls and fences, he got into the street, at the end of which stood mr. atkins' grocery store. "fire--_fire!_" he bawled every step of the way. "where--where?" cried the people at the store, rushing to the door and craning their necks, as he flew by, intent on getting to the fire-engine house, so as to run back with the men who dragged the machine by the ropes. "at the pepperses little brown house," bawled the boy, plunging on. "now, polly," mr. atkins was just saying, when the boy's scream was heard, "you tell your ma she needn't hurry about these coats. i guess that paper'll cover 'em, if i put another knot in th' string. my land! what's that!--" "_fire! fire!_" the boy was bawling all along the street. "it's the pepperses little brown house." somebody said, "poor children." others, "don't let 'em hear," "too late!" and various other things. "come, phronsie," said polly, hoarsely, seizing the little fat hand. phronsie, who was regarding some very pink and white sticks in a big candy jar on the shelf, tore her gaze away, and followed obediently as polly pulled her along to the door. "oh, polly, you hurt me," she said in a grieved way. "here, i'll take you," cried an old farmer with a long beard that looked like a bunch of hay, and he seized phronsie and set her in his big wagon. polly hopped in beside. "don't be scart. we'll all go down and help," screamed a half dozen voices after her. rattle--rattle--clang came the fire-engine, the boy who had brought the news having secured one of the most important places at one of the long ropes. and away they went, the procession gaining in length and strength at each step, till it seemed as if all badgertown were on the road and bound for the little brown house. the big red-headed man had dashed up to the roof by the side of joel. "you better go down and hand water," he said, "an' bring the axe, we may have to cut away th' ruf." joel, knowing it was worse than useless to disobey, slid down, and got the axe first, to have it ready--oh, dreadful thought!--to cut the little brown house with; and then the two buckets, as full as they could be lifted, went up, and came down empty. up and down. up and down. "here come th' folks," yelled the man on the roof. "now we're all right. don't you be scart, boys, th' fire-engine's comin'." none too soon! a little fork of flame was just beginning to pop its head out between the shingles close to the chimney, as if to say, "you really needn't think you are going to keep us shut up." up clattered the fire-engine with a dreadful noise into the back yard, which suddenly seemed to be full of people of all sizes. joel, when he saw the firemen on hand, sprang for the roof again. this time he staggered up with his bucket of water. "oh, joel!" he looked down and saw, as well as he could, for something seemed to be the matter with his eyes, polly's face. now that the danger was all over, for of course the fire-engine and all those people would save the little brown house, polly was the last person whom joel really wanted to see. and he busied himself in helping to haul up the water-buckets, that now came up pretty lively as the boys filled them and handed them to the firemen. "you'd better get down," said more than one fireman. the roof now seemed to swarm with them. "i ain't goin' to," said joel, obstinately, reaching out for another bucket; "it's our house, so there!" "let him alone," said the big red-headed man, "he'll work as smart as any two of ye men. if it hadn't 'a' been for him and that one there," pointing with a grimy thumb to david on the ground, still patiently getting water and handing up his bucket, "we'd 'a' been all burnt up, by this time." joel's face got fiery red, all through the smut and grime. "if it hadn't been for me!" and down went his black head. "would mamsie and polly ever, ever forgive him?" "oh, joel," screamed polly from the ground, looking at him piteously, "do come down, dear!" but he really didn't hear now. it seemed to him if he didn't work to the very last, he could never look mamsie in the face again, so he was now on the other side of the chimney, where the fire was the hottest. "it's an even chance, if we save it," joel heard one of the firemen say; "it's got in between the joints. see!" "then we've got to cut just that spot," said the big red-headed man, who, by reason of being on hand first, was considered to be the leader, and he swung his axe over his head. "crash!" went the little brown roof. at the sound, polly dragged phronsie over to david's side. "now, then, in with the water lively, boys, and splash her out," cried the big red-headed man, who very much liked being a leader. and thereupon he stopped working, and set the others at it in such a brisk fashion that the water ran down in perfect rivers all over the roof, one or two of the streams soaking through, to drop into ben's and joel's and david's bedroom in the loft. "it's out! it's out!" bawled some of the firemen on the roof to the men and boys. "you don't need to send up any more water." "look behind you!" screamed the boy who had first discovered the fire. he seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, and the firemen, whirling around, saw a little tongue of flame shooting determinedly up. it had run along underneath the shingles and hopped at the first chance it could get. so the buckets of water had to keep on flying up, to come down and be filled. up and down, up and down, till polly sank on the grass, unable to bear it another bit longer. "oh, if i weren't a girl," she moaned passionately, "then i could be up there, and i know i'd save the little brown house. oh, mamsie! mamsie!" "don't fret, polly," said a good woman living in the village,--for by this time a long procession of men, women, and children had hurried in, crowding and jamming into the yard,--"ef it burns down, you shall all come to our house an' stay a spell, till you get another one." "don't," cried polly, passionately, and shrinking off; "we can't live, if the little brown house goes. oh, mamsie! mamsie!" and she sobbed as if her heart would break, and covered her face with her hands. "don't cry, polly," and phronsie's little hand crept softly up to her neck. but polly couldn't stop. if there had been anything for her to do, she would have kept up, but to sit there and see the little brown house burn up, and know because she was a girl there was no place for her on the roof--why, there she was, sobbing as if her heart would break, and phronsie clinging piteously to her neck. a ringing shout struck upon her ear. "it's coming!" shivered polly; "the roof's tumbling in!" and she hid her face lower yet. wouldn't god stop the dreadful fire ever yet. he must, for mamsie said he loved to help all his children. and-"hooray, polly!" called joel in her ear, putting a very black face up close to her pale one. "don't you understand? it's all out. it is, truly, this time, every single squinchin' bit." but polly didn't understand, and they laid her back on the grass, and one woman said, "get a pamleaf fan," and another cried, "get th' water in that pail there," pointing to one not used, on the grass. and everybody got in everybody else's way, and crowded around her, and the water was dashed over her face till she was in a little pool of it, and still she didn't open her eyes. and phronsie wailed and clung to her, getting as wet, so a thin woman remarked, "as a drownded rat," and david was on the other side, nearly as bad. as for joel, he rushed up and down, completely gone with fright. after all his brave fight, to have polly give out was something so very dreadful he couldn't think of it. "here comes mrs. pepper," said somebody, and, "thank the lord," said another, and down the road in the doctor's gig, the little doctor driving like mad, came mamsie. they helped her out, and she was in the yard, never looking at the little brown house; for her black eyes were searching among the crowd, and her white lips tried to frame some words. "all safe, marm," sang out the big redheaded man; "and you've got some smart chaps," thinking he'd give all the comfort, and at once, that was in his power. "polly ain't just well," spoke up somebody, sympathetically, and in a minute mamsie was down on the grass, with polly's head in her lap, the other children swarming around her, and dr. fisher in the midst. "oh, i'm so ashamed," gasped polly, coming to, and hiding her face on mrs. pepper's breast. "don't you feel badly, polly child," said mamsie, smoothing her brown hair gently; "you're all tired out. the little brown house is all safe--just think of that!" polly thrust up her head and took one look. "mamsie," she whispered, holding to mrs. pepper's neck convulsively, "god did stop the dreadful fire, didn't he?" "he surely did," said mrs. pepper, looking around on all her little group. the neighbors and townspeople, the firemen and the crowd, stole silently off and left them there, but dr. fisher stayed. suddenly joel was missing. "where is he?" asked mrs. pepper, a fresh alarm gathering on her face. "p'r'aps he's gone with the engine," piped up the boy who had discovered the fire, and who seemed to think it his duty to watch that it didn't break out again. "oh, no, joel wouldn't do that," said mrs. pepper. "i'll find him," said little dr. fisher, who had his own views about joel, after closely regarding his singed eyebrows and black face; "lucky enough if he doesn't need considerable patching up," he muttered to himself, as he strode off to reconnoitre. "there's no use in your hiding," he said aloud, as if talking to some one. "so you might as well come out at once, and let me know where you're hurt, joe, and i'll fix you before your mother sees you." "i ain't hurt," said a voice from the lilac bushes. "oh, you are not?" said the little doctor, opening the bushes to peer within, his spectacles setting well down on the end of his nose, so that he looked over them. "that's good," and he soon had joel out. "now then, i'll fix you up as good as ever," and he rummaged his ample pockets for the things he had thrust into them for this very work. "i ain't hurt," said joel, wriggling furiously. "stand still, joe," said the little doctor, coolly, "for i'm going to patch you up, so that you're decent to see your mother. aren't you ashamed to get this way when polly, poor brave girl, has been so sick? why, what's the matter with you!" suddenly giving joel a whirl, so that he could look in his face. joel's face was working frightfully. "i 'most--burnt--the little brown house--up," he gasped. "i made a fire in--the stove!" xxv joel sells shoes for mr. beebe the little doctor kept a firm hold on joel's jacket, and gazed keenly into his face. "um!" he said. "i wanted--to--to--help polly," gasped joel. "o dear me!" he was a sight to behold, as the tears washed their way down the grimy face, which was still working fearfully, as he tried to hold in his sobs. "so you thought you'd help polly," said dr. fisher, kindly; "was that it, joel?" "yes," said joel; "she'd put the putty in, and put it in----and----" "put the putty in?" repeated the little doctor, aghast. "yes, or ben had." "i never in all my life heard of burning putty in a stove," said dr. fisher, helplessly, and setting his big spectacles again, as if that might possibly assist him to understand. "oh, she didn't burn it," cried joel, just as much astonished. "well, what did she do with it, then?" demanded dr. fisher. "dear me, i always supposed a stove was meant to burn things in," and he waved his head helplessly, and regarded joel with a fixed stare. "she stuck the putty in the holes," said joel, very distinctly; "don't you understand? polly's stove is very old, and it's cracked, and she says the air comes in and then the fire goes down, so she has to stuff up all the mean old cracks. o dear me, i wanted to help her," and off joel went in another gust of tears. "i suppose polly feels badly over her stove, sometimes," reflected dr. fisher, casting a very sharp glance on joel. "i really wonder if she does," he added carelessly. "feels badly!" exploded joel. then he took a good long look around on all sides, and leaned over to whisper in the little doctor's ear, "_she cries sometimes, polly does_." "no!" exclaimed dr. fisher. "yes, she does," declared joel, shaking his stubby head decidedly. "she cries dreadfully when mamsie isn't looking. and she didn't know that i saw her, either, only i peeked behind the pantry door. and i wanted to--to--help her." he began to cry afresh at the recollection. "joel," said dr. fisher, getting up suddenly, "you've got to tell your mother how the little brown house got on fire." "i know it," said joel, but his head drooped, and his eyes fell. "and the best way to right the wrong is to own up at once," said the little doctor. "i suppose she's taught you that, eh, joel?" "yes, sir," said joel. "well, when you've got such a mother as you have, joel," continued dr. fisher, "you better treat her as well as you know how. so run along, and be quick with you," and dr. fisher gave him a resounding clap on the shoulder, that sent joe flying off like a shot from a gun, while the little doctor stole off the back way, and got into his gig, and drove off as fast as he could, and thus escaped being thanked. and the badgertown folks got together and held a meeting in mr. atkins' store that very evening, and said that it was a pity that mrs. pepper, who was struggling so to bring up all those five children, should have such a hard time. so each man put his hand in his pocket and fished out some money; and the carpenters came next day and mended up all the holes where the axe had cut through the roof; and the whole house was cleaned and dried where the water had run down, and then there was one dollar and forty-five cents left over, for people had been so very generous. "just keep it, mrs. pepper," said the spokesman, "'twill come in handy, most likely;" and mrs. pepper couldn't speak, she was so taken aback. but they didn't seem to feel as if they hadn't been thanked enough, as they all went back again into the village. ben had been working in a distant wood-lot for deacon blodgett, and so hadn't heard a word of the fire until he got into the village, on his way home. then he said he wouldn't believe it, unless he should see for himself. so he ran every step of the way home, and rushed in all out of breath. "what's happened?" he demanded of the first person he met. this happened to be polly. "oh, ben!" she exclaimed, flinging her arms around him. and then followed all the story. and ben continued to blink every now and then up at the ceiling, varied by hurrying out to gaze at the roof, when he would rub his eyes. "dear me, polly!" he would exclaim, "it seems just like an awful dream." "i wish it was," sighed polly, "and i guess joel wishes so, too." but the next day, when the badgertown people came with their gift, then the five little peppers changed about to the very happiest children in the world! and as soon as the visitors had gone, the whole bunch of peppers just took hold of hands, and danced like wild little things around the table where the pile of silver quarters and ten cent pieces lay. "mamsie," said polly, when at last they stopped to take breath, "did you ever know of such good people in the world as our badgertown folks?" "i'm sure i didn't," declared mrs. pepper, wiping her eyes. "may the lord reward them, for i'm sure i can't." polly suddenly left the ring of peppers, and came close to her mother. "perhaps you can, sometime, mamsie," she said soberly. "i hope so," replied mother pepper. "well, well look forward to it, and take the chance, if it ever comes, you may be sure, polly." that night, when the little brown house was as still as a mouse, polly heard a loud scream come pealing down from the room in the loft. mrs. pepper, strange to say, didn't hear it at all; poor woman, she was very tired with her work, from which she had been hurried so unceremoniously when the alarm of fire reached her, and she had lain awake all the first part of the night with a heart burdened with anxious care. "joel's dreaming all about the fire, most likely," said polly to herself. so she slipped on mamsie's old wrapper, picking it up so that she would not trip and tumble on her nose, as she sped softly over the stairs. "joel, hush!" she said reprovingly, "you'll wake mamsie and phronsie! ben, do make him keep still!" "i can't," said ben, only half awake. "hush up there, joe!" and he turned over a very sleepy face, and tried to look at polly. "'tisn't me," said joel, in high dudgeon; "i ain't a 'fraid-cat." and polly stared to see david sitting on the edge of the bed he shared with joel, and tucking up his feet well under him, while he shook with terror as he cried shrilly, "they're running all up my legs!" "poor little thing!" exclaimed polly, sitting down on the other edge of the bed, at the risk of getting on joel's toes. "he's frightened," to the others. "i s'pose you've been dreaming, davie." "no, no!" cried davie, huddling up worse than ever. "there goes one of 'em now!" he exclaimed suddenly, and pointed toward polly; "he's just running under mamsie's wrapper!" polly hopped off the bed in her liveliest fashion, while from under mamsie's wrapper scuttled a black object over the bedquilt in the opposite direction. "what is it?" she cried, beginning to shake violently herself; "o dear me! are there any more of them?" "yes," said davie, "there are lots and lots, polly. o dear me!" he couldn't twist himself into a smaller knot than he was, so there he sat, as miserable as possible, with the tears rolling down his face. "joel!" cried polly, giving that individual a little poke in the back, as he appeared to be going off to sleep again, "you can tell about these black things! i must know; so what is it?" "let me go to sleep," grunted joel, twisting away from her fingers. "no," said polly, firmly, "i shan't, joey pepper. what are those black things that davie--o dear me, there is another one!" and polly hopped back upon the bed, for there was a second black creature steering straight for her in the dim light. joel gave a long restful sigh. "do let me alone," he said crossly. but polly leaned over and shook his shoulder smartly. "see here, now," cried ben, roused by all this, "you just sit up in bed, mister joel, and tell polly all you know about this business. do you hear?" and suddenly over came ben's pillow flying through the air, to tumble over joel's chubby nose. "nothin' to tell," declared joel, again; but he sat up in bed. "so you said before," said polly; "but these black things got up here somehow, and you know all about it, i'm sure. so you've just got to tell all about it, joel pepper." "it's crickets!" blurted joel, suddenly, "an' dave an' me brought 'em to put in ben's bed, an'--" "thank you," interrupted ben, and, "oh, davie," reprovingly said polly. "i'm sorry," said little davie, wriggling up his toes; "i didn't know they hopped so bad. oh, polly, they're all running up my legs," he cried with another burst. "never mind," said polly, quite reassured, "they're nothing but dear, nice little crickets. i don't care, now; but it's dreadful to see black things in the middle of the night, when you don't know what they are." "i don't like 'em, polly," wailed david. "i'd rather they'd be out of doors." "but you helped to bring 'em in," said polly. "how could you, davie?" she added reproachfully. "dave didn't 'xactly help," said joel, uneasily. "i told him he'd got to, polly," he added honestly. "oh, i see," said polly. "well, now, davie, you're going downstairs to get into mamsie's bed." "oh, goody!" cried davie, smiling through his tears; and stepping gingerly out of bed on the tips of his toes, lest he should meet a black cricket unawares, he skipped to the head of the stairs. "shake your clothes," called polly, in a smothered voice, fearful lest mamsie and phronsie should wake up. thereupon she began to shake the old wrapper violently. "we mustn't carry any of 'em downstairs," she said, while joel set up a howl. "oh, i don't want dave to go downstairs and leave me," he whined. "yes, you can stay up here with your crickets," said polly, coolly, having shaken off any possibility of one remaining on mamsie's wrapper. "and to-morrow morning you just step around lively and pick 'em all up and carry 'em out doors," said ben, before turning over for another nap. "good night, polly." "good night, ben," said polly, softly, going downstairs after davie, who was pattering ahead, "and good night, joey." "good night," snivelled joel. "o dear me, i don't want dave to go. well, anyway, he ain't goin' away ever again, polly pepper--so there!" the next morning, as soon as it was light enough to see them, joel picked up all his crickets. it was no easy matter, for they made him an awful piece of work, hopping and jumping into all the corners; and, just as soon as his thumb and fingers were on them--away they were off again. but ben had said every one must go. so at it joel kept, until the perspiration just rolled from his tired, hot face. "i don't like 'em, polly," he confided, when the last one was escorted out of doors, "and i ain't ever goin' to bring one in again." "i wouldn't, joe," said polly, "and it isn't nice to scare folks, i think." "i think so, too," said phronsie, with a wise nod of her yellow head, as she sat on the floor, playing with david. "think what, phronsie?" cried joel, suddenly. "what polly said," replied phronsie, patting seraphina, who was being shown the pictures in a bit of old newspaper that david was pretending to read. "hoh! hoh!" cried joel, bursting into a laugh. "you don't know whatever you're talking about, phron. does she, polly?" "don't tease her," said polly; but phronsie didn't hear, being absorbed in correcting seraphina, who had wobbled over on her back instead of sitting up elegantly to view the pictures. joel ran down the next day to see mrs. beebe, mother pepper giving the long-desired permission. davie had a little sore throat, and he much preferred to stay near mamsie's chair. "now, joe, remember to be good," warned mother pepper, the last thing, when he had been washed and dressed and brushed and declared quite prepared. "i'm going to be always good," declared joel. "i ain't ever going to be like ab'm," he added in disgust. "joel," reproved mrs. pepper, sternly, "don't judge other folks; it's enough for you to do to look out for yourself." joel hung his head, abashed. "well, good-by," said mrs. pepper, the stern lines on her face breaking into a smile. "good-by, mamsie!" joel flew back suddenly, to throw his arms around her neck, then he rushed up to do the same thing to polly, and then to phronsie. "don't kiss david," said his mother, "'cause you may take his throat." "then i want to kiss him," cried joel. "mayn't i, mammy?" he wheedled. "i don't want dave to have it." "oh, he'd have it just as much," said mrs. pepper, sewing away for dear life. "how could he?" cried joel, in great astonishment, and standing quite still. "say, mammy, how could he, if i took it?" "you'd find if you took it there'd be quite enough sore throat for two," answered mrs. pepper. "well, run along, joe, you wouldn't understand, and 'tisn't necessary that you should; only you are to do as i say, that's all." so joel ran off, waving a good-by to david; and since he was not allowed to kiss him, he gave a rousing "hooray," which delighted little davie greatly, as he stood, his face pressed to the window, to see him go. once within mrs. beebe's home, it was enchantment enough. it was a good afternoon for the shoe business, mr. beebe having two customers. one of them was a very fussy woman who had a small boy in charge. joel was in high glee at being called upon to help lift down ever so many boxes, until pretty near every shoe in the stock was tried on. mrs. beebe kept coming out of the little parlor at the back of the shop, and saying, "ain't you through with joel yet, pa?" all of which made joel feel very important, indeed, and almost decided him to keep a shoe shop, when he grew up, instead of being a stage-coach driver. "no," said mr. beebe, shortly, "i ain't through with him, ma. he's a master hand at getting them boxes down." "hain't you got a pair a little mite broader across the toes?" asked the woman. "stand up and stamp in 'em, johnny." so johnny stood up and stamped in the new shoes. "real hard," said his mother. so he stamped real hard. "i'd druther have another pair a mite broader," said the woman, discontentedly. "i showed you some broader ones," said old mr. beebe. "well, joel, my boy, you'll have to climb up and hand down that box up in the corner. p'r'aps some of those will suit." so joel, who wished he could be there every day in the year, and that that woman would all the time bring in boys who wanted different shoes from any that mr. beebe had, climbed up like a squirrel and brought the box to mr. beebe. "now, marm," said the shoe-store keeper, deftly whipping a good roomy pair, "i guess these are about what you want," and he laughed cheerily. "no, they ain't either," said johnny's mother, snappishly taking them, and viewing them critically, "they're big as all out doors, mr. beebe." "well, he wants 'em to wear out o' doors, don't he?" said mr. beebe, "so i guess they'll suit, at last." "well, they won't," said the woman, "an' you needn't try 'em on, johnny. they're a sight bigger'n they orter be. i guess i can tell soon's i see a shoe." "can't joel come now, pa?" asked old mrs. beebe, presenting her cap-border in the doorway again. it was quite fine, with new pink ribbons which she had put on because she had company. "yes, pretty soon, ma," replied her husband, quite worn out. "well, i'm sure i'm sorry i can't suit you, marm," turning to the woman, "but i honestly can't, for i've shown you every shoe in my shop. here, joel, we'll begin and pack 'em up again," he said, sorting the pairs out from the pile on the counter that ran across the side of the shop, and slinging them by the string that tied them together, over his arm. "i'll see that pair," said the woman, suddenly, touching one as it dangled over mr. beebe's arm. "all right, marm," said mr. beebe, most obligingly. so he knelt down before johnny again, and pulled on the shoes, and johnny's mother told the boy to stand up and stamp in 'em, all of which was performed, and old mr. beebe got up and pulled out his bandanna and wiped his hot face. "now that's somethin' like," said the woman, with a bob of her head, while her little eyes twinkled. "i guess i know the right shoe, as well as the next one. why didn't you show 'em to me before?" she snapped. "you've had them shoes on twice before," said mr. beebe, "or at least the boy has, and first they were too broad, and then they were too narrer." "well, i'll take 'em, anyway, now," said the woman, laying down the money, "and i guess i know, as well as the next one, whether my boy's tried on shoes or not." "now, joel," said old mr. beebe, when the little green door with its jangling bell had really closed on her and on johnny, "as soon as we get these shoes back again in the boxes, you better run into th' parler, 'cause ma's been a-waitin' considerable." joel, much divided in his mind whether he would rather stay in the shop altogether, with the delightful shoes, or go out and spend half of the time with mrs. beebe and the doughnuts and pink and white sticks he felt almost sure were waiting for him, came to the conclusion that he really couldn't decide which was the more delightful; and then the shop-door bell jangled again, and there was another customer. this time it was a little thin old man, and although he came from another town, he seemed to be a great friend of mr. beebe's, who now joyfully welcomed him. "well, i declare, if 'tain't obadiah andrews!" exclaimed the shoe-shop keeper, radiantly, taking a good look at the newcomer. "i haven't seen you for a week o' sundays, obadiah." "nor i hain't seen you," declared the little man, just as well pleased, and sitting down gladly. "i'm most beat out, a-gittin' here, so i want some new shoes, jotham, and i cal'late i'll get 'em about as nice as they make 'em here." "i cal'late so, too, obadiah," said old mr. beebe, rubbing his hands together in a pleased way. "now, joel, we'll get down all the shoes on this side," and he ambled across the shop, "an' you can put up the boys' sizes, afterwards, if you want to." "pa, ain't you most through with joel? oh, why, here's mr. andrews!" exclaimed mrs. beebe. then she came into the little shop and sat down, while mr. beebe and joel got out the shoes that were to be tried on. "it's so nice that i can pass the time o' day with you, meanwhilst," she observed. but it didn't take very long to satisfy old mr. andrews. as soon as the first shoe was pulled on he declared it was just right, although the shoe-shop keeper offered to try on the others. "p'r'aps these'll pinch when you get home," suggested mr. beebe, anxiously, "or somethin' else as bad will be the matter with 'em." but the little old man said, "no; do 'em up, jotham." so the shoes were rolled in paper, and tied with a red string, and then mr. obadiah andrews said, "now i'm a-goin' to set an' visit, and pass the time o' day with you, jotham." "so do," cried old mr. beebe, delightedly, counting out the change. "now, joel, you can pile all them shoes back, and then finish the boys' sizes, if you want to; and after that, ma, he can go into the parlor, and be company to you." when mrs. beebe and joel finally got into the parlor, leaving the two old friends talking busily, there only remained ten minutes before it was time to go home. "o dear me!" exclaimed old mrs. beebe, quite aghast, as she glanced at the clock. "well, you must obey your ma, and the only thing i see out of it is, you must come again." so she stuffed into a paper bag all the pink and white sticks and doughnuts that were piled so nicely, in a company fashion, on a blue plate. "there," she said, smothering her disappointment as best she could, "take these home with you, and tell your ma i expect you again, some day. we can't help it, 'cause pa's been so busy," as joel ran off. "i've sold shoes all the afternoon," he screamed, rushing into the little brown house, and for a moment forgetting the paper bag and its precious contents. then it came ever him in a burst. "look at this!" swinging it over polly's brown head. she bobbed it up suddenly. "look out!" screamed joel, but too late; polly's brown head bumped into the bag, and away it spun, and the doughnuts and pink and white sticks went flying all over the kitchen floor. "now, that's too bad," cried polly, jumping up to help pick them up. "oh, joel, what a perfectly splendid lot!" "ain't it!" said joel, his mouth watering to begin on them. "here's one more," spying a pink stick behind mamsie's chair. "here 'tis. i've got it!" emerging in triumph, and holding it fast. "where's phronsie and dave?" "over at grandma's," said polly. "o dear!" began joel, then he thought a minute. "i'm going to take grandma a doughnut, polly," he cried, dancing off, and swinging the bag, into which he had crammed all the "goodies." he heard phronsie singing to grandma, which she was very fond of doing, and perched up on the side of the bed, grandma smiling away, as well pleased as though she heard every word. "dave," screamed joel, bounding in, and swinging the bag, "you don't know what i've got," and he hopped up on the bed between grandma and phronsie. when davie saw that, he got out of his chair and speedily hopped up on the bed, too. grandma laughed till the tears rolled down her cheeks. "i guess you'll laugh more yet, grandma," declared joel, untwisting the top of his bag, and bringing a pair of bright black eyes very close to it to peer within. "it's perfectly splendid!" he cried, holding his hands so no one else could see. "oh, joey, do show us!" cried phronsie, getting up to kneel on the patched bedquilt, to look over his arm. "you may take one peek," decided joel, suddenly, bringing his eyes away from the mouth of the bag to gaze at them. "grandma must have the first one; then you must guess what it is." "i guess it's doughnuts," said little davie, "'cause you've been to mrs. beebe's, and besides, i smell 'em." grandma smiled all the time, just as happily as if she had heard everything that had been said. "there's something else," said joel, emphatically, "but 'tisn't your guess. now, grandma," he held the bag close up to the old lady's cap-border, "look!" "my!" exclaimed the old lady. "what you got, joel?" as he twitched away the bag. "didn't you see?" cried joel; "well, you may have one more peek, 'cause you are grandma," and he brought it up again before her eyes. "doughnuts?" said grandma. "my sakes! where'd you get 'em?" "you may have one," said joel, peering into the depths of the bag to fish out a good-sized one, that was sugary all over, which he dropped in her hands. "give me one," begged phronsie, holding out both hands. "in a minute," said joel. "now, grandma, what else is in here?" giving the bag a shake. "hey?" asked grandma; "speak louder, joel." "o dear me! i can't speak so's she'll hear," said joel, in despair, to the others. so he shook the bag again, when the bottom of it came out, and away the doughnuts and pink and white sticks flew, and rolled all over the patched bed-quilt. "there, now," said joel, in disgust; "there isn't any use in anybody's guessing anything. but we can eat 'em now," he added, brightening. xxvi miss parrott's coach and the coasting it was snowing tiny flakes when joel's eyes popped open, and the small, feathery things whirled against the little paned window, as if they would very much like to come in. "dave--dave!" cried joel, poking him, "get up--it's snowing!" david's eyes flew quite wide at that, and he sat up at once. "oh, joel," he squealed, as he watched the flakes, "ain't they pretty!" "um! i guess so," said joel, springing into his clothes; "they're nice for snowballs and to slide on, anyway." david reached over for one blue woollen stocking on the floor by the side of the bed, and sat quite still with it in his hand, regarding the snowy whirl. "you ain't got dressed a bit," cried joel, spinning around, "and i'm all ready." "so will i be all ready," cried little david, pulling on the stocking with all haste, and flying at the rest of his clothes with alacrity. "wait, joe--do," as joel began to clatter downstairs. "can't," said joel, racing off, "i'm going to get the sled." "wa-it," called davie, half crying. but joel was in the woodshed, hauling out the precious sled that ben had made for the boys out of some boards and old sleigh runners that had been given him. he was dragging it out with a dreadful noise from the corner where it had stayed all summer, when polly came running out. "i don't believe it's going to snow much," she said, squinting at the feathery specks. "you won't want your sled to-day, boys." "i'm goin' to have it ready," said joel, with another pull. "well, i'll help you," said polly, taking hold of one end. "dear me, i do think this is the most splendid sled in all the world," she exclaimed enthusiastically. "i don't see how ben could make it so nice." "ben can do anything," declared joel, tugging away. "i know it," said polly, with pride. "well, i wish he had time to go coasting all he wants to," she added sorrowfully. "maybe he will have, this winter," suggested joel, who never could bear to see polly sad. "p'r'aps," said polly; "but there's always wood to chop in the winter, joe. there--here it comes!" as the big sled tumbled out with a rush, to be dragged into the middle of the woodshed floor. david now came running downstairs, and phronsie, hearing that the sled was to be drawn out, pattered into the woodshed, too. "oh, polly," she cried in rapture, "now i'm going out to ride on it this very minute," and she danced round and round, clapping her hands in glee. "o dear me!" cried polly, pointing out of the little low window. "see, phronsie, there's only the leastest little bit of snow. why, i do verily b'lieve it's going to stop." at this dreadful suggestion, every one of the little peppers in the woodshed rushed to the window, and joel flung wide the door, so that a cold blast, carrying a feathery cloud of little flakes, swept in. "oh, joel!" exclaimed polly, "shut the door, phronsie'll catch cold." joel was already out in the house-place, dancing about, declaring it was going to be awful deep, and they could make a snow man soon, he guessed; so little davie ran and pushed to the door, shutting off all chance of hearing the rest of what he was saying. he was gone some time, and the others ran into the kitchen, for polly declared they would get no breakfast that day if she did not hurry up, and david and phronsie thought it much nicer to watch the snowstorm from those windows than from the little tucked-up window in the woodshed. the consequence was that joel ran in just as they had begun breakfast, in a fine glow, his cheeks very red, and his chubby nose as well. "why didn't you come?" he demanded, with sparkling eyes. "where?" cried polly. "oh, joe, what have you been doing? your face is as red as fire." "and your nose is red, too," said david. "i don't care," said joel, slipping into his seat. "give me some mush, polly, do!" he begged hungrily, passing his bowl. "oh, 'twas just prime, i tell you!" "what?" asked polly, quickly. "you keep saying it's fine, and don't tell us what you've been doing. that isn't polite," she added, for polly was quite particular as to her manners, and liked to be very genteel before the other children. "oh, i've been riding in miss parrott's coach," said joel, trying to appear as if this were an everyday occurrence, and eating on as if nothing had happened. miss parrott lived in an old ancestral house, about two miles from badgertown. she was very rich, but kept entirely to herself, and drove about in an ancient coach, the envy of all the villagers. "and i called you all to come, and you wouldn't." "oh, joel pepper!" cried polly, greatly shocked to think of the splendid chance they all had missed, and dropping the big spoon with which she was serving the mush, "you never called us one single bit!" "no, you never did!" added david, solemnly, and looking at polly with all his eyes. "never did!" echoed phronsie, shaking her yellow head positively. "polly, i want some more mush, i do." "yes, i did, too," spoke up joel, loudly. "joel!" reproved mother pepper. "well, i did, mamsie," repeated joel, in a very injured tone. "i called just like this, 'come quick! and ride in miss parrott's coach;' so there!" "o dear me!" cried polly, passionately, sitting back in her chair, "i'd rather have gone in that coach than have done anything else, and now you've been, and we never'll get a chance again. never in all this world!" "how did it happen, joel?" asked ben. "do tell the whole story from the beginning." "why, you see it was this way," began joel. "polly, give me some more mush, do," passing his bowl. "o dear me, do tell first, joe," cried polly, impatiently. "i don't know where the spoon is," for the big spoon had tumbled off to the floor, and she hadn't seen it go in the excitement. "joel, get a clean one," said mrs. pepper, "and then pick up the other; it's likely it fell down." so joel hopped out of his chair and got a clean spoon for polly, and then dived under the table and came back with the other spoon. "now begin and tell us all about it," said his mother. "no, polly, you needn't help him the mush till he's told." so joel, seeing he wasn't to get the mush until the whole story how he got his ride in the parrott coach was related, began at once, and rattled it off as fast as he could. "the--man--that-drives--it--stopped--an'--i--was--in--th'--yard--an'--he--said-don't--you--wanter--all--hands--o'--you children--to drive-i've--got--to drive a--piece--down th'--road--an' i--called-and--called--you--an'--we--went--an'--that's all. now give me some mush!" "if we only had known!" mourned polly, clasping her hands. "is it lined with green satin, joel?" she asked suddenly. "i don't understand," said mrs. pepper, in a puzzled way. "where were you, joel, when miss parrott's man asked you? and you didn't go bareheaded, and without your coat?" "out in the yard, mamsie," answered joel. "polly, do give me some mush," for polly was so absorbed waiting to hear if miss parrott's coach was really lined with green satin, that she had forgotten all about joe and his breakfast. so now she hastily dipped out the mush into the bowl that was waiting for it. "is it really lined with green satin, joel?" she cried breathlessly. "i don't know," said joel, all his attention upon his bowl of mush. "i most know it is," said polly, leaning her elbows on the table, and her head upon her hands, to think how it would really seem to be riding in a coach lined with green satin. "and now i never shall go," she ended. "why didn't you come back for us?" asked david, suddenly. he hadn't eaten anything since joel had rushed in with the wonderful story, and between polly's disappointment and his own, was in a great state of distress. "oh, i thought you were coming right off," said joel, swallowing rapid mouthfuls; "and then, when i got into the coach, the man that drives miss parrott said he couldn't wait no longer." "any longer, you mean," corrected mrs. pepper. "yes'm," said joel; "and then we drove off." "you see, we had to shut the door to the woodshed," said polly, "'cause phronsie would catch cold if we didn't, and we didn't hear a single word when you called, joel pepper; not a single one!" "where'd you go?" asked david, suddenly. "oh, down to the centre," said joel, "to two--no, i guess four stores, and then he brought me home--that is, almost home. he dropped me at the corner." "o dear me!" exclaimed polly. "oh, jolly! look at the snow!" screamed joel, flying out of his chair. and sure enough, while they had been so engrossed, there it had been coming down faster and faster, until it was a powdery veil, almost too thick to see through. so somewhere in the middle of the morning, joel and david started off with their sled, drawing on their mittens with the greatest satisfaction, and bobbing good-by to the others watching them from the windows. all went well, until joe proposed that they should go to simon's hill, a long steep thoroughfare some two miles distant, that swung at the bottom very abruptly into the turnpike. and trudging off there, they climbed it with despatch, and began to coast down. "oh, whickets!" cried joel, who was steering, little davie hanging on behind, more than three-quarters afraid, though he wouldn't let joel see it for all the world. "gee-haw-gee-haw-whee-dimp-dump," as they flew over the rises, bumping and twisting from side to side. [illustration: "gee-haw-gee-haw-whee-dimp-dump"] "oh, take care, joe," screamed david, in terror, "we most went over," for on one side the road ran down abruptly into a thicket of evergreen and scrub oaks. "hoh, we're going straight!" sang out joel, "you're always such a 'fraid-cat, david pepper." "i ain't a 'fraid-cat," protested davie, "and i want to go home to mother." "well, you are going down again, eleven, no, i guess sixty times," declared joel, "after this. gee-whiz-bump-bump-bang!" this last was brought out of him by a sudden slewing to the side, where the slope ran off to the evergreen, scrub oak thicket; but joel missed the edge by about an inch, so he screamed with delight, and whizzed safely down the rest of the hill. "i ain't going down ever again," said david, "not once, joel," as they flew along and the cold air swept his pale cheeks. just then, along the turnpike toward the abrupt turn of the hill-road, was coming an ox-pung, loaded with wood, and driven by old farmer seeley, who was almost as blind as a bat and deaf as a post. "hi!" screamed joel, whizzing along. "see us come down," but farmer seeley neither saw nor heard, and just then he concluded to steer his team up as near as possible to the hill-road. joel saw this, and yelled, but he might as well have screamed to the hill. it was all done in a moment. down flew the clumsy home-made sled, that couldn't be turned in a second; joel frantically steering to get past the big awkward team, that was blocking up the way, david clinging to him in a dumb helpless terror. z-z-rr-thud! and the first thing that old farmer seeley knew, four small arms and legs were waving frantically in the air, and thrown suddenly, with a mixture of boards and runners, against the ox-team of wood, with an awful crash; and then all was still. "land o' goshen!" ejaculated farmer seeley, at the crash. "what's that 'ere? o my gracious peters!" as he saw what it was as well as he was able, for his poor eyes. and getting off from the team he went to the spot, shaking so in every limb, that he could hardly walk. there was no sound beneath the upturned sled, where it lay just as it had been thrown against the wood-pung, and for one dreadful moment farmer seeley thought the two boys to whom the small legs and arms belonged were dead, and he shook so his false teeth rattled in his head, and he sat right down in the snow. "i must dig 'em out," he said to himself in a cold fright, "for they've druv their heads clean into the snow, and they may get stuffocated, if they ain't already dead." so he did the best he could in that work, proceeding only a little way, when joel bounced up suddenly, shook his black hair, and rubbed his eyes. "oh, i remember," he said. "now, see here--you boy," screamed old farmer seeley, angrily, "i'll have you took up, whoever ye be, a-runnin' into my ox-team, an' a-buntin' into my wood. um--i will!" "get dave out," cried joel, who cared very little for whatever the old man might say, and pawing the snow wildly. "help me get dave out." "i can't help none," said the old man, querulously. "i'm stiff in th' jints, an' beside, you've scart me to death, eenamost." "oh--oh!" screamed joel, in a frightful panic. "dave--get up, dave!" but david lay like a little log of wood, as still as those on the old pung. xxvii princes and princesses "polly," said mrs. pepper, "don't worry any more about the boys not coming home; just keep the potatoes hot in the oven." for polly had run to the window about a dozen times, wondering where they could be, and why they didn't come back for dinner. "they are having a nice time, somewhere, bless their hearts," said mrs. pepper, with a smile. "i'm so glad the snow has come early, for they've been longing for it so much." she hadn't felt so happy and contented for a good while, for besides rejoicing in her boys' pleasure, mr. atkins had given her this very morning an order to knit as many mittens as she could, and she even caught herself humming a little tune. polly heard her, and ran over to her side. "oh, mamsie pepper!" she exclaimed, "do sing it," and she threw her arms around her neck. "i can't sing now," said mother pepper, a little flush coming on her cheek, "and besides, i don't need to, with you, polly," and she smiled fondly on her. "i'll stop, mamsie--if you'll only sing to us more," cried polly. "then i never should sing, polly," declared mother pepper, with a little laugh. "i shouldn't know what to do, child, if i didn't hear you singing round." "shouldn't you, mammy?" asked polly, much gratified, and curling down into a little ball at her mother's feet. "no, dear, i shouldn't." mrs. pepper stopped her work long enough to lay her hand caressingly on polly's brown hair. "why, it wouldn't seem like the little brown house at all, polly, and i don't know what we should any of us do, if you stopped it." "then i'll sing always for you, mamsie," said polly; "i truly will." "so do, child. well, i must hurry along, or i shan't get time to begin on those mittens. and just think, polly, mr. atkins has promised to let me knit as many pairs as i can." "mamsie," said polly, suddenly, and hopping to her feet, "won't you teach me to knit, and then i can help you." "yes," said mrs. pepper; "for it's good for you to know how. but i shan't be willing to have you help me any more than you do now. i wish you didn't have to work so hard, child," and an anxious cloud overspread the brightness on mother pepper's face. "oh, i'm not going to work too hard," cried polly, with happy throbs at her mother's words. and she dashed off to her interrupted work, and mrs. pepper smiled, as presently polly began to sing so merrily that phronsie set up a little song, till the old kitchen was the cosiest place possible. at last, in a lull, mother pepper called, "polly, what is this stopping at the gate? tell him we don't want any," as she saw it was a load of wood. polly ran to the door, and was beginning to say, "we don't want any wood," when her face turned very white, and she ran over the snow on unsteady feet. "oh, joel, what is it?" throwing her arms around him. but before he could answer, there was mrs. pepper close behind her. they lifted davie down from the pile of wood, where they had made him as comfortable as possible, farmer seeley and joel; the old man tried to tell that "'twarn't none o' my fault. th' boys ran into me," but joel, for the first time in his life, was without words. "mamsie, don't feel badly," said little davie, putting up his face to be kissed, as her arms received him. joel flew to polly for comfort. "and mr. seeley's nice," said david, who had found out the old farmer's name on the long, slow, homeward journey, and now seemed afraid he might be blamed, and not thanked enough. the old farmer, not hearing this, or indeed much of the talk, kept saying at intervals, "'twarn't my fault. i ain't to blame," till mrs. pepper carried david into the little brown house, and the others, following mournfully enough, the door was shut. david was laid up with a sprained ankle, that was all, after the upset. but joel found it dismal enough to play out in the snow alone, and he kept pretty close to the window, so that he could look up and sing out once in a while to dave seated by it in mamsie's big rocking chair. and pretty soon, one day, ben brought davie out, all bundled up, and set him carefully on the big sled. "there you are!" cried ben, depositing his burden, "as fine as can be," all the rest of the family flocking around to tuck david in tighter, and to pull his tippet closer, and to be sure that he had his mittens on. "don't go very far, joe," cautioned mrs. pepper. "i won't, mamsie," said joe, proudly enough, marching off, while the big sled, with davie sitting upon it as happy as a king, came sliding along behind. "hooray!" cried a harsh voice, when they had proceeded in this way for a good distance down the road, david joyfully exclaiming every minute, "oh, joey, it's so good to get out doors again." "hooray!" screamed the voice again, and joel, staring as hard as he could, saw two boys pop up from behind a stone wall, and come rushing down toward him, each with a large snowball in his hand. and the next thing, the snowballs flew through the air, and one hit david in the neck, and burst all over his tippet. joel didn't care that the other one gave him a whack on the head. "you stop that!" commanded joel, with a face as red as fire. "don't you hit dave again," and his black eyes flashed. "we're bigger'n you," sneered one boy, and he picked up some more snow, and began to roll it into a hard ball. "no, you ain't, either," contradicted joel, who never would acknowledge any one to be bigger than himself. "and you let dave alone, i say." "we're going to push him off th' sled," said the other boy, with a dreadful grin. at this joel looked all around in despair for a moment to see if any one was coming who would help. "davie's ankle. o dear me!" he thought. so he got between the sled and the biggest boy. "you let him alone!" he cried sturdily, setting his teeth tight together. "hoh--hoh--'fraid-cat--'fraid-cat!" laughed both boys, hopping about in glee, and singing over and over, '"fraid-cat--'fraid-cat!" joel clenched his little brown hands together tightly. it was hard work not to fly at them and pommel away. "but davie's ankle--dear--dear!" so he held his breath and kept still. suddenly both boys made a rush at david, meaning to make him eat snow and have one ball thrust down his back at one and the same time, but joel was too quick for them, and the first thing they knew, as david gave a scream at their approach, two hard little fists were pommelling them to right and left. "stop it!" they cried. but joel didn't know how to stop; he pounded away so much and so fast, and they didn't exactly seem to know where he was going to strike next, that in a few minutes both boys were crying as hard as they could. "'fraid-cat! 'fraid-cat!" sang joel, dancing around them, and swinging his fists in the liveliest fashion. "joel pepper!" exclaimed a voice, suddenly, that made all the boys skip, while little davie shook in much worse apprehension than he did before. "fighting in the public road! well, i never heard anything so dreadful!" joel whirled around, his fists still ready. "i ain't fighting," he denied stoutly. it was miss jerusha, parson henderson's sister. "and it's bad enough to fight, without telling a lie about it," said miss jerusha, holding up her black gloves in horror. "i ain't fighting. and i didn't tell a lie," declared joel. "and you mustn't say so," he added, advancing on her with blazing eyes. miss jerusha retreated. "you're a very bad boy," she said tartly, "and i shall have no more to say to you." "you must say i don't tell a lie," insisted joel with unpleasant firmness, and throwing his head back. "what are you doing, if you're not fighting?" began miss jerusha, loudly; "pray tell." joel was just going to say, "they were going to hurt davie," when, before he could get the words out, polly was seen running down the road toward them all, her hood flying back on her shoulders. "oh, joel, what _do_ you think--" she began, when she saw the two boys, and, worst of all, miss jerusha; then she came to a dead stop. "where are your manners?" snapped that lady, wanting to scold some one. "i'm sure when i was a girl i was pretty spoken, when i met people." "how do you do, miss jerusha?" asked polly. then she couldn't help regarding the two boys with wide-eyed astonishment; they dug the toes of their shoes in the snow, and wouldn't look at her. "she says i told her a lie," blurted joel, not taking his blazing eyes from miss jerusha's face. "o dear me!" exclaimed polly, in the greatest distress. "joel couldn't tell a lie, marm; he never did." joel flung his black head higher, but he didn't take his eyes from miss jerusha's face. "i'm sure i don't know nor care whether he did or not," retorted miss jerusha, shrilly. "and you're very pert, polly pepper, to set yourself up against your elders. when i was a little girl i never contradicted folks. never in all the world! what is your mother thinking of, to bring you up in this way?" and she held up her black gloves again. "polly," called little davie, where he had been crouching timidly in the middle of the big sled, "can't we go home?" "yes," said polly, hoarsely. "joel, come home with me this minute; don't say another word, mamsie wouldn't like it," she commanded. she seized the rope, and joel, removing his eyes with the greatest difficulty from miss jerusha's face, grasped it, too, and the little peppers went as swiftly as they could go, back home to mamsie, leaving the other three in the middle of the road. "o dear!" gasped polly, as they ran on. then, "joel, if we can only get to mamsie," while back on the sled davie trembled with delight at the very thought. in front of the little brown house stood a big comfortable sleigh of the old-fashioned pattern. although it had once been very handsome, it was now faded and ancient. a man who almost looked as if he had gone into service along with the sleigh and the other belongings of his mistress, sat primly upon the front seat. he expressed as much pleasure at seeing the little peppers coming, as his stoical countenance would allow, but he didn't move a muscle of face or figure. at any other time joel would have howled with delight at seeing miss parrott's man sitting there before the house, and in a sleigh. and it wouldn't have been a minute before he would have been in that sleigh, and on that front seat, besieging that stiff figure to let him drive. but now joel flew by, dropping the rope, and rushed into the house, and polly was left to drag david to the door, and call to mamsie to help lift him off. but she stopped to say to miss parrott's man, "i must stop to speak to mamsie, first, if you please." miss parrott's man so far forgot the ancient usage of his years that he rubbed his eyes as polly turned away, and then he turned and continued to gaze at her as long as she was to be seen. for he really could not believe that it was the same little girl who had danced down the road, with sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks, and he even glanced nervously around, the more he thought about it. "mamsie!" cried joel, hoarsely, flinging himself into mother pepper's arms, as she came to the door to meet him, her face beaming with happiness at the realization that miss parrott's sleigh actually was waiting at the door to take her little ones for a sleigh-ride, "mamsie! miss jerusha says i told a lie. did i, mammy?" and joel clutched her and broke into a torrent of tears. and then polly got there, and davie was lifted off the sled and carried into the house, and among all three of them the story was out. and there was miss parrott's man sitting stiffly on the front seat of the sleigh, only his head was turned, and his eyes were staring like all possessed at the little brown house. "now, polly," said mrs. pepper, when there was no more to tell, and the children gazed at her in amazement to see her so cheerful, "you just get yourself ready, as soon as ever you can. wash your face good, and your eyes, and i'll spring to, and help joey and davie. phronsie's all ready." indeed, she was, and sitting patiently on her little cricket all this time, her small mittened hands folded in her lap. to phronsie, every bit of the fuss of getting ready for a trip was always as much of a delight as the expedition itself, and was enjoyed with grave pleasure. "and, dear me!" continued mother pepper, in her briskest fashion, all the while she was washing and patting and pulling the two boys into just the right condition for such a grand occasion as this, "there is miss parrott's man waiting out there all this time! now see how good you can stand still, joey, and then we'll be as quick as we can be." and pretty soon they were all ready, and joel's swollen nose and red eyes didn't look so very much as if he had been crying, and polly's face showed very little trace, after all, that she had been crying, too. so they all went down to the gate, mother pepper and polly and joel carrying david, and phronsie walking gravely behind. "i am very sorry," said mother pepper to miss parrott's man, still immovably staring at them, "to keep you waiting. it is not my children's fault, i should say that." then she helped them in, and tucked the big fur robes all nicely around the three on the back seat. joel, of course, was by this time snugly settled on the front seat. "now, children," said mrs. pepper, regarding them for a moment, and standing quite still by the roadside, "you are to have the very nicest time you ever had in all your lives. remember!" and she smiled at them, and all the sunbeams that ever shone seemed to hop right down into their hearts. miss parrott's man solemnly gathered up the reins tighter in his hands, and touched the horses with the whip with the same dignity, and off they went. mrs. pepper watched the big sleigh till she couldn't see a speck of it; then she turned and went into the house, took down her sunday bonnet and shawl, for this was to be a call of importance, and soon she had left the little brown house, and was walking rapidly over the snowy road to the minister's house. "i must get it over with as soon as i can, and be home before they get back," she said to herself, going swiftly on. it wasn't two minutes before joel was laughing gayly, and bobbing around with an important air on that front seat to the others on the back seat, and polly found herself tossing scraps of nonsense back at him and the two others, and little davie smiled happily. as for phronsie, she sat wedged in between the other two, her little mittens folded in her lap, in grave satisfaction. miss parrott's man drew a long breath when all this was accomplished, and the only word he said for the first two miles was, "i guess you're all right _now_." where they went, no one of the four little peppers could have told. it all seemed like fairyland, a great enchanted space of winding snowy roads, dazzling in the morning sunlight of a perfect winter day; every little crystal sparkling away on a pine tree, where it had to melt away, seemed to come out and wink at them, as the stately horses bore them along. all the fields sleeping under their soft, white blankets, were new to the peppers gliding by. that surely was not deacon brown's field, where they used to race across lots, on a summer day! and as for that being mr. blodgett's meadow--why! no one need ever tell them so; it was enchanted ground, and they were princes and princesses whirling by in their chariots. "let's play so," cried polly, suddenly, and leaning back against the padded cushion, feeling very glad indeed. "what, polly!" cried joel, wheeling around, at the imminent danger of tumbling out backward, and astonished that polly should want to play anything when they were enveloped with such richness of enjoyment. "oh, that we were princesses and princes," answered polly, with a grand air, "and we were riding through our kingdom in a big chariot." "oh, yes, let's--let's!" screamed joel, "and i'm the biggest prince," he announced, with another shout. "i wished i had a feather in my cap," he added ruefully, remembering the splendid one that grandma bascom's rooster had furnished for a former occasion, when polly decked him out a prince, and that was tucked away in his box of treasures in the woodshed,--"o dear! if i'd only brought it!" "but we haven't got our things," said polly, quickly, "so you must just play it, joel. that's as good as having the feather." "i think it's heaven," said little davie, with a long breath, hanging out as far as he could over his side of the back seat. "polly, isn't it?" "yes, dear," said polly, leaning past phronsie to drop him a kiss, which, by reason of the big sleigh going just then over a hump of frozen snow, fell on the tip of his nose. this made him laugh, and then polly laughed, and phronsie came out of her grave delight, to gurgle her amusement; and joel, hearing them all have such a funny time back there, bobbed around again, and _he_ laughed, though he never found out what it was all about. and miss parrott's man learned more about princesses and princes and golden chariots and fairyland and enchanted things and places in general than he ever heard in his life before, and when at last they glided into badgertown centre, it really seemed as if the cup of happiness would overflow. "polly," cried little david, his cheeks aflame under his woollen cap that was drawn close around his ears, and sitting quite erect as a prince should, "the people are all coming out to meet us--the queen and king have sent us to do the errands; haven't they, polly?" "yes," cried polly, delighted at the idea. "oh, let's play that!" so the four little peppers drove down badgertown main street, where all the shops were, and old mr. beebe happened to be standing by his little window watching for customers. "ma--ma!" he screamed, "here's the pepperses goin' by in a sleigh; it's miss parrottses, i do declare." and mrs. beebe, stopping to put on her best cap with the pink ribbons before she ran out from the little parlor back of the shop, of course didn't get there till long after the triumphal procession was over. and of all the people who stared and rejoiced in their happiness,--for there wasn't one who saw them who didn't feel glad, down to the tips of the fingers and toes, that the peppers were going a-pleasuring,--no one of them all suspected that it was a chariot load of princes and princesses gliding by. at last it was all over, and the golden chariot paused before the little brown house. polly and joel carried david over the snowy path, while phronsie ran ahead like a mad little thing. and so they all rushed in, royalty dropping off at the old flat door stone. "we've been princes," cried joel, as polly set davie down, and stamping the snow, gathered on the royal rush over the yard, from his feet, "and i was the biggest prince." "i was the best," declared david, twitching off his cap that had gotten knocked over his eyes in the scramble to carry him in. "mamsie, i truly was." "oh, mamsie!" cried polly, dancing around the kitchen on happy feet, her eyes glowing like stars, "it was perfectly gorgeous!" for polly dearly loved fine words, and she thought nothing could be too grand for this occasion. "and i was a princess," piped phronsie, crowding up to hold fast to her mother's gown. "i truly was, mamsie. polly said so." "so you were," declared mamsie, smiling happily on her whole brood; "but then, you mustn't ever forget, children, that it's well enough to be princes and princesses once in a while, but you're my little brown house people every day." file was produced from scans of public domain material produced by microsoft for their live search books site.) five little peppers at school books by margaret sidney a little maid of concord town _illustrated by frank t. merrill_ a little maid of boston town _illustrated by frank t. merrill_ the famous pepper books in order of publication _twelve volumes illustrated_ five little peppers and how they grew five little peppers midway five little peppers grown up phronsie pepper the stories polly pepper told the adventures of joel pepper five little peppers abroad five little peppers at school five little peppers and their friends ben pepper five little peppers in the little brown house our davie pepper lothrop, lee & shepard co., boston [illustration: "take rickie: he beat, too, as much as i."] five little peppers at school by margaret sidney author of "five little peppers abroad," "a little maid of concord town," "sally, mrs. tubbs" _illustrated by_ hermann heyer boston lothrop, lee & shepard co. pepper trade-mark registered in u. s. patent office. _copyright, 1903, by lothrop publishing company._ _all rights reserved_ _published nov. 1903_ _fifty-fourth thousand._ preface the story of young people's lives is not complete without many and broad glimpses of their school days. it was impossible to devote the space to this recital of the five little peppers' school life, in the books that showed their growing up. the author, therefore, was obliged unwillingly to omit all the daily fun and study and growth, that she, loving them as if they were real children before her eyes, saw in progress. so she packed it all away in her mind, ready to tell to all those young people who also loved the peppers, when they clamored for more stories about them--just what polly and joel and david did in their merry school days. ben never got as much schooling as the others, for he insisted on getting into business life as early as possible, in order the sooner to begin to pay grandpapa king back for all his kindness. but jasper and percy and van joined the peppers at school, and a right merry time they had of it! and now the time seems ripe to accede to all the insistent demands from those who love the five little peppers, that this record of their school days should be given. so here it is, just as they all gave it to margaret sidney. contents chapter page i. hard times for joel 9 ii. the tennis match 24 iii. a narrow escape 35 iv. of various things 49 v. at silvia horne's 60 vi. the accident 75 vii. the salisbury girls 89 viii. "we're to have our picnic!" 105 ix. all about the poor brakeman 121 x. joel and his dog 135 xi. the united clubs 154 xii. some every-day fun 173 xiii. the picnic 186 xiv. miss salisbury's story 206 xv. the broken vase 233 xvi. new plans 247 xvii. phronsie 262 xviii. tom's story 280 xix. the grand entertainment 300 xx. the corcoran family 322 xxi. at the play 346 xxii. pickering dodge 368 xxiii. the clemcy garden party 389 xxiv. the piece of news 417 xxv. "the very prettiest affair" 435 illustrations page "take rickie! he beat too, as much as i." _frontispiece_ and she told them the whole story as fast as she could 100 just then something skimmed out from the corner 155 "i never did regard picnics as pleasant affairs," gasped miss anstice 206 "see, joel, i'm all fixed up nice," laughed phronsie from her perch 286 "oh, i do hope i shall draw the right one, jasper." 307 "and so we had a little entertainment, and sold the tickets, and here is our gift!" 337 there stood the little vase, presenting as brave an appearance as in its first perfection 412 _five little peppers at school_ i hard times for joel "come on, pepper." one of the boys rushed down the dormitory hall, giving a bang on joel's door as he passed. "all right," said joel a bit crossly, "i'm coming." "last bell," came back on the wind. joel threw his tennis racket on the bed, and scowled. just then a flaxen head peeped in, and two big eyes stared at him. "ugh!"--joel took one look--"off with you, jenkins." jenkins withdrew at once. joel jumped up and slammed the door hard, whirled around in vexation, sprang over and thrust the tennis racket under the bed, seized a dog-eared book, and plunged off, taking the precaution, despite his hurry, to shut the door fast behind him. jenkins stole out of his room three doors beyond, and as the hall was almost deserted about this hour, so many boys being in recitation, he had nothing to do but tiptoe down to joel's room and go softly in. "hullo!" a voice behind made him skip. "oh, berry,"--it was a tone of relief,--"it's you." "um," said berry, "what's up now, jenk?" he tossed back his head, while a smile of delight ran all over his face. "hush--come here." jenk had him now within joel's room and the door shut. "we'll have fun with the beggar now." "who--dave?" "dave? no. who wants to haul him over?" cried jenk in scorn. "you are a flat, berry, if you think that." "well, you are a flat, if you think to tackle joe," declared berry with the air and tone of one who knows. "better let him alone, after what you got last term." "well, i ain't going to let him alone," declared jenk angrily, and flushing all up to his shock of light hair; "and i gave him quite as good as he gave me, i'd have you know, tom beresford." "hoh, hoh!" tom gave a howl of derision, and slapped his knee in pure delight. "tell that to the marines, sonny," he said. "hush--old fox will hear you. be still, can't you?"--twitching his jacket--"and stop your noise." "i can't help it; you say such very funny things," said beresford, wiping his eyes. "well, anyway, i'm going to pay him up this term," declared jenkins decidedly. he was rushing around the small room; the corners devoted to david being neatness itself, which couldn't truthfully be said of joel's quarters. "i'm after his new tennis racket. where in thunder is it?" tossing up the motley array of balls, dumb-bells, and such treasures, that showed on their surface they belonged to no one but joel. "great scott!" tom cried with sudden interest, and coming out of his amusement. "you won't find it." "saw him looking at it just now, before he went to class," cried jenkins, plunging around the room. "where is the thing?" he fumed. berry gave a few swift, bird-like glances around the room, then darted over to the end of one of the small beds, leaned down, and picked out from underneath the article in question. "oh! give it to me," cried jenk, flying at him, and possessing himself of the treasure; "it's mine; i told you of it." "isn't it a beauty!" declared berry, his eyes very big and longing. "ha, ha--ain't it? well, joe won't see this in one spell." jenkins gave it a swing over his head, then batted his knee with it. "what are you going to do, jenk?" demanded berry, presently, when he could get his mind off from the racket itself. "do? ha, ha! who says i can't pay the beggar back?" grinned jenk, hopping all over the room, and knocking into things generally. "hush--hush," warned berry, plunging after him; "here's old fox," which brought both boys up breathless in the middle of the floor. "she's gone by"--a long breath of relief; "and there she goes down the stairs," finished berry. "sure?" not daring to breathe, but clutching the racket tightly, and with one eye on berry, jenk cried again in a loud whisper, "sure, berry?" "as if any one could mistake the flap of those slipper-heels on the stairs!" said berry scornfully. "well, look out of the window," suggested jenk suddenly. "she'll go across the yard, maybe." so berry dashed to the window, and gave one look. "there she sails with a bottle in her hand, going over to south" (the other dormitory across the yard). "most likely jones has the colic again. good! now that disposes finely of old fox," which brought him back to the subject in hand, the disposal of joel's racket. "give me that," he said, hurrying over to jenkins. "no, you don't," said that individual; "and i must be lively before old fox gets back." with that, he rushed out of the room. "if you don't give me that racket, i'll tell on you," cried beresford in a passion, flying after him. "hush!" jenk turned on him suddenly, and gripped him fast. "see here," he cried in a suppressed tone, and curbing his anger as best he could, "you don't want joe to go into that match, this afternoon, with this racket." he shook it with eager, angry fingers. "no," said berry without stopping to think, "i don't." "well, then, you better keep still, and hold your tongue," advised jenk angrily. "well, what are you going to do with it?" "none of your----" what, he didn't say, for just then a boy flew out of his room, to tear down the long hall. he had his back to them, and there was no time to skip back into jenkins' own room, for the two had already passed it. one wild second, and jenkins thrust the racket into the depths of the housemaid's closet close at hand, under some cleaning-cloths on a shelf. then he stuck his hands in his pockets. "hullo!" the boy who was rushing along, suddenly turned, to see him whistling. "oh jenk, is that you? see here, where's your cæsar?" "don't know--gone up the spout," said jenkins carelessly, and keeping well in front of beresford. "well, who has one? you haven't, berry?" he turned to tom anxiously. "not on your life he hasn't," jenk answered for him. "botheration!" ejaculated the boy. "i've fifty lines to do, else i'm shut in from the game. and simmons has run off with my book." "try joe pepper's room; he's in math recitation," said jenk suddenly. "he has one, toppy." "you're a brick." toppy flew down the hall, and bolted into joel's room. "holy moses, what luck! he'll prowl for an hour over joe's duds. come on." jenk had his head in the cupboard, and his fingers almost on the racket, when toppy's voice rang dismally down the hall: "joe must have taken it." jenk pulled his fingers out, and had the door fast, and was quite turned away from the dangerous locality. "well, i don't know what you'll do, toppy," he said, controlling his dismay enough to speak. "run down and skin through the fellows' rooms on first floor. oh, good gracious!" he groaned, "it's all up with getting it now," as a swarm of boys came tumbling over the stairs. so he mixed with them, laughing and talking, and berry melted off somewhere. and no one had time to think a syllable of anything but the great game of tennis to be called at two o'clock, between the two divisions of dr. marks' boys. some of the team of the st. andrew's school, a well-known set of fellows at this sport and terribly hard to beat, were going to be visitors. so there was unusual excitement. "what's up, pepper?" a howl that rose above every other sort of din that was then in progress, came from joel's room. "he's been in here!" joel plunged out of the doorway, tossing his black, curly locks, that were always his bane, his eyes flashing dangerously. "say, where's jenk? he's been in my room," he cried, doubling up his small fists. "what is it?" cried jenkins, making as if just coming up the stairs. "what's all the row about?" "you've been in my room," shouted joel in a loud, insistent voice, "and taken my----" the rest was lost in a babel of voices. "what? what's gone, joe?" they all crowded into the small space, and swarmed all over the room. "my racket," yelled joel wrathfully. "jenk has got it; he better give it up. quick now." he pushed up the sleeves of his tennis shirt, and squared off, glaring at them all, but making the best of his way over toward jenk. that individual, when he saw him coming, thought it better to get behind some intervening boys. everybody huddled against everybody else, and it was impossible to get at the truth. "see here now, mother fox will be after us all if you don't hush up," called one boy. "i guess she's coming," which had the desired effect. all the voices died down except joel's. "i don't care," said joel wrathfully. "i wish she would come. jenk has got my racket. he saw me with it before i ran to math; and now it's gone." all eyes turned to jenkins. "is that so?" a half-dozen hands pushed him into the centre of the group. "then you've got to give him fits, pepper." "i'm going to," announced joel, pushing up his sleeves higher yet, "until he tells where it is. come on, jenk." he tossed his head like a young lion, and squared off. "i haven't your old racket," declared jenk, a white line beginning to come around his mouth. it wasn't pleasant to see his reckoning quite so near. "then you know where it is," declared joel. "and give it to the beggar," cried several of the boys, with whom jenkins was by no means a favorite. "give it to him worse than you did last term, joe," called some one on the edge of the circle closing around the two. "i'm going to," nodded joel, every nerve in his body tingling to begin. "come on, jenk, if you won't tell where you've put my racket." "he's afraid," said the boy who had advised the more severe pommelling, "old 'fraid-cat!" jenkins, his knees knocking together miserably, but with a wild rage in his heart at these words, struck out blindly to meet joel's sturdy little fists, and to find his waterloo. in the midst of the din and confusion that this encounter produced, steps that could never by any possibility be mistaken for those of a schoolboy struck upon their ears. the circle of spectators flew wide, and before joel and jenkins realized what was coming, a good two dozen hands were laid on their collars, and they were dragged apart, and hauled into separate rooms, the rest of the boys scattering successfully. tom beresford fled with the rest, and the long hall was cleared. "boys!" the voice of the matron, mrs. fox, rang down the deserted, long hall, as she looked up from the stairway. "humph! they are quiet enough now." she gave a restful sigh, and went down again. jones and his colic were just so much extra on a terribly busy day. "what did you fellows touch me for?" roared joel, lifting a bloody nose. in his own room, jenkins was in that state that recognizes any interruption as a blessing. "old fox would have caught you, if we hadn't rushed you both," cried the boys. tom beresford worked his way up to say close to joel's ear, "don't speak, get into your room; i'll tell you where it is," then melted off to the outer circle of boys. joel looked up, gave a little nod, then broke away from the boys, and dashed to jenkins' door. "see here,"--he flung the words out,--"you've got to finish sometime when mrs. fox isn't round." jenkins, who was under the impression that he had had quite enough, was made to say, "all right;" something in the boys' faces making it seem imperative that he should do so. quite pleased, joel withdrew as suddenly as he had come. meanwhile, up the stairs, two at a time, came davie, singing at the memory of the special commendation given by his instructor in the recitation just over; and secretly david's heart bounded with a wild hope of taking home a prize in classics for mamsie! "everything's just beautiful this term!" he hummed to himself. and then, in a breathing space he was in his room, and there, well drawn behind the door, was a boy with big eyes. "_hush_" he warned. "what's the matter?" asked david in astonishment, "and where's joel?" "oh, don't speak his name; he's in disgrace. oh, it's perfectly awful!" the boy huddled up in a heap, and tried to shut the door. "who?" cried david, not believing his ears. "joel--oh dear! it's perfectly awful!" "stop saying it's perfectly awful, bates, and tell me what's the matter." davie felt faintish, and sat down on the shoe-box. bates shut the door with a clap, and then came to stand over him, letting the whole information out with a rush. "he's pitched into jenk--and they've had a fight--and they're all blood--and the old fox almost got 'em both." then he shut his mouth suddenly, the whole being told. davie put both hands to his head. for a minute everything turned dark around him. then he thought of mamsie. "oh dear me!" he said, coming to. "how i wish he'd had it all out with that beggar!" exploded bates longingly. david didn't say anything, being just then without words. at this instant joel rushed in with his bloody nose, and a torn sleeve where jenk in his desperation had gripped it fast. "oh joel!" screamed davie at sight of him, and springing from his shoe-box. "are you hurt? oh joey!" "phoo! that's nothing," said joel, running over to the wash-basin, and plunging his head in, to come up bright and smiling. "see, dave, i'm all right," he announced, his black eyes shining. "but he's a mean beggar to steal my new racket," he concluded angrily. "to steal your new racket that grandpapa sent you!" echoed david. "oh dear me! who has taken it? oh joel!" "that beggar jenkins," exploded joel. "but i'm to know where it is." just then the door opened cautiously, enough to admit a head. "don't speak, pepper, but come." joel flung down the towel, and pranced to the door. "no one else," said the boy to whom the head belonged. "not me?" asked david longingly. "can't i come?" "no--no one but joe." joel rushed over the sill tumultuously, deserting david and the bates boy. "don't speak a single word," said the boy out in the hall, putting his mouth close to joel's ear, "but move lively." no need to tell him so. in a minute they were both before the housemaid's closet. "feel under," whispered the boy, with a sharp eye down the length of the hall. joel's brown hands pawed among the cleaning-cloths and brushes, bringing up in a trice the racket, grandpapa's gift, to flourish it high. "take care; keep it down," said the boy in a hurried whisper. "oh, oh!" cried joel, hanging to it in a transport. "um," the boy nodded. "hush, be still. now skip for your room." "beresford," said joel, his black eyes shining as he paused a breathing space before rushing back to davie, the new racket gripped fast, "if i don't pay jenk for this!" "do." tom grinned all over his face in great delight; "you'll be a public benefactor," and he softly beat his hands together. ii the tennis match joel, hugging his recovered tennis racket, rushed off to the court. tom beresford, staring out of his window, paused while pulling on his sweater to see him go, a sorry little feeling at his heart, after all, at joe's good spirits. "he'll play like the mischief, and a great deal better for the row and the fright over that old racket. well, i had to tell. 'twould have been too mean for anything to have kept still." so he smothered a sigh, and got into his togs, seized his implements of battle, and dashed off too. streams of boys were rushing down to the court, and the yard was black with them. in the best places were the visitors. royalty couldn't have held stronger claims to distinction in the eyes of dr. marks' boys; and many were the anxious glances sent over at the four st. andrew's boys. if the playing shouldn't come up to the usual high mark! "pepper will score high," one after another said as he dropped to the ground next to his chums, in the circle around the court. "of course." nobody seemed to doubt joel's powers along that line. "he always does." and cries of "pepper--pepper," were taken up, and resounded over the yard. joel heard it as he dashed along, and he held his head high, well pleased. but david followed his every movement with anxiety. "i'm afraid he was hurt," he said to himself; "and if he should lose the game, he'd never get over it. oh dear me! if mamsie could only be here!" but mamsie was far away from her boys, whom she had put at dr. marks' school for the very purpose of achieving self-reliance and obedience to the training of the little brown house. so davie, smothering his longing, got into a front row with several boys of his set, and bent all his attention to the game just beginning. sharp at two o'clock the four went on to the court--joel and fred ricketson against tom beresford and lawrence greene, otherwise "larry." and amid howls of support from the "rooters," the game began. at first joel's luck seemed to desert him, and he played wild, causing much consternation in the ranks violently rooting for him. david's head sank, and he leaned his elbows on his knees, to bury his hot cheeks in his hands. "wake up," cried paul sykes, his very particular friend, hoarsely, giving him a dig in the ribs. "don't collapse, dave." "oh!" groaned david, his head sinking lower yet, "i can't look; i simply can't. it will kill joel." "stiffen up!" cried paul. "joe's all right; he'll come to. _ha!_" a shout, stunning at first, that finally bore down all before it in the shape of opposing enthusiasm, swept over the whole yard. screams of applause, perfectly deafening, rent the air. and look! even the visitors from st. andrew's are leaping to their feet, and yelling, "good--good." something quite out of the common, even in a close tennis match, was taking place. david shuddered, and crouched down on the ground as far as he could. paul gave him an awful whack on the back. "you're losing it all," he cried as he stood on his tiptoes. "hi! hi! tippety rippety! hi! hi!" it was joel's especial yell; and there he was, as david scrambled up to see him, head thrown back, and black eyes shining in the way they always did when he worked for mamsie and polly, and that dealt despair to all opponents. he had just made a brilliant stroke, returning one of larry's swiftest balls in such a manner that it just skimmed over the net and passed the boys before they could recover themselves, and fairly taking off from their feet the st. andrew's men who had been misled by joel's previous slow playing in the first set, which tom and larry had won. "who is he? gee whiz! but that's good form!" declared vincent parry, the st. andrew's champion, excitedly. "pepper--don't you know pepper?" cried a dozen throats, trying to seem unconscious that it was parry, the champion, who was asking the question. "oh, is that pepper?" said the st. andrew's boy. while "pepper--pepper. hi! hi! tippety rippety! hi! hi!" rolled out, till there wasn't any other sound to be heard. and a regular tussle of boys were getting in the wildest excitement when it was announced that pepper and ricketson had won the second set, the referees trying to quiet them so that the game could proceed. in the third set, joel seemed to have it all his own way, and fairly swept ricketson along with him. the excitement was now so intense that the boys forgot to yell, afraid they would miss some strokes. david clenched his hands tightly. the net and flying balls spun all together inextricably before his eyes as he strained them to see joe's brilliant returns. this was the deciding set, as the cup was to go to the winners of two sets out of three. joel's last serve was what finished it; the ball flashing by tom with such impetus, that even the st. andrew's champion said he couldn't ever have returned it. everybody drew a long breath, and then the crowd rushed and converged to joel; surrounded him, fighting for first place, the fortunate ones tossing him up to their shoulders to race him in triumph around the yard. "take ricket!" screamed joel, red in the face. "take him!" he roared. "he beat too, as much as i." so a second group seized fred; and up he went to be trotted after, the crowd swarming alongside, yelling, tumbling over each other,--gone perfectly wild; joe waving the cup, thrust into his hand, which would be kept by the winners for a year. * * * * * it was the middle of the night. davie, flushed with the happiest thoughts, had peacefully settled to dreams in which mamsie and grandpapa, and polly and jasper, and all the dear home people, were tangled up. and phronsie seemed to be waving a big silver cup, and piping out with a glad little laugh, "oh, i am so glad!" and now and then the scene of operations flew off to the little brown house, that it appeared impossible to keep quite out of dreamland. some one gripped him by the arm. "oh, what is it, joe?" david flew up to a sitting posture in the middle of his bed. "it isn't joe. get up as quick as you can." david, with a dreadful feeling at his heart, tumbled out of bed. "_isn't joe!_" he found time to say, with a glance in the darkness over toward joel's bed. "hurry up, don't stop to talk." the voice was tom beresford's. "get on your clothes." meantime he was scuffing around. "where in time are your shoes?" but david already had those articles, and was pulling them on with hasty fingers. "oh, tell me," he couldn't help crying; but "hurry up!" was all he got for his pains. and at last, after what seemed an age to tom, david was piloted out into the hall, with many adjurations to "go softly," down the long flight of stairs. here he came to a dead stop. "i can't go another single step, tom," he said firmly, "unless you tell me what you want me for. and where is joel?" he gasped. "oh, bother! in another minute you'd have been outside, and then it would be safe to tell you," said tom. "well, if you will have it, dave, joe's finishing up that business with jenk, and you're the only one that can stop it. now don't keel over." david clung to the door, which tom had managed to open softly, and for a minute it looked as if beresford would have his hands full without in the least benefiting joel. but suddenly he straightened up. "oh, tell me where he is," he cried, in a manner and voice exactly like polly when she had anything that must be done set before her. and clear ahead of his guide when tom whispered, "down in the pine grove," sped davie on the very wings of the wind. "gracious! joel is nothing to dave as a sprinter," said tom to himself, as his long legs got him over the ground in the rear. the two boys hugged the shadow of the tall trees and dashed across the lawn to the shrubbery beyond. then it was but a breathing space, and a few good leaps to the depths of the pine grove. in the midst of this were two figures, busily engaged in the cheerful occupation of fisticuffing each other till the stronger might win. "_joel!_" called david hoarsely, his breath nearly spent as he dashed up. joel, at this, wavered, and turned. seeing which, his antagonist dealt him a thwack that made his head spin, and nearly lost him his footing. "that was mean, jenk!" exclaimed beresford, dashing up in time to see it. "you took advantage when joe was off guard," he cried hotly. "no such thing," roared jenk, losing his head at what now seemed an easy victory, "and i'll settle with you when i get through with joe, for being such a mean sneak as to turn tell-tale, tom." "all right," said tom coolly. "go it, joe, and pay him up. you've several scores to settle now." "joel," gasped davie. "oh mamsie!" he could get no further. joel's hands, out once more in good fighting trim, wavered again, and sank helplessly down to his side. "oh dear!" tom groaned in amazement. "hoh--hoh! you see how easy i could whip him," laughed jenkins, raining down blows all over joel's figure, who didn't offer to stir. "see here you!" tom fairly roared it out, perfectly regardless of possible detection. "you beastly coward!" and he jumped in between joel and his antagonist. "you may settle with me now if you like." "stop, tom." joel seized him from behind. tom, in a fury, turned to see his face working dreadfully, while the brown hands gripped him tightly. "i forgot--mamsie wouldn't--like--you mustn't, tom. if you do, i'll scream for john," he declared suddenly. john, the watchman, being the last person whom any of dr. marks' boys desired to see when engaged in a midnight prank, beresford backed away slowly from jenkins, who was delighted once more at the interruption, and fastened his gaze on joel. "well, i never did, pepper!" he brought himself to say. "tom," said david brokenly, and getting over to him to seize his hand, "don't you know our mamsie would feel dreadfully to see joel doing any such thing? oh, she would, tom," as beresford continued to stare without a word. "not to such a miserable beggar." tom at last found his tongue, and pointed to jenk. "oh, yes, she would. it's just as bad in joel," said davie, shaking his head. joel turned suddenly, took two or three steps, then flung himself down flat on his face on the pine needles. "well, get up," said tom crossly, running over to him. "john will maybe get over here, we've made so much noise. hurry up, joe, we must all get back." joel, thus adjured, especially as david got down on the ground, to put his arms around the shaking shoulders, got up slowly. then they turned around to look for jenkins. he was nowhere to be seen. "little coward!" exclaimed tom between his teeth. "well, we'll have to skin it as best we may back. _here comes john!_" they could see his lantern moving around among the trees; and dashing off, taking the precaution to hug the shadow of the trees again, they soon made the big door to the dormitory. tom reached it first, and turned the knob. "it's locked," he said. "the mean, beastly coward has locked us out." iii a narrow escape joel, in such an emergency, wiped his black eyes and looked up sharply. david sank on the upper step. "oh, no, tom," cried joel, crowding in between beresford and the door, "it can't be. get out of the way; let me try." "it is--it is, i tell you," howled tom in what was more of a whine, as he kept one eye out for john and his lantern. "the mean sneak has got the best of us, joe." he set his teeth hard together, and his face turned white. joe dropped the doorknob, and whirled off the steps. "julius cæsar! where are you going?" began tom, as joel disappeared around the corner of the dormitory. "he's gone to see if john is coming, i suppose," said davie weakly. tom, preferring to see for himself, skipped off, and disappeared around the angle. "oh--oh!" was what david heard next, making him fly from his step to follow in haste. what he saw was so much worse than all his fears as tom gripped his arm pointing up over his head, that he screamed right out, "oh joe, come back, you'll be killed!" "he can't come back," said tom hoarsely. "he'd much better go on." joel, more than halfway up the lightning conductor, was making good time shinning along. he turned to say, "i'm all right, dave," as a window above them was thrown up, and a head in a white nightcap was thrust out. "it's all up with him now; there's old fox," groaned tom, ducking softly back over the grass. "come on, dave." but david, with clasped hands and white face, had no thought of deserting joel. the person in the window, having the good sense to utter no exclamation, waited till joel was up far enough for her to grasp his arm. then she couldn't help it as she saw his face. "_joel pepper!_" "yes'm," said joel, turning his chubby face toward her. "i knew i could get up here; it's just as easy as anything." mrs. fox set her other hand to the task of helping him into the dimly lighted hall, much to joel's disgust, as he would much have preferred to enter unassisted. then she turned her cap-frills full on him, and said in a tone of great displeasure, "what _is_ the meaning of all this?" "why, i had to go out, mrs. fox." "why?" "oh--i--i--had to." she didn't ask him again, for the matron was a woman of action, and in all her dealings with boys had certain methods by which she brought them to time. so she only set her sharp eyes, that dr. marks' pupils always called "gimlets," full upon him. "go to your room," was all she said. "oh mrs. fox," cried joel, trying dreadfully to control himself, and twisting his brown hands in the effort, "i--i--had to go. really i did." "so you said before. _go to your room._" then a second thought struck her. "was any other boy with you?" she demanded suddenly. joel gave a sharp cry of distress as he started down the hall, revolving in his mind how he would steal down and unlock the door as soon as the matron had taken herself off. "here, stop--come back here! now answer me--yes or no--was any other boy with you?" as joel stood before her again. joel's stubby black curls dropped so that she couldn't see his face. as there was no reply forthcoming, mrs. fox took him by the arm. "you needn't go to your room, joel," she said sharply. "you may go to coventry." "oh mrs. fox," joel burst out, "don't--don't send me there." "a boy who cannot answer me, is fit only for coventry," said mrs. fox with great dignity, despite the nightcap. "wait here, joel. i will get my candle, and light you down." she stepped off to a corner of the hall, where she had set the candlestick on a table, when startled by the noise outside. "now we will go." it was impossible that all this confusion should not awake some of the boys in the hall; and by this time there was much turning on pillows, and leaning on elbows, and many scuttlings out of bed to listen at doors opened a crack, so that nearly every one of the occupants, on that particular hall soon knew that "old fox" had joel pepper in her clutches, and that he was being led off somewhere. and at last joel let it out himself. "oh mrs. fox--dear mrs. fox, _don't_ make me go to coventry," he roared. he clutched her wrapper, a big, flowered affair that she wore on such nocturnal rambles, and held it fast. "i'll be just as good," he implored. "coventry is the place for you, joel pepper," said mrs. fox grimly; "so we will start." meanwhile david, holding his breath till he saw, in the dim light that always streamed out from the dormitory hall where the gas was left turned down at night, that joel was safely drawn in to shelter, frantically rushed around to the big door, in the wild hope that somehow admittance would be gained. "joe will come by and by," he said to himself, sinking down on the steps. "we're done for," said tom's voice off in the distance. "oh tom, are you there?" cried davie, straining his eyes to catch a glimpse. "hush!" tom poked his head out from a clump of shrubbery. "don't you dare to breathe. i tell you, dave, our only hope is in staying here till morning." "oh dear me!" exclaimed david in dismay. "oh dear me!" echoed tom in derision. it was impossible for him to stop talking, he was so keyed up. "it's paradise, i'm sure, compared to being in old fox's grip." this brought david back to joel's plight, and he sighed dismally, and leant his head on his hands. how long he sat there he couldn't have told. the first thing he did know, a big hand was laid on his shoulder, and a bright glare of light fell full on his face. "oh my soul and body!" cried john, the watchman, bending over him, "if here ain't one of th' boys dead asleep on the doorsteps!" "little goose, to sit there!" groaned tom, huddling back into his bushes. "now it's all up with him. well, i'll save my skin, for i don't believe those boys will tell on me." "coventry" was a small square room in the extension, containing a bed, a table, and a chair, where the boys who were refractory were sent. it was considered a great disgrace to be its inmate. they were not locked in; but no boy once put there was ever known to come out unless bidden by the authorities. and no one, of course, could speak to them when they emerged from it to go to recitations, for their lessons must be learned in the silence of this room. then back from the class-room the culprit must go to this hated place, to stay as long as his misdemeanor might seem to deserve. it was so much worse punishment than a flogging could possibly be, that all dr. marks' boys heard "coventry" with a chill that stopped many a prank in mid-air. but joel didn't get into "coventry" after all, for at the foot of the stairs, another candle-beam was advancing; and back of it was the thin, sharp face of mr. harrow, one of the under-teachers. "oh mr. harrow," screamed joel, breaking away from the matron, to plunge up to him, "she's going to put me into coventry. oh, don't make me go there; it will kill my mamsie, and polly." "hey?" mr. harrow came to a sudden stop, and whirled the candlestick around to get a better view of things. "what's this, mrs. fox? and _joel pepper_, of all boys!" "i know it," said mrs. fox, her candlestick shaking in an unsteady hand. "well, you see, sir, i was going upstairs to see if little fosdick had blankets enough; it's turned cold, and you know he's had a sore throat, and----" "well, come to the point, mrs. fox," said the teacher, bringing her up quickly. joel clung desperately to his hand, shaking violently in every limb. "oh, yes, sir--well, and i heard a noise outside, so i bethought me to look, and there was this boy climbing up the lightning conductor." "up the lightning conductor?" echoed mr. harrow. "yes, sir,"--mrs. fox's cap-frills trembled violently as she nodded,--"joel pepper was climbing up the lightning conductor, sir. and i thought i should have dropped to see him, sir." the under-teacher turned and surveyed joel. "well, i think, mrs. fox," he said slowly, "if he's been over that lightning conductor to-night, we won't put him in coventry." "he wouldn't answer when i asked him if any other boys were there," said the matron, a dull red spot coming on either cheek. "that's bad--very bad," said mr. harrow. "well, i'll take joel under my care. do you go to bed, mrs. fox." it was all done in a minute. somehow mrs. fox never quite realized how she was left standing alone. and as there really wasn't anything else for her to do, she concluded to take the under-teacher's advice. "now, joel,"--mr. harrow looked down at his charge,--"you seem to be left for me to take care of. well, suppose you come into my room, and tell me something about this affair." joel, with his heart full of distress about david and tom, now that the immediate cause of alarm over his being put into "coventry" was gone, could scarcely conceal his dismay, as he followed mr. harrow to his room. he soon found himself on a chair; and the under-teacher, setting his candlestick down, took an opposite one. "do you mind telling me all about this little affair of yours, joe?" said mr. harrow, leading off easily. his manner, once away from the presence of the matron, was as different as possible; and joel, who had never met him in just this way, stared in amazement. "you see, joe," the under-teacher went on, and he began to play with some pencils on the table, "it isn't so very long ago, it seems to me, since i was a boy. and i climbed lightning conductors too. i really did, joel." joel's black eyes gathered a bright gleam in their midst. "yes, and at night, too," said the under-teacher softly, "though i shouldn't want you to mention it to the boys. so now, if you wouldn't mind, joel, i should really like to hear all about this business of yours." but joel twisted his hands, only able to say, "oh dear! i can't tell, mr. harrow." his distress was dreadful to see. "well," said the under-teacher slowly, "perhaps in the morning you'll feel better able to tell. i won't press it now. you must get to bed, joe," with a keen look at his face. "oh mr. harrow--would you--would you--" joel jumped out of his seat, and over to the under-teacher's chair. "would i what?" asked mr. harrow in perplexity, wishing very much that "mamsie," whom he had seen on her visits to the school, were there at that identical moment. "would you--oh, might i unlock the--the back door?" gasped joel, his black eyes very big with distress. "unlock the back door?" repeated mr. harrow. then he paused a moment. "certainly; i'll go with you." he got out of his chair. "oh, no, sir," cried joel tumbling back, "i'll--i'll do it alone if i may; please, sir." "oh, no, joel, that can't ever be allowed," mr. harrow was saying decidedly, when steps were heard coming down the hall, and there was john, the watchman, hauling david pepper along the dimly lighted hall to the extra gleam of the under-teacher's room. "i found this boy asleep on the steps," announced john, coming in with his charge. "why, david pepper!" exclaimed mr. harrow in astonishment. then he turned a cold glance on joel, who flew over to davie's side. "joel!" cried david convulsively, and blinking dreadfully as he came into the light. "oh, i'm so glad you're safe--oh, so glad, joey!" he hid his face on joel's arm, and sobbed. "you may go, john," said the under-teacher to that individual, who kept saying, "i found that boy asleep on the steps," over and over, unable to stop himself. "and don't say anything about this to any one. i will take care of the matter." "all right, sir," said john, glad to be relieved of all responsibility, and touching his cap. "i found that boy asleep on the steps," he added as he took himself off. "now, see here." mr. harrow laid his hand on david's shoulder, ignoring joel for the time, and drew him aside. "the whole of this business must be laid before me, david. so begin." "oh dave!" cried joel, springing up to him. "oh, sir--oh, mr. harrow, it was all my fault, truly it was. david only came after me. oh mr. harrow, don't make him tell." "you go and sit down in that chair, joel," said mr. harrow, pointing to it. so joel went, and got on it, twisting miserably. "now, then, david." "you see," said david, the tears still rolling down his cheeks, "that--oh dear!--joel was gone, and--" "how did you know joel was gone?" interrupted the under-teacher. "oh dear!" david caught his breath. "another boy told me, sir." "who?" david hesitated. "must i tell, sir?" not trusting himself to look at joel. "certainly." "tom beresford." "ugh!" joel sprang from his chair. "he hadn't anything to do with it, sir. tom has been awfully good. he only told dave." "go back to your chair, joel," said mr. harrow. "now, then, david, go on. so you went out with beresford to find joel, eh?" "yes, sir," said david faintly. "any other boy?" asked the under-teacher quickly. "no, sir." "well, then, tom is waiting out there, i suppose, now." mr. harrow got out of his chair. "he didn't have anything to do with it, sir," cried joel wildly, and flying out of his chair again, "truly he didn't." "i understand." mr. harrow nodded. "i'm going to bring him in. now it isn't necessary to tell you two boys not to do any talking while i'm gone." with that he went over to a corner, took down a lantern, lighted it, and passed out. when he came back, both joel and david knew quite well by tom's face, that the whole story was out; and joel, who understood as well as any one that floyd jenkins never by any possibility could be a favorite with instructors, any more than with the boys, unless he changed his whole tactics, groaned again at thought that he had made matters worse for him. "now all three of you scatter to bed," was all the under-teacher said as he came in with tom. "no talking now; get up as softly as you can. good night." iv of various things and the next day, the story which flew all over the yard, how that joel pepper was "put into coventry" last night, was overtaken and set right. "huh! there, now you see," cried van whitney, coming out of his rage. he had cried so that his eyes were all swollen up, and he was a sight to behold. percy, too miserable to say anything, and wishing he could ever cry when he felt badly, had slunk out of sight, to bear the trouble as well as he might. now he came up bright and smiling. "yes, now you see," he cried triumphantly. "oh, i hope that mean beggar jenk will be expelled." there appeared to be but one voice about it. "well, he won't," said van. "won't? why not?" the boys crowded around him on the playground, all games being deserted for this new excitement. "why not, pray tell?" "of course he will," said one boy decidedly. "dr. marks never'll keep him after this." "yes he will too," roared van, glad he could tell the news first, but awfully disappointed that it must be that jenkins was to stay, "for joel got dr. marks to promise there shouldn't anything be done to jenk. so there now!" "what, not after locking that door! that was the worst." the boys, two or three of them, took up the cry, "'twas beastly mean." "contemptible! just like jenk!" went all over the playground. "well, he isn't to go," repeated van with a sigh; "and joel says he was as bad, because he went out at night to fight." "why, he had to; jenk dared him. and he couldn't have it out in the dormitory; you know he couldn't, whitney," said one of the boys in surprise. "oh dear! i know," said van helplessly. "well, joel says it's no matter that the racket was stolen out of his room, and--" "no matter!" ejaculated the boys, a whole crowd of them swarming around him, "well, if that isn't _monstrous_!" "oh, joel's afraid that dr. marks will expel jenk," percy, very uncomfortable to have joel blamed, made haste to say. "don't you see?" "well, he ought to be turned out," declared one boy decidedly. "never mind, we'll make it so hot for that jenk, he'll want to go." "no, you mustn't," declared percy, now very much alarmed. "oh, no, you mustn't, hobbs; because, if you do, joel won't like it. oh, he'll be so angry! he won't like it a bit, i tell you," he kept saying. the idea of joel's not liking it, seemed to take all the fun out of the thing; so hobbs found himself saying, "well, all right, i suppose we've got to put up with the fellow then. but you know yourself, whitney, he's a mean cad." there seemed to be but one opinion about that. but the fact remained that jenkins was still to be one of them, to be treated as well as they could manage. and for the next few days, joel had awfully hard work to be go-between for all the crowd, and the boy who had made it hard for him. "you'll have to help me out, tom," he said more than once in despair. "pretty hard lines," said tom. then the color flew all over his face. "i suppose i really ought, for you know, pepper, i told you i wanted at first that you should lose your racket." "never mind that now, tom," said joel brightly, and sticking out his brown hand. "you've been awfully good ever since." "had to," grunted tom, hanging to the hand, "when i saw how mean the beggar was." "and but for you i should never have found the racket, at least not in time." joel shivered, remembering the close call he had had from losing the game. tom shivered too, but for a different cause. "if i hadn't told him, i'd always have hated myself," he thought. "well, joe, i wouldn't after this give away a racket. now you see if you hadn't bestowed your old one on that ragamuffin in town, you wouldn't have been in such a scrape." tom tried to turn it off lightly. "oh, that made no difference," joel made haste to say, "'cause i could have borrowed another. but i'd got used to my new one. besides, grandpapa sent it to me to practise with for this game, and i really couldn't have done so well without it." "yes, i know--i know," said tom remorsefully, "and that's what jenk knew, too, the beggar!" "well, it's all over now," said joel merrily, "so say no more about it." but it wasn't all over with jenkins; and he resolved within himself to pay joel pepper up sometime, after the boys had forgotten a little about this last exploit, if they ever did. and that afternoon joel staid in, foregoing all the charms of a ball game, to write mamsie a complete account of the affair, making light of the other boys' part in it, and praising up tom beresford to the skies. "and oh, mamsie," joel wrote over and over, "dave didn't have anything to do with it--truly he didn't. and mr. harrow is just bully," he wrote,--then scratched it out although it mussed the letter up dreadfully--"he's fine, he is! and oh, i like dr. marks, ever so much, i do"--till mrs. fisher had a tolerably good idea of the whole thing. "i'm not sorry, adoniram," she said, after dr. fisher had read the letter at least twice, and then looked over his spectacles at her keenly, "that i agreed with mr. king that it was best that the boys should go away to school." "now any other woman," exclaimed the little doctor admiringly, "would have whimpered right out, and carried on dreadfully at the least sign of trouble coming to her boy." "no, i'm not a bit sorry," repeated mrs. fisher firmly, "for it's going to be the making of joel, to teach him to take care of himself. and i'd trust him anywhere," she added proudly. "so you may; so you may, my dear," declared the little doctor gaily. "and i guess, if the truth were told, that joel's part in this whole scrape hasn't been such a very bad one after all." which came to be the general view when dr. marks' letter arrived, and one from the under-instructor followed, setting things in the right light. and although old mr. king was for going off directly to interview the master, with several separate and distinct complaints and criticisms, he was at last persuaded to give up the trip and let matters work their course under the proper guidance at the school. "so, polly, my child," he said on the following day, when the letters were all in, "i believe i'll trust dr. marks, after all, to settle the affair. he seems a very good sort of a man, on the whole, and i really suppose he knows what to do with a lot of boys; though goodness me! how he can, passes my comprehension. so i am not going." "oh grandpapa!" exclaimed polly, the color flooding her cheek, and she seized his hand in a glad little way. "yes, i really see no necessity for going," went on the old gentleman, much as if he were being urged out of his way to set forth; "so i shall stay at home. joel can take care of himself. i'd trust him anywhere," he brought up, using the same words that mother fisher had employed. "wouldn't you, grandpapa!" cried polly with sparkling eyes, and clinging to him. "yes, polly, my child," said grandpapa emphatically, "because, no matter into what mischief joe may get, he always owns up. goodness me! polly, that boy can't go very far wrong, with such a mother as you've got." alexia rhys, running through the wide hall, came upon the two. "oh, beg pardon, and may we girls have polly?" all in the same breath. "get away with you," laughed old mr. king, who had his own reasons for liking alexia, "that's the way you always do, trying to get polly pepper away when we are having a good talk." "oh dear!" exclaimed alexia, doing her best to curb her impatience, and pinching her hands together, "we did so want--" "i can't go now, alexia," said polly, still clinging to mr. king's hand. grandpapa sent a keen glance over into alexia's face. "i think you better go, polly," he said. "you and i will have our talk later." "oh goody!" cried alexia, hopping up and down. and "oh grandpapa!" reproachfully from polly. "yes, polly, it's best for you to go with the girls now," said old mr. king, gently relinquishing her hands, "so run along with you, child." and he went into the library. "come right along," cried alexia gustily, and pulling polly down the hall. "there now, you see, you've dragged me away from grandpapa," cried polly in a vexed way. "well, he said you were to go," cried alexia, perfectly delighted at the result. "oh, we're to have such fun! you can't think, polly pepper." "of course he did, when you said the girls wanted me," said polly, half determined, even then, to run back. "i'd much rather have staid with him, alexia." "well, you can't, because he said you were to come; and besides, here are the girls." and there they were on the back porch, six or eight of them in a group. "oh polly, polly!" they cried, "are you coming--can you really go?" swarming around her. "and do get your hat on," said clem forsythe "and hurry up." "where are you going?" asked polly. "the idea! alexia rhys, you are a great one to send after her," cried sally moore. "not even to tell her where we are going, or what we want her for!" "well, i got her here, and that is half of the battle," said alexia, in an injured way; "and my goodness me! polly won't hardly speak to me now; and you may go yourself after her next time, sally moore." "there, girls, don't fight," said clem sweetly. "polly, we are going out to silvia horne's. mrs. horne has just telephoned to see if we'll come out to supper. come, hurry up; we want to catch the next car. she says she'll send somebody home with us." "yes, yes, do hurry," begged the girls, hopping up and down on anxious feet. "i must ask mamsie," said polly. "oh, how perfectly splendid!" running off with a glad remembrance of lessons all ready for the next day. "now how nice it is that mamsie always made me get them the first thing," she reflected as she sped along. mamsie said "yes," for she well knew that mrs. horne was a careful person, and when she promised anything it was always well done. "but brush your hair, polly," she said, "it looks very untidy flying all over your head." so polly rushed off to her own room; alexia, who didn't dare to trust her out of her sight, at her heels, to get in the way, and hinder dreadfully by teasing polly every minute to "hurry--we'll lose the train." "where are you going, polly?" asked phronsie, hearing alexia's voice; and laying down her doll, she went into the blue and white room that was polly's very own. "oh, may i go too?" as polly ran to the closet to get out her second-best hat. "oh dear me!" began alexia. "no, pet," said polly, her head in the closet. "oh my goodness! where _is_ that hat?" "oh dear!" exclaimed alexia, wringing her hands, "we'll be late and miss the train. do hurry, polly pepper." "i'll find it, polly," said phronsie, going to the closet and getting down on her knees, to peer around. "oh, it wouldn't be on the floor, phronsie," began polly. "oh dear me! where _can_ it be?" "here it is," cried alexia, "behind the bed." and running off, she picked it up, and swung it over to polly. "goodness me!" said polly with a little laugh, "i remember now, i tossed it on the bed, i thought. well, i'm ready now, thank fortune," pinning on her hat. "good-bye, pet." "i am so very glad it is found, polly," said phronsie, getting up on tiptoe to pull polly's hat straight and get another kiss. "come on, polly," called alexia, flying over the stairs. "yes, yes, girls, she's coming! oh dear me, polly, we'll be late!" v at silvia horne's but they weren't--not a bit of it--and had ten minutes to spare as they came rushing up to the station platform. "oh, look--look, girls." polly pepper pointed up to the clock, pushing back the damp rings of hair from her forehead. "oh dear me--i'm so hot!" "and so am i," panted the other girls, dashing up. one of them sank down on the upper step, and fanned herself in angry little puffs with her hat, which she twitched off for that purpose. "just like you, alexia," cried one when she could get her breath, "you're always scaring us to death." "well, i'm sure i was scared myself, clem," retorted alexia, propping herself against the wall. "oh dear! i can't breathe; i guess i'm going to die--whew, whew!" as alexia made this statement quite often on similar occasions, the girls heard it with the air of an old acquaintance, and straightened their coats and hats, and pulled themselves into shape generally. "oh my goodness, how you look, sally! your hat is all over your left eye." alexia deserted her wall, and ran over to pull it straight. "you let me be," cried sally crossly, and twitching away. "if it hadn't been for you, my hat would have staid where i put it. i'll fix it myself." she pulled out the long pin. "oh dear me! now the head has come off," she mourned. "oh my goodness! your face looks the worst--isn't it sweet!" cried alexia coolly, who hadn't heard this last. "don't, alexia," cried polly, "she's lost her pin." "misery!" exclaimed alexia, starting forward, "oh, where, where--" "it isn't the pin," said sally, holding that out, "but the head has flown off." she jumped off from the step and began to peer anxiously around in the dirt, all the girls crowding around and getting dreadfully in the way. "what pin was it, sally?" asked polly, poking into a tuft of grass beneath the steps, "your blue one?" "no; it was my best one--oh dear me!" sally looked ready to cry, and turned away so that the girls couldn't see her face. "not the one your aunt gave you, sally!" exclaimed clem. "yes--yes." sally sniffed outright now. "oh dear! i put it in because--because--we were going to silvia's--oh dear me!" she gave up now, and sobbed outright. "don't cry, sally," begged polly, deserting her grass-tuft, to run over to her. "we'll find it." alexia was alternately picking frantically in all the dust-heaps, and wringing her hands, one eye on the clock all the while. "oh, no, you won't," whimpered sally. "it flew right out of my hand, and it's gone way off--i know it has--oh dear!" and she sobbed worse than ever. "perhaps one of those old hens will pick it up," suggested lucy bennett, pointing across the way to the station master's garden, where four or five fowl were busily scratching. "oh--oh!" sally gave a little scream at that, and threw herself into polly pepper's arms. "my aunt's pin--and she told me--to be careful, and she won't--won't ever give me anything else, and now those old hens will eat it. oh _dear_ me! what shall i do?" "how can you, lucy, say such perfectly dreadful things?" cried polly. "don't cry, sally. girls, do keep on looking for it as hard as you can. sally, do stop." but sally was beyond stopping. "she told--told me only to wear it sundays, and with my best--best dress. oh, do give me your handkerchief, polly. i've left mine home." so polly pulled out her clean handkerchief from her coat pocket, and sally wiped up her face, and cried all over it, till it was a damp little wad; and the girls poked around, and searched frantically, and alexia, one eye on the clock, exclaimed, "oh, girls, it's time for the train. oh misery me! what _shall_ we do?" "and here it comes!" lucy bennett screamed. "stick on your hat, sally, you've the pin part. come, hurry up!" cried the others. and they all huddled around her. "oh, i can't go," began sally. "you must," said clem; "we've telephoned back to mrs. horne we're coming. do stick on your hat, sally moore." alexia was spinning around, saying over and over to herself, "i won't stay back--i won't." then, as the train slowly rounded the long curve and the passengers emerged from the waiting-room, she rushed up to the knot of girls. "go along, sally moore, and i'll stay and hunt for your old pin," just as some one twitched sally's hat from her fingers and clapped it on her head. "oh my goodness me!" alexia gave a little scream, and nearly fell backward. "look--it's on your own head! oh, girls, i shall die." she pointed tragically up to the hat, then gave a sudden nip with her long fingers, and brought out of a knot of ribbon, a gilt, twisted affair with pink stones. "you had it all the time, sally moore," and she went into peals of laughter. "well, do stop; everybody's looking," cried the rest of the girls, as they raced off to the train, now at a dead stop. sally, with her hat crammed on her head at a worse angle than ever, only realized that she had the ornament safely clutched in her hand. "oh, i can't help it," exclaimed alexia gustily, and hurrying off to get next to polly. "oh dear me!--whee--_whee_!" as they all plunged into the train. when they arrived at edgewood, there was a carriage and a wagonette drawn up by the little station, and out of the first jumped silvia, and following her, a tall, thin girl who seemed to have a good many bracelets and jingling things. "my cousin, kathleen briggs. she just came to-day," said silvia, "while i was at school, and so mother thought it would be nice to have you girls out to supper, 'cause they're only going to stay till to-morrow. oh, it's so fine that you've come! well, come and get in. polly, you're going in the carriage with kathleen and me. come on." alexia crowded up close behind. "i'm going with polly pepper, this time," announced sally, pushing in between; "alexia always gets her." "well, she's my very dearest friend," said alexia coolly, and working her long figure up close to polly, as silvia led her off, "so of course i always must go with her." "well, so she is our very dearest friend, too, alexia rhys," declared clem, "and we're going to have her sometimes, ourselves." and there they were in a dreadful state, and silvia's cousin, the new girl, to see it all! she jingled her bracelets, and picked at the long chain dangling from her neck, and stared at them all. "oh my goodness!" exclaimed polly pepper with very red cheeks. "alexia, don't--don't," she begged. "well, i don't care," said alexia recklessly, "the girls are always picking at me because i will keep next to you, polly, and you're my very dearest friend, and----" "but sally had such a fright about her pin," said polly in a low tone. alexia was crowded up close and hugging her arm, so no one else heard. "well, that old pin dropped in the ribbon; she had it herself all the time, oh dear!" alexia nearly went off again at the remembrance. "she felt badly, all the same," said polly slowly. she didn't even smile, and alexia could feel that the arm was slipping away from her. "oh dear me!" she began, then she dropped polly pepper's arm. "sally, you may go next," she cried suddenly, and she skipped back into the bunch of the other girls. polly sent her an approving little nod, and she didn't fail to smile now. alexia ran over to the wagonette, and hopped in, not daring to trust herself to see sally moore's satisfaction ahead in the coveted seat. the other girls jumping in, the wagonette was soon filled, and away they spun for the two miles over to the hornes' beautiful place. and before long, their respects having been paid to mrs. horne, the whole bevy was up in silvia's pretty pink and white room overlooking the lake. "i think it's just too lovely for anything here, silvia horne," exclaimed sally, whose spirits were quite recovered now. she had her aunt's pin all safe, and she had ridden up next to polly. "oh girls, she has a new pincushion and cover." "yes, a whole new set," said silvia carelessly, as the girls rushed over from the bed where they were laying their things, to see this new acquisition to the beautiful room. "well, if i could have such perfectly exquisite things," breathed alexia as they all oh-ed and ah-ed over the pink ribbons and dainty lace, "i'd be the very happiest girl." kathleen briggs thrust her long figure in among the bevy. "that toilet set is very pretty," she said indifferently and with quite a young-lady air. "very pretty!" repeated alexia, turning her pale eyes upon her in astonishment, "well, i should think it was! it's too perfectly elegant for anything!" "oh dear me!" kathleen gave a little laugh. "it's just nothing to the one i have on my toilet table at home. besides, i shall bring home some oriental lace, and have a new one: i'm going around the world to-morrow, you know." "oh my goodness!" exclaimed alexia faintly. and the other girls fell back, and stared respectfully. "yes," said kathleen, delighted at the effect she had produced. "we start to-morrow, and we don't know how long we shall be gone. perhaps two years. papa says he'll stay if we want to; but mamma and i may get tired and come home." she jingled her bracelets worse than ever. "they've come to bid us good-bye, you see," said silvia, to break the uncomfortable silence. "oh yes," said polly pepper. "well, if you've got your things off, let's go out of doors," proposed silvia suddenly. "yes, do let's." the girls drew a long breath as they raced off. "i think that kathleen briggs is too perfectly horrid for anything"--alexia got up close to polly as they flew down the stairs--"with her going round the world, and her sniffing at silvia's toilet set." "hush--hush!" whispered polly, "she'll hear you." "well, i don't care; and she's going round the world to-morrow, so what does it signify?" said alexia. "oh, don't go so fast, polly. you most made me tumble on my nose." "well, you mustn't come with me, then, if you don't keep up," said polly, with a merry little laugh, and hurrying on. "i'm going to keep up," cried alexia, dashing after, "but you go so fast," she grumbled. "we're going to have tea out on the lawn," announced silvia in satisfaction, as the bevy rushed out on the broad west piazza. the maids were already busily setting three little tables, that were growing quite pretty under their hands. "there will be four at each table," said silvia. "polly's going to sit with kathleen and me, and one other girl--i don't know which one yet," she said slowly. "oh, choose me." alexia worked her way along eagerly to the front. "i'm her dearest friend--polly's, i mean. so you ought to choose me." "well, i sha'n't," declared silvia. "you crowded me awfully at lucy bennett's party, and kept close to polly pepper all the time." "well, that's because you would keep polly yourself. you crowded and pushed horribly yourself, you know you did." her long face was quite red now. "well, i had to," declared silvia coolly. "at any rate, you sha'n't have polly to-day, for i've quite decided. clem, you shall have the other seat at my table." clem hopped up and down and beat her hands together in glee. "there, alexia rhys!" she cried in triumph. "who's got polly pepper now, i'd like to know!" alexia, much discomfited, fell back. "well, i think that's a great way to give a party," she said, "to get up a fight the first thing." but silvia and kathleen had got polly pepper one on each side, and were now racing down to the lake. "we're going to have a sail," called silvia over her shoulder, so they all followed, alexia among the rest, with no time for anything else. there was the steam launch waiting for them. "girls--girls!" mrs. horne called to them from the library, "wait a moment. mr. and mrs. briggs are going too." "oh bother!" began silvia. then the color flew into her face, for kathleen heard. "i shall tell my mother what you said," she declared. "dear me! no, you mustn't," begged silvia in alarm. "yes, i shall too." kathleen's bracelets jingled worse than ever as she shook them out. "well, i call that real hateful," broke out silvia, a red spot on either cheek, "you know i didn't mean it." "well, you said it. and if you think it's a bother to take my mother and father out on your old launch, i sha'n't stop here and bring you anything when i come home from around the world." silvia trembled. she very much wanted something from around the world. so she put her arm about kathleen. "oh, make up now," she said. "they're coming," as mr. and mrs. briggs advanced down the path. "promise you won't tell," she begged. "yes, do," said polly pepper imploringly. so kathleen promised, and everything became quite serene, just in time for mr. and mrs. briggs to have the girls presented to them. and then they all jumped into the steam launch, and the men sent her into the lake, and everything was as merry as could be under the circumstances. "i haven't got to go to school to-morrow," announced silvia when they were well off. "isn't that too fine for anything, girls?" "dear me! i should say so," cried alexia enviously. "how i wish i could ever stay home! but aunt is so very dreadful, she makes me go every single day." "well, i'm going to stay home to bid kathleen good-bye, you know," said silvia. "you see we are going around the world," announced mrs. briggs. she was just like kathleen as far as mother and daughter could be, and she had more jingling things on, besides a long lace scarf that was catching in everything; and she carried a white, fluffy parasol in her hand. "and we've come to bid good-bye to our relatives before we start. kathleen, you shouldn't have come out on the water without your hat," for the first time noticing her daughter's bare head. "none of the girls have hats on," said kathleen, shaking her long light braids. "well, i don't see how their mothers can allow it," exclaimed mrs. briggs, glancing around on the group, "but i sha'n't let you, kathleen. dear me! you will ruin your skin. now you must come under my parasol." she moved up on the seat. "here, come over here." "oh, i'm not going to," cried kathleen with a grimace. "i can't see anything under that old thing. besides, i'm going to stay with the girls." "yes, you must come under my parasol." a frown of real anxiety settled on her mother's face. "you'll thank me by and by for saving your complexion for you, kathleen; so come over." "no," said kathleen, hanging back, and holding to silvia's arm. "there's your veil, you know." mr. briggs hadn't spoken before, but now he edged up to his wife. "it's in my pocket." "so it is," cried his wife joyfully, as mr. briggs pulled out a long green tissue veil. "i am so glad i had you bring it. now, kathleen, tie this all over your head; your father will bring it over to you. and next time, do obey me, and wear your hat as i've always told you." so kathleen, not daring to hold back from this command, but grumbling at every bit of the process, tied on the veil, and then sat up very cross and stiff through the rest of the sail. "i should rather never go around the world, if i'd got to be tied up like an old green mummy every step," alexia managed to whisper in polly's ear as they hopped out of the launch. and she was very sweet to kathleen after that, pitying her dreadfully. vi the accident "oh dear me!" exclaimed clem. they were all on the cars--the early train--going home; the governess, a middle-aged person who looked after the younger horne children and who was going in to her sister's to pass the night, taking care of the party. "now i've got to sit up till all hours when i get home, to get my lessons." polly pepper gave a comfortable little wriggle under her coat. "isn't it nice mamsie makes me get my lessons the first thing, before i play!" she said to herself for about the fiftieth time. "so have i," cried lucy bennett, echoing clem's words. "well, i can't," cried alexia with a flounce, "because my aunt won't let me sit up after nine o'clock; that is, to study. so i have to get up early in the morning. oh dear!" with a grimace at the thought. "so do i," said amy garrett. "dear me! and i'm just as sleepy in the morning as i can be." alexia yawned at the very memory of it. "well, don't let's talk of it," she begged. "seems as if miss salisbury's eyes were all over me now." "i have miss anstice to-morrow," said amy, "and it's the day for her black silk gown." "horrors!" exclaimed alexia; and, "how do you know she'll wear the black silk gown to-morrow, amy?" from the other girls. "because she said professor mills from the institute is to be there to-morrow," said amy. "he gives the art lecture to our class. and you know the black silk gown will surely go on." "there's no help for you, you poor child," cried alexia, exulting that she never would be gathered into miss anstice's class, and that she just hated art and all that sort of thing, despite the efforts of miss salisbury's younger sister to get her interested. "yes, that black silk gown will surely be there. look out now, amy; all you girls will catch it." "oh, i know it," said amy with a sigh. "how i do wish i never'd got into that class!" "well, you know i told you," said alexia provokingly; "you'd much better have taken my advice and kept out of her clutches." "i wish i had," mourned amy again. "how miss anstice can be so horrid--she isn't a bit like miss salisbury," said alexia. "i don't see--" "she isn't horrid," began polly. "oh polly!" "well, not always," said polly. "well, she is anyway when she has company, and gets on that black silk gown; just as stiff and cross and perky and horrid as can be." "she wants you all to show off good," said alexia. "well, i'm glad enough i'm not in any of her old classes. i just dote on miss salisbury." "oh alexia, you worry the life out of her almost," said sally. "can't help it if i do," said alexia sweetly. "i'm very fond of her. and as for mademoiselle, she's a dear. oh, i love mademoiselle, too." "well, she doesn't love you," cried clem viciously. "dear me! fancy one of the teachers being fond of alexia!" "oh, you needn't laugh," said alexia composedly as the girls giggled; "every single one of those teachers would feel dreadfully if i left that school. they would really, and cry their eyes out." "and tear their hair, i suppose," said clem scornfully. "yes, and tear their--why, what in this world are we stopping for?" cried alexia in one breath. so everybody else wondered, as the train gradually slackened speed and came to a standstill. everybody who was going in to town to the theatre or opera, began to look impatient at once. "oh dear!" cried the girls who were going to sit up to study, "now isn't this just as hateful as it can be?" "i don't care," said alexia, settling comfortably back, "because i can't study much anyway, so i'd just as soon sit on this old train an hour." "oh alexia!" exclaimed polly in dismay, with her heart full at the thought of mamsie's distress, and that of dear grandpapa and jasper. phronsie would be abed anyway by the time the early train was in, so she couldn't worry. but all the others--"oh dear me!" she gasped. "don't look so, polly," said alexia, "we'll start pretty soon, i guess." the governess, miss baker, came over from the opposite seat to stand in the aisle. "i think we'll start soon," she said. but her eyes looked worried. "what is it--oh, miss baker, what is the reason we're stopping?" cried two or three of the girls. "i don't know," said the governess. a man coming in from outside, where a lot of gentlemen were pouring out of the cars to investigate, furnished the information. "driving wheel broken," he said, being sparing of words. "oh, can't we go out to see?" cried alexia, hopping out of her seat. "come on," and she was prancing down the aisle. "no, indeed," said miss baker in displeasure, "and do you come directly back," she commanded. "oh dear me!" grumbled alexia to sally, who had tumbled out after her, "she's worse than miss anstice--stiff, precise old thing!" she came slowly back. "that a young lady under my care," said miss baker, lifting her black gloves in amazement, "should so far forget herself as to want to run out on that track with a lot of men! i _am_ astonished." "there's a girl out there," said alexia, sinking into her seat crossly, and peering over polly pepper's head. "and there's another," proclaimed sally triumphantly. "well, if they've forgotten themselves so far as to go out there under such circumstances, i shall not let any young lady in my care do it," said miss baker emphatically. so, swallowing their disappointment at not being allowed to see all that presented itself, the girls settled back and made themselves as comfortable as possible. meantime almost everybody else poured out of their car. but it seemed to polly pepper as if she never could keep still in all this world. and she clasped her hands tightly together and hoped nobody would speak to her just yet. "polly,"--alexia gave a little push, as she leaned over,--"isn't it perfectly dreadful to be mewed up here in this way? say, polly, do talk." "go right away, alexia." polly gave a little flounce, and sat quite straight. "oh dear me!" exclaimed alexia in astonishment, and falling back. "and i wish you would let me alone," cried polly, quite aghast at herself, but unable to stop. "oh dear me!" alexia kept saying quite faintly, and rolling her eyes. "well, i'm glad polly has made you behave for once," said clem, who never could forgive alexia for getting polly so much to herself. alexia stopped saying, "oh dear me!" and sat quite still. just then polly turned and saw her face. "oh alexia!" she cried, flying at her, when an awful bump, and then another much worse, and then a grinding noise, perfectly terrible,--and everybody who was left in the car, went tumbling out of their seats. "oh, we're run into!" screamed half a dozen of the girls. miss baker, who had been standing in the aisle, was down in a heap on the floor. "oh, oh!" polly had her arms around alexia and was hugging her tightly. "are you hurt?" as they wriggled out of the bunch of girls into which they had been precipitated, up to their feet. "n--no," alexia, tried to say. instead, she wobbled over, and laid her head on polly's arm. "girls--girls--miss baker!" called polly, not seeing that lady, in the confusion of the other passengers, staggering along the aisle, her bonnet knocked over her eyes, and a girl on either hand to help her along. "clem--oh, somebody help me! alexia is hurt." but nobody heard in the general tumult. "oh dear! alexia, do open your eyes," begged polly, quite gone now with distress. "and to think i was so cross to her!" and she turned quite white. "dear, dear alexia," she cried; and because there was nothing else to do, she leaned over and dropped a kiss on alexia's long face, and two tears dropped down as well. alexia opened her eyes. "that's very nice, polly," she said, "do so some more." "aren't you ashamed!" cried polly, the rosy color coming back to her cheek. and then, remembering, she hugged alexia tightly. "oh, i'm so glad you're not hurt, alexia, so very glad!" she cried gratefully. "ow!" exclaimed alexia, shrinking back. "oh, now you are hurt," cried polly. "oh alexia!" and she turned very white again. "tell me where it is." and just then some of the girls rushed up with the news, corroborated by the other passengers, that the down express had run into them,--been signalled, but couldn't stop in time, etc., etc.,--till polly thought she should go wild before the babel could be stopped. "don't crowd around so," she cried hoarsely. "alexia is hurt." "alexia?" the noise, as far as miss salisbury's girls were concerned, stopped at once; and at last the other passengers were made to understand how it was. and alexia, quite faint now, but having sense enough to hang to polly pepper's hand, was laid across an improvised bed made of two seats, and a doctor who happened to be on the train, one of the party going in to the theatre, came up, and looked her over professionally. "it's my arm," said alexia, opening her eyes again; "it was doubled up someway under me. oh dear me! i'm so silly to faint." "you're not silly at all," cried polly warmly, and holding her well hand, while her eyes searched the doctor's face anxiously. "oh, is it broken?" they asked, as plainly as possible. "not a bit of it," said the doctor cheerfully, feeling it all over again to make quite sure, while alexia set her teeth together, trying not to show how very much it hurt. "it's badly strained,--the ligaments are;--but fortunately no bones are broken." "oh dear!" groaned alexia. "now why can't it be broken?" "oh alexia!" cried polly. and now the tears that had been kept back, were rolling down her cheeks. "i'm so happy, i can't help it," she said. "and the very idea, alexia rhys," exclaimed clem, "to wish your arm had been broken!" and she gave a little shiver. "it hurts just as much," said alexia, trying to sit up straight, and making an awful face, "so it might as well be. and i've never been in a railroad accident. but a sprained arm isn't anything to show; any baby can have that--oh dear me!" "well, you better lie still," counselled miss baker tartly. "dear me! i little thought when i took charge of you young ladies that any such thing would occur." "she acts as if she thought we did it on purpose," said alexia, turning her face over to hide it on polly's arm again, and wishing her own needn't ache so dreadfully. "oh dear! such a time as we've had, polly pepper, with those dreadful briggses,--i mean mrs. briggs,--and now to be all banged up, and this cross old thing to see us home! and now i never'll be able to get through the term, 'cause i'll have to stay at home with this old arm, and aunt will scold." she was quite out of breath with all her woes. "oh, yes, you will," cried polly reassuringly, "i'll run over every day, and study with you, alexia. and you'll soon be all well again. don't try to talk now, dear," and she patted the poor cheeks, and smoothed her hair. all the while she was trying to keep down the worry over the home-circle who would be thrown into the greatest distress, she knew, if news of the accident should reach their ears. "can't somebody telephone them?" she cried; "oh, miss baker"--the doctor had rushed off to other possible sufferers--"and tell them no one is hurt;--i mean seriously?" "there is," said the governess, quite calmly; "a man has been killed." "oh dear!" "a brakeman," miss baker hastened to add. "don't be frightened. none of the passengers." "now i know he was brave, and trying to do something to save us," cried polly, with kindling eyes. "yes," said a passenger, coming up to their group, "he was running back with a lantern to signal the train, and he slipped and fell, and the express went over him. but it stopped just in time for us." "oh the poor, poor man!" polly was quite gone by this time, and alexia forgot her pain in trying to comfort her. "but suppose he had children," cried polly, "just suppose it, alexia." "i don't want to suppose it," said alexia, wriggling. "ugh! you do say such uncomfortable things, polly pepper." "i know it." polly swallowed hard, and held alexia's hand tighter than ever. "well, i won't talk of it any more." the governess, who had moved away a bit, now came back with vexation plainly written all over her face. "i must go and see if there isn't some way to get a message to grandpapa king, alexia," said polly. "i'll be back as soon as i can." she dropped a kiss on the nearest cheek. "don't be gone long," begged alexia. "i will go with you," said the governess, stepping off after her. "very well," said polly, going swiftly down the aisle, to see below the car steps a crowd of passengers all in a tumult, and vociferating angrily. in the midst of them, polly saw the face of the doctor who had just fixed alexia's arm. "oh sir," she began. he looked up, and caught sight of the brown eyes. "is the little girl worse?" and he sprang over toward her. polly, not stopping to think how furious alexia would be, who was quite the tallest of their set, to be designated as a little girl, made haste to say, "oh no, sir; but oh, could you tell me how to let my grandpapa and my mother know we are safe? could you, sir?" poor polly, who had held up so bravely, was clasping her hands tightly together, and the brown eyes were full of tears. "well, you see," began the doctor, hating to disappoint her, "it's a difficult matter to get in communication with them at once. we are only five miles out, but--" "five miles?" echoed polly. "oh then, some one can go to the nearest station, and telephone, can't they, sir?" "to be sure; and that's been done. but your family, little girl--how can we reach them?" "oh, i can run," cried polly happily, "to the station myself, sir," and she began to clamber down the car steps. "come back," commanded the governess, lifting her hands in horror. "i never heard of such a thing. the very idea! what would your grandfather, mr. king, say to such a thing, polly pepper?" "mr. who?" cried the doctor. "stay, little girl," seizing her arm. "mr. who?" he demanded, looking up to the governess on the car steps. "mr. horatio king," she replied with asperity, "and you'd better be occupied with something else, let me tell you, sir, instead of encouraging his granddaughter to run off on such a wild-goose errand as this." "i certainly shall take pleasure in performing the wild-goose errand myself," he said. "now polly, i'll send the message; don't you worry," and he sped off down the track. vii the salisbury girls and then somebody rushed in, saying, "we've another locomotive; now we're going!" and everybody else who was outside hurried into the cars; the new propelling power was attached to the other end of the train, and after a deal of switching, there they were at last--off on the way home! polly gave a long breath of relief, and clasped alexia's hand closely. "oh, by this time they know at home it's all right," she cried. the doctor came smilingly down the aisle. "well," he nodded to polly. "yes, it's all right," he said. "i must really call you polly pepper now, for i know your grandfather, and dr. fisher--well there! indeed i know him." "do you?" cried polly with blooming cheeks, well pleased to find a friend at such a time. "yes, indeed. i'm fortunate enough to meet him in hospital work. now then, how is our little friend here?" he leaned over, and touched alexia's arm lightly. "oh, i'm all right," she said. "that's good," in a gratified tone. "now keep plucky, and you'll get out of this finely." then he sat down on the arm of the seat, and told such a funny story that no one supposed it could be the home station when the train came to a standstill, and he was helping alexia out. "there now--drop polly's hand, if you please," the doctor was saying; "i'll assist you." "but i don't want to," said alexia, hanging to it for dear life. "i want polly." "i presume so," laughed the doctor, "but i think it's best for me to help you." miss baker and all the girls crowded up in a bunch. "easy there," he said. "don't hurry so; there's plenty of time." and he got between them and alexia's lame arm. and there, down by the car steps--polly could see him as he waited for the stream of passengers to get out--was jasper, his eyes eagerly searching every face, with an impatience scarcely to be controlled. and back of him were dr. fisher's big glasses, shining as the little doctor pranced back and forth, unable to keep still. "there they are--there they are!" polly exclaimed. "oh, if we could hurry and let them know we're all right!" but they were wedged in so, there was nothing to do but to take their turn and let the passengers in front descend. "jasper--oh, papa fisher!" at last polly was out on the platform where she stood on her tiptoes and waved her hand. "are you all right?" asked jasper eagerly, craning his neck to see for himself. "yes--yes!" cried polly. and then presently they had her on either hand! "oh, help alexia," she cried, turning back. dr. fisher took one look through his big glasses. "well, well, pennell," he exclaimed, "you here?" and he skipped over to them. "i really believe so," laughed dr. pennell. "dear me!" little dr. fisher glanced at alexia quickly. "nothing but sprained," the other doctor said quickly. "still, it needs careful attention." and then it came out that alexia's aunt had heard a chance word dropped about the accident, and had run down to mr. king's in her distress, so she was there awaiting them; and the fathers and brothers of the rest of the "salisbury girls" took off their charges, much to the relief of the governess. so presently jasper had his party all settled in the carriage, dr. pennell saying, "well, i resign my responsibility about that arm to you, dr. fisher." he lifted his hat, and was off. "oh, wait!" cried polly in great distress as thomas was just starting off with a dash, "i must speak to him." "polly--what is it?" cried jasper. "wait, thomas!" so thomas pulled up. "i must--i must," declared polly. her foot was on the step, and she was soon out. "i'll go with you," said jasper, as she sped down through the streams of people pouring along the platform, to thread her way after the tall figure, jasper by her side. "dr. pennell--oh, please stop." "hey?" the doctor pulled up in his brisk walk. "oh dear me! what is it?" "will you please tell me--do you know who the poor man was who was killed?" she gasped. "oh polly," cried jasper, "was there some one killed?" "yes, he was a brakeman, polly," said dr. pennell. "oh, i know--but where did he live?" cried polly, "and had he any children?" all in one breath. "a big family, i understand," said the doctor gravely. "oh dear me!" exclaimed polly with a sorry droop to the bright head, and clasping her hands, "could you, dr. pennell, tell me anything more?" "that's all i know about the poor fellow," said the doctor. "the conductor told me that." "i'll find out for you to-morrow, polly," said jasper quickly; "i'll run down to the railroad office, and get all the news i can." "and i'll go with you," said polly, "for i most know grandpapa will let me. he was so very good to us all--that poor man was," she mourned. "yes, polly, there's no doubt of that," dr. pennell said abruptly. "you and i maybe wouldn't be standing here if it were not for him." jasper shivered, and laid hold of polly's arm. "well now, run along and get home," finished the doctor cheerily, "and look out for that plucky little friend of yours, and i'll try and find out, too, about that brakeman, and we'll talk the thing over." so polly and jasper raced back again down over the platform, clambered into the carriage, and away they went home to grandpapa and mamsie! and alexia and her aunt staid all night. and after the whole story had been gone over and over, and grandpapa had held polly on his knee, all the time she was not in mamsie's lap, and alexia had had her poor arm taken care of, and all bandaged up, dr. fisher praising her for being so cool and patient, why then it was nearly eleven o'clock. "dear me! polly," cried mother fisher in dismay, looking over at the clock--they were all in the library, and all visitors had been denied--"the very idea! you children must get to bed." "yes--or you won't be cool and patient to-morrow," said dr. fisher decidedly, and patting alexia's bandages. "now run off, little girl, and we'll see you bright as a button in the morning." "i'm not cool and patient," declared alexia, abruptly pulling down, with her well hand, the little doctor till she could whisper in his ear. "oh, aunt does fuss so--you can't think; i'm a raging wild animal." "well, you haven't been raging to-night, alexia," said the little doctor, bursting out into a laugh. "oh, hush, do," implored alexia, who wasn't in the slightest degree afraid to speak her mind, least of all to dr. fisher, whom she liked immensely; "they'll all hear us," she brought up in terror. "what is it, alexia?" cried her aunt from the sofa, where dr. fisher had asked her to be seated, as it was well across the room. "oh, is she worse?" she exclaimed, hurrying over nervously. "there, now, you see," cried alexia tragically, and sinking back in her chair; "everything's just as bad as can be now." "not in the least, miss rhys," the little doctor said in his cheeriest tones, "only alexia and i had a little joke all by ourselves." and as he waited coolly for the maiden lady to return to her seat, she soon found herself back there. then he went over to mamsie, and said something in a low tone. "yes, adoniram." mother fisher nodded over polly's brown head. "she ought to have a good night's sleep." "polly," said dr. fisher, leaning over her, "it's just this: that aunt of alexia's--she's a good enough sort of a woman, i suppose," wrinkling his brows in perplexity to find the right words, "but she certainly does possess the faculty to rile folks up remarkably well. she sets my teeth on edge; she does really, wife." he brought out this confession honestly, although he hated professionally to say it. "and alexia--well, you know, polly, she ought to be kept quiet to-night. so your mother and i--we do, don't we, dear?" taking mamsie's hand. "we certainly do," said mrs. fisher, not waiting for the whole story to be told, "think it's best for you to have alexia with you to-night." "oh, goody!" exclaimed polly, sitting quite straight in mamsie's lap. "you are not to talk, polly, you know," said dr. fisher decidedly. "oh, we won't--we won't," promised polly faithfully. "you can have the red room, polly," said mamsie, "because of the two beds. and now, child, you must both hop off and get into them as soon as you can, or you'll be sick to-morrow." so polly ran off to bid grandpapa good night. and then as he held her in his arms, he said, "well, now, polly, you and jasper and i will take that trip down to the railroad station to-morrow." "oh, grandpapa!" cried polly, clasping her hands, while her cheeks turned rosy red, "i am so very glad. we can go right after school, can't we?" "school? oh, you won't go to school to-morrow," said old mr. king decidedly. "yes, yes, mrs. fisher, in just a minute--polly shall go to bed in a minute. no, no, polly, after such an excitement, school isn't to be thought of for a day or two." "perhaps she'll be all right in the morning, father," jasper hurried to say, at sight of polly's face. "oh, i shall--i shall." polly flashed a bright glance at him. "_please_, grandpapa, let me go. i haven't been absent this year." "and it's so awfully hard to make up lessons," said jasper. "make up lessons? well, you needn't make them up. bless me! such a scholar as you are, polly, i guess you'll stand well enough at the end of the year, without any such trouble. quite well enough," he added with decision. polly's brown head drooped, despite her efforts to look bravely up into his face. "good night, grandpapa," she said sadly, and was turning away. "oh bless me!" exclaimed old mr. king hastily, "polly, see here, my child, well--well, in the morning perhaps--dear me!--we can tell then whether it's best for you to go to school or not. come, kiss me good night, again." so polly ran back and gave him two or three kisses, and then raced off, jasper having time to whisper at the door: "i most know, polly, father'll let you go; i really and truly believe he will." "i believe so too," cried polly happily. and sure enough, he did. for the next morning polly ran down to breakfast as merry as a bee, brown eyes dancing, as if accidents were never to be thought of; and grandpapa pinched her rosy cheek, and said: "well, polly, you've won! off with you to school." and polly tucked her books under her arm, and raced off with jasper, who always went to school with her as far as their paths went, turning off at the corner where she hurried off to miss salisbury's select school, to go to his own. "oh, here comes polly pepper!" the girls, some of them waiting for her at the big iron gate, raced down to meet her. "oh polly--polly." at that a group of girls on the steps turned, and came flying up, too. "oh, tell us all about the awful accident," they screamed. "tell, polly, do." they swarmed all over her. "give me the books," and one girl seized them. "i'll carry them for you, polly." "and, polly, not one of the other girls that went out to silvia horne's is here this morning." "they may come yet," said polly; "it's not late." "oh, i know; we came early to meet you; well, silvia isn't here either." "oh, she can't come, because of her cousin," said polly, "and----" "well, i don't care whether she ever comes," declared leslie fyle. "i can't abide that silvia horne." "nor i," said another girl, "she's so full of her airs and graces, and always talking about her fine place at edgewood. oh dear me! i'm sick of edgewood!" a little disagreeable laugh went around. "oh, i'll tell you of the accident," said polly; "come, let's sit down on the steps; we've ten minutes yet." "yes, do, do," cried the girls. so they huddled up together on the big stone steps, polly in the middle, and she told them the whole story as fast as she could. meantime other girls hurrying to school, saw them from a distance, and broke into a run to get there in time. and polly gave alexia's love all round, as she had been commissioned to do. "we'll go up to your house to see her," cried leslie, "perhaps this afternoon." "oh, no, you mustn't," said polly. "i'm dreadfully sorry, girls, but papa fisher says no one must come yet, till he sends word by me." "i thought you said alexia was all right." "and if her arm isn't broken i should think we might see her," said a big girl on the edge of the circle discontentedly. she had private reasons for wishing the interview as soon as possible, as she and alexia had quarrelled the day before, and now it was quite best to ignore all differences, and make it up. "but she's had a great strain, and papa-doctor says it isn't best," repeated polly very distinctly, "so we can't even think of it, sarah." "polly? is that polly pepper?" exclaimed a voice in the hall. [illustration: and she told them the whole story as fast as she could.] "oh, yes, miss anstice," cried polly, hopping up so quickly she nearly overthrew some of the bunch of girls. yes, she had on the black silk gown, and polly fancied she could hear it crackle, it was so stiff, as miss anstice advanced primly. "i hear that there was an accident, polly pepper, last night, which you and some of the other girls were in. now, why did you not come and tell me or sister at once about it?" "oh dear me! do forgive me," cried poor polly, now seeing that she had done a very wrong thing not to have acquainted miss salisbury first with all the particulars. "i do hope you will forgive me, miss anstice," she begged over again. "i find it very difficult to overlook it, polly," said miss anstice, who was much disturbed by the note she held in her hand, just delivered, by which professor mills informed her he should be unable to deliver his address that morning before her art class. so she added with asperity, "it would have been quite the proper thing, and something that would naturally, i should suppose, suggest itself to a girl brought up as you have been, polly, to come at once to the head of the school with the information." polly, feeling that all this reflected on mamsie and her home training, had yet nothing to do but to stand pale and quiet on the steps. "she couldn't help it." the big girl pushed her way into the inner circle. "we girls all just made her stop. my! miss anstice, it was just a mob here when we saw polly coming." "sarah miller, you have nothing to say until i address you." a little red spot was coming on either cheek as miss anstice turned angrily to the big girl. "and i shall at once report you to sister, for improper behavior." "oh dear, dear! well, i wish 'sister' would fire old black silk," exclaimed a girl on the edge of the circle under her breath. "look at her now. isn't she a terror!" and then the big bell rang, and they all filed in. "now she won't let us have our picnic; she'll go against it every way she can," cried a girl who was out of dangerous earshot. and the terror of this spread as they all scampered down the hall. "oh dear, dear! to think this should have happened on her black silk day!" "no, we won't get it now, you may depend," cried ever so many. and poor polly, with all this added woe, to make her feel responsible for the horrible beginning of the day, sank into her seat and leaned her head on her desk. the picnic, celebrated as an annual holiday, was given by miss salisbury to the girls, if all had gone well in the school, and no transgressions of rules, or any misdemeanor, marred the term. miss anstice never had looked with favor on the institution, and the girls always felt that she went out of her way to spy possible insubordination among the scholars. so they strove not to get out of her good graces, observing special care when the "black silk days" came around. on this unlucky day, everything seemed against them; and as miss anstice stalked off to sit upon the platform by "sister" for the opening exercises, the girls felt it was all up with them, and a general gloom fell upon the long schoolroom. miss salisbury's gentle face was turned in surprise upon them as she scanned the faces. and then, the general exercises being over, the classes were called, and she and "sister" were left on the platform alone. "oh, now she's getting the whole thing!" groaned leslie, looking back from the hall, to peer in. "old black silk is giving it to her. oh, i just hate miss anstice!" "sarah, why couldn't you have kept still?" cried another girl. "if you hadn't spoken, miss anstice would have gotten over it." "well, i wasn't going to have polly pepper blamed," said sarah sturdily. "if you were willing to, i wasn't going to stand still and hear it, when it was our fault she told us first." "oh, no, sarah," said polly, "it surely was my own self that was to blame. i ought to have run in and told miss salisbury first. well, now, girls, what shall i do? i've lost that picnic for you all, for i don't believe she will let us have it now." "no, she won't," cried leslie tragically; "of that you may be sure, polly pepper." viii "we're to have our picnic!" and that afternoon polly kept back bad recollections of the gloomy morning at school as well as she could. she didn't let alexia get the least bit of a hint about it, although how she ever escaped letting her find it out, she never could quite tell, but rattled on, all the messages the girls had sent, and every bit of school news she could think of. "were the other girls who went to silvia's, at school?" asked alexia suddenly, and twitching up her pillow to get higher in bed, for dr. fisher had said she mustn't get up this first day; and a hard piece of work mother fisher had had to keep the aunt out of the room. "i wouldn't go in," mamsie would say; "dr. fisher doesn't wish her to be disturbed. to-morrow, miss rhys." and it was all done so quietly that alexia's aunt would find herself off down in the library again and busy with a book, very much to her own surprise. "i'll shake 'em up," polly cried; and hopping off from the foot of the bed, she thumped the pillows, if not with a merry, at least with a vigorous hand. "there now," crowding them in back of alexia's restless head, "isn't that fine?" "i should think it was," exclaimed alexia with a sigh of satisfaction, and giving her long figure a contented stretch; "you do know just the best things to do, polly pepper. well, tell on. i suppose amy garrett is perfectly delighted to cut that old art lecture." "oh, professor mills didn't come at all," said polly. that brought it all back about miss anstice, and her head drooped suddenly. "didn't come? oh dear!" and alexia fell to laughing so, that she didn't notice polly's face at all. but her aunt popping in, she became sober at once, and ran her head under the bedclothes. "oh, are you worse? is she, polly?" cried miss rhys all in a flutter. "i heard her cry, i thought." "no, i was laughing," said alexia, pulling up her face red and shining. "do go right away, aunt. dr. fisher said polly was to tell me things." "well, if you are not worse," said her aunt, slowly turning away. "no," said alexia. "polly pepper, do get up and shut that door," she cried; "slam it, and lock it." "oh, no," said polly, in dismay at the very thought, "i couldn't ever do that, alexia." "well, then i will." alexia threw back the bedclothes with a desperate hand, and thrust one foot out. "if you do," said polly, not moving from where she sat on the foot of the bed, "i shall go out of this room, and not come back to-day." "shall you really?" cried alexia, fixing her pale eyes on her. "yes, indeed i shall," said polly firmly. "oh, then i'm not going." alexia drew in her foot, and huddled all the clothes up over her head. "polly pepper," she said in muffled tones, "you're a perfectly dreadful creature, and if you'd gone and sprained your arm in a horrible old railway accident and were tied in bed, i'd do just everything you said, i would." "oh, i hope you wouldn't," said polly. "hope i wouldn't!" screamed alexia, flinging all the clothes away again to stare at polly out of very wide eyes. "whatever do you mean, polly pepper?" "i hope you wouldn't do as i wanted you to," said polly distinctly, "if i wanted something that was bad." "well, that's a very different thing," mumbled alexia. "oh dear me!" she gave a grimace at a twinge of pain in her arm. "this isn't bad; i only wanted that door shut." "oh now, alexia, you've hurt your arm!" cried polly; "do keep still, else papa-doctor won't let me stay in here." "oh dear, dear! i'll keep still," promised alexia, making up her mind that horses shouldn't drag any expression of pain from her after that. "i mean, do sit up straight against your pillows; you've got 'em all mussed up again," cried polly. so she hopped off from the bed, and thumped them into shape once more. "i wish you'd turn 'em over," said alexia: "they're so hot on that side." so polly whisked over the pillows, and patted them straight, and alexia sank back against them again. "wouldn't you like me to smooth your hair, alexia?" asked polly. "mamsie does that to me when i don't feel good." "yes, i should," said alexia, "like it very much indeed, polly." so polly, feeling quite happy, albeit the remembrance of the morning still lay deep in her mind, ran off for the brush and comb. "and i'm going to braid it all over," she said with great satisfaction, "after i've rubbed your head." "well, now tell on," said alexia, as polly climbed up back of the pillows, and began to smooth the long light fluffs of hair, trying to do it just as mamsie always did for her. "you say professor mills didn't come--oh dear! and think of that black silk gown wasted on the girls. well, i suppose she was cross as two sticks because he didn't come, wasn't she, polly? oh dear me! well, i'm glad i wasn't there," she hurried on, not waiting for a reply; "i'd rather be in with this old bundle"--she patted her bandages--"oh polly!" she started up so suddenly that the brush flew out of polly's lap and spun away across the floor. "take care," said polly, "oh, there goes the comb now," and she skipped down, recovered the articles, and jumped up to her post again. "what is it, alexia?" "why, i've just thought--you don't suppose miss salisbury will appoint the day for the picnic, do you, while my arm is lame?" the color in polly's cheeks went out, and she was glad that she could get well behind the pillows. "oh, no, alexia," she made herself say, "we wouldn't ever in all this world have the picnic till you were well. how could you think it, alexia?" "i didn't believe you would," cried alexia, much gratified, and huddling down again, without once seeing polly's face, "but most of the girls don't care about me, polly, and they wouldn't mind." "oh yes, they do," said polly reassuringly, "they're very fond of you, most of them are." "well," said alexia, "i'm not fond of them, so i don't really expect them to be, polly. but i shouldn't like 'em to go off and have that picnic when i couldn't go. was anything said about it, polly?" she asked abruptly. "miss salisbury or miss anstice didn't say a word," said polly, trembling for the next question. just then mother fisher looked in with a smile. "polly, you are wanted," she said. "grandpapa and jasper are ready to go to the railroad station. i'm going to stay with alexia and finish her hair just as i do for polly." alexia looked up and smiled. it was next best to having polly, to have mrs. fisher. so polly, happy to have a respite from alexia's questions about the picnic, and happier still to be going to find out something about the poor brakeman's family, flew off from the bed, set a kiss on alexia's hot cheek, and another on mamsie's, and raced off. "i'm coming, jasper," she called. she could see him below in the wide hall. "all right, don't hurry so, father isn't ready yet. dear me! polly, you can get ready so quickly for things!" he said admiringly. and, in the glow of starting, he couldn't see that polly's spirits seemed at a low ebb, and he drew a long breath as he tried to make himself believe that what he had noticed at luncheon wasn't really so at all. and polly, between grandpapa and jasper, tried to make them have such a good time that really it seemed no walk at all, and they were all quite surprised when they found themselves there. "we must go up into the superintendent's room," said mr. king. so up the long stairs they went, the old gentleman grumbling at every step because there was no elevator, and at all other matters and things that were, as he declared, "at loose ends in the whole system." at last they stood before the desk. "have the goodness," began old mr. king to the official, a short, pompous person who came up in the absence of the superintendent and now turned a cold face up to them, "to give me some information regarding a brakeman who was killed last night in the accident to the train due here at 7.45." "don't know anything about him," said the official in the crispest accents. he looked as if he cared less, and was about to slam down the window, when mr. king asked, "does anybody in this office know?" "can't say." the official pulled out his watch, compared it with the big clock on the wall, then turned away. "do any of you know who the man was who was killed last night?" asked the old gentleman, putting his face quite close to the window, and speaking in such clear, distinct tones that every clerk looked up. each man searched all the other faces. no, they didn't know; except one, a little, thin, weazen-faced person over in the corner, at a high desk, copying. "i only know that his name was jim," he said in a voice to match his figure. "have the goodness to step this way, sir, and tell me what you do know," said mr. king in such a way that the little man, but with many glances for the pompous individual, slipped off from his high stool, to advance to the window rubbing his hands together deprecatingly. the other clerks all laid down their pens to see the interview. "what was his name--this brakeman's?" demanded mr. king. "i don't know, sir," said the little, thin clerk. "jim--that was all i knew him by. i used to see him of a morning when i was coming to the office, and he was waiting to take his train. he was a steady fellow, jim was," he added, anxiously scanning the handsome face beneath the white hair. "i don't doubt that," said old mr. king hastily. "i don't in the least doubt it." "and he wasn't given to drink, sir," the little, thin clerk cried abruptly, "although some did say it who shouldn't; for there were many after jim's place. he had an easy run. and----" "yes, yes; well, now what i want to know," said mr. king interrupting the stream, polly and jasper on either side having a hard time to control their impatience, "is where this 'jim,' as you call him, lived, and what was his last name." "that i don't know, sir," said the little, thin clerk. "i only know he had a family, for once in a while when i had a minute to spare he'd get to talking about 'em, when we met. jim was awful fond of 'em; that any one could see." "yes, well, now what would he say?" asked the old gentleman, trying to hurry matters along. the pompous official had his eye on the clock. it might go hard for the little, thin clerk in his seedy coat, if he took too much time from office hours. "why, he had one girl who was crazy about music," said the little clerk, "and--" "oh dear me!" exclaimed polly. old mr. king heard her sigh at his side, and he cried, "well, what else?" "why, i've heard jim say more'n once he'd live on bread and water if he could only give his daughter a chance. and there were his three boys." "three boys," echoed mr. king sharply. "yes, sir. i saw 'em round the train once or twice; they were likely chaps, it seemed to me." the little, thin clerk, a bachelor with several unmarried sisters on his hands for support, sighed deeply. "well, now," cried mr. king, thinking it quite time to bring the interview to a close, "i'd take it quite kindly if you'd find out for me all you can about this jim. a member of my family was on the train last night, who but for this noble brakeman might--might--bless me! there is my card." the old gentleman pulled out one from his cardcase, then fell to wiping his face violently. "what is your name?" asked jasper, seeing that his father couldn't speak. "hiram potter," said the little clerk. the pompous official drew near, and looked over his shoulder at the card. "oh! why--mr. king!" he cried, all the pomposity suddenly gone. "i beg your pardon; what can i do for you, sir?" "nothing whatever, sir." mr. king waved him away. "well, now, mr. potter, if you'll be so very good as to get this information for me as soon as possible and bring it up to my house, i'll be very much indebted to you." with a bow to him, in which the official was nowise included, the old gentleman and polly and jasper went off down the stairs again. "finkle, you're caught this time; you're in a hole," the brother officials sang out when the card had been displayed around the office. "i wouldn't want to be in your shoes," said more than one. finkle tried to brave out the dismay he felt at having offended the powerful millionaire railroad director, but he made but a poor show of it. meanwhile the little, thin clerk, slipping the precious card into his seedy coat pocket, clambered up to his high stool, his mind busy with plans to unearth all possible information concerning jim, the brakeman, as soon as the big clock up on the wall should let them out of the office. "polly, my dear," old mr. king kept saying, as they went down the stairs, and he held her hand very closely, "i think this potter--a very good sort of a man he seems to be, too--will find out all we want to know about jim. i really do, polly; so we won't worry about it, child." nevertheless, on top of all the rest that was worrying her, polly had a sorry enough time, to keep her troubles from showing on her face. and after dinner, when the bell pealed violently, she gave a great start and turned quite pale. jasper saw it. "i don't believe it's any bad news, polly," he hastened to say reassuringly, and longing to comfort, though he couldn't imagine the reason. "oh, where's polly?" she heard the girls' voices out in the hall, and ran out to meet them. "oh dear me!" she cried at sight of their faces that confirmed her worst fears. "yes, oh polly, it's just as i said," cried leslie fyle, precipitating herself against polly. "now, girls, keep back; i'm going to tell her first." "well, we are all going to tell too, les; that's what we've come for," cried the others, crowding up. "oh, what is it?" cried polly, standing quite still, and feeling as if she never could hold up her head again now that the picnic was lost through her. "i shall tell, myself," declared sarah bluntly. "i'm the one, it seems, that made all the trouble, so it really belongs to me, i should think, to be the first speaker." polly folded her hands tightly together, while the babel went on, feeling that if she didn't hear the dreaded news soon, she should fly off to mamsie. "miss salisbury said--" she could hear little scraps of chatter. "i know--oh, do hurry and tell polly." "oh, and just think, miss salisbury----" "and miss anstice--" then some of them looked around and into polly's face. "oh my goodness, girls, see polly pepper!" with that they all rushed at her, and nobody told first, for they all shouted it out together: "polly, miss salisbury has given us our picnic!" and "polly, isn't it too splendid!" and "polly pepper, just think how perfectly elegant! our picnic, polly--only think!" till the circle in the library popped out their heads into the hall. "jasper," cried polly, deserting the bunch of "salisbury girls," to plunge up to him with shining eyes, "we're to have our picnic; we truly are, jasper, and i thought i'd lost it to all the girls." and just then johnson advanced down the length of the hall. "it's a person to see you, sir," he said to old mr. king,--"says it's quite important, sir, and that you told him to come. he's sitting by the door, sir." "oh, it's mr. potter, i think," said the old gentleman; "show him into the library, johnson. polly, my child. bless me! i don't see how you stand it with these girls chattering around you every minute. now be off with you," he cried gaily to the group. he was much pleased at the success of his plan to find out about the brakeman, of which he felt quite sure from the appearance so promptly of the little clerk. "i have something quite important for polly to attend to now; and i really want her to myself once in a while." "yes, i must go, girls," said polly, turning a blooming countenance on them; "so good night. we won't have the picnic, you know, till alexia is well," she added decidedly. "oh, that's what miss salisbury said," cried leslie, turning back. "you see, i saw her after school--went back for my history--and i was to tell you that, polly; only sarah spoilt it all." "never mind," said polly brightly, "it's all right now, since we are really to have our picnic." and then she put her hand in old mr. king's, quite bubbling over with happiness,--jasper, just as jubilant, since polly was herself again, on the other side,--to go in and meet the little, thin clerk, scared at his surroundings, and perched on the extreme edge of a library chair. ix all about the poor brakeman mr. potter was very miserable indeed on the edge of his chair, and twirling his hat dreadfully; and for the first moment after the handsome old gentleman spoke to him, he had nothing to say. old mr. king was asking him for the third time, "you found out all about poor jim's family, eh?" at last he emerged from his fit of embarrassment enough to reply, "yes, sir." "now that is very good," the old gentleman cried approvingly, and wiped his face vigorously after his effort, "very good indeed, mr. potter." hiram potter now followed up his first attempt to find his voice; and trying to forget the handsome surroundings that had so abashed him, he went on now quite glibly. "you see, sir, there's six of 'em--jim's children." "dear me!" ejaculated old mr. king. "yes, sir, there are." mr. potter's hat began to twirl uneasily again. "and the wife--she ain't strong, just got up from rheumatic fever." "that's bad--very bad," said mr. king. "those three boys of his are good," said mr. potter, brightening up a bit in the general gloom; "and the biggest one says he's going to be a brakeman just like his father. but the mother wants 'em all to go to school. you see, that's what jim was working for." "and the girl who wanted to play on the piano?" broke in polly eagerly. then she blushed rosy red. "oh, forgive me, grandpapa, for interrupting," and she hid her face on old mr. king's arm. "i was just going to ask about that girl, myself," said grandpapa promptly. "tell us about her, mr. potter, if you please." hiram potter set his hat carefully on the floor beside his chair. it was his sunday hat, and evidently that, with his best clothes which he had donned in honor of the occasion, were objects of great care. he scratched his head and thought deeply. "well, now, you see, sir," he said slowly, "that's almost a hopeless case, and i wish, as sure as i sit here, that girl hadn't never thought of piano music. but it's born in her, the mother said; the girl's grandfather was a musician in the old home in germany, and so she can't help it. why, she's just so crazy about it, she'll drum all up and down the kitchen table to make believe that----" "oh grandpapa!" cried polly in the greatest excitement, and hopping up and down by his side, "that's just as i used to do in the little brown house,--the very same way, grandpapa, you know." "yes, she did, father," cried jasper, bobbing his head scarcely less excited, just as if old mr. king hadn't heard the story many times. mr. potter, for want of something to do to express his amazement, picked up his hat, stroked it, and set it down again, staring with all his might. "so you did, polly; so you did, my child," cried grandpapa, taking her hands in both of his, and looking down into her shining eyes; "well, well, to be sure. now, jasper, get the tablet, and write down the address of jim's family as quickly as you can, my boy." so jasper ran over to the library table, and brought back the tablet and pencil hanging to it; and pretty soon jim's home was all described thus: "mrs. james corcoran, 5 willow court--third house from haven street." "it's kinder hard to find," observed mr. potter slowly, "because willow court runs into haven street criss-cross, and this number isn't on the house; it's got rubbed off; but if you follow up no. 3, and come up carefully, why, there you'll be where no. 5 was." "oh dear me!" said mr. king. "well, you may describe the house, for i am going down there to-morrow, and i certainly do not wish to waste my time walking about." polly and jasper looked so very decidedly "oh, may we go too?" that the old gentleman added quickly, "and my young people will accompany me," which really left nothing more to be desired at present. "well, it's a yellow house," said mr. potter, thinking very hard, "that is, it is in spots, where the paint is on; and it's low, and runs down to the back, and sets sideways. but i tell you how you'll know it. she's got--mrs. jim corcoran has--the greatest lot of flowers in her window. they're chock full, sir." "i shall know it, then," cried polly in great satisfaction. "i think there's no danger, sir, but what we will find the place all right." old mr. king was fumbling in his pocket in great perplexity. "it never would do," he decided, pulling his hand out. "no, i must contrive to send him something. well, now--hem--mr. potter," he said aloud, "and where do you live? quite near, i presume?" "oh, just the other end of the town, sir," said mr. potter. "i live on acorn street." "acorn street?" repeated mr. king, wrinkling his brows, "and where may that be, pray tell?" "it's over at the south end, sir; it runs off from baker street and highland square." "oh yes, yes," said the old gentleman, without much more idea than before. "i know where it is, father," said jasper. "dear me! you've had to take a good bit of time to get all this information, mr. potter." mr. potter looked down busily on the carpet, trying not to think how tired his feet were, saving some car-fare for their owner. "well, now what number?" the old gentleman seeming to desire his whole address, that was soon given too,--"23 acorn street, south end." "and i suppose you have a family?" went on the old gentleman, determined to find out all there was to it, now he had commenced. the little clerk began to hem and to haw, behind his hand. "no, sir, i haven't; that is, yes, i have considerable--i mean my four sisters, sir; we all live together." "oh--ah!" replied mr. king. "well, now thank you very much, mr. potter; and as your time is valuable, and should be paid for,"--he tucked a bill within the nervous hands. "oh, i couldn't take it, sir," cried hiram potter, greatly distressed. "but it's your due. why, man, i shouldn't have asked you to take all this trouble, and spend so much time after i've found you had so far to go." mr. king was really becoming irate now, so that the little clerk didn't dare to say more. "bless me! say no more--say no more!" the little clerk was too much frightened to think of another word; and finding that the interview was considered closed, he picked up his hat, and in some way, he could never remember how, he soon found himself out of the handsome house, and skipping off nimbly in the fresh air, which quite revived him. "i could offer him only a trifle," old mr. king was saying, "only what might repay him for his trouble and time to-night. but i shall speak to fraser about him to-morrow, jasper. that agent of mine is, curiously enough, in want of a clerk just at this time, and i know this little man can fit in very well, and it will get him away from that beastly office. four sisters--oh my goodness! well, fraser must give him enough to take care of them." "oh, how fine, father!" exclaimed jasper with kindling eyes. "and then the girl that wants to learn to play on the piano." "oh dear me, yes!" old mr. king burst into a merry laugh. "i must look after that little girl, or polly won't speak to me, i am afraid. will you, polly, my child?" he drew her close to him, and kissed her blooming cheek. "i am so very glad you are going to look out for her, grandpapa," she cried, "because you know i did feel so dreadfully when i used to drum on the table in the little brown house," she confessed. "i know--i know, child." grandpapa's face fell badly, and he held her very close. it always broke him up to hear the peppers tell of the hard times in the little brown house, and polly hastened to add brightly, "and then you came, grandpapa dear, and you made it all just beautiful--oh grandpapa!" and she clung to him, unable to say more. "yes, yes, so i did--so i did," cried the old gentleman delightedly, quite happy again, and stroking the brown hair. "well, polly, my girl, it isn't anything to the good times we are always going to have. and to-morrow, you and i must go down to see after poor jim's family." "and jasper?" cried polly, poking up her head from old mr. king's protecting arm; "he must go too, grandpapa." "and jasper? why, we couldn't do anything without him, polly," said the old gentleman in such a tone that jasper threw back his head very proudly; "of course my boy must go too." and the next day, pickering dodge, who thought he had some sort of a claim on jasper for the afternoon, came running up the steps, two at a time. and he looked so horribly disappointed, that old mr. king said, "why don't you take him, jasper, along with us?" jasper, who would have much preferred to go alone with his father and polly, swallowed his vexation, and said, "all right;" and when he saw pickering's delight, he brightened up, and was glad it all happened in just that way after all. "now see here," said old mr. king suddenly. they were turning out of willow court, after their visit, and thomas had a sorry time of it, managing his horses successfully about the old tin cans and rubbish, to say nothing of the children who were congregated in the narrow, ill-smelling court. "why don't you boys do something for those lads in there?" pointing backward to the little run-down-at-the-heel house they had just left. "we boys?" cried pickering faintly. "oh dear me! mr. king, we can't do anything." "'can't' is a bad word to use," said the old gentleman gravely, "and i didn't mean that you all alone should do the work. but get the other boys interested. i'm sure you can do that. phew! where are the health authorities, i should like to know, to let such abominations exist? thomas, drive as fast as you can, and get us out of this hole;" and he buried his aristocratic old face in his handkerchief. pickering looked over at jasper in great dismay. "we might have our club take it up," said jasper slowly, with a glance at polly for help. "yes, why don't you, jasper?" she cried. "now that's what i'm going to propose that our club of salisbury girls shall do. we're just finishing up the work for a poor southern family." "you've had a bee, haven't you," asked pickering, "or something of that sort? although i don't really suppose you do much work," he said nonchalantly, "only laugh and play and giggle, generally." "indeed we don't, pickering dodge," cried polly indignantly, "laugh and play and giggle, the very idea!" "and if you say such dreadful things i'll pitch you out of the carriage," cried jasper in pretended wrath. "ow! i'll be good. take off your nippers," cried pickering, cringing back down into his corner as far as he could. "goodness me! jasper, you're a perfect old tiger." "take care, and keep your tongue in its place then," said jasper, bursting into a laugh. "and we work--oh, just dreadfully," declared polly with her most positive air. "we cut out all the clothes ourselves. we don't want our mothers to do it; and sew--oh dear me!" "you ought to see our house on club day when polly has the bee," said jasper. "i rather think you'd say there was something going on for those poor little southern darkies." "well, i don't see how you can work so for a lot of disgusting pickaninnies," said pickering, stretching his long figure lazily. "the whole bunch of them isn't worth one good solid afternoon of play." polly turned a cold shoulder to him, and began to talk with jasper most busily about the club of boys. "yes, and oh, jasper, let's have one meeting of all you boys with us girls--the two clubs together," she cried at last, waxing quite enthusiastic. "yes, let us," cried jasper, just as enthusiastic; "and oh, polly, i've thought of something. let's have a little play--you write it." "oh jasper, i can't," cried polly, wrinkling her brows. "oh, yes, polly, you can," cried jasper; "if it's one half as good as 'the three dragons and the princess clotilde,' it will be just fine." "well," said polly, "i'll try; and what then, jasper?" "why, we'll give it for money--father, may we, in the drawing-room? and perhaps we'll make quite a heap to help those boys with. oh polly!" he seized both of her hands and wrung them tightly. "oh, may we, father, may we?" "eh--what's that? oh, yes." the old gentleman took down his handkerchief. "dear me! what a mercy we are where we can breathe!" as thomas whirled them dexterously past a small square. "what _are_ the health authorities about, to allow such atrocious old holes? oh, yes, my boy, i'm sure i'd be delighted to have you help along those three lads. and it's really work for boys. polly's going to start up something for the girl." "how perfectly fine!" exclaimed jasper and polly together, now that the consent was really gained. then they fell into such a merry chatter that pickering, left out in the cold, began to wriggle dreadfully. at last he broke out: "yes, i think it would be fine too," trying to work his head into the conference, where polly and jasper had theirs together buzzing over the plans. but nobody paid him the slightest attention; so he repeated his remark, with no better success. "i should think you might turn around," at last he said in a dudgeon, "and speak to a body once in a while." "why should we?" cried jasper over his shoulder. "you don't think it's worth while to work for any of those people. no, polly, we'll let him severely alone." then he fell to talking again, busier than ever. "yes, i do," cried pickering in a high, wrathful key, "think it's worth while too, so there, jasper king!" "oh, he does, i do believe, jasper," cried polly, looking at pickering's face. "why, of course i do," said pickering. "and so we must let him into the plans." so polly turned around to draw pickering in, and old mr. king leaned forward in his seat, and the committee of ways and means got so very busy that they didn't even know when thomas turned in at the big stone gateway, until polly looked up and screamed out, "why, we are home! why, we _can't_ be!" "well, we are, polly, my child," said old mr. king, getting out to help her with his courtliest air. "we've been gone just three hours and a half, and a very good afternoon's work it is too. for jim's children will care twice as much for what you young folks are going to do for them as for anything i may do. yes, polly, they will," as he saw her face. "and i'm sure if i were in their places, i'd feel just the same way." x joel and his dog "now, children," hummed phronsie, pausing in the midst of combing her doll's flaxen hair, "you must keep still, and be very good; then i'll get through pretty soon," and she bowed to the several members of her numerous family set up in a row before her, who were awaiting their turn for the same attention. then she took up the little comb which had dropped to her lap, and set herself busily to her task again. alexia looked in at the door of the "baby-house," as phronsie's little room devoted to her family of dolls, was called. "oh my goodness me!" she exclaimed, "don't you ever get tired of everlastingly dressing those dolls, phronsie?" phronsie gave a sigh, and went patiently on with her work. "yes, alexia, i'm tired sometimes; but i'm their mother, you see." "and to comb their hair!" went on alexia, "oh dear me! i never could do it in all this world, phronsie. i should want to run and throw them all out of the window." "oh alexia!" exclaimed phronsie in horror, "throw them all out of the window! you couldn't do that, alexia." she tightened her grasp on the doll in her arms. "yes, i should want to throw every one of those dreadful dolls out of the window, phronsie pepper!" declared alexia recklessly. "but they are my children," said phronsie very soberly, trying to get all the others waiting for their hair to be fixed, into her arms too, "and dear grandpapa gave them to me, and i love them, every single one." "well, now, you see, phronsie," said alexia, getting down on the floor in front of the doll's bureau, by phronsie's side, "you could come out with me on the piazza and walk around a bit if it were not for these dreadfully tiresome dolls; and polly is at school, and you are through with your lessons in mr. king's room. now how nice that would be, oh dear me!" alexia gave a restful stretch to her long figure. "my!" at a twinge of pain. "does your arm hurt you, alexia?" asked phronsie, looking over her dolls up to alexia's face. "um--maybe," said alexia, nursing her arm hanging in the sling; "it's a bad, horrid old thing, and i'd like to thump it." "oh, don't, alexia," begged phronsie, "that will make it worse. please don't, alexia, do anything to it." then she got up, and went over with her armful of dolls to the sofa, and laid them down carefully in a row. "i'll fix your hair to-morrow, children," she said; "now i'm going away for a little bit of a minute," and came back. "let's go down to the piazza," she said, holding out her hand. "you blessed child, you!" exclaimed alexia, seizing her with the well hand, "did you suppose i'd be such a selfish old pig as to drag you off from those children of yours?" "you are not a selfish old pig, alexia, and i like you very much," said phronsie gravely, trying not to hit the arm in the sling, while alexia flew up to her feet and whirled around the room with her. "and, oh, i'm so afraid you'll make it sick," she panted. "do stop." "i just can't, phronsie," said alexia; "i shall die if i don't do something! oh, this horrid old arm!" and she came to a sudden standstill, phronsie struggling away to a safe distance. "papa fisher would not like it, alexia," she said in great disapproval, her hair blown about her face, and her cheeks quite pink. "oh dear me!" alexia, resting the sling in the other palm, and trying not to scream with the pain, burst out, "it's so tiresome to be always thinking that some one won't like things one does. phronsie, there's no use in my trying to be good, because, you see, i never could be. i just love to do bad things." "oh no, alexia," said phronsie greatly shocked, "you don't love to do bad things. please say you don't;" and before alexia could say another word, the tears poured down the round cheeks, wetting phronsie's pinafore. and although she clasped her hands and tried to stop them, it was no use. "there now, you see," cried alexia, quite gone in remorse. "oh, what shall i do? i must go and get mrs. fisher," and she rushed out of the room. phronsie ran unsteadily after her, to call, "oh alexia!" in such distress that the flying feet turned, and up she came again. "what is it, pet?" she cried. "oh dear me! what shall i do? i must tell your mother." "i will stop," said phronsie, struggling hard with her tears, "if you only won't tell mamsie," and she wiped her cheeks hard with her pinafore. "there, see, alexia," and tried to smile. "well, now, come back." alexia seized her hand, and dragged her up the stairs. "now i'm just going to stay up here with you, if you'll let me, phronsie, and try not to do bad things. i do so want to be good like polly. you can't think how i want to," she cried in a gust, as she threw herself down on the floor again. "oh alexia, you never could be good like polly," said phronsie, standing quite still in astonishment. "of course not," said alexia with a little laugh, "but i mean--oh, you know what i mean, phronsie. i want to be good so that polly will say she likes it. well, come on now, get your horrible old--i mean, your dolls, and--" "i wish very much you wouldn't call them dolls, alexia," said phronsie, not offering to sit down; "they are my children, and i don't think they like to be called anything else." "well, they sha'n't hear it, then," declared alexia decidedly, "so get some of them, and brush their hair, just as you were doing when i came in, and i'm going to read aloud to you out of one of your books, phronsie." "oh--oh!" phronsie clapped her hands in glee. next to polly's stories, which of course she couldn't have now as polly was at school, phronsie dearly loved to be read to. but she suddenly grew very sober again. "are you sure you will like it, alexia?" she asked, coming up to peer into alexia's face. "yes, yes, pet, to be sure i will," cried alexia, seizing her to half smother her with kisses. "why, phronsie, it will make me very happy indeed." "well, if it will really make you happy, alexia," said phronsie, smoothing down her pinafore in great satisfaction, "i will get my children." and she ran over to the sofa, and came back with an armful. "now what book?" asked alexia, forgetting whether her arm ached or not, and flying to her feet. "i'm going down to your bookshelf to get it." "oh alexia," cried phronsie in great excitement, "will you--could you get 'the little yellow duck'?" as this was the book phronsie invariably chose when asked what she wanted read, alexia laughed and spun off, perfectly astonished to find that the world was not all as blue as an indigo bag. and when she came back two steps at a time up the stairs, phronsie was smiling away, and humming softly to herself, while the hair-brushing was going on. "she had a blue ribbon on yesterday--almira did," said phronsie, reflecting. "now, wouldn't you put on a pink one to-day, alexia?" "i surely should," decided alexia--"that pretty pale pink one that polly gave you last, phronsie." "i am so very glad you said that one," said phronsie, running over on happy feet for her ribbon-basket, "because i do love that ribbon very much, alexia." "well, now then," said alexia, as phronsie began to tie up the pink bow laboriously, "we must hurry and begin, or we never shall see what happened to this 'little yellow duck.'" "oh, do hurry, alexia," begged phronsie, as if she hadn't heard the story on an average of half a dozen times a week. so alexia propped herself up against the wall, and began, and presently it was so still that all any one could hear was the turning of the leaves and the ticking of the little french clock on the mantel. "well, dear me, how funny!" and polly rushed in; then burst into a merry laugh. "polly pepper--you home!" alexia tossed "the little yellow duck" half across the room, flew to her feet again, and spun polly round and round with her well hand. "yes," said polly, "i am, and i've been searching for you two all over this house." "take me, polly, do." phronsie laid down almira carefully on the carpet, and hurried over to polly. "i guess i will. now then, all together!" and the three spun off until out of breath. "oh dear me!" polly stopped suddenly. "i never thought of your arm, alexia. oh, do you suppose we've hurt it?" it was so very dreadful to think of, that all the color deserted her cheek. "nonsense, no!" declared alexia, "that spin put new life into me, polly." "well, i don't know," said polly critically; "at any rate, we mustn't do it any more. and we must tell papa-doctor about it as soon as he gets home." "oh, what good is it to worry him?" cried alexia carelessly. "well, polly, tell all the news about school," as they hurried downstairs to get ready for luncheon. "we must tell papa-doctor everything about it, alexia," said polly in her most decided fashion, putting her arm carefully around alexia's waist; and with phronsie hanging to the other hand, down they went, polly retailing the last bit of school news fresh that day. "and, oh, alexia, miss salisbury said we are not to have the picnic until you get quite well; she said so in the big schoolroom, before us all." "did she, polly?" cried alexia, immensely gratified. "yes, she did." polly stood on her tiptoes at the imminent danger of going on her nose, and pulling the other's down, to get a kiss on the long sallow cheek. "she said it very distinctly, alexia, and all the girls talked about it afterward." "well, she's a dear old thing," exclaimed alexia, with remorseful little pangs at the memory of certain episodes at the 'salisbury school,' "and i shall try--oh, polly, i'll try so hard to be nice and please her." polly gave her two or three little pats on her back. "and don't you think," cried polly, flying off to brush her hair, and calling back through the open door, "that the boys are going to have their club meet with ours. just think of that!" "oh polly!" alexia came flying in, brush in hand. "you _don't_ really mean it!" "i do. jasper just told me so. well, hurry, alexia, else we'll be late," warned polly, brushing away vigorously. "yes, phronsie,"--for phronsie had gone off for jane to put on a clean apron,--"we're ready now--that is, almost." "when--when?" polly could hear alexia frantically asking, as she rushed back into her room, which was next to polly's own. "oh, just as soon as you are able," called polly. "now don't ask any more questions, alexia," she begged merrily. "yes, mamsie, we're coming!" * * * * * that afternoon, percy and joel were rushing back to school from an errand down to the village, and hurrying along with an awful feeling that the half-past-five bell in the big tower on the playground would strike in a minute. "hold on," called percy, considerably in the rear; "how you get over the ground, joe!" "and you're such a snail," observed joel pleasantly. nevertheless he paused. "what's that?" pricking up his ears. "i don't hear anything." percy came up panting. "of course not, when you're puffing like a grampus." "what's a grampus?" asked percy irritably. "i don't know," said joel honestly. "well, i wouldn't say words i didn't know what they meant," said percy in a patronizing tone, and trying not to realize that he was very hot. "well, do keep still, will you!" roared joel. "there, there it is again." he stooped down, and peered within a hedge. "something's crying in here." "you'll get your eyes scratched out, most likely, by an old, cross cat," suggested percy. joel, who cared very little for that or any warning, was now on his knees. "oh whickets!" he exclaimed, dragging out a small yellow dog, who, instead of struggling, wormed himself all up against his rescuer, whining pitifully. "he's hurt," declared joel, tossing back his stubby locks, and patting the dog, who stopped whining, and licked him all over, as much of his face and hands as he could reach. "oh, that dirty thing--faugh! how can you, joel pepper!" cried percy in distress. but joel didn't even hear him, being occupied in setting the dog on the ground to try his paces. "no, he's not hurt, after all, i guess," he decided, "but look at his ribs,--he's half starved." "i don't want to look at them," said percy, turning his back, "and you ought to let him alone; that bell will ring in half a second, joel pepper!" "true enough!" cried joel. "come on, perky," this being the school name of the older whitney, and he picked up the dog, and shot off. "what are you going to do with that dog?" yelled percy after him. but as well talk to the wind, as joel arrived hot and breathless at the big door long before him. luckily for him, none of the boys were about; and joel, cramming the dog well under his jacket, plunged up the stairs, and down the hall to his room. "joe!" roared two or three voices; but he turned a deaf ear, and got in safely; slammed to the door, and then drew a long breath. "_whew!_ almost caught that time," was all he had the wind to say. "well, now, it's good dave isn't in, 'cause i can tell him slowly, and get him used to it." all this time he was drawing out his dog from its place of refuge, and putting it first on the bed, then on the floor, to study it better. it certainly was as far removed from being even a good-looking dog as possible. having never in its life had the good fortune to hear its pedigree spoken of, it was simply an ill-favored cur that looked as if it had exchanged the back yard of a tenement house for the greater dangers of the open street. its yellow neck was marked where a cruel cord had almost worn into the flesh, and every one of its ribs stuck out as joel had said, till they insisted on being counted by a strict observer. joel threw his arms around the beast. "oh dear!" he groaned, "you're starved to death. what have i got to give you?" he wrinkled his forehead in great distress. "oh goody!" he snatched the dog up, and bore him to the closet, then pulled down a box from the shelf above. "mamsie's cake--how prime!" and not stopping to cut a piece, he broke off a goodly wedge. "now then, get in with you," and he thrust him deep into one corner, cramming the cake up to his nose. "stay there on my side, and don't get over on dave's shoes. _whee!_" the dog, in seizing the cake, had taken joel's thumb as well. "let go there," cried joel; "well, you can't swallow my thumb," as the cake disappeared in one lump; and he gave a sigh for the plums with which mamsie always liberally supplied the school cakes, now disappearing so fast, as much as for the nip he had received. the dog turned his black, beady eyes sharply for more cake. when he saw that it wasn't coming, he licked joel's thumb; and in his cramped quarters on top of a heap of shoes and various other things not exactly classified, he tried hard to wag his stump of a tail. "whickets! there goes that bell! now see here, don't you dare to stir for your life! you've got to stay in this closet till to-morrow--then i'll see what to do for you. lie down, i tell you." there was a small scuffle; and then the dog, realizing here was a master, curled himself on top of some tennis shoes, and looked as if he held his breath. "all right," said joel, with an approving pat. "now don't you yip, even if dave opens this door." then he shut it carefully, and rushed off down to the long dining-room to the crowd of boys. joel ate his supper as rapidly as possible, lost to the chatter going on around him. he imagined, in his feverishness, that he heard faint "yaps" every now and then; and he almost expected to see everybody lay down knife and fork. "what's the matter with you?" he was aroused by seeing the boy next to him lean forward to peer into his face. and in a minute he was conscious that on the other side he was just as much of an object of attention. he buried his face in his glass of milk; but when he took it out, they were staring still the same. "ugh! stop your looking at me," growled joel. "what's the matter with you, anyway?" asked the other boy. "get away--nothing," said joel crossly, and bestowing as much of a kick as he dared on the other boy's shin. "ow! there is too." "you're awfully funny," said the first boy, "you haven't spoken a word since you sat down." "well, i ain't going to talk, if i don't want to," declared joel. "do stop, fletcher; everybody's looking." but fletcher wouldn't stop, and joel had the satisfaction of seeing the whole table, with the under-teacher, mr. harrow, at the head, making him, between their mouthfuls, the centre of observation. the only alleviation of this misery was that percy was at another table, and with his back to him. david looked across in a worried way. "are you sick, joe?" he asked. "no." joel laughed, and began to eat busily. when he saw that, david gave a sigh of relief. mr. harrow was telling something just then that seemed of more than common interest, and the boys, hearing joel laugh once more, turned off to listen. "yes," said the under-teacher, "it was a dog that was--" "ugh!" cried joel. "oh, beg pardon," and his face grew dreadfully red, as he tried to get as small as possible on his chair. "it's a dog i used to own, joel," said mr. harrow, smiling at him. "and i taught him tricks, several quite remarkable ones." "yes, sir," mumbled joel, taking a big bite of his biscuit; and for the next quarter of an hour he was safe, as the funny stories lasted till back went the chairs, and the evening meal was over. to say that joel's life was an easy one till bedtime, would be very far from the truth. strange to say, david did not go to the closet once. to be sure, there was a narrow escape that made joel's heart leap to his mouth. "let's have mamsie's cake, joe, to-night," said david in an aside to him. the room was full of boys; it was just before study hour, and how to tell david of the dog, was racking joe's powers of mind. "ugh!--no, not to-night, dave." he was so very decided that although david was puzzled at his manner, he gave it up without a question. and then came study hour when all the boys must be down in "long hall," and joel lingered behind the others. "i'll be down in a minute." he flew over to the closet, broke off another generous wedge of mamsie's cake, stifling a second sigh as he thought of the plums. "you haven't eaten my half yet," he said as the dog swallowed it whole without winking. "keep still now." he slammed to the door again, and was off, his books under his arm. and after the two boys went up to bed, david was too tired and sleepy to talk, and hopped into his bed so quickly that long before joel was undressed he was off to dreamland. "that's good,--now i haven't got to tell him till morning." joel went over to the other bed in the corner, and listened to the regular breathing, then tiptoed softly off to the closet, first putting out the light. "i know what i'm going to do." he got down on all-fours, and put his hand out softly over the pile of shoes, till he felt the dog's mangy back. "i'm going to take you in my bed; you'll smother in here. now, sir!" the dog was ready enough to be quiet, only occupied in licking joel's hands. so joel jumped into his bed, carrying his charge, and huddled down under the clothes. after being quite sure that he was really to remain in this paradise, the dog began to turn around and around to find exactly the best position in which to settle down for the night. this took him so long, interrupted as the process was with so many lickings of joel's brown face, that it looked as if neither would get very much sleep that night; joel, not averse to this lengthy operation, hugging his dog and patting him, to his complete demoralization just as he was about to quiet down. at last even joel was tired, and his eyes drooped. "now go to sleep"--with a final pat--"i'm going to call you sinbad." joel, having always been mightily taken with sinbad the sailor, felt that no other name could be quite good enough for his new treasure. and sinbad, realizing that a call to repose had actually been given, curled up, in as round a ball as he could, under joel's chin, and both were soon sound asleep. it was near the middle of the night. joel had been dreaming of his old menagerie and circus he had once in the little brown house, in which there were not only trained dogs who could do the most wonderful things,--strange to say, now they were all of them yellow, and had stumpy tails,--but animals and reptiles of the most delightful variety, never seen in any other show on earth; when a noise, that at once suggested a boy screaming "_ow!_" struck upon his ear, and brought him bolt upright in his bed. he pawed wildly around, but sinbad was nowhere to be found. xi the united clubs the whole dormitory was in an uproar. "_ow!_ help--help!" mr. harrow, having gone out after dinner, had retired late, and was now sound asleep, so another instructor scaled the stairs, getting there long before mrs. fox, the matron, could put in an appearance. in the babel, it was somewhat difficult to locate the boy who had screamed out. at last, "in there, farnham's room," cried several voices at once. "nightmare, i suppose," said the instructor to himself, dashing in. but it was a real thing he soon saw, as a knot of boys huddled around the bed, where the terrified occupant still sat, drawing up his knees to his chin, and screaming all sorts of things, in which "wild beast" and "cold nose" was all that could be distinguished. [illustration: just then something skimmed out from the corner.] "stop this noise!" commanded the instructor, who had none of mr. harrow's pleasant but decided ways for quelling an incipient riot. so they bawled on, the boy in bed yelling that he wouldn't be left alone. just then something skimmed out from the corner; the boys flew to one side, showing a tendency to find the door. even the instructor jumped. then he bethought himself to light the gas, which brought out the fact that there certainly was an animal in the room, as they could hear it now under the bed. "boys, be quiet. mrs. fox's cat has got up here, probably," said the instructor. but the boy in the bed protested that it wasn't a cat that had waked him up by thrusting a cold nose in his face, and jumping on top of him. and he huddled worse than ever now that it was under him; yet afraid to step out on the floor. even the instructor did not offer to look under the bed, when joel pepper rushed in, his black eyes gleaming. "oh, it's my dog!" he cried. "it's joe pepper's dog!" cried the whole roomful, nearly tumbling over each other. "and when did you begin to keep a dog, joel pepper?" hurled the instructor at him, too angry for anything, that he hadn't impressed the boys with his courage. but joel was occupied in ramming his body under the bed as far as possible. "here, sinbad," and he presently emerged with a very red face, and sinbad safely in his arms, who seemed perfectly delighted to get into his old refuge again. david had now joined the group, as much aghast as every other spectator. "do you hear me, joel pepper?" thundered the instructor again. "when did you get that dog?" this brought joel to. "oh, i haven't had him long, sir," he said, and trembling for sinbad, as he felt in every fibre of his being that the beast's fate was sealed, unless he could win over the irritated teacher. "he's a poor dog i--i found, sir," wishing he could think of the right words, and knowing that every word he uttered only made matters worse. "david," cried the instructor, catching davie's eye, down by the door, "do you know anything about this dog?" "no, sir," said david, all in a tremble, and wishing he could say something to help joel out. "well, now, you wait a minute." the instructor, feeling that here was a chance to impress the boys with his executive ability, looked about over the table where farnham's schoolbooks were thrown. "got a bit of string? no--oh, yes." he pounced on a piece, and came over to joel and the dog. "what are you going to do, sir?" joel hung to sinbad with a tighter grip than ever. "never mind; it's not for you to question me," said the instructor, with great authority. but joel edged away. visions of being expelled from dr. marks' school swam before his eyes, and he turned very white. david plunged through the crowd of boys, absolutely still with the excitement. "oh joel," he begged hoarsely, "let mr. parr do as he wants to. mamsie would say so." joel turned at that. "don't hurt him," he begged. "don't, please, mr. parr." "i shall not hurt him," said mr. parr, putting the cord about the dog's neck, and holding the other end, after it was knotted fast. "i am going to tie him in the area till morning. here you, sir," as sinbad showed lively intentions toward his captor's legs, with a backward glance at his late master. "oh, if you'll let me keep him in my room, mr. parr," cried joel, tumbling over to the instructor, who was executing a series of remarkable steps as he dragged sinbad off, "i'll--i'll be just as good--just till the morning, sir. oh, _please_, mr. parr--i'll study, and get my lessons better, i truly will," cried poor joel, unable to promise anything more difficult of performance. "you'll have to study better anyway, joel pepper," said mr. parr grimly, as he and sinbad disappeared down the stairway. "every boy get back to his room," was the parting command. no need to tell joel. he dashed through the ranks, and flung himself into his bed, dragged up the clothes well over his stubby head, and cried as if his heart would break. "joel--joel--oh, joey!" begged david hoarsely, and running to precipitate himself by his side. but joel only burrowed deeper and sobbed on. and davie, trying to keep awake, to give possible comfort, at last tumbled asleep, when joel with a flood of fresh sorrow rolled over as near to the wall as he could get, and tried to hold in his sobs. as soon as he dared the next morning, joel hopped over david still asleep, and out of bed; jumped into his clothes, and ran softly downstairs. there in the area was sinbad, who had evidently concluded to make the best of it, and accept the situation, for he was curled up in as small a compass as possible, and was even attempting a little sleep. "i won't let him see me," said joel to himself, "but as soon as dr. marks is up"--and he glanced over at the master's house for any sign of things beginning to move for the day--"and dressed, why, i'll go and ask him--" what, he didn't dare to say, for joel hadn't been able, with all his thinking, to devise any plan whereby sinbad could be saved. "but perhaps dr. marks will know," he kept thinking; and after a while the shades were drawn up at the red brick house across the yard, the housemaid came out to brush off the steps, and various other indications showed that the master was beginning to think of the new day and its duties. joel plunged across the yard. it was awful, he knew, to intrude at the master's house before breakfast. but by that time--oh, dreadful!--sinbad would probably be beyond the help of any rescuing hand, for mr. parr would, without a doubt, deliver him to the garbage man to be hauled off. and joel, with no thought of consequences to himself, plunged recklessly on. "is dr. marks up?" he demanded of the housemaid, who only stared at him, and went on with her work of sweeping off the steps. "is dr. marks up?" cried joel, his black eyes flashing, and going halfway up. "yes; but what of it?" cried the housemaid airily, leaning on her broom a minute. "oh, i must see him," cried joel, bounding into the hall. it was such a cry of distress that it penetrated far within the house. "oh my! you outrageous boy!" exclaimed the housemaid, shaking her broom at him. "you come right out." meantime a voice said, "what is it?" and there was dr. marks in dressing gown and slippers looking over the railing at the head of the stairs. "oh dr. marks, dr. marks!" joel, not giving himself time to think, dashed over the stairs, to look up into the face under the iron-gray hair. the master could scarcely conceal his amazement, but he made a brave effort at self-control. "why, pepper!" he exclaimed, and there was a good deal of displeasure in face and manner; so much so that joel's knees knocked smartly together, and everything swam before his eyes. "well, what did you want to see me for, pepper?" dr. marks was inquiring, so joel blurted out, "a dog, sir." "a _dog_?" repeated dr. marks, and now he showed his amazement and displeasure as well. "and is this what you have interrupted me to say, at this unseasonable hour, joel pepper?" "oh!" cried joel, and then he broke right down, and went flat on the stairs, crying as if his heart would break. and mrs. marks threw on her pretty blue wrapper in a dreadful tremor, and rushed out with restoratives; and the housemaid who shook her broom at joel, ran on remorseful feet for a glass of water, and the master's whole house was in a ferment. but dr. marks waved them all aside. "the boy needs nothing," he said. "come, joel." he took his hand, all grimy and streaked, and looked at his poor, swollen eyelids and nose, over which the tears were still falling, and in a minute he had him in his own private study, with the door shut. when he emerged a quarter-hour after, joel was actually smiling. he had hold of the master's hand, and clutched in his other fist was a note, somewhat changed in appearance from its immaculate condition when delivered by dr. marks to the bearer. "yes, sir," joel was saying, "i'll do it all just as you say, sir." and he ran like lightning across the yard. the note put into the instructor's hand, made him change countenance more than once in the course of its reading. it simply said, for it was very short, that the dog was to be delivered to joel pepper, who was to bring it to the master's house; and although there wasn't a line or even a word to show any disapproval of his course, mr. parr felt, as he set about obeying it, as if somehow he had made a little mistake somewhere. all joel thought of, however, was to get possession of sinbad. and when once he had the cord in his hand, he untied it with trembling fingers, sinbad, in his transport, hampering the operation dreadfully by bobbing his head about in his violent efforts to lick joel's face and hands, for he had about given up in despair the idea of ever seeing him again. "he's glad to go, isn't he, joel?" observed the instructor, to break the ice, and make conversation. but no such effort was necessary, for joel looked up brightly. "isn't he, sir? now say good-bye." at last the string was loose, and dangling to the hook in the area wall, and joel held the dog up, and stuck out his paw. "good-bye," said mr. parr, laughing as he took it, and quite relieved to find that relations were not strained after all, as joel, hugging his dog, sped hastily across the yard again to the master's house. dr. marks never told how very ugly he found the dog, but, summoning the man who kept his garden and lawn in order, he consigned sinbad to his care, with another note. "now, joel," he said, "you know this payment comes every week out of your allowance for this dog's keeping, eh? it is clearly understood, joel?" "oh, yes, sir--yes!" shouted joel. "perhaps we'll be able to find a good home for him. well, good-bye, sinbad," said the master, as sinbad, with the gardener's hand over his eyes, so that he could not see joel, was marched off, dr. marks from the veranda charging that the note be delivered and read before leaving the dog. "oh, i'm going to take him home at vacation," announced joel decidedly. "indeed! well, now, perhaps your grandfather won't care for him; you must not count too much upon it, my boy." all the control in the world could not keep the master from smiling now. "oh, i guess he will." joel was in no wise disturbed by the doubt. "well, run along to breakfast with you, pepper," cried dr. marks good-humoredly, "and the next time you come over to see me, don't bring any more dogs." so joel, in high good spirits, and thinking how he would soon run down to the little old cobbler's where the master had sent the dog, chased off across the yard once more, and slipped in to breakfast with a terrible appetite, and a manner as if nothing especial had happened the preceding night. and all the boys rubbed their eyes, particularly as joel and mr. parr seemed to be on the best of terms. and once when something was said about a dog by mr. harrow, who hadn't heard anything of the midnight tumult in the dormitory, and was for continuing the account of his trained pet, the other under-teacher and joel pepper indulged in smiles and nods perfectly mystifying to all the other people at the table, david included. david, when he woke up, which was quite late, to find joel gone, had been terribly frightened. but chancing to look out of the window, he saw him racing across the yard, and watching closely, he discovered that he had something in his arms, and that he turned in to the master's house. "i can't do anything now," said davie to himself in the greatest distress; yet somehow when he came to think of it, it seemed to be with a great deal of hope since dr. marks was to be appealed to. and when breakfast-time came, and with it joel so blithe and hungry, david fell to on his own breakfast with a fine appetite. * * * * * all the boys of the club, not one to be reported absent, presented themselves at mr. king's on club night. and all the members of the "salisbury school club" came promptly together, with one new member, cathie harrison, who, at polly's suggestion, had been voted in at the last meeting. alexia still had her arm in a sling; and indeed she was quite willing it should remain so, for she was in constant terror that her aunt, who had been persuaded to leave her, would insist on the return home. so alexia begged off at every mention of the subject, as grandpapa king and mother fisher were very glad to have the visit lengthened. she was as gay as ever, and to-night was quite in her element; it had been so long since she had had a good time. "oh, jasper," she cried, "can we all get into your den?" "i think so," said jasper, who had already settled all that with polly, counting every member as coming, in order to make no mistake, "we're to have the business-meeting in there, alexia; and after that, father has invited us in to the drawing-room." "what richness!" exclaimed alexia, sinking into one of the library chairs to pull out her skirts and play with her rings. "oh, jasper king, i shouldn't think you'd ever in all this world get used to living in this perfectly exquisite house." "well, i've always lived here, alexia," said jasper with a laugh, "so i suppose that is the reason i'm not overwhelmed now. oh, here comes clare. all right, old fellow, glad you've come. now i'll call the meeting to order." for clare was the secretary. and the rest of the boys and girls assembling, the business-meeting was soon begun in the "den," jasper who was the president of the boys' club, flourishing his gavel in great style. "now we've come together," announced the president after the regular business was disposed of, "to get up a plan by which we can accomplish something more than merely to have a good time." "nonsense!" interrupted clare, "we want a good time." "for shame!" jasper pounded his gavel to restore order. "and to begin with, it is as well to announce at once that all unruly members will be put out," with a stern glance at the secretary. "oh, dear me!" exclaimed clare, huddling down into his big chair. "go along, prex," said pickering, coming over from the other side of the room, "i'll sit on that old secretary if he makes any more trouble." "get away!" laughed clare; "that's worse than being put out." "oh, i'll sit on you first, and then i'll carry out the pieces afterward. sail on, prexy, they all want the plan." "well"--the president cleared his throat--"hem! and in order to do good work, why we had to ask the girls' club to come to this meeting, and--" "not necessarily," put in clare. pickering pounced for him, but instead of sitting on him, his long figure doubled up in the big chair, while the secretary slipped neatly out. "ha, ha! did you ever get left?" giggled clare, at a safe distance. "many a time, my dear child," said pickering coolly, leaning back restfully, "but never in such a good seat. thank you, mr. secretary. proceed, prexy." "good for you, pickering," cried alexia, while the laugh went around. "order!" cried jasper, pounding away. "now that our troublesome secretary is quieted, i will proceed to say that as we want the plan to succeed, we invited the salisbury club this evening." "thank you, mr. president," the girls clapped vigorously. "so now after i tell you of the object, i want you to express your minds about the various plans that will be laid before you." then jasper told the story of jim, the brakeman; and how grandpapa and polly and he had gone to the poor home, thanks to the little clerk; and how the three boys who were waiting for education and the girl who was crazy to take music-lessons, to say nothing of the two mites of children toddling around, made the poor widow almost frantic as she thought of their support; until some of the girls were sniffling and hunting for their handkerchiefs, and the boys considerately turned away and wouldn't look at them. "now you tell the rest, polly," cried jasper, quite tired out. "oh, no, you tell," said polly, who dearly loved to hear jasper talk. "do, polly," and he pushed the hair off from his forehead. so, as she saw he really wanted her to, polly began with shining eyes, and glowing cheeks, to finish the story. and she told how grandpapa had ordered provisions and coal for the poor widow enough for many months to come; and how--oh, wasn't that perfectly splendid in dear grandpapa?--he had promised that the little girl (arethusa was her name) should take music-lessons from one of the teachers in the city. and polly clasped her hands and sighed, quite unable to do more. "and what do you want us to do?" cried the secretary forgetting all about losing his seat, to crowd up to the table. "say, if that family has got all that richness, what do you want the club to do?" "oh," said polly turning her shining eyes on him, "there are ever and ever so many things the boys and that girl will need, and grandpapa says that they'll think a great deal more of help, if some young people take hold of it. and so i'm sure i should," she added. "it strikes me that i should, too," declared pickering, all his laziness gone. and getting his long figure out of the chair, he cried, "i move, mr. president, that we,"--here he waved his hands in a sweeping gesture,--"the salisbury club and our club, unite in a plan to do something for that family." "i second the motion," the secretary cried out, much to everybody's surprise, for polly was all ready to do it if no one else offered to. so the vote was carried unanimously amid the greatest enthusiasm. "now what shall we do?" cried the president, jumping to his feet. "let us strike while the iron is hot. what shall we do to raise money?" "you said you had plans," cried one of the girls. "yes--tell on," cried several boys. "well, one is, that we have a play," began jasper. "oh--oh!" old mr. king, over his evening paper off in the library, laid it down, and smiled at the merry din that reached him even at such a distance. "and another," cried the president, doing his best to make himself heard. "oh, we don't want another," cried clare, in which the united clubs joined. "don't you want to hear any other plans?" shouted the president. "no, no--the play! put it to vote, do, jasper--i mean, mr. president," cried alexia. so the vote was taken, and everybody said, "aye," and as there wasn't a single "no," why the "ayes" had it of course. and after that they talked so long over the general plan, that old mr. king at last had to send a very special invitation to come out to the dining-room. and there was mother fisher and mrs. whitney and the little doctor and a most splendid collation! and then off to the big drawing-room to top off with a dance, with one or two musicians tucked up by the grand piano, and grandpapa smiling in great satisfaction upon them all. xii some every-day fun "it can't rain," cried polly pepper, "and it isn't going to. don't think it, girls." "but it looks just like it," said alexia obstinately, and wrinkling up her brows; "see those awful, horrid clouds, girls." she pointed tragically up to the sky. "don't look at them," advised polly. "come on, girls. i challenge you to a race as far as the wicket gate." away she dashed, with a bevy at her heels. alexia, not to be left behind staring at the sky, went racing after. "wait," she screamed. the racers, however, spent no time attending to laggards, but ran on. polly dashed ahead, and touched the green wicket gate. "oh, polly got there first!" almost immediately came another girl's fingers on it. "no--i don't think so," panted polly. "philena got there just about as soon." "no, you were first," said the girl who plunged up next; "i saw it distinctly." "well, it was so near that we ought to have another race to decide it," declared polly, with a little laugh, pushing back the damp rings of hair from her forehead. "girls, isn't it lovely that we have this splendid place where we can run, and nobody see us?" "yes," said alexia, throwing herself down on the grass; which example was immediately followed by all the other girls. "i just love this avenue down to the wicket gate, polly pepper." "so do i," chimed in the others. "oh dear me! i'm just toasted and fried," declared alexia. "i never _was_ so hot in all my life." "you shouldn' have run so, alexia," said polly reproachfully, patting the arm still in its sling. "oh, how could you!" "well, did you suppose i was going to see you all sprinting off and having such fun, and not try it too? no, indeed; that's asking too much, polly." then she threw herself at full length on the grass, and gazed at her meditatively. "well, we mustn't have the second race, philena," said polly; "because if alexia runs again, it surely will hurt her." "_ow!_" exclaimed alexia, flouncing up so suddenly that she nearly overthrew amy garrett, who was sitting next, and who violently protested against such treatment, "now i won't keep you back, polly. oh dear me! it can't hurt me a single bit. i'm all ready to take off this horrible old thing, you know i am, only dr. fisher thought--" "he thought it would be safer to keep it on till after the picnic," polly was guilty of interrupting. "you know he said so, alexia. no, we won't run again, girls," polly brought up quite decidedly. "polly, you shall; i won't run--i really won't; i'll shut my eyes," and alexia squinted up her pale eyes till her face was drawn up in a knot. "i'll turn my back, i'll do anything if you'll only race; _please_ try it again, polly." so polly, seeing that alexia really wished it, dropped a kiss on each of the closed eyes. "put your hand over them, and untwist your face from that funny knot," she laughed. "come on, girls," and the race began. alexia twisted and wriggled, as the pattering feet and quick breath of the girls when they neared her resting place, plunged her in dreadful distress not to look. "oh dear--um! if i could just see once; um--_um_! i know polly will win; oh dear! she _must_." but she didn't. it was cathie harrison, the new girl; that is, new to them, as they hadn't drawn her into their set, but a few weeks. she was a tall, thin girl, who got over the ground amazingly, to touch the green wicket gate certainly three seconds before polly pepper came flying up. "you did that just splendidly, cathie," cried polly breathlessly. "oh dear me, that _was_ a race!" "goodness me!" cried alexia, her eyes flying open, "my face never'll get out of that knot in all this world. my! i feel as if my jaws were all tied up. well, polly, this time you beat for sure," she added confidently, as the girls came running up to throw themselves on the grass again. "but i didn't," said polly merrily. "oh dear! i _am_ so hot." "yes, you did," declared alexia stubbornly. "why, alexia rhys! i didn't beat, any such a thing," corrected polly--"not a single bit of it." "well, who did, then?" demanded alexia, quite angry to have polly defeated. "why, cathie did," said polly, smiling over at her. "what, that old--" then alexia pulled herself up; but it was too late. a dull red mounted to cathie's sallow cheek, that hadn't changed color during all the two races. she drew a long breath, then got up slowly to her feet. "i'm going to play bean-bags," announced polly briskly. "come on, girls. see who'll get to the house first." "i'm going home," said cathie, hurrying up to wedge herself into the group, and speaking to polly. "good-bye." "no," said polly, "we're going to play bean-bags. come on, cathie." she tried to draw cathie's hand within her arm, but the girl pulled herself away. "i must go home--" and she started off. "cathie--_cathie_, wait," but again cathie beat her on a swift run down the avenue. alexia stuffed her fingers, regardless of arm in the sling, or anything, into her mouth, and rolled over in dreadful distress, face downward on the grass. the other girls stood in a frightened little knot, just where they were, without moving, as polly came slowly back down the avenue. she was quite white now. "oh dear!" groaned philena, "look at polly!" alexia heard it, and stuffed her fingers worse than ever into her mouth to keep herself from screaming outright, and wriggled dreadfully. but no one paid any attention to her. she knew that polly had joined the girls now; she could hear them talking, and polly was saying, in a sad little voice, "yes, i'm afraid she won't ever come with us again." "she must, she shall!" howled alexia, rolling over, and sitting up straight. "oh polly, she shall!" and she wrung her long hands as well as she could for the arm in the sling. "oh, no, i am afraid not, alexia," and her head drooped; no one would have thought for a moment that it was polly pepper speaking. and then amy garrett said the very worst thing possible: "and just think of that picnic!" and after that remark, the whole knot of girls was plunged into the depths of gloom. jasper, running down the avenue with pickering dodge at his heels, found them so, and was transfixed with astonishment. "well, i declare!" he burst into a merry laugh. "you look like a lot of wax figures," said pickering pleasantly; "just about as interesting." then they saw polly pepper's face. "oh, what is it?" cried jasper, starting forward. polly tried to speak cheerfully, but the lump in her throat wouldn't let her say a word. "if you boys must know," said alexia, flouncing up to her feet, "i've been bad and perfectly horrid to that harrison girl; and i've upset everything; and--and--do go right straight away, both of you, and not stand there staring. i don't think it's very polite." "oh polly," cried jasper, gaining her side, "can't we help?" he was dreadfully distressed. "do let us." polly shook her head. "no, jasper, there isn't anything you can do," she said brokenly. pickering thrust his hands in his pockets, and whistled softly. "girls always get into such rows," he observed. "well, i guess we don't get into worse ones than you boys do, nor half as bad," cried alexia crossly, perfectly wild to quarrel with somebody. "and, besides, this isn't the other girls' fault. it's all my fight from beginning to end." "then you ought to be perfectly ashamed of yourself, alexia," declared pickering, not intending to mince matters in the slightest. "well, i am," said alexia, "just as ashamed as i can be. oh dear me! i wish i could cry. but i'm too bad to cry. polly pepper, i'm going to run after that horrible harrison girl. oh misery! i wish she never had come to the salisbury school." alexia made a mad rush down the avenue. "don't, alexia, you'll hurt your arm," warned polly. "i don't care--i hope i shall," cried alexia recklessly. "it's no use to try to stop her," said jasper, "so let us go up to the house, polly." so they started dismally enough, the girls, all except polly, going over in sorry fashion how cathie harrison would probably make a fuss about the little affair--she was doubtless on her way to miss salisbury's now--and then perhaps there wouldn't be any picnic at all on the morrow. at this, philena stopped short. "girls, that would be too dreadful," she gasped, "for anything!" "well, it would be just like her," said silvia horne, "and i wish we never had taken her into our set. she's an old moping thing, and can't bear a word." "i wish so too," declared amy garrett positively; "she doesn't belong with us; and she's always going to make trouble. and i hope she won't go to the picnic anyway, if we do have it, so there." "i don't think that is the way to mend the matter, amy," said jasper gravely. "hoh, hoh!" exclaimed pickering, "how you girls can go on so, i don't see; talking forever about one thing, instead of just settling it with a few fisticuffs. that would be comfortable now." the girls, one and all, turned a cold shoulder to him after this speech. "well, we sha'n't get the picnic now, i know," said philena tragically; "and think of all our nice things ready. dear me! our cook made me the sweetest chocolate cakes, because we were going to start so early in the morning. now we'll have them for dinner, and eat them up ourselves. we might as well." "you better not," advised pickering. "take my advice; you'll get your picnic all right; then where would you be with your cakes all eaten up?" "you don't know miss salisbury," said sally moore gloomily; "nothing would make her so mad as to have us get up a fuss with a new scholar. she was so pleased when polly pepper invited that harrison girl to come to our bee for that poor family down south." "and now, just think how we've initiated her into our club!" said lucy bennett, with a sigh. "oh my goodness--look!" she pointed off down the avenue. all the girls whirled around to stare. there were alexia and cathie, coming toward them arm in arm. "jasper"--polly turned to him with shining eyes--"see!" then she broke away from them all, and rushed to meet the two girls. "there isn't anybody going to say a word," announced alexia, as the three girls came up to the group, polly pepper in the middle, "because, as i told you, it was all my fight, anyway. so, pickering, you needn't get ready to be disagreeable," she flashed over at him saucily. "i shall say just what i think," declared pickering flatly. "no doubt," said alexia sweetly, "but it won't make a bit of difference. well, now, polly, what shall we do? do start us on something." "we came, pick and i," announced jasper, "to ask you girls to have a game of bean-bags. there's just time before dinner--on the south lawn, polly." "oh, good--good!" cried the girls, clapping their hands. "come on, cathie," said philena awkwardly, determined to break the ice at once. "yes, cathie, come on," said amy and silvia, trying to be very nice. cathie just got her mouth ready to say, "no, i thank you," primly, thought better of it, and before she quite realized it herself, there she was, hurrying by a short cut across the grass to the south lawn. "i'm going to stay with alexia," said polly, when they all reached there, and jasper flew over to pull out the bean-bags from their box under the piazza. "come on, alexia, let's you and i sit in the hammock and watch it." "oh polly, come and play," begged jasper, pausing with his arms full. "here, pick, you lazy dog. help with these bags." "can't," said polly, shaking her head. so alexia and she curled up in one of the hammocks. "i'm just dying to tell you all about it, polly pepper," said alexia, pulling polly's cheek down to her own. "yes," said polly happily, "and i can't wait to hear it; and besides, you can't play bean-bags, alexia, with that arm. well, do go on," and polly was in quite a twitter for the story to begin. "you see," said alexia, "i knew something desperate had got to be done, polly, for she was crying all over her best silk waist." "oh dear me!" exclaimed polly, aghast. "yes; she had sat down on the kitchen step." "the kitchen step," repeated polly faintly. "yes. i suppose she got beyond caring whether the cook saw or not, she was feeling so very badly. well, there she was, and she didn't hear me, so i just rushed up, or rather down upon her, and then i screamed 'ow!' and she jumped up, and said, 'oh, have you hurt your arm?' and i held on to it hard, and made up an awful face, oh, as bad as i could, and doubled up; and the cook came to the door, and said could she get me anything, and she was going to call mrs. fisher. that would have been terrible." alexia broke off short, and drew a long breath at her remembrance of the fright this suggestion had given her. "and cathie fell right on my neck with, 'oh, do forgive me,' and i said 'twas my fault, and she said, no, she oughtn't to have got mad, and i said she must hold her tongue." "oh alexia!" cried polly reprovingly. "i had to," said alexia serenely, "or we should have gotten into another fight. and she said she would, and i just took hold of her arm, and dragged her down here. and i'm tired to death," finished alexia plaintively. "alexia," exclaimed polly, cuddling up the long figure in a way to give perfect satisfaction, "we must make cathie harrison have the best time that she ever had, at the picnic to-morrow." "i suppose so," said alexia resignedly. "well, but don't let's think of it now, for i've got you, polly, and i want to rest." xiii the picnic the four barges were to leave the "salisbury school" at precisely half-past eight o'clock the next morning. miss salisbury was always very particular about being prompt, so woe be to any girl who might be late! there was great scurrying, therefore, to and fro in the homes of the day scholars. and the girls hurried off with maids behind carrying their baskets; or, as the case might be, big family carriages filled with groups of girls collected among those of a set; or in little pony carriages. all this made the thoroughfares adjacent to the "salisbury school" extremely busy places indeed. mother fisher sent polly's basket over to the school, at an early hour, polly preferring to walk, several of the girls having called for her. so they all, with jasper, who was going as far as the corner with them, set out amidst a chatter of merry nonsense. "oh girls, i _am_ so glad we are going to the glen!" exclaimed polly, for about the fiftieth time. "so am i," cried all the others in a chorus. "why, you haven't ever been to any other place for your picnic, have you, polly?" cried jasper, with a laugh. "no," said polly, "we never have. but suppose miss salisbury had decided to try some other spot this year; oh, just suppose it, jasper!" and her rosy color died down on her cheek. "it would have been just too dreadful for anything." "we couldn't have had our picnic in any other place," declared rose harding; "it wouldn't be the same unless it was at the glen." "dear old glen!" cried polly impulsively. "jasper, it's too bad you boys can't all come to our picnics." "i know it. it would be no end jolly if we only could," said jasper regretfully, to whom it was a great grief that the picnic couldn't take in the two schools. "yes," said polly, with a sigh, "it would, jasper. but miss salisbury never will in all this world let the boys' school join." "no, i suppose not," said jasper, stifling his longing; "well, you must tell me about it to-night, the same as always, polly." "yes, i will, jasper," promised polly. so he turned the corner, to go to his school. but presently he heard rapid footsteps back of him. "oh jasper," cried polly, flushed and panting, as he whirled about, "tell phronsie i won't forget the little fern-roots. be sure, jasper." "all right; i will," said jasper. "dear me! do hurry back, polly. you'll be late." "oh no, there are oceans of time," said polly, with a little laugh. "i've the tin case in my picnic basket, jasper, so they will keep all fresh and nice." "yes; do hurry back," begged jasper. so polly, with a merry nod, raced off to the corner where the girls were drawn up in a knot, impatiently waiting for her. every bit of the fuss and parade in getting the big company started--for all the scholars went to the annual picnic--was a special delight to the girls. the only trouble was that the seats were not all end ones, while the favorite places up by the driver were necessarily few in each vehicle. "come on, polly," screamed alexia. everybody had agreed that she should have one of these choice positions because of her lame arm, which dr. fisher had said must be carried in its sling this day. so there she was, calling lustily for polly pepper, and beating the cushion impatiently with her well hand. "oh, _do_ hurry up!" polly, down on the ground in a swarm of girls, shook her head. "no," her lips said softly, so that no one but alexia, who was leaning over for that purpose, could possibly hear, "ask cathie." "oh bother!" exclaimed alexia, with a frown. then she smothered it up with a "come, polly," very persuasively. "can't," said polly; "i'm going back here." and she moved down to the end of the barge. "then i'm going back too." alexia gave a frantic dive to get down from the barge. miss salisbury saw it; and as she had planned to give alexia just that very pleasure of riding on the front seat, she was naturally somewhat disturbed. "no, no, my dear," seeing alexia's efforts to get down, "stay where you are." "oh dear me!" alexia craned her long neck around the side of the vehicle, to spy polly's movements. "i don't want to be mewed up here," she cried discontentedly. but miss salisbury, feeling well satisfied with her plan for making alexia happy, had moved off. and the babel and tumult waged so high, over the placing of the big company, all the girls chattering and laughing at once, that alexia, call as she might, began to despair of attracting polly's attention, or cathie's either for that matter. "you better set down," said the driver, an old man whom miss salisbury employed every year to superintend the business, "and make yourself comfortable." "but i'm not in the least comfortable," said alexia passionately, "and i don't want to be up here. i want to get down." "but you can't,"--the old man seemed to fairly enjoy her dismay,--"'cause she, you know," pointing a short square thumb over his shoulder in the direction of miss salisbury, "told ye to set still. so ye better set." but alexia craned her neck yet more, and called insistently, "polly--oh, polly!" miss anstice looked up from the bevy of girls she was settling in another barge. "alexia rhys," she said severely, "you must be quiet; it is impossible to get started unless all you girls are going to be tractable and obedient." "miss anstice,"--alexia formed a sudden bold resolve,--"please come here. i want you very much," she said sweetly. miss anstice, pleased to be wanted very much, or indeed at all, left her work, and went over to the front barge where alexia was raging inwardly. "miss anstice, i need polly pepper up next to me," said alexia, "oh, so much. she knows all about my arm, you know; her father fixed it for me. will you please have her come up here? then if i should feel worse, she could help me." miss anstice peered here and there in her nearsighted fashion. "i don't see polly pepper," she said. "there she is; there she is," cried alexia, trembling in every limb, for her plan could not be said to be a complete success yet, and pointing eagerly to the end of her barge; "she's the fourth from the door, miss anstice. oh, how lovely you are!" miss anstice, quite overcome to be told she was lovely, and especially by alexia, who had previously given her no reason to suppose that she entertained any such opinion, went with great satisfaction down the length of the barge, and standing on her tiptoes, said very importantly, "polly pepper, i want to place you differently." so polly, quite puzzled, but very obedient, crawled out from her seat, where she was wedged in between two girls not of her set, who had been perfectly radiant at their good fortune, and clambering down the steps, was, almost before she knew it, installed up on the front row, by alexia's side. "oh polly, what richness!" exclaimed that individual in smothered accents, as miss anstice stepped off in much importance, and hugging polly. "i'm so glad my sling is on, for i never'd gotten you up here without the old thing," and she giggled as she told the story. "oh alexia!" exclaimed polly, quite shocked. "well, i may get a relapse in it, you don't know," said alexia coolly, "so you really ought to be up here. oh my goodness me! i forgot this man," she brought up suddenly. "do you suppose he'll tell?" she peered around anxiously past polly. "ef you'll set still, i won't tell that teacher," said the old man with a twinkle in his eye, "but ef you get to carryin' on, as i should think you could ef you set out to, i'll up an' give the whole thing to her." "oh, i'll sit as still as a mouse," promised alexia. "oh polly, isn't he a horrible old thing!" in a stage whisper under cover of the noise going on around them. "hush," said polly. "well, i'm not going to hush," cried alexia recklessly; "i'm going to have a good time at the picnic to-day, and do just everything i want to, so there, polly pepper!" "very well," said polly, "then when we get to the glen, i shall go off with the other girls, alexia," which had the desired effect. alexia curled up into her corner, and hanging to polly pepper's arm, was just like a mouse for quiet. and off they went; the old man's whip going crack--_snap_! as he led the way with a grand flourish, as much better than his efforts of former years, as was possible! the road led through winding, woodsy paths, redolent of sweet fern; the girls never tired of its delights, exclaiming at all the sights and sounds of country life at all such moments as were not filled to the brim with the songs that ran over from their happy hearts. so on and up they went to the glen, a precipitous ravine some fifteen miles out from the city. when the barges finally drew up with another grand flourish at the entrance, a smooth grassy plateau shaded by oaks and drooping elms, they simply poured out a stream of girls from each conveyance; the old man and his companion drivers laughing to see them tumble out. "pretty quick work, eh, bill?" said old man kimball, "no screaming for first places now." "it's the same beautiful, dear old glen!" exclaimed polly, with kindling eyes and dancing feet. "oh alexia, come on!" and seizing the well hand, they spun round and round, unable to keep still, having plenty of company, all the other girls following suit. polly looked at her little watch. "in five minutes we must stop. it'll be time to get the flowers." "oh, can we?" cried alexia. "misery me! i'm so tired cooped up in that barge, i feel stiff as a jointed doll, polly pepper." "well, i don't," said polly, dancing away for dear life. "oh alexia, when miss salisbury gives the signal to explore, won't it be just fun!" "i should say," cried alexia, unable to find words that would just express the case. there was always one routine to be observed in the annual picnic of the "salisbury school," and no one thought for a moment of deviating from it. the maids collected the baskets taken from the wagons, and set them in a cool, shady place among the rocks just within the glen. the girls ran hither and thither to collect flowers and ferns to drape miss salisbury's seat of honor, and one as near like it as possible for miss anstice. these were big crevices in the rocks, that were as comfortable as chairs, and having backs to them in the shape of boulders, they were truly luxurious. indeed, miss salisbury had declared, when the seats were discovered by polly pepper at the first picnic after she joined the "salisbury school," that she never sat in one more comfortable; and she was so pleased when she was led to it and inducted therein, all flower-trimmed with little vines trailing off, and arching over her head. "why, my dears!" she exclaimed, quite overcome. "oh, how pretty! and how did you think of it?" "it was polly pepper who thought of it," said a parlor boarder. and polly, blushing rosy red, a new girl as she was, was led up, and miss salisbury set a kiss on her round cheek. polly never forgot how happy she was that day. and afterward, when the girls were busy in various little groups, miss salisbury had beckoned polly to her side where she reposed on her throne; for it was beautiful and stately enough for one, and quite worthy of royalty itself. "polly," said miss salisbury, in quite a low tone only fitted for polly's ear, "do you think you could find a seat, like this beautiful one of mine, for sister? i should really enjoy it so very much more if sister had one also and she would prize the attention very much, polly, from you girls." so polly, fired with the laudable desire to find one exactly like miss salisbury's very own, for "sister," at last was just so fortunate. so that was also flower-trimmed, with trailing vines to finish it off with. and every year, the first thing the girls did after dancing around a bit to rest their feet after the long drive, was to set to work to collect the vines and ferns, and decorate the two stone seats. then with quite a good deal of pomp and ceremony, the girls escorted the two teachers to their thrones, unpacked the little bag of books and magazines, and arranged some cushions and shawls about them. and then miss salisbury always said with a sweet smile, "thank you, my dears." and miss anstice said the same; although, try as hard as she would, her smile never could be sweet like miss salisbury's. and then off the girls would go to "exploring," as they called rambling in the glen, the under-teachers taking them in charge. and now polly pepper ran to her hamper, which she saw in a pile where the baskets had been heaped by the maids. "there it is," pointing to the tag sticking up; "oh, help me,--not you, alexia," as alexia ran up as usual, to help forward any undertaking polly pepper might have in mind. "dear me! you might almost kill your arm." "this old arm," cried alexia,--"i'm sick and tired of it." "well, you better take care of it," cried polly gaily, "and then it won't be an old arm, but it will be as good as brand new, alexia. oh, one of the other girls, do come and help me." "what do you want, polly?" cried some of the girls, racing up to her. "i want to get out my hamper," said polly, pointing to the tag sticking up "high and dry" amid a stack of baskets. "my tin botany case is in it; i must get the ferns i promised to bring home to phronsie." "you stand away, all of ye." the old man kimball, his horses out of the shafts, and well taken care of, now drew near, and swept off with his ample hand the bunch of girls. "which one is't? oh, that ere one with the tag," answering his own question. "well, now, i'll git that for you jest as easy as rolling off a log. one--two--three--there she comes!" and, one, two, three, and here she did come! and in a trice polly had the cover up, and out flew the little green tin botany case; and within it being an iron spoon and little trowel, off flew polly on happy feet to unearth the treasures that were to beautify phronsie's little garden; a bunch of girls following to see the operation. the magazine fell idly to the lap of miss salisbury. she sat dreamily back, resting her head against the boulder. "sister," she said softly, "this is a happy custom we have started. i trust nothing will ever prevent our holding our annual picnic." "yes," said miss anstice absently. she was very much interested in a story she had begun, and she hated to have miss salisbury say a word. although she had on a stiff, immaculate white gown (for on such a festival as the annual picnic, she always dressed in white), still she was not in the same sweet temper that the principal was enjoying, and she held her thumb and finger in the place. "yes, the picnic is very good," she said, feeling that something was expected of her, "if we didn't get worms and bugs crawling over the tablecloth." "oh sister!" exclaimed miss salisbury, quite shocked; "it is no time to think of worms and bugs, i'm sure, on such a beautiful occasion as this." "still, they are here," said miss anstice; "there is one now," looking down at the hem of her gown. "_ugh!_ go right away," slapping her book at it. then her thumb and finger flew out, and she lost her place, and the bug ran away, and she added somewhat tartly, "for my own taste, i should really prefer a festival in the schoolroom." when it came to spreading the feast, not one of the maids was allowed to serve. they could unpack the hampers, and hand the dishes and eatables to the girls, and run, and wait, and tend. but no one but the salisbury girls must lay the snowy cloth, dress it up with flowers, with little knots at the corners, concealing the big stones that kept the tablecloth from flapping in any chance wind. and then they all took turns in setting the feast forth, and arranging all the goodies. and some one had to make the coffee, with a little coterie to help her. the crotched sticks were always there just as they had left them where they hung the kettle over the stone oven. and old man kimball set one of the younger drivers to make the fire--and a rousing good one it was--where they roasted their corn and potatoes. and another one brought up the water from the spring that bubbled up clear and cold in the rocky ravine, so when all was ready it was a feast fit for a king, or rather the queen and her royal subjects. and then miss salisbury and "sister" were escorted with all appropriate ceremonies down from their stone thrones,--and one had the head and the other the foot of the feast spread on the grass,--to sit on a stone draped with a shawl, and to be waited on lovingly by the girls, who threw themselves down on the ground, surrounding the snowy cloth. and they sat two or three rows deep; and those in the front row had to pass the things, of course, to the back-row girls. "oh, you're spilling jelly-cake crumbs all down my back," proclaimed alexia, with a shudder. "rose harding," looking at the girl just back of her, "can't you eat over your own lap, pray tell?" "well, give me your seat then," suggested rose, with another good bite from the crumbly piece in her hand, "if you don't like what the back-row girls do." "no, i'm not going to," said alexia, "catch me! but you needn't eat all over my hair. ugh! there goes another," and she squirmed so she knocked off the things in her neighbor's as well as her own lap. "oh dear me! keep your feet to yourself, alexia rhys," said the neighbor; "there goes my egg in all the dirt--and i'd just gotten it shelled." "all the easier for the bugs," observed alexia sweetly; "see, they're already appropriating it. and i guess you'd kick and wriggle if some one put jelly cake down your back," returning to her grievance,--"slippery, slimy jelly cake," twisting again at the remembrance. "well, you needn't kick the things out of my lap. i didn't put the jelly cake down your back," retorted the neighbor, beginning to shell her second egg. oh dear! was ever anything quite so good in all this world as that feast at the "salisbury picnic!" "i didn't suppose those baskets could bring out so much, nor such perfectly delicious things," sighed polly pepper, in an interval of rest before attacking one of philena's chocolate cakes. "polly, polly pepper," called a girl opposite, "give me one of your little lemon tarts. you did bring 'em this year, didn't you?" anxiously. "yes, indeed," answered polly; "why, where are they?" peering up and down the festal, not "board," but tablecloth. "don't tell me they are gone," cried the girl, leaning over to look for herself. "i'm afraid they are," said polly; "oh, i'm so sorry, agatha!" "you should have spoken before, my child," said a parlor boarder, who had eaten only three of mrs. fisher's tarts, and adjusting her eyeglasses. "why, i've only just gotten through eating bread and butter," said agatha. "i can't eat cake until that's done." "a foolish waste of time," observed the parlor boarder; "bread and butter is for every day; cake and custards and flummery for high holidays," she added with quite an air. "hush up, do," cried alexia, who had small respect for the parlor boarders and their graces, "and eat what you like, penelope. i'm going to ransack this table for a tart for you, agatha." she sent keen, bird-like glances all up and down the length of the tablecloth. "yes, no--yes, it is." she pounced upon a lemon tart hiding under a spray of sweet fern, and handed it in triumph across. "there you are, agatha! now don't say i never did anything for you." "oh, how sweet!" cried agatha, burying her teeth in the flaky tart. "i should think it was sour," observed amy garrett; "lemons usually are." "don't try to be clever, amy child," said alexia, "it isn't expected at a picnic." "it's never expected where you are," retorted amy sharply. "oh dear, dear! that's pretty good," cried alexia, nowise disconcerted, as she loved a joke just as much at herself as at the expense of any one else, while the others burst into a merry laugh. "there's one good thing about alexia rhys," the "salisbury girls" had always said, "she can take any amount of chaff, and not stick her finger in her eye and whimper." so now she smiled serenely. "oh dear, dear! i wish i could eat some more," she said. "i haven't tasted your orange jelly, clem, nor as much as looked at your french sandwiches, silvia. what is the reason one can eat so very little at a picnic, i wonder?" she drew a long breath, and regarded them all with a very injured expression. "hear that, girls!" cried silvia; "isn't that rich, when alexia has been eating every blessed minute just as fast as she could!" "i suppose that is what we all have been doing," observed alexia placidly. miss salisbury had been a happy observer of all the fun and nonsense going on around her, and renewing her youth when she had dearly loved picnics; but it was not so with miss anstice. at the foot of the festal tablecloth, she had been viewing from the corners of her eyes the inroads of various specimens of the insect creation and several other peripatetic creatures that seemed to belong to no particular species but to a new order of beings originated for this very occasion. she had held herself in bravely, although eating little, being much too busy in keeping watch of these intruders, who all seemed bent on running over her food and her person, to hide in all conceivable folds of her white gown. and she was now congratulating herself on the end of the feast, which about this time should be somewhere in sight, when a goggle-eyed bug, at least so it seemed to her distraught vision, pranced with agile steps directly for her lap, to disappear at once. and it got on to her nerves. "oh--_ow_! take it off." miss anstice let her plate fly, and skipped to her feet. but looking out for the goggle-eyed bug, she thought of little else, and stepped into some more of the jelly cake--slipped, and precipitated herself into the middle of the feast. xiv miss salisbury's story "oh miss anstice!" cried the "salisbury girls," jumping to their feet. "_sister!_" exclaimed miss salisbury, dropping her plate, and letting all her sweet, peaceful reflections fly to the four winds. "i never did regard picnics as pleasant affairs," gasped miss anstice, as the young hands raised her, "and now they are--quite--quite detestable." she looked at her gown, alas! no longer immaculate. "if you could wipe my hands first, young ladies," sticking out those members, on which were plentiful supplies of marmalade and jelly cake, "i should be much obliged. never mind the gown yet," she added with asperity. "i'll do that," cried alexia, flying at her with two or three napkins. "alexia, keep your seat." miss anstice turned on her. "it is quite bad enough, without your heedless fingers at work on it." [illustration: "i never did regard picnics as pleasant affairs," gasped miss anstice.] "i won't touch the old thing," declared alexia, in a towering passion, and forgetting it was not one of the girls. "and i may be heedless, but i _can_ be polite," and she threw down the napkins, and turned her back on the whole thing. "alexia!" cried polly, turning very pale; and, rushing up to her, she bore her away under the trees. "why, alexia rhys, you've talked awfully to miss anstice--just think, the sister of our miss salisbury!" "was that old thing a salisbury?" asked alexia, quite unmoved. "i thought it was a rude creature that didn't know what it was to have good manners." "alexia, alexia!" mourned polly, and for the first time in alexia's remembrance wringing her hands, "to think you should do such a thing!" alexia, seeing polly wring her hands, felt quite aghast at herself. "polly, don't do that," she begged. "oh, i can't help it." and polly's tears fell fast. alexia gave her one look, as she stood there quite still and pale, unable to stop the tears racing over her cheeks, turned, and fled with long steps back to the crowd of girls surrounding poor miss anstice, miss salisbury herself wiping the linen gown with an old napkin in her deft fingers. "i beg your pardon," cried alexia gustily, and plunging up unsteadily. "i was bad to say such things." "you were, indeed," assented miss anstice tartly. "sister, that is quite enough; the gown cannot possibly be made any better with your incessant rubbing." miss salisbury gave a sigh, and got up from her knees, and put down the napkin. then she looked at alexia. "she is very sorry, sister," she said gently. "i am sure alexia regrets exceedingly her hasty speech." "hasty?" repeated miss anstice, with acrimony, "it was quite impertinent; and i cannot remember when one of our young ladies has done such a thing." all the blood in alexia's body seemed to go to her sallow cheeks when she heard that. that she should be the first and only salisbury girl to be so bad, quite overcame her, and she looked around for polly pepper to help her out. and polly, who had followed her up to the group, begged, "do, dear miss anstice, forgive her." and so did all the girls, even those who did not like alexia one bit, feeling sorry for her now. miss anstice relented enough to say, "well, we will say no more about it; i dare say you did not intend to be impertinent." and then they all sat down again, and everybody tried to be as gay as possible while the feast went on. and by the time they sang the "salisbury school songs,"--for they had several very fine ones, that the different classes had composed,--there was such a tone of good humor prevailing, everybody getting so very jolly, that no one looking on would have supposed for a moment that a single unpleasant note had been struck. and miss anstice tried not to look at her gown; and miss salisbury had a pretty pink tinge in her cheeks, and her eyes were blue and serene, without the tired look that often came into them. "now for the story--oh, that is the best of all!" exclaimed polly pepper, when at last, protesting that they couldn't eat another morsel, they all got up from the feast, leaving it to the maids. "isn't it!" echoed the girls. "oh, dear miss salisbury, i _am_ so glad it is time for you to tell it." all of which pleased miss salisbury very much indeed, for it was the custom at this annual festival to wind up the afternoon with a story by the principal, when all the girls would gather at her feet to listen to it, as she sat in state in her stone chair. "is it?" she cried, the pink tinge on her cheek getting deeper. "well, do you know, i think i enjoy, as much as my girls, the telling of this annual story." "oh, you can't enjoy it _as much_," said one impulsive young voice. miss salisbury smiled indulgently at her. "well, now, if you are ready, girls, i will begin." "oh, yes, we are--we are," the bright groups, scattered on the grass at her feet, declared. "to-day i thought i would tell you of my school days when i was as young as you," began miss salisbury. "oh--oh!" "miss salisbury, i just love you for that!" exclaimed the impulsive girl, and jumping out of her seat, she ran around the groups to the stone chair. "i do, miss salisbury, for i did so want to hear all about when you were a schoolgirl." "well, go back to your place, fanny, and you shall hear a little of my school life," said miss salisbury gently. "no--no; the whole of it," begged fanny earnestly, going slowly back. "my dear child, i could not possibly tell you the whole," said miss salisbury, smiling; "it must be one little picture of my school days." "do sit down, fanny," cried one of the other girls impatiently; "you are hindering it all." so fanny flew back to her place, and miss salisbury without any more interruptions, began: "you see, girls, you must know to begin with, that our father--sister's and mine--was a clergyman in a small country parish; and as there were a great many mouths to feed, and young, growing minds to feed as well, besides ours, why there was a great deal of considering as to ways and means constantly going on at the parsonage. well, as i was the eldest, of course the question came first, what to do with amelia." "were you amelia?" asked fanny. "yes. well, after talking it over a great deal,--and i suspect many sleepless nights spent by my good father and mother,--it was at last decided that i should be sent to boarding school; for i forgot to tell you, i had finished at the academy." "yes; sister was very smart," broke in miss anstice proudly--"she won't tell you that; so i must." "oh sister, sister," protested miss salisbury. "yes, she excelled all the boys and girls." "did they have boys at that school?" interrupted philena, in amazement. "oh, how very nice, miss salisbury!" "i should just love to go to school with boys," declared ever so many of the girls ecstatically. "why don't you take boys at our school, miss salisbury?" asked silvia longingly. miss anstice looked quite horrified at the very idea; but miss salisbury laughed. "it is not the custom now, my dear, in private schools. in my day--you must remember that was a long time ago--there were academies where girls and boys attended what would be called a high school now." "oh!" "and i went to one in the next town until it was thought best for me to be sent to boarding school." "and she was very smart; she took all the prizes at the academy, and the principal said--" miss anstice was herself brought up quickly by her sister. "if you interrupt so much, i never shall finish my story, anstice," she said. "i want the girls to understand this," said miss anstice with decision. "the principal said she was the best educated scholar he had ever seen graduated from hilltop academy." "well, now if you have finished," said miss salisbury, laughing, "i will proceed. so i was despatched by my father to a town about thirty miles away, to a boarding school kept by the widow of a clergyman who had been a college classmate. well, i was sorry to leave all my young brothers and sisters, you may be sure, while my mother--girls, i haven't even now forgotten the pang it cost me to kiss my mother good-bye." miss salisbury stopped suddenly, and let her gaze wander off to the waving tree-tops; and miss anstice fell into a revery that kept her face turned away. "but it was the only way i could get an education; and you know i could not be fitted for a teacher, which was to be my life work, unless i went; so i stifled all those dreadful feelings which anticipated my homesickness, and pretty soon i found myself in the boarding school." "how many scholars were there, miss salisbury?" asked laura page, who was very exact. "fifteen girls," said miss salisbury. "oh dear me, what a little bit of a school!" exclaimed one girl. "the schools were not as large in those days," said miss salisbury. "you must keep in mind the great difference between that time and this, my dear. well, and when i was once there, i had quite enough to do to keep me from being homesick, i can assure you, through the day; because, in addition to lessons, there was the sewing hour." "sewing? oh my goodness me!" exclaimed alexia. "you didn't have to sew at that school, did you, miss salisbury?" "i surely did," replied miss salisbury, "and very glad i have been, alexia, that i learned so much in that sewing hour. i have seriously thought, sister and i, of introducing the plan into our school." "oh, don't, miss salisbury," screamed the girls. "ple--ase don't make us sew." some of them jumped to their feet in distress. "i shall die," declared alexia tragically, "if we have to sew." there was such a general gloom settled over the entire party that miss salisbury hastened to say, "i don't think, girls, we can do it, because something else equally important would have to be given up to make the time." at which the faces brightened up. "well, i was only to stay at this school a year," went on miss salisbury, "because, you see, it was as much as my father could do to pay for that time; so it was necessary to use every moment to advantage. so i studied pretty hard; and i presume this is one reason why the incident i am going to tell you about was of such a nature; for i was over-tired, though that should be no excuse," she added hastily. "oh sister," said miss anstice nervously, "don't tell them that story. i wouldn't." "it may help them, to have a leaf out of another young person's life, anstice," said miss salisbury, gravely. "well, but--" "and so, every time when i thought i must give up and go home, i was so hungry to see my father and mother, and the little ones--" "was miss anstice one of the little ones?" asked fanny, with a curious look at the crow's-feet and faded eyes of the younger miss salisbury. "yes, she was: there were two boys came in between; then anstice, then jane, harriett, lemuel, and the baby." "oh my!" gasped alexia, tumbling over into polly pepper's lap. "eight of us; so you see, it would never do for the one who was having so much money spent upon her, to waste a single penny of it. when i once got to teaching, i was to pay it all back." "and did you--did you?" demanded curious fanny. "did she?--oh, girls!" it was miss anstice who almost gasped this, making every girl turn around. "never mind," miss salisbury telegraphed over their heads, to "sister," which kept her silent. but she meant to tell sometime. polly pepper, all this time, hadn't moved, but sat with hands folded in her lap. what if she had given up and flown home to mamsie and the little brown house before mr. king discovered her homesickness and brought phronsie! supposing she hadn't gone in the old stagecoach that day when she first left badgertown to visit in jasper's home! just supposing it! she turned quite pale, and held her breath, while miss salisbury proceeded. "and now comes the incident that occurred during that boarding-school year, that i have intended for some time to tell you girls, because it may perhaps help you in some experience where you will need the very quality that i lacked on that occasion." "oh sister!" expostulated miss anstice. "it was a midwinter day, cold and clear and piercing." miss salisbury shivered a bit, and drew the shawl put across the back of her stone seat, closer around her. "mrs. ferguson--that was the name of the principal--had given the girls a holiday to take them to a neighboring town; there was to be a concert, i remember, and some other treats; and the scholars were, as you would say, 'perfectly wild to go,'" and she smiled indulgently at her rapt audience. "well, i was not going." "oh miss salisbury!" exclaimed amy garrett in sorrow, as if the disappointment were not forty years in the background. "no. i decided it was not best for me to take the money, although my father had written me that i could, when the holiday had been planned some time before. and besides, i thought i could do some extra studying ahead while the girls were away. understand, i didn't really think of doing wrong then; although afterward i did the wrong thing." "_sister!_" reproved miss anstice. she could not sit still now, but got out of her stone chair, and paced up and down. "no; i did not dream that in a little while after the party had started, i should be so sorely tempted, and the idea would enter my head to do the wrong thing. but so it was. i was studying, i remember, my philosophy lesson for some days ahead, when suddenly, as plainly as if letters of light were written down the page, it flashed upon my mind, 'why don't i go home to-day? i can get back to-night, and no one will know it; at least, not until i am back again, and no harm done.' and without waiting to think it out, i clapped to my book, tossed it on the table, and ran to get my poor little purse out of the bureau drawer." the girls, in their eagerness not to lose a word, crowded close to miss salisbury's knees, forgetting that she wasn't a girl with them. "i had quite enough money, i could see, to take me home and back on the cars, and by the stage." "the stage?" repeated alexia faintly. "yes; you must remember that this time of which i am telling you was many, many years back. besides, in some country places, it is still the only mode of conveyance used." polly pepper drew a long breath. dear old badgertown, and mr. tisbett's stage. she could see it now, as it looked when the five little peppers would run to the windows of the little brown house to watch it go lumbering by, and to hear the old stage-driver crack his whip in greeting! "the housekeeper had a day off, to go to her daughter's, so that helped my plan along," miss salisbury was saying. "well would it have been for me if the conditions had been less easy. but i must hasten. i have told you that i did not pause to think; that was my trouble in those days: i acted on impulse often, as schoolgirls are apt perhaps to do, and so i was not ready to stand this sudden temptation. i tied on my bonnet, gathered up my little purse tightly in my hand; and although the day was cold, the sun was shining brightly, and my heart was so full of hope and anticipation that i scarcely thought of what i was doing, as i took a thin little jacket instead of the warm cloak my mother had made me for winter wear. i hurried out of the house, when there was no one to notice me, for the maids were careless in the housekeeper's absence, and had slipped off for the moment--at any rate, they said afterward they never saw me;--so off i went. "i caught the eight o'clock train just in time; which i considered most fortunate. how often afterward did i wish i had missed it! and reasoning within myself as the wheels bore me away, that it was perfectly right to spend the money to go home, for my father had been quite willing for me to take the treat with mrs. ferguson and the others, i settled back in my seat, and tried not to feel strange at travelling alone." "oh dear me!" exclaimed the girls, huddling up closer to miss salisbury's knees. miss anstice paced back and forth; it was too late to stop the story now, and her nervousness could only be walked off. "but i noticed the farther i got from the boarding school, little doubts would come creeping into my mind,--first, was it very wise for me to have set out in this way? then, was it right? and suddenly in a flash, it struck me that i was doing a very wrong thing, and that, if my father and my mother knew it, they would be greatly distressed. and i would have given worlds, if i had possessed them, to be back at mrs. ferguson's, studying my philosophy lesson. and i laid my head on the back of the seat before me, and cried as hard as i could." amy sniffed into her handkerchief, and two or three other girls coughed as if they had taken cold, while no one looked into her neighbor's face. "and a wild idea crossed my mind once, of rushing up to the conductor and telling him of my trouble, to ask him if i couldn't get off at the next station and go back; but a minute's reflection told me that this was foolish. there was only the late afternoon train to take me to the school. i had started, and must go on." a long sigh went through the group. miss anstice seemed to have it communicated to her, for she quickened her pace nervously. "at last, after what seemed an age to me, though it wasn't really but half an hour since we started, i made up my mind to bear it as well as i could; father and mother would forgive me, i was sure, and would make mrs. ferguson overlook it--when i glanced out of the car window. little flakes of snow were falling fast. it struck dismay to my heart. if it kept on like this,--and after watching it for some moments, i had no reason to expect otherwise, for it was of that fine, dry quality that seems destined to last,--i should not be able to get back to school that afternoon. oh dear me! and now i began to open my heart to all sorts of fears: the train might be delayed, the stagecoach slow in getting through to cherryfield. by this time i was in a fine state of nerves, and did not dare to think further." one of the girls stole her hand softly up to lay it on that of the principal, forgetting that she had never before dared to do such a thing in all her life. miss salisbury smiled, and closed it within her own. there was a smothered chorus of "oh dears!" "i sat there, my dears, in a misery that saw nothing of the beauty of that storm, knew nothing, heard nothing, except the occasional ejaculations and remarks of the passengers, such as, 'it's going to be the worst storm of the year,' and 'it's come to stay.' "suddenly, without a bit of warning, there was a bumping noise, then the train dragged slowly on, then stopped. all the passengers jumped up, except myself. i was too miserable to stir, for i knew now that i was to pay finely for my wrong-doing in leaving the school without permission." "oh--oh!" the girls gave a little scream. "'what is it--what is it?' the passengers one and all cried, and there was great rushing to the doors, and hopping outside to ascertain the trouble. i never knew, for i didn't care to ask. it was enough for me that something had broken, and the train had stopped; to start again no one could tell when." the sympathy and excitement now were intense. one girl sniffed out from behind her handkerchief, "i--i should have--thought you would--have died--miss salisbury." "ah!" said miss salisbury, with a sigh, "you will find, helen, as you grow older, that the only thing you can do to repair in any way the mischief you have done, is to keep yourself well under control, and endure the penalty without wasting time on your suffering. so i just made up my mind now to this; and i sat up straight, determined not to give way, whatever happened. "it was very hard when the impatient passengers would come back into the car to ask each other, 'how soon do you suppose we will get to mayville?' that was where i was to take the stage. "'not till night, if we don't start,' one would answer, trying to be facetious; but i would torture myself into believing it. at last the conductor came through, and he met a storm of inquiries, all asking the same question, 'how soon will we get to mayville?' "it seemed to me that he was perfectly heartless in tone and manner, as he pulled out his watch to consult it. i can never see a big silver watch to this day, girls, without a shiver." the "salisbury girls" shivered in sympathy, and tried to creep up closer to her. "well, the conductor went on to say, that there was no telling,--the railroad officials never commit themselves, you know,--they had telegraphed back to town for another engine (he didn't mention that, after that, we should be sidetracked to allow other trains their right of way), and as soon as they could, why, they would move. then he proceeded to move himself down the aisle in great dignity. well, my dears, you must remember that this all happened long years ago, when accidents to the trains were very slowly made good. we didn't get into mayville until twelve o'clock. if everything had gone as it should, we ought to have reached there three hours before." "oh my goodness me!" exploded alexia. "by this time, the snow had piled up fast. what promised to be a heavy storm had become a reality, and it was whirling and drifting dreadfully. you must remember that i had on my little thin jacket, instead--" "oh miss salisbury!" screamed several girls, "i forgot that." "don't tell any more," sobbed another--"don't, miss salisbury." "i want you to hear this story," said miss salisbury quietly. "remember, i did it all myself. and the saddest part of it is what i made others suffer; not my own distress." "sister, if you only _won't_ proceed!" miss anstice abruptly leaned over the outer fringe of girls. "i am getting on to the end," said miss salisbury, with a smile. "well, girls, i won't prolong the misery for you. i climbed into that stage, it seemed to me, more dead than alive. the old stage-driver, showing as much of his face as his big fur cap drawn well over his ears would allow, looked at me compassionately. "'sakes alive!' i can hear him now. 'hain't your folks no sense to let a young thing come out in that way?' "i was so stiff, all i could think of was, that i had turned into an icicle, and that i was liable to break at any minute. but i couldn't let that criticism pass. "'they--they didn't let me--i've come from school,' i stammered. "he looked at me curiously, got up from his seat, opened a box under it, and twitched out a big cape, moth-eaten, and well-worn otherwise; but oh, girls, i never loved anything so much in all my life as that horrible old article, for it saved my life." a long-drawn breath went around the circle. "'here, you just get into this as soon as the next one,' said the stage-driver gruffly, handing it over to me where i sat on the middle seat. i needed no command, but fairly huddled myself within it, wrapping it around and around me. and then i knew by the time it took to warm me up, how very cold i had been. "and every few minutes of the toilsome journey, for we had to proceed very slowly, the stage-driver would look back over his shoulder to say, 'be you gittin' any warmer now?' and i would say, 'yes, thank you, a little.' "and finally he asked suddenly, 'do your folks know you're comin'?' and i answered, 'no,' and i hoped he hadn't heard, and i pulled the cape up higher around my face, i was so ashamed. but he had heard, for he whistled; and oh, girls, that made my head sink lower yet. oh my dears, the shame of wrong-doing is so terrible to bear! "well, after a while we got into cherryfield, along about half-past three o'clock." "oh dear!" exclaimed the young voices. "i could just distinguish our church spire amid the whirling snow; and then a panic seized me. i must get down at some spot where i would not be recognized, for oh, i did not want any one to tell that old stage-driver who i was, and thus bring discredit upon my father, the clergyman, for having a daughter who had come away from school without permission. so i mumbled out that i was to stop at the four corners: that was a short distance from the centre of the village, the usual stopping place. "one of the passengers--for i didn't think it was necessary to prolong the story to describe the two women who occupied the back seat--leaned forward and said, 'i hope, mr. cheesewell, you ain't goin' to let that girl get out, half froze as she's been, in this snowstorm. you'd ought to go out o' your beat, and carry her home.' "'oh, no--no,' i cried in terror, unwinding myself from the big cape and preparing to descend. "'stop there!' roared mr. cheesewell at me. 'did ye s'pose i'd desert that child?' he said to the two women. 'i'd take her home, ef i knew where in creation 'twas.' "'she lives at the parsonage--she's th' minister's daughter,' said one of the women quietly. "i sank back in my seat--oh, girls, the bitterness of that moment!--and as well as i could for the gathering mist in my eyes, and the blinding storm without, realized the approach to my home. but what a home-coming! "i managed to hand back the big cape, and to thank mr. cheesewell, then stumbled up the little pathway to the parsonage door, feeling every step a misery, with all those eyes watching me; and lifting the latch, i was at home! "then i fell flat in the entry, and knew nothing more till i found myself in my own bed, with my mother's face above me; and beyond her, there was father." every girl was sobbing now. no one saw miss anstice, with the tears raining down her cheeks at the memory that the beautiful prosperity of all these later years could not blot out. "girls, if my life was saved in the first place by that old cape, it was saved again by one person." "your mother," gasped polly pepper, with wet, shining eyes. "no; my mother had gone to a sick parishioner's, and father was with her. there was no one but the children at home; the bigger boys were away. i owe my life really to my sister anstice." "_don't!_" begged miss anstice hoarsely, and trying to shrink away. the circle of girls whirled around to see her clasping her slender hands tightly together, while she kept her face turned aside. "oh girls," cried miss salisbury, with sudden energy, "if you could only understand what that sister of mine did for me! i never can tell you. she kept back her own fright, as the small children were so scared when they found me lying there in the entry, for they had all been in the woodshed picking up some kindlings, and didn't hear me come in. and she thought at first i was dead, but she worked over me just as she thought mother would. you see we hadn't any near neighbors, so she couldn't call any one. and at last she piled me all over with blankets just where i lay, for she couldn't lift me, of course, and tucked me in tightly; and telling the children not to cry, but to watch me, she ran a mile, or floundered rather--for the snow was now so deep--to the doctor's house." "oh, that was fine!" cried polly pepper, with kindling eyes, and turning her flushed face with pride on miss anstice. when miss salisbury saw that, a happy smile spread over her face, and she beamed on polly. "and then, you know the rest; for of course, when i came to myself, the doctor had patched me up. and once within my father's arms, with mother holding my hand--why, i was forgiven." miss salisbury paused, and glanced off over the young heads, not trusting herself to speak. "and how did they know at the school where you were?" fanny broke in impulsively. "father telegraphed mrs. ferguson; and luckily for me, she and her party were delayed by the storm in returning to the school, so the message was handed to her as she left the railroad station. otherwise, my absence would have plunged her in terrible distress." "oh, well, it all came out rightly after all." louisa frink dropped her handkerchief in her lap, and gave a little laugh. "_came out rightly!_" repeated miss salisbury sternly, and turning such a glance on louisa that she wilted at once. "yes, if you can forget that for days the doctor was working to keep me from brain fever; that it took much of my father's hard-earned savings to pay him; that it kept me from school, and lost me the marks i had almost gained; that, worst of all, it added lines of care and distress to the faces of my parents; and that my sister who saved me, barely escaped a long fit of sickness from her exposure." "don't, sister, don't," begged miss anstice. "_came out rightly_? girls, nothing can ever come out rightly, unless the steps leading up to the end are right." "ma'am,"--mr. kimball suddenly appeared above the fringe of girls surrounding miss salisbury,--"there's a storm brewin'; it looks as if 'twas comin' to stay. i'm all hitched up, 'n' i give ye my 'pinion that we'd better be movin'." with that, everybody hopped up, for mr. kimball's "'pinion" was law in such a case. the picnic party was hastily packed into the barges,--polly carrying the little green botany case with the ferns for phronsie's garden carefully on her lap,--and with many backward glances for the dear glen, off they went, as fast as the horses could swing along. xv the broken vase but drive as they might, mr. kimball and his assistants, they couldn't beat that storm that was brewing. it came up rather slowly, to be sure, at first, but very persistently. evidently the old stage-driver was right. it was "coming to stay." "ye see, ma'am, ef we hadn't started when we did, like enough we couldn't a got home to-night," he vouchsafed over his shoulder to miss salisbury, as they rattled on. "dear me!" she exclaimed at thought of her brood. those young things were having the best of times. it was "wildly exciting," as clem forsythe said, to be packed in; those on the end seats huddling away from the rain as much as possible, under cover of the curtains buttoned down fast. and hilarity ran high. they sang songs; never quite finishing one, but running shrilly off to others, which were produced on several different keys maybe, according to the mood of the singers. and as every girl wanted to sing her favorite song, there were sometimes various compositions being produced in different quarters of the big stage, till no one particular melody could be said to have the right of way. and miss salisbury sat in the midst of the babel, and smiled as much as her anxiety would allow, at the merriment. and as it was in this stage, so the other stages were counterparts. and the gay tunes and merry laughter floated back all along the cavalcade, mingling harmoniously with the rainfall. suddenly an awful clap of thunder reverberated in the sky. the songs ended in squeals of dismay, and the laughter died away. "oh--oh--we're going to have a thunder storm!" screamed more than one girl, huddling up closer to her next neighbor, to clutch her frantically. "oh, i'm so afraid of the thunder!" screamed amy garrett. "you goose, it won't hurt you." lucy bennett, whom amy had crouched against, gave her a little push. "it will. it will. my uncle was struck once," said amy, rebounding from the push to grasp lucy frantically around the neck. "you nearly choked me to death," exclaimed lucy, untwisting the nervous hands; "don't get so scared. your uncle never was struck by the thunder, and we haven't had any lightning yet; so i wouldn't yell till we do." "well, there it is now," cried amy, covering her eyes. and there it was now, to be sure, in a blinding flash; to be followed by deeper rolls of thunder, drowning the screams of the frightened girls, and the plunging of the horses that didn't like it much better. mr. kimball peered out and squinted to the right and to the left through the blinding storm; then he turned his horses suddenly off from the road, into a narrow lane. "oh, why do you?" began miss salisbury. but this remonstrance wouldn't have done any good had the old stage-driver heard it. at the end of the lane, he knew in a few moments they would all arrive at a big old fashioned mansion where shelter could not be refused them under such circumstances. although,--and mr. kimball shook within himself at his temerity,--under any other conditions visitors would not be expected nor welcomed. for mr. john clemcy and his sister, miss ophelia, had never exhibited, since they settled down in this quiet spot after leaving their english home many years ago, any apparent desire to make friends. they were quite sufficient for themselves; and what with driving about,--which they did in a big basket phaeton, or behind their solemn pair of black horses, and the still more solemn coachman, isaac, also black,--and in the care of the large estate and the big brick mansion, they found ample occupation for their time and thoughts. up to this big red brick mansion now plunged mr. kimball with as much assurance as if he were not quaking dreadfully. and the other stages following suit, the sudden and unusual uproar brought two faces to the windows, and then to the door. "may we all git out and go into your barn?" roared mr. kimball, peering at them from beneath his dripping hat. there was an awful pause. mr. kimball clutched his old leather reins desperately; and miss salisbury, to whom had come faint rumors of the chosen isolation of the brother and sister, felt her heart sink woefully. mr. john clemcy stepped out,--slender, tall, with white hair and beard, both closely cropped. he had a pale, aristocratic face, and a pair of singularly stern eyes, which he now bent upon the old stage-driver. "brother," remonstrated his sister,--she looked as much like him as possible in face and figure,--"do not venture out in this driving storm." "no," said mr. clemcy, "i cannot consent to your going into my stable. i--" "'taint christian," blurted out the old stage-driver, "to leave human bein's out in sech a pickle." "no, i am aware of that," said mr. john clemcy, without a change of countenance; "and so i invite you all to come into my house." he threw wide the door. "my sister, miss clemcy." miss ophelia stepped forward and received them as if she had specially prepared for their visit, and with such an air of distinction that it completely overwhelmed miss salisbury, so that her own manners, always considered quite perfect by parents and friends of her pupils, paled considerably in contrast. it was quite like entering an old baronial hall, as the courtly, aristocratic host ushered them in; and the girls, not easily overawed by any change of circumstance, who had tumbled out laughingly from the stages despite miss salisbury's nervous endeavors to quiet them, were now instantly subdued. "isn't it solemn!" whispered alexia, hanging to polly pepper, her pale eyes roving over the armor, and old family portraits almost completely covering the walls of the wide hall. "hush," whispered polly back again. "but i can't breathe; oh, look at that old horror in the ruff. polly--look!" she pinched the arm she grasped. meantime, although there were so many girls, the big red brick mansion seemed quite able to contain them hospitably, as mr. and miss clemcy opened door after door into apartments that appeared to stretch out into greater space beyond. when at last the company had been distributed, miss salisbury found her voice. "i am pained to think of all the trouble we are giving you, miss clemcy." "do not mention it." miss ophelia put up a slender arm, from which fell off a deep flounce of rare old lace. the hand that thus came into view was perfect; and miss salisbury, who could recognize qualities of distinction, fell deeply in love with the evidences before her. "do you suppose she dresses up like that every day, silvia?" whispered lucy bennett, in an awe-struck voice. silvia, in matters of dress never being willing to show surprise, preserved her composure. "that's nothing," she managed to say indifferently: "it can't be real, such a lot of it, and around her neck too." down into the old colonial kitchen, with its corner fireplace, wide and roomy, and bricked to the ceiling, mr. clemcy led the way. it was a big room, and not used for its original purpose; being filled with cabinets, and shelves on which reposed some of the most beautiful specimens of china and various relics and curiosities and mementos of travel, miss salisbury thought she had ever seen. and she had been about the world a good bit; having utilized many of her vacations, and once or twice taking a year off from her school work, for that purpose. and being singularly receptive to information, she was the best of listeners, in an intelligent way, as mr. clemcy moved about from object to object explaining his collection. he seemed perfectly absorbed in it, and, as the girls began to notice, in his listener as well. lucy bennett was frightfully romantic, and jumped to conclusions at once. "oh, do you suppose he will marry her?" she cried under her breath to silvia, as the two kept together. "who? what are you talking about?" demanded silvia, who was very matter-of-fact. "why, that old man--mr. whatever his name is," whispered lucy. "mr. clemcy? do get names into your head, lu," said silvia crossly, who wanted to look at things and not be interrupted every minute. "i can't ever remember names, if i do hear them," said lucy, "so what is the use of my bothering to hear them, sil?" "well, do keep still," said silvia, trying to twist away her arm, but lucy clung to it. "well, i can't keep still either, for i'm mortally afraid he is--that old man, whatever you call him--going to marry her." "who?" demanded silvia sharply. "our miss salisbury, and--" "lu bennett!" silvia sat down in the first chair she could find. it was very fortunate that the other groups were so absorbed that nobody noticed them. "oh, you do say such perfectly silly things!" declared silvia, smothering the peal of laughter that nearly escaped her. "well, it isn't silly," cried lucy in an angry whisper, "and it's going to happen, i know, and she'll give up our school to miss anstice, and come and live here. oh my!" she looked ready to cry on the spot. "look at them!" now, silvia had called lucy bennett "silly" hundreds of times, but now as she looked at mr. clemcy and miss salisbury, she began to have an uneasy feeling at her heart. "i won't go to school to miss anstice," she declared passionately. then she began to plan immediately. "i'll get mother to let me go to boarding school." "and i'll go with you," exclaimed lucy radiantly. all this was in stage whispers, such a buzz going on around them that no one else could possibly catch a word. and so in just about two minutes, they had their immediate future all planned. "well, you better get up out of that chair," said lucy presently, and picking at silvia's sleeve. "i guess i'm not hurting the chair," said silvia, squinting sideways at the high, carved back. "they asked us in here,--at least _he_ did." "well, he didn't ask us to sit down," said lucy triumphantly. "and if he's going to marry her," said silvia, in a convincing whisper, "i guess i can sit in all the chairs if i want to." "hush!" warned lucy, "here comes miss anstice." miss anstice, with her front breadth all stained with jelly cake and marmalade, was wandering around, quite subdued. it was pitiful to see how she always got into the thickest of the groups to hide her gown, trying to be sociable with the girls. but the girls not reciprocating, she was at last taken in tow by miss ophelia, who set about showing her some rare old china, as a special attention. now, miss anstice cared nothing for rare old china, or indeed, for relics or curiosities of any sort; but she was very meek on this occasion, and so she allowed herself to be led about from shelf to shelf; and though she said nothing, miss ophelia was so enchanted by her own words and memories, as she described in a fluent and loving manner their various claims to admiration, that she thought the younger miss salisbury quite a remarkable person. "show her the lowestoft collection, sister," called mr. john clemcy, from across the apartment, and breaking off from his animated discussion over an old egyptian vase, in which miss salisbury had carried herself brilliantly. "i will, brother john," assented miss clemcy, with great affability. "now here," and she opened the door to its cabinet, "is what will interest you greatly, i think." suddenly, a crash as of breaking porcelain struck upon the ear. every one in the old room jumped, save the persons who might be supposed to be the most interested--mr. clemcy and his sister. their faces did not change. miss salisbury deserted the egyptian vase. "who," she demanded, hurrying to the centre of the apartment, a red spot on either cheek, "has done this?" mr. john clemcy followed her. "do not, i beg," he said quietly, "notice it." "notice it! after your extreme hospitality--oh! which one of my scholars can have forgotten herself enough to touch a thing?" the groups parted a little, just enough to disclose a shrinking figure. it was lily, whose curious fingers were clasped in distress. "she is very young," said miss clemcy softly, as miss salisbury detached her from the group, and passed into another room, crying as if her heart would break. mr. john clemcy then came up to his sister and her visitor. "your sister must not take it so to heart," he said. miss anstice was worn out by this time, what with her gown, and now by this terrible thing that would bring such discredit upon their school; and besides, it might take ever so much from their savings to replace, for lily was poor, and was a connection, so they perhaps would have to help her out. she therefore could find no words at her command, except, "oh dear me!" and raised her poor eyes. mr. john clemcy searched her face intently, and actually smiled to reassure her. she thought he was looking at her gown; so she mumbled faintly, to draw off his attention, "i am afraid it was very valuable." he didn't tell her it was one of the oldest bits in his collection; but while miss clemcy slipped off, and quietly picked up every piece of the broken treasure, he turned the conversation, and talked rapidly and charmingly upon something,--for the life of her, miss anstice never could tell what. and he was still talking when miss salisbury brought back lily by the hand, red-eyed and still sniffling, to stumble over her pleas for pardon. and then, the storm having abated, there were instant preparations for departure set in motion. and mr. kimball and his associates helped them into their vehicles, miss clemcy's beautiful old lace showing off finely on the great porch as she bade them good-bye. "it is real, i guess," declared silvia, looking closely from her seat next to lucy. "and, oh dear me, isn't this too horrible, what lily cushing has done?" mr. john clemcy helped the ladies in, miss anstice putting forth all her powers to enable her to ascend the steep steps without disclosing the front breadth of her gown. despite her best endeavors, she felt quite sure that the keen eyes of both brother and sister had discovered every blemish. miss salisbury sank back in her seat, as the barge rolled off, quite in despair; for she knew quite well that the broken vase was one of the gems of the collection. "oh, see the lovely rainbow!" the girls' spirits rose, now that they were once more on the move. what was one broken vase, after all? and they began to laugh and talk once more. "oh dear!" polly pepper glanced back. "alexia, this will just about kill our dear miss salisbury!" she exclaimed. "well, i'm clear beat," mr. kimball was saying to himself, as nobody paid attention. "you might knock me over with a feather! to think o' that old _ree_cluse that won't know nobody, him nor his sister, an' is so hifalutin' smart, a-bustin' out so _po_lite all of a suddint." xvi new plans "polly," said jasper, "could you come into the den?" "why, yes, jasper," she cried, in surprise at his face. "oh, has anything happened?" "no," he said, but the gloomy look did not disappear. "oh polly, it's too bad to ask,--were you going to study?" with a glance at her armful of books. "no--that is, i can do them just as well after dinner." polly dropped her books on the hall chair. "oh, what is it, jasper?" running after him into the den. "it's just this, polly, i hate to tell you--" he paused, and gloom settled worse than ever over his face. "jasper," said polly quite firmly, and she laid her hand on his arm, "i really think you ought to tell me right away what is on your mind." "do you really, polly?" jasper asked eagerly. "yes, i do," said polly, "unless you had rather tell mamsie. perhaps that would be best, jasper." "no, i don't really think it would in this case, polly. i will tell you." so he drew up a chair, and polly settled into it, and he perched on the end of the table. "you see, polly," he began, "i hate to tell you, but if i don't, why of course you can't in the least understand how to help." "no, of course i can't," said polly, clasping her hands together tightly, and trying to wait patiently for the recital. oh, what could it be! "well, pickering isn't doing well at school," said jasper, in a burst. it was so much better to have it out at once. "oh dear me!" exclaimed polly, in sorrow. "no, he isn't," said jasper decidedly; "it grows worse and worse." "dear me!" said polly again. "and now mr. faber says there isn't much hope for him, unless he picks up in the last half. he called me into his study to tell me that to-day--wants me to influence him and all that." all the hateful story was out at last. polly sprang out of her chair. "you don't mean--you can't mean, that pickering will be dropped, jasper?" she cried as she faced him. "worse than that," answered jasper gloomily. "worse than dropped!" exclaimed polly with wide eyes. "to be dropped a class wouldn't kill pick; so many boys have had that happen, although it is quite bad enough." "i should think so," breathed polly. "but pick will simply be shot out of the school," said jasper desperately; "there's no use in mincing matters. mr. faber has utterly lost patience; and the other teachers as well." "you don't mean that pickering dodge will be expelled?" cried polly in a little scream. "yes." jasper nodded his head, unable to utter another word. then he sprang off from the table-end, and walked up and down the room, as polly sank back in her chair. "you see, it's just this way, polly," he cried. "pick has had warning after warning--you know the teachers have a system of sending written warnings around to the boys when they fall behind in their work--and he hasn't paid any attention to them." "won't he pay attention to what the teachers write to him, jasper?" asked polly, leaning forward in her big chair to watch him anxiously as he paced back and forth. "no, calls them rubbish, and tears them up; and sometimes he won't even read them," said jasper. "oh, it's awful, polly." "i should say it was," said polly slowly. "very awful indeed, jasper." "and the last time he had one from herr frincke about his german, pick brought it into the room where a lot of us boys were, and read it out, with no end of fun over it, and it went into the scrap-basket; and he hasn't tackled his grammar a bit better since; only the translations he's up a trifle on." "oh, now i know why you wouldn't go to ride with me for the last week," cried polly, springing out of her chair to rush up to him, "you've been helping pickering," she declared, with kindling eyes. "never mind," said jasper uneasily. "and it was splendid of you," cried polly, the color flying over her cheeks. "oh jasper, i do believe you can pull him through." "no, i can't, polly." jasper stood quite still. "no one can pull him through, but you, polly." "i!" exclaimed polly in amazement. "why, jasper king!" and she tumbled back a few steps to stare at him. "what _do_ you mean?" "it's just this way." jasper threw back his hair from his hot forehead. "pick doesn't care a bit for what i say: it's an old story; goes in at one ear, and out at the other." "oh, he does care for what you say," contradicted polly stoutly, "ever and ever so much, jasper." "well, he's heard it so much; perhaps i've pounded at him too hard. and then again--" jasper paused, turned away a bit, and rushed back hastily, with vexation written all over his face. "i must speak it: i can't help him any more, for somehow mr. faber has found it out, and forbids it; that's one reason of the talk this morning in his study--says i must influence him, and all that. that's rubbish; i can't influence him." jasper dashed over to lay his head on the table on his folded arms. "polly, if pick is expelled, i--" he couldn't finish it, his voice breaking all up. polly ran over to lay a hand on his shaking shoulders. "what can i do, jasper?" she cried brokenly. "tell me, and i'll do it, every single thing." "you must talk to him," said jasper, raising his head. it filled polly with dismay to see his face. "get him in here; i'll bring him over and then clear out of the den." "oh jasper!" exclaimed polly, quite aghast. "i couldn't talk to pickering dodge. why, he wouldn't listen to me." "yes, he would," declared jasper eagerly; "he thinks everything of you, polly, and if you'll say the word, it will do more good than anything else. do, polly," he begged. "but, jasper," began polly, a little white line coming around her mouth, "what would he think to have me talk to him about his lessons?" "think?" repeated jasper, "why, he'd like it, polly, and it will be the very thing that will help him." "oh, i can't!" cried polly, twisting her fingers. then she broke out passionately, "oh, he ought to be ashamed of himself not to study; and there's that nice mr. cabot, and his aunt--" "aunt!" exclaimed jasper explosively. "polly, i do believe if he hadn't her picking at him all the time, he would try harder." "well, his uncle is different," said polly, her indignation by no means dying out. "yes, but it's his aunt who makes the mischief. honestly, polly, i don't believe i could stand her," said jasper, in a loyal burst. "no, i don't believe i could either," confessed polly. "and you see, when a boy has such a home, no matter what they give him, why, he doesn't have the ambition that he would if things were different. just think, polly, not to have one's own father or mother." "oh jasper!" cried polly, quite overcome. "i'll do it, i will." "polly!" jasper seized her hands, and held them fast, his dark eyes glowing. "oh polly, that's so awfully good of you!" "and you better run right over, and get him now," said polly, speaking very fast, "or i may run away, i shall get so scared." "you won't run away, i'll be bound," cried jasper, bursting into a merry laugh, and rushing off with a light heart. and presently, in less time than one could imagine, though to polly it seemed an age, back he came, pickering with him, all alive with curiosity to know what polly pepper wanted of him. "it's about the play, i suppose," he began, lolling into an easy-chair; "jasper wouldn't tell me what it's all about; only seized me by the ear, and told me to come on. draw up your chair, jasper, and--why, hullo! where is the chap?" swinging his long figure around to stare. "pickering," began polly; and the den, usually the pleasantest place in all the house, was now like a prison, whose walls wouldn't let her breathe, "i don't know what to say. oh dear me!" poor polly could get no further, but sat there in hopeless misery, looking at him. "eh--what? oh, beg pardon," exclaimed pickering, whirling back in his chair, "but things are so very queer; first jasper rushes off like a lunatic--" "and i am worse," said polly, at last finding her tongue. "i don't wonder you think it's queer, pickering, but jasper does so love you, and it will just kill him if you don't study." it was all out now, and in the most dreadful way. and feeling that she had quite destroyed all hope, polly sat up pale and stiff in her chair. pickering threw his long figure out of the easy-chair, rushed up and down the den with immense strides, and came back to stand directly in front of her. "do you mean it, polly?" his long face was working badly, and his hands were clenched, but as they were thrust deep within his pockets, polly couldn't see them. "yes," said polly, "i do, pickering." he stalked off again, but was back once more, polly wondering how she could possibly bear to tell jasper of her failure, for of course pickering was very angry; when he said, "polly, i want to tell you something." "what is it?" polly looked at him sharply, and caught her breath. "i won't drag jasper down, i tell you, with me. i'll get through somehow at school. i promise you that. here!" he twitched out his right hand from its pocket, and thrust it out at her. "oh pickering dodge!" exclaimed polly in a transport, and seizing his hand, it was shaken vigorously. "there, that's a bargain," declared pickering solemnly. "i'll get through someway. and say, polly, it was awfully good of you to speak." "it was awfully hard," said polly, drawing a long breath. "oh, are you sure you are not vexed, pickering? very sure?" and polly's face drooped anxiously. "vexed?" cried pickering. "i should rather say not! polly, i'm lazy and selfish, and good for nothing; but i couldn't be vexed, for 'twas awfully hard for you to do." "i guess it was," said polly. then she gave a little laugh, for it was all bright and jolly again, and she knew that pickering would keep his word. and that evening, after jasper and she had a dance--they were so happy, they couldn't keep still--in the wide hall, jasper burst out suddenly with a fresh idea. "polly," he said, drawing her off to rest on one of the high, carved chairs, "there's one more thing." "oh, what is it jasper?" she cried gaily, with flushed cheeks. "oh, wasn't that spin just delicious?" "wasn't it?" cried jasper heartily. "well, now, polly," flinging himself down on the next chair, "it's just this. do you know, i don't believe we ought to have our play." "not have our play?" polly peered around to look closely into his face. "what do you mean, jasper?" "you see, polly, pick was to take a prominent part, and he ought not to, you know; it will take him from his lessons to rehearse and all that. and he's so backward there's a whole lot for him to make up." "well, but pickering will have to give up his part, then," said polly decidedly, "for we've simply got to have that play, to get the money to help that poor brakeman's family." jasper winced. "i know; we must earn it somehow," he said. "we must earn it by the play," said polly. "and besides, jasper, we voted at the club meeting to have it. so there, now," she brought up triumphantly. "we could vote to rescind that vote," said jasper. "well, we don't want to. why, jasper, how that would look on our two record books!" said polly in surprise, for jasper was so proud of his club and its records. "yes, of course; as our two clubs united that evening, it must go down in both books," said jasper slowly. "yes, of course," assented polly happily. "well, now, you see, jasper, that we really _can't_ give it up, for we've gone too far. pickering will have to let some one else take the part of the chief brigand." for the little play was almost all written by polly's fingers, jasper filling out certain parts when implored to give advice: and brigands, and highway robberies, and buried treasures, and rescued maidens, and gallant knights, figured generously, in a style to give immense satisfaction. "and the play is so very splendid!" cried jasper. "oh dear me! what ought we to do, polly?" he buried his face in his hands a moment. "pickering must give up his part," said polly again. "but, polly, you know he has been in all our plays," said jasper. "and he'll feel so badly, and now he's got all this trouble about his lessons on his mind," and jasper's face fell. polly twisted uncomfortably on her chair. "oh dear me!" she began, "i suppose we must give it up." "and if we gave it up, not altogether, but put it off till he catches up on his studies," suggested jasper, "why, he wouldn't be dropped out." "but the poor brakeman's family, jasper," said polly, puzzled that jasper should forget the object of the play. "oh, i didn't mean that we should put off earning the money, polly," cried jasper, quite horrified at such a thought. "we must do something else, so that we can sell just as many tickets." "but what will it be?" asked polly, trying not to feel crushed, and sighing at the disappearance of the beautiful play, for a time at least. "well, we could have recitations, for one thing," said jasper, feeling dreadfully to see polly's disappointment, and concealing his own, for he had set his heart on the play too. "oh dear me!" exclaimed polly, wrinkling up her face in disdain. "jasper, do you know, i am so tired of recitations!" "so am i," jasper bobbed his head in sympathy, "but we boys have some new ones, learned for last exhibition, so pick won't have to take a moment from his lessons. and then we can have music, and you will play, polly." "oh jasper, i've played so much," said polly, "they're all tired of hearing me." "they never would be tired of hearing you, polly," said jasper simply. "every one of us thinks you play beautifully." "and tableaux and an operetta take just as much time to rehearse," mused polly, thinking very hard if there wasn't something to keep them from the dreaded recitations. "and i just loathe an operetta or tableaux," exclaimed jasper, with such venom that polly burst out laughing. "oh jasper, if you could see your face!" she cried. "i shouldn't want to," he laughed too; "but of all insipid things, an operetta is the worst; and tableaux--the way miss montague drilled and drilled _and_ drilled us, and then stuck us up like sticks not to move for a half-hour or so, nearly finished me." "so it did me," confessed polly. "and besides, it would take a great deal more time to go through all that drilling than to rehearse the play." "of course it would," said jasper, "so tableaux, thank fortune, are not to be thought of. i think it will have to be recitations and music, polly." "i suppose so," she said with a sigh. "oh jasper!" then she sprang off from her chair, and clapped her hands. "i've thought of the very thing. i believe mr. hamilton dyce would tell some of his funny stories and help out the program." "capital!" shouted jasper; and just at this moment the big front door opened, and the butler ushered in miss mary taylor and mr. dyce. polly and jasper rushed up to the visitors, for they were prime favorites with the young people, and precipitated upon them all their woes. the end was, that they both promised beautifully to do whatever was wanted, for miss mary taylor sang delightfully. "and pickering is safe, polly, for i know now he'll go through the last half," cried jasper as they ran off to study their lessons for the next day. xvii phronsie and after that, there was no more trouble about that program, for as luck would have it, the very next day a letter came from joel, saying that dr. marks had given them a holiday of a week on account of the illness of two boys in their dormitory, and, "may i bring home tom beresford? he's no-end fine!" and, "please, mamsie, let me fetch sinbad! do telegraph 'yes.'" and mother fisher, after consultation with mr. king, telegraphed "yes;" and wild was the rejoicing over the return of joel and david and percy and van, and tom; for mother fisher was ready to receive with open arms, and very glad silently to watch, one of joel's friends. "and to think that sinbad is coming!" cried polly, dancing about. "just think, phronsie, joel's dear dog that dr. marks let him take to the little cobbler to keep for him!" and she took phronsie's hand, and they spun around the hall. "i shall get him a new pink ribbon," declared phronsie breathlessly, when the spin was over. "do," cried polly. "dear me! that was a good spin, phronsie!" "i should think it was," said ben. "goodness me! polly, phronsie and you made such a breeze!" "didn't we, pet!" cried polly, with a last kiss. "oh ben and jasper, to think those boys will be here for our entertainment!" "i know tom is made of the right stuff," mamsie said proudly to father fisher, "else my boy would not choose him." "that's a fact, wife," the little doctor responded heartily. "joel is all right; may be a bit heedless, but he has a good head on his shoulders." the five boys bounded into the wide hall that evening--joel first; and in his arms, a yellow dog, by no means handsome, with small, beady eyes, and a stubby tail that he was violently endeavoring to wag, under the impression that he had a good deal of it. "mamsie!" shouted joel, his black eyes glowing, and precipitating himself into her arms, dog and all, "see sinbad! see, mamsie!" "it's impossible not to see him," said ben. "goodness me, joe, what a dog!" which luckily joel did not hear for the babel going on around. besides, there was phronsie trying to put her arms around the dog, and telling him about the pink ribbon which she held in her hand. "joe," said dr. fisher, who had been here, there, and everywhere in the group, and coming up to nip joel's jacket, "introduce your friend. you're a pretty one, to bring a boy home, and--" "i forgot you, tom," shouted joel, starting off, still hanging to his dog; "oh, there you are!" seeing tom in the midst of the circle, and talking away to grandpapa and polly. "as if i couldn't introduce tom!" sniffed percy importantly, quite delighted at joel's social omissions. "i've done it ages ago." "all right," said joel, quite relieved. "oh phronsie, sinbad doesn't want that ribbon on," as phronsie was making violent efforts to get it around the dog's neck. "i would let her, joel," said mother fisher, "if i were you." "but he hates a ribbon," said joel in disgust, "and besides, he'll chew it up, phronsie." "i don't want him to chew it up, joel," said phronsie slowly, and pausing in her endeavors. and she looked very sober. "i'll tell you, phronsie." mrs. fisher took the pink satin ribbon that phronsie had bought with her own money. "now, do you want mother to tie it on?" "do, mamsie," begged phronsie, smoothing her gown in great satisfaction. and presently there was a nice little bow standing up on the back of sinbad's neck; and as there didn't seem to be any ends to speak of, there was nothing to distract his attention from the responsibility of watching all the people. "oh, isn't he _beautiful_!" cried phronsie in a transport, and hopping up and down to clap her hands. "grandpapa dear, do look; and i've told princey all about him, and given him a ribbon too, so he won't feel badly." and after this excitement had died down, joel whirled around. "tom's brought his banjo," he announced. "oh!" exclaimed polly. "and he can sing," cried joel, thinking it best to mention all the accomplishments at once. "don't, joe," begged tom, twitching his sleeve. polly looked over at jasper, with sparkling eyes, and the color flew into her cheeks. "splendid!" his eyes signalled back. "what is it?" cried joel, giving each a sharp glance. "now you two have secrets; and that's mean, when we've just got home. what is it, polly?" he ran to her, shaking her arm. "you'll see in time," said polly, shaking him off, to dance away. "i don't want to know in time," said joel, "i want to know now. mamsie, what is it?" "i'm sure i haven't the least idea," said mother fisher, who hadn't heard joel's announcement. "and i think you would do better, joey, to take care of your guest, and let other things wait." "oh, tom doesn't want to be fussed over," said joel carelessly; yet he went back to the tall boy standing quite still, in the midst of the general hilarity. "that's just the way ben and polly used to do in the little brown house," he grumbled--"always running away, and hiding their old secrets from me, tom." "well, we had to, if we ever told each other anything," said ben coolly. "joel everlastingly tagged us about, beresford." "well, i had to, if i ever heard anything," burst out joel, with a laugh. "come on, tom," and he bore him off together with sinbad. "polly," jasper was saying, the two now being off in a corner, "how fine! now, perhaps tom beresford will sing." "and play," finished polly, with kindling face. "oh jasper, was anything ever so gorgeous!" she cried joyfully, for polly dearly loved high-sounding words; "and we'll sell a lot more tickets, because he's new, and people will want to hear him." "if he will do it," said jasper slowly, not wanting to dampen her anticipation, but dreadfully afraid that the new boy might not respond. "oh, he'll do it, i do believe," declared polly confidently; "he must, jasper, help about that poor brakeman's family." and he did. tom beresford evidently made up his mind, when he went home with joel, to do everything straight through that the family asked him, for he turned out to be the best visitor they had entertained, and one and all pronounced him capital. all but joel himself, who told him very flatly the second day that he wasn't half as nice as at school, for he was now running at everybody's beck and nod. "instead of yours," said tom calmly. then he roared. "hush up," cried joel, very uncomfortable, and getting very red. "well, you must acknowledge, tom, that i want to see something of you, else why would i have brought you home, pray tell?" "nevertheless, i shall do what your sister polly and your mother and jasper and mr. king ask me to do," said tom composedly, which was all joel got for his fuming. and the most that he saw of tom after that was a series of dissolving views, for even phronsie began to monopolize him, being very much taken with his obliging ways. at last joel took to moping, and ben found him thus in a corner. "see here, old fellow, that's a nice way,--to come home on a holiday, and have such a face. i don't wonder you want to sneak in here." "it's pretty hard," said joel, trying not to sniffle, "to have a fellow you bring home from school turn his back on you." "well, he couldn't turn his back on you," said ben, wanting very much to laugh, but he restrained himself, "if you went with him." "i can't follow him about," said joel, in a loud tone of disgust. "he's twanging his old banjo all the time, and polly's got him to sing, and he's practising up. i wish 'twas smashed." "what?" said ben, only half comprehending. "why, his old banjo. i didn't think he'd play it all the time," said joel, who was secretly very proud of his friend's accomplishments; and he displayed a very injured countenance. "see here, now, joe," said ben, laying a very decided hand on joel's jacket, "do you just drop all this, and come out of your hole. aren't you ashamed, joe! run along, and find beresford, and pitch into whatever he's doing." "i can't do anything for that old concert," said joel, who obeyed enough to come "out of the old hole," but stood glancing at ben with sharp black eyes. "i don't know about that," said ben, "you can at least help to get the tickets ready." "did polly say so?" demanded joel, all in a glow. "say, ben, did she?" advancing on him. "no, but i do; for polly asked me to do them; and you know, joe, how busy i am all day." he didn't say "how tired" also, but joel knew how ben was working at cabot and van meter's, hoping to get into business life the sooner, to begin to pay grandpapa back for all his kindness. "ben, if i can help you with those tickets i'll do it." every trace of joel's grumpiness had flown to the four winds. "let me, will you?" he begged eagerly. "all right." ben had no need to haul him along, as joel raced on ahead up to ben's room to get the paraphernalia. "i can't think what's become of joel," said polly, flying down the long hall in great perplexity, "we want him dreadfully. have you seen him, phronsie?" "no," said phronsie, "i haven't, polly," and a look of distress came into her face. "never mind, pet," said polly, her brow clearing, "i'll find him soon." but phronsie watched polly fly off, with a troubled face. then she said to herself, "i ought to find joey for polly," and started on a tour of investigation to suit herself. meanwhile ben was giving joel instructions about the tickets; and joel presently was so absorbed he wouldn't have cared if all the tom beresfords in the world had deserted him, as he bent over his task, quite elated that he was helping polly, and becoming one of the assistants to make the affair a success. "i guess it's going to be a great thing, ben," he said, looking up a moment from the pink and yellow pasteboard out of which he was cutting the tickets. "you better believe so," nodded ben, hugely delighted to see joe's good spirits, when the door opened, and in popped phronsie's yellow head. she ran up to joel. "oh joey!" she hummed delightedly, "i've found you," and threw herself into his arms. joel turned sharply, knife in hand. it was all done in an instant. phronsie exclaimed, "_oh!_" in such a tone that ben, off in the corner of the room, whirled around, to see joel, white as a sheet, holding phronsie. "i've killed her," he screamed. ben sprang to them. the knife lay on the table, where joel had thrown it, a little red tinge along the tip. ben couldn't help seeing it as he dashed by, with a groan. "give her to me," he commanded hoarsely. "no, no--i'll hold her," persisted joel, through white lips, and hanging to phronsie. "give her to me, and run down for father fisher." "it doesn't hurt much, joey," said phronsie, holding up her little arm. a small stream of blood was flowing down, and she turned away her head. joel took one look, and fled with wild eyes. "i don't believe it's very bad," ben made himself call after him hoarsely. "now, phronsie, you'll sit in my lap--there; and i'll keep this old cut together as well as i can. we must hold your arm up, so, child." ben made himself talk as fast as he could to keep phronsie's eyes on him. "i got cut in the little brown house once, didn't i, bensie?" said phronsie, and trying to creep up further into ben's lap. "you must sit straight, child," said ben. oh, would father fisher and mamsie ever come! for the blood, despite all his efforts, was running down the little arm pretty fast. "why, ben?" asked phronsie, with wide eyes, and wishing that her arm wouldn't ache so, for now quite a smart pain had set in. "why, bensie?" and thinking if she could be cuddled, it wouldn't be quite so bad. "why, we must hold your arm up stiff," said ben, just as mamsie came up to her baby, and took her in her arms; and then phronsie didn't care whether the ache was there or not. "joe couldn't help it," said ben brokenly. "i believe that," mother fisher said firmly. "oh ben, the doctor is away." ben started. "i'll go down to the office; perhaps he's there." "no; there's no chance. i've sent for dr. pennell. your father likes him. now phronsie"--mrs. fisher set her white lips together tightly--"you and i and ben will see to this arm of yours. ben, get one of your big handkerchiefs." "it doesn't ache so _very_ much, mamsie," said phronsie, "only i would like to lay it down." "and that is just what we can't do, phronsie," said mother fisher decidedly. "all right," to ben, "now tear it into strips." old mr. king was not in the library when joel had rushed down with his dreadful news, but was in jasper's den, consulting with him and polly about the program for the entertainment, as polly and jasper, much to the old gentleman's delight, never took a step without going to him for advice. the consequence was that these three did not hear of the accident till a little later, when the two whitney boys dashed in with pale faces, "phronsie's hurt," was their announcement, which wouldn't have been given so abruptly had not each one been so anxious to get ahead of the other. old mr. king, not comprehending, had turned sharply in his chair to stare at them. "hush, boys," warned polly, hoarsely pointing to him; "is mamsie with her?" she didn't dare to speak phronsie's name. "yes," said van, eager to communicate all the news, and hoping percy would not cut in. but percy, after polly's warning, had stood quite still, afraid to open his mouth. jasper was hunting in one of his drawers for an old book his father had wished to see. so of course he hadn't heard a word. "here it is, father," he cried, rushing back and whirling the leaves--"why, what?" for he saw polly's face. "oh jasper--don't," said polly brokenly. "why do you boys rush in, in this manner?" demanded old mr. king testily. "and, polly, child, what is the matter?" "grandpapa," cried polly, rushing over to him to put her arms around his neck, "phronsie is hurt someway. i don't believe it is much," she gasped, while jasper ran to his other side. "phronsie hurt!" cried old mr. king in sharp distress. "where is she?" then percy, seeing it was considered time for communication of news, struck in boldly; and between the two, all that was known of joel's wild exclamations was put before them. all this was told along the hall and going over the stairs; for grandpapa, holding polly's hand, with jasper hurrying fast behind them, was making good time up to ben's room. "and dr. fisher can't be found," shouted van, afraid that the whole would not be told. polly gave a shiver that all her self-control could not help. "but joel's gone for dr. pennell," screamed percy; "mrs. fisher sent him." "he's very good," said jasper comfortingly. so this is the way they came into ben's room. "oh, here's grandpapa!" cooed phronsie, trying to get down from mamsie's lap. "oh, no, phronsie," said mrs. fisher, "you must sit still; it's better for your arm." "but grandpapa looks sick," said phronsie. "bless me--oh, you poor lamb, you!" old mr. king went unsteadily across the room, and knelt down by her side. "grandpapa," said phronsie, stroking his white face, "see, it's all tied up high." "sit still, phronsie," said mrs. fisher, keeping her fingers on the cut. would the doctor ever come? besides joel, thomas and several more messengers were despatched with orders for dr. pennell and to find dr. fisher, with the names of other doctors if these failed. god would send some one of them soon, she knew. phronsie obediently sat quite still, although she longed to show grandpapa the white bandages drawn tightly around her arm. and she smoothed his hair, while he clasped his hands in her lap. "i want polly," she said presently. "stay where you are, polly," said her mother, who had telegraphed this before with her eyes, over phronsie's yellow hair. polly, at the sound of phronsie's voice, had leaned forward, but now stood quite still, clasping her hands tightly together. "speak to her, polly," said jasper. but polly shook her head, unable to utter a sound. "polly, you must," said jasper, for phronsie was trying to turn in her mother's lap, and saying in a worried way, "where's polly? i want polly." "polly is over there," said mamsie, "but i do not think it's best for her to come now. but she'll speak to you, phronsie." "how funny!" laughed phronsie. "polly can't come, but she'll talk across the room." everything turned black before polly's eyes; but she began, "yes, pet, i'm here," very bravely. "i am so glad you are there, polly," said phronsie, easily satisfied. footsteps rapid and light were heard on the stairs. polly and jasper flew away from the doorway to let dr. pennell, his little case in his hand, come in. "well, well!" he exclaimed cheerily, "so now it's phronsie; i'm coming to her this time," for he had often dropped in to call or to dine since the railway accident. "yes," said phronsie, with a little laugh of delight, for she very much liked dr. pennell. he always took her on his lap, and told her stories; and he had a way of tucking certain little articles in his pockets to have her hunt for them. so they had gotten on amazingly well. "why, where--" phronsie began in a puzzled way. "is dr. fisher?" dr. pennell finished it for her, rapidly going on with his work. "well, he'll be here soon, i think. and you know he always likes me to do things when he isn't on hand. so i've come." "and i like you very much," said phronsie, wriggling her toes in satisfaction. "i know that; we are famous friends, phronsie," said the doctor, with one of those pleasant smiles of his that showed his white teeth. "what's famous?" asked phronsie, keeping her grave eyes on his face. "oh, fine; it means first-rate. we are fine friends, aren't we, phronsie?" "yes, we are," declared phronsie, bending forward to see his work the better, and taking her eyes from his face. "there, there, you must sit quite straight. that's a nice child, phronsie. and see here! i must take you sometime in my carriage when i go on my calls. will you go, phronsie?" and dr. pennell smiled again. "yes, i will." phronsie nodded her yellow head, while she fastened her eyes on his face. "i used to go with papa fisher when i was at the little brown house, and i liked it; i did." "well, and now you will go with me," laughed dr. pennell. "now, phronsie, i think you are fixed up quite nicely," slipping the various articles he had used, deftly into his little bag, and snapping it to. "not a very bad affair," he said, whirling around to old mr. king, drawn deeply within a big chair, having already telegraphed the same to mother fisher over phronsie's head. "thank the lord!" exclaimed the old gentleman. "well, now i'm going to send every one out of the room," announced dr. pennell, authoritatively. "hurry now!" he clapped his hands and laughed. old mr. king sat quite still, fully determined not to obey. but the doctor, looking over him fixedly, seemed to expect him to leave; and although he still had that pleasant smile, he didn't exactly give the impression that his medical authority could be tampered with. so the old gentleman found himself outside the door. "and now, we must find joel," polly was saying to jasper. xviii tom's story joel had no cause to complain now that tom beresford did not stick to him, for there he was hanging over him as he crouched into as small a heap as possible into a corner of mamsie's sofa. and there he had been ever since joel had rushed in with dr. pennell; when, not daring to trust himself up in ben's room, he had dashed for refuge to mamsie's old sofa. tom had not wasted many words, feeling sure under similar circumstances he shouldn't like to be talked to; but he had occasionally patted joel's stubby head in a way not to be misunderstood, and once in a while joel thrust out a brown hand which tom had gripped fast. "it's all right, old boy, i verily believe," tom cried with sudden energy, "so brace up; what's the use of your going to pieces, anyway?" "it's phronsie," gasped joel, and burrowing deeper into the cushion. "well, i know it," said tom, gulping down his sorrow, for he had petted phronsie a good deal; so he was feeling the blow quite sharply himself, "but you won't help matters along any, i tell you, by collapsing." "go out into the hall, will you, tom," begged joel, huddling down, unwilling to listen himself, "and see if you can hear anything." so tom skipping out into the wide upper hall, thankful for any action, but dreading the errand, stole to the foot of the stairs, and craned his ear to catch the faintest sound from above. there was only a little murmur, for dr. pennell was in the midst of operations, and not enough to report. thankful that it was no worse, tom skipped back. "all's quiet along the potomac." "_ugh!_" exclaimed joel, burrowing deeper. suddenly he threw himself up straight and regarded tom out of flashing eyes. "i've killed phronsie," he cried huskily, "and you know it, and won't tell me!" "joel pepper!" cried tom, frightened half out of his wits, and rushing to him; "lie down again," laying a firm hand on his shoulder. "i won't," roared joel wildly, and shaking him off. "you're keeping something from me, tom." "you're an idiot," declared tom, thinking it quite time to be high-handed, "a first-class, howling idiot, pepper, to act so. if you don't believe me, when i say i haven't anything to keep back from you, i'll go straight upstairs. some one will tell me." "hurry along," cried joel feverishly. but tom had gotten no further than the hall, when joel howled, "come back, tom, i'll try--to--to bear it." and tom flying back, joel was buried as far as his face went, in mamsie's cushion, sobbing as if his heart would break. "it will disturb--them," he said gustily, in between his sobs. tom beresford let him cry on, and thrust his hands in his pockets, to stalk up and down the room. he longed to whistle, to give vent to his feelings; but concluding that wouldn't be understood, but be considered heartless, he held himself in check, and counted the slow minutes, for this was deadly tiresome, and beginning to get on his nerves. "i shall screech myself before long, i'm afraid." at last joel rolled over. "come here, do, tom," and when tom got there, glad enough to be of use, joel pulled him down beside the sofa, and gripped him as only joel could. "do you mind, tom? i want to hang on to something." "no, indeed," said tom heartily, vastly pleased, although he was nearly choked. "now you're behaving better." he patted him on the back. "hark, joe! the doctor's laughing!" they could hear it distinctly now, and as long as he lived, joel thought, he never heard a sweeter sound. he sprang to his feet, upsetting tom, who rolled over on his back to the floor. just then in rushed polly and jasper, surrounding him, and in a minute, "oh, is tom sick?" "no," said tom, picking himself up grimly, "only joe's floored me, he was so glad to hear the doctor laugh." "oh, you poor, poor boy!" polly was mothering joel now, just as mamsie would have done; and tom looking on with all his eyes, as he thought of his own home, with neither mother nor sister, didn't hear jasper at first. so jasper pulled his arm. "see here, beresford, you and i will go down to the library, i think." "all right," said tom, allowing himself to be led off, though he would much have preferred remaining. "now, joel," said polly, after they had gone, and the petting had continued for some minutes, "you must just be a brave boy, and please mamsie, and stop crying," for joel had been unable to stop the tears. "i--i--didn't--see--phronsie coming," wailed joel afresh. "of course you didn't," said polly, stroking his black curls. "why, joey pepper, did you think for an instant that any one blamed you?" she leaned over and set some kisses, not disturbing joel that some of them fell on his stubby nose. "n-no," said joel, through the rain of drops down his cheeks, "but it was phronsie, polly." it was no use to try to check him yet, for the boy's heart was almost broken, and so polly let him cry on. but she bestowed little reassuring pats on his shaking shoulders, all the while saying the most comforting things she could think of. "and just think, joey," she cried suddenly, "you were the one who found dr. pennell. oh, i should think you'd be so glad!" "i am glad," said joel, beginning to feel a ray of comfort. "and how quickly you brought him, joe!" said polly, delighted at the effect of her last remark. "did i?" said joel in a surprised way, and roused out of his crying; "i thought it was ever so long, polly." "i don't see how you ever did it, joel, in all this world," declared polly positively. joel didn't say that it was because he was a sprinter at school, he found himself equal to the job; nor did he think it of enough importance to mention how many people he had run into, leaving a great amount of vexation in his rear as he sped on. "he was just going out of his door," he announced simply. "oh joey!" gasped polly. then she hugged him rapturously. "but you caught him." "yes, i caught him, and we jumped into his carriage; and that's all." "but it was something to be always proud of," cried polly, in a transport. joel, feeling very glad that there was something to be proud of at all in this evening's transactions, sat up quite straight at this, and wiped his eyes. "now that's a good boy," said polly encouragingly. "mamsie will be very glad." and she ran over to get a towel, dip it in the water basin, and bring it back. "oh, that feels so good!" said joel, with a wintry smile, as she sopped his red eyelids and poor, swollen nose. "so it must," said polly pitifully, "and i'm going to bring the basin here, and do it some more." which she did; so that by the time phronsie was brought downstairs to sleep in mrs. fisher's room, joel was quite presentable. "here they come!" announced polly radiantly, hearing the noise on the stairs, and running back to set the basin and towel in their places. "now, joey, you can see for yourself that phronsie is all right." and there she was, perched on dr. pennell's shoulder, to be sure, and mamsie hurrying in to her boy, and everything was just as beautiful as it could be! "see, joel, i'm all fixed up nice," laughed phronsie from her perch. [illustration: "see, joel, i'm all fixed up nice," laughed phronsie from her perch.] joel's mouth worked dreadfully, but he saw mamsie's eyes, so he piped up bravely, "i'm so glad, phronsie." it sounded very funnily, for it died away in his throat, and he couldn't have said another word possibly; but phronsie was sleepy, and didn't notice. and then the doctor said they must go out; so with a last glance at phronsie, to be sure that she was all right, joel went off, polly holding his hand. the next evening they were all drawn up before the library fire; polly on the big rug with joel's head in her lap, his eyes fixed on phronsie, who was ensconced in an easy-chair, close to which grandpapa was sitting. "tell stories, do, polly," begged van. "yes, do, polly," said little dick, who had spent most of the day in trying to get near to phronsie, keeping other people very much occupied in driving him off, as she had to be very quiet. "do, polly," he begged. "oh, polly's tired," said jasper, knowing that she had been with phronsie all her spare time, and looking at the brown eyes which were drooping a bit in the firelight. "oh, no, i will," said polly, rousing herself, and feeling that she ought not to be tired, when phronsie was getting well so fast, and everything was so beautiful. "i'll tell you one. let me see, what shall it be about?" and she leant her head in her hands to think a bit. "let her off," said jasper; "do, boys. i'll tell you one instead," he said. "no, we don't want yours," said van, not very politely. "we want polly's." "for shame, van!" said percy, who dearly loved to reprove his brother, and never allowed the occasion to slip when he could do so. "for shame yourself!" retorted van, flinging himself down on the rug. "you're everlastingly teasing polly to do things when she's tired to death. so there, percy whitney." "oh, i'll tell the story," polly said, hastily bringing her brown head up, while phronsie began to look troubled. "i'd like to tell a story," said tom beresford slowly, where he sat just back of the big rug. all the young folks turned to regard him, and van was just going to say, "oh, we don't want yours, tom," when polly leaned forward, "oh, will you--will you, tom?" so eagerly that van hadn't the heart to object. "yes, i will," promised tom, nodding at her. "well, get down on the rug, then," said jasper, moving up; "the story-teller always has to have a place of honor here." "that so?" cried tom; "well, here goes," and he precipitated himself at once into the midst of things. "ow! get out," cried van crossly, and giving him a push. "oh vanny!" said polly reprovingly. "well, he's so big and long," grumbled van, who didn't fancy anybody coming between him and polly. "i might cut off a piece of my legs," said tom, "to oblige you, i suppose. they are rather lengthy, and that's a fact," regarding them as they stretched out in the firelight. "i'll curl 'em up in a twist like a turk," which he did. "well, now," said jasper, "we are ready. so fire ahead, beresford." joel, who all this time had been regarding his friend curiously, having never heard him tell a story at dr. marks' school, couldn't keep his eyes from him, but regarded him with a fixed stare, which tom was careful to avoid, by looking steadily into the fire. "well, now, i'm not fine at expressing myself," he began. "i should think not," put in joel uncomplimentarily. "joe, you beggar, hush up!" said jasper, with a warning pinch. "yes, just sit on that individual, will you, jasper?" said tom, over his shoulder, "or i never will even begin." so, jasper promising to quench all further disturbance on joel's part, the story was taken up. "i can only tell a plain, unvarnished tale," said tom, "but it's one that ought to be told, and in this very spot. perhaps you don't any of you know, that in dr. marks' school it's awfully hard to be good." "is it any harder than in any other school, tom?" asked mrs. fisher quietly. tom turned, to reply: "i don't know, mrs. fisher, because i haven't been at any other school. but i can't imagine a place where everything is made so hard for a boy. to begin with, there is old fox." "oh tom!" exclaimed phronsie, leaning forward, whereat old mr. king laid a warning hand upon the well arm. "there, there, phronsie; sit back, child;" so she obeyed. "but, grandpapa, he said there was an old fox at joey's school," she declared, dreadfully excited, and lifting her face to his. "well, and so she is, phronsie," declared tom, whirling his long body suddenly around, thereby receiving a dig in the back from van, who considered him intruding on his space, "a fox by name, and a fox by nature; but we'll call her, for convenience, a person." "she's the matron," said percy, feeling called upon to explain. "oh!" said phronsie, drawing a long breath, "but i thought tom said she was a fox, grandpapa." "that's her name," said tom, nodding at her; "jemima fox--isn't that a sweet name, phronsie?" "i don't think it is a _very_ sweet one, tom," said phronsie, feeling quite badly to be obliged to say so. "i agree with you," said tom, while the others all laughed. "well, phronsie, she's just as far from being nice as her name is." "oh dear me!" exclaimed phronsie, looking quite grieved. "but i have something nice to tell you," said tom quickly, "so i'll hurry on, and let the other personages at dr. marks' slide. well,--but i want you all to understand, though"--and he wrinkled up his brows,--"that when a fellow does real, bang-up, fine things at that school, it means something. you will, won't you?" he included them all now in a sweeping glance, letting his blue eyes rest the longest on mrs. fisher's face; while phronsie broke in, "what's bang-up, grandpapa?" "you must ask tom," replied grandpapa, with a little laugh. "oh, that's just schoolboy lingo," tom made haste to say, as his face got red. "what's lingo?" asked phronsie, more puzzled than before. "that's--that's--oh, dear!" tom's face rivalled the firelight by this time, for color. "phronsie, i wouldn't ask any more questions now," said polly gently. "boys say so many things; and it isn't necessary to know now. let's listen to the story." "i will," said phronsie, feeling quite relieved that it wasn't really incumbent on her to ask for explanations. so she sat back quietly in her big chair, while tom shot polly a grateful look. "well, there are lots of chaps at our school," went on tom--"i suppose there are at all schools, but at any rate we have them in a big quantity,--who are mad when they see the other boys get on." "oh, tom!" exclaimed polly. "yes, they are--mad clear through," declared tom positively. "and it's principally in athletics." phronsie made a little movement at this word, but, remembering that she was not to ask questions, for polly had said so, she became quiet again. "they simply can't bear that a boy gets ahead of 'em; it just knocks 'em all up." tom was rushing on, with head thrown back and gazing into the fire. "tom," said joel, bounding up suddenly to take his head out of polly's lap, and to sit quite straight, "i wouldn't run on like this if i were you." "you hush up, pepper," said tom coolly. "i haven't said a word about you. i shall say what i like. i tell you, it does just knock 'em all up. i know, for i've been that way myself." this was getting on such dangerous ground, that joel opened his mouth to remonstrate, but polly put her hand over it. "i'd let tom tell his story just as he wants to," which had the effect of smothering joel's speech for the time being. "i thought, jasper, you were going to quench joe," observed tom, who seemed to have the power to see out of the back of his head, and now was conscious of the disturbance. "you don't seem to be much good." "oh, polly's doing it this time," said jasper; "i'll take him in tow on the next offence." "yes, i have," declared tom, "been that way myself. i'm going to tell you how, and then i'll feel better about it." his ruddy face turned quite pale now, and his eyes shone. "stop him," howled joel, all restraint thrown to the winds, and shaking off polly's fingers. jasper leaned forward. "i'm bound to make you keep the peace, joe," he said, shaking his arm. "but he's going to tell about things he ought not to," cried joel, in an agony. "do stop him, jasper." mother fisher leaned forward, and fastened her black eyes on joel's face. "i think tom better go on, joel," she said. "i want to hear it." that settled the matter; and joel threw himself down, his face buried in polly's lap, while he stuck his fingers in his ears. "i'm going to tell you all this story," tom was saying, "because i ought to. you won't like me very well after it, but it's got to come out. well, i might as well mention names now, since joe has got to keep still. you can't guess how he's been tormented by some of those cads, simply because he's our best tennis player, and on the football team. they've made things hum for him!" tom threw back his head, and clenched his fist where it lay in his lap. "and the rest of us boys got mad, especially at one of them. he was the ringleader, and the biggest cad and bully of them all." no one said a word. "i hate to mention names; it seems awfully mean." tom's face got fiery red again. "and yet, as you all know, why, it can't be helped. jenkins--well there, a fellow would want to be excused from speaking to him. and yet"--down fell tom's head shamefacedly--"i let him show me how he was going to play a dastardly trick on joe, the very day of the tennis tournament. i did, that's a fact." no one spoke; but tom could feel what might have been said had the thoughts all been expressed, and he burst out desperately, "i let that cad take joe's racket." a general rustle, as if some speech were coming, made him forestall it by plunging on, "his beautiful racket he'd been practising with for this tournament; and i not only didn't knock the scoundrel down, but i helped the thing along. i wouldn't have supposed i could do it. joe was to play with ricketson against green and me; and two minutes after it was done, i'd have given everything to have had it back on joe's table. but the boys were pouring up, and it was hidden." tom could get no further, but hung his head for the reaction sure to set in against him by all this household that had welcomed and entertained him so handsomely. "has he got through? has the beggar finished?" cried joel lustily. "yes," said polly, in a low voice, "i think he has, joel." "then i want to say"--joel threw himself over by tom, his arms around him--"that he's the biggest fraud to spring such a trap on me, and plan to get off that yarn here." "i didn't intend to when i came," said tom, thinking it necessary to tell the whole truth. "i hadn't the courage." "pity you had now!" retorted joel. "oh, you beggar!" he laid his round cheek against tom's. "mamsie, grandpapa, polly," his black eyes sweeping the circle, "if i were to tell you all that this chap has done for me,--why, he took me to the place where jenk hid the racket." "pshaw! that was nothing," said tom curtly. "nothing? well, i got it in time for the tournament. you saw to that. and when jenk and i were having it out in the pine grove that night, tom thought he better tell dave; though i can't say i thank you for that," brought up joel regretfully, "for i was getting the best of jenk." old mr. king had held himself well in check up to this point. "how did you know, tom, my boy, that joel and er--this--" "jenk," furnished joel. "yes--er--jenk, were going to settle it that night?" "why, you see, sir," tom, in memory of the excitement and pride over joel's prowess, so far recovered himself as to turn to answer, "joel couldn't very well finish it there, for the dormitory got too hot for that sort of thing; although it would have been rare good sport for all the fellows to have seen jenk flat, for he was always beating other chaps--i mean little ones, not half his size." "oh dear me!" breathed polly indignantly. "yes; well, joe promised jenk he would finish it some other time; and jenk dared him, and taunted him after the tournament. he was wild with rage because joel won; and he lost his head, or he would have let joe alone." "i see," exclaimed grandpapa, his eyes shining. "well, and so you sat up and watched the affair." "i couldn't go to bed, you know," said tom simply. "and he would have saved us, dave and me, if that jenk hadn't locked the door on us when he slipped in." "cad!" exclaimed tom, between his teeth. "he ought to have been expelled for that. and then joe shinned up the conductor--and you know the rest." mother fisher shivered, and leaned over involuntarily toward her boy. "mamsie," exclaimed joel, "you don't know what tom is to me, in that school. he's just royal--that's what he is!" with a resounding slap on his back. "and i say so too," declared mother fisher, with shining eyes. "_what_?" roared tom, whirling around so suddenly that van this time got out of the way only by rolling entirely off from the rug. "mrs. fisher--you _can't_, after i've told you this, although i'm no-end sorry about the racket. i didn't want to tell,--fought against it, but i had to." "i stand by what i've said, tom," said mrs. fisher, putting out her hand, when tom immediately laid his big brown one within it. at this, joel howled with delight, which he was unable to express enough to meet his wishes; so he plunged off to the middle of the library floor, and turned a brace of somersaults, coming up red and shining. "i feel better now," he said; "that's the way i used to do in the little brown house when i liked things." xix the grand entertainment "ought we to, mamsie?" asked polly. jasper and she were in mrs. fisher's room, and they both waited for the reply anxiously. "yes, polly, i think you ought," said mother fisher. "oh dear me! phronsie can't have only a little bit of it," said polly. "i know it. but think, polly, the boys have to go back to school so soon that even if other people didn't care if it were postponed, they would lose it. besides, tom is to be one of the chief people on the program. no, no, polly, there are others to think of outside of ourselves. you must have your entertainment just as it is planned," mrs. fisher brought up very decidedly. "well," sighed polly, "i am glad that papa fisher says that phronsie can hear a little part of it, anyway." "yes," said her mother cheerfully, "and helen fargo is to sit next to her. mrs. fargo is to take her home early, as she has not been very well. so you see, polly, it will all turn out very good after all." "but i did so want phronsie to be there through the whole," mourned polly. "so did i," echoed jasper. then he caught mother fisher's eye. "but, polly, the boys would lose it then," he added quickly. "oh!" cried polly, "so they would; i keep forgetting that. dear me! why isn't everything just right, so that they all could hear it?" and she gave a little flounce. "everything is just right, polly," said mrs. fisher gravely; "don't let me hear you complain of things that no one can help." "i didn't mean to complain, mamsie," said polly humbly; and she crept up to her, while jasper looked very much distressed. "mother knows you didn't," said mrs. fisher, putting her arm around her, "but it's a bad habit, polly, to be impatient when things don't go rightly. now run away, both of you," she finished brightly, "and work up your program," and she set a kiss on polly's rosy cheek. "jasper," cried polly, with happiness once more in her heart as they raced off, "i tell you what we can do. we must change the program, and put those things that phronsie likes, up first." "that's so," cried jasper, well pleased. "now, what will they be, polly?" "why, mr. dyce's story of the dog," said polly, "for one thing; phronsie thinks that's perfectly lovely, and always asks him for it when he tells her stories." "all right," said jasper. "what next?" "why, tom must sing one of his funny songs." "yes, of course. that will please her ever so much," cried jasper. "don't you know how she claps her hands when he's rehearsing, polly?" "yes; oh, i wouldn't have her miss that for anything, jasper," said polly. "no, indeed," cried jasper heartily. "well, polly, then what ought to come next? let's come into the den and fix it up now." so they ran into the den; and jasper got out the long program all ready to be pinned up beside the improvised stage, on the evening of the great event, and spread it on the table, polly meanwhile clearing off the books. "let's see." he wrinkled up his brow, running his finger down the whole length. "now, when i make the new program, mr. dyce goes first." polly stood quite still at that. "oh, jasper, we can't do it--no, never in all this world." "why, polly,"--he turned suddenly--"yes, we can just as easily. see, polly." "we can't spoil that lovely program that took you so long to make, for anything," said polly, in a decisive fashion. "phronsie wouldn't want it," she added. "phronsie isn't to know anything about it," said jasper, just as decidedly. "well, but jasper, you can't make another; you haven't the time," said polly in great distress, and wishing she hadn't said anything about the changes. "i didn't think there would have to be a new program made." "oh, polly, i think we'd better have a new one," said jasper, who was very particular about everything. "i thought we were going to have changes announced from the stage," said polly. "oh, why can't we, jasper? i'm sure they do that very often." "well, that's when the changes come at the last moment," said jasper reluctantly. "well, i'm sure this is the last moment," said polly. "the entertainment is to-morrow night, and we've ever so much to do yet. _please_, jasper." that "please, jasper," won the day. "all right, polly," he said. "well, now let's see what ought to come after tom's song." "well, phronsie is very anxious to hear pickering's piece; i know, because i heard her tell mamsie so." "why, she has heard pick recite that ever so many times since he learned it for our school exhibition," said jasper. "and don't you know that's just the very reason why she wants it again?" said polly, with a little laugh. "yes, of course," said jasper, laughing too. "well, she must have it then. so down goes pick." he ran to the table drawer and drew out a big sheet of paper. "first, mr. dyce, then tom beresford, then pickering dodge," writing fast. "and then," said polly, running up to look over his shoulder, "phronsie wants dreadfully to hear tom play on his banjo." "oh, polly,"--jasper threw back his head to look at her--"i don't believe there'll be time for all that; you know the music by miss taylor comes first as an overture. we can't change that." "why," exclaimed polly in dismay, "we must, jasper, get tom's banjo in; and there's percy's piece. phronsie wouldn't miss that for _anything_." "why, we shall have the whole program in if we keep on," said jasper, looking at her in dismay. "oh, jasper, papa fisher says that phronsie may stay in twenty minutes. just think; we can do a lot in twenty minutes." "but somebody is bound to be late, so we can't begin on time. nobody ever does, polly." "we must," said polly passionately, "begin on time to-morrow night, jasper." "we'll try," said jasper, as cheerfully as he could manage. "and there's your piece. why, jasper, phronsie told me herself that she _must_ hear yours." "well, and so she told me that she'd rather hear you play your piece," said jasper; "but you and i, polly, as long as we change the program, can't come in among the first." "no, of course not," said polly. "but, oh, jasper," and she gave a sigh, "it's too bad that you can't recite yours, for it is most beautiful!" polly clasped her hands and sighed again. "well, that's not to be thought of," said jasper. "now i tell you how we'll fix it, polly," he said quickly. "how?" asked polly gloomily. "why, we have twenty minutes that phronsie can stay in. now, let's mark off all those things that she wants, except yours and mine, even if they come beyond the time; and then we'll draw just those that will get into the twenty minutes." "oh, jasper, what a fine idea!" exclaimed polly, all her enthusiasm returning. "well, mark off half of 'em, and i'll write the others," said jasper, tearing off strips from his big sheet of paper. so polly and he fell to work; and presently "pick," and "tom" ("that's for the song," said polly), and "banjo," and "mr. dyce," and "percy," went down on the little strips. "oh, and i forgot," said polly, raising her head from her last strip, "phronsie wanted to hear clare very much indeed." [illustration: "oh, i do hope i shall draw the right one, jasper."] "well, we should have had the whole program with a vengeance," said jasper, bursting into a laugh. "well, put him down, polly." so "clare" went down on another strip, and then they were all jumbled up in a little chinese bowl on the bookcase. "now, you draw first, polly," said jasper. "oh, no, let us choose for first draw," said polly; "that's the way to be absolutely right." so she ran back to the table and tore off two more strips, one short and the other long, and fixed them in between her hands. "you didn't see?" she asked over her shoulder. "not a wink," said jasper, laughing. so polly ran back, and jasper drew the short one. "there; you have it, polly!" he cried gleefully. "oh, that's good!" "oh, i do hope i shall draw the right one, jasper," she said, standing on tiptoe, her fingers trembling over the bowl. "they are all of them good," said jasper encouragingly. so polly suddenly picked out one; and together they read, "tom." "fine!" they shouted. "oh, isn't that perfectly splendid?" cried polly, "because, you see, phronsie did so very much wish to hear tom sing," just as if she hadn't mentioned that fact before. "now, jasper." "i'm in much the same predicament as you were," said jasper, pausing, his hand over the bowl. "if i shouldn't choose the right one, polly!" "they are all of them good," said polly, laughing at his face. "oh, i know, but it is a fearful responsibility," said jasper, wrinkling his brows worse yet. "well, here goes!" he plunged his fingers in, and out they came with the strip, "percy." "now, jasper, you couldn't possibly have chosen better," declared polly, hopping up and down, "for phronsie did so want to hear percy speak. and it will please percy so. oh, i'm so glad!" "well, i'm thankful i haven't to draw again," declared jasper, "for we can't have but three pieces beside the overture, you know. so it's your turn now, polly." "oh dear me!" exclaimed polly, the color dying down in her cheek, "if i shouldn't draw the right one, jasper king; and it's the last chance." she stood so long with her hand poised over the chinese bowl, that jasper finally laughed out. "oh, polly, aren't your tiptoes tired?" "not half so tired as i am," said polly grimly. "jasper, i'm going to run across the room, and then run back and draw suddenly without stopping to think." "do," cried jasper. so polly ran into the further corner, and came flying up, to get on her tiptoes, thrust in her fingers, and bring out the third and last strip. "the deed is done!" exclaimed jasper. "now, polly, let's see who it is." "pick!" he shouted. and "pickering!" screamed polly. and they took hold of hands and spun round and round the den. "oh, dear, we're knocking off your beautiful program," cried polly, pausing in dismay. "it hasn't hurt it any--our mad whirl hasn't," said jasper, picking up the long program where it had slipped off the table to the floor. "polly, you can't think how i wanted pick to be chosen. it will do him so much good." "and only think, if i hadn't chosen him out of that bowl!" cried polly, in dismay at the very thought. "well, you did, polly, so it's all right," said jasper. "now everything is fixed, and it's going to be the finest affair that ever was," he added enthusiastically; "and the best of it is--i can't help it, polly--that mrs. chatterton isn't to come back till next week," he brought up in great satisfaction. mrs. chatterton had gone to new york for some weeks, but was to return to finish her visit at "cousin horatio's." "and i am so glad too," confessed polly, but feeling as if she oughtn't to say it. "and isn't everything just beautiful, jasper!" "i should think it was!" cried jasper jubilantly. "just as perfect as can be, polly." and the next afternoon, when the last preparations for the grand entertainment were made, and everybody was rushing off to dress for dinner, a carriage drove up the winding driveway. there were big trunks on the rack, and two people inside. joel, racing along the hall with tom at his heels, took one look. "oh, whickets!" he ejaculated, stopping short, to bring his feet down with a thud. "what's the row?" asked tom, plunging up to him in amazement. "that person." joel pointed a finger at the carriage. "i must tell polly," and off he darted. tom, not feeling at all sure that he ought to wait to see "that person," wheeled about and followed. "polly," roared joel, long before he got to her. "she's come!" "has she?" polly called back, supposing he meant alexia. "well, tell her to come up here, joe, in my room." joel took the stairs two at a time, tom waiting below, and dashed into the blue and white room without ceremony. "polly, you don't understand," he blurted out; "she's come!" polly had her head bent over a drawer, picking out some ribbons. at the sound of joel's voice she drew it out and looked at him. "why, how funny you look, joe!" she said. "what is the matter?" "i guess you'd look funny," said joel glumly, "if you'd seen mrs. chatterton." "_not mrs. chatterton!_" exclaimed polly aghast; and jumping up, her face very pale, and upsetting her box of ribbons, she seized joel's arm. "tell me this very minute, joel pepper," she commanded, "what do you mean?" "mrs. chatterton has just come. i saw her coming up the drive. there's johnson now letting her in." joel had it all out now in a burst, ready to cry at sight of polly's face, as the bustle in the hall below and the thin, high voice proclaimed the worst. "oh, joel, joel!" mourned polly, releasing his arm to wring her hands. "what _shall_ we do?" "she's an old harpy," declared joel; "mean, horrid, old thing!" "oh, stop, joel!" cried polly, quite horrified. "well, she is," said joel vindictively, "to come before we'd got back to school." "well, don't say so," begged polly, having hard work to keep back her own words, crowding for utterance. "mamsie wouldn't like it, joey." joel, with this thought on his mind, only grumbled out something so faintly that really polly couldn't hear as she ran out into the hall. "oh, jasper!" "polly, did you know? what _can_ we do?" it was impossible for him to conceal his vexation. and polly lost sight of her own discomfiture, in the attempt to comfort him. "and father--it will just make him as miserable as can be," said jasper gloomily. "and he was so happy over the beautiful time we were going to have this evening." he was so vexed he could do nothing but prance up and down the hall. "well, we must make him forget that she is here," said polly, swallowing her own distress at the change of all the conditions. "how can we, polly?" jasper stopped for a minute and stared at her. "i mean," said polly, feeling that it was a very hopeless case after all, "that we mustn't show that we mind it, her coming back, and must act as if we forgot it; and then that will keep him happy perhaps." "if you only will, polly," cried jasper, seizing both of her hands, "it will be the best piece of work you ever did." "oh, i can't do it alone," exclaimed polly, in consternation. "never in all this world, jasper, unless you help too." "then we'll both try our very best," said jasper. "i'm sure i ought to; 'twould be mean enough to expect you to go at such a task alone." "oh, you couldn't be mean, jasper," declared polly, in horror at the very thought. "well, i should be if i left you to tackle this by yourself," said jasper, with a grim little laugh. "so polly, there's my hand on it. i'll help you." and polly ran back to pick up her ribbons and dress for dinner, feeling somehow very happy after all, that there was something she could do for dear grandpapa to help him bear this great calamity. tom beresford, meanwhile, withdrew from the great hall when johnson ushered in the tall, stately woman and her french maid, and took shelter in the library. and mrs. whitney, coming over the stairs, saying, "well, cousin eunice, did you have a pleasant journey?" in the gentle voice tom so loved, gave him the first inkling of the relationship. but he wrinkled his brows at joel's exclamation, and his queer way of rushing off. "you know journeys always tire me, marian. so that your question is quite useless. i will sit in the library a moment to recover myself. hortense, go up and prepare my room," and she sailed into the apartment, her heavy silk gown swishing close to tom's chair. "who is that boy?" she demanded sharply. then she put up her lorgnette, and examined him closely as if of a new and probably dangerous species. tom slipped off from his chair and stiffened up. "it's one of joel's friends," said mrs. whitney, slipping her hand within the tall boy's arm. "the boys are at home from school for a week." "joel's friends," repeated mrs. chatterton, paying scant attention to the rest of the information. then she gave a scornful cackle. "haven't you gotten over that nonsense yet, marian?" she asked. "no; and i trust i never shall," replied mrs. whitney with a happy smile. "now, cousin eunice, as you wish to rest, we will go," and she drew tom off. "my boy," she said, releasing him in the hall, to give a bright glance up at the stormy, astonished face above her, "i know you and joel will get dressed as rapidly as possible for dinner, for my father will not want to be annoyed by a lack of promptness to-night." she did not say, "because he will have annoyance enough," but tom guessed it all. "i will, mrs. whitney," he promised heartily. and, thinking he would go to the ends of the earth for her, to be smiled on like that, he plunged off over the stairs. "i've seen the old cat," he cried in smothered wrath to joel, rushing into his room. joel sat disconsolately on the edge of his bed, kicking off his heavy shoes, to replace with his evening ones. "have you?" said joel grimly. "well, isn't she a--" then he remembered mamsie, and snapped his lips to. "'a,'" exclaimed tom, in smothered wrath, as he closed the door. "she isn't 'a' at all, joe. she's 'the.'" "well, do be still," cried joel, putting on his best shoes nervously, "or you'll have me saying something. and she's visiting here; and mamsie wouldn't like it. don't, tom," he begged. "i won't," said tom, with a monstrous effort, "but--oh dear me!" then he rushed into his own room and banged about, getting his best clothes out. "shut the door," roared joel after him, "or you'll begin to fume, and i can't stand it, tom; it will set me off." so tom shut the door; and with all these precautions going on over the house, all the family in due time appeared at dinner, prepared as best they could be to bear the infliction of mrs. chatterton's return. and after the conclusion of the meal, why, everybody tried to forget it as much as possible, and give themselves up to the grand affair of the evening. and old mr. king, who had been consumed with fear that it would have a disastrous effect on polly and jasper, the chief getters-up of the entertainment, came out of his fright nicely; for there they were, as bright and jolly as ever, and fully equal to any demands upon them. so he made up his mind that, after all, he could put up with cousin eunice a bit longer, and that the affair was to be an immense success and the very finest thing possible. and everybody else who was present on the eventful occasion, said so too! and it seemed as if mr. king's spacious drawing-room, famous for its capacity at all such times, couldn't possibly have admitted another person to this entertainment for the benefit of the poor brakeman's family. and joel, who wasn't good at recitations, and who detested all that sort of thing, and van, for the same reason, were both in their element as ticket takers. and the little pink and yellow squares came in so thick and fast that both boys had all they could do for a while--which was saying a good deal--to collect them. and everybody said that miss mary taylor had never played such a beautiful overture--and she was capable of a good deal along that line--in all her life; and phronsie, sitting well to the front, between old mr. king and helen fargo, forgot that she ever had a hurt arm, and that it lay bandaged up in her lap. and little dick, when he could lose sight of the fact that he wasn't next to phronsie instead of helen fargo, snuggled up contentedly against mother fisher, and applauded everything straight through. and old mr. king protested that he was perfectly satisfied with the whole thing, which was saying the most that could be expressed for the quality of the entertainment; and he took particular pains to applaud tom beresford, who looked very handsome, and acquitted himself well. "i must," said tom to himself, although quaking inwardly, "for they've all been so good to me--and for joel's sake!" so he sang at his very best. and he played his banjo merrily, and he was encored and encored; and joel was as proud as could be, which did tom good to see. and percy--well, the tears of joy came into his mother's eyes, for it wasn't easy for him to learn pieces, nor in fact to apply himself to study at all. but no one would have suspected it to see him now on that stage. and grandpapa king was so overjoyed that he called "bravo--bravo!" ever so many times, which carried percy on triumphantly over the difficult spots where he had been afraid he should slip. "if only his father could hear him!" sighed mrs. whitney in the midst of her joy, longing as she always did for the time when the father could finish those trips over the sea, for his business house. polly had made jasper consent, which he did reluctantly, to give his recitation before she played; insisting that music was really better for a finale. and she listened with such delight to the applause that he received--for ever so many of the audience said it was the gem of the whole--that she quite forgot to be nervous about her own performance; and she played her nocturne with such a happy heart, thinking over the lovely evening, and how the money would be, oh, such a heap to take down on the morrow to the poor brakeman's home, that jasper was turning the last page of her music--and the entertainment was at an end! polly hopped off from the music stool. there was a great clapping all over the room, and grandpapa called out, "yes, child, play again," so there was nothing for polly to do but to hop back again and give them another selection. and then they clapped harder yet; but polly shook her brown head, and rushed off the stage. and then, of course, grandpapa gave them, as he always did, a fine party to wind up the evening with. and the camp chairs were folded up and carried off, and a company of musicians came into the alcove in the spacious hall, and all through the beautiful, large apartments festivity reigned! "look at the old cat," said tom in a smothered aside to joel, his next neighbor in the "sir roger de coverley." "isn't she a sight!" "i don't want to," said joel, with a grimace, "and it's awfully mean in you, tom, to ask me." "i know it," said tom penitently, "but i can't keep my eyes off from her. how your grandfather can stand it, pepper, i don't see." and a good many other people were asking themselves the same question, madam dyce among the number, to whom mrs. chatterton was just remarking, "cousin horatio is certainly not the same man." "no," replied madam dyce distinctly, "he is infinitely improved; so approachable now." "you mistake me," mrs. chatterton said angrily, "i mean there is the greatest change come over him; it's lamentable, and all brought about by his inexplicable infatuation over those low-born pepper children and their designing mother." "mrs. chatterton," said madam dyce--she could be quite as stately as mr. king's cousin, and as she felt in secure possession of the right in the case, she was vastly more impressive--"i am not here to go over this question, nor shall i discuss it anywhere with you. you know my mind about it. i only wish i had the peppers--yes, every single one of them," warmed up the old lady,--"in my house, and that fine woman, their mother, along with them." xx the corcoran family and on the morrow--oh, what a heap of money there was for the poor brakeman's family!--four hundred and twelve dollars. for a good many people had fairly insisted on paying twice the amount for their tickets; and a good many more had paid when they couldn't take tickets at all, going out of town, or for some other good reason. and one old lady, a great friend of the family, sent for polly pepper the week before. and when polly appeared before the big lounge,--for mrs. sterling was lifted from her bed to lie under the sofa-blankets all day,--she said, "now, my dear, i want to take some tickets for that affair of yours. gibbons, get my check-book." so gibbons, the maid, brought the check-book, and drew up the little stand with the writing-case upon it close to the lounge, and mrs. sterling did a bit of writing; and presently she held out a long green slip of paper. "oh!" cried polly, in huge delight, "i've never had one for my very own self before." there it was, "polly pepper," running clear across its face. and "oh!" with wide eyes, when she saw the amount, "twenty-five dollars!" "haven't you so?" said mrs. sterling, greatly pleased to be the first in one of polly's pleasures. "oh!" cried polly again, "twenty-five dollars!" and she threw herself down before the lounge, and dropped a kiss upon the hand that had made all this happiness for the brakeman's poor children. "well now, polly, tell me all about it," said mrs. sterling, with a glow at her heart warm enough to brighten many a long invalid day. "gibbons, get a cricket for miss mary." "oh, may i sit here?" begged polly eagerly, as gibbons, placing the little writing-case back into position, now approached with the cricket; "it's so cosey on the floor." "why, yes, if you don't wish the cricket," said mrs. sterling with a little laugh, "and i remember when i was your age it was my greatest delight to sit on the floor." "it is mine," said polly, snuggling up to the sofa-blankets. mrs. sterling put out her thin hand, and took polly's rosy palm. "now begin, dear," she said, with an air of content, and looking down into the bright face. so polly, realizing that here perhaps was need for help, quite as much as in the poor brakeman's home, though in a different way, told the whole story, how the two clubs, the salisbury school club and the boys' club, had joined together to help jim corcoran's children; how they had had a big meeting at jasper's house, and promised each other to take hold faithfully and work for that object. "we were going to have a little play," observed polly, a bit sorrowfully, "but it was thought best not, so it will be recitations and music." "those will be very nice, i am quite sure, polly," said mrs. sterling; "how i should love to hear some of them!" it was her turn to look sad now. "why--" polly sat up quite straight now, and her cheeks turned rosy. "what is it, my child?" asked mrs. sterling. "would you--i mean, do you want--oh, mrs. sterling, would you like us to come here some time to recite something to you?" mrs. sterling turned an eager face on her pillow. "are you sure, polly," a light coming into her tired eyes, "that you young people would be willing to come to entertain a dull, sick, old woman?" "oh, i am sure they would," cried polly, "if you would like it, dear mrs. sterling." "_like it!_" mrs. sterling turned her thin face to the wall for a moment. when she looked again at polly, there were tears trickling down the wasted cheeks. "polly, you don't know," she said brokenly, "how i just long to hear young voices here in this dreary old house. to lie here day after day, child--" "oh!" cried polly suddenly, "it must be so very dreadful, mrs. sterling." "well, don't let us speak of that," said mrs. sterling, breaking off quickly her train of thought, "for the worst isn't the pain and the weakness, polly. it's the loneliness, child." "oh!" said polly. then it all rushed over her how she might have run in before, and taken the other girls if she had only known. "but we will come now, dear mrs. sterling," she said aloud. "do," cried mrs. sterling, and a faint color began to show itself on her thin face, "but not unless you are quite sure that the young people will like it, polly." "yes, i am sure," said polly, with a decided nod of her brown head. "then why couldn't you hold some of your rehearsals here?" proposed mrs. sterling. "shouldn't we tire you?" asked polly. "no, indeed!" declared mrs. sterling, with sudden energy, "i could bear a menagerie up here, polly," and she laughed outright. gibbons, at this unwonted sound, popped her head in from the adjoining room where she was busy with her sewing, to gaze in astonishment at her mistress. "i am not surprised at your face, gibbons," said mrs. sterling cheerily, "for you have not heard me laugh for many a day." "no, madam, i haven't," said gibbons, "but i can't help saying i'm rejoiced to hear it now," with a glance of approval on polly pepper. "so, polly, you see there is no danger of your bringing me any fatigue, and i should be only too happy to see you at your next rehearsal." "we can come, i am almost sure," said polly, "those of us who want to rehearse at all. some of us, you see, are quite sure of our pieces: pickering dodge is, for one; he spoke at his last school exhibition. but i'll tell the others. oh, thank you for asking us, mrs. sterling." "thank you for giving your time, dear, to a dull old woman," said mrs. sterling. "oh, must you go?" she clung to her hand. "i suppose you ought, child." "yes," said polly, "i really ought to go, mrs. sterling. and you are not dull, one single bit, and i like you very much," she added as simply as phronsie would have said it. "kiss me good-bye, polly," said mrs. sterling. so polly laid her fresh young cheek against the poor, tired, wasted one; hopped into her jacket, and was off on happy feet. and the others said "yes," when they saw polly's enthusiasm over the plan of holding a rehearsal at mrs. sterling's; and jasper proposed, "why couldn't we repeat the whole thing after our grand performance, for her sometime?" and, before any one could quite tell how, a warm sympathy had been set in motion for the rich, lonely old lady in the big, gloomy stone mansion most of them passed daily on their way to school. well, the grand affair was over now, and a greater success than was ever hoped for. now came the enjoyment of presenting the money! "grandpapa," said polly, "we are all here." "so i perceive," looking out on the delegation in the hall. for of course all the two clubs couldn't go to the presentation, so committees were chosen to represent them--polly, clem, alexia, and silvia, for the salisbury club, and jasper, clare, pickering, and richard burnett for the boys' club; while old mr. king on his own account had invited joel, percy and van, and, of course, tom beresford. "my! what shall we do with such a lot of boys?" exclaimed alexia, as they all met in the hall. "you don't have to do anything at all with us, alexia," retorted joel, who liked her the best of any of polly's friends, and always showed it by sparring with her on every occasion, "only let us alone." "which i shall proceed to do with the greatest pleasure," said alexia. "goodness me! joe, as if i'd be bothered with you tagging on. you're much worse than before you went away to school." "come, you two, stop your quarrelling," said jasper, laughing. "a pretty example you'd make to those poor corcoran children." "oh, we sha'n't fight there," said alexia sweetly; "we'll have quite enough to do to see all that is going on. oh, polly, when do you suppose we can ever start?" "father has the bank-book," announced jasper; "i saw him put it in his pocket, polly." polly gave a little wriggle under her coat. "oh, jasper, isn't it just too splendid for anything!" she cried. "i'm going to walk with polly," announced clem, seizing polly's arm, "so, alexia rhys, i give you fair warning this time." "indeed, you're not," declared alexia stoutly. "why, i always walk with polly pepper." "and that's just the reason why i'm going to to-day," said clem, hanging to polly's arm for dear life. "well, i'm her dearest friend," added alexia, taking refuge in that well-worn statement, "so there now, clem forsythe." "no, you're not," said clem obstinately; "we're all her dearest friends, aren't we, polly? say, polly, aren't we?" "hush!" said jasper. "father's coming." "well, i can't help it. i'm tired of hearing alexia rhys everlastingly saying that, and pushing us all away from polly." "do hear them go on!" exclaimed tom beresford, off on the edge of the group. "does she always have them carrying around like that?" "yes," said joel, "a great deal worse. oh, they're a lot of giggling girls; i hate girls!" he exploded. "so do i," nodded tom. "let's keep clear of the whole lot, and walk by ourselves." "indeed, we will," declared joel. "you won't catch me walking with girls when i can help it." "well, i wonder which of those two will get your sister, polly, this time," said tom, craning his long neck to see the contest. "oh, alexia, of course," said joel carelessly; "she always gets her in the end." but joel was wrong. neither of the girls carried off polly. old mr. king marched out of his reading-room. "come, polly, my child, you and i will walk together," and he waited on her handsomely out, and down the walk to the car. tom and joel burst into a loud laugh, in which the others joined, at the crestfallen faces. "well, at least you didn't get her, clem," said alexia airily, coming out of her discomfiture. "neither did you," said clem happily. "and you are horrid boys to laugh," said alexia, looking over at the two. "but then, all boys are horrid." "thank you," said tom, with his best bow. "alexia rhys, aren't you perfectly ashamed to be fighting with that new boy?" cried clem. "come on, alexia," said jasper. "i shall have to walk with you to keep you in order," and the gay procession hurrying after old mr. king and polly, caught up with them turning out of the big stone gateway. and then, what a merry walk they had to the car! and that being nearly full, they had to wait for the next one, which luckily had only three passengers; and mr. king and his party clambered on, to ride down through the poor quarters of the town, to the corcoran house. "oh, misery me!" exclaimed alexia, looking out at the tumble-down tenements, and garbage heaps up to the very doors. "where _are_ we going?" "did you suppose jim corcoran lived in a palace?" asked pickering lazily. "well, i didn't suppose anybody lived like that," said alexia, wrinkling up her nose in scorn. "dear me, look at all those children!" "interesting, aren't they?" said pickering, with a pang for the swarm of ragged, dirty little creatures, but not showing it in the least on his impassive face. "oh, i don't want to see it," exclaimed alexia, "and i'm not going to either," turning her back on it all. "it goes on just the same," said pickering. "then i am going to look." alexia whirled around again, and gazed up and down the ugly thoroughfare, taking it all in. "ugh, how can you!" exclaimed silvia horne, in disgust. "i think it's very disagreeable to even know that such people live." "perhaps 'twould be better to kill 'em off," said tom beresford bluntly. "ugh, you dreadful boy!" cried clem forsythe. "who's fighting now with the new boy?" asked alexia sweetly, tearing off her gaze from the street. "well, who wouldn't?" retorted clem, "he's saying such perfectly terrible things." pickering dodge gave a short laugh. "beresford, you're in for it now," he said. tom shrugged his shoulders, and turned his back on them. "what did you bring him home for, joe?" asked alexia, leaning over to twitch joel's arm. "to plague you, alexia," said joel, with a twinkle in his black eyes. "oh, he doesn't bother me," said alexia serenely. "clem is having all the trouble now. well, we must put up with him, i suppose," she said with resignation. "you don't need to," said joel coolly, "you can let us alone, alexia." "but i don't want to let you alone," said alexia; "that's all boys are good for, if they're in a party, to keep 'em stirred up. goodness me, mr. king and polly are getting out!" as the car stopped, and grandpapa led the way down the aisle. when they arrived at the corcoran house, which was achieved by dodging around groups of untidy women gossiping with their neighbors, and children playing on the dirty pavements, with the occasional detour caused by a heap of old tin cans, and other débris, mr. king drew a long breath. "i don't know that i ought to have brought you young people down here. it didn't strike me so badly before." "but it's no worse for us to see it than for the people to live here, father," said jasper quickly. "that's very true--but faugh!" and the old gentleman had great difficulty to contain himself. "well, thank fortune, the corcoran family are to move this week." "oh, grandpapa," cried polly, hopping up and down on the broken pavement, and "oh, father!" from jasper. "polly pepper," exclaimed alexia, twitching her away, "you came near stepping into that old mess of bones and things." polly didn't even glance at the garbage heap by the edge of the sidewalk, nor give it a thought. "oh, how lovely, alexia," she cried, "that they won't have but a day or two more here!" "well, we are going in," said alexia, holding her tightly, "and i'm glad of it, polly. oh, misery me!" as they followed mr. king into the poor little house that jim the brakeman had called home. the little widow, thanks to mr. king and several others interested in the welfare of the brakeman's family, had smartened up considerably, so that neither she nor her dwelling presented such a dingy, woe-begone aspect as on the previous visit. and old mr. king, being very glad to see this, still further heartened her up by exclaiming, "well, mrs. corcoran, you've accomplished wonders." "i've tried to," cried the poor woman, "and i'm sure 'twas no more than i ought to do, and you being so kind to me and mine, sir." "well, i've brought some young people to see you," said the old gentleman abruptly, who never could bear to be thanked, and now felt much worse, as there were several spectators of his bounty; and he waved his hand toward the representatives of the two clubs. they all huddled back, but he made them come forward. "no, it's your affair to-day; i only piloted you down here," laughing at their discomfiture. meanwhile the whole corcoran brood had all gathered about the visitors, to rivet their gaze upon them, and wait patiently for further developments. "polly, you tell her," cried alexia. "yes, polly, do," cried the other girls. "yes, polly," said pickering, "you can tell it the best." "oh, i never could," said polly in dismay. "jasper, you, please." "no, no, polly," said van; "she's the best." "but polly doesn't wish to," said jasper in a low voice. "all right, then, jappy, go ahead," said percy. there was a little pause, mrs. corcoran filling it up by saying, "i can't ask you to sit down, for there ain't chairs enough," beginning to wipe off one with her apron. "here, sir, if you'd please to sit," taking it over to mr. king. "thank you," said the old gentleman, accepting it with his best air. "now then, jasper"--he had handed a small parcel to him under cover of the chair-wiping--"go ahead, my boy." so jasper, seeing that there was no help for it, but that he was really to be the spokesman, plunged in quite bravely. "mrs. corcoran, some of us girls and boys--we belong to two clubs, you know,"--waving his hand over to the representatives--"wanted to show your boys and girls, that we were grateful to their father for being so good and kind to the passengers that night of the accident." here the little widow put the corner of her apron up to her eye, so jasper hurried on: "and we wanted to help them to get an education. and so we had a little entertainment, and sold the tickets and here is our gift!" jasper ended desperately, thrusting the package out. "take it, arethusa," was all mrs. corcoran could say; "and may the lord bless you all!" then she put the apron over her head and sobbed aloud. "bless me!" exclaimed old mr. king, fumbling for his handkerchief, "don't, my good woman, i beg of you." "and, oh, i do hope you'll learn to play on the piano," breathed polly, as arethusa took the package from jasper, and slid back to lay it in her mother's hand. "oh me! i'm going to cry," exclaimed alexia, backing off toward the door. "if you do, i'll throw you out," said joel savagely. "well, i shall; i feel so sniffly and queer. oh, joel, what shall i do? i shall be disgraced for life if i cry here." "hang on to me," said joel stoutly, thrusting out his sturdy arm. so alexia hung on to it, and managed to get along very well. and one of the children, the littlest one next to the baby, created a diversion by bringing up a mangy cat, and laying it on mr. king's knees. this saved the situation as far as crying went, and brought safely away those who were perilously near the brink of tears. "oh dear me!" exclaimed polly, starting forward, knowing how grandpapa detested cats. but jasper was before her. "let me take it, father," and he dexterously brought it off. "give it to me," said polly. "oh, what is its name?" the little thing who seemed to own the cat toddled over, well pleased, and stuck his finger in his mouth, which was the extent to which he could go in conversation. but the other children, finding the ice now broken, all came up at this point, to gather around polly and the cat. "it's lucky enough that phronsie isn't here," said jasper in a low voice, "for she would never want to leave that cat." [illustration: "and so we had a little entertainment, and sold the tickets, and here is our gift!"] "just see polly pepper!" exclaimed alexia, with a grimace. "why doesn't she drop that dirty old cat?" "because she ought not to," howled joel sturdily. then he rushed over to polly; and although he had small love for cats in general, this particular one, being extremely ill-favored and lean, met with his favor. he stroked her poor back. arethusa drew near and gazed into polly's face; seeing which, the cat was safely transferred to joel, and polly turned around to the girl. "oh, do you want to learn to play on the piano?" asked polly breathlessly, under cover of the noise going on, for all the other members of the two clubs now took a hand in it. even percy unbent enough to interview one of the corcoran boys. "yes, i do," said arethusa, clasping her small red hands tightly. her eyes widened, and her little thin face, which wasn't a bit pretty, lightened up now in a way that polly thought was perfectly beautiful. "well, i did, when i was a little girl like you"--polly bent her rosy face very close to arethusa's--"oh, _dreadfully_; and i used to drum on the table to make believe i could play." "so do i," cried arethusa, creeping up close to polly's neck, "an' th' boys laugh at me. but i keep doin' it." "and now, arethusa, you are really going to learn to play on the piano." polly thrilled all over at the announcement, just as she had done when told that she was to take music lessons. "not a really and truly piano?" exclaimed arethusa, lost in amazement. "yes, a really and truly piano," declared polly positively. "just think, arethusa, you can give music lessons and help to take care of your mother." and just then grandpapa, who had been talking to mrs. corcoran, was saying, "well, well, it's time to be going, young people." and joel put the cat down, that immediately ran between his legs, tripping him up as he turned, thereby making everybody laugh; and so the exit was made merrily. "wasn't that fun!" cried alexia, dancing off down the broken pavement. "oh, i forgot, i'm going to walk home with polly," and she flew back. "you take yourself away," cried old mr. king, with a laugh. "i'm to have polly to myself on this expedition." "well, at any rate, clem, you haven't polly," announced alexia as before, running up to her. "neither have you," retorted clem, in the same way. "so we will walk together," said alexia, coolly possessing herself of clem's arm. "those two boys can walk with each other; they're just dying to." "how do you know i want to walk with you?" asked clem abruptly. "oh, but do, you sweet thing you! come on!" and alexia dragged her off at a smart pace. "grandpapa," cried polly, hopping up and down by his side, too happy to keep still, while she clung to his hand just as phronsie would have done, "you are going to have the piano put into the house the very first thing after it is cleaned and ready--the _very_ first thing?" she peered around into his face anxiously. "the _very_ first thing," declared the old gentleman. "take my word for it, polly pepper, there sha'n't another article get in before it." "oh, grandpapa!" polly wished she could go dancing off into the middle of the thoroughfare for a regular spin. "take care, polly," laughed old mr. king, successfully steering her clear of an ash barrel, "this isn't the best dancing place imaginable." "oh, i beg your pardon, grandpapa," said polly, trying to sober down, "i didn't mean to; but oh, isn't it perfectly beautiful that arethusa is going to take music lessons!" "it is, indeed," said grandpapa, with a keen glance down at her flushed face. "and it really does seem to be an assured fact, for miss brown is engaged to begin as soon as the family move into their new home." "oh--oh!" polly could get no further. jasper, ahead with pickering dodge, looked back longingly. "oh, i do wish, grandpapa," said polly, "that jasper could walk home with us." "so do i, polly," said the old gentleman; "but you see he can't, for then i should have the whole bunch of those chattering creatures around me," and he laughed grimly. "you must tell him all about what we are talking of, as soon as you get home." "yes, i will," declared polly, "the very first thing. now, grandpapa, please go on." "well, i had told mrs. corcoran all about the new house, you know, polly, before." "yes, i know, grandpapa," said polly, with a happy little wriggle. "and so to-day i explained about the bank-book; told her where the money was deposited, and showed her how to use it. by the way, polly, jasper made a good speech now, didn't he?" the old gentleman broke off, and fairly glowed with pride. "oh, didn't he!" cried polly, in a burst. "i thought it was too splendid for anything! and he didn't know in the least that he had to do it. he thought you were going to give the bank-book, grandpapa." "i know it," chuckled mr. king. "well now, polly, i thought i'd try my boy without warning. because, you see, that shows what stuff a person is made of to respond at such a time, and he's all right, jasper is; he came up to the demand nicely." "it was perfectly elegant!" cried polly, with glowing cheeks. "and those two boys--the largest ones--are to begin in the other public school next week," continued the old gentleman. "everything begins next week, doesn't it, grandpapa?" cried polly. "it seems so," said mr. king, with a laugh. "well, polly, here we are at our car." and having the good luck to find it nearly empty, the whole party hopped on, and began the ride back again. "now," said jasper, when they had reached home, "for some comfort," and he drew polly off into a quiet corner in the library. "let's have the whole, polly. you said you'd tell me what you and father were talking of all the way home." "and so i will," cried polly, too elated to begin at the right end. "well, jasper, you must know that arethusa's piano is actually engaged." "it is!" exclaimed jasper. "hurrah!" "yes," said polly, with shining eyes, "and it's going into the new home the _very_ first thing. grandpapa promised me that." "isn't father good!" cried jasper, a whole world of affection in his dark eyes. "good?" repeated polly, "he's as good as good can be, jasper king!" "well, what else?" cried jasper. "and the boys--the two biggest ones--are going into the other public school, the one nearest their new home, you know." "yes, i see," said jasper, "that's fine. that will bring them in with better boys." "yes, and grandpapa told mrs. corcoran all about the money we made at the entertainment, and that he put it in the bank for her this morning. and he showed her how to use the check-book." "polly," said jasper, very much excited, "what if we girls and boys hadn't done this for those children! just think, polly, only suppose it!" "i know it," cried polly. "oh, jasper!" drawing a long breath. "but then, you see, we did do it." "yes," said jasper, bursting into a laugh, "we surely did, polly." xxi at the play "oh, cathie!" polly rushed out to meet the girl that johnson was just ushering in. "i _am_ so glad you've come!" a pleased look swept over the girl's face, but she didn't say anything. "now come right upstairs; never mind the bag, johnson will bring that for you." "i will take it up, miss," said johnson, securing it. "mamsie is waiting to see you," cried polly, as they ran over the stairs, cathie trying to still the excited beating of her heart at the thought that she was really to visit polly pepper for three whole days! "oh, mamsie, here she is!" "i am glad to see you, cathie," said mrs. fisher heartily, taking her cold hand. "now, you are to have the room right next to polly's." "yes, the same one that alexia always has when she stays here," said polly. "see, cathie," bearing her off down the hall. "oh, it is so good to get you here," she cried happily. "well, here we are!" "you can't think," began cathie brokenly; then she turned away to the window--"it's so good of you to ask me, polly pepper!" "it's so good of you to come," said polly merrily, and running over to her. "there, johnson has brought your bag. aren't you going to unpack it, cathie?--that is, i mean"--with a little laugh--"after you've got your hat and jacket off. and then, when your things are all settled, we can go downstairs, and do whatever you like. perhaps we'll go in the greenhouse." "oh, polly!" exclaimed cathie, quite forgetting herself, and turning around. "and can't i help you unpack?" asked polly, longing to do something. "no," said cathie, remembering her plain clothes and lack of the pretty trifles that girls delight in; then seeing polly's face, she thought better of it. "yes, you may," she said suddenly. so polly unstrapped the bag, and drew out the clothes, all packed very neatly. "why, cathie harrison!" she exclaimed suddenly. "what?" asked cathie, hanging up her jacket in the closet, and putting her head around the door. "oh, what a lovely thing!" polly held up a little carved box of chinese workmanship. "isn't it?" cried cathie, well pleased that she had anything worthy of notice. "my uncle brought that from china to my mother when she was a little girl, and she gave it to me." "well, it's too lovely for anything," declared polly, running to put it on the toilet table. "i do think chinese carvings are so pretty!" "do you?" cried cathie, well pleased. "my mother has some really fine ones, i'll show you sometime, if you'd like to see them, polly." "indeed, i should," said polly warmly. so cathie, delighted that she really had something that could interest polly pepper, hurried through her preparations; and then the two went downstairs arm in arm, and out to the greenhouse. "polly pepper!" exclaimed cathie on the threshold, "i don't think i should ever envy you living in that perfectly beautiful house, because it just scares me to set foot in it." "well, it needn't," said polly, with a little laugh. "you must just forget all about its being big and splendid." "but i can't," said cathie, surprised at herself for being so communicative, "because, you see, i live in such a little, tucked-up place." "well, so did i," said polly, with a bob of her brown head, "before we came here to grandpapa's; but oh, you can't think how beautiful it was in the little brown house--you can't begin to think, cathie harrison!" "i know," said cathie, who had heard the story before. "i wish you'd tell it all to me now, polly." "i couldn't tell it all, if i talked a year, i guess," said polly merrily, "and there is turner waiting to speak to me. come on, cathie." and she ran down the long aisle between the fragrant blossoms. but cathie stopped to look and exclaim so often to herself that she made slow progress. "shall i make her up a bunch, miss mary?" asked old turner, touching his cap respectfully, and looking at the visitor. "oh, if you please," cried polly radiantly; "and do put some heliotrope in, for cathie is so fond of that. and please let her have a bunch every morning when i have mine, turner, for she is to stay three days." "it shall be as you wish, miss mary," said turner, quite delighted at the order. "and please let it be very nice, turner," said polly hastily. "i will, miss; don't fear, miss mary, i'll have it as nice as possible," as polly ran off to meet cathie. "i should stay here every single minute i was at home if i lived here, polly pepper," declared cathie. "oh, oh!" sniffing at each discovery of a new blossom. "oh, no, you wouldn't, cathie," contradicted polly, with a laugh; "not if you had to get your lessons, and practise on the piano, and go out riding and driving, and play with the boys." "oh dear me!" cried cathie, "i don't care very much for boys, because, you see, polly, i never know what in this world to say to them." "that's because you never had any brothers," said polly, feeling how very dreadful such a state must be. "i can't imagine anything without ben and joel and davie." "and now you've such a lot of brothers, with jasper and all those whitney boys; oh, polly, don't they scare you to death sometimes?" polly burst into such a merry peal of laughter, that they neither of them heard the rushing feet, until cathie glanced up. "oh dear me! there they are now!" "well, to be sure; we might have known you were here, polly," cried jasper, dashing up with clare. "how do you do, cathie?" putting out his hand cordially. clare gave her a careless nod, then turned to polly. "it's to be fine," he said. "what?" asked polly wonderingly. "hold on, old chap." jasper gave him a clap on the back. "father is going to tell her himself. come on, polly and cathie, to his room." "come, cathie," cried polly. "let's beat those boys," she said, when once out of the greenhouse. "we're going to race," she cried over her shoulder. "is that so?" said jasper. "clare, we must beat them," and they dashed in pursuit. but they couldn't; the two girls flew over the lawn, and reached the stone steps just a breathing space before jasper and clare plunged up. "well done," cried jasper, tossing back the hair from his forehead. "i didn't know you could run so well," observed clare, with some show of interest in cathie. "oh, she runs splendidly," said polly, with sparkling eyes. "let's try a race sometime, jasper; we four, down the long path, while cathie's here." "capital! we will," assented jasper, "but now for father's room." there sat old mr. king by his writing table. "well, polly--how do you do, cathie? i am glad to see you," he said, putting out his hand kindly. as well as she could for her terror at being actually in that stately mr. king's presence, cathie stumbled forward and laid her hand in his. "now, polly," said the old gentleman, turning off to pick up a little envelope lying on the table, "i thought perhaps you would like to take your young friend to the play to-night, so i have the tickets for us five," with a sweep of his hand over to the two boys. "grandpapa!" cried polly, precipitating herself into his arms, "oh, how good you are!" which pleased the old gentleman immensely. "isn't that no-end fine!" cried jasper in delight. "father, we can't thank you!" "say no more, my boy," cried the old gentleman. "i'm thanked enough. and so, polly, my girl, you like it," patting her brown hair. "like it!" cried polly, lifting her glowing cheeks,--"oh, grandpapa!" "run along with you then, all of you. clare, be over in time." "yes, sir," cried clare. "oh, thank you, mr. king, ever so much!" as they all scampered off to get their lessons for the next day; for going to a play was always a special treat, on condition that no studies were neglected. "oh, cathie," cried polly, before she flew into the window-seat to curl up with her books, her favorite place for studying her lessons, "grandpapa is taking us to the play because you are here." "and i've never been to a play, polly," said cathie, perfectly overwhelmed with it all. "haven't you? oh, i'm so glad--i mean, i'm glad you're going with us, and that grandpapa is to take you to the first one. but, oh me!" and polly rushed off to attack her books. "now, don't let us speak a single word, cathie harrison," as cathie picked out a low rocker for her choice of a seat; and pretty soon, if miss salisbury herself had come into the room, she would have been perfectly satisfied with the diligent attention the books were receiving. but miss salisbury was not thinking of her pupils this afternoon. she was at this moment closeted with miss anstice, and going over a conversation that they frequently held, these past days, without much variation in the subject or treatment. "if there were anything we could do to repay him, sister," said miss anstice mournfully, "i'd do it, and spend my last cent. but what is there?" then she paced the floor with her mincing little steps, now quite nervous and flurried. "sister," said miss salisbury, doing her best to be quite calm, "it isn't a matter of payment; for whatever we did, we never could hope to replace that exquisite little vase. miss clemcy had pointed out to me the fact that it was quite the gem in his collection." "i know; i thought my heart would stop when i heard the crash." miss anstice wrung her little hands together at the memory. "oh, that careless lily!" "sister, pray let us look at this matter--" "i am looking at it. i see nothing but that vase, smashed to pieces; and i cannot sleep at night for fear i'll dream how it looked in those very little bits." "sister--pray--pray--" "and if you want me to tell you what i think should be done, i'm sure i can't say," added miss anstice helplessly. "well, then, i must think," declared miss salisbury, with sudden energy, "for some repayment must surely be made to him, although they utterly refused it when you and i called and broached the subject to them." "it was certainly a most unfortunate day from beginning to end," said miss anstice, with a suggestion of tears in her voice, and a shiver at the remembrance of the front breadth of her gown. "sister, i hope and pray that you will never have another picnic for the school." "i cannot abolish that annual custom, anstice," said miss salisbury firmly, "for the girls get so much enjoyment out of it. they are already talking about the one to come next year." "ugh!" shuddered miss anstice. "and anything that holds an influence over them, i must sustain. you know that yourself, sister. and it is most important to give them some recreations." "but _picnics!_" miss anstice held up her little hands, as if quite unequal to any words. "and i am very sorry that we were out when mr. clemcy and his sister called yesterday afternoon, for i am quite sure i could have arranged matters so that we need not feel under obligations to them." miss anstice, having nothing to say, kept her private reflections mournfully to herself; and it being the hour for the boarding pupils to go out to walk, and her duty to accompany them, the conference broke up. "polly," called mrs. chatterton, as polly ran past her door, her opera glasses grandpapa had given her last christmas in the little plush bag dangling from her arm, and a happy light in her eyes. cathie had gone downstairs, and it was getting nearly time to set forth for that enchanted land--the playhouse! polly ran on, scarcely conscious that she was called. "did you not hear me?" asked mrs. chatterton angrily, coming to her door. "oh, i beg pardon," said polly, really glad ever since that dreadful time when mrs. chatterton was ill, to do anything for her. "for i never shall forget how naughty i was to her," polly said over to herself now as she turned back. "you may well beg my pardon," said mrs. chatterton, "for of all ill-bred girls, you are certainly the worst. i want you." then she disappeared within her room. "what is it?" asked polly, coming in. "i shall be so glad to help." "help!" repeated mrs. chatterton in scorn. she was standing over by her toilet table. "you can serve me; come here." the hot blood mounted to polly's brow. then she thought, "oh, what did i say? that i would do anything for mrs. chatterton if she would only forgive me for those dreadful words i said to her." and she went over and stood by the toilet table. "oh, you have concluded to come?" observed mrs. chatterton scornfully. "so much the better it would be if you could always learn what your place is in this house. there, you see this lace?" she shook out her flowing sleeve, glad to display her still finely moulded arm, that had been one of her chief claims to distinction, even if nobody but this little country-bred girl saw it. polly looked at the dangling lace, evidently just torn, with dismay; seeing which, mrs. chatterton broke out sharply, "get the basket, girl, over there on the table, and sew it as well as you can." "polly!" called jasper over the stairs, "where are you?" polly trembled all over as she hurried across the room to get the sewing basket. grandpapa was not ready, she knew; but she always ran down a little ahead for the fun of the last moments waiting with jasper, when old mr. king was going to take them out of an evening. and in the turmoil in her mind, she didn't observe that hortense had misplaced the basket, putting it on the low bookcase, and was still searching all over the table as directed, when mrs. chatterton's sharp voice filled her with greater dismay. "_stupid!_ if you would put heart into your search, it would be easy enough to find it." "_polly_, where _are_ you!" polly, in her haste not to displease mrs. chatterton by replying to jasper before finding the basket, knocked over one of the small silver-topped bottles with which the dressing table seemed to be full, and before she could rescue it, it fell to the floor. "go out of this room," commanded mrs. chatterton, with blazing eyes. "i ought to have known better than to call upon a heavy-handed, low-born country girl, to do a delicate service." "i didn't mean--" began poor polly. "go out of this room!" mrs. chatterton, now thoroughly out of temper, so far forgot herself as to stamp her foot; and polly, feeling as if she had lost all chance in her future encounters with mrs. chatterton, of atoning for past short-comings, went sadly out, to meet, just beside the door, jasper, with amazement on his face. "oh, polly, i thought you were never coming." then he saw her face. "that old--" he said under his breath. "polly, don't ever go into her room again. i wouldn't," as they hurried off downstairs. "she won't let me," said polly, her head drooping, and the brightness all gone from her face. "she won't ever let me go again, i know." "won't let you? well, i guess you'll not give her a chance," cried jasper hotly. "polly, i do really wish that father would tell her to go away." "oh, jasper," cried polly, in alarm, "don't say one word to grandpapa. promise me you won't, jasper." "well, father is tired of her. she wears on him terribly, polly," said jasper gloomily. "i know," said polly sadly. "and oh, jasper, if you say one word, he will really have her go. and i was so bad to her, you know," and the tears came into polly's brown eyes. "well, she must have been perfectly terrible to you," said jasper. "polly--jasper--where are you?" came in old mr. king's voice. "here, father," and "here, grandpapa," and clare running up the steps, the little party was soon in the carriage. "promise me, jasper, do," implored polly, when grandpapa was explaining to cathie about the great actor they were to see, and clare was listening to hear all about it, too. "oh, i won't," promised jasper, "if you don't wish me to." "i really wouldn't have you for all the world," declared polly; and now that this fear was off from her mind, she began to pick up her old, bright spirits, so that by the time the carriage stopped at the theatre, polly was herself again. jasper watched her keenly, and drew a long breath when he saw her talking and laughing with grandpapa. "you are going to sit next to me, polly," said the old gentleman, marshalling his forces when well within. "and jasper next. then, cathie, you will have a knight on either side." "oh, i can't sit between two boys," cried cathie, forgetting herself in her terror. "i won't bite you," cried clare saucily. "i will see that clare behaves himself," said jasper. "you'll do nicely, my dear," said mr. king encouragingly to her; then proceeded down the aisle after the usher. so there was nothing to do but to obey. and cathie, who would have found it a formidable thing to be stranded on the companionship of one boy, found herself between two, and polly pepper far off, and not the least able to help. "now, then," said jasper, taking up the program, "i suppose father told you pretty much all that was necessary to know about irving. well--" and then, without waiting for a reply, jasper dashed on about the splendid plays in which he had seen this wonderful actor, and the particular one they were to enjoy to-night; and from that he drifted off to the fine points to be admired in the big playhouse, with its striking decorations, making cathie raise her eyes to take it all in, until clare leaned over to say: "i should think you might give cathie and me a chance to talk a little, jasper." "oh, i don't want to talk," cried cathie in terror. "i don't know anything to say." "well, i do," said clare, in a dudgeon, "only jasper goes on in such a streak to-night." "i believe i have been talking you both blue," said jasper, with a laugh. "you certainly have," said clare, laughing too. and then cathie laughed, and polly pepper, looking over, beamed at her, for she had begun to be worried. "the best thing in the world," said old mr. king, "was to turn her over to those two boys. now, don't give her another thought, polly; she'll get on." and she did; so well, that before long, she and clare were chatting away merrily; and cathie felt it was by no means such a very terrible experience to be sitting between two boys at a play; and by the time the evening was half over, she was sure that she liked it very much. and polly beamed at her more than ever, and jasper felt quite sure that he had never enjoyed an evening more than the one at present flying by so fast. and old mr. king, so handsome and stately, showed such evident pride in his young charges, as he smiled and chatted, that more than one old friend in the audience commented on it. "did you ever see such a change in any one?" asked a dowager, levelling her keen glances from her box down upon the merry party. "never; it was the one thing needed to make him quite perfect," said another one of that set. "he is approachable now--absolutely fascinating, so genial and courteous." "his manners were perfect before," said a third member of the box party, "except they needed thawing out--a bit too icy." "you are too mild. i should say they were quite frozen. he never seemed to me to have any heart." "well, it's proved he has," observed her husband. "i tell you that little pepper girl is going to make a sensation when she comes out," leaning over for a better view of the king party, "and the best of it is that she doesn't know it herself." and clare made up his mind that cathie harrison was an awfully nice girl; and he was real glad she had moved to town and joined the salisbury school. and as he had two cousins there, they soon waked up a conversation over them. "only i don't know them much," said cathie. "you see i haven't been at the school long, and besides, the girls didn't have much to say to me till polly pepper said nice things to me, and then she asked me to go to the bee." "that old sewing thing where they make clothes for the poor little darkeys down south?" asked clare. "yes; and it's just lovely," said cathie, "and i never supposed i'd be asked. and polly pepper came down to my desk one day, and invited me to come to the next meeting, and i was so scared, i couldn't say anything at first; and then polly got me into the salisbury club." "oh, yes, i know." clare nodded, and wished he could forget how he had asked one of the other boys on that evening when the two clubs united, why in the world the salisbury club elected cathie harrison into its membership. "and then polly pepper's mother invited me to visit her--polly, i mean--and so here i am"--she forgot she was talking to a dreaded boy, and turned her happy face toward him--"and it's just lovely. i never visited a girl before." "never visited a girl before!" repeated clare, in astonishment. "no," said cathie. "you see, my father was a minister, and we lived in the country, and when i visited anybody, which was only two or three times in my life, it was to papa's old aunts." "oh dear me!" exclaimed clare faintly, quite gone in pity. "and so your father moved to town," he said; and then he knew that he had made a terrible mistake. "now she won't speak a word--perhaps burst out crying," he groaned within himself, as he saw her face. but cathie sat quite still. "my papa died," she said softly, "and he told mamma before he went, to take me to town and have me educated. and one of those old aunts gave the money. and if it hadn't been for him, i'd have run home from the salisbury school that first week, it was so perfectly awful." clare sat quite still. then he burst out, "well, now, cathie, i think it was just splendid in you to stick on." "do you?" she cried, quite astonished to think any one would think she was "just splendid" in anything. "why, the girls call me a goose over and over. and sometimes i lose my temper, because they don't say it in fun, but they really mean it." "well, they needn't," said clare indignantly, "because i don't think you are a goose at all." "those two are getting on quite well," said jasper to polly. "i don't think we need to worry about cathie any more." "and isn't she nice?" asked polly, in great delight. "yes, i think she is, polly," said jasper, in a way that gave polly great satisfaction. but when this delightful evening was all over, and the good nights had been said, and mother fisher, as was her wont, had come into polly's room to help her take off her things, and to say a few words to cathie too, polly began to remember the scene in mrs. chatterton's room; and a sorry little feeling crept into her heart. and when mamsie had gone out and everything was quiet, polly buried her face in her pillow, and tried not to cry. "i don't believe she will ever forgive me, or let me help her again." "polly," called cathie softly from the next room, "i did have the most beautiful time!" "did you?" cried polly, choking back her sobs. "oh, i am so glad, cathie!" "yes," said cathie, "i did, polly, and i'm not afraid of boys now; i think they are real nice." "aren't they!" cried polly, "and weren't our seats fine! grandpapa didn't want a box to-night, because we could see the play so much better from the floor. but we ought to go to sleep, cathie, for mamsie wouldn't like us to talk. good night." "good night," said cathie. "a box!" she said to herself, as she turned on her pillow, "oh, i should have died to have sat up in one of those. it was quite magnificent enough where i was." xxii pickering dodge "jasper!" jasper, rushing down the long hall of the pemberton school, books in hand, turned to see mr. faber standing in the doorway of his private room. "i want to see you, jasper." jasper, with an awful feeling at his heart, obeyed and went in. "it's all up with pick," he groaned, and sat down in the place indicated on the other side of the big round table, mr. faber in his accustomed seat, the big leather chair. "you remember the conversation i had with you, jasper," he said slowly; and picking up a paper knife he began playing with it, occasionally glancing up over his glasses at the boy. jasper nodded, unable to find any voice. then he managed to say, "yes, sir." "well, now, jasper, it was rather an unusual thing to do, to set one lad, as it were, to work upon another in just that way. for i am sure i haven't forgotten my boyhood, long past as it is, and i realize that the responsibilities of school life are heavy enough, without adding to the burden." mr. faber, well pleased with this sentiment, waited to clear his throat. jasper, in an agony, as he saw pickering dodge expelled, and all the dreadful consequences, sat quite still. "at the same time, although i disliked to take you into confidence, making you an assistant in the work of reclaiming pickering dodge from his idle, aimless state, in which he exhibited such a total disregard for his lessons, it appeared after due consideration to be the only thing left to be done. you understand this, i trust, jasper." jasper's reply this time was so low as to be scarcely audible. but mr. faber, taking it for granted, manipulated the paper knife a few times, and went on impressively. "i am very glad you do, jasper. i felt sure, knowing you so well, that my reasons would appeal to you in the right way. you are pickering's best friend among my scholars." "and he is mine," exploded jasper, thinking wildly that it was perhaps not quite too late to save pickering. "i've known him always, sir." he was quite to the edge of his chair now, his dark eyes shining, and his hair tossed back. "beg pardon, mr. faber, but i can't help it. pickering is so fine; he's not like other boys." "no, i believe you." mr. faber smiled grimly and gave the paper knife another whirl. and much as jasper liked him, that smile seemed wholly unnecessary, and to deal death to his hopes. "he certainly is unlike any other boy in my school in regard to his studying," he said. "his capacity is not wanting, to be sure; there was never any lack of that. for that reason i was always hoping to arouse his ambition." "and you can--oh, you can, sir!" cried jasper eagerly, although he felt every word he said to be unwelcome, "if you will only try him a bit longer. don't send him off yet, mr. faber." he got off from his chair, and leaned on the table heavily. "don't send him off?" repeated mr. faber, dropping the paper knife, "what is the boy talking of! why, jasper--i've called you in here to tell you how much pickering has improved and--" jasper collapsed on his chair. "and is it possible that you haven't seen it for yourself, jasper?" exclaimed mr. faber. "why, every teacher is quite delighted. even mr. dinsmore--and he was in favor of at least suspending pickering last half--has expressed his opinion that i did well to give the boy another trial." "i thought--" mumbled jasper, "i was afraid." then he pulled himself together, and somehow found himself standing over by mr. faber's chair, unbosoming himself of his fright and corresponding joy. "pull your chair up nearer, jasper," said mr. faber, when, the first transport having worked off, jasper seemed better fitted for conversation, "and we will go over this in a more intelligent fashion. i am really more pleased than i can express at the improvement in that boy. as i said before"--mr. faber had long ago thrown aside the paper knife, and now turned toward jasper, his whole attention on the matter in hand--"pickering has a fine capacity; take it all in all, perhaps there is none better in the whole school. it shows to great advantage now, because he has regained his place so rapidly in his classes. it is quite astonishing, jasper." and he took off his glasses and polished them up carefully, repeating several times during the process, "yes, very surprising indeed!" "and he seems to like to study now," said jasper, ready to bring forward all the nice things that warranted encouragement. "does he so?" mr. faber set his glasses on his nose, and beamed at him over them. the boys at the pemberton school always protested that this was the only use they could be put to on the master's countenance. "well, now, jasper, i really believe i am justified in entertaining a very strong hope of pickering's future career. and i see no reason why he should not be ready for college with you, and without conditions, if he will only keep his ambition alive and active, now it is aroused." "may i tell him so?" cried jasper, almost beside himself with joy. "oh, may i, mr. faber?" "why, that is what i called you in here for, jasper," said the master. "it seemed so very much better for him to hear it from a boy, for i remember my own boyhood, though so very long since; and the effect will, i feel sure, be much deeper than if pickering hears it from me. he is very tired of this study, jasper," and mr. faber glanced around at the four walls, and again came that grim smile. "and even to hear a word of commendation, it might not be so pleasing to be called in. so away with you. at the proper time, i shall speak to him myself." jasper, needing no second bidding, fled precipitately--dashed in again. "beg pardon, i'd forgotten my books." he seized them from the table, and made quick time tracking pickering. "where is pick?" rushing up to a knot of boys on a corner of the playground, just separating to go home. "don't know; what's up, king?" "can't stop," said jasper, flying back to the schoolroom. "i must get pick." "dodge has gone," shouted a boy clearing the steps, who had heard the last words. so jasper, turning again, left school and playground far behind, to run up the steps of the cabot mansion. "pickering here?" "yes." the butler had seen him hurrying over the stairs to his own room just five minutes ago. and in less than a minute jasper was up in that same place. there sat pickering by his table, his long legs upon its surface, and his hands thrust into his pockets. his books sprawled just where he had thrown them, at different angles along the floor. "hullo!" cried jasper, flying in, to stop aghast at this. "yes, you see, jasper, i'm played out," said pickering. "it isn't any use for me to study, and there are the plaguey things," pulling out one set of fingers to point to the sprawling books. "i can't catch up. every teacher looks at me squint-eyed as if i were a hopeless case, which i am!" "oh, you big dunce!" jasper clapped his books on the table with a bang, making pickering draw down his long legs, rushed around to precipitate himself on the rest of the figure in the chair, when he pommelled him to his heart's content. "if you expect to beat any hope into me, old boy," cried pickering, not caring in the least for the onslaught, "you'll miss your guess." "i'm hoping to beat sense into you," cried jasper, pounding away, "though it looks almost impossible now," he declared, laughing. "pick, you've won! mr. faber says you've come up in classes splendidly, and--" pickering sprang to his feet. "what do you mean, jasper?" he cried hoarsely, his face white as a sheet. "just what i say." "say it again." so jasper went all over it once more, adding the other things about getting into college and all that, as much as pickering would hear. "honest?" he broke in, his pale face getting a dull red, and seizing jasper by the shoulders. "did i ever tell you anything that wasn't so, pick?" "no; but i can't believe it, jap. it's the first time in my life i've--i've--" and what incessant blame could not do, praise achieved. pickering rushed to the bed, flung himself face down upon it, and broke into a torrent of sobs. jasper, who had never seen pickering cry, had wild thoughts of rushing for mrs. cabot; the uncle was not at home. but remembering how little good this could possibly do, he bent all his energies to stop this unlooked-for flood. but he was helpless. having never given way in this manner before, pickering seemed determined to make a thorough job of it. and it was not till he was quite exhausted that he rolled over, wiped his eyes, and looked at jasper. "i'm through," he announced. "i should think you might well be," retorted jasper; "what with scaring me almost to death, you've made yourself a fright, pick, and you've just upset all your chances to study to-day." pickering flung himself off the bed as summarily as he had gone on. "that's likely, isn't it?" he cried mockingly, and shamefacedly scrabbling up the books from the floor. "now, then," and he was across the room, pouring out a basinful of water, to thrust his swollen face within it. "whew! i never knew it used a chap up so to cry," he spluttered. "goodness me!" he withdrew his countenance from the towel to regard jasper. "how you look!" cried jasper, considering it better to rail at him. whereupon pickering found his way to the long mirror. "i never was a beauty," he said. "and now you are less," laughed jasper. "but i'm good," said pickering solemnly, and flinging himself down to his books. "you can't study with such eyes," cried jasper, tugging at the book. "clear out!" "i'm not going. pick, your eyes aren't much bigger than pins." "but they're sharp--just as pins are. leave me alone." pickering squirmed all over his chair, but jasper had the book. "never mind, i'll fly at my history, then," said pickering, possessing himself of another book; "that's the beauty of it. i'm as backward in all of my lessons as i am in one. i can strike in anywhere." "you are not backward in any now," cried jasper in glee, and performing an indian war dance around the table. "forward is the word henceforth," he brought up dramatically with another lunge at pickering. "get out. you better go home." "i haven't the smallest intention of going," replied jasper, and successfully coming off with a second book. "here's for book number three," declared pickering--but too late. jasper seized the remaining two, tossed them back of him, then squared off. "come on for a tussle, old fellow. you're not fit to study--ruin your eyes. come on!" his whole face sparkling. it was too much. the table was pushed one side; books and lessons, mr. faber and college, were as things never heard of. and for a good quarter of an hour, pickering, whose hours of exercise had been much scantier of late, was hard pushed to parry all jasper's attacks. at the last, when the little clock on the mantel struck four, he came out ahead. "i declare, that was a good one," he exclaimed in a glow. "particularly so to you," said jasper ruefully. "you gave me a regular bear-hug, you scamp." "had to, to pay you up." "and now you may study," cried jasper gaily; and snatching his books, he ran off. "oh, pick," putting his head in at the door. "yes?" "if the lessons are done, come over this evening, will you?" "all right." the last sound of jasper's feet on the stairs reached pickering, when he suddenly left his chair and flew into the hall. "jap--oh, i say, jap!" then he plunged back into his room to thrust his head out of the window. "jap!" he howled, to the consternation of a fat old gentleman passing beneath, who on account of his size, finding it somewhat inconvenient to look up, therefore waddled into the street, and surveyed the house gravely. pickering slammed down the window, leaving the old gentleman to stare as long as he saw fit. "i can't go over there to-night, looking like this." he pranced up to the mirror again, fuming every step of the way, and surveyed himself in dismay. there was some improvement in the appearance of his countenance, to be sure, but not by any means enough to please him. his pale blue eyes were so small, and their surroundings so swollen, that they reminded him of nothing so much as those of a small pig he had made acquaintance with in a visit up in the country. while his nose, long and usually quite aristocratic-looking, had resigned all claims to distinction, and was hopelessly pudgy. "jasper knows i can't go in this shape," he cried in a fury. "great cæsar's ghost! i never supposed it banged a fellow up so, to cry just once!" and the next moments were spent in sopping his face violently with the wet towel, which did no good, as it had been plentifully supplied with that treatment before. at last he flung himself into his chair. "if i don't go over, jap will think i haven't my lessons, so that's all right. and i won't have them anyway if i don't tackle them pretty quick. so here goes!" and presently the only sound to be heard was the ticking of the little clock, varied by the turning of his pages, or the rattling of the paper on which he was working out the problems for to-morrow. "oh dear me! jasper," polly exclaimed about half-past seven, "i don't believe pickering is coming." "he hasn't his lessons, i suppose," said jasper. "you know i told him to come over as soon as they were done. well, polly, we agreed, you know, to let him alone as to invitations until the lessons were out of the way, so i won't go over after him." "i know," said polly, "but oh, jasper, isn't it just too elegant for anything, to think that mr. faber says it's all right with him?" "i should think it was," cried jasper. "now if he only keeps on, polly." "oh, he must; he will," declared polly confidently. "well, we can put off toasting marshmallows until to-morrow night." about this time, pickering, whose lessons were all done, for he had, as mr. faber had said, "a fine capacity" to learn, was receiving company just when he thought he was safe from showing his face. "let's stop for pickering dodge," proposed alexia, clare having run in for her to go over to polly pepper's, "to toast marshmallows and have fun generally." "all right; so we can," cried clare. so they turned the corner and went down to the cabot mansion, and were let in before the old butler could be stopped. pickering, whose uncle and aunt were out for the evening, had felt it safe to throw himself down on the library sofa. when he saw that john had forgotten what he told him, not to let anybody in, he sprang up; but not before alexia, rushing in, had cried, "oh, here you are! come on with us to polly pepper's!" clare dashed in after her. "ow!" exclaimed pickering, seizing a sofa pillow, to jam it against his face. "what _is_ the matter?" cried alexia. "oh, have you a toothache?" "worse than that," groaned pickering behind his pillow. "oh, my goodness me!" exclaimed alexia, tumbling back. "what can it be?" "you haven't broken your jaw, pick?" observed clare. "i can't imagine that." "i'll break yours if you don't go," said pickering savagely, and half smothered, as he tried to keep the pillow well before the two pairs of eyes. this was a little difficult, as clare, seeing hopes of running around the pillow, set himself in motion to that end. but as pickering whirled as fast as he did, there was no great gain. "well, if i ever did!" exclaimed alexia, quite aghast. and the next moment pickering, keeping a little opening at one end of the pillow, saw his chance; darted out of the door, and flinging the pillow the length of the hall, raced into his own room and slammed the door, and they could hear him lock it. "well, if i ever did!" exclaimed alexia again, and sinking into the first chair, she raised both hands. "what's got into the beggar?" cried clare in perplexity, and looking out into the hall, as if some help to the puzzle might be found there. "well, i guess you and i, alexia, might as well go to polly pepper's," he said finally. "and if i ever come after that boy again to tell him of anything nice that's going to happen, i miss my guess," declared alexia, getting herself out of her chair, in high dudgeon. "let's send jasper after him; he's the only one who can manage him," she cried, as they set forth. "good idea," said clare. but when alexia told of their funny reception, jasper first stared, then burst out laughing. and although alexia teased and teased, she got no satisfaction. "it's no use, alexia," jasper said, wiping his eyes, "you won't get me to tell. so let's set about having some fun. what shall we do?" "i don't want to do anything," pouted alexia, "only to know what made pickering dodge act in that funny way." "and that's just what you won't know, alexia," replied jasper composedly. "well, polly, you are going to put off toasting the marshmallows, aren't you, till to-morrow night, when pick can probably come?" "oh, i wouldn't wait for him," alexia burst out, quite exasperated, "when he's acted so. and perhaps he'd come with an old sofa pillow before his face, if you did." "oh, no, he won't, alexia," said jasper, going off into another laugh. but although she teased again, she got no nearer to the facts. and polly proposing that they make candy, the chafing dish was gotten out; and alexia, who was quite an adept in the art, went to work, jasper cracking the nuts, and polly and clare picking out the meats. and then all the story of pickering's splendid advance in the tough work of making up his lessons came out, jasper pausing so long to dilate with kindling eyes upon it, that very few nuts fell into the dish. so polly's fingers were the only ones to achieve much, as clare gave so close attention to the story that he was a very poor helper. in the midst of it, alexia threw down the chafing-dish spoon, and clapped her hands. "oh, i know!" she exclaimed. "oh," cried polly, looking up from the little pile of nut-meats, "how you scared me, alexia!" "i know--i know!" exclaimed alexia again, and nodding to herself wisely. jasper threw her a quick glance. it said, "if you know, don't tell, alexia." and she flashed back, "did you suppose i would?" "what do you know?" demanded clare, transferring his attention from jasper to her. "tell on, alexia; what do you know?" "oh, my goodness me! this candy never will be done in time for those meats," cried alexia, picking up the spoon to stir away for dear life. and jasper dashed in on what mr. faber said about pickering's chances for college; a statement that completely carried clare off his feet, so to speak. "you don't mean that he thinks pick will get in without conditions?" gasped clare, dumfounded. "yes, i do." jasper nodded brightly. "if pick will only study; keep it up, you know, i mean to the end. he surely said it, clare." it was so much for clare to think of, that he didn't have any words at his command. "now isn't that perfectly splendid in pickering!" cried alexia, making the spoon fly merrily. "oh dear me! i forgot to put in the butter. where--oh, here it is," and she tossed in a big piece. "to think that--oh dear me, i forgot! i _did_ put the butter in before. now i've spoilt it," and she threw down the spoon in despair. "fish it out," cried polly, hopping up and seizing the spoon to make little dabs at the ball of butter now rapidly lessening. "but it's melted--that is, almost--oh dear me!" cried alexia. "no, it isn't; there, see how big it is." polly landed it deftly on the plate and hopped back to her nut-meats again. "and i should think you'd better shake yourself, clare," said jasper, over at him. "we shouldn't have any nuts in this candy if it depended on you." "you do tell such astounding stories," cried clare, setting to work at once. and jasper making as much noise as he could while cracking his nuts, alexia's secret was safe. but when the candy was set out to cool, and there was a pause in which the two boys were occupied by themselves, alexia pulled polly off to a corner. "where are they going?" asked clare, with one eye after them. "oh, they have something to talk over, i presume," said jasper carelessly. "nonsense! they've all the time every day. let's go over and see." "oh, no," said jasper. "come on, clare, and let's see if the candy is cool." but clare didn't want to see if the candy was cool, nor anything else but to have his own way. so he proceeded over to the corner by himself. "oho! you go right away!" cried alexia, poking up her head over polly's shoulder. "you dreadful boy! now, polly, come." and she pulled her off into the library. "you see you didn't get anything for your pains," said jasper, bursting into a laugh. "you'd much better have staid here." "well, i don't want to know, anyway," said clare, taking a sudden interest in the candy. "i believe it is cold, jasper; let's look." "polly," alexia was saying in the library behind the portières, "i know now; because i did it once myself: it was when you first promised you'd be a friend to me, and i went home, and cried for very joy. and i didn't want to see anybody that night." "oh, alexia!" exclaimed polly, giving her a hug that satisfied even alexia. "no, i didn't; and i remember how i wanted to hold something up to my face. i never thought of a sofa pillow, and i couldn't have gotten it if i had thought, 'cause aunt had it crammed against her back. oh, my eyes were a sight, polly, and my nose was all over my face." xxiii the clemcy garden party "you may go on those errands, hortense, but first send polly pepper to me," commanded mrs. chatterton sharply. the french maid paused in the act of hanging up a gown. "i will _re_-quest her, madame. i should not like to send mees polly peppaire." "_miss_ polly pepper!" mrs. chatterton was guilty of stamping her foot. "are you mad? i am speaking of polly pepper, this country girl, who is as poor and low-born here in this house, as if in her little brown house, wherever that may be." hortense shrugged her shoulders, and hung up the gown. "has madame any further commands for me?" she asked, coming up to her mistress. "yes; be sure to get the velvet at lemaire's, and take back the silk kimono. i will send to new york for one." "yes, madame." "that is all--besides the other errands. now go." she dismissed her with a wave of her shapely hand. "but first, as i bade you, _send_ polly pepper to me." hortense, with another elevation of her shoulders, said nothing, till she found herself the other side of the door. then she shook her fist at it. "it ees not miss polly who will be sent for; it ees madame who will be sent out of dees house, _j'ai peur_--ha, ha, ha!" she laughed softly to herself all the way downstairs, with an insolent little fling to her head, that boded ill for her mistress's interests. meanwhile, mrs. chatterton was angrily pacing up and down the room. "what arrant nonsense a man can be capable of when he is headstrong to begin with! to think of the elegant horatio king, a model for all men, surrounding himself with this commonplace family. faugh! it is easy enough to see what they are all after. but i shall prevent it. meanwhile, the only way to do it is to break the spirit of this polly pepper. once do that, and i have the task easy to my hand." she listened intently. "it can't be possible she would refuse to come. ha! i thought so." polly came quietly in. no one to see her face would have supposed that she had thrown aside the book she had been waiting weeks to read, so that lessons and music need not suffer. for she was really glad when mrs. chatterton's french maid asked her respectfully if she would please be so good as to step up to her mistress's apartments, "_s'il vous plait_, mees polly." "yes, indeed," cried polly, springing off from the window-seat, and forgetting the enchanted story-land immediately in the rush of delight. "oh, i have another chance to try to please her," she thought, skimming over the stairs. but she was careful to restrain her steps on reaching the room. "you may take that paper," said mrs. chatterton, seating herself in her favorite chair, "and read to me. you know the things i desire to hear, or ought to." she pointed to the society news, _town talk_, lying on the table. polly took it up, glad to be of the least service, and whirled it over to get the fashion items, feeling sure that now she was on the right road to favor. "don't rattle it," cried mrs. chatterton, in a thin, high voice. "i'll try not to," said polly, wishing she could be deft-handed like mamsie, and doing her best to get to the inner page quietly. "and why don't you read where you are?" cried mrs. chatterton. "begin on the first page. i wish to hear that first." polly turned the sheet back again, and obeyed. but she hadn't read more than a paragraph when she came to a dead stop. "go on," commanded mrs. chatterton, her eyes sparkling. she had forgotten to play with her rings, being perfectly absorbed in the delicious morsels of exceedingly unsavory gossip she was hearing. polly laid the paper in her lap, and her two hands fell upon it. "oh, mrs. chatterton," she cried, the color flying from her cheek, "please let me read something else to you. mamsie wouldn't like me to read this." the brown eyes filled with tears, and she leaned forward imploringly. "stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed mrs. chatterton passionately. "i command you to read that, girl. do you hear me?" "i cannot," said polly, in a low voice. "mamsie wouldn't like it." but it was perfectly distinct, and fell upon the angry ears clearly; and storm as she might, mrs. chatterton knew that the little country maiden would never bend to her will in this case. "i would have you to know that i understand much better than your mother possibly can, what is for your good to read. besides, she will never know." "mamsie knows every single thing that we children do," cried polly decidedly, and lifting her pale face; "and she understands better than any one else about what we ought to do, for she is our mother." "what arrant nonsense!" exclaimed mrs. chatterton passionately, and unable to control herself at the prospect of losing polly for a reader, which she couldn't endure, as she thoroughly enjoyed her services in that line. she got out of her chair, and paced up and down the long apartment angrily, saying all sorts of most disagreeable things, that polly only half heard, so busy was she debating in her own mind what she ought to do. should she run out of the room, and leave this dreadful old woman that every one in the house was tired of? surely she had tried enough to please her, but she could not do what mamsie would never approve of. and just as polly had about decided to slip out, she looked up. mrs. chatterton, having exhausted her passion, as it seemed to do no good, was returning to her seat, with such a dreary step and forlorn expression that she seemed ten years older. she really looked very feeble, and polly broke out impulsively, "oh, let me read the other part of the paper, dear mrs. chatterton. may i?" "read it," said mrs. chatterton ungraciously, and sat down in her favorite chair. polly, scarcely believing her ears, whirled over the sheet, and determined to read as well as she possibly could, managed to throw so much enthusiasm into the fashion hints and social items, that presently mrs. chatterton's eyes were sparkling again, although she was deprived of her unsavory morsels. and before long she was eagerly telling polly to read over certain dictates of the paris correspondent, who was laying down the law for feminine dress, and calling again for the last information of the movements of members of her social set, till there could be no question of her enjoyment. polly, not knowing or caring how long she had been thus occupied, so long as mrs. chatterton was happy, was only conscious that hortense came back from the errands, which occasioned only a brief pause. "put the parcels down," said mrs. chatterton, scarcely glancing at her, "i cannot attend to you now. go on, polly." so polly went on, until the fashionable and social world had been so thoroughly canvassed that even mrs. chatterton was quite convinced that she could get no more from the paper. "you may go now," she said, but with a hungry glance for the first page. then she tore her gaze away, and repeated more coldly than ever, "you may go." polly ran off, dismayed to find how happy she was at the release. her feet, unaccustomed to sitting still so long, were numb, and little prickles were running up and down her legs. she hurried as fast as she could into mamsie's room, feeling in need of all the good cheer she could find. "mrs. fisher has gone out," said jane, going along the hall. "gone out!" repeated polly, "oh, where? do you know, jane?" "i don't exactly know," said jane, "but she took miss phronsie; and i think it's shopping they went for. mr. king has taken them in the carriage." "oh, i know it is," cried polly, and a dreadful feeling surged through her. why had she spent all this time with that horrible old woman, and lost this precious treat! "they thought you had gone to the salisbury school," said jane, wishing she could give some comfort, "for they wanted you awfully to go." "and now i've lost it all," cried polly at a white heat--"all this perfectly splendid time with grandpapa and mamsie and phronsie just for the sake of a horrible--" then she broke short off, and ran back into mamsie's room, and flung herself down by the bed, just as she used to do by the four-poster in the bedroom of the little brown house. "why, polly, child!" mother fisher's voice was very cheery as she came in, phronsie hurrying after. "i don't see her," began phronsie in a puzzled way, and peering on all sides. "where is she, mamsie?" mrs. fisher went over and laid her hand on polly's brown head. "now, phronsie, you may run out, that is a good girl." she leaned over, and set a kiss on phronsie's red lips. "is polly sick?" asked phronsie, going off to the door obediently, but looking back with wondering eyes. "no, dear, i think not," said mrs. fisher. "run along, dear." "i am so glad she isn't sick," said phronsie, as she went slowly off. yet she carried a troubled face. "i ought to go and see how sinbad is," she decided, as she went downstairs. this visit was an everyday performance, to be carefully gone through with. so she passed out of the big side doorway, to the veranda. "there is michael now," she cried joyfully, espying that individual raking up the west lawn. so skipping off, she flew over to him. this caught the attention of little dick from the nursery window. "hurry up there!" he cried crossly to battles, who was having a hard time anyway getting him into a fresh sailor suit. "oh, dicky--dicky!" called mamma softly from her room. "i can't help it, mamma; battles is slow and poky," he fumed. "oh, no, dear," said his mother; "battles always gets you ready very swiftly, as well as nicely." battles, a comfortable person, turned her round face with a smile toward the door. "and if you was more like your mamma, master dick, you'd be through with dressing, and make everything more pleasant to yourself and to every one else." "well, i'm not in the least like mamma, battles; i can't be." "no, indeed, you ain't. but you can try," said battles encouragingly. "why, battles whitney!" exclaimed dick, whirling around on her. in astonishment, or any excitement, dicky invariably gave her the whole name that he felt she ought to possess; "mrs. mara battles" not being at all within his comprehension. "what an _awful_ story!" "dicky--dicky!" reproved mrs. whitney. "well, i can't help it, mamma." dick now escaped from battles' hands altogether, and fled into the other room, the comfortable person following. "she said"--plunging up to her chair in great excitement--"that i could be like you." "i said you could try to be," corrected battles, smoothing down her apron. "and she knows i can't ever be, in all this world," declared dick, shaking his short curls in decision, and glancing back to see the effect, "for you're a woman, and i'm always going to be a man. why, see how big i am now!" he squared off, and strutted up and down the little boudoir. "and you'd be bigger if you'd let me fix your blouse and button it up," declared battles, laughing, and bearing down on him to fasten the band and tuck in the vest. "and if you were more like your mother in disposition--that's what i mean--'twould be a sight comfortabler for you and every one else. now, says i, your hair's got to be brushed." and she led him back into the nursery, laughing all the way. "what makes you shake so when you laugh, battles?" asked dick suddenly, and ignoring all references to his disposition. "can't help it," said battles, beginning work on the curls; "that's because there's so much of me, i suppose," and she laughed more than ever. "there's so very much of you, battles," observed dick with a critical look all over her rotund figure. "what makes it?" "oh, i don't know," said battles. "stand still, dicky, and i'll be through all the sooner. some folks is big and round, and some folks is little and scrawny." "what's scrawny?" asked dick, who always got as many alleviations by conversation as possible out of the detested hair-brushing. "why, thin and lean." "oh, well, go on, battles." "and i'm one of the big and round ones," said battles, seeing no occasion in that statement to abate her cheerfulness. so she laughed again. "i like you big and round, battles," cried little dick affectionately, and whirling about so suddenly as to endanger his eye with the comb doing good execution. and he essayed to put his arms around her waist, which he was always hoping to be able to accomplish. "that's good," said battles, laughing, well pleased. "but you mustn't jump around so. there now, in a minute you shall be off." and she took up the brush. "i must," declared dick, remembering his sight of phronsie running across the lawn; "do hurry, battles," he pleaded, which so won her heart that she abridged part of the brushing, and let him scamper off. phronsie was kneeling down in front of sinbad's kennel. "can't you untie him to-day, michael?" she asked, a question she had propounded each morning since the boys went back to school. "yes, miss phronsie, i think i can; he's wonted now, and the other dogs are accustomed to him. besides, i've locked up jerry since he fit him." "i know," said phronsie sorrowfully; "that was naughty of jerry when sinbad had only just come." michael scratched his head. he couldn't tell her what was on his mind, that sinbad was scarcely such a dog as any one would buy, and therefore his presence was not to be relished by the high-bred animals already at home on the place. "well, you know, miss phronsie," he said at last, "it's kinder difficult like, to expect some dogs to remember their manners; and jerry ain't like all the others in that respect." "please tell him about it," said phronsie earnestly, "how good prince is to sinbad, and then i guess he'll want to be like him." for phronsie had never swerved in her allegiance to prince ever since he saved her from the naughty organ man in the little-brown-house days. and in all her conversations with the other dogs she invariably held up jasper's big black dog, his great friend and companion since pinafore days, as their model. and just then dicky ran up breathlessly. "dick," announced phronsie excitedly, "michael is going to let sinbad out to-day." and she clasped her hands in delight. "jolly!" exclaimed dick, capering about. "now, master dick, you must let the dog alone," cried michael. "it's time to try him with his freedom a bit. he's chafin' at that chain." he looked anxiously at dick. "stand off there, both of you," and he slipped the chain off. sinbad gave a little wiggle with his hind legs, and stretched his yellow body. it was too good to be true! but it was, though; he was free, and he shot out from his kennel, which was down in the gardener's quarters, and quite removed from the other dogs, and fairly tore--his ragged little tail straight out--across the west lawn. "oh, he'll run back to joel at school," cried dick, who had heard joel say he must be tied at first when everything was strange; and he started on a mad run after him. "you stay still," roared michael; "that dog is only stretchin' his legs. he'll come back." but as well tell the north wind to stop blowing. dicky's blouse puffed out with the breeze, as his small legs executed fine speed. "oh, michael!" cried phronsie in the greatest distress, "make dicky come back." "oh, he'll come back," said michael reassuringly, though he quaked inwardly. and so dicky did. but it was now a matter of sinbad chasing him; for as michael had said, the dog, after stretching his legs as the mad rush across the lawn enabled him to do, now was very much pleased to return for a little petting at the hands of those people who had given him every reason to expect that he should receive it; and supposing, from dick's chase after him, that a race was agreeable, he set forth; his ears, as ragged as his tail, pricked up in the fullest enjoyment of the occasion. but dick saw nothing in it to enjoy. and exerting all his strength to keep ahead, which he couldn't do as well for the reason that he was screaming fearfully, sinbad came up with him easily. dicky, turning his head in mad terror at that instant, stumbled and fell. sinbad, unable to stop at short notice, or rather no notice at all, rolled over with him in a heap. this brought all the stable-boys to the scene, besides mrs. whitney who had seen some of the affair from her window; and finally, when everything was beginning to be calmed down, battles reached the lawn. sinbad was in phronsie's lap, who sat on the grass, holding him tightly. "oh, phronsie!" gasped mrs. whitney at that. "michael, do take him away," as she fled by to dick. one of the stable-boys was brushing off the grime from his sailor suit. "the dog is all right, ma'am," said michael, "'twas only play; i s'pose master joel has raced with him." "'twas only play," repeated little dick, who, now that he found himself whole, was surprised the idea hadn't occurred to him before. "hoh! i'm not hurt, and i'm going to race with him again." "not to-day, dicky," said mrs. whitney, looking him all over anxiously. "he's all right, ma'am," declared michael; "they just rolled over together, 'cause, you see, ma'am, the dog couldn't stop, he was a-goin' so fast, when the youngster turned right in his face." and dick, to prove his soundness of body and restoration of mind, ran up to phronsie, and flung himself down on the grass by her side. sinbad received him as a most pleasant acquaintance, cocked up his ragged ears, and tried to wag his poor little scrubby tail, never quite getting it into his head that it wasn't long and graceful. and then he set upon the task of licking dick's hands all over, and as much of his face as was possible to compass. "see that now," cried michael triumphantly, pointing, "that dog mayn't be handsome, but he hain't got a bad bone in his body, if he does look like the evil one hisself." this episode absorbing all their attention, nobody heard or saw alexia rhys, running lightly up over the terrace. "oh, my! what _are_ you doing? and where's polly?" she asked of mrs. whitney. it being soon told, alexia, who evidently had some exciting piece of news for polly, ran into the house. "polly," she called. "oh, polly pepper, where _are_ you?" running over the stairs at the same time. but polly, as we have seen, was not in her room. "now then," mother fisher said at sound of alexia's voice, "as we've finished our talk, polly, why, you must run down and see her." but polly clung to her mother's neck. "do you think i ought to go next saturday morning out shopping, mamsie, after i've been so naughty?" "indeed, you ought," cried mrs. fisher, in her most decisive fashion. "dear me! that would be very dreadful, polly, after we put it off for you, when we thought you had gone down to the salisbury school. why, we couldn't get along without you, polly." so polly, with a happy feeling at her heart that she was really needed to make the shopping trip a success, and best of all for the long talk with mamsie, that had set many things right, ran down to meet alexia, brimming over with her important news. "where _have_ you been?" demanded alexia, just on the point of rushing out of polly's room in despair. "i've looked everywhere for you, even in the shoe-box." and without waiting for a reply, she dragged polly back. "oh, you can't possibly guess!" her pale eyes gleaming with excitement. "then tell me, do, alexia," begged polly, scarcely less wrought up. "oh, polly, the most elegant thing imaginable!" alexia dearly loved to spin out her exciting news as long as possible, driving the girls almost frantic by such methods. "well, if you are not going to tell me, i might as well go back again, up in mamsie's room," declared polly, working herself free from the long arms, and starting for the door. "oh, i'll tell, polly--i'll tell," cried alexia, plunging after. "miss salisbury says--i've just been up to the school after my german grammar--that mr. john clemcy and miss ophelia have invited the whole salisbury school out there for next saturday afternoon. think of it, after that smashed vase, polly pepper!" polly pepper sat down on the shoe-box, quite gone in surprise. it was as alexia had said: a most surprising thing, when one took into consideration how much mr. john clemcy had suffered from the carelessness of a salisbury pupil on the occasion of the accidental visit. but evidently one of his reasons--though by no means the only one--was his wish to salve the feelings of the gentlewomen, who were constantly endeavoring to show him their overwhelming sorrow, and trying to make all possible reparation for the loss of the vase. and he had stated his desire so forcibly on one of the many visits to the school that seemed to be necessary after the accident, that miss salisbury was unable to refuse the invitation, although it nearly threw her, self-contained as she usually was, into a panic at the very idea. "but why did you promise, sister?" miss anstice turned on her on the withdrawal of the gentleman, whose english composure of face and bearing was now, in its victory, especially trying to bear. "i am surprised at you. something dreadful will surely happen." "don't, anstice," begged miss salisbury, nervous to the last degree, since even the support of "sister" was to be withdrawn. "it was the least i could do, to please him--after what has happened." "well, something will surely happen," mourned miss anstice. "you know how unfortunate it has been from the very beginning. i've never been able to look at that gown since, although it has been washed till every stain is removed." "put it on for this visit, sister," advised miss salisbury, with a healthy disapproval of superstitions, "and break the charm." "oh, never!" miss anstice raised her slender hands. "i wouldn't run such a chance as to wear that gown for all the world. it will be unlucky enough, you will see, without that, sister." but as far as anybody could see, everything was perfectly harmonious and successful on the following saturday afternoon. to begin with, the weather was perfect; although at extremely short intervals miss anstice kept reminding her sister that a tremendous shower might be expected when the expedition was once under way. the girls, when they received their invitation monday morning from miss salisbury in the long schoolroom, were, to state it figuratively, "taken off their feet" in surprise, with the exception of those fortunate enough to have caught snatches of the news always sure to travel fast when set going by alexia; and wild was the rejoicing, when they could forget the broken vase, at the prospect of another expedition under miss salisbury's guidance. "if miss anstice only weren't going!" sighed clem. "she is such a fussy old thing. it spoils everybody's fun just to look at her." "well, don't look at her," advised alexia calmly; "for my part, i never do, unless i can't help it." "how are you going to help it," cried amy garrett dismally, "when you are in her classes? oh dear! i do wish miss salisbury would get rid of her as a teacher, and let miss wilcox take her place." "miss wilcox is just gay!" exclaimed silvia. "well, don't let's talk of that old frump any more. goodness me! here she comes," as miss anstice advanced down the long hall, where the girls were discussing the wonderful invitation after school. and as the day was perfect, so the spirits of the "salisbury girls" were at their highest. and mr. kimball and his associates drove them over in the same big barges, the veteran leader not recovering from the surprise into which he had been thrown by this afternoon party given to the salisbury school by mr. clemcy and his sister. "of all things in this world, this is th' cap-sheaf," he muttered several times on the way. "a good ten year or more, those english folks have been drawin' back in them pretty grounds, an' offendin' every one; an' now, to get a passel o' girls to run over an' stomp 'em all down!" being unable to solve the puzzle, it afforded him plenty of occupation to work away at it. mr. clemcy and miss ophelia, caring as little for the opinion of the stage-driver as for the rest of the world, received the visitors on the broad stone piazza, whose pillars ran the length of the house, and up to the roof, affording a wide gallery above. it was all entwined with english ivy and creepers taken from the homestead in devonshire, and brought away when the death of the old mother made it impossible for life to be sustained by miss ophelia unless wrenched up from the roots where clustered so many memories. so brother john decided to make that wrench, and to make it complete. so here they were. "i didn't know it was so pretty," cried clem, after the ladies had been welcomed with the most gracious, old-time hospitality, and the schoolgirls tumbled out of the barges to throng up. "it rained so when we were here before, we couldn't see anything." "pretty?" repeated alexia, comprehending it all in swift, bird-like glances. "it's perfectly beautiful!" she turned, and mr. clemcy, who was regarding her, smiled, and they struck up a friendship on the spot. "miss salisbury, allow me." mr. clemcy was leading her off. miss anstice, not trusting the ill-fated white gown, rustled after in the black silk one, with miss ophelia, down the wide hall, open at the end, with vistas of broad fields beyond, where the host paused. "let the young ladies come," he said; and the girls trooped after, to crowd around the elder people. amongst the palms and bookcases, with which the broad hall was lined, was a pedestal, whose top was half covered with a soft, filmy cloth. mr. clemcy lifted this, and took it off carefully. there stood the little vase, presenting as brave an appearance as in its first perfection. [illustration: there stood the little vase, presenting as brave an appearance as in its first perfection.] miss salisbury uttered no exclamation, but preserved her composure by a violent effort. "i flatter myself on my ability to repair my broken collection," began mr. clemcy, when a loud exclamation from the girls in front startled every one. miss anstice, on the first shock, had been unable to find that composure that was always "sister's" envied possession; so despite the environment of the black silk gown, she gave it up, and sank gradually to the ground. "i told you so," cried clem, in a hoarse whisper to her nearest neighbors; "she always spoils everybody's fun," as miss anstice, at the host's suggestion, his sister being rendered incapable of action at this sudden emergency, was put to rest in one of the pretty chintz-covered rooms above, till such time as she could recover herself enough to join them below. "i couldn't help it, sister," she said. "i've been so worried about that vase. _you_ don't know, because you are always so calm; and then to see it standing there--it quite took away my breath." oh, the delights of the rose-garden! in which every variety of the old-fashioned rose seemed to have had a place lovingly assigned to it. sweetbrier clambered over the walls of the gardener's cottage, the stables, and charming summer-houses, into which the girls ran with delight. for mr. clemcy had said they were to go everywhere and enjoy everything without restraint. "he's a dear," exclaimed lucy bennett, "only i'm mortally afraid of him." "well, i'm not," proclaimed alexia. the idea of alexia being in any state that would suggest fear, being so funny, the girls burst out laughing. "well, we sha'n't any of us feel like laughing much in a little while," said clem dolefully. "what is the matter?" cried a dozen voices. "matter enough," replied clem. "i've said so before, and now i know it's coming. just look at that." she pushed aside the swaying branches of the sweetbrier, and pointed tragically. "i don't see anything," said one or two of the girls. "_there!_" "there" meant mr. clemcy and miss salisbury passing down the rose-walk, the broad central path. he was evidently showing her some treasured variety and descanting on it; the principal of the salisbury school from her wide knowledge of roses, as well as of other subjects, being able to respond very intelligently. "oh, can't you see? you stupid things!" cried clem. "he's going to marry our miss salisbury, and then she'll give up our school; and--and--" she turned away, and threw herself off in a corner. a whole chorus of "no--no!" burst upon this speech. "hush!" cried alexia, quite horrified. "polly, do stop them; miss salisbury is turning around; and she's been worried quite enough over that dreadful miss anstice," which had the effect of reducing the girls to quiet. "but it isn't so," cried the girls in frantic whispers, "what clem says." and those who were not sure of themselves huddled down on the summer-house floor. "say, alexia, you don't think so, do you?" but alexia would give them no comfort, but wisely seizing polly's arm, departed with her. "i shall say something that i'll be sorry for," she declared, "if i stay another moment longer. for, polly pepper, i do really believe that it's true, what clem says." and the rest of that beautiful afternoon, with rambles over the wide estate, and tea with berries and cream on the terraces, was a dream, scarcely comprehended by the "salisbury girls," who were strangely quiet and well-behaved. for this miss salisbury was thankful. and presently miss anstice, coming down in the wake of miss ophelia, was put carefully into a comfortable chair on the stone veranda, where she sat pale and quiet, miss clemcy assiduously devoting herself to her, and drawing up a little table to her side for her berries and cream and tea. "now we will be comfortable together," said miss ophelia, the maid bringing her special little pot of tea. "i am so mortified, my dear miss clemcy," began miss anstice, her little hands nervously working, "to have given way;" all of which she had said over and over to her hostess in the chintz-covered room. "and you are so kind to overlook it so beautifully." "it is impossible to blame one of your delicate sensibility," said miss ophelia; with her healthy english composure, quite in her element to have some one to fuss over, and to make comfortable in her own way. "now, then, i trust that tea is quite right," handing her a cup. xxiv the piece of news "pepper, you're wanted!" dick furness banged into joel's room, then out again, adding two words, "harrow--immediately." "all right," said joel, whistling on; all his thoughts upon "moose island" and the expedition there on the morrow. and he ran lightly down to the second floor, and into the under-teacher's room. mr. harrow was waiting for him; and pushing aside some books, for he never seemed to be quite free from them even for a moment, he motioned joel to a seat. joel, whose pulses were throbbing with the liveliest expectations, didn't bother his head with what otherwise might have struck him as somewhat queer in the under-teacher's manner. for the thing in hand was what joel principally gave himself to. and as that clearly could be nothing else than the "moose island expedition," it naturally followed that mr. harrow had to speak twice before he could gain his attention. but when it was gained, there was not the slightest possible chance of misunderstanding what the under-teacher was saying, for it was the habit of this instructor to come directly to the point without unnecessary circumlocution. but his voice and manner were not without a touch of sadness on this occasion that softened the speech itself. "joel, my boy," mr. harrow began, "you know i have often had you down here to urge on those lessons of yours." "yes, sir," said joel, wondering now at the voice and manner. "well, now to-day, i am instructed by the master to send for you for a different reason. can you not guess?" "no, sir," said joel, comfortable in the way things had been going on, and wholly unable to imagine the blow about to fall. "i wish you had guessed it, joel," said mr. harrow, moving uneasily in his chair, "for then you would have made my task easier. joel, dr. marks says, on account of your falling behind in your lessons, without reason--understand this, joel, _without reason_--you are not to go to moose island to-morrow." even then joel did not comprehend. so mr. harrow repeated it distinctly. "_what!_" roared joel. in his excitement he cleared the space between them, and gained mr. harrow's side. "_not go to moose island, mr. harrow_?" his black eyes widening, and his face working fearfully. "no," said mr. harrow, drawing a long breath, "you are not to go; so dr. marks says." "but i _must_ go," cried joel, quite gone in passion. "'must' is a singular word to use here, joel," observed mr. harrow sternly. "but i--oh, mr. harrow, do see if you can't help me to go." joel squirmed all over, and even clutched the under-teacher's arm piteously. "alas, joel! it is beyond my power." mr. harrow shook his head. he didn't think it necessary to state that he had already used every argument he could employ to induce dr. marks to change his mind. "some strong pressure must be brought to bear upon pepper, or he will amount to nothing but an athletic lad. he must see the value of study," the master had responded, and signified that the interview was ended, and his command was to be carried out. "joel,"--mr. harrow was speaking--"be a man, and bear this as _you_ can. you've had your chances for study, and not taken them. it is a case of _must_ now. remember, dr. marks is doing this in love to you. he has got to fit you out as well as he can in this school, to take that place in life that your mother wants you to fill. don't waste a moment on vain regrets, but buckle to your studies now." it was a long speech for the under-teacher, and he had a hard time getting through with it. at its end, joel, half dazed with his misfortune, but with a feeling that as a man, dr. marks and mr. harrow had treated him, hurried back to his room, dragged his chair up to the table, and pushing off the untidy collection of rackets, tennis balls, boxing gloves, and other implements of his gymnasium work and his recreation hours, lent his whole heart with a new impulse to his task. somehow he did not feel like crying, as had often been the case with previous trials. "he said, 'be a man,'" joel kept repeating over and over to himself, while the words of his lesson swam before his eyes. "and so i will; and he said, dr. marks had got to make me as mamsie wanted me to be," repeated joel to himself, taking a shorter cut with the idea. "and so i will be." and he leaned his elbows on the table, bent his head over his book, and clutching his stubby crop by both hands and holding on tightly, he was soon lost to his misfortune and the outside world. "hullo!" david stood still in amazement at joel's unusual attitude over his lesson. then he reflected that he was making up extra work, to be free for the holiday on the morrow. notwithstanding the need of quiet, david was so full of it that he couldn't refrain from saying jubilantly, "oh, what a great time we'll have to-morrow, joe!" giving him a pound on the back. "i'm not going," said joel, without raising his head. david ran around his chair to look at him from the further side, then peered under the bunch of curls joel was hanging to. "what's--what's the matter, joe?" he gasped, clutching the table. "dr. marks says i'm not to go," said joel, telling the whole at once. "_dr. marks said you were not to go!_" repeated david. "why, joel, why?" he demanded in a gasp. "i haven't studied; i'm way behind. let me alone," cried joel. "i've got a perfect lot to make up," and he clutched harder than ever at his hair. "then _i_ shall not go," declared david, and rushing out of the room he was gone before joel could fly from his chair; which he did, upsetting it after him. "dave--_dave_!" he yelled, running out into the hall, in the face of a stream of boys coming up from gymnasium practice. "what's up, pepper?" but he went through their ranks like a shot. nevertheless david was nowhere to be seen, as he had taken some short cut, and was lost in the crowd. joel bent his steps to the under-teacher's room, knocked, and in his excitement thought he heard, "come in." and with small ceremony he precipitated himself upon mr. harrow, who seemed to be lost in a revery, his back to him, leaning his elbow on the mantel, and his head upon his hand. "er--oh!" exclaimed mr. harrow, startled out of his usual composure, and turning quickly to face joel. "oh, it's you, pepper!" which by no means lifted him out of his depression. "dave says he won't go without me. you must make him," said joel, in his intensity forgetting his manners. "to moose island?" asked mr. harrow. joel nodded. he couldn't yet bring himself to speak the name. "all right; i will, joe." mr. harrow grasped the brown hand hanging by joel's side. "really?" said joel, swallowing hard. "really. run back to your books, and trust me." so joel dashed back, not minding the alluring cries from several chums, "come on--just time for a game before supper," and was back before his table in the same attitude, and hanging to his hair. "i can study better so," he said, and holding on for dear life. one or two boys glanced in. "come out of this hole," they cried. "no need to study for to-morrow. gee whiz! just think of moose island, joe." no answer. "joe!" they ran in and shook his shoulders. "moose island!" they screamed, and the excitement with which the whole school was charged was echoing it through the length of the dormitory. "go away," cried joel at them, "or i'll fire something at you," as they swarmed around his chair. "fire your old grammar," suggested one, trying to twitch away his book; and another pulled the chair out from under him. joel sprawled a moment on the floor; then he sprang up, hanging to his book, and faced them. "i'm not going. clear out." and in a moment the room was as still as if an invasion had never taken place. in their astonishment they forgot to utter a word. and in ten minutes the news was all over the playground and in all the corridors, "joe pepper isn't going to moose island." if they had said that the corner stone of the dormitory was shaky, the amazement would not have been so great in some quarters; and the story was not believed until they had it from joe himself. then amazement changed to grief. not to have joe pepper along, was to do away with half the fun. percy ran up to him in the greatest excitement just before supper. "what is it, joe?" he cried. "the fellows are trying to say that you're not going to moose island." he was red with running, and panted dreadfully. "and van is giving it to red hiller for telling such a whopper." "well, he needn't," said joel, "for it's perfectly true. i'm not going." percy tried to speak; but what with running, and his astonishment, his tongue flapped up idly against the roof of his mouth. "dr. marks won't let me," said joel, not mincing matters. "i've got to study; so there's an end of it." but when davie came in, a woe begone figure, for mr. harrow had kept his promise, then was joel's hardest time. and he clenched his brown hands to keep the tears back then, for david gave way to such a flood in the bitterness of his grief to go without joel, that for a time, joel was in danger of utterly losing his own self-control. "i'm confounded glad." it was jenk who said it to his small following; and hearing it, tom beresford blazed at him. "if you weren't quite so small, i'd knock you down." "well, i am glad,"--jenk put a goodly distance between himself and tom, notwithstanding tom's disgust at the idea of touching him--"for pepper is so high and mighty, it's time he was taken down," but a chorus of yells made him beat a retreat. dr. marks paced up and down his study floor, his head bent, his hands folded behind him. "it was the only way. no ordinary course could be taken with pepper. it had come to be imperative. it will make a man of him." he stepped to the desk and wrote a few words, slipped them into an envelope, sealed and addressed it. "joanna!" he went to the door and summoned a maid, the same one who had shaken her broom at joel when he rushed in with the dog. "take this over to the north dormitory as quickly as possible." it seemed to be especially necessary that haste be observed; and dr. marks, usually so collected, hurried to the window to assure himself that his command was obeyed. mrs. fox took the note as joanna handed it in, and sent it up at once, as those were the orders from the master. it arrived just at the moment when joel was at the end of his self-mastery. he tore it open. "my boy, knowing you as i do, i feel sure that you will be brave in bearing this. it will help you to conquer your dislike for study and make a man of you. affectionately yours, h. l. marks." joel swung the note up over his head, and there was such a glad ring to his voice that david was too astonished to cry. "see there!" joel proudly shook it at him. "read it, dave." so david seized it, and blinked in amazement. "dr. marks has written to me," said joel importantly, just as if david hadn't the note before him. "and he says, 'be a man,' just as mr. harrow said, and, 'affectionately yours.' now, what do you think of that, dave pepper?" david was so lost in the honor that had come to joel, that the grief that he was feeling in the thought of the expedition to be made to moose island to-morrow without joel, began to pale. he smiled and lifted his eyes, lately so wet with tears. "mamsie would like that note, joe." tom beresford rushed in without the formality of a knock, and gloomily threw himself on the bed. "poor joe!" was written all over his long face. "oh, you needn't, tom," said joel gaily, and prancing up and down the room, "pity me, because i won't have it." "it's pity for myself as well," said tom lugubriously, and cramming the pillow-end into his mouth. "what's a fellow to do without you, joe?" suddenly shying the pillow at joel. joe caught it and shied it back, then twitched the master's note out of david's hand. "read it, tom," he cried, with sparkling eyes. "i'd much rather stay back with you, joe," tom was saying. "well, you won't," retorted joel. "dave tried that on, but it was no good. read it, i tell you." so tom sat up on the bed, and spread dr. marks' note on his knee. "great cæsar's ghost! it's from the master himself! and what does he say?" tom rubbed his eyes violently, stared, and rushed over the few sentences pellmell; then returned to take them slowly to be sure of their meaning. "joe pepper!" he got off from the bed. "isn't it great!" cried joel. "give me my note, tom." "i should say so!" cried tom, bobbing his head. "i shouldn't in the least mind being kept back from a few things, to get a note like that. think of it, joe, from dr. marks!" "i know it," cried joel, in huge satisfaction. "well, now, you must take yourself off, tom; i've got to study like a trojan." he ran to the closet, and came back with his arms full of books. "all right," said tom, shooting out. then he shot back, gave joel a pat--by no means a light one;--"success to you, old fellow!" and was off, this time for good. and davie dreamed that night that joel took first prize in everything straight through; and that he himself was sailing, sailing, over an interminable sea (going to moose island probably), under a ban never to come back to dr. marks' school. and the first thing he knew, joel was pounding him and calling lustily, "get up, dave; you know you are to start early." and then all was bustle and confusion enough, as how could it be helped with all those boys getting off on such an expedition? and joel was the brightest of them all, here, there, and everywhere! you never would have guessed that he wasn't the leading spirit in the whole expedition, and its bright particular star! and he ran down to the big stone gate to see them off. and the boys wondered; but there was no chance to pity him, with such a face. there was only pity for themselves. and somebody started, "three cheers for joe pepper!" it wasn't the under-teacher, but he joined with a right good will; and the whole crowd took it up, as joel ran back to tackle his books, pinching dr. marks' letter in his pocket, to make sure it really was there! just about this time, alexia rhys was rushing to school. she was late, for everything had gone wrong that morning from the very beginning. and of course polly pepper had started for school, when alexia called for her; and feeling as if nothing mattered now, the corner was reached despairingly, when she heard her name called. it was an old lady who was a friend of her aunt's, and alexia paused involuntarily, then ran across the street to see what was wanted. "oh, my dear, i suppose i ought not to stop you, for you are going to school." "oh, it doesn't matter," said alexia indifferently; "i'm late anyway. what is it, miss seymour?" "i want to congratulate you--i _must_ congratulate you," exclaimed old miss seymour, with an excited little cackle. "i really must, alexia." alexia ran over in her mind everything for which she could, by any possibility, be congratulated; and finding nothing, she said, "what for?" quite abruptly. "oh, my dear! haven't you heard?" old miss seymour put her jewelled fingers on the girl's shoulder. she had gathered up her dressy morning robe in her hand, and hastened down her front steps at the first glimpse of alexia across the way. alexia knew of old the roundabout way pursued by her aunt's friend in her narrations. besides, she cared very little anyway for this bit of old women's gossip. so she said carelessly, "no, i'm sure i haven't; and i don't believe it's much anyway, miss seymour." "'much anyway?' oh, my dear!" old miss seymour held up both hands. "well, what would you say if you should be told that your teacher was going to be married?" alexia staggered backward and put up both hands. "oh, don't, miss seymour," she cried, the fears she had been lighting so many weeks now come true. then she burst out passionately, "oh, it isn't true--it _can't_ be!" "well, but it is," cried miss seymour positively. "i had it not ten minutes since from a very intimate friend; and as you were the first salisbury girl i saw, why, i wanted to congratulate you, of course, as soon as i could." "salisbury girl!" alexia groaned as she thought how they should never have that title applied to them any more; for of course the beautiful school was doomed. "and where shall we all go?" she cried to herself in despair. "oh, how could she go and get engaged!" she exclaimed aloud. "you haven't asked who the man is," said miss seymour in surprise. "oh, i know--i know," said alexia miserably; "it's mr. john clemcy. oh, if we hadn't had that old picnic!" she burst out. "eh--what?" exclaimed the little old lady quickly. "never mind. it doesn't signify who the man is. it doesn't signify about anything," said alexia wildly, "as long as miss salisbury is going to get married and give up our school." "oh, i don't suppose the school will be given up," said miss seymour. "what? why, of course it will be. how can she keep it after she is married?" cried alexia impatiently. she longed to say, "you goose you!" "why, i suppose the other one will keep it, of course; and it will go on just the same as it did before." "oh dear me! the idea of miss anstice keeping that school!" with all her misery, alexia couldn't help bursting into a laugh. "miss anstice?" "yes; if you knew her as we girls do, miss seymour, you never'd say she could run that school." "i never said she could." "oh, yes, you did," alexia was guilty of contradicting. "you said distinctly that when miss salisbury was married, you supposed miss anstice would keep it on just the same." little old miss seymour took three or four steps down the pavement, then turned and trotted back, the dressy morning robe still gathered in her hand. "who do you think is engaged to mr. john clemcy?" she asked, looking up at the tall girl. "why, our miss salisbury," answered alexia, ready to cry, "i suppose. that's what you said." "oh, no, i didn't," said the little old lady. "it's miss anstice salisbury." alexia gave her one look; then took some flying steps across the street, and away down to the salisbury school. she met a stream of girls in the front hall; and as soon as she saw their faces, she knew that her news was all old. and they could tell her something more. "miss wilcox is going to be the assistant teacher," cried amy garrett. "and miss salisbury announced it; why were you late, alexia?" it was a perfect buzz around her ears. "and then she dismissed school; and we're all going down to the drawing-room now, to congratulate miss anstice." alexia worked her way to polly pepper and clung to her. "oh, alexia, you've got here!" cried polly delightedly. "and only think, we can keep our miss salisbury after all." xxv "the very prettiest affair" and mr. john clemcy, having put off any inclination to marry till so late in life, was, now that he had made his choice, in a ferment to hurry its consummation. and miss ophelia, who was still to keep the house and run the old-fashioned flower garden to suit herself--thus losing none of her honors--and being in her element, as has been stated, with some one "to fuss over" (her self-contained brother not yielding her sufficient occupation in that line), begged that the wedding might take place soon. so there was really no reason on earth why it should not be celebrated, and miss wilcox be installed as assistant, and thus all things be in running order for the new year at the salisbury school. "and they say he has heaps of money--mr. clemcy has," cried alexia, in the midst of the excitement of the next few days, when everybody was trying to adjust themselves to this new condition of affairs. a lot of the girls were up in polly pepper's room. "and it's an awful old family back of him in england," she went on, "though for my part, i'd rather have something to do with making my name myself." "oh, alexia," cried clem, "think of all those perfectly elegant old family portraits!" "mouldy old things!" exclaimed alexia, who had small reverence for such things. "i should be ashamed of them, if i were mr. john clemcy and his sister. they don't look as if they knew anything to begin with; and such arms and hands, and impossible necks! oh my! it quite gives me a turn to look at them." "we are quite distinguished--the salisbury school is," said silvia, with an elegant manner, and a toss of her head. "my mother says it will be splendid capital to miss salisbury to have such a connection." "and, oh, just think of miss anstice's engagement ring!" exclaimed another girl. "oh my, on her little thin finger!" "it's awful old-fashioned," cried silvia, "set in silver. but then, it's big, and a _very_ pure stone, my mother says; and quite shows that the family must have been something, for it is an heirloom." "oh, do stop about family and heirlooms," cried alexia impatiently; "the main thing is that our miss salisbury isn't going to desert us." "miss anstice is; oh, goody!" amy garrett hopped up and down and softly beat her hands while she finished the sentence. "hush!" alexia turned on her suddenly. "now, amy, and the rest of you girls, i think we ought to stop this nonsense about miss anstice; she's going, and i, maybe, haven't treated her just rightly." "of course you haven't," assented clem coolly. "you've worried her life nearly out of her." "and oh, dear me! i'm sorry now,"--said alexia, not minding in the least what clem was saying. "i wonder why it is that i'm forever being sorry about things." "because you're forever having your own way," said clem; "i'll tell you." "and so i'm going to be nice to her now," said alexia, with a perfectly composed glance at clem. "let's all be, girls. i mean, behind her back." polly pepper ran over across the room to slip her arm within alexia's, and give her a little approving pat. "it will be so strange not to make fun of her," observed amy garrett, "but i suppose we can't now, anyway, that she is to be mrs. john clemcy." "mrs. john clemcy, indeed!" exclaimed alexia, standing very tall. "she was just as nice before, as sister of our miss salisbury, i'd have you to know, girls." "well, now what are we to give her as a wedding present?" said polly pepper. "you know we, as the committee, ought to talk it over at once. let's sit down on the floor in a ring and begin." "yes," said alexia; "now all flop." and setting the example, she got down on the floor; and the girls tumbling after, the ring was soon formed. "hush now, do be quiet, clem, if you can," cried alexia, to pay up old scores. "i guess i'm not making as much noise as some other people," said clem, with a wry face. "well, polly's going to begin; and as she's chairman, we've all got to be still as mice. hush!" "i think," said polly, "the best way would be, instead of wasting so much time in talking, and--" "getting into a hubbub," interpolated alexia. "who's talking now," cried clem triumphantly, "and making a noise?" "getting in confusion," finished polly, "would be, for us each to write out the things that miss anstice might like, on a piece of paper, without showing it to any of the other girls; then pass them in to me, and i'll read them aloud. and perhaps we'll choose something out of all the lists." "oh, polly, how fine!--just the thing." "i'll get the paper." "and the pencils." the ring was in a hubbub; alexia, as usual, the first to hop out of her place. "sit down, girls," said polly as chairman. so they all flew back again. "there, you see now," said alexia, huddling expeditiously into her place next to polly, "how no one can stir till the chairman tells us to." "who jumped first of all?" exclaimed clem, bursting into a laugh. "well, i'm back again, anyhow," said alexia coolly, and folding her hands in her lap. "i'll appoint lucy bennett and silvia horne to get the paper and pencils," said polly. "they are on my desk, girls." alexia smothered the sigh at her failure to be one of the girls to perform this delightful task; but the paper being brought, she soon forgot her disappointment, in having something to do. "we must all tear it up into strips," said the chairman, and, beginning on a sheet, "lucy, you can be giving around the pencils." and presently the whole committee was racking its brains over this terribly important question thrust upon them. "it must be something that will always reflect credit on the salisbury school," observed alexia, leaning her chin on her hand while she played with her pencil. "ugh! do be still." lucy, on the other side, nudged her. "i can't think, if anybody speaks a word." "and fit in well with those old portraits," said clem, with a look at alexia. "well, i hope and pray that we won't give her anything old. i want it spick, span, new; and to be absolutely up-to-date." alexia took her chin out of her hand, and sat up decidedly. "the idea of matching up those mouldy old portraits!--and that house just bursting with antiques." "ugh! do hush," cried the girls. "and write what you want to, alexia, on your own slip, and keep still," said silvia, wrinkling her brows; "you just put something out of my head; and it was perfectly splendid." "but i can't think of a thing that would be good enough," grumbled alexia, "for the salisbury school to give. oh dear me!" and she regarded enviously the other pencils scribbling away. "my list is done." amy garrett pinched hers into a little three-cornered note, and threw it into polly's lap. "and mine--and mine." they all came in fast in a small white shower. "oh my goodness!" exclaimed alexia, much alarmed that she would be left out altogether. "wait, chairman--i mean, polly," and she began scribbling away for dear life. "oh dear me!" the chairman unfolded the first strip, and began to read. "a piano--why, girls, miss anstice can't play." "well, it would look nice in that great big drawing-room," said clem, letting herself out with a very red face. "oh, my! you wrote _a piano_!" alexia went over backward suddenly to lie flat on the floor and laugh. "besides, there is one in that house." "an old thing!" exclaimed clem in disdain. "well, let's see; here's something nice"--polly ran along the list--"a handsome chair, a desk, a cabinet. those are fine!" "clem has gone into the furniture business, i should think," said philena. "and a cabinet!" exclaimed amy garrett, "when that house is just full of 'em." "oh, i mean a jewel cabinet, or something of that sort," explained clem hastily. "that's not bad," announced silvia, "for i suppose he'll give her all the rest of those heirlooms; great strings of pearls probably he's got, and everything else. dear me, don't i wish we girls could see them!" and she lost herself in admiration over the fabulous clemcy jewels. "well, chairman--polly, i mean"--alexia flew into position--"what's the next list?" "this is quite different," said polly, unrolling it; "some handsome lace, a fan, a lorgnette, a bracelet." "it's easy enough to see that's silvia's," said alexia--"all that finery and furbelows." "well, it's not fair to tell what you think and guess," said silvia, a pink spot coming on either check. "'twouldn't make any difference, my guessing; we all know it's yours, silvia," said alexia, coolly. "well, i think that's a lovely list," said amy, with sparkling eyes, "and i for one would be willing to vote for any of those things." "my mother says we better give her something to wear," said silvia, smoothing down her gown. "miss anstice likes nice things; and that great big house is running over with everything to furnish with." polly was reading the third list, so somebody pulled alexia's arm and stopped her. "a watch and chain--that's all there is on this list," announced polly. "oh!"--there was a chorus of voices--"that's it--that's it!" and "why didn't i think of that?" until the whole ring was in a tumult again. it was no matter what was on the other lists. the chairman read them over faithfully, but the items fell upon dull ears. they might make suitable tributes for other brides; there was but one mind about the present for this particular bride going forth from the salisbury school. the watch and chain was the only gift to be thought of. "and she wears that great big old-fashioned thing," declared silvia; "looks like a turnip--oh, oh!" "and i do believe that's always made her so impressive and scarey whenever she got into that black silk gown," said amy garrett. "i never thought of it before; but it was that horrible old watch and chain." "girls," said the chairman, "i do really believe that it would be the very best thing that we could possibly give her. and now i'm going to tell who it was who chose it." "do--oh, do!" the whole ring came together in a bunch, as the girls all crowded around polly. "alexia!" then polly turned and gave a loving little pat on the long back. "don't," said alexia, shrinking away from the shower of congratulations on having made the best choice, and thought of the very thing that was likely to unite the whole school on a gift. "it's nothing. i couldn't help but write it. it was the only thing i thought of." "well; it was just as clever in you as could be, so there now!" clem nodded over at her, and buried all animosity at once. "and think how nice it will be, when it's all engraved inside the case with what we want to say," said polly, with shining eyes. "and a great big monogram outside," said silvia, with enthusiasm, "and one of those twisted chains--oh, how fine!" she shook out her silver bracelets till they jingled all her enthusiasm; and the entire committee joining, the vote was taken to propose to the rest of the "salisbury girls," on the morrow, the gift of a watch and chain to the future mrs. john clemcy. and the watch and chain was unanimously chosen by the "salisbury girls" as the gift of all gifts they wanted to bestow upon their teacher on her wedding day; and they all insisted that polly pepper should write the inscription; so there it was, engraved beautifully on the inner side of the case: "anstice salisbury, with the loving regard of her pupils." and there was a beautiful big monogram on the outside; and the long chain was double and twisted, and so handsome that silvia's mother protested she hadn't a word to say but the very highest praise! oh, and the presentation of it came about quite differently from what was expected, after all. for the gift was to be sent with a little note, representing the whole school, and written, as was quite proper, by polly pepper, the chairman of the committee. but miss salisbury, to whom the precious parcel had been intrusted, said suddenly, "why don't you give it to her yourselves, girls?" it was, of course, the place of the chairman of the committee to speak. so polly said, "oh, would she like to have us, miss salisbury?" "yes, my dears. i know she would. she feels badly to go and leave you all, you know," and there were tears in the blue eyes that always looked so kindly on them. "and it would be a very lovely thing for you to do, if you would like to." "we should _love_ to do it," cried polly warmly. "may we go now, dear miss salisbury?" "yes," said miss salisbury, very much pleased; "she is in the red parlor." so the committee filed into the red parlor. there sat miss anstice, and--oh dear me!--mr. john clemcy! there was no time to retreat; for miss salisbury, not having heard mr. clemcy come in, was at the rear of the procession of girls. "here, my dears--anstice, the girls particularly want to see you--oh!" and then she saw mr. john clemcy. miss anstice, who seemed to have dropped all her nervousness lately, saved the situation by coming forward and greeting them warmly; and when mr. john clemcy saw how it was, he went gallantly to the rescue, and was so easy and genial, and matter-of-course, that the committee presently felt as if a good part of their lives had been passed in making presentations, and that they were quite up to that sort of thing. and polly made a neat little speech as she handed her the packet; and miss anstice's eyes filled with tears of genuine regret at leaving them, and of delight at the gift. "girls, do you know"--could it be miss anstice who was talking with so much feeling in her voice?--"i used to imagine that you didn't love me." "oh, that could never be!" cried mr. clemcy. "and i got so worried and cross over it. but now i know you did, and that i was simply tired; for i never could teach like sister,"--she cast her a loving glance--"and i didn't really love my work. and, do you know, the thing i've longed for all my life was a watch and chain like this? oh girls, i shall love it always!" she threw the chain around her neck; and laid the little watch gently against her cheek. "oh!" it was alexia who pressed forward. "you'll forgive us all, won't you, miss anstice, if we didn't love you enough?" "when i want to forgive, i'll look at my dear watch," said miss anstice brightly, and smiling on them all. "'twas that horrible old black silk gown that made her so," exclaimed alexia, as they all tumbled off down the hall in the greatest excitement. "you see how sweet she is now, in that white one." "and the red rose in her belt," said clem. "and her diamond ring," added silvia. "and we're different, too," said clem. "maybe we wouldn't love to teach a lot of girls any better either, if we had to." "well, and now there's the wedding!" exclaimed amy garrett, clasping her hands, "oh!" "what richness!" finished alexia. and everybody said it was "the very prettiest affair; and so picturesque!" "and those dear salisbury girls--how sweet they looked, to be sure!" why, st. john's blossomed out like a veritable garden, just with that blooming company of girls; to say nothing of the exquisite flowers, and ropes of laurel, and palms, and the broad white satin ribbons to divide the favored ones from the mere acquaintances. "and what a lovely thought to get those boys from the pemberton school for ushers, with jasper king as their leader!" they all made such a bright, youthful picture, to be followed by the chosen eight of the "salisbury girls," the very committee who presented the gift to the bride-elect. there they were in their simple white gowns and big white hats. and then came the little assistant teacher of the salisbury school, in her pearl gray robe; singularly enough, not half so much embarrassed as she had often been in walking down the long schoolroom before the girls. and mr. john clemcy never thought of such a thing as embarrassment at all; but stood up in his straightforward, manly, english composure, to take his vows that bound him to the little school-teacher. and miss salisbury, fairly resplendent in her black velvet gown, had down deep within her heart a childlike satisfaction in it all. "dear anstice was happy," and somehow the outlook for the future, with miss wilcox for assistant teacher, was restful for one whose heart and soul were bound up in her pupils' advancement. miss ophelia clemcy blossomed out from her retirement, and became quite voluble, in the front pew before the wedding procession arrived. "you see, it was foreordained to be," she announced, as she had before declared several times to the principal of the salisbury school. "the first moment he saw her, brother john was fully convinced that here was a creature of the greatest sensibility, and altogether charming. and, my dear miss salisbury, i am only commonplace and practical, you know; so it is all as it should be, and suits me perfectly. and we will always keep the anniversary of that picnic, that blessed day, won't we?" and old mr. king invited the eight ushers from the pemberton school and the committee from the salisbury school to a little supper to top off the wedding festivities. and grandpapa sat at the head of the table, with mother fisher at the other end, and dr. fisher and mrs. whitney opposite in the centre. and there were wedding toasts and little speeches; and everybody got very jolly and festive. and the little doctor looked down to the table end where he could see his wife's eyes. "it reminds me very much of our own wedding day, wife," his glance said. and she smiled back in such a way as to fill him with great content. "and wasn't that reception in the school parlors too perfectly beautiful for anything!" cried polly pepper, in a lull, for about the fiftieth time the remark had been made. "yes, and didn't alexia make an awful blunder with her paper of rice!" said clem sweetly. "i can't help it," said alexia, nowise disturbed; "the old paper burst, and i had to put it in my handkerchief. you couldn't expect me, girls, to keep my wits after that." "well, you needn't have spilt it all over miss anstice's bonnet," said philena, laughing. "mrs. clemcy's, you mean," corrected jasper. "oh dear me! i never shall get used to her new name," declared philena. "and i think i got my rice deposited as well as some of the rest of you girls," declared alexia airily. "mine struck mr. clemcy full in the eye," said silvia; "then i ducked behind polly pepper." "oh, that was a great way to do!" exclaimed jasper. "oh, i saw her," said polly, with a little laugh, "and i jumped away; and mr. clemcy saw her, too." "horrors!" cried silvia. "did he? oh, i'm frightened to death! what did he look like, polly?" "oh, he laughed," said polly. just then came a ring at the doorbell, sharp and sudden. "what is going to happen?" cried polly, her face like a rose. "everything has been beautiful to-day; and now i just know something perfectly lovely is coming to finish off with." "a telegram, sir." johnson held out a long yellow envelope to mr. king. "it's for mrs. fisher," said the old gentleman. so the yellow envelope went down the table-length, the color going out of polly's cheek; and she didn't dare to look at mamsie's eyes. "oh--the boys!" gasped polly. "jasper, do you suppose?"--what, she didn't finish; for mother fisher just then cried out, and passed the yellow sheet to the little doctor. "read it aloud," was all she said. but how her black eyes shone! "david took first prize classics. i'm picking up a bit. joel pepper." the end. [transcriber's note: page 115, last paragraph, added the word "it". "and bring up to my house" "and bring it up to my house"] five little peppers and their friends by margaret sidney author of "five little peppers abroad," "a little maid of concord town," "sally, mrs. tubbs," etc. illustrated by eugenie m. wireman [illustration: "what are you doing, phronsie, sitting down in the middle of the stairs?"--(see page 46.)] to my daughter margaret, who to her friends embodies "polly pepper" in her girlhood, i dedicate most lovingly this book. preface. there were so many interesting friends of the five little peppers, whose lives were only the faintest of outlines in the series ending when phronsie was grown up, that a volume devoted to this outer circle has been written to meet the persistent demand. herein the author records many happenings that long ago ben and polly, joel and david told her. and even phronsie whispered some of it confidentially into the listening ear. "tell about rachel, please," she begged; and margaret sidney promised to write it all down some day. and that day seems to have arrived in which it all should be recorded and the promise fulfilled. for the five little peppers loved their friends very dearly, and were loyal and true to them. and hand in hand, the circle widening ever, they lived and loved as this history records. margaret sidney. contents i. a five-o'clock tea ii. phronsie iii. clem forsythe iv. miss taylor's working bee v. "she's my little girl" vi. grandma bascom vii. the disappointment viii. the garden party ix. the ten-dollar bill x. trouble for joel xi. rachel xii. doings at the parsonage xiii. "she's going to stay here forever" xiv. "can't go," said joel xv. up in alexia's pretty room xvi. the accident xvii. joel's adventure xviii. the comfort committee xix. joel's new friend xx. the cooking club xxi. of many things in general xxii. rachel's visit to miss parrott xxiii. the old parrott homestead xxiv. rachel's future xxv. jack parish xxvi. mr. hamilton dyce a true friend xxvii. a piece of good news xxviii. the little stone cupboard illustrations "what are you doing, phronsie, sitting down in the middle of the stairs?" five-o'clock tea "but this is ten dollars," said joel "on, larry," said miss taylor gently, bending over him "yes, sir," called joel back, from the alcove the unlucky oar was seized by the triumphant crew "i used to play with it," she said softly he stood in the middle of the little shop i a five-o'clock tea "i wish," said phronsie slowly, "that you'd come in, little girl." "can't." the girl at the gate peered through the iron railings, pressing her nose quite flat, to give the sharp, restless, black eyes the best chance. "please do," begged phronsie, coming up quite close; "i very much wish you would." "can't," repeated the girl on the outside. "cop won't let me." "who?" asked phronsie, much puzzled and beginning to look frightened. "perlice." the girl nodded briefly, taking her face away from the iron railings enough to accomplish that ceremony. then she plastered her nose up against its support again, and stared at phronsie with all her might. "oh," said phronsie, with a little laugh that chased away her fright, "there isn't any big policeman here. this is grandpapa's garden." "'tain't, it's the perliceman's; everything's the perliceman's," contradicted the girl, snapping one set of grimy fingers defiantly. "oh, no," said phronsie, softly but very decidedly, "this is my dear grandpapa's home, and the big policeman can't get in here, ever." "oh, you ninny!" the girl staring at her through the railings stopped a minute to laugh, covering both hands over her mouth to smother the sound. "the perlice can go everywheres they want to. i guess some of 'em's in heaven now, spyin' round." phronsie dropped the doll she was carrying close to her bosom, to concentrate all her gaze up toward the sky, in wide-eyed amazement that allowed her no opportunity to carry on the conversation. "an' i couldn't no more get into this 'ere garden than i could into heaven," the girl on the outside said at last, to bring back the blue eyes to earth, "so don't you think it, you. but, oh, my, don't i wish i could, though!" there was so much longing in the voice that phronsie brought her gaze down from the policemen in their heavenly work to the eyes staring at her. and she clasped her hands together tightly, and hurried up to lay her face against the big iron gate and close to that of the girl. "he won't hurt you, the big policeman won't," she whispered softly. "i'll take hold of your hand, and tell him how it is, if he gets in. come." "can't," the girl was going to say, but her gaze rested upon the doll lying on the grass where it fell from phronsie's hand. "lawks! may i just have one good squint at that?" she burst out. "you may hold it," said phronsie, bobbing her head till her yellow hair fell over her flushed cheeks. the gate flew open suddenly, nearly overthrowing her; and the girl, mostly all legs and arms, dashed through, picking up the doll to squeeze it to her neck so tightly that phronsie rushed up, quite alarmed. "oh, don't," she cried, "you'll frighten her. i'll tell her how it is, and then she'll like you." "i'll make her like me," said the girl, with savage thrusts at the doll, and kissing it all over. "oh, my, ain't you sweet!" and she cuddled it fiercely in her scrawny neck, her tangled black hair falling around its face. "oh, dear!" wailed phronsie, standing quite still, "she's my child, and she's dreadfully frightened. oh, please, little girl, don't do so." "she's been your child forever, and i've never had a child." the girl raised her black head to look sternly at phronsie. "i'll give her back; but she's mine now." "haven't you ever had a child?" asked phronsie, suddenly, two or three tears trailing off her round cheeks to drop in the grass, and she drew a long breath and winked very fast to keep the others back. "not a smitch of one," declared the other girl decidedly, "an' i'm a-goin' to hold this one, and pretend i'm its mother." phronsie drew a long breath, and drew slowly near. "you may," she said at last. the new mother didn't hear, being hungrily engaged in smoothing her child's cheeks against her own dirty ones, first one side of the face and then the other, and twitching down the dainty pink gown, gone awry during the hugging process, and alternately scolding and patting the little figure. this done, she administered a smart slap, plunged over to the nearest tree, and set the doll with a thud on the grass to rest against its trunk. "sit up like a lady," she commanded. "oh, don't!" cried phronsie, quite horror-stricken, and running over on distressed feet. "she's my child," she gasped. "no, she's mine, an' i'm teachin' her manners. i ain't through pretendin' yet," said the girl. she put out a long arm and held phronsie back. "but you struck her." phronsie lifted a pale face, and her blue eyes flashed very much as polly's brown ones did on occasion. the new mother whirled around and stared at her. "why, i had to, just the same as you're licked when you're bad," she said, in astonishment. "what's 'licked'?" asked phronsie, overcome with curiosity, yet keeping her eyes on her child, bolt upright against the tree. "why, whipped," said the girl, "just the same as you are when you're bad." phronsie drew a long breath. "i've never been whipped," she said slowly. "oh, my lord!" the girl tumbled down to the grass and rolled over and over, coming up suddenly to sit straight, wipe her tangled black hair out of her eyes, and stare at phronsie. "well, you are a reg'lar freak, you are," was all she could say. "what's a 'freak'?" asked phronsie, actually turning her back on her child to give all her attention to this absorbing conversation, with its most attractive vocabulary. "it's--oh, jumbo!" and over she flopped again, to roll and laugh. "well, there!" and she jumped to her feet so quickly she nearly overthrew phronsie, who had drawn closer, unable to miss a bit of this very strange proceeding. "now i'm through pretending an' i haven't got any child, an' you may have her back." she wrung her grimy hands together, and turned her back on the object of so much attention. "take her, quick; she's yours." phronsie hurried over to the doll, sitting up in pink loveliness against the tree, knelt down on the grass, and patted her with gentle hand, and smoothed down her curls. a curious sound broke in upon her work, and she looked up and listened. "i must go back," she whispered to her child, and in a minute she was running around the figure of the girl, to stare into her face. "ow--get out!" cried the girl crossly, and she whirled off, pulling up her ragged dress to her face. "i thought i heard you cry," said phronsie in a troubled voice, and following her in distress. "phoo!" cried the girl, snapping her fingers in derision, and spinning around on the tips of her toes, "'twas the cat." "no," said phronsie decidedly, and shaking her head, "it couldn't be the cat, because she doesn't hardly ever cry, and besides she isn't here"--and she looked all around--"don't you see she isn't?" "well, then, 'twas that bird," said the girl, pointing up to a high branch. "ain't you green, not to think of him!" "i don't _think_ it was the bird," said phronsie slowly, and peering up anxiously, "and he doesn't cry again, so i 'most know he couldn't have cried then." "well, he will, if you wait long enough," said the girl defiantly. "chee, chee, chee," sang the bird, with delicious little trills, and shaking them out so fast his small throat seemed about to burst with its efforts. "there, you see he couldn't cry," began phronsie, in a burst of delight; "you see, little girl," and she hopped up and down in glee. "he's got the 'sterics, an' he'll cry next, like enough," said the girl. "what's 'the 'sterics'?" asked phronsie, coming out of her glee, and drawing nearer. "oh, i see some tears," and she looked soberly up into the thin, dirty face, and forgot all about her question. "no, you don't, either." the girl twitched away angrily. "there ain't never no tears you could see on me; 'twas the cat or the bird. ain't you green, though! you're green as that grass there," and she spun round and round, snapping her fingers all the while. phronsie stood quite still and regarded her sorrowfully. "don't you believe i cried!" screamed the girl, dashing up to her, to snap her fingers in phronsie's face; "say you don't this minute." "but i think you did," said phronsie. "oh. i'm very sure you did, and you may hold my child again, if you only won't cry any more," and she clasped her hands tightly together. the other girl started and ran toward the big iron gate. "oh, don't!" phronsie called after her, and ran to overtake the flying feet. "please stay with me. i like you; don't go." the girl threw her head back as if something hurt her throat, then leaned her face against the iron railings and stuck her fingers in her ears. "don't! lemme alone! go 'way, can't you!" she wriggled off from phronsie's fingers. "i'll lick you if you don't lemme be!" "i wish you'd play with me," said phronsie, having hard work to keep out of the way of the flapping shoes all down at the heel, "and you may have clorinda for your very own child as long as you stay--you may really." "ow! see here!" up came the girl's face, and with a defiant sweep of her grimy hands she brushed both cheeks. "do you mean that, honest true, black and blue?" "yes," said phronsie, very much relieved to see the effect of her invitation, "i do mean it, little girl. come, and i'll tell clorinda all how it is." "i'm goin' outside to walk up and down a bit. bring on your doll." "but you must come here," said phronsie, moving off slowly backward over the grass. "come, little girl"--holding out her hand. "now i know you didn't mean it," said the girl scornfully. "you wouldn't let me touch that nasty old doll of yours again for nothin' you wouldn't," she shrilled at her. "oh, yes, i would," declared phronsie, in great distress; "see, i'm going to get her now," and she turned around and hurried over the grass to pick clorinda off from her resting-place and run back. "there, see, little girl," she cried breathlessly, thrusting the doll into the dirty hands; "take her now and we'll go and play." for answer, the girl clutched the doll and sped wildly off through the gateway. "oh!" cried phronsie, running after with pink cheeks and outstretched arms, "give me back my child; stop, little girl." but there wras no stop to the long, thin figure flying down the path on the other side of the tall hedge. it was a back passage, and few pedestrians used the path; in fact, there were none on it this afternoon, so the children had it all to themselves. and on they went, phronsie, with but one thought--to rescue her child from the depths of woe such as being carried off by a strange mother would produce--blindly plunging after. at last the girl with the doll stopped suddenly, flung herself up against a stone fence, and drew a long breath. "well, what you goin' to do about it?" she cried defiantly, clutching the doll with a savage grip. phronsie, too far gone for words, sank panting down to the curbstone, to watch her with wild eyes. "you said i might take her," the girl blurted out. "i hain't took nothin' but what you give me. i want to play with her to my home. you come with me, and then you can take her back with you." "i can't," said phronsie, in a faint little voice. her cheeks were very red, and she wiped her hot face on her white apron. "you must give me clorinda, and i must go home," and she held out a shaking hand. but the girl danced off, and phronsie, without a thought beyond the rescue of her child, stumbled on after her, scarcely seeing one step before her for the tears that, despite all her efforts, now began to stream down her round cheeks. at last, in trying to turn out for a baker's boy with a big basket, she caught her foot and fell, a tired little heap, flat in a mud puddle in the middle of the brick pavement. "my eye!" cried the baker's boy, lifting her up. "here, you girl, your sister's fell, ker-squash!" at this, the flying girl in front whirled suddenly and came running back, and took in the situation at once. "come on, you lazy thing, you!" she exclaimed; then she burst into a laugh. "oh, how you look!" "give me back--" panted phronsie, rubbing away the tears with her muddy hands, regardless of her splashed clothes and dirty shoes. "keep still, can't you?" cried the girl, gripping her arm, as two or three pedestrians paused to stare at the two. "come on, sister," and she seized phronsie's hand, and bore her off. but on turning the corner, she stopped abruptly, and, still holding the doll closely, she dropped to one knee and wiped off the tears from the muddy little cheeks with a not ungentle hand. "you've got to be my sister," she said, in a gush, "else the hoodlums will tear you from neck to heels." and seizing phronsie's hand again, she bore her off, dodging between rows of dwellings, that, if her companion could have seen, would have certainly proved to be quite novel. but phronsie was by this time quite beyond noticing any of the details of her journey, and after turning a corner or two, she was hauled up several flights of rickety steps, strange to say without the usual accompaniment of staring eyes and comments of the various neighbors in the locality. "there!" the girl, still clutching the doll, flung wide the rickety door. "my, ain't i glad to get here, though!" and she drew a long breath, releasing phronsie's hand, who immediately slid to the floor in a collapsed little heap. "well, this is my home--ain't it pretty, though!" phronsie, thus called on for a reply, tried very hard to answer, but the words wouldn't come. "you needn't try," said the girl, slamming the door, "'tain't likely you can praise it enough," and she broke out into a hard, sarcastic laugh, which shrilled its way out of the one window, whose broken glass was adorned with nondescript fillings. "see here now, you're all beat out," she exclaimed suddenly; then rushing across the room, she dragged up a broken chair, and jammed it against the door. "there now, we're by ourselves, an' you can rest." "i must go home," said phronsie faintly, and holding up her tired arms. "give me my child; i must go home." "did you think i didn't know what was proper?" cried the girl scornfully, and tossing her head. "i'm going to have five-o'clock tea 'fore you go. there, i'm a lady, an' a swell one too, i'd have you know." she ran over to the corner of the slatternly room, and set the doll on a bed, over which were tossed the clothes in a dirty heap, phronsie following every movement with anxious eyes. "now she's my child, remember," she said, turning her sharp, black eyes on the small figure huddled up on the floor, "as long as she stays here." then she hurried about, twitching a box out here and there from a cupboard, whose broken door hung by one hinge. "here's my silver spoons--ain't they beautiful!" she cried, running up with a few two-tined forks and a bent and battered knife. these she placed, also the cracked cups, with great gusto, on the rickety table, propped for support against the wall, as one of its legs was gone entirely and another on the fair road to departure. "'tain't stylish to have yer table agin the wall," she broke out, "at a five-o'clock tea; i know, 'cause i've peeked in the windows up on the avenoo, an' i've seen your folks, too." she nodded over at phronsie. "i know what i'll do." she tossed her head with its black, elfish locks, and darted off in triumph, dragging up from another corner a big box, first unceremoniously dumping out the various articles, such as dirty clothes, a tin pan or two, a skillet, an empty bottle--last of all, a nightcap, which she held aloft. "gran's," she shouted; "it's been lost a mighty long time. now i'm goin' to wear it to my five-o'clock tea. it's a picter hat, same's that lady had on to your house once--i seen her." she threw the old nightcap over her hair, tied the ragged strings with an air, and soon, by dint of pulling and hauling, had the table in the very center of the apartment, the box securely under its most delicate and unreliable portion. "there--my! ain't we fine, though!" she surveyed her work with great delight, her hands on her hips. "now, says i, for our ice cream an' cake, with white on top, an' choc'late." she gave a flirt of her ragged gown and darted here and there with her elfish movements; and presently a cold potato, shivering in its skin, a slice or two of hard, moldy bread, and some turnips and carrots, uncooked, were set about the dirty table, with empty spools in between. "them's the flowers," she explained, as she put the last-mentioned articles in their places. "now it's all ready, except the choc'late." and waving an old tin coffeepot, whose nose was a thing of the past, she filled it at the faucet over the wooden sink, and put it down with a flourish at one end of the table. "now we're ready, an' i'm the beautiful lady up to your house--i seen her, once when i was peekin' through the fence"--she nodded shrewdly, her little eyes snapping--"her an' your sister." [illustration: five o'clock tea] "oh, i want polly," broke out phronsie, with such a wail, as she sat, a frozen little heap, not daring to stir, that the girl screamed out: "well, i'm goin' to take you to her, when i've given you my five-o'clock tea; that is, if you don't cry. an' i ain't goin' to be the beautiful lady up at your house; i'll be mrs. somebody else. no, i'll be a dukess--the dukess of marlbrer--i've seen her in the paper. oh, you've got to have the best chair," and she dragged up the sole article of furniture of that name, minus its back, away from the door; then helping phronsie up from the floor, she wiped off the tears on her pinafore, no longer white, and soon had her installed on it. "now you're comp'ny." thereupon she ran and fetched the doll from the bed, and put her on a small, old barrel, from which the articles were dumped out, and, with a box for her back, clorinda was soon in great state on one side of the feast. the dukess then slipped into her own seat, an inverted tub, somewhat low, to be sure, but still allowing the view of the festive cup to be seen. "she's my child, now. will you have some choc'late?"--with a winning smile that ran all over her dirty face and wrinkled it up alarmingly. "oh, no, she's my child," protested phronsie, the tears beginning again. "i mean till i get through my five-o'clock tea," cried the girl; "can't you understand? then she'll be yours, an' i'll take you home. will you have choc'late?--you must, lady--what's your name, anyway?" she demanded abruptly, bringing her black eyes to bear on phronsie. phronsie could hardly stammer it out for the tears she was choking back. "oh, my eye, what a name!" laughed the dukess, in derision. "well, you can be lady funsie--fornsie--whatever you call it. now, will you have some choc'late? 'taint perlite not to answer." "i'd rather have some milk," said phronsie faintly, "if you please." "oh, 'tain't no trouble," said the dukess airily, quirking out her little finger with grace; and poising the tin coffeepot with an elegant air, she inverted it over a cracked cup, which, when generously full of water, she passed to her guest. "help yourself to th' cakes. lady fonsie," she said graciously, "an' what beyewtiful weather we are havin'!" phronsie put forth a trembling hand, as it seemed to be expected of her, and took the cup of water, spilling about half of it, which ran off the table-edge and down her little brown gown, the dukess greeting this mishap with a shout of laughter, checking it suddenly with a start and a dismayed glance in the direction of the broken window. "it's time fer you to talk some," she said. "you should say, 'yes, i think so, too.'" "i think so, too," murmured phronsie, viewing her cup of milk gravely. "an' you must say, 'i think, dukess, you have the most splendid milk.'" "it isn't milk," said phronsie gravely, and she turned serious eyes on the lady of quality opposite. "oh, yes, it is," said the dukess, "an' you orter go on an' say, 'an' all them perfectly beyewtiful flowers, i never see any so fine!'"--pointing to the empty spools in between the eatables. "but they aren't flowers," said phronsie. this occasioned so much discussion that there was no lack of conversation, and was the reason that steps over the stairway were not heard. the door was thrown open, and an old, stout, sodden woman, in a dirty, green shawl and battered bonnet stood transfixed with amazement in the entrance. she hadn't a pleasant eye beneath her straggling, white hair, and her first words were not altogether agreeable nor appropriate at five-o'clock tea. "so this is the way," she said gruffly, "when i sends you out, rag, to pick up somethin' you eat me out o' house an' home with brats you bring in"; for she hadn't seen through the dirt on phronsie's face and clothes what manner of child was present. the dukess twitched off the nightcap, and sprang up, upsetting the tin coffeepot, which rolled away by itself, and put herself over by phronsie, covering her from view. in passing, she had grasped the doll off from the barrel and hidden her in the folds of her tattered gown with a quick, sharp thrust. "'tain't nothin' 'f i do have some fun once in a while, gran," she grumbled. she pinched phronsie's arm. "keep still." and while the old woman swayed across the room, for she wasn't quite free from the effects of a taste from a bottle under her arm, which she couldn't resist trying before she reached home, phronsie and rag were working their way over toward the door. "stop!" roared the old woman at them, in a fury, and she held up the nightcap. involuntarily rag paused, through sheer force of habit, and stood paralyzed, till her grandmother had come quite close. "hey, what have we got here?" she eyed phronsie sharply. "oh, well, you ain't acted so badly after all; maybe the pretty little lady has come to see me, hey?" and she seized phronsie's small arm. "gran," cried rag hoarsely, waking up from her unlucky paralysis, "let her go; only let her go, an' i'll--i'll do anythin' you want me to. i'll steal, an' pick an' fetch, and do anything gran." the old woman leered at her, and passed her hand to the beads on phronsie's neck; and in doing so she let the little arm slip, that she might use both hands to undo the clasp the better. one second of time--but rag, knowing quite well what could be done in it, seized phronsie, rushed outside, slammed the door, and was down over the rickety stairs in a twinkling, through the dirty courtyard and alley--which luckily had few spectators, and those thought she was carrying a neighbor's child--around a corner, darting here and there, till presently she set phronsie down, and drew a long breath. "oh, my eye!" she panted, "but wasn't that a close shave, though!" ii phronsie "there now, here you are!" there was a little click in the girl's throat. phronsie looked up. "yes, and your child, too." clorinda and all her pink loveliness was thrust into her own little mother's arms, and the sharp, black eyes peered down upon the two. "i've brung you home, and you're on your own grassplot, same's you were." still she stood in her tracks. "i'm sorry i brung you to my house; but you've had a five-o'clock tea, and now you're home, an' got your child." still she did not stir. "well, i've got to go. say, don't you call no one, nor tell no one, till i've had time to shake my feet down street." she thrust out one flapping shoe, then the other, gave a scornful laugh, and brushed her hand across the sharp eyes. "promise now, black and blue, 'i promise true, hope to die if i do'. hurry up! do you promise?" she cried sharply. "yes," said phronsie, hugging clorinda tightly. "all right. now for gran!" she shut her teeth tightly and was off and through the big gateway. "i've got my child," said phronsie, putting up a sleepy hand to pat clorinda's head, but it fell to her side, while her yellow hair slipped closer over her flushed cheek. she tried to say, "clorinda, we've got home, and my foots are tired," swayed, held her child tighter to her bosom, and over she went in a heap, fast asleep before her head touched the soft grass. polly pepper, hurrying home from alexia's, ran in by the gateway, and down by a short cut over the grass, her feet keeping time to a merry air that had possessed her all the afternoon. "how fine," she cried to herself, "our garden party will be!--and we've gotten on splendidly with our fancy things this afternoon. it will be too perfectly elegant for--" the flying feet came to a standstill that nearly threw her over the sleeping figure, the doll tightly pressed to the dirty little pinafore and the flushed cheeks. "oh, my goodness me!" cried polly, down on her knees. "why, phronsie, just look at your pinafore!" but phronsie had no idea of looking at anything, and still slept on. "dear me!" exclaimed polly, in consternation, "whatever in the world has she been doing! well, i must get her up to the house." "hullo!" it was jasper's voice. polly flew up to her feet and hulloed back. he took a short cut, with a good many flying leaps, across the grass. "oh, polly, i've been looking for you!" "just see there." cried polly, pointing tragically to the little heap. "well, dear me!" said jasper. "why, polly"--as his eyes fell on the soiled pinafore and the little face where the tears had made muddy streaks. "i know it," said polly. "did you ever in all this world, jasper! what do you suppose she has been doing?" "oh, making mud pies, perhaps," said jasper, unwilling to worry polly; "don't look so, polly. here, we'll carry her to the house." "lady-chair," said polly, the worry dropping out of her eyes at the fun of carrying phronsie in. but phronsie was beyond the charms of "lady-chair" or "pick-a-back," her yellow head bobbing so dismally when they lifted her up, that jasper at last picked her up in his arms, and marched off with her. "you bring the doll, polly." so polly ran along by his side with clorinda dangling by one arm. mother fisher said never a word when she received her baby, but wisely soothed and washed and tucked her away in bed; and little doctor fisher, as soon as he got home, viewed her critically through his big spectacles, and said, "the child is all right. let her sleep." which she did, until every one of the household, creeping in and out, declared she could not possibly sleep any longer, and that they must wake her up. this last was from polly. "what do you suppose it is, mamsie?" she asked, for about the fiftieth time, hanging over phronsie's little bed. "nothing," said mrs. fisher, with firm lips. polly must not be worried by unnecessary alarm, and really there seemed to be nothing amiss with phronsie, who was sleeping peacefully, with calm little face and even breath. "it's the best thing for her to sleep till she's rested." "but what could have tired her so?" said polly, with a puzzled face. "that's just what we can't find out now," said her mother, diving into her basket for another of van's stockings. "oh, here is the mate. when she wakes up, she'll tell us." "well, joanna is going, isn't she, mamsie?" asked polly, deserting the little bed to fling herself down on the floor at mrs. fisher's feet, to watch the busy fingers. "yes, she is," said mother fisher decidedly. "i'm so very glad of that," said polly, with a sigh of relief, "because you know, mamsie, she might go off again and leave phronsie when she ought to be watching her." "say no more about it, polly," said her mother, setting even, firm stitches, "for mr. king is very angry with joanna; and you needn't be afraid that phronsie will ever be left again, until we do get just the right person to be with her. now you better go out and forget it all, and busy yourself about something." "i've got to practice," said polly with a yawn, and stretching her arms. "i haven't done a bit this whole afternoon, and monsieur comes tomorrow." "best fly at it, then," said mrs. fisher, smiling at her. so polly, with a parting glance at the figure on the little bed, went downstairs and into the big drawing-room, wishing that phronsie was there, as usual, where she dearly loved to stay, tucked up in a big damask-covered chair, one of her dolls in her arms, waiting patiently till the practice hour should be over. but when phronsie at last turned over, and said without a bit of warning, "i want something to eat, i do." with an extremely injured expression, mother fisher was so thankful that she had no time to question her, if, indeed, she had considered it wise to do so. and sarah was called, and laughed with delight at the summons, and ran off to get the tray ready, phronsie watching her with hungry eyes in which the dew of sleep still lingered. but old mr. king was not so patient. when he saw, as he soon did, his visits to the side of the little bed being as frequent as polly's own, that phronsie was really awake and sitting up, he could keep still no longer, but putting his arms around her, fumed out: "oh, that careless joanna! poor lamb! there, there! grandpapa will take care of his little girl himself, after this." "i'm hungry," announced phronsie, looking up into his face. "indeed i am, grandpapa dear, very hungry." "oh, to think of it! yes, pet"--soothing her. "where is that sarah? can't some one get this poor child a bit to eat?" he cried irascibly. "sarah will hurry just as fast as she can," said mrs. fisher, coming up with a dainty white gown over her arm. "phronsie must be a good girl and wait patiently." phronsie wriggled her toes under the bedclothes. "i wish you'd take me, grandpapa dear," she said, holding up her arms. "so i will--so i will, pet!" cried old mr. king, very much delighted; and lifting her up to rest her head on his shoulder, he walked up and down the room. "there, there, dear! oh, why doesn't that sarah hurry!"--when in walked that individual with a big tray, and on it everything that a hungry child could be supposed to desire. but phronsie had no eyes for anything but the glass of milk. "oh, grandpapa," she piped out at sight of it, "sarah's got me some milk," and she gave a happy little crow. "so she has," he laughed as gayly, "well, now, we'll sit right down here and have some of these good things," and, mrs. fisher drawing up a big easy chair in front of the table where sarah deposited the tray, he sat down, with phronsie on his knee. "now, child----" "oh, grandpapa, may i have the milk?" she begged, holding out a trembling hand. "bless you, yes, child." he put the glass into her hand. "take care, phronsie, don't drink so fast." "honey will choke herself," cried sarah, in alarm, holding up warning black fingers. "oh, my! she's done drunk it mos' all up a'ready." "there, there, phronsie!" grandpapa took hold of the glass. "phronsie," said mother fisher, and it was her hand that took the glass away from the eager lips. "you must eat a roll now, or a little bit of toast." "but i want some more milk," said phronsie, and her lips quivered. "not yet, phronsie." mother fisher was cutting up the toast, and now held up a morsel on the spoon. "see how very nice it is." "we'll play it is five-o'clock tea," said old mr. king, at his wit's end to bring the smiles into her face. phronsie turned and gave him one look, then buried her face in his waistcoat and cried as hard as she could. "there, there!" the old gentleman got up to his feet and began to pace the floor again, his white hair bent over her face, his hand patting her back gently. "don't cry, poor little lamb." and as a sudden thought struck him, "just look at your mother, phronsie; you are making her sick." up popped phronsie's yellow head, the tears trailing off from the round cheeks till they fell on the floor. there stood mother fisher, quite still. "i'm sorry, mamsie," said phronsie, and she put out a little hand, "i'll eat the toast." so down old mr. king sat again, with her on his lap, and mother fisher cut up more toast, and phronsie opened her mouth obediently, and after the first mouthful she smiled: "i like it, i do." and mother fisher smiled too, and said, "i knew you would, phronsie." and grandpapa laughed, he was so happy, and sarah kept crying, "bress de lawd! yer maw knew best." and pretty soon mrs. fisher nodded to old mr. king, and he said, "now for the rest of the milk, phronsie," and the glass was put into her happy hand. and then more toast, and more laughing, for grandpapa by that time told a funny story, and everything got so very merry that the gayety brought all the rest of the houseful of children up to see if phronsie were really awake. "why didn't you tell us before?" cried joel, in a dudgeon, revolving around the table. "she's been eating ever so long, and we thought she was asleep." "that's the reason she's had a little peace," retorted the old gentleman. "catch them telling you, joe!" said percy whitney, glad to pitch in with a word. "well, you didn't know it, either," said joel, in great satisfaction. "say, phronsie, where were you all this morning?" "ugh!" cried van, with a warning dig in his ribs. "let me alone," cried joel, squaring around on him savagely. "look at phronsie's face," said percy, with a superior manner, as if no one needed to tell him when to speak. polly was on her knees cuddling up phronsie's toes, and begging to feed her, when she felt her give a shiver, and try to hide her face on her neck. "don't, joey," begged polly. but joel, not hearing her, and hating to be dictated to by percy, cried out persistently: "say, phron, what were you doing all the morning?" phronsie at this gave a loud sob. "take me, polly," was all she said. so polly sat down on the floor, and phronsie snuggled up closer into her neck, and was rocked back and forth to her heart's content, while joel, perfectly aghast at the mischief he had done, was taken in tow by mother fisher, to sob out, his head in her lap, that he "didn't mean to, he didn't mean to." "oh, dear me!" exclaimed old mr. king, in dismay, "this is a pretty state of things! polly, my child"--he leaned over her--"can't you think up something to get us out of it?" "i'm going to talk about the garden party," cried polly, an inspiration seizing her. "oh, phronsie, now you must sit up; you can't think what plans we have for it." but phronsie burrowed deeper in her nest. "if you don't sit up, phronsie," said polly quite decidedly, "i shall have to put you off from my lap, and go out of the room." "oh, no, no, polly!" cried phronsie, clutching her around the neck. "yes, i shall, phronsie," declared polly, in her most decided fashion, "so you must sit right up, and hear all about it. now, jasper, you begin." so phronsie sat up and let polly wipe her face; and then she folded her hands in her lap, while jasper began: "you see that we thought that we'd take the wistaria arbor, father, if you'd let us, for our post office. may we?" "yes, yes, certainly," said the old gentleman, who would have been quite willing to promise anything just then. "oh, that's no end jolly!" cried jasper, throwing back his dark hair from his forehead with a quick thrust. "now we can do splendidly. polly, only think!" his eyes shone, and polly screamed out, "oh, grandpapa, how lovely!" and the others joined in, not quite knowing what they were so happy about, until joel popped up his head from his mother's lap to hear what all the noise was about over there. "i'm going to be postmaster," he announced, wiping the tears off with the back of his hand, and plunging across the room. "no, sir-ee!" declared ben, seizing his jacket-end, "don't think it, joe. jasper is going to fill that important office." "yes, jasper is," shouted percy and van together, delighted at anything that could keep joel out. davie stood perfectly still in the midst of the uproar. "why couldn't joey be a letter carrier, to help give out the letters?" he said at last, in the midst of the noise. "couldn't he, ben?" and he ran to twitch that individual's sleeve. "hey--what?" "couldn't he be the one to give out some of the letters, and help jasper?" asked david anxiously. "i don't know--yes, maybe"--as he saw david's face fall. "you best ask jasper, he's to be the postmaster." so david ran over and precipitated himself into the middle of the group, with his question; when immediately the rest began to clamor to help jasper give out the letters, so the babel was worse than at first. phronsie by this time was begging with the others, while she sat straight in polly's lap, with very red cheeks and wide eyes. now she slipped out, and rushed up to jasper. "and i, too, japser; i want to give out letters, too," she cried, dreadfully excited. "so you shall, pet," he cried, seizing her to toss her up in the air, the others all circling around them, phronsie's happy little crows going up high above the general din. "well, i think if we are going to have such a fine post office, we'll have to work pretty hard to write the letters," said polly, after they had sobered down a bit. "ugh!" cried joel with a grimace, "i'm not going to write a single scrap of one." "indeed you are," retorted polly; "everybody has absolutely got to write some letters. why, we must have a bushel of them." "oh, polly pepper!" cried the others, "a bushel of letters!" "and no one can have a letter who doesn't write some," announced polly firmly--"the very idea! so we must all work like everything to get ready for the post office." iii clem forsythe phronsie sat on the stairs, halfway down the long flight. it was the same staircase on which jasper had found her, with polly waiting patiently on the lower step, when she first came to grandpapa king's. now she held clorinda in her arms, tightly pressed to her bosom. "i do wish," she said softly, "that i could see my poor little girl, i do." clorinda not replying, phronsie smoothed down the pink gown. "it wasn't very nice at that little girl's house"--and a troubled expression swept over her face--"but the little girl was nice, and she hadn't any child." clorinda's countenance expressed no sorrow, but stared up at her mother unblinkingly. phronsie bent over and dropped a kiss on the red lips. "maybe she'll come again some day, if i watch by the big gate." "my goodness me!" polly, running along the upper hall, peered over the railing. "what are you doing, phronsie, sitting down in the middle of the stairs?" "i'm thinking," said phronsie, looking up. "well, i should say!" cried polly, running down to sit beside her. "oh, pet, i've an invite for you." she seized phronsie's hand and cuddled it in both of her own. "it's perfectly splendid." "what's an 'invite'?" asked phronsie, coming slowly out of her thoughts, to peer into polly's face. "oh, i forgot, mamsie didn't want me to say that," said polly, with a little blush. "well, it's an invitation, pet, and to miss mary taylor's, to go with us girls this afternoon to work on our fancy things for the fair. only think of that, phronsie pepper!" and polly threw her arms around the small figure, and hugged her, to the imminent danger of both falling down the rest of the flight. "oh, dear me!" exclaimed polly, "we almost went over." "can i really go, polly?" cried phronsie, as soon as she could get her breath, "when you all take your bags and work on things?" she set clorinda carefully down on the stair above, and stood up to look into polly's face. "yes, child. take care, you'll tumble over backward," warned polly, with a restraining hand. "and oh, phronsie! i'm going to make you a little silk bag, and you can take your pin-cushion to work on." this was such a height of bliss that it quite overcame phronsie, and she sat down on her stair again to think it over. to have a little silk bag to hang on her arm to carry her work in, just as polly and the other girls did when they went to each other's houses with their fancy work, was more than she ever imagined was coming to her till she got as big as they were. and to put her "cushion-pin" in it, and go to miss mary taylor's with them all, sent her into such a dream of delight that she sat quite still, her hands in her lap. "don't you like it, pet?" cried polly, disappointed at her silence. phronsie drew a long breath, then stood up and began to hop up and down on her stair. "oh, polly," she cried, clapping her hands, "i'm going to have a little silk bag, i truly am, polly, all my own--oh!" "my goodness me, phronsie!" cried polly, seizing her arms, "you'll roll down and break your neck, most likely." "and i'll take my cushion-pin"--phronsie leaned over and put her face close to polly's cheek--"and i'll sew on it for the poor children, i will," and she began to hop up and down again. "take care, and stop dancing," laughed polly. "and it shall be a pink bag," said phronsie, dreadfully excited; "make it a pink bag, do, polly." "oh, i don't know that i can do that," said polly slowly, "because you know i took my piece of pink ribbon auntie gave me, for that sachet case i'm making for the fair. but never mind, child"--as she saw a sorry little droop to phronsie's mouth--"i'll find another somewhere, and it will be nice, even if it isn't pink." "it will be nice," echoed phronsie confidently, as long as polly said so, and she clasped her hands. "and come on, pet, we'll go and find the ribbon and make the bag now, so as to be all ready." polly flew up from her stair. "pick up your doll, and give me your hand. here we are!"--as they ran up to the top. "i very much wish you wouldn't call her my doll," panted phronsie, as they reached the last step; "she's my child, polly." "i know; i won't forget," laughed polly. "now, says i, phronsie, for my piece-box!" the invitation of miss mary taylor to all the girls who were getting up the fair for the poor children's week, plunged them into such a state of excitement that those who had been lagging over their fancy work now spirited up on it, or ran down-street to get more materials and begin anew. one of these was clem forsythe. "oh, dear me!" cried polly, looking up from the floor of her room, where phronsie and she had thrown themselves, the piece-box of ribbons between them, "here comes clem up the drive; now i 'most know she wants me to help her on that sofa-pillow," and she twitched a square of yellow silk into a tighter tangle. "how in the world did that spool get in here?" she exclaimed, in vexation. "i'll get it out, let me," begged phronsie, dropping a fascinating bunch of gay ribbons she was sorting in the hope of finding a pink one. "oh, you can't, child," cried polly, her impatient fingers making sad work of the snarl. "there, i'll break the old thing, there's no other way"--as clem ran over the stairs and into the room. "oh, i'm so glad to find you!" panted clem. "dear me! what _are_ you doing?" and not waiting for an answer, she plunged on: "i stopped at alexia's--thought you might be there. and she's just as mad as can be because i was coming over here for you. you see, her aunt has something for her to do this morning. i'm tickled to death that for once i got ahead of her. whew! i'm so hot! i ran every step of the way." she threw herself down on the floor beside the two. "my, what a sight of ribbons, polly pepper!" "i'm going to have a silk bag, clem," confided phronsie, dropping the little bunch of ribbons in her lap, to lean over to look into the tall girl's face, "and i'm going to take my cushion-pin in it." "are you, really?" said clem. "oh, polly, you see, i want you to----" "yes, i am." phronsie nodded her yellow head. "polly is going to make it right now, she is." "is she? oh, dear!" clem gave a groan. "oh, polly, i did want you to----" "you see, i promised her this," polly was guilty of interrupting. "she's been invited to miss mary's this afternoon with us girls, and she wants a silk bag to carry her work in, too, the same as we big girls have, don't you, pet?" polly stopped long enough in the final tussle with the snarl to set a kiss on phronsie's round cheek. "yes, i do, polly," laughed phronsie, with a wriggle of delight, "and i'm going to carry my cushion-pin in it, i am." "so you see i can't help you on your sofa-pillow, clem," said polly hurriedly, feeling dreadfully ashamed to have to say no. "oh, i don't want any help on it," said clem; "i finished that old thing, polly." "finished your sofa-pillow, clem!" polly dropped her snarl in her lap. "why, how could you?--and you hadn't the dog worked, except one leg, and none of the filling in." "oh, i don't mean i finished it in that way," said clem carelessly. "i mean i'm done with it forever. i just hate that old dog, polly, and so i gave the whole thing to our second girl, and she's going to work it for christmas and send it to her mother." "dear me!" exclaimed polly, "and now you won't give anything to the fair," and her mouth drooped sorrowfully. "oh, yes, i will, too," declared clem cheerfully; "i'll give something ten times better than that old dog sitting up on a cushion. and nobody would have bought it when it was done, except my mother--i'd made her--so what's the use of finishing it? anyway, i've given it to bridget; and now i'm going to make the most elegant thing--you can't guess, polly pepper." "what is it?" cried polly, with sparkling eyes. "oh, that's telling," said clem, in a tantalizing way. "you must guess." "polly," said phronsie, with a gentle little twitch on her arm, "can you find any pink ribbon?" "yes, yes; i mean no, not yet," said polly, in a preoccupied way, her eyes on clem's face. "oh, i can't guess; it might be anything, you know, clem." "but it isn't; i mean it's something," declared clem, in great triumph. "oh, do hurry, you're so slow, polly; it's too elegant for anything!" polly leaned her face in her hands, and her elbows on her knees. "mm, mm--oh, i know!" she brought up suddenly, nearly overthrowing phronsie, who had bent anxiously over her. "take care, pet, i came near bumping your nose. it's a workbag." "a workbag!" exclaimed clem, in great scorn. "well, i guess not, polly pepper. what i'm going to make is ever so much better than an old workbag. guess again." at the mention of the workbag, phronsie had gently pulled polly's arm. but polly was too deep in thought to notice, and she wrinkled her brows, and bent her head again in her hands. what could it possibly be that clem was to make? "well, i think it is a sachet bag, then," she said at last. "an old sachet bag, when all the girls are making oceans of 'em! i should think you'd be perfectly ashamed, polly pepper, to sit there and guess such things. i'm going to make a most beautiful, embroidered handkerchief case, with little violets all----" "why, you can't, clem forsythe!" polly flew to her feet, sending the ribbon box flying, and nearly oversetting phronsie. "you ought not to do any such thing," she ran on passionately, a little red spot coming on either cheek, "when you know it'll be just like mine. it would be too mean for anything." "it won't be just like it," said clem, twisting uncomfortably, and not looking up into polly's face, "for mine is to be a wreath, and yours is a bunch." "but it'll be the same thing," cried polly, too angry to think what she was saying, "and you're perfectly mean and hateful to copy mine." "polly," cried phronsie, in a distressed little voice. she had gotten up to her feet, and now hurried over to hold polly's gown. "oh, don't, polly, don't!" "go away," commanded polly, angrily twitching her gown free; "you don't know what you are doing, phronsie, to stop me. she's gone and chosen the very thing i thought of all by myself." "i guess there are other violet handkerchief cases in the shops," said clem coldly. she was getting over her uncomfortable fit, and now she sprang to her feet. "and i think you are mean and stingy, too, polly pepper"--she tossed her head high in the air--"to expect to keep all the best things to yourself, and we're all working ourselves most to death over this old fair. and i did come to ask you to go down-town with me to buy my materials. mother's given me five dollars to spend just as i like--but i shan't ask you now, so there!" she gave her head another toss, and walked off toward the door. phronsie deserted polly and ran on unsteady little feet after her. "polly isn't mean and stingy," she quavered; "she couldn't be." clem looked down at her, and little uncomfortable thrills ran all over her. "well, anyway, she's mad at me," she said, with great decision. "oh, no, polly isn't mad," declared phronsie. she clasped her hands, and swallowed very hard to keep the tears back, but two big drops escaped and rolled down her cheeks. when clem saw those, she turned away. "well, anyway, i'm going down-street by myself," she said, without a backward glance at polly, and off she went. "and if she thinks i'm going with her, or care what she does, after this," cried polly, magnificently, with her head in the air, "she'll make a mistake." "polly, polly!" the tears were rolling fast now, and phronsie could scarcely see to stumble back across the room to her side. "and you don't know anything about it, child. to think of making a violet handkerchief case, and mine is almost done, and none of the girls would copy mine! and jasper drew the flowers on purpose." she was going on so fast now that she couldn't stop herself. "mamsie wouldn't like it," wailed phronsie, clear gone in distress now, and hiding her face in polly's gown. "mamsie would say--" began polly decidedly. then she stopped suddenly. "oh, what have i said!" she cried. "oh, what can i do!" she clasped her hands tightly together. she was now in as much distress as phronsie, and, seeing this, phronsie came out of her tears at once. "you might run after her," she said. "oh, polly, do." "she won't speak to me," said polly, with a little shiver, and covering her eyes. "oh, dear, dear, how could i!" "yes, she will, i do believe," said phronsie, putting down a terrible feeling at her throat. not speak to polly?--such a thing could never be! "do run after her, polly," she begged. polly took down her hands and went off with wavering steps to the door. "i'll get your hat," cried phronsie, running to the closet. but polly, once having decided to make the attempt at a reconciliation, was off, her brown braids flying back of her in the wind. iv miss taylor's working bee looking both sides of the road, not daring to think what she would say if she really did see clem, polly sped on. but not a glimpse of the tall girl's figure met her eyes, and at last she turned in at a gateway and ran up the little path to the door. mrs. forsythe saw her through the window that opened on the piazza. "why, polly pepper," she cried, "what a pity that clem didn't find you! she went over to your house." "oh, i know, i know," panted polly, with scarlet cheeks. "don't try to talk," said mrs. forsythe, "you are all out of breath. come in, polly." "oh, i can't. i mean i would like to see clem," mumbled polly, with an awful dread, now that she was on the point of finding her, of what she should say. it was all she could do to keep from running down the piazza steps and fleeing home as fast as she had come. "why, clem isn't at home," said mrs. forsythe, in a puzzled way; "you know i told you she had gone over to your house. she wanted you to go down-town with her, to buy some materials to take over to miss mary's this afternoon and begin something new for the fair." "oh!" said polly, in a faint voice, and hanging to the piazza railing. "you see, she was all tired out over that sofa-pillow. i told her it was quite too ambitious a piece to do, and she was so discouraged i gave her some more money, and advised her to get something fresh. she had almost made up her mind to give up working for the fair altogether." "oh, dear me!" gasped polly, quite overcome. "yes." mrs. forsythe leaned comfortably against the door-casing. it was such a comfort to tell her worries to polly pepper. "clem said all the other girls were making such pretty things, and it was no use for her to try. she can't get up new ideas quickly, you know, and she was ashamed not to take in something nice, and so she said she didn't mean to do anything. i couldn't bear to have her give it up, for she ought to keep with you girls." mrs. forsythe's face fell into anxious lines. "she gets unhappy by herself, with no young people in the house and only my mother and me to brighten her up. so i talked with her a long while this morning, and at last got her to be willing to try again. well, it's all right now, for she's started to find you, and go down-town to buy the things," and mrs forsythe smiled happily. polly sank to the piazza steps and buried her face in her hands. "why, my dear, are you ill?" clem's mother deserted the door-casing and came quickly out. "let me get you something." "oh, no, no!" polly sprang to her feet and hurried down the steps. "i must go home," she said hoarsely; and not pausing to think, only to get to mamsie, she sped away on the wings of the wind, not stopping until she had turned in at the little green wicket-gate where she wouldn't be likely to meet any one. "oh, dear, dear!"--and she hurried across the grass--"supposing mamsie isn't at home! she was going out for auntie. what _shall_ i do?" in her despair she raced over the greensward and plunged into the wistaria arbor--to stand face to face with clem! polly was too far gone in distress to say anything. clem jerked up her head from the table, and raised a defiant pair of cheeks, wet and miserable. "oh, dear, dear!" was all polly could get out. but she stumbled in and put her arms around her neck, and down went the two heads together. "i'm awfully sorry," blubbered clem. "oh, dear! i forgot my handkerchief." "take mine." polly put a wet little wad into her hand. "oh, clem, if you don't let me go down-town with you and buy that handkerchief case!" "let you!" cried clem. "you won't want to go with me, polly. but i'm not going to work a handkerchief case." "oh, yes, you are," declared polly positively. "if you don't, clem forsythe!" "it was mean in me to choose it," said clem, beginning to sniffle again, now that she had a handkerchief. "oh, no, no!" said polly in alarm. "now i know you won't forgive me when you say such things. for it was all my fault; i was stingy mean to want to keep it to myself." "you aren't ever mean, polly pepper!" clem hugged her so tightly by the neck that the neat little ruffle mamsie sewed in that very morning was quite crushed. when she saw that, clem was in worse distress than ever. "see here! why, clem forsythe!" polly pepper flew up to her feet so suddenly, that clem started in amazement, and stared at her as well as she could with her eyes full of tears. "why, can't you see? haven't we been two goosies--geese, i mean--not to think of it before!" "what?" asked clem helplessly. "why, you might make a violet _glove_ case," said polly, in a burst. then she began to dance around the arbor. "oh, clem, how perfectly lovely!" "i don't see," began clem dismally, "and i don't know how to make a glove case." "why, make it just like my handkerchief case, only long," flung polly over her shoulder, as she danced away. "but i don't want to copy yours," protested clem, "for it really would be mean." "but this would make a set, yours and mine," said polly breathlessly, and coming up to shake the downcast shoulders, "don't you see? oh, you goosie! and i've been another, not to think of it before. and oh, such a set! why, it would sell for a lot of money. and i'll ask jasper to draw you the same kind of bunch of violets on your glove case, and we'll go right down-town, now. i can make phronsie's bag when i get home. come on!" when clem once had the idea in her mind, she got off from the bench, and phronsie, watching anxiously from polly's window for her return, saw the two girls hurrying across the lawn, their arms around each other and talking busily. and it wasn't but a moment or two, and she was flying over the grass to meet them. polly had explained that the little ribbon bag was to be made just as soon as the materials for the new glove case were bought. polly had run up for her hat, and to get her little purse, for she just remembered that her green silk for the violet stems was nearly out, and phronsie had said good-bye and gone back to the house on happy feet, to tell clorinda and watch at the window till polly should come again. and just after luncheon, for they must start early in order to have a good long afternoon at miss mary's, polly and phronsie set forth, the new little bag hanging from phronsie's arm. jasper went with them as far as the corner, where he turned off to go to jack rutherford's, for the boys were to meet there to write letters for the post office. they had promised to be there bright and early. "oh, jasper, it was so good of you to draw that dear bunch of violets for clem," said polly for about the fiftieth time; "it was too sweet for anything." "too sweet for anything," hummed phronsie, all her eyes on her bag, dangling as she walked. "take care, you came near falling on your nose, phronsie." jasper put out a warning hand. "i think it's so nice there's a pink stripe in it, polly," said phronsie, patting her bag affectionately. "yes, isn't it, pet!" cried polly, glad she hadn't snipped up that very ribbon for little sachet bags. "and the green stripe, too, is pretty, phronsie." "it's pretty," cooed phronsie, "and my cushion-pin is inside, japser," she announced. "is it really?" said jasper. "yes, it is really and truly, japser, and i'm going to work on it," she added, with a very important air. "you don't say so, pet!" he cried. "why, you are going to a working bee just the same as the big girls, aren't you?" "i'm very big," said phronsie, stepping so high she nearly fell into a mud-puddle. whereat jasper picked her up, bag and all, and marched off, laughing, not to set her down till they reached the corner. "well, good-bye. take care now, phronsie," and he gave her a kiss. "good-bye, polly, and good luck to your bee." "and i do hope you'll have splendid success with the letters, jasper," polly craned her neck around the corner to say, the last thing. then she took phronsie's hand and hurried along to meet a throng of girls, all bound for miss mary's. there on the big stone steps was mr. hamilton dyce. "i heard there was to be a bee here this afternoon," he said, looking down at them all with a smile, "so i thought i'd come." "i'm coming," announced phronsie, breaking away from polly and holding up her bag; and she began to mount the steps. "so i perceive," said mr. dyce, running down to meet her. "well, phronsie, i must tell you i came partly to see you." "and i've got a cushion-pin inside," said phronsie confidingly, as she toiled up. "have you, though?" cried mr. dyce. "take care, don't go so fast. let some of these girls race ahead of us; we'll take our time. how d'ye, polly, and alexia, and all the rest of you?" "but i must hurry," said phronsie, with a very pink face, as the bevy rushed by, "for i'm going to work on my cushion-pin." "so you must. well, then, here goes!" mr. dyce swung her up to his shoulder and went, two steps at a time, in through the crowd of girls, so that he arrived there first when the door was opened. there in the hall stood miss mary taylor, as pretty as a pink. "i heard there was to be a bee here this afternoon, and i've brought phronsie; that's my welcome," he announced. "see, i've got a bag," announced phronsie from her perch, and holding it forth. so the bag was admired, and the girls trooped in, going up into miss mary's pretty room to take off their things. and presently the big library, with the music-room adjoining, was filled with the gay young people, and the bustle and chatter began at once. "i should think you'd be driven wild by them all wanting you at the same minute." mr. dyce, having that desire at this identical time, naturally felt a bit impatient, as miss mary went about inspecting the work, helping to pick out a stitch here and to set a new one there, admiring everyone's special bit of prettiness, and tossing a smile and a gay word in every chance moment between. "oh, no," said miss mary, with a little laugh, "they're most of them my sunday-school scholars, you know." "that's all the more reason that you ought not to be bothered with them week days," observed mr. dyce. "now why can't you sit down here and amuse me?" he pushed up an easy-chair into a cosy-corner, then drew up an ottoman, on which he sat down. "oh, look at that mr. dyce," said clem, quite in a flow of spirits, as she threaded her needle with a strand of violet silk; "he's going to keep miss mary off there all to himself. what did make him come this afternoon?" "well, he isn't going to have miss mary!" cried alexia rhys, twitching her pink worsted with an impatient hand. "horrors! now i've gone and gotten that into a precious snarl. the very idea! she's our sunday-school teacher. oh, miss mary!" she called suddenly. miss taylor, just sitting down in the easy-chair, turned. "what is it, alexia?"--while mr. dyce frowned. at which alexia laughed over at him. "please show me about my work," she begged. "you little tyrant!" called mr. dyce, as miss mary went over. "do i slip one stitch and then knit two?" asked alexia innocently. polly, next to her on a cricket, opened wide eyes. "yes," said miss mary, "just the same as you have been knitting all along, alexia." "well, i couldn't think of anything else to ask," said alexia coolly. then she laid hold of miss mary's pretty, gray gown. "oh, don't go back to him," she implored. "do stay with us girls, we're all your sunday-school class--that is, most of us. _please_ stay with us, miss mary." miss mary cast an imploring glance over at the gentleman, which he seemed to see, although apparently he wasn't looking. "phronsie, you and i will have to move over, i think"; for by this time he had her in his lap; and so he bundled her across the room unceremoniously. "oh, i've lost my needle!" cried phronsie, peering out from his arms in great distress. "dear me!" exclaimed mr. dyce; so he set her down and dropped to all-fours to peer about for the shining little implement, phronsie getting down on her knees to assist the search. alexia, seeing the trouble, deserted her knitting, and flew out of her chair to help look for it. "you little tyrant!" exclaimed mr. dyce, as she added herself to the group, "to call miss mary over there! i should think it was quite bad enough to have you sundays, alexia." "miss mary thinks a great deal of me," said alexia composedly. "dear me, what a plaguey little thing that needle is! never mind, phronsie, don't feel badly. i guess--oh, here it is, and sticking straight up." "and all this would never have happened but for your calling miss mary away," observed mr. dyce, getting up straight again. "what a little nuisance you are, alexia!" all of which she had heard from him so many times before that it failed to disturb her, so she went back to her seat in high spirits, phronsie hopping over like a small rabbit to a little cricket at polly's feet. at this there was a bustle among the girls. "sit next to me, miss mary," begged silvia horne, sweeping a chair clear. "no, no," cried amy garrett, "she's coming here!" "i call that nice," exclaimed alexia decidedly, "when i asked her to come across the room! i'm going to sit next to her of course." "you'd much better have stayed with me," laughed mr. hamilton dyce, "since there'll be one long fight over you. better come back." but miss mary, protesting that the girls needed her, finally settled it by getting her chair into the middle of the group, which she made into a circle. "there, now, we're all comfy together," she announced. "now, mr. dyce, you must read us something." "oh, tell us a story," put in alexia, who didn't relish listening to reading. "oh, yes, a story, a story," they one and all took it up. even phronsie laid down her big needle which she was patiently dragging back and forth, with a very long piece of red worsted following its trail across the face of her "cushion-pin" in a way to suit her own design, to beg for the story. "oh, phronsie!" exclaimed polly, for the first time catching sight of this, "you can't work with such a long thread. let me cut off some of it, do." "oh, no, no," protested phronsie, edging off in alarm. "why, it'll get all knotted up," said polly, in concern; "you better let me take off a little--just a little, teenty bit, phronsie." "no, no," declared phronsie decidedly, "i must hurry and get my cushion-pin done." "she thinks she'll get it done faster with a great, long thread," giggled one of the girls over in the corner. mr. dyce turning to fix her with a stare, she subsided, ducking behind her neighbor's back. "phronsie, i must buy that cushion-pin at the fair," he announced. "i want such an one very much indeed." phronsie got off from the little cricket where he had placed her, and went straight over to him, to lay her hand with the "cushion-pin" in it on his knee. "then i will sell it to you," she said gravely, "and the poor children can go into the country." then she went back to her seat and took up her work once more. some of the girls laughed, but alexia frowned furiously at them; and mr. dyce and miss mary apparently seeing no amusement in it, they all began to beg for the story again, till the clamor bade fair to stop the needles from doing their work. "i guess you'll have to," miss mary smiled over at him from the center of the circle, while the color deepened on her cheek. "i want a story told to me first," he said coolly, leaning back in his chair. "what is all this bee for, and this fair? i know just a hint about that, but let me have the whole story from beginning to end. now then, some one tell me. i am very anxious to hear." "you tell, polly," cried alexia, and "let polly pepper tell, can't she, miss mary?" begged all the girls, every one saying the same thing. so miss mary said yes, and polly laid down her violet handkerchief case in her lap, although she hated to stop working, and began: "you see, miss mary said one day in sunday-school----" "oh, polly, not that!" said miss taylor, in dismay. "go on, polly, and tell every word," said mr. hamilton dyce. "i'm to be told the whole story; from the very beginning, now mind. you said, 'one day in sunday-school.' now go on." "yes," said polly, her cheeks like a rose for fear her dear miss mary might not like it, "miss mary said we ought to be doing things, not always talking about them and learning how to be good; and she said there were so many poor children who were waiting for us to help them. and----" "polly, you don't need to tell that. he wants to know about the fair," miss taylor broke in suddenly. "oh, dear!" said poor polly, blushing rosier than ever and moving her cricket so that she need not see miss mary's face, while mr. dyce, protesting that he was not to be cheated out of a single word of the narration, made her go back and tell over the last thing she said. this was so much worse that miss mary decided she would let the story go on at all hazards, so she leaned back in her chair resignedly, while polly went on: "well, and so we said, 'yes, miss mary, we'd like to' and what could we do, for we didn't know how to help poor children." "and i said i didn't want to," broke in alexia suddenly. "but you did, alexia!" cried polly, whirling around on her cricket to regard her affectionately. "oh, mr. dyce, she did help"--looking over at him anxiously. "oh, yes, i see," nodded that gentleman, "and she's working on some fandango for the fair just as hard as you other girls." "oh, this horrible old shawl!" said alexia, regarding the worsted folds dangling from her needle with anything but favor. "well, i didn't want it, and nobody will buy it, i know, but the other girls were all going to do things, so i had to." "well, go on, polly," said mr. dyce, with a laugh. so polly, quite satisfied that he really understood how alexia was helping along the work for the poor children the same as the others, hurried on with the story. "well, so then miss mary proposed that we hold a fair, and grandpapa said we might have it on his grounds; and auntie whitney said why not have a garden party, and sell tickets, for perhaps some people wouldn't care to buy things and----" "and i'm going to put my cushion-pin on the table," piped phronsie suddenly, her checks all aglow with excitement, and dropping her needle again. "so you shall," cried mr. dyce, "only you must have a little card saying 'sold' on it; for i am surely going to buy that pincushion, phronsie." and then polly flew back to her work again, and mr. dyce told such a very funny story about some monkeys who were going to give a party in the woods to all the other animals, that phronsie forgot all about her needle, and ran over to clamber up into his lap. and then, oh, the needles flew; and clem's green stems began to grow, and a tiny bud showed itself, and then a full-blown violet. and alexia's pink shawl took ever so many rows, and all the work seemed to flourish like magic. and at last, miss mary looked up at the clock. "time to put up work, girls," she cried gayly. and then wasn't there a great bustle, every one trying to see which would get hers into her bag first! and then, oh, such a stretching of tired arms and feet! "oh, dear me! the prickles are all running up and down my legs," exclaimed alexia. "hush, well, so are mine," declared clem. "oh, dear me--ow! i haven't sat still for so long--ever, i guess." "nor i," laughed another girl. "come." miss mary was telling mr. dyce to lead the way to the dining-room. so they all fell into line, and, when there, they forgot tired legs and arms in the delights of the little feast set out. miss mary sat down by the small table and poured chocolate for them, a white-capped maid at her chair, mr. hamilton dyce on the other side as grand helper. then the girls settled down in pretty groups on the broad window-seats, and on the high-backed chairs, and gave themselves up to the supreme content of the hour. and then miss mary proposed that they should wind up the afternoon with a dance, which was received with a shout of delight. so she led the way to the drawing-room and sat down before the grand piano. "can't one of you girls play?" asked mr. dyce, at that. "oh, no, no," said miss mary, "the girls must dance." so, without waiting for any words, she struck into a two-step. "oh, i'll play, i'll play." polly pepper ran out from the midst of the group. "polly, come back, you are going to dance with me," cried alexia. "no, you're always getting her first. she's going to dance with me," announced clem. polly was already over at the piano, trying to be heard, but miss mary only laughed and shook her head. "no use, polly," said mr. dyce, and he put his arm around her, and away they went down the length of the drawing-room. "well, at least you haven't got this first dance," said alexia. "nor you, either," retorted clem. "so come on, let's dance together," and away they went, too. and at last, when it was time to go home, mr. hamilton dyce, who had absented himself after that first dance, drove up with a flourish to the door in his runabout. "i've come for phronsie pepper," he said. so phronsie, half asleep, had her hat tied on, and kissed miss mary, and polly lifted her up and guided her foot over the step, mr. dyce, the reins in one hand, helping her with the other. "good-bye," he called, his eyes on no one but miss mary. "oh, my bag, my bag!" cried phronsie, in a wail of distress, and leaning forward suddenly. "take care, child; where are you going?" mr. dyce put forth a restraining hand and held her closely. "my bag!" phronsie looked back, the tears racing over her round cheeks. "i'll bring it home," called polly from the steps, where she was back among the knot of girls. "my bag!" phronsie continued to wail. "dear me!" cried polly, "she must have it now." so she ran into the house to get it, where phronsie had left it on her little cricket, mr. dyce meanwhile saying, "there, there, child, you shall have it," while he turned the little mare sharply about. "we can't ever find the needle," said alexia, rushing after polly into the library, and getting down on her knees to prowl over the floor. "misery me!"--with a jump--"i've found it already, sticking straight into me!" so phronsie's "cushion-pin" was thrust into the gay little pink-and-green-striped workbag, and polly danced out with it and handed it up to her. mr. dyce cracked the whip, and this time they were fairly off. v "she's my little girl" "oh, i do wish, polly," cried phronsie, as they ran along the hollyhock path, "that my poor little girl could go to the country. can't she, polly?" she asked anxiously. "oh, yes, of course," assented polly, her mind on the garden party, now only three days ahead. "phronsie, how perfectly elegant those roses are going to be!"--pointing off to the old-fashioned varieties blooming riotously. "oh, polly!" phronsie stood still a moment in silent bliss, then hopped up and down the narrow path. "i'm so glad she can go! oh, polly, i'm so _very_ glad!" "who?" cried polly, in perplexity. "my little girl, my poor little girl," said phronsie, hopping away. "oh, of course." polly gave a little laugh. "well, there are lots of poor little girls who will go, phronsie," she said, in great satisfaction, "because, you know, we're going to make a great deal of money, i expect. why, grandpapa has told thomas to buy ever so many flowers. just think, child, and the oceans we have here!" she waved her hands over to take in not only the old-fashioned garden where they stood, but the smart flower-beds beyond, the pride and joy of the gardeners. "oh, yes, there will be ever so many children who will be happy in the country in the summer." "and my poor little girl," persisted phronsie gleefully, "she will be happy, polly. oh, let's go down to the big gate--p'raps she's there now--and tell her. please, polly." she seized polly's hand in great excitement. polly sank to her knees in delight over a little bed of daisies. "i do think these are the very sweetest things, phronsie pepper," she said. "see the cunning baby ones coming out." "please, polly," begged phronsie, clinging to her hand. "why, phronsie!" polly looked up in amazement. not to pay attention to the baby daisies was certainly astonishing, when phronsie was always so rapt over the new flowers. "what is it you want, child?" "please come down to the big gate, polly," pleaded phronsie, her lip quivering, for polly was not usually so hard to understand. "yes, i will," said polly, reluctantly tearing herself away from the fascinating daisies. "now then, we'll go there right away; one, two, three, and away!" "i guess--she'll--be--there," panted phronsie, but she was running so fast to keep up with polly's longer steps that her words died away on the air; and polly, who dearly loved a race over the grass, was letting her mind travel to the delights of the garden party, and what it was going to accomplish, so she didn't hear. at last there was the big gate. "dear me!" cried polly, with a gay little laugh, "what a fine race! no wonder you wanted me to try it with you! why, pet, have i run too fast?" she looked with remorse at the flushed little face. "no," gasped phronsie, "but oh, polly, will you sit down on the grass?" "to be sure i will," said polly very remorsefully, "you're all tired out. there, let's come over here," and she led her over to the very tree under which phronsie had fallen asleep. "here's where i found you the other day, phronsie, when you were so tired. heigh-ho!" and polly threw herself down on the grass, and drew phronsie into her lap. "p'raps she'll come," said phronsie, and the sorrowful look began to disappear as she cuddled in polly's arms. "don't you believe she will, polly?" she put her face close to polly's to peer anxiously into her brown eyes. "who, child?" asked polly. "the poor little girl--my poor little girl," exclaimed phronsie. "oh, there isn't any little girl, at least any particular one," cried polly. "we're going to send ever so many little girls into the country, phronsie, but not any special one." "oh, yes, there is," contradicted phronsie, her lip quivering again, and, despite all her efforts, the big tears began to course down her cheeks. "she's my little girl, and i like her. please let her go, polly. and maybe she'll come soon, if we only wait for her." it was a long speech, and by the time it was all out, phronsie had laid her head in polly's neck, and was sobbing as if her heart would break. it was for this reason that polly did not happen to look up across the grass to the big gate, so of course she couldn't be expected to see what took place there. and it was not until phronsie had been persuaded to sit straight and have her tears wiped away, because mamsie wouldn't like to have her cry, that any one guessed it at all. and in one instant polly's lap was deserted, phronsie was flying over the greensward, crying out: "there she is--my poor little girl!" it took but a moment for polly's swift feet to follow, but none too soon, for the thin little face with the sharp, black eyes was withdrawn, and the flapping old shoes were beating a hasty retreat. but polly was after her, and her hand was on her arm, and the first thing the stranger knew she was drawn within the big gateway, phronsie circling around her with great satisfaction. "she _did_ come, polly, she did." "lemme be. i warn't doin' nothin' but peekin'," said the girl, trying to wriggle away from polly's grasp. but polly held on. "don't be frightened; there isn't any one going to hurt you. what's your name, little girl?" "she's my little girl," insisted phronsie, trying to get hold of the thin little hand, which was less grimy than usual. "what's your name?" asked polly again. "rag," said the girl, in a burst. "rag? oh, dear me!" said polly. "lemme go. i hain't done no harm. gran'll be wantin' me." "who?" "gran." the girl, at that, tried to fold up her arms in the remains of her sleeves. but polly saw the long, red welts that were not pleasant to look at. she gave a little shiver, but held on firmly to the tattered ends. "oh, make her stay," cried phronsie; "i want her to play with me. i'll let you take clorinda again, and she shall be your child," she stood up on tiptoe to say. "can't," said the girl, making a desperate effort to twitch away. "lemme go." "no, you cannot go until you have told me who you are, and how you know my little sister." rag looked into the brown eyes of the little girl not so much older, drew a long breath, then burst out, "she's visited me to my house," and, putting on the most defiant expression possible, stood quite still. _"visited you at your house!"_ echoed polly. she nearly dropped the ragged sleeve. "yes, an' i give her a five-o'clock tea," said rag proudly. "any harm in that? an' i brung her home again, and she ain't hurt a bit. you lemme go, you girl, you!" "you must come and see grandpapa," said polly firmly, a little white line around her mouth. "i ain't a-goin'." rag showed instant fight against any such idea. "then, if you don't," said polly, gripping her arm, "i shall call the gardeners, and they will bring you up to the house." "oh, do come," cried phronsie, who thought everything most delightfully conspiring to make her friend remain. "dear grandpapa will love you, little girl; come with polly and me." she took hold of her other arm, and rag, seeing no way out of it and wholly bewildered, suffered herself to be led up to the grand mansion. "bless me; what have we here?" old mr. king, enjoying a morning constitutional on the big veranda, looked over his spectacles, which he had forgotten to remove as he had just thrown down the morning paper in a chair, and stared in amazement at the three children coming over the lawn. "my poor little girl, grandpapa," announced phronsie, releasing the arm she clung to, and tumbling up over the steps, "and please make her stay, and i'm going to let her take clorinda," and she plunged breathlessly into the old gentleman's arms. "hoity-toity, child!" exclaimed old mr. king, holding her closely. "well, what have we here?"--as polly led rag up on to the veranda. "i don't know, grandpapa," said polly, still keeping tight hold of the arm in its tattered sleeve. "it seems to be a little girl," said grandpapa, peering at the stranger. "yes, it's my little girl," said phronsie happily, "and she's come to play with me, grandpapa." "oh, my goodness me!" exclaimed mr. king, stepping backward and drawing phronsie closer. "i ain't come. _she_ brung me," said the girl, pointing with a thumb over at polly; "tain't my fault; she made me." "polly, what is all this?" asked the old gentleman perplexedly, staring at one and the other. "i don't know, grandpapa," said polly, the little white line still around her mouth; "she says phronsie has been at her house, and----" "_phronsie been at her house!_" thundered the old gentleman. "yes, she has. an' i give her a five-o'clock tea," cried rag, in a burst, who, thinking that she was probably now going to be killed, began to take pleasure in telling all she knew. "swell folks does; i seen 'em plenty of times on th' avenoo, an' here, too"--she nodded toward the long french windows--"an' i got as good a right, i guess. an' she let me take her doll, an' i like her. an' we had an orful good time till gran came in, an' then we lit out, an' i brung her home. now what you goin' to do about it?" she folded her thin arms as well as she could, for polly was still holding to one, and glared defiantly out of her sharp, black eyes. "oh, grandpapa, her arms!" polly was pointing to the long, red welts. rag turned as if shot, and twitched the ragged sleeves down, tucking the free arm behind her back. "lemme go, you girl: you hain't no right to see 'em, it's none o' your business," she screamed at polly. old mr. king had sunk into a chair. phronsie, in his lap, was so busy in putting her face close to his, and telling him that it was really her own poor little girl, that she had failed to see the arms and the disclosures they had made. "go and get your mother," he said, after a breathing space. "oh, stay! i can't hold her"--with a gesture of disgust. "an' you ain't a-goin' to tetch me," declared rag proudly; "no, sir-ee!" "well, phronsie, you jump down and go and get your mother," mr. king whispered, smoothing her yellow hair with a trembling hand. "i will--i will," she cried gleefully, hopping out of his lap. "oh, don't send her away." all the defiance dropped out of rag's face and manner, and she whimpered miserably. "she's th' only nice one there is here. don't let her go." "she's coming right back, little girl," said old mr. king kindly. he even smiled. but the girl had hung her head, so she didn't see it, and she blubbered on. "i'll bring mamsie to see my poor little girl," phronsie kept saying to herself over and over, as she scuttled off, and in a very few minutes mother fisher was out on the veranda in obedience to old mr. king's summons. "it's beyond me"--the old gentleman waved his hand at rag--"you'll have to unravel it, mrs. fisher. here, phronsie, get up in my lap." he strained her so tightly to him, as phronsie hopped into her accustomed nest, that she looked up. "oh, grandpapa!" she exclaimed. "did i hurt you, child?" he said, in a broken voice. "a little, grandpapa dear," she said. "well--oh, lord bless me! i can't talk, child," he finished brokenly. "are you sick, grandpapa?" she asked, sitting straight to look at him anxiously. "does your head ache? i'll smooth it for you," and she began to pat his white hair. "oh, no, child, my head doesn't ache. there, sit still, dear, that's all i want." so phronsie cuddled up within his arms, feeling quite sure that now mamsie had her own poor little girl, everything would be all right. "she's my nice little girl, and i like her," phronsie was saying. "yes, i do, very much indeed, grandpapa." "you do?" "yes, and i want her to stay here, grandpapa. please, may she?" "oh, dear!" "_please_, grandpapa dear." phronsie put up one hand and tucked it softly under his chin. he seized it and covered it with kisses. "oh, my lamb--that wicked, careless joanna!" "what's the matter, grandpapa?" phronsie brought up her head to look at him with troubled eyes. "nothing--nothing, child; there, cuddle down again. your mother is talking to the little girl, and she will fix up things. oh, bless me!" "mamsie will fix up things, won't she, grandpapa?" cooed phronsie, wriggling her toes happily. "yes, dear." "grandpapa," said phronsie, after a moment's silence only broken by a soft murmur of voices, for mother fisher had drawn her group to the further corner, "i don't think my little girl has got a very nice place to live in." "oh, phronsie, child!" he strained her convulsively to his breast. "there, there, lamb, oh, i didn't mean to! grandpapa won't hurt his little pet for the world." "you didn't hurt me this time," said phronsie, "as much as you did before, grandpapa dear." "oh, my child! grandpapa wouldn't hurt a hair of your blessed head. oh, that dreadful joanna!" "i like my own little girl very much indeed," said phronsie, dismissing her own hurts to go on with her narrative. "yes, i do, grandpapa," she added decidedly, "but i don't like the place she lived in. and, grandpapa"--here she drew a long breath--"there was an old lady came in, and i don't think she was a nice old lady, i don't, grandpapa." phronsie crept up a bit closer, if that were possible. "what did she do, child?" he held his breath for the answer. "she took hold of my arm," said phronsie, a shiver seizing her at the remembrance, and she burrowed deeper within the protecting arms, "and she felt of my beads that auntie gave me." "what else?" he scarcely seemed to ask the question. "and my own little girl pulled me away, and she carried me home, most of the way, and i like her." phronsie brought herself up with an emphatic little nod, and smiled. "that was good." phronsie smiled radiantly. "wasn't it, grandpapa!" she cried, in delight. "and i want her to stay. may she? oh, may she? she's my own little girl." "we'll see about it," said old mr. king, with a thought of the long welts on the thin arms, and the furious old woman. "what's that noise?" asked phronsie, suddenly lifting her head. "oh, a bird, maybe," said the old gentleman, carelessly looking up to the vines swinging around the veranda. "there, lay your head down again, child." "it didn't sound like a bird, grandpapa. i thought some one was crying." yet she put her yellow head obediently down, and didn't lift it again till mother fisher stood by the side of old mr. king's chair. "well, is the conference over?" he asked. "yes," said mrs. pepper. her lips had a little white line around them, too, like that on polly's mouth, and the black eyes had a strange expression. phronsie popped her head up like a bird out of its nest, and piped out: "oh, please, mamsie, may she stay?" "yes," said mother fisher, "she is going to stay, phronsie." "oh, my goodness me!" breathed old mr. king. phronsie slipped out of his arms and began to dance, clapping her hands. "i'm going to play with her now, but i must get clorinda first," she cried excitedly. "see here, phronsie," mother fisher called, as she was flying off, "you must not play with the little girl yet." phronsie stood quite still. "come here to mother." mrs. fisher opened her arms and phronsie scuttled into them like a little rabbit. mrs. pepper held her so closely that phronsie looked up quickly. "why, you are hurting me like grandpapa, mamsie." "oh, my child!" mother fisher seemed to forget herself, as she bowed her head over phronsie's yellow hair. "what is the matter, mamsie?" asked phronsie. "i wish i could see your face," and she wriggled violently. "nothing is the matter now," said mamsie. "there, child, now i'll tell you. if the little girl stays here, she----" "she's my little girl," interrupted phronsie. "well, if she stays here, she must be washed and have on clean clothes. so sarah has taken her, and is going to fix her all up nice." "oh--oh!" cried phronsie, in a transport, "and can she have some of polly's clothes, mamsie?" "yes, i guess so. anyway, we will fix her up all nicely." "and may she stay here for ever and ever," cried phronsie, "and not go back to that un-nice old lady? please, mamsie, don't let her go back," she pleaded. over the yellow hair the old gentleman had found out and communicated several things back and forth. one was, "i don't think she is the child's own grandmother." "mr. cabot can investigate," and so on. "what are you whispering about?" at last asked phronsie. "nothing that you should know, dear. now i'm going to put you in grandpapa's lap, phronsie. you must be a good girl," and mother pepper went off. "you must take care of me, phronsie," said the old gentleman, "for i really think i need it now. and i guess my hair does want to be smoothed, after all." "i'll stay and take care of you, grandpapa," said phronsie, delighted that her services were really to be called for, and with her heart at rest about her own poor little girl. vi grandma bascom "deary me!" grandma bascom stopped shooing out the hens from her kitchen doorway, and leaned on the broom-handle. "if here don't come mis' henderson! now i shall hear about that blessed little creeter and all the rest of them childern." "good-afternoon." the parson's wife went swiftly up the flag-bordered path between the lilac bushes. "it's a beautiful day, mrs. bascom." "hey?" grandma's shaking hand went up to her cap-border, so mrs. henderson had to say it over, that it was a beautiful day, as loud as she could. "you've come to-day?" said grandma. "yes, i see you have, an' i'm obleeged to you, i'm sure, for it's mighty lonesome since that blessed little creeter, an' all the rest of them childern went away. come in an' set down," and she led the way into the kitchen. meanwhile, the hens, seeing nothing to prevent it, had employed the time in slipping in under grandma's short gown, and were busily scratching around for any stray bits. "thank you." the parson's wife nimbly found a chair, while grandma bustled into the bedroom. "excuse me a minute, mis' henderson," she called; "i'm goin' to slip on t'other cap." "oh, don't take the trouble," said mrs. henderson's pleasant voice. but she might as well have said nothing, for grandma didn't hear a word. "'tain't proper to see your minister's wife in your mornin' cap, nor your petticoat neither for that matter," said grandma to herself, looking down at her short gown. so she concluded to put on her sunday-go-to-meeting gown, as she called her best dress. this took her so long, because she hooked it up wrong three times, that mrs. henderson appeared in the doorway before the operation of dressing-up could be said to be finished. "i'm very sorry," she began. "'tain't a bit o' trouble," said grandma cheerfully, pulling at the second hook, which she had been trying for some time to get into the first eye; "you set down, mis' henderson, an' i'll be out pretty soon." "i must go very soon." the parson's wife came quite close to say this, up under the frill of the best cap, which stood out very stiffly, as grandma always kept it in a covered box on top of her high bureau. "hey?" "i must go home soon. i have so many things to see to this afternoon." it was a fatally long speech, for grandma only attended to the last part. "it's aft-noon? i know it. i'm comin' 's soon 's i can git this hooked up"--with another pull at the mismated hooks and eyes. seeing this, in despair the parson's wife took the matter of hooking up into her own hands, and before long the sunday-go-to-meeting gown could be said to be fairly on. "now that's something like," observed grandma, in great satisfaction. "i hain't been hooked up by any one since mis' pepper went away. deary me, how i should set by a sight o' her, an' th' blessed little creeter--there ain't none other like that child." mrs. henderson nodded, being sparing of words. "i've some letters from them," she said loudly, "and if you come out to the kitchen, i will stay and read them to you." "what did you say was the matter in the kitchen?" demanded grandma, in alarm. "oh, them dirty hens, i s'pose, has got in again." "i have letters from the pepper children, and they ask me to come over here and read them to you," shouted mrs. henderson. "dear me!"--to herself--"what shall i do? i'm all tired out already, and three letters to read--she won't hear a word." but grandma, having caught the word "letters," knew quite well what was in store, so, picking up her best gown by its side breadths, she waddled out and seated herself with great dignity in a big chair by the kitchen window. it was next to the little stand in whose drawer she used to let joel pepper look for peppermints. when the pepper children shut up the little brown house to go to mr. king's, grandma moved the small mahogany stand from its place next to the head of her bed out into the kitchen. she kept her big bible on it, and her knitting work, where she could "have 'em handy." and it made her feel less lonesome to look up from her work to see it standing there. "seem's though that boy was a-comin' in every minute," she said. "my land o' goshen, don't i wish he was!" for grandma always had a soft spot in her heart for joel. now she smoothed down her front breadth, and folded her hands in a company way. the parson's wife drew up a kitchen chair close to her side and unfolded the first letter. "who writ that?" asked grandma eagerly. "that's from polly," said mrs. henderson. "bless her heart!" cried grandma. "well, what does she say?" "ma"--a light-haired, serious boy appeared in the doorway--"pa wants you," he announced. "oh, peletiah!" exclaimed the parson's wife, in consternation, at his unlooked-for appearance, and, "oh, grandma!" in the same breath, "i'm so sorry i must go." "so sorry? what's ben a happenin' that polly's sorry?" said grandma, supposing that was in the letter. "now i know that blessed little creeter has got hurt, an' they wouldn't let me know afore the rest." "it isn't in the letter," declared mrs. henderson, in a loud, hasty tone, hurrying out of her chair. "peletiah, what does your father want, do you know?" "i don't know exactly," said peletiah deliberately, "only aunt jerusha tumbled down the cellar stairs; maybe that's it." "oh, dear me! dear me!" cried the parson's wife, in a great fright. "peletiah, here are the letters from the pepper children"--thrusting them into his hand--"do you stay and read them to grandma. and be sure to tell her why i went home," and she actually ran out of the kitchen, and down the lilac-bordered path. peletiah, left alone with the letters, turned them over and over in his hands, as he stood quite still in the middle of the kitchen floor. he never thought of disobeying, and presently he pulled up another chair, just in front of grandma, and sat slowly down. "oh, i know she's got hurted bad," she kept groaning, "an' i shan't never see her again. oh, the pretty creeter! hain't she hurted bad?" she asked anxiously, bringing her cap frills to bear on the boy in front. "yes, i guess so," said peletiah cheerfully; "she fell way down all over the cat sitting on the stairs." "where'd you say she fell?" screamed grandma. "cellar stairs," peletiah raised his voice, too, and sprawled out his hands to show how his aunt jerusha must have descended. "oh, me! oh, my!" exclaimed grandma, in great sorrow, "that blessed little creeter! to think she's fell and got hurted!" "she ain't little," said peletiah, who was extremely literal, "she's awful long and bony!" and he could think of no special reason for calling her blessed, but that might be grandma's fancy. "well, read them letters," said grandma mournfully, when she could control her speech enough to say anything; "maybe they'll tell more about the accident," and she put her hand again behind her best ear. "'tain't in the letters," said peletiah, "it's only just happened." but grandma didn't hear, so he picked up polly's letter, which was open, and began in a singsong tone: "'dear mrs. henderson--'" "hey?" "'dear mrs. henderson,'" cried peletiah, in a shrill, high key. "do move up closer; i'm a little hard o' hearin'--jist a mite," said grandma. so peletiah shoved his chair nearer, and began again: "'dear mrs. henderson, we are going to have the very loveliest thing happen, and i want to write to you now, because next week there won't be any time at all, we shall be so very busy.'" it was impossible to stop peletiah until he had rounded a sentence, as he considered it his duty to pay strict attention to a period. so, although grandma screamed, and even twitched his jacket sleeve, she couldn't get him to stop. the consequence was that he had to shout this over till at last she understood it, and then she turned a bewildered face upon him, but as he was deep in his second sentence, he didn't see it, but plodded patiently on. "'grandpapa is going to let us have a garden party; there are tickets to be sold, for we are going to raise money to send poor children out into the country. and jasper is getting up the post office, which grandpapa says we may have in the wistaria arbor. and we girls are all making fancy work, and oh, phronsie is making a pin-cushion which mr. hamilton dyce has bought already. just think, and oh, i do believe we shall make lots and lots of money! give my love to dear, dear grandma bascom, and please read this letter to her. from your loving little friend, polly.'" peletiah, considering it better to read this all as one sentence, had droned it out without a break, to look up and find grandma sunken back against her chair, her cap frills trembling with indignation. "i hain't heard a single word," she said, "an' there's that blessed child got hurt, an' i can't seem to sense it at all." "she ain't hurt, polly ain't," said peletiah, stoutly defending himself. "they're going to have a garden party." "a what?" screamed grandma. "a _garden_ party." "oh, then she fell in the garding, an' you said cellar stairs," she cried reproachfully. peletiah looked at her long; then he got out of his chair and leaned over her. "my aunt jerusha fell," he screamed, so loud that grandma started. "oh, an' the pepper children ain't hurt?" she cried, in great relief. "no, they're going to have a party." he wisely left out the garden this time. "you don't say so!" exclaimed grandma, greatly pleased at the hint of any festivities, no matter how distant, and the smiles began to run all over her wrinkled face again. "i wonder now," she said, "if they don't want my receet for cousin mirandy's weddin' cake; it's in th' bible there"--nodding over to the little stand. peletiah, seeing her so absorbed, waited patiently till the second letter was called for. he never for an instant thought of sliding off; so he pulled it out of its envelope, and got ready. at last grandma pulled herself out of the charms of cousin mirandy's receet, and set her spectacles straight. "who writ that one?" she asked. "joel," said peletiah, finding it quite to his liking to read this one, for joel never wasted any time in preliminaries, but came to the point at once, in big, sprawly letters. "'dear misses henderson.'" somebody must have corrected him then, for he scratched out the "misses," and wrote on top "mrs." "'you tell grandma bascom, please, that it's just prime here, but i like her peppermints, too, and i won't chase her old hens when i come back. joel.'" when grandma really got this letter by heart, she laughed and said it had done her good, and she wished joel was there this minute, in which peletiah hardly concurred, being unable to satisfy joel's athletic demands. and then she looked over at the little mahogany stand, and the tears rolled down her withered old cheeks. "i'd give anythin' to see him comin' in at that door, peletiah," she said, "an' he may chase th' hens all he wants to when he comes back"; for grandma always cherished the conviction that the "five little peppers" were to make life merry again in their "little brown house," and she went on so long in this way that peletiah, who had glanced up at the clock many times, said at last, in a stolid way, "there's another letter." and grandma, looking down, saw a little wad in his hand. "now i do believe that's from the blessed little creeter," she exclaimed, very much excited; "that must be phronsie's." "yes, it is," said peletiah. "why didn't you tell me that before?" cried grandma. "you should 'a' read it first of all." she leaned forward in her chair, unable to lose a word. "you didn't tell me to," said peletiah, in a matter-of-fact way. "well, read it now," said grandma, quavering with excitement. "there ain't nothin' to read," said peletiah, unfolding the paper, many times creased. "hey?" "there ain't nothin' to read," repeated peletiah; "you can see for yourself." he held it up before her. there were many pencil marks going this way and that, by which phronsie felt perfectly sure that her friends would understand what she was telling them. and once in a while came the great achievement of a big capital letter laboriously printed. but for these occasional slips into intelligible language, the letter presented a medium of communication peculiar to itself. "ain't it sweet!" said grandma admiringly, when she had looked it all over. "the little precious creeter, to think of her writin' that, and all by herself too!" "you can read it as well upside down," observed peletiah. "i know it." grandma beamed at him. "just think of that child a-writin' that! who'd ever b'lieve it?" "i must go now," announced peletiah, getting out of his chair and beginning to stretch slowly. "well, now tell your ma i thank her for comin', and for them letters from them precious childern. an' see here." grandma leaned over and pulled out the under drawer of the little stand. it wasn't like giving peppermints to joel pepper, and it sent a pang through her at the remembrance, but peletiah had been good to read those letters. "i'm a-goin' to give you these," she said, beginning to shake therefrom into her hand three big, white peppermints and two red ones. "no, i thank you, ma'am," said peletiah stiffly, and standing quite still. "yes, you take 'em," said grandma decidedly. "you've been real good to read them letters. here, peletiah." "no, i thank you, ma'am," said peletiah again, not offering to stir. "well, i must be going," and he went slowly out of the kitchen, leaving grandma with the big peppermints in her hand. that evening, after everything was quiet at the parsonage, the minister called his wife into the study. "we will look that letter over from mrs. fisher, now, my dear." mrs. henderson sat down on the end of the well-worn sofa. "lie down, dear," he said, "and let me tuck a pillow under your head. you are all tired out." "oh, husband, i am sure you are quite as tired as i am," and the color flew into her cheeks like a girl. but he had his way. "you better leave the door open"--as he went across the room to close it--"jerusha may call." "jerusha won't need us," he said, and shut it. "you know the doctor said she was not much hurt, only strained and bruised, and she's quite comfortable now. well, my dear, now about this letter. do you think we might take this child?" "we?" repeated his wife, with wide eyes. "why, husband!" "i know it seems a somewhat peculiar thing to propose"--and the parson smiled--"with our two boys and jerusha." "yes," said mrs. henderson, "it is, and i never thought seriously of it." "she won't do peletiah any harm"--and then he laughed--"and she might brighten him up, if she's the girl mrs. fisher's letter indicates. and as for ezekiel, there's no harm to be thought of in that quarter. our boys aren't the ones, wife, to be influenced out of their orbits." "well, there's jerusha." mrs. henderson brought it out fearfully, and then shut her mouth as if she wished she hadn't said anything. "i know, dear. you needn't be afraid to speak it out. it is always on my mind. oh, i do wish--" and the parson began to pace the floor with troubled steps. his wife threw back the old sofa-blanket with which he had tucked her up, and bounded to his side, passing her hand within his arm. "don't, dear," she begged. "oh, why did i speak!" she cried remorsefully. "you said no more than what is always on my mind," said the minister again, and he pressed the hand on his arm, looking at it fondly. "poor almira!" he said, "i didn't think how hard you would have to work to please her, when i took her here." "but you couldn't help it, husband," she cried, looking up at him with a world of love. "after your mother died, what place was there for her to go? and she really was good to her." "yes," said the minister, and he sighed. "well, it's done, and she is here; but oh, almira, i think it's made a great difference with our boys." mrs. henderson's cheek paled, but it wouldn't do to let him see her thoughts further on the subject, he was so worn and tired, so she said: "well, about the little girl, husband?" "yes, mrs. fisher's letter must be answered," said the parson, pulling himself out of his revery. "she asks if we can find a place in badgertown for this child, who seems uncommonly clever, and is, so she writes, very truthful. and i'm sure, almira, if mrs. fisher says so, the last word has been spoken." "yes, indeed," said his wife heartily. "and they've found out a great deal about her. she's been half starved and cruelly beaten." the parson's wife hid her tender eyes on her husband's coat sleeve. "oh, dear me!" she exclaimed sympathetically. "and the old woman who pretended to be her grandmother, and who beat her because she wouldn't steal, became frightened at the investigation, and has cleared out, so there is no one to lay a claim to 'rag.'" "to whom?" asked mrs. henderson, raising her head suddenly. "rag--that's the only name the child says she has. but mrs. fisher writes they call her rachel now. you didn't notice that when you read the letter, did you, almira?" "no," said his wife, "i didn't have time to read more than part of it. don't you remember, i hurried over to grandma bascom's with the little pepper letters, and you said you'd talk it over with me when i got home? and then peletiah came after me, and i ran back here to poor jerusha." "oh, i remember. i shouldn't have asked you." he nodded remorsefully. "well, then, i'll tell you the rest. you read the first part--how they ran across the girl, and all that?" "yes. oh, dear me! it gives me a shiver now to think what an awful risk that blessed child, phronsie, ran," cried mrs. henderson. "i know it; i cannot bear to think of it even in the light of her safety," said mr. henderson. "well, now, mr. king has taken upon himself to support and to educate rag--rachel, i mean--and the best place, at first, at any rate, to put her is badgertown. now what do you say, almira, to her coming here to us?" the parson's wife hesitated, then said, "jerusha--" and paused. "will she be made unhappy by jerusha, you mean?" asked the parson. "yes." "no, i don't believe she will," he said decidedly. "you must remember she has had her old 'gran' as she calls her, and after that i think she can bear jerusha." "oh, yes," said mrs. henderson, "i forgot. then i say, husband, we will take this child. i should really love to put the brightness into her life. and please let her come soon." a pretty glow rushed up to her cheek, and the parson's wife actually laughed at the prospect. vii the disappointment "will it stop, grandpapa?" phronsie, kneeling on a chair, her face pressed close to the window pane, turned to old mr. king, looking over her shoulder. "i'm afraid not, dear," he answered. "doesn't god know we want to help the poor children?" she asked suddenly, a surprised look coming into her eyes. "yes, yes, dear; of course he knows, child." "then why does he let it rain?" cried phronsie, in a hurt voice. "oh, because, pet, we must have rain, else the flowers wouldn't grow, you know." "they're all grown," said phronsie, trying to peer out into the thick twilight between the great splashes of rain running down the window over toward the garden, "and now we can't have our party to-morrow, grandpapa," she added sorrowfully. "no, it would be quite too wet, after this downpour, even if it cleared to-night," said the old gentleman decidedly. "well, phronsie, child, we must just accept the matter philosophically." "what's philo--that big word, grandpapa?" she asked, turning away from her effort to catch sight of the flower-beds, off in the distance, gay with the wealth of blooms saved for the hoped-for festivities of the morrow, and she put her arm around his neck. "oh, that? it was a pretty large word to use to you, and that's a fact," said the old gentleman, with a little laugh. he was having rather a hard time of it to conceal his dismay at the blow to all the plans and preparations so finely in progress for the garden party. "well, it means we must make the best of it all, and not fret." "oh!" said phronsie. then she turned back to her window again, and surveyed the driving storm. "perhaps the flowers like it," she said, after a pause, when nothing was heard but the beating of the rain against the glass; "maybe they are thirsty, grandpapa." "yes, maybe," assented grandpapa absently. "and if god wants it to rain, why we must be glad, mustn't we, grandpapa, if he really wants it?" "yes, yes, child," said the old gentleman hastily. "then i'm glad," said phronsie, with a long sigh, and she clambered down from her chair, "and let's find polly and tell her so, grandpapa." over in the library there was a dismal group. joel was fighting valiantly with a flood of tears, doubling up his little fists and glaring at percy and van at the least intimation of a remark to him. little davie had succumbed long ago, and now, crammed up in a small heap in the corner back of the sofa, was rivaling the storm outside, in the flood of tears he supplied. jasper crowded his hands in his pockets, marching up and down the long room. polly, who was swallowing hard, as if her throat hurt her, wouldn't look at one of the boys. little dick was openly wailing in his mother's arms. "oh, shut up that, kid, will you?" cried percy, crossly, over at him. "percy, percy," said his mother gently. "well, he needn't boo-hoo like a baby," said percy; "we've all got to give up the garden party." "we can't have any garden party," mumbled little dick between his sobs, and crying all over his mother's pretty blue silk waist. "there, there, dear," mrs. whitney said soothingly, "we'll have it the next day, perhaps, dicky boy." "next day is just forever," whimpered little dick. "oh, dear! boo-hoo-hoo!" percy started an impatient exclamation, thought better of it, and turned on his heel abruptly. but van burst out: "and the flowers'll all be gone, so what's the use of trying to have it then?" "they won't," cried joel, in an angry scream, and squaring round at him. "they shan't, so there, van whitney!" when the door opened and in walked mr. king, and phronsie clinging to his hand. "oh, hush, boys!" cried polly hoarsely, a wave of shame rising in a rosy flush up to her brow. oh, why hadn't she tried to keep cheerful instead of giving way to the general gloom? and now here were phronsie and dear grandpapa, who had ordered "just oceans of flowers" and everything else. oh, dear, how naughty she had been! she sprang away from the big, carved table, over to take phronsie's hand. "the flowers are thirsty, polly, i guess," said phronsie, looking up at her with a smile; "and when they drink all they want to, why, we'll have the party, won't we, polly?" "yes," said polly, the flush not dying down. "then that'll be nice, i think," said phronsie, smoothing down her gown in satisfaction, "and i can finish my cushion-pin now"; for there was one little corner still untraveled by the remarkable design observed by the worker. but mr. hamilton dyce had protested he didn't care for any such trifling deficiency, for he could put more pins in that quarter, so he should still be its purchaser. "so you can," cried polly, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, and winking furiously over at the boys. "and we can write more letters," cried jasper suddenly, springing over to phronsie's side. "phoo!" exclaimed joel, "we've got bushels already." "well, it's nice to have more yet," retorted jasper, "so you better keep still, old fellow." "i shall write some more," announced van, with great pomposity, strutting up and down the room. "hoh-hoh!" laughed joel, snapping his fingers in derision, "you haven't finished one yet, and beside, who can read your chicken tracks?" "i have, too," declared van, very red in the face, ignoring the reflection on his writing and plunging over to jasper. "haven't i, jasper, written a letter for the post office? say, haven't i?"--gripping him by the jacket-sleeve. "yes, you have," said jasper. "he handed it in this afternoon," he added, nodding to the group. "there, you see." van rushed triumphantly up in front of joel. "you see, joel pepper, so you've just got to take that back." "well, only one," said joel, "and there can't any one read it, so that's no good." "and i wrote some letters," cried phronsie, running away from the little circle to thrust her face in between the two boys. "i did, all by myself. one, two, ten, i guess." little dick at that stopped sniveling, and slipped off from his mother's lap. "i did, too, write some, ten, three, 'leven, just as many as you did." the tears trailed off from his red cheeks as he bobbed his head emphatically. so no one heard quick steps along the hall, and the door being thrown wide by the butler, saying, "they're all in the library." in came miss mary taylor and mr. hamilton dyce. "we thought we'd drop in," said the gentleman, with a quick glance at miss mary, as if to say, "you see, they didn't need us after all, to help cheer up." "why, how very jolly you all are!" observed miss mary. the rain-drops were glistening on her hair and cheeks, where she had scampered away from the protecting umbrella at the foot of the steps. "oh, i'm not wet, mrs. fisher"--mother fisher at this moment coming in with her mending basket. "i left my mackintosh in the hall." "well, well," exclaimed mr. hamilton dyce. joel had left sparring with van and now swarmed around the newcomer, for he was extremely fond of him. "how are the letters coming on, jasper? by the way, i've a few belated ones, in the pockets in my coat out in the hall. i'll get them." "let me--let me," screamed joel. "all right, go ahead. in both side pockets, joe." he didn't consider it necessary to explain that miss taylor and he had been busy driving their pens all the afternoon. "whickets!" cried joel, rushing back, both hands overflowing, "what a lot!" "joel, what did you say?" mother fisher glanced up, the lines of worry that had settled over her face at the terrible disappointment that had befallen the family, disappearing, now that the usual cheeriness was coming back. "i didn't mean to," said joel, the color all over his chubby face, "but my, see what a lot! the post office won't hold 'em all!" "we'll put them with the others," cried jasper, "and thank you, oh, so much, mr. dyce; we can't have too many. come on, all of you, and see our pile"--running out into the hall, headed for his den. "you must thank miss mary," said mr. dyce. but miss mary laughingly protesting the gratitude was not so much due to her, the whole company filed out after jasper in great good spirits. little davie, back of the sofa, poked up his head. "are they all gone, mamsie?" he asked fearfully. "why, davie, my boy!" exclaimed mother fisher, much startled, and laying down her needle, stuck in a stocking-heel, "i thought you were upstairs with ben." "i haven't been with ben." said david, working his way out, to run and lay his swollen little face in his mother's lap. she cleared away her work, and took him up, to gather him close in her arms. "there, there, davie, mother's boy, it's all right"--smoothing the hair away from the hot brow--"we can have the garden party another day, and then perhaps there'll be all the more pleasure and good time." "tisn't that," said little davie, wriggling around to look up at her, "but polly--" and for a moment it seemed as if the floods were to descend again. "oh, polly is all right," said mrs. fisher cheerfully. "is, she, mamsie?" asked david doubtfully. "yes, indeed, and you must see that you keep yourself right. that's all any of us can do," said mother fisher. "now, davie, my boy, hop down and run into jasper's den with the others." "oh, i can't, mamsie," protested davie, in horror, and burrowing in her arms, "they'll see i've been crying." "that's the trouble with crying," observed mother fisher wisely; "it makes you twice sorry--once when you're doing it, and the next time when it shows. you can't help it now, davie, so run along. mother wants you to." if mother wanted them to, that was always enough for each of the "five little peppers," so davie slid slowly down from her lap, and went out and down the hall. meantime miss mary had taken polly's arm in the procession to jasper's den. "oh, polly, how cheery you have made them!" she exclaimed. "we expected to see you all perhaps drowned in tears." "oh, i haven't done it--anything to make them happy," cried polly, the wave of color again flooding her cheeks; "indeed i haven't, miss mary. i've been bad and wicked and horrid," she said penitently, her head drooping. "oh, no, polly," protested miss mary, her arm around polly's waist. "yes i have, miss mary, i----" "well, don't let us talk now about it; we will look at the letters." miss mary drew her within the den. there stood jasper behind the table perfectly overflowing with epistles of every sort and size, while little packages, and some not so very little, either, filled up all the receptacles possible for mail matter. "oh, my, what a lot!" exclaimed everybody, as joel with a dash precipitated his handfuls on the already long-suffering pile. "this is only the beginning," laughed jasper, waving his arms over, to compass the whole den. "just look on the top of the bookcase, will you?" everybody whirled around. "oh, dear me!" exclaimed grandpapa, at the sight. letters were scattered here and there in the thickest of piles all along the surface, while the chinese vase had a whole handful poking up their faces as if to say, "here we are, all the way from china." "dear me," exclaimed old mr. king again, "when do you ever expect to sell all those, jasper?" "mine is in there," announced phronsie, hanging to his hand and pointing to the vase. "grandpapa, it really is; japser put it there." "did he, pet?" cried the old gentleman, immensely interested. "yes, he did truly," said phronsie, bobbing her head emphatically. "i saw him my own self, grandpapa. _and it's to you_." she stood on her tiptoes and whispered the last bit of information. "no, is it?" cried grandpapa, highly gratified; and, lifting her up to a level with his face, he kissed her on both cheeks. "now, phronsie, i shall always keep that letter," he said, as he set her down. "shall you?" cried phronsie, smoothing her gown with great satisfaction. "then i'm so glad i wrote it, grandpapa." over by the table jasper was saying to polly: "now what shall we do with this dreadfully long evening? do hurry and think, polly, before everybody gets dismal again." "oh, i don't know," said polly, at her wit's end. "but we must think of something," said jasper desperately, and fumbling the letters. polly's eye fell on his restless fingers. "we might sort them out, the letters, and tie them up in little packages to take out to the post office." "the very thing!" cried jasper enthusiastically. "here, all you good people"--he whirled around--"if you want to help, please sit down, and we'll get this mess of letters sorted and tied up into bundles." he waved his hands over his head, and of course everybody stopped talking at once. "oh, whickets!" joel screamed; then he caught polly's eye, and his chubby face took on a lively red. "let me--let me!" he crammed himself in between jasper and the table. "hold on!" commanded jasper, "not so fast, joe," and he seized joel's brown hands just grabbing a big pile. "wait till jasper tells us how to begin," said polly, her brown eyes dancing at the prospect of something to do. "oh, dear!" whimpered joel, stamping in his impatience. the whitney boys were crowding up close behind. "do hurry up, jasper," they teased. "well, how shall we begin, polly?" jasper wrinkled up his brows in perplexity. "let's ask miss mary," said polly. so jasper called, "miss mary!" but she didn't seem to hear, which perhaps wasn't so very strange, after all, as mr. dyce was telling her something which must have been very interesting, over in the corner. when at last the summons reached her, she came hurrying over with very pink cheeks. "oh, what can i do to help?" "we've been calling and calling for ever so long," said joel, in a very injured tone, for he had added his voice when he saw that things were waiting for miss taylor. "oh, have you, joel? that's too bad." miss mary's cheeks became pinker than ever. "well, you are always screaming over something, joe, you beggar"--mr. dyce pulled his ear--"so it's no wonder that your cries are not attended to on the instant." when miss mary saw what was wanted of her, she proposed that jasper give out twelve letters to each person, who should tie them up neatly, and put in a big basket. then they would be ready to take out to the post office in the wistaria arbor, and to be sorted into the little boxes which grandpapa had commissioned the carpenter to make all up and down the sides, leaving one end free for the delivery window. the door for the postmaster and his assistants was to be at the opposite corner. "oh, yes, how nice!" exclaimed polly, hopping up and down as ecstatically as phronsie ever did. "jasper, i'll get a ball of twine," and she was flying off. "no, you stay here and help me give out the letters," said jasper. "oh, i want to do that," cried joel, squeezing and crowding. "no, you must get the big basket," said jasper. "go and ask thomas to give you one." "i don't want to get an old basket," whined joel; "let percy get it." "hoh! i'm not going to," declared percy, drawing himself up in great state. "then i will go myself," said jasper, flinging down a handful of letters, to hurry off. "joel," said polly, in a sorry little voice, and turning away from the table, "now you will spoil everything, and we've just got to feeling good. how can you, joey!" "i didn't mean--" began joel, turning his back on her, while he winked very hard, "i didn't mean to, polly." percy dug the toe of his shoe into the rug, and looked down on the floor. "then run after jasper," cried polly; "hurry, and tell him so." "i will," cried joel, plunging off, and percy, being left alone, as van had slid away to another group when he saw how things were going on, concluded to follow. and presently jasper came back. "it's all right, polly," he nodded brightly to her, and they fell to work. and in a minute or two, joel came back with percy, carrying the basket, a big market affair, between them. and when he saw what fun they were having over it, for they were both laughing merrily, van wished he had gone. and seeing his dismal face, jasper sent him after a ball of twine. and then phronsie wanted to get something, and little dick teased to go too, so grandpapa suggested they should go after some extra pairs of scissors. "and mamsie will let us take hers out of her workbasket, i guess," cried phronsie. "let us ask her, grandpapa dear." "oh, you better stop working, mrs. fisher." old mr. king popped his white head in at the library door. there sat mother fisher by the table, mending away as usual, for the stockings never seemed to be quite done. "and come into jasper's den and see how fine we all are!" he added gayly. "yes, mamsie, do come," chirped phronsie, running her head in between him and the door-casing to plead. "yes, mamsie, do come," echoed little dick, who would do and say everything that phronsie did. "you see, you've simply got to come," laughed grandpapa. "and may we have your scissors, mamsie?" phronsie now deserted old mr. king, to run over to the big workbasket. "my scissors?" repeated mother fisher. "why, phronsie, child, what are you going to do with them?" "we're going to cut letters," said phronsie, with an important air, her fingers already in the basket, which, standing on tiptoe, she had pulled quickly over toward her in her eagerness. "and may we have your scissors, mamsie?" "take care," warned mother fisher, but too late. over went the big basket, and away rattled all the things, having a perfectly beautiful time by themselves over the library floor. "bless me!" ejaculated old mr. king, while little dick laughed right out. phronsie stood quite still, the color all out of her round cheeks. then her bosom heaved, and she darted over to lay her head in mother fisher's lap. "oh, i didn't mean to, mamsie," she wailed. "oh, deary me! bless me!" exclaimed grandpapa, in the greatest consternation, and leaning over the two. "there, there, don't mind it, deary." mother fisher was smoothing the yellow hair. "take me, mamsie," begged phronsie, holding up both hands, and she burrowed her face deeper yet in mrs. fisher's lap. "oh, dear me!" old mr. king kept exclaiming. then he pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his face violently. this not making him feel any better, he kept exclaiming, "oh, dear me!" at intervals. "i'll pick 'em up," said little dick cheerfully, beginning to race after the spools and things over the floor. mother fisher had drawn phronsie up to her bosom, where she cuddled her to her heart's content. "now, child," she said, after a minute, "i think you ought to help to pick up the things and put them in the basket. see how nicely dicky is doing it." "i'm getting all the spools," announced dick, jamming all the chairs aside that he could move, and lifting a very hot face. "yes, sir-ee! come, phronsie." "i think you ought to help him, phronsie." so phronsie slipped out of her mother's lap obediently, and wiped off her tears. "come on," said little dick, in great glee. "i'm going under the table; there's a lot under there." and in shorter time than it takes to tell it, the spools, and mending cotton, and tape measure, and, dear me! the ever-so-many things of which mrs. fisher's big workbasket was always full, were all collected from the nice time they were having on the floor, and snugly set up in their places again. and mother fisher, escorted by the children and old mr. king, who by this time was laughing quite gayly once more, was going out into the hall, on the way to jasper's den. and phronsie had the big cutting-out shears, and little dick the smaller, little snipping-thread scissors. "hullo!" mr. king called out, as the butler ushered into the hall two gentlemen, in dripping mackintoshes. "now that's fine, cabot and alstyne, to drop in of this dismal evening." "we've called to condole with you all," said both gentlemen, as they were divested of their wet garments, "but it doesn't seem as if our services were needed"--with a glance at grandpapa and his group. "oh, my family gets over any little disappointment such as bad weather," observed the old gentleman, with pride. "well, come this way, the principal object of interest is in jasper's den; no need to announce it"--as the peals of laughter and chatter sounded down the long hall. viii the garden party and so, after all, it turned out to be the very best thing that the garden party did not take place until two days after, for all was then as sweet and fresh as a rose--all but one thing. and that was, on the very morning of the eventful day, mrs. chatterton drove up. but then, as jasper observed to polly when this dire news was announced, "cousin eunice was always turning up when least wanted." and polly had, as usual, to keep back her own thoughts on the subject, to comfort him. it would never do to add to his dismay. "why she can't stay in europe when she's everlastingly saying that there is no place in america to compare with it, i don't, for my part, see," he cried, in a pet. "i suppose she wants to be with her relations, jasper," said polly, with a sigh. "relations?"--jasper turned suddenly on his heel and thrust his hands deeply in his pockets--"well, she fights with every single one of them," he said savagely. "oh, jasper--fights!" exclaimed polly, in horror, whose great grief had always been at having no relations, so to speak. "dear me, how very dreadful!" "well, you know she does," said jasper gloomily, and squaring round--"always picking and carping at something or somebody; and now father will be all upset by her. if she had only waited till to-morrow!" polly felt such a dreadful sinking of her heart just then, that for a minute she didn't speak. there didn't seem to be any comfort for this. "and just think how good father has been," went on jasper, too miserable to keep still, "and all those flowers he had ordered, for of course he couldn't let the florists suffer, and that he sent to the hospitals when it poured so." "i know it," said polly, swallowing hard. "and now he has ordered another lot, and everything else--why, you know, polly, there isn't anything father hasn't done to make this fair a success, and now she has come!" jasper flung himself into a chair and buried his face in his hands. "oh, jasper," cried polly, running over to him in the greatest distress, "don't! oh, dear me! what can we do?" "nothing," said jasper, in the depths of gloom; "nothing will do any good so long as she has come." "oh, there must something be done," declared polly quite wildly, and feeling equal to anything. if she only knew what would avail! "_hush, here comes grandpapa!_" "oh, he mustn't see us feeling badly." jasper sprang from his chair. "come, polly," and they flew out into the side hall. "now where are those two, polly and jasper?" said old mr. king to himself, coming to the library in a great state of irritation. "i've searched this house for them, and nobody seems to have the least idea where they have gone. polly! jasper!" he cried loudly, and it wasn't a very pleasant voice, either. "oh, dear!" jasper seized polly's hands in a corner of the hall. "he's calling us, and we've got to go, polly, and how we look, you and i! whatever shall we do!" "but we must go," breathed polly. then she looked up into jasper's face. "let's ask him to go out and help us fix the flowers," she cried suddenly. jasper gave her a keen glance. "all right," he said. "come on," and before their resolution had time to cool itself, they rushed into the library. "oh, grandpapa," they both cried together, "do come out and tell us how to fix the flowers." "hey?" the old gentleman whirled around from the table, where he had begun to throw the papers about. "did you know mrs. chatterton had come back?" he glared at them over his spectacles, which he had forgotten to remove when he had been interrupted with the unwelcome news while peacefully reading the morning paper. "yes--oh, yes," said jasper. "oh, yes, we know it," cried polly cheerfully, "but, grandpapa, we want you"--tugging at his hand. "hey? you knew it?" the old gentleman's tone softened, and he suffered himself to be led toward the door. "and you want me, eh?"--feeling with every step as if life, after all, might be worth living. "yes, we do indeed, father," cried jasper affectionately, possessing himself of the other hand. "and oh, the flowers you sent are just too lovely for anything!" cried polly, dancing away along by his side. "they're gorgeous, grandpapa dear." "are they so?" grandpapa beamed at her, all his happiness returned. "so you want me to tell you how to arrange them, eh?" and his satisfaction in being appealed to was so intense that he held his head high. "well, come on," and he laughed gayly. mrs. chatterton, newly arrived in the handsome suite of apartments cousin horatio's hospitality always allowed her, looked out of the window, and, having no one else to confide her opinions to, was not averse to chatting with her french maid. "isn't it perfectly absurd, hortense, to see that old man?--and to think how particular and aristocratic he used to be! why, i can remember when he would hardly let jasper speak to him in some of his moods, and now just see that beggar girl actually holding his hand, and he laughing with her." "a beggaire, is it?" cried hortense, dropping the gown she was brushing, to run to the window. "i see no beggaire, madame"--craning her neck. "you needn't drop your work," said mrs. chatterton, with asperity, "just because i made a simple remark. you know quite well whom i mean, hortense. it's that polly pepper i'm speaking of." "she is not a beggaire, madame," declared hortense pertly, opening her black eyes very wide. "oh!" she extended her hands and burst into a series of shrill cackles. "why, she's like all de oder children in dis house, and i think truly, madame, de best." "go back to your work, i say," commanded mrs. chatterton, in a fury, forgetting herself enough to stamp her foot. so hortense picked up the gown, but she continued to cackle softly to herself, with now and then a furtive glance at her mistress. outside, with all the sunny influence of the summer morning upon him, old mr. king, and polly, and jasper went about, superintending the placing of the flowers. for there seemed to be a great many in the pots, with ferns and palms, to distribute where they would best show off and be persuaded to swell the poor children's fund. "oh, grandpapa dear! what richness!" sighed polly, clasping her hands in ecstasy. "i do think i never saw so many, and such beauties. only look, jasper, at that azalea!" "i know it," said jasper, his eyes sparkling, "and those orchids, polly!" "oh, i know--i know," said polly, spinning about to take it all in. old mr. king put back his head and laughed to see her. "i'm so glad you like it, polly, my girl," he said, heartily pleased. "like it, grandpapa!" repeated polly, standing quite still. "oh, it's just too beautiful!" and she clasped her hands tightly together. "well, i think we'd best get to work," said jasper, bursting into a laugh. "come on, polly, let's set about it." "i think so, too," said polly, coming out of her rapture. thereupon ensued such a busy time!--especially as old turner and two of his under-gardeners came up for directions, and mr. king went off with them. so for the next hour polly seemed to be on wings, here, there, and everywhere, and breathing only the sweet fragrance of the flowers. "how phronsie would enjoy it--the fixing and all!" she mourned, in the midst of it, as the transforming of the flower-tables into veritable bowers of beauty went on. "but you know she had to take a long nap, else she would be all tired out. and the afternoon is going to be a long one, polly." "oh, i know," said polly, flying on with her work faster than ever, "and mamsie was right to make her go to sleep." "mrs. fisher is always right," said jasper decidedly, "ever and always." "isn't she!" cried polly, in a glow. "well, jasper, do you think that smilax ought to be trained up there?" she twisted her head to view the effect, and looked up at him anxiously. "yes--no," said jasper critically; "i don't believe i'd put it there. it looks too much, polly; there are so many vines about." "so it does," said polly, in great relief. "heigh-ho! when one is working over any thing it looks so different, doesn't it?" "i should say so," cried jasper. "oh, polly, it can't ever in all this world be twelve o'clock." "it can't!" exclaimed polly, in dismay. but there was one of the white-capped maids coming across the lawn, with the summons to go in to luncheon, which was to be served at an earlier hour than usual. and after that, no one had more than a moment in which to think, for at three o'clock the garden party was to open, and the fair to be in full progress. long before that time, the avenues and streets leading out to the horatio king estate were thronged with children of all ages and sizes; most of them with their nurse-maids, all bound to the scene of the garden party, their small purses dangling by chains from their arms, or carried carefully in their hands. for wasn't this to help poor children who didn't have any pleasant homes, but lived in stuffy tenement houses, to go out into the broad, beautiful country, where they could race in the fields and play with the chickens, and pick all the flowers they wanted to? and so, ever since the announcement had been made that such a fund was to be raised, there had been much hoarding of pennies, and no slight self-denial on the part of the younger element, who would naturally be drawn into the plan. all the society people were to drive up later; and until the early evening hours it was to be the function of the town, which every one was anxious to attend. but everybody in mr. king's household was to be ready to receive, exactly at three o'clock. phronsie was in the highest of spirits, having grandpapa's hand to cling to, trying to welcome all the guests, and keeping one eye out to see that rachel was enjoying herself, attired in a pretty, pink cambric gown, her black hair--which now seemed, oh, so soft and pretty!--tied back with little pink bows. and rachel's eyes--well, there! no one would ever have suspected that they had only been accustomed to the squalor of gran's apartment, and gran herself, but one short week ago. they now looked on the world in general, and this fair scene in particular, with all the nonchalance of one born and brought up in the midst of such conditions as could bring about a state of affairs like the present that surrounded her. and many asked, "who is that child?" for it was clearly seen that she wasn't of the set that was thronging the grounds. rachel herself was wholly unconscious of the remarks that were being made, so she devoted her heart and soul to the duty assigned to her, that of waiting on polly and her bevy of school friends in one of the flower-bowers. and she never bothered about any curious glances, or asides, until a chance remark struck her ear as she was hurrying across the lawn, which she thought needed attention; then she raised her head, and her black eyes grew sharp and intent. it was mrs. chatterton who was speaking. "yes, it's a little beggar girl he took in," and the cackle was unpleasant that accompanied the words. "dear me! i expect she'll rob us all; such creatures are so sly." she was pointing out rachel to one of her friends lately arrived from europe, and who had exerted herself to come early and see the children. "do you mean me?" demanded rachel, her black eyes, like gimlets, on the long, cynical face. "'cause if you does, i can tell you that what i does, i does right out on top; an' i guess by the looks o' you, that ain't your style." "you impertinent creature!" exclaimed mrs. chatterton, her long face crimson with passion, not allayed by seeing that her friend could with difficulty control her amusement. "she'll tell this everywhere," she fumed within. "i shall go and speak to my cousin, mr. king, about you, girl." she moved her arm and shapely hand, both very beautiful still, and well exhibited on every occasion, and started off with great dignity. "i would," said rachel scornfully. then she laughed, "oh, me! oh, my! you're such a favor_ite_, you are!" and she doubled up her thin figure, and went off in a little gust of merriment. "come with me." mrs. chatterton darted back and seized her friend's arm to drag her away. "that detestable creature makes me feel quite faint." as soon as they had disappeared down a winding path, rachel's amusement quite left her. she drew herself up stiffly, and hurried back to polly, to be the same quiet, attentive, deft little maiden as before. "you do tie flowers up so beautifully," cried polly, handing her another big spool of baby ribbon. "doesn't she, girls?" "yes, indeed," cried ever so many. "i can't tie a bow to save myself," declared alexia; "it all snarls up, and it looks for all the world, when i get through, as if my dog had chewed it. oh, dear me! yes, that basket is two dollars." "i'll take it," said the little tot who had to stand on tiptoes to peer over the table with its blooming beauty. "i want it for my mamma," and he gave his smart little cane to the nursemaid to hold, while he opened his purse. "well, it's a beauty, rick," said alexia, picking up the basket; "the violets are so sweet," and she sniffed them two or three times as she passed them over. "here's rick halliday," called clem, at the other end of the table. "now i'm going to make him buy something of me. we must all make him, girls; his father's given him oceans of money to spend, of course." it was loud enough for polly to hear, and she dropped the box of ribbon under the table. "no, no," she said decidedly, hurrying over, "grandpapa said we were not to ask a single person to buy. that's the rule, you know, clem." "we could make ever so much more," grumbled clem; "it's for the poor children, you know, polly." "grandpapa said not," repeated polly, her cheeks like a rose, and back she flew again to her post. "i shan't buy anything of you, clem forsythe," loudly declared small rick over to her, taking his little cane from the nursemaid's hand, "anyway. and beside, my papa said if any one teased me to spend my money, i was to come right away. but he didn't believe they would here." and with his basket of flowers for his mother, he moved off with great dignity across the lawn, swinging his cane as he had noticed the men did. "of all kids, i do think that rick halliday is the most detestable infant," exclaimed clem, in great discomfort. "oh, yes, mrs. nunn"--her face brightening--"we have heliotrope, ever so much of it." she thrust her hands into a big vase overflowing with fragrance. "how many? oh, three dozen sprays. yes, indeed." [illustration: "but this is ten dollars," said joel] and the bands--one at the end of the big lawn, and the other on the terrace at the farther side of the house--were playing their sweetest; and now the society folk began to put in an appearance among the throngs of children. everybody was in gala attire, and the garden party was at its height. "joel," cried mr. cabot to that individual, rushing in and out among the little knots of gayly dressed visitors, "here, run over to the post office, will you, and see if there are any letters for me?" "all right," joel cried, as he flew along. and in an incredibly short space of time, back he rushed with three missives. "how much?" "ten cents apiece," said joel promptly. "i'll get change in a minute," and he was flying off again with the bill thrust into his hand. "i don't take any change here. i don't want any; i won't be bothered with it," declared mr. cabot, in his most decided fashion. "but this is ten dollars," said joel, aghast, and stopping short to flap the bill. "never mind, that's my affair; go along, or i'll report you. aren't you one of the postmen?"--pointing sternly to his badge. "yes," said joel, straightening up, and puffing out his chubby cheeks with pride. "well, then, you'll find yourself reported if you don't march," cried mr. cabot "so off with yourself to the postmaster." "come on, joel," called another of the postmen, who happened to be percy, rushing along. "i'm going to get my mail bag now, there's just a crowd of folks waiting over there for letters"--pointing over to the pine grove. "so will i get mine," shouted joel, "and see here"--waving his ten-dollar bill--"what mr. cabot sent to jasper. i guess that'll send one poor child off into the country, percy whitney! won't that be prime!" there was such a crowd around the wistaria-arbor post office, that percy and joel, who much preferred being letter-carriers to helping jasper within, had to crawl in under the vines, to find the mail bags. "here, jasper," cried joel, "take it, do"--throwing the ten-dollar bill down in a flurry, to fling the strap of his mail bag over his head before percy should get his in order. but jasper, who was trying to satisfy the demands of a throng of people all clamoring at the small window for letters, didn't see it, or even hear his name called. so the ten-dollar bill lay perfectly still where it fell, until it got all tired out, and a little puff of wind, sweeping through the arbor, blew it first to one side, and then to the other, until at last it fell down among a tangle of evergreen with which the posts of the arbor were wound. and presently, van, who much preferred being assistant to jasper to running about as a letter carrier, came along and exclaimed, "oh, that silly old green stuff! it takes up so much room!" and he twitched off a lot of it, and the ten-dollar bill, well crumpled up inside of the bunch, sighed and said to itself as it was flung under the counter, "now i guess i'm dead and buried forever." meanwhile, joel, as happy as a lark at the thought of mr. cabot's contribution, went off on the wings of the wind, distributing letters, here, there, and everywhere, and receiving lots of orders. it was, "oh, joel, get me a letter," and, "joel, get me one; i can't get near the post office; there's a perfect mob there." and, "joel pepper!"--from clear across the lawn--"come over here; mrs. singleton wants to see you about some letters," until joel began to feel that he was about running the whole post-office department, and it seemed as if every drop of blood was in his chubby face, he was so hot. but he never thought of being tired, he was so happy, plunging on. "oh, my gracious, honey! you done mos' knocked de bref out o' me!" it was candace, who had left her little shop on temple place to help forward the garden party, against whom he had come up, careless where he was going. ix the ten-dollar bill "oh, i'm so sorry!" joel brought himself up remorsefully, trying to recover the collection of rag dolls sent spinning from her black arms. "an' dey were sech perfec' beauties!" mourned candace, twisting her hands sorrowfully together. "oh, me! oh, my!" "they aren't hurt a bit," declared joel stoutly, precipitating the whole collection unceremoniously at her. "there they are, every single one, as nice as ever!" "take care," warned candace. "oh, my soul and body!" she mourned, "dey're all mussed up." "you can comb it out," said joel, longing to comfort, and forgetting it was wool from candace's own head. "and what'll mis' cabot and mis' alstyne say?" groaned candace. then she sat right down on the grass and began to pick at the dolls discontentedly. "w'y couldn't you 'a' looked whar you're goin', mas'r joel?" "have mrs. alstyne and mrs. cabot bought those dolls?" cried joel, pointing a brown finger at them. "oh, dear me!" he just saved himself from exclaiming, "those horrors!" "yes," said candace, smoothing a woolly head in great distress, "but i dunno's they'll want 'em now, dey've been shook up so and spilt on de groun'--oh, dear me!" "joel, aren't you coming with that letter bag?" and, "joel pepper, hurry up!" the cries were now so insistent that joel dashed away, stopped, and rushed back tumultuously. "oh, candace, i'm so sorry!" he flung himself down on the grass by her side. distress was written so plainly all over his hot face that candace stopped in her work over the dolls to turn and regard him. "bress yer heart, honey," she cried, now as much worried over joel as she had been about the dolls, "dey ain't hurt a mite--not a single grain," she added emphatically. "oh, candace, are you sure?" he exclaimed delightedly. "not a mite," protested candace, bobbing her own woolly head in a decided fashion. "dear me! now i'm afraid i discomberated my turban, an' it's my spick an' span comp'ny one mr. king give me for this yere berry occasion," and she put up both black hands to feel of it anxiously. joel jumped to his feet and ran all around the big figure to get the most comprehensive view. "it's all right, candace," he reported, in great satisfaction. "sure, honey?" she asked doubtfully. "yes, yes," declared joel quickly, prancing up in front of her. "i like you, candace; you're just as nice as can be." "den gimme your hands!"--she laid the rag dolls carefully on the grass, and put out both of her black ones--"and hoist me up, honey, dat's a good chile." so joel stuck out his brown hands, and candace laying hold of them, he tugged, very red in the face, till finally she set her ample gaiters on the ground and stood straight. up rushed van. "they're complaining at the post office," he squealed. "you've got to give me your bag. folks can't get their letters. give me the bag." he thrust out both hands. joel turned on him in a fury, "you aren't going to have my bag," he screamed. "i am, too; you're so slow, and don't give out the letters," said van, delighted to find some chance to get the best of joel, and quite important to be sent with a message to such an effect. "you shan't either; i ain't slow," cried joel, answering both statements at once, and whirling around in an endeavor to keep the bag at his back. but van flew for it, disdaining to waste more time over arguments. candace stretched out a large, black hand. "see here, now, mas'r van, leggo dat bag." she seized him by the jacket collar with such a grip that he dismissed all thoughts of the mail bag, his one concern now being to get free from candace. "ow!" he screamed, wriggling violently. "i don't want the mail bag; let me go, candace, do!" "see," cried little dick, half across the lawn, to a merry party of ladies and gentlemen, who turned to follow the pointing of the small finger toward candace and her capture. "oh, let me go," cried van, very red in the face at this, and trying to duck behind her big figure, "_please,_ candace." "let him go," begged joel, just as much distressed; "he won't touch the bag, i don't believe, again, candace." "oh, i won't, i won't," promised van wildly. "i don't want the bag; do let me go, candace." "yer see, mas'r joel was a-helpin' me," said candace, slowly releasing van's jacket collar, "an' 'twarn't none 'o his fault dat he stopped kerryin' de letters." but van was off from under her open fingers and shot across the green in the opposite direction from little dick and his party. "now i'll take my dolls to de ladies," observed candace, bundling them up in her clean, checked apron. she sent a satisfied glance after joel, making quick time toward the post office, then waddled off. "boy!" called a fine, imperious voice, as joel dashed by a group of ladies and gentlemen. as there wasn't any other boy in sight, he might be supposed to be the one wanted; but joel by this time was frantic to get to the post office, and with his mind filled with mortification and distress at his delay from his duty, he paid no heed to the call, now repeated more insistently. "it's a lady," then said joel to himself, "so i must go back. oh, dear me!" he wheeled abruptly, and, hot and red-faced, plunged up to the group. "what is it, ma'am?" then he saw to his disgust that it was mrs. chatterton. she was surrounded by friends whom she had met abroad. "why didn't you come when i bade you?" she exclaimed arrogantly. "don't you know it's your place to serve me?" "no, ma'am," said joel bluntly, his black eyes fixed on her face. one or two of the gentlemen turned aside with a laugh. "what, you little beggar!" mrs. chatterton said it between her teeth, furious at the amusement of her friends, but joel heard. "i'm not a beggar," he declared hotly, and squaring his shoulders. by this time he forgot all about the mail bag. "and you haven't any right to say so"--with flashing eyes. mrs. chatterton, now seeing him worked up, recovered herself and smiled sweetly. she leaned back in her garden chair and swung her parasol daintily back and forth. "oh, yes, you are," she declared; "we all know it, so there is no use in your denying it. well, you get us some ices and be quick about it." she dismissed him with a wave of her beautiful arm, in its flowing, lace drapery. but joel did not budge. "you don't know it." he swept the whole group with his black eyes. "it isn't as she says, is it?" "no," said one of the gentlemen who had laughed, whirling around to bring a very sharp pair of eyes on joel's face, "it isn't, my boy." "well, i must say," protested mrs. chatterton, an angry light coming into her cold eyes, and turning around on him sharply, "that this isn't very friendly in you, mr. vandeusen, to pit that upstart boy against me. now there will be no managing him hereafter." "well, but, mrs. chatterton," broke in one of the other gentlemen, in a propitiatory voice, and leaning over her chair, mr. vandeusen turning calmly on his heel to survey the distant lawns through his monocle, "a beggar, don't you know--well, it isn't the pleasantest thing in the world to be called that, don't you know?" "particularly when one isn't a beggar," said a young lady hotly. then she turned to joel and laid a hand on his arm. "don't you mind it," she said. "and as for you, miss tresor, i should consider it wiser for you to be silent." mrs. chatterton turned on her with venom. "what do you know about these miserable peppers that infest my cousin's house, pray tell?" "i like them," declared miss tresor decidedly, not turning her head. "don't mind it, my lad." "i don't, now," said joel. then the gentlemen laughed again. "oh, i must go." all his long neglect of his letter-carrier duties, made so much worse by this delay, now surged over him. he raised his chubby face, over which a smile ran, and bounded off. "isn't he a dear!" exclaimed miss tresor impulsively. "come away, emily," begged another young lady, seizing miss tresor's arm, "the old cat is quite furious; just look at her face." "we'll leave her to mamma's tender mercies," said emily carelessly, "she knows how to handle her. do you remember that scene, elinor, at geneva?" "don't i!" laughed elinor, as they sauntered off. well, by the time that six o'clock came, there wasn't so much as a scrap of a letter left in jasper's post office, but, instead, a box crammed full of silver pieces and banknotes. and miss mary taylor and mr. hamilton dyce, and some other young ladies and gentlemen whom they drilled into the service, shut themselves up in the library and wrote as fast as ever they could make their pens fly over the paper, till little white piles appeared on the table. and percy and joel and van and the other boys would rush in for these same piles to put them in the post office, to earn more money, to go into the big box. so back and forth ran these letter carriers, until even miss mary threw down her pen. "i can't write another word," she cried. "i've exhausted everything i can think of. i don't want to see another letter!" and then a card was put up outside the wistaria arbor, "post office closed." and everybody who still had money, was anxious to spend it before going home; so it was just lavished on the flower-bowers, the fancy-work table, and the candy shop. and then, when there wasn't anything more to be bought or sold, the bands moved down nearer to the center of the big lawn, making the gay little groups all move back, leaving a broad, smooth surface, for the affair was to end in dancing on the green. meanwhile grandpapa was gallantly offering his arm to madam dyce, and leading her up to an esplanade on the upper terrace, and, word being spread about that all the guests were expected to follow, there they found seats and little tables and a bevy of waiters to serve a delicious supper. and here the dancing on the green below by the young people could be seen in all its gayety, the setting sun casting bright gleams upon the merry scene. "dear me! shouldn't you think those young people would be tired enough after all they have worked," observed the old gentleman, leaning back in his comfortable chair, "to sit still and take it easy with us here?" "no, indeed!" exclaimed madam dyce, "my old feet are actually twitching under my gown to dance too." "in that case," observed old mr. king most gallantly, "let me lead you down, and will you give me the honor?" he bent his white hair to the level of her hand. "no, indeed," laughed madam dyce; "i will leave the field for the young people. but it carries me back to my youth, when you and i did dance many a time together, horatio." "did we not?" laughed grandpapa, too. and then up came some merry groups, tired of dancing, after some supper, when down they would go again, fortified and refreshed, to begin it all over once more. at last, even the lingering ones were obliged to say good-bye. the evening had shut in and the brilliant garden party was a thing of the past. the king household was resting and talking it all over on the spacious veranda, luxurious in its cushions and rugs, its easy-chairs and hammocks. "oh, it has been so perfectly beatific!" exclaimed polly, in a rapture. she was curled up on the top step, her head in grandpapa's lap, who was ensconced in a big chair with phronsie's tired little face snuggled up on his breast. "hasn't it, alexia?" for alexia was going to stay over night. "oh, my!" alexia gave a sigh and squeezed polly's hand. "i never had such a good time in all my life, polly pepper," she declared. "the poor children won't begin to get the fun out of it that we've had." "oh, those dear poor children!" exclaimed polly, stretching out her toes, which now began to ache dreadfully; "just think how perfectly lovely it's going to be for them all summer, alexia." joel caught the last words. he poked up his head from one of the hammocks. "well, i guess mr. cabot has helped a poor child to go into the country," he cried, in a pleased tone. "i guess everybody has helped," observed ben, "the way your letters went, jasper! who would think so many could have been sold!" jasper stopped pulling prince's ears. "didn't they go!" he cried, in huge satisfaction. "i guess you were glad to get that big bill, jasper," shouted joel. "my, wasn't he good to send it!" "eh?" asked jasper. everybody was chatting and laughing, so it wasn't strange that things couldn't be heard the first time. so joel shouted it again, glad to be allowed to scream such a splendid contribution over and over. "the big bill, wasn't it prime, jasper!" "what are you talking about, joe?" cried jasper, stopping his play with prince, as he saw joel was terribly in earnest over something. "why, the big bill i gave you, that mr. cabot sent. hurrah! wasn't it fine!" joel kicked up his heels and emitted a whistle that made polly clap her hands over her ears. "what big bill?" exclaimed jasper. "what on earth are you talking about, joe?" joel tumbled out of the hammock and took long leaps across the piazza floor, which landed him in front of jasper. "why, that ten-dollar bill i gave you that mr. cabot sent to the post office," he said, in a breath. "you didn't give me any ten-dollar bill," said jasper, all in a puzzle; "you've been dreaming, joe." "i--i laid it down right by you." joe could only gasp the words now. "i didn't see it," said jasper. x trouble for joel there was an awful pause, for everybody caught the last words. joel slid to the floor in a little heap. mrs. chatterton spoke up quickly. "it's easy enough to see where it went," and she gave a little laugh. "come on, joe." jasper sprang up and shook joel's arm. "we'll go and hunt for it." "i'll go, too." van and percy screamed it together. now that any trouble had come to joel, each vied with the other to see which could work the faster to help matters. "i laid it--right down. oh, dear me!" joel was pretty far gone in distress by this time, and blubbered miserably, as they all raced across the greensward, polly and alexia following swiftly. "hold on there, james," ordered jasper, to one of the three men busy dismantling the post office of its improvised trimmings of pine branches. "eh--eh, sor? stop, boys," said james to the workmen within the arbor. "we have lost something," panted jasper, as the whole group precipitated themselves up to the spot. "is that so, sor?" said james, in great concern. "well, if i'd 'a' known it, i'd 'a' kept a sharp eye out for it, sor." polly and alexia were already in the arbor in the thickest of the green branches scattered over the floor, and the boys were picking and pulling wildly, everywhere a banknote could be supposed to hide. "what was it, sor?" "a banknote," said jasper, down on his knees, prowling over the floor with both hands, while joel, who could scarcely see for the tears that streamed down his chubby cheeks, searched desperately on all sides. "is that so, sor?" said james, in great distress. "well now, that's too bad. we've taken off two loads already, sor." "where have you put them?" demanded jasper, springing to his feet. "down in the dump, sor." "we must look that over," said jasper decidedly. "send your men with lanterns; don't touch a single thing here, james, i'll come back," and he sprang off. "no, no, sor," said james, touching his cap. "now, boys," to the workmen, "you can leave this here; get your lanterns and help the master." "all right," said the men. "polly, you and alexia keep on hunting, won't you?" called jasper over his shoulder, as the boys flew off. "yes, we will," called back polly, who would very much have preferred the pleasures of "the dump," a big dell in process of filling up with just such debris as had now been added. "oh, dear me!" exclaimed alexia discontentedly, "now we're mewed up here when we might be in that dear old sweet dump, polly pepper; and all because we're girls." "well, we can't help it," said polly, with a sigh, who wished very much sometimes that she might be a boy, "so we'd much better keep at work hunting for that ten-dollar bill, alexia." "and joel is so dreadfully careless," said alexia, determined to grumble at something, and poking aimlessly at the green branches scattered on the floor. "i don't suppose we'll ever find it in all this world, in such a mess." "we must," said polly, a little white line coming around her mouth. "well, we can't, so what's the use of saying that?" and alexia gave a restful stretch to her long arms. "oh, me! oh, my! i'm so tired, polly pepper!" "you know we must find that ten-dollar bill, alexia," repeated polly hoarsely, working busily away for dear life. "well, we can't; it's perfectly hopeless--so do keep still. just look at all this." alexia waved her arms at the green draperies. "i'm going to pull the rest down anyway, though; that'll be fun," and she made a dash at it. "no, no," said polly, on her knees on the floor, "we must leave all that till jasper comes back. come, alexia, help me look over these." "oh, bother!" cried alexia, in great disdain, "i don't want to poke over those old things. you know yourself it's no earthly use; we'll never find it in all this world, polly pepper." there was a queer little sound, and alexia, whirling around, saw polly pepper in a little heap down in the middle of the green branches. "oh, misery! what have i done?"--rushing over to her and shaking her arms. "oh, polly, do get up, we _will_ find it, i'm positively sure; do get up, polly." but polly didn't stir. "oh, dear me!" wailed alexia. "polly, _please_ get up." she ran all around her, wringing her hands. "oh, what did i say it for! polly, polly pepper, we'll find it, as sure as anything. we can't help but find it. polly, do get up." she flung herself down on her knees and began to pat the white face. polly opened her eyes and looked at her. "what did you say such dreadful things for, alexia?" she said reproachfully. "oh, i couldn't help it," exclaimed alexia remorsefully. "there! oh, dear me! you've scared me 'most to death, polly pepper. do get up." so polly sat straight, and alexia fussed over her, all the while repeating, "we will find it, polly." "dear me!" said polly, "this isn't hunting for that ten-dollar bill." "well, what's the use?" began alexia. "oh, yes, of course we'll find it," she brought herself up quickly. "now, polly, i tell you." she sprang to her feet. "let's clear a place in this corner"--and she rushed over to it--"and then pick up every branch and shake it, and put it over here. then we'll know surely whether that horrid thing is on the floor or not." "so we shall," cried polly, getting up on her feet; "that's fine, alexia!" and they set to work so busily they didn't hear when the boys came back from their search. but the first moment she saw jasper's face, polly knew that the hunt was unsuccessful, and the next minute joel threw himself into her arms and hugged her closely. "oh, polly," he sobbed, "it's gone, and it's my fault." "cheer up, old fellow," said jasper, clapping him on the back; "we'll find it yet." van and percy stood dismally by, knocking their heels against the arbor side, and feeling quite sure they should burst out crying in another minute, if joel didn't stop. polly patted his poor head and cuddled it in her neck. "oh, joey, we'll find it," she said, swallowing a big lump in her throat; "don't cry, dear," while alexia sniffed and wrung her hands, fiercely turning her back on them all. "now, boys," said jasper, in his cheeriest fashion, "we'll all set to work on these vines that are left. come on, now, and let's see who will work the fastest." "i will," announced van, rushing over to twitch down the green drapery that had been such a piece of work for the gardeners to put up. percy said nothing, but set to work quietly, lifting each branch to peer under it. "take care," warned jasper, pausing a minute in his own work to look over at van's reckless fingers; "you must shake each one as you pull it down, before you throw it out on the grass, else we'll have all our work to do over again. oh, alexia, are you coming to help?" "of course i am," declared alexia. "oh, van, what a piece of work you are making!" polly was whispering to joel, "we ought to help," when van gave a shout, "i've found it! i've found it!" "hurrah!" jasper leapt down from the railing and plunged up in great excitement to polly and joel. "there, old fellow, what did i tell you?" he cried with glowing face, and clapping joel on the back again. "phoh!" exclaimed percy, in great contempt, "he hasn't, either; it's only a bit of green paper." "i thought i had," said van, quite crestfallen, and flinging down the dingy bit; "it looked just like it." it was too much; and joel, who had hopped out of polly's lap, flung himself on the floor and cried as if his heart would break. they couldn't get him out of it, so jasper just picked him up and marched off to the house with him to give him to mother fisher. and the next morning, search as hard as they could--and everybody was hunting by that time--not a trace of the ten-dollar bill could be discovered. and mrs. chatterton took pains to waylay joel in the hall or on the stairs at all possible opportunities, and ask him, with a smile at his swollen nose and eyes (for he had cried so he could hardly see), if he had found it yet. but these chances became very few, for it was jasper's and polly's very especial business to keep guard over joel, and try to divert him in every way. meantime the hunt went on. and the third day, when it became perfectly apparent to the entire household that the banknote was in such a clever hiding-place that no one could find it, joel, his tears all gone, marched into mr. king's writing-room and up to his big table, and without a bit of warning burst out: "i want to sell tin!" "eh, what?" exclaimed the old gentleman, looking over his glasses. "what is that you are saying, joey, my boy?" "i want to sell tin," said joel bluntly. _"want to sell tin!"_ ejaculated old mr. king, in amazement. "yes, sir, just like mr. biggs; he got lots of money. may i, grandpapa? please say i may." joel ran around the writing-table to plant himself by the old gentleman's chair. "oh, my goodness!" exclaimed mr. king, leaning back in dismay, "whatever can you mean, my boy?" "grandpapa"--joel laid a brown hand on the velvet morning-jacket, and brought his black eyes very close to the gentleman's face--"i've got to earn that ten dollars; i've got to, grandpapa, 'cause i lost it." joel's voice broke here, but he recovered it and dashed on, "and i can't do it unless you will let me sell tin. _please,_ grandpapa dear. mr. biggs used to, in badgertown, you know, and he took me with him sometimes on his cart, so i know how; and i can sell a lot. i can wheel it in my express wagon, and--" joel by this time was running on so glibly, under the impression that if he didn't stop, mr. king would be induced to say yes, that the old gentleman was forced to put up his hand peremptorily. "there, there, joey, my boy," he said, settling his glasses that had slipped to the end of his nose, and taking joel's hand. "now, then, let's hear all about the matter." and in a minute or two joel was perched on the old gentleman's knee, and they were having the most sociable time possible. and before long joel forgot he hadn't laughed for oh, such a long while, and lo and behold! grandpapa said something so very funny that they both burst out into a merry peal, that rang out into the wide hall beyond. "joel is actually laughing," exclaimed polly, coming soberly down the stairs; and she was so overcome by the joyful sound that she sat right down on the step. "oh, dear me, how perfectly lovely!" she breathed, folding her hands in delight. "isn't it!" jasper slipped into a seat on the step by her side. "now everything is going to be fine when joe can laugh!" "just hear him," cried polly, pricking up her ears to catch the blissful sound, "and grandpapa, too. oh, jasper!" "i know it," said jasper, in great satisfaction. "father has been so pulled down because joe took it so hard." "well, you see, joel couldn't help it," cried polly, "because it was careless, just as mamsie said, to leave anything without handing it to the person." "of course," assented jasper quickly. "mrs. fisher is right; but i'm sure any one is likely to do it, and joel was in such a hurry that day, everybody pulling at him this way and that to get letters." "i know it," said polly, delighted to hear joel's part taken, "and just think how he worked before, jasper. he helped such a perfect lot getting the flower-table ready." "he helped everywhere," declared jasper, bringing down his hand with emphasis on his knee. "i never saw anybody work as joe did." "and now to think that he has lost that money!" mourned polly, her head drooping sorrowfully over her closed hands. "oh, dear me, jasper!" "but just hear him laugh," cried jasper, springing up; "it's going to be all right now, polly, i do believe. come, let's go and hunt some more for the banknote." so they both flew off from the stairs to begin the search for the money again. for no one stopped--dear me, not a bit of it!--the hunt for the hidden ten-dollar bill. everybody but phronsie and little dick searched and prowled in every nook and corner where there was the least possible chance that the ten-dollar bill could be in hiding. they had both been so sleepy on the evening of the garden party when the loss had been announced, that it fell unheeded on their ears. and afterward all the household was careful to keep the bad news from them. so the two children went on in blissful unconsciousness of joel's trouble, while the grand hunt proceeded all around them. when joel emerged from grandpapa king's writing-room, he was hanging to the old gentleman's hand and looking up into his face and chattering away. "you know it means work," said old mr. king, looking down at him. "i know, grandpapa," said joel, bobbing his stubby, black head. "and you must keep at it," said the old gentleman decidedly, "else no pay. there's to be no dropping the job, once you take it up. if you do, you'll get no money. that's the bargain, joe?"--with a keen glance into the chubby face. "oh, i will, grandpapa, i will," declared joel eagerly, and hopping up and down; "i'll do every single speck of the work. now do let us hurry and get the book." "yes, we'll hurry, seeing our business arrangement is all settled," laughed the old gentleman. "now, then, joel, my boy, we'll go down-town and buy the blank book, so that i can set you to work at once," and he grasped the brown hand tightly, and away they went. and in ten minutes everybody knew that joel was going to make a list of all the books in a certain case in old mr. king's writing-room, and that grandpapa and he were already off down-town to buy a new blank book for the work. and at the end of it--oh, joy!--joel was to have a crisp ten-dollar bill to replace the one he had lost. xi rachel "here she comes!" roared mr. tisbett. the townspeople, hurrying to badgertown depot to see the train bearing the new little girl sent on by mrs. fisher to their parson's care, crowded up, mr. and mrs. henderson smilingly in the center of the biggest group. "oh, husband, i do pity her so!" breathed the parson's wife. "poor thing, she will be so shy and distressed!" the parson's heart gave a responsive thrill, as he craned his neck to peer here and there for their new charge. "she hasn't come. oh, dear me!"--as a voice broke in at his elbow. "i'm here." the words weren't much, to be sure, but the tone was wholly self-possessed, and when the parson whirled around, and mrs. henderson, who had been looking the other way, brought her gaze back, they saw a little girl in a dark brown suit, a brown hat under which fell smooth braids of black hair, who was regarding them with a pair of the keenest eyes they had either of them ever seen. "oh--oh--my child--" stammered mr. henderson, putting out a kind hand. "so you have come, rachel?" "yes, i am rachel," said the child, looking up into his face and laying her hand in the parson's big one; then she turned her full regard upon the minister's wife. mrs. henderson was divided in her mind, for an instant, whether to kiss this self-possessed child, as she had fully arranged in her mind beforehand to do, or to let such a ceremony go by. but in a breathing space she had her arms about her, and was drawing her to her breast. "rachel, dear, i am so glad you have come to us." rachel glanced up sharply, heaved a big sigh, and when she lifted her head from mrs. henderson's neck, there was something bright that glistened in either eye; she brushed it off before any one could spy it, as the parson was saying: "and now, where is your bag, child--er--rachel, i mean?" rachel pointed to the end of the platform. "i'll go an' tell 'em to bring it here." "no, no, child." the parson started briskly. "let us all go," said mrs. henderson kindly, gathering rachel's hand up in one of hers. "come, dear." so off they hurried, the platform's length, the farmers and their wives looking after them with the greatest interest. "my, but ain't mrs. henderson glad to get a girl, though!" "yes, she sets by her a'ready." "sakes alive! i thought she was a poor child," exclaimed one woman, who was dreadfully disappointed to lose the anticipated object of charity. "so she is," cried another--"as poor as job's turkey, but mr. king has dressed her up, you know, an' he's goin' to edicate her, too." "well, she'll pay for it, i reckon. my! she looks smart, even the back of her!" and before very long, rachel had been inducted into her room, a pretty little one under the eaves, neat as a pin in blue-and-white chintz covering, around which she had given a swift glance of approval. and now she was down in the parsonage kitchen, in a calico gown and checked apron; her own new brown ribbons having been taken off from her braids, rolled up carefully, and laid in the top drawer, the common, every-day ones taking their places. peletiah and ezekiel were each in a corner of the kitchen, with their pale blue eyes riveted on her. "well, dear," mrs. henderson greeted her kindly, "you have changed your gown very quickly." a tall, square-shouldered woman stalked in from the little entry. "oh, jerusha," exclaimed mrs. henderson pleasantly, "this is the little girl that mrs. fisher sent us. rachel, go up and speak to miss jerusha." rachel went over obediently and put out her hand, which the parson's sister didn't seem to see. instead, she drew herself up stiffer than ever, and stared at the child. "ah, well, i hope she won't forget that she's very poor, and that you've taken her out of pity," said miss jerusha. rachel started back as if shot, and her black eyes flashed. "i ain't poor," she screamed. "i ain't goin' to be pitied." "yes, you are, too," declared miss jerusha, quite pleased at the effect of her words, and telling off each syllable by bringing one set of bony fingers down on the other emphatically; "in fact, you're a beggar, and my brother----" "i ain't, ain't, ain't!" screamed rachel shrilly, and, flinging herself on her face on the floor, she flapped her feet up and down and writhed in distress. "i want to go home!" she sobbed. the boys, for once in their lives, actually started, and presently they were across the kitchen, to their mother, kneeling by rachel's side. "don't let her go," they said together. "she isn't going," said mrs. henderson, smoothing the shaking shoulders, but rachel screamed on. "dear me!" the parson hurried in at the uproar, his glasses set up on his forehead where his nervous fingers had pushed them. "what is the matter?" "that poor child," answered miss jerusha, pointing a long finger over at the group in the middle of the kitchen, "is acting like satan. i guess you'll repent, brother, ever bringing her here." "'twas aunt jerusha," declared peletiah bluntly, "and i wish she'd go home." "hush, hush, dear," said his mother, looking up into his face. there was an awful pause, the parson drew a long breath, then he turned to his sister. "jerusha," he said, "i wish you would go into the sitting-room, if you please." "an' let you pet that beggar child," she exclaimed, in shrill scorn, but she stalked off. mr. henderson went swiftly across the kitchen and knelt down by his wife. "rachel"--he put his hand on the little girl's head--"get directly up, my child!" rachel lifted her eyes, and peered about. "has she gone--that dreadful, bad, old woman?" "there is no one here but those who love you," said the minister. "now, child, get directly up and sit in that chair." he indicated the one, and in a minute rachel was perched on it, with streaming eyes. peletiah, having started to get a towel, and in his trepidation presenting the dish-rag, the parson dried her tears on his own handkerchief. "now, then, that is better," he said, in satisfaction, as they all grouped around her chair. "rachel, there mustn't be anything of this sort--tears, i mean--again. that lady is my sister, and----" _"your sister!"_ screamed rachel, precipitating herself forward on her chair in imminent danger of falling on her nose, to gaze at him in amazement. "yes"--a dull red flush crept over the minister's face--"and--and whatever she says, rachel, why, you are not to mind, child." "she ain't a-goin' to sass me," declared rachel stoutly. "well, i don't believe she will again; let us hope not," said mr. henderson, in a worried way. "however, you are not to cry; remember that, rachel, whatever happens," he added firmly: "you are to be happy here; this is your home, and we all love you." "you do?" said rachel, much amazed, looking at them all. "oh, well, then, i'll stay." and slipping down from her chair, she seized mrs. henderson's apron. "what'll i do? mrs. fisher told me how to wash dishes. may i do 'em?" "yes, and the boys shall wipe them," said mrs. henderson, and pretty soon there was a gay little bustle in the old kitchen, the parson staying away from the writing of the sermon to see it. but peletiah and ezekiel were much too slow to suit rachel, who got far ahead of them, so she flew to the drawer in the big table where she had seen them get the dish-towels, and, helping herself, she fell to work drying some of the big pile in the drainer in the sink. "i don't see how you can go so fast," observed peletiah, laboriously polishing up his plate. "well, i don't see how you can go so slow," retorted rachel, with deft passes of the towel over the cup. "my! i sh'd think your elbows had gone to sleep." "they haven't gone to sleep," said peletiah, who was always literal; and setting down his plate, half-dried, on the table, he turned over one arm to investigate. "of course not, you little ninny," said rachel lightly. "i didn't----" "rachel, rachel!" said the parson's wife, over by the table. she was getting her material together for baking pies, and she now added gently, "we don't call each other names, you must remember that, child." "oh!" said rachel. she stopped her busy towel a minute to think, then it flapped harder and faster, to make up for lost time. "well, go ahead," she said to peletiah, "and wipe your plate." so peletiah, letting his elbows take care of themselves, picked up his plate and set to work on its surface again; and pretty soon the dishes were all declared done, the pan and mop washed out, and hung up. "what'll i do next?" rachel smoothed down her apron and stood before the baking-table, a boy on either side. "now, boys," said mrs. henderson, pausing in her work of rolling out the pie crust, "i think you had better take rachel down to see grandma bascom. i've told her she's coming to-day, and she's quite impatient to see her. and, rachel, you can tell her about mrs. fisher and polly and the boys. and oh, rachel, be sure to tell her about phronsie; she does just love that child so!" the parson's wife leaned on the rolling-pin, and a bright color came into her face. "i'll tell her," said rachel, a soft gleam in her eyes, and smoothing her apron. "and, peletiah, go into the buttery, and get that little pat of butter done up in a cloth, and give it to grandma. i do wish my pies were baked"--and she fell to work again--"so i could send her one." so peletiah went into the buttery and got the pat of butter, and the three started off. the parson stepped away from the doorway into the entry, where he had been silently watching proceedings, and went over to the window. "come here, almira." he held out his hand. she dropped her rolling-pin and ran over to his side. he drew her to him. "see, dear," he said. rachel and the two boys were proceeding over the greensward leading down the road. she had one on either side; and, wonder of wonders, they were all hand in hand. "we're going to see your gran," said rachel, a very sober expression settling over her thin little face. "what?" said peletiah. "your gran; that's what your mother said." "oh, no, she didn't," contradicted peletiah; "we are going to grandma bascom's." "well, that's the same thing," said rachel; "she's your gran, isn't she?" "she's grandma bascom," repeated peletiah stolidly. "oh, dear me! of course! but she's _your_ gran, isn't she?"--her tongue fairly aching to call him "ninny" again. "no, she isn't; she isn't any one's gran--she's just grandma bascom." "oh!" said rachel. perhaps it wasn't so very bad as she feared. she would wait and see. "she's dreadfully deaf," remarked peletiah. "what's that?" "she can't hear unless you scream." rachel burst into a loud laugh, but it was very musical; and before they knew it, although they were very much astonished, the two boys were laughing, too, though they hadn't the least idea at what. "i'm glad of it," announced rachel, when she had gotten through. "i love to scream. sometimes it seems as if i'd die if i couldn't. don't you?" "no, i don't," said peletiah, "ever feel so." "don't _you?"_ rachel leaned over to peer into ezekiel's face. "no, i don't, either," he said. "oh, dear me!" exclaimed rachel, catching her breath. "well, let's run." and before either boy knew what was going to happen, she was hauling them along at such a mad pace as they had never before in all their lives indulged in. the butter-pat slipped out of peletiah's hand, gone on the wind, and landed on the roadside grass. "wasn't that a good one!" cried rachel, her eyes shining, as she brought up suddenly. "oh, my! ain't things sweet, though!"--wrinkling up her nose in delight. "i lost the butter-pat," observed peletiah, when he could get his breath. "i never see anything so beautiful," rachel was saying, over and over. then she flung herself flat on the grass, and buried her nose in it, smelling it hungrily. "oh, my!" "i lost the butter-pat," observed peletiah again, and standing over her. "and i'm a-goin' to live here," declared rachel, in a transport, and wriggling in the sweet clover, "if i'm good. i'm goin' to be good all the time. yes, sir!" "i lost the butter-pat," repeated peletiah. "butter-pat?" rachel caught the last words and sprang to her feet. "oh, yes, i forgot; we must hurry with the butter-pat. come on!" and she whirled around on peletiah. "why, where--?" as she saw his empty hands. "i lost the butter-pat," said peletiah. "i've been telling you so." "no, you haven't," contradicted rachel flatly. "yes, i have," said peletiah stolidly. "no such thing." rachel squared up to him, her black eyes flashing. "you haven't said a single word, you bad, wicked boy." "yes, i have," repeated peletiah, ready to say it over for all time; "i've told you so a great many times." rachel looked at him, and put up both hands. the only thing proper to do under such circumstances was to shake him smartly, but it seemed so like attacking a granite post, and besides, he was the minister's son, and she was going to be good, else they must send her away (so mrs. fisher had said), so her arms flopped down to her side, and hung there dismally. and she burst out: "where did you lose it, you nin--? i mean--oh, dear me!--where, i say?"--frowning impatiently. "back there," said peletiah, pointing down the road. "you pulled me along so, it flew out of my hand." rachel set her teeth together hard. "come on!" she seized a hand of each boy, ezekiel being a silent spectator all the time; and if they went fast before, this time, in retracing their steps, it might be called flying, till a little spot on the roadside grass showed the object of their search. peletiah's breath was gone entirely by this time, and he sank down by its side without a word, his brother following suit. "i shall carry it now," announced rachel, gathering up the little pat, safe in its white cloth. "my! 'tain't hurt a bit" she brushed off a few marauding ants. "come on, now!" peletiah struggled to his feet and gasped, "i shall carry it," and put out his hands. "no such thing." rachel held the butter-pat firmly in her slender, brown hand. "my! you ain't fit to carry no butter-pats--let 'em drop out of your hands. come on!" "i shall carry it," declared peletiah doggedly, and bringing his pale eyes to bear on her face, while he stood still in his tracks. "i hope you may get it," cried rachel triumphantly. "i never see such a boy. come on, i say." she held out her hand with authority. "my mother said i was to carry the butter-pat, and i shall carry it," said peletiah, putting out one hand for it, and the other behind his back. rachel wrinkled her brows and thought a minute. "so she did," she said. then she set the butter-pat in peletiah's hand, and pinched his thumb down over it. "there, hold on to it," she said, "or you'll lose it again. now, come on!" the way back was conducted on slower lines, as rachel had an anxious oversight lest the butter-pat should again be taken off on the wind, so that peletiah and ezekiel had a chance to recover their breath, with some degree of composure, by the time they turned down the lane to grandma bascom's. there she was, sitting in her big chintz-covered chair, resting after the morning's work, as they found on entering the little old kitchen. rachel's eyes had been getting bigger and bigger, though she had said nothing tip to this time; but when they rested on the old lady's face, under the big, frilled cap, she burst out sharply: "is that your gran?" "she isn't my gran," replied peletiah. "no, she isn't," echoed ezekiel. "well, is she gran?" demanded rachel impatiently--"anybody's gran--just gran? say, is she?" "no, she isn't gran," said peletiah, shaking his head of stiff, light hair. "oh, dear me! you said so," cried rachel, in a high, disappointed key. "oh, dear, dear, dear! i wish she was." and, terribly afraid she was going to cry, she marched off to the little-paned window, and twisted her fingers into knots. "she's grandma," said ezekiel, walking over to her and peering around her side. "oh, then she is," cried rachel, springing around. "say"--she seized his jacket--"she's my gran, an'----" "grandma, i said," repeated ezekiel. "yes, yes, grandma; well, she's mine." "she's all our grandma," said ezekiel decidedly. "yes, yes, but she's mine, too," declared rachel, bobbing her head decidedly. "she shall be my gran--grandma. i shall just take her, so there!" "you musn't take her away," said ezekiel, in alarm. "i ain't goin' to; i don't want to. i'm goin' to live here always an' forever," declared rachel firmly. ezekiel smiled at that in great satisfaction, and the matter being settled, rachel skipped over to the old lady's chair, and looked steadily down into the wrinkled face. "go out and put the butter-pat somewhere," she said to peletiah, who still held it in his hand, waiting to present it. "i must give it to grandma," he said; "my mother told me to." "well, you can't while she's asleep," said rachel quickly, "so you put it somewhere--anywhere--and when she wakes up, why, you can give it to her. do hurry--and you go and help him." so the two boys walked off to find a place in the buttery, and quick as lightning rachel leaned over and set a kiss on the wrinkled old cheek. if grandma couldn't hear, she was very quick at feeling. "why!" she stirred uneasily in her chair, and opened her eyes. "who is this?" she asked, staring at the strange little girl, for although the parson's wife had told her all about the new member of the family to come that day, grandma was so bewildered by being suddenly aroused from her sleep, she had forgotten all about it. "hey, who is it?" peletiah, not having had time to put down the butter-pat, now came up and presented it with all due formality. "but who is this little gal?" asked grandma, as he set the butter-pat in the middle of the checked apron over her lap. "she's rachel," said peletiah. "eh? what?" grandma held a shaking hand behind her ear. "speak a little louder, peletiah; you know i'm a-growin' hard o' hearin', just a grain." "rachel," shouted peletiah, as he stood still in his tracks in front of her. "ain't well! oh, dear me!" exclaimed grandma, in a tone of great concern. "what a pity!" and she turned and regarded the stranger with anxiety. "oh, dear me! you get away, peletiah," commanded rachel, brushing him aside. so peletiah, very glad to be released, moved off, and rachel, putting her mouth to the nodding cap-border, said very distinctly: "mrs. fisher sent me to live at the minister's; i'm rachel." "oh, my land o' goshen!" exclaimed grandma bascom, lifting both hands in delight. "why, i can hear you splendid. you see, i'm only a grain deaf. an' so you're that little gal. well, i'm glad you've come, you pretty creeter, you!" xii doings at the parsonage and in another minute rachel was telling all about mrs. fisher and polly and phronsie--oh, and joel and david--for grandma kept interrupting and asking all sorts of questions, so that the news and messages were all tangled up together. "did joel say he wanted pep'mints?" asked grandma, in a lull. "oh, yes, he said yours were awful good, and he wished he had some of 'em," rachel answered. she didn't dare take her mouth away from the cap-frill, and her feet ached dreadfully from standing still so long. but grandma was as bright as a button, and hungry for every scrap of information. "land o' goshen!" mourned grandma, "how i wish he was comin' in now! an' i'd give him plenty." she sat still for a minute, lost in thought. peletiah and ezekiel had wandered off outside, where they sat under the lilac bushes, to rest after their unwonted exercise, so the hens, undisturbed, stepped over the sill of the kitchen door, and scratched and picked about to their hearts' content. "i'll drive 'em out," said rachel, delighted at the chance of action this would give her, and springing off. "take the broom," screamed grandma after her, "and then hurry and come back and tell me some more." so rachel, wishing the duty could be an hour long, shooed and waved her broom wildly, and ran and raced, and the fat old hens tumbled over each other to get away. and then she came slowly back to grandma's side, to go over again every bit she had told before. until, looking up at the old clock on the shelf, she saw that it was one minute of twelve o'clock. "oh, my! i've got to go," she screamed in grandma's ear, and without another word she dashed off and up to the lilac bushes. "boys, come this minute." she held out both hands. "it's awful late." "i know it," said peletiah, with a very grieved face; "we've been waiting for you ever so long, and dinner's ready at home." "well, come now." she stuck her long arms out straight, and shook her fingers impatiently. "oh, dear me--do hurry!" "i ain't goin' to take hold of hands," declared peletiah, edging off. "nor i, either," echoed ezekiel. "oh, yes, you must." and without waiting for more words on the matter, rachel seized a hand of each, and bore off the boys. if they ran before, they flew now. but all the same they were late to dinner, and the parson and his wife and miss jerusha were all helped around, and had begun to eat. "there, see what that new girl has done already," said miss jerusha sternly, laying down her knife and fork. "peletiah and ezekiel ain't ever late. well, you'll see trouble enough with her, or i'll miss my guess." peletiah sank down on the upper step of the piazza, but ezekiel crept into the kitchen, while rachel pushed boldly up to mrs. henderson's chair. "oh, i'm awful sorry," she said. her face was very flushed and her eyes glowed with the run. "ben gallivantin' off an' temptin' the boys to play," declared miss jerusha, with a shrewd nod of her brown front. "oh, i know." "we won't say any more about it now, dear," said mrs. henderson gently, at sight of the hot little face. "there, get into your chair, this one next to me. where's peletiah?"--looking about. "oh, i'm awful tired," wailed ezekiel, slipping into his seat next to the parson, and he drew the back of his hand across his red face. "ben playing so hard," said miss jerusha disagreeably, "an' now you're all het up." "i haven't played a single bit," declared ezekiel stoutly, and with a very injured expression of countenance. "oh, dear me, i am so tired!" stretching his legs under the table. "eat your dinner, my son," said the parson, putting a liberal portion on his plate. "oh, dear me!" ezekiel essayed to, but laid down his spoon. "i don't want anything, i'm so tired." mrs. henderson cast an anxious glance over at him. "no need to worry," her husband telegraphed back, going quietly on with his own dinner. rachel had begun on hers with hungry zest, but stopped suddenly, hopped out of her chair, and raced to the door. "rachel!" it wasn't a loud voice, but she found herself back again and looking into mrs. henderson's face. "sit down, dear; we do not leave the table in that way." so rachel slipped into her seat, feeling as if all the blood in her body were in her hot cheeks. "now, what is it?" the parson's wife took one of the brown hands working nervously under the tablecloth. "tell me; don't be afraid," she said softly. but miss jerusha heard. "stuff and nonsense!" she exclaimed, with a sneer. "when i was a child, there was no such coddlin' goin' on, i can tell you." "it's peletiah," said rachel. "oh, dear me! he's out on the piazza, and he must be awfully hungry. can't i make him come in?" "no, sit still. husband"--the parson's wife looked down the table--"excuse me a minute." she slipped out, and in another moment in she came, and peletiah with her. and then mr. henderson told such a funny story about a monkey he had read about only just that very morning, that ezekiel forgot there ever was such a thing as tired legs, and even peletiah had no thoughts for that dreadful run home from grandma bascom's. as for rachel, all idea of dinner flew at once out of her head. she laid down her knife and fork and leaned forward with sparkling eyes, to catch every word. seeing which, mrs. henderson burst out laughing. "i'm afraid you are making things worse, husband," she said, "for they won't eat any dinner at all now." "i surely am," said the parson, with another laugh, "and i thought i was going to help so much," he added ruefully. "how you can laugh," exclaimed miss jerusha sourly, at the good time in progress, and sitting quite stiffly, "i don't for my part see." "oh, well, if you'd laugh more, it would be better for all of us, jerusha," said her brother good-naturedly. "i ain't a-goin' to laugh," declared miss jerusha, "and it's a wicked, sinful shame to set such an example before those boys, like coddlin' up that girl for keepin' them off playin'. i never see such goin's on!" "we haven't been playing," said peletiah stoutly. "i told her so," said ezekiel fretfully, seeing that his father had no more monkey stories to offer, "but she keeps saying it just the same. i wish she'd go off and play," he added vindictively. the idea of miss jerusha ever having played, made rachel turn in her chair and regard her fixedly. then she broke out into a laugh; it was such a merry peal that presently the boys joined in, and even the parson and his wife had hard work to keep their faces straight. "well, if i _ever_ see such goin's on!" miss jerusha shoved back her chair and stalked out of the room. "did she ever play?" asked rachel, when the door into the keeping-room had slammed. "why, yes, of course, child," said mrs. henderson, with a smile, "when she was a little girl." "and was she ever a little girl?" persisted rachel. "why, certainly. now eat your dinner, rachel." rachel picked up her knife and fork. when the two boys saw that she was ready to really begin on her meal, they set to on theirs. "i'm awful hungry," announced peletiah, when he had been working busily on his plateful. the parson burst out into a laugh, like a boy. "hush, husband," warned mrs. henderson; "i'm afraid jerusha will hear." "i can't help it, almira." his eyes were brimming with amusement. "our boys are getting waked up already." "i ain't asleep," declared peletiah, looking up at his father in amazement; "i'm eating my dinner." "so am i," announced ezekiel wisely, and putting out his plate for another potato. "so i see," said his father gravely. "well, now we're all getting on very well," he added, in great satisfaction, with a glance around the table. "good-bye; you must excuse me, wife; you know i must get over to the funeral early." "is old miss bedlow dead, ma?" asked peletiah, pausing in the act of getting some gravy to his mouth. "yes, dear. take care, peletiah, and pay attention to your dinner." peletiah set down the mouthful on his plate. "i hain't got to go, have i, ma?" he asked, in trepidation. "no, dear; now go on with your dinner, and don't say 'hain't.'" "i'm glad i haven't got to go," observed peletiah, with a long sigh of relief, and beginning on his dinner once more. "i don't like funerals." "i do." rachel bobbed her black head at him across the table, and her eyes roved excitedly. "i've seen lots an' lots of 'em in the city. they're fine, i tell you." she laid down her knife and fork again and waved her arms. "oh, a string of carriages as long--an' the corpse is sometimes in a white box, and heaps of flowers. i like 'em next to the circus." "there, there, rachel, eat your dinner, child," broke in mrs. henderson quickly. "and, boys, don't talk any more. you must get through dinner, for i have to go to miss bedlow's by two o'clock," and she got out of her chair and began to clear the table. so all that was to be heard now in the parsonage kitchen was the pleasant rattle of knives and forks, and the bustle of clearing up, and presently the children hopped out of their chairs and began to help mrs. henderson to set everything in order. "i'm goin' to wash every single thing up," announced rachel, hurrying for the mop. "can you, dear?" asked the parson's wife. she was very tired, and yet had the funeral of the old parishioner to attend. but the risk seemed great of allowing the new little girl to do up all the dinner dishes. "there are a great many of them, and some of them are big"--glancing doubtfully around the piles. "are you sure you can manage them?" "why, yes," declared rachel in scorn, "i can do 'em all just as easy!" she stopped to snap her fingers at the greasy plates, then ran over to get the big teakettle on the stove in a twinkling. "let peletiah carry that for you," said mrs. henderson. "he's so slow," said rachel, but she stopped obediently. "rachel, there is one thing"--and the parson's wife came over and put her hand on the thin little shoulder--"we all help each other in this house, and we never talk against one." "oh," said rachel. peletiah by this time had advanced on the teakettle, and, as soon as he could, he bore it off and solemnly poured a goodly supply of boiling-hot water into the waiting dishpan. "now you boys are to wipe the dishes for rachel," said their mother, with an approving glance at the group. "i'd rather," began rachel, wrinkling up her face. "so remember; and when you are through, and the kitchen is set up neatly, you may all play out of doors this afternoon, for lessons don't begin for you until to-morrow, rachel. and now be good children." "i don't like lessons," said peletiah, when they were left alone. "don't you?" exclaimed rachel, in astonishment, and resting her soapy hands on the edge of the dishpan. "no, i don't," declared peletiah, with great deliberation, "like them at all." "well, i shall, i know." rachel twitched off her hands and slapped the mop down smartly among the cups in the hot water. "ow! you splashed me all over," exclaimed ezekiel. "see there, now, rachel." he stepped hack and held up his arm. "phoo! that's nothing," said rachel. "it hurt; it's hot," said ezekiel, squirming about. "well, if you ain't a baby!" cried rachel scornfully. "my mother said we weren't to call names," observed peletiah. "oh, my! i forgot that. but he is a baby," declared rachel. "my mother said we were not to call names," repeated peletiah, exactly as if he hadn't made that remark before. "oh, dear me! how perfectly awful you--i mean i never saw such boys. oh, my!" "my mother said----" "yes, yes, i know," interrupted rachel, splashing away for dear life; "well, now we must hurry and get these dishes done." "and then we can go out and play," said ezekiel, departing with the plate he was drying to a safe distance from the hot shower from rachel's busy fingers. "yes. oh, my, what fun! let's hurry." and before the boys quite knew how, the dishes were all piled in the pantry, the dishpan and mop washed out and hung up to dry, and the crumbs swept from the kitchen floor. "there," said rachel, smoothing down her apron in great satisfaction, "now we can go out. come on, i'm going to the corner to see that funeral go by." "we can't," said peletiah, trying his best to hurry after her. "mother doesn't let us go out of the yard when she's away; and beside, there isn't any corner--the road just goes round." "oh, bother!" rachel whirled around and stamped her foot impatiently. "and 'twill come past our house," contributed ezekiel, gaining her side, "so let's sit on the doorstep till it comes." "and you can tell us about the funerals you've seen in the city," suggested peletiah, who had been thinking about them ever since. "all right," said rachel, seeing she was not to lose sight of the parade she so dearly loved. "whoopity--la!" she flung herself down on the long, flat doorstone, and whipped her gown neatly away on either side. "i'm goin' to sit in the middle." the boys, very much pleased at this arrangement, which they would never have thought of suggesting, sat down sedately in their places and folded their hands in their laps. "now tell about those funerals," said peletiah. "well, let me think," said rachel, reflecting; "you see, i've seen so many. hmm! oh, i know!" she jumped so suddenly that she came near precipitating ezekiel, who was leaning forward to attain a better view of her face, off into the middle of the peony bed. "take care!" rachel twitched him back into his place. "yes, i'm goin' to tell you about one perfectly splendid funeral i see just----" "you mustn't say 'see,'" corrected peletiah, with disapproval. he was fairly longing for the recital, but it would never do to let such a slip in conversation pass. "well, what shall i say, then?" cried rachel pertly, and not at all pleased at the interruption. "you must say 'saw.'" "i didn't saw it; you can't saw a thing," she declared contemptuously. "you've got to see it, or else you can't say you did. so there, pel--pel--whatever your name is." "my name is peletiah," he said solemnly, "peletiah--oh, dear me!" rachel put her face between her two hands and began to giggle. "tell about the funeral," said ezekiel, twitching her sleeve. "and you must say 'saw,'" reiterated peletiah. "i can't; 'tain't right, an' i ain't a-goin' to say 'saw' to please you, so there, now!" declared rachel, bringing up her head and setting her mouth obstinately. "then i ain't going to sit here," said peletiah, getting off from the door-stone, "because my mother wouldn't like it; she always makes me say 'saw.'" "does she?" cried rachel, a little red spot coming on either cheek. "does she, pele--pele--say, does she?" "yes, she does," said peletiah, moving off slowly. "well, then, i'll say it. came back and sit down; i'll say it. saw, saw, saw. there, now"--as peletiah, very much delighted, settled back into his place. "well, you know this was a great big-bug who was buried, and----" "a big bug!" exclaimed peletiah, terribly disappointed. "i don't want to hear of any bugs; tell about a funeral," he commanded loudly. "i am tellin' you; keep still an' you'll hear it. well, he was a gre--at big-bug, an'----" "who was?" cried ezekiel, dreadfully puzzled. "this man who was to be buried--this one i'm tellin' you of. do keep still, an' you'll hear if you don't stop me every minute." "you said it was a bug," said peletiah, in loud disapproval, on the further side. "well, so he was," declared rachel, turning around to him. "some men are big-bugs, an' some men are only little mean ones. but this one i'm tellin' you about was, oh, an awful big one," and she spread her arms with a generous sweep to indicate his importance. "men aren't ever bugs," said peletiah decidedly. "oh, yes, they are." "no, they ain't," he declared obstinately. "my mother says we mustn't contradict," put in ezekiel, with a reproving glance at him across rachel's lap. peletiah unfolded his hands in extreme distress, but he couldn't say that men were bugs, so he sat still. "anyway, they are in the city, where i lived," said rachel, "so never mind. well, this funeral was just too splendid for anythin'. in the first place there was----" "oh, it's coming," cried ezekiel, pricking up his ears. "miss bedlow's funeral's coming." rachel gave a jump that carried her off from the door-stone and quite a piece down the box-bordered path. she was hanging over the gate when the boys came up. "where?" she said. "i don't see any." a small, black, high-topped wagon went by, the old horse at a jog trot, and after it came a two-seated rockaway, and after that a carryall, and around the curve in the road appeared more vehicles of the same patterns, tapering off to a line of chaises and gigs. "why, that's the funeral," said peletiah, in solemn enjoyment, and pointing a finger at it; "it's going by now." "what!" exclaimed rachel, horribly disappointed. then she flew away from the gate and turned her back on it all. "i wish i was back in the city!" she said. xiii "she's going to stay here forever" it was dreadful; and after she had said it, rachel stood overwhelmed with distress. "don't you tell your father." she whirled around and clutched peletiah's sleeve. "we must," he said; "he's the minister, and we have to tell him everything." "well, don't tell your mother, anyway," she begged anxiously. "we must," said peletiah again, "because we tell her everything, too." "then she'll send me back." rachel, quite gone in despair, gave a loud cry and threw herself face downward on the grass, where she sobbed as if her heart would break. this was so much worse than he had imagined, as any possible effect from his words, that peletiah couldn't speak, but stood over her in silent misery. seeing this, ezekiel took matters into his own hands. "i'm going to run after the funeral and get ma to come home; she'll be at the top of the procession," and he moved off toward the gateway. "stop!" rachel squealed; then she sprang to her feet. "don't you stir a step, you!" she commanded. "they're all hearing you," observed peletiah, who, seeing rachel upon her feet, found his spirits reviving, and he pointed to the line of buggies and chaises. "see 'em looking back; my father won't like it." "oh, dear me!" rachel struggled with her sobs. "you shouldn't 'a' told me you had 'em. that ain't a funeral." "it is, too," declared peletiah; "it's miss bedlow's funeral, and my pa is going to bury her." "it ain't, either; an' that's a baker's cart," said rachel, pointing to the departing hearse with scorn. "oh, oh, what a story!" exclaimed ezekiel, who was just on the point of reproving his brother for contradicting, and he pointed his brown finger at her. "that's got miss bedlow in, and they're taking her to the burying-ground, and it's her funeral." "well, i don't want to go back to the city," said rachel hastily, dismissing miss bedlow and her funeral and all discussion thereon summarily, and she dug the toe of her shoe into the gravel; "don't let your mother send me back." "you said you wished you were back there," observed peletiah severely, fixing his pale eyes on her distressed face, along which the tears were making little paths. "well, i don't care. i don't want to go. don't let her!" she seized his arm and shook it smartly. "you're shaking me!" said peletiah, in astonishment. "i know it, an' i'm goin' to," said rachel, stamping her foot. "you ain't going to shake my brother," declared ezekiel loudly, "and we'll make you go back if you shake us," he added vindictively. "oh, dear, dear!" rachel dropped peletiah's arm, and she hid her face in her hands. "don't make me go back," she wailed. "it's too dreadful there, for mrs. fisher won't have me if you send me away, 'n' gran 'll get hold of me somehow--she'll--she'll find me, i know she will," and she shivered all over. "who's gran?" peletiah drew quite near. "she's gran," said rachel, shivering again. "oh, dear! don't ask me; and she beat me dreadful, an'--" her voice broke. "she beat you?" cried peletiah. "awful," said rachel, cramming her fingers into her mouth to keep from crying. "oh, dear, dear! don't send me back." peletiah took two or three steps off, then came back. "you may shake me if you want to," he said generously, "and you ain't going back." "well, she isn't going to shake me," said ezekiel stoutly, "and my ma will send her back if she shakes me, so there!" "i hain't shook you yet," said rachel, disclosing her black eyes between her fingers and viewing him with cold disdain. "well, you ain't going to," repeated ezekiel, with decision. "her gran beat her." peletiah went over to his brother. "she beat rachel." he kept repeating it, over and over; meanwhile ezekiel moved about in confusion, digging the toes of his shoes into the gravel to hide it. "well, she ain't going to shake me," he said, but it was in a fainter voice, and he didn't look at rachel's eyes. "and you mustn't ask mother to send her back," said peletiah stubbornly. "she ain't going to shake me." it was now so low that scarcely any one could hear it. "and you mustn't ask mother to send her back," said peletiah again. "she's going to stay here just for ever and ever." there was something in his tone that made ezekiel hasten to say: "oh, i won't." "and i won't shake you," said rachel, flying out from behind her hands and up to him, "if you'll only let me stay here; just let me stay," she cried, hungrily. "well," said ezekiel, with a great deal of condescension, "if you won't shake me, you may stay at our house." so the children went back to the flat door-stone to talk it over, peletiah saying: "maybe you can go to school with us next fall." "oh, my!" exclaimed rachel, with wide eyes, and clasping her hands, "i've got to learn a lot first." "yes, my father's got to teach you first," said peletiah. "where's he going to do it?" rachel leaned over to get a comprehensive view of his face. "in his study," answered peletiah. "where's that?" "that's where he writes his sermons in, that he preaches at people sundays," said ezekiel, finding it very pleasant to be communicative, now that he was quite sure the new girl would not shake him. "oh, how nice!" breathed rachel. "that's scrumptious!" "that's what?" asked peletiah critically. "scrumptious. haven't you ever heard that? oh, what a nin--i mean, oh, how funny!" "and it ain't nice at all to have my father teach you," said peletiah, with very doleful ideas of that study. "why?" asked rachel, with gathering dread. "oh, he makes you learn things," said peletiah dismally, drawing a long sigh at the remembrance. "but that's just what i want to do," cried rachel, with sparkling eyes; "i'm goin' to learn an' learn, till i can't learn no more." peletiah was so occupied in edging off from her that he forgot to correct her speech. "yes, i'm goin' to learn," exclaimed rachel, in a glad little shout, and, springing to her feet, she swung her arms over her head. "i'm goin' to read an' i'm goin' to write, an' then i can write a letter to my phronsie." she ended up with a cheese, plunging down on the grass and puffing out her gown like a small balloon. "you can't do that," she said, nodding triumphantly up at the two boys. "i don't want to," said peletiah, sitting still on the door-stone. "well, you can't, anyway, 'cause you haven't got a frock. well, now, let's play," and she hopped to her feet. "come on. what'll it be?" "i'll show you the brook," volunteered ezekiel, getting up. "what's a brook?" asked rachel. "hoh--hoh!" ezekiel really laughed, it was so funny. "she doesn't know what a brook is," he said, and he laughed again. "well, what is it?" demanded rachel, laughing good-naturedly. "it's water." "i don't want to see any water," said rachel, turning off disdainfully; "there's nothing pretty in that." "but it's awfully pretty," said peletiah; "it runs all down over the stones, and under the trees and----" "where is it?" cried rachel, running up to him in great excitement. "oh, take me to it." "it's just back of the house," said ezekiel; "i'll show you the way." but rachel, once directed, got there first, and was down on her knees on the bank, dabbling her hands in the purling little stream, half wild with delight. and when the parson and his wife got home from miss bedlow's funeral, they found the three children there, perfectly absorbed in the labor of sailing boats of cabbage leaves, and guiding their uncertain craft in and out the shimmering pools and down through the tiny rapids. and they watched them unobserved. "but i dread to-morrow, when i give her the first lesson," said the parson, as they stood unperceived in the shadow of the trees; "everything else is a splendid success." "let us hope the lessons will be, too, husband," said mrs. henderson, a happy light in her eyes. "i hope so, but i'm afraid the child is all for play, and will be hard to teach," he said, with a sigh. but on the morrow--well, the minister came out of his study when the lesson hour was over, with a flush on his face that betokened pleasure as well as hard work. and rachel began to skip around for very joy. she was really to be a little student, mr. henderson had said. not that rachel really knew what that meant exactly, but the master was pleased, and that was enough, and all of a sudden, when she was putting up some dishes in the keeping-room closet, she began to sing. mrs. henderson nearly dropped the dish she was wiping. "why, my child!" she exclaimed, then stopped, but rachel didn't hear her, and sang on. it was a wild little thing that she had heard from the hand organs and the people singing it in the streets of the big city. just then old miss parrott's stately, ancestral coach drove up. the parson's wife hurried to the front door, which was seldom opened except for special company like the present. "i heard," said miss parrott, as mrs. henderson ushered her in, "that you'd taken a little girl out of charity, and i want to see you and your husband about it." "will you come into his study, then?" said mrs. henderson. "husband has gone out to work in his garden, and i will call him in." miss parrott stepped into the apartment in stately fashion, her black silk gown crackling pleasantly as she walked, and seated herself very primly, as befitted her ancestry and bringing-up, in one of the stiff, high-backed chairs. and presently the parson, his garden clothes off and his best coat on, came in hurriedly to know his honored parishioner's bidding. "i will come to the point at once," said miss parrott, with dignified precision, as he sat beside her, and she drew herself up stiffer yet, in the pleasing confidence that what she was about to say would strike both of her hearers as the most proper thing to do. "you have taken this little girl, i hear, to educate and bring up." "for a time," said the minister, hurriedly. "very true, for a period of time," said miss parrott throwing her black-figured lace veil, worn by her mother before her, away from her face. "well, now, pastor, it is not appropriate for you to do this work, with your hands already overburdened. neither should you bear the expense----" "but i don't," cried parson henderson, guilty now of interrupting. "mr. king pays me, and well, for teaching the little girl until she will be ready for the district school. you see, she has never been in a schoolroom in her life, and it would be cruel to put her with children of her own age, when she is so ignorant. but she is singularly bright, and i have the greatest hopes of her, madam, for she is far above and beyond most children in many ways." but miss parrott hadn't come to hear all this, so she gave a stately bow. "no doubt, pastor, but i must say what is on my mind. it is that i have for some time wanted to do a bit of charity like this, and providence now seems to point the way for it. i would like to take the child and do for her. let her come to you here, for lessons, but let me bring her up in my house." there was an awful pause. parson henderson looked at his wife, but said never a word, helplessly leaving it to her. "dear miss parrott," said mrs. henderson, and she so far forgot her fear of the stately, reserved parishioner as to lay her hand on the black-mitted one of the visitor, "we were given the care of the child by mr. king, who rescued her from her terrible surroundings, and we couldn't possibly surrender this charge to another. but i will tell you what we might do, husband," and her eyes sought his face. "rachel might go down now and then to spend the day with miss parrott. oh, your beautiful house!" she broke off like a child in her enthusiasm. "i do so want her to be in it sometimes." she turned suddenly to the visitor. miss parrott's old face glowed, and a smile lingered among the wrinkles. "and she must pass the night occasionally," she said. there was a world of entreaty in her eyes. "i think so," said mrs. henderson, "but we must leave that to rachel." and rachel, in the keeping-room closet, was trilling up and down some of the jigs her feet had kept time to when she, with the other tenement-house children, had run out to dance on the corner when the organ man came round, all unconscious of what was going on in the study. "what's that?" cried miss parrott, starting. the conference was over and she was coming out of the pastor's study, to get into her ancestral carriage. "that's rachel singing," said mrs. henderson. old miss parrott gasped: "why, my dear pastor, and mrs. henderson, can the child sing like that?" "this is the first time she has tried it," said the parson, who had no ear for music and was sorely tried when expected to admire any specimens of it. "but i dare say she will do very well. she is a very teachable child." "very well!" repeated miss parrott quickly. "i should say so indeed. well, i will send for the child on saturday to pass the day and night with me, and then we shall see what we shall see." with which enigmatical expression, she mounted her ancestral carriage; the solemn coachman, who had served considerably more than a generation in the family, gathered up the reins, and the coach rumbled off. "oh, what an awful old carriage!" exclaimed rachel, running to the window. "it looks as if its bones would stick out." "it hasn't got any bones," said peletiah, viewing it with awe, "and she's awful rich, miss parrott is." "i don't care," said rachel, running back to her work and beginning to sing again, "her carriage is all bones, anyway." xiv "can't go," said joel "joel--where are you?" frick mason raced in, to encounter polly in the wide hall. "oh, dear me!"--not pausing for an answer--"all the boys are waiting for him outside. please tell him to hurry, polly," for joel's friends always felt if they could only get polly on their side, they were sure of success, and he shifted his feet in impatience. "i don't know in the least where joel is," said polly, pausing in her run through the hall. she had promised alexia to be over at her house at nine o'clock, and there it was, the big clock in the corner stated plainly, five minutes of that hour. "oh, dear me! i wish i could help you," and she wrinkled up her brows in distress. frick sat down on one of the big, carved chairs and fairly whined: "i've chased and chased all about here, and no one knows where joel is. polly, do find him for me," and he began to sniffle. "oh, i can't," began polly impatiently, then she finished, "dear me! why, i don't know in the very least where joel is, frick!--not the leastest bit in the world." "oh, yes, you can find him," said frick, sniffling dreadfully, and beginning to wheedle and beg. "do, polly." he seized her gown. "the boys can't do anything without joel, and they've sent me for him." "and i'm sure i can't do anything"--polly shook her gown free--"so there's no use in asking me to stand here and talk about it, frick mason. and just look at that clock--two minutes of nine." she pointed tragically up to the big clock. "and i promised to be at alexia's--" the last words came back to him as she disappeared out to the veranda and down the steps, racing off as hard as she could. frick got off from his chair, took three or four steps hopelessly, then stiffened up. "i'm going to find him," he announced to himself, and turning down the angle, he knocked at the first door on the left. "hullo!" exclaimed joel, unlocking the door and opening it. "oh, you're here." frick seized him on both sides, wishing he had twice the number of hands to employ; then he tried to run in, but joel shook off the grasp, pushed to the door, only leaving the scantiest space to allow of conversation. "you can't come in," he said steadily. "hold on! don't shut the door," cried frick, pressing up closely and still endeavoring to get a good grasp on some of joel's clothing. "ow! you 'most smashed my nose, joel pepper." "you must take your nose away then," said joel decidedly, "for i'm going to shut the door if you scrouge so." "well, let me come in," said frick, struggling violently. "say, joel, don't shut the door." for answer joel slammed to the door, and the key clicked in the lock. "i said i'd do it, if you scrouged and pushed, and i must," he answered, with the air of a man performing his duty. "this is my grandpapa's writing-room, and you mustn't come in, frick mason." frick slid down to the floor and laid his mouth alongside the crack, with the feeling that his message would be more impressive delivered in that way, since he was not to be admitted to the apartment to give it in due form. "the boys want you, joel; they're all waiting for us outside. hurry up." having delivered it, frick got up to his feet in a hurry, confident that the door would be flung wide, to let joel come hopping out in delight, and not choosing to be run over in the process. "can't go," said joel, in muffled accents, on the other side of the door. "what?" roared frick, not believing his ears. "can't go," repeated joel. "go right away from this door." "what did you say?" frick slid to the floor again and beat his hands on the polished surface. "say, joel, we want you to come. we're all waiting for you, don't you understand?" he kept saying it over and over, under the impression that if he only repeated it enough, the door would open. "and i say i can't go," declared joel, in a high, wrathful key. "if you don't go away and let this door alone, i'll come out and pound you." "we're going to the pond," said frick, exactly as if responding to the most cordial request to furnish the plan. "we've got larry's boat, and webb is going to take his father's, and----" "ow--go away!" roared joel, in an awful voice. "and we're going to take our luncheon and stop at egg rock, and----" the door flew open wildly, and joel leaped out over frick, flattened on the floor. "didn't i tell you to let me alone?" cried joel, on top of the messenger, and pommeling away briskly, "say, didn't i tell? say, didn't i tell you?" the noise all this made was sufficient to bring jane, who didn't stop to drop her broom. "my goodness me, master joel!" she said, running down from the stair-landing, "what are you doing?" "pommeling him," said joel cheerfully, and not looking up. "well, you stop it this minute," commanded jane, waving her broom over the two figures, for by this time frick had managed to roll over and was now putting up quite a vigorous little fight in his own defense. "i can't," said joel; "i promised him." "oh, dear me!" cried jane, bringing her broom down smartly on as much of the surface of either boy as was possible. "i'll scream for mrs. fisher if you don't stop, you two boys. i will, as true as anything!" "oh, no, you mustn't, jane," said joel. his brown fists wavered in the air and described several circles before they fell at his side; seeing which, frick slipped out from underneath him and began to belabor joel to his heart's content. "you mustn't, jane," howled joel. "now will you come." he cried. "say, hurry up, joe, we're all waiting. come on!" his nose was quite bloody, and a dab here and there on his countenance gave him anything but a pleasing expression. "ugh!" cried jane, with a little shiver. "you boys get right straight up from this floor, or i'll tell mrs. fisher." joel seized her apron string and howled: "jane, don't!" "yes, i will, too, master joel," declared jane, twitching away the string; "for such carryings on, i never see. oh, here's mr. king; now he'll take care of you both," and she skipped upstairs, broom and all. it was useless to try to slip away unperceived, for old mr. king bore down upon them along the hall in his stateliest fashion. "dear me! what have we here?" as both boys slunk down as small as possible. "why, joel!"--it was impossible to convey greater astonishment in his tone--"i thought you were steady at work." "so i was," cried joel, stung to the quick; and jumping to his feet, he fairly beat the old gentleman's arm with two distressed little palms, "and he made me come out. i said i would pound him, and i had to. oh, grandpapa, i had to," and he pranced wildly around the tall, stately figure. "keep quiet, joe," said the old gentleman, with a restraining hand; "and, frick, get up. oh, dear me!"--as frick obeyed, bringing his interesting countenance to view, by no means improved by his efforts to wipe off the smears. "what have you boys been about?" "he wouldn't come out," said frick, rubbing violently all over his round cheeks, "and the boys sent me for him, and they're waiting now," he finished, with a very injured air. "eh--oh! and so they sent you for joel?" said the old gentleman, a light breaking over his face. "yes, sir," said frick, with a final polish to his countenance on the cuff of his jacket sleeve, "and won't you please make joel hurry up and come out, sir? we've waited so long." "and is that the way you respond to your invitations, my boy?" said grandpapa, with a grim smile. "i shouldn't think you'd receive many at this rate. so you fell upon him because he asked you to go somewhere, eh?"--with a keen glance into the black eyes. "no, sir." said joel, "but he wouldn't go away, and i told him if he didn't, i'd come out and pound him. so i had to." "um--now let us see," said the old gentleman, reflecting a bit. "so you kept on at the door, eh, frick?" "yes, sir," said frick, giving up his countenance as a bad job. "i had to, 'cause the boys are waiting, you see, sir. won't you please make joe hurry up and come?" "well, now, frick, i really believe you better go out and tell those boys that when joel gets ready to join them, he'll make his appearance. good-bye, frick." grandpapa waved him off sociably, and frick, not exactly understanding how, or why, found himself on the other side of the big front door, in the midst of the waiting company from which he had been picked out as messenger. "i wouldn't make such a promise again, if i were you, joel," observed old mr. king, gathering up the small, brown hand in one of his own; "it might be a little awkward to keep it, you know. now, then, here we are,"--turning in at the writing-room. "well, say no more, but fly at your task," and he seated himself in the big chair before the writing-table and took up his pen. thus left to himself, joel went slowly over to the set of shelves in the alcove, from which frick's summons at the door had called him. there were several volumes on the floor, and a blank book and some sheets of paper, showing clearly joe's favorite method of setting to work on making lists, while sprawled on the carpet with all his paraphernalia around him. he threw himself down amongst it all, prowled around for his pencil, which, suddenly dropped when he had deserted his task, had taken the opportunity to roll off by itself. now it added to his discomfiture by hiding. "plague take it!" he scowled, a black little frown settling on his brow. "where is it?"--prowling around frantically on the carpet, with hasty hands. "what is it, joe?" old mr. king, though apparently very busy over at the writing-table, seemed to be quite well aware of everything that went on in the alcove. "i've lost my pencil," announced joe, in a dismal voice. "oh, well, that's not so bad as it might be," said the old gentleman; "come over and get another, and by and by you can find your own." joel advanced to the writing-table and put out a hand for the pencil, which the old gentleman laid within it, but not before he had taken a good look at the chubby face above it. "so frick and the boys wanted you, eh?" asked grandpapa carelessly. "going somewhere, maybe?" "yes," said joel, not looking up, "they are going to the pond." "oh, really?" said old mr. king. "and you said no, eh, joel?" "yes," said joel. "i suppose you didn't want to go, eh, joel?" said the old gentleman carelessly, and playing with his paper knife. joel's black eyes flew wide open, and he raised his head to stare into grandpapa's face. "oh, yes, i did, awfully." "then why didn't you go?" asked grandpapa, just as carelessly, and giving the paper knife an extra twirl or two. joel took his gaze off, to regard the pile of books over on the alcove floor. "oh, your work?--is that it, joel?" asked the old gentleman. "so you thought you'd rather stay and finish your hour on it, eh, my boy?" joel squirmed uneasily. "i hadn't rather," he said at last, "but i'd got to." "eh?" said old mr. king. "i said i'd work an hour and not stop," said joel, as something seemed to be required of him, the old gentleman waiting for him to finish. "you mean you'd made the bargain to do this work and you couldn't back out?" said grandpapa. joel looked up and nodded quickly. "yes, sir." "oh, yes. well, now, i mustn't hinder you from your work"--old mr. king turned briskly to his writing again--"or i shall be as bad as frick--eh, joel?" and he laughed gayly. "now trot back and go at your task again." so joel, fortified with his pencil, marched back to sit on the floor in the alcove and take up his interrupted work, and grandpapa's pen went scratching busily over the paper, and nothing else was heard except the buzzing of a big fly outside the window, venting his vexation at his inability to get in. meanwhile frick and the knot of boys had drawn off in astonishment and dismay at the failure of their plan to get joel pepper into the delightful expedition. "what was he doing?" demanded more than one boy. "i don't know," said frick; "i couldn't get in." "oh, now i know; he's got some secret," said larry keep, and he whirled around in vexation and snapped his fingers. "maybe it's a flying-machine," suggested another boy. "phoo! he couldn't make that in his grandfather's writing-room," said larry, in derision, yet he looked anxious. suppose joel pepper were really busy over such a splendid thing as that and hadn't told him. "guess something else." "i can't think what it is," said frick, sitting down on the curbstone to become lost in thought--an example to be speedily followed by all the boys, till finally there was a dismal row of them, without a thought remaining of having the expedition on the pond, since joel pepper wouldn't come with them. xv up in alexia's pretty room polly was having a bad half-hour with herself, despite all the attractions up in alexia's pretty room. "it's no use," she cried, throwing down the little brush with which she was whisking off the dainty bureau-cover. the girls were "setting up" the various adornments that were plentifully strewn about, an occupation that polly dearly loved, and that alexia as dearly hated. "i must go home." alexia, down on her knees, with her head in the closet, grumbling over the shoe bag, whose contents were in a chronic state of overflow, pulled it out suddenly. "why, polly pepper!" she exclaimed, in an injured tone. one eye was draped by a cobweb, gained by diving into the closet's extreme corner after a missing slipper, gone for some weeks; and in other ways alexia's face presented a very unprepossessing appearance. "you said you'd help me with my room this morning." "oh, yes, i know," said polly hurriedly, and running over to alexia; "but you'll let me off, won't you?--for i've something on my mind. oh, dear me!" alexia hopped up to her feet, the slipper flying off at a tangent, and ran all around polly pepper, gazing at her anxiously. "i don't see anything. oh, what is it?" she cried. "you see, the boys wanted to find joel, and i--" began polly, twisting her fingers. "bother the boys!" exclaimed alexia, interrupting. "is that all? they are everlastingly wanting to find joel. well"--with a sigh of relief--"we can go back to work again. why, i must say, polly, you scared me 'most to death. oh, dear me! i wish i had let norah sweep this old closet when she does the room. it's dirty as can be. if aunt knew it--" the rest of it was lost, as alexia was down on her knees again, her head back in the closet, with the hope of unearthing more slippers and shoes. "alexia, do come out," cried polly, pulling her gown smartly; "i must speak to you." "can't," said alexia, rummaging away. "there, i've gone and knocked down my blue silk waist! do pick it up, polly; it 'll get all dirt, and then won't aunt scold!" as if to make matters worse, a voice out in the hall was heard: "_alexia?_" "misery me!" cried alexia, scuffling out backward from the closet, the blue silk waist on her head where it had fallen, and in her sudden exit nearly overthrowing polly pepper. "here comes aunt. shut the door, polly--shut it"--scrambling with both hands to get the waist off, while a hook caught in her light, fluffy hair. and miss rhys being too near the door for any such protection as alexia suggested, in she walked. "what in the world!" she lifted both hands. "alexia rhys, is it possible! i concluded not to go down-town, and came back, and to think of this--playing with your best silk waist!" "i'm not playing," declared alexia, in a sharp key, tossing back from her head as much of the waist as she could, "and it hurts awfully"--twitching angrily at the hook. polly sprang to her assistance. "wait a minute, and i'll get you out," she said. "and i won't wait," cried alexia loudly; "it's bad enough to be hooked to death with a horrid old ugly waist, without being scolded to pieces by your aunt." "oh, alexia!" exclaimed miss rhys, "to call that beautiful waist an ugly thing!" "and i'll pull every spear of hair out of my head, but i'll get the thing off. ow!"--as she began to put her threat into execution. "do be still, alexia," begged polly, trying to push aside the nervous fingers. "i won't be still," cried alexia, casting up a pale eye full of wrath on the side next to polly, and giving another twitch. "i guess if you'd been hooked up by a horrible old thing, and your aunt came in and scolded you terribly, you wouldn't wait. ow! oh, dear me!" "then," said polly, standing quite still, "since you won't let me help you, i'm going home, alexia." "oh, don't," cried alexia, and she dropped her hands to her side in a flash, the blue silk waist dangling to her head by its hook. "i'll let you help whatever you want to, polly," she mumbled meekly. so polly set to work, miss rhys slipping out of the room. although alexia's nervous fingers were now not in the way, still, it wasn't easy to disentangle the hook from the thick, fluffy hair, wound in as it was. "you've tangled it all up," said polly, bending over it with flushed face, her fingers working busily, "and it's all in a snarl. dear me! do i hurt?" "no, never mind," said alexia; "'tisn't any matter. don't go home, polly." she held her fast by the gown. "no, of course not," said polly; "at least not until i get this hook out of your hair. there--oh, dear me! i thought it was quite free. well, anyway, now it is!" she held up the blue silk waist with a triumphant little flourish, over her own head. "it must be awful to have something fastened to you like that," she said, sympathetically, as she placed the waist on the bed with a sigh of relief. "well, i guess you'd think so," assented alexia decidedly; "it's too perfectly awful for anything. it pulls like a big vulture with his talons holding your hair." she hopped to her feet and shook herself in delight, her long, light braids flying out gayly. "well, i am glad that aunt has gone"--looking around the room, and drawing a long breath. polly pepper stood quite still over by the bed. "well--heigh-ho--come on," cried alexia, dancing over to seize her arm; "let's have a spin." but polly didn't move. "come on, polly," cried alexia, with another tug at her arm. "no," said polly, "i can't, alexia." "what in the world is the matter?" cried alexia, dropping her arm to stare at her. "i think your aunt--" began polly. "oh, aunt!" interrupted alexia impatiently. "you're always talking about her, polly pepper, and she's everlastingly picking at me, so i have a perfectly dreadful time, between you two." "well, she is your aunt," said polly, not offering to stir. "i can't help it." alexia, for the want of something better to do, ran over and twitched the table cover straight. "and i know she's my aunt, but she needn't pick at me all the time," she added defiantly. she looked uncomfortable all the same, and ran about here and there trying to get things in their places, but knocking down more than were tidied up. "why don't you say something?" she cried impatiently, whirling around. "because i've nothing to say," replied polly, not moving. "oh, dear me!" alexia sent her long arms out with a despairing gesture. "i suppose i've just got to go and tell aunt i'm sorry." she drew a long breath. "but i hadn't been playing; i was tired to death over that dirty old closet and that tiresome shoe bag, and my hair all hooked up. well, do come on." she ran over and held out her hand. "come with me," she begged. so polly put her hand in alexia's, and together they ran out into the hall, to the maiden aunt's room. "it's perfectly dreadful to board," said alexia, on the way. "i wouldn't care how little the house was, if aunt and i could only have one," and she gave a great sigh. polly turned suddenly and gave her a big hug. "mamsie says you are to come over to our house just as often as possible. so does grandpapa," she cried hastily; "you know that, alexia." "yes, i know," said alexia, but she was highly gratified at every repetition of the invitation. "well, oh, dear me!"--as they stood before miss rhys' door. that lady sat in her bay window, her fingers busy with her embroidery, and her mind completely filled with plans for another piece when that particular one should be completed. "i'm sorry, aunt," said alexia, plunging up to the chair and keeping tight hold of polly pepper's hand. "oh!" said miss rhys, looking up. "why, how your hair does look, alexia!" up flew alexia's other hand to her head. "well, it's been all hooked up," she said. "and i'll brush it for you," said polly, at her shoulder. "that'll be fine," cried alexia, with a comfortable wriggle of her long figure. "oh, i'm sorry, aunt." "very well," said miss rhys, turning back to her embroidery again. "and, alexia, your room looks very badly. i'm astonished that you are so untidy, when i talk to you about it so much." "well, polly is helping me fix it up," said alexia, drawing off and pulling polly along. "now, you see, polly"--as the two girls were safe once more in the little room, this time with the door shut--"i only got some more pickings by going to aunt." "hush," said polly, "she will hear you.' "how is she going to hear with the door shut, pray tell?" cried alexia, with a giggle. "well, it's over with now. let's fly at this horrid old room. dear me!"--as she ran by the window--"do just see those dreadful boys." at the word "boys" polly ran too, and peeped over her shoulder. "oh, i must speak to frick," and without more warning, she raced out of the room, and down the front stairs. "polly, polly pepper!" but polly being out in the street and nearly up to the knot of boys, alexia gave up calling and speedily ran after her, to hear her say: "oh, frick, i'll go and try to find joel for you." frick disentangled himself from the group. "i found joel myself," he said, "and he wouldn't come." "wouldn't come where?" demanded alexia breathlessly, plunging up. "out on the pond." it was larry keep who answered. "and so we've given it all up," said another boy, very dismally. "oh, dear me!" exclaimed alexia, "how tiresome of joel!" "oh, no, no," protested polly, shaking her head. "i know joel couldn't go, or else he would. you know that, boys," she said, looking anxiously at them all. "he's always been before," said larry, in a dudgeon, "and i don't see what makes him act so now." "well, you haven't any right to abuse him, just because he doesn't want to go out with you on the pond," said alexia warmly, veering round at the first word of blame of joel from anybody else. "that's a great way to do, i must say." "and, boys, you know joel would have gone if he could, don't you?" said polly again, the little anxious pucker deepening on her forehead. "ye--es," said larry slowly, digging the toe of his tennis shoe into the ground, as no one else said anything. "oh, he would, he would," said polly, clasping her hands tightly together, the color flying over her cheek. "something must have happened to keep him back"--as the boys, having nothing more to say, moved off. "alexia, now i _must_ go home, for i'm afraid--" of what, she didn't say. "i'll go, too," said alexia, springing after her, wild to find out what the matter could be with joel pepper, to keep him from one of his favorite sports on the pond. "there isn't anything the matter with him," shouted back frick, over his shoulder, who had caught polly's last words. "and he could have gone as easy as not; he was in mr. king's writing-room with the door locked." "grandpapa's writing-room, with the door locked!" repeated polly, turning around in a puzzled way. "why--i don't see--oh!" then she gave such a squeal that alexia hopped across the road in astonishment. "i know now. dear, splendid, old joel! boys!" she was up by them again, and talking so fast that nobody understood for a moment or two what the whole thing was about. "for pity's sake, polly pepper!" alexia was shaking her arm, the boys crowding around polly and hanging on every word. "don't you understand? oh, how stupid i've been not to think of it before!--though i didn't know he was to begin this very morning," cried polly, hurrying on, all in a glow. "grandpapa has engaged joel to do some work for him on his books"--polly didn't think she ought to explain any further about the ten-dollar note--"and so joel thought he couldn't stop till the hour was up, and----" "has he got to work an hour on 'em at a time?" interrupted larry in amazement, pushing his way nearer to polly. "yes," said polly, turning her rosy face on him, so glad that she was really making them see that joel couldn't go with them when he was asked, "he must work a whole hour at a time on them, so you see he really had to stay back." but this part was lost on the whole group. "hi--hi!" they shouted, and larry flung up his cap. "well, if that's so, we'll go back and get him now; the hour must be up," and off they raced, flinging up a cloud of dust from their heels. "whew!" exclaimed alexia. "did you ever see such perfectly dreadful boys to kick up such a dust? oh, dear me, polly pepper. ker-choo!" when she came out of her sneezing fit, polly was saying again: "oh, how perfectly stupid i am, alexia!" but her eyes shone, for it was now all right for joel with the boys. xvi the accident but the boys didn't get back after joel--not just then. a big tallyho coach, in swinging around a corner, bore down upon the struggling crowd, the driver halloing and the horn blowing lustily, by way of a signal to clear the road. this would have been all well enough and easy to avoid, if a string of bicyclists had not selected that very identical moment to appear from the opposite direction. and larry, whose uncle was in the last-mentioned procession, having a laudable desire to see him and make his relation aware of the fact, turned, waved his cap and his arms with a, "hi, there, uncle jack!" and in another second was under the big wheels, the whole merry party going over him and the laughter and chat still filling the air. miss mary taylor, having an outside seat, looked over quickly. hamilton dyce, sitting next, clambered down. "don't be frightened," he said into her pale face. half a dozen men were on the ground with him, and the boys swarmed around wildly, getting in everybody's way. the bicyclists, not catching the idea of any accident, were swiftly coasting down the hill, for after all their leader had suddenly changed his mind and veered off just before reaching the scene of the accident. "help me down," said miss taylor hoarsely. "ugh, don't!" said beth cameron, with a shiver, poking her parasol well down over her eyes. "i wouldn't see it for all the world"--shivering. "you can't do any good; better not," said mr. dyce, looking up at miss taylor. but miss mary continued to say, "help me down," and she so evidently displayed the intention of getting down without any assistance if it weren't forthcoming, that mr. dyce did as he was bidden, and she was on the spot by the time that larry was drawn out from under the wheels and laid on the roadside grass. "i'm afraid he's done for, poor beggar," said one of the men. mr. dyce turned miss mary completely around and marched her off to the middle of the road before she knew that such summary treatment was to be accorded her. then she caught her breath. "you needn't think to save me," she said, with a little gasp: "i'm--i'm quite strong. i must go. oh, don't stop me. think of poor mrs. keep!" and she was back in among the group of men and the frantic boys. "send for doctor fisher," she cried, kneeling down by larry's side. "no use--" began another man, but hamilton dyce cried, "which one can run the fastest for doctor fisher?" little porter knapp could, there was no doubt of that. all arms and legs was he, and able to get over more ground a minute than any other boy of their set, not excepting joel pepper. so, before mr. dyce had finished speaking, he was off like a shot, leaving miss taylor sitting on the grass holding larry's poor head, while the whole crowd of men revolved around her, nervous to do something, but not seeing their way clear to find out what would be expedient. "if those chaps would stop howling!" exclaimed one of the men, in desperation, stalking off a bit to cram his hands in his pocket, and ejaculate this to a companion. "it's pretty hard on the kids," remarked the friend, with a glance over his shoulder at frick and the rest of the boys, who added to the misery by crowding up to the scene and impeding the progress of all would-be helpers. "he's dead, it's easy to see," observed the first man, nodding over to the group. "that's a fact, it looks like it," nodded the friend. "well, it's a bad thing, but no one's at fault. mac couldn't help it. the little beggar ran right under the horses." "oh, mac's not to blame," said the first speaker hastily, "but it's an awful calamity just the same, to run down a kid. well, we must pacify the ladies." so the two walked back and up to the side of the coach, when the big hats under the parasols leaned over and allowed their fair owners to be diverted with all sorts of comforting things. and presently little doctor fisher came rushing along in his gig, out of which sprang porter knapp before the horse could be persuaded to stop. [illustration: "oh, larry," said miss taylor gently, bending over him.] no one said a word, least of all miss taylor, except the doctor, who ordered them to right and to left, as assistants. and before long, larry opened his blue eyes. "why--where?" he began. he didn't even know he had been hurt--not till afterward when the pain and suffering set in. "easy--easy there," said little doctor fisher. "great scott!" the young man who had pronounced him dead crammed those hands of his deeper yet in their pockets and gave a whistle. "oh, larry," said miss taylor gently, bending over him. "what is it?" larry tried to move, and felt a strong hand laid on him just where it made any motion impossible. beside, a great wave of pain swept him suddenly into such astonishment as well as suffering that all he could do was to shut his eyes and let his head sink back. "now, then!" doctor fisher glanced up to the coach-load. "all of you get down," he said curtly, and before the women quite knew how, the pretty gowns and hats and parasols were all descending, a gay, fluttering bevy all chattering together. "miss mary, i'll trouble you to hop up there," and a dozen hands helped her into position on the coach. "now, then, mr. dyce, and you"; he nodded over to harry delafield, the little doctor did, then rapidly picked out two more men. "up with you, please," and quicker than it takes to tell it all, they were in position, and larry had been lifted gently into their laps, his head on miss taylor's arm. "ugh!" betty cameron gave a worse shiver than before. "how mary taylor can!" she exclaimed, with a grimace. "oh, dear me! i'm as faint as i can be, just to think of it. i should die outright to be up there with him." "well, we've got to walk home, i suppose," observed one of the other girls disconsolately, who, now that larry could really speak, thought it quite time to turn attention to her own discomfort, and she thrust out her dainty shoe. the boys, when they saw that larry was really alive, stopped howling, especially as each and all had felt the glare of the eyes back of doctor fisher's big spectacles. and they set off on a run by the side of the coach, and as far ahead of that vehicle as possible, as mac handled the ribbons with his best style, trying to drive as gently as possible for the patient. "to his home, of course," said the little doctor, turning his spectacles up to mac. then he got into his gig, whipped up, and took the lead. porter knapp went across streets and got there first and was leaning over the stone gateway when the little doctor's gig drove up. "eh!" exclaimed doctor fisher, looking at him over his glasses. "well, you have a pair of legs! joel was right; he says you beat everything in running." porter looked much pleased and glanced down at his legs affectionately. then he remembered larry and sobered at once. doctor fisher, while going up the steps, said in passing: "larry'll pull through all right, i think." "she's here," cried porter suddenly. he had heard the words, but something had abruptly come in between, and he wildly dashed at the little doctor. doctor fisher turned around and saw, flourishing up to the gateway, a gay little runabout, and in it larry's mother and sister. "my goodness!" he was down by its side. and off in the distance, but coming surely and steadily on, was the coach bearing larry to his home. "yes, yes, how do you do? don't stop," cried the little doctor, waving his hand that was free from his bag of instruments; "go on to the stable." "oh, no, i'll stop here." mrs. keep had her foot on the step, and put out the hand not occupied with her flowing draperies. "eleanor is going on to see a friend. well, how do you do?" "you had better drive on to the stable," said the little doctor, "both of you." this time he had such an imperative manner that, thoroughly bewildered, mrs. keep stepped back into her seat and motioned eleanor to obey. "isn't he awfully funny!" said eleanor, turning in at the driveway, more puzzled, if possible, than her mother. "yes," said mrs. keep, "he is, but then i suppose he has a good deal on his mind. you know they say his practice is getting to be tremendous. well, we must run in and see him," as they drove down to the stable. "and you can go afterward to see mary taylor." [illustration: "yes, sir," called joel back, from the alcove.] "all right," said eleanor, and one of the stable boys coming out to meet the pony, they both jumped out of the runabout and ran up the back veranda steps. "it's funny he didn't come down this way, if he wanted us to drive to the stable," cried eleanor. "mamma, do say you think it's queer. it would be some comfort if you would." "well, i will, then," laughed mrs. keep, and there stood doctor fisher at the dining-room door, and the minute she saw his face she knew that something dreadful had happened. "well, joel, my boy." old mr. king, who had been consulting his watch every five minutes, whirled around in his big chair. "time to lay down the work," he called cheerily. "yes, sir," called joel back, from the alcove. "and i'm sure if ever an hour was long, this last one has been," the old gentleman was saying to himself. joel, who was rather stiff in the joints when first getting up from his work on the carpet, now came out feeling his arms, and then indulging in a good long stretch. "it seems rather good--eh, joe?--to swing your arms," cried grandpapa with a laugh, and a keen glance into the black eyes. "yes, _sir,_" declared joel, with another stretch, and wondering if ever anything was so good in this world as to be told the hour was up. "take care," warned the old gentleman; "those long arms of yours will have things off from my table. my goodness, joe! you must really go out of doors and stretch, you make such a sweep," and he laughed again. "i can reach so far." joel ran all around the table and stretched out his brown arms. "see, grandpapa," he cried; then he got on his tiptoes and leaned over to achieve greater and more astonishing results. "you'll be over on your nose, if i don't rescue you and the things on my table," said mr. king, bursting into a heartier laugh than ever. "come on, joey, my boy, let's get out of doors, in a larger place." so he gathered up one of the sprawling sets of fingers, and summarily marched him out. "now i suppose the next thing in order is to race after frick and those boys," observed old mr. king, when the garden walk was attained. "yes, sir," cried joel, his black eyes alight and his feet dancing. "well, be off with you." no need to say more; joel's heels beat the hastiest of retreats, as he scuttled off at the liveliest pace of which he was capable. old mr. king, left alone, nodded to himself two or three times, and smiled in a pleased way. "the very thing," he said at last, and in as great satisfaction as if he had been talking to a good listener. xvii joel's adventure joel rushed along at a breakneck pace to make up for lost time. how good it was to sniff the fresh air, and to be free, and then to think of that hour put into solid work over the book-list! why, he glowed all over with delight at the very thought. "whoopity-la!" down the bank of spy pond into one of the curves most frequented by the boys of his set, he ran. "my! but i'm glad to get here, though! hey, there?" there was no response as joel dashed into what the boys called their camp, a rough enclosure the wealthy men who owned the pond on the outskirts of the town had allowed to be built. as some of the boys were their own sons, every indulgence in the way of using the pond had been granted, and mr. horatio king being the largest owner and the most indulgent, joel's set, to a boy, decided to call it the "king camp." it was in a knot of pines, and in the summer was a most attractive place, overrun with vines and creepers and gay with the colored boat-cushions that were always thrown about. "hey there!" shouted joel again, running about within and without the little wooden structure. "are you all deaf? hey--whoopity-la!" but nobody answered, save a little bird from the tip of the tallest tree. joel stood transfixed with amazement; then he dashed off suddenly down a descent to the little cove. "it must be that they are out on the pond," he said to himself, in vexation, and he craned his neck and peered up and down the shining water as well as he was able for the many curves. "but i don't see how they can be, for larry's boat is here"--he had dashed up again to the camp--"and mr. hersey's, that's the one they would take"--surveying the collection of rowboats and dories drawn up on the beach--"and webb's father's and porter knapp's." besides, there was a goodly number of others, all in such situations as by no means suggested a party expected to be on the pond at short notice that morning. "well, i'm going out, anyway," declared joel, snapping his fingers, "and catch up with them. most likely they've taken the fishing-tackle; i won't stop for that." so, pushing off his row-boat, he picked up the oars and headed down the pond in the direction most likely in his mind to overtake them. but although he pulled lustily at his oars and ran his boat in and out the curves and hallooed and shouted, he didn't catch a glimpse of them; and the pine groves and wooded glens that ran down to the curving bank only echoed his own calls, or sent a bird note out to him. there wasn't the first suggestion of a boy anywhere about. "where in the world are they?" cried joel in vexation, resting on his oars. "hi--there they are!" he turned suddenly, knocked against one of the oars, it slipped, and before he knew what it was about, there it was in the water. and to make matters worse, the sound that had filled him with delight proved to be a big, black dog, scrambling through a thicket of underbrush, and coming out to stare at him from the edge of the pond. "oh, you beggar!" exclaimed joel, not to the dog, but to the oar drifting off quickly. it was an easy thing, however, so he thought, to recover it, and he made no special haste to paddle along as best he might after it. just at this moment another boat came suddenly in sight around a curve. it didn't hold joel's friends, but a wholly different set, some city boys who had no rights on the pond. and having stolen their opportunity, and helped themselves to a boat down below, they meant to have as good a time as possible, knowing it would probably be their last. so here was a grand chance, a boy alone in a rowboat, and at their mercy, one of his oars drifting off. "hi--fellows!" when they saw it, they yelled with glee. the black dog on the bank, who belonged to them and was following, as best he might, their course, danced about and gnashed his teeth in his rage that he couldn't join actively in the excitement, sniffing at the water and drawing back as it lapped his feet. "now then, look alive," cried the one who appeared to be the leader, and the whole crew bent to their oars with a right good will; and grinning all over their faces with the prospect of fun ahead, they made straight for joel in his boat. joel drew himself up, his black eyes flashing, and paddled with all his might. but it was no use; his boat went round and round, or zigzagged along, and in a trice the unlucky oar was seized by the triumphant crew, as it was drifting off into some lily pads, and drawn with a worse yell than ever into their boat. good luck! here would be easy game! "now then!" there was no limit to their delight as they saluted joel in every conceivable way best fitted to get him worked up. "how are you, snob? don't you want your oar?" and such things, every boy contributing at least a few selections to the general hubbub, the black dog on the bank emitting shrill, ear-splitting barks of distress. "give me back my oar," roared joel, sitting very straight and unconsciously rolling up his sleeves. "hi there! come on and fight, if you want to," cried several of the crew, with sneers and catcalls, and they brandished the oar at him over their heads, yelling, "why don't you come on and fight?" [illustration: the unlucky oar was seized by the triumphant crew] "if you don't give me back my oar," cried joel angrily, and paddling for dear life toward them, "it 'll be worse for you, i can tell you. my grandpapa----" he was drowned in a storm of yells: "your granddaddy? fellows, this baby is talking of his granddaddy," and they screamed in derision, snapping their fingers and swinging the oar as high as they could tantalizingly at him. round and round went joel's boat, describing a series of curves, that despite all his efforts only carried him away from his tormentors. what he would have done, had he reached them, hadn't entered his head, his only thought being to get up to them. in the midst of this interesting proceeding, a sharp clap of thunder reverberated over their heads, to be almost immediately followed by a piercing gleam of lightning. it produced the greatest consternation in the boat-load, and a sudden jump on the part of nearly every boy in it, made it careen, then turn completely over, and before they were fully aware, every single one was in the water, screaming and struggling wildly. in the upset joel's oar had been carried out, too; and as it happened to drift toward him, he leaned over the side of his boat, managing to reach it with the other one. "don't catch hold of each other," he yelled, his mind intent on helping some of them into his boat. but as well talk to the wind. the boys who couldn't swim--and most of them were in that plight--were grabbing this way and that, to seize upon anything that would give them a support. "catch hold of your boat," roared joel at them. but instead of that, some of them preferred to catch hold of his, the consequence being that it would soon have been upset, had he not screamed at them (and they knew he meant it), "i'll bang you across the head if you try it"--lifting his oar sturdily. "you fellows who can swim, hold up the others, and i'll take you all off to the bank, if you won't crowd." and seeing that this was all they could get, and that joel was as good as his word, one after another was helped in, the others wisely catching hold of the overturned boat--an example speedily followed, till all were either in joel's boat and rowing quickly off to shore, or hanging to their own craft. the leader of the crew huddled sheepishly down over his oar, which joel handed him to do some of the rowing, and he didn't look at the owner of the boat, till, just as they neared the bank, he glanced up suddenly and said: "say, you, i s'pose you'll tell on us." "what do you take me for?" cried joel, in extreme disgust, and plying his oar briskly. all this time the rain had come down in torrents, till there wasn't much difference between the boys who had been in the water and the one who had kept out, and the lightning played over their heads in unpleasant zigzag streaks, and the thunder rolled and rumbled. the leader shivered and ducked till he couldn't by any possibility be said to look at joel. "well, i would if i was you." the words came in a burst from a boy supposed to be in such a half-drowned condition that he wouldn't care to take part in any conversation, who was crouched down in the bottom of the boat. "i'd tell every single thing about it." he raised himself and shook his fist at the leader's very face. "if it hadn't been for you, mike," he said, "we wouldn't have come." "don't fight," said joel, in consternation at any such settling of their differences in his boat; "you'll upset us all." "humph!" the boy in the bottom of the boat sneered. "he won't fight, mike won't," he said. and really mike didn't look as if he would, for he crouched and cowered lower yet, till joel began to say, "give me the oar," for it wabbled so that it played a small part only in getting the craft to the shore. "some other fellow take it," said the boy who had done all the talking. "i would"--he lifted a red and ashamed face--"only my arm----" "is it hurt?" asked joel, rescuing the other oar from mike, whose nerves seemed to have all gone to pieces. "d'no; never mind," said the other boy, looking more ashamed still. "here, jimmy, you take the oar, and row lively now." so, with jimmy's help, the boat ran up to the bank. "there you are," cried joel, as they were dumped out, to keep company with the big, black dog, who sniffed them contemptuously and walked around their dripping bodies as they sank on the bank. this wasn't the kind of fun he had meant when he followed his master out, and not at all to his taste. but joel was just in his element, and when he brought the rest off from the overturned boat, he couldn't conceal his satisfaction. "some one has got to tell about that boat." he pointed to the overturned one. "i knew you would blab." mike turned, his shame disappearing, to grow red with passion. "shut up." it was the other boy that roared at him, who, injured arm or not, could somehow inspire the former leader with fear. "i'm going to tell myself; an' if any of you fellows has got spunk, he'll tell, too." it was such a battle cry that mike's head went down. he knew as well as afterward that his leadership was gone, and that every one of the crew had gone over to the other boy. "hi--yes, we'll tell." if jack, their new leader, could decide to, they would follow him, and they yelled it out much better than any one would suppose possible after their fright, turning their backs on mike. "that's good," said joel, bobbing his black curls, from which the rain was streaming, at the whole bunch of boys in approval, and taking up his oars he prepared to move off. "if you'll only tell about the boat." "oh, i say"--jack seeing that he was now the recognized leader, was going to do the whole thing up in good shape--"we're much obliged, and who are you, anyway?" he broke off awkwardly. "i'm mr. king's grandson," said joel "well, good-bye." "mr. king's!" jack gave a roll over and groveled in the wet moss. "oh, it's all up with us, fellows," he groaned. the black dog, who belonged to him, came and licked him all over, glaring between whiles at joel, as if he were the cause of the whole trouble. the bunch of boys said nothing, but shivered in silence. "well, good-bye," said joel, as he pushed off, feeling it necessary for some one to speak, "and i hope you haven't hurt your arm much," to the recumbent figure. "don't let him hurt these chaps--your grandfather i mean." jack threw up his head and pointed to the boys. "only get mike licked. we'd all of us like that." "what?" cried joel over his shoulder, stopping his busy oars. "why, when you tell him how mean we used you, don't let him get those chaps into trouble, 'cause----" "when i tell him!" cried joel. "what do you mean?" "why, of course you'll tell him," blurted jack. mike had taken to his heels and was making quick tracks with his sodden shoes through the undergrowth. things were not going to his taste now. "see here." joel made quick passes now with the oars, and brought his boat up alongside the bank. "i'm not going to tell my grandpapa about what you've done, 'tisn't any matter." "you ain't?" cried jack, getting up so quickly he upset the next boy, who rolled over the big, black dog. "great scott! you ain't going to tell the old gentleman?" "no," said joel, "i don't care anything about it; you didn't hurt me any." "well, if i ever!" it was all that jack, the leader, could get out. and joel, seeing there was nothing to wait for, set to work again, and presently amid the rain and the lightning gleams, his boat was only a little speck on the surface of the pond, as viewed by the group of boys on the bank. xviii the comfort committee "oh, mary!" eleanor keep seized miss taylor's arm and burst into tears. when she could speak she gasped, "what is it, mary?" "hush!" warned mary taylor, drawing her off into the little reception-room. "your mother--we must think of her, nell." "mr. delafield is telling her something. i know it is dreadful." eleanor sank upon the sofa, dragging mary taylor with her. "oh, i shall die if you don't tell me right off what _has_ happened, mary." "not a word shall you hear until you can control yourself," declared miss taylor, wresting herself away from the nervous grasp, and running over to the door she closed it. "now then, nell, are you a sensible girl?"--coming back. eleanor flung herself down on the sofa, and sobbed: "oh, i know larry is dead and you are trying to keep it from me." "larry is not dead," said mary taylor. "well, he is terribly hurt," said eleanor, between her sobs. "oh dear, my only brother, larry!" mary taylor got down on her knees by the sofa, and took the poor head up to let her own tears fall over it. "why, you are crying yourself," exclaimed eleanor, feeling the drops trickle down her neck. "and you told me not to. why, mary taylor!" "of course i am," said mary. "now see here: we are both of us very wrong to give way in this fashion; we ought to be seeing to your mother. get up, eleanor," and she sprang to her feet. "there, that's right. come on." some one rapped at the side door, and the confusion in the house calling the maids from their duty, the butler belonging to the establishment of the next neighbor, mrs. sterling, popped in his head. "excuse me, miss," he said to mary taylor, eleanor being beyond a reply. "mrs. sterling has sent for you ladies to come in there and stay until the doctors are through." at the word "doctors" eleanor shivered and covered her eyes. "the very thing," said mary taylor; "we'll get your mother in there"; and with a message back to mrs. sterling the two young ladies hurried off, and before larry's mother quite knew how, she was in the beautiful upper room of the stately brownstone mansion, and face to face with its invalid mistress, condemned for years to lie on her sofa. "i do believe," said mrs. sterling, putting out a soft hand, "that everything will be much better than you think. we shall soon have cheering news, i feel quite sure. gibson, draw up the easy-chair, so--that's right." gibson quietly did as bidden, and mrs. keep sank into it, and laid down her head with the air of one quite done with the world. to add to the gloom, a terrible thunderstorm broke suddenly. "now give me your hand." mrs. sterling leaned over and drew it within her own. seeing all things going on so well, mary taylor and eleanor drew off into the hall. "young ladies," said gibson, coming out softly, "wouldn't you wish to go down into the drawing-room? mistress would like to have you make yourselves comfortable. the storm is pretty heavy, and i'll light the gas." "oh, no, no," said eleanor, shrinking at the invitation. "mary, don't let's go," she whispered; "i should die there in that big, stiff room." "we'll sit just here," said mary taylor. "come on, nell," and down they both got on the top stair, huddling up together, while the storm raged outside in its fury. "oh, young ladies!" exclaimed gibson, starting, "i'll get you some chairs if you want to sit in the hall." "we like this," said mary taylor; "please, gibson, don't feel troubled." so gibson went back to her mistress' room, and mary put her arm around eleanor, and patted her hair as she cuddled up to her neck. "mary, i like you so much," sobbed eleanor, in a muffled voice, "because you don't try to say something to comfort me." mary kept on patting the pretty hair, with anxious ears for the messenger to come from the keep household. presently out came gibson again. "i'm going out to bring in those boys," she said; "mistress wants it." "what boys?" asked mary quickly. "the whole of them," said gibson; "they've been hanging around ever since master larry was brought home, and----" "oh, dear me!" exclaimed eleanor faintly. "and mrs. sterling wants them invited in here to wait?" exclaimed mary. "how kind of her! now, then, nell, that's work for you and for me: we must help those boys to get a little comfort"--as gibson went quickly down the long stairs on her errand. "oh, i can't," cried eleanor, burrowing into the soft neck. "yes, you can." "i'm his sister. and you can't expect me to see them." "yes, i do," said mary firmly; "it's exactly what you ought to do. i'm going down to welcome them, and you must come too. come on, eleanor; we've simply got to do it." eleanor, seeing nothing for it unless she were to be left alone on her stair, which would have been the last thing to be endured, got up and followed slowly, to be met at the big door leading to the side porch by the company of gloomy-faced boys. "well boys," said mary cheerfully, "i'm glad you've come to help eleanor and me." every boy looked up in great surprise, for they all supposed they were left to comfort themselves. "can't we sit in the dining-room?" asked mary, with a thought for the cheerful red carpet and curtains. "mistress wants them to come up into her sitting-room," said gibson. "her sitting-room!" exclaimed mary. "yes, miss. she says they can help mrs. keep and her," said gibson, standing with folded hands deferentially, but yet quite expecting the command to be carried out. the boys stood up a little taller yet. evidently they were thought worthy of consideration in the way of administering consolation instead of hanging around, useless creatures in everybody's way. "in that case," said mary taylor, "we'll all go upstairs at once." so they all filed up the long flight, and gibson held open the door, and mrs. sterling from her sofa called out, "boys, yon don't know how glad i am to see you all." and just as they began to feel a little bit of hope down in their hearts, it was so much easier all bearing the suspense together, a light tripping step came up the staircase, and little doctor fisher's big spectacles were thrust in the doorway. "just right. very sensible." he beamed at them all, and darted over and took the poor mother's hand. "your boy is all right," he said. "his collar bone is broken, to be sure, but it is a beautiful fracture. and he has some bruises. thank the lord it is no worse." there was a rustle back of him. then two or three boys broke from the group and fell upon him in the rear. "is that true?" the foremost one shouted. "eh?"--little doctor fisher whirled around--"yes indeed, true as gospel. oh, see here now," as the whole bunch made a mad plunge for the hall. "come back here, boys." every single one came slowly back, except frick; he had cleared the space to the top of the stairs, and was now making his quickest time on record down the flight. "you are not to cheer; i see you want to," and doctor fisher gave a little laugh. "yes, sir," curtis park answered for the rest. "well, you----" "doctor fisher"--it was mrs. sterling who interrupted, and she smiled--"i should very much like to hear that cheer now." _"ma'am!"_ exclaimed the little doctor, gazing at her over his spectacles. "oh, it would do me good, i assure you," said mrs. sterling, leaning back in a satisfied way against her pillows. "so, if you please, boys, let me hear it at once"--smiling at them. and they gave it then and there, the poor mother in all this confusion getting time to recover herself. and then three more for the little doctor. and then one of the boys, the least likely to have courage to propose it, piped out: "let's give her three"--pointing to the hostess. how pleased the poor invalid was, and how she beamed at them all! and when doctor fisher saw that, he was so well satisfied that he shook hands with them all quite around the circle. "now i must go. i'll look in again on your boy in an hour. madam"--to mrs. keep. "meantime, i'd stay over here, for i've sent for a nurse from the hospital; he must be kept quiet a spell. good-day," and he was off. "now, boys"--there was a pretty pink spot in either cheek, as mrs. sterling turned to them--"do you know, i've thought of a plan by which you might do something for lawrence?" "what--oh, what?" they crowded up to her sofa. gibson, from the doorway where she had retreated, to be within call, looked a little anxious, but catching a glance from her mistress, smoothed out her face again. "what is your plan?" asked curtis. it really seemed as if the boys had been accustomed to gather in that room, by the way in which they now crowded up as comrades entering into anything that might be proposed. "you know that before long lawrence will be able to see you, we hope," began mrs. sterling, in her cheeriest way. "gibson, push up that pillow a little more." "oh, i will," cried curtis, springing forward. gibson, in great trepidation at any one performing the office for her mistress, started to do it, but curtis was already most gallantly, if a trifle awkwardly, pushing up the pillow, giving it a rousing thump that got on the nerves of the maid. "you should have waited for me," she said tartly. "never mind; that is all right." mrs. sterling smiled up at him where he stood, the hot blood in his face, and his eyes downcast. "i'm very much obliged to you, curtis. i guess you are accustomed to do it for your mother," she said encouragingly. "i do--i am," he said incoherently, beginning to feel better. it was only gibson who was cross, he reflected; mrs. sterling herself was as nice as she could be. "well now, if i were you," said mrs. sterling, turning on her pillow to get a good look at them all, "i'd form a committee, a comfort committee, to think up things that will interest lawrence. and by and by the doctor is going to let you go to see him, and----" "what things?" the small boy who had proposed the cheers for mrs. sterling, now pushed to the front, so as to get a good look at her. "tell me, please, what things?" "well, you can cut out funny things from the magazines and papers for one thing," said mrs. sterling, quite delighted at the success of her plan so far, "and the nurse can read them to him." "i've got a lot of _punch_ numbers," cried one boy. "and _life,_" said another. "and oceans of magazines." they all shouted one thing, and another. gibson, who by this time was tired of popping her head in and out, had withdrawn to a little room opening out of her mistress' apartment, and taken up her sewing, quite convinced that far from its being a cause for alarm, everything was going on finely. "well now, just see how much pleasure that will give him," mrs. sterling was saying. "what else?" asked the small boy. "then has any one of you any puzzles?" asked mrs. sterling, "or conundrums? don't you think that is fine, to have something to think of beside dismal things, when you lie in bed?" curtis park was just in his element here, for he dearly loved puzzles and conundrums. and presently mrs. sterling and he were busily talking over this and that kind, and book, and collection, until finally the small boy pulled the fringe of her pink crocheted shawl. "i want to know what else?" "dear me!" mrs. sterling looked up quickly, to give a little laugh. it wasn't loud, but so cheery and sweet that gibson, in the little outer room, dropped her sewing in her lap. "thank the lord!" she said, and wiped her eyes. frick, meanwhile, too excited to hear the doctor call them to come back, had darted out of the house, with no thought for the rain, but with one wild desire--to find joel pepper. and as he had a perfect faculty for sprinting, and cut through, with a dash, all the cross-streets, he soon found himself for the second time that day at the king mansion. but this second time he was no more fortunate than the first. for although he was willingly admitted to mr. king's writing-room, it was to see that gentleman look up and say with the most genial of smiles: "ah, frick, my boy, well, this time it's all right, isn't it, since i let joel go down to you?" "joel hasn't been with us," blurted out frick, then he leaned against the big writing-table, speech all gone, for he began to feel terribly tired, and it had been nothing but one long disappointment all day. old mr. king laid down his pen and looked frick all over. "oh, no, he hasn't," declared frick, shaking his head dismally; "we haven't any of us seen him, and larry keep has been run over by mr. macilvaine's tallyho, and most smashed up." then he stopped suddenly, his cup of woe being empty. "the first thing to do is to find joel," said mr. king to himself, anxiously. "the storm is almost over, to be sure"--glancing out of the window--"but where can he be?" he hurried across the room and touched the electric button. "you haven't the least idea, frick, where to look for him, eh?" "no, sir," said frick miserably. thomas popped his head in, to be given the order to have one of the rainy-day carriages brought round. just then, in ran jasper. he had been caught by the sudden shower over at pickering dodge's. "father," he cried, his face glowing, "i've come home as soon as it slacked up a bit. why, you are not going out?"--seeing the old gentleman beginning to don his mackintosh. "yes, i am," said mr. king grimly, "going to do just that very thing, jasper." "oh, let me, father." jasper sprang to his side eagerly, then looked in a puzzled way over to frick. "it's joel," said frick, feeling that it was expected of him to furnish an answer. "joel?" cried jasper, the color going out of his cheek. "yes, joel can't be found," said old mr. king, speaking lightly to hide the dismay he really felt. "it's all right, of course; he's probably at one of the boys' houses; only as he was to join frick, why, i'd prefer to look him up a bit. well, there's thomas"--glancing out of the window. "oh, let me go for him," begged jasper. "i can find him. surely, you don't need to, father; don't, pray, in all this rain." "i am going after joel," declared his father, quite obstinately, "so say no more about it, jasper"--moving past him to the door. "come, along, frick, my boy, you might as well come, too." "let me go, too," cried jasper. "oh, father, can't i? i can at least help." he didn't say "take care of you," but he really felt anxious to the last degree. "yes, yes," said his father, "of course you may come if you like." so jasper, well pleased, rushed for his mackintosh, and all three got into the carriage, and thomas whirled them off in his best style. "it isn't really worth while to worry mrs. fisher," said old mr. king when well on the way, "for we shall probably soon run across joel as bright as a button, and gay as a lark. bless me, how this rain comes down!" xix joel's new friend but no joel "bright as a button and gay as a lark" came in sight. instead, at a corner they were turning rapidly, mr. king in desperation giving the order to drive to one of the boys' houses most likely to attract joel's attention this morning, thomas came to an abrupt halt that nearly threw the horses back on their haunches. "what are you about there?" he cried in vexation. "can't you keep out from under the horses' heels, i'd like to know?" the boy thus addressed paid not the slightest attention to the irate coachman, but advanced to the carriage door. he seemed to have something the matter with his arm that would evidently have given him a good deal of bother had his mind been on anything but the desire to attract mr. king's attention. but that gentleman, violently jolted by the sudden pull-up of the horses, not being in the best frame of mind, called out testily, "bless me, what is the man stopping for? drive on, thomas," and looked directly over his head. seeing which, the boy clambered up the carriage step and hung on with one hand, but so much determination was in his eyes that old mr. king fumed out: "make the scoundrel get down, jasper." "what do you want?" asked jasper, trying to make it as pleasant as possible, before the more summary treatment set in. "i've got to speak to him," said the boy. thomas, gathering up the reins in one hand and the whip in the other, looked around with fury in his eye. "shall i give him a lick?" he asked. "no, no," said jasper hastily, "keep quiet, thomas." "i've nothing to say to you," cried mr. king in his most pompous way, and with a stately wave of his hand, "so take yourself off, boy." "father--" began jasper, in a distressed tone. "and be quick about it." the old gentleman fairly roared it out. "thomas, drive on." that functionary, with a very dissatisfied expression that he hadn't been allowed to use his whip when he got it all ready so nicely, now cracked it at the horses. the boy, with one hesitating glance at jasper, slid off the carriage-step down to the street, and yelled defiantly up into mr. king's face as the brougham spun off: "i was going to tell you where your boy is." "father!" exclaimed jasper, with a white face, "he must know where joel is. thomas, _thomas, stop!_" for thomas, having no other way to vent his vexation, took it out in driving as fast as possible, so he didn't hear what was going on in the coach. "eh?" mr. king was saying in bewilderment. at last jasper succeeded in getting his wishes known, and once more the horses were jerked back, for the summons was quick and sharp. by this time the boy was off, and although jasper peered this way and that, he could see nothing of the old blue cap that had adorned the head thrust over the carriage door. "he knows something about joel, father, you may depend," persisted jasper; "we must find him." frick, who had been ready to cry, all huddled down in his corner, now sat straight, for it didn't seem to be just the time for tears, and in a minute he had scrambled past mr. king, and hopped out. "i'm going to find him," came back on the air, as he shot off. "do you wait here, father," said jasper, following him, and leaping out, "and we'll get the boy." but the boy, quite willing to tell whatever story there was on his mind when he jumped on the carriage step, was now of a different mind, and he ran like a deer, first down one street then another. at last, finding himself pursued by some one not at all inclined to easily give up the chase, it suddenly dawned on him that his blue cap might possibly be a means of tracing his course. so he twitched it off and tucked it under his well arm. this made it more difficult for jasper, whose footsteps were fast gaining on him, to follow him accurately, and for the first time a horrible moment came to the pursuer when he thought that after all the boy might escape; but frick, who had seen jasper's nimble progress around a corner, ran down a side street, then across a garden, and came plump into the face of the boy. "here he is," cried frick, the breath almost knocked out of him by the encounter. he had grasped whatever he could first lay his fingers on and held to it firmly. it proved to be the arm for which the boy had not appeared to have much use. once caught, the boy gave a groan, then started to run. frick being smaller, it might be an easy matter to shake him off, even with only one available arm. "no, you don't get away this time," said frick, for the tall boy had him in hand now, and was marching him back to the carriage at a pace much more comfortable for all concerned. "what have you to tell us?" he was being asked. "i would have told you then," said the boy doggedly. he couldn't help but show some suffering in his face, and jasper, looking down to see its cause, found one arm hanging in a very peculiar manner. "you've hurt your arm," he said abruptly. "frick, take care"--to the boy, not at all particular what he took hold of if he only got a good grip. "well, he shan't get away," said frick decidedly, nipping up the end of the jacket nearest to him. "how did you hurt your arm?" asked jasper. despite all his anxiety about joel, and an awful feeling that in some way an accident had occurred that had enveloped them both, he looked into he face beneath him with real concern. "none of your business," the boy was going to say, but instead he turned away his face, then brought it back, and defiance was written all over it. "he sassed me, that old fellow in the carriage. did you s'pose i'd tell him after that?" "he's dreadfully anxious," said jasper, ignoring everything else. "you see, joel's been gone in all this storm, and we don't know anything in the world where he is." "i do," said the boy. "then, if you do"--jasper stopped suddenly and brought his keen dark eyes to bear on the rough, defiant face--"i just hope you will tell me. and i know you will," he added, after a pause in which frick fastened his gaze on them both wildly, luckily without discovering any use for his tongue. the boy swallowed hard, dropped his eyes for a moment, then looked up. "he was out on the pond." "out on the pond!" echoed frick, and his hand nipping the jacket-end fell nerveless to his side. "no one told you to speak," said the boy sharply, turning on him, "so you shut up." "but what was he doing out on the pond in such a storm?" asked jasper. his lips were white, but he didn't allow his eyes to waver, for it was better to have the whole story before getting back to his father. "it didn't rain till after we'd had the row," said the boy. "had the row?" it seemed an eternity to jasper, for joel perhaps even now might be in peril, before the next question was answered, "what row?" "yes," said the boy, as if he were going to add, "well, what are you going to do about it?" the next moment, he had made up his mind to tell all there was to tell. it wasn't exactly clear why, but he was giving the account in a very few words, leaving it where it ended with his seeing joel rowing off down the pond. and presently the two who had hopped out of the carriage, with the new boy and the one who had thrust his head in over the door, were seated in the brougham, and thomas had turned his back on the city streets and was driving off at a furious pace for spy pond. frick collapsed now and mumbled distractedly, "oh, dear! now joel's----" what, he didn't trust himself to say. "and larry's 'most killed, and----" jasper interrupted him sharply, "what do you say, frick?" for it was the first hint of anything gone wrong with any of the other boys. then out came that story to add to the general misery, and old mr. king sat very straight and kept saying, "bless me! tell thomas to drive faster," and "oh, bless me!" again, as he glanced over at the boy. but no joel. they pranced, the horses did, shaking off the rain from their wet manes, around as much of the pond as was adapted to carriages, and jasper and frick got out and explored the rest, at least wherever joel would be supposed to put into port, the boy holding up the arm that appeared not to be in its usual condition and going along, too, yet unable to add any information to his original statement. at last: "probably joel's gone home"--it was all jasper could do to get the words out of his white lips. without a word old mr. king sank back, and waved his hand, which meant "yes," settling down amongst the cushions hopelessly, while their faces were turned homeward. "hullo!" unmistakably joel's voice, and there he was, wet and dirty, and waving frantically from a side street for them to stop, as he made his best time to the corner. jasper threw wide the door. "_joe!_" he cried. thomas pulled up again, the horses by this time having become so well accustomed to this method of bringing up that they did it quite well, and there was a great to-do in the coach. "i've been calling and calling," panted joel, blowing like a porpoise, and running up with red cheeks, "and you wouldn't stop," he added in a very injured way. "well, we didn't hear you, you beggar," cried jasper. "come, get in with you"--putting out both hands to assist in the process. "where have you been, joe?" for old mr. king was beyond talking. "i've been--" began joel, glad enough to hop in; "why, where--" as his black eyes fell on the boy in the corner. frick had tried to swarm all over him, but joel put out an unsteady hand. "i came to tell," said the boy, seeing he was expected to say something. "oh, don't," cried joel involuntarily; "'tisn't any matter; i don't care." "well, it's all out, joe," said jasper affectionately, who couldn't stop patting his back. frick flew over to the opposite side and let joel snuggle up to the old gentleman. "i'm here, grandpapa," he said happily. "oh, bless me! yes, my boy!" said old mr. king brokenly, and fondling the little brown hands. "well, we must get you home and out of these wet clothes as soon as possible. i don't know what your mother will say. oh, dear me, joe!" "pooh!" cried joel, "i'm not wet." "you're wet as a drowned rat, joe," declared jasper, bursting into a laugh, which was such a relief to all concerned that in a minute it really seemed like a pleasure excursion. but joel pulled himself up. "oh, i'm going to see what's the matter with jack's arm," and he leaned over and put his hand on it. "nothing," said jack, trying to pull it away, but joel held on. "tis, too," he said. "you're going to have it fixed. grandpapa, won't you take him to doctor fisher's office? please do." at this frick pricked up his ears. "doctor fisher isn't----" "frick," began jasper desperately, "look out and see if it rains." frick stared in amazement, and even joel bobbed his head over at jasper. "why, doesn't it rain on your side?" he cried, his black eyes very wide. "never mind; do as i tell you," said jasper, nowise disconcerted. so frick reported that it did rain; and then jasper began to talk so fast that joel had no time to get in a word at all, although he tried with all his might. "see here," he shouted at last, and his voice rang clear above every other noise, "can't we take him to doctor fisher's office--can't we, grandpapa? make thomas turn about and take us there"--he fairly howled it now. "and doctor fisher won't be there," screamed frick, on just as high a key. "why not?" it was impossible to stop the dreadful news of larry's accident from coming now. and in a minute frick had it all out in a burst, quite unconscious of jasper's efforts, and well pleased at having something important to say. "larry's been run over by mr. macilvaine's tallyho, and 'most smashed to death." xx the cooking club "oh, my goodness me!" alexia gave a jump, then ran for the closet. "dear me!" exclaimed polly, standing quite still in the middle of the room, the lightning flash and the sudden peal of thunder coming without warning. "oh, i'm scared to death," cried alexia, burrowing frantically; "come in here, polly pepper. are you killed?" she screamed. "no," said polly, "and i don't believe there'll be another as bad." "oh, come in here. ooh!" cried alexia, in muffled accents, as she huddled up against the clothes. "oh, polly!" it was miss rhys: her embroidery, cast aside at the sudden storm-burst, was dragging behind her, and she was wringing her hands. "did you ever see anything so dreadful?" "i don't believe there'll be another as bad," said polly again, finding nothing more of consolation to offer. "and where is alexia?" and without waiting for an answer, miss rhys paced nervously up and down the room, still wringing her hands. "and of course there will be more; there, there it comes," and she ran, the embroidery-piece still hanging to her gown, into the closet. "oh, aunt," cried alexia, with a squeal, "you scared me 'most to death; i thought i was struck!" "why, are you here, alexia?" gasped miss rhys, when she could recover herself enough to speak. "well, this is truly a dreadful storm," and she clutched her with shaking fingers. "yes, i am here," said alexia. "don't pinch so, aunt--ow! my arm is all black and blue, i know it is." "it's no time to think of such little things, alexia," replied her aunt severely; "it may kill us both." "well, that's no reason i should be all pinched to death," grumbled alexia, forgetting the thunderstorm in her present discomfort and edging off as well as she could. "the closet is dreadfully small, aunt." "it's quite large enough, i'm sure, to protect us," said miss rhys, hanging tightly to her with trembling fingers. "dear me! any minute may be our last." "well, i'm not going to be smothered to death," declared alexia, struggling to work her way past her aunt. "alexia!" exclaimed her aunt. "i'm going after polly." alexia out in the middle of the room flung her arm around polly. "oh, misery!--where?" as a vivid flash seemed to hop right in the window. "oh, polly, come!" she clutched her wildly. "where?" said polly. "we can't get away from it, alexia; it's just everywhere." "oh, i don't care--anywhere--in the coal-scoop," cried alexia, frantically dragging her along. "i shall just die, polly pepper, and here you stand like a stick." "well, there's just no use in running," said polly, but seeing alexia's distress she suffered herself to be led, and downstairs the two girls sped, and into the landlady's room, the first door to stand ajar. "i'm coming in," announced alexia, without ceremony, "for i'm scared to death," and she dragged polly pepper after her. "did you ever see such a thunderstorm, mrs. cummings?" "it is pretty bad," a voice answered. it wasn't mrs. cummings, as she had hurried to oversee the maid close the windows through the house, but another of the boarders, who, like alexia, had selected this apartment for a refuge. "oh, dear me!" alexia sank down upon the sofa, being careful not to relinquish her hold of polly, and dragged a cushion over her face. "is that you, mr. filbert"--bringing out one eye to stare at him. "i think so," said mr. filbert, a little thin old man sitting over in the corner and leaning forward over his cane. he spoke cautiously, as if not quite sure. "yes, it _is_ a bad storm," he repeated decidedly. "where is your aunt?" "she's up in the closet," said alexia, pulling the sofa-cushion over her own and polly's face as well. "there, we can't see it at any rate, if we are going to be killed." "up in the closet?" repeated mr. filbert. "yes. oh, polly, do you suppose it's lightening and thundering now?"--as the two girls cuddled up closer together on the roomy old sofa, the cushion crowded up over eyes and ears. "i suppose so," said polly, very much wishing she could say "no." "oh, dear me! i'm smothered to death," grumbled alexia, "and i'm so hot"--wriggling discontentedly. "so am i," said polly. "what did you say? your aunt was in the closet?" little old mr. filbert was asking; and receiving no reply, he kept on. "oh, do hear him," whispered alexia, back of the sofa-cushion; "he is so tiresome, asking the same thing over and over." "well, do answer him," said polly. "i have, once," said alexia. "is your aunt in the closet, did you say?" mr. filbert kept on, with the impression that a reply would soon be coming if he only held up the conversation at his end of it. alexia dashed down the sofa-cushion with a nervous hand. "i can't breathe; let's get out, polly," and she flew up, to sit quite straight. "yes, my aunt is up in the closet, mr. filbert. whee! oh, i am so scared, polly pepper!" "she'll be struck there quicker 'n any other place she could pick out," declared the little old gentleman positively. alexia hopped off from the sofa and ran on anxious feet to his chair. "what did yon say, mr. filbert? and how do you know?" she cried, all in one breath. "the chimney closets always catch the lightning first," said mr. filbert cheerfully; "you see, it----" alexia dashed off, ran through the hall and up to her own room. "aunt, aunt," she cried, thrusting her head into the closet, "you'll be struck in there, mr. filbert says so. come out, aunt." there was no response, and alexia, now in mortal terror, plunged into the closet. "come, aunt. oh, my!" as a clap of thunder sent her plunging in headlong. "why, where--" for grope as she might, clear up to the end, among the clothes and the shoe-bag, no miss rhys was to be found. "oh, dear, dear!" alexia began to whimper, feeling all around the floor with terror-stricken fingers. "aunt, where are you? oh, she's been struck and she's dead, i know she is! polly pepper," she screamed, tumbling out of the closet to rush to the head of the stairs, "come up and help me find aunt." "alexia!" miss rhys, concluding not to be left alone in the closet when the two girls ran downstairs, had hurried out after them, and now appeared from the hall corner where she had crouched. "don't scream so." "oh, aunt!" cried alexia, throwing her arms around her, "you haven't been struck, have you? oh, do say you haven't." "why, of course not; don't you see i'm here?" said miss rhys. "there, child, take care, you're mussing my lace collar," and she edged off from the nervous fingers. "we'll go downstairs, i think, and stay with mrs. cummings." "if you're really sure you are not struck," said alexia, eying her askance, as if in considerable doubt, "we'll go; and polly pepper is there and that tiresome old mr. filbert." "if polly is there, she must stay to luncheon," said miss rhys, gathering up her skirts and preparing to descend the stairs. "oh, how fine!" exclaimed alexia, hopping after, losing sight of the thunderstorm in the delight of having polly pepper to herself for so many hours. "oh, aunt, what's that tagging after you?"--catching sight of the piece of embroidery dangling from her aunt's long figure. "i see nothing," said miss rhys, turning around with her head over her shoulder. "well, do stand still, aunt," cried alexia, "a minute." "what is it?" miss rhys kept saying, trying to see for herself. "your centerpiece--oh, dear me!" alexia by this time had it free, and burst into a laugh as she held it up. "well, now, i expect i have dragged off my green floss," exclaimed her aunt, in irritation. "i am quite sure of it." "well, 'twould be in the closet," said alexia, who didn't relish offering to go back, "'twon't hurt it to stay there a little while." "i must find it," said miss rhys decidedly. and alexia, wild to go down to tell polly pepper she was to stay to luncheon, flew over the stairs, leaving her aunt to get her green floss as she could. "but i can't," said polly, when alexia had hugged her and danced around her to her heart's content; "i must go home." "why, polly pepper, you can't ever go in this awful rain." "it isn't going to rain much more," said polly, running over to the window to flatten her face against the pane. "you'll be struck if you do that." little mr. filbert looked after her in disapproval. "the window is the worst place in a thunderstorm; you see, it----" "oh, that's what you said about the chimney closet," said alexia, in scorn, "and there can't be two places that are the worst." "oh, alexia," said polly, looking back from the window. "well, he's so tiresome," said alexia, putting her arm around her and gazing out of the window; "that's just the way he goes on at the table every single day. oh, see it rain, polly pepper!" "it's slackening," said polly, peering up at the drops, that really were beginning to fall with little spaces between. "and mamsie will send for me soon, i guess." "oh, well, it will begin again most likely," said alexia. "i hope this thunderstorm will last till ever so late this afternoon." "oh, alexia rhys!" cried polly, in great distress, and whirling away from the window, "don't wish that. why, i must get home." "well, i do," said alexia, bobbing her light hair till the fluffs settled over her forehead, "for then you'd stay. you haven't been over here in ever and ever so long, polly pepper," she said, in an injured voice, "and i've got so very much to talk with you about." "well, let's talk now, then," said polly, with a sigh, yet feeling quite sure that she would soon be sent for to go home. "come over to the sofa then," said alexia, so they ran over, and together settled as far back into the corner as they could, pushing up one of the cushions comfortably behind them. "well, now, you begin," said polly. "oh, no--you," said alexia, having no notion of doing the talking, for it was always great fun to listen to polly pepper. "why, i thought you said you had ever so much to talk over," said polly. "so i have," said alexia coolly, "we always do have; you know we do, polly. well, now begin." "but it's your place to begin first," said polly decidedly, "because you said you had something to talk over. so what is it, alexia?" "well--" alexia drew a long breath, cudgeling her brains, then burst out, "we must think of something new to do now, polly, since the garden party is over." "i know," said polly. "how i wish we could get up something else, for our fancy work is all done! oh, wasn't it just gorgeous, alexia"--with a comfortable little wriggle. "i should say it was," cried alexia, "and didn't it sell, though!--and everybody wished there was more, except my horrible old shawl." "why, alexia rhys!" polly poked up her head where she had been nestling it on alexia's shoulder. "you know mrs. sterling sent for the shawl and gave five dollars for it." "oh, that was because she knew it was so ugly that no one else would buy it," said alexia composedly. "well, i don't care, so long as it's sold. i was just tired to death of that old thing, polly; i don't want to ever see another shawl." "well, we shan't have another fair in a long while, i suppose," said polly, with a sigh, and laying her head down again. "not till next summer," said alexia; "then, says i, for a garden party! you know your grandpapa said he'd give you another, just as nice a one, then." "but that's a whole year." said polly disconsolately; "heigh-ho, it's so very long to wait! well, i suppose we must think of something else to do now." "just for us girls," said alexia. "i don't know," said polly slowly, looking up at her; "we ought to let the boys come in." "oh, not those horrid boys," said alexia impatiently; "they're forever hanging around, and i like, once in a while, to have something by ourselves." "but it seems too bad to leave them out," said polly soberly. "well, it would do them good to be left out sometimes," declared alexia: "they're so high and mighty, i'd just dearly love to take them down, and say, 'boys, you can't come into this.'" she tossed her fluffy hair till the long, light braids flew out triumphantly. "why can't we have a cooking club?" suggested polly, after a minute of hard thinking. "ugh!" alexia twisted up her face. "oh, that's horrid," she said, with another grimace. "do you mean, learn to make things on the kitchen range?" "yes, and on the chafing-dish," said polly, flying up to sit straight. "oh, it would be elegant, alexia!" she cried, with glowing cheeks. "well, i can't learn," said alexia, "so that's some small comfort, for i'm in a boarding-house, and i guess the cook here would fly in a fit to see me come into the kitchen." "but you can come to our house and learn with me," said polly, clasping her hands, "and we'll make perfectly splendid things; just think, alexia." "what things?" asked alexia doubtfully. "oh, little biscuits," said polly, going back in her mind to the delights of baking-day in the little brown house; "cunning little ones, you know; you can't think how perfectly elegant we used to make them, alexia." "oh, you had everything elegant in your little brown house," said alexia, twisting enviously in her corner. "joel's never tired of telling of it. and to think i wasn't there! oh, dear me! i wish you would talk about it." "well, you can try now to make some biscuits. i'll show you how," said polly eagerly. "and polly--oh, goody!--now don't you see we won't have to ask the boys to join this? a cooking club--the very idea!" alexia hopped off from the sofa, and stood in front of polly, clasping her hands. "why, yes we will," cried polly, hopping off too, and speaking very decidedly; "the boys will like it just as much as we do." "the boys like a cooking club!" screamed alexia, standing quite still. "yes, indeed," said polly. "why, jasper used to like our baking-days in the little brown house, you know he did, alexia, like everything." "oh, dear! yes, i know," said alexia reluctantly. "and beside, even if they don't make things, why, they can come to our suppers, for we must of course get up some, of things we've learned to make. oh, it will be _such_ fun, alexia!" polly sighed and clasped her hands. "and i'll learn to make your cunning little biscuits," declared alexia suddenly, quite as if she had proposed the plan and pushed it along from the very beginning, "and do let's have a club supper soon," she begged. "there's a carriage coming," announced little mr. filbert, from his chair in the corner. "oh, it's for me, i know," cried polly, springing to the window. "yes, mamsie has sent for me, alexia. i knew she would!" "oh, dear me!" grumbled alexia, awfully disappointed and racing after her. "why, you can't ever go in all this rain, polly pepper." polly burst out into a laugh. "just look there," she pointed to the patches of light in the sky gradually growing bigger and brighter. "it doesn't rain a single drop! and, oh, alexia, look, look--the rainbow!" xxi of many things in general but the cooking club with all its delights wasn't started yet for many a day, for just as soon as polly got home there was the whole story of the morning's adventures of joel and larry's accident, to fill all her time and thoughts. and then jack--why, of course, he must come in for a goodly share of notice, for joel insisted on making him a hero, to be willing to come and tell mr. king of his misdemeanor on the pond. and doctor fisher had said the arm was in a bad way, the trouble being increased by all the running about in the pelting storm that jack had indulged in, and this made joel nearly frantic. dear me! there was no time to think of cooking clubs! and then after luncheon came a little note from mrs. sterling, brought by no less a person than mrs. gibson herself, who, in her staid little black bonnet and gray dress and white apron, waited for polly's answer. "no, miss, i'll not sit down, if you please, as my mistress expects me back at once." "dear polly" (so the note ran), "will you run down this afternoon to talk over a little plan for the comfort committee. i suppose the boys have told you about it. bring joel, too, for he couldn't come this morning when it was proposed. your friend, pamela sterling." "oh, goody!" exclaimed polly, vastly pleased, and springing off. "yes, i'll come, mrs. gibson, please tell her, and right away; that is, when i find joel." "i hope you'll be there soon," said mrs. gibson, the light of pleasure at polly's first words dying down a bit when she saw that joel was to be waited for. "couldn't you come first?" she asked anxiously. "oh, i must find joel," said polly, "but i almost know where he is, and we'll be over soon. please tell her so." she was already out in the hall, and mrs. gibson having obtained the best she was likely to receive, departed to carry back the word to her mistress. and polly raced here and there without avail, for joel was not so easily found after all. "oh, joel, where _are_ you?" cried polly, racing along the hall. "oh, dear me! percy, is that you?" as percy, with van at his heels, came near running into her. "yes, it is," said percy, coming to an abrupt stop, but van ran past them. "hold on, van," he cried, his face growing very red, "that's not fair, when polly wanted to speak to us." "she didn't want to speak to me," said van, making pretty quick time down the hall. "oh, polly, make him stop," begged percy, twitching her sleeve; "he's going up into ben's room; it's not fair, for i was ahead." "well, you aren't ahead now," cried van in glee, and mounting the stairs, he couldn't resist the temptation to peer over the railing. "ha, ha! who's the smart one now? i'll get there first, percy whitney." "you shan't. oh, make him stop," howled percy, in distress. "van," called polly, looking up at him. "what?" said van, wishing he hadn't wasted the time in exhibiting his triumph. he still kept on. "i want you," said polly clearly. "come down, vanny, that's a good boy." "what do you want me for?" asked van, turning slowly to look down at her. "come down, and you'll see. make haste, van, for i'm in a dreadful hurry." "what do you want me for?" repeated van, begrudging every step of the way he was now taking, and keeping a sharp look out that percy didn't spring past him. to prevent that, he spread out both arms. "say, polly, what do you want me for?" at last he was by her side. "there, who's going to get up in ben's room first?" said percy complacently. "well, you aren't," said van stoutly, "'cause just as soon as polly's got through with me, i'm going to run like lightning up there--so! i was ahead when she called me back." "well, i was ahead first," declared percy, "wasn't i, polly--wasn't i?" he appealed anxiously to her. "yes," said polly, "and hush, van. now, see here, boys: i've got to find joel. mrs. sterling has sent for him to come with me over there this afternoon, and she wants us right away. don't you know where he is? i've looked for him just everywhere." she clasped her hands and looked at them in despair. "i don't," said percy. "neither do i," said van; "we're going up in ben's room. is that all, polly?" and he prepared to run. "no," said polly, while percy, in alarm lest a march should be stolen on him, sidled off on the other side. "van!" polly nipped his jacket and held it fast. seeing which, percy concluded to remain, and he now came back quietly and stood quite still. "boys," said polly, "it's just this way; you must help me to find joel, for, unless you do, i'm sure i don't know what i can do. and mrs. sterling was going to tell us all about the comfort committee to help larry, you know." she dropped van's jacket-end, and ran and sat down on one of the high-backed chairs, and folded her hands in dismay. "oh, we will--we will," cried both the boys, quite overcome at this, and, losing sight of all the charms that were awaiting them in ben's room, they precipitated themselves upon her. "but where shall we look for him? you know he went out with doctor fisher in his gig. say where shall we look for him, polly." "joel went out with papa fisher!" cried polly, hopping off from her chair. "why didn't you say so before? oh, dear me!" "well, you asked me where he was, and i didn't know where they were going," said percy dismally, changing from one foot to the other in great distress. "and they might have taken us; i think 'twas real mean," declared van, in a dudgeon. "oh, van, if he went with papa fisher, how could he? oh, i know." polly clapped her hands. "they've gone down to see that boy that got his arm hurt on the pond. i verily believe they have." "well, they might have taken us," said van again. "i'd like to have seen him awfully, and now joel will have him all to himself. i'm going to get something, and i won't let joel have any of it," he added vindictively. "oh, vanny!" and polly went close to him, and put her cheek to his. "just think what a dreadful time joel had out there on the pond," and she gave a little shiver. "hah, hah!" ejaculated percy. "you'd been scared to death, van, if those boys even winked at you." "i wouldn't, either," declared van, straightening up. "percy--percy," said polly warningly, turning around at him. "well, he would," said percy uneasily, not looking at her; "you know he would, polly." "well, don't say any such thing," said polly firmly, "and perhaps he wouldn't, either." "no, i wouldn't," protested van stoutly, since polly reinforced him, "and you're just as mean as you can be, percy whitney, to say so." "boys"--polly drew away from van, and sank down on her chair again--"i shan't have anything to say to either of you when you say such dreadful things," and she folded her hands sorrowfully in her lap and looked straight ahead at the opposite wall. "oh, we won't--we won't," cried both boys, running over to her. "polly, we won't"--shaking her arms. "well, don't, then," said polly. "now promise you won't do it again, or else i'm really not going to talk to you." so percy and van promised, and pretty soon the wide hall resounded with merry peals of laughter. "oh, dear me!" exclaimed polly, jumping to her feet in dismay. "what's the matter?" cried both boys, tumbling back in astonishment. "just look what i've done!" polly was wringing her hands now, and presented a picture of distress. "what--what, polly?" they crowded up to her again. "why, i've forgotten i was to go at once to mrs. sterling's, and she's been waiting. if joel comes, send--him--over." the last words came back in a little shout, for polly was off. "oh, dear me!" exclaimed percy discontentedly, losing all thought of the attractions in ben's room, "now polly will be gone all the whole afternoon, i 'most know." "let's tag her," proposed van cheerfully, not caring to get upstairs first, since percy wasn't going to race with him, "i will; come on!" "no, no," said percy, in alarm, "she won't like that. think of something else." "i've thought of one thing, and you won't do it," said van composedly, sitting down on the very chair polly had left. "now it's your turn." "but it was no good--that old thing you thought of," retorted percy, in disdain; "no one could do it." "i thought it out, anyway," repeated van obstinately, "and you wouldn't do it, so i'm not going to think up anything else till you have thought something, percy whitney." "well, you needn't be so cross," said percy sourly, and squaring up to his chair. "i'm not cross," contradicted van, looking up at him with a very red face. "yes, you are, just as cross as a snapping-turtle," said percy, trying to think of the worst thing he had encountered, and quite pleased as he saw its effect on van. "you shall just take that back, percy whitney," declared van, hopping out of his chair, and doubling up his small fists. "i'm not a snapping-turtle." percy edged off, with a sharp lookout for the fists. "i didn't say so." "yes, you did," said van crossly; "you said just that very thing, percy whitney, and i'm not a snapping-turtle." "i said you were as cross as one," said percy, wishing he hadn't been quite as free with his comparisons, and moving off to a convenient corner. "well, that's just the same," said van, advancing, "and polly----" [transcriber's note: this page in our print copy was obscured by an ink blot. the words in brackets are those that we have supplied based on context and those letters that were visible.] at the mention of polly, percy stopped suddenly, drew a long breath, and never thought of the [corner] again. "[why,] we promised her," he gasped; "i forgot all about it." down [went van's] little fist. "so we [did]," [he] said gloomily, and both boys crept off [together to] the same corner percy had selected for [himself]. "whatever shall [we] do [now]?" breathed percy, quite lost in his dismal reflections. "we stopped," said van, as something to be offered with a grain of hope. "but we did a lot before we stopped," said percy. a deep gloom had settled over his countenance, and he wouldn't look at van. "oh, dear me!" van fidgeted about for a minute, "well, i don't know," he said, twisting his hands. "oh, dear me! why, you might say i'm not a snapping-turtle," he cried cheerfully at last, and fairly hugging percy in his delight. "so i might," said percy, well pleased, "but i didn't say you _were_ a snapping-turtle; i said you were as cross as a snapping-turtle." "well, you might say i'm not as cross as a snapping-turtle, then," said van, determined to fix it some way. so percy said it, and then the two brothers plunged out of doors without a thought of the formalities of any plan. but it was van who furnished it after all. "let's go down and see [candace]," he said. "oh, yes, let's," cried percy, [then] he stopped short and began to laugh. "what's the matter?" van twitched his sleeve. "nothing," said percy, so relieved he hadn't said what was on the tip of his tongue; "you've done it after all and told something for us to do." "well, then, come on," cried van, with a harder twitch. so they set off at a lively pace for the delights of candace's little shop. meanwhile, polly was sorrowfully confessing to mrs. sterling why she was late, and explaining all the reason that joel couldn't accompany her. and the whole story of the morning affair on the pond, as gathered from jack, for joel hadn't told a word of the encounter with the crowd of rough boys, had to be gone over with before mrs. sterling could open her budget of news and her wonderful plan for the comfort committee. she was just beginning on it. "i do like that name so very much," sighed polly. she was on a little cricket by the side of the lounge, her hands resting on the gay sofa-blanket. "don't you?" cried mrs. sterling, in great satisfaction. "it expresses so much, polly. i am so very glad that you like it." "master joel pepper is coming down the street," said gibson, guilty of interrupting, for she knew how anxious her mistress was to see joel. "shall i call him in?" "do, by all means," said mrs. sterling, while polly cried: "oh, i am so glad!" so gibson knocked on the window, and beckoned to joel that he was wanted; then she hurried down to the big front door to let him in. there was a funny little noise over the stairs, as if there were more than one pair of feet, which was soon explained by joel's bursting in, dragging another boy after him, who had his arm done up in a sling. "it's jack," he said, by way of introduction. "oh, joel!" cried polly, springing to her feet, in consternation. "yes, and now what is it?" joel advanced to the invalid's couch, ready for business. "i'm very glad to see jack," said mrs. sterling, with a smile, putting out her soft, white hand to the boy, who was gazing at the doorway through which he had come, as if nothing would please him so much as to go through it again, this time on the way back. "you might get a chair, joel, for your friend, and another for yourself," suggested mrs. sterling. "i will--i will," cried joel, well pleased to have something to do, and dragging up the first one he could find. "i'm going to sit on the carpet"--suiting the action to the words. "well, you see--" mrs. sterling, without more ado, began at once on her plan. polly was by this time back on her cricket, very much relieved to find that it wasn't so very dreadful after all to have jack there, since mrs. sterling seemed to like it. "there's nothing helps a boy who is to be shut up in the house for a long time, quite so much as to have the other boys who can go out to play, think of him, and plan for his comfort. isn't that so?" mrs. sterling looked at her little audience keenly. "yes," said two of them. jack was so scared at finding himself where he had never supposed he could be--in the stately brownstone mansion--that he fixed his eyes on the carpet, not daring to move; as for speech, it was quite beyond him. "well, now that lawrence keep has gotten hurt, i think it will be a very good plan to have a comfort committee to look out for him." "what can we do for him?" cried joel, very much excited, and jumping up from the carpet. "joel, do sit down," said polly, quite ashamed, and pulling him by the jacket. joel very unwillingly slid back to his place on the carpet, and fastened his black eyes on mrs. sterling's face. "well, there are so many things to do for a boy who won't be very sick, but must be shut up in the house," said mrs. sterling, "that really it takes time even to think of them all." "what are some of them?" burst out joel, pulling the sofa-blanket in his eagerness. "joel--joel," said polly. "here are some of them," said mrs. sterling, "that i told the boys this morning when they were in here. you might cut out the funny things in the magazines and newspapers, the pictures and the stories, and send him. it's so nice to have little reminders to pass away the time." "what else?" "well, i didn't tell them that, but there are letters you might write him." "ugh!" joel made a wry face. "i don't like to write letters," he said bluntly. "joel," said polly again. "perhaps that is the very reason it would be well for you to do it," said mrs. sterling, with a smile. "at any rate, it would please lawrence, i think. well, then there are conundrums; you can surely think up something of that sort that will amuse him, and puzzles." now, strange to say, jack had a good head for these things, and without thinking where he was, he blurted out: "i know a lot of 'em." joel whirled around on the carpet and stared at him, as did polly from her cricket. but mrs. sterling only smiled. "that's good," she said in approval, "now you see you can help us out a good deal"--nodding at him. but jack, with a wild glance at the door, as he came to himself, was beyond conundrums, as he thought of what he'd done. "tell some of 'em, jack," cried joel eagerly, emerging from his surprise. "what are they, jack? tell some." "not now," said mrs. sterling, interposing. "jack is going to write them out, and they will be sent in as his contribution to lawrence." sent in to larry keep's big house, almost as grand as the one jack sat in now, by him, a little six-penny grocer's son, doing business over at the south end! he couldn't believe his ears, and to assist them, he lifted his eyes and stared at the person making the announcement. evidently she meant it, and the more he gazed at her face, the better he liked it. but he didn't dare to stare long, so he concluded to transfer his attention from it to the carpet. "we are getting on so well," said mrs. sterling, and her tone was very cheery, "that i am really quite hopeful that lawrence may be amused by all that we are to do for him. and now, before we go any further in our plan, suppose we take a little comfort ourselves." and she laughed a gay little laugh that wouldn't have sounded badly as polly's own. "gibson," she called. out came gibson from the little room next. "will you bring us a tray of some of the nice things you always can get up, gibson?" said her mistress. "i am really hungry, and i know these young people must be, they run about so." "i am," declared joel, in great satisfaction at hearing the tray mentioned, and bobbing his black hair, "awfully hungry." "oh, joel!" said polly. "if you knew, polly," said mrs. sterling, with a laugh, "what a pleasure it is to me, to hear a hungry boy say so up here, you would be very glad to let him. you can't think"--looking around on the three--"what good you are doing me. really your work as a comfort committee has begun already." xxii rachel's visit to miss parrott rachel ran blindly up the garret stairs of the parsonage and threw herself down on the top, her blue, checked apron over her head. "oh, i can't--i can't," she screamed. "rachel," the minister's wife called gently after her. but rachel stormed on, "oh, i can't; dear me, i can't!" so mrs. henderson mounted the stairs and sat down on the top one, and took rachel's hands, nervously beating together. "my child, you must listen to me." it was said very quietly; but rachel knew by this time what the parsonage people meant when they said a thing, so she answered meekly in a muffled voice because of the apron over her head: "yes'm." "take down your apron," said mrs. henderson. down fell the apron, disclosing a face of so much distress, that for a moment the heart of the parson's wife failed her, but it must be done. "my child," she began very gently, "it is best that you should go to see miss parrott. she will be a good friend to you." "i don't want no friends," said rachel doggedly, in her distress relapsing into her old tenement-house disregard of the rules of speech; "no more 'n i've got her." "ah, child, that is not a wise way to talk," said mrs. henderson, shaking her head. "one cannot have too many friends." "she'd be too many," said rachel; "that old woman that came the other day in that carriage all full of bones." "you must not talk so, dear. she is a very fine woman. now, rachel, she has asked to have you spend the day there, and we have promised that you shall go." there was an awful pause. a big blue-bottle over in the corner under the rafters was making a final decision to explore the filmy lace web beneath the window where a fat old spider had been patiently waiting for him, and he gave his last buzz of freedom before he hopped in. this was all the sound that broke the silence. rachel held her breath, and fixed her black eyes at a point straight ahead, positively sure if she withdrew her gaze she would burst out crying. "so you will be ready to go at ten o'clock, rachel, for miss parrott will send for you then," mrs. henderson was saying. and in a minute more the parson's wife was going down the garret stairs; rachel, with a heart full of woe, slowly following, leaving the big garret to the fat old spider, who was busily weaving her silken threads in glee over her prisoner. and rachel's woeful face was more than matched by the countenances of the two boys of the parson's family, who were not at all pleased that the companion sent to them by mrs. fisher, and who had turned out surprisingly just to their liking, should be suddenly torn away from them even for a single day. and they followed disapprovingly around, hanging upon all the preparations for the momentous visit, with a very bad influence upon rachel's endeavor to control herself. seeing which, their mother sent them off on an errand to grandma bascom. so, when the ancient carriage, with its well-seasoned coachman who rejoiced in the name of simmons, made its appearance, there was no one to see rachel off, save the patron's wife, the minister himself being away on a call lo a sick parishioner. rachel went steadily down the walk between the box-borders, feeling her heart sink at each step. mrs. henderson, well in advance, was down at the roadside to help her in, with a last bit of good advice. "good-morning, simmons," said the parson's wife pleasantly. "good-morning, madam," simmons touched his hat, and spoke with the air of state, for he kept his english ways. secretly, the parson's wife was always quite impressed by them, and she looked at rachel for some sign to that effect. but the child was scowling, and biting her thin lips, and she suffered mrs. henderson to assist her into the wide old vehicle without any further change of expression. when once in, she gazed around, then leaned forward on the slippery old green leather seat. "can't peletiah come?" she gasped; "there's lots o' room." "no," said mrs. henderson. "now be a good girl"--all her fears returning as she saw rachel's face. simmons starting up the horses, that, although an old pair, yet liked to set off with a flourish, the movement bounced rachel violently against the back of her seat and knocked her bonnet over her face. this gave her something to think of, and changed her terror to a deep displeasure. when the drive was ended, therefore, and the brougham, after its progress through an avenue of fine old trees, was brought to a standstill before the ancestral mansion where miss parrott's father and grandfather had lived before her, the visitor was in no condition to enjoy the pleasures thrust upon her. miss parrott, in the stiff, black silk gown that she had worn the day when she called at the parsonage, met her on the big stone steps. she put out a hand in a long, black lace mitt, "i am very glad to see you, child," she said, in old-time hospitality. but no hospitality, old-time or any other, had a pleasant effect on rachel. she gave a glance up and around the big, gloomy gray, stone house, with a wild thought of rushing down the avenue and home to the parsonage. "it is a pleasant place, isn't it?" observed miss parrott with complacent memory of always living in the grandest homestead for several counties. "no, ma'am," said rachel promptly. miss parrott started, and gave a little gasp. then, reflecting it was not in accordance with fine manners to notice any such slip on the part of guests, she led the way into the mansion. simmons, much shocked, actually forgot himself so far as to scratch his head, as he drove off to the stables, and he didn't get over it all day. "perhaps you would like a little refreshment," suggested miss parrott, when, the child's bonnet off, she was seated on the edge of a stiff, high-backed chair. she couldn't think of anything else to say, and as she usually offered it to her friends at the end of their long drives when they called upon her, it seemed a happy thing to do now, especially as rachel's black eyes were fastened upon her in a manner extremely uncomfortable for the person gazed at. as rachel didn't know in the least what "refreshment" meant, she stared on, without a word. and miss parrott, pulling with more vigor than was her wont, a long red worsted cord that hung down by the piano, a stately butler made his appearance quicker than usual, took his directions from his mistress, and after regarding the small figure perched on one of the ancestral parrott chairs with extreme disfavor, he silently withdrew. presently, in he came, his head well thrown back, and bearing a huge silver tray. on it were a decanter, two little queer-shaped glasses, and a plate of very thin seed cakes. he deposited this on a spindle-legged table, which he drew up in front of his mistress, and, with another glance, which he intended to be very withering, cast upon rachel, but which she didn't see at all, he departed. "now, my dear," said miss parrott, in a lighter tone, feeling quite in her element while serving refreshments in such an elegant way, "you must be very hungry." she poured out a glassful from the decanter, and getting out of her chair, she took up the plate of seed cakes, and advanced to the small figure. "here, child." rachel took the little queer-shaped glass, but had no sooner felt it within her hand, than she gave a loud scream. "take it away, it smells just like gran"--pushing it from her. it knocked against the plate of seed cakes miss parrott was proffering, and together they fell to the floor with a crash. in hurried the butler. "i don't know what can be the matter," miss parrott was gasping, her hand on her heart, as she leaned against one of the ancient cabinets of which the apartment seemed to be full. "it smells just like gran," rachel was repeating, with flashing eyes. "oh, how dare you give it to me!" she was standing over the wreck of the priceless china and glass, which, as no such accidents had been recorded in the family, miss parrott had continued to use in the entertainment of her guests. "you bad child, you!" exclaimed the butler, seizing her arm, and gone almost out of his senses at the sight of the ruin of such ancient treasures. "i'm not bad," cried rachel, turning on him and stamping her foot; "she's bad--that woman there--for giving me what smells just like gran!" "i can't make her out," declared the butler, eyeing her as he released her arm and stepped back toward his mistress. "and that's what makes people drunk," went on rachel, pointing an angry finger at the wet spot where the liquid from the decanter was slowly oozing into the velvet carpet. the butler turned an outraged countenance, on which a dull red was spreading, over to his mistress. "you would better go out, hooper," said miss parrott faintly, and holding fast to the cabinet. "i'm afraid to leave you, madam," said hooper; "she ain't fit--that creature"--pointing to rachel, "to be here; she may fly at you. i'll put her out at once." "you may leave the apartment, hooper," said miss parrott, regaining some of her dignity by a mighty effort. "i'm not in the least afraid." but her looks belied her words, or at any rate the old serving-man thought so, and he made bold to remonstrate again. "let me put her out, madam," he begged. "i'll call the gardeners." "oh, no, no!" protested miss parrott, coming rapidly to her self-composure; "that would never do in all the world. leave the room, hooper." this last was said so exactly like his mistress at her best, that the butler obeyed it, making a wide circuit as he passed rachel, who still stood, the picture of wrath, over the broken china and glass. not a word was said for some minutes. outside, polly, the old parrot, was scolding vociferously, and the tall clock was ticking away for clear life. hooper, his ear first, and then his eye, glued to the keyhole, was vainly endeavoring to find out what was passing in the sitting-room. at last rachel drew a long breath. "i'm sorry i broke your things," and she awkwardly pushed the bits with her shoe. "oh, that's no matter," said miss parrott, feeling astonished at herself for the words, "but you said such dreadful things. i can never forget that." she drew a long breath. no matter that she broke those beautiful things! the whole truth flashed upon rachel, and although the smell of the hated stuff was even yet dragging back to her all the memory of her low condition of life through such childhood as she had known, over and above it all was quickly rising the conviction that for this unpardonable misdemeanor she would be sent back to the city and--awful thought!--perhaps to gran. she set her teeth together hard, and clenched her thin hands as they hung by her side. "yes. i say it is no matter," repeated miss parrott, not suffering herself to glance at the wreck of her ancestral treasures, "but oh, child! why did you say such dreadful things?" she still clung to the cabinet, shocked out of one tradition of her family, as if she must still hold to its time-worn and honored furnishings. rachel gave her a swift, bird-like glance. "you do care; you're crying," she exclaimed, aghast at the tears running over the wrinkled face. "not about that, but the things you said; i didn't mean to do you harm." miss parrott did not attempt to deny the tears, and brushed them off with a trembling hand. "you ain't hurt me," cried rachel, stumbling across the floor, with an awful feeling at her heart to see this stiff old woman cry. "oh, whatever your name is, don't! i'll go home, and the minister may send me back to gran, an' she may beat me. don't cry!" she seized the heavy black silk in its front breadth and held on tightly. the butler, having at this minute his eye at the keyhole, now rushed in, unable to bear the sight, to be met by miss parrott, her withered face flaming behind her tears. "do you go directly out, hooper, and remain away until you are called." he never knew how he got out; and this time the keyhole was unobstructed. "were you beaten, you poor little thing?" was this miss parrott bending over rachel's shaking shoulders, and hands clutching the silk gown! "oh, dear, dear!" "tain't no matter," mumbled rachel. "i don't care, only don't let me go back." she shook in terror, and crouched down to the floor. "never!" said miss parrott firmly. all the blood in her body seemed to be in her wrinkled face, and her eyes shone, as had those of her father, the old judge, when befriending some poor unfortunate. "you shall never go back, child; don't be afraid." but rachel still shivered. there were the broken bits of china and glass on the floor back of her, and the minister and his wife must be told of the awful accident; and what they would do with her, why, of course, no one could tell. the thin, wrinkled fingers on which blazed many rings, that had been her mother's before her, were tremblingly smoothing rachel's neatly braided hair. and as if she thought what was passing beneath them, miss parrott broke out quickly: "i shall never speak of it--of the breaking of those articles, child; so no one will know it but ourselves." "never tell?" gasped rachel, lifting her head, in astonishment and scarcely believing her ears. "of course not," declared miss parrott, in scorn. "so do not be afraid any longer, but get up and dry your eyes." for at this announcement, rachel's tears had gushed out, and she sobbed as if her heart would break. for answer rachel flew to her feet, and without any warning and astonishing herself equally with the recipient, she threw her arms around miss parrott's thin neck, in among all the ancient laces with which she delighted to adorn it, and hugged it convulsively. taken unawares, miss parrott could utter no word, and rachel clung to her and sobbed. but the old ears had heard what hadn't been sounded in them for many a long day, and forgotten were wasted heirlooms and broken treasures. "i love you!" rachel had said, hugging her tumultuously. xxiii the old parrott homestead "come, child." miss parrott drew herself out of rachel's clinging arms. what should she do now to divert this little girl from her terror and distress? she was sorely put to it for the answer. she gathered up the nervous hands in one of her own, and led the way out into the wide hall, hung with ancestral portraits. "i am going to take you to my own room," she said suddenly. rachel didn't know the wonderful condescension of this plan for her amusement, but she clung to the long, thin fingers, and presently she was seated on a cricket covered with tambour work, and watching miss parrott's movements about the spacious apartment. "move your cricket over here, child." miss parrott was unlocking what looked to rachel's eyes like a big cupboard that stood out from the wall. it had little panes of glass all criss-crossed with strips of white wood across its face, and a set of drawers beneath. and as rachel obediently carried the cricket over and set it down where miss parrott indicated, her chief attention was still upon this curious cupboard, and what miss parrott was doing in it, for the door now stood open. rachel leaned forward on her cricket and rested her hands on her knees. on the shelves was such an array of articles, that to the child's gaze, nothing stood out distinctly as an object to lavish one's sole attention upon. but miss parrott made early choice, and lifting out a big doll from one of the lower shelves, she laid it in rachel's lap. "i used to play with it," she said softly. rachel looked down upon the doll in her lap. it was long and hard and angular as to body, and its face was a dull white, except some patches of pink on the outer edge of the cheeks, showing the rest of the coloring to have been worn away. its eyes were staring up into rachel's in such an expressionless, unpleasant manner that she involuntarily turned away her own. "her name is priscilla," said miss parrott, looking down at rachel, which called her to herself and the necessity of attention to these efforts to amuse her. "yes'm," said rachel. "now i don't suppose you know how much i loved this doll," said miss parrott, turning her back on the cupboard, to draw up a chair opposite rachel and seat herself upon it, "but i used to take her to bed with me nights." "did you?" said rachel, beginning to finger the doll with sudden interest. "yes, and i made her clothes and talked to her, and sometimes i called her 'sister,'" said miss parrott, quite gone in remembrance. "oh!" said rachel. "you see, she was all i had. i was the youngest, and my real sister was married and away, and my brothers were men when i was a little girl." "oh!" said rachel again. "and so i had to make believe that priscilla was alive," said miss parrott, her eyes glowing with remembrance of her childhood, brought so singularly near on this morning; "i really had to rachel." "i've got a child," said rachel, growing suddenly communicative, and looking up from the old doll to watch the effect of her announcement. "have you, dear?" responded miss parrott, quite pleased at the bright face, from which the last tear had been wiped away. "yes, my phronsie gave her to me, and she sleeps with me," said rachel, in great satisfaction. "i suppose she is very much like priscilla," observed miss parrott. "oh, no, she isn't," declared rachel promptly, turning her mind again to the ancient doll; "my child is pretty and she shuts her eyes. she isn't a bit like yours." "well, priscilla was always pretty to me," said miss parrott, astonished that she felt so little the slight to her child. "well, now, rachel, we will put the doll aside. you may lay it on the bed and then come back here." rachel got off from her cricket and went over to the other side of the apartment. "my, what a funny bed!" she exclaimed, using her eyes to their utmost to see as much of the canopy, with its tester of blue and white chintz, the four posts beneath, and the counterpane executed in honeycomb pattern. miss parrott, exploring her cupboard to get out something else with which to entertain rachel, did not hear her; so she slowly returned, walking backward to observe as much of this queer article of furniture as the time allowed. in this way she fell over the cricket. "dear me!" exclaimed miss parrott, pulling her head out of the cupboard, "did you hurt yourself, child?" "no'm," said rachel, getting up with a very red face, and exceedingly ashamed. "i don't believe i broke it." she set the cricket up in its proper position and anxiously examined it all over. "oh, no," said miss parrott reassuringly, "the cricket is not harmed. see here, rachel"--she held in her hand a long string of little irregular things that dangled as she turned toward her--"i am going to put these on your neck. now stand still, child." and suiting the action to the words, something snapped with a little click under rachel's chin. rachel looked down quickly at the queer little odd-shaped red things, hanging over her breast. "i used to wear them when i was a little girl, very much smaller than you," said miss parrott, her head on one side and falling back to see the effect. "what are they?" asked rachel, not daring to lay a finger on them, and holding her breath at the idea of being within the magnificent circle of miss parrott's early adornments. "red coral beads," said miss parrott, smiling at the nice contrast between the necklace and the dark little face above. "now, child, you are going to wear them whenever you come to visit me and as long as you stay. and that means they will not come off till to-morrow, for you are to sleep here to-night." "i haven't any nightgown," said rachel, who by this time liked to stay well enough, but seeing here an insuperable objection. "that's easily managed," said miss parrott, quickly; "i shall send a note to the parsonage, saying you will stay, and----" at the mention of "note" rachel suddenly collapsed, and a look of terror spread over her face. "oh, i forgot," she cried. "why, what is the matter, child?" demanded miss parrott, in great concern. "i must go and get it," said rachel wildly, and, dashing blindly off, she left miss parrott standing in front of her ancestral cupboard holding her childish treasures, to rush over the long and winding back stairs. at their end she found herself hopelessly entangled in an array of back passages and little old-fashioned apartments, from which, run as she would, she could never seem to find the right exit. her progress was noted with indignation and contempt by as many of the old retainers in the parrott service as could be gathered at short notice, and their calls to her to leave the premises, accompanied by sundry shakings of a long crash towel in the hands of the cook, only impeded rachel's hope of success. "i don't know the way out," she cried at last, finding herself in a big closet whose door, being open, she fondly trusted would allow her passage out into the free air. "well, 'tisn't here," said an angry voice, and the brandishing of a big, iron spoon made rachel beat a hasty retreat, this time into the back hall. miss parrott was just descending the stairs, her stiff, black silk skirt held high, before she set foot in the servants' quarters. "child, child," she said in reproach, "what _is_ the matter?" "oh, i've lost the note--i mean, i forgot it." rachel flew to her and wailed it all out. "she's crying, that bad girl is, all over mistress's front breadth," announced joanna, the parlor maid, through the little window of the butler's pantry. "la me!" ejaculated the cook, raising her hands and the crash towel, "to think of our mistress so demeaning herself!" "what note?" cried miss parrott, in great bewilderment. "rachel, stop crying at once and speak plainly. what note do you mean?" "the one mrs. henderson gave me," cried rachel; "i must go and get it, but i don't know the way out." "to give to me? did mrs. henderson tell you to give it to me?" asked miss parrott, beginning to see light. "yes'm. oh, please let me out," begged rachel; "i left it in the carriage." "ah--well, then, we'll go out this way." and there, turning to the left, was the passage down which rachel had plunged twice before, and at its end, a small green door, that, when opened, led out through an arbor overrun with creepers, to a short cut to the stables. "now, then!" miss parrott gathered up the train of her black silk gown and put it over her arm; then in full view of the latticed window of the kitchen and scullery department, she sallied forth across the greensward to the stables beyond, rachel's brown hand tucked in her own. "laws a me!" it was the scullery maid who screamed this out. "she's got on miss parrott's coral beads." "you're a ninny!" cried the cook, turning on her in disdain; "go back to your pots and kettles, ann. whatever would she have to do with the mistress's beads? it's some old string you see around her neck." "it tell you it's miss parrott's red beads!" declared ann stoutly. she might be sent back to her work among the pots and kettles, but she would stick fast to her tale. "i seen 'em when i went up to miss parrott's room with the bellows i'd cleaned this very morning, through the little winders to her cupboard, an' i'd know 'em anywhere." the cook stamped her foot, shaking the crash towel which she still retained, and ann withdrew to those inner precincts that were considered her department. meanwhile, miss parrott was talking to simmons, who, touching his hat respectfully when he saw her approach, now came up to await her commands. "have the goodness to open the brougham door, simmons," said miss parrott, going through the carriage house to the corner where that ancient vehicle was stored. simmons obeyed wonderingly, with an eye askance at rachel, by the other side of miss parrott, eagerly pressing forward. "now jump in," said miss parrott, but this command was not needed, for rachel was already within the family coach and prowling around on the old green leather cushion and over the floor with both nervous hands. "it isn't--oh, yes, it is!" and up she came, red and shining, to hold out a small, white envelope. miss parrott leaned against the brougham, and broke the seal. rachel, her whole heart in one glad thrill of joy, made little sign except to heave a deep sigh of relief that the note had been found. simmons, seeing no excuse for lingering further, went back to one of the carriages to go through the form of inspecting its exterior, while he still kept an eye employed in the direction of his mistress. "dear miss parrott" (so the note ran), "i really do not think it is wise to ask rachel to remain over night. i will explain later. another time, perhaps she may do so. yours respectfully, almira henderson." "dear me!" exclaimed miss parrott to herself, and, folding up the little note into many creases, she stood lost in thought. "well, i suppose i must yield to the parson's wife, for she has some good reason. but the child shall stay next time." rachel, whose spirits had risen, since it was quite positive that the note was not lost, now seized miss parrott's hand and hopped and skipped by her side across the green grass on their return to the mansion. simmons came out of his retirement, his chamois skin with which he had been ostensibly polishing up a carriage, still in his hand, to stand in the doorway to watch them. "well, i _am_ surprised," he declared, quite slowly and impressively, as befitted a serving-man to an old genteel family. "oh, let's go in there," cried rachel, catching sight of the tall hollyhocks behind a wicket gate and pulling at the long, slender fingers. miss parrott hesitated. "well, just one peep," she said, "for it is near to luncheon time," and she pulled out the watch from her belt. but to rachel "a peep" meant all the world, so she dropped the fingers and raced through the gateway, to get there first and thus make it last as long as possible. "oh, oh!" she cried, her little dark face aflame with delight, "it's the most beautiful place." then she began to run up and down all the narrow paths marking the circles and hearts and diamonds in which the old-fashioned garden was laid out, and sniffing the fragrance as she ran. miss parrott seated herself on a stone seat by the fountain in the center. her delight was quite equal to rachel's, and the thin, wrinkled face assumed a more peaceful expression than it had carried for many a day, so that when hooper came to summon her to luncheon, he was fairly taken aback at its unwonted cheer. "rachel!" miss parrott's voice had a pleasant ring to it. rachel came dancing along a little curving path, the red coral beads flying up and down on her breast, her cheeks nearly as red. "oh, it's perfectly beautiful here," she cried. "do you like it?" miss parrott's thin cheek glowed, too. it carried her back to the day when she as a child had been skipping in that old garden, and her heart gave a throb at the thought that there were perhaps in store for her many delights yet, through rachel's enjoyment of the old-fashioned flowers and shrubs. "but come, child," she brought herself up suddenly to say, with a little laugh; "hooper has summoned us to luncheon, and we must obey." "do you have to obey a servant?" asked rachel, coming out of her dance to fall into step by her side, and looking up with wide-open eyes. "always," said miss parrott most positively, "else they won't obey me, if i don't. it's system that makes everything comfortable, rachel." as rachel knew nothing whatever about system, she followed silently, her small head full of the beautiful garden in which she had been rioting, and which--oh, joy!--miss parrott promised she should visit again, when the luncheon was over. and seated at the polished mahogany table, she was so lost in thought that miss parrott, in state at the other end, was obliged to speak to her twice before she looked up. "finish your soup, child," said miss parrott. rachel hadn't even begun it, and she now seized the first thing upon which her hand rested, a heavy silver fork. hooper, back of his mistress's chair, darted forward to put the right implement before her. but rachel gave him a withering glance that stopped him half-way. "you don't need to come. i've got it"; and she held up her spoon triumphantly, and ever after, all through the meal, she seemed to view his necessary advances as so many affronts, intended to show up her lack of manners, and she exercised all her wits to keep him at bay. so that the old butler was glad when the meal was over. but long before that time arrived, rachel had leaned back in her tall, carved chair, letting her knife and fork rest on her plate, while she feasted her eyes over the table, what it held, and then around the whole apartment. "there's some of the same flowers like the ones in the garden," she said, bringing her gaze back to point to the old-fashioned silver vase and its nodding clusters in the center of the table. "what are they?" "those are larkspur," said miss parrott, craning her neck to see around the high silver service from which she poured her tea. "and what's the other, this side?" rachel bobbed over on her chair, till hooper involuntarily closed his eyes, expecting she would go entirely off from her chair, and he didn't want to see it, it would be so disgraceful at a parrott table. "that?" miss parrott, too, leaned over on her chair. "oh--why, that's a ragged robin, rachel." "_ragged robin!_" repeated rachel, hopping off from her chair. "oh, i want to see it," and she ran around the table-end, and leaned over to get a better view. "'tisn't a bit ragged," she cried, very much disappointed, "and besides, he isn't there." "oh, rachel!" exclaimed miss parrott, in dismay. "you must not do so; we never leave our chairs when we are at the dining-table." rachel, thus admonished, scuttled back to her seat, while hooper groaned and pretended not to see anything. but she kept her black eyes fastened on the ragged robins. "there isn't any bird there," she said. "what, child?" "you said there was a robin in those flowers," said rachel again, using her little brown fingers to designate the vase and its contents, "and that he was ragged, and there isn't any." "oh, dear me!" exclaimed miss parrott; then she laughed. "the flowers are called ragged robins, rachel," she said. "oh!" said rachel; then she laughed, too, a merry little peal, that just bubbled over because she was happy. "now eat your luncheon," said miss parrott. "hooper, you may give her some more milk." "i don't want any more milk," said rachel, waving him off with quite an air. "i've got lots and lots"--peering into her cup. she took up her knife and fork again, but, looking over them, found so many things to call for more attention than they seemed to be worthy of, that she soon laid them down again upon her plate. "where did you used to sit when you was a little girl?" she asked suddenly, when she had been reflecting a bit. "i? oh, i sat at the side of the table," said miss parrott, starting, as she was thus hastily summoned down into her past. "then can't i sit there now?" cried rachel, flying out of her chair again. "say, can't i? do let me." she ran clear around the table and hung over miss parrott's chair. hooper groaned again and looked steadfastly out of the opposite window. "my child," exclaimed miss parrott; her tone was very grave, but she put her long arm around rachel and drew her closely to her, "remember what i said: you must not leave your chair during a meal." "i forgot," rachel flew back again, not waiting for her request to be granted, and sat down meekly in her place. "and you must eat something," continued miss parrott, glancing at the little girl's plate, and with dreadful qualms at her old heart for having been severe. "if you don't, rachel, mrs. henderson won't let you come here again." the solemn butler folded and unfolded his hands, while his face expressed the belief that such a calamity could possibly be borne. "and if you didn't come, rachel"--miss parrott took up her cup of tea, and set it down again untouched--"i should feel very sorry; i should indeed," she added, with a little catch in her throat. "so should i," said rachel abruptly; then she picked up her knife and fork and began to eat as fast as she could. "oh, my dear!" cried miss parrott, quite horrified, "not so fast! pray don't, rachel"--looking down the table-length in distress. rachel by this time was alive to the disgrace she was undergoing, and she turned quite pale, and deserting her food altogether, sat stiff and straight on her chair, too miserable to care for anything. miss parrott bore this for a breathing-space, and then without a warning she slipped off from her chair and went quickly down to the end of the table. "i'm not blaming you, you poor little thing," she declared, bending over the dark hair; "don't think so, rachel." rachel turned with a swift movement and hid her face in the laces falling from miss parrott's breast. "i want to go home to mrs. henderson's," she sobbed. "we don't care for any more luncheon, hooper," said miss parrott hoarsely, taking rachel's hand, "we will go into the other room," and she led her off sobbing. when rachel reached hooper, however, standing petrified with surprise, she looked up at him defiantly and brushed the tears from her cheek. and after they had passed out, hooper still stood in a daze. at last he came out of it, and, ejaculating, "well, i never did!" he began to clear the table. once outside, miss parrott turned suddenly. "we'll go back to the garden," she said. this pleased rachel very much, and she forgot her distress and mortification, and actually smiled up into the old face. "your hand's shaking," she announced, turning her gaze to the long, slender fingers covering her own little brown palm. "is it?" said miss parrott absently. "yes, it shakes dreadfully," said rachel, with a critical air. "look!"--pointing down at it. "oh, that is nothing," began miss parrott; then she stopped suddenly and put both hands on the thin little shoulders. "oh, child," she said brokenly, "i did so hope you'd like me, for i've nothing in this world to live for, rachel, and now you want to go back to the parsonage." "oh, i don't want to go back--i do love you!" cried rachel, in great alarm, and she raised her little brown hands and actually smoothed the long, wrinkled face between them. "don't look so, you look dreadful," she pleaded. for at the touch of those childish hands over her face, miss parrott broke utterly down, all her aristocratic traditions falling away in a second of time, to reveal her lonely, hopeless life. and she sobbed in a way very hard for any onlooker to hear. to rachel, powerless to stop her, it seemed the most terrible thing in all this world, and she burst out in her misery: "i'll stay here forever if you'll stop." that word "forever" did what nothing else could have achieved. it brought miss parrott to herself. then it was rachel who led her about the old-fashioned garden, and chattered about the flowers, unmindful whether or no she was answered, until presently miss parrott was quite recovered, and even smiling in a well-pleased way. at last she pulled out her ancient watch from her belt. "now, rachel," she said, "you must go back to the parsonage this afternoon, for mrs. henderson expects you." "i'll stay if you want me to," said rachel, moving closer to miss parrott's side. "no, dear--not to-day, because it wouldn't be right; the parson and his wife only loaned you to me for to-day, but----" "what's 'loaned'?" interrupted rachel abruptly, and wrinkling her forehead. "why, they only let me have you just for today," said miss parrott. "oh." "and so you must go back, but i shall come for you again," and miss parrott turned a hungry glance down upon the dark little face at her side. "i'll come," said rachel, with a sociable nod. "and, rachel"--miss parrott drew her closer to her side--"you may keep the coral beads, dear. that shows you are really coming back to me to stay." "for ever and always?" cried rachel, patting the necklace lovingly with one hand. "can i keep 'em just forever? say, can i?" "yes, child"--miss parrott's old face smiled in delight at the compact--"they are yours to keep all your life. and now," she added brightly, "i want you to come into the drawing-room, and----" "what's 'drawing-room'?" demanded rachel, who felt it was much better for all concerned in a conversation to understand things as they went along. "why, that is the parlor," answered miss parrott. "oh." "i want to hear you sing, rachel," cried miss parrott longingly. "i can hardly wait, come." she hurried the child along with hasty steps, rachel skipping by her side. "i'll sing," she said, "all you want me to. i know lots and lots of things"--until the grand piano in the long, dim drawing-room, not opened for many years, was reached. then she spun down the middle of the apartment. "i'm going to dance first," she announced, picking out the skirt of her gown on either side. "my, but ain't it dark, here, though!" xxiv rachel's future when the old brougham drew up in front of the colonial door, miss parrott let her hands fall away from the time-stained piano-keys. "it can't surely be time for you to go, rachel." then she did a thing she could not remember doing in all her life, she deliberately went on with her employment, allowing simmons to wait on his carriage box, while she broke up the system of years that always made her punctual to a minute. "you may sing that over again, rachel," she said, beginning on the strains of the opera that rachel had gathered from the barrel-organ on the street corners. "then may i dance again?" begged rachel. "please--just once before i go." "yes," said miss parrott, sitting very straight, and giving all the graceful little quirks to the slender fingers which her music-master, long since dead and buried, had taught her. "now begin, child." so up and down, high and clear, rang rachel's voice, with no more effort than the birds outside put forth, the sound penetrating the ancient walls, and paralyzing every domestic, while it nearly made simmons, outside, fall from his box. "she hain't touched that pianner in ten years," said the cook, in a hushed voice. "oh, me! i'm afraid she's going to die," and she flung her apron over her head. "die!" exclaimed hooper, finding his voice. "she won't die with that young one here," he added, in scorn. "now may i dance?" pleaded rachel, plucking miss parrott's sleeve. "do let me; you said i might." "yes," said miss parrott, wrenching herself away from the operatic strains, to begin on a little old-fashioned jig. "oh, that's so funny," giggled rachel, hopping aimlessly in the center of the big drawing-room and trying to keep time. "do stop; you put me all out." "but that is a dancing-tune," said miss parrott, jingling away, "and sister and i used to dance quite prettily to it, i remember." "well, i can't," said rachel, hopping wildly, and doing her best to get into step. "oh, dear!" she brought up suddenly, flushed and panting. "what is the matter, rachel?" miss parrott let her hands rest on the yellow ivory keys and looked over her shoulder at her. "oh, i can't dance," said rachel, "when you play so funnily. it doesn't go like that; it goes so." she picked up her gown again, and made a sweep off in one direction, and then in another, her feet scarcely touching the pictured roses and lilies with which the velvet carpet was strewn, all the while singing a tune that seemed to carry her off on its own melody. miss parrott turned around on the music-stool, and watched her breathlessly. it was therefore much later than the parsonage people expected when the old brougham set rachel down at their gate, and she walked into the house, supported on either side by peletiah and ezekiel, who had been watching there a full hour for her arrival. "i like her," she said, marching up to the minister's wife. "she gave me these"--putting her hand on the red coral beads on her neck--"and i'm going back again--to-morrow, i guess." but it wasn't to stay, that rachel went back on the morrow; it was only for a day. despite all the pleadings made by miss parrott, and all the desire of the parson and his wife to please their honored parishioner, and most of all, the earnest wish to consent to what would probably be for the child's best good, they held firmly to the first statement, that nothing could be arranged till mrs. fisher and mr. king had been consulted. "they have sent the child here to us, and here she must stay until they make some other arrangement," they said firmly, and no amount of urging could make them say anything else. so letters had to fly back and forth from the parsonage and the king estate in the big city, and miss parrott wrote long letters in a pinched, lady-like hand in very faint ink, crossing the paper whenever she was afraid she hadn't said enough to plead her cause successfully. which condition of mind she was in perpetually, all through these writing days. these letters old mr. king endeavored to read at the first, but he soon threw them down impatiently. "the child shall never go to a woman who has no more sense," he loudly declared. then polly or jasper would hurry in and wade through the missives. and when he saw the hungry longing of the desolate soul, and the sweet refinement of the writer came out, and the sterling honesty was revealed in the prim sentences, he relented and went tumultuously over to the other side. "yes, yes, she shall go," he declared, pulling out his big handkerchief to blow his nose violently, to remove all suspicion that anything was the matter with his eyes; "'twould be the best thing in the world for her. of course she must go." and so it was finally settled that rachel was to live at miss parrott's and be her own little girl, going down to the parsonage every day to learn her lessons under mr. henderson's care, until the time when she would be ready to be sent to such a school as miss parrott might select should arrive. "and she must come and see me sometimes," said phronsie when the announcement was made in the king household. "my little girl may come, can't she, grandpapa?" she begged. "yes, yes, child," said old mr. king warmly; "we all shall want to see rachel now and then." the comfort committee being well-established and in fine running order by this time, mrs. sterling gathering them around her sofa, in her spacious sitting-room upstairs, polly and alexia saw no reason why they shouldn't begin work on the cooking club, "because," said polly, "if we are really going to learn how to cook things, why, we ought to begin." and the mothers of the several boys and girls who were to form it, taking instantly to the idea, the two girls and jasper set to work to write the notices of the first meeting. "we ought to have another boy," said jasper, "on the committee." alexia wrinkled up her face. "oh, don't; boys are so tiresome," she said. "why, i am a boy," said jasper, bursting into a laugh. "oh, well, you are different," said alexia; "we always expect you around." "thank you," said jasper, with a low bow; "i'm sure i ought to feel very much complimented, alexia," and he laughed again. "well, i'm sure boys are such nuisances," said alexia, leaning her long arms on the table (they were in the library at mr. king's), "and besides they won't want to come to our cooking club, i verily believe, so what's the use of having them on the committee?" "oh, yes, they will," declared jasper eagerly; "you don't know anything about it, if you say that. why, clare, and pickering, and ever so many more are just wild to be asked." "oh, well, then if we've got to have some boy on the committee," said alexia, accepting the situation, "let's ask pickering dodge." "i'd rather have pick," said jasper in a tone of great satisfaction; and polly saying the same thing, it was decided then and there. "well, now that matter is off our hands," said alexia, "let's get to writing these old notices," and her hands began to bustle about among the little pile of paper and envelopes. "hold on," said jasper; "if pick is to be on this committee, he must help us with these things; and he'll want to, for it will be great fun." "o bother!" exclaimed alexia, jerking back her chair, "now we've got to wait. you see for yourself what a nuisance it is to try to get you boys in, jasper." "oh, i'll get pick over here in a jiffy," declared jasper, plunging out of the library; "you won't have to wait long for us, alexia." it wasn't more than ten minutes by the clock, when in rushed the two boys and swarmed around the big table. "well, i declare," cried alexia, looking up admiringly from a receipt book which mrs. fisher had loaned them, and over which the heads of the two girls were bent, "if you boys haven't been quick, though!" "haven't we?" cried jasper, and his eyes twinkled. "don't tell," whispered pickering over his shoulder. "and what are you two whispering about?" cried alexia, deserting the cook-book: "now, tell us," she demanded, dreadfully afraid she would miss some news. "well, you see--" began jasper. "hush--hush!" said pickering. "now don't pay any attention to pickering," said alexia, turning a cold shoulder to the last-mentioned individual; "do tell us, jasper, what is it?" "the fact is," said jasper, laughing, "i didn't have to go for pickering at all; that is, only to the corner. he was coming here." "and jasper nearly knocked the breath out of me," finished pickering, "he bolted into me so." "well, you were on the wrong side of the pavement," retorted jasper. "is that all?" cried alexia, horribly disappointed to get no news. "oh, dear me! well, do sit down, now you have come, and let us get to these horrible old notices." so the boys drew up their chairs, and polly pushed the cook-book, with an affectionate little pat, into the center of the table. "that's what we are going to study," she said gleefully. "study?" echoed pickering, with a very long face. "i didn't come over here to study; i get enough of that at school," and he glared in a very injured way at jasper. "don't get upset," said jasper, patting him on the back; "you'll like this, pick, i tell you." "and it's a cook-book," said polly, laughing merrily. "all right," said pickering, immensely relieved, and reaching out his long arm, he seized it, and whirled the leaves. "'lemon pie'--that sounds good. 'how to cook cabbage'--oh, dear me!" "see here now"--jasper seized the book and shut it up with a bang--"no one is going to look into that, until we write these notices. why, we haven't even got a cooking club yet." "give it back," roared pickering after him, as jasper hopped out of his chair, carrying the book. "no, sir," cried jasper, bearing off the book out of the room. "there, you'll never find that," he observed, coming back to slip into his seat with satisfaction. "well, now," said alexia sweetly, "if you two boys are through scrapping, we'll begin on these notices." she picked an envelope off from the pile. "oh, dear me! who is the first one to ask?" "i think larry ought to have it," said polly. "oh, polly pepper!" exclaimed alexia, "larry can't come for ever so long, with his collar bone all smashed and his leg hurt. the very idea!" polly gave a little shiver, "well, he would like to be asked," she said. "and i think so, too," declared jasper; "a chap would enjoy it twice as much to get an invitation when he was abed and couldn't come." "well, that's nice to say," cried alexia, bursting into a loud laugh, in which pickering joined. "you've done it now," he said, clapping jasper on the back. "i'm glad of it, old chap, after the way you acted about that old cook-book." "so i have," said jasper grimly. then he laughed as hard as the others. "well, you know what i mean, and we ought to give larry the first attention." "i'm going to write the notice to him," declared alexia, dipping her pen in the ink-well and beginning with a flourish. but she threw it down before she had finished his first name. "polly, you ought to write the first notice," she cried; "you proposed the club." "that's no matter," said polly, "so long as we are going to have the club. go ahead, alexia." "no, i'm not going to," said alexia obstinately, and leaning back in her chair; "you've just got to do it, polly, so there!" "there'll be no peace, polly, for any of us until you do," said pickering, thrusting his hands lazily into his pockets. "and i think people would do better to go to work and help," said alexia decidedly, "than to set other people against--oh, dear me!" as she found herself hopelessly entangled. "you would do better to get yourself out of that sentence, alexia," laughed jasper, "before you do anything else." "well, i don't care," said alexia, joining in the general laugh; "it's too mean for anything, pickering, to say i fight, when everybody knows i suffer just everything before i say a word." "oh, dear me!" cried pickering faintly. "and when you two stop sparring," said jasper, "perhaps we can do some work. come now, polly and i don't propose to do the whole." alexia, at this, scrabbled up another envelope, and began to write as fast as she could. and pickering selecting a pen and getting down to business, the room began to assume a very work-like aspect. "now that's done," said alexia, tossing aside the envelope. "i've addressed notice number two." "whose is it?" asked pickering, glancing up from his own to the scrawling characters where the envelope lay face uppermost on the table. "who is number two, alexia?" "you mustn't see," cried alexia, twitching it away; "you go on and address your own, pickering, and let mine alone." "well, i've seen already," said pickering coolly. "it would be impossible not to read your writing a mile off, alexia." "well, that's much better than to write such mean, lazy little words that nobody can make them out," she retorted. "oh, clear! we haven't a pattern of the notice made yet," said polly, leaning back in her chair, after the labor of getting the first envelope addressed; and she pushed up the little brown rings of hair from her brow, for polly didn't like very well to write, and it always took her some time to achieve anything in that line. "jasper, you draw up one, do," she begged. "oh, dear me!" cried jasper, aghast, "i can't, polly; you can do it much better." "misery me!" exclaimed polly, "i couldn't do it in all this world," and she looked so distressed that jasper hastened to say: "come along then, pick, and help me out, and i'll try." but picketing protesting that he didn't know any more how to write such a notice than prince lying on the rug before the fire, jasper in despair drew up a sheet of paper, and wrote in big staring letters and with a great flourish, clear across the top of the page: "attention." "goodness me!" cried pickering, his pale eyes following jasper's pen, "it looks like a fire-alarm summons." "or just like miss salisbury when she's going to say something quite ugly and horrid," said alexia, with a grimace. "oh, alexia!" said polly. "well, it does," said alexia; "you know for yourself, polly, she always stands up quite stiff on the platform and says, 'attention, young ladies!' oh, i quite hate the word, because we all have to look at her." "well, it does good service then," said jasper coolly, "since it makes you do the very thing wanted." "and we wouldn't mind looking at her," said alexia, running on with her reminiscences, "if she didn't make us do every single thing she says." "that's too bad," said jasper, with a laugh, and flourishing away on the second line of the notice. "you needn't laugh," said alexia grimly; "i guess you wouldn't if you had our miss salisbury at your school, jasper king." "is she any worse than our mr. fraser?" said jasper. "i wonder. i tell you what, alexia, he keeps us boys at it! doesn't he, pick?" "well, i rather guess," said picketing concisely, but his look told volumes. "oh, you boys have an easy enough time," said alexia, with a sniff, "and you are always grumbling about how hard it is, while i don't say a word, but just bear things." "i'm so sorry for poor miss salisbury," observed pickering, lazily watching jasper's efforts. "well, you needn't be," retorted alexia; "she's very fond of me, miss salisbury is, and i don't in the least know what she'd do if i left her school. but i never shall go away, for i just dote on her." "it looks like it," said pickering, with a laugh. "well, i do," declared alexia; "she's my very sweetest friend, except polly pepper, so there!" "oh, dear me! i don't know what next to say," cried jasper, holding off the notice at arm's length, and scowling at it dreadfully. "you ought to see your face, jasper," cried alexia. "dear me! it's positively awful." "well, it's not half as bad as i feel," said jasper, "with this terrible old notice weighing me down." "'attention'," drawled pickering, reading the two lines. "'you are requested to appear--'" "hold on!" cried jasper, turning over the notice. "who told you to read it out, pray tell?" "i'm on the committee, i'd have you know," said pickering coolly. "well, we'll pitch you out," said jasper, "neck and heels, if you don't take care. well, but really this is awful work." he whirled over the notice again, and glared at it savagely. "why don't we just say, 'a cooking club is to be formed'?" proposed polly, "and----" "oh, that will be elegant," interrupted alexia, clapping her hands. "oh, polly, you write it." "oh, i couldn't," said polly, drawing back. "yes, polly, do," begged jasper. "oh, no, you write it," said polly. "well, then, you tell me what to say," said jasper, laughing. "she did," said alexia impatiently. "a cooking club is to be formed'--didn't you hear her?" "i have that," said jasper, scribbling away on a fresh piece of paper. "now what next?" "go on, polly," said alexia. "well--oh, 'will you please come to the first meeting?'" "'and see how you like it,'" finished alexia; "that's just elegant--do write it down, jasper." "you may be sure i will," cried jasper, vastly pleased that he was to be helped out, and finishing it all up with great energy. "well, what else?" and he poised his pen in air and looked at polly. "why, isn't that enough?" said polly, a little pucker beginning to come on her forehead. "i should think so," said pickering; "it tells all the story." "and they will come, you may be sure," said jasper, holding off the notice again, this time for everybody's inspection, "and that's the main thing." "and now we can all begin to write them," said alexia, in great satisfaction, seizing her pen, which she had dropped. "do put it in the middle of the table, jasper, where we can all see." "wait till i write a good one," said jasper, beginning on a fresh sheet of paper. "i was hurrying so to get it all down; you can hardly read it." so he wrote it out in his best hand, then propped the notice up against the book-rack. "now begin," he said. "let's race," cried alexia, already scrawling the first words at a great rate. "oh, dear me! we shan't do it decently then," said polly, in alarm. "i mean, i shan't, if we race." "nor i, either," said jasper. "well, i'm not going to race, anyway," declared pickering, making slow, lazy strokes with his pen; "it's quite bad enough to have to write these odious things, without breaking one's neck over them." "well, don't let's talk," said alexia, seeing that she couldn't have any part in the conversation since all her mind had to go into her task. "oh, dear me! i left out the dot to my 'i,' and misery! there's a blot! it was all because i was listening to you, pickering dodge." "well, we'll all be as still as mice now," said polly; so no sound was heard save the scratching of pens over the paper, as the work went gayly on. "oh, isn't it too bad that we can't any of us find that ten-dollar bill joel lost at the garden party?" broke out alexia, when this sort of thing had proceeded for some time. "ugh!" cried polly, and her pen slipped, making an awful scratch and just spoiling the best notice she had written. jasper raised his head and cast a warning glance over the table at alexia, but it was too late. "i do believe we shall find it some time," said polly, scraping away with the ink-eraser and only making matters worse. "take care, polly; the ink is too fresh," warned jasper. "wait until it dries." "well, i've smeared it all up now," said polly, leaning back in her chair and viewing her work with despair. "perhaps it can be fixed," said alexia, overwhelmed with distress and leaning forward to see the worst. "i 'most know it can; let me try, polly." "no, no, alexia, i wouldn't," said jasper; "it's quite bad enough already." "well, maybe i can do it," persisted alexia, "if i could only try." "you may try," said polly, pushing the paper toward her, when she saw alexia's face, "but it's no matter anyway, i'll write another." and she had already begun it when alexia threw down the ink-eraser. "it's no sort of use," she said, "and i've made a shocking hole in the paper. oh, dear me!" and she looked so utterly miserable that polly's brow cleared and she began to laugh. "dear me!" she said, "it isn't a bit of matter, and see, i've ever so much done already on this. and i do believe we shall find that ten-dollar note sometime. i do verily believe so, alexia." "so do i," cried jasper heartily. pickering said nothing; he didn't really believe the ten-dollar bill would ever be found, having helped jasper to ransack so many possible and impossible places, but he wasn't going to say so, and thus add to the general gloom. "and i think it was awfully nice of joel to do that dreadful work over mr. king's old books, and earn the money," said alexia. polly looked up with a smile. "wasn't it?" she cried radiantly. "and father says joe does the lists so well," said jasper heartily; "he sticks at it every day like a leech, and there can't anything get him off to play till the hour is over." "well, i don't see how he can," said alexia, drawing a long breath. "dear me, it would just tire me to death. why, polly pepper!" alexia threw clown her pen and stared at her. "when is the first meeting to be?" "why, you know," said polly, writing away, laboriously; "next wednesday evening, of course." "well, we don't say so," said alexia. "how in the world are they to know?" the other members of the committee stopped work immediately and glanced ruefully at the little pile of notices accumulating in the middle of the table. "we can never write those all over," began polly tragically. pickering put out a long hand and picked out from the pile the one he had written. "i shall just write, 'wednesday evening, july 21st,' down in one corner," he said. "oh, goody!" exclaimed alexia, her face brightening; "i shall do mine so"--pulling out her scrawls from the heap of notices. "but we don't tell where the meeting is to be," said jasper after they had all fallen to work again. at this second fright no one seemed to be able to speak. it was alexia who first found her voice. "why not put it in the other corner?" she said. "and that just balances," said jasper, holding one of his notices up when the two additions had been made, "so it really looks better than ever." "but we mustn't make any more blunders," observed pickering wisely, "for we haven't any extra corners to go to now." "oh, we aren't going to make any," declared alexia, "and we will soon be through, thank goodness!"--as the pens set up lively work once more. "i hope so." polly gave a long sigh. "oh, dear me! it wouldn't be one-half so hard to do cooking for the club, as to write a single one of these things." xxv jack parish "grandpapa!" joel came in with a shout, rushed around the room two or three times, and finally came up to the big writing-table, quite blown. "dear me!" exclaimed old mr. king, laying down his pen, "have you really got through, joe?" "grandpapa," said joel, his black eyes shining, and bobbing over his head to get a good look into the old gentleman's face, "she's asked him, she really has!" "who?" asked mr. king, very much puzzled. "mrs. sterling," said joel, in a tone of the greatest satisfaction. then he began to dance again, snapping his brown fingers to keep time. "when you come out of that war dance, joel," said old mr. king, leaning back in his big chair to laugh at him, "perhaps you'll have the goodness to tell me whom you are talking about all this time." joel stopped his mad career and ran up to the old gentleman's side. "why jack parish--i thought you knew, grandpapa," he added reproachfully. "i suppose i might have known if i'd stopped to consider that you've talked your parish boy every day since the little affair on the pond," said mr. king, still laughing. "well, and so mrs. sterling has invited your friend, joel, to some festivity, i suppose, eh?" "yes," said joel, "she has"--his satisfaction returning--"it's a supper at her house, to-morrow night, grandpapa." he leaned over to bring his brown cheek close to the one under the white hair. "just think of that!" "whew!" ejaculated the old gentleman, "and she hasn't had company for ten years!" "well, she's going to have us, every single one in the comfort committee," declared joel decidedly, "and she asked jack, most particularly; she did, grandpapa--she really did. may i go down and tell him now? may i, grandpapa?" he cried eagerly. "why, if your mother says so, i suppose--" began mr. king. "she says i may go, if you think best," cried joel, hanging to the arms of the big chair and having hard work to curb his impatience. "oh, grandpapa, please hurry and say yes." instead of complying with this demand, the old gentleman leaned back in his chair and steadily gazed into space while he revolved something in his mind. at last, when joel thought he couldn't brook the delay another minute, mr. king whirled suddenly around in his chair. "i tell you what it is, joel, you and i will go down to see your friend ourselves." "oh, grandpapa!" joel gave a leap, and seized mr. king's arm with both hands. "right away now?" he cried, with sparkling eyes. "right away now," declared old mr. king, getting out of his chair; "that is, as soon as we can make ourselves presentable for our walk. goodness me, joe, what a whirlwind you are!"--bursting into another laugh. joel didn't care what he was called so long as he was really going to see jack parish and carry him the wonderful invitation, and all the way down to the little grocer's on common street he just bubbled over with happiness, till everybody who passed the two felt a glow at the heart at the merry comrades: and many were the backward glances cast at the old, white-haired gentleman of stately mien, with a chubby-faced boy of the jolliest appearance hanging to his hand. "well, well, well, and so here we are." old mr. king looked up curiously at the little sign above the door--"ichabod parish, grocer"--then down over the shop windows overrunning with canned goods, and, to finish up, an outside stall on which jostled and overcrowded each other every description of vegetable in the market, from a cabbage down. a fat, red-faced man with a big apron that had been white earlier in the day, came out of the shop and stood by the stall. "anything in our line to-day, sir?" he said. he had a little pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other. "well, yes," said old mr. king, with a twinkle in his eye, for by this time he perceived some lines along the fat cheeks that showed very plainly the habit of smiles running up and down in them. "i've come for a boy, if you please." "a boy?" said the fat, red-faced man, laughing, till the round cheeks were all wrinkled up. "well, now, i take it, you're joking, sir." "oh, no, i'm not," said old mr. king very seriously, but the other man had been just as observing in his way, and had seen the twinkle in the keen eyes. so now he laughed some more and waited patiently for the joke to be explained. "i take it you have a boy named jack, hereabout," said mr. king presently. all the wrinkles dropped suddenly out of the fat, red cheeks. "he hain't done nothin' wrong, jack hain't?" gasped the man. "oh, grandpapa, tell him what we've come for," cried joel, twitching mr. king's hand, and quite aghast to see the suffering in jack's father. "do, please, grandpapa." old mr. king was rapidly exclaiming: "no, no; bless you, did you think i'd come at you in such a way? why, this boy here"--thrusting joel forward--"has got an invitation for him. now, then joel, my boy, speak up." and joel did speak up; and in a minute they were all there in the little shop, and the fat grocer was bustling around to work a chair out from behind the counter. but as the big store cat and several parcels were on it, it took a bit of time. meanwhile, old mr. king sat down upon a box of soap, while joel hung over his shoulder. a woman came in with a jug to be filled with molasses, and a small girl for a box of matches. but the little grocer told them to wait, and after he had placed the chair and gotten mr. king off from the soap-box and into it, he bustled to a door at the head of the shop. "ma," he cried, putting his head into the room to which it opened, "do you know where jack is?" "he's upstairs," said a voice, evidently "ma's." "well, tell him to come down," said the fat grocer. "all right, ichabod." "jack's to home," announced the grocer, coming back with the air of imparting a piece of news, just as much as if every word had not been heard. "well, now, mis. jones, i'll fill your jug." he took it from her and she settled herself comfortably, during the slow process, to watch the stately, white-haired figure in the chair to her heart's content; her example being followed by the small girl who had, of course, been obliged to wait for the box of matches. a pair of feet could be heard coming through the room just mentioned. "i don't know what your pa wants you for," said a woman's voice; "most likely for an errand." so jack, free from his sling, for doctor fisher had found him surprisingly quick at recovery, bolted through the doorway, and into the shop, and without a bit of warning brought up against old mr. horatio king and joel. "great scott!" he cried, scared out of his usual shyness. "yes," said joel, sociably bobbing his face into jack's, "i've come to ask you to supper. mrs. sterling told me to, most particularly, you know." "dear me, joe!" exclaimed old mr. king, "do give it to him more slowly"; for jack's head of light hair was wagging from one to the other of the visitors in great distress. "i am," said joel; "awful slow, grandpapa." "it doesn't look much like it," said the old gentleman, bursting into a laugh. the fat grocer over at the molasses barrel, looked across anxiously at the group, and for once in his life wished mrs. jones, although one of his best customers, anywhere but in his shop. [illustration: he stood in the middle of the little shop. ] "well, try again, joel," said mr. king. so joel began once more, and before long, jack parish understood fairly that mrs. sterling had actually invited him to supper on the following night with the comfort committee, just as if he were not the son of ichabod parish, the little grocer on common street, but were one of the rich boys of joel pepper's set. "pa," he shouted (he wanted some one of his own family to help understand this puzzle), "do come here." the fat grocer, hearing this cry, could stand it no longer trying to stamp out his curiosity; so deserting the molasses barrel and forgetting to turn the spigot, he bore off the jug. "there, mis. jones, there you are"--depositing it with a thump on the counter, and waddled over to his son and the visitors. when he comprehended the matter, as after an infinite deal of pains he did, his astonishment knew no bounds. it absolutely struck him speechless, and there he stood in the middle of the little shop, lost to the fact that he was a small grocer on an obscure street. he was the father of jack, hitherto obliged to go with boys of the neighborhood, not of specially nice families, with manners and aims to match, now--oh, joy!--with a chance for something better, that might reach to unknown heights. he might even become an alderman! the little grocer's breast heaved with delight, but even in that blissful moment, his first thought was of his wife. "won't your mother be proud, jack!" he made out to utter. "your molasses is all runnin' out," proclaimed the small girl who was waiting for the box of matches. and jack springing to help his father, who bounded to the molasses barrel, old mr. king and joel took themselves off without any further embarrassment to the little grocer, who surely never could in all this world express his gratitude as he wanted to. "be at my house to-morrow afternoon, and we'll go over together," said joel, with longing glances at the center of bustle around the molasses barrel. "oh, grandpapa, how i do wish i could have staid and helped clean up!" joel burst out, as they left the shop. "oh, my goodness, joel!" exclaimed old mr. king; "such a messy job! how can you!" "it would have been such fun," mourned joel, wishing he could have free access to just such a small grocer's shop, and thinking that jack was the luckiest fellow alive. "when i grow up, i'm going to have a shop like that," he declared, after marching on in silence down the next block and surveying with favor all the surroundings of the narrow street. "i thought you were going to sell tin, like your mr. biggs, of badgertown," said mr. king mischievously. joel hung his head. "i was, but i think a shop would be nicer after all; you can have everything in it, you know, grandpapa." "even molasses," put in mr. king. "well, i wouldn't decide the matter just now, joel, my boy--which you will be when you are grown up. there's plenty of time yet ahead of you." jack parish, with his hair carefully oiled by his anxious mother, and his very best clothes on, a circumstance calculated to invest him with dread and rob him of every bit of comfort to begin with, presented himself at mr. king's mansion on the next afternoon. his countenance was long, and he looked so worried that joel, rushing out to meet him, involuntarily ejaculated, "oh, dear me!" in dismay. after regarding each other uncomfortably for a minute, in which jack began to wish himself, a thousand times, back in the little shop, joel burst out, seizing his arm: "come up into my room--dave's and mine," and over the stairs they went. "is this your room?" gasped jack, forgetting his discomfort and staring all about. "yes, it is," said joel; "dave's and mine. see my tennis racket, jack. isn't it prime!"--darting over to pull it out of a corner. "i should say it was," declared jack, fingering it lovingly as joel thrust it into his hand with a, "do you play?" "a little," said jack. he did not think it necessary to add that he was the champion player of the common street team on the dingy little open space given up to goats and tenement-house children. "that's good!" exclaimed joel, with shining eyes, and clapping him on the back; "we'll have a bout together sometime. and here are my boxing-gloves." he seized them and struck an attitude. "come on, jack," he cried in huge delight. so jack did come on, and when he emerged, why, there were the fencing foils to try; and when this was all over, and both boys sat down, flushed and panting, why, jack's best sunday-go-to-meeting clothes and his oiled hair didn't look so badly, to joel's way of thinking. david now ran in. "it's time to get ready to go to mrs. sterling's supper," he said, with a nod to jack. "so it is," cried joel, beginning to run here and there for his other shoes and clothes. jack turned away with a feeling that it wasn't good manners to be looking on, and glanced out of the window. "come over and look at our butterflies," cried joel, running over to a cabinet against the wall, "they're just beauties." "oh, have you collected butterflies?" cried jack, whirling around, greatly excited. "yes; dave and i have," said joel, "we have lots and lots." it didn't take jack long to be over in front of the cabinet, and pulling out its many drawers. so that he was lost to all the fuss of dressing that joel and david were undergoing, and it wasn't till he had been clapped on the back most vigorously with a, "wake up, old chap," that he realized that the dreaded time had arrived when he must go out to his first company. then a dreadful feeling came over him. "oh, i can't go," he declared, his face turning as red as a beet, and he stood still, perfectly miserable. "why, mrs. sterling expects you," began david! joel had no such gentle ways. "come along, you," he cried, hauling jack away from the cabinet and hurrying him off downstairs. then he began to chatter as hard as he could, saying the first things that came into his head, until the gray stone mansion was reached, and they were fast and safe within the door. joel drew a long breath and began to mount the stairs. "any boys here yet?" he asked, looking up at gibson in the upper hall. "yes," said gibson; "three boys have come." joel didn't wait to ask who they were; he left david to bring jack along and raced in to speak to mrs. sterling and the members of the comfort committee. "i am very glad to see you, joel." mrs. sterling beamed at him from her sofa, feeling quite sure of the success of the first company she had given to the boys, now that joel pepper had come. joel gave her a bright little nod; then, remembering himself, he went over to her sofa and stuck out his little brown hand. "i'm glad i've come," he said, bobbing at the same time in great satisfaction to the boys. "where is your friend, joel?" asked mrs. sterling, in disappointment. "i surely thought you would bring him." joel glanced around in dismay, then pranced out into the hall. a scuffling noise struck upon his ear, and leaning over the banister, he saw david and jack apparently hanging on to each other and whirling around in the hall below. he was down over the stairs in a flash. "he says he must go home," said david, still holding fast to the edge of jack's jacket, and looking up with a very pink face. jack looked thoroughly ashamed, but he still cast wild eyes at the big front door, as joel considering whatever was to be done at all, should be done quickly, launched him upstairs, and before he had a moment to breathe freely, pushed him into the beautiful sitting-room above with a, "here he is." the room swam all around before jack, as he went up to the sofa-edge, and mrs. sterling's soft, white hand took his hot, nervous one. he didn't know in the least what she said, or how she looked, as he couldn't raise his eyes, but he remembered afterward that her voice was sweet and low, and that somehow he wasn't so afraid after that, and then joel dragged him into a knot of boys, for by this time several were pouring into the room. and in five minutes jack felt as if he had known them all for years, and he quite forgot that this was the first time he had ever gone into company. when the bustle of the arrival was over, and every member of the comfort committee was present, mrs. sterling said: "now i think, gibson, the first thing we should do is to have supper." so gibson went over and touched the electric button on the wall, and in came the butler and two maids bearing trays full--well, just crowded with all the good things a boy could desire to eat. and these having been placed on the big, mahogany table in the center of the room, usually filled with books and magazines, but which had been cleared for the purpose, each boy was invited to come up and be helped to whatever he wanted, an invitation that wasn't long left unaccepted. joel, in his fear that jack would somehow be left out in the cold, bent all his energies toward getting him something to eat. the consequence was, that he forgot all about waiting on mrs. sterling, and, glancing around after he had poked a plate of cold chicken and jelly into jack's hand, he saw two or three of the boys--frick and even little porter knapp--vying with each other to be the first to serve their hostess. "ugh!" cried joel, seizing the first thing on the table that caught his eye. it proved to be the salt-cellar, and he rushed up and presented it with a flourish. "ho, ho!" exploded frick, as the little knot of boys parted in the middle, "why we've only got her a napkin and a plate." joel glanced down ruefully at the salt-cellar in his hand, and was going to beat a retreat with it, quite crestfallen. "thank you, joel; i shall want it pretty soon," said mrs. sterling, smiling into his red face. "there, we'll put it on the table"--for mrs. gibson had been busy drawing up a light stand to the side of the sofa--"and will you bring me some cold chicken?" "me?" cried joel, perfectly radiant, but scarcely believing that he could be meant, after his awkwardness. "yes, you," said mrs. sterling, laughing; "so hurry, and get it, joel." no need to tell him that. joel sprang at the table again, bore off a plate of the desired delicacy, and a spoonful of currant jelly by its side, and flew back again. "is that right?" he asked anxiously, with a dreadful feeling that he ought to have asked her if she wanted brown or white meat. "how did you know i am very fond of white meat, joel?" asked mrs. sterling. "and above all things i like the wing." "do you?" cried joel, in a transport. "now what else?" "nothing now, and the next time, why, i must let frick and some of the other boys help me," said mrs. sterling, "so run back and get something to eat yourself, joel." so joel, with a mind to edge up to see how jack was getting on, found to his amazement that he was laughing and talking with the last boy with whom he would have supposed it to be possible--curtis park! "dear me!" exclaimed joel to himself, tumbling back instinctively when he saw that he wasn't wanted, and he fell up against david. "i couldn't help it," said davie, who had been quite miserable since his ill success in getting jack over the stairs after joel. he was aimlessly crumbling up a biscuit on his plate, and eating nothing. "well, 'tisn't any matter," said joel, "and he's here now, and having a good time; just hear him laugh," he added enviously. "is that jack laughing?" asked david incredulously, poking his head around the intervening boys to see for himself. "yes, it is," said joel, bobbing his head decidedly. "oh, well, then, it's all right," said david happily. so he ran off to fill his plate and go over in the corner to eat its contents with a group of boys of whom he was especially fond. joel, left alone, was feeling very dismal, when suddenly he looked over, and caught jack's eye. curtis park was saying something very jolly--joel knew it was, for he caught scraps of it, and so did some of the other boys who pushed up to hear the rest. but jack parish evidently didn't listen, for his eye had been anxiously roving around the room, and just at that moment, they rested on joel, and they lighted up so unmistakably that joel sprang forward, a light in his own. "did you want me, jack?" "yes," said jack, "i did." the words were not much, but they seemed to satisfy joel. xxvi mr. hamilton dyce a true friend and after every boy protested that he couldn't eat another bit, the butler and the two maids packed up the trays and carried them down again. "now, comfort committee," said mrs. sterling, "all draw up here." so the circle of chairs and crickets was made around the sofa, and the real business of the evening began. it was in the very commencement of things joel noticed that every one of the members seemed to take a fancy to jack. curtis park leaned over from his chair. "i say, frick, change places with me." frick was next to the visitor, joel, of course, being on his other side. "no, you don't," said frick, not over politely. "oh, that's mean," began curtis, then he remembered where he was, and sat back in his chair, biting his pencil. frick straightened himself up with enjoyment "you can take my pencil," he said to jack magnanimously; "we all brought 'em, you know, she wanted us to." joel caught the last of this. "oh, dear me!" he exclaimed, in remorse, "i forgot mine; and, jack, i was going to bring one for you." "he can take mine," said frick, shoving a very stubby specimen into jack's hand. "mine's better," said curtis, reaching over a brand-new one, just sharpened to a fine point; "take mine, jack, you much better." jack, not knowing how to refuse, took it. and the other boys, seeing curtis park come down from his high-flown notions enough to notice so conspicuously the new boy, all began to find ever so many things in him that were worthy of, their attention. so, instead of joel having to push him along, jack became quite popular. the result was that joel was left out in the cold. "now," said mrs. sterling brightly, after a little of this chat had been going on, and gibson had shaken up her pillows, and raised her mistress into a more comfortable position, "you all know, of course, that doctor fisher reports lawrence ready for a little amusement, if we send it to him, for no one is allowed yet to see him." "but we will be soon. doctor fisher told my father so yesterday," piped out porter knapp, sliding to the edge of his chair. "i don't doubt it," said mrs. sterling, smiling at him, "but until that good time does come, why we who belong to the comfort committee ought to set to work on something that will cheer him up. and as i believe work of that kind always gets along better when ever so many club together at it, why, i thought i'd ask you all to meet here, and we'd see what could be done this evening. now what shall we do first?" she looked all around the circle, but no one spoke. "oh, dear me!" she said, and her face fell. "i'd rather write out conundrums than anything else," said curtis park, seeing some answer was expected. "good!" mrs. sterling beamed on him. "does any other boy have something to propose?" "puzzles," said frick decidedly. "i'd a great deal rather have puzzles; conundrums are just horrid." "two things to choose from," and mrs. sterling laughed. her spirits were rising now, and all the doubts she was beginning to feel overwhelming her as to the wisdom of inviting these boys in for the evening, fled at once. "i think puzzles are just as horrid as conundrums," said joel pepper, beginning already to feel the prickles run up and down his legs, from sitting still so long, and wishing for nothing so much as a good scamper; "they're both as horrid as they can be." "oh, joel!" exclaimed mrs. sterling, quite crestfallen. "well, propose something yourself, then, joe," said his next neighbor, with a nudge. "oh, i can't," said joel, quite horrified; "i don't know anything that we can write down." jack leaned over and whispered in his ear. "the very thing!" cried joel, slapping his knee. and, "tell it yourself, jack," in the next breath. "oh, no, no," protested jack, shrinking as far back in his chair as he could, and getting very red in the face. "i very much wish you would, jack," said mrs. sterling. and she looked at him in such a way, that jack although he had wild thoughts of taking a flying leap out of his chair, and off to the small grocery shop, nevertheless stuck to it manfully and at last found his tongue. "we might cut out pictures that spell the names of books," he said. "capital!" said mrs. sterling. "well, those are puzzles," said frick. "well, not like the ones you meant," said joel, leaning back of jack to bestow a punch. "do be still," he added furiously. "but mine would be puzzles, anyway," declared frick, unwilling to give up the point. "well, we'd much rather have these, anyway," said curtis park, projecting himself into as much of the circle as possible. "who cares for your old puzzles, frick?" "boys--boys," said mrs. sterling gently. "beg pardon," said curtis. "but we really do want these that jack has just proposed, mrs. sterling. at least i do, and i'd give up conundrums to have them; so please let us have these." "how is it, frick?" asked mrs. sterling. "do you give up your puzzles in favor of our making jack's pictures?" frick wriggled in his chair; he wanted his puzzles dreadfully, and he couldn't see, since he had proposed them first, why he shouldn't carry the day, but every boy was looking at him sharply, so he mumbled, "yes." it was jack who settled it happily after all. "let's have one of his"--bobbing his head at frick--"and a conundrum," and he looked over and smiled at curtis, "then one of mine after that. won't that do, ma'am?" "well, now, jack, you've fixed it cleverly," said mrs. sterling, much relieved. "get your pencils all ready while gibson goes into my bedroom and brings out the pile of magazines, and we'll have such a lovely evening of work. you know you must each select pictures, and each write a puzzle, and each give a conundrum; then they must be read aloud and we will choose the very best ones to send. now then "--as gibson deposited her armful of magazines on the little stand, and laid several pairs of scissors on the top of the pile--"let us all set about it." then what a whirling of leaves and snipping of paper, because they all decided they would begin on jack's first. "can't we have some mucilage?" asked joel. "yes, indeed," said mrs. sterling. "gibson, will you get----" boom, boom, clang, clang, clang! it was the fire-bell, loud and clear and strong. down went all the scissors, and a whole litter of papers to the floor, and the magazines sprawled every way, as each boy sprang out of his chair. "gibson," said mrs. sterling faintly. "now, you boys," cried gibson, hurrying in, her cap strings flying in her perturbation, "don't you know no better than to jump up like that?" "gibson--gibson," said mrs. sterling reprovingly, but she laid her hand on her heart. "it's a fire!" cried joel, with very red cheeks, whirling around from the window where the mass of boys was pressed. "well, is that any reason why you should act so and scare the mistress to death?" said gibson sharply. "we didn't scare her," said joel bluntly; "it was the fire." "well, we must go," declared little porter knapp, struggling out from the knot of boys, who, all bigger and stronger, were pinning him against the window most uncomfortably. "oh, he mustn't," mrs. sterling said, in alarm. "his father wouldn't like it at all; he was to stay here until he was sent for." "it's a fire!" exclaimed porter, kicking dreadfully, and his face getting red, "and i _shall_ go!" the other boys, just on the edge of saying the same thing, now stood quite still. every nerve was quivering to be off to the fire, which, from all appearances, must be a splendid one. the bells were clanging fast and furiously, hoarse cries were heard, as if raised from hundreds of throats, and now, to add to the general melee, an engine dashed around the corner. they could hear the mad plunge of the horses, the shouts of the people; and then off in the distance, yet approaching nearer each instant, was another and evidently a more powerful one, the horses at a mad gallop. it was too much for any boy to stand. "you see we _must_ go." curtis park went over to the sofa, and said this hoarsely. "he's a baby"--pointing to porter--"and he's got to stay here, but we big boys must go." mrs. sterling looked up, and her face grew white. "but your fathers wouldn't wish you to go, i am quite sure," she said. curtis turned away his face, but his teeth were set. "i'm going," he said briefly. jack parish's head spun, and he clenched his hands. why had he come to this sick woman's house! if he were only out in the free, open air, he'd go in a flash. his father let him run to fires, and it wouldn't be many minutes before he'd be in the thick of it. he'd make a break and run! but how white she looked as she laid her head on the pillow. like it or not, there he was in her house, an invited guest; and she'd been so kind to him and sent him the first invitation he'd ever had. he opened his hard fists and closed them tighter than ever. curtis park was now at the head of the stairs. having decided, he was bolting off. little porter knapp was engaged in kicking gibson, who was detaining him by the end of his jacket, and screaming wrathfully and slapping her hands. the other boys, most of them making up their minds to follow curtis, were watching proceedings. jack strode off to curtis. "see here," he said, "we ought not to go, don't you know?" curtis turned on him in a towering passion. "you let me alone, you grocer's boy, you! what business is it of yours?" "i may be a grocer's boy," said jack, feeling himself wonder fully cool, as the other's anger raged, "but i know something of good manners, p'raps, and we're scaring that lady to death." curtis park was dreadfully proud of his manners, and he would have stopped there, but as it again occurred to him that this was the son of a grocer who was setting up to be an authority, he cried angrily: "you're a great one to teach me manners," and he dashed down the stairs and was out of the house. "i wish i'd stopped him," said jack to himself. "hello, here's the whole mob"--as all the boys except joel and david, and of course porter, now plunged out to do the same thing. "no, you don't." he squared up in front of the staircase. "not one of you goes down there." they brought up with a gasp. at that instant a cheery voice in the hall below rang out: "hello, boys; i knew you were to be here tonight. don't you want to come with me to the fire?" it was hamilton dyce to whom the voice belonged. and in five minutes hamilton dyce set forth, with mrs. sterling's complete approval; a string of boys in his wake, including little porter, who was parted from gibson only on her hearing her mistress say, "yes, indeed, he can go; but do look out for him." mr. dyce nodded over to her couch. "come on, you little rascal"--to porter--"you stick close to me or--" he didn't finish the sentence. gibson, pale, and shaking in every limb, but seeing no reason to regret that she had hung on to little porter's jacket, sank into a chair, and simply looked at her mistress. "nevertheless," said mrs. sterling, with a long breath, and beginning to smile, "i am very glad those boys were here to supper." if her mistress could smile, it wasn't so very black and dreadful after all, and gibson came enough out of her gloom to mutter, "but look at this room," and she waved her hands in despair. "oh, that's nothing," said mrs. sterling cheerfully, and then she laughed outright as she glanced around at the effects of the tumult. "gibson, come here a minute." the old serving-woman crept out of her chair, and went over to the sofa. "do you know"--mrs. sterling took her arm and pulled her gently down to a level with the face on the pillow, and her soft eyes twinkled--"it really seems good to see such a muss for once in my life: you do keep me so immaculately fine, gibson." "oh, mistress!" breathed gibson, aghast. "and to think i have had boys, actually young life here in this room." mrs. sterling raised herself suddenly to rest on one elbow. "mistress--mistress," implored the alarmed gibson, with restraining hands, "you'll hurt yourself." "no, i shan't," protested mrs. sterling, her eyes beaming, and going on resolutely, "and just to think of boys being here!"--she looked around the room with a sudden affection--"and liking it--for they did, gibson, they surely did, until the fire started. oh, it is perfectly beautiful!" "well, do lie back, mistress," begged gibson, thumping up the pillows invitingly, "else those dreadful creatures will finish you entirely." "don't say so," cried mrs. sterling laughingly, "and i will be good," and she settled back comfortably into her accustomed place. "yes, gibson, i have my young folks now, the same as other people," she added proudly. "you needn't try to fix up the room yet; you may finish the story you were reading to me last night." she had to turn her face on the pillow, for the smile would come, at the picture of gibson, the immaculate, sitting down calmly in the midst of the awful effects of the tumult that had so vexed her soul. she had her young people, there was no manner of doubt after that. and though the exit from their evening's excitement was not again made to the clang of the fire-bell, all the subsequent visits held fun and jollity, and quiet enjoyment, and everything else that was delightful, mixed up together. and the comfort committee had so much pleasure out of the whole thing, that one evening little porter looked up from his laborious pasting, whereby a joke from a funny paper was going down for the sick boy's amusement. "i wish some one else would get hurt," he said abruptly, without stopping to think. "oh, you beggar!" it was curtis park who turned on him, though every boy had glanced up in surprise. "we can't have such fun," said porter, waving his sticky hands in both directions, "unless they do," and he twisted uncomfortably in his chair, as he realized the effect of his words. "well, we must think of somebody else to help with our comfort committee," said mrs. sterling from her sofa. "don't worry, porter, we won't let ourselves die out for want of work. boys--" she looked at them suddenly, and raised herself on her elbow, gibson over in her watchful corner trotting across in great apprehension. "mistress--mistress," she began. "there are ever so many young people who are hurt and sick and distressed and are taken right out of life." she was gazing at them now with eyes that were large and dark and shining. "but we don't know them," burst out joel pepper, for she seemed to expect somebody to answer. "no, but they need you." "mistress--mistress," begged gibson, hanging over her. "and if you do the work after lawrence doesn't need it, and he is here with us, well and happy once more, i will see that some sick or unhappy boy gets it." joel pepper hopped out of his chair, upsetting the mucilage bottle, seeing which, gibson left her mistress to reach the table in time to save a disaster. "will you--will you?" he cried, running over to the sofa. "will you give our things, if we make them, to some poor sick boys who are hurt, mrs. sterling?" "i surely will, joel," promised mrs. sterling, taking his two brown hands in her thin one. "then i'm going to make things," declared joel, who never in his life before had been willing to sit still and cut out and snip and paste and write, and he plunged back to his seat. "oh!" he cried, in dismay, and his face grew terribly red, "did i upset that?"--pointing to the mucilage bottle. "you surely did," said gibson tartly, and taking up the last of the sticky mess with a wet towel, "and i suppose you'll do it again, or some of the rest of you boys will. it don't make much difference which," and she moved off slowly. "gibson--gibson," said mrs. sterling gently. "oh, gibson!" joel flew after her and twitched her apron string. "what is it?" she turned on him with asperity. "i never will upset the mucilage bottle again, i won't, gibson, really." "see that you don't," replied gibson, moving off with small faith in such promises. and another promise had that very evening been made, just before the boys had gathered in mrs. sterling's handsome sitting-room. curtis park had been through several spasms of distress over his attack on jack, when, whirling around from the friendly attitude he had chosen to assume, he had made a tirade on the grocer's son. look at it whichever way he might, it didn't seem pleasant to view. and all the delight in the fire and the companionship of mr. dyce, of whom all the boys were exceedingly fond, was suddenly blotted out. he went home that night, and crept into bed, a most disconsolate boy. "i was a beastly cad," he fumed, kicking the covering down to the foot, and rolling out with the vain attempt to find some diversion. but that being impossible, he tumbled in again, with his unhappy thoughts. and all through the following days, go whichever way he might, there was the fact to stare him in the face, that he, curtis park, who had hitherto prided himself upon his fine manners, had dropped from his height, to blackguard a boy, who, despite the fact of having been born the son of a little grocer on common street, had yet shown himself capable of the height. "it's no use to deny it. i've been a bully and a cad," he groaned, and wiped the perspiration from his face. "what can i do!" there was only one way, and he knew it, just as well at first as after all the fencing with himself that ensued the next few days. and at last on this very evening, he stopped fighting the idea, and marched up to what it suggested, like a man. "see here, will you, though i shouldn't think you'd want to speak to me." it was a boy who said this to jack standing on the step of the grocer's front door, next to the shop. "hey?" said jack, in a great bewilderment. was that really curtis park, whose rap on the door had announced him? "oh, it's no use to deny, jack," said curtis, speaking rapidly and desperately, "that i've been a cad--a mean, low cad--to talk to you in that way. it's done, and can't be helped now, only i want you to know what i think of it." jack swallowed hard. he was going to put out his hand, but luckily thought in time, this is curtis park. "i don't wonder you won't shake hands with me," said curtis, who saw the movement. "i'm no end sorry; and perhaps sometime, jack, why, you will." jack's brown hand shot out so swiftly it nearly knocked the other boy from the doorstep. "it's all right," he said heartily. "and you will never have another chance to call me a cad, i promise you," declared curtis, wringing it. "come on now, jack"--hooking him by the arm--"it's time to go to mrs. sterling's; this is the evening, you know." and the boys who had begun to think they had made a mistake in supposing that curtis park had taken a fancy to jack parish, were pushed back into their first conviction by seeing them come into the meeting of the comfort committee arm in arm. xxvii a piece of good news polly pepper ran down the steps of miss taylor's house, and set off at a lively pace on the pavement. presently she came to an abrupt stop. "oh, how could i forget, mamsie wouldn't like me to run in the street," she thought remorsefully. and this took away some of the glad little thrills running over her. when she got to mrs. cummings' very select boarding-house on the avenue, there was miss rhys at the window of her room, looking up from her embroidery. when she saw polly pepper, she smiled. "oh, it's you, polly; i'm glad to see you." "is alexia there?" called polly, looking up, and feeling her lovely bit of news dancing within her again, so that she could hardly control her impatience. "do tell her to come out, please, miss rhys." "she isn't here. she went down-town." miss rhys laid her precious work in her lap, and put her face close to the window screen. "her candy wasn't a success, and she's gone down for more confectioner's sugar." "oh, dear me!" exclaimed polly, quite gone in distress over the failure of the candy, and feeling very helpless in the fact that there was no one to tell her news to, for of course alexia must be the first one to hear it. "which way did she go, miss rhys?"--lifting a troubled face to the window above. "i don't know," said miss rhys absently, her mind on her embroidery, and very much wishing she could return to it. "she was going to your house, i know, for one thing, on her way down." "oh, she couldn't have gone there," cried polly, "for i should have met her on the way." "so you would," assented alexia's aunt, wondering whether the bunch of grapes should be filled in solid, or worked with the mixed stitch that she had seen in a shop. "well, then, i think on her way back she was going to see you, polly." "then, i am going to run down and meet her," declared polly, with a long breath. "was it pennsey's where she was going for the sugar, miss rhys?"--pausing a moment. "yes," said miss rhys, turning back with a sigh of relief to her embroidery again, while polly hurried off, wishing that she was a boy, when it would be quite proper for her to run through the streets. "oh, if it were only badgertown!" she sighed to herself, thinking of the many happy runs she had enjoyed down the lane to grandma bascom's cottage, or over across the fields to the parsonage. "dear me!"--when a voice, "polly pepper, pol--ly pepper!" called after her. she looked back, and there, with the window screen up, and her face thrust well forward, was alexia's aunt, loudly summoning her. when she saw that polly heard, and had turned back, she beckoned smartly with her long fingers, on which shone, as alexia had once said, "all the rings the rhys family had ever owned," drew in her head, and waited till polly came up under the window again. "oh, polly, it's just this--how fortunate you hadn't gotten far. i want you to tell alexia to get me some more green floss at miss angell's." "yes, miss rhys," said polly, with a dismayed remembrance just how far it was to the little shop where the very latest patterns and materials for fancy work could be obtained, and the first supper of the cooking club to be given to-night! "and stay, miss angell may send me up some more patterns to choose from; that is, if she has had any new ones since i was there last week, and i presume that she has." polly could only utter, "yes, miss rhys," so very faintly it could scarcely be heard. dear me! and it was three o'clock already, and all that candy to be made over again! she crept off on very dismal feet, till she reflected it wouldn't help matters any to lose heart, and so she set forward at a brisk pace again. miss rhys pushed down the window screen and set to work with a complacent smile at the prospect of having her errand performed so nicely. "that's the good of having young people around," she said; "it's so convenient at times to get one's errands done." polly went the whole length of north street to the great establishment of pennsey's, where the avenue people traded. but search as she might, up one aisle and down another, there was no trace of alexia; and inquiring of a clerk at the sugar department, if she had been there, he whipped his pencil out from behind his ear, and picked up his order pad before he stopped to think. "she's just gone," he said. "yes, madam"--all attention to the next customer. polly hurried on rapid feet. it was half-past three by the big central clock as she went down the main aisle--well, she must hurry home, for alexia was probably on her way there, as miss rhys had said, when, "dear me, polly pepper, wait!" struck her ear. she turned, and there before an opposite counter was alexia, picking up her package of sugar and preparing to race after her. "i'm getting some more nuts," she said; "my candy was perfectly horrid, and everything was spoiled." "yes, i know," said polly, coming up close to comfort as much as possible, for alexia had a very long face on, and looked as if it would take a good deal to cheer her up. "how can i tell her about that dreadful green floss and those patterns?" said polly over and over to herself. "i must wait till we get out on the street." but when the two girls were outside the shop, polly carrying the bundle of nuts tucked under her arm, it was just as bad, and she put it off until the corner was reached down which they must turn to go to miss angell's. and worst of all, they were hurrying on so fast the lovely bit of news must be postponed. "how glad i am, aunt didn't take it into her head to send me spinning off down there!" observed alexia, glancing down the long thoroughfare with anything but a pleasant expression on her long face. "i just hate that miss angell's shop. goodness me! we never could do it, with all this candy to make, and get our club supper to-night." polly stopped short, and seized alexia's arm. "oh, don't feel badly!" she gasped, and then, thinking, "it's better to have the whole out at once," she finished in one breath, "your aunt wants some green floss, alexia." "well, she shan't have it," declared alexia, stopping short, too, and glaring at polly over her bundle of sugar. "no, indeed!" and her pale eyes grew very angry. "the very idea! she's always wanting green floss, every single minute. come on, polly pepper." she set her face straight ahead and marched on. but not hearing polly following, she looked over her shoulder, and then ran back. "why don't you come on? i shan't get that old green floss"--all in one breath. "we can get there in a few minutes perhaps," said polly, "alexia, do let us hurry," and, turning down the corner, without so much as a glance backward, she went swiftly on, without trusting herself to look down the long street. "i shan't get that old green floss," declared alexia wrathfully, standing quite still on the corner, yet, as polly kept steadily on, showing no intention of stopping, she pattered after. but she kept saying, every step of the way, "i shan't get that old green floss, polly, _wait!_" but it was not until the door of miss angell's shop was reached that the two girls came together. "it's a hateful mean shame," exploded alexia, huddling up her bundle of sugar passionately. "there, i've punched a hole with my thumb; see what you've made me do." polly turned around in dismay, to see a little trail of fine sugar drifting from the package down over alexia's gown. "oh, dear me!" she exclaimed, in dismay. "i'll help you; stand still, alexia, do; it's all running out." "well, you made me," cried alexia, whirling around and wildly patting the bag in just the wrong places, so that the stream of sugar became now quite big. "do stand still, alexia," implored polly; "here, i'll pinch it up," she set down her bundle of nuts on the top step, which a lady, not seeing, came out of the shop, and promptly fell over. "oh, dear me!" exclaimed polly, in terror, and running down the steps. "did you hurt you? oh, i'm so sorry!"--clasping her hands and looking the picture of distress. then she saw it was mrs. patterson, a friend of auntie whitney's. "no," said the lady tartly, getting up to her feet to draw a long breath and gaze up and down the street. "why, polly pepper!"--bringing her gaze upon the flushed face. "are you sure you are not hurt, mrs. patterson?" polly looked at her anxiously. oh, dear me! how could she be so careless! "not a bit of it," declared that lady, "but, oh, polly, do you suppose any one saw me?" and she gazed ruefully up and down the street again. "i don't believe any one did," said polly, peering this way and that. "polly, do come; this sugar is all running away," cried alexia loudly. "and do let me brush your gown," implored polly, feeling as if everything were going wrong this afternoon. "never mind, i'm going directly home, here is the carriage," said mrs. patterson, as her handsome equipage drew up. "don't you worry a bit, polly pepper; i'm not in the least hurt," and off she drove. "polly, will you come?" called alexia, dancing about impatiently on the top step, and clutching the bag of sugar with nervous ringers that didn't help matters any. "oh, dear me, do look!"--pointing tragically to the little pile of sweetness at her feet. "oh, i do hope she wasn't hurt," cried polly, stumbling up over the steps, how, she didn't know. "oh, that tiresome mrs. patterson! well, it will do her good to tumble down once in a while," said alexia unsympathetically, "she's so stiff and mighty; and i should think you might pay some attention to me," she cried, in a loud, injured tone; "i'm all in a mess with this sugar, and i haven't got any candy, and you made me come clear down to this old shop, and----" "well, do come in," cried polly, interrupting her stream of complaint, and, picking up the bag of nuts before any one else could tumble over it, she hurried alexia into the little shop. "and i'm glad enough to get where i can lay this old thing down," declared alexia, dumping the bag of sugar upon the first resting-place she saw, an aesthetic little lounge, covered with elaborately embroidered pieces. "oh, me! my arms are almost broken," and she stretched them restfully, "and beside, the sugar is 'most all run out." "oh, alexia!" cried polly, quite aghast, as she saw where alexia had deposited the sugar, just as the proprietor of the shop hurried up with dismay written all over her countenance. "oh, my beautiful centerpieces!" she exclaimed, raising both hands in dismay, "i am sure they are quite, quite ruined." "it's nothing but sugar," grumbled alexia, as she huddled up her bundle again. "and i'll brush it all off," said polly anxiously, bestowing little pats over the various specimens of fancy work. "see, miss angell, i don't believe it's hurt," she said, lifting her flushed face. "well, i don't wish them," declared two ladies together, coming back from the small table where they had gone to examine more work. "they are quite mussed and tumbled now," added one, "and not at all what we want. come, sister," and she walked to the door, viewing with disfavor alexia and her bundle, and polly pepper as well. miss angell's face dropped to such a length that polly couldn't bear to look at it. "oh, please don't go," cried polly, flying after the irate customer; "i don't really believe the pretty things are hurt. do just come back and see, please." the other lady was standing irresolutely by the lounge, but she wouldn't even look at the centerpieces that miss angell was smoothing out with a despairing hand, preparing to put them into their boxes again. "it was clean sugar," polly ran on, feeling quite sure if she stopped talking, that all hope was lost. "but they are mussed," began the lady by the door, very decidedly. alexia was huddling up her bundle quite gone in despair, and lost to all the distress of having no candy to take to the cooking club supper. if those two ladies would only buy the centerpieces they had selected, it was all she hoped for in this world. "no, indeed! come, sister!" and she opened the door. "why, mrs. alexander!" mrs. alexander, a portly person, with a great deal of black jet and lace, that seemed to be always catching in the apparel of those who passed her, worked her way into the small shop, and up past the knot of people, giving friendly nods of recognition on her way. "how d'ye do, miss ellicott, miss juliana. how are you, polly? and, alexia, how is your aunt?" and without waiting for a reply, she sprang, if such a ponderous body could be said to spring, at the box of centerpieces miss angell was packing away. "oh, oh! how beautiful! stop"--laying her large hand on one. "just what i want. how much is it?" "fifteen dollars," said miss angell, whipping it neatly out of the box, her dismal frown becoming an expansive smile. "yes, it is a beauty--one of the very latest things," and she spread it forth on the lounge with an experienced little nourish. miss ellicott deserted the door and hurried over to the lounge. "i'll--i'll"--as she tried to work herself in between. but the portly mrs. alexander had no idea of being interrupted at such an important crisis in life when centerpieces were to be decided upon, so she loudly kept on in her bargaining. "i'll take it," she said, in her most decided fashion. "and the next one, too, i fancy; let me see that." "but that is," gasped miss juliana, threading her way into the group, "the very one that i liked." "eh?" said mrs. alexander, looking up with the acute eyes of a bargain-hunter. "oh, i don't wonder you like it; it's a beauty. yes, i'll take it also. how much did you say it was, miss angell?" miss angell, who hadn't said, saw no reason why she shouldn't now make it any price that appealed to her better judgment. "twenty dollars," she answered, clapping on a cool third of its price, and mrs. alexander, who cared very little what she paid for it, beamed at her, and said: "put them in a box and send it out to my carriage; they are the handsomest things i've seen for a long time, and so wonderfully cheap! you are quite right; they are beauties." "if you'd done as i wanted you to," cried miss juliana, the tears of vexation gathering in her eyes, as she saw the now incomparable bits of fancy work borne off before their very faces, "you wouldn't have stopped for such a trifle as a few crumbs of sugar, sister." miss ellicott's face was very red, but she knew better than to show the chagrin she felt, to add to the delight of the purchaser over her bargain, so she contented herself with saying, as she stalked to the door: "you said you didn't want them, juliana, the same as i did." "but i wasn't so set about it," said miss juliana, with a regretful glance at the box, now gayly tied up by the jubilant miss angell and delivered into the hands of the little errand-girl to be given to the alexander footman, "and i'm sure if you hadn't insisted, i should have seen that they weren't hurt." "well, do come on now, juliana," said her sister sharply, in all the anguish of having the whole blame deposited upon her person. "since the things are gone, what is the use of talking about the matter?"--as they disappeared out of the shop. polly and alexia, therefore, had to wait for all this confusion and excitement to clear away, before the green floss could be bought and the message from miss rhys as to the patterns could be given. meanwhile, polly was tying up the package of sugar, and patting the shrunken paper bag into shape over the hole. "you tell your aunt," said miss angell, her cheeks quite flushed with elation over her good bargain, "that i haven't any more patterns come in since she was here. yes, mrs. alexander"--to that lady, with her head over a drawer, deep in a hunt for more bargains-"there are some exquisite designs among those. there's the floss"--bunching it up hurriedly into a wad, and speaking all in one breath. "would you mind, miss alexia, doing this up yourself?"--pointing to the white tissue paper on the table. alexia, who didn't mind anything so long as she could get out of the shop, twisted up the floss into a wad of the paper. "do hurry, polly," she cried, and scampered out to the street, polly following with her bag of nuts. "oh, dear! i've forgotten that tiresome old bundle of sugar after all," she cried, prancing back. "i'll carry it, and you take the nuts," said polly, cramming her bundle into the long arms and getting anxious fingers on the bag of sugar, as alexia came running up with it. "i'm sure i wish you would." said alexia, seizing the nuts delightedly. "i just hate that old--polly pepper, it's four o'clock!"--as the church bell on st. stephen's tower pealed out. so polly didn't have a chance, after all, to tell her glad piece of news, until they were at the club supper, which was to be given at larry keep's to celebrate his getting well. "oh, alexia," she was guilty of whispering, "it's the most splendid thing." "isn't it!" cried alexia, in the greatest satisfaction. "to think i got it done after all our fright! and it's the best candy i ever made"--glancing over the room, where the dish was being passed about eagerly. "yes, i know," said polly carelessly, "but this is much better than candy, alexia, that i mean." "much better than candy!" echoed alexia, laying clown the slice of sponge cake that clem had made, on her plate, and peering around into polly's face. "what do you mean, polly pepper? there can't anything possibly be better than candy." "yes, there can," contradicted polly, twisting in delight on her chair, "and you'll say so when you hear it. it's the most beautiful thing that could possibly have happened, alexia rhys. it's"--and just then the door opened and in walked miss mary taylor and mr. hamilton dyce, and the first glance that alexia took of their faces, she guessed the whole thing. "polly!" she gasped, seizing polly's arm, "you don't mean that our miss mary is going to marry mr. dyce?" "yes, i do," said polly happily, "mean just that very thing, alexia." "i don't believe it," declared alexia, while all the time she knew it was true by their radiant faces. "well, it is true, as true can be," said polly, "for she told me so this very afternoon at her house." "and you've known it all this time," cried alexia, for the first time in her life in a passion at polly, "and never told me at all!" "oh, alexia, how could i?" cried polly, in an aggrieved little voice; "for we were in such a perfectly dreadful scrape over getting ready for the supper! how could i, alexia?" she turned such a miserable face that alexia made haste to say: "you couldn't, you sweet thing, you!" and gave her a reassuring hug. "well, just look at mr. dyce, and hear him laugh!" and mr. hamilton dyce being unable to keep his delight within bounds, and seeming to think it incumbent upon himself to take the young people into his confidence, just coolly announced it. and then there was no more paying attention to the cakes, and the little biscuits, the custards, and the whipped cream; and even alexia's nut candy went begging. and miss mary had to sit in the center of each group of boys and girls, a few minutes at a time, for the supper was passed around on trays, till mr. dyce said he wished he hadn't told the news until the feast was ended. and after that, when they all finished up the evening festivities with a dance, why, every one there, tried to get her for first partner. but it was alexia who swept them all one side. "she's my sunday-school teacher," she declared, "and i shall have her first." "well, so she is our sunday-school teacher," cried half a dozen of the girls at once, as they crowded up. "well, she's my very dearest friend--that is, except polly pepper," said alexia positively. "come, miss mary"--hanging obstinately to her hand, on which shone a new ring with a big, bright gem in it. "well, you said miss salisbury was," pickering dodge, on the fringe of the circle of girls, couldn't help saying. "oh, well, i mean miss mary is my very dearest friend after that," said alexia coolly, tossing him a saucy glance, as she bore off her beloved sunday-school teacher down the whole length of mrs. keep's drawing-room floor. xxviii the little stone cupboard phronsie ran down the hall. "oh, mamsie!" she cried, hurrying into mrs. fisher's room, "grandpapa says she is coming--she really is!" she clasped her hands and stood quite still in front of her mother. "who, dear?" asked mrs. fisher absently. she was standing over by the window, with one of phronsie's pinafores in her hand and wondering if any more were needed to carry her through the summer. "she really is, mamsie," said phronsie, very much disappointed that her mother didn't seem to notice. then her mouth drooped, and she gave a long sigh. mrs. fisher tore her mind off from the pinafores and looked down quickly. "well, i declare, child;" and she took her in her arms. "now, then!" she put the pinafore in a chair, and herself in another; then she drew phronsie into her lap. "tell mother all about it," she said. "yes," said phronsie, "i will"--snuggling in great satisfaction up against her mother's neck: "you see, my little girl is really coming; grandpapa said so." "oh, yes--rachel." "yes." phronsie bobbed her yellow head; then took it up from its resting-place in her mother's neck, to peer up into the face above. "and she'll be my little girl all the time she is here, and i must get clorinda fixed this very minute," she added, dreadfully excited. and, her news all told, phronsie clambered down from mrs. fisher's lap and scurried off. and in a few minutes everybody knew all over the house that the letter had come, in which the invitation for rachel's visit had been accepted by miss parrott. moreover, she was to arrive on the following day. "whoopity-la!" sang joel, who very much liked rachel, for she was always ready to play anything that he proposed, and was a perfect adept in climbing trees and inventing a circus out of small material; "now that's just prime! i wish she was coming to-day." van and percy, just as well pleased, ran hither and yon, very much excited. "what shall we do to show her we are glad she's coming?" asked percy, who seized every chance that offered itself to celebrate such events. "why, she'll see it," said joel, pounding away lustily. he was mending his tennis racket. "whickets! i 'most split that"--holding it up ruefully. "mrs. fisher told you not to say that," cried van, who dearly loved to bring joel up for correction. "well, i didn't mean--" joel whirled around on him, "and i guess you'd say it if you'd 'most split your racket, so!" "she told you not to," repeated van, knowing his power in holding to that simple statement. "well, i didn't mean to, i tell you," cried joel loudly, and very red in the face. "and she won't like it," said van, delighted to see the effect of his words. joel's face worked, and he flung the broken racket across the room. it fell with a crash; and he ran over to the bed, hopped into the middle of it, and buried his face in his brown hands, his shoulders in distress. "i didn't mean--go away," he screamed, kicking as hard as he could. van, terribly frightened at the storm he had raised, stood perfectly still in the middle of the room. "there, now, i hope you're satisfied," said percy, from the other side. "see what you've done. i guess you'll catch it, van whitney," he added pleasantly. van, not so much worried over what he would catch as terrified about joel, ran over to his brother. "oh, do stop him," he implored, seizing percy's hand. "i can't stop him," said percy; "you know yourself it's silly to ask me that." "i must, then," cried van, scurrying over to the foot of the bed. "joel, do stop," he begged frantically. "go away!" screamed joel, kicking lustily. "i didn't mean to say it. oh, dear me! mamsie--mamsie!" he blubbered, rolling from side to side on the neat, white bed. "i guess he's going to have a fit," said percy cheerfully, coming up to view matters at a safe distance from the flying feet. at this, van's distress knew no bounds, and, regardless of all possible danger to himself, he ran around the bed and flung himself upon it, to burrow close to joel's stubby black head. "joe, don't," he cried, bursting into tears and hugging him with both frantic arms. joel wriggled and screamed, "go away!" and kicked more than ever, but van held on sturdily, and together the two boys rolled over and over across the bed, back and forth, till their breath gave out. "oh, just look what you are doing," exclaimed percy, prancing up and down the room. he had started two or three times to run out and call mrs. fisher; then thought better of it. "you've mussed the bedspread all up; and only look at those shams!"--hanging over the footboard in extreme dismay. hearing these last words, both boys rolled apart and thrust up their heads, to gaze at the details in question. there they were, spick and span as usual at the top, but the lower parts were all mussed and wrinkled, while the lace at one end hung down in a small tag. "oh, dear me!" cried joel, huddling up to van, to throw his arm around his neck, "just see what i've done!" "oh, you didn't do it; i did," said van, giving joel an affectionate squeeze. "it was all my fault." "no such thing," declared joel sturdily; "if you say so again, i'll fight you." "and perhaps you can straighten that lace," suggested percy, with no relish for any further hostilities. van and joel drew off to the foot of the bed, and huddled up there to regard his efforts, as he ran around to the pillows, patting and smoothing them straight. "that won't do any good," said joel, in great disfavor; "you can't make the lace whole again." van sorrowfully embraced his knees, his feet tucked up under him. "oh, what will jane say?" he breathed fearfully. "jane? i don't care for her," said joel scornfully. "it's mamsie," and he swallowed hard. "perhaps she won't care," cried van, leaving his knees to take care of themselves, in alarm lest joel was going off again. "and just see how you've mussed up the bedspread," percy couldn't help saying, to relieve his chagrin over the failure to make the pillow shams look nicely, and he drew off and pointed to it tragically. "it looks as if crocodiles had been all over it," he declared, hunting for the worst thing he could think of. joel and van rolled fearful eyes all over the bed. "i'm going to mamsie!" was all joel said, as he rolled over the edge and disappeared from the room. "oh, wait," screamed van. then he rolled off his side of the bed, took two big steps, and stood quite still in the middle of the floor. "you've got to go with him and help tell," said percy pleasantly, as if proposing the most delightful thing. but van didn't stir. "aren't you ashamed!" cried percy, with a sniff. "i'd like to know if polly will think it's nice for you to sneak out of it, van whitney." "ow!" squealed van. he shot out into the hall, and without giving himself time to think, ran as hard as he could to join joel in mother fisher's room. left to himself, percy set himself to work on straightening the bedspread, running around from one side to the other to pat and twitch impatiently. "as soon as i get one side nice, it all comes away from the other," he said to himself. "how in the world does jane ever make a bed, i wonder?" and at last he deserted it altogether and drew off with a very hot face. "heigh-ho! i wish we could do something to celebrate when rachel comes," and he wrinkled his brows in perplexity. "oh, i know," and he clapped his hands in glee. then he ran softly out and up to ben's room. but ben wasn't in; so percy, nearly bursting with a plan that now seemed to him very grand, was obliged to take some one else into his confidence. and that one happened to be old mr. king, whom he met as he came downstairs with a very rueful countenance. "what's the matter, percy?" asked the old gentleman, with a keen glance. "nothing, grandpapa," said percy dismally. "goodness me! do you carry about such a face as that for nothing?" cried the old gentleman, with a laugh. "you look as if you'd something on your mind, my boy." "well, i have, grandpapa," said percy, now driven into a corner, and looking up at last. "best have it out then," said grandpapa firmly, taking one of percy's hands, and they went on to the writing-room. "there, now, here is just the place for a boy to get things that are unpleasant off his mind, i take it," he said, closing the door on them both. "sit down and tell me what is troubling you, percy." "can't i stand up, grandpapa?" asked percy, over by the table. "to be sure," laughed grandpapa; "stand up or sit down, just as you choose. only let us get at this bugaboo that is worrying you, my boy. out with it." "it isn't a bugaboo," said percy, with open eyes; "it's a plan, grandpapa. only i can't find ben," and he began to be dismal once more. "dear me! where can he be!" "oh, it's a plan, is it?" said grandpapa, vastly relieved. "well, well!" then he began to laugh. "and so you wanted ben to help you with it, eh?" "yes, grandpapa," said percy, his happiness returning, and he deserted the table and ran up to the old gentleman's side. "you see, rachel is coming." "yes, she is," said old mr. king, with a satisfied nod, "and you like it, i hope, my boy." he looked up with a keen glance. "awfully," said percy, great satisfaction settling over his face. "well, i think all of us like the plan," remarked the old gentleman, in extreme complacency at achieving the visit, "for she's a very nice girl, rachel is, it appears to me." "she's awfully good fun," said percy, "only joel will make her play with him all the time, i suppose," and his face fell. "oh, you must cut joe out," said old mr. king, laughing heartily. "i can't," said percy dismally; "we can't any of us, grandpapa," and he opened his blue eyes very wide at the mere thought. "well, yes, i think we are all pleased, very much pleased indeed that rachel is coming," repeated old mr. king, going back to the expected visit, "and, as she comes to-morrow----" "to-morrow!" echoed percy, aghast, "why, then i can't get up my surprise, grandpapa." for, strange to say, the time of the arrival had slipped from his mind. the old gentleman hastened to comfort him. "suppose you tell me the grand plan," he said at last; "then we'll see if there won't be time enough." "oh, i was going to get ben to take me out into the woods to-morrow," said percy, feeling as if he should very much like to cry, he was so disappointed, "and we could have dug up some cunning little plants and ferns: rachel said she liked them at the garden party. we could have planted them in a box, and 'twould have been so nice, and now it's too late." and, overcome with despair, he sat down on the first thing he could find, which was a pile of books on the floor. "take care," warned grandpapa, but over percy had gone, the books flying all ways under him. "i'll pick them up," he cried, when he could get his breath. "i am glad you are not hurt," said grandpapa king, with a rueful glance at the big reference volumes, only laid out for his use that morning, which certainly wouldn't be improved by their fall. "here, wait a bit, and i'll help you, percy, my boy," and he got out of his chair. "oh, i can do it; let me, grandpapa; let me do it alone," begged percy, tugging at the books and piling as rapidly as he could, for they were quite heavy. "there, see, they're almost back again"--as he staggered up with the last one. "not quite so fast," said grandpapa king, lending his hand to the task. "now next time when you want to sit down, i advise you to take a chair, percy, my boy. well, now, let us think how you can get up a nice little surprise for rachel when she comes to-morrow." "and nobody must know it," cried percy, quite enchanted at the prospect of having a secret plan with grandpapa. "oh, you won't tell anybody but me, will you?" he crowded in between the old gentleman's chair and the big table, and regarded him anxiously. "no, indeed," cried old mr. king, in his most emphatic way, and bringing his hand heavily down on the table; "not a single person shall hear about it. this is your and my secret, percy, my boy." and outside, in a slope of the terrace where it ran down to a tangle of greenery, were phronsie and little dick. and they were making great preparations, too, for rachel's visit on the following day. the great task before them was nothing more nor less than to set up their little stone house in the boulders under the big apple tree. "i'm going to set up the cupboard," announced little dick. "wait for me, do," begged phronsie, who was busy in putting the little acorn cups and saucers in fine array on the big, flat stone that served them as a table. "well, do hurry, then," said dick, his fingers twitching to be at their work, "for it's just full of everything." he had pulled out the stone from a hole between the boulders, which, running in quite deeply, had served as a convenient receptacle for certain treasures and accumulations, and was therefore called the cupboard. "we haven't cleaned it out in ever 'n' ever so long, phronsie." "yes, i will hurry," said phronsie, gently putting the little acorn she held back into its cup. she had a soft little bit of cloth in her hand, with which she first wiped each piece. "i'm almost through; i haven't but one, two, 'leven more to do." "oh, i'll help you," cried dick, "wash up the dishes," and he turned his back on the cupboard. "where's another towel?" "you mustn't break them," said phronsie gravely, handing him another small portion of cloth, "because you see they're _very_ nice dishes"--and she went back to her own polishing. "i won't break them," promised little dick, beginning on an acorn saucer. "chil--dren"--it was polly's voice--"oh, where are you?" they could hear her as she sped over the terrace. down went the little dish-towels, and over went all the cups and saucers, for dickie's foot knocked off what phronsie spared, as both the small housekeepers rushed tumultuously out. "oh, here we are, polly," they cried. "well, you must come at once if you want to go down to candace's," she announced, standing on the terrace-top, her cheeks quite rosy for her run after them. "auntie is going to take jasper and me down to get some things for rachel. do you want to go too?" didn't they! polly laughed to see them clamber along the green bank, and she put out her hands and drew them up. "i shall buy rachel something," announced phronsie, smoothing down her pink frock with great decision, as they reached the top. "and so shall i," cried little dick, bobbing his head; "i shall get her the very nicest thing that candace has." "well, now, children, we must hurry," said polly, as they all ran along, "because you know we ought not to keep auntie waiting. now, then, one, two, three, and away!" she seized a small hand in each of her own, and away they sped. none too soon, for jasper was just skipping down to meet them with the announcement that sister marion was getting into the carriage; and there on the steps was mrs. fisher, with phronsie's hat in her hand. "get in, young man," said jasper, cramming dick's cap on his head, and he bundled him in unceremoniously, then hopped after himself. "i'm going to buy my little girl something," announced phronsie, looking back where mamsie still stood upon the step. "yes, yes," she said smilingly, as thomas started up the horses. "wait, wait," cried phronsie, in a tone of great distress, and she leaned out toward mamsie. "what is it, child?" said mrs. fisher. and, "wait a bit, thomas," called jasper. "what's the matter, phronsie?" asked polly, leaning over from the opposite seat, where she was ensconced with mrs. whitney. "i want my little purse," said phronsie, looking down at her empty hands, then up at her in grave reproach. "oh, phronsie, you can take some of my money," began polly. "we needn't wait for that, need we, mamsie?" she cried, wrinkling up her forehead impatiently. "i want my own little purse," said phronsie decidedly. "yes, mamsie will get it," said mrs. fisher; "that is, if mrs. whitney can wait." she cast a glance over polly into the pleasant face above. "yes, indeed," said mrs. whitney, with a cheery smile; "i think phronsie had much better have her own little purse." "and i want my own purse, too," declared little dick, struggling to get down from the seat where he was wedged in with jasper and phronsie, "mine is big like a man's," he added, with great importance. "dear me!" mrs. whitney burst into a merry laugh. "mrs. fisher, do you think you could be troubled enough to get dicky boy's purse, too?" she asked. "i don't find it any trouble," said mrs. fisher, with another laugh, "to get them both." so phronsie's little purse, with a chain to hang on her arm, and dick's bigger one, that folded like a pocketbook, were both handed into the carriage, thomas cracked the whip, and off they went to see candace in her little shop on temple place. the next day but one, rachel was visiting in the little stone house among the boulders. phronsie had carefully explained how the reason that the cups and saucers were all on the ground and the dish-towels thrown carelessly aside, was that they had gone away with auntie, who couldn't be kept waiting. "well, let's wash 'em up now," said rachel, flying for one of the diminutive dish-towels. "i'm going to clean out the cupboard," declared little dick, going back to his original purpose. "let us do the cups and saucers first," said phronsie, with gentle determination, setting down clorinda on a stone seat next to rachel's doll, and carefully smoothing out her dress. "no, i want to do the cupboard," persisted little dick, with strange obstinacy, for he was generally quite willing to give up to phronsie. "i tell you, phronsie," broke in rachel suddenly: "let's all set up the cupboard first, and then it will be ready to put the clean dishes into. that's the best way." "oh, let us," said phronsie, easily pleased, and giving a last pat to rachel's doll. so she ran over to join the others, and, getting down on her knees, she began to fumble within the little cupboard. dick had already opened the door, which was accomplished by taking away the stone. "now you take out one thing, phronsie, and i'll take out the next," said little dick, crowding up as close as he could get. "and then i'll take the things," said rachel, sitting down a little distance off, between the two, "as you hand 'em out; so we'll all clean out the cupboard. hullo! what's this?"--as phronsie handed out the first article. "that's a top," said little dick, looking back at her. "a top!" cried rachel in derision. "why, it won't spin; not a bit in this world." "it would before it was broken," said phronsie, for dick had his face pressed close to the door of the cupboard, while his brown fingers were prowling about its interior. "dear me! why don't you throw it away?" cried rachel. "an old broken thing like that is no good." "oh, we wouldn't ever throw it away, rachel," said phronsie, in alarm. "that's our dear top, and it used to spin beautifully," and she took it affectionately out of rachel's hand. "oh, dear me!" exclaimed rachel. "well, what's the next thing?"--as little dick backed away from the cupboard. "what is it?"--as he placed some article in her hand. "they're a pair of her doll's eyes," said little dick. "oh, misery me!" cried rachel, tumbling backward, the pair of eyes in her hand. "why don't you have 'em put back in your doll, phronsie?" "because these are broken," said phronsie, hanging on to the top with one hand, while she reached out the other, "and grandpapa took my child down and got her new eyes." "well, what makes you save these?" said rachel, sitting straight again; "they're no use, phronsie, now they're broken. throw them away, do." "no, no," protested phronsie, holding the pair of eyes very closely in her warm little palm, "they were my child's; i'm going to keep them always." "oh, dear me!" exclaimed rachel faintly, "you'll never set up your cupboard if you're going to put everything back again the same as it was. well, pull out the next thing, phronsie; it's your turn." so phronsie set her two treasures down in a niche in the big boulder, and leaned over the door of the cupboard. "i'm going clear back," she announced, running her fat little arm as far as it would go, to bring it out with something round in the middle of her palm. "what is it?" asked rachel curiously. "whatever in all this world, phronsie?"--at the queer little wad in phronsie's hand. "oh, that?" said little dick, before phronsie could answer; "that's what the squirrel gave us, a lo--ong time ago, rachel." "the squirrel gave you?" she cried. "i suppose it's a nut," she added carelessly. "no, 'tisn't a nut," said phronsie, still keeping it in her hand, and shaking her head decidedly, "and he was a naughty squirrel; he was in a bird's nest." "in a bird's nest? what do you mean, and how could you see him?" demanded rachel, all three questions in one breath. "we looked up," said little dick, throwing his head back to illustrate his speech, "and he was right there "--pointing up to the highest branches of the apple tree--"way up on top." "and the poor bird was screaming," said phronsie, snuggling up to rachel's side, but still not offering to give up the little green wad. "poor little bird!--she made a new house, she added sorrowfully. "and the naughty squirrel was pulling out all the things in her house," said little dick, breaking in with gusto, "and flinging them down; and he threw us this. show her, phronsie." so phronsie opened her hand and held it up, the little green wad in the center. "oh, isn't it funny!" rachel was going to say. instead, she seized it, twitched it apart, and hopped up to her feet; then, deserting the two children, ran like lightning up the green bank, two torn bits of paper fluttering in her hand. and not observing where she went, she ran directly into old mr. king taking a constitutional on the lawn. "bless me! what is it?" he gasped, putting out a strong hand to save her from a fall. "it's the _ten-dollar bill!_" panted rachel. "don't you see?"--waving it at him. the end ben pepper by margaret sidney author of "five little peppers and their friends," "a little maid of concord town," "old concord," "hester, and other new england stories," etc. _illustrated by eugenie m. wireman_ boston: lothrop, lee & shepard co. pepper trade mark registered in u. s. patent office. copyright, 1905, by harriett m. lothrop. published, august, 1905. _twentieth thousand_ norwood press: berwick & smith co., norwood, mass., u.s.a. [illustration: then she hopped away from polly and made a little cheese right on the sidewalk.] preface it was quite impossible that the detailed records presented through the later pepper books, of the doings and sayings of the "little brown house" family, should omit ben. he, the eldest-born of mother pepper's brood, and her mainstay after the father died, the quiet, "steady-as-a-rock boy," as the badgertown people all called him, with lots of fun in him too, because he could not help it, being a pepper, was worthy of a book to himself. so the hosts of readers of the pepper series decided, and many of them accordingly be-sought the author to give ben a chance to be better known. he was always so ready to efface himself, that it was margaret sidney's responsibility, after all, to bring him more to the front, to be understood by all who loved his life in the earlier records. so margaret sidney, despite ben's wishes, has written this latest volume. to do it, polly and joel and david and phronsie have told her most lovingly the facts with which it is strewn. most of all, mother pepper-fisher contributed to the new book, out of a heart full of gratitude and love for her ben. margaret sidney. contents i. the christmas shopping expedition ii. ben's plan iii. haps and mishaps iv. "it's joel's old lady" v. "the presents all go from santa claus" vi. ben goes shopping with madam van ruypen vii. "where's pip?" and jasper turned back viii. "any one who wants to please jasper," said ben, "had better take up this chap" ix. what a home-coming x. "i'll love her just forever!" xi. an afternoon call xii. van xiii. the big box xiv. the children in the mountain cabin xv. the minister looks after his parishioners xvi. who will help? xvii. "now we can have our christmas!" xviii. telling all the news xix. jocko xx. repairing damages xxi. the postponed christmas morning xxii. around the christmas tree xxiii. the sleighing party xxiv. jasper and ben xxv. it was polly who heard it first xxvi. "could you take him, ben?" xxvii. "mr. king, who is that pip you have here?" xxviii. ben decides the matter for himself illustrations then she hopped away from polly and made a little cheese right on the sidewalk "o dear me," wailed polly, burrowing deeper within the folds of the black alpaca apron and the first person he ran up against was a small boy, his hands full of little wads of paper bundles "see what you've done; that's castor oil" there was an awful pause, every one staring at the smooth layer of brown paper "did you ever see such sweet little fingers?" said polly ben pepper i the christmas shopping expedition "oh, yes, the children can go as long as ben and polly are with them," said mother fisher, with pride. "i'll trust them anywhere," her face said as plainly as if she had put it all into words. "i wish i could go with them." mrs. whitney took her gaze from the busy fingers sorting the pile of small stockings jane had brought up from the laundry, and went abruptly over to the window with a troubled face. "but you can't," said mrs. fisher, cheerfully, nowise dismayed at the number of holes staring up at her, "so don't let us think any more of it. and ben's big enough to take them anywhere, i'm sure. and polly can look after their manners," she thought, but didn't finish aloud. "you see father didn't know about this picture exhibit till mr. cabot's note came a half hour ago, begging him not to miss it. and if i told him of the children's plans, he'd give the whole thing up and stay at home rather than have them disappointed. he mustn't do that." "indeed he mustn't!" echoed mrs. fisher, in her most decided fashion, and putting the last stocking into place on top of the big pile on the table. "hush! here comes polly!" "oh, mamsie!" polly rushed up to the work-table. "just think what splendid fun!" she threw her arms around mrs. fisher's neck and gave her a big hug. "isn't aunty whitney too lovely for anything to take us out to buy our christmas presents? dear me! what richness!" "polly, see here, child," mother fisher brought her face around to look into the rosy one; "mrs. whitney cannot--" polly tore herself away with a gasp, and stood quite still, her brown eyes fixed on mother fisher's face, and the color dying out of her cheek. "do you mean we are not to go, mamsie?" she cried, her hands working nervously; "we must!" she brought up passionately. "you see, polly," mrs. whitney came quickly away from the window. polly at that turned and stared in dismay. o dear! to think aunty whitney was there, and now she would be so distressed. "it is just this way," mrs. whitney was hurrying on in quite as unhappy a state as polly had feared: "father has received word that there is a picture exhibit this afternoon, and i must go with him. i'm sorry, dear, but it can't be helped." she bent to kiss polly's cheek where the color had rushed this time up to the brown hair. "i'm so sorry, too," polly burst out, clinging to mrs. whitney's hand. oh, why had she given way to her passion? the tears were running down her cheeks now, "i didn't mean--" she murmured. "why, you are going, polly," said mrs. whitney, comfortingly, and patting the brown hair. "what?" exclaimed polly, bringing up her head suddenly to stare into the kind face. "yes," laughed mrs. whitney, "the christmas shopping isn't to be given up. mrs. fisher is going to let you and ben take the children. just think, polly, that's much better than to go with me," she finished gayly. all this time mother fisher had sat quite still, her black eyes fastened on polly's face. "i don't know," she said slowly, "about their going now." "oh, mrs. fisher," cried mrs. whitney, in dismay, "you can't think of--" but she didn't finish, on seeing mrs. fisher's face. instead, she went softly out and closed the door. "i didn't mean--" mumbled polly again, and then she tumbled down on her knees and hid her face on mamsie's lap, and sobbed as hard as she could. "yes, that's the trouble, polly," mother fisher's hands were busy smoothing the brown hair; "you didn't mean to, but you said it just the same; and that's the mischief of it, not to mean to say a thing, and yet say it." "o dear me!" wailed polly, burrowing deeper within the folds of the black alpaca apron. "why did i? o dear!" [illustration: "o dear me," wailed polly, burrowing deeper within the folds of the black alpaca apron.] mother fisher's hands kept on at their task, but she said nothing, and at last polly's sobs grew quieter. "mamsie," she said faintly. "yes, dear." "i'm so sorry." "i know you are, child; but, polly, there is no 'must' unless mother says so. and to fly into a passion--why, then you ought not to go at all." "oh, i don't want to go now, mamsie," cried polly, flying up to sit straight on the floor, and brushing away the tears with a hasty hand, "i really don't, mamsie." "well, then you see you'll just keep the children at home," said mrs. fisher; "for i can't let ben have all the care alone, and they'll be so disappointed." polly gave a groan and wriggled on the carpet in distress. "you see, polly, that's the trouble when we give way to our passion; it hurts more than ourselves," said mother fisher, "so i can't see but that you have got to go." "oh, i don't want to, mamsie; don't make me," cried polly, squeezing her mother's hands tightly in both of her own. "i can't go now!" "tut, tut, polly," said mrs. fisher, reprovingly; "'can't' isn't the thing to say any more than 'must.'" and her black eyes had such a look in them that polly ducked her head, taking refuge in the lap again. "and now you must get up," said mother fisher, "and get ready, for i am going to let you and ben take the children; that's decided." "oh, mamsie!" polly found her feet somehow, and flung her arms again around her mother's neck; "you won't trust me ever again. o dear me!" "yes, i will," said mrs. fisher, quickly, and, seizing polly's hands, she made the brown eyes look at her; "why, polly child, did you suppose mother would let you go and help ben take care of the children if she didn't know you would do everything just right? never say such a word as that again, polly!" and the black eyes shone with love and pride. "and now hurry, child, for here's ben coming," as steps sounded in the hall, and then his voice asking, "where's mamsie?" polly flew up to her feet and stumbled over to the washstand. "o dear me!" she gasped, catching sight of her face in the long mirror on the way, "i can't--oh, i mean my eyes are so red, and my nose, mamsie! just look at it!" "that's the trouble of crying and giving way to fits of passion," observed mrs. fisher, quietly; "it makes a good deal of trouble, first and last," as ben came hurrying in. polly splashed the water all over her hot face with such a hasty hand that a little stream ran down the pretty brown waist, which only served to increase her dismay. "oh, mamsie!" ben was saying, "we're not to go, after all. what a pity! polly'll be so sorry." his blue eyes looked very much troubled. to have anything make polly sorry hurt him dreadfully. "oh, yes, you are going, ben," mrs. fisher made haste to say. "why, aunty whitney can't go," said ben, in surprise. "grandpapa just said she is going out with him." "you didn't say anything of the shopping plan, ben?" ejaculated mrs. fisher, involuntarily, yet she knew she didn't need to ask the question. "why, no," said ben, in amazement; "of course not, mamsie." "of course not, too," said his mother, with a little laugh; "and why i asked such a stupid question, i'm sure i don't know, ben." all this gave polly time to sop her face quite cool, and she had buried her red cheeks in the towel to dry them off, when mother fisher, having made ben acquainted with the joyful news, called, "come, polly, it's time to get on your hat and coat." "halloo, polly, you there?" cried ben, whirling round, as polly hurried into the little room next to get her out-of-door things. "yes," called back polly, on her way, "i'll be ready in a minute, ben." "isn't it no end jolly that we're going, polly?" he cried, deserting his mother to hurry over to the doorway where he could stand and see polly get ready. his blue eyes shone and his head was held very high. to think that polly and he were to be allowed to take the children out shopping amid all the excitement of christmas week! it was almost too good to be true! "say, polly, did you ever know anything like it?" he came in and pressed close to the bureau where polly was putting on her hat. "yes, yes, i know. ugh!" polly, with all her eyes on the red-rimmed ones looking out at her from the mirror, beside what she saw of the poor swollen nose, jammed on the hat over her face and jumped away from the bureau. "you needn't hurry so," said ben, "'tisn't any matter if we don't start right away. besides, i don't suppose jane has phronsie ready yet. but isn't it perfectly splendid that we can go alone, you and i, and, just think, polly pepper, can take the children?" he was quite overcome again at the idea and leaned against the bureau to think it all out. "yes," said polly, in a muffled voice. but she was in the closet now, getting into her coat, because if she stayed out in the room ben would help her into it, and then he would be sure to see her face! so ben, although he thought it funny that polly, who was generally bubbling over with joy at the prospect of any pleasant expedition, should be very quiet and dull in the light of such an extraordinary one, set it down to the hurry she was in getting ready. "oh, polly, don't hurry so!" he cried, going over to the closet. "here, come out here, and let me help you with that." "ugh, no, go right away, ben," cried polly, wriggling off frantically, and only succeeding in flopping up one sleeve to knock her hat farther down over her nose. "o dear me! where _is_ the other armhole?" "do come out," cried ben; "whoever heard of trying to put on a coat in a closet? whatever makes you, polly?" "and i do wish you'd go away," cried polly, quite exasperated, and setting her hat straight, forgetting all about her face. but instead, ben, after a good look, took hold of her two shoulders and marched her out into the room. and before polly knew it, her other arm was in its sleeve, and he was trying to button up her coat. "oh, bensie," she mumbled; "i'm so sorry i was cross." "never mind," said ben, giving her a comforting pat. "well, come on, now you're ready, polly." and joel and david plunging in tumultuously into mamsie's room, followed by jane ushering in phronsie all attired for the trip, the whole bunch gathered around mother fisher's chair for final instructions. "see, mamsie," piped phronsie, crowding up closely, to hold up the little money-bag dangling by its chain from her arm; "my own purse, and i'm going to buy things." "don't, phron," said joel, "push so," and he tried to get past her to stand nearest to mother fisher. "what are you doing yourself," said ben, "i sh'd like to know, joel pepper?" "well, that was my place," said joel, loudly, and not yielding an inch. "joel!" said mrs. fisher. "it was my place," he grumbled. but he hung his head and wouldn't look up into mamsie's face. "it's my very own purse," cried phronsie, in a joyful little key, "and i'm going to buy things, i am. see, mamsie!" she held it up before mrs. fisher, and patted it lovingly, while she crowded in worse than ever. "yes, i see," said mrs. fisher, smiling down into her face, but there was no smile for joel, and looking up he caught her black eyes resting on him in a way he didn't like. "you may have it, phron!" he exclaimed, tumbling back against david suddenly, who was nearly knocked over by his sudden rebound. "i'd just as lief you would. here, get in next to mamsie." "and i'm going to buy you something, mamsie," said phronsie, standing on her tiptoes to whisper confidentially into mother fisher's ear. "you are, dear?" mrs. fisher leaned over to catch the whisper, but not before she sent a smile over to joel that seemed to drop right down into the farthest corner of his heart. "now mother'll like that very much indeed." "and you must be s'prised," said phronsie, bobbing her head in its big, fur-trimmed bonnet, and fastening a grave look of great importance on mrs. fisher's face. "hoh--hoh!" began joel, who had recovered his composure. then he thought, and stopped. and again mother fisher smiled at him. "now, children, you understand this is the first time you have ever been out shopping without mr. king or mrs. whitney or me," began mrs. fisher, looking around on them all. "well, it's quite time that you should make the trial, for i can trust you all." she lifted her head proudly and her black eyes shone. "i'm sure you'll all be good." "oh, we will, we will, mamsie," declared all the little peppers together. and their heads went up, too, in pride. "so i am going to let ben and polly take you about in the shops. and whatever they tell you, you are to do. and remember one thing, you are not to crowd and push." "we can't see if the big people all get in front," said joel, grumblingly. "then you must go without seeing," said mrs. fisher, decidedly. "at any rate, you are not to crowd and push. remember, joel, and all of you." "i won't," said joel, "crowd and push. now may we go, mamsie?" and he began to prance to the door impatiently. "one thing more. come back, joel." mrs. fisher waited until the group was once more quiet around her chair. "and you are none of you to handle things." "not when we are going to buy them?" cried joel, in an injured tone. "oh, mamsie, i sh'd think we might when we are out shopping. and i've got such lots of money in my pocket-book." he swung it high, clenched in his hot little fist. "take care or you'll lose it if you show it like that, joe," said ben. "how am i going to lose it?" demanded joel, squaring around at ben. "somebody'll pick it out of your hand if you don't look out," warned ben. "i guess there won't anybody pick my pocket-book. i'm going to get a pin," and he raced off to the big mahogany bureau in the corner. "what for?" asked david, who always followed joel's movements with attention; "what are you going to do with a pin, joel?" "i'm going to pin up my pocket so no old picker can get my purse," declared joel, with energy, and running back with the biggest pin he could find on the cushion, the one mrs. fisher fastened her shawl with. "yes, and likely enough you'll forget all about it and stick your own hand in," said ben, "then, says i, what'll you do, joel?" "humph--i won't forget," snorted joel, puckering up the pocket edge and jamming the pin through the folds; "there, i guess the pickers will let my pocket alone. yes-sir-ee," he cried triumphantly. "now you remember you are not to touch things on the counters," mrs. fisher was saying. "i don't want my children to be picking and handling at such a time. you can look all you want to; but when you see what you would really like to buy, why, polly and ben must ask the saleswoman to show it to you." "i've got my money-purse," said phronsie, exactly as if the fact had not been announced before; "see, mamsie," and she held it up with an important air. "i see," said mother fisher, "it's the one grandpapa gave you last birthday, isn't it, phronsie?" "yes," she said, patting it lovingly. "my dear grandpapa gave it to me, and it's my very own, and i'm going to buy things, i am." "so you shall," said mrs. fisher, approvingly. all the while joel was screaming, "come on, phron, we'll be late," as he pranced out into the hall and down the stairs. "oh, mamsie," polly flung her arms around mrs. fisher's neck, "i wish you were going too." "well, mother can't go," said mrs. fisher, patting polly's shoulder; "and take care, phronsie will hear you." "and i want to kiss my mamsie good-by, too," said phronsie, clambering up into mrs. fisher's lap, as well as she could for the fur-trimmed coat. so mother fisher took her up, and phronsie cooed and hummed her satisfaction, and was kissed and set down again. and then david had to say good-by too, and ben as well; and then polly made up her mind she would have the last kiss, so it was some minutes before the four children got out of mamsie's room and ran down the stairs. and there they found joel hanging on to the newel post and howling: "you've been an awful long time. come on!" "we wanted to bid mamsie good-by," said polly, twitching phronsie's coat straight. "well, we're all ready now; come on, children." joel had thrown the big front door open with a flourish and was rushing out. when polly said that about mamsie, he stopped suddenly, then plunged back, nearly upsetting phronsie, and ran over the steps as fast as he could. "oh, mamsie," he cried, flying up to her. mrs. fisher had gotten out of her chair, and was now over by the window to see her little brood go off so happy and important. "why, joel!" she exclaimed, "what's the matter?" as he precipitated himself into her arms. "i want to kiss you good-by, too," howled joel, burrowing within them; "good-by, mamsie!" "so you shall, mother's boy," said mrs. fisher, cuddling him. "well now, joel, you remember all i said." "i'll remember," said joel, lifting a radiant face; "i'll be good all the time." "yes, you must, else mother'll feel badly. well, good-by." joel's good-by floated back as he raced down the stairs and overtook the group waiting for him out on the big stone steps. "who's keeping us waiting now, i wonder?" said ben, as he came up panting. "well, i guess i'm going to bid my mamsie good-by, too," said joel, importantly. "come on, dave, let's race to the big gate!" ii ben's plan when phronsie saw the two boys racing away, she wanted to run too, and started to patter off after them. "no, no, phronsie," said polly, calling her back. "she'll get all tired out to begin with," she said to ben, "then what should we do?" "oh, i want to race to the big gate with joel and david," said phronsie, coming back slowly. "can't i, polly? do let me," she begged. "no," said polly, decidedly, "you'll get all tired out, phronsie." "i won't be tired," said phronsie, drawing herself up very straight; "i won't be, polly." "you will be if you run and race to begin with," declared polly, very much wishing she could join the boys herself. but she was holding phronsie's hand by this time, and it never would do to leave her. "so we must walk till we reach the car." phronsie heaved a sigh, but she kept tight hold of polly's hand, and walked obediently on. "you see," said polly, who never could bear to hear phronsie sigh, "we're going shopping, phronsie, and there's a good deal of walking we have before us, and--" "and i have my money-bag," cried phronsie, breaking in jubilantly, and not waiting for polly to finish, and lifting it high as it dangled from her arm. "see, polly, and dear grandpapa gave it to me, he did." "i know, pet," said polly; "take care, now, or you'll tumble on your nose." "and i'm going to buy my dear grandpapa something," declared phronsie, with a bob of her fur-trimmed bonnet; "i am, polly." "so you shall," cried polly, radiantly; "now that'll be fine." "polly," said ben, on her other side, "i've been thinking of something that perhaps it would be good to do." "oh, ben, what is it?" she cried, all in a twitter to know, for ben's plans, if sometimes slow, were always so good to follow. "why, let's us all put our money together instead of buying little things for grandpapa, for of course we are all going to give him something, and buy one good present." it was a long speech for ben, and he was quite glad when it was all out. "let's," said polly, quite enchanted. "oh, ben, you do think of just the right things." "no," said ben, "i don't think up such nice things as you do, polly," and he looked at her admiringly; "i can't." "well, your things are always best in the end, anyway," said polly, unwilling to take so much praise, and preferring that ben should have it. "o dear me!" joel, with david at his heels, came tumbling up. "you are so slow, just like snails," he grumbled. "just like snails," echoed phronsie, with very pink cheeks, stepping very high, all her attention on the money-bag dangling from her wrist. "well, we can't go any faster, joe," said ben, "so you must make up your mind to be satisfied." "well, i'm not satisfied," declared joel, in a dudgeon. "so it seems," said ben, with a little laugh. "and it isn't the way, when people are going shopping, to run through the street," said polly, "so when you get outside the gateway, you've got to walk, joel. it isn't elegant to race along." when polly said "elegant" with such an air, the children always felt very much impressed, and little david now hung his head quite ashamed. "i'm sorry i ran, polly," he said. "oh, it's no matter in here," said polly, "but when we get outside, then you must walk in a nice way. mamsie'd want you to. oh, now, ben, go on with your plan and tell the rest." "oh, now you've been talking up things, you and ben; you're always doing that, polly pepper," cried joel, loudly. and he tried to crowd in between polly and phronsie. "see here, you get back!" cried ben, seizing his jacket collar; "you're not to crowd so, joe." "well, you and polly are always talking secrets," said joel, but he fell back with ben nevertheless, "and keeping them from dave and me." "then you should have stayed with us," said ben, calmly. "we didn't know you were going to talk secrets," grumbled joel. "oh, we've only just begun," said polly, brightly, looking over past phronsie, "so you'll hear it all, joey; and davie, too," she added, looking off to little david on the farther end of the line. "i'm not going to stir a step away ever again," declared joel, squirming up as close to ben as he possibly could, "then you can't talk things without i hear them." "you've got to give me a little more of the walk, joe," said ben, striding on and thrusting out his elbow on joel's side, "else you'll go behind." "o dear! i want to hear what you're going to say," whined joel. but he gave way, moving up against david, who was the last in the row. "well, do begin," he begged. "yes, do tell them, ben," said polly. "well, you see," said ben, as they turned out of the big stone gateway, "we are all to give grandpapa a present, each one, i mean." "i am," shouted joel, jumping up and down, "whoopity la, whickets, i am!" "oh, joel pepper!" exclaimed polly, looking down the row at him. whenever polly said "joel pepper," everybody felt that the case was very serious. so joel hung his head and looked quite sheepish. "mamsie would be so sorry to hear you say that," went on polly. "well, he isn't going to say it again," said ben, "i don't believe." "no, i'm not," declared joel, his black head going up again, "never again, polly." "that's right," and she smiled approvingly. "oh, now, do go on again, ben," she said, "with your plan." "yes, we're all going to give grandpapa presents," cried joel, before ben had time to put in a word. "i am, and i won't tell what i'm going to buy, either. you can't make me, dave." he slapped the pocket containing his purse, but encountering the big pin, drew off his fingers. "ow!" "there, who's hurt now?" cried ben, with a laugh as he looked down at the rueful face. "pooh--it didn't hurt any," said joel, pulling off his glove to suck the drop of blood that came up to meet him. david, who never could bear to see joel hurt, pressed up to see the extent of his injury, and turned pale. perhaps it went clear through his finger, for it was mamsie's big shawl-pin! "oh, don't, joel," cried polly, with a grimace; "take your handkerchief, do!" "no, i'm not going to," said joel, squirming away, and repeating the process as another little drop appeared; "i can spit it out, and my handkerchief'll stay bad." "joel," said polly, sternly, "you must not do that. do you hear me?" "well, that's the last drop, anyway," declared joel, "so i haven't got to do anything." "let me see," said polly, feeling quite motherly with all her brood to look after. so the whole row stopped and joel leaned over and thrust out his finger for polly to examine it. "yes, that's all right," she said with a sigh of relief. "well, now, we must hurry, for we have so much to do. and, ben, do go on." "well, you see grandpapa has so many things that it'll be hard to pick out five that he'd like," said ben, "so i thought--" "he'll like mine," interrupted joel. "hold on, joe, and wait till i get through," commanded ben, turning on him. "and if you interrupt again, you must walk behind, joel," said polly, severely. "i don't want to walk behind," said joel, ducking as he caught her glance. "well, then, you mustn't interrupt ben again," declared polly, in her most decided fashion. "oh, i won't, i won't!" he promised, much alarmed as he saw her face. "see that you don't, then," said ben. "well, so it seems as if perhaps it would be a good plan to all put our money together and get grandpapa one good thing." "i think it would be a perfectly elegant plan," declared polly, radiantly. joel stood stock-still twitching the end of ben's coat, so that he was pulled up short. "i'm not going to put any money in," he cried in a loud tone. "hey? oh, then, you don't like the plan, joe?" said ben, getting his coat free and whirling around on him. "i'm not going to put any money in," repeated joel, in the same high key. "well, then, you needn't," said ben, nowise disturbed. "oh, ben, then we can't any of us do it," said polly, quite dismayed, "and it would have been so perfectly splendid." she stopped short, and phronsie, looking up in surprise, pulled her hand gently. "oh, polly," she exclaimed, "are you sick?" "oh, the rest of us will do it," said ben, coolly, "and joel can stay outside." "oh, i'm not going to stay outside," howled joel, throwing his arms around ben and clinging to him in his distress. "i'm not. i'm not, ben, don't make me." "i don't make you," said ben, getting himself free from joel's frantic little hands; "if you don't want to join us, why, you'll just have to stay by yourself." "i'm not going to stay by myself," cried joel, in the greatest distress, "need i, polly?" and he flew over to her. "i don't want to stay by myself, i don't." but ben answered instead of polly. "hush now, joel, we're to walk along quietly, else you'll have to go home. and we'll vote now, and all who don't want to get grandpapa one big, nice present, can just stay out of the plan. polly and i are going together in it, anyway." which was just the same as saying the plan would be carried out. if polly and ben were to join in it, all the remainder of the "five little peppers" would consider it the greatest calamity to be left out, so joel pushed as near to ben as he could get as the whole group drew off to the curbstone to vote on the question. "i'm in it,--i'm in it," screamed joel, making more than one passer-by turn the head to look back at the busy little group. "come on, dave," twitching that individual's jacket to get him into the centre of things. "he's in it, too, ben," he added, anxious to have that settled beyond a doubt. "david is." "everybody is looking at us," said polly, whose greatest pride was to have the children appear well, and she looked quite mortified. "o dear me!" and this was only the beginning of the christmas shopping! "now you must just understand, joe," ben laid hold of him; "we aren't going to have such carryings on. look at polly, how you're making her feel." all the children now regarded polly anxiously, phronsie standing on tiptoe to achieve the best result. "oh, i won't make her feel," cried joel, much alarmed, "i won't. please don't, polly; i'll be good," he promised. his face worked, and he had hard work not to burst out crying. "all right, joey," said polly, trying to smile, and the little pucker between her eyebrows straightened itself out at once. and she leaned over and set a kiss on the chubby cheek. "you kissed me on the street!" said joel, quite astounded. "why, polly pepper, and you said the other--" "never mind," broke in ben, hastily. "and i couldn't help it," said polly, happily, yet with a backward glance to see if any one saw it, for polly deeply loved to be fine on all occasions. "and if we are going shopping for christmas presents," said ben, "we must hurry up. hush, joe, don't say a word. now how many want to put in their money to buy one big, nice present for grandpapa instead of little bits of ones? put up your hands." joel's hand shot up as high as he could raise it, while he stood on tiptoe, and of course polly's went up, and so did david's. but phronsie stood looking down at her money-bag dangling from her arm, while she patted it lovingly and crooned softly to herself. "she doesn't understand," said polly, so she got down until she could look into the face within the fur-trimmed bonnet. "look up, pet; now don't you want to buy grandpapa a big, big present with all of us?" "i'm going to buy my dear grandpapa a present," cried phronsie, in a happy little voice, and, taking her gaze from the money-bag, "i am, polly," she declared, dreadfully excited. then she put her mouth close to polly's rosy cheek; "i'm going to buy him a cat," she whispered. "o dear me!" exclaimed polly, nearly tumbling over backward. "yes, i am," said phronsie, decidedly, "a dear sweet little cat, and grandpapa will like it, he will." "well, now," said polly, recovering herself, "don't you want to put the rest of your money you were going to spend for grandpapa's present into something big? we're all going to do that, phronsie, and give him a nice christmas present." "my present will be nice," said phronsie, gravely. "yes, yes, i know," said polly, quickly, and giving the boys a look that told them to keep away from this conference; "but don't you want to help to buy this big present, too? i would, phronsie pet, if i were you!" "i shall give him the cat," said phronsie, decidedly and bobbing her head. "yes, of course. but you can help to buy the other, too," said polly. "i'll help to buy the other," hummed phronsie. then she hopped away from polly and made a little cheese right on the sidewalk. the fur-trimmed coat flew out as well as it could, and the money-bag also. "oh, phronsie!" exclaimed polly, in dismay, getting her up as quickly as possible. "i'm going to buy a cat and a big thing, too, for my dear grandpapa," announced phronsie to all the bunch, as polly got her straight and smoothed down her coat and settled her bonnet. all this proceeding took so much time that ben now hurried them off, and they walked briskly along till presently they turned into the main street where the most of the holiday shoppers were out in full force. and as joel wanted to stop at each window that presented a smart display, and that was furnished at nearly every step of the way, they didn't make so very much progress after all. "we shan't get anywhere at this rate," said ben, at last, in despair, and, hauling joel away from a fascinating window against which he had set his chubby face, quite lost to the delightful show within, he struck off at a smart pace, threading his way quickly in and out of the crowd of shoppers, so that polly and phronsie, clinging to her hand, had great difficulty to keep track of him at all. david was pattering along in front as close to ben as he could get. at last they stopped before a big toy-shop, and ben drew breath. "o dear me!" cried polly, hurrying up. phronsie's bonnet was pushed awry where an excited shopper had knocked a big bundle against it, so she couldn't see anything till polly had set it straight. all this took a little time; meanwhile the bunch of shoppers was stopping the crowd. "get out of the way," roared an expressman at them. he was so crowded up with bundles that only his head was to be seen above the pile; there was another heap on the pavement and a man loading up, as fast as he could, the already well-filled wagon, and he gave joel a punch with something, not his hand, for that was full. "stop that!" joel squared up at him and doubled up his little fist. "joe, joe!" cried ben, suddenly. "that man pushed me with an old bundle," said joel, his eyes flashing. "well, come on," said ben, picking his sleeve. polly, busy with phronsie, had heard nothing of it. "o dear, dear!" david was wailing. "and i'll give you something more'n a push if you don't get out of the way," declared the expressman, trying to look over his shoulder as he edged his way to the wagon, "you saucy cub, you!" "and he's calling me names," cried joel, wildly; "let me go back and make him stop," and he shook his small fists in the air. "he's a bad old man and he hasn't any right. let me go, ben." but ben by this time had joel well within the shop, and, the others following, they were soon lost in the important business of choosing christmas presents. "let phronsie buy hers first," said polly. and the others, even joel, saying, "yes, let phronsie buy hers first," they edged their way along, phronsie proclaiming in a high key, as they threaded their course down a long aisle, that she was going to buy grandpapa a cat, so that everybody turned and smiled, until at last they found a saleswoman, who seemed to be willing and able to wait on them. "so you want a cat?" she said to phronsie, who could just manage to see over the counter by standing on her tiptoes. "yes," said phronsie, "i do, a really and truly cat for my dear grandpapa." "oh, we haven't any real cats," said the woman, turning back from the shelf she was looking over with a pair of sharp eyes. "we don't keep live cats in a shop. nobody does," she added. "she means that it must have fur on," explained polly, while the younger boys never took their eyes from the transaction. this was quite one of the most important events of the afternoon for phronsie to choose her own present. just at this juncture a stout old lady, with a stiff black silk coat that made her bigger than ever, as it had a trick of flying open, and the sides blowing off seemed ready to engulf all unfortunate passers-by, swept past phronsie, and she disappeared from view for a moment. "stop that!" roared joel, looking up into the soft white puffs above the woman's nose; "you 'most knocked my sister over." the stately old woman looked down into the chubby face. "you impertinent boy!" she exclaimed, then set her profile disdainfully in the opposite direction and sailed on. "oh, ben!" cried polly, in consternation, all the color gone out of her face; "what shall we do?" "here, pet," and ben swung phronsie up to his shoulder. "now, that's the best place for you in such a crowd." "i want a truly cat," phronsie kept saying from her perch, and, swinging her feet delightedly, she grasped ben's neck so tightly it seemed as if he could hardly breathe; and his face got very red. "i tell you we haven't got any live cats," declared the saleswoman, impatiently, and slamming the glass door beneath. "here's a china one," and she set it on the counter. "oh, no!" phronsie shook her head. polly meanwhile had been looking after the stately old woman, and clasping and unclasping her hands nervously. it wouldn't take but a minute to go after her, for the big figure had paused in front of the doll counter, and say how sorry she was, for he was her brother, and would she please to excuse it? and without stopping to think, polly dashed off through the crowd, no one of the little bunch of peppers seeing her go, as they were lost in the transaction that was to get phronsie her cat. she plunged up suddenly to the side of the stiff black silk coat, now wedged in against the overcrowded counter, its owner by no means in the best temper at her failure to attract any saleswoman to wait on her. "oh, ma'am," polly looked up into the impatient face, and everything she had intended to say flew right out of her mind, for the white puffs seemed to stand right out like mountains, and the roman nose was so very dreadful. "my brother," was all she could manage to say. "hey?" the stately old woman laid down a doll and glared at her. "my brother," began polly, wishing that she was back with the others. if only she could catch a glimpse of ben, but the intervening crowd surged in waves between her and the spot where she had left them, so that they were swallowed up. meantime there was that dreadful old woman, with her cold, sharp eyes just like gimlets boring her through and through, and waiting for her to finish what she had to say. "my brother," began polly, faintly, and her head dropped, "said something naughty to you." "well?" said the old lady, and she turned her back on the doll counter as far as she was able for being wedged in so, and this time polly felt that she must make herself understood. besides, the people on either side were beginning to be interested, and were nudging each other not to miss this funny thing. so she began quite decidedly, determined to be brave and say it all through. "my brother--" but the stately old lady broke in, "i don't know anything about your brother, nor you, girl, and if you speak to me again, i shall call the proprietor," and she shook with indignation till all the jingling jet things, and there seemed to be a great many under her silk coat, made a great commotion. "i came to ask you to forgive my brother who spoke to you because you brushed against my little sister." polly was speaking so fast now, a little red spot on either cheek, that the stately old woman had to hear. "it was naughty of him, and mamsie would be sorry." "naughty?" the old lady gasped for breath; it was such a new idea to ask her to forgive a saucy boy; still, she couldn't make any other reply than "it was scandalous, and you are nearly as bad, interrupting me in the midst of my christmas shopping." then she turned to the dolls again, leaving polly to stumble back as best she might to the place where she had left ben and the children. but they were not there. iii haps and mishaps "i want polly," phronsie was saying, wholly lost now to the fact that the "really truly cat" for grandpapa had not been found. "bensie, i do!" "yes, phronsie," ben made out to say, holding her hand fast; "we'll see her pretty soon." "she's lost!" cried joel, wildly, who up to this time had been so diverted by the bewildering array of tin soldiers, drums, and express wagons displayed on all sides as they threaded their way in among the crowds that surrounded the counters and shelves, that he hadn't given his mind to anything else. "she's lost, polly is!" he ended with a howl. at this direful announcement phronsie gave one cry, then she sat right down on the floor and lifted up her voice, "i want polly!" it was impossible to quiet her, and everybody in the immediate vicinity turned and stared. a small girl, trying to decide between a woolly dog and a pig, both of whose charms had held her for the past ten minutes, laid them down on the counter and ran over to the place where the cry came from. when she saw the little group she pushed in between them. "o dear me!" she cried to phronsie, sitting there in a small heap and sobbing pitifully, "how'd she get hurt?" little david made way for her instantly, but joel, who had stopped his wails in surprise at her appearance, stood his ground. "go away," he said, his black eyes shining through his tears. the small girl paid no attention to him. "how'd she get hurt?" she kept on asking. "she isn't hurt," said ben, not looking up as he knelt on the floor and wiped phronsie's streaming tears with his handkerchief. "there, there, phronsie, stop crying." "o dear me!" exclaimed the girl; "what a little goose to cry!" and she laughed derisively. "she isn't a goose," cried joel, in a loud, injured tone; "my sister isn't a goose; so now you just take that back, you girl, you!" "joel," commanded ben, sternly, "stop this moment," just as a floor-walker stalked up. "you're blocking the way," he said with a great deal of official manner, "and you must just take yourselves off out of this aisle." little david, who up to this time, clasping and unclasping his hands nervously, had said nothing, now looked up into the cross face. "we've lost polly," he exclaimed. the floor-walker, not understanding, repeated to ben, "you've just got to get out of this aisle." but the small girl had heard. "o dear me!" she exclaimed again; "now that's perfectly dreadful," and she sat right down by phronsie's side. "i'll go and find her for you," she said, putting her hands on phronsie's two small ones, doubled up in the folds of the fur-trimmed coat. "and i'm sorry i called you a goose. don't cry, i'll bring her back." phronsie, astonished out of her grief, and hearing the welcome words, "i'll bring her back," looked up radiantly, the tears trailing off down the round cheeks, while joel, whose face had become a lively red, blurted out, "and i'm sorry i was bad to you," staring at the girl. "oh, i didn't mind you," said the girl, carelessly. "now, who is polly?" she looked at ben as she spoke. meanwhile, she was helping phronsie to her feet. "here she is now, i guess." she gave a sharp, birdlike glance between the crowd, then started off like a flash, winding herself in and out of the throng, and up to a girl a little bigger than herself. "are you polly?" she demanded breathlessly. polly, rushing along, searching one side and the other frantically for a glimpse of ben's blue cap and sturdy shoulders (she hadn't much hope of seeing the children, for the crowd was very thick just here), hurried on, scarcely hearing the words. "because if you are, she wants you, the little girl does. and i guess they all do," said the girl, rushing after. "where are they?" cried polly, turning on her, "please be quick and tell me." "come on, i'll take you." the girl made her way through the crowd, edging along, and polly, with the color coming back to her cheeks that had gone quite white, followed as nimbly as she could, till, "here she is; here's polly!" she heard joel's voice. and in a minute polly was in their midst, her arms around phronsie, and cuddling her to her heart's content. and after this episode they all settled down to the business of shopping at once; all except ben, who looked here and there for the small girl who had found polly. she had slipped away in the crowd. "and we didn't even thank her," said ben, sorrowfully. "well, we must go to some other store and get phronsie's cat," said polly, "as long as we can't find her," with a sigh, so they all followed ben as he made a way for them through the crowd, phronsie clinging to polly's hand as if she never meant to let her go again. all at once ben darted aside, then turned back to polly. "there she is," he pointed over to the counter where the small girl had her pig and woolly dog once more, taking each up affectionately, then laying it down. "well, you can't do that all day," observed the saleswoman, crossly. "take one, or leave it, or i'll put 'em both up again." "he'd like 'em both," said the small girl, "my brother would, an' i don't know which." the saleswoman snatched up the pig and reached out an impatient hand for the woolly dog. "oh, polly, just hear that!" whispered ben; "she wants them for her brother, and she was so good to us." "i know it," said polly. "o dear me, i wish she could get them both." ben fumbled in his pocket and brought out his brown leather pocket-book. "you give it to her," he said, putting a silver half-dollar into polly's hand. "oh, whick--!" began joel, with his big eyes at the half-dollar. "don't say anything, joel," said ben, hurriedly, and dragging him off; "here, just look at that steam-engine, will you?" polly shut her fingers over the half-dollar, and still holding phronsie's hand, she leaned over the small shoulder, which now she saw was thin, and touched the rusty black coat sleeve. "that's for the woolly dog," she said softly, so nobody heard, and slipping the half-dollar into the red hand without any glove on. "oh, my!" cried the girl, staring first at her hand with the silver half-dollar shining up at her from the middle of it, and then into polly's face, "what's that for?" "you were so good to us," said polly, simply, and before the girl could say a word, she had slipped back to ben, and this time they were soon lost in the crowd down the aisle, on their way to another shop. "you've given away a whole half-dollar," gasped joel, staring up into ben's face. "hush!" said ben, hauling him on, as polly flew back; "well, now, then, we must hurry, else we never will get through." "yes, we must get phronsie's cat," said polly, with a happy little thrill. "oh, ben, just think," she whispered, for ben never could bear to be thanked, "she's bought that woolly dog by this time, i 'most know." "do hush!" begged ben. "oh, now, i know you are whispering secrets," declared joel, trying to crowd in between them. "no, we are not," said polly, "really and truly we are not; are we, ben?" "then what are you whispering for?" demanded joel, before ben could answer, as they all hurried out, phronsie announcing gleefully that she was going to buy grandpapa's cat, and pulling ben along, whose hand she held, so that there was no time to peer into the shop windows. polly and the boys brought up the rear of the little procession. and there, sure enough, up on the top shelf of the animal department of the next toy-shop, was a little yellow cat with very green eyes, and a pink ribbon around her neck, looking down on the "five little peppers" as if she had expected them all the while, as they hurried up to anxiously scan the assortment. and oh, she had really-and-truly fur on! when she saw that, phronsie screamed right out: "she's there. oh, i want her!" and stretched out her arms, the money-bag dangling merrily, as if its services would be wanted presently. "oh, polly, i want her, i do!" and before any one would believe it, it was all done so quickly, the little yellow cat was taken down and paid for, and phronsie had it in her hand, and was stroking its back lovingly, and telling it about dear grandpapa, and that it was going to him on christmas day, and ever so much more. "ain't you going to have it wrapped up?" asked the saleswoman. "here, give it to me, and the boy'll put a paper on it for you." "oh, no, no," said phronsie, edging away in alarm, and cuddling the little yellow cat up in her neck, "she doesn't want to be wrapped up. don't, bensie," as he tried to take it out of her arms. "all right," said ben, with a laugh. "oh, ben, she can't carry it all the afternoon in that way," said polly, disapprovingly. "it won't do any harm if she does," said ben, with a glance at her, "and i don't believe, polly, she'll put that cat down till we get home," he added. so out they went, joel and david having to be dragged away from the alluring toys of every description on all sides, fairly clamoring to be purchased. "oh, i want that steam-engine," howled joel. "see, dave, see!" "i'd rather have the express-wagon," said david, who hadn't been able to take his eyes from it, the second he spied it. "huh, old wagon!" joel exclaimed in contempt; "a steam-engine'll go, like this!" he shot out his arm, regardless where it went. "take care!" a voice sang out, but it was too late. over went a pile of toys, just purchased, from the arms of a cash-girl on its way to be wrapped up. smash went something--a big doll with pink cheeks and very blue eyes; and, with an awful feeling at his heart, joel, with everybody else who saw the accident, bent over the heap of little pieces on the floor--all that remained of the pretty face. "you broke it!" declared the cash-girl, aghast at the mischief, and her teeth fairly chattering with fright, as she whirled around to joel. "i didn't mean--" he began stoutly; david looked wildly around for ben and polly. they were ahead with phronsie, so he ran after them on unsteady feet. "i didn't mean--" joel was saying again, as they hurried up in great distress. "oh, ben, don't let phronsie see!" cried polly, as soon as she caught sight of the broken doll, for phronsie never could bear to think of one being hurt, and she tried to draw her away. too late! phronsie rushed into the very middle of the group, just as the floor-walker was protesting, "of course you didn't do it," to joel, for it never would do to charge the trouble to rich mr. king's household. he knew all the children well, as they had been many times at the shop with the old gentleman, who was one of its best customers. "oh, let me take her," begged phronsie, eagerly. "polly, can't i? oh, please give her to me!" "and it was all your own carelessness," went on the floor-walker, sternly, fastening his gaze on the cash-girl and quite delighted to blame somebody. "and i shall report you to the office. now go ahead with those other things, and then come here and pick up these pieces, and take the doll back." with that he turned off from everybody who had stopped to look at the accident, and marched off with his best manner on, and his head well in the air. "o dear me!" the cash-girl took two or three steps off toward the wrapping counter, and began to cry all over the rest of the purchases piled in her arms, as she staggered on. meantime phronsie had sat right down on the floor, and was cuddling up the doll without any face, against the little yellow cat. joel stumbled off after the girl. "don't cry," and he twitched her arm. "you be still, and go right away," cried the girl, turning on him as well as she could for the pile of bundles, and she stamped her foot in rage; "you've made me smash that doll, and they'll take it out of my pay, and now i can't get my mother any christmas present at all." the tears were rolling down her cheeks, and her face worked dreadfully. "they shan't!" declared joel, his black eyes flashing. "an' now you'll make me smash these, i s'pose," said the cash-girl. "you go right away, you bad boy, you. boo-hoo-hoo!" "i'll tell 'em i did it," said joel, bounding off to overtake the floor-walker. "say, oh, do stop!" for he had almost reached the office door. "mister, _please_," and he seized the end of the departing coat, polly and ben both calling, astonished as they saw him fly past, to stop. "hey? oh, is that you?" the floor-walker smoothed out his face when he saw who it was. "yes," said joel, "it is, and you mustn't make that girl pay for that doll." "oh, don't you worry about that," said the floor-walker, easily, with a smile, "she's a careless thing and i must make an example of her, or she'll break something else. it's all right, my boy," and he put his hand, where the big diamond ring shone up from the little finger, familiarly on the sturdy shoulder. "it isn't all right," declared joel, hotly, "and she didn't do it. i knocked her with my arm and that old doll fell off;" he swallowed hard. what an awful hole that would make in his pocket-book! perhaps he wouldn't be able to buy only half as many things for his christmas presents as he had scrawled on the list within it, and the blood surged all over his round cheeks to his stubby black hair. "how much did it cost?" he asked faintly. "oh, you won't have to pay for it," said the floor-walker, smiling pleasantly, till he showed his white teeth. "mr. persons wouldn't ever charge you a cent for it." "thank you!" bobbed joel, in intense relief, "that's awfully good!" and he laughed, too, and gleefully slapped his pocket till, encountering the big pin again, he thought better of that, and said once more, "thank you, mister," in the exuberance of his delight, and was moving off. "oh, no, indeed," repeated the floor-walker, decidedly, "he wouldn't ever think of it; the girl's got to pay," and he turned off, too. "hey!" cried joel, whirling around. then he ran back to the tall man's side. "has that girl got to pay?" he demanded, his black eyes flashing and his eyes working dreadfully; "say, tell me, has she?" "why, of course," said the man, "don't you worry, he won't touch a cent of your money; and you keep still, i shan't tell him, so he won't know, anyway." "well, i shall tell him myself," said joel, in a burst, and dashing up to the first door he saw, he opened it and plunged in before the floor-walker could stop him. so ben and polly, staring in the direction he had run, of course lost track of him and had nothing to do but to wait there till he came back. joel pranced up to the first desk he saw, of which the room appeared to be full, and found himself by the side of a young man, with a very large head of tow-colored hair, who was doing his best to find the bottom of a long column of figures. as he paid no attention to joel's sudden appearance, the floor-walker had time to add himself to their company. at this the young man deserted his figures, thrust his pencil in the thicket of tow hair, and said, "hey, that you, mckenzie?" but mr. mckenzie paid small heed. "here, you don't want to come in here," he said to joel, "i'll fix that up for you." but joel, not caring to wait for attentions that didn't appear to be forthcoming, dashed off to the next door. "where's the big man?" he demanded. "hey?" the busy worker raised his head in astonishment to stare into the chubby face thrust into his own. "the big man, the one who's ahead of you all?" said joel, impatiently, waving his arms around comprehensively to take in the whole counting room. "oh, mr. persons, i guess he means," contributed the man at the neighboring desk. by this time everybody in the department had become interested, and pens were laid down and heads were bobbed up. "yes, yes," cried joel, quite delighted to recognize the name that in his excitement had slipped away. "where is he?" drumming on the desk impatiently. "in there, kid," the bookkeeper stuck his penholder over his shoulder, and following its lead, joel was soon within a little office, that, if he had taken time to notice, would have showed him "private" in big letters across the door. but joel hadn't time to waste on anything but the matter in hand, and he plunged up to the desk and burst out: "it was my fault, and i want to pay for it. don't let him make the little girl pay, please don't." he laid hold of the gray-haired man's arm at this last, and held on with a grip, for mr. mckenzie hurried up. mr. persons dropped his pen in astonishment. his mouth flew open, but he said not a word. "i'll explain it, sir," began the floor-walker, with deference, but he had a withering look for joel. "you see, one of the--" "oh, don't let him tell it," burst in joel, in terror, and gripping the arm on the desk worse than ever; "he wants that poor little girl to pay." he brought his black eyes so close to the gray-bearded face that the countenance holding them obscured everything else. "i'll tell you how it is, sir," said mckenzie, hastily. "on the contrary, i'll let the boy tell his story," said mr. persons, dryly. "now, then, what is it, my lad?" and he brought his eyes, just as sharp in their way, although the palest of blue ones, to bear on joel's face. so joel, perfectly happy now that he had the telling of the story in his own way, began with great satisfaction, and never stopped to draw breath until he turned to pull out his pocket-book. then he tugged at mamsie's big shawl-pin till he grew quite red in the face. at last it was out, and so was the money. "how much is it?" he cried. "oh, you want to pay for it?" asked mr. persons, with a keen look into his flushed face. "yes, sir," joel bobbed his black head. "how much is it?" he demanded again, this time impatiently. since it was all settled, he began wildly to think of ben and polly and the others. "mr. persons," this time the floor-walker got back of the big office chair, and whispered the information as to who the boy was, without joel's hearing a word. mr. persons nodded. "well," he said to joel, his face not moving a muscle, "you may give me a dollar, my lad, and we'll consider that everything is all squared up in regard to the injury to that doll." so joel counted out a dollar from his hoarded silver pieces and put them into mr. persons's hand, the floor-walker staring in amazement at his employer. then he fastened up his pocket again, sticking mamsie's big shawl-pin in tighter than ever. "all right, thank you, sir," and he marched out through the rows of men at their desks in the big counting room, all curiously staring at him as he passed. outside he found ben and polly making anxious inquiries of every one; david following closely, beyond saying a word, and phronsie, who didn't know that he was lost, only that the poor sick doll had to be left to get a new head on. "what _have_ you been about, joe?" cried ben, for even david was not quite clear how it all had happened. "oh, something--" said joel, carelessly craning his neck to look about on all sides. "oh, whickets! there she is." and he was gone again, this time in chase of a small cash-girl. when everything was finally all explained, and the cash-girl had stepped off with a radiant face, ben drew his charges off into a quiet corner, and said quite decidedly, "see here, now, we'll buy grandpapa's present first, and make sure of it." "yes, do," said polly, "for we never will get through in all this world. well, what shall we choose, ben?" "what do you choose?" asked ben, looking only at her. "oh, i know, i know," said joel, eagerly. "hush, joe, let polly say." "i don't know," said polly. "polly doesn't know," broke in joel, "let me tell; i know something splendid, ben." "you be still, joe," said ben, "and let polly think." "why, i thought perhaps he'd like books," said polly, slowly, wrinkling up her brows in little puckers. "hoh!" exclaimed joel, in great disgust, "books aren't any good. i know--" "books will be fine, polly," said ben, smiling approval. "anything else for second choice?" "no," said polly, "i can't think of another thing. grandpapa has got just every single thing in the world, i do believe," she brought up with a sigh. "i heard him say he'd broken his gold pen," said ben, "the other day." "oh, bensie!" cried polly, with sparkling eyes, and seizing his arm, "how perfectly splendid you are to always think up the right things." "no, i don't, polly." ben was guilty of contradiction, but his cheek glowed. "you always get ahead of me with twenty plans while i'm thinking up one." "but your one is the best," laughed polly, squeezing his arm affectionately. "oh, now let's hurry and buy the gold pen." "well, do you children want it?" asked ben, looking around at them, "because it must be something that we all like, else grandpapa won't care anything for it." "phoo!" cried joel, horribly disappointed at such a quiet present. "what's an old pen, anyway? can't write with it, without a handle." "well, we are going to give the handle, of course," said ben, "only it must be a black one, for we haven't money enough for a solid gold one." "and did you suppose we'd give grandpapa a pen without a handle, joey?" said polly, quite horror-stricken at the very idea. "well, you said pen," persisted joel. "and so it is pen," said ben, gayly, his spirits rising fast, "and handle, too. well, now, do you vote for it, joe?" and he slapped his back. "yes," said joel, "if you'll give the handle, too." and david saying "yes," then polly had to explain it all to phronsie. "and just think, pet, you can sit by him at his table, and watch him write with it," she finished. "oh, i want to buy my dear grandpapa a pen," cried phronsie, dreadfully excited and hopping up and down; "do, bensie, please get it now, this very one minute!" iv "it's joel's old lady" so a pen was bought, and a lovely gold-mounted black handle, all the children hanging over the purchase in rapt attention. and it was left to be marked with grandpapa's initials and to be sent to ben in two days, in order to be actually sure to be on hand in time for christmas, which now was only a week away. "for suppose it shouldn't be there in time!" breathed polly. at which the rest of the pepper children took alarm. "oh, won't it?" gasped joel, in distress, trying to fly back to the counter, as the whole bunch moved away in great delight at this momentous undertaking accomplished. "here, you!" ben seized his jacket and pulled him back, then he slipped away himself, while polly reassured joel that she was only supposing that if they hadn't bought grandpapa's present this very day what might have happened, so that she didn't see ben go, until, as he hurried back, "why, where--" she began, looking around. "nothing," said ben, answering her question, and his face grew red, "only i thought you'd better have the parcel sent to you," for he remembered just in time how dearly polly loved to receive bundles addressed to her own self. "oh, ben!" exclaimed polly, in dismay, "you shouldn't have done so. i'm going back to tell them to change it." "indeed you won't," declared ben, bursting into a laugh, "i guess changing it once is enough. come on, polly." but once outside they couldn't get along for the throng. "what is it?" cried david, who happened to be first, joel hanging back to look at the things on the last counter. "a fire. oh, polly, it must be!" "a fire!" joel caught the last word. "oh, good, that's prime!" he cleared the steps with a bound. but ben was after him and had him fast. it was impossible to see what the commotion was about, the people pressing up to the curbstone in such a throng. "it isn't any fire at all," declared joel, with a sniff, quite willing to be led back by ben. "there aren't any fire-engines or anything! come on, let's go to gallagher's." "gallagher's" was the best all-round shop in town, and it was the children's perfect delight whenever allowed to go there. "but something has happened," said polly, standing on her tiptoes, and craning her neck to look up the street where the group was the thickest. "o dear me! it's a woman, and she's hurt!" "tried to go across the street and got knocked down," volunteered a man, who, having seen all he wanted to, kindly made way for polly to take his place. "o dear me!" she began, then she caught sight of the face. "ben," she clutched his sleeve, "it's joel's old lady!" sure enough, the face, now as white as the big puffs of hair above it, came into view as two men lifted the owner, a big, stately woman, to the sidewalk. they came close to the little peppers, so that the stiff black silk coat, now plentifully besprinkled with mud, brushed them as it passed. joel gave a howl as she was carried by. "it's that cross old woman!" he exclaimed. "hush, joel!" polly pulled his arm. "get out of the way!" said the men, pushing with their burden into the drug store, two doors off. the bystanders, having seen all that satisfied their curiosity, rushed off to the delayed christmas shopping. only the pepper children were left. "polly," said ben, hoarsely, and his blue eyes shone, "just think, supposing she belonged to us." "she couldn't," said joel, decidedly, "she's awful cross." "for shame, joel," said ben, sternly. "i'm going in to see." he hurried after just as the men laid down the old woman on the marble floor. "blest if i know who she is!" said one of them, wiping his forehead as the perspiration rushed off. "she run right in front of the wagon, i seen her myself," said the other. "well, i guess she's dead," said the first man. ben pushed up nearer, motioning for the rest of the children who had followed to keep back. meantime the proprietor ran to the telephone. "i would thank you to call my carriage," said the old lady, the eyes in the white face flying open. the two men who had brought her in, and the little fringe of spectators, principally composed of the druggist's clerks and the little group of peppers, tumbled back suddenly. "she's out of her head," said one of the men behind his hand. "she didn't have no carriage." ben pushed by him, the old woman's eyes closing again, when polly knelt down by her side, and forgetting how scared she had been by that face the last time she saw it, she seized the poor stiff hand in its black glove. "oh, ma'am," she cried, "can't you tell me who you are, and we will get you home?" the eyes flew wide open again, and the face was quite as terrible, where she lay on the floor of the druggist's shop; the roman nose and the big white puffs stood up in such a formidable way. "oh!" the keen black eyes bored into polly's face; but "lift me up, and call my carriage," was all she said. ben heard, as did the others, and he rushed up to the proprietor just as the doctor, a dapper little man with a very big instrument case, came importantly in. "i don't want anything done to me," said the old lady, viewing the new arrival from head to foot. she was now sitting up, having made polly help her to that position. "and see here, boy," she glanced around for ben, "i'd thank you to give me a hand," and disdaining the proffered assistance of the young medical man, she was on her feet, and proceeding, though somewhat unsteadily, toward the door. "there he is," she raised one of her black gloves, "there's carson," pointing to a coachman driving a spirited pair of bays down the street, anxiety written all over his florid face, as he looked to right and to left. "here, stop him." which was easy to do, as ben rushed tumultuously out, for the coachman turned when down at the corner, driving slowly back to scan once more every shop door, and the passers-by on either side. "i thought i'd walk over to summer street," said the old lady, "and i told carson to wait there, when the wagon knocked me down." meanwhile she clung to polly's hand. "are you sure, madam, that you are not hurt?" the young physician pushed up. "such an accident as yours should be attended to." "when i require your services i can inform you," said the old lady, turning on him with so much vigor that he fell back involuntarily. "i shall call my own physician when i reach home. that's right, girl, help me to my carriage," and clinging to polly's hand she went down the drug-shop steps, carson ejaculating "o lord!" in great relief at seeing her, and nervously slapping his knee, though it had been all her own fault that she was in such a plight. "um!" she wouldn't groan, but it was perilously near it as she got into the carriage with polly's and ben's help and settled back on the cushions with a grimace. "oh, you _are_ hurt!" cried polly, the color dying from her cheek, and looking in the window in great concern. "nonsense!" said the old woman, in her sharpest tone. then she drew her breath hard. "your name, girl, and your brother?" she looked inquiringly at ben. "yes," said polly, with a glad little smile up at him; "he's ben." "what's the last name?" "pepper." ben and polly said it together, and the three others crowded up to the carriage door, crying out, "we're all peppers." "um!" said the old woman, looking them all over, but her gaze rested the longest on joel. "i'm sorry you got hurt," he blurted out with a very red face, and wishing he had remained in the background. "and where do you live?" asked the old woman, without the slightest attention to his remark. "at mr. king's," said ben. "he's my own dear grandpapa," announced phronsie, pressing up closely, "and i've bought him a dear little cat," holding it as high as she could. "drive home, carson," was all the old woman said. so carson, almost beside himself with delight that she was safely inside, went off at his best pace, and the carriage was soon lost to view around the corner. "well," said ben, "she'll soon be home now," with a sigh of relief. "we must make haste and get to gallagher's." when they came out of gallagher's an hour later, they were so laden down with bundles, little and big, for the children insisted on carrying everything home, that polly and ben had all they could do, what with their own parcels, to pilot the three younger ones along. everything had gone off splendidly, just the right presents had been found and bought, and, bubbling over with joy, the little group hurried along to get home to mamsie, knocking into everybody and being knocked about in return by big and crisscrossed bundles of every description, as their owners endeavored to wind their way along the crowded streets. "o dear, where is papa doctor?" cried polly, for the third time, when the coffee was brought in at dinner, and the children, who couldn't take any, were busy over the nuts and raisins. the shopping expedition had been hilariously told by the whole bunch, all except phronsie, who had been too sleepy to more than mumble to mamsie her purchase of the little cat, before she hid it in the under drawer of the big mahogany bureau. she wanted dreadfully to take it to bed with her, but that would never do, as it was to be a christmas gift. so she patted it lovingly good-by, and, after her nursery tea, was popped into bed herself. "o dear me!" polly ended with a sigh, for she never felt just comfortable unless she could tell doctor fisher everything, so half the pleasure of the recital was lost to her. "he is busy with a case, i suppose," said mother fisher, yet she looked worried and cast an anxious glance at the door. "working himself to death," observed old mr. king, from the head of the table, yet his eyes gleamed with delight. "just what i said," he was revolving in his own mind; "if he would come to the city, he could lead the profession." polly gave a little start and grew pale. "grandpapa doesn't mean that," whispered ben; "don't, polly," when the door opened and the little doctor marched in, head erect and his eyes shining behind their big spectacles. "well, well," he declared breezily, "i thought you'd be through dinner," and without a bit of warning he went up to polly's and ben's chairs. "i don't know which of you children i'm proudest of," he began. everybody stared and laid down knives and forks, while the little doctor, as if he had the happiest sort of a tale to unfold when the proper time came, nodded over to his wife. "i've been attending mrs. van ruypen," this time he bobbed his head over toward mr. king. "what, is mrs. van ruypen sick?" asked the old gentleman, quickly. "got knocked down in the street," the little doctor brought it out jerkily. when the little peppers heard that they all started, and joel exclaimed, "oh!" and slunk down in his chair, wishing he could go under the table, while old mr. king started a rapid fire of questions. little doctor fisher, skipping into his seat, replied as fast as he could, till the accident and its result was pretty generally known around the table. "but what have the children to do with it?" at last demanded mr. king, in a puzzled way, as he was never able to take his mind off very long from the peppers and their affairs. the little doctor burst into a happy laugh, he was so pleased, and it was so very contagious that before long everybody at the table had joined, until any one looking in would have said, "well, well, it's no use to wait for christmas to be jolly, for here we are merry as a grig now!" "i don't know in the least what i'm laughing at," said old mr. king, at last, "but you are enough, fisher, to start us off always. now be so good as to tell me what it is all about," and he wiped his eyes. "why, the old lady, mrs. van ruypen, whatever her name is, wasn't so very much hurt," said ben, his blue eyes shining. "and it's so very lovely, grandpapa," cried polly, her cheeks very red, and clapping her hands, even if she were at the table. "it's prime!" shouted joel, coming up straight in his chair, his black eyes shining. but at the next remark, down he slid again, wishing he hadn't said anything. "oh, it isn't that!" said doctor fisher, quickly, "i'm glad enough i can fix the old lady up; but it's my children." then he set his glasses straight, which had slipped down his nose, and beamed affectionately on the four faces. mrs. fisher slipped her hand on his tired one, as it rested on his lap. "what is it, adoniram?" she asked. "why, that old--i mean mrs. van ruypen,--i should just as soon think of a stone gate-post breaking out--says our children helped her, and she's overcome with gratitude. think of it, mary, that old stone post!" "oh!" cried joel, burrowing deeply, till his face was almost obscured. "and she can't say enough about them. wants them to come over to-morrow." "ugh!" with that joel wholly disappeared, sliding down under the table. "where are you going, joe?" ben exclaimed, and the butler hurrying over, joel was soon drawn out and installed once more on his chair. this time he was the centre for all eyes. "oh, joel!" mother fisher's delight which had spread over her face died out so suddenly, that joel blurted out, dreadfully distressed, "i didn't mean to, mamsie," and he choked back the tears, not to add to his disgrace. "brighten up, joel," said little doctor fisher, cheerily. "we'll forgive him this time, mary, for mrs. van ruypen sent her love to him, and particularly wants him to come to-morrow, and--" "no, no," howled joel, this time all lost to control, "i was bad to her," and every bit of blood rushed up to his round face. "why, she says she was bad to you," observed the little doctor, demurely; "anyway you are to go with the others to-morrow, joe, so it's all right, my boy." v "the presents all go from santa claus" joel protested up to the very last that he couldn't go to see the big lady in the black silk coat. "but maybe she won't have it on," said david, who had been anxiously hanging on joel's every word, and surveying his round countenance in fear. supposing joel shouldn't really go! this would be worse than all, and david clasped and unclasped his hands nervously. "of course she won't have it on!" exclaimed polly, briskly. "why, the very idea, she wouldn't wear that in the house!" "now you see, joel," cried david, much relieved, and his face brightening, "she won't, really, for polly says so." "well, you've got to go anyway," declared ben, in a downright way there was no mistaking. "so say no more, joe, but get your cap." the other pepper children were all in a bunch in the wide hall revolving around joel, who felt, as long as he postponed getting his coat and cap, he was surely safe from making the awful expedition. but now, seeing ben's blue eyes upon him, he set out for the closet in the back hall where the boys' outer garments were kept, grumbling at every step. "o dear me! this is too dreadful for anything," sighed polly, sinking down on the last step of the stairs. when phronsie saw her do this, she hurried over, and snuggled up in her fur-trimmed coat as close as she could get to her side. "i wish jasper was home," said ben, with a long breath, and going across to stand in front of the two. "so we wish all the time," said polly, "but then, he can't come till friday, and that's just forever." little david, left alone, thought the best thing he could do would be to run after joel. so he precipitated himself upon that individual, who, just knocking down his cap from its hook, was beginning to prowl around the floor in the corner of the closet. "can't find it," growled joel, knocking off more things in his irritation. "oh, let me!" cried david, delighted to help. "let me, joel; i'll get it!" "you keep off," cried joel, lifting a hot, red face; "i'll get it myself. and i won't go to see that old woman!" he declared savagely. "oh, yes, you must, joe!" cried david, in alarm. "i won't, i won't, i won't!" declared joel, feeling with each repetition of the word a happy independence. "yes, indeed, the children have gone," a voice suddenly proclaimed above the stairs, as somebody opened the door and came out into the upper hall. "yes, mrs. whitney, they have gone to mrs. van ruypen's." "it's mamsie," gasped david, clutching joel's shoulders, who ducked back into his corner so suddenly that they both went down in a little heap. "did she hear?" gasped joel, holding his breath for the answer. "i don't believe so," said david, when he could extricate himself from joel sufficiently, who now grasped him by both hands in a way very uncomfortable for conversation. "no, i don't really believe she did, joel, 'cause she said we'd gone." "she'll hear us now, anyway," said joel, thrust into the depths of gloom, his independence completely deserting him; "what'll we do?" little david found his feet and tiptoed out to listen under the stairs. "she's going into her room," he announced in a whisper, coming back to the closet. "come, joey, do hurry." so joel picked up his cap and crammed it on his head, and stepped out of the closet, but he had a very gloomy air when the two boys presented themselves in the front hall. "o there! now you see," said polly to ben, quite in despair, "just how very dreadful it's all going to be, when joel goes with such a face." "well, come on," said ben, setting his lips tightly together. so polly and phronsie got off from the stair, and if the expedition was not begun in hilarity, it was at least started. but when they reached the big house of mrs. van ruypen, that loomed up across the square like a heavy, dark brown fortress, the situation was much worse. "i'm not going in," declared joel, all his terrors returning, and he planted his feet firmly on the pavement, determined not to go up the first step. how it was done, he never knew, but the next moment he was at the top of the flight under ben's hands, who released him enough to ring the bell, and the butler answering the summons, joel was really the first person to enter, which he did with a bound, as if extremely eager to get in. and then, it was all like a dream! they were ushered into a reception room, high and dark and gloomy, and told to take off their things, for madam would receive them upstairs. in the excitement of it all, polly, while undoing phronsie's coat and taking off her bonnet, forgot all about joel, and it wasn't really until after they had mounted the long stairs that she had the first thought about him. and then, o dear me! there stood madam van ruypen, with a long white hand, fairly blazing with rings, outstretched to welcome them. "where's the other boy?" she demanded, looking over the group. "he came," said polly, faintly, growing quite scarlet at such dreadful manners in one of her family, for which she felt responsible. "he really did, ma'am." "impossible!" exclaimed madam van ruypen; "you can see for yourself he's not here," and her face fell. ben said never a word, but dashed down the long flight. there was joel, the picture of gloom, on one of the big chairs in the reception room. he had run back, after ben supposed that he was at his heels, and found the only refuge he could think of. "you're a nice boy," said ben, picking him off from his chair. "now march, joe," and he kept him well in front of him; and at last, there he was, and madam van ruypen had taken his hand. but he didn't look at her. "well, at last you are all here," she was saying; "now i'm going to tell you what i wanted you for." no one of the five little peppers appeared to breathe, except phronsie, who chirped out, "oh, we've come all this way to see you!" "yes, yes, i know," said madam van ruypen, who was vastly pleased at that, and she nodded her head, that had a ponderous affair of lace and jet upon it, down toward phronsie; "but there was something i especially wanted of you, and i'll tell it in one word. you must choose the toys i'm going to send to some poor children." without another word, she turned and swung the door wide to another room, and there, before their entranced eyes, was toyland! joel took one look, and howled out, "oh, i will; let me; let me!" bounding in. "so you shall," said madam van ruypen, laughing heartily. "there, get in there, all of you, and set to work." there was no need to tell them this, and they were soon running about, not pausing long in any spot, for the attractions overflowed on tables and chairs, and even the carpet appeared to be covered with the best specimens of toys from all the shops in town. but phronsie went directly over and sat down in front of a big doll, and gazed at her without a word. "oh, it's just like gallagher's," cried polly, flying about with sparkling eyes, and she clasped her hands. "oh, what richness!" "hoh, it's better than gallagher's," retorted joel, in scorn, who had always thought that shop was the very finest place imaginable. "dave, here's the steam-engine, the very one!" he cried, spying it in a corner. madam van ruypen laughed again, and this time it seemed as if she were not going to stop. and pretty soon the whole room looked as if santa claus himself had been there with his load, while as for the babel of voices,--well, it was exactly like a flock of blackbirds all chattering together. "you said they were going to poor children," said polly, at last, flying up to the tall figure that now it seemed as if they had known all their lives. "oh, do tell us about it." "so i will." madam van ruypen swept off the articles from a big easy-chair, preparatory to sitting down. "let me!" said ben, coming up in his slow way. but the toys were half off, and polly had gathered up the rest, and the big figure was already in the chair. "you see," she began-"oh, would you please wait?" begged polly, in great distress, looking over across the room where joel and david were deep in the charms of some mechanical toy. "yes, to be sure," said madam van ruypen, good naturedly, while polly ran over to them. "boys, come!" she cried hurriedly. "something's the matter with this pig," said joel, not looking at her, and fussing with the animal in question. "well, put it down," said polly, impatiently. "she's going to tell us what she wants us to do." "then dave'll get my pig," said joel, with one eye askance at that individual. "oh, no, he won't touch it; will you, davie?" said polly. "do put it down, joe, and come along." "no, i won't," said david, "touch it a single bit." so joel laid the pig carefully down, and the two boys hurried after polly. madam van ruypen now began again. "phronsie ought to hear," said joel, as he crowded up. "hush," said ben, looking over at her where she still sat absorbed in the big doll; "you let her be, joel, and keep still." "i have had so much trouble over every christmas," said madam van ruypen, proceeding briskly, "selecting presents for some children i happen to know about, who ought to have them, that really i sometimes wish there wasn't any christmas." wish there wasn't any christmas! every one of the peppers who heard those direful words tumbled back in dismay and gazed at her in amazement. "i really did, but i don't now!" madam van ruypen drew a long breath, then she laughed again. "well, here we are, and this christmas i mean to have an easy time, for i'm not to select a single thing myself, but put all the responsibility on you young people." "do you really mean," cried polly pepper, crowding up quite closely, with flushed cheeks, "that we can pick out the toys and things for you to give to your poor children? oh, do you mean it?" "to be sure, bless you, yes; why, that is just why i got you over here, and what i've had this room turned into a toy-shop for." she waved her long, white hands over at the array. "oh, oh, joel," polly seized the arm next to her and gave it a little tweak, "do begin, for she wants us to pick out the things she is to send to the poor children. i'm going to choose that work-box, and that backgammon board, and--" and polly ran off and was deep in a dozen things at once. "hoh, i'm not," said joel, who couldn't bear backgammon; "i'm going to choose my pig, when i fix him so he'll squeak, and my steam-engine. yes, sir! that's the best of all." and immediately the entire room was in a bustle. ben turned off with the others, but presently came slowly back to stand a minute at madam van ruypen's chair, where she sat with folded hands. "well, what is it?" she asked, looking up into his face. "were you picking out toys for the poor children when we saw you yesterday?" asked ben, looking at her steadily. "dear me, yes; what do you suppose could have induced me to go into such a mob?" cried madam van ruypen. "oh!" said ben, then he turned back and set to work on doing what he could to pick out the things he should want if he were really a poor boy, not likely to get presents in any other way. but the nicest of all things, so he thought,--thick boots, mittens, and fur tippets to keep out the cold,--were not there, and he stifled a sigh, and gave his mind to do the best he could under the circumstances. "something is the matter, i see." he didn't know it, but there the old lady was, close by his side, and the next words showed clearly that she had discovered what was on his mind. "out with it, ben,--for that's your name, i believe." "yes," said ben, "it is." "well, you might as well tell me, for i see very plainly that you don't think i've had the right things sent up from the stores. what would you send to poor children for their christmas?" "i think a boy would like a pair of boots," said ben, slowly; then he came to the conclusion that he might as well tell the whole, "or a thick coat, or some mittens, and a tippet." "but those wouldn't be christmas presents; those are everyday things," said the old lady, sharply. "they wouldn't be his everyday things," said ben, sturdily. "oh, perhaps that is so," said madam van ruypen, thoughtfully. "well, let us see." she took up some books, whirled the pages a minute, to give herself time to think, then she pushed them all away impatiently. "you go on, and choose what you think some boys would like out of the things that are here, as we haven't any clothes among them," then she turned away, and swept back into her seat. and ben, feeling very sure that the wrong thing had been said by him, set to work, as best he might, to do as she wanted. when the task was over, it seemed as if all the toys and gay articles had been chosen, every one! "they are all perfectly beautiful," sighed polly, "and we can't leave any out." "so i am to send them all," said madam van ruypen, much pleased to think that her experiment in having the things sent up was so approved, and looking around at them all. "oh, yes, yes!" they cried, joel especially vociferating that not a single one was to be omitted. now that he had discovered the weak part in the pig's voice, and had fixed it to his satisfaction, everything was all right. "please give her to the poor child," begged phronsie, who had the whole thing explained to her by polly, and coming up with very pink cheeks to hold as high as she could the big doll. "oh, do, please do, and give it right away." "oh, i shall not give it," said madam van ruypen, decidedly. a quiver came into phronsie's voice and her lip drooped, and she looked as if she were going to cry. "please," she began. "santa claus is going to take it to her," said the old lady, making haste to explain when she saw phronsie's face. "don't you be afraid, child; the poor little girl will get her doll." "oh, then i'm glad," said phronsie, beginning to smile. and two little tears that were just starting out determined to go back again. then she laughed gleefully. "polly, polly," she cried in great excitement, "the big lady is going to take it to the poor little girl; she is, polly, she said so." "i shan't take it," said madam van ruypen, nodding over to polly; "the little girl won't know it's from me, but she will have it all the same." "shan't you tell her you sent it?" demanded joel, who had caught the words, and whirling around suddenly; "shan't you tell her about any of the things?" waving his hands in all directions. "of course not," declared madam van ruypen. "dear me, not for the world, joel, would i have them know where the things come from. the presents all go from santa claus." "oh!" said joel. "and now you don't know--you can't even guess," said madam van ruypen, "what a load you have taken off my mind by coming here to help me." "have we?" cried polly, with glistening eyes. "oh, so much!" declared the old lady. "i haven't," said joel; "i've only had a good time," and patting his steam-engine lovingly. then he set it off once more. "whee,--whiz,--see her go!" he cried. "stop, joey, we're all through," said polly. "and it's time to go," said ben. "and send 'em to-night, do," said joel, deserting his engine abruptly to march up to the old lady. "oh, joel!" cried polly, much ashamed. "and tell the boy who gets the pig to turn him upside down when the squeak won't come," said joel, nowise abashed. "come on, joe," said ben, picking his sleeve. "oh, wait a moment, ben," said madam van ruypen, laying a detaining hand on his arm, as the others said good-by and filed downstairs to get coats and hats on. "i think, myself, it might be advisable to add a few things to wear to these presents, and i want you to go to-morrow afternoon with me to choose them. will you?" and ben said "yes," quite overwhelmed with the thought. he was actually going shopping with madam van ruypen! vi ben goes shopping with madam van ruypen all the rest of the peppers crowded up to the windows to watch ben go off in state in the van ruypen carriage, phronsie climbing up on a chair to see him the better. as for ben himself, he was so amazed at the whole thing, to think that he was by madam van ruypen's side, and expected to give his opinion as to matters and things, that for some minutes he had all he could do to keep his attention on what she was saying. "you see, ben," at last he made out, "i don't know in the least what to get for a boy, and if it were not for you, i shouldn't think of such a thing as to pick out clothes for one. well, here we are," as carson drew up to a large tailoring establishment. "we'll go in and do our best, but it must be you who does the selecting." ben, with an awful feeling at his heart at all this responsibility, stumbled after her as she marched down the long store, the salesmen all vying with each other to attract her attention and wait upon her. she didn't notice any of them, but kept on her way, her roman nose and white puffs of hair held well up, until at the end of the aisle a little dapper man stepped up, rubbing his hands obsequiously together, and stopped her progress. "anything i can show you, madam?" he said with a bow and a flourish. madam van ruypen looked him all over carelessly. "oh, well, i suppose you can; this boy here," she turned to ben, "understands what i want. now then, ben, speak up and tell the man, for i know nothing about it." with that she looked around for a chair, which the little dapper man, hurrying off, soon brought, and, sitting down, she drew up her stately figure to its full height, and left ben to his own devices. "i suppose it must be a coat," began ben. oh, if mamsie were only there! instead, was the big figure in the black silk coat, whose eyes had such a way of boring right through one that it seemed to take the breath away of the one being inspected. "i suppose so," said the old lady, "as we have come for clothes; why, a coat appears to be essential, and if i were to express an opinion, i should consider that the rest of the suit would be a good investment, too." "quite right," assented the shopman. "now i will show you some. this way, madam; here, stay, and i will move your chair." "you will do nothing of the sort," said madam van ruypen, shortly; "this is not to be of my purchasing; this boy will attend to it for me. ben, you go along with the man and select the articles." "do you mean i'm to go without you, ma'am?" asked ben, quite aghast at the very idea, his blue eyes very wide. "of course," said the old lady, having hard work not to laugh; "i said so, i believe." "but, but--i may not pick out the right things," stammered ben. "i'll trust you," said madam van ruypen, waving him off summarily. so as there was nothing else to do, ben followed the little man down what seemed an interminable number of aisles, at last pausing before a set of drawers, on either hand of which was a cabinet with doors. "now, here," said the salesman, swinging wide one of the doors, "is just the thing. it's for yourself, i suppose," and he took down with a deft hand a jacket and a pair of trousers. "oh, no, it isn't," ben made haste to say, answering the question. "hey--oh!" the little man whirled around to stare at him,--"your brother then?" "no," said ben, growing hot and red in the face. "it isn't for any of us,--no one i know; she's going to give them away to some boy who--" he was going to say "needs them," but the salesman shut off the words from his mouth, and, clapping to the door, led the way off down another aisle to a counter where the suits were piled high; "i've got just the very thing for you here," he announced, twitching one out; "there, now, see that." "but that is much too nice," said ben, putting his finger on the fine goods, and wishing he were anywhere else in the world but in that store, and the perspiration began to trickle in little drops down his face. "so?" the salesman leaned his hands meditatively on the counter, and surveyed him. "well, i'll show you some other goods. come this way," and again they traversed some more aisles, took an elevator, and went up what seemed to ben a great many floors, at last coming out to a department which, as far as the eye could see, was stacked with thick, ready-made goods of serviceable materials. "there," said the little man, giving quick, birdlike glances on either side, and, at last pausing, he slapped his hand smartly down on a small pile of suits, "is just the ticket for you." "yes," said ben, and he ran his hand approvingly over the thick surface, "i guess it is; it looks good." "and it is good," said the salesman, emphatically; "it'll outwear three of those other ones downstairs. we haven't but a few of these left. now, how big is the boy you want it for?" "i don't know," said ben, helplessly. "well, we've got to have something to go by," said the salesman; "of course you can't buy at random and haphazard." "she didn't say," said ben, with a nod over in the direction supposed to be where madam van ruypen was waiting several floors below for the transaction to be completed. "but she's going to give them to a boy," he added desperately, "and so i guess i'll pick out the very best you have for the money, and it'll be right. they'll fit some boy." "right you are," declared the salesman, delighted to have the matter satisfactorily arranged, and, pulling out a coat and jacket, he held them up before ben's eyes. "now that is the best money value we've got in the store. fact. we're closing them out. couldn't afford to give 'em at this low figure, but there's only these few left, and we don't allow remnants to bother us long, no, sir." he rattled on so fast that ben, who was slowly going over the coat, which he had by this time gotten into his own hands, in a close examination as to buttons and buttonholes, only half heard him. indeed, it wasn't in the least necessary, for he hadn't held the garment for a moment before he knew quite well that here was a good bargain, and one well fitted to warm some poor boy, and to wear well. "you can't find fault," said the little man, in great satisfaction, when the whole suit had been gone over in this slow way, "'cause there ain't any. fact! well, do you want it?" "how much is it?" asked ben. "nine-fifty. it's worth three dollars more, but we're closing them out, as i told you, and we don't give room to remnants. it's a bargain if ever there was one. fact! do you want it?" "yes, if she says so," said ben. and now his spirits quite rose, for it was a good thing, and he was not ashamed to show it to madam van ruypen, or to any one else, as his selection. so the salesman flung the suit over his arm, and skipped off, followed by ben. and they shot down the elevator and went back down all the aisles. there she sat, stiff and immovable, in her chair. "oh, only one?" she asked, as the salesman held up the bargain. "i didn't know you wanted two," gasped ben; "you didn't say so." "oh, i suppose i did not mention it. but have you been all this time picking out a paltry one?" she didn't even offer to touch the suit, and scarcely glanced at it. "do you like it?" asked ben. "see, it's thick and warm, isn't it?" lifting the sleeve for her to see it the better. "oh, i suppose it will serve its purpose, and be warm enough," she said carelessly. "well, now," to the salesman, "will you go back and bring another one, a smaller size, and stay, still another, for there must be some more boys in the family? there ought to be. no, you don't need to go, ben; he can pick them out. just the same quality, mind," and she dismissed the little man. when he had disappeared, she cast an approving glance at the suit thrown across the counter. "very well chosen," she said. "and now, see here, run down to the neckwear counter--or stay," and she raised her black glove. a small army of salesmen seemed to rush to the scene, so many appeared. "what is it, madam?" for all knew, at least by sight, the wealthy old lady, who, try as hard as she might, never seemed to be able to make much impression on the van ruypen money-bags. "take this boy to the different departments that he selects, and let him buy what pleases him," she said to the first salesman that reached her. "yes, madam," he said, well pleased, and leading off with ben. but just then a floor-walker touched him on the shoulder, "mr. moses wants you," he said, "about those vests." "oh, all right," said the salesman; "here, perkins," and beckoning to a tall young man, who appeared to ben very much dressed up, he turned the boy over to him, and went off. "well, what do you want?" asked mr. perkins, leisurely surveying ben's sturdy figure from his greater height. "a red woollen tippet, i think," said ben. "a red woollen tippet!" repeated the salesman, nearly falling backward. "oh, we haven't got one in the store!" "haven't you?" asked ben, very much disappointed, for he had set his heart on seeing that the boy who was to have those good warm clothes should have a red woollen tippet to tie around his throat, and perhaps go over his cap, and down around his ears, if it was very cold. anyway, the ends were to tuck in the jacket. ben knew just exactly how that tippet was to look when it was all fixed, ready for a sharp, cold, snowy day. "well, i can suit you," said the salesman, noting the disappointed tone; "we've got silk scarfs, nice ones, all--" "oh, i don't want a silk scarf," said ben, quickly. "some of them are plaid; you don't know how fine they are. this way," and he stepped off. but as ben stood quite still, there was nothing for the salesman to do but to come back, which he did, quite discomfited. "have you got any caps?" asked ben, leaving the red tippet out of the question as an impossibility in this shop. "caps? oh, yes, this way," and away they went, down aisles, up in elevators, and into the department where nothing but headgear showed itself. this time, knowing there were to be three boys provided for with suits, ben picked out the same number of good, strong caps, the salesman all through the process plainly showing his disgust and disappointment at what he thought was to be a fine purchase, turning out to be such a poor trade. but ben knew nothing of what was going on in the other one's mind, and would have cared still less, had he known, all his attention being absorbed in the bargain he was making for madam van ruypen. at last the business was concluded. "do you keep gloves?" he asked, as they turned away. "yes," said the salesman, sullenly, and slapping the three cloth caps together disdainfully. "mittens?" asked ben. "no, indeed," said mr. perkins, emphatically. "mittens, the very idea!" then he winked at a young man, who looked as if a wrinkle, by any chance, never existed in his clothes, and whose hair was evidently just fresh from the barber's. "we don't keep anything but first-class goods." the other young man made no attempt to conceal his broad smile. and by this time ben had considerable attention down the long store. he couldn't help but see it, and he held his head high, and his blue eyes flashed. "well, give me the money--" mr. perkins held out his hand, the one with the big ring on. "i don't pay for them," said ben. "well, i guess you do, young man," declared mr. perkins, in a high key, designed to impress the onlookers. "you've bought these caps," and he gave them another disdainful slap together, "and you'll pay for them, and now, right sharp off!" he added in a very unpleasant way. "but i haven't bought them for myself," said ben. "hey? oh! what are you talking about?" mr. perkins whirled around at him. "who sent you here, anyway?" glaring down at him. "i haven't been sent," said ben; "i came with the one who is going to buy them." "well, who is he? take me to him." mr. perkins craned his neck this way and that, trying to see the friend of his customer. "if you will follow me, you will see for yourself," said ben, stepping off. when he paused by madam van ruypen's chair, mr. perkins was in a bad state. his long limbs seemed wobbling under him, and his usually glib tongue appeared to be fastened to the roof of his mouth. he delivered up the caps with a limp and feeble hand, then cast an appealing eye down at ben. "very good," said the old lady, without a glance at them. "put them with these other articles," pointing to the suit left on the counter. "now, then, ben, are these all the things you can find here, pray tell?" "yes," said ben, "they don't seem to keep what i want in this shop." "let me look again," cried mr. perkins, in great distress, "i think maybe i can find something to suit you. don't go yet, i almost know we can find something," he kept on in such misery, saying the same thing over and over, that madam van ruypen stared at him in amazement. meanwhile, the other young man, who had followed ben and mr. perkins with his eye till they arrived at madam van ruypen's chair, soon spread the astounding news that the boy who wanted mittens had good reason to hold his own against everybody, and was by no means a person to be safely laughed at. "and perkins is having a fit," he wound up, to the group of salesmen unencumbered by customers. "i don't think you can," said ben, quickly; "i must try some other shop." "but just come and let me show you some things," begged mr. perkins, in a frenzy. "oh, go along, ben," said madam van ruypen; "you might as well, for i must wait here until the other man brings down those extra suits." so ben had nothing to do but to move off with mr. perkins. when they had turned into a convenient corner, "see here," said the salesman, and his face paled, "you won't tell on me, will you?" his mouth twitched, and anxious wrinkles seemed to run all over his face, making him suddenly quite old and worn. "what do you think?" said ben, indignantly, and he turned on his heel in contempt. "you see," mr. perkins hurried after him, and spoke as if his throat were parched, the words came out so jerkily, "i couldn't stay here a minute, you know, if the old man knew i'd treated any one belonging to her badly." "i don't belong to her," said ben. "well, you came with her," said mr. perkins, quite willing now to believe ben much higher up yet, if that were possible, in the social scale. "and i've got a mother," he swallowed hard with a kind of choke, "and three sisters, and--" "you needn't be afraid," ben stopped the rest; "i give you my word i'll not speak of it." "honest injun, now?" said mr. perkins, anxiously. "i've given you my word," said ben; "that's all i'll say," looking at him squarely. mr. perkins drew a long breath, and the wrinkles seemed to drop right out of his face. "thank you," he said. "now, if you'll come this way, i'll show you some things that you want." when the two joined the old lady there was quite a little array of articles in mr. perkins's hands, which he did not slap disdainfully together. to be sure there were no mittens; but there were some thick cloth gloves, and a stout, large handkerchief, and some heavy stockings. and as the other two suits had been brought down from the top floor, there was quite a respectable pile of purchases to be done up and put in the handsome brougham waiting at the door. and mr. perkins insisted, also, on seeing them out, although the first salesman, by his manner, proclaimed it quite unnecessary, and the tall young man's "thank you" was said last of all, and he appeared to look only at ben. "quite a gentle-mannered young man," observed madam van ruypen, as the carriage door was closed; "such a contrast to the ordinary, pert creature. i shall make an excuse to shop there again, and i shall insist upon having him wait upon me. well, now, ben, while we are driving to birdsall's, where you can, maybe, get the articles you couldn't find here, let us think up some boys to give these things to." she pointed to the big bundle on the opposite seat, which, more for the pleasure of actually carrying it home, than because of the christmas rush, she had decided to take with her. "don't you know the boys you are going to give the clothes to?" exclaimed ben, turning in great astonishment to gaze at her. "dear me, no," said madam van ruypen, with a laugh, "but that doesn't make any matter. there are boys enough who will like those things, i haven't any doubt. i only thought, seeing you've been such a help to me in buying them, that perhaps you'd think of the boys to fit them to. well, there's the city missionary society; they'll tell me, probably." ben removed his gaze from the white puffs and roman nose, and looked steadily out of the window. gone seemed the city buildings and streets to give place to country lanes, with here and there a farm-house to break the stretch of long, snow-covered roads. if only he dared to say his thought! "and as long as you can't help me," madam van ruypen's voice had a little break in it, as if she were not, somehow, finding quite as much satisfaction in the expedition as she had hitherto enjoyed, "why, i suppose--" "why don't you send them to a country boy?" cried ben, whirling suddenly around on the green leather seat, his blue eyes shining. "hey, what--why--" began the old lady. then there was an awful pause. and just as ben had made up his mind that the whole morning expedition had been made a failure, and by him, she broke out, "i have the very thing, and, ben, there are three boys in that family. only think, i've forgotten them all this time, since i saw them up in the mountains last summer." ben drew a long breath, and his face said, "do tell me about them," though he couldn't say a word. "there isn't much to tell," said the old lady in a shamefaced way, "for, being boys, i didn't somehow get interested in them. their mother did my washing when i was at the hotel. their father had died, you see." "oh," said ben. "and now it comes to me, though i didn't think much of it at the time, that the people at the hotel said the boys, that is the two older ones, had to walk three miles to school every day. it was only a little settlement, you see." madam van ruypen didn't add that she had sent some money to the mother, on hearing this story, and then straightway forgot all about the matter. "so now, oh, ben, just think what you've made me remember! and we'll make the box just as big as we can. what do you want to buy now?" she turned on him eagerly. "mittens," said ben, promptly, "and a red woollen tippet." vii "where's pip?" and jasper turned back "something is the matter!" cried polly, hoarsely. "oh, ben, i know there is!" she rushed up to him in the hall and seized his arm. "nonsense!" said ben, but his cheek paled, and his blue eyes, usually so steady, didn't look at her. if polly were frightened, something dreadful must have happened. "there is, there is," repeated polly, quite wildly, "for aunty whitney has gone to grandpapa. and there's a telegram come,--and, oh, ben, can it be jasper?" with that polly held so tightly to the sturdy arm she had grasped that at another time ben would have cried, "hands off, polly!" this time he didn't even feel it. "oh, no, polly," was all he could say reassuringly, yet his knees knocked together and everything for a moment seemed to swim before his eyes. "i saw it myself. it was a telegram that jane had," polly was saying, between little sobs that cut ben through and through like a knife. "and christmas--" and she could get no farther. "see here, polly," ben came to his senses enough to shake himself free, then he threw his arms around her and held her fast, "don't let us act like this until we know for sure. i'm going to find out" with that he rushed off, and polly, too wild with distress to be left alone, stumbled after him down the hall, as he hurried to find jane. that individual was huddled down in a corner of the back hall which she fondly supposed cleverly concealed her, her apron up to her eyes, and mumbling something behind it to herself. ben precipitated himself so suddenly upon her that there was no time for recovery of her composure. she dashed down the apron to look up at him and also see polly at his heels. "o my!" she began, dreadfully frightened at the sight of the two she most dreaded to meet at this moment. "you might as well tell us, jane," said ben, swallowing very hard, and he reached out and seized polly's hand, "because we know some bad news came. now, what is it?" if polly had pinched his arm in her fright, it was nothing to the grip he now gave her fingers, without his knowing it, while she threw her arm around his neck and held on. "o my gracious!" jane shook with fright, but she saw no way out of it but to tell, so she added, twisting her apron-end into a ball, "yes, it did come, o me, o my!" "it is about jasper," said ben, quietly. "how'd you know, master ben?" cried jane, in astonishment, remembering how she had become possessed of the news which yet couldn't have travelled through the house. "never mind, what is it?" demanded ben, sharply. "be quick now, jane; you might as well tell us first as last." "o me!" cried jane, deserting the apron-end to wring her hands desperately, "i wish i hadn't listened. oh, i can't tell you, don't make me!" "jane," ben leaned over her as well as he could for polly hanging to him, "you've just _got_ to tell us, so you might as well be quick about it. don't you see you're only making us feel worse?" as ben wasn't given to long speeches, jane had time to look up in surprise at his face, and then she made up her mind to tell the whole story. "if you must know--but don't let 'em blame me 'cause i told you," she burst out. "you shan't be blamed," promised ben. "go on." "well, there's been a fire at the school, and master jasper's hurt, burned, i guess, and--" "ben!" a voice rang through the hall. "o mercy me!" jane bounded to her feet, seized her feather duster, which implement she had been wielding when the fatal telegram had been handed in, and scuttled down the back hall. "ben, ben! does any one know where he is?" it was aunty whitney, whose gentle voice was never heard on such a key, and she was actually running down the hall, her pretty face all streaked with tears. "oh, ben, there isn't a moment to lose. father wants you to go with him to jasper. i can't tell you what for." "i know," said ben, quietly, while polly stuffed her fingers into her mouth to keep from screaming. mrs. whitney didn't stop to express any surprise, but her face looked relieved that he had heard the news. "and you must catch the next train," she hurried on, her voice breaking; "oh, ben, you must." "i'm ready," cried ben. he gave polly one kiss, then pulled her arms away from his neck. "your mother says you can go, and she is getting your things together." "i'll--i'll help put them up," said polly, blindly staggering off after him as he rushed down the hall. "no, no, polly," cried mrs. whitney, "your mother said you must stay with me,--and polly, i need you so badly." she opened her arms and polly ran into them, and though there wasn't very much comforting done, it was good to be together. and thomas whirled up to the door, and mr. king and ben and mr. king's valet got into the carriage, into which portmanteaus were thrown, and away the horses sprang in a mad rush to make the train. and it was all done in such bewildering haste that the group in the hall scarcely knew or understood anything until the big front door shut with a clang, and they were alone. and nothing to tell of it all but that dreadful yellow telegram lying on mr. king's writing-table just where it had been thrown. "fire at school dormitory early this morning. your son jasper hurt. come at once. "jacob a. presbrey." polly never knew for long weeks afterward just how she got through that dreadful day, except that joel and david had to be soothed, no one being able so well as herself to stop the howls of the former, who, on hearing the news, threw himself flat on the floor in a corner of grandpapa's writing room, refusing all comfort. little david crouched closely to him, and with never a word laid his head on his shoulder. and afterward polly found herself installed as mrs. whitney's little nurse, sitting upon the bed most of the time, and smoothing the soft, fair hair, as it lay on the pillow, with a trembling hand. "you can't know what a comfort you are to me, polly," every once in a while mrs. whitney would say, and reaching up a hand to feel for polly's fingers. "am i?" said polly, careful not to let the tears drop where they could be seen. "yes, indeed! and oh, polly, i don't really believe that we ought to think the worst. god wouldn't let anything happen to our jasper. he wouldn't, polly." but mrs. whitney clutched the pillow, and turned her face into it and sobbed. and polly smoothed her hair, and said not a word. and all those terrible hours passed away--how, no one could tell. outside they could hear phronsie, who, of course, knew nothing of the blow that had fallen upon the household, gayly laughing and chattering away. she had been told that grandpapa had gone away and that she must not go into his room; so she hadn't seen joel and david. but mother fisher had hard work to keep the incessant calls for polly from being sounded over the halls and stairs, and at last she took phronsie into her room and closed the door. "now, mother's baby," said mrs. fisher, seating herself on the wide haircloth sofa, and drawing phronsie into her lap. how often had jasper sat on this old sofa and told her his boyish confidences the same as her own children! she gave a groan at the thought of what might be happening now at that distant school. "what is it, mamsie?" asked phronsie, in gentle surprise, and lifting a soft little hand to her mother's cheek. "oh, my pet," mrs. fisher drew phronsie quickly to her breast, "you mustn't mind mamsie." "but you made a funny noise here, mamsie," and phronsie touched her mother's throat. "did i? well, never mind, dear. now i must tell you, you cannot have polly to-day, phronsie." "but i want polly," said phronsie, regarding her mother with grave displeasure. "yes, i know, dear. but you cannot have her just to-day. mother does not think it is best." phronsie's lip quivered and her brown eyes closed to squeeze the tears back. but despite all her efforts they would come, and two big ones rolled down her cheeks. "and mamsie will be very much disappointed in her little girl if she cries," went on mrs. fisher, "for aunty whitney needs polly to-day. so phronsie must be brave and let polly stay with her." "is aunty whitney sick?" asked phronsie, with sudden interest, her eyes flying open at once. for any one to be sick was to enlist her sympathy, and she at once gave up all thoughts of having polly to herself. "yes, that is, she will be, i am afraid, if polly does not stay with her," said mother fisher; "so you must be a good child, and not call for polly." "i will be good," said phronsie, sliding down from her mother's lap, and folding her hands. "i will be good." she bobbed her yellow head. "and aunty whitney will get all well, because polly is there." meanwhile the train bearing mr. king and ben was speeding swiftly on its way. for the first hour the old gentleman sat erect on his chair, gazing straight before him at the flying landscape, and with never a word for his companion. then he suddenly turned with a little groan, and laid his hand on ben's shoulder. "you are such a comfort to me," he said brokenly. "am i?" said ben, all the color rushing to his face. he a comfort to grandpapa! he hadn't gotten over wondering what had given him this honor of being allowed to go with him,--and now, to think of being a comfort! "what i should have done without you, ben, i cannot tell," grandpapa was saying, his hand slipping down until it rested on ben's woollen glove, "but, oh, my boy, i am so glad i have you." ben said never a word; he couldn't have spoken, it seemed to him, to save his life, but he lifted his blue eyes to the white, drawn face, and old mr. king did not seem to feel anything lacking. and so, on and on; the revolutions of the wheels, the flashing in and out of strange cities, the long, steady, tireless plunge of the heavily laden express, by river and lake, hill-top and plain, only rang one refrain through every heart-throb, over and over, loud and clear above the reverberation of the train,--"what shall we find at our journey's end?" and when it was reached at nightfall, grandpapa still had ben's fingers in his grasp; the valet rushed into the pullman from another car, gathered up the luggage, and out all the passengers poured from the train. there on the platform was dr. presbrey himself. "it is not so bad as we feared," were his first words, as he reached mr. king's side; and, without waiting for a word, for he saw the old gentleman was beyond it, he led the way to his carriage. "stop a bit," grandpapa made out to say through white lips, "a telegram--tell them at home." he looked at ben, but dr. presbrey sprang back into the station, wrote it, sent it off, and was with them once more; and then it was only a matter of moments and jasper was reached, at the master's house, where he had been carried after the fire. "don't go in," said one of a crowd of boys, who surrounded ben on the steps, old mr. king being in advance, a medical man and one or two teachers coming out of the house to meet the party. "don't go in," he repeated, laying detaining hands on him; "it's perfectly awful in there; everybody's crying." "he may want me," said ben, hoarsely, nodding toward the white-haired old gentleman ahead, and trying to free himself. the other boys closed in around him. "oh, dr. smith won't let you get near him," volunteered one boy; "catch him!"--which proved to be true. old mr. king was just at the moment being ushered into the front parlor, and the medical man followed and closed the door with such a snap that it was impossible for any one else to even dream of entering. "now, what did i tell you?" said the boy, triumphantly. "you're ben, aren't you?" asked the first boy, who hadn't relinquished his hold, the other boys drawing up. "yes," said ben. "well, we've heard all about you, and the rest of you. king talked just whole packs about you all." "don't," said ben, and he put up his hand; everything seemed to turn suddenly dark. "hush up, grayson, can't you have some sense?" said a tall, dark-haired boy, angrily, and by a speedy movement he had rescued ben from the first grasp. "now, then, come over to my room," he pointed to a long building on the west, "and i'll tell you all about it." but grayson had no mind to be so easily pushed off. "that's no fair," he cried; "i had him first." "no, sir, take your hands off, i'm--" and he clutched ben again, determined to fight to the end for possession. "that's right. get out, tim," a dozen voices took it up in a subdued tone, it is true, but equally determined to see fair play. and the tall, dark-haired boy, being shouldered off the steps, ben soon found himself sitting down in the midst of jasper's school companions, grayson still hanging like a leech to him. "you see we can't do anything but hang around here," one of the boys was saying, "and when anybody comes out, why, we hear a bit how he is." "and to think it needn't have happened only for pip,--o dear!" said a stout, chubby-cheeked boy, who didn't look as if he ever did anything but laugh and eat. "pip! he wasn't worth saving, little rat," exploded tim, who, being on the outskirts of the crowd, had to vent his vexation over somebody. "you'd better let king hear you say that," cried a boy, with a belligerent glance over at tim. then, as he remembered how little prospect there might be of jasper's ever being troubled by the remark, he ground his teeth together to keep from saying more before ben. "see here, fellows." grayson, having made first capture, deemed it his further duty to do the right thing by ben. "we ought to tell him all about it. and i'll begin," and without more ado, he started off. ben clasped his woollen gloves tightly together, and looked over the heads of the boys up to the sky. was it possible that the stars had ever twinkled in friendly fashion at them, as polly and the other children had run out of the little brown house with him at such fortunate times when their mother had let them sit up; and the moon had beamed down on them too, so sociably that polly made up little stories about their shining light, so that they had all grown to love them very dearly. now, it seemed as if great tears were dropping out of the sky, and ben shivered and listened, and gripped his hands tighter together than ever. "you see, it began--well, no one knows how it did begin," grayson was rushing on; "i think beggins was drunk." "what stuff!" ejaculated another boy, contemptuously. "beggins never got off the handle; the doctor would have fired him long ago." "there must always be a first time," said grayson, nowise discomfited. "beggins is the night watchman," he explained to ben. "well, anyway,--hush up, fellows,--the fire broke out, we don't any of us know how. it doesn't signify. what we do know is that in about five minutes from the first alarm it got too hot for us in there." he hopped to his feet and pointed to the broken outline of a long building. even in the dim light, ben, dropping his gaze from the sky, could see the ruined chimney, the ragged side wall, and the blackened, crushed windows. "and it was every one to save his skin. great scott! i'll never forget that yell that toddy sent up. he's the teacher on our hall, todd is," grayson explained again, as he dropped into his seat beside ben. "nor the bell clanging," put in another boy; "christopher columbus, i thought it was all day with us then!" "and i couldn't find my clothes!" "well, 'twas no worse for you than for any of us," retorted the boy the other side of grayson. "there wasn't a rag for any of us to get into but blankets, and sheets, and--" "you see we were waked up out of a sound sleep; it was about three o'clock this morning," grayson took the words out of any mouth that might be intending to explain, "so we just vamosed the ranch. i tell you, there was some tall sprinting. and king was with us; i remember seeing him. but he was last, and he looked back; then somebody sang out, 'where's pip?'" "pip?" ben found his tongue, that had seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth, enough for that one syllable. "oh, it isn't his real name," said grayson, in a hurry to explain again before any one else could put in a word; "his own was so ridiculously long,--cornelius leffingwell,--only think, for such a mite of a chap,--so we had to call him pip, you see. well, somebody was fool enough to scream out, 'where's pip?' and jasper turned back." ben clenched both hands tightly together in a grip that would have hurt but for the woollen gloves. "and i roared out, 'come along, king--'" "and so did i." "and i." the voices took it up, one after another. "for it wasn't the time to look out for any skin but your own; it was as much as your life was worth to turn back," cried grayson, bearing down on the other voices. "boys!" the big door back of them burst open suddenly, and a teacher's head appeared, making them all jump as if shot. "go right away from these steps!" "how is he?" nothing seemed to dash grayson, and he took time to ask this quite comfortably, still holding to ben, while the other boys moved off the steps and around the corner of the master's house. "somewhat better. be off with you!" the teacher waved his hand, and closed the door. "that old sterrett,--well, he's a dragon," declared grayson, between his teeth, and, dragging ben to a convenient angle, where the other boys soon gathered, the narrative was taken up where it had been dropped. "i grabbed king, but you might as soon try to hold an eel. he _would_ go." ben groaned, and this time so heavily that grayson pulled himself up short. "see here, i won't tell any more; you're going to keel over." for answer he was in an instant whirled completely around on his two feet, and instead of his having any sort of a grasp on ben, it was the visitor who held his coat collar in a woollen-gloved hand in such a way that it didn't seem as if grayson were ever to be free again. "now tell everything you know! i can't wait! be quick about it!" it was the same face he had shown to jane, and, just as she had done, grayson made all possible haste to answer, "oh, i will, i will!" the other boys in their astonishment staring silently at the two. "pip couldn't be found. he slept in the north wing, but he'd run into another boy's room, so king lost time, and if he hadn't screeched,--pip, i mean,--why, he never would have got out. and there king--oh, well, he crawled under the bed,--pip, i mean, nasty little beggar,--and there king found him, and dragged him out. he told us all about it,--pip, i mean,--and king slung him on his back, and by that time it was no use to try for the stairs; the flames were roaring up like mad, so king tried for the roof of the 'lab.' had to go through toddy's room, and jumped out of one of the windows. and he made it.--oh, don't hang on to a fellow so!--and there we saw him, and the firemen got a ladder up, and, oh--" here grayson gave out and actually blubbered. ben looked around for some one to take up the tale. and the tall, dark-haired boy they had called "tim," now seeing his opportunity, pushed up. "it's better you should have the whole," he said; "without a bit of warning we saw the roof overhanging the 'lab'--laboratory, of course, i mean--waver, and then fall, and we screamed to king to look out; it wouldn't have done any good if he had heard, for the chimney toppled, and some bricks knocked him over, and then he saw it coming and kept pip underneath." ben's hand had fallen from the jacket collar to his side, and he didn't seem to breathe. "you are to come. mr. king wants you." somebody reached through the crowd of boys, and drew him off and away. viii "any one who wants to please jasper," said ben, "had better take up this chap" and the first thing ben knew, he was being hurried over the stairs and into master presbrey's big library. there stood grandpapa, and, wonder of wonders, with a smile on his face! "you are to see jasper," said the old gentleman, briefly. ben staggered back, it was all so sudden, and stared up at the one the boys had called "dr. smith" standing near. "yes," said the gentleman, "he has asked for you." and without further ado ben was piloted into the back room, and there, looking eagerly toward the door, was jasper in the big bed and propped up with pillows. "halloo!" it was all either of them said at first; then ben, with a lump in his throat, leaned over and grasped the fingers on the coverlet. "you see i'm all right," said jasper, his eyes roving affectionately all over ben's square figure. "yes," nodded ben. "but it was good, though, to see father and you." and jasper's dark eyes beamed; then a wave of pain swept its trail over his face. and the doctor, seeing that, unceremoniously bundled ben out of the room, and back to old mr. king again. but the next day, oh, that was joy! for ben was not only let in again, but allowed to stay a good half-hour. and this time he found his tongue, for dr. smith said a little cheery talking was just the thing. so the budget of home news was undone, and ben regaled jasper, who hungrily took in every word. "it's a shame i spoiled all the christmas," murmured jasper, his face in the pillow, his thoughts flying back to polly and the others, busy with the preparations for that gay festival. "oh, that's no matter," said ben, cheerily, "and perhaps you'll be able to come home soon, and we'll have it then." "but it won't be christmas," said jasper, dejectedly. "well, but we can call it christmas," said ben, "so that'll be just as good." then, for want of something else to say, he began on mrs. van ruypen buying all sorts of things for poor people, of course with never a word of himself mixed up in it. "now isn't that fine?" cried jasper, taken for the moment off from the loss of christmas to the family, and bringing his face into view again. "yes," said ben, "it is," and he went on so fast that polly herself couldn't have told it better, dr. smith smiling to himself in satisfaction at the experiment of letting ben in. "well, now, boys," he said at last, coming up to the bed, "time is up. but you can come in, maybe, this afternoon," to ben. "oh, let him stay now!" begged jasper. "can't," said the doctor, laconically. and off ben went again. and this time he, too, smiled. and the first person he ran up against was a small boy, his hands full of little wads of paper bundles, crammed tightly together in his nervous fists. [illustration: and the first person he ran up against was a small boy, his hands full of little wads of paper bundles.] "they're for him," said the small boy, emptying the fistful into ben's hands, who involuntarily thrust his out, as it seemed to be expected of him. "for whom?" asked ben, in astonishment. "why, for him," said the boy, pointing with a set of sticky fingers he first put into his mouth, off toward jasper's room. "of course; hurry and give 'em to him before the doctor sees. it's candy." he couldn't repress his longing as his eyes now fell on the wads in ben's hands. "i got 'em down town. hurry up!" and his little face, pasty-colored and sharp, scowled at the delay. "if you mean i'm to give these to jasper," said ben, holding the little packets toward the small figure, "i can't do any such thing; the doctor wouldn't like it." "you are a 'fraid cat," said the boy, contemptuously; "but he won't hurt you, 'cause you're a stranger, so hurry up!" and he laid his sticky fingers on ben's arm. "but don't you understand that these things will hurt jasper?" said ben, kindly, into the scowling little face. "hoh! i guess not," said the boy, with another longing look at the little packets; "they'll make him well, do take 'em to him. o dear!" and his thin lips trembled, his sticky little fingers flew up to his eyes, and he turned his face to the wall. "now, i guess you're pip," said ben, hustling the little wads all into one hand, and putting the other on the small shoulder. "yes, i am," snivelled pip, flattening his face against the wall, "and all the boys hate me, and say i've killed king, and--o dear!" he whined. "well, now, you just see here," ben turned the little figure swiftly around; "no more of that." it was so sudden that pip released one pale eye from his sticky fingers to peer up at the big boy, and he stopped snivelling in amazement. "the worst thing you can do for jasper king is to carry on like this," said ben, firmly. "come, now, wipe your eyes," which pip at once proceeded to do on his jacket sleeve, "and take your candy," and ben dropped the little packets of sweets back into their owner's hands. "i'll tell jasper all you wanted to do for him; it was nice of you." ben was astounded to find how fast he was getting on in conversation. really he hadn't supposed he could talk so much till he got this pip on his hands. meantime, his grasp still on the small shoulder, he was marching him off, and downstairs, and across the school yard, not exactly knowing what in the world to do with him after all. "great scott! if that pepper boy hasn't got pip!" a dozen heads, their owners just released from recitation, were thrust up to the windows of a class room. meantime pip, in the familiar borders of the school yard, and remembering everything again with a rush, began to snivel once more, so that ben was at his wits' end, and seeing a boy a good deal bigger than his companion coming down the long path, he hailed him unceremoniously. "see here, can't you do something for him?" ben bobbed his head down at the cowering shoulders. "can't you play ball with him?" he said the first thing that came into his head. "you must excuse me," said the boy, with an aristocratic air, and, not knowing ben in the least, he looked him all over contemptuously. "king was my great friend. i don't know this little cad at all, nor you either," and he walked on. pip's head slunk down deeper yet between his shoulders at that, and he snivelled worse than ever. "come along, i'll play with you myself," said ben. "got a ball, pip?" "ye-es," said pip, between a snivel and a gasp, "but the fellows wo-on't let you play with me. o dear, boo-hoo-hoo!" "oh, yes, they will," said ben. "come, let's get your ball. where's your room?" so pip, seeing that he was to have company all the way, led off somehow to his room, and the little wads of candy were placed in the bureau drawer. once the ball was in ben's hands he managed to follow him to a corner of the playground where, without any more words, ben soon had him throwing and catching in such a rapid fashion there was no time for tears or anything else but the business in hand. meantime the boy they had met on the long path had marched off, very angry at having been spoken to by such a common-looking person in company with pip, whom nobody had liked from the first, certainly not after the injury to their favorite, king. and nursing his wrath he projected himself into the class room where the heads of the boys were still at the windows. "something must be done with that pip!" he fumed, throwing down his book on the first desk. "what's the poor chap done now?" cried tim, turning off from his window quite readily, as there was nothing more to be seen. "can't you let up on him, bony?" "no," said bony, called short for bonaparte, much to his distress, for the great air which he assumed he fondly hoped was to bring him distinction, "and none of us ought to." "it wasn't the poor little beggar's fault that king got hurt," said tim, thrusting his hands in his pockets and lounging over toward bony, "and we ought to remember that." "don't preach," cried bony, derisively. "well, he is such an insufferable little cad!" he brought up in disgust. "and that country lout--great guns! how did that fellow dare to address me?" with that he began to fume up and down the room, puffing out his chest at every step. "has any one dared to speak to our bony?" cried tim, throwing his head back and blowing out his cheeks, in step and manner imitating as much as his long figure could, as he followed the other one down between the rows of desks. "see here, now, tim," bony turned suddenly amid the roars of the delighted boys, "you quit that now," and he doubled up his fists in a rage. "excuse me, your high mightiness, if i object to being crushed," said tim, coolly, and folding his fists, which were long and muscular like the rest of his body. "now, then, bony, if you like." but bony didn't like, taking refuge in, "you're no gentleman," and turning his back. "i suppose not," said tim, coolly, and regarding his fists affectionately, "but i don't see why these wouldn't do. i really can't see, bony, why you object to them; they're a good pair." "what's the row, anyway?" the boys, not to be balked out of all the fun, seeing that bony would not fight, crowded around him. "what's upset you, bony?" "enough to disturb any one," he cried, glad to vent injured feelings on something. "a common country fellow just now spoke to me on the long path; fancy that, will you? i never saw him in my life, and he took it upon himself to give me advice about pip." "what?" cried ever so many of the boys. "yes, just fancy. and there i had just come from seeing mr. king," here bony threw out his chest again and looked big. "i'd had a long talk with him; his father knew my father very well, _very_ well indeed, and he wants me to meet ben pepper that he brought here yesterday," and bony paused to see the effect on his auditors. "well, you've met him," said one boy. some of the others gave a long whistle. "no such thing," retorted bony. "i wasn't with your crowd when he got here last night," he added superciliously. "this is quite different,--quite in the social way,--and his grandfather is going to introduce us." "you won't need any introduction," said tim, with a chuckle. "hush up, boys," for the room was in an uproar of cat-calls and peals of laughter. "yes, i will, too," said bony, in a superior way, "for i never speak unless properly introduced. my set never does." "well, you've broken your rule for once then," said tim, in a hush now, every boy holding himself in check to lose no word, "for that country lout with pip was ben pepper." bony sat down on the nearest desk, his chest sank in, and he groped feebly with his hands, mumbling something--what, the boys couldn't have told, even if the babel that now set up around him had been less. and mr. sterrett coming in, and the other boys rushing out, he was presently asked if he were ill. "no, sir," said bony, getting up from the desk; "oh, no, sir, i--i only sat down a minute," and he slipped out, leaving his bonaparte air behind him. but if the boys didn't have any more fun with bony, they did with the ball game going on between the two over in the playground corner, which they soon spied, and off they rushed there. "let us in, pepper, will you?" cried tim, his long legs getting there first. "sure," said ben, his round cheeks all aglow with the exercise. "now then, pip, wait a bit," the ball just then getting ready to fly from the thin little hand. pip paused, his small pasty-colored face, that without having gained any color had quieted down from its nervousness, now took on a fresh alarm, and he looked ready to run. "they're all going to play with us," said ben, looking around brightly on the group as the other boys rushed up. "now, then, pip, we'll have a splendid game!" "yes, we'll play," cried the boys, in different keys. and before long the whole playground resounded with shouts of enjoyment. ben couldn't play the most scientific game according to their rules, but he was a capital pitcher, and he took all errors in a sturdy good humor that kept things jolly. altogether, by the time the game was over, everybody in it had voted that pepper was worthy to be king's friend. "you'll have that little chap at your heels every minute, after this," tim nodded over toward pip, who was running after, having lingered behind a bit to get his ball, as ben struck off on the path leading to master presbrey's house. "all right, let him come," said ben. "he'll be an awful nuisance," said tim; "take my advice, pepper, and drop him now." "can't," said ben, "can't oblige," and his fingers closed on the thin little ones crowding into them, as pip ran up to his other side. "and i think any one who wants to please jasper," said ben,--he hated to preach, but it must be done,--"had better take up this chap." tim coughed and stuck his hands deeply in his pockets. "i'm going down this way," said ben, striking off on a side path, and he marched off with pip. "i never knew such a chap," tim waited for a crowd of the boys who had joined in the game to come up; "he's been here a little more than one day, and he leads us all by the nose. boys, we've just got to take up that pip, and we might as well do it handsomely as not." ix what a home-coming van sprang off the car steps and rushed up tumultuously to polly in the midst of the group come down to the railroad station to meet the boys. "o dear," he grumbled in a loud voice, "now we can't have any christmas at all." "hulloa, van--hulloa, percy." pickering dodge tried his best to cover this remark by an extra amount of hilarity, as he clapped each of the boys smartly on the back. "well, you're an awful long time in getting here--i should say half an hour late." "for shame, van!" cried percy at his heels, and edging off toward polly. "for shame?" repeated van, hotly; "well, that's no more than you've been saying on the train,--'we can't have any christmas,'--and you know it, percy whitney." "stop that, you little beggar." pickering's long arm got possession of van, who, instead of occupying the vantage-ground of first arrival, had now the vexation of seeing percy in that coveted position. "why did you pull me back?" he cried in a small fury at hearing the bustle and excitement of the group he had just left so summarily. "because you were making yourself a nuisance. fancy such a way to come home for the holidays, van." "there aren't to be any holidays," howled van, his face very red. "let me go, pick," struggling violently to free himself from pickering's long fingers. "no, indeed." pickering wound his fingers into a still tighter hold. "not much, sir, until you stop those whines. how you can go on so, i don't see!" by this time, pickering, over his shoulder, had the ill luck to see clare take the first place in marshalling off the party, a position he had fully expected to occupy himself whenever jasper and ben were away. all this didn't in the least add to his satisfaction. "well, i wish you'd stayed back in your school," he declared in extreme irritation. and alexia, running up, only made matters worse by crying out: "come on, van, i'm sure it's bad enough to bear all these dreadful things without coming clear down here for a boy like you. do come on, we're all waiting for you." so it was a very gloomy party that finally became settled in the two carriages. "i'm not going to sit with him," declared van, having freed himself from pickering, and bolting for the second carriage. "no, you're coming with me," said alexia, hurrying after him. "come, polly, here's a seat. here," and she waved frantically. but polly was already in the other carriage. and seeing this, alexia was about to desert her charge, when thomas, on the box of the forward conveyance, whipped up and off it went. "o dear me!" cried alexia; "somebody stop it. why, polly pepper was going with me," and she was just about to jump out. "no use, alexia," said pickering, who at the last moment had found himself crowded out of carriage number one, and putting her to one side as he helped cathie in, and then david, at last he got in himself. "don't you see they're a good bit on the way home already?" "yes, and here i am shut up in here with all of you, whom i don't want in the least to go with," cried alexia, in the greatest dismay, sitting down in her corner too suddenly for comfort, as the horses started up, and waving her hands frantically. "thank you," said pickering, with a low bow, "i'm sure we all feel much obliged to you." "well, i don't," said cathie, in a dudgeon, "feel obliged a single bit, and i'm sure i didn't want to come with you, alexia, only there wasn't room in the other carriage, so i had to." "and i thought polly pepper was surely coming in this carriage," ran on alexia, too vexed to stop herself, and turning anything but a sweet countenance upon the rest of the carriage-load. "she started for it." "don't look so at me, alexia," said pickering. "i'm not to blame; clare took her off." "it's just like clare--always meddling," said alexia, thoroughly out of temper. "van whitney, you're sitting all over my coat, and it's my best one, too," and she turned and twitched it away with an angry hand. "i didn't sit all over it," retorted van, "and i didn't want to come with you, but you made me." "well, because you and pickering were having such a fight. o me, i wish i'd let you alone," she added, sinking back into her corner. but van, much preferring alexia to pickering, couldn't say the same, so the carriage rolled on to a gloomy silence within. "oh, i say," began pickering, after this had gone on for some minutes, "this is a sweet way to go to mr. king's, isn't it?" "well, we can't help it," cried alexia, flying up from her corner; "i'm sure, pickering, you can't blame any of us. and i haven't got polly pepper; you know she was coming in here with me, and everything is just as bad as it can be." "you're always tagging on to polly pepper; i'm glad you haven't got her this time," declared cathie, in venom from her corner. "of course i'm always after polly," said alexia, decidedly, "when she's my very dearest friend. o my, don't i wish i could get out!" "well, you will pretty soon," said pickering, coolly; "we'll all get out, for we'll be there in a minute. and then how we'll look, for we're supposed to be helping mr. king's family, and they're in such trouble." "o dear me!" exclaimed alexia, in great distress, whirling around suddenly to look out of the window, her long, fight braids flying over her shoulder. "pickering dodge, we aren't near mr. king's yet," she declared, peering out; "we haven't got to--oh, yes we have--o dear me, what shall we do?" and she flew back again into her corner. "we've just got to do something," said pickering, in a determined voice. little david had been past speaking for some time, and, wedged in between cathie and pickering, had been chiefly occupied in twisting his hands, and trying not to think how very dreadful it all was, and how mamsie would feel to see them all come in. "we can't do anything," said alexia, despairingly; "it's all as dreadful as it can be, and we can't help it," and she ran her long arms as far as she could into her muff, and hugged it up tightly. "well, we've got to help it," said pickering. "there's jasper," he broke off suddenly, for it was as much as he could do to think about the accident that had summoned mr. king and ben away from home, let alone trying to talk about it, and he swallowed hard and looked out of his window. "o dear me!" exclaimed alexia, faintly from her corner. then she sat up straight. "oh, i know, let's look pleasant, that's what the man says when he takes my photograph, and he won't throw back his old woollen cover from the machine till i smile, so i'm going to now,"--which she did with such surprising effect, that pickering, turning around, couldn't help but join all the others in the general laugh that set up; even little david forgot everything else for that moment. the consequence was that when the carriage drew up to the door of the big stone house, the occupants tumbled out and ran up the steps in quite good humor, to join the other half of the party, in the centre of which were mother fisher and mrs. whitney. "now that's very nice and cheerful," said mother fisher, beaming on them all. mrs. whitney, her arms around her two boys, was beyond speaking. "you must all stay and have luncheon with percy and van; they'll enjoy it so much more," and she led the way to the dining room. "ugh, o dear me!" alexia ran after her. "oh, don't ask me; i can't stay, mrs. fisher, truly i can't." "why, alexia,"--mother fisher turned on her in great surprise,--"it will help to make things pleasanter," she said slowly. "oh, i can't; don't ask me," mumbled alexia, wildly, and twisting her hands together. one thing only she now really longed for, and that was to stay for the dear little luncheon party she knew polly's mother had made ready. but she had lost it all; and she darted back and, clutching polly's arm a moment in passing, "i'm going home," she said. "what?" cried polly, flying around to seize her. "oh, no, indeed, you are not, alexia. why, you are all to stay; didn't you hear mamsie say so?" "well, i can't," said alexia. "o dear me, i'm going to cry, and i can't get my handkerchief. polly pepper, do let me go!" but instead, polly held very fast indeed to her, and the next moment alexia found herself in the big dining room, in the midst of the delightsome luncheon party made for the two schoolboys' home-coming. "well, i shan't sit down, anyway," declared alexia, desperately, "and i'm going to tell mrs. fisher." with that she darted away from polly and ran over to her mother. "i haven't been cheerful, and i was just as bad as i could be coming up in the carriage," she said as fast as the words would come, "so you see i can't stay." "this is your seat, alexia," said mother fisher, just as if she hadn't heard a single word, and laying her hand on a chair, she pulled it out from the table; "hurry and sit down, dear, for those two boys must be very hungry after their journey," and alexia obeyed and slipped into her chair, for once in her life not waiting to get polly pepper next to her. and after the little luncheon was over,--and it didn't seem to have made a bit of difference that every one besides the two hungry boys had already had a midday meal, for it all tasted so good,--why, things began to get a bit more cheery. and mother fisher and mrs. whitney even smiled over to each other. but van, his hunger appeased, slipped out after his mother when at last the feast was over. "oh, vanny, my boy, it is so good to get you home," she cried, affectionately throwing her arm around him, as they went down the hall. "i'm going to your room," announced van, without any preamble. "how good that is," she declared as he hugged up close to her. "you don't know, van, how i have wanted to see you and percy." "o dear," said van, but he crowded closer than ever. "and--well, here we are," and mrs. whitney hurried into her pretty room with the haste of a girl, and turned her face with its little pink glow of happiness on him. "oh, van!" "i've been bad," said van, not looking at her, but dropping his eyes to the floor. "oh, van!" mrs. whitney laid her hand on her heart, and all the pretty flush died from her cheek. "what--" but she couldn't get any farther, for somebody fumbled at the door, and, without any further announcement, walked in. "o dear me!" exclaimed percy, withdrawing when he saw van. "come in, percy," called his mother, before he could beat a retreat. it would be some relief to have both of her boys, but what could have happened! so percy walked in, and he stood just like van, only worse, for he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. "why, what is it? what can it be?" cried their mother. "oh, do tell me, boys; don't be afraid." van turned off on his heel till he got his back to percy. then he found his tongue. but it was only to say again, "i was bad." "well, so was i," percy got the words out with great difficulty, staring gloomily at the carpet, and thrusting his hands in his pockets to pull them out as suddenly. "you must just tell me what you have done," said mrs. whitney, looking desperately first at one and then at the other, "or i shall go for mrs. fisher," and she started for the door. "oh, no, no, mamma!" they cried together, and van whirled around and held her gown. "i certainly shall," declared their mother, firmly, "unless you tell me at once what is the matter," and she took another step toward the hall. "i fretted about--" began van. "not having any christmas," said percy, coming in as a finish. "o dear!" "oh, boys!" "don't look so, mamma, don't!" implored van, clutching her gown with desperate fingers. "and i did, too," said percy. his hands now seemed to have no comfort in his pockets, so he twisted them miserably together. "you mean when you were coming home in the carriage?" asked mrs. whitney, a sorrowful little droop coming in her pretty mouth. "yes," said van, his head hanging. "o dear me,"--he had hard work not to cry, but he wagged his head from side to side, and somehow kept the tears back,--"i did, anyway." "well, i did, too," said percy, hastily; "that is, on the train. o dear!" "well, this is very bad," said their mother. but her voice was quite gentle, and she put her arm around each of them. "when we know how happy we ought to be that jasper is really better, although he can't come home until after christmas, how can we think of a holiday, and fret because we lose it?" "we won't fret," said percy, eagerly. "oh, we won't, mamma, ever again." "no," said van, "we won't, truly, mamma." while this was going on in mrs. whitney's room, there was a small clamor raised downstairs. where in the world were the two boys just come home from school? "i know," declared alexia, who had recovered her spirits. "polly," and she drew her off into the library, "they went upstairs with mrs. whitney," she said with a loud whisper in her ear. "i heard you," cried little dick, creeping in back of the two girls, "and i shall just go up to mamma's room," and he began to skip off joyously. "oh, no, you mustn't," cried alexia, deserting polly to race after him and seize his blouse. "the very idea--polly, come and help me hold this dreadful boy." "i shall go up and see my mamma," said dick, in a small fury, and pulling and kicking violently. "she is my very own mamma, and i _shall_ see her." "but you mustn't," said alexia, very red in the face. "o dear me, why did i speak! polly, do help me," for just then phronsie had run in between the two girls, and before any one had a chance to hardly breathe, a dreadful sound struck their ears. "there, see what you have done!" exclaimed little dick, in a wrathful key. alexia's fingers fell away, and he held up a dangling end of lace, all frayed and ragged. "you've torn my blouse, and i _shall_ see my mamma." with that he set out on a run for the stairs. x "i'll love her just forever!" "i'm going home," cried alexia, hoarsely, and rushing blindly down the hall. "alexia!" polly deserted phronsie and raced after her. "you can't mean it; do come back. it isn't any matter that lace was torn," she added breathlessly, as she gained her side. "polly pepper," gasped alexia, "how can you say so? it's the most dreadful thing!" and she turned wide eyes of amazement at her. "i mean it isn't near as bad as for you to run home," said polly, hastily; "that would make mrs. whitney feel ever so much worse." at the mention of mrs. whitney's name, alexia's long figure shook all over. "horrors! i can't ever see her again!" and she buried her face in her hands. "now, alexia, aren't you ashamed to act so?" said polly. "dear me, over a bit of lace that can be mended, i most know; and we've had so much trouble," and she sighed. "and i've made a mess of it ever since those boys came home, and now i've gone and torn that lace," mumbled alexia, between her fingers, the sigh making her nearly frantic. "polly pepper, i _shall_ go home,"--with that she sprang away from polly, and ran upstairs to polly's room to get her things. polly, with only one thought to get mamsie, who alone seemed to be the person to manage this new trouble, hurried off to find her. but mrs. fisher, happy in the success of the little luncheon party, had disappeared to some unknown house duty, and couldn't at this very moment be found. so polly had the distress to hear, before she could run over the stairs herself, the big front door bang, and, hurrying to the window, she saw alexia running down the driveway and pulling her coat around her as she ran. for the first moment polly had wild thoughts of flying off after her. then, remembering what mamsie had once said, "if you want to help, polly, take time to think what would be the best way," and that mamsie would say now, in this trouble, "don't go, for the boys are just home,"--"o dear me!" she cried as joel rushed in and up to the window, and without a bit of warning seized her about the waist and spun her into the middle of the floor. "oh, joey, what is it?" she gasped when she could get her breath. "he's going to bring pip," cried joel, bobbing his black head at her. "come on, polly, whoopity la!" and he held out his hands for another war dance. "oh, joel,"--polly seized his hands and stood quite still,--"you don't mean jasper is coming soon?" the color flew into her cheeks till they were rosy red. "yes, i do, too," said joel, prancing off by himself, since polly wouldn't dance; "he's coming to-morrow; no, i guess next week--anyway, he's coming." with that he executed some remarkable steps as only joel could. "how did you know, joel? stop and tell me." polly flew after him around and around the room. "a letter," said joel; "whoopity la! and he's going to bring pip." "a letter?" now she must find mamsie or aunty whitney, and polly left joel dancing away and got over the stairs with her best speed to find mrs. whitney just coming to call her. she held in her hand an open letter, scraps of which she was reading aloud to the two boys hanging on either arm, little dick, unable to attract attention to his torn lace, pulling at her gown impatiently. "is it true--is jasper coming home?" cried polly, breathlessly rushing up. "yes, dear," mrs. whitney tore off her gaze from the letter, and turned shining eyes on her. "oh, polly, this has just come and i was going to find you. yes, yes, dick, mamma will attend to you presently; he is really coming home." "when is he coming?" asked polly, clasping her hands impatiently. "oh, not until next week, but it is, oh, so much, to have the doctor set a time. just think, polly," and she turned her face, now almost as rosy as polly's own, upon her affectionately. "she tore my lace," said little dick, thinking it a good time to begin again on the announcement he had been trying to make ever since he had arrived, and he held up the frayed end. "yes, yes, dear," said mrs. whitney, indifferently without even a glance at it; "and he is to bring pip, and he wants us all to make him have the best time in the world. oh, won't we, children! for it will please jasper." her eyes glowed as she looked around at them all. at this little dick deserted his lace. "oh, i will, mamma," he promised, "and he shall have my rocking-horse, and that'll please jasper, i guess," and he began to march up and down the hall in great importance. "and now, polly," said mrs. whitney, "and, boys, we must think up what we are to do for the real christmas, when jasper and father and ben get home; oh, and pip--we mustn't forget pip." "oh, no, we won't forget pip," they cried, as they all hurried downstairs to bring the good news to mother fisher and the others. and so, although polly did not forget about alexia, it was some time before she could get mrs. whitney's ear to tell her about it. "now i'll tell you what we'll do, polly," said mrs. whitney, when she had heard it all; "i'll have the carriage right away, and you and i will drive over and get alexia to come back to dinner." "oh, and can't she stay over night, aunty?" cried polly, hopping up and down in great excitement. "yes, indeed, if her aunt will let her," said mrs. whitney, delighted to have everything coming out so nicely; "so now run off and get on your things, child." no need to tell polly that. she was soon ready, and before long there they were, aunty whitney and she, driving off to bring alexia home and comfort her up. "she isn't home," said the maid, who answered the door-bell of mrs. cummings's aristocratic boarding-house on the avenue. "isn't home?" repeated polly, faintly. "no'm." "what is it, polly?" asked mrs. whitney, from the carriage. "alexia isn't home," said polly, disconsolately, and feeling as if the whole world were out of joint. "miss rhys took her away," said the maid, who, beginning to be communicative, saw no reason why she shouldn't tell the whole, "and she didn't want to go, either." "o dear me!" exclaimed polly. "no, she didn't; but miss rhys wouldn't leave her alone 'cause she was crying so, and she was going to miss barnard's to tea, and so she made her go, too." "aunty,"--polly flew down the steps,--"oh, can't we," she cried desperately, "go over and get alexia; can't we, aunty?" "at miss barnard's, is she?" asked mrs. whitney, who had heard only part of the maid's information. "yes, and alexia does hate to go there," said polly, in a burst, "and she was crying. oh, aunty!" that "oh, aunty!" settled it. "yes, child, tell thomas to drive to miss barnard's, and get in." so polly, seeing a little light on what had been so dark and miserable, hopped into the carriage, and off they went to miss barnard's. miss hetty barnard was a maiden lady upon whose company miss rhys placed herself whenever the dull routine of boarding-house life, or a new stitch in knitting or crochet, gave her a desire for the society of her friend. all such visits alexia carefully avoided if a possible thing. and polly, knowing full well the details of those enforced upon her by her aunt, as alexia, the day after, poured the miseries of each in her ear, sat forward on the green leather seat and clasped her hands, impatient to get there. "oh, if they only haven't gone in to tea," she breathed. "it's early yet, child," said mrs. whitney, reassuringly, "scarcely half after five o'clock," glancing at the little silver watch in the carriage pocket before her; "so don't worry, polly." "but miss barnard has tea so very early," said polly, in a small panic. "oh, here we are!" she brought up gleefully, as the carriage rolled up to the barnard door and stopped. "yes, here we are," laughed mrs. whitney, just as well pleased, as polly jumped out and ran up the steps. polly hadn't half finished, "is alexia rhys here, and can i see her?" before a rustle began in the stuffy little parlor, and out rushed the object of her search. "oh, polly, polly!" exclaimed alexia, seizing her with both hands to draw her down the hall; her head sank on polly's shoulder and she began to cry as hard as she could. "ow!" said polly, as the tears ran down her neck; "o dear me, alexia, do stop!" "oh, i can't," said alexia, "and do take me away, polly, for it's too dreadful here, and we're just going out to tea, and i never can live through it. o dear!" "well, i'm going to," said polly, as soon as she could be heard. "what!" exclaimed alexia, bounding away to look at her. "yes, if your aunt will let you come," said polly, with happy little thrills. "oh, aunt will let me quick enough," said alexia; "but do you really mean it? o dear, it'll be 'most as bad at your house, for there's mrs. whitney, and i tore that lace,--oh, i can't go!" "you must come; aunty whitney is out in the carriage, and we've come for you, and you are to stay all night," explained polly; "don't you see, alexia, she wants you?" "does she? oh, goody," and, "o dear, how can she?" was jumbled all up by alexia, who was now hugging and kissing polly at a great rate. "tea is ready." a thin little woman, who was alternately feeling of her brooch and smoothing down her plaid silk gown as she came along the hall, announced it so suddenly that both girls jumped. "oh, i can't stay, miss barnard," said alexia, recovering herself; "i'm going home with polly pepper," and without another word she ran back into the stuffy little parlor to announce that fact to her aunt. "and whom have we here?" demanded little miss barnard, who hadn't half heard alexia, and peering out of small, near-sighted eyes into the corner where polly stood. "it's polly pepper," said polly, coming out into the light, "and i've come for alexia; that is--" "to be sure, to be sure, now i know you," miss barnard raised her hands, "and how you grow, polly,"--a remark the little maiden lady never failed to make when seeing any of the young folks at close enough, range to speak to. "well, and do you want to take alexia away? why can't you stay to tea with her? i wish you would; my maid has quite enough prepared. quite enough, indeed," and miss barnard waved her hands to indicate the extent of her larder. "oh, i can't, indeed, miss barnard," cried polly, hastily. "and aunty whitney is waiting out in the carriage. would you please tell alexia to hurry?" "is mrs. whitney out in the carriage?" cried miss barnard, catching at this desirable information and letting everything else slip. "oh, then, i must speak to her; surely i must, for i wouldn't be so rude as to let her be at my door without a word from me. elvira," she thrust her head into the small parlor to throw a word over to miss rhys, who was just saying "yes" to alexia, "i'll be with you in a bit; i must first speak to my dear friend, mrs. whitney." "it's very cold," said polly, as the little maiden lady laid her hand on the knob of the front door. alexia was frantically throwing on her hat and coat in the dim recesses of the back hall. "that may be, but i wouldn't neglect my duty," said miss barnard, with the air of knowing what was required of her; "but perhaps i had best be careful," pausing with her hand on the knob, "so would you mind, my dear, handing my shawl; you will find it on the hat-rack at the end of the hall." so polly had nothing to do but to go down after it. "the very idea," exclaimed alexia, in smothered wrath, "to ask you to get her old shawl!" "hush!" begged polly, with a warning pinch. "and just think of her going out to see mrs. whitney! come on, polly, i know the way to the back door," and she seized polly's arm. but polly got away, and carried the shawl down to miss barnard and laid it over the wiry little shoulders; and at last the front door was opened. "my dear mrs. whitney," exclaimed the little maiden lady, skipping out to the carriage step, and holding out both hands, "you don't know how very glad i am to see you here; now do get out and have tea with miss rhys and me." "oh, it is quite impossible, miss barnard," said mrs. whitney, "thank you. now, girlies," with a smile over the little maiden lady's head to polly and alexia, "step in, both of you, for we must hurry home." "o dear, i am so sorry," cried miss barnard, as the girls rushed to obey; then she gave a little cackle, intended to be very winning, "perhaps some time you will come, my dear mrs. whitney, i should _so_ admire to have you--hee-hee." "how aunt can--" began alexia, as the good-bys were said and the carriage door slammed and away they went. "polly pepper, i've just killed your foot, i know, but i couldn't help stepping all over you, for that dreadful woman fluttered me so. o dear, and i haven't said anything to mrs. whitney," and alexia could feel her sallow cheek grow hot and red. "i'll forgive you," said mrs. whitney, with a little laugh. "and how aunt can take up with her," finished alexia in vexation, "o dear me, i can't see." "she has some good qualities," said mrs. whitney, kindly; "we must remember that." "well, i don't know where they are," fumed alexia. "she's quite the most odious person i ever saw, and i'm so tired of her everlastingly coming to see aunt. oh, polly!" she gave such a cry of distress that both polly and mrs. whitney turned in dismay. "i can't go, i can't go; i forgot my nose and eyes. i cried so, see how they look!" she leaned forward in the carriage to display them the better. "is that all?" exclaimed mrs. whitney, with a sigh of relief; while polly cried, "oh, alexia, that's no matter," comfortingly, "and they don't show so very much; really they don't." "and then that lace." alexia, now that she was really on the way to be comforted, began to feel all the first distress of the accident over-whelming her again. "o dear, i am so sorry, mrs. whitney!" she mumbled shamefacedly. "now, alexia," and mrs. whitney leaned over and put both hands on the anxious face, then she drew it down and set a kiss where a stream of tears had run, "do you know, dear, you will make me feel badly if you ever speak of that lace again, or worry about it, child." she turned the other cheek, and dropped a soft kiss on it. "promise now, say you will not." "i won't," mumbled alexia, looking up into the blue eyes, and she didn't speak another word till safe up in polly's room. then she shut the door and marched up to her. "she kissed me, she really did, and twice, and just as if she really wanted to! and no one has ever done that but you, polly pepper, and i'll love her just forever!" xi an afternoon call and so the real christmas rang its joy-bells, passing over the king household as if such a thing as a holiday was never thought of. polly gave her presents to the girls of her set, and in every way she and the other members of the household kept up all the delights of the season, so far as it concerned people outside of their family. but when all the little and big white-papered gifts for her began to pour into the care of the butler who attended the door, they were carefully deposited in a little room off from the main hall, set apart for the purpose, there to lie untouched until "we have _our_ real christmas," she said. and as it was arranged with polly's gifts, so it was to be the order of proceedings in regard to the presents of every other member of the family; till the little room seemed fit to burst with richness, and even hobson despaired of getting much more in. "we'll have to get some other place, and that's true enough," he said to himself, with a sigh, and dumping down a huge box just left at the door. joel, racing along the hall at the sound of the arrival, panted, "what is it? oh, hobson, who is it for?" all in the same breath. "hold on, master joel!" cried hobson, and feeling of his arm gingerly, after the eager pinch from joel's fingers. "well, it was for you, if you must know," he said irritably. "but you can't go in," twitching the door in alarm, and trying to turn the key. "oh! i will too; it was mine!" cried joel, very hot and red faced, and struggling to squeeze by the portly figure of the butler. "you've no right to put me out," he fumed. "mrs. whitney gave me this key," said the butler, puffing from his exertions to keep joel off with one hand, and to adjust the implement in its lock with the other. "and i, o bless me," as it slipped from his fingers and jingled to the floor. "there,--goody,--o jumbo!" exclaimed joel, pouncing on it where it fell on the edge of the rug, then he slipped away from the big hand, and, prancing off, shook the key high in the air in derision. "now i can go in whenever i like. whoop it up! yes-sir-ee!" hobson, beyond answering, made a dive in his direction, which joel quickly eluded, and, the bell ringing again, there could be no further attempt to rescue the key, and joel danced off, chuckling triumphantly. and hopping through the back drawing-room on a short cut across to the side hall, he rushed up almost into the face of a big figure sitting up in state on one of the high-backed carved chairs. "o dear me!" exclaimed joel, backing out summarily. "i am very glad to see you, joel," said madam van ruypen, with her best smile on, "for i'm going to wait until mrs. whitney gets home," and extending her hand. joel, forgetting his key, put hand and all into her black glove. "dear me," she said, looking at her palm, "what have we here, joel?" "it's a key," blurted joel, recovering it quickly, "and i can't stay," feeling questions in the air, and he was for bolting out again. "indeed, you will stay," declared madam van ruypen, coolly; "a talk with you is the very thing i want! sit down," and she pointed a black-gloved finger over to an opposite ottoman. and joel sat down. "now, my dear boy," she said as sweetly as if she had come expressly to see him, and was quite sure of her welcome, "before your aunt comes home, i want to talk with you." "oh, i'll go and put it back," said joel, supposing it was all about the key, and beginning to slide off from his ottoman. "put what back?" demanded the old lady with sharp eyes full on him. "the key," said joel, fumbling it first in one set of fingers, then in the other. "i'll--" and he was on his feet. "sit down," said madam van ruypen, pointing to the ottoman, and again joel sat down with a decided conviction that he didn't like afternoon calls; and he gazed anxiously at the door to see if by any chance aunty whitney would appear. "you see, joel, i depend on you," madam van ruypen was saying. joel, all his thoughts on the little room off from the hall, and the desire which now possessed him to get back the key into the butler's hands before he could go with his story to mother fisher, sat and swung his feet in dismal silence, every word of the old lady's falling on heedless ears. at last she stopped short and surveyed him with smart displeasure. "you haven't heard a word i've said," she declared sharply. "no'm," said joel, promptly; and, coming to himself with an awful consciousness that here was something dreadful to add to the matter of the key that now began to quite weigh him down, he stopped swinging his feet and sat stiffly on the chair. "well, do you come straight here," she demanded; and somehow joel found himself off from his chair, and over by the old lady's side. "no, not there; i want you in front where i can look at you," and she summarily arranged him to her liking. "there you are! now, joel,"--she surveyed him as long as it suited her, joel not taking his black eyes from her face,--"do you know what i want this talk with you for?" "no'm," said joel. "well, i'll tell you; listen, now." "yes'm," said joel, gripping his key tighter than ever. "you'd much better give me that key," said madam van ruypen, with a sudden sharp look down at his clenched hand; "you are not attending at all to what i am saying, joel." "oh, no, no," cried joel, quite alarmed, and thrusting his fistful back of him. "o dear! let me go, ma'am, _please do_!" instead of this request being complied with, madam van ruypen leaned over and calmly laid a black glove on his hot little fist. "give it to me at once," she commanded; "i'll keep it for you until i've said my say." "i can't," screamed joel; "'tisn't mine. o dear me, i can't." clapping his other hand on his fist to hold it tighter yet, he wriggled away in distress to stand in the middle of the floor, the old lady viewing him with fast-rising choler; at last she arrived at the height of her displeasure. "go away at once," she said coldly, "and send your brother david here. he's a boy of sense, and the best one, after all, to deal with, seeing ben isn't home." joel, nearly blinded by the tears that now ran freely down his cheeks, stumbled out to do as he was bidden, forgetting in his misery the key still doubled up in his fist. but search high and low as he might, david could not be found. and at last joel, quite gone in distress, rushed into mother fisher's room. there was no one in it, and joel flung himself down on the wide old sofa, and cried as if his heart would break. meantime madam van ruypen, despairing of mrs. whitney's return, and despite her summons to servants, unable to find a trace of joel or david, swept out of the back drawing-room, got into her carriage, and was driven off home in a very bad frame of mind. and joel sobbed on until he could scarcely see out of his eyes, and still mother fisher didn't come. and the butler crossly set the other christmas gifts that kept arriving, in a closet under the hall stairs, much too small a place for them, and everything was about as bad as it could be. a smart clap on the back brought joel up, but he hid his face behind his hands. "phoh! what are you crying for?" it was van; and he was so delighted to catch joel in this plight that he chortled over and over, "joe pepper's been crying!" and he began to dance around the room. "i haven't," cried joel, too wild to think of anything but van's taunts, and dashing his hands aside. "oh, what an _awful_ whopper!" exclaimed van, coming quite close to peer up into joel's face, "and you don't know how you look,--just like that baboon at the zoo, with the little squinched-up eyes!" he added pleasantly. "i don't care--go 'way!" said joel, crossly, and flapping out his hands, regardless of anything but the wild desire to keep van from a close inspection. something jingled as it fell to the floor. "what's that?" cried van, dancing away from joel, and peering with bright eyes on the carpet. "it's nothing," screamed joel, flying down in front of the sofa, and pawing wildly along the carpet. "i tell you 'tisn't," he kept on screaming. "go 'way this minute." "oh, now i know you've got something that doesn't belong to you, and you're keeping it secret from the rest of us." van threw himself flat on the floor and tried to crowd in between joel and the old sofa. "i haven't; it's mine, it's--it's--go right away!" but struggle and push as he might, van somehow seemed to wedge himself in; and joel's poor eyes not allowing him to see much, it was just one minute, when--"o goody!" the key was in van's hand, and he was dancing again in the middle of the room. joel sprang to his feet and tossed his stubby black hair off from his forehead, "you give that right straight back here, van whitney!" he shouted. "catch me!" cried van. then he swung the key tauntingly over toward joel. "hoh, don't you wish you may get it, joe pepper, don't you, now?" for answer joel made a blind rush at him, and there they were, flying around and around in mother fisher's room, van now having all he could do to look out for himself and keep away from joel's sturdy fists, without the care of keys. so he flung his captured prize as far as he could over into the opposite corner. and hearing it land somewhere, joel released him, and ran blindly over where it appeared to strike. and as van followed quickly, there really didn't seem to be any chance of recovering it, at least in peace, with another on its trail who had a sharp pair of eyes in his head. joel turned suddenly, and before van had the least idea what he was about, he was seized and hustled off to mother fisher's closet, bundled in, the door slammed to, the key turned in the lock, and there he was. "now," said joel, drawing the first long breath, "i'll get that key easy enough," and he rushed over to begin operations. "_let me out!_" screamed van, in muffled accents, and banging on the closet door. "don't you wish you may?" joel, pawing and prowling frantically along the floor, found time to hurl him this over his shoulder. then he rubbed his smarting eyes and set to work with fresh vigor, not paying any further attention to van's entreaties. at last, when it really seemed as if that key had been possessed of little fairy legs and run off, joel pushed aside mother fisher's big workstand, a thing he had done at least three times before, and there it was shining up at him where it had hidden behind one of the legs! "i've got you now," cried joel, jubilantly pouncing on it. and this time, not daring to trust it in his hands, he thrust it deep within his pocket, and with never a thought of van, who had stopped his cries to listen to joel, he tore out of the room, and down the stairs, three at a time. "has any one seen mamsie?" he cried of the first person he met, one of the under servants passing through the back hall. "why, she's gone out with mrs. whitney," said the maid. "bother!" exploded joel, dancing impatiently from one foot to the other. "yes, they've gone out making calls, i s'pose," said the maid, delighted to think she had any news to impart. joel made a grimace at that, not having at any time a reason for liking calls, and this afternoon with a positive aversion to them. and that brought back madam van ruypen unpleasantly to his mind. "has she gone?" he asked in a dreadful whisper; and clutching the maid's arm, "has she, hannah?" "ow!" exclaimed hannah, edging off quickly. "yes, i told you she had; she and mrs. whitney, too. you don't need to pinch me to death, master joel, to find out." "oh, i don't mean mamsie," cried joel, impatiently. "i mean _she_,--has _she_ gone?" and pointing off toward the back drawing-room, "say, hannah, has she?" "whoever do you mean?" demanded hannah, glancing over her shoulder in the direction indicated. "why, _she_," repeated joel, stamping impatiently to enforce his words, "madam van ruypen, of course." "i didn't know she was there," said hannah, "i'll go and see," and she started for the back drawing-room door. "oh, no, no," cried joel, in a lively terror, and running after her, he laid hold of her apron string; "i don't want to know, hannah; i don't, really." "why, you asked me," snapped hannah, twitching away the apron string; "there, now, you've mussed it all up," she added in vexation, and now quite determined, if for no other reason than to spite joel, to explore the back drawing-room, she opened the door and went in. joel, seeing she had escaped him, fled precipitately and, not waiting to restore the key to hobson, a thing he had intended to do if he couldn't find mamsie, now considered out of doors to be the only safe place for him. for of course hannah would come for him to go back to madam van ruypen sitting in dreadful state to receive him. it sent cold chills down his spine just to think of it! and he rushed madly along down by a cross cut to the green wicket gate on his way over to larry keep's. "hullo! well, you needn't knock a chap down," as some one bumped into him. "i didn't. 'twas you knocked me." "no such thing," said larry, recovering himself, "and i was going for you; and van, too." at mention of van, joel's face dropped, and all the color rushed out of it. "o dear me, i forgot; he's in the closet." "_in the closet?_" repeated larry, his blue eyes opening their widest. "yes, i shut him up. oh, come with me." in his distress he seized larry's arm, and together they raced, joel far in advance, up to the big house. xii van larry, keeping after joel as well as he could, found him at the head of the back stairs, and gesticulating wildly to "hurry, you're slow as a snail. hush, she'll hear you!" "who?" cried larry, breathlessly, as he gained his side. "never mind, come along." he hauled him on and into mother fisher's room, dashing up to the closet, turned the key with a click, and flung wide the door, "why, he isn't here!" "who?" cried larry, forgetting all about van, and not knowing whom he was expected to see. joel's teeth were chattering so that he couldn't answer. "he's got out," he managed to say. "who?" larry crowded up closer and peered fearfully into the closet depths. "why, van," cried joel, impatiently; "oh, well, he's got out some way. come on," and he turned to go. "van!" exclaimed larry, faintly. "yes, i told you so. i shut him up." "oh, i thought you meant in your closet," said larry, the mad race remaining uppermost in his mind to the effect of crowding out other things that now began to assert themselves. "well, then, he's here now." "phoo, no, he isn't," declared joel, waving his fingers convincingly; "you can see for yourself. somebody's let him out, and he's locked the door to cheat me." but larry was not to be convinced. "he is, i know he is," leaning forward the better to peer around within the closet. "take care," warned joel, who had good reason to know van's capabilities along that line, "maybe he's hiding in the corner, and he'll tweak you." at this larry, who also had occasion to know van quite well, bounded back quite suddenly, saying, "i see a shoe sticking out," and pointing to it. "oh, that's mamsie's," said joel, determined not to believe. then the moment he had said it he remembered that mother fisher's shoes were always kept in the shoe-box over in the corner. "we'll give it a pull," he said, doing his best to speak carelessly, which larry proceeding to do, out came the leg attached which clearly belonged to van. but it was limp, and lay just where it was dropped with a thud on the closet floor. joel, with his heart thumping so he could hardly breathe, sprang into the closet, twitched away mother fisher's long black silk gown, seized van where he lay under its folds, and got him outside to lay him flat on the carpet. "he's dead, i guess," said larry, cheerfully. "get some water," screamed joel, "and open the window;" meantime he slapped van's hands smartly together and called him to open his eyes, and this not succeeding, he ran over to mother fisher's medicine closet, rushed back, and in his trepidation emptied a whole bottle of something all over the white face. "that's no good," said larry. the window now being open, he advanced with a water pitcher whose contents he promptly distributed in the same way. "see what you've done; that's castor oil." [illustration: "see what you've done; that's castor oil."] it was no time to cast criticisms upon each other, and joel soon had a cologne bottle, and larry the ammonia, and in two minutes their united efforts had van sitting up in the middle of the floor with anything but a pleased expression on his face, into which his usual color was slowly creeping. and just then in rushed polly. "whatever in the world--" she began, stopping in sheer amazement. "see what they've done," cried van, in a towering passion, shaking his head like a half-drowned rat, and he pointed to his clothes, from which little streams of water were running off to join the pools on the carpet. "_tchee! tchee!_ get away," and he knocked the ammonia bottle out of larry's hand. "o dear me!" cried polly, "pick it up, do; don't let it get spilled," as it spun off. "now i should just like to know what all this is about," she demanded indignantly, as she joined the group. "well, i guess he'd have been in a tight fix if we hadn't--" began larry, recovering the ammonia bottle. then he stopped short. "hadn't what? go on," said polly. "hadn't--hadn't--" larry, not looking at joel, floundered miserably. "i'll tell you," said van, wishing so much of the ammonia hadn't gone into his mouth, and up his nose, and stopping to cough and splutter. "o dear, wait a minute, polly, i'll tell you!" but polly was fixing her brown eyes sternly on larry and joel, who stood with his head cast down, and wringing his hands together miserably. "now, you two boys must just stay in this room," at last she said decidedly, feeling quite sure there was nothing more to be gotten out of them, "and sit there," pointing to the wide sofa, "till mamsie comes home, and--" "no, no," howled joel; "i'll tell, i'll tell, polly. don't make us sit there." "yes, you must," said polly, firmly, feeling that the responsibility that had fallen upon her in mother fisher's absence quite weighed her down, "and when mamsie comes, she will have to know it all," and her mouth drooped sorrowfully. "'tisn't any matter," said van, getting up to his feet and giving a final shake, so that the little drops flew far and wide, "i don't mind it,--i'm all dry now." "no, you are not," said polly, guilty of contradicting, "vannie, you're just as wet as you can be," feeling of his jacket; "run off and get into dry things as soon as you can. yes, you two boys must sit there; at least joel, you must," pointing to the sofa again. "i'm going to stay if joel has to," declared larry, after an awful pause in which he had fully decided to cut and run. and down he sat by joel, who had flung himself in great distress on mamsie's sofa. van started toward the door, took two steps, turned and rushed back to lean over joel, "i won't ever tell," he whispered, and ran out as fast as he could go. and polly wiped up the carpet and put back the bottles and the water pitcher, and tidied things up, the boys watching her out of miserable eyes. "polly," came pealing over the stairs. "yes," called polly, back again, pausing in her work long enough to add, "don't come up, alexia, i'll be right down;" but alexia, following the sound of her own voice, was already rushing into the room. "well, if i ever," she began, pausing by polly's side. "what _are_ you doing, polly pepper?" "oh, nothing much," said polly, running off into the bath room with the wet cloth; "i'll be through in a minute, alexia." "oh, you two boys have been up to mischief," said alexia, running her pale eyes over the two culprits, "and now you've bothered polly, and we shan't have time to go down-town at all, and here we all are working ourselves almost to death for our christmas when jasper and ben get home." it was a long speech, and it had its effect, for the boys wilted perceptibly. that is, larry did; joel already being in that state where a greater degree of misery would not easily be noticed. "it just passes me," said alexia, provoked not to rouse them to reply, "how you can act so. but then, you are boys. i suppose that's the reason." "i didn't act so," cried larry, "and you've no right, alexia, to scold us. 'tisn't your house, anyway," he took refuge lamely in that fact, and he swung his feet in defiance. "well, somebody must scold you," said alexia, "and no one else will, unless i come over. well, anyway,--polly, where are you?" "here," said polly, hurrying in,--"oh, don't, alexia, say anything,--they feel badly about it, whatever it is." "don't you know what they've been doing?" asked alexia, with wide eyes, and whirling around to stare at the boys. "no," said polly, "i don't, alexia, but mamsie'll make it right, for they're going to tell her," and again she cast a sorrowful glance at them. "well, come on," said alexia, turning her back on the sofa and its occupants; "i don't care in the least what they've done, so long as i have you, polly. hurry up, polly, and get on your hat." "i can't go," said polly, standing quite still, and not looking at the boys this time. "can't go? why, polly pepper, you know you said the red-and-green holly ribbon had all given out, and you must get some more so we could tie up the rest of the presents this evening." "well, i can't go," said polly, with a sigh. then she folded her hands and shook her head. when polly looked like that, alexia always knew it was no use to beg and plead, so now she turned on the boys. "now see what you've gone and done," she cried in a passion. "polly won't go down-town because you're keeping her home. and there we've all had our christmas put off (alexia wouldn't hear to celebrating the holiday until the peppers could have theirs), and you two boys have just gone and spoiled it all." "alexia--alexia!" implored polly. "i will say so," cried alexia, perversely, "they've upset all our nice christmas; and just think, jasper almost killed, and--" "ow!" howled joel, springing from the old sofa. he wavered a moment on unsteady feet, then dashed out of the room. larry, left without any support whatever, concluded to sink down against the sofa-pillow and bury his face in its soft depths. "oh, alexia!" mourned polly, but that one word was quite enough. "o dear, dear!" gasped alexia, wringing her long fingers together, "i didn't mean--oh, what have i done?" "i must go after him," said polly, hoarsely, and springing past her to the door. "let me, oh, let me," mumbled alexia, plunging after her. "i'll go, polly." "no, you stay here." polly was off halfway down the stairs. alexia turned back to the sofa. "i don't see why you boys always make such a fuss," she began, too nervous to keep still, and twisting her fingers together. larry, having the sofa-pillow stuffed up all around his ears, could not be expected to hear conversation. so alexia, finding it all one sided, began to rage up and down the room, alternately whimpering that she didn't mean to say it, and blaming the boys for the whole thing. at last, larry, finding it necessary to get a wholesome breath of fresh air, sat up straight and tossed aside the pillow. "oh, now you can hear me," cried alexia, turning on him with sparkling eyes; "you must confess, larry, that you've been perfectly awful, both of you boys, and made it just as bad as can be for everybody." "i haven't been bad," retorted larry, glaring at her, and pushing off the hair from his hot face, "so there, now; i didn't do a single thing." "well, what's it all about, anyway?" cried alexia, running over to him to sit down by his side. "what whole thing?" said larry, edging off. "go away, alexia," and he scrambled off to the sofa end, where he planted himself at a safe distance. "why, you know just as well as i do," said alexia, and hurrying to place herself next to him as quickly as if he had invited her there. "no, i don't," said larry, with anything but a sweet countenance. "do go away, alexia." "why, larry keep!" exclaimed alexia, and her pale eyes were very wide, "you must know; and now tell me all about it." larry, for answer, hopped nimbly over the sofa arm. "no, i won't. i haven't anything to tell. go away, alexia." "oh, what an _awful_ boy," exclaimed alexia, raising her long hands in horror, "to get off this sofa, when polly pepper told you to sit here." "she didn't either; she said joel must," corrected larry, defiantly. "so there, now, alexia rhys!" "well, you know she meant you," said alexia, "only she didn't exactly like to make you, 'cause you don't live here." "well, joel's gone, and i'm not going back," declared larry, flatly, and regarding the sofa with anything but pleasure. "well, that's dreadfully mean," said alexia, leaning back composedly to look him all over, "to run away, now joel's gone. he'd expect you to stay here, of course." to do anything that joel would not expect not fitting into larry's ideas, he slipped back into his place again, crowding up against the sofa arm as closely as possible. "now tell me all about it," said alexia, happily, and leaning forward to catch every word. "all about what?" said larry, sourly. "why, all about just everything, you stupid boy; what you and joel have been up to, and the whole thing," said alexia, hungrily. "there hasn't been any whole thing," said larry, gloomily, and very much wishing he had "been up to something" that had yielded at least a little bit of fun. "o dear me, how tiresome you are!" exclaimed alexia, quite exasperated, and picking up the big sofa-pillow to bestow impatient dabs upon it. "o my goodness me!" for in walked mrs. fisher, and alexia, feeling that in the interview to come she should certainly not be in the right place, skipped to her feet and out of the room, leaving larry in a miserable state enough to face joel's mother. xiii the big box the little widow ran down the road, not much more than a good-sized trail cut between two hard, frozen banks of snow. her shoes flapped miserably, and with one hand she held the remnant of a bonnet on her head, the other clutched the old plaid shawl together across her thin chest. toiling slowly round the curve came a white horse, very tired and old, dragging a wagon that alternately had the wheels on one side or the other tilted up on either bank, making very difficult progress. "hullo! where be ye goin'?" the occupant of the wagon yelled out, as the little woman ran suddenly almost into the face of the old white horse, who, recognizing an obstacle, gladly stood still in his tracks without the sharp twitch on the reins to pull him up. "now how yer goin' ter git by, an' what be yer runnin' so fur anyway, mis' hansell?" exclaimed the old man, all in one impatient breath. the little widow drew a long sigh and glanced about her on either side. the hard, frozen wall seemed to oppress her, and she set her gaze on the old face under the fur cap, but pressed her thin lips together without a word. "well, ye're there an' ye can't git back," said the old man, twitching one rein violently in an effort to turn the wagon out an inch or two. "shin up the bank, mis' hansell, shin up the bank, and then gimme yer hand, an' you can hop in here,"--he jerked his sharp chin over his shoulder,--"an' set on them bags, bein's th' seat's full." as indeed it was, a collection of various articles, going to the farmers' wives, occupying all the leather cushion not filled with the driver. "ye've got to; i can't move a mite further," as the little woman hung back. her thin lips fell apart. "are you going anywhere near harrison road, mr. bramble?" "hey--harrison road? eh, yes, after a spell. i'm goin' first to the potterses, an' th' timmenses, an'--land o' goshen, i clean forgot,--i'm goin' to your house, mis' hansell, i clar to gracious, i am!" he clapped his knee with his big woollen mitten. "there, you hop in an' set on them bags, an' i'll take you home." "but i'm not going home," said little mrs. hansell, creeping as closely to the wall of frozen snow as possible, in her endeavor to get by the team. "and if you've got to go to the potterses and the timmenses, i won't ride. thank you kindly, mr. bramble." she made another attempt to crowd by over the rough, jagged edges of the ice, lost her footing, and fell with her face against the wheel. "sho!" ejaculated mr. bramble, in great distress, "now ye've hurt ye! couldn't ye have done as i said? but women have no sense no more'n hens; they must bunt up ag'in' sunthin', blind-headed. get in, can't ye? ye'll have to ride a piece anyway, till i get where i can turn round." "it's no matter," said the little widow, wiping off a few drops of blood that trickled down her cheek, as she got in, being pulled up over the step by the firm grip of the knotted fingers in the woollen mitten, and sat down on the bags of grain, as bidden. "that 'ere is your box," said mr. bramble, when he had seen her comfortably adjusted, and pointing with one mitten over his shoulder. "hey?" said little mrs. hansell, lost in thought that seemed to be very mournful, for she sighed deeply, and picked at the edge of her shawl where the fringe had been. "yes, 'tis yours, i say, your box." mr. bramble kept reiterating it, each time giving a fierce nod to the old fur cap that finally settled it well over his eyes. "it come yesterday over to the deepo at purdy's, but i couldn't get here, th' goin's so bad." the little widow said nothing. having never received a box, conversation in regard to one couldn't possibly interest her, so she had failed to hear any reference to herself. and at last old mr. bramble, having got the white horse safely past the narrowest part of the road, whirled around on his seat and stared at her. "sakes alive, mis' hansell, are you deef?" he roared. "_you've got a box._" "i?" said the little widow, turning a bewildered gaze up at him. "i--what _do_ you mean, mr. bramble?" "you've got a box; _box_, i said." the expressman roared it at her so that the old white horse jerked up his tired head and took two rapid steps forward, positively by his own accord. this wholly unsettling the dilapidated bonnet on the little widow's head so that it slid down her neck, with difficulty being recovered from flying out of the wagon altogether, and the shock of the announcement of the box occurring at the same moment, she was speechless again. "well, if i ever!" ejaculated mr. bramble, when he recovered from the astonishment into which his steed's burst of energy had plunged him. and giving his travelling companion up as a bad job so far as conversation was concerned, he relapsed into a sullen silence, neither of them speaking till a good half mile was slowly traversed. and then he felt a timid twitch at the end of the old woollen scarf hanging over his back. "mr. bramble, is that true?" and he glanced over his shoulder to see the thin face of the little widow working convulsively, while her faded eyes gleamed with excitement. "oh, ye've waked up, hev ye?" cried mr. bramble. "yes, 'tis true, true as gospel writ, mis' hansell," he averred solemnly. "true?" she had only breath to repeat the one word, and she hung on the answer. "sure as shootin'," declared the express driver. he clapped his knee smartly to enforce his words. "there 'tis now," he added suddenly, and pointing with his thumb over his shoulder; "you're a-settin' ag'inst it this blessed minute, mis' hansell." little mrs. hansell turned convulsively, gave one look at the big box looming up behind her, then covered her face with her thin hands, and rocked back and forth on the grain bags. "oh, i don't believe it; i can't. i hain't never had a box. 'tain't mine." "well, i'm a-goin' to dump it at your house, anyway," declared mr. bramble, "for it's got your name on it." "'tain't mine, an' i must git out an' go to harrison road an' tell mr. shuggs that he can come and take us all to the poorhouse, for--" "land!" exclaimed mr. bramble, in a mighty shout that puffed out his red cheeks like small bellows, "'tain't so bad as that, is it? thunder an' lightnin', an' that was where ye were goin'?" he was taken with a sudden fit of coughing and he blew his nose violently, wiped his eyes with the back of his mitten, and glanced off at the towering mountains as if he had never seen them before. "o dear, dear, dear!" the little woman huddled on the grain bags was now in such a bad state at having told her secret that he whirled around to look after her. "i must whip up billy an' git there quick, or she'll be out over the wheel with her didoes, like enough," and he slapped the back of the old white horse with the doubled-up end of the reins so effectively that in due time the wagon jounced over the icy ruts of the winding road, and drew up in front of the little cabin nestling at the foot of the hill, the express driver mumbling within his straggly beard: "well, i am busted, who'd 'a' thought she an' them children was struck so hard!" instantly the door burst open and a brood of children, six in number, the baby being left to sprawl on the kitchen floor, plunged out, trooping over the frozen ground, some of them running on the crust of the polished snow lying high in banks--any way to get there the quicker. to see their mother riding in state in mr. bramble's express wagon was a supreme event, and they clambered over the wheels and fairly swarmed around her, as she tremblingly tried to get down. "easy, easy there; sho now, can't you let her get down?" mr. bramble roared at them, pretending to be very much put out. but they paid not the slightest attention to him. "oh, mammy!" they cried, surrounding her tumultuously. "you've got hurt," exclaimed one of the big boys, seeing her cheek, and, "oh, i'm so hungry," said jane, the youngest, who, since her mother had really returned, thought it just as well to mention a fact she had been steadily reiterating all the morning. "hush up!" shouted mr. bramble, "and look here, mat, an' you too, mark and luke, tumble out that box. step lively now." again his thumb came into service over his shoulder. "oh, bless my buttons, i never see such a dull lot," as the whole collection of children, big boys and all, stared open-mouthed at him, without offering to stir from their tracks. "i'll pitch it out myself." and with many grunts, for his legs were rheumatic, he slowly hitched himself off his seat, and laid hold of the box. "give us a grip, mat," he sang out to the oldest boy. "this box has got to go into your house, an' i know _i_ ain't a-goin' to carry it. come on!" and instantly the whole swarm of children, wild with excitement, deserted their mother to crowd around mr. bramble and the boys. "the baby's comin' out," screamed elvira, with one hasty glance back at the cabin door, as she ran to the centre of attraction with the others. the little widow turned where she had been left alone and sped frantically up to the broken steps, where little susan, spatting her fat hands on the floor as she crawled along to see what the noise was all about, had just decided to tumble down. but instead of landing on the hard, frozen ruts, she was gathered up to her mother's thin breast and hugged and coddled. "oh, baby, baby." she sank down on the steps and rocked back and forth, susan now spatting her thin cheeks and struggling to get away to where all that delightful noise was coming from. "oh, good lord, i can't believe it. we've got a box, susan; we have, susan, he says so, but i know he's made a mistake. and p'raps there's somethin' to eat in it, and i won't have to go to the selectmen an' tell 'em we'll go to the poorhouse. but 'tain't ours, i know 'tain't. _o lord, they're bringin' it in!_" and in another minute the little widow, hanging to susan, was off the steps, the box was dragged over them by the united efforts of the three boys, their progress very much impeded by the crowding up of the girls, who were afraid they would miss something of the progress, mr. bramble looking on in great satisfaction. then he climbed into his wagon, stared at the little cabin for another minute, where they had all disappeared, and drove off, blowing his nose violently, his eyes seeming to need a great deal of attention from the back of his gray woollen mitten. down went the big box with a thud in the very middle of the kitchen floor. "get the hammer," screamed elvira, capering wildly, her black braids, tied with bits of string, flying out from either side of her head. "i'm goin' to get it myself," with a leap toward the corner. "no such thing," matthew roared at her. "i'll get it. come back, viry." "the axe,"--mark shouted it high above the din, as he rushed to get that necessary implement,--"that's better'n the hammer." "oo--oo--scree!" susan, in dreadful distress at being bound in mother's arms, let her feelings have free vent in a wail that soared high above the crackling of the box cover as it splintered under the effort of both hammer and axe. "and we can keep warm now." the little widow's eyes glistened at the pile of splintered boards tumbling down on the kitchen floor. "oh, susan," and she drew near, the whole cover being off now. there was an awful pause, every one staring at the smooth layer of brown paper. the supreme importance of the event swept them all into silence. [illustration: there was an awful pause, every one staring at the smooth layer of brown paper.] "i'm goin' to peek first," announced elvira, finding her tongue. this unloosed all the others. "she shan't; elviry's always a-pushin' first." "mammy, mayn't i?" "no, let me." it was a babel in a minute. "you be still." it was matthew who commanded silence. "mother's goin' to look first; it's _her_ box," he added convincingly. the little widow would much rather have allowed this privilege to one of her brood, but it was difficult to choose between the five; so she put out her hand tremblingly, then drew it back. "we'll let susan do it," she said; "she couldn't go out to the wagon with the rest of you." "oh, yes, let baby do it," cried the others, easily pleased, and in a dreadful twitter to begin operations. "yes, let baby," echoed elvira, dashing away from the box to hug susan, who, delighted at the opportunity, seized one of the black braids in her fat little hands, with a crow that disclosed the few teeth she possessed. "ow! let me go!" screamed elvira, very red in the face and twisting violently. "moth_er_, susan's got my _hair_! slap her." "oh, no, no," said the little widow, getting the small, triumphant hands within her thin ones; "we wouldn't slap baby for anything. there, there, susan mustn't. naughty--naughty!" susan looked up in her mother's face to see if she really meant it, and concluding that she did, the black braid slid out of her hands, the string flying off to the floor. "there, see what she's done! my hair's all untied," cried elvira, in great vexation, and picking up the old white string; "she ought to be slapped," she added, bobbing her head decidedly, her black eyes flashing. "oh, no, no," said her mother again; "why, we couldn't slap our baby, elviry, ever in all this world," and she pressed her closely to her breast. "well, come, children, now susan's going to pull up the paper." "wait!" screamed elvira, the string between her teeth, and doubling over in great distress, "till i tie my braid. oh, wait, mammy." "oh, never mind! viry, hurry up!" cried all the boys together. and the other children, capering around the big box, with many dashes and pickings from impatient fingers, made mrs. hansell say, "stop, children; there now, hurry, elviry. yes, yes, susan, you're going to do it," until at last the great moment had arrived, and the whole family was drawn up around the centre of operations, each one scarcely daring to breathe. "now, baby," said the little widow, grasping susan's fat hand in one of her thin ones, "you must take hold of one end of the paper; there, see," and she folded the little one's fingers over it. but susan preferred to spat the smooth surface, and to crow loudly. so it was really mother hansell after all that lifted the veil and opened up fairyland to view. xiv the children in the mountain cabin "heaven bless me!" exclaimed the little widow. then she put susan on the floor, and fell on her knees. "mammy, mammy, look!" the children were hopping wildly around the big box, clutching the sides, each attempting to get hold of their mother's head as it sank between her trembling hands, while she rocked herself to and fro. at last elvira, unable to keep her hold of the box-edge, the others were crowding her so, and at the same time to attract her mother's attention, stamped her foot violently and howled, "_look!_" way up above all the rest of the voices. "oh, 'tisn't for us; 'tisn't for us. it's got to go back," moaned mrs. hansell, shivering down further between her hands. at the mention of the box going back, dire alarm struck all the group into sudden silence, and they stared into each other's faces in the greatest distress. "it shan't," screamed elvira; "it's ours," and she plunged into the box with both hands, pulling out bundles, which she dropped to the floor, in order to dive for more. "you hold on," cried matthew and mark, seizing her little brown hands. "you lemme be!" cried elvira, in a fury. "no, we ain't a-goin' to let you be," cried jane. the other girl, who had picked up susan, who was sprawling in everybody's way, and run over to a corner to barricade her with a big chair turned upside down, now came hurrying back, determination in every line of her thin little face. "an' i say you ain't a-goin' to either, elviry hansell," she declared; "that box ain't yours." elvira had no time to retort, "an' 'tain't yours either, matilda," for she was struggling so with the boys that she had too scant breath to waste in replies. but she whirled a red face over to her sister for a second, while she twisted her wiry little arms in frantic endeavors to get free from the stronger grips upon them. "come on," said matilda, coolly, to jane, and to luke, who never would take part in any family quarrel against elvira, "and we'll pull her petticoat and tickle her legs. then she'll let go." "that's not fair," said luke, glowering at her. "huh, i don't care." "an' 'tis, too," cried matilda, gleefully. "come on, jane, you tickle one leg, and i'll tickle the other, and then she's got to let go." "ow," cried elvira, who knew quite well what to expect from the tickling process, and tucking up first one leg, then the other. "go 'way, i'll kick dreadful!" "she will," said jane, fearfully, who also knew what to expect, as she and matilda crouched on the floor, with fingers all ready for the attack. "huh! s'posin' she does? 'fraid-cat," said matilda, scornfully, "can't you scrouge back?" "no, i can't," said jane, truthfully, "not in time." "then, i tell you." matilda slid off on the old floor, holding jane's calico apron-end. "i'll tell you; you tickle first, an' when she's kicking you, i'll tickle the other leg, and she can't--" "you tickle first," said jane, interrupting. "all right, i will," promised matilda; "only you're so afraid, you won't tickle in time." "yes, i will," said jane; "as long as she ain't kickin' me, i don't care." "well, come on," and matilda slid cautiously up behind the ragged little shoes that ended elvira's legs, and, understanding through long experience how to bide her time, she bestowed such stinging little nips on the nearest red woollen stocking, that elvira sent it out with a spiteful kick, just too short to reach the attacking party, who took a long slide back on the floor. and having the same attention now being paid to her other woollen leg, and her two hands full with the boys, it was easy to see that elvira would soon be pushed quite away from her vantage ground by the big box. meantime susan had crawled over her barricade, with mind intent on joining the family party again around the big box, but, meeting a large wad of paper, she changed her plan, and sat placidly still, chewing it into bits, which she spit out of her mouth with happy little crows. and now, with four good pairs of hands busy at unpacking, why, it is needless to say that the big box was soon to be quite empty. elvira ran around and around the sides, trying to crowd herself in somewhere. but they wouldn't let her in, nor luke either, who they quite well knew would give her up his place as soon as he got it. "i don't care a single bit," at last cried elvira, finding all her efforts useless; "i'll take the bundles an' open 'em, so there!" with a dash at the nearest one on the floor. "no--sir--ee!" exclaimed matthew, flying away from the big box to pursue her; "we're goin' to open 'em all together. drop that, now, viry hansell!" but easier said than done. elvira, clutching the big bundle, raced around and around the kitchen, matthew after her, till, in an unwary moment, she turned too suddenly; over she went, coming flat down on susan, with her big wad of paper in her mouth. "now, then," cried matthew, angrily, "see what you've done!" and stopping first to pick up the baby, it gave elvira just the time she wanted. but where should she fly? just then a gust of wind answered her. it blew the crazy old door, always loose on its hinges, free, and with a whoop she pushed it wide, and flew out with her prize. "all right. now you won't come in again," declared matthew, decidedly, who had set susan in her mother's lap, and slamming the door, he pushed an old nail into the hole over the latch. "that fixes you, miss elviry hansell," and back he went to the interrupted scene of his operations. "where's elviry?" asked luke, anxiously, as the bustle went on. "outdoors," said matthew, concisely. "outdoors?" repeated luke. "it's cold there." "well, she can run and keep warm. i'm goin' to let her in, in a minute. now, then, we've everythin' out," peering into the box-depth. "let's get into a ring round mammy an' open 'em one at a time," said mark. "all right," said matthew, approvingly. "come on, move the bundles. all hands now. take hold, luke." but luke stood quite still. "she can't keep warm a-runnin'," he said. "yes, she can; and besides, she's a naughty girl. she's always a naughty girl," said matthew. "come ahead, luke, i'll take care of elviry, an' let her in, in a minute, i tell you." but luke preferred to see to the matter himself. so, in the midst of the bustle attendant upon getting ready to open the bundles, he slid out, with mrs. hansell's old black shawl, and scampered around the corner of the house. "where be you, elviry?" he cried, under his breath, and wishing he could put the old shawl around himself. "here," said a voice, and looking off, he jumped, for there on a high snowbank, back of the old pump, was a boy in a big overcoat with a red woollen tippet tied around his head. luke took one good look, then sprang for the house. "oh, you silly thing," cried elvira's voice, "it's me! come here, luke!" it was so unmistakably elvira's voice that luke stared again, and, rubbing his eyes at every step, he stumbled up, putting the old shawl under his arm. "what you got on?" he gasped, staring wildly at her. "hee-hee-hee!" giggled elvira, drumming her old shoes against the rutty snowbank. "come up here, an' i'll tell you." as luke wouldn't be told until he got up there, he lost no time in doing so, and was soon beside her, with the whites of his eyes showing generously in a prolonged stare at the overcoat and red woollen tippet. "what _you_ got?" demanded elvira, feeling quite elegant and sociable, and smoothing down the overcoat front with contented fingers. "mammy's shawl--for you," said luke. "i don't want it," said elvira, picking at the end of the woollen tippet with her little finger quirked up elegantly. "put it on yourself," which luke was only too glad to do. "where'd you get 'em?" gasped luke, forgetting in his worry over elvira's being out in the cold, any big bundle she might have had in possession at the time of her departure and laying fearful fingers on the magnificent coat-sleeve. "o dear, hee-hee-hee!" elvira went off into a giggle again. and she swung her feet smartly back and forth. "why, see there, luke hansell!" she flapped the coat collar back suddenly. "see there!" she repeated. "where?" said luke, stupidly. "why, there, you silly thing, see that paper! 'for biggest boy.' i know. i've spelled it all out." "well, i don't see," began luke, blankly, huddling up in the old shawl and wishing it was bigger. "oh, you, i'd like to shake you, luke!" cried elvira, twisting her hands together nervously; "it's just as bad as it can be to be so stupid. i _ought_ to shake you." "you may," said luke, humbly, who had given that answer many times to elvira, but had never yet received the shaking. "'twouldn't be any use, you'd be just as stupid," she said with a sigh. "well, matthew's our biggest boy, ain't he?" "yes," said luke, "he is." "well, an' so this coat an' tippet's meant for him," said elvira, composedly, and drawing her cold fingers well up within the thick sleeves. "_that coat for matthew!_" cried luke, slipping off from his snowy perch; "_an' that tippet, too!_" with that he lost his head completely, and, getting entangled in the ragged fringe of the shawl, over he went, rolling down against the frozen pump. meantime the heads of all the children remaining in the old kitchen, except that of susan, who had squirmed out of her mother's lap to the delight of her paper-chewing again, were pushed tight up over matthew's shoulder, as he laboriously spelled out a letter found in the midst of the bundle-opening. "'mrs. hansell'--that's mother," explained matthew. "yes, yes, we know," said matilda, scornfully; "go on." "well, stop pinching me," demanded matthew, dropping his hand with the letter in his lap to turn a pair of indignant black eyes upon her. "i didn't," said matilda, but she ducked nevertheless; "it was jane." "oh, what a story; i didn't neither," said jane, with round eyes at her. "well, do you get right straight down, matilda hansell. you ain't goin' to look over, now." "i won't get down. and i will look too," declared matilda, savagely. "let's see you." with that matthew shifted his seat on the floor; seeing which, jane nimbly slipped into matilda's place. "oh, now, that's my place, jane hansell," cried matilda, with a very red face and blazing eyes. "no, 'tain't," said matthew, "that's jane's. now you keep still, or i'll put you out along with elviry." "i'll tell mother you put elviry out," said matilda, with venom. "well, you needn't," said matthew, composedly; "an' she ain't cold, 'cause luke's took her out mammy's big shawl. i seen him." "'mrs. hansell,'" and he fell to reading the letter again. "'i re-mem, m-e-m,'--yes, that's it,--'ber, b-e-r--remember you did my wash--washing last summer. you a-p-p-e-a-r-e-d--'" matthew scratched his head, looked sideways at the word, then full in front, with great determination, then gave it up as a bad job, and slid over it, hoping the children wouldn't notice it. "elviry'd read that," said matilda, "as quick's anythin'." "'to have a g-r-e-a-t great many c-h-i-l-d-r-e-n, so i t-h-o-u-g-h-t,'"--again matthew scratched his head and gave great diligence to the word, but was forced to relinquish it also, plunging on,--"'i would send you a box.'" that was plain enough, especially as the box was there before them. "'some of the a-r-t-i-c-l-e-s--' what in the world is that?" cried matthew, in despair. "go on," cried matilda; "p'raps the rest will tell." so matthew hastened on, "'are s-e-l-e-c-t-e-d--'" here matthew felt obliged to omit two lines. "'the o-v-e-r-c-o-a-t,'"--somehow matthew knew by intuition what that spelt,--"'and the red t-i-p-p-e-t are for your biggest boy--'" down went the letter to the floor, to be pounced on by matilda's greedy fingers. matthew, regardless of this, swept jane aside, and pawing each bundle this way and that, twitched the strings off, making havoc generally in the piles of presents. "'tain't here; she's forgotten to send it," he howled, and, "biggest boy" though he was, he threw himself flat on the floor and cried as hard as he could. everybody stopped in dismay to hear him. "hee-hee-hee!" giggled a voice close to the broken window-pane. elvira flapped up both arms in the overcoat sleeves, and bobbed her head, tied up in the red tippet. "oh!" screamed all the children in such a voice that matthew raised his head a minute. the next he was flinging wide the crazy old door. "don't you wish you may get 'em?" screamed elvira, making quick time off up the bank, and flapping the coat sleeves derisively. "that's mine, that coat and tippet!" screamed matthew, flying after her; "mine--_mine_!" xv the minister looks after his parishioners matilda, clutching the precious letter in her greedy fingers, said quite importantly, "now, children, you can come and look over me while i read it." "children!" snorted mark, in a fury. "i'm twice as big as you. give that letter here, tilly hansell," making a dash for it. "i ain't a-goin' to, ain't, ain't," screamed matilda, in a fright, and commencing a mad rush around the kitchen. then, seeing mark gaining on her, and jane running to head her off and deliver her up to him, she turned suddenly and flung the letter into the little widow's lap, where she still crouched on the floor. "it's mammy's letter, anyway; 'tain't yours," she cried triumphantly. "mammy, can't i read it?" cried mark, throwing himself down by her side, and spreading his red, chapped hand over the letter. "read what?" said mrs. hansell, lifting her dazed face. "your letter. 'twas in the box," said mark, clapping his other hand on it, too, and keeping a sharp lookout for matilda's next move. "mayn't i? i had it before he did, mammy." matilda flung herself down by the little woman's side. "mark's awful mean--he's always pickin' and grabbin'." "i don't know what you mean, children," said the little widow, turning perplexed eyes from one to the other. "well, i'll tell you," cried mark. "now keep still, matilda. you've got a letter, mammy, in the box, and mayn't i read it?" "i've got a letter?" repeated little mrs. hansell, in a bewildered way. "yes, yes," cried matilda, impatiently. "now, mark hansell, it's mine; i had it first." with that she slapped his red hands with her two little fists. "anyhow, i'll keep mine on top of yours," suiting the action to the words. "you won't get the letter," said mark, with a grin, flattening his hands tightly over it. "mammy, mayn't i read it? do hurry an' say yes. tilly's actin' just awful." "i've got a letter?" repeated mrs. hansell, looking around the old kitchen. when her glance reached the big box, and pile of bundles scattered about, she clasped her hands and burst into tears. "it's too good to be true," she cried; "i can't believe it." "why, the box is there. see it," and mark unguardedly hopped to his feet, ran up to it, and slapped it triumphantly with a resounding thwack. "there--mark hansell, i've got it!" he turned to see matilda, too excited to keep still, waving the letter, and hopping from one foot to the other. when she saw mark coming, she wisely took refuge under her mother's arm, within which she tucked the letter, gripped fast in her hand. mrs. hansell sat up suddenly. "did you say there was a letter come in that box?" she demanded, unwonted energy coming into her pale, tired eyes. "yes, i've been a-tellin' you so for ever so long," said mark, in great chagrin, "an' now tilly's grabbed it away from me." "i didn't; i had it before," said matilda, squirming up tightly to her mother. "give me that letter," said her mother. matilda, with anxious eyes on mark, set the letter, now much wrinkled, in her mother's thin hand, and held her breath in suspense. "well, as matthew ain't here," casting a glance around the kitchen, "you're the next biggest, mark, so you may read it," at last said mrs. hansell. "ow!" grumbled matilda, very much discomfited. mark, too jubilant to get the letter, wasted no time in his triumph, but, sitting down on the floor in front of his mother, spread it out, and began his attempt to find out what it said. jane came up and planted herself by his side. "'mrs. hansell,'" read mark, quite fluently. "matthew read that," said matilda, sourly. "you stop," said mark, without looking at her; "i'm reading this to mammy. 'mrs. hansell, i remember you did my washing last summer.'" "hoh! he ain't readin'; he's only sayin' what matthew read, mammy. mammy, matthew's read all that." matilda got up to her knees and hugged her mother around the throat. "sit down," said mrs. hansell. the conviction that she really had a box had been slow in growing, but now that she was sure of it, it was quite time to set up authority equal to such magnificence. matilda slid down meekly, her arms falling away in amazement to her lap. "'you a-p-p-e-a-r-e-d--'" mark stuck fast on the word that had floored matthew, and helplessly shook his head. "what is it?" demanded his mother. since she really had a letter, she was going to have every word of it. so mark began again, but it was no use. flounder and guess as he might, it was impossible to say what that dreadful assortment of letters might mean. "oh, well, if you can't read it, mark," said mrs. hansell, coolly, "i must get some one who can." "let me try, mammy, let me," begged matilda, with two eager little hands thrust out. "i can read the next words," declared mark, hanging on to the letter like grim death. "no, the next ones won't do. i must have the whole of the letter," said mrs. hansell, with great dignity. "yes, you can try now, matilda," and she picked the sheet from mark's hand, to be hungrily seized by matilda. "she can't read any better'n a pig," said mark in great scorn. "now, what is it, matilda hansell?" matilda turned her shoulders on him, and spelled backward and forward, up and down, with the greatest vigor, but all to no purpose. her face was red as fire, and she had all she could do to keep from crying, but still she struggled on. "no, that won't do. you can't read it either," said mrs. hansell at length, in the midst of mark's "what did i tell you, mammy? ho! ho!" "now, children, it's just this way," she continued, "some one has got to read that letter, 'cause it explains th' whole thing,--th' box an' all,--so one of you may take it down to the minister an' ask him to please read it for me." "oh, let me, mammy, let me," cried matilda, seizing her mother's arm. "no, me; i'm goin'; i'm the biggest," said mark, having no relish that matilda should see the inside of the parson's house before he did. besides, on that important errand! "yes, i'm not sure but you ought to go, seem' matthew ain't here," said mrs. hansell. "o dear!" matilda flung herself flat on the floor with such wails that susan crept up, her mouth full of chewed paper, to see what it was all about. "hush making such a noise! well, you may go, too," said their mother. "oh, mercy me, what you been a-eatin', susan? spit it right out this minute," as she gathered her up in her arms. "an' i'm a-goin' to carry th' letter," declared matilda, racing up with her tattered old hood and the remnant of a black cloak, "so there!" bobbing her head at mark. "no such thing. i shall carry it; i'm the biggest," said mark, decidedly. "so you always say," cried matilda, fretfully, and taking out a pin from her mouth, she brought the two sides of the hood together in a fashion that kept it on at least. "well, an' i am," said mark, "so i always shall say it." "mammy, can't i carry the letter part way to the minister's?" begged matilda, running over to her mother. "you're not goin' to," declared mark, stiffly, and marching off to the door. "what is it?" asked mrs. hansell, poking out with her finger the chewed wads of paper that appeared to be the last packed away in susan's mouth. "dear me, it's a wonder you ain't choked to death. what'd you say? oh, yes, you may carry it part way. there, there!" as she set the squirming baby straight on her lap. "there, mammy says i can," matilda shouted triumphantly, and spinning around on one set of toes, till the old hood slipped away from the pin and fell to the floor. "did you, mammy?" cried mark, running back to mrs. hansell. "did i what?" asked his mother. "dear me, i wonder how much this child has swallowed." "say matilda could carry the letter part way?" "yes, i did. now hurry along an' behave, both of you. an' be quick, or i'll send jane after all, and keep you to home." this would be so much worse than giving up the letter for half the distance, that mark took himself off without delay. matilda scuttled after and slammed the old door as tight as it would shut. it was certainly an hour by the old clock that wheezed crazily in the corner, and struck whatever time it chose, when steps were heard coming up the frozen path. the door burst open, and in rushed matilda and mark, and after them, at a slower pace, as befitted his calling, mr. st. john, the minister of the mountain parish. the rest of the family sat in gloomy or impatient silence around the big box. all but matthew; he was radiant in an overcoat, that, had anybody attempted to fit to him, certainly couldn't have been more of a success. and all around his neck was tied a thick, red woollen tippet that seemed to possess no end, so much was left that was wound generously around his head. he was strutting up and down the old kitchen floor, patting his shaggy sleeves, and feeling the thickness of the overcoat skirts, and saying "ah!" in a tone of the greatest satisfaction. luke, unable to take his eyes from him, followed every movement silently, while elvira, nearly bursting with impatience, sat on the floor, alternately drumming on the side of the big box and bullying jane, when unfortunate enough to get in her way. "there! now let's open the bundles," screamed elvira, hopping to her feet. "mark and tilly have come!" "for shame, elviry," reproved her mother, sharply, who now came in from the bedroom, after seeing that susan was really asleep, and not in convulsions over a diet of paper wads. "can't you see the minister comin'? oh, good day, sir!" she dropped him what was meant for a courtesy, and, wiping off a chair with her blue checked apron, she looked around on all her little group for their best behavior. "i thought it better to come myself, my good woman," said the minister. he was quite young, this being his first parish, and only regarded as a sort of missionary effort to get his hand in after the theological seminary. "ah--i quite forget your name, madam, as you are so seldom at church." "hansell, sir," said the little widow, with another effort at a courtesy. "an' i live so far, sir, from the church, it's not easy gettin' there, if you please." she did not add, "and how can i, without anything to wear?" "ah, yes, no doubt," answered the rev. mr. st. john, reassuringly. "well, i considered it best to come and read the letter to you myself, as it contains important directions. i will do so now," and he spread it open on one hand, all the family coming up, even matthew, losing sight for a moment of his new splendor. "'mrs. hansell,'" read the minister, clearing his throat, "'i remember you did my washing last summer. you appeared to have a great many children, so i thought i would send you a box. some of the articles are selected with reference to the ages of the members of your family. for instance, the overcoat and the red tippet are for your biggest boy.'" "i know it," cried matthew, unable to keep still, and beginning to strut again. "i've got it on." the minister looked and nodded at him. this unloosed matthew's tongue, who, before that, had been afraid of him. "i tell you what, it's bully!" he declared, peering out from the folds of the red tippet; "an' this, too," patting his head. "so 'tis," said the rev. mr. st. john, with a little laugh. "'there are some jackets and trousers for the other boys.'" "_ow!_" mark and luke both gave a howl together and darted off toward the pile of bundles. "come back this minute," demanded the little widow, sharply. "and, oh, sir, would you mind reading real smart like," she said to the minister, "'cause we can't wait much longer to see what's in them bundles." she was twisting her apron-end now with nervous fingers, and a red spot mounted to either thin cheek. "indeed, i will," said the young man, obligingly. "well, let me see, where was i? oh,--'the other things you will know quite well how to dispose of. "'now i wish you to allow me to have three of your children--your two oldest boys and one girl--to stay a few weeks at my house. this will help you, and i do not doubt that i shall get some amusement out of it. the girl will make the boys behave, i feel quite sure. you may choose which daughter; it makes no difference to me. ask mr. st. john, the minister, you know, to put them on the train under the care of the conductor, and then to telegraph me. i enclose a check for all expenses. and i wish you all a merry christmas. "'henrietta van ruypen,' "well, well, well." the rev. mr. st. john spread the letter on his knee, then fell to stroking his chin, where he was fondly expecting a beard some fine day. "to think of that old money bags," he was going to say, but pulled himself up in time. "i did do her washing," the little widow was standing in front of him, still twitching her apron-end, "and she was awful cross, and--" "well, something has happened to change her," said the minister, "there's no denying. as i remember last summer, she was not a pleasant person to talk to." "an' that she wasn't," said mrs. hansell. "she was that partik'ler 'bout a cent in change. but that box--" she stopped and turned her eyes over toward it. "yes, the box, and the invitation for the children to visit her," said the minister. "you can't get around these facts without believing she's entirely changed." "the what?" said the little widow. "why, the invitation for the children, at least three of them, to visit her," said the young man. "an' where'd she say that, if you please?" "why, i just read it to you," he said, a trifle impatiently. "oh, no, excuse me, sir." the poor woman's head was now turning from side to side in bewilderment; the children, who had understood as little, beginning to clamor lustily for the bundles to be opened. upon this the rev. mr. st. john said, "stop, this moment!" bringing down his foot, "just as he slaps the bible," whispered elvira, who had been to church one eventful sunday. "i will read it to you again," which he did. "and now, what have you done with the check?" "check? i don't know what you mean," said the little widow, utterly incapable of understanding anything more after that invitation! "why, the check,--dear me,--the money she sent." "she hasn't sent me no money. she paid me for the washing when she was here," said mrs. hansell. "i mean the money she sent in the letter," he shook it at her; "the paper check to pay for the children's railroad fare. where is it?" "i hain't seen no money," said mrs. hansell, putting up her hand uncertainly to her poor bewildered head. thereupon the minister decided to take matters into his own hands. so getting off from his chair, "children," he said, "not one of these bundles can be opened until we find something that has been dropped out of this letter. a little strip of paper." "i guess susan's et it," said elvira, cheerfully. "oh, no, that cannot be." "yes, 'tis," she defied him, "she's been eatin' paper just awful." "well, look for it as hard as you can. i'll help you." the minister dropped to all fours, and together they all looked over the papers and bundles strewn in confusion around the big box. no strip of paper was to be seen. "this is very dreadful," said the rev. mr. st. john, at last, getting up to his feet, and snapping off the wisps of straw from his clothes, which he was glad to reflect were not his best ones. "now can't we open the bundles?" screamed matilda. "yes, can't we? can't we?" begged the others, except matthew, who was wholly concerned in himself and his new attire. "everythin's out of the old box," said mark, giving it a kick. "yes, everythin'," said elvira, taking a flying leap past it, and peering in once more, "'cept an old scrap o' paper." she dived into its depths and brought up a long, thin strip, which she waved disdainfully before casting it off. at sight of which, the minister sprang and twisted it out of her hands. "oh, the check! well, i _am_ thankful that's found!" but this fell on careless ears after all. for was not the opening of the wonderful bundles at last to be allowed! and for the next half hour nothing was heard but the tearing of paper, the bursting of string, and the howls of delight from the young brood and the half-frightened, tearful ejaculations from the little mother. no one stopped in the process of unfolding the treasures, except to dig the teeth into a cracker or a bun, too hungry to wait. "tea, mammy!" mark bundled a package that spilt half its contents into his mother's lap, then rushed back for more treasures. "thank the lord!" she cried, involuntarily, and hungrily gathering up each morsel. the minister turned aside his face to look out of the window, pretending to see something very attractive in the drear winter landscape, and so the babel went on. at last all the unfolding was done. "now then," said the rev. mr. st. john, "you understand, don't you, that matthew and mark are to go, and one of the girls, to visit mrs. van ruypen?" "see my new dress," interrupted matilda, prancing up with a red merino gown, resplendent in gilt buttons all down the back. "that's mine," said elvira, dropping the blue one, which she had selected, now that she saw how pretty the red one looked. "'tain't either. this is too big for you. anyway, it's mine," said matilda, folding it within her arms, and getting off the kitchen-length from her sister. "children, children, stop quarrelling," commanded the minister. "huh, i ain't afraid o' him," said elvira to luke, and pointing to the minister, who since he had been down on the floor with them, hunting for the check, had seemed quite one of the family. "now which one of the girls shall you allow to go to madam van ruypen's?" asked the minister. "she has left it to you, mrs. hansell." "oh, i don't know, i'm sure," she said helplessly. "you can send which one you like," he said kindly, and smiling down at her encouragingly. "well, elviry ain't goin', anyway," said matthew, with great decision. "where?" elvira dropped her blue gown in a heap, and ran up to her mother's chair. "where ain't i goin', mammy?" but she looked up into the minister's face for the reply. "oh, visiting with matthew and mark," he said laughingly at her. "what's visiting?" "oh, a little journey. but be quiet now, and give your mother time to think." "what's a journey?" demanded elvira, without the least hesitation. "oh, going away on the cars." "are matthew and mark goin'?" asked elvira, with a long breath, and very big eyes. "yes. well, mrs. hansell, what do you say?" "i don't know." "i'm goin'; i'm goin'," announced elvira, capering away. "be quiet, child, your mother hasn't decided," said the minister. "i'm goin'; i'm goin'," elvira kept on, shouting and dancing away as hard as she could, which presently brought the other two girls up to their mother's chair with a clamor to know what it was all about. when it was explained, the trouble was so great the minister had more than two minds to flee the scene and let the little widow get out of it as best she might. at last a happy thought struck him. "mrs. hansell, you might let them draw," he said; "strips of paper, you know. now that's the very idea!" he clapped his hands like a boy. "now, matthew, get the pieces." "it's the littlest, ain't it?" said matthew, hurrying, as fast as the dignity of the great coat and tippet would allow, to obey the minister. "no, no, the longest," said the minister, laughing. "now, girls, you must stand in a row--there--and toe that crack. that's it," as they scuttled into place on the old kitchen floor. "now then, my boy, hurry up." he was as excited as the children themselves, and found it as difficult to wait. "now shut your eyes," and he turned his eyes on the line of girls, while matthew handed him the little strips. "tilly's peekin'," announced luke. "i ain't," said matilda, twisting her eyelids tightly together; "not a single squint, so there, luke hansell." "well, all ready!" the minister whirled around, the little strips neatly placed, and all presenting the same appearance, between his two hands. "matilda, you're the oldest; you may draw first." "o dear! i don't know which one," said matilda, putting out her brown hand, then drawing it back with a jerk. "of course not," said matthew, bursting into a laugh; "if you did that would be peekin'." "well, you must hurry, and give your sisters a chance," said the minister. "i don't want to; i want to go myself," said matilda, hanging back. "then you don't want to draw," said the young man, severely. "very well, you give up your chance. elvira, it's your turn." "oh, i will, i will," cried matilda, terribly alarmed, and, making a lunge, she twitched out the middle piece, so very tiny it was scarcely worth being there at all. "hoh, hoh!" snickered mark. and luke gave a little crow. badly as he should miss elvira, he wouldn't for the world want her to lose the chance of going. "now, elvira." "oh, i'm goin'," she said, confidently, laying hold of the outside piece. luke trembled; that couldn't be the one. out it came,--there was a second's lull,--and a strip so long it had to be doubled up in the middle was flying from her hand. "i told you i was goin'," she said. xvi who will help? the van ruypen butler came down the rose-tinted room, known as madam's boudoir, with his usual soft, catlike tread, and stood by her very chair for a moment without being seen. she appeared lost in thought, her head bent on her hand, and her right foot tapping impatiently on the carpet. "if you please, madam," said the serving-man, with a little apologetic cough to announce his presence, "i--" "well," interrupted his mistress, sharply, and lifting her head with an impatient gesture, "what is it, hooper?" then, without waiting for an answer, she got out of her chair, and went quickly across the apartment to her writing-desk. "i want you to take a note to mr. king's, to little miss pepper," and she began to write hastily, and as if no very good humor inspired her thought. "if you please, madam," said hooper, obsequiously, "little master pepper is downstairs now." "hey? what is that you are saying?" demanded the old lady, throwing down her pen to turn away from the writing-table. "he's downstairs," repeated hooper, "the little pepper lad." "which one?" cried madam, quickly. "_the_ one, madam," said the butler; "i don't know his name." "then it must be joel," said the old lady, and a smile of great satisfaction began to run over her strongly marked face. "show him up at once, hooper; at once," she added, with an imperious wave of her hand that set all the heirlooms of rings to shining at a great rate. "yes, madam," said hooper, getting out on his errand as expeditiously as possible. "to think that joel has really come!" she exclaimed to herself joyfully. she deserted her writing-table now and began to walk up and down the apartment, her long fingers nervously playing with the silken cord of her elaborate morning gown. "oh, joel," as her restless feet brought her near the door, "there you are, my boy." "yes'm," said joel, wholly miserable, and leaning against the casing, with his black eyes fastened on the staircase, as if the way to paradise lay there. "well, come in. don't stand there any longer. pray come in." she waved her hand authoritatively toward the centre of the apartment, then followed him, as he crept dismally in. "now sit down," she said, in her most sociable way. so joel sat down and fastened his eyes on the beautiful red velvet carpet. "so you've come to see me this time, instead of my going to call on you," said madam van ruypen, to set him at his ease. "yes'm," said joel, "mamsie made me come." "that's not very polite," observed the old lady, dryly. which so added to joel's confusion, that he folded his small brown hands together tightly, with a wild idea of springing off down the long stairs and out of the big house--but mamsie. oh, he couldn't do it! so he sat still, hardly daring to breathe. "however, it doesn't signify, since you are here," madam van ruypen went on, her eyes twinkling, which, of course, joel couldn't see, as he didn't dare to look up. then she burst out suddenly into a laugh, long and loud, from which it seemed so difficult for her to get free, that at last joel tore his gaze off from the carpet and stared at her in terror. "oh, i'm through," said the old lady, wiping her eyes; "dear me, and i haven't laughed so for many a day. no, no, lizette," to the french maid, who popped in her white-capped head at the unwonted noise, "i'm not going to have a fit. go back to your work. now then, joel, do you know what i wanted to see you for, and the errand that made me take all the trouble to call on you the other day?" "no'm," said joel, all his misery returning, and hanging his head again. "well, you see, i was in great trouble." joel looked up quickly. then his head fell again, to think how he had acted--and she, the rich old madam van ruypen, in trouble! in the first place he couldn't believe his ears; but worse than ever it was for him that he had been bad at such a time. "the _greatest_ trouble," said the old lady, whereat joel's chin went lower yet, and his hands twisted together miserably. "you see ben, who is the really sensible one among you peppers," said madam van ruypen, bluntly, "and the one i rely on, wasn't at home. and to think i had gotten myself into such a scrape. joel, you can't think, i was just about frantic!" she leaned forward, resting both hands on her knees. "oh, what was it? what was it?" cried joel, forgetting all else except this dreadful thing that had happened to her, and, hopping off from his chair, he ran over to her, clutching her morning gown with excited fingers. madam van ruypen put both strong hands on his shoulders. "i'd gone and written to that washerwoman up in the country to send down some of her children for a visit here. think of that, joel pepper; i must have been crazy!" joel drew a long breath, his black eyes fastened on her face. "and i don't know any more what to do with children, nor what to say to them, for that matter," declared the old lady, dropping her hands in her lap, "than--" she cast her eyes about the apartment, "that table there," bringing them up to the nearest article. "so i went for you in my trouble," she continued--joel, not thinking of anything to say, wisely keeping still. "you understand, joel," with a keen glance at him, "you aren't anyway to be compared with ben, but seeing i couldn't get him, and two of the three children that are coming are boys, why, i had to make you do to help me out." "are some boys coming?" asked joel, finding his tongue. "yes," said the old lady. "oh, didn't i tell you? i wrote to the mother to send the two biggest boys and one girl--i couldn't take any more than one girl, but she'll be a quiet, gentle little thing, of course, and keep the boys civilized. that's what i wanted her for." "ugh!" exclaimed joel in great disgust, and digging the toes of one foot well into the thick carpet. "oh, she won't trouble you, joel," said the old lady, confidently; "she'll want to play with dolls all the time. i will keep her supplied. and if she should get discontented, why i'll ask polly what to do. but what i want to know from you, joel, is, will you help me out with those boys?" madam van ruypen grasped him again by the shoulders to look him squarely in the face. "will you, joel?" "pip is coming home with ben and jasper," said joel, irrelevantly. "what? not that boy who almost killed jasper king?" cried madam van ruypen, and letting her hands again fall, this time in sheer astonishment. "he didn't," contradicted joel, bluntly. "well, he was the cause of it, anyway," said the old lady, inconsequently, "so never mind, we won't waste words about him. i wouldn't have believed that mr. king would do such a thing. dear me, i shouldn't want ever to see the boy again." "well, grandpapa does," said joel, bobbing his black head, "'cause he's going to bring him; an' i'm glad of it." "well, supposing this boy, this pip, does come," said madam van ruypen, much discomfited, "what of it? that won't make any difference about helping me out with these two dreadful ones i've gone and fastened myself up with. now will you do it, joel? you must." "i've got to help about pip," said joel, reluctantly. "pip! well, who cares about your pip?" began the old lady in an autocratic way. "i've got to help about pip," said joel again, and beginning to back slowly away from her. "see here, joel!" she exclaimed in alarm, and seizing the end of his blouse, "you won't refuse to help me? just think of it, i don't in the least know what to say to boys, let alone entertaining them--and they're coming, joel pepper, they actually are!" she dropped the blouse-end and wrung her hands together. "and that minister is going to send them along. like enough they'll get here to-day, although he hasn't telegraphed yet. and what shall i do, in heaven's name!" she was so nervous by this time that it was impossible for her to sit still, so she got off from her chair and began to pace up and down the room, with long, excited steps. "i've got to help about pip," said joel again, and standing quite still by her deserted chair. "well, don't you say that again," commanded the old lady in an angry tone, and not pausing in her walk. "help about your pip if you want to, joel pepper. i'm sure i don't care if your grandfather is foolish enough to burden himself with that dreadful boy. and i guess i'll telegraph to mr. what's-his-name--the minister--oh, st. john, to keep those children back. they can stay in their poor old cabin for all me. i can't have them here," and she turned off to the writing-table. "oh, no, don't, don't," screamed joel, flying after her. "i'll help you. let 'em come--i will!" "no, you don't want to," said the old lady, perversely. "i see it in your face, joel." she turned and looked at him keenly. "it's no use, those children can't get this chance. they must stay at home." "let them come," howled joel. then he laid hold of her gown and blubbered into it. "o dear! _please_ let 'em come!" just then in came hooper, who appeared not to notice the astonishing state of things as he held out to his mistress a yellow envelope, and then discreetly retired. "it's well you promised, joel," said madam van ruypen, grimly, throwing down the yellow sheet, which she tore out of the envelope, "and it was just in the nick of time. those children are on the way, and will be here this afternoon." * * * * * meantime an express train from another direction was rapidly bearing the party from the presbrey school. and at this identical minute pip was pressing his thin little face against the window-pane, as he had slipped from his parlor chair to rest his tired legs. "what would it be like to go to ben's house and be with him all the time?" for pip never for a moment lost sight of the fact that it was ben, and ben alone, who was all the world to him. he stood so for some minutes, his gaze idly resting on the flying landscape, of which he could not have told a single feature. then he gave a long sigh and glanced longingly across the aisle at ben, comfortable in his chair over a book, for jasper was asleep in the chair ahead. besides, he wasn't to be talked to, so the doctor had given orders, on the home journey. "hey--what is it?" ben in turning a page happened to glance up and catch a glimpse of the earnest little eyes. "nothing," pip tried to say, but he made no success of it. "oh, come over here," said ben, in a low voice, because of jasper. and tossing aside the book, he crowded pip in next to his window. "now then, sir, what is it?" "nothing," said pip, in a joyful little way. he could say it now, as he had what he wanted--ben to himself. ben leaned over and picked up his book. "you can have a nice time looking out of the window, eh, pip?" "yes," said pip, but his thin little face fell, and he turned it away to cast a dismal glance on what he didn't care in the least to see. ben found his place in the book and plunged in. was bob really to be pursued by the shark, or would the good sailor who had befriended him before, save him now? he read on--whirled a page--what was that, a sigh? he glanced quickly around his book, and took one look at pip. "oh, say," he broke out, and down the book went to the floor, "what shall we do now, i wonder?" "do you mean it; are we going to do anything, ben?" cried pip, in a joyful voice, and whirling around in great excitement. "yes--hush, we might wake jasper," warned ben, but he smiled into the happy little face. "it must be something quiet, you know." he threw his arm around the small figure and drew it down beside him on the parlor chair. "there's room enough for us both, isn't there?" he said pleasantly. "you're so awful big," said pip, squirming in, and snuggling up to ben as tightly as he could in quite an ecstatic frame of mind. "oh, i wish you'd draw something, ben, i really do." "well, so i will," said ben, after a bit of consideration. "now then, you sit still and i'll get my bag," which he soon did, from the rack overhead. and extracting the drawing materials, every movement being superintended by pip in the greatest satisfaction, he soon had them all laid out, ready to begin operations. "well, sir, and now what shall we draw?" he asked, balancing his pencil thoughtfully on his fingers. pip turned around, his pale eyes searching the parlor car in all directions. "draw that old woman," he said at last, pointing to the subject of his choice; "she's awful funny." "hush!" said ben, pulling down his finger. "oh, no, i couldn't draw the people in the car; they wouldn't like it. choose something else, pip." "there isn't anything else," said pip, in a disconsolate voice. "everything outside is running so fast." "i tell you, i'll draw something from memory," said ben, quickly. "i'll show you the little brown house where i used to live--that'll be nice. you'd like that, pip." "yes," said pip, "i should." if ben said so, that was quite enough, so he crowded as closely to the scene of operations as he could get. "see here," said ben, twisting off, "you don't leave me room enough. you mustn't crowd so, pip." "i can't see, then," said pip, dreadfully disappointed. "well, i tell you, get on my other side, then,--there, that's fine," as pip hopped over. "now my right hand is free. well, here goes!" and in two minutes the little brown house began to stare right up at them from the paper, and ben was drawing furiously away, until it seemed as if every revolution of the car wheels was whirling them to badgertown. "oh, do teach me to draw houses, ben," cried pip, as the little lane down to grandma bascom's began to come in sight. "do, ben, please," he begged. "so i will," promised ben, kindly. "now you can take the pencil when i've finished this, pip, and i'll give you your first lesson." "may i? may i?" and pip ended up with a glad little crow. "hush! you'll wake jasper," warned ben. "yes, and i'll sharpen you up a nice new point on my best pencil, and you shall make a try. there, this is almost done." he put in a few more strokes, and held it off to examine with a critical eye, "all except a bit of shading in those trees,--there, now it's all right," and he laid the sketch in pip's hands. "i'm going to draw just like that," declared pip, with the utmost confidence, devouring the picture with his eyes. "oh, you'll draw one better than that, sometime," said ben, laughing, as he whittled away on his best pencil. "now then, that _is_ a point for you," and he held it up in satisfaction. pip seized the pencil, and made some quick, jerky strokes that snapped the beautiful point quite off. "o dear, dear!" he exclaimed, ready to cry. "never mind, we'll soon have another point on, just as good," said ben, reassuringly, opening his knife. "now then, pip, i'll begin your lesson," holding up the pencil; "here you are, all ready." "i want to draw a picture first, just as you did," said pip, with an eager hand for the pencil. "you can't," said ben, sturdily, "not the first go. you must learn how, pip." "let me try, do," begged pip, earnestly, and his thin little face twitched. "oh, well, you may if you want to," said ben, laughing; "but you mustn't be discouraged if you don't succeed. now then, go at it if you wish." for the next few moments nothing was to be heard but pip's hard breathing and the scratching of his fine pencil over the paper. ben yawned and looked longingly at the book on the floor. and there was bob, and the shark in full pursuit, with the prospect of the sailor putting in an appearance at the last moment. no, it wouldn't do to desert pip--and--why, really there was something worth while coming on the big piece of white paper. ben leaned over the thin little figure. "why, pip!" pip said nothing, but drew his breath harder yet, with every effort on his work. he gripped the pencil as if it were to run away from him, and bent lower yet to his task. "don't clutch it so; hold it easier," said ben, laying his hand on the little thin one, guiding the pencil. pip released his grasp for just one moment, then tightened it up again. seeing which, ben wisely let him alone. "it'll make him nervous," he said to himself, and turned his attention to watching the sketch grow. "my goodness, to think he can draw like that!" for there unmistakably was an old man, very withered and bent, holding out his hand, and by his side a little girl in a tattered shawl. anybody with half an eye could see that the old beggar was blind, and that the girl had been crying. "pip! why, where,"--ben was beaming at him now, as pip lifted his face,--"how did you learn to draw like that?" and he seized the sketch. it was very rough and uneven, but there they were, sure enough, the two figures. "i used to see them," said pip, explaining. "they stood on the corner, don't you know, when the master let us go up to town from school." "well, i guess you don't want any lessons from me," declared ben, not able to take his eyes from the picture. "oh, yes, i do, i do," cried pip, in mortal terror that he was going to lose the very thing above all others that he prized. "i'll tear it up," he cried, with a savage lunge at the picture, and venom written all over his little pale face. "no, you don't, sir," declared ben, with a laugh, and holding the sketch off at arm's length; "this picture is mine in return for the one i gave you. and i'll teach you all i know, pip, i really will. so now we will set to work." and the first thing that either of them knew, grandpapa was leaning over them and smiling, to say, "the next station, and we are home!" xvii "now we can have our christmas!" and so it turned out that joel, who had to go down in the big brougham with madam van ruypen to meet the mountain children, only just got home from that expedition in time to be whisked off to the other railroad station with the welcoming party to meet grandpapa, jasper, and ben--oh, yes, and pip! "whatever you do," ben had taken special pains to write joel long before, "be glad to see pip." and then, nobody knew exactly how they got home. but they did all right, and, of course, with a procession of friends to follow. there was alexia--why, it goes without saying that she was there--and pickering dodge; jasper wouldn't believe he was at home, really he wouldn't, without seeing pick's face, while pick's voice cried out, "hello, old chap!" as no one else but pickering could say it. well, and there was pip's white little face with the scared eyes, for somehow the turmoil made him dreadfully afraid he was going to lose sight of ben. so he clutched him with a desperate grip, getting in and out between all the welcoming groups with marvellous dexterity. "hulloa there, you little beggar!" it was pickering dodge who seized him. "let ben alone, can't you, a minute, till we've seen him." but the small figure struggled, his little wiry legs becoming so nimble around pickering's longer ones, that the tall boy fell back. "whew! well, i must say i wouldn't be in your shoes, ben!" ben laughed, then put out his hand and gathered up the thin nervous fingers. "you can grin," said pickering, as he moved off, "but i tell you it's no laughing matter, ben pepper. you'd much better shake off that leech while you can." meantime joel had been making little runs around the group of which ben was the centre; each step that he took nearer pip he would dart off again in the opposite direction, only to think better of it and plunge up once more. on one such occasion he caught ben's blue eyes fixed upon him reproachfully. "oh, i say, pip," screamed joel, prancing up, "come with me, i've lots to show you." for answer he got a grimace done in pip's best style, who crowded closer to ben than before. "you needn't then," said joel, in a small passion. "hoh! i don't really want you, only--" "joel!" said ben. "well, he's a--a--" "joel!" ben said it again. "come, pip, with me," and the two turned off. "ben," screamed joel, in a dreadful voice, and dashing after him to seize his jacket-end. "oh, i won't--i will, ben, i'll be good." "see that you are, then," said ben, good-naturedly turning around. when he saw the others were not looking, "now then, and you too, pip, for i'm talking to you as much as to joel, i expect you chaps to act like sensible beings, and be good friends. shake hands now, and say you will." out flew joel's sturdy brown paw. pip drew his back, and glanced up at ben to see if he really meant it. "any boy who isn't willing to do what i asked, can't be my friend," said ben, coolly, and pip felt his fingers shaken off from the big warm hand. "oh, ben, i will be good, i will, ben," cried the little fellow, in great distress. he threw up both his hands and flung himself against ben. "no, sir," said ben, sturdily; "unless you shake hands with joel, and promise to be a good friend to him, you can't stay with me." "come on," said joel, a light dancing in his black eyes, and he stuck his little brown hand out more sociably yet. so pip put his thin one within it, and then he drew a long breath, as if a terrible ordeal had just been passed. "well, he didn't bite you," said ben, with a laugh, and taking possession of the thin little fingers once more, "eh, pip?" "no, i didn't bite you, did i, pip?" chuckled joel, dancing on ben's other side. "oh, ben, now we can have our christmas!" "yes, now we can have our christmas!" the others racing after them took up the cry. "and we're going to have it to-morrow," piped phronsie, standing on her tiptoes. "because japser will be rested then, grandpapa says." "oh, no, phronsie," corrected polly, dancing up, "not till day after to-morrow. jasper has to rest to-morrow, you know, after the journey." then she ran off to see if there was really nothing she could do to make him comfortable. but little doctor fisher, who had come up in the carriage with jasper from the station, already had whisked him off to his room, with injunctions for no one to see him again that day. so polly flew back again to hang over ben and try to get acquainted with pip. "he can draw. oh, you just ought to see him, polly," confided ben over pip's tow-colored head. "really, ben?" said polly. "really?--well, i should say!" then ben laughed. "i wish i could do half as well." "oh, ben!" exclaimed polly, incredulously. "perhaps he can do something, but he couldn't draw like you. he couldn't." "well," said ben, with a long breath, "i only wish i could make my things seem as if they moved, polly. now his do, and mine look stiff as sticks." "they don't either," contradicted polly, with an uncomfortable little twist. and she looked down at pip not quite so pleasantly. "what are you two chaffing about?" cried alexia, rushing up with her "whirlwind air" on, as pickering always called it. "oh, something," said ben, with twinkling eyes. "now tell me," said alexia, greedily. "what was it, ben?" "something," said ben. "you said that before," retorted alexia. "well, and so i say it again," said ben, coolly. "what was it, polly?" begged alexia, seizing polly's arm. "you've some piece of news, i just know; do tell me what it is!" "oh, ask ben," said polly, catching his spirit of mischief. "oh, i never saw such perfectly dreadful creatures," cried alexia, tossing back her long light braids impatiently. "nip--flip--whatever your name is,"--glancing down at pip, "you tell me, that's a good boy. what is it?" "i shan't," said pip, with a snap that brought his white teeth together smartly. "well, you needn't take my head off," said alexia, tumbling back. "pip, now you must beg her pardon," said ben, coming out of his laugh. "she told me to tell on you, and i'm not going to," said pip, his pale eyes flashing. "well, you needn't have refused in just such a way; so beg her pardon at once, like a man," said ben, decidedly. "and i'm sure i didn't suppose that mr. king had brought home a snapping turtle," said alexia, airily. "there now, you see, pip," said ben, gravely, "how you will make trouble for all of us unless you behave." thereupon, pip's thin lip trembling, he put out his hand to alexia. "i'm sorry, and i never will tell you in all this world, never, never, never!" "and i'm sure i don't care whether you do or not," said alexia, as they all laughed, "only i'm not going to have my head eaten off, i can tell you that." "well, come on," said polly, briskly, "and let's talk over christmas. oh, you can't think, ben, what elegant things we are going to do!" "let's call all the others and get down on the library rug," proposed ben. "o dear me!" polly's face fell. "without jasper?" she said. "now see here, polly," said ben, whirling around to get a good look at her face, "i promised jasper i'd do my best to go on with everything the minute we got home, the same as if he were able to be in it all. i thought you'd help me, polly, for i can't do anything without you." he looked so disapprovingly at her that she made haste to say, "oh, i will, i will, ben." "then run and get the others," said ben, with a little pat on her back. "and you go, too, alexia, that's a good girl." "of course, i will," said alexia, "if polly is going." and almost as soon as one could write it, there they all were in a group on the big rug before the library fire, and grandpapa in his easy-chair, smiling down at his family. and little doctor fisher looked in to say that jasper had stood the journey re-_mar_kably well, that he was now fast asleep, and that to-morrow he would be down among them all. "oh, goody! goody!" cried polly, clapping her hands. at this phronsie slipped out from her nest where she had been sitting, her head in polly's lap so that she could smooth the yellow waves away from the hot little cheeks, and, picking up her skirts, she began to dance, finishing up with a little cheese in the middle of the library floor. "i don't mean you can have your christmas to-morrow," the little doctor made haste to explain. "jasper must have some hours of rest. but the day after--then says i." he took off his big spectacles, wiped them carefully, stuck them on his nose again, laughed gleefully at the babel of rejoicing he had set up, and was off. "well now, phronsie," said grandpapa, "you would better come and sit with me. i really need you, child." "do you, grandpapa?" asked phronsie, and coming up to his big chair, exceedingly pleased. "very much indeed," said the old gentleman, decidedly. "there, that's right," as she climbed up into his lap, and laid her head on his breast. "now then, you and i can hear all these wonderful plans finely." "we're going to have a christmas," said phronsie, putting up a soft little hand to pull his face down. "no, really?" "yes, we are," said phronsie, in grave delight. then she bobbed up her head to look at him the closer. "we surely are, grandpapa; and polly is going to tell about it, she is." "well, then we must listen, you and i," said old mr. king. "so we'll be still as mice, phronsie," he whispered. "well, now," polly was saying, drawing a long breath and smoothing down her gown; "o dear me! how shall we begin, we've so very much to tell? ben--" "why, just begin," said joel, impatiently, burrowing deeper in the rug, where he lay nearest to the fire. "do be still, joe," said alexia, with a little pinch. "ow!" said joel. then he reached out and took up one of her long braids. "whee!" exclaimed alexia, flying around at him. "oh, you bad boy, you pulled my hair awfully." "well, you pinched me," snorted joel. "such a little nip," said alexia, pulling both of her braids in front of her; "nothing at all like what you did to me. and you've mussed up my bow," she added, twitching it off to tie it again. "come, you two, stop your sparring," said ben, with a laugh. "goodness me, have you kept that up all the while i've been gone?" "every single day," said alexia, tying the ribbon fast, and proceeding to pick out the bow-ends with critical fingers. "joel's bad, always, you know." "i suppose you are not, alexia," said ben, with another laugh. "well, come on, polly, do begin," said alexia, ignoring the question; and her bow being tied to her satisfaction, "although 'tisn't as good as it was before," she grumbled, "do hurry up." "well," said polly, pushing back the little rings of brown hair from her forehead, "where shall i begin? oh, i know,--we are going to--" "she says there's a reply expected." the butler came up to the group and thrust out a big white note. "you take it, polly," said ben. "it's for master joel," said hobson. and there it was in big, slanting letters clear across the envelope. "here's your missive, joe," said ben, catching it to toss it over to him. "hurry up and read it so that polly can go on." "o dear me! must we wait for this tiresome boy?" cried alexia. "can't you read your letter and let polly tell just the same? you know all she is going to say, joe." "no, you are going to wait," said joel, with a grimace at her. "hurry up, joe, or we will go on," warned ben. so joel tore open his letter and plunged into it. the next moment he stood outside the circle and stamped up and down the library floor like a wild beast. "i'm not going; i won't, i won't,--i--" "joey, what _is_ the matter?" cried polly, in great alarm, and springing out from the group, she ran up to seize his arm. but he slipped away from her. "she wants me to go and play with those boys," cried joel, in a towering passion, and plunging up and down. "i won't! so there! let me alone, polly," for she ran after him; this time she was more successful. "now see here," ben jumped to his feet, "stop acting like a goose, joel." "he's more like a wild-cat," said alexia, stretching herself comfortably in the space he had vacated. "joel, stop this moment," commanded grandpapa. joel's head dropped at the tone, but he ran over to the big easy-chair. phronsie popped up her yellow head in dismay from its nest in the old gentleman's arms. "now don't you see how you are frightening this child to death?" said old mr. king. "what is the matter, my boy?" for joel's face was working dreadfully. "she wants me--that old woman," began joel, swallowing hard, and grasping the chair-arm for dear life. "who?" "madam--madam--" "madam van ruypen?" "yes, sir." "well, what does she want? out with it. you're not to do it if you don't wish to, of course, so what's the use in feeling so? what does she want you to do, joe?" "she wants me to go over to see those--those boys," said joel, in a burst. "what boys, pray tell?" demanded grandpapa, a trifle impatiently. "those boys who've just come," said joel, "the washerwoman's boys. o dear!" he had great difficulty now in keeping the tears back; still, he managed it after a fashion. "whatever in the world are you talking of?" cried the old gentleman, helplessly. "polly, come here, my child, and see if you can make any sense of what this boy is saying. i'm sure it is beyond me." "now, joel," polly was saying, and she had her hands on the ones hanging to the chair-arm, "you must just tell the whole thing so that we can understand what it is about, for you are making grandpapa sick, and he has just come home," she added, reproachfully. joel gave one look into the face under the white hair, then he blurted out, "she sent for 'em, and they've come to-day--the washerwoman's boys. and we went to the station, and they came from the mountains. and i promised to go and help her take care of 'em, and,--and i won't, so there!" and he glanced at the whole group, as if they were all against him. "joel, did you promise to go and help madam van ruypen?" asked grandpapa, quietly, with a keen glance into the flushed face. "yes, sir. but she said she only wanted me 'cause ben wasn't here." "did you promise her?" asked old mr. king, just as quietly, and not taking his eyes away. "yes, sir; and there's a girl come too. and she said she guessed polly would help take care of her." joel began to snivel now. "never mind what mrs. van ruypen said about anybody else," said grandpapa, firmly. "you must go anyway, joe, my boy, and keep that promise." "o dear, dear, dear!" wailed joel, now clear gone in distress. "see here," ben had with the greatest difficulty all this while kept from crying out. "is it? can it be? has madam van ruypen really sent for those poor children up in the mountains?" at last he broke out, "oh, grandpapa, may we all go? come, polly, you'll come, won't you?" he threw his arm around her. "where are you going?" cried alexia, raising her head, where she had been luxuriously awaiting their return to the rug. "polly pepper, where _are_ you going?" "to madam van ruypen's," said polly, dancing off, her cheeks as red as two roses. "come on, alexia." "come on, yes. you lead the way and we'll follow," said ben, bundling out of the room, pip at his heels, followed closely by pickering dodge. "dear me!" exclaimed alexia, getting up to her feet. "percy--van--what is it, do you know?" as they hopped up, and raced after the others. "come on," howled joel, every tear gone, and smiles all over his round face. and looking back at her, for he wouldn't for the world have alexia left behind. "it's a party over at that old woman's, mad--" the rest was lost in his rush. "party?" repeated alexia; "o dear me! wait!" and she was off after them. "she said there was an answer," repeated the butler, who hadn't stirred from his tracks. "er--oh," exclaimed the old gentleman. "well, the answer will get there before a note could. that's all, hobson. now then, phronsie, you and i will have a cosey time all to ourselves, child." xviii telling all the news "here, polly and ben," little doctor fisher met them racing along the hall the next morning, "i want you both," and he led them into his office and closed the door. "now then, i have some good news for you. you are to go up to see jasper!" "oh, papa fisher!" cried polly, in a tremor of delight. she seized his hand and began to dance up and down, while ben said, "whew!" and stood quite still. but the color flew all over his round cheeks. "i thought jasper would have to rest all day," said polly, still hopping about and clinging to the long fingers. "so i thought," said doctor fisher, with a wise little nod. then he set his big spectacles straighter on his nose, and took a sharp look first at one flushed face and then the other. "i can trust you both," he said. "the truth is, jasper wants you, and i don't believe it will hurt him." "can we go now?" cried polly, impatiently. "can we, papa fisher?" "there, there," said the little doctor, "not so fast, polly, my child. you see, jasper isn't really sick now, only i didn't want him to get about too fast after his journey. but it's dull for him alone, that's a fact, and he's been asking for you both. the fact is, he teased," and doctor fisher burst out laughing at the recollection of jasper's face. "so you can go up, but don't for goodness' sake let the children know. if joel were--" and he broke off, quite alarmed, and mopped his face with his big silk handkerchief. "we'll creep up the back stairs," said polly, tiptoeing to the door. "come, ben. oh, do hurry!" "that isn't saying you are safe from joel," said doctor fisher, grimly, "by any means. well, go along and be careful." so polly and ben, peering on either hand, hurried up the back stairs, softly. "there isn't so very much danger," said ben, under his breath, "that joel will hear us, because he's got pip somewhere." "we better be careful, though," whispered polly, who knew by experience joel's capacity for finding out things. "yes, that's so," said ben, "you never can tell where joe will pop up. well, here we are," as they hurried into jasper's room. "well, i thought you never would come," cried jasper, popping up his head from the pillows at the back of the big easy-chair, and beaming at them affectionately. "oh, now it's good to be home, and have you, polly. isn't it, ben?" "i should say so," said ben, in huge satisfaction, dragging up a chair for polly. "oh, i'm going to sit down here," said polly, running after a hassock, to pull it up in front of jasper's big chair. "so will i get another," said ben, discarding the chair. "that's good," said jasper, rubbing his hands together in delight. "o dear me! i wish i could get out of this old chair. i'm going to," and he threw back the sofa-blanket from his knees. "oh, don't, jasper, you mustn't," cried polly and ben, deserting their hassocks to run either side of the easy-chair, and lay a restraining hand on him. "you'll hurt yourself." "and then doctor fisher will blame us," finished ben. "that's so," said jasper, twitching the sofa-blanket up. "o dear me!" and he leaned back against the pillow. "well, do go on and tell me something. i suppose i've just got to stay here like an old log." "yes, you must stay here," said polly, tucking the blanket in with deft little pats; "but you are not an old log, jasper." "yes, i am," said jasper, guilty of contradicting, and making a very wry face, "a stiff horrible old log," and he gave a little kick that sent one end of the sofa-blanket flying out again. "i should call you a slippery eel," said ben, while polly ran around to the other side to tuck the blanket-end in again. "oh, beg your pardon," said jasper, while the color went flying over his pale face. "i didn't mean to make you so much trouble, polly, i really didn't." "it isn't any trouble, jasper," said polly, with a final little pat, "only you mustn't get cold, for then i'm sure i don't know what we should do." "oh, i couldn't get cold," said jasper, with a glance over at the bright hickory fire on the hearth, "i couldn't possibly, polly." "well, you aren't going to kick off the blanket like that again," said ben, with a bob of his head, "or we'll go straight off like a shot, polly and i will, so there, sir!" "oh, i won't, i won't," cried jasper, bursting into a laugh, "so do sit down, both of you. i'll be just as good as--what is it candace always says--pie!" "see that you are then," said ben, with another laugh. "well, now polly, you begin," said jasper, hungry for news, as the two were seated on their hassocks, "and tell everything straight through, what you've all been doing since ben was away." "o dear me!" cried polly, drawing a long breath, "i couldn't tell everything, jasper." "you must," said jasper, decidedly. "i want to hear every single thing; so begin, polly." "well," said polly, folding her hands in her lap, and plunging in at once on the most interesting part of the story, "in the first place, you know ben went out shopping with madam van ruypen." "ugh!" exclaimed ben, "don't tell about that, polly; that's no good." "what is it, polly?" cried jasper, eagerly. "oh, do go on. you be still, ben," shaking his finger at him; "now go on, polly; don't mind him, he's no good." "polly," cried ben, "tell about how we did our christmas shopping, that's better. do, polly." "polly, don't you mind this chap at all," said jasper, turning a cold shoulder to ben; "go on with what you were saying; now then." "the christmas shopping is enough sight better," said ben, in another desperate attempt to get polly's attention. "oh, never you mind about the christmas shopping," said jasper, coolly, "i'll get that all in good time. now then, polly, you said ben went out shopping with madam van ruypen. well, what else?" "yes, he did," said polly, keeping her eyes away from ben, so that all his frantic efforts to attract her attention went for nothing. "you see she took a great fancy to him, and--" "oh, now, polly," began ben, with a very red face. "don't you believe her, jasper; it's just because she didn't have any one else to ask." "who, polly?" cried jasper, turning back to him. "no, no, the old lady, madam van ruypen." "oh, well, let polly tell that," said jasper, turning away again. "well, go on, polly, she took a great fancy to him--and what then?" "and so she invited him to go out with her in her great big carriage to help her get her christmas things." "well, well!" exclaimed jasper. "i say, ben pepper, of all things!" "i wish you would stop, polly," said ben, in a tone of great vexation, and twisting uncomfortably on his hassock. "oh, i wouldn't stop her for all the world," cried jasper, in high delight. "well, what did they buy, polly? fancy ben out shopping with a lady!" "well, you see, jasper, madam van ruypen goes up in the summer to the mountains, and a poor woman does her washing," said polly, hurrying along, and not daring to look at ben. "and she wanted to do something for her. she has ever so many children, you know." "who? madam van ruypen?" asked jasper, wrinkling his brows. "no, the poor woman, the washerwoman," said polly. "there, polly, you're getting all mixed up," said ben, quite pleased. "you better stop." "you be still," said jasper, with a nudge. "polly will tell it all right if you will only let her alone." "she doesn't seem to be getting on very well," grumbled ben. "well, and then, polly, what next?" jasper leaned forward to catch every word. "why, there were boys in the mountains, you know, the poor washerwoman's home, so madam van ruypen wanted ben to pick out some things for them." "what things?" demanded jasper, intensely interested. "oh, overcoats and tippets and gloves and jackets and--" "oh, hurrah!" exclaimed jasper, breaking into the list. then he whirled around and bestowed a resounding rap on ben's back. "whew!" exclaimed ben. "well, you don't need to get your strength back," he added ruefully. "don't i though?" said jasper, with shining eyes, and lifting up his hand. "now, here's another--to think she chose you to do that, ben!" "no, you don't," said ben, moving back so hastily that he rolled off his hassock in a heap on the floor. "see what you got by deserting your best friend," said jasper, coolly. "well, go on, polly; and so ben bought things?" "yes, she let him pick them out all by himself," said polly, with great pride. "polly!" cried ben, with flaming cheeks. "she did; she told me so herself," polly bobbed her head to emphasize every word, "and she said--" "polly, i can't think papa fisher would like to have us stay any longer," burst in ben, desperately, coming up to lay a hand on polly's shoulder. "hoh! hoh!" cried jasper, "now go on, polly, tell the whole--mind i must have every word." "i shall tell," said polly, twitching away her shoulder from ben's hand, "and you mustn't think to stop me, ben, 'cause jasper shall know. she said that ben had more sense than anybody she knew," ran on polly, while ben stuffed his fingers in his ears and marched to the other side of the large room, "and she did everything he said." "what, _everything_?" asked jasper, eagerly. "yes, every single thing," said polly. "she didn't choose a thing; all she did was to pay the bill." "whew!" whistled jasper. "good for ben!" "and then she sent all the things in a big box to the poor washerwoman in the mountains," said polly. "polly," said jasper, and his dark eyes shone, "i think ben can do just anything, don't you, if he tries?" "yes," said polly, very much pleased, "i know he can; he always could." "well, so he did at the school," said jasper; "all the boys were talking about it." "oh, jasper," cried polly, very much excited, "tell me all about it. do." her cheeks were very rosy now, and she beat her foot impatiently on the floor. "some other time," said jasper, nodding over at ben, "when he's not by. well, old fellow, you must open your ears, we're through with that old story," he cried, addressing ben. "are you sure you are through?" cried ben, pulling the finger out of one ear, and glancing at them in suspicion. "quite," said jasper, coolly. "come on, ben, and sit down and behave yourself, there's a good chap. now we're going to talk about something else." "in that case, i'll come back," said ben, sitting down on the hassock again. "well now, polly, tell some other things," said jasper, when they were all settled quietly once more. "oh," said polly, finding it hard work to pull her mind off from the unknown but splendid things that the boys at jasper's school had said about ben, "let me see," and she wrinkled up her brows, "where shall i begin?" "i should think the most natural thing would be to tell about what we did last night," said ben, composedly. "oh, what did you do last night?" cried jasper. "i suppose you had a lovely time telling all about your plans for christmas, and there was i, put to bed like a great baby." "no, we didn't," said ben, "not by a long shot; we went over to madam van ruypen's." "you went over to madam van ruypen's!" repeated jasper in astonishment. "not the first evening you were at home?" "yes, we did," said ben; "just as i said, we went over there." "what for? oh, polly, what for?" jasper flew around, appealing to her. "what did you go over to madam van ruypen's for? tell me, polly," as she sat lost in thought. "oh, why because," said polly, coming out of her abstraction, "she has got some of the poor mountain children down there, and she didn't know what to do with them." jasper turned a bewildered face over to ben. "you see," said ben, "she had written up when the box went, you know, to have the mother let some of the children come, so as to have a good time. and they got here yesterday, so she had to have us," and he gave a sigh. "o dear me!" said jasper, finding no more words for the occasion. "and she wants us to spend our christmas over there," said polly, with a dismal face. "but we are not going to; oh, no, the very idea, jasper king!" and she brightened up. "why, grandpapa wouldn't allow it." "no, indeed," said jasper, in his most decided fashion, "but we might have them here," he added. "if you are strong enough," said ben. "papa fisher said it all depended on you." "if that is so," said jasper, with a long breath, and stretching out his hands, "why, we'll have the whole lot of them. see, i'm as strong as an ox!" "and oh, jasper, you can't think," cried polly, plunging into all the delights of the coming celebration, "we are going to have the choir boys of st. stephen's to sing the carol." "not the st. stephen's boys!" cried jasper, in great excitement. "yes," said polly, with dancing eyes, "we surely are, jasper; grandpapa engaged them. he wrote from the school." "isn't father just too splendid for anything!" cried jasper, with shining eyes. "isn't he!" echoed polly and ben together. "and oh--" here polly broke off with a happy little laugh, and clapped her hands together. "what is it, polly? oh, do tell me," begged jasper, in a fever for the secret. but polly laughed on. "oh, you'll know to-morrow," she said gleefully. "oh, no, tell me now, polly," begged jasper. "if you don't i'll be sick again, i'm afraid. tell me, polly, what is it?" "yes, polly," said ben, "you ought to tell him now; and if you don't, why i will." "oh, i'll tell," said polly, much alarmed at the news coming from any one but herself. "oh, jasper," she cried, "mr. cabot gave us a present." "mr. cabot gave us a present?" repeated jasper. "yes, to all of us; wasn't he dear?" "i don't know until you tell me what it is," said jasper, much mystified. "the sweetest thing," said polly. "oh, you'll love it, jasper." "but what is it?" demanded jasper. "and he sent 'way to india for it." "to india!" jasper didn't seem to be able to say anything but the echo of polly's words. "yes," said polly, nodding to ben to keep still; "and it's just too beautiful for anything." "oh, now i know; it's a vase," said jasper, "one of those brass things--that's what it is." "a vase!" cried ben, with a laugh, and slapping his knee. "well, i guess you won't say this is much like a vase when you see it, jasper king." "oh, no, it isn't a vase," said polly, shaking her brown head. "guess again, jasper." "well, then, it's a curtain--a portiã¨re, one of those embroidered things." "no, no," said polly and ben together. "well, a table cover," said jasper. "no, guess again." "how can i tell?" cried jasper, wildly. "it might be anything." "but it isn't anything--i mean it is something," said polly, in her most decided fashion. jasper leaned his head back on a pile of pillows, and gave himself up to thinking. "polly," said ben, "you'd better tell; see, he's getting tired." seeing which, polly gave a little start of dismay. "i'll tell; don't get tired. oh, jasper, it's a monkey." "a monkey!" repeated jasper, faintly. xix jocko "yes," said polly, gleefully, "you can't think, jasper; it's such a beautiful monkey." "that's a fact," declared ben, "or rather, i should say, the very ugliest beast you can think of, jasper." "ben!" exclaimed polly, reproachfully. "when did it come? did mr. cabot really give it to you?" cried jasper, all in one breath, and deserting his pillows at once. "oh, he didn't give it to me," said polly. "it's a present to all of us; it's yours, jasper, just as much as any one's." "dear me!" cried jasper, quite overwhelmed at being part owner in the christmas gift of a monkey. "well, when did it come, polly?" "just two days ago," said polly, trying to remember all the fun they had enjoyed with their new acquisition, "though it seems--oh, ages; and he's been so cunning." "how i do want to see him!" cried jasper, eagerly. "where is he? i should think joel would worry the life out of him." "well, for once i guess joe has got his match," said ben, bursting into a laugh. "i asked him to come along with us and show jocko off this morning, and he said, 'no,' and showed a lively pair of heels." "jocko? is that his name?" asked jasper, with the liveliest interest. "yes," said polly. "that's what the sailors named him, mr. cabot said," added ben,--"so you told me, polly," turning to her. "yes, i did," said polly. "you see, jasper, mr. cabot was having some things brought out from india, and he thought he'd send for a monkey for a surprise to us. and the sailors petted him all the way over, and--" "who, mr. cabot?" interrupted ben, mischievously. "no; aren't you ashamed of yourself," cried jasper, in a pretended rage. "go on, polly. if i weren't tied to this old chair i'd pommel this chap for you. well, where is the monkey now?" "oh, thomas has him in a little room in the stable," said polly. "he's chained up, you know. but by and by we're going to have him in the house, when he's tame and nice." "o dear me! how i should like to see him," said jasper, with a long breath, and sinking back against the pillows. "dear me! well, i wish you could," breathed polly, wistfully, and a regretful look swept over her face. why had she told jasper about the monkey? better to have waited for the surprise to come out to-morrow. and her head drooped sorrowfully. "never mind, polly," said ben, who never could bear to have polly look sorry over anything. "jasper would rather have the fun of hearing about the monkey to-day than to wait to see him." "but why should i wait before i see him?" said jasper. "there's no reason he can't come up here to see me." he looked first at polly, then at ben. "what?" cried polly, coming out of her sorry little fit to stare at him. "whew!" whistled ben, and he stuck his hands in his pockets and stared too. "yes, there isn't any earthly reason why the monkey couldn't come up here," said jasper, persistently, "and i really need him. he'd cheer me up," he added. "yes, there's no doubt of that," said ben, with a chuckle. "well, then bring him. do, there's a good chap," said jasper, leaning forward to bestow a resounding clap on ben's shoulder. "goodness me," said ben, backing away, "if doctor fisher could only feel you he'd let you downstairs fast enough. there'd be no need of bringing monkeys or anything else up to you." "well, doctor fisher isn't here," said jasper, laughing, "and i am made to stay up here. and just think how dull it is," he added artfully. "that's a compliment, now," said ben, "when we've tried to entertain you as hard as we can." "well, i didn't mean that; you know i didn't," said jasper, coming out of his laugh to look very much distressed. "you know i didn't, polly, don't you?" he begged, appealing to her. "yes, i do," said polly, "know you didn't mean it at all, jasper." "all right, now tease away," said ben. "but i do want to see that monkey dreadfully," said jasper, returning to the charge with renewed effort when he saw that his last unfortunate remark was perfectly understood; "it would be just the way to make me entirely well." "i do believe it would, ben," said polly, whirling around to him, "be the very best thing, as jasper says. oh, do let's bring him up." she flew off from her hassock to rush to the door. "well, i can fetch him, as far as that goes," said ben, getting up slowly from his hassock. "if that monkey has got to come, why, i'll bring him." "good for you!" shouted jasper, in huge delight, and clapping his hands together. "but i warn you, he's a perfect--tempest," said ben, moving off to join polly. "you don't need to go, polly," he said; "i'll bring him." "but i can do it much better," said polly, "because he knows me, ben, and you've only seen him once." "and that was quite enough for both the monkey and me," said ben, with a little laugh. "well, prepare yourself to receive jocko," he tossed back over his shoulder to jasper; "and don't blame me if he's too much for you." "i won't blame you," promised jasper, in huge delight; then he doubled up one of his pillows and tossed it across the room, to give vent to his feelings, as polly and ben ran off downstairs to do his bidding. it was all he could do to wait with even a show of patience, yet they did it very quickly, considering the distance that had to be run over, and the little formality to be gone through with of detaching jocko from a plate of cake bits that one of the maids had just left with him. "oh, he oughtn't to have that anyway," said polly, twitching his chain. "come away from it, jocko, it's bad for you to have so many sweets." but jocko, not thinking so, chattered and scolded, wrinkling up his eyelids and showing all his teeth at her. "polly, the beggar will bite you," said ben, laying a hand on the chain. "oh, no, he won't," said polly. "now, jocko, you are _not_ going to have all that plate of cake. come away," for jocko had scrabbled all he possibly could of the sweet bits into both cheeks, spreading his paws over the remainder in the dish to protect it. and polly gave such a jerk that jocko was twitched clear away from the tempting morsels. "polly, polly," remonstrated ben in alarm, "he surely will bite you; give me the chain." "oh, no, he can't," said polly. "see, his mouth is full," which was quite true, jocko's cheeks being puffed out to that degree that he couldn't very well use his teeth to attack with. "well, he will as soon as he has swallowed that mouthful, the greedy thing," said ben. "here, you," and ben picked up a stick from the corner. jocko viewed it with the air of acquaintance, as if thomas had showed it to him before, and immediately spit out all the cake, rolled up his eyes beseechingly, and folded his paws. "oh, you cunning thing!" exclaimed polly, throwing her arms around him, while jocko seized her gown and huddled and snivelled into it, getting away from ben as far as possible. "polly, how can you?" cried ben, in disgust. "well, he's just as sweet as can be," said polly. "o dear, do put down that stick, he's so afraid of it." "indeed, i shan't," declared ben, brandishing it wildly, whereat jocko danced a perfect waltz around polly, clinging to her brown gown and gibbering at every step. "i do hope thomas doesn't whip him with it," said polly, whirling around uncertainly with the monkey's antics. "oh, you don't suppose he does, ben, do you?" "nonsense; you know thomas wouldn't hurt a fly," said ben. "but jocko has probably tasted a stick on board ship, polly, or a rope-end, or something worse. and it's just as well to show him something now that he will respect." it was a long speech for ben. "well, we ought to hurry," said polly, "for it's so hard for jasper to wait." so away they ran, jocko getting between their feet at every chance he could find. and then, "well, here we are!" announced ben, as they all three dashed, or rather tumbled, into jasper's room together. for jocko, seeing here a grand opportunity, plunged in suddenly, dragging the chain before them so that polly promptly fell over it. and in trying to save her, ben lost his balance. "well, i should think so!" exclaimed jasper, starting forward. "my goodness! what an entrã©e." "well, you ought to be thankful that we've got here at all," retorted ben, extricating himself and helping polly up; "and if you don't get enough of this beast, i miss my guess." "oh, isn't he perfectly lovely!" cried polly, racing up and pulling jocko along to jasper's chair. "did you ever see--" she couldn't finish, for jocko, not considering it necessary to wait for any further introduction, leaped up to jasper's shoulder and laid his little black, cold, slippery nose against the nearest cheek. "i told you you'd get enough of him," cried ben, bursting into a laugh. "oh, your face, jasper!" as polly twitched the chain so that the monkey sprawled at once on the floor. "oh, well, that's all right," said jasper, recovering himself and wiping his face dry with his handkerchief. "is it?" laughed ben. "i'm glad you like it." "there, polly, bring him a little nearer. i don't want him on my shoulder, you know," jasper was saying. "oh, don't you?" said ben. "i thought he was all right up there." "let me take the chain," said jasper, paying no attention to ben. "oh, jasper, i'm afraid you're not strong enough," said polly, fearfully. "hadn't i better hold it?" "oh, i'm strong enough," said jasper. so polly, although with many misgivings, handed the chain to jasper, who pretty soon had the monkey on his knee, examining all his fine points, and becoming acquainted with his exceedingly expressive countenance. "now, isn't he a dear?" cried polly, dancing in front of jasper's chair, and regarding the new pet with affection. "he certainly is," said jasper, making jocko give him his paw, then teaching him to feel in his pockets. "oh, polly, get me a lump of sugar, do; there on the tray." so polly ran to the little silver bowl and came back with two sweet blocks in her hand. at sight of them jocko gave a greedy little cry and tried to spring off from jasper's lap. "oh, no you don't, sir," said jasper, holding him fast by the collar; "you must hunt for them. give them to me, polly." so polly put the sugar lumps into jasper's hands, and he dropped one into each pocket. "there now, hunt, sir," which jocko, wrinkling up his flat nose, was glad to do. "did you ever see such sweet little fingers?" said polly, dropping to her knees by the side of the big chair, as jocko, finding one sweet lump, dragged it forth triumphantly, to set sharp little teeth in it. [illustration: "did you ever see such sweet little fingers?" said polly.] "fingers! oh, polly!" exclaimed ben, coming up, stick in hand. jocko grunted and chattered, one eye on the stick, while he nibbled away. "oh, ben, do put it down," begged polly. "all right," said ben, depositing the stick on the table. "lie there, but see that you behave, mr. jocko." "he says he will," said polly, with a laugh, as jocko gave a little scream, his sugar being all gone. then he began to hunt for more, puckering up his forehead in the search. he was quite sure there were two pieces, and he must hurry and get the last one. so he pulled and pawed and scratched and scrabbled over jasper in his efforts to reach all his pockets that might be possible, ben laughing as much as the other two in the process. at last polly looked up, "oh, you are getting tired, jasper," she exclaimed in dismay. "i believe i am," confessed jasper; "my sides fairly ache with the laughing. but don't take jocko away," he said, clinging to him. "well, we ought to," said ben, "for you are tired, and my sides ache, too." "we might tie jocko up for a while," suggested polly, who hadn't the heart to go against jasper's wish. "that's it, tie him up till i'm a bit rested," said jasper, eagerly. "here, jocko, go with your mistress," and he put the chain in polly's hand. "well, where is a good place?" asked polly, twitching jocko off from jasper's knee. "come on, ben, where shall we tie him?" "oh, i don't know," said ben, looking about him doubtfully. "why, to the door-knob, perhaps." "wouldn't the bureau handle be better?" asked polly. "the table leg, polly," suggested jasper. "the table leg, oh, yes," cried polly. "now then, jocko, you must be very good," and she knelt down by the table, dragging the monkey up to her. "let me fasten it for you," said ben, coming up. "oh, i can do it," said polly, pulling the chain around the table leg and taking a little loop in it. "there, sir! now you're fast!" as she jumped up and brushed her brown gown with both hands. "he's mussed you all up," cried ben; "and see, his hair's all over your dress." "never mind," said polly, who always liked everything very nice, "they'll come off," and she brushed away smartly. "there, that's all right now, bensie. oh, let's talk over what we are going to do to-morrow, our real christmas," and she flew back to jasper's chair. "yes, do," said jasper. "come on, ben." "you know, of course, there's the tree," began polly, as the two pulled their hassocks and sat down again, on either side of jasper's chair. "yes, of course," said jasper. "christmas wouldn't be christmas, would it, polly, without our tree." "no, i should think not," laughed polly. and ben saying the same thing they immediately launched into an animated recital of all the plans for this particular tree, and the comparison with all the other trees of the past christmases, till they forgot jocko and everything else in the charms of this belated holiday. "what's that funny noise?" at last asked ben in a lull, when all three had paused to rest. "what? i don't hear anything," said jasper, pricking up his ears. "nor i," said polly. "oh, yes, i do." she sprang off from her hassock and ran around to the table. "why, jocko, where--" she cried. ben got off from his hassock. "well, that explains the noise fast enough," he said grimly. "why, where is the whip?" going over to the table. "dear me, i don't know," said polly. "i haven't touched it," and she began to fly all about the room. "jocko, jocko dear," she cried coaxingly. "the little scamp has taken the whip," said ben, too vexed to smile. "how you can laugh, jasper, i don't see. now then, we must find that beast. my goodness me!" he dashed off. as ben seldom took any but deliberate steps, jasper stopped laughing to see him go. the next instant, "come, polly!" called ben. "where?" she was over by one of the long windows, shaking the curtain, fully expecting to see the runaway hiding within its folds. "in the bath-room," shouted ben. so down the little passageway, tiled and wainscoted, clattered polly on hasty feet, to find ben holding jocko by the collar, and the bath-tub running over with water, both faucets being turned on, and several articles, the broken whip among the rest, floating on the top. jocko was grinning and cringing, with sharp, sudden squeals for pity when he saw polly. "take care, you'll wet your feet," warned ben. "the water's all over the floor." which polly soon found out the moment she stepped on the tiled surface. "o dear me!" she gasped, stepping gingerly in. squeal! squeal! jocko set up more elaborate attempts to attract her attention. "do turn off the faucets, ben," said polly, hurrying over to peer into the tub. "oh, i have, long ago," said ben, "but i can't let the water out." "why, ben pepper, there is jasper's 'as you like it,'" said polly, in anguish, hanging over the bath-tub. "i know it," said ben. "hush, polly, jasper'll hear you." "o dear! and i 'most know there are his sleeve buttons." "yes, and lots of things more," said ben, grimly, "so i can't let the water off, for they'd all run down." "and, and,--why, ben pepper!" polly forgot the wet floor and she splashed up and down in great distress. "oh, i must bale it out," she cried. "i see jasper's watch and chain down at the bottom." "stop, polly, you're getting as wet as anything and splashing all over me," said ben. "now then, you little scoundrel," to jocko, "i'll tie you up so that you won't get loose again in a hurry," and he fastened the chain, in a way that no one but ben could do, to the door-knob, then he came back and rolled up his sleeves, jocko beginning to sob and whimper, since polly wouldn't look at him. "do you run out in the hall and call down the tube for jane," said ben. "jasper can't hear, for his door is shut." "but i must tell him what is the matter," said polly, in great distress. "listen, he's calling." "pol-_ly_." evidently jasper _was_ calling. "ben, what in the world is the matter?" came from jasper's room. "i'll tell jasper," said ben. "you get jane up here to clear this water out; do, polly." "well, don't tell jasper about his shakespeare," said polly, hurrying off on her wet feet, "nor the watch." "no, i won't," promised ben. "oh, nothing much, old chap." he went down the passage, and put his head in at jasper's door, "it's jocko, you know; we've found him." "oh, that's good," cried jasper; "and nothing has happened to him, i hope?" "no," said ben, "there hasn't." "that's good," said jasper again. so ben went back and jane came up with her pail and mop and cloths, and presently a fine array of articles was brought to view on the bottom of the bath-tub, to add to those floating on top. "oh, ben, did you ever in all the world!" said polly, aghast, as they fished for the things. "i don't see how he had time to do it." "well, he used it pretty well," said ben. "see there, polly pepper," holding up what had once been a necktie. "and it's quite, quite ruined," said polly, choking off a little sob. then she deserted the bath-tub, to fly over to the monkey. "oh, you naughty, naughty--oh, ben, what has jocko got in his mouth? he's choking!" "nonsense, he wouldn't choke," said ben; yet he left fishing in the bath-tub for more articles of jocko's depositing and went over to investigate. jocko, when he saw ben coming, spit out a mouthful which proved to be pins, while he tucked with one paw a small article underneath him, and blinked up in ben's face. "spit out the rest," commanded ben, "or i'll get another switch. do you hear?" "oh, he'll choke, he'll choke," cried polly, in great alarm. "what shall we do? he has ever so many more in his cheeks. oh, you bad jocko!" jocko spit out a few more pins, then wrinkled up his eyebrows and grinned and chattered. "get the rest out, sir," said ben, "or the switch, you know." fretting dismally, jocko stuck his paw clear into his cheeks, and poked the pins out until none seemed to remain. then he sat up quite straight, scolding frightfully. "where did he get the pins?" exclaimed polly, wonderingly. "where did he get anything," said ben, "you might as well ask." "but he didn't have them when we found him," she went on. "oh, yes, he did; he must have," said ben; "and he's hidden more somewhere about him now, you may depend. get up there, jocko!" but jocko, seeing no fun ahead of him if he lost that little cushion, sat still and glared, showing all his teeth at ben. "o mercy me!" exclaimed jane, with her gown tucked up, busy with her mop and pail over the tub, "he'll bite you, master ben." "yes, he will," said polly, in a terror. "oh, ben, do let him alone." "i'll let him alone for a minute," said ben, hurrying off. presently back he appeared, flourishing jasper's riding crop. at sight of this jocko drew his teeth in, and slunk down into a little heap of abject misery. "get up," said ben, flourishing the whip threateningly. "oh, ben, don't strike him," pleaded polly. "and if you do, he'll jump at me, most likely," said jane, with only a thought for her unprotected ankles. "please don't, master ben." "i'm not going to," said ben, "only he must get up. he's sitting on something he's hiding. now, then, will you get up?" he cried, swinging the whip in the air. jocko, who saw the riding crop going up, supposed naturally it was coming down. not desiring to receive it on his body, he made a quick movement and leaped. jane, who had followed all proceedings with extreme anxiety, saw no reason why he shouldn't come her way. and to leave the space she had been occupying she decided without delay. but forgetting the pail, half full of water she had mopped up from the tub, she promptly fell over it, into the pool on the floor. "what is it?" cried polly, picking up a small object where jocko had been sitting. "why, ben pepper, it's jasper's little pincushion, the one i made for him last christmas!" xx repairing damages and that afternoon jasper was sleeping (nobody had told him, of course, of the result of jocko's pranks), so polly and ben could steal off for a bit of christmas shopping on their own account. "i shall pay for the shakespeare, for it's all my fault that jocko did those bad things," said polly, as they hurried along. "no, it isn't, any more than mine," said ben. "i oughtn't to have let him up there." "but you said we better not, all the time," said polly, truthfully. "well, and then i let him up," said ben, "so i'm just as bad as you, polly." "well, you did it because jasper wanted jocko so much," persisted polly. "that's the only reason, ben." "yes," said ben, "but never mind what the reason is; i let him up all the same, so i'm going to pay for 'as you like it.' you've got to buy a new pincushion, polly." "i know it," said polly. "o dear me! how i wish there was time to make another one before christmas." "well, there isn't. the very idea!" exclaimed ben; "why, that is to-morrow. besides, jasper will want a new pincushion right away." "i know," cried polly, with a little sigh. "well, let's buy that first. candace has some little cushions, so i'll get one of her," and they turned into temple place and ran into the small shop. there was a bell over the door that jingled smartly whenever a customer stepped in. this had the effect now to bring candace waddling in from the little room beyond, which was bedroom, kitchen, and all. she had been dressing a rag doll, and her blue checked apron still had some wisps of wool sticking to it, while she raised her black hands, one of the fingers still retaining its big horn thimble. "fer de lan's sakes, miss polly--an' mas'r ben--i'm glad youse home again." "oh, candace," cried polly, beginning to unburden her woes, when the two were seated on some stools before the counter that ran along one side of the room, "you can't think what trouble we're in." candace, just reaching down from a shelf above a jar of peppermint and cinnamon sticks, with which she meant to regale her visitors and celebrate ben's return, started so she nearly let the big glass jar fall. "fer de lan's sakes!" she could get no further as she turned to them a frightened face that seemed to suddenly grow gray. "don't scare her, polly," whispered ben. "tell her at once what has happened." "you know jocko--" "hey?" said candace, setting the jar down with a thump to rest both shaking hands on the counter. "jocko, our monkey. oh, i forgot, candace, you don't know about our present that mr. cabot gave to us all. well, it's a monkey--the dearest, yes, he _is_ the dearest thing, even if he has been bad," said polly, decidedly. "a monkey!" screamed candace, lifting both black hands. "an' mr. cabot gib you dat did he, fer a present?" "yes," said polly. "wasn't he kind, candace?" "well, i dunno," said candace, slowly. "mr. cabot's a bery nice gemman--a bery nice _gemman indeed_. he comes in here an' buys tings offen an' offen. but i should a-thought he'd gib ye a leetle purtier ting dan a monkey. jus' a grain purtier," she added, unwilling to criticise any more sharply. "well, he couldn't have given us anything that was nicer," said polly, loyal to both mr. cabot and to the monkey, "only you see, jocko didn't know quite how to behave." "i shouldn't think he did," observed ben. "he's only just come from india," said polly, feeling that a little more explanation was necessary before stating just how bad the monkey had been. "whar's dat?" asked candace, in wonder. "oh, the other side of the world," said polly, hastily; "and so you see--" "de oder side ob de worl'," cried candace. "my lan' o' goshen, how you know dat? who brung him?" "oh, the sailors; he came in a ship, and so you see, perhaps he learned some naughty tricks," said polly, hoping that now the recital of the bad deeds would be softened enough to state her errand at the shop. "and so he didn't know any better, maybe, than to chew up jasper's little cushion." "he ain't gone an' chewed up dat ar pincushion you made mas'r jasper?" cried the old woman. "yes, he has," said polly, sorrowfully, her brown head drooping; "that is, he's bitten a hole in one corner, and got it all soiled and wet." "an' you worked an' worked on dat ar pincushion," cried candace, in a loud, wrathful tone. "i can see you now, honey. don' you 'member how you brung it down here for candace to match you some pink cord to go right round de aidge?" "yes," said polly, "i remember, candace." "an' don' you 'member how i matched dat pink ribbin? laws, you'd 'a' thought it was jus' made for it, wouldn't you now, miss polly?" "yes," said polly, drawing a long sigh, "i should, candace." "an' dat orful ole brack monkey has done gone an' chewed up dat nice little pincushion you made all alone by yourself, 'xcept such as i helped you." candace drew herself up to her full height. "well, he ought to hab eb'ry single one ob his teef pulled out," she declared, with a bob of her head that nearly unsettled her turban. "oh, no, candace," protested polly, in a tone of horror. "yes, he had, honey," declared candace, decidedly, "'cause don' you see, he'll be a-chewin' up oder tings, like enough some o' miss phronsie's dolls." with that the same scared look swept over her fat face, till it looked quite gray again. "oh, candace, we wouldn't ever let him do _that_!" cried polly. and ben hastened to say, "see here, candace, don't you be afraid; we'll look out for those dolls." "will you for shore, mas'r ben?" cried candace, grasping his arm with both sets of black fingers, which sent the big horn thimble flying off under the counter. "it would be mos' drefful if anyting should eber happen to dem, 'specially to der ones i made fer de little miss. why, dey've got har jus' like my bery own." and she lifted one hand to point to her gay turban with pride, then clutched his arm again, "an' i made eb'ry stitch ob der cloes." "you needn't worry, candace," said ben, quietly, "for i'll look out that jocko doesn't disturb those dolls." "shore?" cried candace, surveying him with anxious eyes. "sure," said ben, not taking off the gaze of his blue ones. candace's arms fell away to her sides. "well, if yer promises me, mas'r ben, i know it's all right. now you mus' hab some candy sticks," and she lifted off the cover of the big glass jar. "i'll find your thimble first," said ben, getting down on his knees to lift the gay flowered calico curtain that hung from the counter-edge. this was easier said than done, for the big horn thimble, now that it had gotten away from candace's black finger, decided to take a holiday. so although ben prowled and peered around amid the boxes and bundles beneath the counter, he couldn't lay his hand on the runaway. seeing which, polly decided to begin the trade by which she could be the possessor of another little pincushion to take the place of the one just spoiled by jocko. so candace handed down the box containing them, and together they searched through it for something that would fit the need. "i'm going to make jasper another one, you know," said polly, "but i must buy him something to use right away." "well, i got some perfec' beauties," said candace, lifting out a flaming yellow one with great delight. "see dar now, miss polly, did you eber know i had dat in my shop?" "no," said polly. then she searched the corner of the box and pulled out another, but it was a faded green one, very dismal, and quite tired looking. "now dat was made out o' one ob my ole missus's bunnet strings," said candace, raising it with a quick hand. "it's a bery special ribbin. ain' dat fine, dough?" she balanced it on her black hand, lost in admiration. "i don't believe i want a green one," said polly. "don' you?" said candace. "well, now let's see, honey," but she was very much disappointed, and set down the little green pincushion slowly by the side of her yellow treasure. polly glanced up at her over the box-edge. "candace," she said, "i thought you had some _little_ cushions. you showed them to phronsie once for her dolls, don't you remember?" "oh, dem?" said candace, wrinkling up her black face. "why, they were teeny little bits o' tings." "well, i've just thought i could sew two or three of them together," cried polly, the color flying up into her cheeks, "and don't you see, they'd be just as cunning. oh, do look and see if you have any pink ones." so candace, delighted to see that polly could look so, waddled off to a farther corner, and presently came back with another box, which when opened showed three or four little cushions racing along at play inside. "dey ain' pink," said candace; "i 'member i sold all o' dem." "o dear me!" exclaimed polly, dreadfully disappointed, and seizing one end of the box. "let me look," and suiting the action to the word. "oh, yes, they are, as sure as anything, candace; you have some pink ones." "shore, i hab," said candace, quite as delighted. "at least you have one, anyway," said polly, her tone dropping some of her elation. "oh, how i do wish--why, there's another--pick it out, candace," she concluded in great excitement. so the second little pink cushion was brought out and set on the counter alongside of the first. "well now, how i do wish there was just _one more_, candace," said polly, pushing up the damp rings of hair from her forehead, for it was pretty anxious work, "for i can get along with three so nicely. but you haven't another single one," she mourned. "no, i hain'," said candace, "an' dat am a fac'. but why couldn' you take a white one, honey? dat would look real nice," she added, holding one up persuasively. "oh, i want a pink one," said polly, not looking at the little white one. "i did want three pink ones fastened together, candace, they would be so pretty." "but if you hain' got 'em, why you hain'," said candace, with decision; "so what's de nex' bes' ting to do?" "oh, i suppose to take the white one," said polly, turning away from the box with a sigh. "but the pink one would be _so_ nice." "an' you better not tink about de pink ones," said candace, opening a drawer to get out some soft paper, "but be glad you could get a white one to mix in. s'posin' i hadn't had nothin' but green ones." "dear me!" exclaimed polly. "yes, i know, that would have been dreadful, wouldn't it, candace?" "dat's so," said candace, smoothing out a wad of paper, "as long as you don' like de green ones. but i tink dat one i made out o' ole missus's bunnet strings is a perfec' beauty. ole missus al'ays had de bery bes' o' ribbin." "oh, i want some pink ribbon to tie the little cushions together with," said polly, at the mention of ribbon. "and i must have some narrow white, too, candace, please." "well, i'm glad i found that thimble," said ben, lifting a very red face to the counter-edge, and presently getting up to his feet. "here, candace, now don't let that run away from you again, that's my advice." "oh, ben, how hot you are!" exclaimed polly, as candace received her horn thimble, which she put on her black finger with great delight. "i sh'd think i was. never felt so hot in my life," said ben, in such a tone that candace, who was rummaging for the narrow ribbon, could not hear. "whew!" and he began to walk up and down the small shop, stretching his legs in great satisfaction. "dear me, that feels good." "an' now you mus' hab de candy sticks," said candace, setting down the little rolls of ribbon before polly, then uncovering the glass jar again. "that's fine," said ben, taking a cinnamon stick and crunching it in a way to make candace's round face beam with satisfaction. "you do have such nice candy sticks, candace." "don' i?" she said, wriggling in delight. "well, now, take another, mas'r ben." "no, no," said ben, "i've this big one," holding it up. "yes, you mus' take another," she urged, handing out the biggest stick the jar contained. "no," said ben, much distressed, "not unless you'll let me pay you for it, candace." but her black eyes fell so at the very thought of this, that he hastened to add, "oh, well, then i will take it and thank you, candace," meantime running his eyes over the little show case to see if there was anything he wanted to buy. "an' you must take a piece to miss phronsie, dat bressed chile," said candace, doing up another stick with polly's, which there was no time to eat in the shop, with such important business going on. and presently polly and ben hurried out, polly carrying her little cushions and the ribbon, while a big bundle of a ball of twine and some pencils stuck out of ben's pocket. "well now, polly pepper, you and i must just hurry," said ben, striding off. "there's that shakespeare book to get, and that red necktie." "i know it," said polly, setting quick little steps beside his long ones, "and we mustn't be out late, because jasper will wake up and might want us." "i don't believe papa doctor will let us up there to see jasper again to-day," said ben, grimly, as he strode on. "why, we didn't hurt jasper, being up there this morning," said polly, in a surprised tone; "papa fisher said so; you know he did, ben." "that may be," said ben, "but all the same i don't believe we'll be allowed up there again this afternoon." "you know papa fisher said we had done jasper good," persisted polly, trotting along briskly by ben's side, "so there, ben pepper." "i know that," said ben, with a nod. "but papa fisher always lets well enough alone. and you and i won't be invited up there again this afternoon, i tell you that, polly pepper. all the same, we must hurry, because mamsie wants us home early." "so she does," said polly, almost breaking into a run. "hold on," said ben, catching her sleeve, "don't race like that through the streets; it isn't proper." "i do so wish," said polly, flourishing her little bundles, "that it was ever proper to run in the street." "well, it isn't," said ben, with a sharp eye for the bookstore they wanted. "well, here we are, polly. now for that shakespeare book!" when they marched home an hour later, joel ran out of the big stone gateway with pip at his heels. the two whitney boys and davie were making good time down the winding driveway. "whoop!" screamed joel, "where've you been?" and beginning to swarm all over them and seize their bundles, while pip ran up to ben and slipped his thin little hand into the firm, big one. "hands off," cried ben, "from those bundles, joe!" "where've you been, and what've you got?" demanded joel. then, without waiting for an answer, as the other boys were hurrying up and would let out the news, he screamed, "all those mountain children are coming to supper!" "what?" cried polly, standing quite still. "yes, and the old lady," cried joel. "every single one of them. you needn't try to tell anything," to percy and van and david, as they plunged up, all out of breath. "i told it all long ago." xxi the postponed christmas morning well, the next day, what a christmas it was to be sure! jasper was to come down in the morning to see all the fun of the last preparations, go upstairs after luncheon to be a prisoner in his room and rest for the grand dinner and tree in the evening! all the boys in his set crowded in, pretty soon after breakfast, to the big library. "o me!" cried alexia, running in and raising her long hands, "what _did_ make you come so early--the very idea!" "well, it seems you are here, alexia," said pickering, coolly, lounging in one of the big easy-chairs. "oh, that's quite different," said alexia, nowise abashed, "and you know it, pickering. why, polly needs me!" "does she?" said pickering. "yes, of course; so i had to come." whereat clare laughed, and one or two of the other boys joining in, alexia turned on them. "you've no idea how much work girls have to do. now, you boys don't lift a finger at any such a time as this." "don't we?" exclaimed pickering. "well, that's a fine thing to say." "when we've been over here, at least pick has, every day for a week, and the rest of us ever so many times, helping polly," cried clare, in a dudgeon. "oh, well, that was such a tiny little bit you could do, anyway," said alexia, airily, and tossing her long light braids. "the important parts all have to be done by us girls. boys are in the way!" "indeed! well, why don't you go back and help polly," retorted clare, "instead of staying here with us." "oh, i'm going," said alexia. "i only came in to see what did make you all come so early. why, it's hardly after breakfast." "pick--oh, you here," ben hurried in, and gave the long figure sprawling in the easy-chair a clap on the back. "you're the very one polly and i want; and come on, you chaps," addressing the other boys, "there's a job waiting for you all." pickering got out of his chair with a little laugh, while the other boys roared. "what's the matter?" asked ben, in a puzzle. "oh, nothing," said pickering, as he went out, "only alexia is glad to see us set to work." "yes, i am," said alexia. then she laughed, and ran ahead to get first to polly. "there is always one good thing about her," said clare, as the whole group of boys tumbled promiscuously after, "she never minds when the joke is against her." "that's so," they nodded. there, sure enough, was quite sufficient to do for all the hands that appeared, as they soon found when they reached the busy playroom, where the tree, all shrouded in white, was awaiting them. and pretty soon the happy babel of voices kept time to the swift fingers as each boy took up the piece of work that ben or polly gave to him. alexia seemed to be quite busy flying here and there, doing a little of everything. "i'm glad you did come so early, clare, after all," she condescended to say, coming up to him in one of those flights, as he was tying an extra rope of laurel. "thanks," said clare. "well, now, don't you suppose, seeing that you are here, that you can hold that other end for me? 'twould be a sight easier to tie the thing." "the very idea!" exclaimed alexia, backing off. "now that's just like a boy. why don't i ask you to come and help me tie laurel strips?" "because you never tie them, i've observed," said clare, composedly. "well, it's because i have so many more important things to do," said alexia. "anybody can tie a laurel string." "can they?" said clare, laboring away slowly. "yes, indeed," and alexia skipped off, turned, and flew back. "o dear, do give me that old rope," seized the end, and flounced down on the window-seat beside clare. "you needn't if you don't want to, alexia," yet his face brightened. if there was anything clare hated to do it was to tie festoons. "oh, yes, i will," said alexia. "you boys do anything without asking the girls to help. here, let me tie for a while, and you hold." "oh, you don't want to do that," said clare, in amazement. "yes, i do; it's stupid to hang on to an old rope and sit still. besides, i can tie ever so much better than you," said alexia, possessing herself of clare's handful. "i don't doubt it," said clare, bursting into a laugh, "though i never saw you tie one in my life." "oh, that's because we have to leave something for you boys to do," said alexia, nowise put out, but tying away at a great rate. "polly and i have much more important things to do, as i've always told you. here, why don't you bunch for me?" "but i've seen polly tie wreaths and ropes ever so many times--oh, a hundred, i guess," said clare, beginning to bunch for the long fingers. "oh, well, polly does everything," said alexia, easily. "o dear me! here's cathie--and--all the other girls!" with that down went the green festoon to the floor, while she rushed to the door. clare picked up the dangling thing, made a grimace, and set to work again, while the bustle and happy hum of voices became quite a babel. "now isn't that fine that you have come!" cried polly, affectionately, and flying around the bevy of girls. "you see we've got to hurry so much because we want to get the new wreaths and festoons up before jasper comes down." "so we'd better set about it," said ben, in his practical fashion. "now then, cathie, suppose you help polly, she's--" "oh, no, i'm going to help polly," cried alexia, edging up between the two girls. "why, i thought you were helping clare a minute ago, and he hasn't finished," said ben, in surprise. "oh, that stupid boy," cried alexia, running her arm through polly's, "he never will be done." "well, that's all the more reason why you should help him out then," said ben, with a laugh. "now, cathie, you're to help polly," he finished, just as if the most agreeable thing were being said for all hands. alexia gave him a long look, then drew her arm slowly away from polly's and went back to clare. "i don't see how ben pepper always makes us do what he wants us to," she grumbled, throwing herself into a seat beside clare. "do give me that horrid old thing and let's get through with it." "oh, are you back again?" said clare. "yes, but i shouldn't be," declared alexia, positively, and beginning to bunch furiously, "if ben hadn't made me. you are so stupid and slow, clare." "thanks," said clare, tying slowly. "well, don't throw the bunches at me, they get all mixed up that way." "and you are so cross," said alexia, breaking off little twigs of the laurel with nervous fingers, "that i can't suit you any way, and here i am working my fingers to the bone for you." "would you rather tie?" asked clare, trying not to laugh at her face. alexia eyed the long festoon with a dubious gaze. "no, i shouldn't. oh, i'll keep on at this if it kills me." "oh, jasper!" it was ben who shouted it, and sprang to welcome him. and then, for the space of a minute, there was no more work done, while everybody crowded around to see jasper fixed in a big easy-chair at the side of the long room, where he could get the best view of everything. suddenly a small figure emerged from a heap of greens in the corner, where some thin little fingers had been picking out sprigs for the busy hands to weave into wreaths. "hullo, pip!" cried jasper, putting out a warm hand, as pip sidled up, "now that's good to see you," throwing his arm around the thin shoulders. "having a good time, pip?" and he bent his head for the reply. "yes," said pip, "i am." "now that's fine," declared jasper, again. "well, fly back to work," and he gave him a pat on the back. pip sidled off again and lost himself in the pile of greens. "miss polly, they've come," announced jane, opening the playroom door, and advancing to polly. "who?" asked polly, holding a wreath for ben to nail up over the little window--"not that way, a little more this other side," she said, as ben placed the nail in. "who, jane?" "why, those poor children at mrs. van ruypen's," said jane. "what? oh, you don't mean they've come this morning!" exclaimed polly, quite aghast, and dropping the wreath. "now something has happened," cried alexia, dropping the little bunch of laurel. "i must see what it is," and she sprang off. "polly, don't look so," she begged. "what is it?" ben sat down on the step-ladder, having heard polly's exclamation, but missing jane's words. "what is it?" he asked. "oh, ben, those dreadful children have come over this morning," cried polly, aghast and quite swept along, "to spoil all our fun." ben stepped down quickly. "is that so, jane?" he asked. "they shan't come in," cried alexia, vindictively, and running over to slam the playroom door. "alexia," called ben, "come right straight back here." "well, polly doesn't want them," grumbled alexia, yet she came back. "never mind if they do come in," said ben, laying a soothing hand on polly's shoulder. "what harm will they do, polly?" "they'll spoil every bit of our fun," said polly, with flashing brown eyes--"every single bit; you know they will, ben, and that elvira--oh, they _can't_ come in!" "there, you see," said alexia, beginning to wring her hands. "you'd much better let me shut the door and keep them out, ben pepper." "polly," said ben, and he turned her off to a quiet corner, "perhaps they have never seen a christmas tree. why, what am i talking about?--we _know_ they haven't." "well, they are coming to it to-night," said polly, the flash dying down a bit, "and that's enough, i'm sure," she added obstinately. "but the fun of getting ready! oh, polly, supposing--supposing somebody had come into the little brown house and asked us to come to help get a tree ready. just think, polly!" polly dug the toe of her shoe into a heap of greens, then she suddenly threw her arms around ben's neck. "oh, i'm a selfish pig, ben," she cried. "do let them come in." ben gave her an approving pat. "now you're fine!" he said. "come on, we'll call them in," taking her hand. "oh, now you've gone and made polly let those dreadful children in," cried alexia, nervously, envious that she was not to go too, as they ran by her. "jasper," said ben, as they passed his chair, "it's the mountain children; they're waiting outside now. we're going to have them in to help us." "whew!" whistled jasper. then he added in delight, "the very thing i wanted most of all was to see those mountain children. do hurry and fetch them." which urging was not in the least necessary as soon appeared--elvira, in her smart blue gown, clear in advance of either polly or ben. she pushed her straight locks out of her eyes and gazed around, wholly unabashed. "hulloa, viry!" called joel, in delight, from the other end of the room. but she paid no attention to him, as she had not completed her gaze to suit her. "i'm awful glad you've come," said joel, springing off the chair on which he was standing, holding a festoon for pickering to nail in place. "here, come back, you beggar," cried pickering. "we're having awful fun," announced joel, coming up to her and sticking out a grimy little paw, all resin and pitch from the branches of pine he had been breaking. his face was smeared as well. "you're awful dirty," said elvira, picking the blue gown away as if she feared contamination. "well, it's fun, i tell you," said joel, not a whit nonplussed. "come on with me," attempting to draw her off to pickering and the deserted chair. "i ain't a-goin'," said elvira, twitching off. "an' i'll slap you if you don't go 'way." meantime ben had charge of the two boys. matthew wore his overcoat and beloved red tippet (which madam van ruypen had hard work to make him discard in the house) wound around his head and ears. "now, jasper," and ben led them up to the big easy-chair, "this is matthew and this is mark hansell." "oh, how do you do?" said jasper, sociably. "i'm glad to see you." matthew bobbed his head, bound up in the red tippet, solemnly, but mark was too far gone in amazement at the scene before him to do anything but stare. "now, elvira," said polly, going up to her, where she stood glaring at joel, who still persisted in his sociable advances, "you come with me," and she put out her hand. "i ain't a-goin' to," declared elvira, stubbornly, and putting her hands back of her. "oh, you bad, wicked, awful girl!" cried alexia, hovering near. "elvira," said polly, and there was a little white line coming around her mouth, "you will come with me, or else you must go home." "not to stay with that great big lady," said elvira, in dismay, her hands falling to her side and her face filling with terror. "yes, you surely must," said polly, decidedly, "go right back and stay with madam van ruypen, unless you do as i say." "oh, then i'll go with you." elvira slipped her hand into polly's, made a final grimace at joel, who, dreadfully disappointed, went back alone to pickering. "so this is elvira," said jasper, looking at her kindly. she didn't seem to see the hand he put forth. "what you sittin' there for?" she demanded abruptly. "oh--well--they make me," said jasper, with a little laugh. "he's been sick, elvira," polly made haste to say. "now come, child, you can help me." "i don't want to. i'm goin' to stay here," said elvira, laying a hand on jasper's chair. "elvira!" polly got no further, but it really wasn't necessary, for she went without further words. "polly, make her come over and help me," called joel, from his chair. "no, she is going to stay with me," said polly, but she gave a sigh. pip, who had raised his head at entrance of the visitors, ducked it behind the pile of greens at sight of elvira. and now he shivered as her thin, high voice piped out, "where's that other boy?" "the boys are all here," said polly, absently, as indeed they were, even little dick, who was happy with phronsie in a quiet corner, tying little wreaths for one of her doll houses. "oh, i don't mean these boys," said elvira, waving her thin arms scornfully around the roomful. "they're no good. where's that other boy that was at supper last night?" she craned her neck to catch the sight she desired. "she means pip," said alexia. pip, at hearing his name, unguardedly raised his head. "there he is! there he is!" exclaimed elvira, joyfully. and, deserting polly, she rushed over to the pile of greens. "i'm goin' to play with you," she said. but pip slipped nimbly out and was over by the step-ladder and scrambling up. "take her away," he howled, burrowing up to ben. "ow! take her away!" polly rushed over to the pile of greens. "he ran away," cried elvira, with flashing eyes, "an' i had come to play with him." "elvira," said polly, getting down on her knees to look into the angry eyes, "what did i tell you? either you will mind what i say or ben will take you right over to madam van ruypen's. which shall it be?" for answer elvira seized polly's brown gown with both hands and sniffled into it, "oh, don't send me to that big old woman. don't, don't, don't!" "then will you let pip alone?" said polly, sternly. "yes, yes," mumbled elvira. "very well, then come back with me," and polly led her over to the work with ben. but as pip would not come down from the step-ladder unless ben brought him, and even then he had eyes of terror for elvira, there was some delay before the wreath over the lattice window could be hung up. meantime, jasper was getting on famously with matthew and mark, who were soon tying wreaths, one on either side of him. "you'd better take off your tippet, matthew," said jasper at length, seeing the drops of perspiration roll down the red cheeks. "oh, i ain't hot," said matthew, pulling the green string tight with strong fingers. "dear me," said a voice, strong-lunged and hearty, "this looks very comfortable." "oh, she's come!" elvira dropped a green sprig she was holding for polly and seized her gown. there stood madam van ruypen surveying the roomful with an air of the greatest satisfaction on her face. "get her a chair, ben," cried polly. "elvira," shaking herself free, "if you don't behave, you remember," and she hurried off to greet the visitor. "well, this is quite comfortable," repeated the old lady, first going up to speak to jasper, and then sitting down in the chair that ben brought, wiping it off carefully on the way. "she looks like a big polar bear," said alexia, in a whisper to clare, to whom she had flown up again, and was now bunching rapidly. "dear me, i don't see how she can stand so many furs and things." "well, she's taking them off, now," said clare. "see, ben's helping her." "she thinks there's nobody like ben," said alexia, diving on the floor for a specially nice green bit. "well, there isn't," said clare, holding up his festoon to squint along its outline. "i do believe this is almost done, alexia." "well, i should think it was quite time," said alexia, stretching her long arms restfully back of her head. "you've been so awfully slow over it, clare." "yes, i do believe it is," repeated clare, in a joyous tone. "and if that old woman is going to stay here all the morning," said alexia, "i shall just die. 'twould be too awful for anything, clare." "she wouldn't hurt you," said clare, tying away with redoubled vigor at the delightful prospect of soon having it through; "and if polly and ben can stand it, i guess you and i can." "well, i'm going to turn my back on her," said alexia, whirling around so that her light braids flew out, "then i shan't have to see her every minute." "yes," madam van ruypen was saying, "i thought i'd bring over a few things that were forgotten for the tree, you know," pointing to its white shrouded outline with her long black glove. "they're out in the carriage, ben. will you tell carson to bring them in?" "what's she saying? oh, what's she saying?" cried alexia, wildly, and whirling about again till her braids flew out the other way like pump handles. "i thought you didn't want to see her," clare burst out into a laugh. "oh, this is different; she's telling something, and she doesn't sit up like a great, stiff i-don't-know-what," said alexia. then she hopped up from her seat and ran over to the old lady's chair. "yes, and i have something i'm going to bring over to-night," madam van ruypen was announcing, as ben and carson, the coachman, came in, their arms laden with bundles of all shapes and sizes, all carefully wrapped from curious eyes. "ow!" howled joel, taking a flying leap from his chair. "come on, pip, she's got things!" "i sent for that minister, mr. what's-his-name--oh, st. john," the old lady was saying. "it will be a good thing for him to have a bit of city life, and he can help to manage these children," she waved her black gloves over to the two boys, but gave the most attention to elvira after all, "till i get a little accustomed to them. and he's to get here this afternoon; so i'll bring him over to the tree to-night, ben." xxii around the christmas tree and the young minister came hurrying down on the mountain express train, reaching there in the "very nick of time," as madam van ruypen observed. she was thus able to appear with him at the grand dinner at the king household, where she was to preside at one of the small round tables, for the big state dining table was to be discarded for this christmas night, and the assembled company were to meet around little tables; this had been decided upon after an important conference held by grandpapa, aunty whitney, and polly. so now, much to her great satisfaction, madam van ruypen looked around, as she sat up, resplendent in black velvet, lace, and gems, in her little company. there was the young minister--of course he had the seat on her right hand. ben, equally of course, had the other side, and, as long as ben was there, why, polly must be; and then there was jasper. well, everybody wanted him, but he said, "oh, i'll sit with polly and ben;" so he had a particularly soft and easy seat, with sofa cushions piled back of him, for it would be truly dreadful if he should get too tired! and then alexia sat down before anybody asked her, and she looked so horror-stricken at the idea of being at any other table than the one where polly pepper sat, that madam van ruypen laughed and said indulgently, "oh, let her stay," for which alexia loved her ever after. and then pickering dodge was discovered in a corner, with such a longing eye that polly cried out in the kindness of her heart,-"oh, do let pick come to this table," so there he was, and that made seven. "a very comfortable number," observed madam van ruypen, shaking out her napkin with a happy hand, so that all the jewels on her fingers fell to trembling and shining at a great rate. just then pip rushed up and flung himself against ben's chair, holding on with excited fingers. "let me, ben," he cried, "sit with you!" his little pale face all aglow. "oh, we can't have that boy," said madam van ruypen, decidedly. ben's ruddy face went quite pale. "i wish we might," he said, fixing his blue eyes on the roman nose and white puffs. "oh, no, indeed," said madam van ruypen, shaking the big white puffs more decidedly yet. "you see for yourself there are seven seats. any more would be quite uncomfortable." "i don't need so much room," said ben, shoving his chair. "nor i," said jasper. "dear me, it isn't necessary that i have this great big thing. it's that which takes up so much room." "oh, yes, you do, jasper," said polly, quite alarmed at his efforts to move; "you must keep that chair, at any rate." ben looked over at pickering in great trouble. meantime he held pip's nervous fingers fast. "i don't see," said pickering, swallowing something that seemed to choke in his throat, "why we can't all move up, just a bit, you know," beginning on his own chair--"or else, why, i'll quit and go to another table." "oh, no, you shan't, pick," declared jasper, "not a bit of it;" he looked so distressed at the mere thought that polly beseechingly raised her eyes to the stately, forbidding old face. "oh, if you all like to be crowded," said the old lady, meeting polly's brown eyes, "why, i am sure i don't care." so, the butler bringing a small chair, pip crowded in next to ben, and everything was merry once more. and the young minister proved to be quite nice, and madam van ruypen fairly beamed at him as the feast went on. and pickering dodge and he struck up quite a friendship across the table, and even made plans for a skating match on the morrow. "now tell me," at last said the old lady, when the talk ran a bit low, "what can i do with the boys? and that girl--" she glanced to the end of the room, where elvira, despite her disappointment at not being at joel's table, was comforting herself as best she might by giving undivided attention to a chicken wing, which she held in both fingers. "you better send them to school," said mr. st. john, quickly. "and just as soon as you can get them there." "will the mother allow it?" asked the old lady, brightening up. "will she allow it? my dear madam," the minister straightened up and forgot how afraid of her he was, when she sat, a formidable figure in the little mountain church of a summer sunday, and how very much he had disliked her, albeit her generous contributions whenever the plate went around--and now he smiled broadly, "if you could only have seen her when that box--" "never mind that," said madam van ruypen, abruptly, and waving her hand with authority. "the question is, will she allow me to send these children to school?" "i think there's no doubt about it," said mr. st. john, determined to find his own way to tell the story as he wanted it to appear. "well, as i was saying, that cabin--why, we didn't any of us know what that poor woman was suffering. i blame myself," his head dropped and he drummed on the table with his fingers. "nonsense!" exclaimed the old lady, "you're not to blame." then she added, with a remembrance of the summers spent in the mountain nook, "i'm sure i should have known." "my dear madam," exclaimed the young minister, very much shocked to think that in the face of all her generosity he should have thrust a question for reproach, "you have been so very good, and have saved them all." "perhaps so," said the old lady, grimly. "but it wouldn't have been a bad idea if it had happened earlier, i'm thinking." "but just think, if it hadn't gone to them just when it did," continued the young minister, determined to have the benefaction receive its full measure of appreciation. "why, that poor mother was hurrying down to tell the selectman she could do nothing more,--the children were starving, and he must take them to the poorhouse,--when she met john bramble, the expressman, you know, with the box in his cart." madam van ruypen laid down her fork and made a violent effort to get her handkerchief out of the velvet and jet bag that dangled from her waist. as for polly and the others, they never thought of eating, but listened, with their eyes fastened on the young minister's face. "i never supposed it was as bad as that," said the old lady, brokenly; at last, with her fingers on her handkerchief, beginning to feel a little bit better. "nor did any of us," said mr. st. john. "why, john bramble hasn't got over it yet. and i don't know that he ever will. well, the misery is over now, thanks to you." "all the thanks necessary to be expressed," said madam van ruypen, quite recovering herself and laying a hand on ben's arm, to pull him forward into notice, "are due to this lad here." ben slunk back covered with confusion, and wished for nothing quite so much as to roll under the table quite out of sight. seeing which jasper spoke up: "oh, it would be fine to have them go to school, wouldn't it?" and diverted attention so that it gave ben time to breathe freely once more. "yes, indeed," said the minister; "it would be the making of them. and then that would give you a chance to have luke and matilda and jane come down for a visit, maybe," and he laughed--he couldn't help it--at the face before him. "i think not," said the old lady, dryly. "at least for a spell, until i get a little rested from elvira," and then they all laughed. but the main thing was settled: the mountain children were to go to school. ben could hardly believe his ears; and he forgot to eat his dinner, while he gazed across the room where matthew and mark were placidly engaged at that pleasing occupation at a table with joel and a whole company of other boys. matthew had finally been induced to have his red tippet taken off, but insisted on keeping it across the back of his chair, where in the intervals of the dinner he could now and then feel of it. "oh!" ben gave a long sigh of satisfaction. "what's the matter?" cried madam van ruypen, turning off from the young minister; then she glanced at ben's full plate. "this lad would rather look out for those boys than to eat his dinner," she said, which made ben feel so ashamed again that he picked up his knife and fork and, with a very red face, plied them briskly. well, at last, as everything must have an ending sometime, that delightful dinner drew to a close. and then grandpapa, who sat at the table of honor in the centre of the spacious apartment, with phronsie at his side, rose and made them all a little speech, and said that although the christmas this year came a little late, it found them all very happy, as, please god, the sick one was well, and they had so many new friends to make good cheer with them. and he wished every one the very merriest of all merry christmases! and then there was a great burst of music out in the hall, and a big orchestra, cleverly concealed in a thicket of palms and ferns, struck up their liveliest march. and all the company, grandpapa and phronsie, of course, leading the way, set forth in a procession that finally wound up in the big playroom to circle around the christmas tree, still under its white cloud. and then, in the beautiful rose-colored light streaming from the long lines of candles in their red shades, the choir boys from st. stephen's marched in and around the white-enfolded tree, singing their beautiful carol. pip, clinging to ben's hand, started forward, entranced, his little pasty-colored face looking keen and alight. and as the choir boys sang on and on, madam van ruypen found herself strangely drawn to it. "i must ask mr. king who that boy is," she said to herself. but she didn't have a chance to hear any recital that evening. dear me, who could expect it, with a christmas-tree party in full blast! and then the tree was unveiled, to stand forth in all its glory. oh, such a brilliant sight! and they all took hold of hands, forming in a big, big circle, and marched around it a couple of times. and then, a smart jingling of sleigh bells was heard. "oh, he's coming! he's coming!" screamed phronsie, clapping her hands and dancing, little dick doing the same. "who?" it was elvira who picked phronsie's little muslin sleeve. "santa claus," said phronsie, turning a happy face with dewy eyes. "he is! he is coming!" and she danced harder than ever. "who's santa claus?" demanded elvira, but nobody heard her, for the jingling sleigh bells suddenly paused, and in he popped, the old saint himself, right through the window! now, although miss mary taylor was there, nobody thought to ask her where mr. hamilton dyce was, except when phronsie piped out, "i want him," and ran up to miss taylor, who blushed and looked prettier than ever. but after the presents had all been given out and santa claus had bowed and disappeared to get into his sleigh and drive off with his reindeer, mr. hamilton dyce made his appearance in the midst of the festivities, wiping his forehead and looking very hot, but smiling all over his face. at sight of him phronsie dropped grandpapa's hand, and ran up to him. "i wanted you," she said, "and you didn't come." "but i'm here now, phronsie," said mr. dyce, swinging her to his shoulder. "yes, you are here now," repeated phronsie, folding her hands in great satisfaction, and surveying the company from her high perch. "but you didn't see santa claus," and she gave a little sigh. "oh, well, i saw him out there," mr. dyce bobbed his head toward the hall. "did you?" cried phronsie, in great delight; "and wasn't he a nice santa claus?" she bent down to gaze into the face beneath her, whose cheek she patted. "i'm glad you liked him," said mr. dyce, laughing. "and did he get into his sleigh?" cried phronsie, in great excitement. "i heard the bells. oh, i should so very much like to see him once drive off." "oh, i didn't see him get into his sleigh, phronsie," said mr. dyce. "didn't you?" said phronsie, much disappointed. "well, now we ought to go over and see what grandpapa wants," said mr. dyce, catching sight of the old gentleman's face. "and there are such a many presents for you," said phronsie, in a happy little tone, and patting the broad back. "you don't say so!" cried mr. dyce. "yes, oh, such a many; do hurry and get them," gurgled phronsie, as off he pranced with her on his shoulder. presents? well, if mr. hamilton dyce had many, what can be said of the gifts that had been rained down on all sides for every one else in the big room! and the best of it all was that each one seemed to think that nothing ever could be happier, as a selection of gifts, and that no santa claus who would understand them better, could by any means have visited them. "but i like this best," said matthew, and he laid his hand on the red woollen tippet. ben and he happened to be alone in a corner. "do you, though?" said ben, his eyes lighting. "yes, i've always wanted one," said matthew. xxiii the sleighing party "oh, yes, pip," said ben, "you must go." "oh, i don't want to," cried pip, in great alarm, and, clinging to ben's hand, he huddled up closer than ever. "don't make me go to that old woman's; don't," he pleaded. "why not?" asked ben, whirling him around to let his blue eyes search keenly the distressed little face. "she looks at me so," said pip, squirming uncomfortably; "she's always looking at me." "well, supposing she does, she won't bite you," said ben, with a little laugh. then he stopped suddenly. "now then, pip," and he put his hand on the small shoulder, "it's best for you to go; there's to be a jolly good time. just think, madam van ruypen is to give you all a sleigh-ride! and off you'll go into the country and have a supper and come home by moonlight. why, everybody's going!" "are you going?" asked pip, suddenly, his face emerging a little from its wrinkles. "well, no, i'm not," said ben, "but everybody else is; i'm going to stay with jasper." "oh, i won't go! i won't go!" screamed pip, wholly beside himself with distress. "i'm going to stay with you, i am." with that he wound his wiry little arms around one of ben's, and beat his feet nervously on the floor. "see here now, pip," ben lifted him clear from the floor, and set him down on the window-seat, then he stood in front of him, "now just look at me," which pip did, swinging miserable little feet and twisting his hands. "it is best for you to go on this party, and so you must go. why, you'd have to stay with jocko if you didn't," added ben, "or else amuse yourself." "oh, i don't want to stay with jocko," replied pip, who had good reasons, after his introduction to the monkey by joel, for this decision. "well, you needn't," said ben, bursting into a laugh, "but you must go on the sleighing party, and without me. do you understand, pip?" pip did, after he had carefully scanned ben's face. at first he snivelled softly, but at last even that died away. "very well," said ben. "now then, you are to go with joel. he'll see that you have a good time, for he said so. here he comes now," as hasty feet scampering down the back stairs proclaimed joel's approach. "where's pip? i can't find him," cried joel, rushing up with a very red face. "oh, here he is! well, come on, pip," and he plunged toward the door. "hold on!" roared ben. "pip has got to go up to mamsie; she's going to put some extra things on him so he won't get cold." "oh, bother!" said joel, beating his feet impatiently on the floor. "why, there isn't any need for such a tremendous hurry, joe," said ben. "now then, pip, step lively upstairs to mamsie's room; she wants to fix you up herself." so pip slowly got off from the window-seat, and, with many a backward glance at ben, he crept upstairs. "go ahead, old snail," sang out joel beneath. "o dear me! he'll never be ready, ben," and now he beat his woollen mittens together as he pranced up and down the hall. "oh, yes, he will," said ben, soothingly. "don't rage so, joel." "and he's such a muff," said joel, but he said it under his breath and with one eye on ben. "hush up, joe," said ben, "there's no use in talking that way. and what are you in such a hurry to get to madam van ruypen's for? why, she doesn't expect you till three o'clock, and its only"--ben pulled out his silver watch--"twenty-five minutes past two. what a silly thing you are, joe!" joel dug the toes of his shoes into the rug. "larry'll get there first if i don't," he whined; "you know he will." "nonsense! and what if he does; you aren't invited till three o'clock. wait and go with polly." "oh, i'm not going with a lot of girls," cried joel, in a dudgeon, and extricating his toes from the rug. "you know they're always coming for her, ben pepper." "well, go with percy and van," said ben. "don't fly off in such a tangent." but this suggestion only added fresh fuel to joel's fire to be off. "oh, do make pip hurry." he fairly howled it now. "percy and van have started already, i most know. they said they'd get ahead of me." and he rushed up and nipped ben's arm. "goodness me! what a crab you are, joe!" cried ben, shaking him off, and then feeling of his arm. "well, do make him hurry," begged joel. "o dear me, all the boys will get ahead of me!" "well, let them for once," said ben, coolly. "and aunty whitney won't allow the boys to go now, you may be sure. so rest easy, joe. and one thing more, you are not to race pip over there at lightning speed. do you understand, joe?" "o dear!" said joel, wrinkling his round cheek in great disdain, "he's such a--" "yes, yes, i know," said ben, hastily. "well, now, i'm off to jasper." "oh, ben," joel flew after him, "i wish you were going, i do." "well, i'm not," said ben, "so good-by." he pulled his jacket away from joel's detaining hand, got around the corner of the hall, and hurried up the front stairs. meantime, polly was having a perfectly dreadful time in little doctor fisher's office. there he sat behind his big table, rolling up some powders in tiny papers, and looking at her over his spectacles. "oh, please, papa doctor," begged polly, clasping her hands, "do let me stay at home." "that wouldn't ever do in all this world." doctor fisher shook his head gravely, and the big spectacles seemed to blink so much displeasure at her, that polly felt very wicked indeed. "it would stop the party at once, polly." "well, it's no fun at all," said polly, mournfully, "without jasper and ben." she could hardly keep the tears from streaming down her cheeks. "i don't suppose there'll be so much fun in it as if jasper and ben could go," said the little doctor, quietly, "but that isn't the question just at present. it seems to be the best thing that this sleighing party should be carried out. think of those poor children, polly." polly twisted uneasily on her feet. "and how they've never in all their lives had any pleasure like this," the little doctor proceeded artfully. "o dear me!" said polly. "and what such a thing in badgertown would have meant to you children, polly," said the little man, softly. he laid down his powder papers and looked at her. "oh, i'll go, i'll go!" exclaimed polly, perfectly overwhelmed, and running around the big table to throw both arms around his neck. "i knew you would, polly my girl. there--there." doctor fisher patted her gently. "now that's right, and your mother will be so pleased. she told madam van ruypen she was sure you would help the thing along. so bundle up and start--that's right!" he set his spectacles straight and fairly beamed at her, as she ran out of the room. * * * * * "dear me, you were so long in coming, ben," jasper was exclaiming from his big easy-chair. "i've been watching that door as a cat does a mouse for the last hour." "hulloa!" said ben, advancing to the chair. "and nonsense! you've only just about finished your luncheon, i'll be bound." "well, it seems ages ago," said jasper, with a little laugh. "i tell you, ben, it's awfully dull to be kept in bed all the morning," and he made a grimace at his canopied resting-place. "well, you sat up so late last night; and just think of all that fun!" said ben. "oh, i know i'm an ungrateful wretch," said jasper, bursting into a laugh. "well, i don't care now, as long as doctor fisher allows me to have you. where are all the others, ben?" he asked suddenly, as ben hurried to draw up a chair. "oh, they are going to be with madam van ruypen," said ben, carelessly, making a great deal of unnecessary noise over getting the chair in place. "oh!" said jasper. "you know those mountain children," said ben, feeling something else was expected. "yes," said jasper, "i know. is polly going?" "oh, yes, of course," said ben, with wide eyes. "why, they couldn't do without polly, you know." "of course not," said jasper, then he twisted uneasily in his big chair. "it's an awful nuisance to polly," he broke out. ben said nothing, not thinking of anything that seemed just the right thing to say. "and that girl--that elvira. o dear me!" jasper pulled himself up quickly. "so you'll just have to put up with this person this afternoon," said ben. "and i'm sure i'll be glad to," cried jasper, affectionately. "oh, ben!" he leaned over so that both of his pillows immediately tumbled out. "and i was going to give you a regular bear hug," he said ruefully, as ben hopped up to put them in place again. "i'll be willing to put it off till you get well," said ben, laughing. "now, then, see that you don't knock those out again," and he drew a long breath. "well, what do you want to do now?" "oh, i tell you," said jasper, and his dark eyes sparkled, "let us play chess. and do get the new ones that father gave me last night at our christmas. we'll christen the set this afternoon." "we shall go twisted all the year, shan't we," said ben, as he hurried over to the table for a box of chessmen, in the midst of the overflow of gifts, "because we had such a belated christmas? aren't these just fine?" coming back with it in his hand. "aren't they so?" cried jasper, seizing the box eagerly. "and isn't father good to give me a new set? and such beauties!" he emptied the box on the sofa blanket across his knees, while ben went to draw up a small table to set them on. "oh, not that one," cried jasper, looking up from his delighted examination of his new treasure. "do you suppose for an instant that i'm going to play on that old table when i have a brand-new one that sister marian gave me last night? why, ben pepper, what are you thinking of? no-sir-ee! not by a long shot!" "excuse me, your high mightiness," said ben, pushing back the old table and hurrying over to get the new gift. "will that suit your majesty?" he asked, setting it down in front of jasper's chair. "perfectly," said jasper, setting a good handful of the chessmen on the table, and ben, bunching the others up from the little hollow in the sofa blanket, they were soon all there in a heap. "now which do you choose?" asked jasper, putting a red and a white piece in either hand, and thrusting them behind him. "o dear me!" said ben. "it won't make any difference, for you'll beat me all to death, just as usual." "nonsense," laughed jasper, "you know as much about the game as i do, ben pepper!" "indeed i don't," said ben, stoutly contradicting. "why, you knock the life out of me every time we play. just think of that last score, jasper king!" "oh, well, a beat doesn't always signify who's the cleverest," said jasper, quickly. "doesn't it?" said ben, with a little laugh. "well, i always thought it did." "well, which do you choose?" said jasper, impatiently. "we never shall get to playing if you don't make haste." "oh, the right hand," said ben. so the red queen was placed in ben's hand, and the two boys fell to work to set the pieces. and the game began. "the same old story," said ben, at its close. "there you go checkmating me, and i haven't even begun to move half my men." "oh, well, you'll have better luck next time," said jasper, beginning to set his men again. "i'm going to get a paper and pencil for the score," said ben, hurrying over to the desk in the corner. "there now, game number one, 'j' beats. i might as well mark ditto down for game number two and all the rest." "nonsense!" exclaimed jasper, who was now setting ben's men. "you'll probably beat me out of sight next time." "probably," said ben, sarcastically. and they fell to work again. and it was ditto, and number three also. but on game number four the luck turned, and jasper's men, after a long fight, were routed. "what did i tell you?" cried jasper, who, although he had put up as good a game as he could, was greatly pleased at ben's success. "oh, well, once," said ben, leaning back in his chair. his round face was very red and he mopped it with his handkerchief. "i worked harder than i used to chopping wood," he said. "well, we won't play any more," said jasper, yet he looked longingly at the men he was setting. "oh, yes, we will; that is, when i've rested a minute," said ben, getting out of his chair to walk up and down the big room and swing his arms. "you set my men, and i'll be ready then." "oh, walk away and swing all you want to," said jasper, "i'll set your men. oh, i say, ben!" "what?" answered ben, from the other end of the room. "wouldn't it be good fun to go up to the mountains, where those poor children came from, next summer?" said jasper. "that minister says there is a capital camp up there." "wouldn't it!" cried ben, flying around. then he came up to jasper's chair, "and he's an awfully good sort of man," he declared, bringing his hand down on the chess-table so that all the red and white men danced. "take care," warned jasper, putting up both hands to the table-edge, "you'll have them all off. yes, he is a splendid chap." "and the camp is a big one," ben went on, his blue eyes alight, and raising his hand again. "ow! look out!" cried jasper. but too late; down came ben's hand, and away flew half the chessmen, running off to all quarters. "o dear me!" exclaimed ben, ruefully. "now i have done it! whatever did you speak of that mountain camp for now, jasper king?" "well, i didn't suppose you'd think it necessary to knock over the whole thing into flinders," said jasper, and lying back against the pillows. "you'll have a perfectly sweet time, now, ben pepper, picking all those up." "i rather guess i shall," said ben, getting down on his hands and knees. when at last he placed the last one on the table he was quite ready to sit down and rest by beginning a new game. "and father and sister marian could stay at the hotel, if they couldn't stand camp life," jasper was saying, as he set his men. "and--" "but i don't believe grandpapa will want to," ben was guilty of interrupting. "mr. st. john says its splendid up at that camp. oh, jasper, don't you suppose we can go?" ben was quite carried away now, and he got the king and queen all mixed up, while his knight and bishop had concluded to change places. "oh, what a chap you are!" chaffed jasper, pointing to them. "see what a mess you've made!" "well, i tell you, you mustn't talk about that camp, if you want me to play," said ben, desperately. "oh, well, let's drop the camp," said jasper, turning his dark eyes on the chess-table, and revolving his plan, for it was his move. "but i can't. i've just got to talk camp," said ben, stubbornly. "well, you can't. we mustn't either of us talk," said jasper, "when we are playing. dear me, what a game that would be!" "well, i've got to think camp, then," said ben. "all right," said jasper, "go ahead and think camp, if you must. then i will beat you all around robin hood's barn." which he did. and then, as so many things occurred to both of them that had to be uttered about that mountain camp, the chessmen were shut up in their box, the new christmas game table set back carefully in the corner, and the two boys gave themselves up without reserve to the grand plan for next summer. xxiv jasper and ben "oh," cried jasper, "what fun! polly could have all the fishing she wanted. mr. st. john says the mountain brooks are just full of trout." ben's eyes glistened. to go fishing had always been one of the longings of his heart that the busy badgertown days had given little chance to enjoy, when every minute that could earn a few pennies had to be devoted to helping mamsie keep the wolf from the door of the little brown house. "you and i would have some sport, eh, ben?" jasper leaned over to bring his dark eyes nearer. "yes," said ben. he couldn't for his life get out another word. "we _must_ go," said jasper to himself, "after that look. father will say 'yes,' i almost know. and just think of joel let loose in those woods," he said aloud. this brought ben to. "yes, i know," he said, "joe would run wild." "wouldn't he?" laughed jasper. "well, it would be the best thing for percy and van and all the rest of us," he added. "oh, ben, we _must_ go!" he brought his right hand down on ben's with a slap. "yes," said ben, "but perhaps we better not think too much about it, 'cause if we couldn't, you know," he turned his face away to look out of the window. "well, we must," persisted jasper. "and then, you know, just think of the tramps you and i would have over the mountains." "and polly, too," said ben, "she can walk as good as we can, you know, jasper." "oh, yes, of course," assented jasper. "why, polly would go on everything the same as we did. did you think i meant to leave polly out?" he asked in distress at the very idea. "no," said ben, "i didn't think so, jasper." "and doctor fisher would go; you know he's crazy to walk. if he had time, he wouldn't ever ride to see his sick people. oh, wouldn't it be perfectly splendid, jasper king! but we mustn't talk about it," and he pulled himself up quickly. "oh, let's talk," said jasper, "it's half the fun of making plans beforehand. oh, i wish polly was here," and he gave a long sigh. "no," said ben, "it isn't best to talk about it any more, for if we can't go, we'd have an awful tumble from the clouds, and i can tell you that would hurt." "well, what shall we do?" said jasper, with a long face. "it will have to be something pretty absorbing to keep my mind off that camp, and our tongues as well." ben rubbed his forehead and thought a bit. "i can't think of anything more absorbing than jocko," he said at last. "well, jocko it is," said jasper, laughing. "oh, i wish we had some peanuts to give him," he said suddenly. "i'll run down town and get some," said ben. "don't be gone long," begged jasper. "no, sir," said ben, and he was off. polly and all the others must be just about midway to the country town where they were to stop for supper--ben couldn't help but think of it as he dashed down the frozen driveway that gave out such a delightful "scrunch, scrunch" to his hurrying feet. he drew his breath hard, thrust his hands in his pockets, and whistled. oh, how gloriously the winter sunshine glistened across the snow on the lawn, and how the gay equipages with their merry loads swept by him, as he turned into the thoroughfare! he whistled harder than ever until he remembered that mamsie didn't like him to do such things on the street; then he stopped and set out on a run, that presently brought him up to the little store where polly always bought her bird-seed. hurrying in he bought a bagful of peanuts; then out again and home--unchained jocko in the small room over the stable, and dashed upstairs. jocko, who seemed to know at once there were peanuts in the bag dangling from ben's other hand, got between ben's legs at every possible chance, thus impeding the progress seriously. "oh, you rascal!" exclaimed ben, shaking the bag at him, "you shan't have one if you don't behave," and he shortened his grip on the chain to keep jocko on one side if possible. jocko wrinkled up his eyelids and teased and whined, sending out a brisk paw to snatch the bag if possible. "be still," said ben, giving him a cuff with the bag, "and come on and don't dance all over those stairs. oh, such a piece of work!" he declared, at last going into jasper's room. "have you come at last!" said jasper, turning an eager face to him. "have i?" said ben, the monkey and he coming in together with a rush up to jasper's chair, jocko making a last dash at the paper bag; "well, yes, i should say i had. there are your peanuts," throwing them into jasper's lap. "look out, or he'll have them," as jocko immediately leaped into the centre of the sofa blanket. "not much he won't," declared jasper, setting the bag back of him with a quick hand. "hulloa, jocko!" as the monkey gave a squeal of disappointment. "oh, you shall have some peanuts all in good time. there, don't cry. hold your paws." jocko, hearing this, stopped his lament and extended both paws, his little eyes shining eagerly. "oh, you greedy little thing," said jasper, laughing, and emptying a handful into them, when jocko squatted contentedly on the sofa blanket, cracked some nuts as fast as he could, spitting out the shells to right and to left. "here, look out, you mustn't do so," said jasper. "i'll take the peanuts away if you do." at the mention of this, jocko stuffed his nuts with both paws into his cheeks, reserving one to crack and eat as he blinked first at jasper and then at ben. "he's making a lot of dirt," said ben, beginning to pick up the shells. "i know it," said jasper, "but he's such fun." "they stick awfully, those little red skins," said ben, picking away at the little pieces, as slap went another shot, this time in his face. "well, jane can shake the blanket," said jasper. "stop that, you beggar!" to jocko. "and they don't leave any spot," as another shell and the shower of little red skins came flying out. "here, i'll take those away, i say." but easier said than done. "you can't get those out of his cheeks," said ben, with a laugh, and giving up the sofa blanket as a bad job. "well, we'll just let him finish them, and then i'll shake the skins out of the bath-room window." "and you won't have any more," said jasper, with a bob at jocko, as he squatted on his knee. "those peanuts are gone, sir." jocko, who cared very little what was said about peanuts, as long as he had his cheeks full, picked the nuts out one by one, cracked and threw away the shells, with the same impartial attention to jasper and ben, and leisurely ate them. "here's the bag, ben," said jasper, tossing it to him, when the monkey's cheeks began to flatten out. "put it up on the shelf, do, for i don't want him nosing all over me for it." so ben caught the bag and set it up high in the place designated, jocko's sharp little eyes following every movement. "oh, you needn't stare that way, you greedy little thing," said jasper, "for you can't get that bag, i'd have you to know. oh, you are almost through, are you?" which was presently without doubt the case, proclaimed as it was by a loud shout for more peanuts, and the quick extension of jocko's long arms. "no, sir!" said jasper, shaking his dark hair vehemently; "see what a muss you've made," pointing to the sofa blanket and to the floor and to his jacket, and ben's as well. jocko, who didn't care to waste time regarding these trivial things, redoubled his cries, till the room seemed full of monkeys. "goodness me, what a bedlam!" cried ben. "you can't stand this." "well, do put the bag somewhere else than on that shelf," said jasper. "if he doesn't see it, he'll stop." but jocko, seeing no good reason why he should stop till he had his peanuts, gave vent to howls in another key, much worse than the first. "ow!" said jasper, with a grimace, "that sets my teeth on edge. here, ben, you may have your monkey," pushing jocko off from his lap. "_my_ monkey?" said ben, running around with the peanut bag, looking for a place to hide it. "well, i think that's nice, when you made me bring him up here." "oh, well, he's yours now, as long as he's in your care," said jasper, coolly. "that's right, jocko, run after master ben;" and he dropped the chain. there was no need to tell jocko that, as long as ben had the peanut bag. so he leaped to the broad back and ran down the arm, at the end of which was the coveted prize. "no, you don't," said ben, transferring the bag to the other hand, when jocko like lightning ran over the broad back again, and down the other arm; this pretty game being played with no gain to either party, until jasper begged for a pause. "i should think you'd laugh," said ben, turning round with a hot, red face, jocko sticking to one shoulder, rage in his eye. "o dear me!" said jasper, faintly, and wiping his eyes. "ha! ha! ha!" and he burrowed in the chair-depths, holding his sides. "to get me into this scrape," exclaimed ben, flying around with a wild step. "stop that," for jocko in this little diversion nearly gripped the prize. "there now!" he rushed to the closet, threw the bag in, and slammed the door. "now, sir! who's got those peanuts?" and he gazed into the monkey's little wrinkled face. defrauded of his prize and, what was worse, with no hopes of getting it, for jocko could see that the closet door was shut, he now set up a piteous sobbing, putting his paws up to his poor little eyes. and there he clung on ben's shoulder, crying like a child. "oh, i say!" exclaimed jasper, coming out of his laugh, "i can't stand this. do stuff something into his mouth, ben," and jasper thrust his fingers into his ears. "he shan't have peanuts," declared ben, firmly, yet having no heart now to set the monkey on the floor. "there, there, jocko, be still," and he patted him kindly. "of course not," said jasper, taking the finger from one ear long enough to hear ben's reply; "but get him something else--anything--" so ben set up a hunt for something to appease jocko, and at last lifted the lid of the cracker-jar. when jocko heard the click of china, he dropped one paw enough to peer around. yes, he was going to have something to eat. so down went the other paw, which shot out to receive the tidbit. when on being conveyed to his mouth he found that it was nothing but cracker, a thing that thomas and jane and the other maids, who were always running out to pet him, gave him ever so many times a day, he spit it out disdainfully, clapped his paws to his eyes, and cried harder than ever. "for goodness' sake!" cried jasper, "can't you find some candy? there is plenty there in that box. i'll come and get it myself." and in another minute he would have been out of the big chair. "you stay still," said ben. "hush, you beast!" to jocko. and at last, after knocking down more things than he supposed was possible in that short time, the box of candy was found on the table, and a big piece crammed into jocko's mouth. "o dear me! how perfectly lovely not to hear his voice," exclaimed jasper, dropping his fingers and sinking back against his pillows. "um!" said ben; then he set jocko down in the corner, took a big piece of chocolate, and smeared the wrinkled face from top to bottom, then set the remainder in one paw. "when you've got through licking your face and rubbing it clean, why then you'll go downstairs, sir," he declared grimly. "my goodness me, i _am_ tired," and he threw himself into a chair. "oh, what a scheme," cried jasper. "o dear me!" and he began to laugh again, for jocko, having swallowed as one morsel the big chocolate piece, was now endeavoring to lick his cheeks clean by running his tongue as far out as he could. to do this, as he always fancied after each fresh effort that there was much more up beyond his eyebrows, which was quite true, as ben had been very generous in the application, he turned his back on himself, so to speak, many a time, to achieve the success he longed for--till he got out of breath, and had to squat and rest, only to up and at it again. just here in came jane with a small tray, followed by hobson, the butler, with a large one. "you are to have your supper up here, too, master ben," said jane. "oh, am i?" cried ben, in a pleased tone. "yes, mrs. fisher said so," said jane, depositing her tray on the table. "oh, that nasty monkey!" she squealed, catching sight of jocko, who was just beginning on a fresh attempt to get the sweet stuff off from his face. "oh, me!" "he won't hurt you, jane," said ben; "he's too much occupied. and hobson, after you have set the table, you can take him downstairs." "all right, master ben," said hobson, pulling out the tea-table from the wall, and opening its leaves to deftly lay the cloth, jane going gingerly about to help as far as she could, seeing that she must keep a sharp eye on jocko. "it seems so funny to have supper instead of dinner," said jasper. "i haven't gotten used to it after all these weeks. and to think of its being time. haven't you made a mistake and brought it too early, hobson? do look at your watch, ben." "it is a bit early, sir," said hobson, "but doctor fisher ordered it now." "it's half-past five o'clock," said ben, "but it hasn't grown dark hardly any. well, we must have the light turned on now," springing off to do it. "i know why i'm to have my supper a half-hour sooner," said jasper; "it's because i'm to be tucked into bed earlier to-night. well, i suppose i must," he added resignedly, as a bright light filled the room. "yes, indeed, we had such a good time last night," said ben, flying back. "now this is jolly, isn't it?" his face lighting up. "yes," said jasper, "it's no end jolly!" looking across the tea-table, as jane lighted the candles under the red shades, pulled the curtains together, and hobson adjusted the tea-things. "is there anything else you want, master jasper?" he asked. "no," said jasper, with a quick eye for details, "thank you, hobson; everything is very nice. now if you will just take jocko." "yes, i will, master jasper," said hobson, going over to jocko, who was still working away on his face, supposing he had plenty of time to attack the tea-table later. jane gave a wide range to the two on her way out. when they were fairly started jocko gave a loud cry of disappointment, turning a baffled face to the two boys and the lovely table between them. "oh, do toss the poor beggar a piece of cake, ben," said jasper. which ben did, and jocko, wisely considering it better to take it than to get nothing, was borne off; the cake having been swallowed before he reached the bottom of the stairs, his cries pealed up till at last hobson had him well out of hearing. jane set the little silver bell on the tea-table, and withdrew to the sitting room as usual, when the two sat a long time over the supper enjoying it hugely. at last it was time for her to summon hobson, and the two trays were carried off. "and now what?" asked ben. "shall i read to you, jasper?" "oh, if you don't mind--are you tired of chess?" jasper leaned forward to search the round face. "no, not a bit; only it can't be any pleasure to you, i'm so stupid," said ben. "i tell you what it is, ben pepper, you are _not_ stupid," declared jasper, warmly; "now don't say so again," he begged. "oh, i won't if it makes you feel badly," said ben, laughing, "only i shall think so." "you mustn't think so," declared jasper, decidedly; "and do hurry and get the table and the men." so the little game-table, inlaid and beautiful, was carefully brought out and set in place by ben, the box of chessmen put in jasper's hands, and then ben sat down to the table. "you choose this time," said ben, picking up a red and also a white piece, to hold back of him, "only, as i said--" "ugh!" interrupted jasper, "you weren't to say that again. you promised, ben," he added reproachfully. "so i did," said ben. "well, i won't again." "see that you don't," said jasper, laughing. "well--i choose the left hand. oh! you have the first move," as a white pawn came to view. and after that there was nothing heard in the big room but the ticking of the french clock, and the crackling of the hickory logs, if we except ben's hard breathing when his men were pushed pretty hard. and the first thing any one knew there was little doctor fisher looking at them through his big spectacles and beaming all over his face. "well--well--well!" he could hardly stop himself. "and so you are having a good time," he said to jasper. "i should rather think so," said jasper, lifting a bright face. "i suppose now you don't know what time it is," said the little doctor. "oh, it's early, i know," said jasper, easily; "why, we have hardly got through supper, it seems to me." "then you must have been a good while at supper," said doctor fisher, composedly, and pulling out his big silver watch, "for it's nine o'clock." "nine o'clock!" exclaimed jasper and ben together. "fact." doctor fisher nodded so briskly that his spectacles slipped down to the end of his nose, "and so it's time for you to hop into bed, jasper." "o dear!" said jasper, with a glance at the silken canopy and covers, and trying not to show a wry face. "in with you! i give you ten minutes." the little doctor laughed and went off, and immediately the room was in a bustle, ben helping along the operation of getting jasper to bed. and presently the light was out and jasper was saying, "oh, thank you, ben, ever so much. good night." "good night," said ben, and he shut the door softly and went downstairs. it was so still all through the big mansion--little dick and phronsie of course being abed and asleep hours ago, and all the other children away. ben opened the big front door and stepped out on the stone porch. oh, how good the crisp air was! he sniffed it in, and threw back his broad shoulders for another and another breath; then he hurried into the house to get his coat and cap,--and, jamming this last on his head, he thrust his hands in his pockets, and set off for a walk. yes, they must--the merry sleighs full--be well on their way home by this time, because grandpapa, who, of course, was going with them, had told mother fisher he should bring them home early. oh, how good the air was! ben thought he hadn't tasted any quite so sweet since he left badgertown--and he deserted the sidewalk now, having reached the thoroughfare, and struck out in the middle of the road, where it was more fun crunching down the snow. how long he walked he didn't know. suddenly sleigh-bells jingled,--and merry voices,--and, yes, there was polly's laugh,--and, why, of course, there was grandpapa's voice,--and then,-"_oh, there he is!_" screamed polly. "_oh, ben!_" stretching out her arms. and "hop up here," called grandpapa, his cheeks rosy under the white hair. and up ben went like a flash! one word to the driver of the four horses and off they went, turning first in the direction from which they had just come--the other big sleigh following fast. "oh, grandpapa, we are going to give ben a sleigh-ride," cried polly, in a glad little voice, and clapping her brown gloves together. "of course," said grandpapa; "we are going to give him a little one this time, and a big one, all made up on purpose for him, some other night." xxv it was polly who heard it first "yes," said madam van ruypen, folding her long hands in her lap. she sat at one corner of her library fire, in a carved high-backed chair, and the young minister at the other end. both were regarding the leaping flames. "it will be best for you to return home to-morrow; tell the mother all my plans for the children, and ask her permission for me to put them into school," went on the old lady, not raising her gaze from the crackling hickory logs. "yes, madam van ruypen," said the minister. "and then write me at once what she says. meantime, i shall be consulting mr. king as to the school. it has to be a peculiar kind, of course, none of the high-fangled ones, but a good, substantial, ordinary sort of one, dominated by a man with a conscience. and where shall we find such an one--goodness knows, i'm sure i don't," she lifted her hands in dismay. mr. st. john, seeing that something was expected of him, volunteered the remark, "oh, there must be such institutions; they are so much needed." "just like a minister," retorted the old lady, who was nothing if not blunt, especially if it fell out that she took a liking to a body; so now she added, "oh, you'll do to preach from a desk; but as to practical things, such as the selection of a school, why, what can you, in the name of sense, be expected to know, either about them or the masters who run them?" a little spot of red began to show itself on the fair cheek, and twice the young minister opened his mouth. but he thought better of it. then he laughed. "perhaps so," he said, with a nod, and stretched his hands to the blaze. madam van ruypen laughed too. having never meant to give offence, that danger had not occurred to her. but she had been suddenly overcome, as it were, with a mortal terror, and all on account of those mountain children. what to do with them now she had sent for them she had found herself unable to answer. she couldn't send them back home, that would be cruelty indeed; and until the plan for the school popped up she was in a miserable state enough. so it was quite cheery to hear the bright little laugh bubble out from the other end of the fireplace, and she laughed so heartily in echo, that mr. st. john tried it again. "well, now i feel better," she said, wiping her eyes with her lace-trimmed handkerchief. "you can't know, mr. st. john, how very much i have been tried in this matter." "i suppose so," he said, the laugh dropping away. really, when he came to think of it again, the wonder grew how she came to do this thing at all, and then, how she dared to keep on so bravely. and that recalled "old money-bags"; how he blamed himself now for calling her so in his thoughts on those sundays in the little mountain parish church! could she be the same person as this woman, wiping her eyes, so touched by the little cheer he had given to her perplexity? he cleared his throat. "it was noble of you," he said, his own eyes glistening. "oh, now;" she turned on him a formidable face; the white puffs and roman nose seemed to grow bigger. "you would do better to stop right there," she said, raising her forefinger, "else i shall wish you had gone home to-day," all of which made him feel decidedly like a schoolboy about to be whipped. and he sat back in his chair, quite depressed. "let us put our minds on those children, richard," she said at last, breaking the silence that seemed to weigh on one of them like lead. "i don't like your name, st. john; it's well enough for a grand person, but you're a minister, and probably always will be a plain man, so i am going to call you richard." "if you only would!" he cried, the brightness coming back to eye and cheek, not caring in the least for the rest of her words. "so you like it,--eh?" "very much. i am, as you say, a plain man." "besides being something of a boy," she added, with a twinkle in her sharp eyes. "besides being something of a boy," he repeated, laughing again. "well, then, richard it is," she declared, with great satisfaction. "now then, the first thing is to settle those children in some good school, or rather in two good schools, as soon as can be done. it isn't good for them to be here, i see that. i don't know in the smallest degree what to do with them, at least as far as the girl is concerned, and it is bad for them to be entertained all the while." not a word about the demoralization of her houseful of servants, whose ill-concealed wrath and dismay were smouldering over the infliction of elvira. "and they ought to be getting some education. well, to-morrow you must go back and straighten it all out with the mother. that's settled." then she sat quite erect to draw a long breath of enjoyment. "now i'll tell you a piece of news," she said; "it's a secret as yet." richard leaned forward with great interest. he certainly was boy enough to enjoy a secret, and his eyes sparkled. "i've engaged the whole front of the mountain hotel, the floor above the office, for next summer," she said. then she waited to see the effect of her announcement. "you're coming up?" cried richard, in a glad voice. "it looks like it," said the old lady, grimly, but vastly pleased at his tone, "and i want you to engage the potter camp for me." "and you'll bring,--oh, now i know what you are going to do!" exclaimed the young minister, with great delight. "no, you don't know in the least what i am going to do, young man," she retorted. "oh, go along with you, richard," and she laughed again, this time as light-heartedly as if her years matched his own. "yes, i wrote yesterday to the manager to secure the rooms. you must get the camp for me." "i surely will," promised richard with huge satisfaction. "and tell john bramble if he doesn't bring my boxes and express matter up to the hotel quicker this summer than he did last year, i'll--i'll--report him to the government. dear me, i want to scold somebody. oh, and be sure, richard, whatever you forget,--and i suppose you'll leave out the most important things,--don't forget to tell--what's that man handy's name?" "shin?" "shin! oh, what a name!" "well, we always call him that up in the mountains, because he can shin up the trees quicker than anybody else," said the young minister, laughing, "but his real name is--" "oh, well, if he's been called shin so long, why shin let it be," said madam van ruypen, composedly; "i'm sure i don't care. well, be sure and tell him he's engaged for the summer. there will be plenty he can do when we aren't at camp." "that's fine," cried richard, clapping his hands together smartly, "because you see shin has so much time when he isn't hired for camping and guiding." "and don't let those other children expect to come down. whatever you do, don't raise any such hopes." the old lady here turned such a distressed face on him that the best he could do was to laugh again. "i'll remember," he said brightly. and madam van ruypen slept through the whole night, having the first good sound repose she had enjoyed since the visitors had arrived. but up at the king household--o dear me! it was polly who heard it first. she was dreaming of the difficulty of making a little pink silk cushion out of a mussy end of flaming yellow ribbon that candace seemed to have insisted on her using; and as she worked away, wishing it was pink, and trying to make herself believe it was pink, she saw it grow yellower and yellower, till finally she threw it down. and that twitched the needle and knotted up the silk thread, and then off her thimble flew with a little click--snip, and "o dear me!" exclaimed polly, and opened her eyes. she was just going to say, "oh, i'm so glad i was only dreaming, and 'tisn't that hateful yellow cushion in reality," when another little click--snip, just like the one when her thimble dropped off in her dream, struck her ear. this time it was a "really truly" noise, and no dream, and polly flew up in her pretty bed and leaned on her elbow. yes, and not only a click--snip, but a _sh--flop!_ or something that sounded as much like that as anything that could be put into words. polly flew out of bed, tossed on her pink wrapper, and only stopping to think, "i mustn't go into mamsie's room, for that will wake king fisher,"--papa doctor was away with a sick patient out of town,--she crept softly off to ben's room, just around the angle of the hall, and, flying up to the bed, she gave him a little nip on the shoulder. "polly!" exclaimed ben, sitting bolt upright, and, dashing his hands across his eyes, he was wide awake in an instant. "what's the matter?" "oh, i don't know," said polly, huddling up to the side of the bed, "only hush, do, the door's shut, but don't speak loud. there's such a funny noise; it sounds downstairs, ben," she said, with a little shiver. "funny noise!" said ben. "well, now, you creep back to your room and lock the door, and stay in there, polly." "oh, ben, don't go down," she cried, seizing his arm. "do as i say." he never spoke in such a tone before, and polly, who had no thought of disobeying, found herself soon in her own room, wishing that she hadn't called ben, and longing to run out and help, and a thousand things besides. ben meantime was out in the hall, a stout walking-stick in his hand, hanging over the banister. yes, polly was right, there certainly was a funny noise, and it appeared to come from downstairs, too. it wasn't just what he supposed would be raised by anybody getting in to rob the house; it was more like something dropping; and then another sound, like a flap, flap of the window shade. but it was just as well to act speedily, and yet it must be done with caution; so he crept off to the back hall, where he could press the button that gave the signal to the men in the stable. and he presently saw the lights flashing as they turned their dark lanterns a second toward the big stone mansion. well, whatever the trouble was, they would soon find out, for thomas had a key for just such possible emergencies, and the search would-ben never finished it in his mind, for a sharp noise, so near him that it seemed as if the person making it must be close to his heels, sent every bit of blood away from his cheeks. he couldn't turn, for what might be back of him in the darkness? it wasn't the click of a pistol exactly,--ben, in all his cold terror felt struck with the little resemblance to any such noise,--still, as there was nothing else so likely to be that very thing, why, it must be, he concluded. downstairs he could hear, with senses sharpened, that thomas had entered the house and that the search had begun in earnest. well, somebody, whoever it was with that pistol, would probably do something more than click it before long, when another noise, this time a little farther off, a soft, pat--pat, sent his mind in another direction. either there were two burglars who had worked their way upstairs, or the one with the pistol had heard the noise downstairs, and concluded to try for an escape. and now ben's blood was up, and he softly followed in the direction of the sound, grasping his stick hard and setting his teeth. "it'll be easier for me than for the other fellow, as i know the way," flashed through his mind. but he didn't seem to get much nearer. of course he would stop when there was no noise, then the soft pat--pat would begin at a further remove, and on ben would creep after it. he must at least keep the trail till thomas and the other serving-man could put in an appearance on that third floor. what,--ah, there he is! again the click! and the portiã¨re twitched out by the sudden movement of a hand. ben swung his stout stick above his head, and brought it down to hear a squeal of fright and pain, and jocko, whose tail only had suffered, leaped into his face. over went ben, the stick, and monkey together, just escaping the long stairs, as thomas and his men rushed up, turning the lanterns on every side to find the cause. doors were thrown open and frightened faces appeared, while polly was already down on her knees by his side. "oh, ben," then her fingers felt jocko's hairy coat. "that beast!" it was all ben could get out. then he lay back on the floor and laughed till he was so weak he could hardly breathe. "he's a--sweet--dear--little thing--" at last he made out to say, "isn't--he--polly?" he ended gustily. xxvi "could you take him, ben?" "of course," said grandpapa, "after this, jocko must go." and "of course," echoed every one else. "but where?" "oh, do send him to the zoo," begged polly, "do, grandpapa dear, and then we can go and see him sometimes and take him nice things to eat." "i don't believe ben will want to go very often," said jasper, with a little laugh, "will you, old fellow?" "yes," said ben, with another laugh, "as long as i don't meet him in the dark, when he jumps at me from a curtain, i'd just as soon see him as not." "oh, i'm so very glad he is going to the zoo," said polly, with a long breath of relief, "he'll be real happy there with such lots of other monkeys." but jocko didn't go to the zoo after all with "such lots of other monkeys," for candace, hearing the news of the disturbance by supposed burglars at mr. king's big mansion, and the consequent plan to send jocko away, came waddling up the driveway as fast as she could. "here's candace!" shouted joel, who spied her first. "come on, pip, i guess she's got some candy sticks." but candace was so out of breath when she reached the big stone steps that she sank down to rest. if she had any candy sticks in the big black woollen pocket she always wore at her side, it couldn't have been announced at present. the truth was, however, that in the hurry and excitement of leaving the little shop, she had forgotten them. whereat joel was wofully disappointed, but he covered it up as best he might, seeing her chagrin when she pulled out all her things and shook the empty pocket. "oh, me, i've clar forgot 'em," she mourned, holding up her black hands in dismay, as the boys hung over her, still hoping that the candy sticks might be hiding in a corner of the big pocket. "shake it again, candace! shake it again!" cried joel. "here, let me," he begged. "no, no, mas'r joel," protested candace, in alarm, and putting both hands over the generous black woollen pocket, "you'll done shake it to def, you will. dey ain' dah, i tell you. oh, me, to tink i sh'd a-gone an' forget dem. an' it's all about dat ar monkey. oh, whee! i ain' no bref lef'," and she rocked back and forth on the step, fanning herself with her black alpaca apron, without which she was never attired for a visit up at the king mansion. "well, jocko isn't going to stay here any longer," announced joel, briskly. "he's going up to the zoo." "oh, no, he ain', mas'r joel," contradicted candace, stopping her fanning to seize his arm. "yes, he is, candace," declared joel, bringing his black eyes on her in surprise; "he's got to go, he's been so naughty. grandpapa says it isn't safe to keep him here any longer." "well, he ain' goin' to dat ar zoo," protested candace, bobbing her black bonnet, from which depended a big figured lace veil. "no, no, mas'r joel! oh, your grandpa won't neber send him dar," and she clasped her hands, while the tears came into her eyes. "yes, he will," stoutly repeated joel, twisting away to stand still and regard her in intense astonishment, "'cause he said so, and my grandpapa always does just what he says he will, candace king." whenever the children wished to be very impressive with her they called her "candace king." this usually overcame her with delight. but on this occasion she didn't notice it at all, but, beginning to blubber, she rocked back and forth on the step, saying between the gusts of her distress, "oh, no, he won't, neber in all dis worl'." "i'm going for polly," said joel, at his wits' end, and springing past her on the steps. pip, not to be left alone with that singular old black woman, who now terrified him greatly, pattering after, the two raced into the house. "polly!" called joel. "o dear! where is she?" "here!" cried polly, bobbing out of the music room, her practice hour being just over. "what is the matter, joe?" "oh, candace is out on the steps," said joel, "and i guess she's got a fit." "candace out on the steps," cried polly, "and in a fit! o dear me!" and she rushed out. to be sure, there sat candace, rocking back and forth, her face covered with her big hands, and wailing miserably. "oh, candace!" and polly sank down on the step beside her and throwing her arm around the big black figure, she put her cheek up against one of the black hands, "do tell me what is the matter." joel and pip, who had both followed, ranged themselves on either side. "he won' send him away to de zoo, will he, honey?" gasped candace. "what?" cried polly, for the words were so muffled back of candace's big hands, it was impossible to hear a word. "what do you say, candace?" so candace went all over it again; but it wasn't much better so far as polly's hearing it was concerned, and at last polly gave it up in despair and started to her feet. "i don't know what you are talking of, candace," she declared, "so i'm going to get grandpapa to come out and see what is the matter with you." "oh, no, honey, don'!" and candace grasped polly's gown. "you arsk him, dat's a good chile. arsk him for pore ol' candace," and she lifted her streaming eyes piteously. "ask him what?" cried polly. "i don't know what you want, candace. i haven't heard a word that you've been saying." "she's awful funny," observed joel; "i told you she was going to have a fit." with that pip retreated suddenly and ran over to polly's side, around whose gown he stared with very wide eyes at the big figure on the steps. "she said something about the monkey," continued joel, "and--" "yes, dat's it," cried candace, delighted to be understood by somebody. "oh, he won' send him to de zoo, will he, miss polly?" she begged. "indeed he will," declared polly, positively. "and you ought not to want grandpapa not to send him," she said, much displeased, "for jocko's been very naughty; very naughty indeed, candace." "den he won' gib him to me," wailed candace, releasing polly's gown, and dropping her head so that the big figured lace veil trailed on the step. "o me--o my!" "what's that you say, candace?" cried polly, dropping down on her knees again. "do you want jocko?" feeling as if she couldn't believe her ears. "ob course; dat's what i've been tellin' you and mas'r joel all de bressed time," said candace, raising her head to survey them both with extreme dignity. "oh, she hasn't said a single word," began joel. "hush, joel," said polly. "candace, do you really want jocko; really and truly?" and her eyes shone. "ob course i does;" candace's head bobbed so decidedly that polly had no reason to doubt her. "i'm dre'ful lonesome and he'd be comp'ny," as she swept the tears away with both hands. "oh, i'm so very, very glad you want jocko!" cried polly, hugging the big figure. while joel cried "hooray!" and pip, when he saw all things turning out so well, emerged from the shelter of polly's gown and piped out "hooray," because joel did. "but jocko will work mischief, i'm afraid," and polly's face fell suddenly, "and just think, candace, of all the nice things in your shop." but candace was not to be balked. having once set her heart on having jocko as a companion, she was now prepared to show how she had counted the cost. so she drew herself up to her utmost height. "phoo!" she declared, snapping her stubby black fingers, "dat ar monkey ain' a-goin' to hurt none ob my t'ings, miss polly. you know my ole safe?" "yes," polly did, a certain hanging wire arrangement where various eatables were kept, to be free from the inspection of mice that were rampant in the room behind the small shop. "well, i done clared dat ole safe all out dis berry mornin', soon's eber i heard ob de trouble. dat'll be a fine t'ing for jocko to swing in," cried candace, triumphantly. "but where will you keep all your eatables?" said polly, in amazement. "oh, honey," exclaimed candace, impatiently, "i keeps 'em outside, ob course." "but the mice," suggested polly, fearfully. "dar ain' goin' t' be no mice," declared candace, decidedly, and clapping her big hands together smartly. "do you t'ink any mouse is a-goin' to touch my t'ings when he can hear dat ar monkey a-singin' an' carryin' on? no, sir, he ain'!" "well then," cried polly, springing up, "i do so want you to have jocko. oh, i do, candace," and she clasped her hands. "if you are sure he won't hurt your things and you really want him." "i'm shore," declared candace, solemnly. at this joel bounded off, but pip decided to stay with polly to see the matter through. "how lovely!" and polly's eyes sparkled, "that you want jocko, and then, just think, we can see him whenever we go to your shop, candace." she bestowed another hug on the broad shoulders, or so much of them as she could compass. "i know it, honey." candace showed two rows of shining white teeth in a broad smile. "an' den, w'en you ain' dar, w'y him an' me can talk, an' it'll be real sosh'ble like." "yes," said polly, quite as happy as candace herself. "he'll be sech comp'ny ebenin's," said candace, folding her arms in great satisfaction; "you see i gotter set up fer a spell, 'cause some one might come in an' buy somethin'. only las' week an' mis' hardin's girl come in fer a spool o' tred. it's been mighty lonesome, miss polly." "so it must have been," said polly, sympathetically, with a little twinge of remorse that she hadn't thought of it before; "but then, you've had your cat, candace." "yes, i know," candace gave a truthful nod, "but w'en you says cat, you says all dar is. now dat ar cat kain't talk none. an' no matter how i stuffs her, she only licks her paws, an' looks fer more. and she ain't no good as fer's comp'ny--real sosh'ble comp'ny whar dar is talkin' goin' on, i mean. an' den jus' t'ink wat a beau'ful voice jocko's got!" at that candace fairly beamed. "oh, i'll ask grandpapa not to send jocko to the zoo, but to give him to you," said polly, preparing to spring off. "and i 'most know he will, candace." but it was really unnecessary for her to do that, for joel at this moment dashed in, screaming out, "grandpapa says yes, he does; candace can have jocko!" and presently candace, chuckling in delight, was drawn within the big mansion, joel and polly on either side, and pip racing along in the rear. and quicker than it takes to write it, the whole houseful knew where jocko's new home was to be, and everybody thronged around the happy old black woman. "only don't blame me, my good candace," said grandpapa, laughing, whom the uproar had drawn out of his writing room, "if that monkey eats up all your shopful." "he ain' a-goin' t' eat up my t'ings," declared candace, dropping him so many courtesies it was with extra difficulty she got the words out at all. "look out that he doesn't," warned grandpapa, and he laughed again. "well now, the next thing, i presume, in the order of arrangements, is to see that master jocko gets down to your shop, for that he spends another night here is not my plan for him." "oh, i'm going to take him down," announced joel, easily. "you!" exclaimed grandpapa, and he laughed harder than ever. "yes, sir!" answered joel, promptly, "and candace is going too." "well, i guess candace wouldn't want jocko by the time they got to the shop," said jasper, _sotto voce_. "i guess not too," said ben, with a laugh. "and i'm going too," declared percy, pushing to the centre of the circle. "and so am i," said van, "if joel's going. can't i, grandpapa?" he begged. "goodness, what a procession!" exclaimed grandpapa; "and of course david wants to go--eh, davie, my lad?" "yes, i do," said david, "very much indeed, grandpapa," and his blue eyes shone. "i thought so; and i see no reason why you shouldn't be in the party, if all the other boys go. but, dear me, i couldn't allow it. why, it would be, for all the world, like a circus. and, besides, the monkey would get away from you; he'd be sure to." "oh, no, grandpapa, he wouldn't," howled joel, quite beside himself with disappointment, and the tears began to come. "i'd hold on to his chain just as tight," and he doubled up his brown fists to show his capacity for keeping things. "please let me take him." "no, no;" grandpapa shook his white head. and he didn't look at joe nor at one of the other boys, either, for their eyes seemed to be giving them so much trouble. "but i tell you what i will let you do; you can all go down this afternoon and see jocko in his new home. that is, if candace will allow it?" and he bowed his white head as courteously toward her as if she had been a great lady. "fo' shore, mas'r king," said candace, showing all her teeth, her smile was so expansive. "jocko an' me'll be ter home, an' den i'll gib you de candy sticks," she said, turning to joel. "oh, goody!" exclaimed joel. then his face fell. "oh, you can't, 'twould take such a lot, candace; we're all coming." "oh, yer go long," said candace, poking him with her big black finger, "ye're goin' to hab dem candy sticks. yer gran'pa's done gib me dat ar monkey, an' don' yo' suppose i'm goin' ter gib nuffin'? oh, yer go long, mas'r joel." meantime jasper was asking, "well, father, how are you going to get jocko down to candace's?" "it is something of a problem," said the old gentleman, stroking his white head thoughtfully, "but the best way that suggests itself is," and he hesitated and looked anxiously at ben,--"it's too bad to ask it, but could you take him, ben, in the depot carriage? thomas will drive you down." "oh, i'll be company for jocko," said ben, laughing, "we'll have a fine ride together." "how i wish i could go with you," cried jasper. "o dear me! i'm well enough. let me, father, do!" "the idea!" exclaimed the old gentleman, in horror, "and you've been so sick, jasper king!" "o dear me! 'twould be such fun," mourned jasper. "well, polly, you come," said ben, persuasively. "yes," said polly, "i will;" but her face drooped, and she couldn't look at jasper in his disappointment. "and see here," old mr. king cried suddenly, "candace can drive down too. so go get your monkey, and be off, ben and polly! and, candace, remember what i said, and don't blame me for whatever jocko does in that shop of yours," and grandpapa went back to his writing room. but they could hear him laughing even after he had closed the door. it was one thing to plan this fine drive in such pleasant company to introduce jocko to his new home, and quite another to carry it out. in the first place, the monkey couldn't be found in his accustomed little room up next to that of thomas over the stable. and polly turned so pale that ben hastened to say, "oh, nothing has happened to him; don't be afraid, polly. nothing could happen to that monkey." "oh, there has; i know there has, ben," she declared, clasping her hands in dismay, while the rest of the children, all except jasper, who, of course, was shut up in the library watching proceedings as best he could from one of the long windows, ran this way and that, calling frantically on jocko to come, with every imaginable blandishment they could think of as inducement, and candace sat down on the stable steps and wrung her hands, and lifted up her voice in dismal cries. this was as much worse as it was possible to be, than if jocko had gone to the zoo, for now he had run away, of course, and probably never would be found. "he's done gone to--whar's dat place he come from, miss polly?" wailed candace. "india," cried polly, hearing candace's question, and running up in the interval of exploring several places where jocko might be expected to hide. "oh, he couldn't go there, candace." "oh, yes, he could," contradicted candace, obstinately; "he come from dar, and he could go back dar;" and she redoubled her sobs. "but he came in a big ship," cried polly, laying her hand soothingly on the fat shoulder. "do stop crying, candace, we'll find him soon, i guess;" but she looked very much worried. "have you found him, ben?" she asked in a low voice, as he suddenly appeared. "no." ben didn't really say the word, on account of candace, but he shook his head, and polly running over to him, he drew her off into a quiet corner. "i really believe the little scamp has run off." "oh, ben, how very dreadful!" exclaimed polly, turning quite white. "whatever shall we do with candace, and what _will_ happen to jocko? o dear me!" and she wrung her hands. "well now, see here, polly," said ben, turning her around and gathering up her hands in his bigger ones to hold them fast, "we have just got to make the best of this, and--" "yes," thomas was saying, and the rattling of a chain, together with the sound of his foot-steps, struck upon their ears. "i thought i'd just take the monkey out for a bit of an airing;" and in they both came to the stable, he and jocko together. it was impossible to describe the delight of the whole company at the restoration of the lost one. jocko, who had felt his loss of caste considerably since his escapade of the previous night, put on at once his old airy demeanor, and capered and blinked and wrinkled up his face, and wheedled and begged, and altogether quite outdid any of his former attempts in that line, until the children hung over him and protested that he must not leave them. oh, no, he mustn't! at that, candace, who had found her feet in a surprisingly quick manner at the monkey's entrance, began to take alarm at once, and her black face fell. "but he has just got to go," said polly; "you know, boys, grandpapa has said so." and ben reiterating the same thing, the children declared, "yes, he's going to candace's." "and you are going down to see him," cried polly. "do hurry, ben, we must take him right straight off, 'cause they want to go to candace's shop just as soon as ever they can." so pretty soon the depot carriage, so called because it was one of the vehicles for common use in the establishment, being all ready, with thomas, whip in hand, quite equipped for the start, polly and ben helped candace in, or rather polly did, ben having quite as much as he could do to take care of jocko; then polly hopped in, and then ben, with jocko crowding in between his legs, got in with some difficulty. "oh, wait, do wait," begged davie, before the door was shut. "i want to bid him good-by." "oh, dave, you are going to see him in a little while," cried joel, trying to pull him back, "just as soon as we get down to candace's shop." but david persisted. "he's going away," he said, "and i shall bid him good-by from here." "yes," said polly, "i think he ought to, ben, because jocko is going away from this home." so david climbed up on the carriage steps and shook jocko's paw, and said "good-by" two or three times, because from the monkey's face he didn't seem to realize the parting at all. and then, as david had done it, why, joel concluded that after all he wanted to. so up he climbed on the carriage step, and went through the same performance. only he shook both of jocko's paws. and then, of course, percy and van had to do the same thing, each being a little longer than the other about it. and then little dick piped up, standing on his tiptoes, "it's my turn; i'm going to bid my jocko good-by, i am." "yes, do lift him up, joe," said ben. so joel gave little dick a good fine lift, dickie protesting so violently that he was going to get up on the carriage step himself, and trying to kick off any assistance, that he was precipitated to the floor of the carriage in a small heap. "dear me!" exclaimed ben, huddling up jocko, who pretended to be very much frightened, "this is a circus, i'm sure." "well now, dick, hurry and say good-by," said polly, "for grandpapa expects us to start right off. and now, phronsie. come, pet!" as little dick shook jocko's paws briskly and tumbled out. phronsie, who had waited patiently till her turn came to say good-by, now put out her arms. "take me, polly," she said. "yes, i will," said polly, flying out of the carriage. so phronsie was lifted in, when she laid her soft little cheek on jocko's wrinkled face. "i love you," she said, "and you are going to candace's house." "oh, phronsie," exclaimed ben, with a grimace, trying to draw jocko off. but phronsie was not quite through, so she held fast. "and i'm coming to see you," she finished. then she held up her arms for polly to lift her out. and then polly hopped in again, thomas cracked the whip, and off they went, jocko showing a grinning face at the window, as long as the children were in sight. then he sat up straight and looked the stout black figure on the opposite seat all over with extreme condescension. xxvii "mr. king, who is that pip you have here?" "well, you are all settled, old chap," said ben, affectionately, with a pat on jasper's shoulder, "for a spell at least." "that's so," said jasper, in huge satisfaction, and running over to set some books on his shelves; "good for doctor fisher that he won't let me go back till the middle of the term! but i have to dig at these, though, else i'll flunk when i do get there," as he crammed the last book into place. "but you're not to go at them before next week, jasper," remonstrated ben, in alarm, and hurrying over to him, "you know papa doctor said so; you know he did!" "oh, i won't have a bout with them until then," promised jasper. "but after that--then says i, why, i've simply _got_ to. well now, ben, there's pip!" he whirled around to regard ben anxiously. "i know it," said ben, with a long face. "i suppose the little chap has got to go back and face those boys," said jasper, ruefully. ben swung off on his heel and walked up and down the long apartment. "you know just as well as you want to, jasper king," he said, coming up to stand squarely in front of the tall boy, "how it will be when pip gets back there." "yes, i know; but perhaps the boys will treat him better now," said jasper, yet he looked uneasy. "yes, for a while," said ben, "i think they will;" then he burst out with honest indignation, "but there are enough boys there who'll be at their mean tricks soon enough, as long as you won't be on hand to make them stand round,--you know that, jasper, as well as you want to." "well, pip is different now," said jasper, determined to find all the bright aspect possible to the case. "i know he is," assented ben, pounding his hand on the table, "ever so much more like a boy, but that will soon be taken out of him, get him back there without you, or any one who really cares a row of pins about him." "they shan't take it out of him. oh, no, no!" cried jasper, in great distress. he really couldn't stop saying it. "yes," said ben, obstinately, "they will." "well, what can be done about it?" demanded jasper tossing his dark hair away from his brow. and he put a hand on either sturdy shoulder; "speak out, now, old fellow, if you've a plan in your head, and i'm with you to the last gasp," he added, in suppressed excitement. "there isn't anything to be done," said ben, slowly, his blue eyes raised to the earnest ones looking him through and through, "except for pip to keep away from that school till you go back." "_for pip to keep away from that school_," echoed jasper, faintly; "why, he belongs there. ben pepper, what _are_ you saying?" "i can't help it if he does belong there," said ben. "the thing is to get him away for a spell." "how?" demanded jasper, with a small shake of the broad shoulders. "your father can do it," said ben, for answer. "my father!" cried jasper, in surprise. then his hands fell away from ben's shoulders, and he backed slowly off. "yes, your father," reiterated ben. "he can do anything, and you know it." "but ben pepper--you--you don't understand," said jasper, very much puzzled to think how ben, usually so level-headed, could fall into such a stupid misapprehension at this time. "pip belongs to doctor presbrey; that is,--why, you know the story. his father and mother are dead, and he's in the care of the doctor. put there by a sort of a guardian down in south america, where the forlorn little chap came from, and--" "oh, i know that whole story," said ben, guilty of interrupting. "well, then, how can you go on so?" exclaimed jasper, more than ever bewildered that ben should propose such a useless plan. "yes, but all that makes no difference," said ben, snapping his fingers. "your father can make doctor presbrey let pip off to stay here until you go back." ben set up his square shoulders and stood as tall as he could, looking up obstinately at jasper's face. "whew!" whistled jasper. then he thrust his hands into his pockets and marched up and down the apartment, the same as ben had done. "you see, doctor presbrey is a sensible man," said ben, firing one of his reserve shots after the tall boy, "and when he knows how pip has changed since he's been here,--why, joel has done wonders with him,--now that man is going to let him stay on a bit." "joel hasn't done everything," observed jasper, wheeling in his corner. "and your father can make anybody do anything," broke in ben, hurriedly. "father never likes to interfere with people," said jasper, running nervous fingers through his dark hair, and wrinkling it up into waves. then he tossed it back in irritation. "he'll never do it in all this world, ben pepper!" and he strode off down the room again. "yes, he will," declared ben, standing still in his tracks. then he fired another shot. "but of course he won't if you and i don't believe in it." "what do you mean?" cried jasper, wheeling to run up and seize ben's jacket-button. "why, i'm in favor of it, this plan of yours, ben, only it's perfectly useless to begin with;" his gray eyes turned dark with feeling as he fixed them on ben's face. "that's no way to favor a thing," said ben, quite unmoved, "not to believe in it." "but--but i can't say i believe in it, because i _don't_," declared jasper, quite as obstinately in his way. "but you can go at it as if you wanted to believe in it," said ben, sturdily. "well, i will; i'll promise you that," said jasper, "for i want it as much as you do." "i know it," said ben, bobbing his head. "all right; now we'll shove ahead on it," said jasper, with a laugh. "but father--" and his face fell. "if we want it," said ben, "we've got to make him want it, too." "of course. well, we'll try for it," said jasper, swallowing hard. "but there's the school; you see it interrupts all dr. presbrey's work over pip." "i know it," said ben, and his face fell. "but you know everybody said pip was so dull at school." "well, that's because he was such a forlorn little chap," said jasper; "poor mite, anybody would be dull where he wasn't wanted." "that's just it," cried ben, eagerly. "well now, he'll study and take hold of things with joel and david, and dr. presbrey will be glad enough to let him stay if it will only wake him up." ben gave a gasp when he had gotten through, for he wasn't much used to long sentences. "well, come on," jasper picked him by the sleeve, "if we have it to do, to ask father, we best have it over with;" and he hauled ben off, never letting go till the two paused to knock on mr. king's writing-room door. then just a breathing space, when it seemed to jasper that he must make a bolt and give up the whole thing. "come in!" called his father's voice; and the two boys found themselves before the big writing-table, and looking down into his face. it wasn't an auspicious moment, for a letter lay open that had evidently caused the reader a bad quarter of an hour. "what is it?" old mr. king looked sharply up from his fit of musing. jasper felt cold chills run all over him. as for ben, he set his teeth, and his right hand doubled up in his pocket. "never mind, father," said jasper, beginning to back toward the door, "and beg pardon, ben and i can come in another time if you will allow us." "you will be good enough to stay now, jasper, that you and ben are here," said his father, decidedly, the irritation still remaining on cheek and brow; and he set his keen eyes to work on both boys. "now then, what is it? speak quickly, for i haven't much time to give you." "father," said jasper, and he drew a long breath, "it's about pip." old mr. king took up the subject abruptly. "well, what has he been doing?" he demanded. "he hasn't been doing anything," said jasper, "that is, nothing bad. it's about something we want you to do for him, father." "what?" it was only one word and it came out like a cannon-ball. ben's hand clenched together tighter yet, especially as he saw jasper's cheek turn white. "o dear," groaned ben, "i ought not to have spoken to-day when he's been so sick." "father," jasper drew another long breath, then he looked steadily into the sharp eyes, "if that poor little chap only needn't go back to school yet. dr. presbrey will let him stay here until i go, if you only ask him." "_what?_" roared the old gentleman, amazed beyond his control. "you know something of the hard time pip has at the school," jasper said persuasively, and though his cheek was white, he still looked steadily into the sharp eyes that now were blazing. "oh, if you only would, father, get dr. pres--" "and do you mean to say, jasper, that you would wish me to prefer such a request to dr. presbrey, that stern disciplinarian, that he should let a boy off, especially one who is under his care in such a way as pip is? preposterous!" old mr. king whirled around in his chair, then back again, to bring his right hand emphatically on the table, till the disturbing letter and all the nearest papers fluttered in the wind of his indignation. "father," said jasper; then he stopped a second for the right word. but that wasn't allowed him. "and that you should ask such a thing amazes me, jasper. when did you ever know your father to interfere in other people's affairs?--when, indeed!" he was now so angry that he didn't seem able to contain himself except by pushing about the things nearest to him; and, as his eye fell again on the unlucky cause, he blazed forth, "never ask me such a thing again." "it was my fault," blurted ben. "then you are also to blame," curtly replied mr. king. "father," began jasper again, brokenly; then, without another word, he turned and went out of the room. and ben, getting out, he didn't know how, followed him to the other end of the hall. "don't feel so," cried ben, in a mortal terror for jasper, pip's cause now being so much less, and laying his hand on the shaking shoulder. "oh, jasper, don't." "we've hurt pip," said jasper, his head on his arms, as he leaned on the window-seat. "that's the worst of it. o dear me, ben!" "perhaps not," said ben, with a desperate attempt to be cheerful. "yes, we have," declared jasper, gloomily. "now we never shall get the poor chap the least help; not in all this world, ben pepper!" "well, we've done our best," said ben, yet his heart fell. "and, oh, don't blame father," said jasper, quickly, and raising his head a moment to look at ben. "don't, there's a good chap. he isn't himself to-day,--he's had bad news. can't you see for yourself, ben?" jasper searched the round face eagerly. "of course i know it. grandpapa wouldn't ever in all this world have gone against it if i hadn't made you go in there to-day." ben, in his remorse, seized jasper's shoulder and held on to it, saying it all over again, to wind up with, "it's all my fault, and i've ruined pip's chance for sure now and made you sick on top of it all." ben groaned, this time quite aloud, and, despite his efforts, he broke down and threw himself into the nearest chair, to bury his face in his hands. "oh, don't, don't!" begged jasper, quite gone in distress to see, for the first time in his life, ben give way, and he stumbled over to him. a door off in the distance opened, but the sound fell unheeded. "boys!" up flew their heads, for there was old mr. king beckoning with an imperative hand. "come to my room." and, not daring to look in each other's face, they found themselves once more behind the dreadful door, which was closed after them. "now, then, jasper, my boy," and old mr. king put a hand on his shoulder, "you sit there," pointing to a chair on one side of the writing-table, "and you, ben, pull up another, there--that's right--get on my left hand. now we are quite comfortable,"--and he sat down in his own big chair,--"where we can see each other and talk things over." the old gentleman didn't look at them, but played with various trifles scattered over the table, the unlucky letter not being in sight, until such time as it might be supposed that everybody would be ready for conversation. then he broke out quite easily, as if the most matter-of-fact thing were being said, "well, now, that little matter of pip you were going to tell me of. what is it, jasper,--eh?" "i didn't mean to ask you to do anything out of the way, father," said jasper, and his voice shook. "of course not, of course not," said his father, with a wave of the hand. "well, i was a bit unstrung, my boy,"--he ran his fingers through his white hair,--"you must forgive your old dad." he coughed, twitched out his handkerchief, blew his nose violently, but didn't seem to get the better of it, especially as jasper deserted his chair. "oh, father!" he cried, falling on his neck. ben slipped off his leather chair and crept to the door. "hold on!" thundered old mr. king at him. "where are you going, sir?" "i thought--perhaps--you'd--" stammered ben. "you're not to think. come back and sit down." old mr. king pointed to the chair, and ben found himself on it again. "and i've a word to say to you, ben," said the old gentleman, "for you're mixed up in this business." "i know," said ben, hanging his head. "so you needn't think to elude me,--oh, no!" and mr. king gave a short laugh. "now, then, jasper," bestowing a pat on his dark hair, "you get into your chair and we'll see this thing through. well, about pip now," and both boys being settled, "you want me to ask doctor presbrey to let him stay here till you go back. is that the idea?" the old gentleman glanced first at one and then at the other of the faces, now very much flushed. "yes, sir," said jasper and ben together. "i know the poor little beggar has a hard enough time at that school, from what i saw myself," said mr. king, "and i suppose i don't know half how bad it is." "no, you don't, father," broke in jasper, quickly, and tossing the dark hair off from his hot forehead. it was easy enough now to find his tongue, seeing they were safely launched on pip,--"for doctor presbrey even doesn't know it." "a precious set of scamps they are," declared the old gentleman, wrathfully,--"gentlemen's sons! pretty poor stuff they show for it, to hound a poor, insignificant little specimen like that lad. they ought to be ducked in the nearest pond." "and it isn't always because they mean to be cruel," said jasper, loyally, and slipping to the edge of his chair in his earnestness. "but they are all the same," said old mr. king, stoutly. "o dear me! i know it, father," said jasper, quite distressed; "that is, some of them are--" "don't tell any theories of 'didn't think,' and 'didn't mean to,' and all that stuff," said the old gentleman, dryly; "it's plain to see that the presbrey boys didn't regard pip in the light of a desirable acquaintance." "no, they didn't," said jasper, honestly. "i don't blame them for not being especially drawn to him," said his father; "he's not to my taste exactly as a boy. but for schoolfellows to act so like the dickens,--well there, that's my opinion of the whole matter." he brought his good right hand down again on the table, till several articles jumped, and the penholder fell off the silver rack and rolled to the floor. "i'm altogether too obstreperous one way or the other this morning," said the old gentleman, with a laugh, as jasper jumped and recovered it. then the boys laughing, the air seemed to be cleared. so mr. king settled back in his big chair and folded his hands in real enjoyment. "now i don't know but that it would be a good plan," he said, nodding his head, "for me to request doctor presbrey to allow the little lad to stay and return with you, jasper. understand that i don't say that i believe it will strike the doctor so; but i can broach it, and if i put it rightly, and--" "and you can, father," jasper in his eagerness was guilty of interrupting; "he will do it for you." "i don't know about that, jasper," said his father, grimly, but he was vastly pleased nevertheless at the words; "what i know about doctor presbrey gives me reason to believe that no one ever makes him do a thing." "well, he will do it for you, i know," declared jasper, shaking his dark head confidently. "but it may strike the doctor favorably; there's hope in that," proceeded mr. king, briskly, "so i'll write to him and put the case as strongly as i know how. i promise you that, boys." "oh, thank you, father," and "oh, thank you, sir," from jasper and ben in the same breath. "well, now be off with you!"--the old gentleman dismissed them peremptorily,--"for if i have this letter to write i'd best have it off my mind at once," and off they flew on happy heels. "dear me! here's madam van ruypen," exclaimed jasper, too elated to choose his words. "now, what shall we do, ben pepper? dodge this way;" and they scuttled down the back hall, as hobson flung wide the big oaken front door. they needn't have troubled themselves, however, to get out of the way, as the farthest from the stately old lady's mind was the desire to meet any of the children on this especial morning, her mind being weighted with other matters. when she was told that mr. king was busy in his writing room, she waved one of her long black gloves at the butler, and said nonchalantly, "oh, well, then i will see him there," and, to his great dismay, she sailed, with her roman nose and big white puffs well in the air, down the hall to his door. "madam," essayed hobson, starting after her,--but she was just going into the room. as there was never any lack of directness in any of madam van ruypen's purposes, or her statements, so now she said, scarcely pausing for a casual nod of recognition, "i want you to do me a favor, my good sir." "eh--er--" cried mr. king, who had supposed it was mrs. whitney's rap that had called forth his "come in." "my dear madam," he rose, and with his courtliest air extended his hand, "you do me great honor," and he drew up a chair for her. "well, if i do you the honor, you must do me the favor," said madam van ruypen, with a little laugh, and settling her stately figure on the chair. "i shall be charmed to," said old mr. king, "i promise you that, madam." "that's good," the old lady nodded with great satisfaction. "well, now, you know, sir," then she paused, strangely at a loss how to begin, "that i am very much disturbed;" the face under the big white puffs fell into long lines that added at once ever so many years to her age. "oh, i am sorry to hear it," said old mr. king, in great concern. "i am, indeed. in fact, i have seldom been so upset. perhaps i have no cause to be; it may turn out well for me." she gave vent to an uneasy little laugh, made an aimless sort of attempt to reach a fan that dangled by a jet chain from her wrist, gave it up, and settled back rigidly in her chair. mr. king, having nothing to say, picked up a paper-cutter on his writing-table and played with it, not looking at her. "i'll tell you the whole story, then you'll see how i've got the notion in my head," she said explosively at last. "a notion that has turned to absolute truth, as i hope and pray!" her thin face was white and drawn. "i shall be very glad to hear whatever you may choose to tell me," said the old gentleman, turning courteously to her, "and then if i can be of any service, madam van ruypen, you may command me." she nodded her stately head. "you knew emily?" she asked abruptly, her sharp eyes full on his face. "emily?" he searched his mind diligently, but no emily, who naturally connected herself with the lady before him, appeared. "i am afraid not," he reluctantly admitted. "you cannot have forgotten my daughter," cried madam van ruypen, "though to be sure she was quite a child when we took her abroad to live." "oh, your daughter!" cried mr. king; "indeed, i remember her quite well, though, as you say, she was a mere child when you deserted your own country to educate her abroad. but she was not emily in those days," he rubbed his forehead in a puzzled way; "unless my memory plays me a trick, she was helena." "helena she was," assented the old lady, undisturbed. "i remember now, it was afterward we began to call her emily,--quite for a family reason. well, that is neither here nor there. now i won't go into details; enough to say that emily, despite all her advantages, disappointed us utterly. perhaps you remember hearing about that. echoes, if no more, and plenty of them, reached my old home here," she added bitterly. mr. king bowed silently. "you don't know that emily married against her father's and my will; that she refused our help, and went off with her husband to share his lot. oh, she was a proud one!" madam van ruypen crushed her gloves together so tightly that the long hands within must have suffered. there was a pause, and mr. king turned off to play with the paper-cutter again. "and despite all our efforts, and, after mr. van ruypen died, my individual attempts, we never could get any communication with her or her husband. mr. king, i never blamed her; it was the influence of the man she married." she faced him now with blazing eyes and head erect. mr. king laid down the paper-cutter and turned back sympathetically; albeit several friends in the old town had kept alive for emily hastings's memory much commendation that she did not yield to her parents' choice of the superannuated wealthy foreigner they had selected as a husband for her. "and he never let me know when the end was coming;" her voice did not break--she was to keep herself in hand until through. "word was sent only after she had gone from this earth. mr. king, who is that pip you have with you?" the transition was so sudden that the old gentleman started nearly out of his chair, stared at her, and gasped, "pip--my dear madam--" "tell me." he could see she was suffering now. the little beads of moisture ran down below the white puffs, and her eyes were fairly hungry for the reply. "pip--why, pip--" stammered mr. king. "tell me," she commanded peremptorily, "his name." "it's--let me see, we have called him pip constantly--" he groped for the rest of the recital jasper had given him one day concerning the lad so thrown upon their sympathy. "i shall think of it presently,--or i can ask jasper, or ben," starting out of his chair. "stay," she laid a detaining hand upon his arm; "where did he live?" "i recall that--south america," replied the old gentleman, promptly. a spasm passed over her face. "his--his father is dead?" it was almost a whisper in which these words came. "yes," said mr. king, decidedly, "that is the reason that the poor little lad is under dr. presbrey's care." the first gleam of comfort swept over the long, white face. "but the name,--you cannot think of it?" she begged piteously. "let me see,"--the old gentleman drummed on the writing-table, rubbing his white hair with an absorbed hand,--"lef--lef? yes, i am quite sure, leffingwell is pip's name. why, my dear madam!"--he started and put out a strong hand to catch her as she swayed in her chair,--"what is it? what can be the matter?" she recovered herself immediately and sat erect. "i am convinced that he is emily's child." "impossible!" old mr. king started back and held up both hands incredulously. she twitched her black bonnet strings apart with a hasty hand, as if finding it difficult to breathe. "so i thought at first, and i have battled the idea as absurd. but it has conquered me to-day to come here and ask you about his history. and now i _know_ he is emily's child." "i did not hear that she had a son," said old mr. king, as something seemed to be required of him. "i did not know it until after his mother died," said madam van ruypen, her voice breaking, "then chance report brought me the news. but i could never get in touch with his father, though i tried many a time. cornelius leffingwell was--" "cornelius?" broke in mr. king. "the name of emily's husband," said the old lady. "that is pip's name, too," said the old gentleman. xxviii ben decides the matter for himself ben walked back and forth, his hands thrust deeply in his pockets. "it's no use, mamsie," he came now and stood straight before her, his blue eyes fastened steadily upon her face; "i've just _got_ to do it." "there is no need for you to say that, ben." mrs. fisher's tone was quiet, but the blood was leaping in her veins. "you're my oldest child," then her voice broke. "and that's the reason." ben threw his head back and took his hands out of his pockets to clench them together hard. "it would be mean as--mean as anything to let grandpapa do anything more for me, and--" "there's where you are wrong, ben," cried his mother, eagerly, and guilty of interrupting, "it is mr. king's dearest wish to provide an education for you children; you can pay him back afterward. i have accepted for the others; why not for you?" "because,--look at polly. oh, mother, think what polly can do with her music!" his whole face was working now, and his eyes shone. "i know it," cried mrs. fisher, proudly. "polly will be able to pay him back, there is no doubt about that." "but i'm different," added ben, quickly, "such a dull, plodding fellow. oh, mamsie, what would a college education amount to for me? i'm best to buckle right down to business." "ben, ben!" mother fisher's tone was quite reproachful now, and she seized his hand and covered it with her two strong ones. "any one can accomplish what he sets out to. you can amount to whatever you put your mind on; and you deserve a college education if ever a boy did." she broke down now and was sobbing on his shoulder. ben didn't say anything, this being quite beyond him, to see his mother cry. but he patted the smooth black hair with an unsteady hand. "to think of your giving up your chance," at last mrs. fisher said brokenly; "it isn't right, ben. can't you see you ought not to do it?" "but it _is_ right," said ben, sturdily recovering himself when he saw that his mother could really talk about it. "i'm to be a business man, and i'm going to begin at the very bottom, as an errand boy, or an office boy, and work up." here he straightened his square shoulders as if already pretty near the top of things. "ah, ben, my boy," mrs. fisher raised her head to look at him, "all you can get in the way of education helps you on just so much." "and i can have all these years i'd be spending at college in learning the business," ben hurried on, feeling if he didn't say something, he should surely break down; for there was such a world of pleading in the black eyes that he didn't dare to trust himself to look into them. "don't you see, mother? besides,--well, i just _can't_ do it." when ben called her "mother," it always meant something requiring grave attention. so mrs. fisher knew as well then as afterward that it was a decided thing that ben was to leave school and go into a business life. all she said now was, "come," leading the way to the roomy old sofa, where the children used often to tell their troubles or joys to her as they sat side by side. when ben emerged from his mother's room, he held his head high, but his breath came hard, and one fist deep in his pocket was clenched tightly. "halloo!"--joel plunged into him; "where've you been?" and, not waiting for a reply, "grandpapa says i'm to go if you'll go with me,"--he swarmed all over him in his eagerness. "get off, joe!" cried ben, roughly. it seemed as if he couldn't bear any more just then, and he gave him, without stopping to think, a little shove. joel looked at him with very wide eyes. "you're always hanging on to me," went on ben, crossly, not realizing a word he was saying. "goodness me, a chap can't stir but you must pop up." joel stood perfectly still, plastered against the wall, his mouth open, but not equal to uttering a word, as ben stalked on down the hall. "oh, you think you're smart, i s'pose," at last it came in a burst behind him. "well, i don't want you to go with me, mr. ben pepper--mr. ebenezer pepper." joel could hardly get the long name out, being so wholly unaccustomed to its use. "and i will tell grandpapa i wouldn't have you go with me for anything." "joel!" ben called hoarsely after him, whirling in his tracks to see joel fly down the hall. "oh, come back." "you aren't going," declared joel, savagely, and stopping long enough to snap his fingers at ben, "no-sir-ee, not a single step!" and despite all ben's efforts he pranced off with a final jump that defied pursuit. ben stood perfectly still for a moment, then strode off up to his room, where he locked the door fast, went over and sat on the side of the bed, and buried his face in his hands. how long he sat there he never knew. the first thing that brought him to himself was polly's voice, and her fingers drumming on the door. "bensie, are you here? o dear me! _do_ open the door." ben took up his head at first with the wild thought that he wouldn't answer. but then, it was polly calling, and such a thing as a locked door between them would never do. so he staggered off as best he might, not seeing his pale face in the mirror as he went by, and slowly turned the key. "oh, ben! o dear me! what is it?" polly cried, quite aghast at his face. she huddled up to him and grasped his arm. "tell me, ben," and the fright at seeing him thus drove every bit of color from her face. "nothing," said ben, shortly, "that is--" "oh, now you are sick," cried polly, quite wildly, and with another look into his face, usually so ruddy, she tore off her hands and raced toward the stairs. "i shall call mamsie." "polly, polly!" cried ben, rushing out after her, "you must not call mamsie. i'll tell you all about it, polly. polly, do come back." but she didn't hear anything but the first words, that mamsie must not be called, and feeling more sure than ever by this that ben was really sick, she redoubled her speed and rushed into mother fisher's room, crying, "oh, mamsie, do come quickly; something is the matter with ben." mrs. fisher had sat down resolutely to her sewing after the decision had been made by ben that put aside all her hopes for his future education. she now sprang to her feet, upsetting the big work-basket, and forgetting polly, said, "it's been too much for him." "what's been too much?" cried polly, hanging to mother fisher's hand, her heart going like a trip-hammer. "oh, mamsie, what _is_ the matter with ben?" the room seemed to go round with her and everything to turn black. "polly," said mrs. fisher, firmly, "i cannot tell you anything now. you must stay here. i am going to see ben." and polly, left alone, had nothing to do but throw herself on the big, old sofa, where she crouched in her distress till mamsie should come back and tell her all about the dreadful mystery. for that something awful had happened to ben, polly was now quite sure, as she lay there, her head burrowed in the big pillow, the wildest thoughts running through her brain. the first thing she knew, a hard little hand was tucked into her neck. she knew joel's tickles, that he loved to give her, long before he sang out, "polly pepper, lying down in the daytime! aren't you ashamed?" "oh, joel," cried polly, in a smothered voice; "do go away," she begged. for answer joel slid to his knees and crowded his chubby face into the pillow. "are you sick, polly?" he cried, in an awe-struck voice. "no," said polly, wriggling hard to keep him from seeing her face; "do, please, go away, joey." "i know you're sick," contradicted joel, stubbornly; and bounding to his feet, "where's mamsie?" peering all around the room. polly didn't answer, being unwilling to tell about ben. "well, i shall go and find her," declared joel, decidedly, preparing to rush off. "you must not," cried polly, bounding up to sit straight. "you mustn't and you can't, because--" "because what?" demanded joel, coming back to the sofa to fasten his black eyes on her face. "oh, because--" began polly, again casting frantically about in her mind what to say and twisting her handkerchief with nervous fingers. "now i know that my mamsie is sick and you're keeping it from me," cried joel, in a loud, insistent voice, "and i shall go and find her; so there, polly pepper." "joel, if you do," began polly, desperately, seizing his jacket-end; then she knew he would have to be told when she saw his face, for nothing could be worse than to let him think anything had happened to mamsie. "i'll tell you all about it," she promised; "do sit down," and she pulled him into the corner of the big sofa by her side; "you see it's about ben." joel whirled around and fixed wide eyes of astonishment upon her. "and i don't know in the least," said polly, brokenly, "what's the matter with him. he acts so funny, joel, you can't think," she brought up, mournfully, while she twisted her poor handkerchief worse than ever. joel pushed his face up to scan her thoughtfully to see if there were anything more forthcoming. "and to think of it--ben--" went on polly in a fresh gust, "he's never acted so. o dear me! what can it be, joel?" in her distress she forgot that she was to comfort him, and she seized his arm and clung to it. "it's me," blurted joel, forgetting grammar and everything else, and pulling away from her, he slipped off the sofa and began a quick pace to the door. "where are you going?" polly flew after him, and although he ran smartly, she had hold of his jacket-end. "joel pepper, you must _not_ go up to ben's room. mamsie wouldn't let me." "but i made him bad," said joel, his face dreadfully red and twitching violently to get free. "_you made him bad_," repeated polly, faintly, and, tumbling backward in surprise, she let the jacket-end go. "o dear me!" "and i'm going to make him well," screamed joel, plunging off. she could hear him clambering up over the stairs two at a time. "if i could only go too," mourned polly, having nothing to do but go slowly back and shut herself into mamsie's room, as bidden. she threw herself down again on the old sofa, and buried her face in the pillows. it was joel who bounded in and up to her side, calling, "oh, polly!" that sent her flying up to sit straight. "ben wants you," he cried excitedly. "oh, joel, what is it?" she exclaimed, flying off from the sofa; "what is the matter with ben?" "nothing," said joel, in high glee. as long as ben wasn't sick, and he had made matters right with him, the rest could wait. so downstairs joel ran to grandpapa, to tell him that he had made a grand mistake; that he did want ben to go on the expedition, no more nor less than a visit to the museum. "i thought so, my boy," said old mr. king, patting him on the shoulder. "now, if i were you, i wouldn't go off half-cocked again, especially with ben. no doubt he was in the wrong, too. there are always two sides to a thing." "oh, no, he wasn't," protested joel, terribly alarmed lest ben should be blamed. "i was cross, grandpapa. 'twas all my fault." he was so distressed that the old gentleman hastened to add, "yes, yes; well, there now, that's quite enough. as i've never seen ben treat you one-half as badly as you deserve, sir, i'll believe you. now be off with you, joel!" and with a little laugh and another last pat he dismissed him. meantime polly was having a perfectly dreadful time up in ben's room. it took mrs. fisher as well as ben to comfort her in the least for her dreadful disappointment that ben was not going to accept a long and thorough education at mr. king's hands. but all this was as nothing to grandpapa's dismay when the truth came out. and it took more than the combined efforts of the whole household to restore him to equanimity when he saw that ben was actually not to be moved from his resolution. it was little doctor fisher who finally achieved the first bit of resignation reached. "now, my good sir;" the little man put himself, unasked, beside the stately figure pacing with ill-concealed irritation down the "long path." it was several days since ben had made his announcement, and grandpapa had been hoping against all obstacles that the boy would give in at the last. but to-day even that hope slipped away. "let me speak a word for ben," the little doctor went on, raising his big spectacles just as cheerfully to the clouded face as if a warm invitation had been extended him. "ben needs no words from you, doctor fisher," said mr. king, icily; "i really consider the least said on this subject the better, perhaps." "perhaps--and perhaps not," said the little man, just as cheerily. it was impossible to quarrel with him or to shake him off, and mr. king, realizing this, kept on his walk with long strides, doctor fisher skipping by his side, telling off the points of what he had come to say, on his nervous fingers. "do you realize," he said at length, "that you would break down all ben's best powers if you had your way with him?" "hold on there, man," roared the old gentleman, coming to an abrupt pause in his walk, "do you mean to say, and do you take me for an idiot, which i should be if i believed it, that the more education a boy gets, the more he injures his chances for life?" the little man squinted at the tips of the trees waving their skeleton branches in the crisp air, then brought a calm gaze to the excited old face: "not exactly; but i do say when you make a boy like ben turn from the path he has marked out for himself, all the education that culture would crowd on him is just so much to break down the boy. ben wouldn't be ben after you got through with him. now be sensible." he got up on his tiptoes and actually bestowed a pat on the stately shoulder. "ben wants to go to work. give him his head,--you can trust him; and let's you and i keep our hands off from him." and the little doctor, having said his say, got down on his feet again and trotted off. all the remainder of that day grandpapa went around very much subdued. he even smiled at ben, a thing he hadn't done ever since the dreadful announcement that gave a blow to all his plans for the boy. and at last it began to be understood that the skies were clear again, and that things after all were turning out for the best. "but only to think of it," grandpapa would go on to himself in the privacy of his own room, "mountain children can be brought down and set into schools, and the van ruypen money do the old lady some good,--and there is pip,--see what she has got there,--and nobody to interfere with what she'll spend on him. and i--i am balked the very first thing. and i did so mean to do well by ben; dear, dear!" but as the matter was now decided and out of his hands, the next thing to do was to get ben a good place where he could begin on his business career, sure of good training. so the following day old mr. king dropped into the office of cabot and van meter, for a little private conversation. they welcomed him heartily, as usual, dismissing other applicants for the time, and shut the door to the private office, drawing up their chairs to listen attentively. "no business to-day," was mr. king's announcement, "that is, in the regular way. this that i have come to see you about is quite out of the ordinary. i want a place in your establishment for a young friend of mine." the two gentlemen looked up in amazement. it wasn't in the least like mr. king to ask such a thing, knowing quite well that to secure such a place required much waiting for the required vacancy. it was mr. cabot who spoke first. "i suppose he is experienced," he began slowly. "not in the least," replied old mr. king, shortly. "well, er--on what do you recommend him?" ventured mr. van meter. "i don't recommend him," the old gentleman answered in his crispest manner. "bless you, i don't go about recommending people; you know that." he looked into each face so fiercely that they both exclaimed together, "no, of course not. we quite understand." "well, what do you want your young friend to have with us--what kind of a position?" asked mr. cabot, patting one knee in perplexity. "anything," said mr. king. "give him anything to do; only get him in here. i tell you he must come, and you've got to take him." he leaned forward in his chair and struck his walking-stick smartly on the floor. "who is he?" demanded mr. van meter, feeling that the exigency of the case demanded few words. "ben pepper." "_ben pepper!_" ejaculated mr. cabot. "why, i thought he was in school." "he was," said old mr. king, turning on him with considerable venom, as if he were quite to blame for the whole thing, "but he has made up his mind to go into business. a very poor thing in my opinion; but since he's decided it that way, there's no more to be said," and he waved it off with a nonchalant hand. "not so very poor a thing to do after all." mr. van meter got off from his chair, stalked up and down the office floor, bringing his hands every now and then smartly together, to emphasize his periods: "i was but a slip of a lad when i got into the business groove, and i've never been sorry i drudged it early. now, mr. king, it wouldn't be well to give ben any better chance than i had. he must begin at the bottom to amount to anything." "he wouldn't take the chance if you gave it to him," said mr. king, dryly. "why, there's where ben says he belongs--at the bottom." books by margaret sidney a little maid of concord town _illustrated by frank t. merrill_ a little maid of boston town _illustrated by frank t. merrill_ the famous pepper books in order of publication _twelve volumes_ _illustrated_ five little peppers and how they grew five little peppers midway five little peppers grown up phronsie pepper the stories polly pepper told the adventures of joel pepper five little peppers abroad five little peppers at school five little peppers and their friends ben pepper five little peppers in the little brown house our davie pepper * * * * * the famous pepper books five little peppers and how they grew. this was an instantaneous success; it has become a genuine child classic. five little peppers midway. "a perfect cheeryble of a book."--_boston herald._ five little peppers grown up. this shows the five little peppers as "grown up," with all the struggles and successes of young manhood and womanhood. phronsie pepper. it is the story of phronsie, the youngest and dearest of all the peppers. the stories polly pepper told. wherever there exists a child or a "grown-up," there will be a welcome for these charming and delightful "stories polly pepper told." the adventures of joel pepper. as bright and just as certain to be a child's favorite as the others in the famous series. harum-scarum "joey" is lovable. five little peppers abroad. the "peppers abroad" adds another most delightful book to this famous series. five little peppers at school. of all the fascinating adventures and experiences of the "peppers," none will surpass those contained in this volume. five little peppers and their friends. the friends of the peppers are legion and the number will be further increased by this book. ben pepper. this story centres about ben, "the quiet, steady-as-a-rock boy," while the rest of the peppers help to make it as bright and pleasing as its predecessors. five little peppers in the little brown house. here they all are, ben, polly, joel, phronsie, and david, in the loved "little brown house," with such happenings crowding one upon the other as all children delightedly follow, and their elders find no less interesting. * * * * * the judges' cave _a romance of the new haven colony in the days of the regicides_ there are few more fascinating phases of colonial history than that which tells the wanderings and adventures of the two judges who, because they sat in judgment over that royal criminal, charles the first of england, were hunted out of england into hiding in new england, and there remained, a mystery and fugitives, in their celebrated cave in new haven colony. marcia, the heroine, is a strong and delightful character, and the book easily takes high rank among the most effective and absorbing stories based upon a dramatic phase of american history. * * * * * the little maid of concord town _a romance of the american revolution_ a delightful revolutionary romance of life, love, and adventure in old concord. the author knows the interesting town thoroughly. debby parlin, the heroine, lived in a little house on the lexington road, still standing, and was surrounded by all the stir and excitement of the months of preparation and the days of action at the beginning of our struggle for freedom. * * * * * sally, mrs. tubbs _an amusing and sympathetic study of a new england woman of humble station, but noble character._ chicago record-herald says: what can be said is, that those who have read "mrs. wiggs" will purchase "sally, mrs. tubbs." the author of this pleasant story, who is margaret sidney of the "pepper" books renown, has rightly dedicated this tale for grown-ups to "all who love simplicity, truth, and cheerfulness." these virtues characterize sally plunkett, whose soul-devouring ambition was "to have 'bijah tubbs fer life." as a chapter out of human life "sally, mrs. tubbs" is, perhaps, as good as "mrs. wiggs." regarded artistically, it shows the workmanship of a more practised hand; it has a plot, and this plot pleasantly complicated, and thus differs from its next of kin. we judge that sally and her 'bijah, who, though little, is "sizable" enough to meet her wants, will make the acquaintance of those who like a book that is not over-intellectualized nor yet lacking in soundness of heart and penetrating vision into human nature. "sally, mrs. tubbs" will furnish a hearty laugh and a quickened sensibility. boston transcript says: as a brief character-sketch, "sally, mrs. tubbs" deserves no little praise for its geniality and its humor. boston herald says: this short story of 180 pages is captivating from start to finish, and the masculine reader takes off his hat, and the feminine reader courtesies, to this matron of the tubs, with her homely heroism and true kindness of heart. by edith dunham fifty flower friends _with familiar faces_ a field book for boys and girls with twelve full-page colored plates, decorations and fifty text illustrations from nature by w. i. beecroft. children cannot too soon begin to know the wild flowers, and here they are told in a charming way where and when to look for each of fifty widely distributed common flowering plants; also how they get their names, and how to know them from the remarkably accurate drawings of mr. beecroft, a skilled botanist and superior artist. each of the fifty flowers has a page of accurate botanical description in addition to its story. thus the book is suited for varying ages. "the greatest praise can be bestowed upon and every mother and father should have one and by it better educate their children in nature, which will prove not only an enjoyable study, but an instructive one."--_providence news._ "good brief descriptions, good clear pictures, portraits almost, of each flower friend, a beautiful cover, convenient arrangement, and fine large print, make a perfect book to own, or to give to any one, especially a child."--_universalist leader._ "if the children do not learn something new about flowers this summer it may be because their unkind parents have not bought them miss edith dunham's 'fifty flower friends.'"--_new york times._ "the boy or girl into whose hands this book is placed can hardly fail to acquire a real and lasting interest in our everyday wild flowers."--_the dial._ "it has no rival in books of its kind, either in text or illustration."--_boston budget._