<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/cover.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="697" alt="cover" title="cover" /></div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="adpage">
<div class="adbox">
<p class="noic">BOOKS BY</p>
<p class="noic adtitle">MARGARET SIDNEY</p>
<p class="noi">A LITTLE MAID OF CONCORD TOWN<br/>
<i>Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill</i> <span class="flright"><i>Price, $1.50</i></span></p>
<p class="p1 noi">A LITTLE MAID OF BOSTON TOWN<br/>
<i>Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill</i> <span class="flright"><i>Price, $1.50</i></span></p>
<p class="p2 noic adauthor">THE FAMOUS PEPPER BOOKS</p>
<p class="noic">IN ORDER OF PUBLICATION</p>
<p class="noic"><i>Eleven Volumes</i> <i>Illustrated</i> <i>Price per volume, $1.50</i></p>
<ul>
<li class="hang">FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AND HOW THEY GREW</li>
<li class="hang">FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS MIDWAY</li>
<li class="hang">FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS GROWN UP</li>
<li class="hang">PHRONSIE PEPPER</li>
<li class="hang">THE STORIES POLLY PEPPER TOLD</li>
<li class="hang">THE ADVENTURES OF JOEL PEPPER</li>
<li class="hang">FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS ABROAD</li>
<li class="hang">FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AT SCHOOL</li>
<li class="hang">FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AND THEIR FRIENDS</li>
<li class="hang">BEN PEPPER</li>
<li class="hang">FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS IN THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE</li>
</ul>
<hr class="r20" />
<p class="noic">LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON</p>
</div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image01" id="image01"> <ANTIMG src="images/image01.jpg" width-obs="447" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption">Polly telling her stories.<br/><br/>
“<i><SPAN href="#Page_15">So one of Mamsie’s bed-slippers was tied on Phronsie’s little
sore foot, and Polly began</SPAN></i>”—</div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<h1>THE STORIES<br/> POLLY PEPPER TOLD</h1>
<p class="noic">TO THE</p>
<p class="noi subtitle"><i>FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS IN THE<br/>
LITTLE BROWN HOUSE</i></p>
<p class="p4 noic">BY</p>
<p class="noi author">MARGARET SIDNEY</p>
<p class="noi works">AUTHOR OF “FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AND HOW THEY GREW,”<br/>
“A LITTLE MAID OF CONCORD TOWN,” ETC., ETC.</p>
<p class="p4 noic"><i>ILLUSTRATED BY<br/>
JESSIE McDERMOTT and ETHELDRED B. BARRY</i></p>
<p class="p6 noic">BOSTON<br/>
<span class="noi author">LOTHROP, LEE AND SHEPARD CO.</span></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/logo.jpg" width-obs="180" height-obs="42" alt="PEPPER TRADE-MARK" title="PEPPER TRADE-MARK" /></div>
<p class="noic">Registered in U. S. Patent Office.</p>
<p class="p4 noic"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1899,</span><br/>
<span class="lcsmcaps">BY</span><br/>
<span class="smcap">Lothrop Publishing Company</span></p>
<hr class="r20" />
<p class="noic"><i>All rights reserved.</i></p>
<p class="p4 noic"><i>Forty-fourth Thousand.</i></p>
<p class="p4 noi works">TYPOGRAPHY BY C. J. PETERS & SON, BOSTON.</p>
<hr class="r20" />
<p class="noi works">PRESSWORK BY BERWICK & SMITH.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p class="noic lcsmcaps">TO</p>
<p class="noi author">MARGARET MULFORD LOTHROP</p>
<p class="noic lcsmcaps">WHO REPRESENTS TO THOSE WHO<br/>
KNOW HER, BOTH THE</p>
<p class="noic"><span class="smcap">“POLLY” and the “PHRONSIE”</span></p>
<p class="noic lcsmcaps">OF THE</p>
<p class="noic"><span class="smcap">Five Little Peppers</span></p>
<p class="noic lcsmcaps">THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak">PREFATORY NOTE.</h2></div>
<p>The author has received from mothers and
other persons interested in the Pepper Family,
so many requests for the Stories told by
Polly Pepper (to which frequent allusion has
been made in the Series called the “Five Little
Peppers’” Books), that this initial volume of
Polly’s earlier stories has been prepared in
obedience to these requests.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Wayside, Concord, Mass.</span><br/>
<span class="ident"><i>March, 1899.</i></span></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
<col style="width: 20%;" />
<col style="width: 70%;" />
<col style="width: 10%;" />
<tr>
<th class="smfontr">CHAPTER</th>
<th class="tdl"></th>
<th class="smfontr">PAGE</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">I.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#I">The Little White Chicken</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">9</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">II.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#II">The Princess Esmeralda’s Ball</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">25</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">III.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#III">The Story of the Circus</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">43</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">IV.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#IV">The Little Tin Soldiers</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">61</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">V.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#V">Christmas at the Big House</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">72</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">VI.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#VI">Mr. Father Kangaroo and the Fat Little Bird</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">86</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">VII.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#VII">The Mince-pie Boy and the Beasts</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">99</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">VIII.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#VIII">The Cunning Little Duck</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">116</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">IX.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#IX">The Old Tea-kettle</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">129</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">X.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#X">The Pink and White Sticks</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">146</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XI.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XI">The Old Stage-coach</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">160</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XII.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XII">Mr. Nutcracker; the Story that wasn’t a Story</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">176</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XIII.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XIII">Mr. Nutcracker</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">196</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XIV.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XIV">The Runaway Pumpkin</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">214</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XV.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XV">The Robbers and their Bags</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">229</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XVI.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XVI">Polly Pepper’s Chicken-pie</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">254</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XVII.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XVII">Phronsie Pepper’s New Shoes</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">272</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XVIII.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XVIII">The Old Gray Goose</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">295</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XIX.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XIX">The Green Umbrella</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">309<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</SPAN></span></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XX.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XX">The Green Umbrella and the Queer Little Man</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">331</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XXI.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XXI">The Little Snow-house</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">358</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XXII.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XXII">Lucy Ann’s Garden</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">381</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XXIII.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XXIII">The China Mug</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">405</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XXIV.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XXIV">Brown Betty</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">419</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XXV.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XXV">The Silly Little Brook</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">437</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdrt">XXVI.</td>
<td class="tdl smcap"><SPAN href="#XXVI">Down in the Orchard</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">451</td>
</tr>
</table>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2>
<div class="blockquot">
<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations">
<col style="width: 80%;" />
<col style="width: 20%;" />
<tr>
<th> </th>
<th class="smfontr">PAGE</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image01">Polly telling her stories.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb"><i>Frontispiece.</i></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image02">“Take me, Polly,” implored Phronsie.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">12</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image03">“And—he—saw—the—bear.”</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">22</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image04">Polly threw her arms around Ben.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">31</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image05">“In came the Princess Esmeralda.”</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">35</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image06">“The circus story,” said Polly, “is about so many best
and splendid things that you must keep quite still.”</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">45</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image07">“Where’s the Circus-man?” asked the great big man.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">57</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image08">Ben was mending Mother Pepper’s washboard.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">63</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image09">The little tin soldiers.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">66</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image10">Grandpapa had taken out all the papers.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">74</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image11">Joel laid his head in Polly’s lap and burst out crying.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">82</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image12">“I want my Mamsie!” cried poor Phronsie.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">87</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image13">“What’s the matter down there?” asked Mr. Kangaroo.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">93</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image14">The two pulled out the kitchen table.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">101</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image15">The mince-pie boy and the beasts.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">109</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image16">“O Polly!” she cried, scuttling over to her.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">112</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image17">Joel came racing back.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">119</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image18">The cunning little duck.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">122</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image19">“Dear me, yes,” said Mrs. Pepper.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">130</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image20">“Mind the house, now,” she said to the cat.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">141</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image21">She crept into Polly’s lap, and put her little hand up on
her neck.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">152<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</SPAN></span></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image22">The pink and white sticks.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">157</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image23">“Take care, Joe,” she warned.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">161</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image24">The old stage-coach.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">165</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image25">So Polly smoothed and patted his stubby head in a way
that Joel liked.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">179</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image26">“You are scaring that poor old man most to death,”
said Polly.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">186</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image27">Polly began to parade up and down the old kitchen floor.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">201</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image28">And the pigs wouldn’t go the way he wanted ’em to.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">205</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image29">“I guess I’ll tell you of the Runaway Pumpkin,” said
Polly.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">216</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image30">“Pumpkin! say, Pumpkin, don’t you hear me?”</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">225</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image31">Mrs. Whitney heard the noise, and ran in to see what
the fun was.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">243</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image32">The robbers and their bags.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">247</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image33">Ben grasped it tightly under one arm and flew home.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">255</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image34">The old gray goose holds a conversation with the black
chicken.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">262</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image35">“Oh! I am so hungry, Polly.”</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">275</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image36">“Phronsie Pepper’s new shoes.”</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">282</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image37">And there was the shoe tumbled right over her nose.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">292</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image38">“You said so, Polly Pepper,” cried little Dick with big
eyes.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">298</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image39">Sally Brown and the old gray goose.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">305</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image40">“Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper, “you needn’t tell any story
just now.”</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">311</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image41">“Go right away! my daughter makes all the music
I want.”</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">318</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image42">“Look within!” screamed the old woman.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">323<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</SPAN></span></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image43">“Here she is!” cried Van, throwing open the door of
Jasper’s den.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">337</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image44">Phronsie smoothed down her white apron in satisfaction.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">344</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image45">The umbrella runs away with the queer little man.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">353</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image46">The boys bringing home the meal and potatoes.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">368</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image47">The little snow-house.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">373</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image48">Lucy Ann’s garden.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">391</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image49">She put her head in her hands, like this.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">394</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image50">Little Dick plucked off the big bit of wet brown paper
from his eye.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">407</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image51">The beautiful man and the lovely lady on the china
mug.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">410</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image52">“O Polly, a hundred ants!” cried little Dick with an
absorbed face.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">424</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image53">Brown Betty and the ants.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">429</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image54">Phronsie shook her yellow head mournfully.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">442</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image55">The birds and the silly little brook.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">446</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image56">“’Twas as big as this!”</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">459</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl hangillus"><SPAN href="#image57">The Little White Rabbit and Mister Fox.</SPAN></td>
<td class="tdrb">464</td>
</tr>
</table></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="noic"><span class="author">THE</span><br/>
<span class="title smcap">Stories Polly Pepper Told</span><br/>
<span class="author">TO THE FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS.</span></p>
</div>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="I" id="I">I.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE LITTLE WHITE CHICKEN.</small></h2>
<p class="cap">“You see,” said Polly, “the little white
chicken was determined she <em>would</em> go
into Susan’s playhouse.”</p>
<p>Phronsie sat in Mamsie’s big calico-covered
rocking-chair. The last tear had trailed off the
round cheek since Polly had come home and
was by her side, holding her hand. The
pounded toes were thrust out before her, tied
up in an old cloth, and waiting for the wormwood
which was steeping on the fire. Grandma
Bascom, protesting that soon Phronsie wouldn’t
know that she had any toes, sank into a chair
and beamed at her. “You pretty creeter, you,”
she cried, her cap-border bobbing heartily.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I wish she wouldn’t talk,” grunted Joel,
burrowing on the floor, his head in Polly’s lap,
where her soft fingers could smooth his stubby
black hair.</p>
<p>“’Sh!” said Polly, with a warning pinch.</p>
<p>“Go on,” begged Davie, hanging over her
chair, intent as Phronsie on the fate of the
white chicken; “did she go in, Polly; did she?”</p>
<p>Phronsie sat still, her eyes on Polly’s face,
her fat little hands clasped in her lap, while
she held her breath for the answer.</p>
<p>“Dear me, yes,” cried Polly quickly; “she
stretched her neck like this,” suiting the action
to the word, for Polly always acted out, as
much as she could, all her stories, particularly
on emergencies like the present one, “and
peered around the corner. Susan wasn’t there,
for she was up at the house sitting on a stool
and sewing patchwork. But there was a black
object over in the corner, and”—</p>
<p>“Oh, you pretty creeter, you!” exclaimed
Grandma suddenly, at Phronsie, on whom she
had gazed unceasingly, “so you did pound your
toes—there—there—you pretty creeter!”</p>
<p>“Ugh—ugh! make her stop,” howled Joel,
twitching up his head from its soft nest. “Oh,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</SPAN></span>
dear, we can’t hear anything. Stop her,
Polly, do.”</p>
<p>“Joel,” said Polly, “hush this minute; just
think how good she’s been, and the raisins. O
Joey!”</p>
<p>“They are dreadful hard,” grumbled Joel; but
he slipped his head back on Polly’s lap, wishing
her fingers would smooth his hair again. But
they didn’t; so he burrowed deeper, and tried
not to cry. Meanwhile Phronsie, with a
troubled expression settling over her face at
this condition of things, made as though she
would slip from the old chair. “Take me,
Polly,” she begged, holding out her arms.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, you mustn’t, you pretty creeter,”
declared Grandma, getting out of her chair to
waddle over to the scene, her cap-border trembling
violently, “you’ll hurt your toes. You
must set where you be till you get the wormwood
on.” And Davie running over to put his
arms around Phronsie and beg her to keep still,
the little old kitchen soon became in great
confusion till it seemed as if the white chicken
must be left for all time, peering in at Susan’s
playhouse and the black object in the corner.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” cried Polly at her wit’s<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</SPAN></span>
end; “now you see, Joey. Whatever shall I
do?”</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image02">“Take me, Polly,” implored Phronsie</SPAN>, leaning
out of the big chair at the imminent danger
of falling on her nose, and two tears raced over
her round cheeks. At sight of these, Polly suddenly
lifted her out and over to her lap, Joel deserting
that post in a trice, and wishing he was
Phronsie so that he could cry and be comforted.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image02" id="image02"> <ANTIMG src="images/image02.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="575" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_12">“Take me, Polly,” implored Phronsie.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Dear, dear, dear!” exclaimed Grandma Bascom
gustily, trotting off to the tin cup with the
wormwood steeping on the stove. “She must
have the wormwood on. Whatever’ll become of
her toes if she don’t set still, I d’no. There,
there, she’s a pretty creeter.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want any on,” said Phronsie from
her nest in Polly’s arms, and contentedly snuggling
down. “Please don’t let her put any on,
Polly,” she whispered up against her neck.</p>
<p>“I’ll put it on,” said Polly soothingly. “Well,
now, Phronsie,” patting the yellow head, and
with an anxious look up at the old clock, “you
know I can’t bake Mamsie’s birthday cake unless
you have that wormwood on and sit in her
chair like a good girl. And then think how
very dreadful it would be to have Mamsie come
home and it shouldn’t be done. Oh, I can’t
think of such a thing!” Polly’s hand dropped
away from the yellow hair, and fell to her lap,
as she sat quite still.</p>
<p>Phronsie lifted her head and looked at her.
“I’ll have the wet stuff on, Polly, and sit in the
chair,” she said, with a long sigh; “lift me back,
Polly, do; then you can bake Mamsie’s cake.”</p>
<p>So Phronsie was lifted back with great ado,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</SPAN></span>
Polly kissing her many times, and telling her
how glad she would be on the morrow when
Mamsie’s birthday cake would be a beautiful
success, and how happy Mamsie would be to
know that Phronsie helped to bake it by being
such a good girl. And the little toes were wet
with the wormwood, and tied up in an old cloth;
and Grandma Bascom, dropping the tin cup
which she was bearing back to the stove, with a
clatter on the floor, created such a diversion as
Polly and the boys ran to get cloths and spoons
to save the precious wormwood and wipe the
floor clean, that the little old kitchen rang with
the noise, and it was some time before Polly
could get it quieted down again.</p>
<p>At last Polly drew a long breath. “Well,
now, children, if you’ll be very still I’ll tell you
the rest about the white chicken, while I’m making
Mamsie’s cake. And I’ll pull your chair,
Phronsie, up to the table so you can see me.”</p>
<p>“Let me, let me!” screamed Joel, hopping
up to lay hasty hands on the old calico-covered
rocker. “I want to, Polly; let me pull it up.”</p>
<p>“I want to,” begged David, just as nimble
on the other side.</p>
<p>“So you shall; you can both help,” cried<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</SPAN></span>
Polly merrily, deep in thought over the intricacies
of ‘Mirandy’s weddin’-cake receet.’</p>
<p>“Well,” said Grandma, seeing Phronsie on
such a high road to recovery, “I’m dretful glad
I found that receet. I put it in my Bible so’s
to have it handy to give John’s folks when
they come; they set great store by it to the
weddin’: and I must go home now, ’cause I left
some meat a-boilin’.” So off she waddled,
Joel going to the door and gallantly assisting
her down the steps and to the gate, glad to
make amends. Then he rushed back.</p>
<p>“Now for the white chicken!” he cried,
drawing a long breath, and perching on the end
of the baking-table.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly; “but you’ve got to have
on one of Mamsie’s old slippers first, Phronsie.”</p>
<p>“Oh, ho,” Phronsie laughed gleefully, “how
funny!”</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image01">So one of Mamsie’s old cloth slippers was
tied on to Phronsie’s little foot</SPAN> with a bit of
string through the middle, the children one and
all protesting that it looked like an old black
pudding-bag; <SPAN href="#image01">and Polly began</SPAN> again, “Now,”
she said absently, “I’ll tell you about the little
white chicken—just as soon as I have—oh,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</SPAN></span>
dear me! let me see if I have all my things
ready.” She wrinkled her brows and thought
a minute. Joel kicked his heels impatiently
against the table-side, while Davie clasped his
hands tight so as not to say anything to worry
Polly.</p>
<p>“Yes, I believe they’re all here,” said Polly,
after what seemed an age to the children.
“Well, there now, children, I’m ready to begin
on the story. Oh, let me see, all but the big
bowl;” and she ran into the buttery and brought
it out, and began to mix the cake with quite an
important air. Phronsie drew a long breath of
delight that ended in a happy little crow. “You
must know that the white chicken made up her
mind that she <em>would</em> go into Susan’s playhouse,
although”—</p>
<p>“You told that,” interrupted Joel, filliping
at the dish where the raisins, with a plentiful
sprinkling of flour, lay ready to lend their magnificence
to Mamsie’s birthday cake; “go on
where you left off, Polly.”</p>
<p>“You said she saw a black object over in the
corner,” said Davie, with big eyes; “tell about
that.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, so I did!” said Polly; “now, Joe,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</SPAN></span>
you mustn’t touch the raisins. Every single
one must go into Mamsie’s cake.”</p>
<p>Joel drew away his hand; but it was impossible
not to regard the plate, on which he kept
his gaze fastened.</p>
<p>“Well, in crept the little white chicken,” said
Polly tragically, and stirring briskly the cake-mixture
with the long wooden spoon, “hoping
the black object wouldn’t see her. She had to
go in you see, because just outside the door,
coming under the apple-trees, was a noise, and
it sounded very much like a boy; and the little
white chicken had rather be scared by a black
object in the corner inside, than to let that boy
spy her. So she crept in <em>very softly</em>, and was
just beginning to tuck up her feet and sit down
behind the door, when the black object stirred,
and over went the little white chicken all in a
heap.”</p>
<p>Joel gave a grunt of great satisfaction, and
tore his eyes from the raisin-plate.</p>
<p>“What was it?” gasped Davie fearfully, and
getting nearer to Polly’s side. Phronsie kept
her wide eyes on Polly’s face, and sat quite
still, her little hands folded in her lap.</p>
<p>“You wait and see,” said Polly gayly, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</SPAN></span>
stirring away for dear life. “Well, over went
the little white chicken, and”—</p>
<p>“You said that,” interrupted Joel; “do hurry
and tell the rest.”</p>
<p>“Then she shut her eyes just like this,”
Polly stopped stirring, and turned to Phronsie,
wrinkling up her face as much like a chicken
in despair as was possible. “Oh, you can’t think
how she felt; she was <em>so</em> frightened! She tried
to call her mother, but the ‘peep—peep’ that
always used to be so loud and clear, stuck way
down in her throat; and then she knew she
never in all this world could make her mother
hear because she hadn’t minded her. And outside
she could hear old Mrs. Hen calling her
brothers and sisters to come and get the worms
she had just scratched up.”</p>
<p>“And wouldn’t the little white chicken ever
get a worm?” broke out Phronsie in dreadful
excitement; “wouldn’t she, Polly, ever?”</p>
<p>“No—oh, yes; she could when she was
good,” said Polly at sight of Phronsie’s face.</p>
<p>“Make her good,” begged Phronsie, unclasping
her hands to pull Polly’s gown; “oh do, Polly!”</p>
<p>“No, make her bad,” cried Joel insistently;
“as bad as can be, do, Polly!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“O Joel!” reproved Polly, stirring away;
“whoever would want that little white chicken
bad—any more than for a boy to be naughty.”</p>
<p>“Well, make her bad enough to be scared;
and have the awful black thing be a bear, and
most bite her to death, and chew her head off,”
cried Joel, feeling delicious thrills at the dreadful
possibilities that might happen to the chicken.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” cried Polly in horror, “the
poor little white chicken!”</p>
<p>“Don’t let it bite her <em>much</em>,” said Davie.
“But do make it a bear, Polly!”</p>
<p>“Well, I will,” said Polly obligingly, “make
it a bear, boys.”</p>
<p>“And don’t let it bite her any,” begged Phronsie;
and she put up her lip, while the brown
eyes were imploringly fixed on Polly’s face.</p>
<p>Joel squirmed all over the table-end. “Just
such a little bear,” he remonstrated. “Hoh!
he couldn’t bite much; I’d just as lieves he’d
bite me,” baring his brown arm.</p>
<p>“No—no—no!” protested Phronsie, shaking
her yellow head decidedly; “I don’t want
him to bite her any, poor little white chicken;”
and she looked so very near to crying, and
Mamsie’s old black slipper on the pounded toes<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</SPAN></span>
began to flap so dismally, that Polly hastened
to say, “Oh! I’ll tell you, children, what I’ll do;
I’ll have Tommy come out and shoot the bear
right away.”</p>
<p>“Oh, whickety!” whooped Joel. David
clasped his hands ecstatically. This was much
better,—to have Tommy and the bear, than the
bear and the little white chicken. Phronsie
laughed delightedly, “Make him come quick,
do, Polly!” she screamed.</p>
<p>“Hurry up!” called Joel; “O Phron! don’t
talk. Do hurry, Polly!”</p>
<p>“Well, you see,” went on Polly, stirring away
for dear life, “that when Susan went into the
house to sit on the stool and do patchwork, her
brother Tommy thought he would take his gun
and see if he could find anything to shoot, like
rabbits, and”—</p>
<p>“No—no,” cried Joel in alarm, twitching her
sleeve, “bears, bears!”</p>
<p>“He didn’t expect to see a bear,” said Polly;
“he went out to shoot rabbits. But he found
the bear instead, you know,” catching sight of
Joel’s face, which immediately cleared up, and
he settled back contentedly. “Well, Tommy
went along by old Mother Hen clucking and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</SPAN></span>
scratching, and all the rest of the chickens,
except the little white one; and just as he was
going by Susan’s playhouse he thought he
would look in and scare the dolls with his big
gun.”</p>
<p>“Don’t let him, Polly!” begged Phronsie in a
worse fright than before. “Oh, don’t let him;
don’t let him!”</p>
<p>“Ow! there ain’t any fun. Phron keeps stopping
us all the time,” howled Joel. “Let him,
Polly. Gee—whiz—bang! that’s the way I’d
do,” bringing an imaginary gun to his shoulder
and blazing away.</p>
<p>“Well, then he’d have scared the bear so he
couldn’t have shot him,” said little Davie quietly.</p>
<p>“So he would, Davie,” said Polly approvingly,
and dropping the spoon to pet Phronsie; “if Joel
had been there, the bear would have got away.”</p>
<p>Joel, much discomfited at this, ducked suddenly
and looked sheepish. “Well, go on,” he
said.</p>
<p>“And Tommy didn’t scare the dolls, because
you see he was scared himself. The first thing
he saw was the little white chicken crouched
down like this.” Down went Polly on the old
kitchen floor, and made herself so much like a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</SPAN></span>
little white chicken very much frightened, that
the children held their breath to see her.</p>
<p>“And then Tommy looked at what scared
the little white chicken,” went on Polly, hopping
up and beginning to stir the cake-mixture
again. <SPAN href="#image03">“And—he—<em>saw—the—bear</em>!”</SPAN></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image03" id="image03"> <ANTIMG src="images/image03.jpg" width-obs="475" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_22">“And—he—saw—the—bear.”</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>It is impossible to describe the effect this<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</SPAN></span>
statement had on the old kitchen and its occupants;
and Polly, well pleased, rushed on,
dilating on how the bear looked, and how
Tommy looked, and how the little white
chicken looked; till, in a pause, the crackling
in the old stove proclaimed all things ready
for the baking of Mamsie’s birthday cake, and
she exclaimed, “Deary me, I must hurry. Oh
well! Tommy saw the bear getting ready to
spring, just like this; and he put up his gun,
like this, and it went bang—bang! and over
went Mr. Bear quite, quite dead.”</p>
<p>“Like this?” cried Joel, tumbling off from
the table-end to a heap in the middle of the
old floor; “just like this, Polly?” sticking up
his stubby black head to look at her.</p>
<p>“No—no!” cried Davie, hurrying to make
another heap of himself by Joel’s side; “he
stuck up his legs, didn’t he, Polly?” and out
went David’s arms and legs as stiff as sticks,
as he lay on his back staring at the ceiling.</p>
<p>“Hoh—hoh!” laughed Joel in derision;
“bears don’t tumble down that way, Dave,
when they’re killed; do they, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Yes, they do too,” contradicted little
David, not moving a muscle; “don’t they,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</SPAN></span>
Polly?” while Phronsie tried to get out of her
big chair to show, too, how she thought the
bear would tumble over.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, Phronsie pet, you mustn’t!” cried
Polly in alarm; “you’ll hurt your poor toes.
Well, I think the bear looked something like
both of you boys. He didn’t stick his legs up
stiff, but he was on his back like Davie.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m on my back,” cried Joel, whirling
over; while David’s stiff little wooden legs
and arms fell down in a twinkling. “Well,
now you boys must get me the cinnamon,”
said Polly, with a brisk eye on the old clock.
“Deary me, I ought to have this cake in the
oven—it’s in the Provision Room, you know.”</p>
<p>“And then we’ll get something to eat,”
cried the two bears, hopping up to race off.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="II" id="II">II.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE PRINCESS ESMERALDA’S BALL.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“It was a most beautiful place,” cried Polly.
“Oh! you can’t think, children, how perfectly
beautiful it all was;” and she clasped her
hands and sighed.</p>
<p>“Tell us,” they all begged in one breath,
crowding around her chair.</p>
<p>“Well, I can’t till Ben gets back, because you
know he wanted to hear this story;” and Polly
flew out of her rapture, and picked up her
needle again. “Dear me!” she exclaimed, and
a wave of remorse sent the color flying over her
cheek, “I didn’t mean to stop even for a minute;”
and she glanced up at the old clock.</p>
<p>“Ben never’ll come,” grumbled Joel, racing
to the window with Davie at his heels; “he’s
so awful slow.”</p>
<p>“Well, it’s slow work,” said Polly, stitching
away briskly, “to carry a great heavy molasses<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</SPAN></span>
jug and a bag of Indian meal way up here from
the store. Now, if you two boys wanted to go
and meet him, you could help ever so much.”</p>
<p>“I went last time down to that old store,”
said Joel, kicking his toes against the wall as he
stared out of the window; “it’s Dave’s turn
now, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Oh, oh!” cried little Davie, “I’ve been ever
and ever so many more times, Polly; truly I
have.”</p>
<p>“And we’ve just got through doing all our
work,” went on Joel, ignoring David’s remarks;
“and we had such a lot to do to-day Polly,” he
added in an injured tone.</p>
<p>“You needn’t go if you don’t want to,” said
Polly, with a fine scorn; “I said if you <em>wanted</em>
to go.”</p>
<p>“Well, we don’t want to,” declared Joel
loudly, and he kicked his toes triumphantly.
Phronsie, curled up in a ball on the floor at Polly’s
feet, while she nursed Seraphina, stared at
them gravely.</p>
<p>“I’ll go, Polly,” she said at last, laying Seraphina,
with a sigh, on the floor, and getting up
to her feet.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, Pet! you can’t go,” said Polly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</SPAN></span>
quickly; “you’re too little. Why, you aren’t
bigger’n a mouse, Phronsie;” and she began to
laugh, but she turned a cold shoulder to the
boys.</p>
<p>“I’m very big, Polly,” said Phronsie gravely,
and standing up on her tiptoes. “See—oh, so
big! and I must go down and help poor Bensie.
Let me, Polly, do!” and she put up her lips, and
the tears began to come into the brown eyes.</p>
<p>“Now you see, boys,” began Polly, casting
aside her work to take Phronsie on her lap.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’ll go, Polly!” cried little Davie, springing
forward, his face all in a flame. “I want to
go; truly I do.”—</p>
<p>“No, I will,” howled Joel, dashing away from
his window. “You’ve been ever so many times,
Dave; I’m going.”</p>
<p>“Joel,” cried Polly, as he was rushing off,
“come here a minute.”</p>
<p>He came back slowly, with one eye on
Davie. “What do you want, Polly?” he cried
impatiently.</p>
<p>“David <em>wants</em> to go,” said Polly slowly, and
looking steadily into his flushed face. “Now,
unless you really want to go to help Bensie,
why you must stay at home.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I—want—to go—to help Bensie,” declared
Joel insistently, with a very red face.
“O Polly! I do. Let me go.” He was so near
to crying that Polly said hastily, “I know, Joey,
you do want to help Bensie; there, there,” and
she gave him an approving little pat.</p>
<p>“I want to help Bensie,” cried Joel; his
smiles all come again to the chubby face, and
off he dashed.</p>
<p>“Now, Davie,” said Polly in her briskest fashion,
and setting to on the long seam, “I think
if I were you, I’d play with Phronsie a bit,”
with a glance at the disappointed little face.</p>
<p>“Come on, Phronsie,” said little David, gulping
down his disappointment; for now that Joel
was fairly on the way to meet Ben, nothing
seemed better than to be of the party. But he
sat down on the floor, where Phronsie immediately
crouched beside him; and in a minute the
only sound in the old kitchen was the soft hum
of their voices, and Phronsie’s delighted little
gurgle as the play went on.</p>
<p>“I better be going over that story again in
my mind,” said Polly to herself. “I’ve a good
chance now, it’s so quiet and lovely;” and she
beamed at Davie when he looked up, in a way<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</SPAN></span>
to make his little heart glad. And then Polly
was lost in the depths of her story till the old
kitchen and the little brown house and the
children faded away; and she was revelling in
the glories of the palace, with retinues of courtiers
and servants at her beck and call, and all
the paraphernalia of royalty around her. For
was she not the Princess Esmeralda herself?
And a smile played around Polly’s lips as she
stitched on, all unconscious of the task her
fingers were performing.</p>
<p>“Hi-hi!” It was Joel shouting close to
her chair, and there was Ben coming in the
door with a pleased look on his face. “Now
for the story,” screamed Joey, setting down the
bag of meal with a bang on the table; and
down tumbled Polly’s castle all around her
ears. “Well, I’m glad I’ve got it fast in my
mind so I can tell it good,” she said with a
sigh of relief. “Yes, I’m ready;” and she
smiled at Ben.</p>
<p>“That’s good,” said Ben heartily, “that you
didn’t tell that story until I got home, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Did you suppose I would, Ben?” said Polly
with an air of reproach.</p>
<p>“No, I didn’t really,” said Ben, wiping his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</SPAN></span>
hot face. “But it was good of you, Polly, to
wait for me. And it was good of you Joe, too,
to come to meet me, for I had to go around to
Parson Henderson’s with a letter.”</p>
<p>“O Ben!” exclaimed Polly, “did you have to
go all around there with those heavy things?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Ben, “I did. But you wouldn’t
have had me not go, Polly; for Mr. Atkins said
Parson Henderson had been for his letters
very early, and this came afterwards, and he
wouldn’t be there again to-day.”</p>
<p>“Oh no, no, of course not,” said Polly hastily.
“I mean I wouldn’t have had you not go for
anything in this world, Ben Pepper. You know
I wouldn’t;” and she looked so distressed that
Ben hastened to say most assuringly,—</p>
<p>“I know you wouldn’t, Polly; and don’t you
think, Mrs. Henderson said it was a most important
letter indeed; and if Mr. Henderson
hadn’t had it to-day it would have been very
bad.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I am so glad he got it to-day, Ben
Pepper!” <SPAN href="#image04">Polly flew out of her chair to run and
throw her arms around him.</SPAN> “And you were
the one to carry it to him.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image04" id="image04"> <ANTIMG src="images/image04.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="580" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_30">Polly threw her arms around Ben.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“And then when I got to the Four Corners,”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</SPAN></span>
went on Ben, “there was Joel running to meet
me. You can’t think how good it seemed to
see him!”</p>
<p>“O Joey! did you get clear down to the Four
Corners?” cried Polly, turning to him in a transport.</p>
<p>“Yes, I did,” bobbed Joel, glad to think he
had run every step of the way without stopping
to think, and forgetting how his arms ached carrying
the meal-bag. “Now, Polly, tell us the
story quick, do.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“So I will,” cried Polly merrily, rushing
back to her chair and the sewing. “Oh, it’s so
splendid that Ben’s back! We’ve got a whole
hour now before Mamsie’s to be home. Now,
then,” as the group huddled up around her.
“Once upon a time, long years ago, there was
one of the richest kings and queens that the
world has ever seen. Why, they had so much
money that nobody had ever counted it; they
hadn’t time, you know. And it kept coming in
until the bags of gold pieces filled up all one
side of the courtyard, and they had to build
great sheds to put the rest in.”</p>
<p>“Where’d it come from?” broke in Joel abruptly,
unable to keep still at thought of such
a state of affairs.</p>
<p>“Oh! the things they sold in the whole kingdom
were so many,” said Polly; “there were
millions—no, billions of bushels of corn, and
wheat and rye and silks and ribbons and butter
and cheese, and laces and artificial flowers and
candy, and”—</p>
<p>“Oh, my!” cried Joel, smacking his lips.</p>
<p>“Like the pink sticks old Mrs. Beebe gave
Phronsie the day she hurt her toe?” queried
David, his mouth watering at the remembrance.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes, the very same,” said Polly.</p>
<p>“Now, you children mustn’t interrupt every
single minute,” commanded Ben; “if you do,
Polly and I will go off into a corner, and she will
tell me the story. And Phronsie—we’ll take
her, because she hasn’t said a word.”</p>
<p>“Oh, we won’t—we won’t again, will we,
Dave?” cried Joel, with a punch on that individual’s
back.</p>
<p>“No,” said little David promptly; “please go
on, Polly.”</p>
<p>“You see, everything that anybody wanted
to buy—I mean the people in other countries—was
all for sale in this kingdom; and big
ships went sailing off ever so many times a day
with the things piled in them; and when they
came back the captain brought all the money
he got for the things, tied up in big bags;
and the ships kept coming back, ever so many
a day, so that there was no hope that the gold
pieces would ever be any less. And one day
the king walked up and down his palace hall,
wringing his hands. ‘Oh! I wish there wasn’t
so much money in the world,’ he cried; ‘for
pretty soon I shall be turned out-of-doors, with
all the gold pieces crowding me out.’ And he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</SPAN></span>
looked so very sad as his wife, the queen, put
her head in the doorway, that she said, ‘My
dear, we will have the golden coach brought
around to take us out to drive.’</p>
<p>“‘Don’t say golden anything to me,’ cried
the king in a passion, for he was almost beside
himself. ‘I’m sick of the sound of the word,
my dear;’ and he beckoned her to him, and
they went and sat together on the great throne
at one end of the hall. It shone with diamonds
and rubies and emeralds, and all manner of
precious stones; and it had great curtains of
twisted ropes of jewels looped up over their
heads; and there they sat, and he held her hand.
‘I’m really afraid,’ and he looked in her face,
‘that something must be done, for this is a
dreadful state of things.’</p>
<p>“‘Now, if you are going to talk business,’
said the queen tartly, ‘I think it is time to
call Esmeralda.’ You see, whenever there was
anything to decide in the kingdom, the king
and queen never did the leastest little bit of a
thing about it, without at first calling Esmeralda,
and laying the case before her. So now they
rang five or six golden bells in turn; and the
king blew a blast on a glass horn, oh, ever so<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</SPAN></span>
many feet long! that hung by his side of the
throne; and the queen whistled on a tremendous
silver whistle that hung by her side of the
throne; and pretty soon <SPAN href="#image05">Esmeralda came running
in</SPAN> all out of breath. She was dressed
in sea-green satin, over a
white lace petticoat pinned
up with diamonds, and she
had a bunch of flowers in
her hand that were sweet
with the morning dew. She had long floating
yellow hair, just like Phronsie’s;” and Polly
paused long enough to glance lovingly at the
small head snuggled up against her knee.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image05" id="image05"> <ANTIMG src="images/image05.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="534" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_35">“In came the Princess Esmeralda.”</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“‘Good-morning, father,’ and ‘Good-morning,
mother,’ said the Princess Esmeralda, kneeling
before her parents sitting on the throne; and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</SPAN></span>
she laid the flowers, with the morning dew on
them, in their hands.</p>
<p>“‘We have summoned you, Esmeralda,’ said
the king in a troubled way, ‘because we are
in dire extremity, and must have your advice.’</p>
<p>“Esmeralda wrinkled her pretty brow, and
looked very wise; but her heart beat dreadfully
against her bodice and”—</p>
<p>“What’s a bod”—began Joel.</p>
<p>“Ugh!” cried Ben with a warning finger
held up, as Joel ducked instantly.</p>
<p>“It’s a waist that princesses always wear,”
said Polly; “and Esmeralda’s was all spangled
with gold and silver. It shone so that no one
could look at it more than a minute at a time.
Well, so she said, ‘Yes, father,’ and ‘Yes,
mother.’</p>
<p>“‘We have too much gold,’ said the king,
smiting his hands together. ‘Esmeralda, I tell
you truly, if it keeps coming in we shall all have
to move out from this palace, and find another
home. What shall we do, my child?’</p>
<p>“Esmeralda jumped up from her knees, and
ran to the casement, and climbed up the golden
seat beneath it, and peered out. There were
the ships below her in the harbor, with the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</SPAN></span>
men taking out the bags and bags and bags
of gold; and as far as her eye could reach, there
were more ships and more ships and more ships
all coming in, filled with bags to the very brim.
She got down, and ran back. ‘It is certainly
very dreadful, father and mother,’ she said,
clasping her hands.</p>
<p>“‘Indeed it is,’ declared the king; and he
began to tear his hair.</p>
<p>“‘Husband, don’t feel so badly,’ implored the
poor queen at that sight, throwing her arms
around him. ‘Esmeralda, you must think
quickly, because you see we are both going
quite distracted.’</p>
<p>“So Esmeralda said the first thing that came
into her head. ‘You might tell the men to
untie the bags, and pour the gold pieces into
the sea at the mouth of the harbor.’</p>
<p>“‘The very thing!’ exclaimed the king in delight;
and his face was covered with smiles.
‘Oh, what it is to have a clever child!’ and the
queen fell upon Esmeralda’s neck, and kissed
and kissed her.</p>
<p>“So then the king rang all his bells, and blew
his long glass horn, and then he struck a big
silver gong that was always the signal for the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</SPAN></span>
Lord High Chamberlain to appear. And when
he popped in with his robes of office all caught
up in his hands, to let him run to obey the
king’s call, and his high peaked hat awry for
the same reason, the king gave him the order
just as Esmeralda said; and then the Lord High
Chamberlain plunged out, after bowing himself
before the throne five and twenty times to the
marble floor; and the king said to the queen, in
the greatest satisfaction, ‘My dear, we must
give Esmeralda a Ball for being so clever.’</p>
<p>“And the queen said, ‘Yes, a Ball,’ with the
greatest alacrity. And Esmeralda hopped up
and down in glee, she was so happy; and she
danced and danced until off flew seventy-nine
of the diamonds from her lace petticoat, and
rolled away into as many cracks and crevices in
the corners of the marble hall. But she didn’t
care; for there were bushels in her room, and
a dozen or two women always sitting on their
crickets, with their needles threaded with silver
thread, ready to sew on more.</p>
<p>“So then the word went out from the palace
all over the kingdom, that there was to be a
Ball for the Princess Esmeralda; and all the
while the golden stream was pouring out every<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</SPAN></span>
minute from the big bags into the mouth of the
harbor. And Esmeralda fell asleep every night
to dream of the beautiful music, and flowers,
and lights, and the gay young princes to be
sent for as company from every other kingdom;
for you must know that never had there been
such a ball in all this world before as this one
was to be. And every morning Esmeralda
waked up quite, quite happy, because the Ball
night was just so much nearer. And at last
her dress was all ready, and laid out upon her
little white bed. It was”—Polly paused most
impressively to allow her hearers to take it all
in properly, “it was made out of the very finest
cobwebs that had all been spun in the sunshine
of the palace court-yards. For this, millions of
spiders had been caught by the command of the
king, who had sent out an edict for that purpose;
and they had been set spinning until they
had made this beautiful dress of the princess.
And it was trimmed around the bottom and
the neck by a rainbow, and”—</p>
<p>“O Polly!” exclaimed Ben.</p>
<p>“There, Ben’s talking!” broke in Joel in
huge delight. “Hoh! hoh!”</p>
<p>“Yes, a rainbow,” repeated Polly stoutly; “a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</SPAN></span>
beautiful red and green and blue and yellow
rainbow. Oh! you can’t begin to think, children,
how perfectly lovely Esmeralda did look
when she was all dressed ready for the Ball.
Well, and then the princes began to arrive.
There were two hundred of them, and each one
brought the princess a present. But the king
had said that she should not accept anything
of gold, so it had been some little trouble for
them to get anything that was nice enough
without having it golden. But they did, and
there were two hundred presents set out in the
palace hall. And Esmeralda was to walk up
and down the whole length, and choose the
present she liked the best out of the whole collection;
and then she was to dance with the
prince who had given her this present. Oh,
dear me! she thought she would cry her eyes
out when the king decided this must be done;
for how was she to choose between so many
perfectly beautiful things, and there would be
one hundred and ninety-nine princes feeling
very unhappy indeed. She was just going to
say, ‘Oh, my father! I cannot do it;’ and then
she knew the king would ring, and strike his
big silver gong, and blow for the Lord High<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</SPAN></span>
Chamberlain to take him off from the throne
and put him to bed, and then the lights would
be turned out, and everybody would go home,
and there would be no Ball at all. She couldn’t
do that, of course, as you see. So she stopped
a minute to think, as she always did when she
had hard questions to decide, until the king
roared at her, ‘Do as I say, daughter, or out
go the lights;’ and then she said the first thing
that came in her head. ‘I like all the presents
best, and we’ll all dance together at once.’</p>
<p>“‘Dear me!’ exclaimed the king, ‘how clever!’
and he screamed joyfully to the musicians to
begin; and the princess and the two hundred
princes all began hopping and jumping about
the hall, and presently it looked so nice, the
king gave his hand to the queen, and she slid
down from the throne, and began to hop about
too; and the Lord High Chancellor picked up
his flowing robes, and danced on the tips of his
toes; and the court ladies skipped back and
forth; and the servants came to look in the doorways,
and so did the retinues of soldiers. And
they couldn’t help it, the music was so fine; and
oh, dear me! it went just like this,”—and Polly
broke off into a merry little tune as she sprang<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</SPAN></span>
to her feet and held out her hands, “Come on,
let us all dance!” and she seized Ben’s arms,
and danced him half across the old kitchen
floor.</p>
<p>“Take me, Polly!” begged Joel, who had
tumbled over himself in surprise, and now got
to his feet to run after the two spinning off so
finely.</p>
<p>“Can’t,” said Polly over her shoulder; “you
take Phronsie;” and then she began again on
the gay tune—Ben whistling away for dear
life as an accompaniment.</p>
<p>“Dave’s got her,” said Joel in great discomfiture,
turning around to see little Davie and
Phronsie’s pink calico gown flying along at a
merry rate. “I haven’t got anybody,” seeing
which Polly stopped short. “Come with us;”
and she held out her hand, and Ben grasped
Joel’s arm, and away they went till the old
kitchen rang with the fun.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="III" id="III">III.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE STORY OF THE CIRCUS.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“You see,” said Polly, “as it rains to-day,
I think we ought to have the Circus
story.”</p>
<p>“Oh! oh! oh!” cried all the Five Little
Peppers together, Ben not being ashamed to
add his shout of approval too.</p>
<p>“Do you think you really ought to, Polly?”
he asked, coming out of it, and leaving the
others in the babel of rejoicing. “Won’t you
want it more for some other time?”</p>
<p>Polly ran over and caught him by the jacket
sleeve.</p>
<p>“I really think we ought to have it to-day,
Bensie,” she whispered. “You see, they’ve
been awfully good, and it’s rained for three
days now, and you know there wasn’t enough
mush for breakfast, and Mamsie couldn’t get
any coats to do this week, ’cause Mr. Atkins<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</SPAN></span>
didn’t dare let her have any more to sew until
he’d sold what he had, and trade’s so poor.”
And Polly sighed, and wiped away two tears.
Ben turned away a moment, and swallowed
something hard that was in his throat. Polly,
at sight of this, began to laugh; and she said
gayly, “Yes, indeed, we’ll have the Circus story
now. Get your chairs, and let’s sit round in a
ring, children.”</p>
<p>With that the babel of rejoicing changed into
a scuffle for chairs and crickets, Joel protesting
that he should sit next to Polly, and Phronsie
scuttling along to crowd into Polly’s lap, till the
little old kitchen fairly rang with the noise.</p>
<p>“Let’s sit in a ring on the floor, Polly, that’s
best,” begged little David. So they all got
down, and Polly had Joel on one side and Phronsie
on the other; though to be sure everybody
was next to everybody else, as the ring was constantly
moving up closer till it was a bunch of
Five Little Peppers; and everybody looked as
if there had been plenty of breakfast, and all
sorts of good things in the Little Brown House
enough for all time to come.</p>
<p>“Now, you know, children,” said Polly, folding
her hands in her lap, and feeling quite elegant<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</SPAN></span>
to be sitting down in the morning telling
stories; and she looked at them impressively,
“I’ve promised you the Circus story for a
lo-ong time.”</p>
<p>“Yes, we know,” said Joel, hitching impatiently.
“Don’t talk, but begin.”</p>
<p>Polly shot him a reproving glance that made
him duck behind Davie, who sat next, as she
went on, “And now to-day I’m going to give it
to you. I know Mamsie’d say ’twas best, everything’s
all clean spick span;” and she glanced
with pride around the little old kitchen that
shone from top to toe.</p>
<p>“Mamsie’d like it,” cooed Phronsie; and she
patted her pink apron down and looked at Polly
to begin.</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image06">“The Circus story,” said Polly</SPAN>, beginning
with a great flourish, <SPAN href="#image06">“is about so many best
and splendid things that you must keep quite
still</SPAN> and not interrupt me a single teenty wee
bit.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image06" id="image06"> <ANTIMG src="images/image06.jpg" width-obs="492" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_46">“The circus story,” said Polly, “is about so many best and splendid things that you must keep quite still.”</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>They one and all protested that they wouldn’t
say a word. So she began, while each one sat
as still as a mouse.</p>
<p>“Way far over the top of a high mountain,”
said Polly, “so far that no one had ever been entirely<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</SPAN></span>
over it, at least to come back, lived a big
man. He was so large that he couldn’t have
found any house in all Badgertown big enough
to get into if he had tried ever and ever so
much. He had arms and legs and eyes to
match, you know, and feet and ears, so he
could take perfectly dreadfully large steps, and
he could lift as big rocks in his hands as the
one hanging over Cherry Brook. Oh, and he
could see with his big eyes that stood right out
of his face just like cannon balls, so that nothing
could hide from him, even if it tried ever so
much.”</p>
<p>Joel twisted uneasily and wriggled up nearer
to Polly’s side. “And one day the big man sat
down on a spur of the mountain and dangled
his feet down the side. This was his swing,
you know; and he always sat there when he was
thinking hard over anything, or making plans.</p>
<p>“Well, there he sat thinking—thinking away
as hard as ever he could. And pretty soon he
got up and slapped his knee, just as Mr. Tisbett
does, you know; and he roared out, ‘The very
thing—the <em>very</em> thing!’ And folks down in the
valley all ran to their windows and said it thundered,
and they drove into the barns and sheds<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</SPAN></span>
and got ready for the storm. Well, after the
big man stopped roaring ‘the very thing,’ and
slapping his knee, he looked down the mountain,
the side he lived on, you know, and the first thing
he saw was a hippo—hippo—moppi—poppicus.”
Here Polly paused to take breath. She
was very fond of long words, and it was her
great delight to wrestle with them; so now she
thought she had done very well indeed, and she
ran on in the best of spirits—“Oh, he was so
big—there isn’t anything, children, that can
tell you how big he was! Well, the big man
no sooner saw him than he ran like lightning
on his perfectly dreadfully large feet down his
side of the mountain, and he said to the hippo—pippo—poppi—moppicus—‘Here,
you, sir, put
your head in this;’ and he twitched out of one
of his side pockets a string. It was made of
leather, and was just as strong—oh, you can’t
think. Well the ‘hippo,’ I’m going to call
him that for short,” said Polly suddenly, quite
tired out, “took a good look all around, but he
saw no way of escape; and the big man kept
growing more dreadfully cross every minute he
waited, so the poor hippo at last said, ‘As you
please, sir,’ and he put his head into the string<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</SPAN></span>
and was tied fast to a big tree that was one
hundred and sixty-seven feet round. Then the
big man laughed a perfectly dreadful laugh; and
he said, when he had finished, ‘Now you are
going to the Circus, sir, and see the pennies
taken in at the door.’ Then he went off up to
his mountain-spur again.</p>
<p>“And presently he looked down his side of the
mountain again, and he spied a gre-at big snake,
oh, a beautiful one! all green and gold stripes,
and great flashing green eyes to match; for
the big man watched Mr. Snake raise his head
as he wriggled along, and he ran down his side
of the mountain on his dreadfully large feet
as quick as a flash, and stood in front of Mr.
Snake, who looked this way and that for a
chance to escape. But there was none, you
see, for the dreadfully large feet of the big
man took up all the room; so at last Mr. Snake
said in a tired-out voice, just like this: ‘If you
please, sir, would you move just a <em>very</em> little?’</p>
<p>“‘Put your head in here, sir,’ roared the big
man at him, so that the snake shook and shook
just like a leaf on one of our maple-trees in a
storm. Well, and at last he had his head with
the flashing green eyes, fast in a big bag, which<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</SPAN></span>
you must know in a twinkling the big man had
pulled out of his other side pocket, and then he
was left to go flopping and flopping around on
the ground most dismally. And then the big
man scrambled up to his mountain-side again.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Polly with a long breath, “the
next thing he saw was a gi-raffe, as much bigger
than the others as you can imagine. And he
got him fast, too, so he couldn’t get away; and
then he went up to spy out more animals. And
by the time the sun went down behind the
mountain, and he couldn’t catch any more, he
had two hundred creatures all tied fast to trees,
or with their heads in bags. And then he sat
down on a big stone to rest.”</p>
<p>“I should think he’d have to,” said Ben under
his breath.</p>
<p>Polly shot him a reproving glance, and hurried
on. “Well, after he was all rested nicely again,
he jumped up from his stone, and looked them
all in the face, that is, he looked those who
were tied to trees in the face, but those with
their heads in bags, of course he couldn’t, and
he said, ‘My friends,’ for he thought he ought
to treat them kindly, they’d been so good to
him, ‘I’m going to take you to see the world a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</SPAN></span>
little.’ Then he untied those who were tied to
the trees, and set them in a line, the hippo in
front, because he had him the longest, so it was
right to give him the first place, and the creatures
with their heads in the bags he set in the
middle, because they didn’t need to see, but
could just follow the noise of the animals stepping
in front of them, and then a long line of
more animals. Then the big man cut down
one of the large trees and switched it at the
heels of the last animal, which was a rhododendron.”</p>
<p>“O Polly!” gasped Ben.</p>
<p>“Yes ’twas,” she declared positively, with
red cheeks, “I’m quite sure of that word, for I
saw it in the book Parson Higginson lent us;
so there! Ben Pepper.”</p>
<p>“Well, never mind,” said Ben faintly; “go on
with the story, Polly.” So Polly made her
rhododendron move as swiftly as all the others
in the line; and presently the whole procession,
with the big man at its rear switching the
heels of the last animal, was at the top of the
mountain; and then he called in a loud voice,
“Come, Mr. Circus-man, and get your menaj-menaj-arie.”
Polly got over this very well, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</SPAN></span>
hurried on glibly. “And all the people who had
opened their barn-doors and houses, thinking
there was to be no storm, clapped them to
again in a fright. All except one man, and they
screamed to him that he was risking his life;
but he didn’t care, and he wouldn’t pay any attention
to them. So he poked his head out of
his doorway, and he screamed, ‘I’m going up
the mountain to see for myself if there’s going
to be a storm.’ And they all bade him good-bye,
and said they were sure they should never
see him again; and then they locked their doors,
and padlocked them, and away he ran up the
mountain.</p>
<p>“The big man was waiting for him; and he
said to his animals, ‘Now, my friends, when
that man’s head begins to show over that scrub-oak
there,’ pointing to the tree, ‘do you all
say, “How do you do, and <em>how</em> do you do, and
how do you do again.”’ So the animals said
they would; and as soon as the man’s head was
to be seen peeping over the tree-top, as he ran
pretty fast, they all said it. The Hippo roared
it, and Mr. Snake grumbled it clear down half
his length, and the rhi-rhino-cerus squealed it,
and the elephant howled it, and the”—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“What did the rhododendron do?” asked
Ben.</p>
<p>“And the guinea-pig—oh, I forgot to tell
you there was a perfectly splendid guinea-pig
in the collection,” said Polly, not taking any
notice of Ben; “and he said it big and loud
in his natural voice, and the monkey shrieked
it, and”—</p>
<p>“Oh! is there a dear sweet little monkey?”
cried Phronsie in a transport. “O Polly! I
want him to play with, I do.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, Phronsie, you can’t,” said Polly
hurrying on; “the Circus-man has to have him,
you know. Well, and oh, dear me! every single
one of those animals said, ‘How do you do, and
<em>how</em> do you do, and how do you do again.’ And
the man took one look at them and he said,
‘Pretty well, I thank you.’</p>
<p>“And the big man said, ‘You’re the man for
me; and I give all these animals to you, for you
are the only one who isn’t afraid. Now, march,
and good-by.’ And the Circus-man rubbed his
eyes and looked again, and there wasn’t any
big man; all that was left was the long line of
animals and crawling things. So down the
mountain-side the procession went. And at the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</SPAN></span>
foot there were sixteen red carts with yellow
borders, and a cunning little carriage drawn by
ever and ever so many dear sweet ponies no
bigger than dogs, and then in a minute, out
from behind the trees, came rushing as many
as a dozen, no, two dozen big horses with long
tails. And they swept up to the Circus-man to
have him scratch their noses.”</p>
<p>The Five Little Peppers now became dreadfully
excited. And Joel jumped up. “Whoop-la!”
he screamed, as he pranced around and
around the group on the floor, stepping high,
and slapping himself as he raced along. “Come
on, Dave; this is the way I’d make ’em go, all
those horses.”</p>
<p>“Polly, do you suppose we’ll ever see a Circus?”
cried little Davie with shining eyes;
“ever in all this world?”</p>
<p>“Ever in all this world?” hummed Phronsie,
while Ben set his teeth tight together and looked
at her. “Yes, indeed,” declared Polly confidently,
with eyes only for Ben. “Don’t look
so, Ben,” she cried; “we’ll see one sometime.”</p>
<p>“Polly always gets her flowers,” said little
Davie in a moment, in a reflective way.</p>
<p>“And if we don’t ever get to see a really,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</SPAN></span>
truly Circus,” cried Polly impulsively, “we can
hear all about it same’s we have already from
Mr. and Mrs. Beebe. So just think what those
children must have to do, who don’t ever have
anybody to tell them about it as we have.”
She folded her hands in her lap and was lost in
thought.</p>
<p>“Whoop-la! Whoopity-la! G’lang!” cried
Joel with an awful noise, making his steeds put
forth all their best paces, around the little old
kitchen. “And I’m so glad,” Polly was saying,
“that Mr. and Mrs. Beebe did see a Circus when
they went down to Rockport; it’s the greatest
comfort. Now, if you don’t stop, Joel, I can’t
tell the rest of the story;” “and you make
so much noise we can’t hear anything,” said
Ben.</p>
<p>So Joel gave up slapping his imaginary beasts,
and bounded into the middle of the group again,
and the little old kitchen quieting down, Polly
took up the story once more.</p>
<p>“Well, but you ought to have seen the big
white tent that was really the home of all the
animals and crawling things, when they actually
got home and staid still,” exclaimed Polly,
starting off. “Oh! it was quite magnificent, I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</SPAN></span>
can tell you. It was as big as the church-green,
and it had a great flag on top that swung out in
the breeze at every bit of wind, and there were
rows and rows of seats all around it in a ring,
and down in the middle was the place where the
horses danced, and”—</p>
<p>“Like this?” whooped Joel, breaking away
again from the bunch of Five Little Peppers on
the floor. But Ben picked him by the jacket
sleeve and made him sit down suddenly. “Hold
on, there,” he said; “you keep still, Joe, you’re
worse than a tornado. Go on, Polly, I’ll hold
him,” as Polly laughed and hurried on.</p>
<p>“One day they were having a beautiful time;
the band that always rode in the red wagon
with the yellow wheels, was playing away, oh,
such lovely music!” sighed Polly; “and the big
tent was just crammed full of people, and the
horses were dancing, and everybody was just as
happy as could be, when a great big man, oh, his
head was almost up to the top of the tent when
he stood up straight, came up to the door and
stooped down and peeked in.</p>
<p>“‘Go right away!’ screamed the door-man at
him as cross as he could be.</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image07">“‘Where’s the Circus-man?’ asked the great </SPAN><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</SPAN></span>
<SPAN href="#image07">big man</SPAN>, and he kept peeking in. ‘I sha’n’t go
till I’ve seen the Circus-man.’</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image07" id="image07"> <ANTIMG src="images/image07.jpg" width-obs="527" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_56">“Where’s the Circus-man?” asked the great big man.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“So somebody had to run and get the Circus-man;
and they made him stop, although he was
just in the midst of showing off the monkey
who was having a waltz on the back of the biggest
elephant; and he was pretty cross, and he
marched up to the great big man, and he pretended
not to know him; and he said very<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</SPAN></span>
sharply, ‘Go right off; you’re making a perfectly
dreadful noise, and you haven’t paid, and
you can’t go in.’</p>
<p>“‘Don’t you know me, Mr. Circus-man?’
cried the great big man; and he stood up quite
straight, and his eyes, that stuck out like two
cannon balls, stared at him.</p>
<p>“‘Go right away!’ said the Circus-man angrily.
‘I never saw you before in all my life; or
I’ll set the dogs on you,’ and he snapped his
whip.</p>
<p>“‘Oh, I’ll go,’ said the great big man. ‘Good-by,
Mr. Circus-man; the next time you come up
to my mountain you needn’t stop to see me.
Come every single one of you beasts and beastesses,
and reptiles and reptilesses, and animals;
it’s time to go home,’ he roared. And everybody
inside the big tent screamed that it thundered,
and that they’d all be killed, and the
elephant knocked the monkey off from his back,
and the big snake slipped out, and the rhinoceros
jumped over the heads of the children
who were giving him peanuts, and the hippo
ran, and”—</p>
<p>“And the rhododendron,” said Ben—“what
did he do? Don’t forget him, Polly.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“And the gi-raffe,” said Polly, with a cold
shoulder for Ben, “and all of them, they just
ran and jumped and skipped and hopped and
wriggled out of that tent, and the great big
man was going off on his perfectly dreadfully
large feet, till he was miles away in a few
minutes; and off they all hurried, every single
one of them, after him; and although the Circus-man
chased and chased and <em>chased</em> after them,
he never could catch them. And that’s all,”
said Polly, leaning back quite exhausted.</p>
<p>“Well, well!” exclaimed Mother Pepper,
coming in suddenly upon the absorbed little
group; “now, that looks comfortable,” and her
face lighted up and she beamed at Polly.</p>
<p>“O Mamsie!” screamed every one of the
bunch, as they sprang to their feet and surrounded
her.</p>
<p>“There was a sweet dear little monkey,”
cried Phronsie stumbling up, dreadfully excited
“and a gre-at big man. Take me, Mamsie,”
and she snuggled up to Mother Pepper’s wet
gown.</p>
<p>“Take care, child,” cried Mrs. Pepper, hungry
to get her baby to her heart; “mother’s all wet.
There, there, Polly, Mr. Atkins let me take the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</SPAN></span>
umbrella, so I did very well; I’ve set it in the
Provision Room; that’s a good girl,” as Polly
took off the big shawl and hung it up to dry.</p>
<p>“Now, Ben and you boys run and put some
more wood in the stove, do,” cried Polly; “oh,
I do so wish you had some tea, Mamsie!” and
her face clouded over, and the corners of her
mouth drooped.</p>
<p>“It’s better than tea, to see all you children,”
cried Mamsie brightly. But nobody dared ask
her if she had any coats and sacks to sew; for
there wasn’t any big bundle, and Polly sighed
and looked at Ben.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="IV" id="IV">IV.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE LITTLE TIN SOLDIERS.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“You must know,” said Polly, “that they
had cake every day, little cunning ones,
and Sundays they had pink on top of ’em.”</p>
<p>Nobody spoke. At last Joel managed to ask,
sitting on the edge of his chair, “On every single
one of the cakes, Polly Pepper?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly decidedly; “every single
one of ’em Joey.”</p>
<p>“Not <em>every</em> Sunday?” asked Joel incredulously.</p>
<p>“Yes, every single Sunday; as surely as Sunday
came around,” declared Polly in her most
decisive fashion. “They didn’t miss once.”</p>
<p>“Now, I know you aren’t telling us true
things,” cried Joel in a loud, insistent tone;
“’cause no one ever has cake every day, and
pink on top every Sunday. So there, Polly
Pepper!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Of course I’m not telling you true, live
things,” retorted Polly in her gayest tone; “I’m
making ’em up out of my head as I go along.
And a person could have cake every day with
pink on top of ’em, if there was enough to go
around.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” sighed little Davie, clasping his hands
with a long sigh.</p>
<p>Phronsie never took her eyes from Polly’s
face, but she said not a word.</p>
<p>“If you keep interrupting all the while, Joe,
Polly can’t get on with her story,” said <SPAN href="#image08">Ben</SPAN>,
who <SPAN href="#image08">was mending Mother Pepper’s washboard</SPAN>
over in the corner, with one ear out for the narration
proceeding under such difficulties.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image08" id="image08"> <ANTIMG src="images/image08.jpg" width-obs="540" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_62">Ben was mending Mother Pepper’s washboard.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Well, go on,” said Joel ungraciously, his
mouth watering for the cake with pink on
top; “but I don’t b’lieve Johnny ever had all
that, every day and Sunday.”</p>
<p>“Well, you must believe it,” said Polly, shaking
her brown head at him; “or I’m not going
to sit here telling you stories. Joey Pepper,
you must act as if you believed every single
word I say, else you won’t be polite.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’ll believe it,” exclaimed Joel in alarm
at the thought of Polly’s stories ceasing. “I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</SPAN></span>
wish I had some of the cake with the pink on
top, now, I do. Tell on, Polly.”</p>
<p>“And I,” said Phronsie putting out a little
hand; “I wish I had some too, Polly, I do.”</p>
<p>“Well, we haven’t any of us got any,” said
Polly. “But I’ll tell you all about Johnny’s.
Sit still, Pet, you joggle me so I can’t sew
straight; and these seams must be done before
Mamsie gets home, else she’ll sit up to-night
to do ’em.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Polly was stitching away on one of the sacks
that Mrs. Pepper had promised Mr. Atkins she
would take down to the store on the morrow,
her needle rushing in and out briskly; and she
glanced up at the old clock. “Oh, dear me!
if I don’t hurry, I sha’n’t get to the time when
Johnny’s little tin soldiers ran.”</p>
<p>“Oh—whoppity—la!” screamed Joel in a
transport, forgetting how his mouth watered
for the pink-topped cakes; “tell about the
soldiers, Polly; tell about them.”</p>
<p>“Well, I can’t if you keep interrupting
me all the time, Joel,” said Polly; “I was just
going to, when you stopped me about the
cakes.”</p>
<p>“That’s just it,” said Ben over his shoulder.
“I wouldn’t tell him a single thing, if
he goes on like that. Take my advice, Polly,
and don’t promise him another story.”</p>
<p>But Polly was already launched into her
gayest and best narration; and Joel slipped off
from his chair-edge to the floor, where he
snuggled up against her feet, his head on her
knees, Phronsie longing to do the same thing;
but remembering what Polly had said about
sewing Mamsie’s seams, she sat up very<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</SPAN></span>
straight in her chair, and folded her hands in
her lap.</p>
<p>“Did Johnny have tin soldiers too?” asked
David, in an awe-struck tone.</p>
<p>“Of course, child,” said Polly, with a little
laugh. “Why, he had a big house full of
just <em>everything</em>.”</p>
<p>“Make Dave stop talking,” said Joel irritably;
“we can’t hear anything. Do go on
about the soldiers, Polly; you said you
would.”</p>
<p>“Now, the first one of you children that says
a word,” said Polly merrily, “will have to go
out into the Provision Room and stay till I
finish this story. I never shall get through at
this rate; now remember.”</p>
<p>“Good for you, Polly.” Ben bobbed his approval,
and set in two or three nails with smart
little taps of his hammer.</p>
<p>“Well, Johnny made up his mind that his
tin soldiers had too easy a time, because there
hadn’t been anybody to fight, you know, for
one thing, Johnny being off for three days
fishing with the Mullen boy who lived next
door, and too busy to get up a battle with any
one; and so things had got to be pretty easy.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</SPAN></span>
And the tin soldiers were just as lazy as could
be; and some of them, don’t you think, were
lying on their backs on the closet shelf; and
one had even rolled off, and was having a nap
down in the corner where he thought nobody
could see him.”</p>
<p>“‘Wake up there!’ hallooed Johnny, flinging
wide the closet door very suddenly.
‘There’s going to be a big battle. Attention—Get
ready—Form!’”</p>
<p>“Ugh—ugh!”—grunted Joel, starting up.
Then he clapped his two brown hands over
his mouth and sat down again.</p>
<p>Polly ran on, with an approving smile at him.
“And then Johnny saw the poor little fellow
fast asleep in the corner.” Here she caught
sight of Phronsie opening her mouth; and she
hastened to add, “And he picked him up and
set him straight. ‘Now, fall into line, my
men!’ he shouted at them; and before anybody
knew just how, there they were, every<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</SPAN></span>
single little tin soldier out in the garden under
the grape-vine arbor and”—</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image09" id="image09"> <ANTIMG src="images/image09a.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="142" alt="The little tin soldiers (left)." title="The little tin soldiers (left)." /> <br/> <ANTIMG src="images/image09b.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="150" alt="The little tin soldiers (right)." title="The little tin soldiers (right)." /></SPAN></div>
<p>“Ugh—ugh—<em>ee</em>!” cried Joel explosively.
Then he ducked, and came up red and shining,
his lips tightly pressed together.</p>
<p>“You’re such a good boy, Josey!” exclaimed
Polly. “Now, you see how perfectly elegant
it is to tell stories without having to stop
every minute to explain things. Well, and
there were Jack Mullen’s wooden soldiers all
standing up to fight, with Jack as proud and
stiff as he could be, back of them. They
weren’t as nice as Johnny’s, because, you see,
Jack had left his out in the rain the night
his mother gave a party—he forgot to take
’em in—and the paint was all washed off, and
one soldier had his legs chipped off a bit
where Jack’s little cousin had tried his new
knife on it, so he went lame; and another one
had his gun smashed where it got stepped on
by the hired man when Jack dropped it in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</SPAN></span>
barn one day. But they were brave as they could
be, and there they were all ranged up in battle-array
when Johnny brought out his soldiers.</p>
<p>“‘Hoh-hoh-hoh!’ cried Johnny, prancing
along, driving his soldiers down the path; their
swords and guns were clanking, and they looked
so smart in their scarlet coats and caps with the
nodding plumes. ‘My men can beat yours any
day, Jack Mullen!’</p>
<p>“‘You’ll see,’ cried Jack, firing up. ‘Let’s
get ’em to work, that’s all I say;’ and he stuck
his hands in his pockets, and laughed long and
loud.</p>
<p>“Johnny went around among his men, and
whispered something in each ear. It sounded
like ‘cakes;’ and then every soldier nodded
real pleased, and smacked his lips, and”—</p>
<p>Here there was tremendous excitement among
the children, but Polly pretended not to see it;
and only stopping to bite off her thread, she
hurried on, “And suddenly Johnny screamed,
‘Wait a minute,’ and off he dashed and ran
into the kitchen. ‘Jane—Jane! I must have
sixteen—no, seventeen cakes to-day. Make
’em big, Jane, and put pink on top, same as my
Sunday ones.’”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“<em>Gee!</em>” screamed Joel. But Davie, in alarm
lest Joe should be sent off to the Provision
Room and just in the most splendid part of the
story, jumped off from his chair, and flung his
arms around him in distress.</p>
<p>“‘Hurry up!’ roared Jack after him; ‘else
I’ll begin the battle, and shoot every one of
your men’s heads off. Bang—Bang!’” Here
Polly put down the big sack a minute, and thrust
up an imaginary gun to her shoulder to show
exactly how Jack Mullen looked. Ben dropped
the washboard, and came out of his corner to
look at her.</p>
<p>“And sure enough,” said Polly, with kindling
eyes, “he was at it when Johnny got back, red
and breathless, from his run from the kitchen.
So of course his tin soldiers had a perfectly
awful time from the very beginning. Oh, you
can’t think, children, how they did have to fight!
And don’t you believe they were crowded off
inch by inch down that perfectly beautiful garden-path
under the grape-vine arbor, until there
was only one little corner to stand on for a place
of defence. And the guns banged, and the cannon
roared, and the smoke was so thick you could
cut it with a knife, and in and through it all<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</SPAN></span>
were the scarlet coats and caps with the nodding
plumes of the little tin soldiers. And
every one of ’em was as brave as could be, and
saying ‘cakes’ to himself. But there must
come an end, and”—</p>
<p>Joel was just going to scream “No—no!—don’t
let it come to an end, Polly,” when he
remembered in time; and she ran on gayly,
“And Johnny was hopping up and down, feeling
dreadfully but trying to get up a last charge,
and Jack was screaming, ‘We’ve beaten you—hurrah
for my men!’ when a dozen boys
jumped over the fence, and dashed right into
the battle-field.</p>
<p>“‘The circus-carts are coming down this
street,’ screamed every single one of ’em;
‘come on!’</p>
<p>“The tin soldiers, of course, supposed, in the
din of battle and all that dreadful smoke, that a
terrible charge from the wooden soldiers had
come, set on by those perfectly dreadful boys;
and the wooden soldiers thought that the boys
were helping the tin soldiers; so each side
started to run away from the other; and the tin
soldiers ran the fastest because they were thinner
and lighter, so they didn’t find out their<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</SPAN></span>
mistake until too late, and they all fell into the
fish-pond at the bottom of the garden. Meanwhile,
after Johnny and Jack had climbed the
fence and were off at the corner of the street
with the twelve boys, Jane came out with seventeen
little cakes with pink on top, and not finding
any one, she placed the tray on the seat
under the grape-vine. And the black cat, the
largest one at Johnny’s house, you know, the
one with the green eyes, came stepping softly
up, and smelt them all over. Then she yowed
for the neighbor’s gray cat, with whom she was
quite sociable, and they ate them all up, every
crumb.”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="V" id="V">V.</SPAN><br/> <small>CHRISTMAS AT THE BIG HOUSE.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“You must know, children,” said Polly,
most impressively, “that there was to
be a Christmas at the Big House.”</p>
<p>“Christmas!” Each of the three younger
Peppers, “the children,” as Polly and Ben
called them, set up a shout at the magic word.
Ben set his teeth together hard, and listened.
No one of them had ever seen a Christmas, or
knew in the least what it was like, only from
what Jasper had told them. And now Polly was
to draw from her imagination, and give them a
story-Christmas. No wonder at the babel that
ensued.</p>
<p>“The Big House,” began Polly, “had ever
and ever so many windows and doors to it, and
it set back from the street; and there was a
road up for the carriages, and another for folks
to walk up—oh, and there were lots of children<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</SPAN></span>
that belonged to the house, as many as we are,”
and Polly glanced around on the bunch of little
Peppers. “Well, you know the Big House had
always had a Christmas every year whenever it
came around; they had hung up their stockings
and had trees, just like what Jasper told us of;
and all sorts of nice things they’d tried time
and again, so what to do this Christmas, why,
none of them could think. At last Jenny, she
was the biggest girl, proposed that each child
should write out what he or she wanted to do
most of all, and not let any one else see what
was written, but fold the paper, and tuck it into
Grandpapa’s white hat in the hall. Grandpapa
always wore a tall white hat whenever he went
out, and when he was at home the hat stood on
its head on the hall-table. And no one was
ever allowed to touch that hat. So the children
knew it would be a perfectly safe place to drop
the papers in; and then, when all were in, even
the baby’s, because Jenny would write hers for
Mehitable, that was the baby’s name, why
Grandpapa would take the hat, and turn out all
the papers and read them, and decide what they
better do in order to keep Christmas. Well,
every single child in the Big House had written<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</SPAN></span>
on his paper, and put it carefully into Grandpapa’s
big white hat, and <SPAN href="#image10">Grandpapa had taken
out all the papers</SPAN>; the children had seen him as
they peeked out of the door into the hall, and
then he went away into another room and shut
himself in.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image10" id="image10"> <ANTIMG src="images/image10.jpg" width-obs="568" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_74">Grandpapa had taken out all the papers.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“‘Children,’ he said, as at
last, after what
seemed to them
a perfect age, he
opened his door and
came out, ‘we will
have a tree this
Christmas’; then he laughed, and held up seven
papers—for you must know that besides the
five children who always and every day lived at
the Big House, there were two cousins, a girl
and a boy, who were visiting there. ‘Every<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</SPAN></span>
single paper,’ declared Grandpapa, as soon as
he could speak, ‘had “Tree” written across it.’</p>
<p>“Well, you see by that, the children were
not tired of Christmas trees, and as soon as
Grandpapa told them that they were to have
one, they were quite satisfied; although Jenny
did say that if she had known every one else
had chosen it, she would have written some
other thing on her paper. But that didn’t
make any difference now, and what they all
had to do was to get ready; and the next day
found the whole Big House in—oh, such a
bustle! You would think they never had gotten
a tree ready for Christmas in all their lives,
there was such a fuss made. In the first place,
Grandpapa had to go out and speak to a man
to send up into the country and get him a big
spruce-tree of good shape, not long and spindling,
but stout and with a pointed tip; for the
Big House was in the city, and of course no city
trees could be cut down without folks being put
into jail for it. And then everybody had to sit
down and count up the money they had to spend;
and if that wasn’t enough, they had to go to the
bank and draw out some more; that is, the big
folks did. And as the children were emptying<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</SPAN></span>
their banks to see how much they had, Grandpapa
came up behind them, and dropped a gold
dollar into each one’s pile.”</p>
<p>It was impossible for the Five Little Peppers
to keep still at that; but after they were quiet
once more, Polly occasioned a fresh outburst by
saying, “And then Grandmamma came up behind
them, and she dropped a gold dollar on
each pile too.”</p>
<p>“Polly,” cried little Davie, quite overcome,
“did they have the tree too?”</p>
<p>“Yes, child,” said Polly; “and dear me, lots
of other things too—a big Christmas dinner
for one thing.”</p>
<p>“O Polly!” cried Joel, “turkey and pudding?”</p>
<p>“O my, yes—and candy, and raisins, and
everything,” declared Polly; “with flowers in
the middle of the table.”</p>
<p>“And roast beef and fixings?” Ben for the
life of him could not help asking this.</p>
<p>“Yes—yes,” answered Polly. “You can’t
think of anything that those children didn’t
have at that Christmas dinner. But I must
tell you about the tree. Well, you must see it
took a great while to get everything ready;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</SPAN></span>
besides the things that Jenny and her cousin
Mary, and Jenny’s brother Tom, and his cousin
Edward were making, there were ever so many
presents to buy; and to get these, all the children
had to go to the shops with Grandmamma
and Grandpapa and with each other, and then
they had to hide them in all the out-of-the-way
places they could, so that no one would find
them until they were hanging on the Christmas
tree. Oh, there was just everything to do;
and the day before Christmas they all went to
the shops for the last things that had been
forgotten till then. It had snowed the night
before; but it was sunny and cheery on this
afternoon, and the walks had a little bit of snow,
too hard to clear off nicely, and just enough to
slide on, when the procession came out of the
Big House, and turned down the street where
the shops were. Everybody was out buying
things. They had little bags of money dangling
by their sides, only some held their purses
in their hands, and kept looking at them to be
sure they were there—but oh, the shops!”</p>
<p>“Tell about them,” begged all the other Peppers
together. “Tell every single thing that
was in them,” said Joel.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh! I can’t begin to tell half that was in
those shops,” laughed Polly merrily. “Mercy
me, Joey, there was just everything there,—drums
and tin soldiers, and little boxes that had
music shut up in ’em, and dolls and jews-harps,
and mittens and comforters, and trains of cars,
and candy and flowers, and birds in cages, and
oh, boots and shoes and books and oh—just
<em>everything</em>!” Polly brought up suddenly with a
gasp, being quite tired out.</p>
<p>“Go on,” urged Joel breathlessly.</p>
<p>“She can’t—there’s too many things,” said
Ben. “Never mind going over them; just tell
what the folks did, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Well, you see, the children each wanted
Grandmamma and Grandpapa to help them
choose things that all the others were not to
see,” said Polly; “and Grandmamma and Grandpapa
couldn’t go in seven places at once; so at
last one of them, it was Tom, thought of a plan.
It was to rush off himself and choose something,
and then come running back down the shop-length;
and when the others all saw him
coming, they were to hurry away from Grandmamma
and Grandpapa, and let him whisper
what it was into their ears so nobody else heard,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</SPAN></span>
and ‘Would you?’ and then if Grandmamma and
Grandpapa said ‘Yes,’ away Tom would rush
and buy it, whatever it was. So all the other
children tried the very same plan; and don’t you
believe when they asked ‘Would you?’ Grandmamma
and Grandpapa always said ‘Yes, my
dear.’ They did every single time.</p>
<p>“Well, and finally they came out of the last
shop, and the lamps in the street were being
lighted, and the snow under their feet shone
and creaked as they stepped, and every one of
the children would have slidden, if their arms
had not been full of bundles clear up to their
chins. And Grandpapa laughed, and said they
ought to have brought an express wagon; and
Grandmamma said, ‘Oh, no! she wouldn’t have
them sent home if she could, it was so nice to
carry bundles.’ And everybody they met had
big and little white paper parcels; and people
knocked into each other, the streets were so
crowded and the bundles stuck out so; and so
finally they got home, and all the bundles were
put in one big room where the tree was; and
the door was locked, and Grandmamma put the
key in her black silk pocket.</p>
<p>“Well, in the middle of the night when that<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</SPAN></span>
big house was still as could be, all the children
were asleep in their beds, something came softly
over the roof, and stopped right by the chimney.
There was just a little tinkle-tinkle, like the
noise Mrs. Henderson’s cow makes when she
shakes her bell; and then a paw-paw, just like
one of Mr. Tisbett’s horses when he puts his
foot down quietly, the gray one, I mean; and
somebody said, ‘Hush, there, you’ll wake up
the folks;’ and before anybody could think, up
springs something, with a big pack on his back,
and down he goes right through the chimney.”</p>
<p>“I know, I know!” screamed Joel and David
together; “it’s Santy Claus!”</p>
<p>“It’s Santy!” hummed Phronsie dreadfully
excited. “Oh! I want to see him, Polly, I do.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps you will sometime, Phronsie, if you
are a good girl,” Polly made haste to answer.
“But never mind now, Pet, I must go on with
the story.”</p>
<p>“Well, it was Santa Claus who hopped down
the chimney with his pack on his back, and Mrs.
Santa Claus sat in the sleigh and held the reins.
And he went into every room, and looked at
each sleeping child; and he could tell by its
face whether he had been good or bad.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“And had they?” cried Joel eagerly. “Say,
Polly, oh, make them be good! and did Santa
Claus give them a lot of presents?”</p>
<p>“Most of the children had been good,” said
Polly; “but there was one, and he had been
bad, very bad indeed. He had eaten up his
brother’s piece of cake; and then he had cried
and screamed for more, and made everybody
unhappy. And Santa Claus stood over his
bed and said, ‘Poor child.’”</p>
<p>“And didn’t he get any presents from Santa
Claus?” cried Joel. “Do let him have a little
bit of a present, Polly;” and he stuck his fingers
in his eyes, trying not to cry.</p>
<p>“Why, how could he?” cried Polly, “when
he had been bad, Joey?”</p>
<p>“P’raps he—he won’t—won’t eat up his
brother’s cake any more?” mumbled <SPAN href="#image11">Joel</SPAN>, in
great distress. Then he broke down, and <SPAN href="#image11">laid
his head in Polly’s lap, and burst out crying.</SPAN></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image11" id="image11"> <ANTIMG src="images/image11.jpg" width-obs="574" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_81">Joel laid his head in Polly’s lap and burst out crying.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Joel—Joel!” cried Polly, shaking his arm,
“it’s only a story. Stop, Joey, you’ll make
Phronsie cry.”</p>
<p>“But I want—want that boy to get a present
from Santa Claus,” sobbed Joel, unable to
be comforted.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Do fix it some way,” whispered Ben over
Polly’s shoulder. “Phronsie is beginning now.”
And so she was. She had gravely insisted on
getting into Polly’s lap; and now she hid her
face on Polly’s arm, while soft little sobs shook
her figure.</p>
<p>“Dear me!” cried Polly aghast, “was there
ever such a time! Children, now stop, both of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</SPAN></span>
you. I’ll tell you what Santa Claus did. He
looked at Teddy sleeping there; and he said to
himself, ‘Now, I’ll give this boy something to
make him good, even if he is bad now. And
then, if he keeps on being bad, why, he must give
it back to me next Christmas; and besides, I’ll
have a rod for him.’ So he slipped a toy in
Teddy’s stocking and”—</p>
<p>“And was he good?” cried Joel, thrusting
his head up quickly, and wiping his wet face on
Polly’s gown.</p>
<p>“Yes; oh, you can’t think how good Teddy
was all through that year!” said Polly happily.
“His mother called him ‘Little Comfort,’ and
his father said he was a little man.”</p>
<p>“That’s nice,” said Joel, smiling through his
tears.</p>
<p>Phronsie, when she saw that Joel was all
right, and that no one else was crying, lifted
up her head from Polly’s arm, and laughed
gleefully. So on Polly ran with the story.</p>
<p>“Well, and after Santa Claus had gone, for
you know he had so many other children to go
to see, and it was pink all over the sky, and the
children were out of bed; why, it was the hardest
thing to keep them out of that room where<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</SPAN></span>
the tree was. And that day, oh, it was the
very longest in all the days of the year! But
at last it was night; and then the candles on the
tree were all lighted, oh! I guess there were
two hundred of them; and they gleamed out
such a sparkling brightness, just like little
stars, and”—</p>
<p>“Two hundred candles, Polly!” cried every
one.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly; “I surely believe there
were two hundred candles, all lighted and winking
away on that beautiful tree; and somebody,
the children’s mother I believe, played on the
piano, and everybody marched in line, and the
big door was thrown open, and there, with its
tip almost to the top of the room, was the most
beautiful tree; and every branch was crowded
with presents, and everybody got what was most
wanted, and there were flowers everywhere. Oh!
and a little bird sang—they’d put the cage at
the bottom of the tree, because it was too heavy
for the branches; and there sat Dicky-bird, his
black eyes as big as could be, and he was
stretching his throat and singing at the top of
his voice. And then everybody took hold of
hands, and danced around and around that most<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</SPAN></span>
beautiful tree a whole hour I guess, and Santa
Claus all the while was peeking in at the window.
You see, he goes around the next night
as soon as it gets dark, to see how the children
like his presents. O children,” and Polly
glanced out of the window, “if here doesn’t
come Mrs. Beebe!”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="VI" id="VI">VI.</SPAN><br/> <small>MR. FATHER KANGAROO AND THE FAT LITTLE BIRD.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">Phronsie was wailing dismally, sitting up
in the middle of the old bed. Her face
pricked, she said; and she was rubbing it vigorously
with both fat little hands, and then crying
worse than ever.</p>
<p>“O me—O my!”—cried Polly; “how you
look, Phronsie!”</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image12">“I want my Mamsie!” cried poor Phronsie.</SPAN></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image12" id="image12"> <ANTIMG src="images/image12.jpg" width-obs="545" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_86">“I want my Mamsie!” cried poor Phronsie.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>But Mamsie couldn’t come. She was sewing
away for dear life, to keep the wolf from the
door. So Polly curled up on the bed beside
Phronsie, and fed her mouthfuls of the toast,
with its unwonted richness—the sweet butter
that Mrs. Henderson, the parson’s wife, sent
over—while she told the doings of all the
chickens in the Hendersons’ hen-coop; then
gayly launched off into other stories. And this
is one of the stories she told:—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“You must know,” began Polly briskly, as
Phronsie leaned back against the pillow, the
last morsel of toast despatched, “that the children
had never seen a kangaroo, and—keep
your toes in bed Phronsie;” and Polly jumped
off the bed, and gave a quick pull at the bed-clothes,
“oh, dear me! or the dreadful old
measles will catch ’em.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Phronsie pulled in her fat little toes where
she had stuck them out from the edge of the
patched bed-quilt, and huddled them under her
in terror. “They’re so hot, Polly,” she wailed.
“Oh, dear! will the dreadful things catch ’em?
Will they, Polly?” hugging Polly around the
neck.</p>
<p>“Not if you keep ’em in bed, child,” said
Polly, patting the little bunch under the bed-quilt
reassuringly; “there, stretch ’em out,
Phronsie; there won’t anything hurt ’em if you
keep ’em in bed.”</p>
<p>“Won’t they, Polly?” asked Phronsie fearfully,
still huddling up in a heap.</p>
<p>“No, no! Come on, Mister Toes,” sang Polly
gayly, pulling at them. “Doctor said you mustn’t
get cold, or the measles would run in. There,
that’s all right,” as Phronsie’s toes came down
again; “now everything’s just splendid, and I’ll
go on about my lovely kangaroo. He”—</p>
<p>“They’re so hot,” sighed Phronsie, wriggling
all her toes; “and they prick, Polly—they
do”—</p>
<p>“Well, we can’t help that,” said Polly; “you
see, that’s the measles. And I suppose the kangaroo
had prickly toes too, sometimes, Phronsie.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</SPAN></span>
Now I’m going to get up on the bed again, and
hold your hand, and then we’ll hear all about
him.” So Polly hopped up beside Phronsie, and
took her hot little hand in both of her bigger
ones, and began again. “You see he”—</p>
<p>“Please don’t let him have the—the”—broke
in Phronsie, turning her flushed face
eagerly toward Polly’s on the pillow, “don’t
Polly,” she begged.</p>
<p>“Have the what?” cried Polly, racking her
brains to think what she could do with her kangaroo.
She must tell Phronsie a good story
about him. “Well, I’ve seen the picture of
him in the minister’s book, and I guess I can
make up something about him that she’ll like.</p>
<p>“What is it that you want me not to do to
him, Phronsie?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Don’t let him have—th—these—things—like
mine?” pleaded Phronsie, the tears coming
into the brown eyes. And despite all her efforts,
she wriggled her toes, and cried, “Oh, it pricks
so, Polly,” burrowing down deep in the old bed,
and rubbing her chubby face.</p>
<p>“Oh, he sha’n’t have the measles!” cried
Polly; “and you mustn’t do so, Phronsie,” all
in one breath. And pulling Phronsie up against<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</SPAN></span>
the pillow again, Polly seized both of the little
fat hands and held them close. “There, there,
just hear all about my lovely kangaroo, Phronsie;
why, he ran into the forest, and he carried
all the little bits of kangarooses in a bag with
him.”</p>
<p>“Did he have a bag?” asked Phronsie. And
she let her hands stay quite still in Polly’s
clasp, and the two tears on her round cheeks
ran down on the old quilt unheeded.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed; a big bag that hung down in
front of him, and whenever he called, all his
little children kangarooses would run and hop,
and jump into that bag.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” screamed Phronsie delightedly.</p>
<p>“Yes, and then the old father kangaroo would
peek over the edge of the bag and say, ‘Lie
still, my children, and don’t kick each other;’
and then he”—</p>
<p>“Did he tie it?” asked Phronsie anxiously,
and poking up her head to peer into Polly’s
face. “Please don’t let him tie it tight, Polly.”</p>
<p>“No; he couldn’t tie it,” said Polly, “because
you see there were no strings to his bag.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said Phronsie, sinking back very
much relieved.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“He gripped the edges together fast, and—but
the little kangarooses had cunning little
places they could stick their noses out,” she
hastened to add, as she caught sight of Phronsie’s
face. “Oh! they liked it ever so much.
And then the old father kangaroo would run—oh,
such dreadful big steps he would take,
Phronsie, you can’t think, as big as all across
this bed in one hop!”</p>
<p>Phronsie’s eyes widened delightedly, and she
gave a long sigh of content.</p>
<p>“Tell me some more,” she begged.</p>
<p>“Well, one day Mr. Father Kangaroo was
out in the forest getting dinner. He had short
little wee feet in front, and he couldn’t walk
very fast you see. And”—</p>
<p>“Where was the mother kan—what was it,
Polly?” interrupted Phronsie. “Tell me, Polly,
do.”</p>
<p>“Kangaroo? Oh, she was in the house,
working away. You see, with so many children-kangarooses,
Phronsie, there was lots and
lots to do,” said Polly, growing quite desperate
at the thought of Mother Pepper sewing out
there in the old kitchen, and all the dishes not
yet washed, and everything else at a standstill.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</SPAN></span>
“Now, you lie still, and perhaps you’ll go to
sleep while I tell the rest.”</p>
<p>“I can’t go to sleep,” said Phronsie, putting
up her lip sorrowfully.</p>
<p>“Never mind,” said Polly merrily; “don’t try.—Oh,
where was I?”</p>
<p>“You said Father Kangaroo went off to get
some dinner,” said Phronsie, concluding not to
cry.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes,—well, you see, they hadn’t any of
them had any breakfast. Just think of that,
Phronsie, and you’ve had toast and elegant
butter;” and Polly’s mouth watered, for she
hadn’t tasted any of the little pat that Mrs.
Henderson sent.</p>
<p>“Hadn’t they?” asked Phronsie sadly.</p>
<p>“No, not a single bite. Well, Father Kangaroo
just stalked off, that is, he hopped with
great big hops, for he knew he had to get some
dinner, else the little bits of kangarooses would
starve to death. And pretty soon he came
right into the very middle of the forest; and
there under the trees, in the midst of a bramble-bush,
lay a little bird,—Oh, such a cunning
little bird, you can’t think, Phronsie, so
fat and juicy!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh, don’t let Mr. Father Kangaroo catch
the little bird, Polly!” screamed Phronsie in
terror; and springing up she seized Polly’s neck
with both hands, and burst into tears.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me, what shall I do?” cried Polly
in despair, and cuddling her up. “No, he
sha’n’t eat the bird, Phronsie;
now stop crying
this minute,
the kangaroo
sha’n’t eat
him, I say. I’ll
make the little
bird go home
with him, and sing to the children kangarooses—there—there—now,
says I, we’ll lie down
again.”</p>
<p>So she patted and tucked Phronsie in again
under the clothes, and wiped her face dry with
the old soft handkerchief Mamsie had left under
the pillow, and then she began once more.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Deary me, where was I?—Oh, I know, I
was going to have the little bird go home with
Mr. Father Kangaroo.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Phronsie happily; “you were
going to, Polly.”</p>
<p>“So <SPAN href="#image13">Mr. Father Kangaroo</SPAN> looked sharply at
the fat little bird lying there in the middle of
the bramble-bush; and he <SPAN href="#image13">asked, ‘What’s the
matter down there</SPAN>, little bird?’</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image13" id="image13"> <ANTIMG src="images/image13.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="452" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_94">“What’s the matter down there?” asked Mr. Kangaroo.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“And the little bird cocked up one eye at
him just like this,” said Polly, suiting the
action to the word.</p>
<p>Phronsie poked up her yellow head to see, and
smiled gleefully.</p>
<p>“And the little bird piped out, ‘Oh Mr. big
Kangaroo-man, I can’t get out.’”</p>
<p>“Oh, make him help him, Polly,” cried Phronsie
very much excited, and pulling her hands
out of Polly’s to clasp them together tightly.
“Do, Polly, quick!”</p>
<p>“Yes; indeed I will, Pet. So Mr. Father
Kangaroo leaned over the bramble-bush, and
roared in a big voice, ‘Here, I’ll hold the brambles
away with my paws, and you can jump into
my bag.’”</p>
<p>“Oh, oh!” screamed Phronsie in delight.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</SPAN></span>
“And he did, and up jumped the little fat bird,”
said Polly, tossing her hands out with a whir;
“and in he came flopping oh, so quickly, into
the big bag of Mr. Father Kangaroo. ’Twas
just as nice, Phronsie, oh, you can’t think!”</p>
<p>“’Twas just as nice,” cooed Phronsie happily;
“the little bird in the big bag. Tell some more,
Polly, do.”</p>
<p>“Well then, you see, the big Mr. Father
Kangaroo didn’t know what to do with the little
fat bird; so he said, ‘Now, my dear, don’t you
want to fly out of my bag and go home?’ And
the little fat bird huddled down into the darkest
corner of the bag and he piped out, ‘Oh, I haven’t
any home, Mr. Kangaroo. A great cross old
squirrel came up to my nest this morning, and
ate up all my brothers and sisters, and I flew
away and tumbled into the bramble-bush.’”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” cried Phronsie in dismay.</p>
<p>“But wasn’t it good that Mr. Father Kangaroo
found the fat little bird?” cried Polly in
her cheeriest fashion.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Phronsie, “it was good, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Well, so Mr. Father Kangaroo said, ‘I’ll
take you to my home.’ He didn’t know what
in all the world he should do; for he had six—no,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</SPAN></span>
seven hungry little kangarooses, and not a
bit to give them for dinner. But he couldn’t
leave the poor little fat bird to starve, you
know.”</p>
<p>“He was a good Mr. Father Kan—what is it,
Polly?” declared Phronsie, clasping her hands.</p>
<p>“Kangaroo. Yes, wasn’t he Phronsie? So
he looked down into the bag, and he said, ‘Now
don’t you cry, little bird, and you shall go home
with me where the cross old squirrels cannot
catch you;’ for he thought he heard the little
fat bird sobbing down in the dark corner.”</p>
<p>“And was he?” cried Phronsie.</p>
<p>“Perhaps so—a little wee bit. But he didn’t
cry any more; for as soon as he heard Mr. Father
Kangaroo say that, he chirped out, ‘Thank you,
Mr. Kangaroo-man, and I’ll sing for you all the
day long.’”</p>
<p>“That was nice in the little bird, wasn’t it,
Polly?” cried Phronsie, wiggling her toes in a
satisfied way.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed. Well, so away they trudged—I
mean Mr. Father Kangaroo trudged, and
hopped, and skipped, with great long steps, and
pretty soon he came to his home. And the little
kangarooses saw him coming; and they all<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</SPAN></span>
ran and hopped out to meet him, screaming, ‘O
pappy! have you brought us our dinner?’”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” said Phronsie, very much troubled;
“he hadn’t any dinner.”</p>
<p>“But just think what a dear sweet little fat
bird he had brought them, who was going to
sing all day long, Phronsie!”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Phronsie, but she sighed. “Tell
me some more, Polly, do.”</p>
<p>“Well, so Mr. Father Kangaroo didn’t say
anything about dinner; for he thought if they
saw the little bird first, and heard him sing,
they would forget all about that they were
hungry.”</p>
<p>“And did they?” asked Phronsie.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed; they never thought of it
again. And they hopped and danced all
around the fat little bird; and he told them
of good Father Kangaroo, who had saved him
when he got caught in the bramble-bush, where
he fell when he flew away from the cruel squirrel;
and then he sang—oh, it was just lovely to
hear him sing, Phronsie.” Polly lay back upon
the pillow and folded her hands, lost in thought.</p>
<p>“Tell me some more, Polly,” cried Phronsie,
pulling her sleeve.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh, yes—well, then, you see, all that noise
brought Mother Kangaroo in; and she just held
up her paws in astonishment. And she didn’t
like it very well; and she said, ‘What! bring
another hungry mouth to feed, and you haven’t
any dinner for us?’ and Father Kangaroo sat
down in the corner, and his big head went down
on his breast, and he sat still to think.”</p>
<p>“Don’t let Mother Kangaroo send the poor
little bird away, Polly. Don’t let her do it!”
protested Phronsie in distress.</p>
<p>“No, I won’t,” promised Polly. “Well, when
Mother Kangaroo saw Father Kangaroo sitting
so sad and still over in the corner, she hopped
over to him, and put both her paws around his
neck, and she kissed his furry cheek, ‘The little
bird shall stay,’ she said, ‘and I’ll go out and
get some dinner.’ And all the little children-Kangarooses
took hold of paws, and danced
around the fat little bird in delight.”</p>
<p>“Oh—oh!” cried Phronsie in delight.</p>
<p>“Mercy me!” exclaimed Mrs. Pepper, putting
her head in the doorway, “I thought Phronsie
was worse. Now, that’s cosey;” and she beamed
at Polly in a way that made the little sunbeams
sink right down into Polly’s heart.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="VII" id="VII">VII.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE MINCE-PIE BOY AND THE BEASTS.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“’Tisn’t time to go to bed,” grumbled Joel;
“and you and Ben are going to whisper
and wink your eyes as soon as I go.”</p>
<p>“We sha’n’t have to whisper when you are
out of the way, Joe,” said Ben; “come, hurry
up and start.” “Now, Joey, you promised,”
said Polly reproachfully. She was aching to
talk over all the splendid plans with Ben; and
there were the bright bits of paper left after
they had covered the nuts; and just this very
night she was to set about making Phronsie’s
paper doll, and Ben was to begin on a windmill
for Davie, and Mamsie was to sit down at the
big table drawn out from against the wall, and
make Seraphina’s bonnet. And Christmas was
getting <em>so</em> near!</p>
<p>“O Joe!” exclaimed Polly suddenly, in such
a tone of despair that Ben said sharply, “Go<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</SPAN></span>
along, or she’ll stop telling you stories. You
won’t get another one to-morrow—sir!”</p>
<p>“I’ll go,—I’ll go,” cried Joel, clattering over
the stairs in a trice—“I’m going, Polly—you’ll
tell me another to-morrow, won’t you—won’t
you, Polly?” he screamed at the top.</p>
<p>“Yes indeed,” cried Polly merrily, running
along to the foot of the stairs leading to the
loft. “That’s a good boy, Joey; I’ll tell you a
good one to-morrow.”</p>
<p>“It’s got to be a long one,” said Joel; “not
such a little squinchy one as ’twas to-day. Hoh!
that was no good.”</p>
<p>“Hush up there,” shouted Ben at him, from
the kitchen, “or you’ll wake Dave up. Come
on, now, Polly.”</p>
<p>So Polly ran back again; and <SPAN href="#image14">the two pulled
out the kitchen table</SPAN>; and Mamsie brought her
big basket, and Seraphina’s bonnet was snipped
out of the piece of ribbon so long waiting for
it; and Polly whisked out the bits of bright
paper from the bureau-drawer in the bedroom;
and Ben got out his big jack-knife, and
commenced to whittle bravely; and everything
was as brisk as a bee and as cheery,—and the
tongues flew just as fast as the fingers, till the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101-</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102]</SPAN></span>
little old kitchen was alive with the work of
getting ready for Christmas.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image14" id="image14"> <ANTIMG src="images/image14.jpg" width-obs="434" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_100">The two pulled out the kitchen table.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>But on the next morning, all the signs of
the coming festivity tucked carefully away, and
the every-day work done up, then didn’t Polly
just have to spin off a story when in marched
Joel with a “Come on, Dave, Polly’s sewing;
now for the story!” he whooped, and threw
himself on the floor at her feet.</p>
<p>“O Joel”—Polly was just ready to cry out,
“I can’t think of a thing.” And then she
remembered that she had promised. “Dear
me, Joe, what do you want?” she asked, and
making her needle fly faster than ever.</p>
<p>“Oh, something nice—about having mince-pie,”—Joel
smacked his lips, “and bears and
wolves and crocodiles. Tell a good one, Polly;
and it’s got to be long”—he waved his arms
as far as he could—“long as that; now begin.”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell about a mince-pie,” said Polly,
wrinkling her brows; “that’s the first thing
you asked for; and”—</p>
<p>“And bears and wolves and crocodiles,” said
Joel hastily; “I want all those; you’ve got to,
Polly, ’cause I go to bed every night, and you
said you would.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I can’t get all those things into one story,”
said Polly.</p>
<p>“Hoh! yes you can,” contradicted Joel;
“that’s just as easy. Now begin, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Well, once there was a boy,” said Polly, with
a flourish of her needle as she put in a new
thread; “and his mother had to hide the mince-pies
whenever she baked any, ’cause she was
afraid to leave ’em round, and”—</p>
<p>“Don’t tell such a story,” howled Joel in
disgust; “tell something nice, Polly.” He
winked his black eyes fast, and Polly thought
she saw something shine in them; and then he
dug his fists in them, and hid his stubby head
on her lap in among her sewing.</p>
<p>“So I will, Joey,” she cried, dropping her
work to lean over and drop a kiss on his black
hair. And then it all came to her what to say;
and before she knew it, she had begun again on
“The Wonderful Mince-Pie Boy and the Beasts.”</p>
<p>“You see, it was long, long ago,” ran on
Polly in her gayest fashion; “and almost anything
could have happened then—why, Adolphus
lived ages before this time when we are
living in Badgertown; so he had all sorts of
funny people as his neighbors, and they did<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</SPAN></span>
all kinds of queer things. And the animals all
talked just like boys and girls, and everybody
understood them. And it was just the strangest
world, you can’t think! And that’s the
reason that the story is just as it is.”</p>
<p>“Go on,” said Joel quite himself again, and his
mouth opened in an expansive smile. “Come
on, Dave. Gee-whickety! Polly’s going to tell
an elegant buster of a story.”</p>
<p>“Joel, I sha’n’t tell a single thing if you say
such dreadful words,” declared Polly sternly,
as little David came in, and sat down on the
floor by Joel’s side.</p>
<p>“I won’t,” cried Joel in alarm, “say it again
ever, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Think how badly Mamsie would feel to hear
it,” said Polly reprovingly. “O Joe! how can
you?” Down went Joel’s head on her lap,—</p>
<p>“I—won’t again—Polly,” he burst out,
trying not to cry. “O Polly! I won’t—I don’t—want—Mamsie
to feel bad”—and he burrowed
deep in her lap.</p>
<p>“He won’t, Polly,” said little David anxiously,
patting Joel’s stubby head with one hand, and
with the other pulling Polly’s gown—“I most
know he won’t say any more dreadful words.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“See that you don’t then, Joe,” said Polly;
“and both of you boys must remember that it
would make Mamsie sick to hear you say any
such things. Well, now for the story,—‘The
Wonderful <SPAN href="#image15">Mince-Pie Boy and the Beasts</SPAN>.’”</p>
<p>“Oh, oh!” cried Davie in a transport, and
clasping his hands. Joel sat up quite straight,
and held his breath.</p>
<p>“The mince-pie boy lived in an old stone
house,” began Polly, “all overgrown with vines.
There were big trees that sent their arms clear
across the top of his house, and the vines ran
all over them, so that it looked for all the world
as if it was a great arbor. Well, and just a
little ways off, about as far as from here to
Grandma Bascom’s, was a gre—at big cave.
And that was all grown over with vines too,
and funny dangling trees that looked as if they
were upside down.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” laughed Joel, “how funny!” And
“How funny!” said little David.</p>
<p>“Yes; but it wasn’t half so funny, as it was
inside of the house and the cave,” said Polly,
sewing away busily; “because you see the man
who was Adolphus’s father owned all the wild
beasts that were in the cave. And as he had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</SPAN></span>
them all brought out of the cave, and up to the
big house sometimes, when he had company,
and he wanted to amuse them, why, you know
everything was made so they might show off,
and the people could have a good time.”</p>
<p>“Tell about it,” cried Joel, crowding up to
Polly’s work so closely that she couldn’t see
where to set her stitches. “Take care, Joe,”
she warned; “I sewed that crooked. Mr. Atkins
won’t give Mamsie any more sacks to do
if they’re done badly. And I want to learn to
sew them all for her.” And Polly’s face was
very sad as she picked out the poor work.</p>
<p>Joel huddled out of the way in dismay.
“There, that’s all right now,” announced Polly
in a minute; “you didn’t do any mischief, Joe.
Let me see, where was I?”</p>
<p>“You said Adolphus’s father had all the wild
beasts brought out of the cave, and into the
house, when he had company,” cried Joel. “Oh,
make him bring ’em all in now, Polly, do!”</p>
<p>“So he shall,” nodded Polly. “You see,
boys, Adolphus’s father had lots and lots of animals
in his cave; but he liked the wolves and
the bears and the crocodiles the best.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” said Davie quite overcome.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Now, Adolphus liked the best thing in the
world,—yes, the very best thing in all the world,
mince-pie. And he had it for breakfast, dinner,
and supper.”</p>
<p>“Whick—oh, dear me!” exploded Joel.</p>
<p>“Yes; all the beasts liked mince-pie too,
every single one of all those sixteen hundred
beasts.”</p>
<p>“Were there sixteen hundred of ’em?” cried
little David with flaming cheeks, and pushing
up close to her work.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly recklessly. “Adolphus’s
father had sixteen hundred wild beasts in his
cave, and”—</p>
<p>“Make it some more,” cried Joel. “Make
him have eighteen hundred, Polly, do.”</p>
<p>“No,” said Polly firmly; “he hadn’t a single
one more than sixteen hundred, not a single
one, Joe.”</p>
<p>“Well, go on,” said Joel.</p>
<p>“But the beasts couldn’t get any mince-pie,
ever,” said Polly, hurrying on.</p>
<p>“Why?” broke in both of the boys.</p>
<p>“Because Adolphus’s mother said that she
couldn’t spend the time to bake mince-pies for
so many beasts and beastesses, because you<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</SPAN></span>
see, all the animals would have to have a pie
apiece. And Adolphus used to go out into the
front yard, and eat his pie; and all the creatures
would come out of their cave, and stand in their
yard, and lick their chops, and wish they had
some.”</p>
<p>“And so do I wish I had some, Polly,” declared
Joel, licking his mouth. “Did it have
plums in, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Gre—at big ones,” declared Polly, “oh, so
rich and juicy! My! there never was such a
pie as those that Adolphus got every day,—one
for breakfast, and one for dinner, and one for
supper.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed both boys again,
unable to find other words.</p>
<p>“Well, one day there was a great stir in the
big house under the vines, and everybody far
and near knew that Adolphus’s folks were going
to have company. And that very same night
the beasts and beastesses got together, and
held a meeting. And when everybody in the
big house was sound asleep, and nothing was
stirring but the mice scampering up and down
in the walls, all the creatures in the cave were
wide awake, and talking all together.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘I’ll tell you what,’ said a big white polar
bear”—</p>
<p>“What’s a polar bear?” interrupted Joel,
with a shout.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image15" id="image15"> <ANTIMG src="images/image15.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="594" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_105">The mince-pie boy and the beasts.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“You mustn’t interrupt,” said Polly; “it’s a
bear that lives at the Poles.”</p>
<p>“What Poles? Are they clothes-poles?”
asked Joel persistently. “Say, Polly; and did
the bear help to hang out the clothes to dry?”</p>
<p>“No, no—don’t ask so many questions, Joe;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</SPAN></span>
I never shall get through if you do. This bear
came from the North Pole, where it is dreadfully
cold. And he loved mince-pie, oh, terribly!
And he began, ‘Now, fellow bears
and bearesses, and wolves, and—and—wolveresses.’”</p>
<p>“And crocodiles,” said Joel; “don’t forget
them.”</p>
<p>“No, I won’t. ‘And crocodiles and croco—crocodilesses
and all the rest of you,’ because,
you see, he couldn’t mention them all by name,
for he wouldn’t have had time for his speech if
he had; ‘we must get some of that boy’s
mince-pie. It isn’t fair for him to have so
much, and we to have none. Now, I have a
plan; and if you will all do just as I say, I will
get you some mince-pie.’ So they all—the different
beasts and beastesses—crowded around
the white polar bear, and he spoke out his plan.</p>
<p>“‘You know the company is coming to the big
man’s house’—the beasts always called Adolphus’s
house by that name—‘and we shall be
sent for as usual. Now, when we get there, let
us march into the hall as if we were going to
perform. But instead of that I shall go right
straight up in front of the big man and that<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</SPAN></span>
dreadful mince-pie boy, and shall roar at them:
‘I will eat off your head and scrunch your
bones, unless you give me some mince-pie this
minute!’”</p>
<p>Polly roared it out so loud, and looked so
very dreadful, that Phronsie came running in
from the bedroom where she had been putting
on her red-topped shoes which Mamsie let her
do sometimes, but not step in them for fear of
hurting them. One shoe was half off, and
every button of the other was in the wrong button-hole.
<SPAN href="#image16">“O Polly!” she cried scuttling over
to her</SPAN>; “what was that dreadful noise?”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image16" id="image16"> <ANTIMG src="images/image16.jpg" width-obs="378" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_111">“O Polly!” she cried scuttling over to her.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Now you see, Joel,” cried Polly, throwing
down her work, and gathering up Phronsie into
her lap, “I’ve scared her most to death.
’Tisn’t anything, Phronsie pet, but some bears
and things Joel wanted me to tell of”—as
Phronsie hid her yellow head on Polly’s arm.</p>
<p>“Polly made that noise with her own mouth,”
said Joel; “and ’twas splendid, Phron. Make it
again, Polly, do.”</p>
<p>“No, I sha’n’t,” said Polly. “There, there,
Phronsie, don’t be scared; it was I made it,
and not a truly bear.”</p>
<p>“If it was you, Polly,” said Phronsie, lifting<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112-</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113]</SPAN></span>
her head, “and not a truly bear, I don’t mind.
But please don’t make it again, Polly.”</p>
<p>“I won’t, Pet,” promised Polly. “Dear me!
just look at your red-topped shoes. Take ’em
off, or you’ll spoil them; Mamsie doesn’t like
you to walk in them, you know.”</p>
<p>“I want to go back to the bedroom,” wailed
Phronsie, “and show ’em to Seraphina. Oh,
dear! can’t I, Polly? I’ll go on the tips of my
toes.”</p>
<p>“No, I’ll carry you,” said Polly, preparing to
spring up; but Joel jumped to his feet,—</p>
<p>“Let me, Polly; I’ll carry her. Come on,
Phron.” He seized her and staggered off, depositing
her on the bedroom floor, close to Seraphina
lying face downward where she had been
dropped in fright.</p>
<p>“Now go on,” he cried, springing back to
huddle at Polly’s feet.</p>
<p>“‘I’ll scrunch your head off,’” said Polly in a
stage whisper. “I can’t say it loud as I did before,
boys, or Phronsie’ll hear. ‘Give me the
pantry keys!’</p>
<p>“At hearing these dreadful words, the crocodile
began to cry. ‘I’m afraid, I’m afraid,’ he
said. But one of the wolves ran up and boxed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</SPAN></span>
his ears. ‘Nobody dares to say he is afraid
here,’ he cried. ‘Yes, we are going to have
<em>those pantry keys</em>.’”</p>
<p>It was impossible to describe the excitement
that now seized the two boys as they huddled
closer and closer to Polly, as she hurried on,—</p>
<p>“And when all the beasts and beastesses had
promised to do just as the white polar bear
should tell them, he roared at them in a perfectly
dreadful voice: ‘You must all say with
me, “I’ll scrunch your heads off if you don’t
give me those pantry keys.”’ So they all said
it after him, the crocodile weeping great tears
that ran over his cheeks as he repeated the
words. And then every animal went to bed;
and the next night the company came to the
big house under the vines, and Adolphus’s father
sent for all the beasts and beastesses.”</p>
<p>“And did they scrunch their heads off?”
screamed Joel.</p>
<p>“Hush—you’ll scare Phronsie again,” cried
Polly.</p>
<p>“Did they, did they?” cried Joel, lowering
his voice—“oh, make them, Polly, do, scrunch
all their heads, every single one!”</p>
<p>“You must wait and see,” said Polly; “and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</SPAN></span>
don’t interrupt, or I never will get a chance to
tell the story. Well, all the animals went up
to Adolphus’s house, two by two; and there, in
the long hall, sat all the company in tall chairs,
and Adolphus in the middle. And the first
thing that anybody knew, before one of them
was asked to perform a single thing, the white
cat that lived up at the big house, and always
slept on a white satin cushion, and drank from
a silver bowl, sprang into the centre of the hall,
and made a bow and a curtsey. She had a
green ribbon embroidered in silver tied under
her chin, and she looked too perfectly splendid
for anything.</p>
<p>“‘My master wishes me to say,’ she announced,
with another low bow down to the
ground, ‘that you are asked over to-night, not
to show off, but to eat mince-pies.—Behold!’
And there right at her elbow were twenty-five
boys dressed in green and scarlet, and all with
big trays full of mince-pies, with plums sticking
out all over them, and”—</p>
<p>“Ugh!” grunted Joel, and kicking his heels
in great disgust. “Now the white polar bear
can’t scrunch those people’s heads off. Hoh!
that’s no story, Polly Pepper!”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="VIII" id="VIII">VIII.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE CUNNING LITTLE DUCK.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“The little duck ran away,” announced
Polly, “to begin with,” to the group
around her chair.</p>
<p>“Then he was a very naughty duck,” said
Phronsie, shaking her yellow head.</p>
<p>“Tell about him!” cried Joel with a gusto.</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m going to,” said Polly, setting her
stitches with a firm hand. “But, children, you
interrupt so much that it makes me forget all
what I’m going to say, when I’m telling
stories.”</p>
<p>“Oh, we won’t; we won’t!” they all promised.
“Do begin, Polly, do.”</p>
<p>“Well, once upon a time,” said Polly, with
true story-book flourish, “no, when I was a
little girl, years ago, that’s the way Grandma
Bascom begins her stories”—</p>
<p>“But ’twasn’t years ago when you were a
little girl, Polly,” said little David thoughtfully.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Well, ’tis in a play-story,” said Polly. “And
all my stories are make-believe, you know.
Now, I’m an old lady, children; and I’m going
to tell you about my little duck I had, oh, ever
so many years ago!”</p>
<p>The little bunch of Peppers shouted at the
idea of Polly’s being an old lady; and Joel got
up and whirled around, clapping his fists together
till the old kitchen rang with the noise.
“Put on a big cap, Polly,” he screamed, “just
like Grandma’s!”</p>
<p>So Polly, who dearly loved to dress up and
play things, dropped her sewing, and ran off
into the bedroom. “There isn’t anything I can
tie on that’s like a cap,” she said, coming back,
“but this; wasn’t it nice Mamsie had it?” It
was a big piece of light brown paper that had
done up the last batch of sacks brought home
from the store for Mrs. Pepper to sew up.</p>
<p>“Hoh, that isn’t <em>white</em>!” cried Joel in disdain,
while the faces of the others fell.</p>
<p>“Well, we must play it’s white,” said Polly.
“I’m going to; and all frilled with deep lace,
too.”</p>
<p>So the children began to smile with satisfaction
once more. If Polly could play it was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</SPAN></span>
white and all trimmed with beautiful lace, it
was all right.</p>
<p>“Run to the string-bag, one of you children,”
said Polly, crinkling up the paper on her head
to make it look as much like an old lady’s cap
as possible, and nearly putting out one eye
with the corner of the paper, “and tie it fast
while I hold it on.”</p>
<p>“I will—I will!” cried little Davie, springing
off.</p>
<p>“No, I will; I can get it twice as quick!”
cried Joe, tumbling after him, and seizing his
jacket. Thereupon ensued a scuffle as to
which should first reach the string-bag in the
Provision Room. <SPAN href="#image17">Joel</SPAN> did, and soon <SPAN href="#image17">came
racing back</SPAN> with a very red face, and bearing
it triumphantly aloft. “Here ’tis!—I got it,
Polly; now I’ll tie you up.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image17" id="image17"> <ANTIMG src="images/image17.jpg" width-obs="409" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_118">Joel came racing back.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>Polly looked out from under her big paper—“Go
and hang that string-bag right up again,
Joey,” she said slowly.</p>
<p>“I got it,” said Joel stoutly.</p>
<p>“Go and hang it up,” said Polly.</p>
<p>“I—I—got—it,” said Joel faintly—“I
sh’d think I might keep it, Polly,” he said in
an injured tone.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Go and hang it up this minute,” said Polly,
coming entirely out from under her big paper
cap and fixing her eyes on him. When Polly
looked like that, it always made them think of
Mamsie; so Joel turned at once, and went slowly
down the steps to the Provision Room, dragging
the string-bag after him. He soon came back,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</SPAN></span>
twisting his small hands, and trying not to cry.
“Now, Davie,” said Polly pleasantly, “will you
go and get me the string-bag?”</p>
<p>David started to run on joyful feet; but seeing
Joel moping in the corner, he stopped suddenly,
“I’d rather Joe went,” he said.</p>
<p>“No, I want you to go,” said Polly firmly;
“and if you don’t hurry, I shall have to go and
get it myself, and you wouldn’t want me to do
that, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>Thus adjured, David ran as fast as his feet
could carry him, and soon brought the string-bag
to Polly.</p>
<p>“Now says I,” she cried, “somebody must
tie my old cap on, and I’m going to ask Joel to
do that.” And she pulled out a long string.
“Come on, Joey.”</p>
<p>“I—didn’t—mean—to,” sobbed Joel, over
in his corner. “Polly, I didn’t.”</p>
<p>“Well, see that you don’t run and scramble
and take away Davie’s things again when he
starts first,” said Polly. “Come on, Joe, I’m
waiting.”</p>
<p>So Joel tumbled out of his corner, wiping
away the tears on the back of his little red
hand; and soon Polly’s cap was tied on in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</SPAN></span>
most approved style, amid the shouts of the
children, who all escorted her to the cracked
looking-glass over the bedroom bureau, when
she pronounced it “just too perfect for anything.”</p>
<p>“Well, now,” said Polly, drawing a long breath,
and racing back to sit down and pick up her
sewing, “I must hurry and tell about my cunning
little duck, or I don’t know what I shall
do. Now, children, you know I’m an old, old
lady, and”—</p>
<p>“How old?” demanded Joel, who dearly
loved facts and figures.</p>
<p>“Oh! I don’t know—most a hundred I
guess,” said Polly; “well”—</p>
<p>“Ho—Ho! Polly’s most a hundred,” laughed
Joel, and Davie burst out laughing too. “Polly’s
most a hundred,” echoed Phronsie with a gurgle.</p>
<p>“Now, see here, children, I shall never tell
this story if you keep interrupting me like
that,” said Polly, pushing back her paper cap
that settled over one eye. “Dear me, I didn’t
s’pose it was such trouble to pretend to be old—this
slides all over my head, and I can’t see
to sew. Well, I once had a <SPAN href="#image18">cunning little duck</SPAN>,
when I was a little girl years and years ago.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figleft"> <SPAN name="image18" id="image18"> <ANTIMG src="images/image18.jpg" width-obs="296" height-obs="300" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_121">The cunning little duck.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Was he as big as that?” asked Phronsie,
bringing her two fat little hands almost together
in intense excitement.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, “and a little bigger.
Well, he was all my own, you know; my grandmother
gave him to me.”</p>
<p>“Did you have a grandmother?” asked
David. “I thought you were the grandmother,”
looking at the big cap with its
nodding border.</p>
<p>“Well, so I am, but
I had a grandmother
too when I was a little
girl. Everybody has
a grandmother when
they’re little.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said Davie.</p>
<p>“Well, my grandmother gave me this little
duck. Now, don’t interrupt again,” said Polly.
“You see, he was so little when he was born,
that I s’pose he got lost in the grass, and no one
saw him; and then the cat must have stepped on
him, for his leg was bent, and”—</p>
<p>“What’s bent?” demanded Phronsie, pushing
an absorbed little face forward.</p>
<p>“Oh! doubled up like this,” said Joel, suiting<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</SPAN></span>
the action to the word, and twisting his leg into
as much of a knot as was possible.</p>
<p>“Oh, Polly!” said Phronsie gravely, “please
don’t let the little duck’s leg be like Joel’s.”</p>
<p>“Well, you’ll see, Phronsie,” said Polly reassuringly.
“I’ll fix the little duck’s leg all
right. My grandma gave him to me, you know.
Well, he was yellow and white, a cunning little
ball, oh, so soft and puffy!”</p>
<p>Phronsie trembled with excitement, and she
put out her little hands as if she had the duck
between them. “But please fix his leg, Polly,”
she breathed.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, child,” said Polly quickly. “Oh,
dear me! I’ve sewed that seam wrong; now
that has all to come out.”</p>
<p>“But please fix that little duck’s leg first,
Polly,” begged Phronsie, her lip quivering, “before
you pick out those wrong stitches.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me, was there ever such a peck of
trouble!” cried poor Polly, picking frantically
at the bad stitches. Then her old paper cap,
with its deep border, slid down over her eyes,
and her scissors tumbled on the floor.</p>
<p>“Look at Polly’s cap! Look at Polly’s cap!”
screamed Joel.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“It’s grandma,” said little Davie, who dearly
loved to carry out all Polly’s make-believes,
while Phronsie still insisted that the little duck’s
leg should be fixed before anything else was done.</p>
<p>In the midst of all this confusion the door
opened suddenly, and there was dear old Mrs.
Beebe, her round face smiling over a big basket.</p>
<p>“Well, well, my pretty dears!” she exclaimed.
“Why, what’s the matter? Polly got hurt? Oh,
you poor creeters!” seeing the big paper flapping
over Polly’s brown head, and all the children
crowded around her chair.</p>
<p>“No’m,” said Polly, twitching off her big cap.
And “She’s playing grandma,” said Joel and
David.</p>
<p>“But her cunning little duck has hurt his
leg,” cried Phronsie, with clasped hands flying
over to Mrs. Beebe, “and Polly is going to fix
it right away.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly at sight of her face. “I
must. Boys, go and tell dear Mrs. Beebe all
about it, while I take her in my lap and fix
that duck’s leg.” So Joel and David, very
important at the piece of work set them, ran
over and poured the whole recital into good
Mrs. Beebe’s ear, how Polly was playing grandmother,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</SPAN></span>
and they hadn’t anything to make a
cap of but an old piece of brown paper that
came around the sacks from the store that Mrs.
Pepper brought home to sew, and how the old
thing kept tumbling over Polly’s nose, so that
she sewed up the seam wrong; and she was
trying to pick it out, because, you see, she had
to get it done before Mamsie got home, who
had gone to the minister’s to help Mrs. Henderson
make her soft soap; and how Phronsie
almost cried because Polly said the little duck’s
leg was bent in the grass, because maybe the
cat stepped on it; and how that was the reason
Polly was talking to her now, and fixing the leg
up. And, oh, dear me! all this and much more;
good Mrs. Beebe oh—ing and ah—ing at just
the right times. “And that’s all,” announced
little David at last, flushed and important.</p>
<p>Joel hung his head, “No, it isn’t,” he blurted
out; “I was bad.”</p>
<p>“You were bad?” echoed Mrs. Beebe. “Oh,
no! I guess not,” she said soothingly.</p>
<p>“Yes, I was,” said Joel stoutly. “I scuffled
Davie, and got the string-bag first.”</p>
<p>David shifted uneasily from one foot to the
other. “He put it back,” he said.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Polly made me,” said Joel, twisting his
mouth not to cry, and with an eye to the big
basket, which was not for naughty boys. “Oh,
dear me!”</p>
<p>Old Mrs. Beebe cast a puzzled glance at him,
but was saved the necessity of replying; for old
Mr. Beebe came in just then, rubbing his hands.
“Well, how are you all, my pretty dears? I
can’t stay a minute, for my shop’s all alone, an’
folks’ll be knocking on the door an’ can’t get
in. Come, Ma, give ’em the things in the basket,
and then come out an’ get in the wagon.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Beebe gave a sigh. “Dear me,” she
said, “I wish I could set awhile; but then,
there’s the shop.” So she got out of her chair,
and began to undo the basket. And Polly,
with Phronsie radiant, and hanging to her hand,
came running up, and they all crowded around
the good woman. And old Mr. Beebe laughed,
and shook his fat sides, and rubbed his hands
together worse than ever. And at last all the
things were out and on the table ready to surprise
Mamsie with when she came home.</p>
<p>“And I guess if one of you will feel in
my pockets,” he said at last, when his wife
clapped to the cover of the empty basket,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</SPAN></span>
“p’raps maybe, now, you’d find something you’d
like.”</p>
<p>“Let David,” said Joel, swallowing hard.</p>
<p>“No, let Phronsie,” said little David.</p>
<p>So Phronsie went up to old Mr. Beebe, who
lifted her into a chair, to be on a level with the
pockets in his great-coat, and oh, oh! first she
drew out slowly a pink stick, and then a great
thick white one of peppermint candy! And
then, midst a babel of thanks from the Five
Little Peppers, and one or two kisses from
old Mr. and Mrs. Beebe, away the big empty
basket and the two good people went to their
wagon.</p>
<p>“I’m sure,” said Polly to herself, long after
they had danced and danced around the table
with its good things, “none of them care for
the little duck now; so I can fly to my sewing,
and have a good time to pick it out, and do
it right.” So she settled herself in the old
chair in the corner, the children in great excitement
still circling around the gifts which
they were not to touch till Mamsie got home.</p>
<p>“I choose that,” said Joel, smacking his lips;
“that big fat doughnut, all crisp and brown.
O whickets!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Joel,” said Polly over in her corner, “what
did you say?”</p>
<p>Joel hung his head. “And I choose that,”
said Davie, pointing to some gingerbread, dark
and moist, while he carefully licked the remnant
of pink stick in his hand, for Phronsie had
insisted on sharing her candy with them all, the
minute the Beebes had gotten into their green
wagon, “what do you choose, Phronsie?”</p>
<p>“I like this,” said Phronsie, holding up a
sticky wad of pink stick in her fat little hand,
and smiling with a very much smeared face.</p>
<p>“Oh, deary me!” cried Polly at sight of her.
“Well, I s’pose it’s no use to wash her up till
it’s all gone. Well, I am thankful I didn’t have
to tell all the rest about that dreadful little
duck.”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="IX" id="IX">IX.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE OLD TEA-KETTLE.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">The rain dripped most dismally on the
roof of the Little Brown House. It had
rained just so, without any appearance of stopping,
for three days, and Phronsie held a sad
little face against the window-pane.</p>
<p>“Won’t it ever stop, Polly?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Yes, I s’pose so,” said Polly dismally;
“though I don’t know when. Mamsie, did
you ever see it rain so long?”</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image19">“Dear me, yes,” said Mrs. Pepper</SPAN>, looking
up from her stocking-mending over in the
corner, “plenty of times, Polly. If folks don’t
worry over the weather and talk about it, it’s
all right. Fly at your baking, child, and let
the rain take care of itself.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image19" id="image19"> <ANTIMG src="images/image19.jpg" width-obs="422" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_129">“Dear me, yes,” said Mrs. Pepper.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“It’s so dark,” said Polly discontentedly,
“we can’t see anything,” as she went into the
buttery for the flour.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130-</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_131" id="Page_131">-131]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“It’s so dark,” grumbled Joel, trying to make
a box over in the corner, and catching her
tone, “can’t see anything.”</p>
<p>Davie sighed, and went over to his mother’s
corner, and stood there with a very long face.</p>
<p>“There, now you see, Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper,
as Polly came back with the flour-sieve and
the bread-bowl, and set them on the kitchen
table.</p>
<p>Polly looked around the kitchen with a
startled air. “Oh, I’m awfully sorry!” she
cried, a wave of color flying up to her brown
hair, “Mamsie, I truly am.” Then she rushed
over to Joel, who was banging petulantly at a
refractory nail, “Look out, you’ll pound your
thumb,” and she kneeled down beside him.</p>
<p>“Don’t care,” said Joel crossly; “can’t see
anything. Mean old rain spoils everything.”</p>
<p>“Joel!”—it was Mother Pepper who spoke,
and her black eyes flashed sternly,—“that’s
wicked. Don’t you let me hear you say such
things again.”</p>
<p>“O Mamsie!” began Polly.</p>
<p>“And a boy who talks about the rain in such
a way, is not only wicked but foolish. I think
he had better go into the Provision Room, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</SPAN></span>
shut the door, and sit down and think by himself
for a while.”</p>
<p>“O <em>Mamsie</em>!” exclaimed Polly imploringly.</p>
<p>“Go straight along, Joey,” said Mrs. Pepper;
“and when you feel right about it, you may
come back.”</p>
<p>Joel laid down his clumsy hammer, and his
round face working dreadfully, he stumbled off,
and down the rickety steps, and presently they
could hear him shut the old door fast.</p>
<p>“O Mamsie—Mamsie!” Polly sprang to
her feet, and rushed tumultuously across the
room, and threw herself at Mrs. Pepper’s feet.
“It’s all my fault,” she sobbed, burying her face
in the blue-checked apron—“and I am the one
who ought to be sent into the Provision
Room.”</p>
<p>“You’re too big to send there, Polly,” said
Mrs. Pepper sadly; “why, you’re ten years
old.” She laid down her mending, and her toil-worn
hands smoothed the brown hair gently.</p>
<p>“But I made Joel say the bad things,” cried
Polly gustily, her shoulders shaking with her
efforts not to cry aloud.</p>
<p>Phronsie, who had turned in her chair where
she had been looking out of the window, at the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</SPAN></span>
unusual disturbance in the old kitchen, now got
down very gravely, and came over to Mother
Pepper’s corner.</p>
<p>“What is the matter with Polly?” she asked
with wide, disapproving eyes.</p>
<p>“Mamsie will take care of Polly,” said Mrs.
Pepper.</p>
<p>“She’s sick, I guess,” said little Davie wonderingly.</p>
<p>At that Phronsie uttered a low cry, “Oh,
don’t let my Polly be sick—don’t let her,
Mamsie!” then she screamed in dismay.</p>
<p>“Polly,” said Mother Pepper, putting the
stockings into the big mending-basket with a
hasty hand, and drawing Phronsie to her lap,
“now I guess you’ll have to do your best, my
child, to set matters right.—There, there,
Phronsie, stop screaming,—Polly’s all well.”</p>
<p>Polly felt for the first minute as if she could
never lift her head and speak cheerily to the
children. Oh, how much she would give to be
Phronsie’s age, and be cuddled and allowed to
have her cry out! But Mamsie’s words! She
swallowed hard the terrible lump in her throat,
wiped off the tears, and said brokenly, “I’m all
right,—there, see, Pet,” and put up her head.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>When Phronsie saw that Polly could really
move, she stopped screaming; and Davie began
to smile, “I guess she ain’t sick.”</p>
<p>“No, indeed,” said Polly, finding it easier to
control herself since she had begun, and hopping
to her feet; “I’m going back to my baking,”
she cried.</p>
<p>“So do,” cried mother Pepper approvingly,
with a little smile over at Polly, that ran right
down into the sad little heart.</p>
<p>“May I bake?” cried Phronsie, the last tear
rolling off by itself in a lonely fashion. “May
I, Polly, may I?” and she scrambled down from
her mother’s lap, and ran over to the table.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed,” cried Polly, delighted at the
change in affairs.</p>
<p>“Then I shall,” said Davie; “at least when
Joel gets out. May I call him, Mamsie?” he
begged.</p>
<p>“No,” said Mrs. Pepper, picking up the stocking
again, and attacking the biggest hole; “Joel
must wait till he knows he’s right.”</p>
<p>“Then, I don’t want to bake yet,” said David
with a sigh.</p>
<p>Polly flew around at her preparations for
baking, making a great clatter with the things,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</SPAN></span>
and keeping up a cheery little chat with Phronsie.
But all the while her heart was sore over
Joel sitting lonely and disconsolate in the old
Provision Room. It seemed as if she could not
bear it another minute longer, when suddenly
she heard the door open slowly, and his feet
coming over the rickety steps. Mrs. Pepper
mended steadily on, and did not turn her head.
Polly held her breath, as Joel, without a glance
for any one else, marched straight past the baking-table,
and over to Mamsie’s side.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I was bad, Mamsie,” he began.
But he never got any further, for Mother Pepper
had him in her arms, and there he was cuddled
to his heart’s content. And Polly deserted the
baking-table, leaving Phronsie to work her own
sweet will among the materials, while she rushed
over and dropped a kiss on Joel’s stubby head,
telling him it was she who was so naughty, and
she never was going to do it again. And little
David clasped his hands, and beamed at them all
in great satisfaction.</p>
<p>“Now you had better see what Phronsie is
about,” advised Mrs. Pepper wisely.</p>
<p>“I don’t care,” cried Polly in a glad recklessness,
and plunging over to the baking-table, with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</SPAN></span>
both boys at her heels. “Oh, my goodness me!
what have you been doing, Phronsie?”</p>
<p>“Baking a cake,” hummed Phronsie, in a
state of bliss. She had upset the flour-pan in
trying to pull it toward her; and what didn’t fly
over the floor was on her face and pinafore,
while she patted the yeast in the cracked cup
with her spoon.</p>
<p>“Hoh—hoh—how you look!” laughed Joel
and David, “just like the old ash-man, with that
brown flour all over your face.”</p>
<p>But Phronsie didn’t care; so while Polly shook
off the flour, and cleaned things up, taking great
care to get the yeast-cup the length of the table
away from the little fingers, she was singing all
the time, “I’m going to bake a cake—Polly
said so.”</p>
<p>At last the bread was made, and, covered with
an old towel, was set down to rise by the stove;
Phronsie’s cake was set in her own little tin
patty-pan, and tucked into the oven; and then the
three children stood and looked at each other.
It was still dark, the rain going patter—patter—patter
worse than ever on the roof.</p>
<p>“Mamsie, do you mind if I tell them a story?”
asked Polly, looking at them all.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“No, indeed,” cried Mrs. Pepper cheerily.
“Just the very thing, Polly. I’m glad you
thought of it. I sh’d like to hear it too, myself.”</p>
<p>“Would you, Mamsie?” cried Polly, quite
delighted.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed. Seems as if my needle would
go in and out faster if I could hear something
meanwhile,” replied Mother Pepper.</p>
<p>So Polly, feeling quite important at being
about to tell a story that Mother Pepper was to
listen to, gathered the three children in a knot
about her on the floor ready to begin.</p>
<p>“I wish Ben was here,” began Joel.</p>
<p>“It’s good Ben has wood to saw at Mr. Blodgett’s,”
spoke up Mrs. Pepper quickly. “He’s
in that nice tight woodshed, so the rain won’t
hurt him: and just think, children, of the money
he’ll bring home.”</p>
<p>Polly couldn’t help but give a little sigh.
How perfectly lovely it would be if she weren’t
a girl, but could go off and earn money just like
Ben to keep the little brown house going! But
Mother Pepper didn’t hear the sigh, it was such
a tiny one, as Polly saw by glancing over at her.
And so away flew the story-teller as fast as she
could, on her entertainment.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Now, children,” began Polly, hoping Mamsie
would like the story, and racking her brains
to make it up as she went along, “I’m going to
tell you to-day about an old Tea-Kettle.”</p>
<p>“Hoh! hoh!” jeered Joel, knocking his heels
together; “that isn’t any story.”</p>
<p>“That’s funny,” laughed little David, looking
over at the Pepper tea-kettle humming away
on the stove. “Was it like ours, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, “as like as two peas.
Well, this Tea-Kettle lived in a house where
there weren’t any children, only an old woman
and a cat.”</p>
<p>“It’s Grandma Bascom she means,” shouted
Joel, very much disappointed. “Don’t tell about
any one we know, Polly; we’ve seen her old tea-kettle
lots of times, and”—</p>
<p>“And I sh’d think it would be better to let
Polly tell the story in her own way,” said Mother
Pepper, “if there is to be any story.”</p>
<p>“Oh, she may—she may!” cried Joel, casting
an alarmed glance over his shoulder on the
comfortable figure in the old chair, mending
away. “Go on, Polly,—do go on.”</p>
<p>“Well, it isn’t Grandma Bascom,” said Polly,
“this old woman isn’t. My old woman with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</SPAN></span>
the Tea-Kettle and the cat lived on the edge of
a wood and”—</p>
<p>“And there were bears and hyenas and
dreadful things there,” cried Joel delightedly.
“I know now,—and you’re going to have ’em
come out nights and bite her.”</p>
<p>“No,” said Polly, “we’ve had so many bears
lately, you don’t want any more, Joe.”</p>
<p>“Yes I do too,” contradicted Joel flatly; “we
can’t have too many bears. I sh’d think you
might give ’em to us, Polly,” he added wheedlingly.</p>
<p>“Well, there aren’t any in this story,” declared
Polly firmly. “Wait till I get through;
you’ll like it, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Yes; wait till she gets through,” echoed
Davie. “Go on, Polly, please.”</p>
<p>Phronsie patted her pink pinafore, and pulled
it into shape patiently. Polly hurried on.</p>
<p>“Well, this old woman who lived on the edge
of the wood used to go out every single day,
and pick up pieces of branches of trees to
burn. You see, she didn’t have any children
to go for her. And the cat stayed home to
mind the house, and there was nobody to talk
to but the old Tea-Kettle.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” said David.</p>
<p>“Now, the old Tea-Kettle was cross sometimes,”
said Polly; “she was so very old.”</p>
<p>“How old?” interrupted Joel.</p>
<p>“Oh! I don’t know. Fifty years, I guess,”
said Polly at a venture.</p>
<p>“And she was black all over, oh! as black as
she could be—blacker’n anything I see round
here,” said Polly, glancing at the rusty little
shoes stuck out before her. “Well, and she
was tired too, besides being black; because, you
see, she had sung and hummed and buzzed
every single day for all that long time just in
that one spot. Oh! she was so tired, she just
wanted to roll down on the floor, and off and
away to see the world. And one morning the
old woman put on her big black cap over her
white one, and took down her thick stick with
a knob on the end of it.</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image20">“‘Mind the house now,’ she said to the cat</SPAN>,
who sat by the fire. And off she went to the
wood to get her branches and sticks.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image20" id="image20"> <ANTIMG src="images/image20.jpg" width-obs="510" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_140">“Mind the house, now,” she said to the cat.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Suddenly there was a big noise just like
this,”—and Polly gave a hiss as near like a
bubbling-hot tea-kettle as she could manage,—“and
then a voice said ‘Hem.’</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘Oh! that’s you, Mrs. Tea-Kettle,’ said the
cat, without turning her head.</p>
<p>“‘Who else would it be but me?’ said the old
Tea-Kettle sharply; ‘when there’s not a soul
comes in here day after day. Come, you cross
thing, why don’t you talk?’ for the cat looked
as if she were going to sleep that very minute.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘I haven’t anything to talk about,’ said the
cat sleepily.</p>
<p>“‘Well, I have,’ snapped the Tea-Kettle—‘puff—puff,—and
I’m very angry indeed.
And I’m tired of staying in this old place day
after day. And I tell you what I’m going to
do. I’m going to jump right down, and go off
to see the world. Yes I am.’</p>
<p>“‘You can’t,’ said the cat, still not turning
her head; ‘for you haven’t any legs.’</p>
<p>“‘As if that was any matter,’ snorted the
old Tea-Kettle. Then she raised her lid, and
sent out angry little whiffs of steam, so that the
cat moved uneasily. ‘I don’t have to depend
on legs, like you great lazy things. I can roll
just as good.’ With that she gave a great
lunge, and over she went on her fat side, and
off with a bang to the floor. The cat, not
knowing which way she might come, wisely
sprang for the old table, and peered at her over
the side. Like this,” said Polly, hanging over
an imaginary table-edge.</p>
<p>The children screamed with delight, and
Mamsie set a whole row of stitches briskly into
place while she smiled contentedly over her
needle. “‘Oh you bad, naughty thing!’ cried<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</SPAN></span>
the cat; ‘Phif—spit—meow! to do such things
and run away while the mistress is gone.’</p>
<p>“‘I can’t help it,’ said the old Tea-Kettle, rolling
busily on toward the door, while a pool of
hot water trailed off into little streams on the
floor. ‘I’m tired to death sitting in a hump
on that old stove day in and day out. You can
go out and see the world. It’s all very well
for you to talk.’</p>
<p>“‘I have to mind the house,’ said the cat,
sitting up stiffly on the table, her tail lashed
around her body, and her green eyes staring at
the old Tea-Kettle.</p>
<p>“‘Nonsense!’ The Tea-Kettle had got
through puffing, because, you see, there wasn’t
any steam left in her; and now she began to
roll along more slowly. At last she knocked
up against the door with a bump.</p>
<p>“‘You can’t get out,’ exclaimed the cat, ‘anyway,
for you don’t know how to open the door.’
And she laughed softly under her whiskers to
herself sitting there on the table.</p>
<p>“The old Tea-Kettle lifted its long nose
angrily in the air. ‘Jump down this minute,’
she cried, ‘and open it for me. Come, I’m in
a hurry, for I’m going to see the world.’</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘I sha’n’t open the door,’ declared the cat
with great composure,” said Polly, feeling very
glad she had slipped over the big word so well;
“‘so there!’ and she lashed her tail stiffer than
ever around her legs.</p>
<p>“The old Tea-Kettle cried and whimpered
and begged, but it was no use. The cat sat
up like a wooden cat, and just stared at her.
At last the Tea-Kettle rolled over on her side,
and laid her long turned-up nose on the floor.</p>
<p>“‘I’m afraid she’s dead,’ said the cat to herself.
‘And’”—</p>
<p>“And was she dead?” asked little Davie;
“was she, Polly?”</p>
<p>“You’ll see,” she cried, “pretty soon. Well,
so the cat was so awfully afraid the poor old
Tea-Kettle was dead, that she stepped down
from the table, and went and bent over and
looked at her. And no sooner had she touched
her with her paw to feel and be sure about
it, than the old Tea-Kettle hopped up as quick
as a wink; and the cat flew back, and then
she had to run, oh, so dreadfully fast! because
the Tea-Kettle began to roll at her. And
round and round the room they went, and the
Tea-Kettle kept always between the table and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</SPAN></span>
the cat, so she couldn’t jump on that; and she
couldn’t hop on the stove because it was hot; so
she had to open the door. And before she could
shut it, there was the Tea-Kettle close behind
her!”</p>
<p>“And did she get away?” cried Joel; “clear
off to see the world?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly; “and she never came
back. She screamed out as she rolled down
the long hill before the cottage door, ‘Goo-d—by—o-old—o-o-ld—cat.’”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear, dear!” said both boys. And
“Go-o-d—by—ol-d—cat,” sang Phronsie.</p>
<p>“And did she ever come—oh, see—see!”
screamed Joel looking up, and nearly upsetting
David as he jumped clear past him, “blue sky—see—come
on, Dave, out-doors!”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="X" id="X">X.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE PINK AND WHITE STICKS.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“Were they as nice as dear Mrs. Beebe’s
pink and white sticks?” asked Joel
anxiously.</p>
<p>“And dear Mr. Beebe’s,” added Phronsie;
“were they, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Yes—no; that is, they couldn’t be quite as
nice, Pet. No pink and white sticks could be,
you know. But they were very nice indeed,
and they all lived together in a candy-jar.”</p>
<p>“Oh—oh! Tell about it, Polly,” they all
begged.</p>
<p>So Polly got the little bunch of Peppers together
in “the breathing-spell,” as the edge of
the twilight was called, when it was too soon
to light a candle, because mother Pepper
couldn’t afford any light in the old kitchen except
when it was absolutely necessary; and
then she began:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes, they all lived together in the big candy-jar.”</p>
<p>“Where was it?” cried Joel insistently, at
which the others clamored immediately to be
told the same thing.</p>
<p>“In the window of the little shop, just like
Mr. Beebe’s, only it wasn’t Mr. Beebe’s,” said
Polly.</p>
<p>“And was my dear, sweet Mrs. Beebe in
there, and all the little shoes?” demanded
Phronsie excitedly.</p>
<p>“No, no, Pet; I said it wasn’t Mr. Beebe’s
shop, so of course Mrs. Beebe wasn’t there, nor
the shoes,” answered Polly; “but it was like
Mr. Beebe’s.”</p>
<p>“Did it have a green door?” asked Joel, “and
a big knocker that went clang—clang—like
this?” and he jumped up and sent out his arm
after an imaginary brass knocker hanging on a
big green door.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly. “I guess my shop-door
had a big knocker on it, all shiny like Mr.
Beebe’s.”</p>
<p>“Your shop? oh! is it your shop?” broke in
little Davie incredulously. “O Polly!”</p>
<p>“Of course it’s my shop,” cried Polly gayly,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</SPAN></span>
“’cause I make it up out of my head, so I own
all the things in it too.”</p>
<p>“Oh! give me some of the candy then,”
howled Joel, plunging into the middle of the
group. “I want some right away, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Why, I’m giving you some now,” said Polly,
laughing at his face. The children all looked
puzzled enough.</p>
<p>“You see, you’re getting some of the pink
and white sticks in the story; and if I didn’t
make it up, you couldn’t have any. Now you
must just play you’re eating candy. My, isn’t
it nice!” Polly held up long imaginary pink
and white sticks, and took a good bite off from
one of them.</p>
<p>Joel’s sharp black eyes followed her closely.
“I’d rather have the real sticks,” he said slowly.</p>
<p>“Of course,” said Polly; “but if you can’t
have real ones, it’s better to have make-believe
story ones. Well, now I’m going to begin.”</p>
<p>“Yes, go on,” said Joel, bringing down his
gaze as Polly’s hands fell to her lap. “You
said they were in the big candy-jar, Polly;”
smacking his lips.</p>
<p>“Yes—oh! and it stood on the shelf that ran
along inside the window; and there was a little<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</SPAN></span>
bit of a man who kept the shop, and he had
a little bit of a wife who helped him, and”—</p>
<p>“Why ain’t they big as Mr. Beebe, and big
as Mrs. Beebe?” cried Joel, putting his hands
out as far as he could reach in front of him;
“I like ’em big. Why ain’t they, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Because they aren’t Mr. and Mrs. Beebe,”
said Polly. “Now, if you are going to interrupt
every minute, I can’t tell the story.”</p>
<p>“I wish we could hear about those pink and
white sticks,” said little Davie patiently, and
drawing a long sigh.</p>
<p>“Yes, you see the others want to hear about
it, Joel,” said Polly; “and it keeps us all back
when you stop me so much.”</p>
<p>“I want the pink and white sticks,” said
Phronsie, stretching out her feet. “Please
hurry, Polly.”</p>
<p>So Joel clapped one hand over his mouth to
keep from interrupting Polly again, and she began
once more.</p>
<p>“Yes; old Mr. Periwinkle and Mrs. Periwinkle
were little and dried up, just like two
little withered nuts; and they had ever so many
little Periwinkleses, and so they had to work
very hard to keep shoes and stockings on their<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</SPAN></span>
feet, and to get them enough to eat. So Mrs.
Periwinkle used to make candy and doughnuts
and”—</p>
<p>“Oo!” exploded Joel, forgetting himself.
Then he clapped the other hand, too, upon his
mouth.</p>
<p>“And then Mrs. Periwinkle would run out
into the shop, and say to Mr. Periwinkle, ‘Here’s
another batch of candy, my dear;’ or ‘Look
what I’ve brought you,’ sliding a pan of doughnuts
on the counter just in time for the folks
opening the green door and coming into the
shop to buy things. Well, one day a perfectly
dreadful thing happened!” Polly drew a long
breath, and gazed at her audience.</p>
<p>“What was it?” cried little Davie breathlessly.
Phronsie sat quite still with clasped
hands, and wide eyes fixed on Polly’s face. Joel
was cramming his fists up against his mouth in
great distress.</p>
<p>“Why, the pink and white candy sticks were
gone, and there was the big jar all tumbled down
on its side!” said Polly, with a very impressive
air; “just think of that, children!”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” exclaimed the two little Peppers,
while Joel nodded his stubbly black head.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes, they were,” said Polly, still more impressively;
“every single one of all those pink
and white sticks.”</p>
<p>“How many were there—ugh!” cried Joel,
forgetting himself. Then he clapped his hands
up to his mouth again.</p>
<p>“Oh! I don’t know—yes, there were six—no,
I guess eleven of those pink and white sticks,”
said Polly thoughtfully; “six white ones and
five pink ones.”</p>
<p>“I’d rather have had six pink ones,” said
little Davie reflectively.</p>
<p>“Well, I’ll change them,” said Polly accommodatingly,
“and let the white ones be five.
Yes, that’s best after all,—there were six pink
ones, children. Well, and so”—</p>
<p>“I’d rather have the white ones be six,” cried
Joel in a roar, and dropping his fists; “they’re
best, any way. Mrs. Beebe’s white ones were
bigger’n the pink ones, and lots sweeter. Let
the white ones be six, Polly, do!”</p>
<p>Thereupon an animated discussion began, as
to which should be six, and which should be
five, between the two boys, little David taking
an unusually firm stand, as he insisted on the
pink ones. So at last Polly broke in: “I’ll tell<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</SPAN></span>
you, children, what we will do; there shall be
twelve sticks, six pink and six white ones;
now, that’s fine.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s fine,” cried Joel and David together.
“Well,
go on, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Now, where
do you suppose
those pink and
white sticks could
have gone to?”
cried Polly, clasping
her hands.
“Mr. Periwinkle
and Mrs. Periwinkle
hadn’t
sold them—what
<em>could</em> have become
of them?”</p>
<p>The little Peppers
shook their
heads. “And the
little Periwinkleses
hadn’t touched them—oh, no indeed!”
declared Polly in a tone of horror—“so what
could really have become of them?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“What?” It was Phronsie who asked this,
and <SPAN href="#image21">she crept into Polly’s lap, and put her little
hand up on Polly’s neck.</SPAN></p>
<div class="figleft"> <SPAN name="image21" id="image21"> <ANTIMG src="images/image21.jpg" width-obs="384" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_153">She crept into Polly’s lap, and put her little hand up on her neck.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Well, nobody knew,” said Polly, stopping
only long enough to give Phronsie a hug and
ever so many kisses. “And then, what do you
think, children, they found had happened to the
pink and white sticks?”</p>
<p>At this there was great excitement, the
children protesting they couldn’t guess, and
wouldn’t Polly hurry and tell them? So she
dashed along,—</p>
<p>“Well, Mr. Periwinkle said he was going to
sit up that night and watch, and Mrs. Periwinkle
said she was going to, and all the little
Periwinkleses said they were going to do the
same thing. So nobody went to bed at all.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” said David.</p>
<p>“Didn’t the littlest little Peri—what is it,
Polly?” asked Phronsie in a troubled way.</p>
<p>“Periwinkleses,” said Polly.</p>
<p>“Yes, didn’t the very littlest get into the
trundle-bed?” asked Phronsie.</p>
<p>“No, not even the littlest of the Periwinkleses,”
said Polly. “She was the baby; and
she sat up in Mrs. Periwinkle’s lap.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh!” said Phronsie.</p>
<p>“Well, along about ten o’clock,—no, I guess
it was about the middle of the night,” said
Polly, “all the Periwinkleses were keeping just
as still as could be, you know; and there they
sat on their chairs and crickets with their eyes
wide open, staring at that big jar—oh! I forgot
to tell you that Mr. Periwinkle and Mrs. Periwinkle
had put some more pink and white sticks
in it, so as to see what would happen to them,
and”—</p>
<p>“Were there six pink and six white ones?”
screamed Joel, before the others could say a
word.</p>
<p>“Yes, I guess there were just exactly so
many,” said Polly; “and there they stood up,
as tall and splendid in the jar.”</p>
<p>“Oo!” Joel smacked his lips.</p>
<p>“Well, along in the middle of the night,—nobody
stirred, but all the eyes were staring at
those pink and white sticks, when suddenly
there was a little wee, faint noise.”</p>
<p>Phronsie snuggled up closer to Polly.</p>
<p>“It came from under the counter; and pretty
soon they all heard a faint voice say, ‘Is it time
to come out and do it?’”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘Yes,’ said another voice; ‘the clock has
just struck twelve, and all the big Periwinkles
and the little Periwinkleses are asleep.’”</p>
<p>“But they ain’t, Polly,” broke in Phronsie,
suddenly sitting straight in Polly’s lap.</p>
<p>“I know, Pet; but these little things with the
voices under the counter thought so, you see.
And now I’m going to tell you all about it.
Well, so out they crept—and they crept—and
they crept”—</p>
<p>Joel and David huddled up as close as they
could get to Polly, till they were almost in her
lap—“And there, in the middle of the floor,
were two little brown mice!”</p>
<p>Phronsie clapped her hands in glee.</p>
<p>“I’d rather have had a bear,” said Joel, falling
back disappointed.</p>
<p>“I hadn’t,” said David; “go on, Polly, do.”</p>
<p>“And those two little brown mice didn’t
seem to see Mr. Periwinkle and Mrs. Periwinkle
and all the little Periwinkleses sitting round on
their chairs and crickets, but they just danced
off towards the big jar in the shop-window.”</p>
<p>“O Polly! are they going to take more pink
and white sticks?” cried Phronsie, coming out
of her glee, and looking very sober.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“You’ll see, Pet. Well, and in a minute out
jumped from their hole under the counter Father
and Mother Mice, oh! just as big as you please,
and just as smart; and they said, ‘Wait, my
children, you can’t move the jar, you’re too little;’
and with one spring apiece they were up
on the shelf; and then they ran up on the top
of the jar, and tumbled down inside among the
pink and white sticks.”</p>
<p>“Oh, oh!” cried the little Peppers.</p>
<p>“Yes; and ‘Stand away there, my children,’
came in very faint tones from the jar, ‘or you’ll
be killed;’ and one of the great big mice—it was
Mr. Father Brown Mouse—stood on the very
tip most top of the jar, and let his tail dangle
over.</p>
<p>“‘Now run down, my dear,’ he said to his wife,
Mrs. Mother Mouse, ‘and stand on the ground,’—he
called the shelf the ground, you know,—‘and
pull my tail as hard as you did last night, you
know; then you must fly, just as you did last
night too, when you see the jar coming, or you
will be killed.’ So Mrs. Mother Mouse promised
she would do it all just as he told her, and she
did. And over came the jar on its side on the
shelf!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed the little Peppers.</p>
<p>“Then in rushed the two little
brown mice, and after them
pell-mell the
two big brown
mice, to drag
out <SPAN href="#image22">the pink and white
sticks.</SPAN> But Mr. Periwinkle
hopped up, and so did Mrs.
Periwinkle, and all the little
Periwinkleses, and he said,
‘No, sir, and No, ma’am,
and no, you little Mousiekins,
you don’t take my pink
and white sticks, and’”—</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image22" id="image22"> <ANTIMG src="images/image22.jpg" width-obs="379" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_157">The pink and white sticks.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“O Polly!” cried Phronsie,
grasping Polly’s
arm, “please do let
the poor, sweet little
brown mousies
have the pink
and white sticks.
Please, Polly!” she
begged, dreadfully excited.</p>
<p>“Hoh, hoh! why,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</SPAN></span>
they were Mr. Periwinkle’s pink and white
sticks,” cried Joel. “O Polly! I hope he took
a big stick and whacked ’em.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no,—no!” cried Phronsie, the tears
beginning to come into her brown eyes; “poor
little brown mousies. Please, Polly don’t let
him hurt them.”</p>
<p>“Well, he sha’n’t hurt them,” said Polly, relenting.
Davie twisted about very uncomfortably,
longing for Polly to make the naughty
little brown mice give back Mr. Periwinkle’s pink
and white sticks for Mrs. Periwinkle and the
little Periwinkleses. But he couldn’t go against
Phronsie; so he swallowed his disappointment,
and said, “Do let the little brown mice go,
Polly.”</p>
<p>“Well, I will,” said Polly, amid howls of disapproval
by Joel. “Well, when Mr. Periwinkle
said that, out jumped Mr. Father Brown Mouse,
and Mrs. Mother Brown Mouse, and the two
little brown mice, and each had a pink or a
white stick in his mouth, and away they ran for
their hole under the counter.”</p>
<p>Phronsie leaned back in Polly’s lap quite satisfied.</p>
<p>“Was it a white stick Mr. Father Brown<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</SPAN></span>
Mouse had in his mouth?” asked Joel, smothering
his disappointment as best he could.</p>
<p>“Yes, he had the white one,” said Polly,
smiling at him.</p>
<p>“Well, Mrs. Mother Brown Mouse got the
best anyway,” said Davie; “she got the pink
one.”</p>
<p>“Hulloa!” cried Ben rushing in, his face all
aglow. “Well, I declare, if you are not all up
in a bunch in this dark corner. Aren’t you
going to light a candle?”</p>
<p>Phronsie jumped out of Polly’s lap, where she
was nestling like a little bird, and rushed tumultuously
up to him. “O Bensie!” she screamed,
clasping her hands; “we’ve had pink and white
sticks, and poor, sweet little brown mousies, and
I liked ’em, I did,” she cried.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XI" id="XI">XI.</SPAN><br/> <small><SPAN href="#image24">THE OLD STAGE-COACH.</SPAN></small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“G’lang!” shouted Joel; “’twas just like
Mr. Tisbett’s, I know, Polly—wasn’t it?”
he screamed, coming up bright and shining
after a race around the kitchen, in which he
cracked an imaginary whip, and called to a make-believe
pair of horses that were prancing this
way and that and causing him no end of trouble.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly; “it was something like
Mr. Tisbett’s.”</p>
<p>“Make it just <em>exactly</em> like his,” begged Joel,
crowding up to Polly.</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image23">“Take care, Joe,” she warned;</SPAN> “you most
made me upset that dish of potatoes. Go away
now like a good boy, until I get ready to tell
the story;” and she bustled off into the pantry
again.</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="image23" id="image23"> <ANTIMG src="images/image23.jpg" width-obs="383" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_160">“Take care, Joe,” she warned.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>Joel set up another prancing around the
kitchen. This time little Davie joined in; and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</SPAN></span>
Phronsie came flying up in the rear, with very red
cheeks and Seraphina upside down in her arms.</p>
<p>“Goodness me!” exclaimed Polly, coming
out again with
both hands full.
“What a racket!”</p>
<p>“It’s Mr. Tisbett’s
stage-coach,”
announced
Joel
with a flourish,
and cracking his
whip. “Hooray,
there—get out
of the way or
you’ll be run
over! Any
passengers?—want
to get in,
ma’am?”—with
a bow to Polly.</p>
<p>“No,” said Polly; “thank you, I’m not going
away anywhere to-day, Mr. Tisbett.”</p>
<p>“G’lang then!” and away they swept off
rattling and lumbering along, and Polly was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</SPAN></span>
left in peace to get supper; for Mamsie would
come home tired and hungry before long.</p>
<p>But at last everything was ready; and the
children, tired of play, began to tease Polly for
the story she had promised them; and Joel
drove Mr. Tisbett’s big stage-coach into the
corner, and tied the horses fast.</p>
<p>So Polly had to begin it right away. “Well,
you know I told you it was a big stage-coach.”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, we know,” said Joel, flopping down
on a cricket, and folding his chubby hands.
“Now go on.”</p>
<p>“You see, there were four horses to this
stage-coach,” announced Polly, watching to see
the effect of this on Joel.</p>
<p>“Whickets!” cried Joel, springing off from
his cricket. “O Polly—<em>four</em> horses!”</p>
<p>“Yes, there were,” declared Polly, “four
horses,—two black ones and two white ones.”</p>
<p>Joel stood perfectly still, and did not speak a
word for several minutes, quite overcome at
this. So Polly seized the opportunity to rush
along as fast as she could in the story. “Well,
and there was a funny old man who drove the
stage-coach. He wasn’t in the least like our Mr.
Tisbett; he was little and round, and he had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</SPAN></span>
a squeaky voice; and he always said, ‘Pay me
your money before you get in, ma’am,’ like
this,” said Polly, her voice going up in a funny
little squeal, “which isn’t the leastest bit in
the world like our nice, good Mr. Tisbett.”</p>
<p>“He lets me ride sometimes when I don’t
pay any money,” said little Davie reflectively.</p>
<p>“And once,” said Phronsie, pushing back her
yellow hair to gaze into Polly’s face, “he let
Mamsie and me ride oh—away far off—up to
the store, I guess.”</p>
<p>“I know,” said Polly, “he did, Pet. Oh! our
Mr. Tisbett is just as dear as he can be. Well,
this stage-driver was sometimes just like a
snapping-turtle. I guess he had the tooth-ache,
maybe.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” said David, with a lively remembrance
of his experience in that direction.</p>
<p>“Anyway, he was cross sometimes,” said
Polly; “so, you see, people didn’t say much to
him; but they just paid down their money into
his hands, and hopped in as soon as ever they
could.”</p>
<p>“How do you know two of the horses were
black?” demanded Joel abruptly, and coming
up behind her.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh! goodness me, Joe, how you scared
me!” exclaimed Polly with a jump. “Why, because
I make ’em so in the story.”</p>
<p>“Were they big? and did they dance and
prance like this?” demanded Joel, kicking out
behind, and then going through as wonderful
evolutions as he thought his steeds could accomplish
if he held the reins.</p>
<p>“Yes, I s’pose they could do everything,”
said Polly; “but I want to tell the story
now.”</p>
<p>“When I’m a big man I’m going to be a
stage-driver,” announced Joel in a loud voice,
“and I shall have six horses; so there, Polly
Pepper.”</p>
<p>“Well, one day this great big stage-coach
I’m telling you about,” said Polly, hurrying on
with the story, as it was almost time for Mamsie
to come, “was just as full as it could be,
and there were two people upon the box with
the funny old driver.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image24" id="image24"> <ANTIMG src="images/image24.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="437" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_160">The old stage-coach.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“That’s me—one of ’em is,” declared Joel;
“and you—you may sit up there too, Dave.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m going to sit there too,” said little
David, hugging himself in great satisfaction.</p>
<p>“There was a fat old woman who took up<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</SPAN></span>
most of one whole seat; and she had a parrot in
a big cage, tied over with a newspaper, all except
a hole at the top so she could breathe.
And the old woman kept leaning over and peeping
into this hole, and asking, ‘Hey, pretty
Polly; how are you now?’ and Polly Parrot always
screamed back, ‘Polly wants a cracker,—Polly
wants a cracker.’”</p>
<p>“And didn’t anybody give her a cracker,
Polly?” asked Phronsie.</p>
<p>“No,” said Polly, “they didn’t. Well, and”—</p>
<p>“Why didn’t somebody give her a cracker?”
persisted Phronsie gravely.</p>
<p>“Oh! because they didn’t have any, and then—besides,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</SPAN></span>
oh, she had plenty of seeds in her
cage. Well, so”—</p>
<p>“Did she like seeds?” asked Phronsie, pulling
Polly’s arm gently to make her pay attention.</p>
<p>“Yes, I guess so,” said Polly absently.
“Well, so you see”—</p>
<p>“Please let somebody give her a cracker,
Polly,” said Phronsie in a grieved little voice
that made Polly stop at once.</p>
<p>“Oh! I will, Pet,” cried Polly at sight of her
face. “Yes indeed, that old green parrot shall
have a cracker. The little thin man in the
corner of the stage-coach felt in his pocket,
and he found one, and he gave it to her.”</p>
<p>“I think he was nice,” said Phronsie, in great
relief.</p>
<p>“Well, let me see—where was I?” said
Polly, wrinkling her brows. “Oh! well, in the
other side of the stage-coach, sitting with their
backs to the horses”—</p>
<p>“Two of them were black and two were
white,” said Joel.</p>
<p>“Yes;” Polly hurried on to get him off from
the horses; “well, there were three boys crowded
into the seat; and they had a basket they were
carrying to their grandmother, and there was a
chicken-pie in it.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh, my!” exclaimed all the little Peppers
together.</p>
<p>“Yes; and it was rich, and fat, and juicy,”
said Polly, for her life not being able to keep
from saying it.</p>
<p>“O Polly! I want some, I do,” broke in little
David imploringly. Joel was just going to say
so himself, but he caught Polly’s eye.</p>
<p>“Well, you can’t have any,” she said grimly.
And she set her teeth together hard. How
splendidly she could make a chicken-pie if she
ever had the chance! Why couldn’t the little
brown house ever have anything? And for a
moment she drooped her shoulders in a sorry
little fashion, and all the brightness went out
of her round face.</p>
<p>“We never have anything,” said little Davie
plaintively.</p>
<p>“Never,” said Phronsie sadly, shaking her
yellow head. And there they sat, two sorry
little figures, just ready to cry.</p>
<p>“Be still,” said Joel, with a savage pinch on
Davie’s arm.</p>
<p>“Ow!”</p>
<p>“Well, you’re making Polly sick.”</p>
<p>At the word “sick” Phronsie raised her head.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</SPAN></span>
“Are you sick, Polly?” she cried, getting into
her lap.</p>
<p>“No; that is—I was naughty,” said Polly,
waking out of her dream.</p>
<p>“Oh, you’re not naughty, Polly,” cried
Phronsie, kissing her. “You couldn’t be.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I was,” declared Polly; “just as
naughty as I could be, and I ought to be put
in the corner.”</p>
<p>The idea of Polly’s being put in the corner
so astonished the children that no one spoke,
so she plunged into the story as fast as she
could. “Well, now, you know the little thin
man I told you about over in the other corner,
who gave Polly parrot a cracker, had a”—</p>
<p>“Yes, I know,” said Phronsie, patting her
pinafore in a satisfied way. “He was a nice
man, Polly, and I like him.”</p>
<p>“Well, he had a big black dog with him, and
it was under his seat.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” cried all the children together.</p>
<p>“Yes; well, there were some other passengers
in the stage-coach, and”—</p>
<p>“Never mind about them, tell about the big
black dog,” begged Joel.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes; tell about the big black dog,” begged
the other two.</p>
<p>“Well, I will. Now, the big black dog smelt
the chicken-pie, you see, before the stage-coach
had rattled on many miles.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” cried the children.</p>
<p>“Yes; you see all these passengers were
going down to Bayberry, and it was an awfully
cold day, and everybody was all wrapped up in
big woolen shawls, and they had their caps
pulled down over their ears, and they all had
mittens on. Oh! and the chicken-pie dish was
hot when the boys’ mother gave it to them to
carry to their grandmother. It was just out
of the oven, you know; so they took turns in
carrying the basket on their knees. It kept
their hands warmer, you know.”</p>
<p>“That was nice,” said little Davie reflectively.</p>
<p>“Wasn’t it? Well, they were all going along
as fine as you please,” cried Polly, racing on in
the story, “when all of a sudden,—Whoa!—Gee—whoop—whoa-a!”
called Polly in a very
loud voice; and she pulled hard on an imaginary
pair of reins, and held in two pairs of fiery
steeds.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I can stop ’em better’n that,” screamed
Joel, springing to his feet. “Here, give me the
reins.” So he whoaed, and pulled, and roared,
and at last announced that the horses were
brought up standing, and the big stage-coach
was quite still.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Joel,” said Polly; “well, then,
down jumps the fat little cross stage-driver
from his box, and he comes up to the door.
‘Fly out of here,’ he says, ‘every one of you.’</p>
<p>“‘What must we get out for?’ asked the
woman with the parrot. You see, she was
very fat and she didn’t wish to be hurried out
in this way.</p>
<p>“‘Get out this minute,’ roared the little cross
old driver, ‘or I’ll tumble the stage over,
ma’am.’</p>
<p>“So she got out with a great deal of trouble,
and set her cage, with the parrot in it, all tied
up in a newspaper, except a hole in the top for
him to breathe by”—</p>
<p>“Please don’t let them spill out his cracker,
Polly,” said Phronsie anxiously.</p>
<p>“No, I won’t, Pet. You see, the little thin
man stuck it in very tight in the bars over the
seed-cup, Phronsie.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Polly, I like that little thin man very much,
I do,” declared Phronsie in a burst of enthusiasm.</p>
<p>“So do I, Phronsie. Well, and then the
other passengers all got out; they had to, you
see, because the cross little stage-driver was
screaming and roaring at them, you know, and
last of all the three boys with the chicken-pie-basket
got out. And they set it on the grass,
very carefully under a bush by the roadside;
and then they ran with all the rest of the
people to see what the matter was with the
stage-coach. Everybody ran but the big black
dog.”</p>
<p>“Now I know that he is going to eat up the
boys’ grandmother’s chicken-pie,” cried Joel—“oh,
dear me!”</p>
<p>“Hush,—don’t tell things till I get to ’em,
Joe,” cried Polly, who dearly loved to announce
all the startling surprises in her stories with as
much of a flourish as possible.</p>
<p>“Well, I most know he is,” said Joel, subsiding
into a loud whisper. “Ain’t he, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Maybe. Well, now, you know everybody
was peering and looking this way and that, all
over the big stage-coach. ‘I don’t see anything<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</SPAN></span>
broken,’ said the little thin man, getting
down on his knees on the hard frozen ground to
examine it underneath.</p>
<p>“‘And neither do I,’ said the big fat woman
very angrily; ‘and I’m just going to get in
again.’</p>
<p>“‘No you won’t, either, ma’am,’ declared the
cross little stage-driver; ‘for this is my stage-coach,
and I tell you I heard something crack.’</p>
<p>“‘’Twas a piece of a stone in the road, I
guess,’ said the thin little man, getting up from
his knees, and brushing the dirt off.</p>
<p>“‘Or a stick you ran over most likely,’ said
another.</p>
<p>“But the little old stage-driver said, ‘No,’
very crossly; ‘it wasn’t either of these things.’
It sounded just like the bottom of his stage-coach
cracking, and he wasn’t going to have it
smashed. And he kept them all out there in
the cold, till he looked over and under and
around it very carefully. At last, as he couldn’t
find anything, not even the smallest, tiniest bit
of a crack, he let them get in again. So the
big fat woman picked up her parrot in the cage,
with the newspaper tied over it, all except a
hole in the top for it to breathe through,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</SPAN></span>
and everybody else got their things and clambered
in,—all but the three boys, who couldn’t
find the chicken-pie they were carrying to
their grandmother, that was under the bush by
the roadside.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” they all exclaimed, while
Phronsie clasped her small hands in despair,
and sat quite still.</p>
<p>“No, it wasn’t there,” declared Polly, shaking
her brown head,—“not so much as a scrap of
the crust, nor a bit of the dish, nor a single
speck of the basket. And oh, how those boys
did feel!”</p>
<p>“What did they do?” cried Joel, feeling such
a calamity not to be borne.</p>
<p>“They just couldn’t do anything,” said Polly.
“And down they sat on three stones by the
roadside. And everybody had stopped getting
in, and turned to help look for the pie. And
pretty soon they all heard a dreadful noise.”</p>
<p>“What was it?” asked Phronsie fearfully.</p>
<p>“Oh! now I know it is the chicken-pie coming
back; and those three boys can take it to their
grandmother,” exclaimed little David joyfully.</p>
<p>“Hoh—hoh—a chicken-pie can’t come back
like that,” said Joel, with a snort.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“And the little thin man came skurrying out
of the bushes, and dragging after him his big
black dog,” said Polly with a fine flourish, “who
smelt of chicken-pie all over his face; and he
wouldn’t look at anybody, and especially the
three boys sitting on their stones by the roadside;
but he rolled his eyes up like this,” Polly
looked off sideways, and up at an imaginary
sky; “and his master, the thin little man, said,
and he dragged him by his collar up in front
of those boys, ‘Now, sir, say you’re sorry you’ve
eaten up all that pie;’ and that dog said, ‘Bark—bark!’
just as loud, oh, you can’t think!”</p>
<p>Phronsie screamed in great excitement, and
clapped her hands together to think of the big
dog. Then she grew very sober. “But what
will the boys do, Polly?”</p>
<p>“And the grandmother?” finished Joel and
David together.</p>
<p>“Oh! the little thin man said, ‘Hold your
hands, boys;’ and then he dropped one—two—three—four—five—six
gold pieces into them.”</p>
<p>“Gold?” screamed Joel excitedly.</p>
<p>“Yes, real, true shiny gold,” cried Polly,
nodding away; “enough to buy two dozen
chicken-pies, all richer and juicier and better<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</SPAN></span>
than the one the boys were carrying to their
grandmother.”</p>
<p>“‘Now let’s all hop into the stage-coach,’
cried the little thin man—Why, here’s Mamsie!”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XII" id="XII">XII.</SPAN><br/> <small>MR. NUTCRACKER; THE STORY THAT WASN’T A STORY.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“Come on!” whooped Joel, rushing into
the kitchen, and tossing his cap in the
corner; “my chores are all done; now tell the
story, Polly, tell the story!” he clamored.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” began Polly in a vexed tone,
and looking up at the old clock in the corner.
Then she remembered what Mamsie had said
once, “If you promise anything, do it cheerfully.”
“I will, Joey,” she finished, a smile
running over her face; “just wait one minute;”
and she flew into the buttery.</p>
<p>“I can’t wait a single bit of a minute,” grumbled
Joel.</p>
<p>But Polly was back almost before he could
say another word. “Now, says I,” she cried,
“we’ll have the story, Joe.”</p>
<p>“It’s got to be a long one,” declared Joel, a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</SPAN></span>
remark he never failed to make on like occasions.</p>
<p>“All right,” said Polly gayly. “Now, I
thought up something you’ll like, I guess, for
this story; it’s about Mr. Nutcracker!”</p>
<p>“Jolly!” exclaimed Joel, hugely pleased; “I
guess I shall, Polly;” and ripples of satisfaction
ran over his round cheeks. “Well, do hurry!”</p>
<p>“I’ve got to do some work,” said Polly, pausing
a moment to think; “I can’t ever sit down
to tell stories in the daytime without I’m working,—ever
in all this world, Joe Pepper. And
Mamsie has just taken all the sacks home to
Mr. Atkins; she finished ’em last night. Whatever’ll
I do?” she wrinkled her brows, and stood
lost in thought.</p>
<p>“You might mend our stockings,” said Joel,
knocking one set of toes impatiently against
the other. “Do hurry, Polly, and think of something,”
he implored, his face falling.</p>
<p>“Mamsie’s done those,” said Polly. “I peeked
into the mending-basket after breakfast; and
they’re all finished and rolled up into little balls.”</p>
<p>“Well, come on, then,” said Joel, thoroughly
out of patience; “if there isn’t any work, do tell
the story, Polly.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“It doesn’t seem right to be sitting down in
the morning, without I am working,” said Polly
slowly; “I don’t know when I’ve done it. But
there really isn’t any sewing; and the biscuits
I was going to make can be done just as well
by and by; so I s’pose I can tell you the story
now, Joey.”</p>
<p>“Come on, then!” shouted Joel, throwing
himself flat on the floor, and drumming with his
heels. “Do hurry up, Polly Pepper!”</p>
<p>So Polly sat down on the floor, feeling still
very queer to be telling stories in the daytime
without a needle in her fingers, and Joel squirmed
along and laid his head in her lap. “I’m glad
you ain’t sewing,” he declared in great satisfaction;
“’cause now you can smooth my hair.”</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image25">So Polly smoothed and patted his stubby
head in a way that Joel liked</SPAN> to have Mamsie
do, and presently she began:</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image25" id="image25"> <ANTIMG src="images/image25.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="505" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_178">So Polly smoothed and patted his stubby head in a way that Joel liked.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Mr. Nutcracker had a house”—</p>
<p>Rap—rap—came somebody’s fingers on the
old green door.</p>
<p>“Oh, bother!” cried Joel, jumping up. And
Polly skipped, too, in surprise; for visitors didn’t
come very often to the little brown house door,
and they both ran as fast as they could to open it.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>An old man stood on the flat door-stone,
leaning both hands on a knobby old stick;
and his head, underneath his torn hat, was bobbing
as he trembled with age. The children
stared at him in dismay. “I’m very hungry,”
he said, looking at Polly; “I haven’t eaten
anything to-day; can’t you give me a bite?”</p>
<p>Oh, dear! Polly looked at Joel in dismay.
There wasn’t anything in the house, except
some cold potatoes that Mrs. Pepper was going
to fry for dinner, and Polly’s biscuits, as she<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</SPAN></span>
called them by courtesy, that were still to be
made, as the bread had given out.</p>
<p>“We haven’t anything”—she began, in a
faltering voice.</p>
<p>“Why, Polly Pepper!” exclaimed Joel loudly,
and crowding past her to get a better view of
their visitor; “we have too—lots and lots;”
for Joel never could bear to have people think
they were poor.</p>
<p>“Where is it?” asked Polly, turning on him.
Then she flew around again, for the old man
was sinking down on the flat stone. “Oh, dear
me! don’t please, poor old man,” she begged,
trying to help him up to his feet again.</p>
<p>“I’m very hungry,” he quavered, shaking
over his stick.</p>
<p>“Come into the house,” said Polly, with both
hands under his arm—“Joe, take his other
arm—and you can sit in our Mamsie’s big
chair; it’s splendid, and it will rest you.”</p>
<p>The old man nodded, and set his poor trembling
feet just where Polly told him to; and at
last, Joel puffing and pushing on his side with a
great deal of importance, he was helped into
the kitchen, and set down in Mother Pepper’s
big calico-covered chair over in the corner.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“That’s so nice,” he said with a deep sigh,
and resting his head on his shaking hands.</p>
<p>“Joel,” said Polly, drawing off that individual
into the entry with great difficulty, as he
had no eyes or ears for anything but their visitor,
“I’m afraid he’s going to die, he’s so very
hungry. I must get him something to eat.
Now I’m going to bake my biscuits; Mamsie’d
let me give him some of those, I know.”</p>
<p>“No, no!” cried Joel; “you’ve got to tell
me about Mr. Nutcracker, Polly,” seizing her
gown.</p>
<p>“For shame, Joe!” cried Polly warmly,
“when that poor old man is maybe going to
die because he hasn’t had anything to eat.
What would Mamsie say if she could hear
you?”</p>
<p>Joel ducked his stubby head, and kicked the
floor with his toes in a shamefaced way.
“Well, you may, Polly,” he cried; “and I’ll
help you,” he added, brightening up, and running
into the kitchen after her.</p>
<p>“So you shall,” cried Polly briskly. “See
if there’s plenty of wood in the box, Joe, the
first thing,” as she hurried into the pantry to
get the baking materials.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes; there is,” declared Joel, poking his
head back of the stove to investigate; “lots
and lots, Polly Pepper. I’m going to put some
more in;” and he set up immediately a great
clatter that told the work was well under way.</p>
<p>“Don’t put too much in, Joe,” warned Polly,
knowing his energies in that direction; “you
will have the house a-fire. Goodness me, do
take out that last stick,” as she came in with
the bread-bowl.</p>
<p>“Can’t,” said Joe; “it’s got little sparks on
the end.”</p>
<p>“Then I’ll blow ’em out,” said Polly, setting
down the bread-bowl on the table; and running
over to the stove, she pulled out, to Joel’s extreme
dislike, the big stick he had last crammed
in, and suited the action to the word. “There,
you’ve got plenty in already, goodness knows,
Joe Pepper!” she declared, getting up with a
very red face. “You know Mamsie doesn’t
like us to crowd the stove tight chock full. It
burns splendidly, this new one does, and we’ll
have the chimney a-fire if we don’t look out.”</p>
<p>“The chimney ain’t a-fire,” grunted Joel.
“I’ll run out and see.” And he dashed toward
the door.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Come back: of course it isn’t now,” said
Polly with a laugh, and flying over to the baking-table.
“Oh, dear me! I ought not to laugh when
that poor old man is hungry.” Then she suddenly
dropped everything, and ran over to him
trembling away in Mamsie’s big chair.</p>
<p>“We haven’t anything in the house to eat
but some cold potatoes,” she said, the color all
over her face; “and our mother is going to fry
those for our dinner when she comes home.
But I’m going to bake some biscuits, if you
<em>could</em> wait, poor old man. They’ll soon be
done; for we’ve got a new stove, and it bakes
splendidly.” Then Polly hurried back to her
table, while the old man mumbled something
down in his throat, she couldn’t tell what, he
shook so.</p>
<p>“It’s good Phronsie and David are over to
Grandma Bascom’s,” said Polly, flying at her
work; “for she’d worry dreadfully over that
poor old man, and she’d tease me to hurry and
bake ’em fast, so I couldn’t do a thing. There,
now that pan’s ready for the oven.”</p>
<p>“Let me carry ’em and put ’em in,” cried
Joel, who, having given up his plan to rush out
and investigate the old chimney from the small<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</SPAN></span>
door-yard, was now hanging over Polly’s baking-table,
and dividing his attention upon her work
and the old visitor over in the corner. “Let
me, Polly,” springing up, and holding out both
hands.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m afraid!” began Polly. Then remembering
how he had to wait for the story, she
added hastily, “Well, be careful, Joe,” as she
put the pan into his outstretched hands.</p>
<p>“I’ll be careful,” said Joe, marching off with
his black eyes fastened on the pan which he
was carrying carefully in both hands. “Now,
says I, you’re going into the oven, Mr. Biscuits.”</p>
<p>Polly rushed back into the pantry to get
another pan, when she heard Joel’s voice: “Oh,
I couldn’t help it, Polly,” and when she flew
out, there was Joel sitting on the floor in a
heap; and the pan was upside down beside him,
while several little lumps of dough seemed to
be trying to get back of the stove.</p>
<p>“O Joe, are you hurt?” cried Polly, flinging
down her empty pan, and running up to him.</p>
<p>“No—no—no!” roared Joel in the greatest
distress, “but I’ve up—up—set—upset—upset”—and
he screamed on worse than ever.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Never mind,” said Polly soothingly, and
swallowing something in her throat as she
looked at the poor little lumps of dough on
the floor. “See, you didn’t spill ’em all, Joe,”
and she turned the pan right side up; “there
are some stuck fast.”</p>
<p>Joel, at that, took out one black eye from
under his arms, and regarded the pan through
his tears.</p>
<p>“And <SPAN href="#image26">you are scaring that poor old man
most to death,” said Polly</SPAN>, hastily gathering
up the little lumps of dough. “Look at him,
Joe.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image26" id="image26"> <ANTIMG src="images/image26.jpg" width-obs="497" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_185">“You are scaring that poor old man most to death,” said Polly.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>Joel stopped instantly as he looked over at
Mamsie’s corner. There sat the poor old man,
staring at them both, and hanging to the arm
of the big chair in consternation.</p>
<p>“Now you’ve got to go over and tell him that
you won’t cry any more,” said Polly decidedly;
“else I don’t know what will happen. Maybe
he’ll go out on the doorstep again, and tumble
straight down. Just think, Joel Pepper!” And
with that she opened the oven door and popped
in the pan that had a few lonely little dough-lumps
scattered in it.</p>
<p>Joel, thus adjured, scampered over to the poor<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186-</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187]</SPAN></span>
old man. “I—I—won’t—cry any more, sir,”
he blurted out, twisting his face dreadfully.</p>
<p>“Hey?” said the old man, “what’s the matter?”
So Joel told him the whole story.</p>
<p>And the old man, who hadn’t heard the tumble
and the upset of the pan, only Joel’s roars,
soon quieted down and leaned back in his chair.</p>
<p>“And now,” said Polly, over by the table,
“I shouldn’t wonder if this pan was ready for
you to carry over and put in the oven, Joey.”</p>
<p>“What?” exclaimed Joel, not believing his
ears; “you going to let me put that one in?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, “to be sure. You won’t
stumble this time, Joe, if you look where you’re
going.”</p>
<p>“I caught my toe in the rug,” said Joe, racing
over to the table; “I was looking at the pan, and
I didn’t see where I was going.”</p>
<p>“Well, you must use your eyes so you do see
where you’re going,” said Polly with a merry
laugh. “There now,” and she put the second
pan in Joel’s happy hands. “This one will go
all right, I guess.”</p>
<p>And this one did. And it was presently shut
up tight in the hot oven, along with the lonely
little dough-lumps, now puffing up finely; and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</SPAN></span>
Joel, proud as he could be, strutted up and
down the kitchen floor. And Polly put away
her baking-things, and soon the old kitchen
was spick-span, it was so fresh and tidy.</p>
<p>“And now,” she said, “we can’t do anything
for that poor old man till those biscuits are
done. Oh, dear me, how perfectly splendid;
here comes Mamsie!”</p>
<p>And out through the old doorway, and over the
flat stone, raced Polly, with Joel at her heels.
And they seized Mother Pepper on both sides,
holding her arms, while Joel took her big bundle,
all the time pouring the story of the poor
old man, and the dreadful state he was in, and
the biscuits baking, and, oh! Joel must confess
how he had upset the pan with the first ones,
though Polly tried to stop him, and oh! couldn’t
Mamsie fry him some potatoes right away, and
ever so much more, till they all three stood in
the old kitchen.</p>
<p>“He must have some tea,” said Mrs. Pepper,
with a sharp look at him, and throwing off her
shawl. “Run, Polly, and get the tea-caddy.”</p>
<p>“O Mammy!” exclaimed Polly. Mother
Pepper never had tea unless she had caught
cold, or was so tired she must take it, or get<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</SPAN></span>
sick; and there was now such a very little bit
down in the bottom of the caddy. And Polly
stood quite still.</p>
<p>“Run, I say, Polly,” commanded Mrs. Pepper;
and she pulled the old tea-kettle into a
hotter part of the stove. “A fine cup of tea
will do his bones good, more’n anything else.”</p>
<p>“There’s such a little bit left,” gasped Polly,
not moving.</p>
<p>“Polly!” Mrs. Pepper turned suddenly on
her. “Why, Polly—hush, he’ll hear you. For
shame, child; he’s such a very poor old man.”</p>
<p>“And then you won’t have any,” said Polly,
at her end of self-control. “O Mamsie! I wish
I hadn’t brought him in,” she added under her
breath, and she burst into tears.</p>
<p>Mrs. Pepper only stopped to pat her head; and
then she hurried into the pantry and brought
out the tea-caddy; and Polly, with the tears
racing over her face, watched her as the precious
tea was poured into the little black pot
and set on the stove.</p>
<p>“Now run, Polly, child,” cried Mother Pepper
as cheerily as ever, “and get the big pink-and-white
cup on the upper shelf.” This used
to be Father Pepper’s, and was carefully laid<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</SPAN></span>
away; so while Polly ran off with her tears, wiping
them on her apron, Mrs. Pepper sliced up
some cold potatoes, and set them in the spider
to fry. Joel in the meantime had been opening
his mother’s big bundle, as he always tried to
do whenever she brought home the fresh supply
of sacks and coats to make, so he heard nothing
of what was going on.</p>
<p>“And I guess you better have a look at those
biscuits in the oven,” observed Mrs. Pepper
wisely, as she sliced away. So Polly ran, and
kneeled down before the stove, and drew out
first one pan and then the other—the one with
the lonely little lumps in it—</p>
<p>“O Mamsie!” she exclaimed happily; “see,
they’re as fine as they can be!”</p>
<p>And sure enough they were; every biscuit
had turned a lovely brown, and it had puffed up
in just the right place, as much as to say, “You
see, we did our duty.”</p>
<p>“So they are,” cried Mrs. Pepper, pleased to
see Polly all right once more; “it beats all,
Polly, to see how nicely you can bake things.
Mother’s proud of you.”</p>
<p>Polly set down the two hot pans on the kitchen
table, and ran round back of her mother, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</SPAN></span>
dropped a kiss on the black hair. “I’m awfully
sorry,” she whispered.</p>
<p>“I know it,” said Mrs. Pepper; “and now we
just won’t say any more about it, Polly, child.”
Then she briskly began to turn her potato-slices
that were sizzling away in the spider in the
cheeriest fashion.</p>
<p>And Polly got a little old towel, very clean
and nice, and spread it on the tray, and she put
the big pink-and-white cup upon it, and Mamsie
poured the tea into it, and dished out some
crisp potato-bits on a plate, and Polly put some
little biscuits around it all, and there was a dinner
fit for a king!</p>
<p>“Oh, my!” howled Joel, smelling the potatoes;
“what have you got?” jumping up, and
nearly upsetting Polly, and tray, and all, as she
carried it slowly across the kitchen to the old
man’s chair.</p>
<p>“Take care, Joe,” warned Mrs. Pepper, following
to help Polly.</p>
<p>“Oh—oh!” Joel seemed to lose sight of
everything but Father Pepper’s pink-and-white
cup, and he pointed an astonished finger at it.</p>
<p>“I know it,” said Mrs. Pepper, setting her
lips together firmly; “Father’d like to have us<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</SPAN></span>
let the old man take it. Now, Polly, you can
feed him the potato, and”—</p>
<p>“No, let me,” said Joel, crowding in between,
and trying to get possession of the two-tined
fork.</p>
<p>“No, I think Polly better; but you can break
the biscuits apart,” said Mrs. Pepper. So pretty
soon the old man was sitting up quite straight
for him; and after he had taken one or two good
draughts of the steaming tea, he felt quite revived,
and let Polly feed him the crisp potato-bits,
and the biscuits which Joel industriously
broke apart, until Mrs. Pepper put down the
empty cup, and regarded Polly’s plate, on which
there wasn’t a scrap of anything left but the
fork.</p>
<p>“I can’t thank you,” said the old man, quite
heartened up, and looking around at them all.</p>
<p>“No, don’t try,” said Mrs. Pepper; “you can
go to sleep now. Come, children;” and she drew
them off into the bedroom.</p>
<p>“Now, Polly,” she said, when the door was
shut, “you must run down to Parson Henderson’s
at once. He’ll know what to do with the
poor old man, for we can’t let him go. He’ll
tumble down in the road.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I will, mother,” cried Polly, tying on her
sun-bonnet. “What’ll I say, Mammy?”</p>
<p>“Say? Why, tell just what it all is,—how he
came, and ask Parson Henderson what we are
to do. Run along, child, and don’t let the grass
grow under your feet.”</p>
<p>“Will Parson Henderson know what to do
with him?” cried Joel in a loud whisper.</p>
<p>“Yes, of course,” said Polly quickly; “Parson
Henderson knows everything. But ’spose he
shouldn’t be home, and I sh’d see Miss Jerusha!”
and Polly’s round cheek turned pale with
fright.</p>
<p>“Go along, child, and don’t worry about things
till you get to ’em,” said Mrs. Pepper. “The
Lord’ll provide, and I believe He’ll let Parson
Henderson be home.”</p>
<p>So Polly ran off on the wings of the wind, and
presently back she came in state, riding in the
big old chaise that Parson Henderson had borrowed
from one of his parishioners. And on the
way the minister told so many pleasant things,
that Polly wished, if it hadn’t been for Mamsie’s
anxiety over the old man, that that ride might
last forever. And then they were in front of
the little brown house, to which they drove up<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</SPAN></span>
with a flourish, bringing Joel out with an envious
whoop, and Mrs. Pepper to the window.</p>
<p>And then Parson Henderson and Mrs. Pepper
and the children helped the poor old man tenderly
into the big chaise, to go to the nice place
that the parson knew about, till he would be
well enough to go on his journey. And then
home came Phronsie and David from Grandma
Bascom’s, down the lane, just in time to see the
chaise go whirling off; and Ben, hungry as a
beaver, came rushing in from his work for dinner.
So Mother Pepper and Polly had to fly to
get the midday meal ready, leaving it to Joel to
tell the story in his own way, an opportunity
that he improved to the utmost.</p>
<p>And after dinner Ben said that he wanted
Joel to go back with him to work; for there
was wood to pile, and that meant ten cents
more pay at night. So it was evening before
Joel thought of the interrupted story; and he
screamed right out, “O Polly Pepper, you didn’t
finish about Mr. Nutcracker!”</p>
<p>“No,” said Polly, “I didn’t; and how could
I?”</p>
<p>“Well, you must tell it now,” declared Joel
in a very injured fashion.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Why, Joel Pepper, look at that clock!” cried
Polly, pointing to it.</p>
<p>“It’s only half—a little after seven,” said
Joel, looking every way but at the clock.</p>
<p>“O Joe, it’s twenty-five minutes to eight!”
said Davie, running up to stand under the clock.</p>
<p>“Well, that isn’t much,” grumbled Joel.</p>
<p>“It’s five minutes after your bed-time, Joel,”
said Mother Pepper, going into the bedroom for
her big work-basket; “so take yourself off.”</p>
<p>“And I’ll finish Mr. Nutcracker to-morrow,
Joe,” promised Polly, as Joel clattered up-stairs.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XIII" id="XIII">XIII.</SPAN><br/> <small>MR. NUTCRACKER.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">And so it came about that Polly began on
the morrow, without any more ado, the
story of Mr. Nutcracker; for Mother Pepper
said that she might sit down as soon as the
dishes were washed, and tell it to Joel. So this
is it:—</p>
<p>“Mr. Nutcracker,” began Polly in her gayest
fashion, “was very high up in the world. In
fact, he didn’t like to have anybody above him.
So he built his house clear up ever so far above
everybody else. Then he was quite satisfied.”</p>
<p>“What kind of a house?” broke in Joel.</p>
<p>“Never mind. You wait till you hear more
of the story,” said Polly. “Well, Mrs. Nutcracker
liked her house that he built her very
much indeed. That is, she would have liked it,
but the children, the little Nutcrackers, you
see, wouldn’t stay in.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Joel.</p>
<p>“No; they kept jumping out as fast as they
could. And those that didn’t jump out, tumbled
out.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” said Joel again.</p>
<p>“Until it was very dreadful,” declared Polly,
shaking her brown head; “for it kept poor Mrs.
Nutcracker running every minute to the door
of her house to try to keep her children in.
At last she said to her husband, Mr. Nutcracker,
‘Pa, you surely must build me a house nearer
to the ground.’”</p>
<p>“And did he?” cried Joel, absorbed in interest.</p>
<p>“No, he said, ‘Oh, never! No Nutcracker
has ever lived lower down in the world than we
are! and I can’t do it, my dear!’”</p>
<p>“That was bad of him,” exploded Joel with
very red cheeks; “bad, mean old man not to do
as Mrs. Nutcracker wanted him to do. Wasn’t
he, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Well, you’ll see,” said Polly, hurrying along
as fast as she could. “And the little Nutcrackerses
kept jumping and tumbling out of the
house at a great rate, until one day something
very dreadful happened.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Tell about it,” cried Joel, hugely pleased.</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m going to. Well, Pa Nutcracker
had gone off about his business, and Mrs. Nutcracker
was doing the work, when suddenly
there was a loud noise down on the ground, and
two or three of the little Nutcrackerses jumped
out to the door, and leaned over, and said they
were going down to see what it was, and then
away they rushed with a hop, skip, and a jump.
And six of them, brothers and sisters, said they
were going; and they were in such a hurry
they didn’t look straight before them, and they
tumbled through the air—whiz—whiz”—</p>
<p>“Did they come on their heads?” cried Joel
excitedly.</p>
<p>“No; they stuck their feet out, and they
came right down on them,” said Polly, “just
as good as could be. So you see they weren’t
hurt a bit. Well, and then as Mrs. Nutcracker
was all alone, why she thought she might as
well go too. So she went down. And there
was the Nutcracker house left all by itself.
Then came the dreadful thing.”</p>
<p>“What was it?” asked Joel fearfully, and
snuggling closer to Polly.</p>
<p>“Well, at first it was just as still,” said Polly,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</SPAN></span>
dropping her voice to a little whisper, “you
can’t think how still it was, Joey Pepper. Not
a creature was stirring, and”—</p>
<p>“Why didn’t she shut the door,” cried Joel,
“when she went out, and put the key in her
pocket? Say, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Why, there wasn’t any key,” said Polly,
racing along. “Now, you mustn’t stop me any
more, Joe, else I never’ll get through.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Nutcracker wasn’t a nice man at all, I
think,” said Joel in great disapproval, “if he
couldn’t give ’em a key. Was he, Polly?”</p>
<p>“You’ll see,” said Polly, redoubling her speed.</p>
<p>“Well, when Mrs. Nutcracker ran along so
swiftly, being in such a hurry, you see, her
great long train to her dress swept out and”—</p>
<p>“Is it a train of cars?” asked Joel, his eyes
sticking out as far as possible. “O Polly! I’ve
never seen ’em, ’cept in a picture.”</p>
<p>“No,” said Polly. Then she burst out laughing,
“How could a train of cars be hanging on
Mrs. Nutcracker’s dress, Joe? Dear me, that
would be funny!”</p>
<p>“You said train,” declared Joel, dreadfully
disappointed.</p>
<p>“I know; but this is different. It’s something<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</SPAN></span>
made like the rest of the dress, and it
hangs off when the one who’s got the dress on
walks, and she can swish it around perfectly
splendidly; just like this, Joel Pepper,” and
<SPAN href="#image27">Polly</SPAN> hopped to her feet, and <SPAN href="#image27">began to parade
up and down the old kitchen floor</SPAN>, holding an
imaginary trailing gown, and then letting it fall
like a peacock’s tail as it swept the ground,
while she held her head high, and sailed off.</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="image27" id="image27"> <ANTIMG src="images/image27.jpg" width-obs="327" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_200">Polly began to parade up and down the old kitchen floor.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Hoh, how you look!” cried Joel in disdain.</p>
<p>“Joel,” she cried, coming up to him, with
sparkling eyes and her cheeks rosy red, “it
must be perfectly lovely to have a train to your
dress. Oh, don’t I wish I had one just like
that picture in Mr. Beebe’s book! Then I’d
have a fan, a red fan just like that lady—no,”
said Polly, wrinkling her brows as she tried to
decide, “I b’lieve I’d rather have a pink fan,
Ben does so love pink. Yes, my gown shall be
pink, too, pink satin with sweet little white flowers
all over it, and shiny. O Joel, it shall shine
just like everything!” and Polly swept up and
down again like a lady of fashion.</p>
<p>“Well, that isn’t Mrs. Nutcracker,” called
Joel loudly, in an injured tone.</p>
<p>“Oh, I forgot!” exclaimed Polly, all her airs<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</SPAN></span>
and graces tumbling off from her in a flash, and
she skurried back to Joel. “Oh, let me see!
where was I?”</p>
<p>“You said Mrs.
Nutcracker’s long
train swept out,”
supplied Joel.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, so I
did. Well, and
you know the
dreadful creature
that was always
watching
to see if he could
find the Nutcracker
house
left all alone,
caught sight of
her long train
sweeping away,
and he snapped
his green eyes
with delight
and he laughed
a perfectly dreadful laugh, and he said, ‘Now I
have it, now I have it!’”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh! who was he?” screamed Joel, flinging
himself forward almost into Polly’s lap.</p>
<p>“Wait, and you’ll see,” she replied, laughing.
“Well, so, sure enough, just as soon as Mrs.
Nutcracker was fairly off, in hurried this dreadful
creature, right in the doorway of the Nutcracker
house.”</p>
<p>“Did he get on Mr. Nutcracker’s bed?” cried
Joel.</p>
<p>“Wait, and see,” said Polly again.</p>
<p>“You say, ‘wait and see,’ every single time I
ask anything,” grumbled Joel.</p>
<p>“And I am going to all through this story,”
said Polly coolly; “so it won’t be any use for
you to ask me, Joe. Well, and there he was as
quick as could be, inside that dear little house,
and all those Nutcrackers away.”</p>
<p>Polly spread her hands in a sad little way.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Joel in distress.</p>
<p>“Well, now you know when Mrs. Nutcracker
went down she didn’t mean to stay long, but
she met a friend,”—</p>
<p>“Who was it?” asked Joel abruptly.</p>
<p>“Oh, it was—dear me!” said Polly, bursting
into a little laugh; “it was her cousin, and”—</p>
<p>“You said it was her friend,” corrected Joel.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Well, and so it was,” said Polly merrily.
“I’m sure a cousin is a very nice friend, indeed.”</p>
<p>“I wish I had a cousin,” said Joel; “I’ve never
had one. Why don’t we have some, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Some what?” asked Polly absently, with
her mind on the story, wondering how she
should end it.</p>
<p>“Some cousins,” said Joel, twitching her
gown. “Why don’t we ever have any; say,
Polly?”</p>
<p>“Oh, some folks don’t have any,” said Polly,
stifling a sigh as she thought how very nice it
would be to have a houseful of cousins to go
and see.</p>
<p>“I s’pose poor folks don’t have any,” said
Joel reflectively.</p>
<p>“Um—maybe,” said Polly, her chin in her
hands, and only half hearing what he said.</p>
<p>“Well, do go on,” begged Joel in alarm lest
he should never get the end of that story, and
jogging her elbow; “what next, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Oh!” Polly started suddenly and rushed
on again. “Yes, there he was, that dreadful
creature right in the”—</p>
<p>“You said that,” cried Joel. “Mrs. Nutcracker<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</SPAN></span>
met her cousin, you told already; now
what next?”</p>
<p>“So I did,” said Polly brightly. “Yes, she
met her cousin, and so they stopped to talk and
to ask after each other’s families; and that took
a good deal of time, you know; and all this while
there was that dreadful creature in Mrs. Nutcracker’s
little house.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” cried Joel.</p>
<p>“Yes; and there were all the little Nutcrackerses
having such a good time running round,
trying to find out what the noise was all about,
and Mr. Nutcracker, too, he”—</p>
<p>“Polly,” asked Joel suddenly, “what was the
noise about?”</p>
<p>“Oh! it was nothing but a boy driving a lot
of <SPAN href="#image28">pigs</SPAN> to market, and they <SPAN href="#image28">wouldn’t go the
way he wanted ’em to</SPAN>; so he chased ’em, and he
switched his stick over their backs, and they
squealed awfully. And the little Nutcrackerses
were so sorry that they had taken the
trouble to come down just for that; so they said
they’d race up home again and see who would
beat.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image28" id="image28"> <ANTIMG src="images/image28.jpg" width-obs="427" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_204">And the pigs wouldn’t go the way he wanted ’em to.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“O Polly!” cried Joel, in great excitement;
“and did they, and find the dreadful creature<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</SPAN></span>
with the green eyes waiting for ’em in their
home? Did they, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly; “they did. And the littlest
of the Nutcrackerses, Jim Nutcracker, he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</SPAN></span>
got home first; and he rushed in the doorway
screaming out, ‘I’ve beaten—oh—dear me!’
there was the great creature lying down on the
floor, ready to eat him up!”</p>
<p>Joel clapped his little brown hands in delight.
“Make him bite him,” he begged; “do,
Polly.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, I can’t!” said Polly; “he was such a
little Nutcracker, you know. Well, he tumbled
right back against his brothers and sisters rushing
up. ‘Don’t go in,’ he screamed at them.
So they stopped, and all got in a round ring,
and thought about it. And the dreadful creature
in the house kept, oh, so still, hoping little
Jim Nutcracker hadn’t seen him, or at least
that he’d come back and bring his brothers and
sisters with him. And pretty soon Mrs. Nutcracker
got through talking with her cousin;
and so she came hurrying up home, and after
her, running as fast as could be, because you see
it was getting late, came Mr. Nutcracker.</p>
<p>“‘Oh, here come mammy and pappy!’
screamed all the children, as glad as they
could be; and”—</p>
<p>“Oh! make Mr. Nutcracker fight the dreadful
man with the green eyes in his house,” cried<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</SPAN></span>
Joel; “make him knock him down, and hit him
and bang him all over and”—</p>
<p>“O Joey!” cried Polly.</p>
<p>“Yes, do,” begged Joel; “and bite him till
he squealed just like the pigs. Will you,
Polly?”</p>
<p>“Well, you’ll see,” said Polly again, nodding
wisely. “Now, Mr. Nutcracker wasn’t a bit
afraid; so he cried out very boldly, ‘Be quiet,
my children,’ to all the little Nutcrackerses;
‘I’ll take care of the bad creature in our house.’
But Mrs. Nutcracker was awfully scared, for
she thought if she had only stayed at home the
dreadful thing couldn’t have got in. So when
Father Nutcracker started to go and fight the
bad, wicked creature, she just grasped hold of
his ta—I mean, his train, and”—</p>
<p>“Did Father Nutcracker wear a dress?” cried
Joel, in the greatest astonishment.</p>
<p>“He?—oh, no!” laughed Polly; then little
gurgles kept running up and down her throat,
while Joel persisted, “You said so; you said she
grabbed hold of his train, so there.”</p>
<p>“O Joey, I didn’t say ‘grabbed,’” corrected
Polly who dearly loved to use nice words.</p>
<p>“Well, anyway, you said she took hold of it,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</SPAN></span>
and he had a train just like Mrs. Nutcracker’s,
so he must have worn a dress,” cried Joel
stoutly; “I think that’s funny.”</p>
<p>“So I sh’d think,” said Polly, laughing again.
“Well, now, he didn’t wear a dress, and you
mustn’t interrupt me again, Joe; if you do, I
shall never get through this story in all this
world. ‘Come, children,’ cried Mrs. Nutcracker,”—and
Polly dashed off speedily; “‘help me to
hold your Pa, for he mustn’t fight that dreadful
thing in our house.’ So all the little Nutcrackerses
ran up to their mother, and helped her
hold Mr. Nutcracker fast and”—</p>
<p>“Oh, I think that’s too bad!” howled Joel,
horribly disappointed; “now there won’t be any
fight, Polly Pepper!”</p>
<p>“You wait and see,” advised Polly once more;
“then I guess you’ll like it, Joel Pepper.”</p>
<p>So Joel smiled again quite comfortably; since
Polly said he’d like it, he was quite sure he
should. And so, on Polly hurried. “Well, there
was Mr. Nutcracker with Mrs. Nutcracker and
all those little Nutcrackerses hanging on to him,
oh, so tight and fast! so he couldn’t get away
you see, although he begged and begged. And
then Mrs. Nutcracker spoke up loud and sharp,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</SPAN></span>
‘Children, you hold tight on to your Pa, and
don’t you let him go; while I run down and get
the cousins to come and help us.”</p>
<p>“O Polly! now I know,” exclaimed Joel in
great glee; “there’s going to be a big, big fight.
I like it a great deal better to have all those
cousins come and help, I do, Polly, truly.”</p>
<p>“So I thought,” said Polly bobbing her brown
head. “Well, I must hurry. So Mrs. Nutcracker
ran as fast as her feet would carry her,
down to the ground, and she called every one of
those cousins she’d been talking to such a little
while ago, and the big tears rolled out from her
eyes, and she couldn’t speak for a whole minute.</p>
<p>“‘Dear, dear, dear!’ cried all the cousins,
huddling around her, ‘what is the matter,
Cousin Nutcracker?’</p>
<p>“And then she finally told them all about it;
and every one of those cousins promised he’d go
up with Mrs. Nutcracker, and help to drive out
the bad, wicked creature who had stolen into her
house.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that was nice!” screamed Joe, in a joyful
tone. “Now there’s going to be a big, big
fight;” and he wriggled all over in great satisfaction.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“And so up they all came in a troop—I
guess there was a dozen of ’em,” said Polly.</p>
<p>“Oh, my!” exclaimed Joel.</p>
<p>“Yes; and Mrs. Nutcracker rushed up ahead
of ’em all, to her husband. ‘Pa,’ she cried,
‘here we are—we’ll help you to drive out the
bad, naughty, wicked thing from our house.’</p>
<p>“And every single one of those cousins said,
‘Yes, we’ll help you, Cousin Nutcracker.’</p>
<p>“So the little Nutcrackers let their pa go;
and they were very glad to do so, for they
ached all over holding him so long,—he was
very big, you know; and he kicked dreadfully,
and bit and scratched, whenever he didn’t like
things, and”—</p>
<p>“That wasn’t nice in a man,” observed Joel;
“I ain’t going to bite and scratch when I’m
grown up, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Hey?” said Polly. “Oh!” and then she
laughed. “Well, don’t interrupt again, Joel,”
she warned, holding up her finger. “Well,
Father Nutcracker, he said, ‘Now, Ma and children,’
turning to the little Nutcrackerses, ‘and
you, cousins, let’s plan how we’ll do this thing;
since you’ve come, you might as well help,
though I could have done very well alone.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</SPAN></span>
Now, I’m going ahead; and just as soon as my
nose sticks in the doorway, do you jump in and
scream, “Now we got you!” and we’ll all hop
on to that dreadful horrid creature, and beat
him, and pitch him out of our house.’”</p>
<p>Joel gripped Polly’s arm in speechless enjoyment.</p>
<p>“‘All right,’ said the cousins, bobbing their
heads. ‘And I approve of your plan, Pa,’ said
Mrs. Nutcracker very proudly; and the little
Nutcrackerses hopped and skipped in joy, and
so they started.”</p>
<p>Joel’s eyes got very big, but he didn’t say a
word as he clung to Polly’s arm.</p>
<p>“And don’t you think,” said Polly, “that the
hateful, bad old thing in the Nutcrackers’ house
didn’t hear them coming; they all stepped on
the tips of their toes, you know; and he just
winked and blinked his green eyes as he said to
himself, ‘I’ll catch ’em every one pretty soon.’
And then he looked up, and there was Mr. Nutcracker’s
nose in the doorway.”</p>
<p>Joel jumped as if he were shot. “O Polly!”
he screamed.</p>
<p>“And after him came all those cousins and
Mrs. Nutcracker. She was slower, ’cause she<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</SPAN></span>
was so big, you know; yes, and every single one
of those little Nutcrackerses; they just ran in
between all the others, and all together they
jumped and hopped onto the great big dreadful
creature, and”—</p>
<p>“Make him hop at them, and kick, too, Polly,
that big man with the green eyes!” howled Joel,
quite gone in excitement.</p>
<p>“Oh, it was very dreadful!” exclaimed Polly,
holding up both hands, “for about a minute or so.
And instead of the great, dreadful thing crying
out, ‘I’ve got you!’ he began to whimper and
beg. ‘Oh, let me go! let me go!’ And pretty
soon all the whole bunch of Nutcrackerses, and
their cousins who had come to help, just lifted
up that bad, wicked, horrid thing with the green
eyes, that had stolen into their house, and they
pitched him, head over heels through the doorway,
and down—down; and he was ten feet
long; so he was dreadful slow in”—</p>
<p>“O Polly Pepper!” roared Joel, “what you
saying? why, there isn’t any man so big as
that.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t a man,” said Polly coolly.</p>
<p>“Wasn’t a man?” fairly squealed Joel; “what
was it?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“A great brown, striped snake,” said Polly;
“he was lovely, but he was bad you know, to
steal into the Nutcrackers’ house when they
were all away.”</p>
<p>Joel tumbled back and thought a minute.
“Was Mr. Nutcracker a man, Polly?” he asked,
fixing his black eyes upon her face.</p>
<p>“Oh, no!” said Polly with a little laugh.
“Why, didn’t you guess, Joey Pepper? He
was the sweetest dear of an old gray squirrel
you ever saw; so of course he had to have a
brush-train, just like Mrs. Nutcracker’s, you
know.”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XIV" id="XIV">XIV.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE RUNAWAY PUMPKIN.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“I don’t see,” said Van as they were all
seated on the rug before the library fire,
listening to one of Polly’s stories, “how you
ever do think of such splendid things, Polly
Pepper.”</p>
<p>“That’s nothing,” said Jasper, “to the stories
she has told time and again in The Little
Brown House in Badgertown.”</p>
<p>“Oh, tell us one of those now!” begged Van
eagerly, “do, Polly Pepper;” and “do, Polly Pepper,”
cried Percy and little Dick together. And
“do, Polly” said Jasper pleadingly, “if you are
not all tired out.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m not tired!” said Polly, shaking back
the little fluffs of hair from her brow. Then she
sat looking into the fire a minute. <SPAN href="#image29">“I guess I’ll
tell you of ‘The Runaway Pumpkin.’”</SPAN></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image29" id="image29"> <ANTIMG src="images/image29.jpg" width-obs="436" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#XIV">“I guess I’ll tell you of the Runaway Pumpkin,” said Polly.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Do,” cried Jasper in great satisfaction. “I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</SPAN></span>
remember that; that’s fine. Now, keep still, you
three chaps, or else Polly can’t tell it. You’re
worse than the menagerie any day,” as the boys
began to express their enthusiasm in such a
babel, Polly could scarcely get a word in by
way of beginning.</p>
<p>“Well, once upon a time,” began Polly, trying
to frown at them; but instead, the brown
eyes were laughing as she hurried on, with
quite a flourish. “You must know that my
story is all about the time when animals talked,
and pumpkins walked, and”—</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t have any poetry!” began Van
in alarm; “that’s perfectly horrid. Don’t,
Polly.”</p>
<p>“Why, it isn’t in poetry,” she said.</p>
<p>“Yes, ’tis,” contradicted Van.</p>
<p>“Look out,” cried Jasper. “The first chap
who contradicts will get off from this rug, and
have no story at all.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean,” began Van.</p>
<p>“No, he really didn’t mean to contradict, I
believe, Jasper,” said Polly. “But what did
make you think I was going to tell you a poetry
story, Vanny? Why I couldn’t if I wanted
to. Tell me”—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216-</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Why, you said the animals talked, and the
pumpkins walked.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” cried Polly, almost tumbling
over on the rug, and laughing merrily, in which
they all joined; “I didn’t know I made a
rhyme. So I did say that, didn’t I? Well, you
needn’t be frightened, I won’t do so any more.
I don’t believe I could if I wanted to. Now,
then,” and she sat straight, and wiped her eyes,
“I’ll begin again.”</p>
<p>“And if you interrupt another time, old fellow,”
said Jasper in his fiercest fashion, and he
pretended to make a dive for Van’s coat-collar,
“out you go, sir, neck and heels. Go on, Polly;
I’ll keep this chap straight.”</p>
<p>“Well, pumpkins did walk and talk too,”
said Polly, plunging on in her gayest mood, “in
those days I’m telling you about. Now, Farmer
Stebbins had a big field of them,—oh! it
was as big as this house and the grounds, and
way, way off,—I don’t know how far; and every
single bit of it was full and running over with
pumpkins.”</p>
<p>“How many?” cried Van thoughtlessly.</p>
<p>“Sh!” Jasper held up his hand, and made a
great show of springing in Van’s direction,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</SPAN></span>
which made that individual duck suddenly behind
Percy’s back.</p>
<p>“You see, he had to have a great many pumpkins
to take to market, because there were such
lots of children at his house, and that was all
they had to live on.”</p>
<p>“Did they <em>eat</em> pumpkins?” cried Percy in a
tone of disgust.</p>
<p>“They didn’t exactly eat them,” said Polly,
“at least not all the while; but they ate the
things their father bought with the money he
sold them for at the market.”</p>
<p>“Oh!—well, go on.”</p>
<p>“And every day all those children would
climb up to all the windows in Farmer Stebbins’s
house, and watch to see the pumpkins
growing bigger. And the first thing they did
in the morning was to run out and count them
to see if anybody had run off with any in the
night.”</p>
<p>“How many were there?” asked Van, bobbing
up from his retirement.</p>
<p>“<em>Sh!</em>” cried Jasper.</p>
<p>“Oh! I don’t know; about a million, I suppose,”
said Polly recklessly.</p>
<p>“O Polly Pepper!” exclaimed Percy in astonishment;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</SPAN></span>
“why, that can’t possibly be
true.”</p>
<p>“Of course it isn’t,” said Polly coolly; “this
is a make-believe story, you know.”</p>
<p>“And if you two chaps don’t keep still, you’ll
get no story,” declared Jasper again. “Here’s
Dick, now, is as quiet as a mouse. You might
learn manners from him.”</p>
<p>“I want to hear Polly Pepper tell the story,”
said little Dick, folding his hands tightly together.</p>
<p>“Of course you do,—so we all do; and that’s
the only way we can hear it by keeping quiet.
Well, go on, Polly, please.”</p>
<p>So Polly began again: “Well, the pumpkins
grew and grew. First they were green, you
know, and funny little things, and the vines quite
covered them. And then they grew bigger,
and swelled all up fat and round, and ran their
heads through the green leaves; and the frost
came one night, and bit the grass and all the
tender things everywhere, and the next morning
when all the Stebbinses ran out, it didn’t
seem as if there was anything in the world but
big yellow pumpkins. All the vines were just
puckered and shrivelled up. But the pumpkins<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</SPAN></span>
were just as proud as could be; and they
said, ‘Now we’ve got the whole world to ourselves.’</p>
<p>“And Farmer Stebbins went up and down
among them all, rubbing his hands just like
this;” and Polly looked so like him that everybody
burst out laughing; “and he said, ‘Now,
says I, my fine pumpkins, we’ll put you in a pile
very soon, and when your coats get yellow, away
you go to market.’”</p>
<p>“What did he mean?” demanded Percy.</p>
<p>“Be still, and she’ll tell you,” said Jasper.</p>
<p>“And sure enough, what do you think. Every
single one of those million pumpkins soon
found himself in a great big pile against the
barn, and there they were to stay until the
farmer said they were yellow enough. Then
away they would drive to the market!</p>
<p>“Well, one cold night everybody had gone
to bed in the farmhouse, and even Snap the
great brindled dog was asleep, and all was as
still as it could be, when one yellow pumpkin
up top of the very tip of the pile whispered,
‘<em>Hist!</em>’ and every other pumpkin listened with
all his might to hear what he was going to
say.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘We are all very foolish,’ said the Tip Top
Pumpkin, ‘if we stay here to be carted off to
that old market, where somebody comes along
to buy us to carry us home to eat up.’</p>
<p>“‘What can we do?’ cried all the others
straight through the big pile.</p>
<p>“‘Hush—don’t make such a dreadful noise,’
warned the Tip—Top—Pumpkin, ‘or we
shall have the whole house after us. I’m
not going to be made up into a Thanksgiving
pie, I can tell you.’</p>
<p>“At the word ‘pie,’ all the other pumpkins
shivered so that down came the pile rolling
and clattering to the ground; and some
of them were going so fast they couldn’t
stop, but kept right on and were never seen
more.</p>
<p>“‘Let’s all run,’ said the Tip Top Pumpkin
suddenly. ‘Come on.’ With that he tumbled
himself down with a will, and set off down
the road towards the village. But the other
pumpkins didn’t dare to follow, but they huddled
together just where they fell. And so
Tip Top, I’m going to call him, went on alone.
But he didn’t care, and he sang to himself as
he rolled along just as jolly and gay; and the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</SPAN></span>
first thing he knew, an awful thing came
thwacking on his back, and a big hand said,
‘Here, stop there! you’re coming with me.’
And he looked up and saw a giant.”</p>
<p>“Oh! oh!” screamed the three boys.</p>
<p>“‘Oh! no, I’m not going with you,’ gasped
poor Mr. Tip Top; ‘I’m going by myself,
thank you.’ And he wished a thousand times
he was back again on the snug pile with the
other pumpkins.</p>
<p>“The great big giant only laughed; and he
slipped the pumpkin into his pocket, where he
rattled round no bigger than a hickory nut.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Percy, while Van
struck his hands together in delight. “And
then the giant stamped on the ground, and
poor Mr. Tip Top thought it thundered, and
he began to beg with all his might to be let
out. And in a minute some boys, three or
four times as big as Farmer Simpson in size,
came running up. ‘What do you want, master?’
they cried.</p>
<p>“‘Catch me a young elephant,’ roared the
giant at them. ‘A juicy, tender one, and half
a dozen young lions for sauce. And then run
home and heat the pot boiling hot; for I’ve<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</SPAN></span>
got a juicy pumpkin in my pocket for a nice
little morsel to go with them.’</p>
<p>“Oh, how poor Mr. Tip Top trembled down
deep in that giant’s dreadful pocket! It was
as black as a well; and however much he struggled,
he knew he never could get up.</p>
<p>“‘Please, Mr. Giant,’ he said in a very weak
voice, he was so afraid, ‘do let me out.
You are so big I could only make you a mouthful,
and I want to go home.’</p>
<p>“‘Be quiet!’ roared the giant at him, ‘or
I’ll chew your head right off in one bite
now.’</p>
<p>“So poor, miserable Mr. Tip Top had nothing
to do but to roll into the farthest corner of
the pocket, and shiver and shake, and hope for
some means of escape. And away sped the
giant across the fields; and then the poor pumpkin
knew he was being carried to the castle
under ground where the giant lived, and that
he would never come out alive—oh, dear, how
he shivered and shook!</p>
<p>“And pretty soon, down went the giant over
a long pair of steps, two at a time, then
down some more, till the poor pumpkin’s head
became quite dizzy. And at last he stopped,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</SPAN></span>
and stamped on the ground; and Mr. Tip Top
was very sure this time that it thundered.</p>
<p>“‘What ho!’ screamed the giant, ‘is everybody
asleep that you do not come when I call?’
And there was a great scampering; and all the
little giants and Mrs. Giant, and all the servants
came running as fast as could be. And
the ground shook like everything, till poor Mr.
Tip Top thought he should die of fright.</p>
<p>“‘See what I’ve brought,’ cried the giant in
a dreadful voice; and he tipped up his pocket,
and out rolled the yellow pumpkin. All the
giants and giantesses and Mrs. Giant raced
after him with dreadful big steps; but he rolled
under a big stone chair, cut out of the side of
the rock that the cave was made of. ‘Oh, save
me—save me!’ he cried; and he began to cry
as hard as he could.</p>
<p>“‘I’ll catch him,’ cried every one of those
dreadful creatures hunting for him. And at
last one great big giant boy seized him, and
carried him off in triumph; but the others ran
after him, trying to get the pumpkin away; and
there was such a dreadful time as they tossed
poor Mr. Tip Top back and forth like a big
yellow ball, that his head spun round and round<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</SPAN></span>
on his shoulders, until old Father Giant roared
out, ‘Stop playing with him; for the pot is boiling
hot now, and I’m going to have him for my
supper. I won’t wait for the elephant and the
little lions, for I’m very, very hungry.’ And the
pumpkin was so scared at that, that he gave a
great jump, and rolled away into a crack in
the floor; and although
every one
of those giants and
giantesses got
down on their
knees and flattened
their faces to see
him, they couldn’t
get him out. And
old Father Giant,
in great anger, said
he would have to
stay there till the next day, when he would
send for the carpenter to take up the floor.
Then he should be boiled in the pot for a
sweet morsel with his dinner. Oh, how poor
Mr. Tip Top shivered and shook!</p>
<p>“And about the middle of the night, when
not a single person was awake, and every thing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</SPAN></span>
was as still as a mouse, there came a little call
just beside the crack, <SPAN href="#image30">‘Pumpkin! say, Pumpkin,
don’t you hear me?’</SPAN></p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="image30" id="image30"> <ANTIMG src="images/image30.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="579" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_226">“Pumpkin! say, Pumpkin, don’t you hear me?”</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“‘Oh, I guess I do!’ said poor yellow Mr. Tip
Top; ‘it’s Johnny Stebbins.’</p>
<p>“‘Yes ’tis,’ said the voice, ‘it’s Johnny Stebbins,
and I’ve come to save you.’</p>
<p>“‘If you will only get me out of here,’ said
the yellow pumpkin, ‘I’ll go home and be just
as good. I never’ll run away in all this world
again, never. You can take me to market, and
I’ll go along as nice as can be.’</p>
<p>“‘Yes,’ said Johnny; ‘you must go along
good; for you see all the pumpkins have to be
carried to market, for we shouldn’t have anything
to live on if they didn’t.’</p>
<p>“‘I know it,’ said Mr. Tip Top quite humbly;
‘oh, do get me out!’</p>
<p>“‘Well, I will,’ said Johnny; ‘but you must
do just as I say.’ So the yellow pumpkin
promised he would; and Johnny ran around the
outside of the cave, and pretty soon Mr. Tip
Top heard him say ‘Roll over here.’ So the yellow
pumpkin rolled in the direction of the voice;
and there was a hole big enough for him to get
out of, and oh! in a minute there he was out in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</SPAN></span>
the fresh air. And then Johnny said, ‘Roll
home now as fast as you can; I’m going to
stay and scare the big giant and Mrs. Giant
and all the little giants, and cut their heads off.’</p>
<p>“‘Oh, dear, Johnny!’ cried Mr. Tip Top, and
he burst out crying, ‘do come home. He’ll kill
you, and chew your head off.’</p>
<p>“‘Pshaw! no, he won’t!’ said Johnny; ‘and
I’ve got to kill that old giant and Mrs. Giant
and all those dreadful giantesses, else they’ll
steal all our pumpkins. See what I’ve got;’
and he ran behind a big tree, and came out
again with a perfectly horrible head of a wild
beast with flaming eyes and a big mouth and—”</p>
<p>“Oh, a jack-o-lantern!” screamed Percy and
Van and Dick together.</p>
<p>Polly nodded gayly and dashed on. “Mr. Tip
Top took one look at it, and he said very
bravely, ‘I’m going to stay too, and help you.
Make me look like that.’ So in two minutes
Mr. Tip Top had flaming eyes in him, and a
horrible big mouth, out of which he kept saying,
‘Now we’ll scare them twice as soon.
Come on, Johnny!’ And in they crept into
the cave.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear! you never heard such screams<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</SPAN></span>
and roars! The giant called for his sword, and
his servants; and then he huddled under the
bed-clothes, and pulled them up over his ears.
So Johnny cut off his head easy enough; and
Mrs. Giant ran screaming out of the cave, and
she was going so fast she couldn’t stop herself
running down the hill, and so she rolled into
the pond at the bottom; and all the little Giant
boys and girls ran this way and that and
climbed into the trees, so they were all caught,
and the servants too. And then Johnny took
a great piece of sealing-wax he had brought
along in his pocket, and stuck the stone door
fast so it couldn’t be opened. And then away
he and Mr. Tip Top went home.</p>
<p>“And Farmer Stebbins was so pleased with
Mr. Tip Top that he said he should sit up on
top of the big old clock in the kitchen. And
there he is now, I suppose!” finished Polly with
a flourish.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XV" id="XV">XV.</SPAN><br/> <small><SPAN href="#image32">THE ROBBERS AND THEIR BAGS.</SPAN></small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Polly, “what
shall I tell about?” She had just run
into the library after her music lesson was
over, and Monsieur had tripped off on the tips
of his toes, his waxed mustache-ends trembling
with delight in his enthusiasm over Mademoiselle
Peppaire and her progress. “I can’t
think of an earthly thing to make a story of;”
and she wrinkled her brows in dismay.</p>
<p>“Let her off, Van,” cried Jasper.</p>
<p>“No, no, no!” cried Van, in alarm; “she
said she’d tell a story as soon as she got through
her music lesson.”</p>
<p>“Yes, she did,” said Percy; “and it rains,
and we can’t go out, you know, Jasper,” and
he gazed dismally from the long window.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’ll tell it!” Polly made haste to say.
“I did promise it, boys, and you shall have it,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</SPAN></span>
so come over here;” and she ran to the corner
with the cushioned seats under the windows.
“Now, then, let me see,—oh, I’ll tell you about
the Robbers and their Bags,” she announced,
saying the first thing that came into her head.</p>
<p>“Oh! oh! oh!” screamed the boys in the
greatest glee, while little Dick, quite overcome
with the idea, rushed out in the hall to proclaim
the fact to the first person he might
meet, who chanced to be his grandfather.</p>
<p>“Polly’s going to tell us a story about robbers,
and she’s got bags, and just everything,”
he screamed excitedly.</p>
<p>“Hoity-toity, Dick,” exclaimed old Mr. King,
whose plans for the day had all been set aside
by the rain. “You must look where you are
going, child, and not run into people so,” as
little Dick stumbled up against him.</p>
<p>“But she is, Grandpapa; she really and truly
is,” cried Dick positively.</p>
<p>“Who is? And going to do what?” demanded
Mr. King.</p>
<p>“Polly; and she’s going to tell us a perfectly
splendid story.” And then away Dick dashed
back to the library again.</p>
<p>“In that case,” observed the old gentleman<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</SPAN></span>
to himself, “I might as well add myself to the
youngsters; and Phronsie will probably be
there.” So as he had been waiting till Polly
should be through with her music lesson, for
Phronsie always sat patiently with one of her
numerous dolls, in the long drawing-room, on
these occasions, he marched to the scene of the
hilarity over the story, which was now fairly
launched.</p>
<p>“And so you see,” Polly was saying, as he
opened the door. “Oh, boys, here comes dear
Grandpapa!”</p>
<p>All the boys were on their feet in an instant
to get old Mr. King the best chair in the room,
an attention which pleased him immensely; and
he was soon seated in their circle, Joel planting
himself down on the floor at his feet. Phronsie
looked over from Polly’s lap, where she was
snuggling. “Does your head ache, Grandpapa?”
she asked gently.</p>
<p>“It feels as if it were going to, all the while,
Phronsie,” said the old gentleman artfully.</p>
<p>Phronsie put up one little hand and patted
Polly’s cheek. “I must go and sit with Grandpapa,
Polly,” she whispered, “and keep him
from being sick.” And she got down, and hurried<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</SPAN></span>
over to climb in his lap. “Now I guess it
won’t ache, Grandpapa, dear,” she said, smoothing
his white hair gently.</p>
<p>“It won’t now you are here, Phronsie,”
said old Mr. King, holding her close. “Now,
then, Polly, my girl, let us hear that wonderful
story.”</p>
<p>So Polly began again. “Well, you see, it’s
all about some robbers, and”—</p>
<p>“Make ’em be big, and ever so many of
them,” cried Joel.</p>
<p>“Oh, Joe, be quiet!” warned Jasper. “Polly
can’t get on at all if you are going to interrupt
every minute.”</p>
<p>“Joel’s always breaking in,” cried Percy
wrathfully. “Do stop him, Grandpapa.”</p>
<p>“I’ll stick a pin in him,” said Van pleasantly,
who sat next.</p>
<p>“O Van!” exclaimed Polly.</p>
<p>“Here, you two boys,” cried the old gentleman,
“you mind what you’re about, both of
you. Joe, don’t you let me hear of your stopping
Polly; and do you, master Van, keep your
pins to yourself. Now, then, Polly, begin
again.”</p>
<p>So Polly, with a nod and a reassuring smile<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</SPAN></span>
for him, rushed on. “Well, you see, these
robbers lived in a cave dark and big; it was
against a mountain, around which ran a lonely
road. Nobody ever went that way who could
help it, because for years and years robbers
had been there, and scared all the travellers
away. So, you see, the robbers had it pretty
much to themselves. Well, at the end of the
long and lonely road was a little village. It was
about as big as Badgertown, but not nearly so
pretty,” said Polly, with a light in her brown eyes.</p>
<p>“Bad—ger”—began Joel.</p>
<p>“Ugh!” exclaimed Van at him, while Grandpapa
held up a warning finger.</p>
<p>“Yes, it was just about as big,” said Polly.
“Well, there were some men who were pretty
rich lived there in fine smart houses, about six—no,
I guess a dozen of them, and the robbers
had waited a good while to see if they would
come down their long and lonely road. But
they never had; for you see, whenever they
had to get to the next place, they went clear
away the other side of the mountain, and so
kept off from the dreadful robbers and their
cave. Well, so one night, all the robbers sat
and made up a plan, and”—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“How many?” began Joel abruptly. But
one look at old Mr. King stopped him.</p>
<p>“Well, there were just about a hundred robbers,”
said Polly, seeing it was expected of her
to have a good number.</p>
<p>“Oh, my!” exclaimed Percy.</p>
<p>“And they all decided that as the splendid
rich men, who lived in the big houses, wouldn’t
come to them, they would go after them.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” said little Dick.</p>
<p>“Yes, and so the head robber,—oh, he was
too perfectly splendid to look at,”—cried Polly,
waxing enthusiastic, as she looked at her absorbed
audience, “he was all dressed up in
red velvet, and a white plume in his hat that
trailed off in the air, and he had a long sword
in his belt, and it clanked every step he took,
and two or three knives and pistols—oh! and
other things stuck in round his waist, so he
was perfectly dreadful too. Well, he told
twelve of his robbers to go and catch the
splendid rich men, and get all their money,
and”—</p>
<p>“How did they get it, Polly?” cried Percy.</p>
<p>“Ho! Ho! who’s interrupting now?” cried
Van, bursting into a laugh.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Hush!” said Jasper, over at Percy, who
ducked immediately.</p>
<p>“You’ll see,” said Polly gayly. “Well, so
one dark night,—oh! you couldn’t see your hand
before your face hardly,—don’t you think, all
the twelve splendid rich men got twelve letters—I
mean each man got one—saying he was to go
off, just as quick as he could go, over to the big
house where the minister lived, ’cause he wanted
to see him on very important business indeed,
and he couldn’t wait a minute. So every single
one of those twelve splendid rich men started
from his home, and ran as hard as he could.
And before he had gone very far, he met a
man,—he didn’t see him, it was so dark, but
he ran up against him, and they nearly knocked
each other over.</p>
<p>“‘Stop, there!’ roared the man, that the
man who was running knocked up against.
‘What are you doing, tumbling me down in
this fashion?’</p>
<p>“‘Oh! I didn’t mean to,’ said the poor man
very humbly; and he couldn’t breathe very
well, because, you see, he’d been running so
fast, and he’d bumped into the other one so
suddenly. ‘I won’t do it again; but the minister,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</SPAN></span>
I expect, is sick, so excuse me;’ and he
tried to go by.</p>
<p>“‘No, you don’t go any farther,’ roared the
other man at him, in a dreadful voice; and he
pulled out from under his arm a big bag, and
popped it over the head of the poor man who
had been running, and then he tumbled him
upside down, and shook him around in the bag
down into the bottom of it, and then he tied up
the neck.”</p>
<p>“O Polly! tied up the man’s neck?” asked
Ben.</p>
<p>“No, I mean the neck of the bag,” said Polly.
“Then he set the bag, with the man in it, on
a big stone by the roadside. ‘Now, there you
must stay, till I come for you,’ he said; and he
laughed as hard as he could, and hopped off in
the darkness.”</p>
<p>“Oh! oh! oh!” cried all the group, with
smothered exclamations.</p>
<p>“Yes, and away he went to find the other
eleven robbers; they each had a bag, you know,
just like his. Well, every time one of them
met one of the splendid rich men running to
the minister’s house, why, the robber pulled
out his big bag from under his arm, and popped<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</SPAN></span>
it over the other man’s head, and turned him
upside down, and shook him into the bottom of
the bag, and then tied up the neck,—the neck
of the bag, I mean,—and then put him on a
big stone by the roadside, and told him to stay
there until he came back for him. And then
those twelve robbers just looked at each other,
and said they wanted to sit down and rest.”</p>
<p>“I should think they’d want to,” said Ben,
under his breath.</p>
<p>“Well, and then one of them said suddenly,
‘Come, now, let’s go to the first house belonging
to those men in the bags; we’ll find bushels
of gold I expect in the cellar, and”—</p>
<p>“And did they?” screamed Van, forgetting
himself.</p>
<p>“Ho! ho! who’s talking now?” cried Percy,
with a disagreeable little laugh.</p>
<p>“Hush!” said old Mr. King, holding up a
warning finger at both of them.</p>
<p>“And so they ran softly off on the tips of
their toes,” said Polly, hurrying on; “and before
any one could breathe, hardly, there they
were in the house of one of the perfectly splendid
rich men. Now, there was a wise old cat
there, living in that very house. She was all<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</SPAN></span>
black but two green eyes—no, I guess this
cat had yellow eyes, yellow with long black
stripes in them that grew big when she was
angry. Now, she knew everything almost,
and she was as good as she was clever. Well,
she just softly tripped along to her mistress’s
bed, and hopped up, and whispered in her ear,
‘Don’t you be afraid, mistress dear, but lie
perfectly still, and I’ll take care of those robber
men, and won’t let them hurt you;’ so the mistress
turned over, and went to sleep again.”</p>
<p>“She was a nice cat,” said Phronsie, pausing
in her work of patting old Mr. King’s white
hair to turn and look at Polly; “and I like her,
I do,” as Polly sent a smile over to her, and
then raced on.</p>
<p>“Well, the cat ran off on the tips of her toes,
and hopped up to the kitchen shelf, and took
down in her mouth a long, sharp knife; and then
she flew out of the back door, I tell you, oh! so
fast, and away off. And pretty soon she came
up to a big bag with a man inside it, sitting on
a stone by the roadside. ‘Master, dear,’ she
cried, hopping up to put her mouth close to
the bag, ‘is that you?’</p>
<p>“‘Oh, dear me, yes!’ said the poor man in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</SPAN></span>
the bag, in a muffled voice, ‘and I should like
very much to get out.’</p>
<p>“‘Well,’ said the wise old cat, ‘I’ll let you
out in a minute.’ So she took the sharp knife
in her paw, and she just slashed it good through
the string that tied up the neck of the bag,
and in a minute out popped the man, and stood
up on his feet. And then they heard a cry,
‘Oh, dear me, I’d like to get out!’ and, don’t
you think, right around the corner was another
big bag with a man inside it, all tied up around
the neck, and sitting on a stone by the roadside.
And so the man that had just got out
and his wise old cat, who slipped the sharp
knife into her mouth again, rushed around the
corner; and the cat took the knife in her paw
before her master had a chance to, and she
just slashed it through the string that tied up
the bag, and in a minute that man, too, was
out, and standing on his feet on the ground.”</p>
<p>Phronsie laughed in delight, and clapped
her hands. “Polly, I like that cat, and she’s
good,” she cried again, dreadfully excited.</p>
<p>“So she is, Pet,” cried Polly, nodding away
to her. Then she raced on.</p>
<p>“Well, those two men stared into each<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</SPAN></span>
other’s faces; and one said, ‘Well, I declare,
how do you do, Mr. Brown?’ and the other
man said, ‘Well, I declare, how do you do,
Mr. Smith?’ And just then they all heard
a little cry; and around another corner was
another bag all tied up just as the other two
had been, and sitting on a stone by the roadside.
And then the wise old cat did just as she
had done before; and pretty soon there were
three men standing up quite straight on the
ground, and they all said, ‘This is perfectly
dreadful, isn’t it?’</p>
<p>“‘Now, I tell you, sirs,’ said the wise old
cat, sitting down before them, and staring at
them very hard, ‘I’ve got a plan in my head,
and you must do as I say.’</p>
<p>“‘Indeed you must,’ whispered her master to
the others, ‘because when she looks like that,
she knows how to do things. And she’s got
something on her mind.’</p>
<p>“‘Just as soon as we find all the men in this
town who are tied up in bags, and set on stones
by the roadside, and get them out,’ said the
wise old cat, ‘we must hurry right home. But
we’ve got to have twelve men,’ and she bobbed
her head to herself; but she didn’t tell her<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</SPAN></span>
master that there were twelve robbers in his
house, for, you see, she had counted them.</p>
<p>“And all this while those twelve robbers
were eating up the mince-pies that belonged to
that cat’s mistress, and there she was going to
have all the cousins over to dinner the very
next day. And those dreadful robbers sat on
the kitchen table, and ate, and ate, and ate.
And then they drank up all the milk.”</p>
<p>Phronsie stirred uneasily, and looked very sad
over this; so Polly hastened to say, before she
could ask the question, “except some in the
pitcher up on the top shelf, that was put there
for the littlest little girl.”</p>
<p>But still Phronsie’s face was very grave.
“Won’t there be any left for that nice old cat
when she gets home, Polly?” she asked.</p>
<p>“You must make some be reserved for that
cat, Polly,” said Grandpapa, nodding furiously
over at Polly.</p>
<p>“Dear me, yes. We wouldn’t let that wise
old cat go without hers!” exclaimed Polly,
quickly. “Such a dear as she is! Oh, there
was a whole bowl full, Phronsie, on another
shelf, clear way back, that the robbers didn’t
see!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Phronsie leaned back and put her head on
old Mr. King’s breast, while she drew a long
sigh of relief. “Please tell some more, Polly,”
she begged.</p>
<p>“Well, so the wise old cat gave three nods
over to the three men waiting there for her to
tell them things, and she said to each of them,
‘Now put your bag under your arm, you’ll
want it before long, and follow me;’ and away
she trotted on the tips of her toes, till she had
found and untied nine other men inside of big
bags, and sitting on stones on the roadside.</p>
<p>“‘Um—’ said the cat, her paw on her mouth,
‘I guess this is all; anyway, we’ve got twelve.
Now we must run, for master has a dozen robbers
in his house. Now, says I, see who gets
there first.’”</p>
<p>“And which did?” cried Percy, and Van,
and Joel, and David, all together; Jasper and
Ben laughing to hear the babel.</p>
<p>“Oh, the wise old cat, of course!” said Polly,
laughing too. “You didn’t think I’d let anybody
beat her, did you? Well, she was waiting
there on the front door-step, as they all came
puffing and panting up. ‘Now, do just as I
say,’ she whispered into their ears, ‘and each<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</SPAN></span>
of you pick out the robber you see first, as you
go in, and rush up and pop your bag over his
head, and tie it down fast with your string,
before he can scream.
They’re just getting
through eating mince-pie;’
for, you see, while
she was waiting for these
men to come, she had
taken the time to creep
along the window-sill and
peep within the kitchen.</p>
<p>“‘Oh! oh!’ cried her
master; ‘eating up my
wife’s mince-pies, the villains!’</p>
<p>“‘Now follow me!’ the
cat commanded. ‘Have all
your bags ready!’ and in
they rushed. And every
man caught a robber by
flopping his big bag over
his head before he saw him coming, and then
they every one tied the neck of the bag up
just as it had been done before, and while the
robbers wriggled and screamed, and beat and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</SPAN></span>
kicked, as the bags were shaken up and down,
they couldn’t get out. And the wise old cat
went around to each bag. ‘Yes,’ she said,
quite satisfied; ‘the knots are all fast.’”</p>
<p>“Oh, wasn’t that perfectly splendid!” shouted
Joel. And everybody was so delighted with
the capture of the robbers that they forgot to
reprove him. And Phronsie clapped her little
hands, and crowed and laughed with the rest;
and <SPAN href="#image31">Mrs. Whitney heard the noise and ran in
to see what the fun was.</SPAN> “Well, I declare,”
she exclaimed, hurrying over to their corner,
“to think I’ve missed this splendid time!”</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="image31" id="image31"> <ANTIMG src="images/image31.jpg" width-obs="277" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_244">Mrs. Whitney heard the noise, and ran in to see what the fun was.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Oh, Mamma!” cried little Dick, hopping
out of the centre of the circle closing around
Polly; “she’s been telling us beautiful things
about robbers and—cats—and”—</p>
<p>“No, she hasn’t,” contradicted Van, “it’s
only one cat. Dick’s so little; he doesn’t know
anything”—</p>
<p>“O Vanny!” reproved his mother.</p>
<p>“And I’m not little,” cried little Dick wrathfully,
and standing very tall. “And she did
tell about robbers—Polly Pepper did.”</p>
<p>“Well, you said <em>cats</em>,” said Percy; “and
’twasn’t but one.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Never mind,” said Jasper; “this one was
wise enough for a dozen cats. Do stay, Sister
Marian; it’s a fine story,” turning his kindling
face toward her.</p>
<p>“Indeed I will,” she cried; so he jumped up,
and pulled forward an easy-chair, and Polly waited
till she was seated in its comfortable depths.</p>
<p>“Now, Polly,” said Mrs. Whitney, with her
sweetest smile, “I am as anxious as any of
these young creatures for this enchanting
story.” So Polly hurried on.</p>
<p>“Where was I? Let me see”—</p>
<p>“The robbers were tied up in the bags,” they
all shouted at her.</p>
<p>“Don’t you know?” added Joel, not very
politely. “Why, Polly Pepper, have you forgotten?”</p>
<p>“Hush!” said Jasper warningly.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, indeed!” exclaimed Polly. “Well,
and then the cat cried in a very loud voice,
‘Now I must go and wake mistress.’ So she
ran up into the bedroom, and she skipped
upon the bed, and she called close to her ear,
‘Wake up, mistress dear, the robbers are all
caught, and waiting for you.’ And so her mistress
turned over, and opened her eyes; and she<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</SPAN></span>
looked at the cat, and said, ‘Is that so?’ And
then she sat up straight; and then she hopped
off from the bed, and ran down the stairs after
the wise old cat.</p>
<p>“‘Shoulder your bags, every one of you!’
commanded the cat, running into the kitchen;
and she jumped up to the table to see that they
obeyed. And every man picked up the bag
that had the robber inside it, that he had caught,
and he swung it off up on his shoulder.</p>
<p>“‘Now away to jail!’ shouted the cat.”</p>
<p>“Hooray!” screamed Joel, beating his hands
together in great excitement.</p>
<p>“At the word ‘jail,’ every robber inside of a
bag began to scream, and beg to be let out,
and”—</p>
<p>“Oh, do let them out!” begged Phronsie.
“Please do, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Phronsie, I can’t!” said Polly. “They
are bad, naughty, wicked robbers, you know;
and they’d kill that nice, dear old cat, maybe,
if they got out.”</p>
<p>“Would they?” asked Phronsie anxiously.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed,” cried all the little circle together.</p>
<p>“I really think, Phronsie,” added Grandpapa<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</SPAN></span>
decidedly, “that it is not safe for Polly to let
those bad robbers out.”</p>
<p>“Don’t tie the bags up very tight, then,
please, Polly,” begged Phronsie.</p>
<p>“Polly will fix it all
right, Phronsie,” said
Jasper, with a smile.
Polly thanked him with
a little nod,
and hurried
on. “Well,
so you see, off
they all went
to jail. It was
a great big
stone house,
oh! as big as
three or four houses that
folks live in, and there was
a row of pens that”—</p>
<p>“Pig-pens?” asked Joel
abruptly.</p>
<p>“Dear me, no,” said Polly, with a little laugh.
“They were prisoners’ pens; and the wise old
cat just raced along as hard as she could, all
the twelve men, with their bags on their backs,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</SPAN></span>
coming after. And she spoke up, as bold as you
please, to the man at the gate, who had a big
iron key in his hand, oh! as big as could be,
‘I’ve got a dozen robbers for you to shut up
and keep fast.’</p>
<p>“At that the man at the gate put his big key
in the lock—open flew the gate, and in went all
the dozen robbers in their bags on the twelve
men’s backs, with the wise old cat at the head
of the procession; and in a minute they were
each in one of the little pens, and”—</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="image32" id="image32"> <ANTIMG src="images/image32.jpg" width-obs="446" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#XV">The robbers and their bags.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Couldn’t they take off the bags then,
Polly?” cried Phronsie. “Please let them for
a very little bit of a while.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, “they did. The wise old
cat asked the gateman, who locked them all in,
to undo the bags.</p>
<p>“‘But you can have only your heads out,’
said the gateman to the robbers, clanking his
big key against the wall, ‘so you can see
things.’ And he tied the bags all up around
their necks; each head stuck out, you know,
and the bag was drawn up in a ruffle, and tied
fast.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” exclaimed Phronsie.</p>
<p>“But that was much better,” said Jasper<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</SPAN></span>
cheerfully. “Just think, Phronsie, to get their
heads out.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Phronsie slowly.</p>
<p>“And the next day the judge, the man who
sat on a platform at the end of the big hall, told
one of the servants to bring a big bell, and call
everybody in, and to scream as loud as he could,
‘Twelve robbers in bags to be sentenced.’ And
the people kept coming in, and coming in, and
coming in, until there was only a little path in
the centre for them to bring the robbers in;
and pretty soon the man with the bell went up
and down, and roared out, ‘Bring the robbers
in!’ And twelve other servants went out and
got them, and set them up in a row right in
front of the judge on the platform”—</p>
<p>“And were their heads out?” asked Phronsie.</p>
<p>“Yes, their heads were all out, the bags were
tied in ruffles, you know, around their necks;
and they tried to get on their knees to beg the
judge not to kill them; but instead, they flopped
over, and the servants had to go around among
them and set them up straight again. Well, oh!
I forgot to tell you that the wise old cat sat
up on the platform,—the judge invited her, you<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</SPAN></span>
know. And the judge whispered something to
the man with the big bell, and he ran out, and
came racing back with a long knife; and after
him came another man, wheeling and trundling
a big grindstone”—</p>
<p>“Oh!” screamed Joel, in the greatest glee;
“they’re going to chop off all the robbers’
heads, I know.”</p>
<p>“O Polly!” began Phronsie, just ready to
cry.</p>
<p>“Wait, and you’ll see, Pet,” said Polly reassuringly.
Old Mr. King put his hand over
Phronsie’s small ones, and whispered something
in her ear, so she snuggled up against his breast
once more.</p>
<p>“Well, oh, let me see! where was I—oh”—</p>
<p>“You are going to chop off all those robbers’
heads,” howled Joel and Van together.</p>
<p>“‘Now,’ said the judge, in a perfectly awful
voice, and looking at all those dozen robbers,
‘you’ve got to promise to show the way to your
cave, or off go your heads!’ and he pointed to
the man sharpening up the long knife on the
grindstone.</p>
<p>“The robbers shook so in their bags they all
flopped over again, and rolled on the floor. So<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</SPAN></span>
somebody had to go and set them all straight
in a row once more. ‘Hurry up,’ cried the
judge, ‘and say “Yes,” for the knife is ready.’</p>
<p>“The man sharpening up the long knife began
to brandish it in the air over the head stuck
out of the bag of the robber first in the line.</p>
<p>“‘Ow!’ screamed the robber, trying to draw
his head under the ruffle. ‘I say, “Yes.”’</p>
<p>“‘And I say, “Yes,”’ screamed every one of
the rest of the robbers, huddling as best they
could under their ruffles.</p>
<p>“‘Very well, then,’ said the judge. So the
man with the knife laid it down by the grindstone,
and the judge gave his hand to the cat.
‘You must go to the cave,’ he said, ‘and capture
the rest of the robbers.’”</p>
<p>Joel and Van, who were horribly disappointed
when the man put up his knife, now brightened
up at prospect of livelier work, and more to their
taste, at the cave. “Do hurry, Polly!” they
clamored.</p>
<p>“Well, then the judge told the man who
had rung the bell to jingle it again, and scream
out ‘Eighty-eight men wanted at once’ because,
you see, he knew there were just one hundred
robbers in all. And when they came in, he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</SPAN></span>
told them to go out and get a bag apiece, just
like the ones the twelve robbers were in. And
pretty soon they were all ready; and off they
started, with the wise old cat at the head; and
after her came the twelve men with the robbers
in the bags, all but their heads, because, you
see, those would have to be out, for them to see
the way. And the robbers said, ‘Left, right,’
as they had to turn, all along the way to the
cave, down the long and lonely road. Well,
and finally they reached the place, and they
stopped and listened. ‘They are boiling their
hasty-pudding for supper,’ said one of the robbers,
because, you see, all the men made them
tell things.</p>
<p>“‘This is the time, then,’ said the wise old
cat to the first robber. ‘Now do you call out
big and loud to let you in.’ So the robber did
it; he had to, you know; and a voice inside said,
‘Oh! that you, Jim, back again?’ and the great
stone door flew open; and, just as quick as you
could think, there they were all inside; and
every man pulled out a bag from under his
arms, and flopped it over the head of a robber,
all except the robber who was stirring the
hasty-pudding over a big iron kettle,—he fell<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</SPAN></span>
into the kettle instead, because he ducked his
head when he saw the bag coming. Well, and
oh! they were all hauled off to jail; but first
the nice old cat took some sealing-wax she had
been wise enough to bring with her from the
jail; and she stuck the big stone door all up
tight, so that no more robbers could use that
cave.</p>
<p>“And the judge sentenced all the hundred
robbers, in a bunch, to a desert island, where
there wasn’t any cave, nor anybody else,—not a
single person besides themselves. So they were
all taken off in boats the next day, and”—</p>
<p>“And could they get out of their bags
then?” asked Phronsie, with a long breath.</p>
<p>“Yes, after they got to the island,” said
Polly, “but not a single minute before. And
as soon as they rolled them out of the boats, the
men who brought them untied the bags, and
said ‘Scat!’ And away ran the robbers, and
were never seen again.”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XVI" id="XVI">XVI.</SPAN><br/> <small>POLLY PEPPER’S CHICKEN-PIE.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“Yes, indeed, Jasper,” cried Polly; “I’ll
tell about the chicken-pie I made; only
’twasn’t a chicken-pie at all,” and she broke off
into a merry laugh.</p>
<p>“Hold on,” cried Ben, “you’ll spoil it all,
Polly. Tell the story first, that’s best.”</p>
<p>“So I will,” said Polly. “Well, in the first
place, none of us in The Little Brown House
ever knew where it came from, to begin with.
Ben found it one day in a swamp down by the
meadow, as he was digging sweet-flag to sell,
to get some money to buy a pair of boots for the
winter. It wasn’t hurt in the least, only it was
so small it couldn’t get out. The wonder is,
how it ever got there at all; however, Ben
didn’t care for that, so long as he could get
Master Chick in his possession. So he took an
old fence-rail; and by dint of poking and urging<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</SPAN></span>
the chicken, which didn’t want to come, and by
floundering and tumbling round in the bog till
he was pretty wet himself, at last he caught it.</p>
<p>“Oh! you must know it was a fine black
chicken,—a Shanghai; and <SPAN href="#image33">Ben grasped it, oh,
so tightly! under one arm, and he flew home</SPAN>,
and bursting into the door, he scared us, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</SPAN></span>
he most upset me,—I was helping Mamsie to
pull out the basting-threads of the coat she had
just finished. And, goodness me, how that
chicken did scream!”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image33" id="image33"> <ANTIMG src="images/image33.jpg" width-obs="500" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_255">Ben grasped it tightly under one arm and flew home.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Yes, and so did you, most as bad,” said
Ben, bursting into a laugh. “I never will forget;
you said I’d scared you most to death.”</p>
<p>“Well, and so you did,” declared Polly; “we
didn’t see that dreadful chicken till you flapped
it in our faces. It was lucky that the children
weren’t there, or I don’t know but what the
roof of The Little Brown House would have
flown off with the noise.”</p>
<p>“Where were the children?” demanded
Percy.</p>
<p>Joel twisted uneasily. It had always been
a great trial to think of his absence on such a
momentous occasion.</p>
<p>Polly answered briskly, “Why, the two boys
were down in Farmer Brown’s cow-yard; there
was a little hole full of water, something like a
pond, you know; and they were sailing boats,
and”—</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me, I wish we hadn’t been!”
grunted Joel. “I’d rather have seen the black
chicken come in.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“And Phronsie had been put to bed early.
It was almost dark, you know, and she was
tired out; so Mamsie and I were all alone.”</p>
<p>“And Mamsie thought it was a crow,” said
Ben to Mother Pepper, who still was at work
over her mending-basket the same as ever.
“Didn’t you, Mamsie?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, with a smile at the
remembrance. “He was more like a crow, children,
I’m sure, than anything else, he was so
black.”</p>
<p>“Oh, how I wish we could have seen it!”
exclaimed Percy and Van together.</p>
<p>“And Ben said he’d give me half of the
chicken,” ran on Polly; “and then we could
have him for Thanksgiving, and I could make
my pie”—</p>
<p>“Oh, you ought to have seen Polly dance
when I told her that!” said Ben, laughing
again.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear, you did have such good times in
The Little Brown House!” cried Percy enviously.
“Why couldn’t we have been there!”</p>
<p>“And then we began to count up how long
it would be to Thanksgiving. We’d never had
one, you know,” said Polly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Never had a Thanksgiving!” cried all the
Whitney children together.</p>
<p>“Hush!” exclaimed Jasper, with a warning
pull at the jacket nearest to him.</p>
<p>“I remember,” said Mrs. Pepper, laying down
her work. “It was July then, and there were
four months to wait; but if we could find out
where the chicken belonged, I told you, we
must give it back.”</p>
<p>“And did you give it back?—did you?—did
you?” clamored the Whitney boys.</p>
<p>“No,” said Polly, “because we couldn’t find
anybody who had ever seen him; so we put
him in the shed where the old gray goose was,
and”—</p>
<p>“Oh! did you have an old gray goose, Polly
Pepper?” cried Van. “Tell about him, do.”</p>
<p>So Polly dilated at great length on the old
gray goose,—how it was the only living thing
they had, because they were too poor to buy
a cow or a pig, or even a chicken, and how
the old goose had lived there ever since they
could remember, and how cross it was, so they
couldn’t play with it, and how it bit Sally
Brown one day, when she came over with an
errand from her mother, and—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Tell about how it bit Sally Brown,” interrupted
Van eagerly.</p>
<p>“If you stop for everything, Polly never’ll
get that chicken-pie baked,” said Ben.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Jasper; “now don’t interrupt
again. It’s a shame to have to tell stories and
be stopped every minute.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t mind it!” said Polly brightly;
“only if you have all about Sally Brown and
everything else, why I sha’n’t get through with
the chicken-pie.”</p>
<p>“Go on about the chicken-pie, then, do,
Polly,” said Van reluctantly, mentally determining
to have the whole of Sally Brown and the
old gray goose some time. And so Polly ran
on again,—how they always fed the old gray
goose every day most carefully, and Phronsie
saved something from her dinner for it most
especially, and—</p>
<p>“It used to eat awfully,” grumbled Joel.</p>
<p>“Hush!” said Ben.</p>
<p>“And so you see,” cried Polly gayly, “how
perfectly fine it was to have such a splendid
chicken come to us. Seems as if it was just on
purpose for Thanksgiving; for you must know
that Mamsie had promised us a chicken-pie<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</SPAN></span>
as soon as she could manage it, and it was to
be all wings, and drumsticks, and wish-bones
and”—</p>
<p>“O Polly Pepper!” exclaimed Percy, with
a little laugh. “Chickens don’t have but one
wish-bone apiece.”</p>
<p>“I can’t help it,” retorted Polly recklessly;
“seems as if this chicken-pie was going to be
better than any other that was ever baked in
all this world. Oh! and the crust was to be
thick, and the gravy was to be just lovely, and
Phronsie was to have the wish-bone.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I was,” said Phronsie, with a small
sigh, and folding her hands.</p>
<p>“And so, you see, when Mister Shanghai
dropped down from the clouds in the way he
did, why, we were just as happy as we could
be. Well, every day when the work was done
up we talked over just how that pie was to
be baked; and when it was too dark to see, for
we didn’t light the candle any earlier than we
could help, and”—</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you light the candle early?”
asked little Dick, pushing forward into the
middle of the group.</p>
<p>“Why, because we were poor,” said Polly,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</SPAN></span>
“and we had to save the candles as long as
we could. Well, and we used to play it
really was Thanksgiving, and the table was
set, and”—</p>
<p>“And Polly always played that she had a
bunch of flowers to trim the chicken with,”
said Ben.</p>
<p>“Well, and now something very dreadful
happened,” said Polly; “very dreadful indeed.
I won’t tell you what it was, but”—</p>
<p>“Oh, tell, tell, Polly Pepper, do!” cried all
the Whitney boys in a clamor.</p>
<p>“No, not just yet,” said Polly, shaking her
brown head decidedly; “because that would
spoil the story. But I’m going to pretend
that the <SPAN href="#image34">old gray goose and the black chicken
could talk together</SPAN>, and tell you what they
said.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image34" id="image34"> <ANTIMG src="images/image34.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="458" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_261">The old gray goose holds a conversation with the black chicken.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“And then will you tell us the perfectly
dreadful thing that happened?” asked Van
anxiously; while the others cried delightedly,
“Oh, that will be fine!”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, with a reassuring nod over
at him, “I will Vanny, tell it all. Well, so
here is what they said. The old gray goose
began it:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘Humph!’ she said, with a very knowing
look; ‘you don’t know as much as you will in
a short time—say in November.’</p>
<p>“Now, what November was, the chicken, of
course, couldn’t tell, for he had never seen a
November; so he asked the cross old goose
very plainly, but very politely, one day, to
tell him exactly what she did mean. This was
the week before Thanksgiving; and it rained,
and it was cold and dreary, and the two were
perched on a rail, shivering with the cold.
But what the old gray goose was saying made<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</SPAN></span>
Shanghai shake and shiver worse than anything
else, only he pretended that he wasn’t frightened
a bit.</p>
<p>“Now, you must know that the old gray
goose was very angry at the Shanghai chicken
for coming there at all; and when she saw us
all feed it, she got angrier and angrier, till she
tried to say very bad things indeed to that
poor little black chicken.”</p>
<p>“That was naughty,” little Dick burst out
vehemently.</p>
<p>“Yes, she was very naughty indeed,” said
Phronsie, shaking her head gravely.</p>
<p>“So she was,” declared Polly; “wait, and
you’ll see what happened. Well, she went on,
and on, and talked, and talked, about how the
chicken was to be baked in pieces in a pie, and
all that.</p>
<p>“‘I’ve seen ’em!’ she said with the air of
one who knew everything. ‘Year after year,
hens and chickens, yes, and geese, stepping
around in the morning, oh! so happy and
smart; and then at evening they would go past
here to market, all stiff and stark, with their
heads off and Mr. Brown’s boy holding them
by their legs! All for pies, and so that people<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</SPAN></span>
may eat themselves sick; and they call it a
Thanksgiving!’</p>
<p>“Oh, how the chicken shook! It seemed as
if it would fall off from its perch; but it was
very dark, so the old goose didn’t notice it.
Shanghai wouldn’t for all the world have had
her; so he controlled himself, and, being a
brave little fellow, he stopped the beating of
his heart, and he spoke up loud:—</p>
<p>“‘Well, why weren’t you baked in a pie,
then, along with the others?’</p>
<p>“‘What!—why—well—’ stammered the
goose, ‘they were going to kill me time and
again,—but—well, the fact is, they thought so
much of me they couldn’t bear to.’ In spite of
its fright, the chicken couldn’t help laughing
softly to itself.</p>
<p>“‘Well, come, you’d better go to bed!’
crossly snapped the goose; ‘they’ll come for
you bright and early in the morning. I heard
’em saying so.’</p>
<p>“‘Well! then I say,’ declared the chicken,
drawing himself up on his long legs till he
looked, oh, so tall! ‘they won’t find <em>me</em> here;
that’s all I’ve got to say!’</p>
<p>“‘Why, where will you go?’ demanded the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</SPAN></span>
goose, seeing that she had gone too far in the
desire to make the poor little chicken as unhappy
as possible.</p>
<p>“‘Oh, I’m going to set out for my own fortune!’
gayly replied the chicken. ‘At any
rate, it can’t be any worse than to be baked
in a pie. I think I see myself staying here for
<em>that</em>! No; good-night, Mrs. Goose. Thank
you for all your kindness; I’m off!’</p>
<p>“‘Yes! and be stuck in a bog for your pains!’
scornfully hissed the old goose, seeing it was
useless to advise or to urge further; but the
chicken’s long legs were going at a pretty
smart pace down the hill, and it was soon out
of sight, and it was never seen by any of us in
The Little Brown House again.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” screamed Percy and Van
together; “then, you didn’t have any chicken-pie.
Why, Polly Pepper— And you said you
had one!” While little Dick roared steadily,
only the words, “chicken,” and “pie,” and
“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” could be heard.</p>
<p>When the noise was quelled as best it could
be, by Jasper and Ben, Polly was saying, “Well
that was the very dreadful thing that happened,
you know I told you about, and”—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“And didn’t you have anything?”—</p>
<p>“Any pie—any pie at all,” screamed and
wailed the Whitney children, beside themselves
with distress. So Polly hastened to reassure
them. “There, there, don’t feel so, boys; you’ll
see it all turned out beautifully, after all.”</p>
<p>“How could it,” exclaimed Van, horribly
disappointed, “if you didn’t have any chicken-pie,
after all?”</p>
<p>“You’ll see,” was all that Polly would tell
him by way of comfort, as she hurried on.</p>
<p>“Well, ’twas a beautiful morning, wasn’t it,
Ben,” cried Polly, “when you went out to kill
the chicken?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Ben; “but what I remember
most of all was, how you all screamed and
cried, and said you’d rather go without the pie
than to have the chicken killed.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” exclaimed the little bunch of Whitneys.</p>
<p>“I know it,” said Polly. “And so, after all,
it was better that that black Shanghai ran
away.”</p>
<p>“O Polly Pepper!” cried all the children
but Phronsie.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly stoutly; “I really think<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</SPAN></span>
it was. Well, never mind, let us go on and
hear the rest of it. Joel was the first one to
tell us the chicken had gone. He rushed
screaming in, ‘O Mamsie! Mamsie! the
chicken isn’t there!’”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” interrupted Joel; “I remember.”</p>
<p>“And after him came Davie flying in, and
then I can’t tell you how we all acted in
that kitchen.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t, Polly,” said Ben hastily; “all
the rest of us did.”</p>
<p>“I know I was just as bad as any of us,”
said Polly. “Well, anyway, then we all went
out and hunted for the chicken, and”—</p>
<p>“And didn’t you ever find him?” demanded
Percy.</p>
<p>“No, she said so before,” said Van; “she
said they never saw him again, don’t you
know?”</p>
<p>“No, we couldn’t find him,” said Polly to
Percy, “though we hunted high and low,—in
the woodshed, and the Provision Room, and all
about the house, and down in the pine wood,
oh! and over by Cherry Brook. Well, you
can’t think how we searched for that long<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</SPAN></span>
black chicken. Yes, and Ben ran down to the
swamp where he had found it, when he was
digging sweet-flag, to see if perhaps Mister
Shanghai had run back there, and got stuck in
the bog; but no, he wasn’t there, not a bit of
him, so finally we all had to come home and
tell Mamsie that we couldn’t find him. And it
rained dreadfully all that afternoon; and there
was the flour-bag standing up all ready in the
pantry, oh, dear! and so we had to tell stories
to keep the children from being too sorry and
forlorn, and”—</p>
<p>“You did, Polly,” corrected Ben. “I couldn’t;
but you told some splendid stories.”</p>
<p>“Oh! will you tell us some of those splendid
stories, Polly Pepper?” cried Percy radiantly.
“Will you? that you told that rainy afternoon,
when the black chicken ran away?”</p>
<p>“She’s going to tell us how the old gray
goose bit Sally Brown, too,” declared Van positively,
not losing sight of this future bliss.</p>
<p>“And so I will, Van,” promised Polly; “and
I’ll tell you one of the stories I told the children
on that dreadful afternoon when it rained,
and the black chicken ran away. But not now;
I must finish about the chicken-pie.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Tell more than one, Polly,” begged the
children; “<em>please</em> tell us all the stories you told
then.”</p>
<p>“We’ll see,” said Polly brightly; “I’ll tell
you some, but I don’t know as I could tell you
all the stories I told that dreadful afternoon.
I had to tell a good many, you know; it was
so very hard to get over. Well, now we must
hurry. Where was I? Oh”—</p>
<p>“You said you were telling stories,” shouted
Van, first of all.</p>
<p>“Yes, I know. Well, it was Ben who first
proposed the best thing you could think of
in all this world. All of a sudden he jumped
up, and waved his hand like this.” Polly sprang
to her feet. “See here, children, why not
let’s have the old gray goose?” she shouted.</p>
<p>“And you all screamed at me ‘The goose,’ in
great scorn,” said Ben.</p>
<p>“I know we did,” said Polly humbly, her
hand falling to her side; “but that was because
we weren’t as smart as you were, to see
what a wise thing it was to have the old gray
goose. I remember you said, if we can’t have
chicken-pie, why we must take the next best,
and that’s goose.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Well, you all came around finely in a little
while, though,” said Ben, smiling at her. “And
Mamsie said: ‘I think Ben is right; and the
old gray goose is really too cross to be allowed
to live, for it isn’t safe to have her around any
longer; so she really ought to be killed, anyway,
and we can boil her a good while to make
her as tender as possible; so you can have your
pie, Polly!’”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” said the Whitney children.</p>
<p>“And Polly said: ‘but why couldn’t the
old gray goose have run away, I wonder?’ and
that made us all laugh,” said Ben, “instead of
crying any more.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m so glad!” screamed Van; and he
rolled over and over on the floor in a ball. “Now
the old gray goose, the bad, naughty, hateful
old thing, is going to be killed, instead of the
chicken she scared so.”</p>
<p>“So am I,” cried Percy; but he sat quite
straight and dignified in his chair, only clapping
his hands by way of approval. “Oh, do
tell on, Polly!” he begged.</p>
<p>“And so the old gray goose, huddling in
from the rain, and chuckling to herself at the
state of affairs, didn’t dream what was coming;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</SPAN></span>
and on the next morning, chop—off went her
head—and we had our pie.”</p>
<p>“And Polly had some flowers on it, after
all,” said Ben; “for, at the last minute, a neighbor
ran in with a bunch of posies; and she
said: ‘I’m real sorry you had such a time about
your pie, children.’ So, you see, the old gray
goose was decked up fine after all; for Polly
stuck them in her bony, tough old breast.”</p>
<p>“And Mamsie baked us such a beautiful
pudding,” cried Polly, looking over at Mrs.
Pepper with a bright smile.</p>
<p>“Most all plums,” said Joel, smacking his
lips at the remembrance. “My! wasn’t it
good, though!”</p>
<p>“And did Phronsie get her wish-bone?”
asked little Dick anxiously.</p>
<p>“Why, how could she, when the black
chicken ran away with it?” cried Polly.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XVII" id="XVII">XVII.</SPAN><br/> <small>PHRONSIE PEPPER’S NEW SHOES.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“It was such hard work to make the fire
burn that morning,” said Polly. “Something
was the matter with the old stove worse
than usual. The big cracks seemed bigger than
ever, although Ben had stuffed them up with
putty the week before, and”—</p>
<p>“What had he stuffed them up for?” demanded
little Dick, plunging into the centre
of the group.</p>
<p>“Hush!” said Van, laying a violent hand on
his jacket, “do be still; you crowd so, and ask
questions.”</p>
<p>“I don’t ‘crowd so and ask questions,’” said
little Dick tartly; and he turned a very red
face to Polly. “What did he do so for, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Why, we were very poor, you know,” said
Polly; “and the old stove was all tired out, it
had been baking so long—oh! for years and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</SPAN></span>
years; and it had big holes and cracks come in
it that let the air through, and then that put
the fire out.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said little Dick.</p>
<p>“We weren’t so very poor,” said Joel uneasily,
who never could bear to be pitied.</p>
<p>“No, not when our ships came in,” said Ben
soberly; but his eyes twinkled, at which Polly
laughed merrily.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” she cried, wiping her eyes;
“Joel’s ships were always coming in.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean, Polly Pepper?” cried
Van quickly. “You say so many funny things.
What were Joel’s ships? and when did they
come in?”</p>
<p>“Now, see here,” said Jasper, “if you ask
so many questions, Polly never can get to the
story how Phronsie got her new shoes. And
to think how you three chaps have been teasing
her to tell it! If I were Polly, I wouldn’t
give you a single scrap of it.”</p>
<p>But Polly tossed him a bright smile over her
shoulder, and dashed off again as fast as she
could.</p>
<p>“You see, boys, when the putty that Ben had
stuffed into the old stove tumbled out that<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</SPAN></span>
morning, I was just going to put my pans of
bread into the oven. Think of that!”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed the Whitney boys.</p>
<p>“Well, there wasn’t any more putty. Oh! I
forgot to tell you that Ben was away at his
work, so he couldn’t fix it, and besides, there
wasn’t any.”</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you take some cotton wool?”
cried Van.</p>
<p>“Dear me!” exclaimed Polly with a little
laugh, “we never had cotton wool. That would
have been splendid—most as good as having a
new stove. But sometimes Davie used to give
us a boot-top, and”—</p>
<p>“A boot-top!” cried both of the Whitney
boys together.</p>
<p>“Yes, when anybody gave him an old boot-top,
he’d save it for the stove; the bits of
leather stuffed it up just finely, and”—</p>
<p>“I’d have given a boot-top too, if I’d had
it,” said Joel grimly; and his chubby face
lengthened.</p>
<p>“Oh! Joel was splendid too,” said Polly, turning
a radiant face on him; “he gave things too,
and helped to do the stuffing. I don’t know
what I should ever have done in all this world<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</SPAN></span>
without those two boys;” and she beamed at
them. “Well, I must hurry, or you never will
hear about Phronsie’s new shoes. Oh! where
was I?”</p>
<p>“Why, you were
stuffing up the old
stove to make it
burn,” said all the
Whitney boys together.
“Don’t you
know, Polly Pepper?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes! Well,
and I was in the
midst of it, when
Phronsie came out
of the bedroom and
said, <SPAN href="#image35">‘Oh! I am so
hungry, Polly.’</SPAN> Dear
me, and there I was;
my hands were just
as black as could be,
and Joel and David
were away, you know, and so Phronsie begged
to go to the Provision Room herself to the
bread-pail that always hung under the steps,
and I told her she might.</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="image35" id="image35"> <ANTIMG src="images/image35.jpg" width-obs="321" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_275">“Oh! I am so hungry, Polly.”</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Well, when she went along,” said Polly,
hurrying over this part of it, as she thought
she saw Phronsie’s head droop a bit, “she took
the big bread-knife out of the cupboard; she
thought, you know, it would help me; and the
first thing anybody knew, down she rolled over
those dreadful old rickety steps!”</p>
<p>Every one in the group sat perfectly still, as
if not daring to breathe; and little Dick threw
his arms around Phronsie, while his mouth
worked dreadfully as he tried not to cry.</p>
<p>“And I cut my thumb,” said Phronsie, holding
it up.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, hurrying on; “it was only
her thumb she cut, but how it did scare me!
I don’t know how I ever got down over those
stairs; and there she was in a little heap at the
bottom, and that dreadful old bread-knife lying
down on the floor a little way off. Oh, dear
me! I can’t bear to think of it even now; and
there were little dabs of blood on her pink
apron, and all over her face. But she said it
was only her thumb.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Phronsie gravely; “it was only
my thumb.”</p>
<p>“And so it was surely, as I soon found out,”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</SPAN></span>
said Polly, drawing a long breath. “Well, we
soon got Phronsie up-stairs, all right.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Joel; “and the first thing Polly
did, she said to the old stove, ‘Oh! you old
naughty thing, now think what you’ve done
this morning’—that’s what she told us.”</p>
<p>“And then I had to get some court-plaster
to stick the cut together with,” said Polly; “so
Phronsie sat in Mamsie’s old rocking-chair,
while I ran over to Grandma Bascom’s for it;
for you know, of course, that if any of us got
into any trouble, why, the first thing we did
was to get into Mamsie’s chair, if she wasn’t
home.”</p>
<p>Phronsie put one soft little hand on Mother
Pepper’s lap, and patted it.</p>
<p>“And she had cake,” said Joel; “Mamsie’s
chair, and a piece of cake too.”</p>
<p>“Yes, there was a piece that had been given
Mamsie, and we were saving it up for a treat
that we were to have had that very night; but
when Phronsie got hurt, why, of course she
must have it. Well, I thought Grandma Bascom
never would find that court-plaster. She
wanted so to hear all about how Phronsie got
hurt in the first place, and then she didn’t<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</SPAN></span>
know where she had put the court-plaster; and,
oh, dear me! I thought I should fly, to think
of poor Phronsie curled up in the big chair
waiting for me; but at last Grandma found it
in the cupboard drawer; and she cut off a
piece, and then it wasn’t but a minute or two
and the cut was stuck together and tied up
in an old handkerchief, and Phronsie’s pink
apron was taken off, and she had a clean one
on, and I brushed her curls, and everything was
getting all right again; and then in popped
Ben!”</p>
<p>“And Ben whistled ‘Whew!’” said little
Davie, “just as loud as he could. Polly told
us he did.”</p>
<p>“And they both kissed Phronsie all around
again, and Ben kissed her the most, because
he hadn’t been there at the first,” said Joel;
“Polly told us—oh! and then Polly said”—</p>
<p>“Oh! let me tell,” begged David in great
excitement.</p>
<p>“No, I began first,” said Joel; “I want to
myself, Dave.”</p>
<p>“Yes, he did begin first, Davie,” said Polly,
smiling into his little eager face. “Joel ought
to tell.” So Joel began again triumphantly,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</SPAN></span>
in a loud voice, “Well, Polly said—oh! I’d
rather Dave told—you may,” he broke off
suddenly, and looking over at David.</p>
<p>“No,” said Davie. “You began first; you
tell”—</p>
<p>“But Joel wants you to, Davie,” said Polly,
smiling over at Joel in a way to make the
color fly up on his round cheeks in his delight,
“so I would.”</p>
<p>“Let Phronsie tell,” said Joel, “that’s best.
Go on, Phron; tell what Polly said.”</p>
<p>“She said,” began Phronsie, “right in Bensie’s
ear, she told me so, that I ought to have
my new shoes. Yes, she did”—</p>
<p>“Just think of that!” exclaimed old Mr.
King, who hadn’t spoken a word, but had sat
quite still, holding Phronsie cuddled up in his
arms. “I should say so too; it was just the
time for those new shoes to be bought.”</p>
<p>“But Polly didn’t tell me then,” said Phronsie,
twisting around to look into his face;
“she whispered to Bensie, and he whispered
in her ear, and they told me to wait.”</p>
<p>“Just think of that,” said Grandpapa, patting
her small hand, as it lay confidingly in
his big palm.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes,” said Phronsie, “they did; and Polly
said, ‘Sh, sh! if Mamsie will only say yes.’”</p>
<p>“Well, and at dinner-time in flew Joel and
Davie hungry as bears—they were always hungry,”
said Polly, laughing, “and the bread was
not done, and”—</p>
<p>“And we had to eat the old crusts in the
pail; we always had to,” grumbled Joel.</p>
<p>“And Joel said he could have rolled down
the stairs without getting hurt,” said David;
“and he was going to take the bread-knife,
and try it.”</p>
<p>“But I got that away from you, sir,” said
Ben; “we’d had enough cuts for that day.”</p>
<p>“And I showed them my thumb,” said Phronsie
with an important air.</p>
<p>“Yes, and Polly took off the handkerchief;
but she wouldn’t let us peek under the court-plaster,”
said David.</p>
<p>“Well, I guess not,” said Polly.</p>
<p>“And then she told us lots and lots of
stories,” said Joel.</p>
<p>“Oh! will you tell them to us, Polly Pepper,
when you get through about Phronsie’s
new shoes?” begged the Whitney boys all together.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh! not to-day,” said Polly. “I will some
other time, maybe.”</p>
<p>“They’ve got to be lots and lots of them,”
declared all three together.</p>
<p>“Well, do let Polly finish this one first,” cried
Jasper. “Father, can’t you stop these chaps
from interrupting her every minute,” appealing
to old Mr. King.</p>
<p>Instead of this, the old gentleman leaned back
in his chair, and laughed so long and so heartily
that every one in the room joined; and when
they sobered down, Polly was saying, “And
then Mamsie came home, and everything was
all right.”</p>
<p>“And Mamsie said I could have my new
shoes, all-to-myself shoes,” declared Phronsie,
very much excited, and sitting very straight in
old Mr. King’s lap; “she did, Grandpapa.”</p>
<p>“So she did,” assented the old gentleman,
bowing his stately head gravely.</p>
<p>“That’s nothing,” said Percy Whitney in a
dissatisfied way, “to have a pair of shoes given
you. Why didn’t they give you something
better than that?”</p>
<p>Phronsie opened her eyes very wide. “I never
had a pair whole mine before,” she said simply.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Never had a pair of
shoes before,” screamed
Percy and Van together,
while little Dick made a
big O of his mouth in utter
astonishment.</p>
<p>Jasper leaned
forward and tried
to pull all three
jackets together.</p>
<p>“Gently, boys,”
said Mrs. Whitney, laying a soft
hand on the shoulder nearest
to her.</p>
<p>“Don’t
you understand,”
said Polly,
“that we were very
poor, very poor indeed;
and Phronsie had
never had a pair of shoes all to
herself before.”</p>
<p>The Whitney
boys had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</SPAN></span>
no words to offer at that, but sat quite speechless.</p>
<p>“And Mamsie had promised them just as soon
as she could get the money.”</p>
<p>“And I never had any new shoes,” said
Phronsie, shaking her yellow head. “No, I
never did.”</p>
<p>“And one day I heard her asking Seraphina
her doll, ‘Do you suppose I’ll ever get my new
shoes? Not till I get to be a big woman, I
guess.’”</p>
<p>“And did you say ‘Yes’, Mrs. Pepper—did
you—did you?” cried Van, jumping out from
the centre of the group to precipitate himself
at Mother Pepper’s elbow.</p>
<p>“Yes, I did,” said Mrs. Pepper, smiling at
him; “I thought, seeing Phronsie had got hurt,
it was just the right time for those new shoes
to be bought.”</p>
<p>“She did—she did say ‘Yes,’” proclaimed
Van, flying back again, as if bearing a wholly
new fact.</p>
<p>“And I should say so too,” declared old Mr.
King positively, and gathering Phronsie up
closely in his arms again.</p>
<p>“Well, and so it was all ‘really and truly,’ as<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</SPAN></span>
Phronsie said, settled,” ran on Polly once more;
“and now, just think, Phronsie was to have her
new shoes, and all to herself!”</p>
<p>It was impossible to describe the effect of
this announcement upon her auditors as Polly
made this statement most impressively, and she
rushed on, “and Ben was to run over and ask
Deacon Brown if we couldn’t have his green
wagon, and”—</p>
<p>“And we were to sit in behind,” shouted
Joel—“Dave and me. Oh, g’lang! didn’t we
have fun, though!” cracking an imaginary whip.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Van discontentedly,
and rolling over on the library rug;
“why couldn’t we ever have lived in a little
brown house and sat in behind in a green
wagon.”</p>
<p>“Mamma,” screamed little Dick, with cheeks
all aflame, and plunging up to Mrs. Whitney’s
side, “can’t we? can’t we?”</p>
<p>“What, dear?” asked Mrs. Whitney.</p>
<p>“Sit in behind in a green wagon? Can’t we,
mamma, just like Polly and Phronsie, and”—</p>
<p>“Ha, ha! Polly and Phronsie didn’t sit in
behind,” shouted Joel, “they sat on the seat
with Ben; Dave and me sat”—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I sat with Polly and Bensie,” announced
Phronsie, clasping her hands in delight, and
drawing a long sigh of satisfaction; “and I
could see the horse, and we were going to get
red-topped shoes.”</p>
<p>“Yes, she wanted them,” said Ben, nodding
to the others. “Oh! it just scared me, for I
was afraid we couldn’t get them.”</p>
<p>“But we did,” declared Phronsie, shaking
her yellow head positively—“oh! beautiful
red-topped ones, Grandpapa;” and she turned
to him confidingly.</p>
<p>“Bless your heart!” exclaimed old Mr. King
suddenly, and patting her little hands, “so you
did; dear me, yes, to be sure.”</p>
<p>“Well, it was <em>such</em> a time to get Phronsie
ready the next day,” said Polly with a long
sigh; “dear me, I thought I never should get
through. And then she had to sit in her little
chair and wait for the rest of us, and for Ben
to bring the horse and the green wagon from
Deacon Brown’s. Oh! and we were so afraid
it would rain—just suppose it had!” and she
brought up suddenly at the direful prospect.</p>
<p>“And did it? did it rain?” cried Percy anxiously,
pulling her sleeve.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“No; it was clear as a bell,” said Polly.
“Oh, you can’t think how beautiful that day
was! Seems to me I never saw the sun shine
any brighter; ’twas just as if it were made for us.
And Mamsie stood on the door-step to see us
go; and the last thing she said was, ‘Be sure not
to get them rights and lefts, they’ll wear
longer,’ and ‘Get them plenty broad;’ and I
had her purse with the money in it.”</p>
<p>“And Joe and David were just dreadful,”
said Ben, as Polly stopped a minute to take
breath; “they dangled their legs out the back
of the wagon, and they screamed and made an
awful racket—we couldn’t keep them still.
They scared the old horse most to death.”</p>
<p>“Well, he wouldn’t go unless he was scared,”
said Joel, “would he, Dave?”</p>
<p>“No,” laughed Davie; “and then Ben said
he’d turn around and drive home again if we
didn’t stop, so that scared us; and then Polly
thought she’d lost Mamsie’s purse with all the
money in it, and that was worse than ever.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly with a long breath; “how
frightened we all were. That was perfectly
dreadful.”</p>
<p>“But she didn’t lose it—Polly didn’t,” cried<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</SPAN></span>
Phronsie, shaking her yellow head positively at
them all. “No, she truly didn’t; and I had
my new shoes, and they were red-topped ones,”
she brought up triumphantly.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Ben, “that was the hardest part
of it all. Phronsie wanted red-topped ones, and
that scared Polly and me dreadfully; for there
was only a little bit of a chance that Mr. Beebe
would have any, you know, and”—</p>
<p>“But he did,” interrupted Phronsie eagerly,
and leaning forward to look into old Mr. King’s
face. “My dear Mr. Beebe did have red-topped
shoes; he did, Grandpapa.”</p>
<p>The only answer the old gentleman gave was
to clasp her closer to his breast, while Polly
hurried on.</p>
<p>“Well, <em>such</em> a time as we had getting into
old Mr. Beebe’s shop,” she cried, holding up
both hands; “dear me! I thought we never
should begin to try on those shoes, and then”—</p>
<p>“And there were, oh, so many shoes!” cried
Phronsie, clasping her hands, “hanging up in
the window, and”—</p>
<p>“Yes, and rubber boots,” broke in Joel; “I
always wanted them, Dave and I did. But we
never got them,” he added under his breath.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes, just lots and lots of shoes,” Polly was
saying; “but that wasn’t anything to the ones
inside. Why, they hung up all around the shop,
just every place a shoe could hang. Oh! and
there were ever so many in boxes too; and old
Mr. Beebe keep pulling out one after another,
and he had them tucked under the shelves and
everywhere else. And it did smell so nice and
lovely of beautiful leather;” she sighed in
delight at the remembrance.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image36" id="image36"> <ANTIMG src="images/image36.jpg" width-obs="345" height-obs="600" alt="“Phronsie Pepper’s new shoes.”" title="“Phronsie Pepper’s new shoes.”" /></SPAN></div>
<p>“Tell about the pink-and-white sticks, Polly,”
begged Davie, pulling gently at her sleeve.</p>
<p>“And the doughnuts,” said Joel; “I liked
them best.”</p>
<p>“Well, I didn’t,” said David decidedly; “I
liked the pink-and-white sticks best.”</p>
<p>“So did I,” said Joel, “when I was eating
them; but the doughnuts lasted longer, so I
liked those best.”</p>
<p>“And of course we couldn’t get rights and
lefts,” said Polly, “because, you know, Mamsie
told us they wouldn’t wear as good; so it seemed
as if we never could get Phronsie fitted in all
this world.”</p>
<p>“And I couldn’t see any red-topped shoes in
all that shop,” declared Ben to the group hanging<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</SPAN></span>
on every word, “although I walked around
and around, and stared at everything with all
my eyes.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed all the auditors
in great distress.</p>
<p>“No, I couldn’t; and I was just going to give it
up, and make up my mind to go home without
getting Phronsie any, when don’t you think old
Mr. Beebe said—you tell them, Polly, what he
said;” and Ben stopped quite tired out.</p>
<p>“No, you tell,” said Polly, delighted to get
Ben to talking; and she leaned back and folded
her hands restfully.</p>
<p>“Well, he said,” began Ben, seeing that
Polly was not really to tell it, “‘I made a pair
once for the squire’s little daughter down to
the Point; but her ma didn’t take them, ’cause
they were too small.’ Well, you can just think
how we didn’t dare breathe, for fear they
wouldn’t fit.”</p>
<p>“But they did,” cried Phronsie greatly excited;
“my dear Mr. Beebe made them fit me,
he did.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Ben, drawing a long breath, “on
the shoe went just as nice, and he buttoned it
up as snug as could be; and he said, ‘But perhaps<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</SPAN></span>
you’ll object to ’em, ’cause they’re red-topped.’
Just think of that!”</p>
<p>The Whitney boys screamed right out at
this stage of affairs, and even Jasper shared
in the general excitement, until Phronsie’s red-topped
shoes seemed to be the same little
specks of color before their eyes as when she
danced around the old kitchen to show them
to Mrs. Pepper.</p>
<p>“Well, now,” said old Mr. King at last, in a
lull, “we must let Polly tell the rest of it. Go
on, Polly my girl, what next?”</p>
<p>“Well, then Phronsie had to get off from the
little wooden chair old Mr. Beebe made her sit
down in, and stamp in the red-topped shoes
real hard, to see if they really were a good
fit; and then I paid him out of the money in
Mamsie’s purse, and he rolled up the old ones
in a newspaper; and then he gave her—don’t
you think—the most <em>beautiful</em> button-hook—oh!
you can’t think, it shone just like silver,
and—”</p>
<p>“And was it silver?” demanded Van, who,
seeing the story on the wane, was jealous of
every bit of statistic by which to spin it out;
“was it really silver, Polly Pepper?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Sh—be still, Van,” said Jasper with a
little nudge; “Polly cannot possibly get on
if you interrupt her all the time.”</p>
<p>“No, it wasn’t really and truly silver,” said
Polly, with a bright smile for Jasper; “but it
was just as good. Oh! and then dear old Mrs.
Beebe gave us another doughnut apiece out of
the big stone pot; and then we came out of the
shop, and climbed into the old green wagon
and drove home.”</p>
<p>“And I had my new shoes on, Grandpapa,”
announced Phronsie, turning to the old gentleman
as if a wholly new fact were to be stated;
“and they were red-topped, they were!”</p>
<p>“Yes, she kept sticking her feet out from
under the shawl Mamsie had told me to tuck
her up in every minute, to be sure the shoes
were really there,” laughed Polly. “Oh, dear!
such a time as I had to get her home, and it
was most night too.”</p>
<p>“She stuck them out just like this,” declared
Joel, running out his feet spasmodically,
regardless of his neighbors.</p>
<p>“Look out, Joe,” said Ben, “and keep your
feet to yourself. Goodness me! there’s some
difference between them and Phronsie’s.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292-</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I think she put them out like this,” said
little Davie, making gentle thrusts with his
shoes; “and she didn’t knock folks over.”</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t care,” declared Joel, pulling
in his feet as suddenly as he had sent them
out, “the doughnuts were good, anyway,” veering
off to safe ground.</p>
<p>“So they were,” said Ben, smacking his lips.</p>
<p>“And it was nice to get home to mother,”
said Polly with dancing eyes—“and she had
two candles lighted in the kitchen. I don’t
know when we’d had more than one at a time
before; and she said she couldn’t have done
better about Phronsie’s shoes if she had gone
herself—I always remembered that;” and Polly
turned a beaming face over at Mother Pepper,
busy darning the Whitney boys’ stockings.</p>
<p>Mrs. Pepper looked up and sent her a bright
smile in return—“and Phronsie said she was
going to take her shoes to bed with her.”</p>
<p>“Ha, ha!” laughed the Whitney boys.</p>
<p>Jasper tried to pull all the three jackets, but
only succeeded in reaching Van, who was nearest.
“Be still, can’t you?” he said under his
breath, with a glance at Phronsie sitting dewy-eyed
and radiant in Grandpapa’s lap.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, dashing on quickly; “and
what do you think I saw when I went to bed
with Mamsie?”</p>
<p>“What—what?” cried the boys.</p>
<p>“Why Phronsie in the trundle-bed; one shoe
was held tightly in her well hand, but the
other, she couldn’t hold it very well, you know,
because of the cut thumb, <SPAN href="#image37">and there it was,
tumbled right down over her nose.</SPAN>”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image37" id="image37"> <ANTIMG src="images/image37.jpg" width-obs="472" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_294">And there was the shoe tumbled right over her nose.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XVIII" id="XVIII">XVIII.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE OLD GRAY GOOSE.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“You promised,” cried Van in a loud, vindictive
voice. “Now, Polly Pepper, you
did, just as true as anything.”</p>
<p>“Well, she didn’t promise she’d tell it now,”
said Jasper. “You two boys would tire her to
death, if you had your way. Polly, I wouldn’t
oblige them; they’re perfect tyrants.”</p>
<p>“Well, she did promise,” repeated Van positively,
and shaking his brown head; “and when
she says she’ll do anything, Polly Pepper always
does it,” he brought up triumphantly.</p>
<p>“Yes, I did promise them, Jasper,” said
Polly, stifling a sigh, as she thought of the
hole in her time that the story would cut.
“So I’ll do it, boys.”</p>
<p>“Oh, goody!” exclaimed Percy, who had
kept still through fear of not standing well in
Jasper’s eyes. Van turned a somersault in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</SPAN></span>
middle of the library floor, and came up bright
and smiling, but speechless.</p>
<p>“Let her off, boys,” begged Jasper, seeing
Polly’s face; “she’ll tell you just as good a one
some other time.”</p>
<p>“No, no,” howled Van in alarm; “it’s got
to be now. You said so, Polly, this very morning
at breakfast,—that you’d tell it just as
soon as you got through with your music-lesson,
so there!”</p>
<p>“And so I will, Vanny,” said Polly brightly.
“I’m going to begin it this very minute; that
is, as soon as you’ve called Joel and David and
Phronsie and Ben. We couldn’t ever in all
this world have a story without them.”</p>
<p>“We might without Joel,” said Van, making
lively progress toward the door, having certain
reasons of his own for a cooling off toward that
individual since the contest in strength with
the fists of the little country lad.</p>
<p>“For shame!” cried Jasper after him; “we
all want Joel.”</p>
<p>“Van doesn’t like Joel since Joe beat him,”
said Percy pleasantly, who dearly loved to take
Van down.</p>
<p>“Well, I could have beat him as easy as<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</SPAN></span>
not,” shouted back Van, rushing out into the
hall with a very red face to execute his errand;
“but he was company, and I didn’t want to hit
hard.”</p>
<p>“Ha,—ha!” laughed Percy in derision, and
doubling up in amusement.</p>
<p>Polly stood quite still, and looked at him
long and intently. As far back as she could
remember no one had ever talked so in The
Little Brown House! and over her came at this
moment an intense longing to be back in the
dear old kitchen, where all was bright and
cheery and sunny. Percy, being unable to
get away from her gaze, grew very red and
uncomfortable. At last he said, “Van is such
a nuisance,” as he fidgeted from one foot to
the other. Still Polly didn’t say anything.</p>
<p>“And he’s always boasting of what he can
do.” Percy now was in such distress that
he had no more words at his command, and
he looked ready to cry, as he stood helplessly
before her. But there was no chance for Polly
to say anything; for in burst Joel and David,
with Phronsie flying along in the rear, Van
having gone to look up Ben, both of them presently
making their appearance.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Now, that’s good of you, Polly,” said Ben,
beaming at her; “for it’s raining so dismally
it’s just the thing to have a story.” So that
Polly felt quite cheered, and glad already that
she was to tell the
story.</p>
<p>“Isn’t it?” cried
Van quite importantly.
“Well, I made
her.”</p>
<p>Percy made a movement
involuntarily, as
if he were about to
speak; but thinking
better of it, he went
to the outside of the
group, and sat down
quietly on the corner
of the sofa, the
others drawing up
chairs and crickets to a circle around Polly.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Polly with a flourish—then
she looked over and saw Percy. “Oh, come
over here!” she cried to him. “Here, Jasper,
let Percy sit next;” so Jasper moved away from
Polly’s side; and pretty soon Percy, dragging up<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</SPAN></span>
a chair, was sitting close to Polly, and she was
smiling down at him as if nothing had happened.</p>
<p>“Now, I thought I would tell you about the
old gray goose,” she began, but a shout interrupted
her. “Oh, that’s fine!” cried Van,
when the noise died away.</p>
<p>“Because it rains just about as badly as it
did on that November day when the black
chicken ran away and spoiled our Thanksgiving
pie,” said Polly, with warm little thrills at
her heart to see the happy faces before her;
“so you see it’s just the time to have the story.”</p>
<p>“Do begin,” urged Percy, unable to keep
still longer.</p>
<p>“Well, the old gray goose had lived with us,
you know, ever since I could remember,” ran
on Polly; “so she was awfully tough—why,
we never thought of killing her to eat”—</p>
<p>“But you did,” <SPAN href="#image38">cried little Dick with big
eyes; “you said so, Polly Pepper.”</SPAN></p>
<div class="figleft"> <SPAN name="image38" id="image38"> <ANTIMG src="images/image38.jpg" width-obs="349" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_299">“You said so, Polly Pepper,” cried little Dick with big eyes.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Dear me, yes!” said Polly, bobbing her
brown head; “but that was afterward, when
we had to. But before the black chicken ran
away, why, no one ever in all this world thought
of killing that old gray goose to eat. Well,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</SPAN></span>
she was so old and tough, and she had grown
cross, and one day she bit Sally Brown.”</p>
<p>“Tell about it, Polly, do!” begged Van,
Percy so far forgetting all unpleasantness that
he begged eagerly too.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly; “I am going to. Well,
you know Sally Brown was Deacon Brown’s
daughter, and she lived in”—</p>
<p>“Did her father let you take the big green
wagon when Phronsie had her new shoes?”
asked Van abruptly.</p>
<p>“Yes, he did.”</p>
<p>“Oh! I do so wish we had a Deacon Brown,
who would let us have a big green wagon and
go off to places,” said Percy enviously.</p>
<p>“Well, ’twouldn’t be Badgertown, I can tell
you that,” said Joel, swelling up importantly,
delighted to see Percy’s face.</p>
<p>“No, you needn’t expect to have such good
times as the Peppers had in their Little Brown
House,” said Jasper decidedly; “because you
can’t, no matter where you are. I know, for
I’ve been there.”</p>
<p>“Jappy always feels so big,” said Van irritably,
“because he’s seen The Little Brown
House. Well, do go on, Polly,” he added quickly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“So I will,” said Polly with a merry laugh,
“if you boys will let me; but you interrupt me
so all the while that sometimes I don’t know
where I am.”</p>
<p>“I should think so too,” said Jasper. “Polly,
I wouldn’t tell them another thing unless
they’d promise to keep still.”</p>
<p>Thereupon such an alarm lest Polly should
stop altogether seized the group, that everybody
kept still as Polly ran on,—</p>
<p>“Well, you see, Sally Brown lived in a big
red house; her father was awfully rich, and he
had two barns—oh! and a big henhouse, and a
great pen, where the pigs were kept.”</p>
<p>At this there was every appearance of an
outbreak, but a glance at Jasper made them
clap their hands over their mouths.</p>
<p>“Yes; oh! and there were cows, and sometimes
cunning little calves, and everything just
nice and splendid at Deacon Brown’s, till you
couldn’t think of anything he didn’t have.
Why, they had milk every single day to drink—the
Brown children had. Well, one day
Sally Brown’s mother sent her to our house
to ask Mamsie to come over to help Mrs.
Brown to make soft soap.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“<em>What!</em>” exclaimed both Whitney boys together.
But Jasper shot them such a keen
glance from his dark eyes that they both
ducked simultaneously without another word.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, hurrying on. “You see,
Mamsie was always so very glad whenever anybody
wanted help about anything, because we
were very poor, you know, and the money got
us some Indian meal and molasses.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said the boys.</p>
<p>“Well, Sally Brown says she ran across the
meadows—you see, Deacon Brown’s house was
off on the road to Cherry Brook, and so whenever
we went to the Brown’s, or they came over
to see us,—that is, we children,—why, we
would run ’cross lots, and”—</p>
<p>“What’s ’cross lots?” broke in Van.</p>
<p>“Ha, ha! don’t know what ’cross lots is,”
laughed Joel heartily.</p>
<p>“For shame, Joe!” said Ben, and—“Why,
Joey, how could they know what ’tis to run
’cross lots, when they’ve never lived in the
country,” said Polly.</p>
<p>“Well, ’cross lots is just prime!” exclaimed
Joel lustily; “it’s to jump and race and tear and
holler over the grass and the corn, and through<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</SPAN></span>
folks’ orchards, and over the stone walls, lickety
split—whoop-la!”</p>
<p>He jumped up, and began prancing through
an imaginary race; down the long apartment,
steering clear of the oaken furniture and
damask furnishings, with a keen eye for the
distance.</p>
<p>“Come on, Dave,” he shouted over his
shoulder, “let’s show them what it’s like;”
while the Whitney boys sat transfixed with
longing at every step.</p>
<p>“No, you don’t, Joe,” commanded Ben
sharply, “in the house. Stop this minute;” and
little Davie said quietly, “We ought to wait
till we get out-of-doors.”</p>
<p>“Well, come on out now, then,” cried Joel,
whirling around in his tracks, and looking like
a race-horse held up against his will.</p>
<p>“Why, Polly’s telling about how our old gray
goose bit Sally Brown,” said David, getting
closer to Polly; “we can’t now, Joey.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to hear about Sally Brown,”
grumbled Joel, very much out of sorts; “and
I wish the old gray goose had bit her worse,
I do.”</p>
<p>“O Joey!” reproved Polly; “think how good<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</SPAN></span>
Deacon Brown was to us, and Mrs. Brown
too.”</p>
<p>“Well, Sally wasn’t,” said Joel shamefacedly,
digging his toes into the soft carpet. “She
bit me once, and scratched my face.”</p>
<p>“Well, then, I suppose you were bad to her,”
said Ben coolly. “So come back, Joe, and don’t
interrupt this story again. Besides, it’s raining
like everything.”</p>
<p>“Well, we can go on the veranda,” said Joel;
but he came reluctantly back and sat down
again.</p>
<p>“Well, so Sally ran ’cross lots,” said Polly,
picking up the narrative again; “she told us
all about it, you know; and she says she never
saw the old gray goose till just as she ran into
the lane, down by Grandma Bascom’s. And
the first thing she heard was a ‘<em>Hiss—hiss!</em>’”
exclaimed Polly, suddenly stretching up her
neck as much like a goose as possible, so that
every one of her auditors jumped; and the
Whitney boys looked at the door involuntarily,
as if expecting to see an old gray goose walking
in, at which they all laughed right merrily,
so that old Mr. King popped his head in the
door to see what it all meant.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“<SPAN href="#image39">Sally Brown</SPAN> is biting <SPAN href="#image39">the old gray goose</SPAN>,”
piped out Phronsie, flying to him, at which they
all laughed worse than ever; so that it really
seemed as if Polly never would finish that story
in the world.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image39" id="image39"> <ANTIMG src="images/image39.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="421" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_305">Sally Brown and the old gray goose.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>At last everything quieted down, and Polly
was under way again in the midst of the narration.
“So just as she turned into the lane
down by Grandma Bascom’s, ‘<em>Hiss—hiss!</em>’
came something after her; and looking over
her shoulder, she saw our old gray goose running
on its sticks of legs as fast as it could,
with its long neck stuck out straight at her,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</SPAN></span>
and screaming and hissing like everything.
Oh, dear me! and Sally was so frightened she
couldn’t run another step; and so she just sat
down on the grass, and covered up her eyes
with her two hands.”</p>
<p>“She always was a silly,” declared Joel in
scorn; “why didn’t she just turn and stare at
that old goose? That’s the way I’d done, and
then, says I, I’d taken a stick and run after
her, and whacked her over the head.”</p>
<p>“And what did the old gray goose do then?”
demanded Van Whitney, with one ear out for
what Joel would have done.</p>
<p>“Why, that dreadful old bird just climbed
up into Sally Brown’s lap, and nipped a little
bit of her arm into her bill, and bit it. And
Sally squealed perfectly awfully; and Grandma
Bascom heard her, and she came out of her
door, and shook her broom at the old gray
goose, so then she went away”—</p>
<p>“Who did—Sally?” asked Percy with a puzzled
air.</p>
<p>“No, the old gray goose did,” said Polly;
“she took her sticks of legs out of Sally’s lap,
and she pulled her long neck in, and went off;
and Sally came crying over to us, and”—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“And she <em>always</em> was a silly,” said Joel
again with a snort of disdain, “and a cry-baby
too.”</p>
<p>“And Mamsie tied up Sally’s arm with opodeldoc,”
said Polly, glad she could do so well
with the long word.</p>
<p>“What’s opodel, and the rest of it, Polly?”
asked Percy, who was always uncomfortable if
he couldn’t get the smallest detail of a story.</p>
<p>“Oh! I don’t know,” said Polly, wishing very
much that she had learned all about it so as
to be able to tell now; “it’s green stuff, like
herbs, you know; and Mamsie always soaked
some, and tied it on us when we got hurt.”</p>
<p>“I thought you said Phronsie had her toe
tied up in worm something,” said Percy in a
literal way, “when it was pounded.”</p>
<p>“Wormwood? Oh, yes, so she did,” said
Polly. “Well, Grandma Bascom gave us that;
I suppose we didn’t have any opodeldoc in the
house that day. But sometimes Mamsie would
have wormwood too, because we used to get
hurt, some of us, pretty often, of course, and we
had to be tied up, you know, till we got well.”</p>
<p>“What were you tied up to?” broke in little
Dick with big eyes.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh! we weren’t tied up,” said Polly with a
little laugh; “I mean our fingers and toes
were tied up when they got cut and pounded.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said Van.</p>
<p>“Why, it’s cleared off!” screamed Joel, springing
up and pointing to the window; “see the
rainbow! Come on Dave, now let’s run ’cross
lots out-doors!”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XIX" id="XIX">XIX.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE GREEN UMBRELLA.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">Polly was at her wits’ end to think of
anything to make a story out of. She
was longing to run out into the conservatory
and be with Turner in his work among the
flowers, and it seemed as if her feet must
carry her off in spite of herself. But there
were all four of the boys standing in a row
before her, and Phronsie’s little face expectantly
lifted waiting for Polly to begin.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” she exclaimed with an impatient
little flounce, “I do wish”—</p>
<p>“Is that the story, Polly?” asked Phronsie
wonderingly.</p>
<p>“No, it isn’t,” said Van. “And I don’t believe
she means to tell us any.” The faces
all fell dismally at that.</p>
<p>“Don’t you, Polly?” asked Phronsie anxiously.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Well, you see, pet,” Polly began, half
ashamed of her ill humor.</p>
<p>“No, she doesn’t mean to,” declared Joel,
scanning Polly’s face closely; “she’s going off
somewhere, maybe with Ben, and she won’t tell
us where. I’m going to tag them.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, I’m not, Joe!” said Polly quickly.
“I was going into the conservatory to help
Turner work over the flowers.”</p>
<p>“Oh, bother that old conservatory!” exclaimed
Joel, who was always lost in wonder
over Polly’s love for flowers; “it’s mean not
to stay and tell us a story,” he added in a dudgeon;
“we haven’t heard one for ever so long.”</p>
<p>“Polly wants to work over the flowers,” said
Phronsie. Yet she looked very grave as she
said it.</p>
<p>“Yes, I do,” said Polly, and she turned back
and regarded the little group of boys most
decidedly; “and I’m tired to death telling you
children stories. I want to have a nice time
once in a while myself;” and a little red spot
began to come on each cheek.</p>
<p>The boys all stared at her without a word;
and Phronsie crept nearer, and put her little
hand against Polly’s dress.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“And you tease and tease the life out of
me,” cried Polly, who, now that she had begun,
found it impossible to stop herself; “and I wish
you’d go away and let me alone.” And there
stood Mother Pepper; how she got there, no
one ever knew, but there she was in the doorway.</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image40">“Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper,</SPAN> and there was a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</SPAN></span>
look in her black eyes that made Polly’s brown
ones droop, <SPAN href="#image40">“you needn’t tell any story just
now.”</SPAN></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image40" id="image40"> <ANTIMG src="images/image40.jpg" width-obs="487" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_311">“Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper, “you needn’t tell any story just now.”</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“O Mamsie!” cried Polly, all the color gone
from her cheek; and bursting into a torrent of
tears she rushed to Mother Pepper’s side,
“please let me—oh, do! I’d rather tell a story
than do anything else; I would, truly.”</p>
<p>“Oh, we don’t want any story!” screamed
Joel, breaking away from the others to precipitate
himself into Mrs. Pepper’s arms, his face
working frightfully in his efforts not to cry.
The other boys stood helplessly by, lost in
astonishment.</p>
<p>“No, Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper firmly, “not
now; the story must wait. And now, children,
you can go away and shut the door.”</p>
<p>“Can I stay?” begged Phronsie, two tears
rolling down her round cheeks, as she came up
and stood imploringly by Mother Pepper’s side.</p>
<p>“No, dear.” So Phronsie crept off like a
hurt little thing after the others, and carefully
shut the door. Then they all sat down on the
lowest stairs to think about it.</p>
<p>“Was that really Polly Pepper?” asked Van
in an awe-struck whisper, after a long silence.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Who did you think it could be if it wasn’t
Polly?” demanded Percy crossly, and turning
on him.</p>
<p>“Some old witch dressed up in Polly’s
clothes,” said Van stoutly. Little Davie laid
his head down on the stair above him, “Nobody
could get into Pol—Polly’s clothes,” he sobbed
convulsively.</p>
<p>“Of course not,” said Percy gloomily; “it’s
only because Van is such a silly, that he says so.”</p>
<p>“And if you say that again about an old witch
getting our Polly’s clothes, I’ll pitch into you,”
cried Joel with a very red face; and doubling
up his stout little fists, he made a lunge at Van.</p>
<p>Van pretended not to be afraid, but managed
to get on the other side of Percy.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear—dear!” wailed David steadily.</p>
<p>“And you’ve made Dave cry,” cried Joel;
“and I’ll pound and bang you for that.” This
time he managed to reach Van; but in the
same moment, “Hoity-toity!” exclaimed a voice
above them; and there at the top of the stairs,
and looking down at them, was Grandpapa.</p>
<p>“What are you all doing?” he asked, regarding
them fixedly.</p>
<p>“We’re just sitting here,” said Percy, who<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</SPAN></span>
was the only one to find his tongue, and looking
up sidewise.</p>
<p>“So I perceive,” said the old gentleman.</p>
<p>“Joel was pitching into Van, Grandpapa,”
cried little Dick in the most cheerful of tones,
and scrambling up-stairs at a very rapid rate,
“and Polly”—</p>
<p>“Ugh!” screamed Joel after him, “don’t
let him tell, Grandpapa,” he begged, bounding
over the steps to rush past Dick and reach the
old gentleman’s side first.</p>
<p>“You pushed me,” cried little Dick savagely,
and coming up red-faced and shining. “He
pushed me, Grandpapa;” and he doubled up his
fists at Joel.</p>
<p>“Hoity-toity!” exclaimed the old gentleman
again. “You mustn’t be so free with your
fists, my boy.”</p>
<p>“It’s my fault,” said Joel; “I was going to
pitch into Van. Don’t let Dick say anything,
Grandpapa,” he begged anxiously.</p>
<p>“Polly said”—began Dick; but Joel clapped
his hand over his mouth—and there were the
two boys whirling round and round, the old
gentleman in the centre looking at them helplessly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Meantime Phronsie had come over the stairs
to put her hand into the old gentleman’s.
“Please stop them, Grandpapa,” she begged
piteously.</p>
<p>“Goodness me, dear!” exclaimed Mr. King.
“There, there, Phronsie child, don’t cry.”</p>
<p>At the word “cry” Joel’s hand fell helplessly
down from Dick’s mouth, and he stood
quite still while little Dick slid out from under
his arm triumphantly.</p>
<p>“If you do speak, you’ll be a mean little beggar,
Dick Whitney,” cried Van, flying over the
stairs, “and Polly Pepper won’t ever tell you a
story in all this world again.”</p>
<p>At these words Dick closed his mouth, and
concluded not to say what was on the tip of
his tongue.</p>
<p>“And I was just as bad as Joel, Grandpapa,”
went on Van, crowding up to the old gentleman’s
side; “for I said bad things about”—</p>
<p>“Ugh!” exclaimed Joel, turning on him suddenly,
“don’t let him tell, Grandpapa. Make
him stop.”</p>
<p>“Phronsie,” said old Mr. King, turning to her
very much puzzled, “I can’t make anything out
of these boys; they’re in a bad way. You<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</SPAN></span>
come with me, child;” and he seized her little
hand, and moved a step or two away. But
Phronsie gently pulled him back.</p>
<p>“I think I ought to stay here, Grandpapa,”
she said, regarding the boys gravely, while the
tears went slowly over her round cheeks.</p>
<p>“Nonsense, child; you can’t do them any
good. If they want to pound each other’s heads
they’ll do it; and I think myself it might be a
good dose for them both.”</p>
<p>“But they ought not to, Grandpapa,” said
Phronsie in distress. “Polly wouldn’t like it.”</p>
<p>At mention of Polly’s name Joel left pursuit
of Van, and plunged up to old Mr. King. “I
won’t touch either of them,” he cried; “I don’t
care if they pound me; I’ll let them.”</p>
<p>“And I’m not going to pound him,” declared
Van with a positive air.</p>
<p>“I am,” announced little Dick magnificently.
“I shall knock Joel flat;” and he beat the air
with his fists.</p>
<p>At this old Mr. King burst into such a laugh,
in which Percy and Van and Joel joined, that
the tears forgot to roll down Phronsie’s cheeks,
and David got off from the lowest stair, and
came up to add himself to the group.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Well, now,” said Grandpapa cheerfully, “seeing
everything is so nice and comfortable, you
would all do well to come into my room and
see what I’ve got for you. Put up your fists in
your pocket, Dickybird, and save them for next
time.” With that he marched the whole bunch
of children before him into his own writing-room.
And there, behind the table and waiting
for them, was Polly Pepper.</p>
<p>The children all stared at her a moment; then
Phronsie piped out, rushing tumultuously over
behind the table to get into Polly’s lap. “It
is Polly. She’s got back.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Polly has got back,” said the old gentleman.
“Now, Polly,” before any one had a
chance to say a word, “I think you would better
set right to work about that story.” And he
bustled about in such a lively manner, getting
everybody into chairs, that almost before the
children knew it, there was Polly in the very
midst of—</p>
<p class="noic">THE GREEN UMBRELLA.</p>
<p>And it began like this:—</p>
<p>“Ever and ever so many years ago,” said
Polly, “there was a queer little man; and he
lived in the middle of a big city, in a perfectly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</SPAN></span>
funny little house, with only one window in it
besides the
door, and he
had a little
daughter,—she
was only
so high;” Polly
put her hands
up above the
table-top a little
way,—“and
she could speak
thirty-seven
different languages.”</p>
<p>“O Polly!”
exclaimed old
Mr. King under
his breath.</p>
<p>“And there
wasn’t anything
that
would make
music that she
couldn’t play
on,” said Polly;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</SPAN></span>
“so they didn’t have to have the hand-organs
stop in front of the house. The queer little old
man used to climb up the tree in front of the
perfectly funny little house, and if he saw a hand-organ
man coming along, he would scream out,
<SPAN href="#image41">‘Go right away! my daughter makes all the
music I want.’”</SPAN></p>
<div class="figleft"> <SPAN name="image41" id="image41"> <ANTIMG src="images/image41.jpg" width-obs="281" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_319">“Go right away! my daughter makes all the music I want.”</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Even if there was a monkey with him?”
asked Joel, breaking in.</p>
<p>“Yes, even if there was a monkey,” said
Polly, “that made no difference; he made him
go away all the same. Well, and then down the
queer little man would slide along the tree till
he got to the ground; and then he would rush
into the house in a great state, and he would cry
out, ‘Come, my daughter, and play me a tune;’
and then he would begin to dance; round and
round and round and round he would spin until
his feet were all twinkling in and out underneath
his coat, for I must tell you that he wore
a long coat that flapped around his heels every
step he took.”</p>
<p>“Ha, ha!” laughed Joel, in which the others
joined, Polly smiling at them to see their
brightness restored. “Well, and there he
would keep Araminta Sophia, for I forgot to tell<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</SPAN></span>
you her name, playing away till she almost
tumbled down she was so tired; and at last, when
he had danced as much as he wanted to, he said,
‘Now take the green umbrella, and go out and
buy me some fish for breakfast.’</p>
<p>“So Araminta Sophia hopped up from the
piano-stool, and ran out into the shed that was
tacked onto the perfectly funny little house;
and there, hanging on a gold peg, was the green
umbrella.”</p>
<p>“Real gold, Polly Pepper?” cried Van.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, “real true gold; and it was—oh!
so big, you can’t think, and ever so thick
through. Well, and on it dangled the green umbrella,
for that was the place where it always had
to be kept whenever Araminta Sophia brought
it home. I don’t know what would have happened
if she hadn’t hung it up there.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t anybody ever carry it but Araminta
Sophia?” asked Percy.</p>
<p>“Dear me, no,” said Polly; “for if they should,
it would run away with them.”</p>
<p>“Oh! make the queer old man carry it, and
have it run away with him,” screamed Joel;
“do, Polly.”</p>
<p>“No, no,” said old Mr. King, seeing Polly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</SPAN></span>
hesitate; “I sha’n’t have any such work as that.
This story is begun, and I’m going to hear the
rest about Araminta Sophia. Go on, Polly, my
girl.”</p>
<p>“And some other day I’ll tell you how the
queer old man did carry the green umbrella,
and it did run away with him,” said Polly, with
a bright smile for all. “Well, so Araminta
Sophia took down the green umbrella from its
golden peg, and then she hung a little basket
on her arm to bring the fish home in, and off
she started, as nice as you please. And just as
soon as she got outside the door of the perfectly
funny little house, all the birds in the tree that
hung over it, and in the trees all around, whispered
to each other, and piped and trilled,
and sang it over and over, ‘Here comes the
green umbrella! Here comes the green umbrella!’”</p>
<p>“What did they all say that for?” asked
Joel.</p>
<p>“Oh! you’ll hear,” answered Polly, “if you
wait. Well, that is just what all the birds did
say; they always said it whenever they saw
Araminta Sophia come out under the green
umbrella. You see, if she hadn’t got it, all the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</SPAN></span>
birds would have flown at her, and jumped down
on her head, and made a nest in her hair.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” cried all the boys together.</p>
<p>“And so she had to take it every single time
she went out to walk,” said Polly decidedly,
“else it would have been perfectly dreadful.
Well, off she went, with the little basket that
she was to bring the fish home in, hanging on
her arm; when, as she turned a sudden corner,
an old woman with a big brown cloak on, and
her face all hidden in the back of a big hood,
stepped up to her and said, ‘Pretty little lady,
what have you there?’ Now Araminta Sophia,
had always been told by her father, the queer
little man, not to talk to strangers; and she was
going right on under her green umbrella, when
the old woman said again, ‘Pretty little lady,
how your eyes shine! what have you there?’</p>
<p>“‘I am going to buy some fish, good woman,
for my father’s breakfast,’ said Araminta Sophia,
stopping just a moment. And before she
could say another word, the old woman put her
hand under her long brown cloak, and drawing
it out, she bent over the little basket. ‘Look
within! <SPAN href="#image42">Look within!’ she screamed.”</SPAN></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image42" id="image42"> <ANTIMG src="images/image42.jpg" width-obs="446" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_322">“Look within!” screamed the old woman.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“What was it?” shouted Joel; and the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</SPAN></span>
others demanding to know the same thing, old
Mr. King’s writing-room was presently the
scene of great confusion. When it cleared
away, Polly was saying, “And so Araminta
Sophia peered into the basket; and the more
she looked, she couldn’t see anything. And so<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</SPAN></span>
she said pretty soon, ‘Good woman, I see
nothing.’</p>
<p>“‘Give me the umbrella a minute, stupid
creature,’ said the old woman; ‘I’ll hold it
over your head, and do you tip up the basket
with both of your hands, and then you will
get the pretty gift I have thrown within it for
you.’</p>
<p>“Now, Araminta Sophia wanted dreadfully
the beautiful gift the old woman had put in
the basket. ‘Hold the umbrella carefully over
my head,’ she said, giving it into the skinny
hand. And in a minute, as soon as the words
had left her mouth, away flew the old woman,
the green umbrella and all, into the sky.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” howled all the boys together.
Phronsie snuggled down into Polly’s lap, and
held tightly to her.</p>
<p>“‘Pretty creature with the shining eyes,
look out for the birds!’ screamed the old
woman in the brown cloak, mounting the sky,
and holding the green umbrella tightly in her
skinny hands. And then she laughed a dreadful
laugh. And Araminta Sophia sat down on
a big stone by the roadside, and put her face in
her two hands, and cried as hard as she could.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” said the boys again; while
Phronsie gave a long sigh, and crept within
Polly’s arms closer than ever.</p>
<p>“Don’t feel badly,” said Polly; “but wait and
see if perfectly splendid times don’t come to
Araminta Sophia. Well, there she sat, crying
away on her stone, her little basket dangling on
her arm, and the birds flying about her; and
as soon as they saw the old woman mount up
to the sky carrying the green umbrella, every
single bird screamed right out, ‘Oh, come, the
green umbrella’s gone! the green umbrella’s
gone!’ and they all hopped down on Araminta
Sophia’s head, till you couldn’t see anything
but a heap of birds, and”—</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” cried all the boys again,—and,
“Do make somebody come out and shoot
them,” cried Joel in great excitement.</p>
<p>“Wait and see,” said Polly merrily. “Well,
when Araminta Sophia felt all the birds hopping
down on her head, she spoke up very
humbly, ‘Oh, if you please, little birds, I should
like to have you get off from my head.’</p>
<p>“‘We can’t,’ said one of the birds, peering
at her with one eye; ‘for the old woman that
has gone up into the sky won’t let us.’”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“She’s a bad old woman,” shouted Joel vindictively;
“make something come and eat her
up.”</p>
<p>“‘Please get off from my head,’ begged
Araminta Sophia, and ‘We can’t, because the
old woman up in the sky won’t let us,’ the
birds kept saying; when suddenly, when no one
was looking, along came a man with a big gun
over his shoulder. ‘Ah, ha!’ he said, ‘now
I’ll have those birds.’”</p>
<p>“Goody!” cried Joel, slapping his hands
together smartly. “Oh! make him catch every
single one, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Don’t let him hurt Aramin—what is her
name, Polly?” begged Phronsie.</p>
<p>“Araminta Sophia. No, pet; she’s not to
be hurt,” promised Polly, patting Phronsie’s
yellow hair. “Well, up went the man’s big
gun, and bang! bang! every single bird fell
dead to the ground.”</p>
<p>It was impossible to describe the excitement
now, and Polly felt warm little thrills at her
heart to see it all.</p>
<p>“And don’t you think, boys and Phronsie,”
she ran on gayly, “that the old woman in the
brown cloak, who had mounted the sky carrying<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</SPAN></span>
the green umbrella, peered down from under
it; and when she saw what was going on she
was very angry, and she cried great big tears,
and she couldn’t stop, but kept crying and crying,
and the tears grew bigger and bigger, and
they fell all over her skinny hands, and washed
the handle of the green umbrella out of them;
for the tears fell over them so fast she couldn’t
hold it, you know; and so away it fell down to
earth again, down, down, till it came right on
top of Araminta Sophia’s head.”</p>
<p>“And Ara—what is it, Polly?” cried Phronsie,
greatly excited, “got her green umbrella
again, didn’t she, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, nodding her head briskly;
“there it was, just as good as ever. So Araminta
Sophia jumped up, and was just going
off with her little basket she was to bring
home the fish in, and carrying the green umbrella
over her head, when the man with the
big gun said, ‘Stay!’ so Araminta Sophia
stopped right straight off where she was.</p>
<p>“‘Is that old woman in a brown cloak any
relation of yours?’ for the old woman was
coming down from the sky, and they could
just see her cloak.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘Oh, no!’ said Araminta Sophia, looking
out from under her green umbrella, and getting
up closer to the man with the big gun; ‘she
ran off with my green umbrella.’</p>
<p>“‘Flew off, you mean,’ said the man; ‘you
should always say what you mean, child. Well
now, old woman with the brown cloak, you
have flown up there, and there you must stay.’</p>
<p>“‘Let me come down,’ squealed the old
woman angrily; ‘get out of the way, and let
me come down.’</p>
<p>“‘No, indeed,’ said the man, and he put
his big gun to his shoulder; ‘you flew up
there, and there you must stay, or I’ll shoot
your head off.’”</p>
<p>“Whoopity-la!” howled Joel, springing to
his feet, followed by Davie and the Whitney
boys, “this way;” and he put an imaginary gun
to his shoulder, and took aim at a fanciful old
woman in a brown cloak up in the sky. “Bang!
bang! there you go, old woman, and your
head’s off.”</p>
<p>“No; no, he didn’t say so,” cried Davie,
running up to Joel; “the man with the big
gun said he would shoot her head off if she
came down, Joe.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I don’t care,” said Joel, banging away;
“I’m going to shoot her, anyway; she’s a
horrible old woman, and I sha’n’t let her come
down. Bang! bang!”</p>
<p>“Well, that isn’t the way to do it,” said Van,
twitching at the imaginary gun; “you don’t
aim high enough.”</p>
<p>“And couldn’t the old woman <em>ever</em> come
down, Polly?” asked Phronsie, a troubled look
beginning to settle over her face.</p>
<p>“No, dear,” said Polly; “there she had to
stay.”</p>
<p>“Not <em>ever</em> come down?” persisted Phronsie.</p>
<p>“No; that is,” as she looked at Phronsie’s
face, “I guess the man with the big gun would
let her come down once in a while; and then
Araminta Sophia could stay in the perfectly
funny little house and shut the door, you know,
so the old woman couldn’t let any more birds
get in her hair. And then back she would
have to fly up into the sky again,—the old
woman with the brown cloak, I mean,—for
the man with the big gun said if she didn’t
he should know it, and he would come and
shoot her head off.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Polly,” said Phronsie, laying her cheek
against Polly’s rosy one, “I am so very glad
you let that old woman come down sometimes,
because maybe she had a little girl and she
wanted to see her. I am so glad, Polly.”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XX" id="XX">XX.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE GREEN UMBRELLA AND THE QUEER LITTLE MAN.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“Come on,” shouted Van at the bottom of
the stairs, “Polly Pepper is going to tell
the story of ‘The Green Umbrella and the
Queer Little Man.’ Come on!” and in two
minutes the bunch of the youngest Peppers,
with Percy and little Dick, precipitated themselves
over the stairs, and raced along at his
heels until they all brought up in Jasper’s
den.</p>
<p>“Now, that’s fine!” exclaimed Jasper, jumping
out of his chair behind the writing-table, as
they all plunged in, Van having made the appointment
in advance; “but where’s Polly?”</p>
<p>“Oh, she’s coming!” cried Van, rushing
around and tumbling over everybody else in his
eagerness to draw up the seats; “she’s up in
Ben’s room, and they’re both coming in a minute<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</SPAN></span>
or two. Here, you fellows,” to Percy and
Dick, “help along with these chairs, will
you?”</p>
<p>Percy, who didn’t like to move quickly at
anything that was like work, slowly managed to
draw up one chair, into which he planted himself
drawing a long sigh as he sat down.</p>
<p>“That’s nice,” growled Van, quite red in the
face from his exertions; “you feel smart, don’t
you, to leave us to do all the work as usual.”</p>
<p>Percy pretended not to hear, which so enraged
Van that he ran up and planted a smart rap on
Percy’s back as he leaned back composedly in
his chair.</p>
<p>“Do that again, will you?” he cried, whirling
around to glare at Van; “I’ll knock your head
off, if you do.”</p>
<p>“Here, here!” exclaimed Jasper, looking up
quickly from the corner where he was piling
away his school-books till it was time to fly to
work on them again. “You’ll march out of this
room if you carry on like that, I can tell you.
Up and apologize to each other, now, both of
you chaps.”</p>
<p>“He’s always pitching into me,” cried Percy,
his face getting a lively red, for he hated above<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</SPAN></span>
all things to miss Jasper’s approval; “and I’m
tired of it.”</p>
<p>“Apologize, I say,” commanded Jasper, with
a bob of his head that Percy knew meant business,
“or out you go. While as for you, Van,
I don’t know but what I much better pitch you
out neck and heels, as it seems you begun it.”</p>
<p>“Oh! I’ll apologize; I’ll say anything you
want, Jappy,” cried Van in alarm; for invitations
to Jasper’s den didn’t come often enough to be
lightly regarded; and not waiting for a reply,
he ran around Percy’s chair, and stuck out his
hand. “I’m sorry; but I wish somebody else
would pitch into you, for you’re so mean and
lazy.”</p>
<p>“Hold on!” roared Jasper at him; “that’s no
apology.”</p>
<p>“I don’t mind it,” said Percy carelessly; and
he extended his hand with a patronizing air that
made Van furious, and sent him back to his
work over the seats in anything but a sweet
frame of mind.</p>
<p>“How Polly Pepper ever gets along with
you, I don’t see,” said Jasper in despair, as he
retreated to his corner.</p>
<p>“Oh! we don’t act so before her,” observed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</SPAN></span>
Van pleasantly, pulling and pushing some refractory
chairs into place.</p>
<p>“Well, I should be ashamed to act worse
when she is not by,” retorted Jasper scornfully;
“think how dreadfully she would feel to see you
chaps going on so.”</p>
<p>Percy hung his head; and Van cried out in
alarm, “Oh, don’t tell her, Jappy, don’t tell her!”</p>
<p>“As if I’d want to tell her,” exclaimed Jasper
in greater scorn than ever.</p>
<p>Meantime Polly, who had taken her recreation
hour the day before to plan out this story
of “The Green Umbrella and the Queer Little
Man,” was sitting down on the floor, her head
in Mother Pepper’s lap, while Mamsie’s hands
softly smoothed the brown hair.</p>
<p>“I don’t see how I came to say it,” she
mourned for about the fortieth time; “the
words seemed to slip out, Mamsie, without my
saying them; and then I couldn’t stop.”</p>
<p>“No, that is generally the way,” observed
Mother Pepper; “when any one lets ill temper
say the first word, good-by to all peace of mind.
So watch the first word, Polly.”</p>
<p>Down went Polly’s head lower than ever in
Mother Pepper’s lap.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I know you were tired of telling stories to
the children,” went on Mrs. Pepper, “but that’s
no excuse; and besides, you had promised.”</p>
<p>“I know it,” mumbled poor Polly into Mother
Pepper’s stuff gown.</p>
<p>“And if a body is going to do a kindness
for another, it’s best to do it cheerfully, remember
that, Polly.”</p>
<p>Polly didn’t say anything, and the kind hands
kept up their stroking of the brown hair, and
the clock on the shelf ticked away busily as
much as to say, “Remember that, Polly.”</p>
<p>“And now,” said Mrs. Pepper at last, quite
cheerily, “I wouldn’t ever say anything more
about this. We’ve talked it over, you and I,
a good many times, and you’ve told Mr. King,
so it’s no good to keep it alive. Just do the
best you can now, Polly. Only remember
never to let it happen again.”</p>
<p>“Mamsie!” exclaimed Polly, lifting her head
from Mrs. Pepper’s lap suddenly, and sitting
quite straight on the floor, her brown eyes
shining through her tears, “I just hope there’ll
be, oh! lots and lots to do for those boys. I
love to tell them stories, and I’m going to do
everything else I can think of for them too.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“There’ll be enough you can do for them,
I guess, Polly,” observed her mother wisely;
“and that’s the better way to show you’re sorry
than talking about it. There, here comes one
of them now for you,” as Van bounded in,
holding out both hands, much as if Polly Pepper
were a parcel, and he was to bear her down
to the waiting group below.</p>
<p>“O Polly! we’re ready,” he began; but she
sprang to her feet and interrupted him. “Oh!
for the story, Van? All right, I’ll go;” and
she ran to the door, but she came flying back.
“Good-by, Mamsie;” and she tried to set a
kiss on the smoothly banded black hair, but
Mrs. Pepper lifted her head quickly, so the
soft little kiss dropped on the end of her nose,
which made them all laugh merrily.</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image43">“Here she is!” cried Van, throwing open the
door of Jasper’s den</SPAN>, and handing Polly Pepper
in with a flourish; “and Polly wasn’t in Ben’s
room after all; I had the greatest time to find
her.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image43" id="image43"> <ANTIMG src="images/image43.jpg" width-obs="438" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_336">“Here she is!” cried Van, throwing open the door of Jasper’s den.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“No,” said Polly, her cheeks as red as a
rose, “I was in Mamsie’s room.”</p>
<p>“Well, where is Ben?” cried Percy from
the depths of his comfortable chair.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337-</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_338" id="Page_338">338]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Go and find him for yourself,” Van was
on the point of saying, but a glance at Jasper
made him send the words back.</p>
<p>“Sit here, Polly,” Jasper was saying, conducting
Polly to the big chair back of the table.</p>
<p>“O Jasper! that looks as if I was going to
give a lecture,” laughed Polly; “dear me, how
pompous!”</p>
<p>“Well, you must sit there,” declared Jasper,
clearing a better space on the table. “Dear
me, I make no end of a mess with my papers.”</p>
<p>“Never mind,” said Polly brightly, “I’ll help
you, Jasper.” So together they piled the
papers up neatly, and Jasper crammed the
whole budget into the table-drawer; then he
rapped with the paper-weight.</p>
<p>“The meeting will come to order. Does
anybody know anything about Ben?” when
the door opened, and in stalked that individual.</p>
<p>“Had to go down town to carry my boots to
be mended,” he said. “Whew, didn’t I run
home, though! Nearly knocked over an old
woman with a basket coming around the
corner.”</p>
<p>“Did you knock her over, Bensie?” asked
Phronsie, leaving the chair she was tugging at<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</SPAN></span>
to draw it closer to Polly, and coming up to
look at him gravely.</p>
<p>“No, I didn’t,” said Ben, getting into the
nearest chair. “I put out both arms, and I
screamed, ‘Hi, there!’ and the old woman
and basket and all walked right into them.”</p>
<p>“That was nice,” observed Phronsie in great
satisfaction, “then she didn’t tumble;” and she
went back to her chair, and mounted it to fold
her hands in her lap.</p>
<p>“Polly Pepper is to tell a special story by
request,” announced Jasper with a grandiloquent
air as if addressing a large assembly,
“and if the audience will be so good as to
come to order, she will begin it at once. If
you don’t stop talking and be quiet, I’ll pitch
you all out of the window,” he added in his
natural voice.</p>
<p>“That’s a great way to address an audience,
I should think,” said Ben in pretended indignation.</p>
<p>“I can’t help it,” said Jasper recklessly.
“Now then, Polly, they’re still for just a
minute, so you would better begin.”</p>
<p>“I promised to tell you the story,” began
Polly brightly, “of the Green Umbrella and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</SPAN></span>
the Queer Little Man, and how it danced away
with him.”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes!” cried all the roomful. Phronsie
smoothed down her white apron in great
satisfaction.</p>
<p>“Well, so here it is. Now, you know
Araminta Sophia got the green umbrella all
safely back again when the man with the big
gun”—</p>
<p>“Scared the old woman in the”—began
Joel, but Ben plucked him by the jacket collar.
“Go on, Polly,” he said coolly; “I’ll hold this
chap still through this story.”</p>
<p>“Well, she hung it up on the big golden key
when she got home,” ran on Polly; “you know
she had to buy the fish for her father’s breakfast
before she could go home, and”—</p>
<p>“What was in the basket, Polly?” asked
Phronsie suddenly, stopping the smoothing
process to look at Polly.</p>
<p>“Why, the fish,” said Polly, “of course. I
just told you that, child.”</p>
<p>“No, no,” said Phronsie, shaking her head,
“I don’t mean the fish. I mean the other
thing, Polly.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you mean, Phronsie,”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</SPAN></span>
said Polly, looking around on the group in a
puzzled way.</p>
<p>“The other thing,” persisted Phronsie, clambering
down from her chair to come to Polly’s
side. “What the old woman said she put in,
Polly.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said Polly; then she burst into a
merry laugh. “None of you boys remembered
to ask me that, and I forgot it myself. Oh!
’twas just her fingers, Phronsie; that was
all.”</p>
<p>“Whose fingers?” asked Phronsie very much
mystified.</p>
<p>“Why, the long skinny ones that belonged to
the old woman,” said Polly. “She put them
in the basket, and just pulled them out again.”</p>
<p>“But she said she put in a gift for Ara—what
did you call her, Polly?” said Phronsie.</p>
<p>“Araminta Sophia,” said Polly; “well, she
said that because she was a naughty old woman,
Phronsie. There wasn’t any gift at all. Now
go and sit in your chair again, that’s a good
girl, then I’ll go on with the story.”</p>
<p>So Phronsie clambered into her chair, and
laid her hands in her lap. But her mind was
busy over the naughty old woman, and the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</SPAN></span>
absence of the gift in the little basket that was
to bring home the fish.</p>
<p>“Well, where was I?” began Polly again.
“Oh! I know. Araminta Sophia was hanging
up the green umbrella on the golden hook,
when suddenly the door of the shed opened
wide, and in came her father, the queer little
man. ‘What a time you have been away,
daughter,’ he squeaked out.</p>
<p>“‘I couldn’t help it, father,’ said Araminta
Sophia; and then she told him the reason why
and all about it; but the queer little man only
said, ‘What a tiresome story; tell me some
other time.’”</p>
<p>“I don’t think that was very polite,” began
Joel, but Ben took another hold of his jacket
collar.</p>
<p>“He was more polite than you are,” whispered
Ben.</p>
<p>“‘And you needn’t take the trouble to hang
up that green umbrella, daughter,’ said the
queer little old man; ‘for I am going out to
walk with it myself.’</p>
<p>“‘Father!’ exclaimed Araminta Sophia, turning
pale with fright, ‘why, you’ve never done
such a thing in all your life;’ and she clasped<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</SPAN></span>
her hands tightly together around the green
umbrella.</p>
<p>“‘Silly chit!’ cried the queer little old man
in a terrible passion, ‘do you think you are
going to tell me what to do? Give me that
umbrella this very second.’</p>
<p>“Araminta Sophia tumbled down to her
knees, holding on to the green umbrella, and
besought him that he wouldn’t take it from
her, but would let her hang it in its place on
the golden hook.</p>
<p>“‘The man out there with his gun will shoot
you,’ at last she said. ‘He’s most dreadfully
big too,’ which was the very worst thing she
could have said; for the queer little man always
fancied that he was as strong as a lion, and it
made him very angry to hear of anybody bigger
than he was. So now he squeaked out in what
he fancied was a terrible voice, ‘Give me that
umbrella this instant, or I’ll put you up in the
corner with your face to the wall.’</p>
<p>“After this terrible threat, Araminta Sophia
handed him the green umbrella without a word;
and then she tumbled over on the floor in a
dead faint, and the old white cat, who caught
all the spiders and mice in the perfectly funny<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</SPAN></span>
little house, crept in and licked her face, until
she came to and sat up straight.”</p>
<p>“That was nice of the old white cat,” said
<SPAN href="#image44">Phronsie</SPAN> to herself, <SPAN href="#image44">smoothing down her apron
again in satisfaction.</SPAN></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image44" id="image44"> <ANTIMG src="images/image44.jpg" width-obs="495" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_344">Phronsie smoothed down her white apron in satisfaction.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“But by that time the queer little old man
was gone, and the green umbrella with him.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</SPAN></span>
At first he walked along quite fiercely, taking
what he thought were very big steps, but they
were little bits of mincing steps like”—</p>
<p>“Show us, Polly, do,” begged Van. So Polly
hopped out from her seat behind the table, and
amid peals of laughter she minced up and down
like a tiny, queer little man, until she nearly
tumbled over on her nose.</p>
<p>“Dear me!” she exclaimed, as she hopped
into her seat again, “it’s perfectly dreadful to
be so little. Well, where was I? Oh, well!
off he stepped, holding up the green umbrella
as proudly as possible, and wishing there was
somebody to see how nice he looked; but there
wasn’t, only a pig behind a fence looking out
through the holes, and he didn’t care in the
least, for he was grunting for something to
eat, so you see the queer little old man had
to go mincing and nipping on quite alone.</p>
<p>“Well, and before he knew it, he was stepping
off very briskly. ‘Dear me, how young
I feel!’ he exclaimed to himself. ‘It all comes
of carrying this green umbrella; now I mean
to take it out to walk every day.’ And as
he finished the last word, he found himself
running.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘This is perfectly splendid!’ he cried joyfully;
‘I don’t know when I’ve had such a good
run. Now I’ll enjoy it till I get to that tree
yonder; then I must stop, for I shall be quite
tired.’</p>
<p>“And in a minute he was close to the big
tree; but just as swiftly, before he could draw
another breath, he was whisked by. He stuck
out his arm, the one that wasn’t carrying the
green umbrella, you know, and he tried to catch
hold of the tree; but alas! he was running by
at the top of his speed, and now the big tree
was clear way behind, and”—</p>
<p>“And couldn’t he stop?” cried Phronsie
with wide eyes. “Do make him stop, Polly.”</p>
<p>“I can’t,” said Polly, “because this is the
story, you know, of how <SPAN href="#image45">the green umbrella ran
away with the queer little old man.</SPAN>”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image45" id="image45"> <ANTIMG src="images/image45.jpg" width-obs="551" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_346">The umbrella runs away with the queer little man.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“This queer little old man has got to run,
Phronsie,” said Jasper, “so we shall have to
let him.”</p>
<p>But Phronsie sighed as she folded her hands.</p>
<p>“And the queer little old man knew, too, by
this time that he had got to run,” Polly was
saying; “and he began to sigh and to groan,
‘Oh, I wish I hadn’t taken this green umbrella;’<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</SPAN></span>
and all the while he was going faster and faster,
till his head began to spin, and he thought he
should drop down in the road; but he couldn’t,
you see, for his little bits of feet kept hopping
and skipping along, so of course there was no
time for him to tumble flat. And in a minute
he came to a great big pond and”—</p>
<p>“Like what you said Cherry Brook was?”
cried Van, breaking in.</p>
<p>“Dear me, no,” said Polly with a little laugh;
“this was ever and ever so many times bigger,
like”—</p>
<p>“Oh! I know,” declared Joel in an important
way, quite delighted to show Van his superior
knowledge; “it was like Spot Pond, Polly, over
by Badgertown woods.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly with shining eyes, “it
was, Joel, just like dear old Spot Pond by
Badgertown woods;” and she leaned her
cheeks on her two hands and her elbows on
the table, lost in delightful reminiscence over
Joel’s words.</p>
<p>Van got out of his chair, and slipping away
from the reach of Jasper’s fingers, he plucked
Polly’s sleeve. “You said the queer little old
man and the green umbrella came to a big<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</SPAN></span>
place just like Spot Pond,” he whispered in
her ear.</p>
<p>“What—oh!” said Polly, lifting her head
up suddenly. “Yes, so I did. ‘Well now,’ said
the poor little queer old man to himself, ‘I shall
surely stop; I am so glad to see this water, for
I am really almost run to death.’ But the
green umbrella made him hop clear across the
pond; and there he was on the other side, running
for dear life through a brambly wood, and
up the side of a mountain.”</p>
<p>Van ran back to his seat, hugging himself
joyfully at this entrancing stage of the story.
“Now, there were some people living on the
top of that mountain,” said Polly quite impressively,
“who were very funny people indeed.
They were thin and tall—oh! just as thin as
bean-poles, and as high; and when they went
out they always pulled on seven-league boots,
and”—</p>
<p>“What are those boots, Polly?” asked Phronsie
quickly.</p>
<p>“Oh! let me tell her,” cried Van eagerly, delighted
to think there was something he could
show off in to advantage. “I know; my fairy
book tells all about it.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Well, I shall tell,” declared Percy for the
same reason. “You see, Phronsie”—</p>
<p>“No, indeed you shall not,” exclaimed Van
in a dudgeon; and forgetting all about Polly
Pepper being there, “I began first;” and deserting
his chair again, he ran over to Phronsie’s
side, and tried to take her hand; but she
kept it folded over the other one in her lap, and
looked gravely at him.</p>
<p>“And I say I shall,” cried Percy in a passion
and forgetting the same thing; “and as
for your beginning first, you are always crowding
in, so that’s nothing.”</p>
<p>Polly leaned back in her big chair, and looked
at them in dismay.</p>
<p>“And I think you would both better go out
of my den,” said Jasper coldly.</p>
<p>“O Jasper!” exclaimed Polly quickly. At
the sound of her voice both boys turned and
looked at her. “I didn’t mean to!” exclaimed
Van, wilting miserably. “And I didn’t either,”
cried Percy, wishing he wasn’t so big, and could
creep into a corner.</p>
<p>“And please don’t,” cried Polly at them;
and she clasped her hands, and her cheeks got
rosy red again.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“We won’t! we won’t!” they both promised;
and Van slipped back to his seat, and
Percy said, “You may tell Phronsie, Van, if
you want to.”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t,” said Van, getting down as
small in his chair as he could, feeling Polly’s
brown eyes looking him through.</p>
<p>“I would rather have Polly tell me,” said
Phronsie with grave eyes for both of the boys.</p>
<p>“Yes, you tell her, Polly, do,” said Jasper;
“that is best.”</p>
<p>So Polly told Phronsie all about what seven-league
boots were, and how the people who
wore them could take great big steps, longer
than anybody else in all the world, and how
they could jump from the top of a mountain to
another one just as easily as anything, and
nothing could catch them. “And so you see,”
said Polly, winding up her description, “when
these tall, thin people heard the little queer
man with the green umbrella coming up, they
all burst out laughing. ‘We’ll show him what
running is. Get on your boots,’ said every one
to each other.</p>
<p>“And every single one of them hurried and
pulled on his seven-league boots.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh, goody!” howled Joel, slipping away
from Ben’s hand.</p>
<p>“Now, the queer little old man tried to stop
when he got up to them; but instead of that
he whisked along by them, and there he was
way ahead, and going at a perfectly dreadful
rate.</p>
<p>“‘Ho, ho!’ cried the seven-league boot-men,
‘you little upstart, you, what do you mean by
going by us without a word;’ for you see
they didn’t like it to see such a very little
person treat them so coolly, and there he was
way off ahead of them. ‘We’ll teach you better
manners;’ and off after him they raced.”</p>
<p>“And did they catch him?” cried Van.
“And what did they do to him?” asked Percy.
Little Dick, who hadn’t spoken, but had been
lost in thought, now got out of his chair, and
stumbled into the centre of the group.</p>
<p>“Ha, ha, ha!” he screamed suddenly, as
loud as he could.</p>
<p>“Goodness me, Dicky, how you scared me!”
exclaimed Polly with a jump.</p>
<p>“He scared us all, I guess,” said Ben.</p>
<p>“And you would better get back into that
chair of yours,” said Jasper, “if you don’t want<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</SPAN></span>
the house to come down on our heads after
that noise.”</p>
<p>Little Dick, thus adjured, plunged back as suddenly
as he had come, and climbed into his chair.</p>
<p>“But step as long and as high as they could,
the seven-league boot-men couldn’t come up to
the queer little man with the green umbrella;
for just as soon as he flew out of one city over
the church-spires, and the big houses, they
would just be coming in, and so all they
could see of him would be the green umbrella,
flying along, and a little twinkling thing, with
tiny sticks of legs and arms, under it. And at
last, besides being very angry, they were very
much puzzled. ‘We’ve never had anything
beat us before,’ they called to each other as
they stepped along.</p>
<p>“And all the while, don’t you think, the
queer little old man was calling and screaming
back at them, ‘Oh! you dear big boot-men,’
for he didn’t know anything about seven-league
boots, ‘do stop me, for I’m running away, and
I can’t stop myself.’</p>
<p>“And at last the seven-league boot-men
stopped in surprise, unable to take another
step, they were so much astonished.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘Let’s talk it over,’ they said, ‘and then
when we’ve come to a conclusion what the
matter is, why we’ll start again after him.’</p>
<p>“So they all stopped
on the tip of the nearest
mountain, and sat
down and put their
chins in their hands.</p>
<p>“‘It’s something about that umbrella,’ at
last said one boot-man, suddenly lifting his
head.</p>
<p>“‘Sure enough,’ cried another, slapping him<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</SPAN></span>
on the back; ‘that’s the brightest thing that
has been said yet. Think some more.’</p>
<p>“‘I believe it’s because it’s green,’ said
another, who wanted to be just as bright too.</p>
<p>“‘Sure enough,’ said the boot-man who had
said so before. ‘Now we must get him to
throw away that dreadful green umbrella, for
we can’t be beaten you know.’</p>
<p>“‘We must get him to throw away that dreadful
green umbrella,’ repeated every one of the
boot-men. Then they all got up, and”—</p>
<p>“And did they get the queer little man to
throw away the green umbrella?” cried little
Davie impulsively. “Oh! I didn’t mean to interrupt,
Polly,” he cried as soon as he thought.</p>
<p>“I know, Davie, you’ve been real good,” said
Polly, smiling approvingly at him. “Well, now
you’ll see; so off they all stepped, with their
dreadfully long steps, after the queer little old
man with the green umbrella, and pretty soon
one of the boot-men, who was a little ahead,
called out, ‘I spy him; he isn’t more than
seven miles off.’”</p>
<p>“Oh, my!” screamed Joel.</p>
<p>“And sure enough; there he was—running
along—the green umbrella just flying through<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</SPAN></span>
the air, and the little sticks of arms and legs
under it twinkling in and out.</p>
<p>“‘Hurry! hurry! hurry now for your lives!’
roared all the boot-men at each other; and they
raced as they had never in all their lives raced
before. And at last when they were nearly
ready to drop, they came so near to the queer
little man that they could hear him faintly
squeal out, ‘Oh, do stop me! I’m running
away, and I can’t stop.’</p>
<p>“‘Throw down that dreadful green umbrella,’
roared all the boot-men at him together.</p>
<p>“‘I can’t,’ squealed the queer little man,
running on faster than ever. ‘It won’t let go
of my neck;’ for you must know, I forgot to
tell you, that the crooked handle that used to
hang on the golden peg in the woodshed, where
Araminta Sophia hung it up, had hooked itself,
after he got to running fast, around the neck
of the queer little old man, and there he was
fast and tight.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed ever so many
voices.</p>
<p>“Did it hurt him?” asked Phronsie piteously.</p>
<p>“Oh, no! I guess not, Pet,” answered Polly;
“he was running so fast I don’t believe he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</SPAN></span>
felt it much. Anyway, he couldn’t get it off,
try as hard as he would. And so on he ran,
worse than ever.”</p>
<p>“Can’t he <em>ever</em> stop?” asked little Dick
suddenly, in great excitement.</p>
<p>“You’ll see, Dicky,” said Polly with a smile,
while the others begged her not to stop but
to hurry on. “‘Shut up that dreadful green
umbrella, then,’ screamed out one of the boot-men
with the first thing that came in his head;
and in a minute, before they could take another
step, <em>flap!</em> went the green umbrella; <em>snap!</em>
went the green umbrella; and <em>stop!</em> the poor
little legs and arms of the queer little man
came to a standstill.</p>
<p>“‘How very queer!’ he gasped. ‘Why
didn’t you tell me that before?’ he snapped
out as the boot-men all came up, for he was
very cross by this time. ‘Why didn’t you
think of it yourself instead of making us chase
you all over the world?’ they snapped back;
for you see they were very cross too.”</p>
<p>“O Polly! had they been all over the
world?” cried Percy in astonishment.</p>
<p>“Pretty much,” said Polly; “and you see
they were very tired; and besides they didn’t<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</SPAN></span>
like it, for they never had been obliged to take
such a chase before.”</p>
<p>“I should like to ask,” said Ben, “what this
queer little man happened to be standing on
when the green umbrella got shut up? You
stopped him in the air, you know, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Oh! I forgot to say,” Polly answered briskly,
with a little laugh, “that they happened to be
just running over a very high mountain. So
when the green umbrella got shut up, why, of
course, all he had to do was to stand still on
the top of it.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said Ben.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XXI" id="XXI">XXI.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE LITTLE SNOW-HOUSE.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“Dear me, how we have all run!” exclaimed
Polly, sitting down and wiping
her hot face.</p>
<p>“And I beat, I beat!” whooped Joel excitedly.
“I got to the big gate first of all.”</p>
<p>“That’s because I didn’t hear Ben say
‘three’ in time to begin with you,” said Percy,
his face growing unpleasantly red, and wishing
he hadn’t run at all.</p>
<p>“Ho, ho!” screamed Van, “that’s a good
one; just hear Percy. Well, I stubbed my toe,
so I didn’t beat.”</p>
<p>“You’ve won the prize, Joe,” said Jasper,
coming up and drawing a long breath. “Well,
that was a race, to be sure.”</p>
<p>“You said you’d let the one who beat have
a wish, and you’d do it if it was a possible
thing,” cried Joel with a crow of delight.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</SPAN></span>
“Well, I choose for Polly to tell us a story
now;” and he flung himself down on the grassy
terrace by her side.</p>
<p>“O Joel Pepper!” exclaimed Jasper in dismay,
“we none of us thought you’d choose that,
because we knew you wanted so many things.”</p>
<p>“Well, I do choose that,” declared Joel obstinately,
and shaking his stubby black hair;
“and I don’t want anything else. So begin,
Polly, do;” and he drummed impatiently
against the green bank with his heels.</p>
<p>“Ben,” said Jasper in despair, rushing up to
that individual, “isn’t there anything we can
do to bring Joe to his senses? Polly’s tired
to death. Oh! why did we promise?”</p>
<p>“No,” said Ben with a long face, “not when
Joe makes up his mind. And we did promise.
But I’ll tell the story.” And he drew a long
breath, and his face dropped longer yet.</p>
<p>“Ben’s going to tell the story,” announced
Jasper, rushing back cheerily. “Now all sit
down,” as Phronsie pattered back along the
winding road through the shrubbery, having
run a race with herself quite contentedly.
“Here, child;” and he sat down on the grass,
and drew her into his lap.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“But I don’t want Ben to tell the story,”
cried Joel coolly. “I want Polly; and you
promised you’d give me my wish if ’twas a
possible thing,” he asserted in a loud and positive
tone.</p>
<p>“Well, ’tisn’t a possible thing; Polly’s tired
to death,” said Jasper shortly. “Here, Ben,
come along, and dash a story at this persistent
chap.”</p>
<p>“Polly isn’t tired,” contradicted Joel, looking
in surprise at Polly’s blooming cheeks. “She’s
never tired; and you’ve promised,” he repeated
in an injured tone.</p>
<p>“And I’m quite rested now,” exclaimed
Polly, tossing back the damp rings of hair
away from her brow, “so I can tell it just as
well. But what in the world shall it be
about?” and she broke into a merry laugh.</p>
<p>“Don’t try to think,” said Ben, who threw
himself on the grass by her side. “Joe’s a
mean little beggar to ask it, Polly,” he whispered
in her ear.</p>
<p>But Polly tossed him a scrap of a whisper
back again, and then she began. “Now, it’s
so hot to-day, and the middle of summer, it
doesn’t seem as if it ever had been winter<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</SPAN></span>
with the snow on the ground; and it will make
us cool, with nice little creeps all down our
backs, if I tell you about our little snow-house,
and”—</p>
<p>Joel jumped to his feet with howls of delight.
“O Polly!” he screamed, “do tell about it.
That’s the most splendid story of all!” Then
he suddenly became very grave, and stood
quite still.</p>
<p>“Come along and sit down, then, Joel,” said
Polly, “and I’ll begin.” But Joel didn’t move.</p>
<p>“Come along,” cried Ben, quite out of sorts,
“and get into your seat, and don’t stand there
like a stick.” But still Joel stood very still. “I
don’t want any story,” he blurted out suddenly.</p>
<p>“Don’t want any story,” repeated Percy and
Van in surprise; while little Dick began to
cry piteously, and laid his head in Polly’s lap.</p>
<p>“Polly doesn’t want to tell it,” began Joel
in a gasp, and wishing very much that he had
stayed at the big gate where he won the race.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes I do!” cried Polly brightly. “I
want to tell it, Joey, I do truly; so sit down
like a good boy, and I’ll begin right off.”</p>
<p>“Do you really?” asked Joel, edging up,
with both black eyes fixed on her face.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes, indeed; I’m all rested now,” declared
Polly; “and if I don’t tell that story I shall
feel very badly indeed, Joey Pepper.”</p>
<p>So Joel, feeling that it was quite right to
be glad that the story was to be told, since
Polly had said that she should feel badly if she
didn’t tell it, gave another whoop of delight,
and scuttled back to crowd in next to Polly,
while the others settled down in great satisfaction,
and Polly began in her cheeriest fashion.</p>
<p>“Well, you must know, boys, that we used
to have just the best times in The Little Brown
House the minute it began to be winter, and
the snow commenced to fall, and we could look
out and see it all, and plan what we could do.”</p>
<p>“And you could get your sleds out,” burst
in Van—“And go sleighing too,” said Percy.</p>
<p>“Oh, we didn’t have sleds!” said Polly
quickly; “at least, only one that Ben made
us.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t have sleds!” exclaimed the Whitney
boys.</p>
<p>“I helped,” said Joel sturdily; “and so did
Dave.”</p>
<p>“Well, I guess it wouldn’t have been much
of a sled unless Ben had made it,” said Polly,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</SPAN></span>
looking up at Ben affectionately. “But you
two boys did help, though,” she made haste
to add, as she saw their faces.</p>
<p>“And we couldn’t go coasting only when
we had all our work done,” Polly went on,
“because, you see, we were poor, and that was
play.”</p>
<p>There was silence for the space of a moment,
it being quite beyond the power of the Whitney
boys to say anything. “But when Mamsie
did let us go, oh, it was perfectly splendid!”
and Polly’s cheeks grew rosy red, and her eyes
kindled in delight at the remembrance.</p>
<p>“Tell us, tell us,” begged Percy and Van,
coming out of their deep reflection.</p>
<p>“Well, maybe, some time,” said Polly; “but
now I’m going to tell you about our little
snow-house. You see, it had been awfully cold
one winter,” here Polly hurried on with all
her speed, after a glance at Ben’s face, “and
we hadn’t had much snow, because it was ’most
too cold to snow, and we children had been
hoping that we might have some; and every
day Joel would come shouting in that he
guessed it would snow before night, and”—</p>
<p>“And we had to fill the wood-box and chop<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</SPAN></span>
kindlings all the time, I remember,” grumbled
Joel; “and our fingers most froze, didn’t they,
Dave.”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” said David, with a glance at Polly’s
face, and very much wishing that the question
had not been asked.</p>
<p>“Never mind,” said Ben; “don’t bother to
tell any more about the cold, Polly, but get
along to the story.”</p>
<p>“And so I will,” she said briskly, with another
look at his face. “Well, and one day—oh!
I remember it as well as could be, for
Joel had said the same thing about the snow
coming, over and over, and”—</p>
<p>“And it did come,” interrupted Joel triumphantly,
“so, there”—</p>
<p>“You mustn’t tell before I get to it,” said
Polly.</p>
<p>“That’s a fact,” said Ben. “If Polly tells
this story, she must be let alone. Now, Joe,
don’t you say another word.”</p>
<p>Joel, at this, subsided, and folded his chubby
hands tightly together, and Polly went on.
“Well, and pretty soon, do you know, down
came the white flakes of snow, so soft and
pretty and white; and Mamsie said we might<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</SPAN></span>
stop our work for five minutes, and watch it
from the window. We’d wanted it so, you
know, for days and days.</p>
<p>“And then David and Joel began to scream
how they were going to take the sled Ben had
made, out that afternoon, as soon as the ground
was covered, and have a fine time coasting; and
then Mamsie told us to look around at the
clock; and we did, and then our time was up,
and we had to fly at our work again.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed the Whitney
boys with one voice.</p>
<p>“Well, in the middle of the afternoon the
snow was pretty deep; it had been falling
just as thick and fast as could be, and Joel
came stamping in from the woodshed, where he
had been cutting kindlings, and he pulled on
his mittens, and said, ‘Now, Mamsie, may we?’
and ‘Come on, David’ all at the same time.”</p>
<p>“Just as he says two thing together now,”
said Ben, bursting into a laugh, in which all
joined at Joel’s expense, until he laughed too.</p>
<p>“But Mamsie shook her head. ‘Not until
I’ve gone into the Provision Room and seen how
many potatoes, and how much Indian meal we
have left, Joey,’ she said. And then off she<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</SPAN></span>
went, and Joel pounded his heels on the kitchen
floor, and slapped his hands in the mittens
together, and kept calling on David to hurry
and be ready when Mamsie came back. Oh! I
remember just as well as can be,—just everything
about that afternoon;” and Polly came
to a sudden stop, lost in thought.</p>
<p>“Polly Pepper! Polly Pepper!” cried Van,
shaking her elbow, “do tell us the story.”</p>
<p>“And did she let Joel and David go coasting?”
begged Percy, trying to conceal the
eagerness he felt in the recital.</p>
<p>“You’ll see,” said Polly, waking out of her
revery. “Well, at last Mamsie came back
from the Provision Room, and the very first
look that we had of her face we knew that
Joel and David couldn’t go.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed the Whitney children,
horribly disappointed.</p>
<p>“‘Boys,’ said Mamsie, ‘there isn’t very
much Indian meal ahead, and the stock of potatoes
is getting low; now I could let you off
this afternoon, but it’s wiser not to live from
hand to mouth, so we must lay in another
supply now.’ And that’s all she said, but she
just looked.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“And I didn’t want to go to the store after
that old meal and those old potatoes,” blurted
out Joel suddenly, not looking at any one.</p>
<p>“But you did go, Joel,” cried Polly immediately.
“Oh, yes he did, boys!” she repeated
emphatically; “he went real good, and Mamsie
was pleased.”</p>
<p>Joel brightened up at that, and brought
down his gaze from the tip of one of the tallest
trees on the opposite terrace, as he drew a
sigh of relief.</p>
<p>“‘Yes,’ said Mamsie, and I remember just
exactly how she looked as she said it; ‘it is
always the right thing to get what will be
needed, before it is needed.’ And then the boys
ran off, and dragged the sled out of the woodshed,
and away they ran off down the road
pulling it after them.”</p>
<p>“And couldn’t they go coasting as soon as
they got the potatoes?” demanded Percy.</p>
<p>“And the meal?” begged Van anxiously.</p>
<p>“Why, you see, Mr. Atkins, the man who
kept the store, you know, had a great deal to do
that afternoon; and it took so long to wait on all
his customers that <SPAN href="#image46">it was dark before the boys
got home</SPAN>, and they had to fill the wood-box for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</SPAN></span>
the next morning, and so Mamsie said they
must wait until to-morrow.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image46" id="image46"> <ANTIMG src="images/image46.jpg" width-obs="568" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_367">The boys bringing home the meal and potatoes.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Oh!” exclaimed the two Whitneys.</p>
<p>“Well, we all went to bed early that night.
Joel and David meant to get up as soon as it
was light and go out and coast, they said. It
was snowing beautifully when Mamsie looked
out the last thing, and it was dreadfully deep,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</SPAN></span>
and Ben said he’d be sure to find time to give
Phronsie a ride on the sled. And the first
thing we knew it was morning, only we didn’t
know it was morning,” said Polly, with a funny
little laugh.</p>
<p>“What do you mean,—that you didn’t know
it was morning?” asked Van.</p>
<p>“Oh! I mean—never mind, you’ll see when
I get to it,” said Polly, who never liked to be
pushed ahead of her story. “Well, the first
thing I knew Mamsie was calling me, ‘Polly,’
in such a funny voice, that I hopped right up
into the middle of the big bed.</p>
<p>“‘Get on your clothes as quickly as possible
and come out here,’ said Mamsie. And I
flew out of bed. Oh! how I wanted to just
peep into the kitchen and see what was the
matter, but I knew Mamsie wouldn’t like it; so
I got dressed as fast as ever I could, and ran
out. There was Mamsie in the middle of the
floor. ‘Polly, child,’ she said, ‘we’re snowed
in!’”</p>
<p>There was a breathless silence for a minute,
that nobody seemed able to break. “Yes,”
said Polly; “and don’t you think, there we were
buried up in our Little Brown House.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“O Polly!” cried Van in a horrified tone;
“didn’t you ever get out?”</p>
<p>“Why, yes,” said Polly; “of course, or else
we wouldn’t be here. Don’t feel so, Van,” as
she saw his face; “it didn’t hurt us any, you
know, because we all got out in good time.
And we had some fun while being shut up in
our little snow-house.”</p>
<p>“Is that what you mean by the little snow-house
the story is about?” asked Percy, who
was so bound up in the story he had lost sight
of the opportunity to laugh at Van.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly gayly, “it was, and our
Little Brown House was made into <SPAN href="#image47">a little snow-house</SPAN>;
and now I’m going to tell you about it.
Well, when Mamsie said that, I just put my
arms around her, and she held me close for a
minute, for, you see, we didn’t know what to do.
And then I said ‘I’m going to call Ben.’”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image47" id="image47"> <ANTIMG src="images/image47.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="438" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_370">The little snow-house.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“But Polly didn’t call us then,” said Joel
in an injured tone; “and Dave and I slept over
till ever so late.”</p>
<p>“And so did Phronsie,” said Ben. “And I
wish we could have kept you all in bed the
rest of that day.”</p>
<p>“But you couldn’t,” said Joel, bobbing his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</SPAN></span>
head; “and just as soon as we did wake up, we
found out all about it.”</p>
<p>“Well keep still now, Joe,” said Ben, “and
let Polly finish the story.”</p>
<p>“It was just as dark,” Polly was saying, “oh!
you can’t think how dreadfully dark it was, till
Mamsie lighted her candle; for when we tried
to look out of the window, why we couldn’t,
because, you see, there was the white snow piled
up against it tight; and we couldn’t open the
door.”</p>
<p>“Why not?” asked little Dick.</p>
<p>“Because we’d go right into a big snowbank
if we did, oh! ever and ever so much
higher than our heads; and, besides, the snow
would tumble in the house, and then we couldn’t
shut the door again; so Mamsie told us not to
touch it. Oh, dear, dear, it was perfectly dreadful!”</p>
<p>A shiver passed over the group that made
the “nice little creeps” run down each back,
as Polly began again, “Well, and there we
were, shut up in our Little Brown House, and
we didn’t know when any one would come to
dig us out.”</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you run up-stairs, and look<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</SPAN></span>
out?” cried Van, thrusting himself forward
excitedly.</p>
<p>“Dear me, we did that the first thing,” said
Polly; “I mean, Ben did. He tried to look out
of the window in the loft, because, you know,
we didn’t have any up-stairs, but a little place
in the loft where the boys slept; and all he
could see was the top of the snow where it had
blown all up everywhere, and then he ran down
and told Mamsie and me in the kitchen. Oh!
you can’t think how perfectly dreadful it was
those first few minutes; we were so glad the
children were fast asleep in their beds.”</p>
<p>“Well, we weren’t,” grumbled Joel, who always
felt defrauded out of every one of those
dreadful minutes. “Dave and I wanted to be
down in the kitchen with Mamsie and you.”</p>
<p>“Why, you didn’t know anything of it,” said
Ben with a little laugh.</p>
<p>“Well, we wanted to be there if we didn’t,”
said Joel, not minding the laugh in which the
others joined.</p>
<p>“And Mamsie said we were not to worry, for
God would take care of us,” said Polly gravely.
“And then she asked Him to do it, and to send
some one to dig us out; and then she said,—and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</SPAN></span>
I’ll never forget it,—‘Now, children, we must
set ourselves to think what we ought to do, and
go to work, because God doesn’t help people
who do not help themselves.’ And then we
all sat down to think up the best thing to do.
And Ben said he thought we ought to tie something
to a long stick, and run it out the window,
and maybe”—</p>
<p>“No, that was Polly’s idea,” said Ben quickly;
“she thought of it first.”</p>
<p>“O Ben! you surely said so,” cried Polly,
with rosy cheeks.</p>
<p>“Well, you spoke of it first, and so I said I’d<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</SPAN></span>
do it,” declared Ben positively. “It was Polly
who thought it all out.”</p>
<p>“Well, you got the red blanket, and tied it on
the broom,” said Polly; “so you did it, anyway.”</p>
<p>“That’s nothing,” said Ben; “we all thought
of the blanket because it was red, and would
show against the snow. And after that there
was nothing we could do; so we all three sat
down in the kitchen, and looked at each other.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, shaking her head very
mournfully, “that was the hardest part of it
all; there wasn’t anything to do. Oh, dear me!
it was perfectly dreadful; you can’t think how
dreadful it all was.”</p>
<p>“And pretty soon Mamsie said, ‘Now, children,
we’ll get breakfast the same as usual.
Thank God that we have got a large supply of
meal and potatoes in the Provision Room, so we
sha’n’t starve. Look at the clock, Polly, child.’</p>
<p>“And there, don’t you think,” said Polly,
“the old clock in the corner was ticking away
the minutes as fast as it could; and it was half-past
eight, and we always used to get up at six
o’clock—in winter, I mean.”</p>
<p>“Six o’clock in winter!” cried Percy in
amazement, who dearly loved his bed of a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</SPAN></span>
morning. “Oh, dear me! that’s the middle
of the night.”</p>
<p>“Well, if you think that’s early, what do
you think of five o’clock,” said Ben under his
breath.</p>
<p>“And just think of Ben,” Polly was saying,
with a little pat on Ben’s back; “he used to
have all his chores done by six o’clock, because
he had to go and help other people, and earn
money.”</p>
<p>Percy tumbled right over on the green bank,
quite overcome by this, and lay there lost in
thought.</p>
<p>“Yes, it was half-past eight,” said Polly impressively.
“And when I looked at the clock,
I jumped up, glad of something to do; for I’d
been twisting my hands together, trying not
to cry,” she confessed, drooping her brown
head in a shamedfaced way.</p>
<p>“But you didn’t cry,” declared Ben stoutly.
“Polly didn’t let a single tear come out of
her eyes; she was just splendid all the time.”</p>
<p>“No, I wasn’t splendid,” said Polly; but the
color ran over her cheek again, and up to the
little waves of hair on her brow, as she smiled
at Ben. “And when Mamsie told us to get<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</SPAN></span>
breakfast, why, Ben and I were glad enough to
hop up and set to work. So he ran and kindled
the fire; and pretty soon there it was
blazing away, right merrily, because, you see,
we had our new stove then. What we should
have done with our old one, I’m sure I don’t
know,” said Polly, holding up both hands.</p>
<p>“And I said, it was lucky we had such a
splendid lot of wood all cut in the woodshed,”
said Ben, “when I came back to fill up the wood-box
again, after I had made the fire. And
Mamsie said ‘Never say “lucky” again, Ben,
but say “faithful work provides for the future.”’
I’ve thought of it ever since.”</p>
<p>“‘And that’s the reason you’ve got plenty
of wood now,’ said Mamsie.” Polly took up
the story quickly. “And she said that Ben had
been plucky, instead of lucky, to stick to it
when he wanted to rest. Well, then we heard
an awful noise up in the loft.”</p>
<p>“What was it?” cried Van, getting involuntarily
nearer to Polly and Ben. “Was it
bears?”</p>
<p>“Worse than bears,” said Ben decidedly.</p>
<p>“Worse than bears?” Van was quite delighted;
but he drew still farther within the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</SPAN></span>
centre of the group, and cast a glance over
his shoulder as if he expected something to
jump from behind the trees.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Ben, nodding his head.</p>
<p>“Was it a snake?” asked little Dick, huddling
up close to Polly to lay his head in her
lap again.</p>
<p>“Worse than a snake,” said Ben.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear, dear! what was it?” cried Van
and Dick together, while Percy got up quickly,
and pushed in between the others. “What
was it?” he asked too.</p>
<p>“Those two boys,” said Ben, pointing to
Joel and Davie; “they made more noise than
a dozen bears, as soon as they woke up and
found out how things were. I tell you, it was
pretty lively then down in the kitchen.”</p>
<p>“And we hadn’t seen Ben run out the stick
with the red blanket on,” said Joel in a dudgeon,
flinging himself flat on the grass, to
drum his heels on the green sward. “It was
mean not to wake us up.”</p>
<p>“Well, you saw it afterward,” said Ben
coolly. “And if you’d had your way, Joe, the
old broom would have rattled down a dozen
times, you wanted to shake it so hard.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“That was to make folks see it, and come
and dig us out,” said Joel, squinting up at
the sky.</p>
<p>“Well, let Polly tell the story,” said Jasper,
who had been quiet all this time. “And then
just think what Mamsie said to those two
boys.” Here Polly jumped up to her feet.
“Oh, it was so splendid!” and her eyes kindled,
and the color came and went in her
cheeks; “she said, and these are just her words,
‘Boys, you’ve maybe saved all our lives, by
giving up your play yesterday, and getting that
meal and those potatoes.’ Just think of that,”
cried Polly again, clasping her hands; “Mamsie
said that to <em>our</em> two boys. Oh, I’m so proud
of them!” With that Polly ran back to the
green bank, and in a minute she had her two
arms around Joel and David. And Jasper proposed
three cheers; and Van led them off,
Percy coming in in time for the end, as Phronsie
gave a delighted little gurgle.</p>
<p>“’Twasn’t anything,” said Joel, red and shining
in his efforts to escape all praise. “Dave
and I didn’t do anything.”</p>
<p>“’Twas meal and potatoes,” cried little Dick,
stumbling up and down the path, and getting<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</SPAN></span>
in everybody’s way. And then they all laughed,
and settled down for the end of the story.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Polly with a long breath, and
beginning again, “you can’t think how glad
we were to have work to do on that dreadful
day. We washed every dish in the house, over
and over, and cleaned and tidied up; and then,
when we hadn’t any more work, we sat round
and told stories.”</p>
<p>“Oh! will you tell us some of those stories
you told in the little snow-house, Polly Pepper?”
cried Van in a shout.</p>
<p>“Some time,” said Polly.</p>
<p>“Go on, Polly,” said Ben, “and tell about
sitting around the stove.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes!” said Polly briskly; “you see,
children, we couldn’t burn our candles all day
because Mamsie hadn’t such a very great
many. And so after Phronsie woke up, and
our work was done up, we sat around the stove,
and told stories in the dark.”</p>
<p>“Oh! oh!” exclaimed the Whitney boys.</p>
<p>“Yes; and then,” said Ben, “Polly asked
Mamsie if we might play Blindman’s-Buff; she
said yes—and so we did.”</p>
<p>“Yes; and we played Puss-in-the-Corner,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</SPAN></span>
and all sorts of things we never had the time
to play on other days; we played in our little
snow-house. Oh, we had a lovely time, after
all!”</p>
<p>“And didn’t anybody come to dig you out?”
asked Percy, feeling as if the delights of such
a frolic wouldn’t pay him for being shut up
in a little snow-house; and he shivered as he
spoke.</p>
<p>“No,” said Polly; “at least not till the next
day. And then all of a sudden some one
screamed, ‘Hallo, there!’ and don’t you think
we heard Deacon Brown’s voice through the
snow; they’d dug quite a piece towards us, and
they were shouting to let us know they were
coming.”</p>
<p>“And didn’t you scream back, Polly Pepper,
didn’t you? didn’t you?” cried all the Whitneys
together in intense excitement.</p>
<p>“I rather guess we did,” said Ben, with
shining eyes; “it’s a wonder the roof of The
Little Brown House didn’t fly off with the
noise we Peppers made.”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XXII" id="XXII">XXII.</SPAN><br/> <small>LUCY ANN’S GARDEN.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“It was about the middle of the afternoon,”
said Polly, as the little group settled down
in one corner of Mother Pepper’s room, “when
I told the others the story of Lucy Ann’s Garden.
I remember the time, because we were all
feeling pretty badly to be shut up in the little
snow-house; for we always ran out-doors every
now and then, you know, even when we were
working, and it seemed just like a prison, and
then we didn’t know when we would be dug
out, and”—</p>
<p>“But you were dug out some time, weren’t
you, Polly Pepper?” interrupted Van anxiously.</p>
<p>A shout greeted this question.</p>
<p>When they came out of the laugh, Polly said,
“Yes, but it was two whole days; and every
single hour seemed—oh, as long—you can’t
think! You see, everybody else was snowed in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</SPAN></span>
too; and great high drifts were piled along the
roads, so they couldn’t get to us, and so all we
could do was to wait. But, oh, dear me!” Polly
had no further words at her command, and her
hands fell idly to her lap.</p>
<p>“Well, go on.” This time it was Percy who
pulled her sleeve.</p>
<p>“So, I know all about the time when I began
to tell about Lucy Ann’s Garden,” said Polly,
beginning again. “I thought I’d make up a
story about summer and flowers, and all the
things we have when it is warm and sunny,
so we could look forward to it all; and that’s
the reason I told them that.”</p>
<p>“Tell us now,” said Jasper; “do, Polly.”</p>
<p>So Polly began the story in earnest. “<SPAN href="#image48">Lucy
Ann’s Garden</SPAN> wasn’t a bit like any other garden
in all the world; it was up on the tops of
ever so many trees”—</p>
<p>“Oh, oh!” exclaimed the bunch of Whitneys
in delight, Jasper adding his approval to
the rest.</p>
<p>“This is a splendid story,” declared Joel to
Van, who was next, “you better believe.”</p>
<p>“Hush!” said Van, edging away; “I can’t
hear Polly when you talk.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“You see, Lucy Ann’s father had ever so
many apple-trees he was going to cut down,
because they didn’t have anything on them but
shrivelled up miserable little apples; and he got
his big axe, and went out one day, and Lucy
Ann saw him, and she ran after him. ‘Father,
father,’ she cried, ‘what are you going to do?’
And then he told her.</p>
<p>“‘Oh, dear me!’ said Lucy Ann; and then
she just sat down on the grass and cried; for
she couldn’t bear to have a tree cut down
around her home, nor a chicken killed, nor
anything changed.”</p>
<p>“How could they ever have chicken-pies,
then?” asked Percy abruptly.</p>
<p>“Why, they had to send Lucy Ann over to
spend the day with her grandmother,” said
Polly; “and then they killed all the chickens
they wanted to eat for a week. But Lucy Ann
always cried quarts of tears when she came
home, and found out about it.”</p>
<p>“O Polly!” exclaimed Van, “Lucy Ann
couldn’t cry quarts of tears—no one could.”</p>
<p>“Lucy Ann isn’t like anybody else in the
world,” said Polly stoutly; “and I’m making up
a girl who could cry quarts of tears, so she<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</SPAN></span>
cried them every time she came home and
found one of those chickens killed.”</p>
<p>“Now, it’s hard enough to have to tell stories
by the dozen as Polly Pepper does, and be
called to account for every word,” said Jasper.
“Polly has a right to say anything in her stories
she has a mind to.”</p>
<p>“And do make it quarts,” begged Joel, glowering
at Van. “Make it gallons, Polly.”</p>
<p>“No,” said Polly decidedly. “Lucy Ann
cried quarts of tears. Well, so when she sat
down on the grass and cried, her father fell
into a tremble, and he shook so the big axe
in his hand went every way, for he couldn’t
hold it straight; and he looked at Lucy Ann,
and he said, ‘Daughter, I wish you would
stop crying.’</p>
<p>“‘I can’t,’ said Lucy Ann, crying worse than
ever, till her tears ran into the grass and off,
a little stream trickling away like a tiny, wee
river.</p>
<p>“‘Oh, dear me!’ exclaimed her father in despair,
‘this is something very dreadful.’ Then
he set his axe carefully up against the first tree
he was going to cut off, and he went to Lucy
Ann. ‘Daughter,’ he said, ‘if you’ll stop crying<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</SPAN></span>
this very minute by my watch, I’ll give you this
first tree I was going to cut down.’ So Lucy
Ann took her face up,—for she was bending
over to sob,—and she wiped the tears that
were coming out of her eyes away with her
hand; and her father ran cheerfully back, and
picked up his axe again. ‘Now, that is good,
my daughter,’ he said in a gleeful voice; and
he hurried to the next tree, and raised the
axe just like this.” Here Polly swung an imaginary
axe over her shoulder, “‘Now, then’—but
he didn’t bring it down, for Lucy Ann
squealed right out, ‘O father, don’t! Now
I’ve got to cry some more;’ and away she went
to sobbing, just as much worse than at first
as you could think; and the tears got bigger
and rounder, and they raced through the grass
so fast that they wet her feet till she began
to sneeze like everything.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed little Dick in
dismay.</p>
<p>“Well, Lucy Ann’s father, when he saw that,
set down the axe again, and he pulled his hair
in distress. I forgot to tell you that he always
pulled his hair when he felt troubled about
anything”—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“That was much better than to pull any one
else’s hair,” observed Ben under his breath to
Jasper.</p>
<p>“And he said, ‘O my daughter Lucy Ann,
if you only won’t cry any more, I’ll give you
all those trees this very minute; and you may
do what you want to with them.’ So Lucy
Ann stopped sobbing, and wiped her eyes
again, and got up from the grass, and went
around and around those trees; she went
around twenty-seven times before she could
decide what she would do with them. And
at last she said, ‘Father, I’ll have a garden
up on top of them.’”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Van.</p>
<p>“The minute Lucy Ann said she would have
a garden up on top of the trees, her father
put his fingers in his mouth, and made a perfectly
awful whistle, and”—</p>
<p>“Oh, I know how he did it!” exclaimed Joel,
springing to his feet. “Dave and I used to
do it—this way;” and he clapped his fingers
to his mouth, but Ben pounced on him.</p>
<p>“No, you don’t, Joel Pepper,” he cried.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, no, Joey!” exclaimed Polly too, in
alarm; “now be quiet, that’s a good boy, for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</SPAN></span>
I’m going on with the story. Well, as soon
as the whistle echoed all over the place, there
came running from every direction ever so
many men, and every one had an axe on his
shoulder; and as soon as they reached Lucy
Ann’s father and Lucy Ann, they stopped and
leaned on the handles of their axes, and said,
‘Did you call us, Master?’</p>
<p>“‘Stop talking,’ roared Lucy Ann’s father at
them; for he wanted to be cross with somebody,
and he didn’t want to scold his daughter. ‘Do
just as she tells you to;’ and then he picked up
his own axe, and ran off as fast as his feet
would carry him into the house, and shut the
door and locked it.</p>
<p>“‘Cut off all the tops of those trees,’ commanded
Lucy Ann, pointing to them, ‘every
single snip of a leaf.’”</p>
<p>“I thought she didn’t want the trees cut
down,” cried Percy abruptly.</p>
<p>“Hush!” cried Van, delighted to catch
Percy interrupting, while Polly made haste to
say, “Oh! this is different. It’s only the tops
she wanted cut off;” and Ben said, “Wait, and
hear the rest of the story.”</p>
<p>“And so the men with the axes did exactly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</SPAN></span>
as Lucy Ann told them; and pretty soon all the
trees were snipped off even, and just alike.</p>
<p>“‘Now go and bring a board big enough to
set on the tops of all those trees,’ she commanded,
‘and lay it on them, for I’m going to
have a garden up there.’”</p>
<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” screamed the Whitneys delightedly.</p>
<p>“And in just ten minutes by Lucy Ann’s
little diamond watch in her belt, it”—</p>
<p>“O Polly! did Lucy Ann have a watch all
made of diamonds?” asked Percy. “Ladies
have them, but girls don’t.”</p>
<p>“Lucy Ann had one, anyway,” said Polly in
her most decisive fashion; “and hers was just
one big diamond, with the minute hand and the
hour hand set in the middle”—</p>
<p>“Oh!” gasped Ben, tumbling back in his
seat.</p>
<p>“And in just ten minutes,” repeated Polly,
“by that little diamond watch stuck in her belt,
the board was up on top of all those trees;
and then she commanded the men to cover it
all over with dirt, ever so deep; and after that
she made them build some cunning little steps
leading up to it,—two pairs of steps, ‘because<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</SPAN></span>
I never mean to go down the same pair I come
up,’ she said to herself; and in just half an
hour from the time she began to think about
it, there was her garden all done. And her
father peeped out of the window all the time,
and he called her mother, and all the people in
the house; and every one took a window, and
watched to see how the work went on.”</p>
<p>“I should think they’d want to,” said Ben
with another gasp.</p>
<p>“And then Lucy Ann said, ‘Now run away,
just as fast as you can, every single one of
you;’ and she stamped her foot to make them
run faster; so they picked up their axes and
scampered off, and she was left alone. And
then she walked around her garden twenty-seven
times more, trying to think what she
would plant in it.”</p>
<p>“And what did she, Polly Pepper?” demanded
Van eagerly. “What did she plant in
it?”</p>
<p>“Wait and see,” said Polly gayly. “Well,
when she had got around the twenty-seventh
time, she sat down quite tired out; and then
she clapped her hands, and over the grass
came running a little girl not much bigger<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</SPAN></span>
than she was. ‘Go and bring the flower-basket,’
commanded Lucy Ann, ‘and be quick,
Betserilda.’”</p>
<p>“What did she tell her to bring the flower-basket
for?” asked little Dick, crowding into
the centre of the group.</p>
<p>“Why, because she wanted to use it,” said
Polly.</p>
<p>“And who was Betserilda?” asked Percy.</p>
<p>“Why, the girl she told to bring it,” said
Jasper; “don’t you understand?”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said Percy.</p>
<p>“You see, Betsy’s name was really Betsy
Amarilda,” said Polly; “but that was too long,
for sometimes Lucy Ann was in quite a hurry,
and so she always called her Betserilda.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said Percy again.</p>
<p>“So Betserilda ran with all her might, and
came back dragging the flower-basket after
her; and then the two girls took hold of the
handle, and went off into the woods after
flowers.”</p>
<p>“Polly,” cried Phronsie suddenly, “I very
much wish we might go into the woods after
flowers;” she gave a long sigh, and every one
turned to look at her.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“We can’t,” said Polly; “there aren’t any
woods in this big city;” and she sighed too.</p>
<p>“But think what splendid grounds these are,
and what monstrous trees,” cried Ben hastily,
and pointing to them, as Joel
began to kick his heels and loudly
wish he could run into the
woods too. “Polly, what are you going to say
next?” asked Ben, catching her eye.</p>
<p>“What? oh, let me see!” cried Polly, bringing
herself back from the delightful vision of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</SPAN></span>
a day in the woods; “well, off they trudged,
Lucy Ann and Betserilda, and they began to
dig and”—</p>
<p>“What did they dig, Polly?” asked Phronsie,
very much interested, and laying her little
face on Polly’s arm, “the little violets under
the moss?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, “lots and lots of them,
Phronsie.”</p>
<p>“And the red berries?” Phronsie kept on,
“and the long green stems, and the cunning
little cups in the moss.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, “they did; all those,
Phronsie.”</p>
<p>“Every single one, Polly?” asked Phronsie,
a little flush stealing over her cheek.</p>
<p>“Every single one,” declared Polly positively.
“Lucy Ann dug them all up, and Betserilda
put them in the flower-basket, and then
they covered them with moss, and then they
both took hold of the handle again; but they
didn’t start to go back until Lucy Ann had
most politely invited all the birds and squirrels
to come and visit her garden.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image48" id="image48"> <ANTIMG src="images/image48.jpg" width-obs="533" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_382">Lucy Ann’s garden.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“And would they come, Polly?” cried Phronsie
greatly excited.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“To be sure; yes, indeed,” said Polly.
“Every one of them said ‘Thank you;’ and
every one of them said they would, and they’d
bring all their friends.”</p>
<p>“Oh, how nice!” cried Phronsie; and she
sank back in great satisfaction in the corner of
her seat.</p>
<p>“Well, when everything was at last ready in
Lucy Ann’s Garden, and Betserilda had brought
the big water-pot, and watered it all over, and
every little leaf was pulled and patted out, and
nothing more was left to be done, Lucy Ann
sat down a minute to think, <SPAN href="#image49">and she put her
head in her hands, like this</SPAN>;” down went Polly’s
brown head, and everything was still a minute.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image49" id="image49"> <ANTIMG src="images/image49.jpg" width-obs="431" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_393">She put her head in her hands, like this.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Go on, Polly Pepper,” begged Van, pulling
her sleeve; “don’t think any more, but tell the
rest of the story.”</p>
<p>“Lucy Ann screamed out,” said Polly, lifting
her head so suddenly they all started, “‘I’ve got
an idea!’</p>
<p>“Betserilda set down the watering-pot, and
dropped a courtesy; for she wasn’t allowed to
speak, you know, unless told to.”</p>
<p>“Why not, Polly?” asked Van, who wanted
the last bit of information possible.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394-</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_395" id="Page_395">395]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Because she was kept to wait on Lucy
Ann,” said Polly; “and unless Lucy Ann told
her to, she couldn’t speak.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said Van.</p>
<p>“‘I’m going to give a party,’ screamed Lucy
Ann, jumping up and down, ‘in my garden.
Now speak, Betserilda, and say that is a most
beautiful idea.’</p>
<p>“‘That is a most beautiful idea,’ said Betserilda.</p>
<p>“‘I thought so,’ said Lucy Ann. ‘Now, do
you run all through the wood, and give my
invitation to every bird and squirrel you see,
and every snake and hop-toad, and every chipmunk
and woodchuck, and tell them to come
to-night as soon as the moon gets up. Hang
up the watering-pot on the first crotch of the
tree you find going down, and run as fast as
you can.’”</p>
<p>“Oh! oh!” screamed the Whitney boys in
glee.</p>
<p>“Didn’t I tell you ’twas a prime story?”
cried Joel, punching Van, who never could get
so far away as to be beyond his fingers.</p>
<p>“Ow! Be still!” said Van, edging off again.</p>
<p>“So Betserilda did as she was bid, and hung<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</SPAN></span>
up the watering-pot on the first crotch of the
tree she could find underneath Lucy Ann’s
Garden, and then away she ran on the tips of
her toes into the wood again. And pretty soon
every squirrel and bird and hop-toad and snake
and chipmunk had his invitation, and”—</p>
<p>“You left out the woodchuck,” said Ben;
“poor thing, do let him come to that wonderful
party, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Of course he came,” cried Polly gayly;
“we wouldn’t let him be forgotten, and so”—</p>
<p>“Couldn’t the poor dear sweet little brown
worms come, Polly?” asked Phronsie, leaning
anxiously forward.</p>
<p>“Dear me, yes,” cried Polly, catching sight
of Phronsie’s face; “of course those nice angle-worms
came. We wouldn’t leave them out for
all the world. Well, and in a minute or two
every one of the people, I mean the wood-creatures,
were dressing up and combing their
hair, and”—</p>
<p>“O Polly Pepper!” exclaimed Percy in distress,
“now I know this story can’t be true;
because squirrels don’t comb their hair, and
birds, and”—</p>
<p>“How do you know?” cried Polly at him.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Well, hop-toads don’t, anyway,” declared
Percy obstinately.</p>
<p>“Well, my hop-toads do,” said Polly. “I
shall make every one of them comb their hair,
and clean their clothes, and prink up to go to
that party, so there, Percy Whitney!”</p>
<p>“And this is Polly Pepper’s story,” said
Jasper. “Do keep still, Percy, or out you go
from Mother Pepper’s room.”</p>
<p>“Oh! she can have them do it if she wants
to,” said Percy, shrinking back in alarm, with
one eye on Jasper and another on Ben, and
trying to keep himself as small as possible.</p>
<p>“And they couldn’t hardly wait for the moon
to come up, they were all so anxious to go,”
Polly ran on. “You see, none of them had
ever been to a party before in all their lives.”</p>
<p>“I just hate parties!” exploded Joel, having
experienced several trials in that line since
coming to live at Mr. King’s; “and they were
very silly to want to go.”</p>
<p>“Now, what do you think Lucy Ann had
thought out while Betserilda was away?” asked
Polly suddenly.</p>
<p>No one of the children could possibly guess,
so Polly dashed on. “Well, she had it come<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</SPAN></span>
in a flash into her head; and off she ran and
did it, and got back all out of breath, running
up one pair of steps to her garden, just as
Betserilda came up the other pair.</p>
<p>“‘Betserilda,’ she said, ‘what do you suppose
I’ve done? Speak.’</p>
<p>“‘I don’t know,’ said Betserilda.</p>
<p>“‘That’s a good girl, because if you’d said
you did know, you’d be a naughty girl, because
it all came out of my head. I’ve engaged the
band, and we’re going to dance.’”</p>
<p>The Whitney boys clapped their hands and
shouted approval.</p>
<p>“Betserilda said nothing, because, you know,
she couldn’t speak unless Lucy Ann told her
she might. ‘You may talk now,’ said Lucy
Ann, ‘and say, “What a good idea.”’ So Betserilda
said at once, ‘What a good idea.’</p>
<p>“‘Isn’t it?’ cried Lucy Ann, quite delighted.”</p>
<p>“Was Lucy Ann really to have a band play?
And where did she get it?” cried Percy and
Van together.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed,” said Polly; “she was—a real
true cricket-band. She’d engaged every one of
the black crickets; and she commanded them
to stop chirping, so as to save their music till<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</SPAN></span>
evening. And every one said he would; and
one of them said he’d bring some cousins that
were visiting him, called fiddlers, and”—</p>
<p>“Oh! there isn’t any cricket called a fiddler,”
cried Van.</p>
<p>“There is a black bug down by the seaside
with a fiddle up over his shoulder,” said Polly.
“I saw a picture of him in Parson Henderson’s
book before I told this story in the little snow-house,
so there, Van!”</p>
<p>“And don’t you interrupt again,” said Ben at
him, “or out you must go. Now then, Polly,
let’s have the rest of that story.”</p>
<p>“Where was I? oh, yes; ‘We’re surely going
to dance,’ cried Lucy Ann, hopping on all her
toes. ‘Now run into the house, and get my
pink gauze gown all ready, and my little silver
shoes, and lay them on the bed; and then tell
the cook to make five hundred little ice-creams
and cakes and put each on a big green leaf
when it’s ready to bring up to the garden. Run
for your life, Betserilda.’</p>
<p>“So Betserilda ran for her life down one
pair of stairs, and Lucy Ann hopped down the
other pair, and the birds and the squirrels and
the hop-toads and the snakes and all the rest<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</SPAN></span>
of them kept combing their hair and prinking
up, and peeking out of the wood, and saying to
each other, ‘Hasn’t the sun gone down yet?’
and ‘Isn’t the moon ever coming up?’ until at
last it was time to go to the party.</p>
<p>“And everybody in Lucy Ann’s house kept
peeking out of all the windows. They didn’t
even stop for dinner, but had the servants bring
it to them, and they ate it sitting in the windows,
so they needn’t miss anything; so when
the moonlight really did come, they were all
ready to see every bit of the party too. Well,
Lucy Ann in her pink gauze gown tripped
away across the grass in her little silver slippers,
and went up the stairs to her garden with
Betserilda coming after. And when all the
wood-creatures saw her going up, and knew
that the party was actually to begin, they all
started in fine shape; but they had to wait a
bit, which was quite a pity, for the biggest
squirrel and the long brown snake fell into a
quarrel which should go first in the procession.</p>
<p>“‘Lucy Ann invited me first,’ said the big
squirrel, chattering so fast they could hardly
hear the words.</p>
<p>“‘She likes me best,’ said the long brown<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</SPAN></span>
snake, lashing the pine-needles on the ground
with his tail.</p>
<p>“This made the big squirrel very angry; and
he cried in a sharp voice, ‘I’ll bite you;’ and
he was just going to do it, when somebody, way
back in the procession, cried out, ‘You’re mussing
your hair, flying in such a rage.’</p>
<p>“‘To be sure,’ said the big squirrel, putting
up one paw to smooth his head carefully; ‘let
us not quarrel and bite till after the party.
We will both go in together, that’s the best
way.’</p>
<p>“‘As you like,’ said the long brown snake,
who didn’t want to fight; ‘there is room enough
for us both, as I am quite thin.’ So they both
led off; and soon they were all up in the garden,
and making splendid bows and courtesies
to Lucy Ann. And as fast as each one made
his bow or courtesy, she would say, if it pleased
her, ‘That’s a good one,—check it off, Betserilda;’
and Betserilda would make a little mark
in a big black book she had in her hand. And
if it was very bad, Lucy Ann would say it must
be done over again. But at last they were
ready to dance.”</p>
<p>“Who danced with Lucy Ann?” asked Van,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</SPAN></span>
breaking in; but Jasper pulled him back, and
Polly went on.</p>
<p>“And the cricket band struck up; and then
Lucy Ann stood upon a mushroom she had had
brought up in the garden for a stool, so she
looked very tall and big, and she said, ‘Look
at me,’ and everybody looked at her with all
his eyes; ‘I am going to say something.’</p>
<p>“‘I’m not going to dance with any of you,’
she said; ‘for, you see, I cannot dance with all;
I should be quite tired out, there are so many
of you. But I must dance; so I am going to
wait for my prince, for of course some one will
come;’ and she smoothed down her pink gauze
gown in great contentment, and fluttered her
pink feather fan. ‘Now begin; I shall wait
for my prince;’ and she hopped off from her
mushroom stool, and the cricket band struck
up their liveliest tune; and while Lucy Ann sat
down by a little clump of violets at the very end
of her garden, every single one of the party
folks began to dance.</p>
<p>“Now, there was in the wood one person
who didn’t happen to be invited to that party.
Lucy Ann didn’t know he was there, so she
couldn’t send him an invitation you see. And<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</SPAN></span>
he had only arrived that day, being on his way
to another place when he succeeded in running
away from a cruel master; and when he saw
the nice cool wood, he thought he would stop
awhile and get rested. And then he overheard
the chatter about the party, though nobody saw
him; and after that he made up his mind he
would stay and see it all from an overhanging
tree.”</p>
<p>“I know what it was,” piped Phronsie in a
gleeful voice; “he was a”—</p>
<p>“Hush—hush!” cried Ben, springing forward,
and “Don’t tell, Pet,” from Polly as she
rushed on.</p>
<p>“And when he heard Lucy Ann say that
about her prince, and waiting for him to come
and dance with her, he said to himself,—</p>
<p>“‘Why shouldn’t I be the prince?’ and the
next minute he was combing his hair, and
prinking up, and then he was ready.”</p>
<p>“Oh! oh!” screamed all those who hadn’t
heard the story in the little snow-house; and
Joel kept nudging Van and saying, “Didn’t I
tell you it was a prime one?”</p>
<p>“Well, it was getting pretty late now, you
know, for the prince was so anxious to look<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</SPAN></span>
nice, he took a good deal of time to prink up;
and Lucy Ann began to look sad, and she called
Betserilda, who had to stand perfectly still behind
the clump of violets. ‘I am really afraid
I shall have to cry,’ said Lucy Ann; ‘for my
prince doesn’t come, and I don’t know what to
do, for my tears will make it so wet in the
garden that they will all get cold;’ and just
then up came the prince, his cap in his hand,
along the stairway, and there was the sweetest,
dearest little monkey you ever saw in a red
coat, standing before her!” cried Polly, with
a sudden flourish, and jumping to her feet.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XXIII" id="XXIII">XXIII.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE CHINA MUG.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“Oh, no! I won’t have them on,” declared
little Dick, shaking his head savagely,
till it seemed as if every one of the small bits of
brown paper must fly off.</p>
<p>“O Dicky!” exclaimed Polly in dismay,
“you’ve bumped your head so falling down-stairs.”</p>
<p>“Haven’t bumped my head,” cried Dick,
whirling around so that none of the children
could investigate the big lumps on his head.
“I wish they’d all tumble off;” and he gave
another vigorous shake, that made the biggest
piece of wet brown paper settle over his left
eye.</p>
<p>“Very well,” said Polly coolly; “we must go
to Mrs. Whitney then, and tell her that you are
shaking off all the brown paper. I was going
to tell you a story, but we can’t have it now.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><SPAN href="#image50">Little Dick plucked off the big bit of wet
brown paper from his eye</SPAN>, and looked at her.
“I’ll stick them on again,” he said.</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="image50" id="image50"></SPAN><ANTIMG src="images/image50.jpg" width-obs="403" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_406">Little Dick plucked off the big bit of wet brown paper from his eye.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Very well,” said Polly once more; “I’ll put
them back; that’s a good boy;” and she proceeded
to do so, till Dicky was ornamented
with the brown paper bits, all in the right
places. “‘Now,’ says I, as Grandma Bascom
used to say, ‘we’ll have the story.’ I’m going to
tell you about ‘The China Mug.’”</p>
<p>“I’m glad of that,” said Jasper, “because that
was one of the stories we had on a baking-day
in The Little Brown House,—do you remember,
Polly?”</p>
<p>“As if we could ever forget,” cried Polly
happily. And thereupon ensued such a “Do
you remember this?” and “Oh! you haven’t
forgotten that in The Little Brown House!”
that the Whitney children fell into despair, and
began to implore that the story might begin at
once.</p>
<p>“You’re always talking of the good times in
The Little Brown House,” cried Van, who never
could forgive Jasper for his good fortune in
having been there.</p>
<p>“Can’t help it,” said Jasper, showing signs of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</SPAN></span>
rushing off again in reminiscence; so Polly
hastened to say, “We really ought not to talk
any more about it, but get on with the story.
Well, you know, the China Mug was <em>our</em> China
Mug, and it stood on the left corner of the
shelf in the kitchen of The
Little Brown House.”</p>
<p>“Is it a true story?”
clamored Van.</p>
<p>“Oh, you mustn’t
ask me!” cried
Polly gayly, who
wasn’t going to
be called from the land
of Fancy just then by
any question.</p>
<p>“Don’t interrupt, any
of you,” said Jasper, “or
I’ll ask Polly not to tell
about ‘The China Mug;’
you would better keep
still, for it’s a fine story,
I can tell you.”</p>
<p>So Van doubled himself up in a ball on the
corner of the big sofa, and subsided into quiet,
and Polly began once more.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes, the China Mug was really and truly
our China Mug on the left corner of the shelf
in the kitchen of The Little Brown House. It
was a very old mug, oh! I don’t know how
many years old, two or three hundred, I guess;
for you see it was our father’s mug when he
was a little boy, and his father had it when he
was a little boy, and”—</p>
<p>“Did they all drink their milk from it?”
broke in little Dick, forgetting all about the indignity
of having his head plastered up with
bits of wet brown paper; “all those little boys,
Polly?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I suppose so,” said Polly; “for you see
they were all called Samuel, and every Samuel
in the family had this mug, so”—</p>
<p>“I wish I could be Samuel, and have a mug
that was in The Little Brown House,” said
Dick reflectively.</p>
<p>“Well, it had a funny twisted handle,” said
Polly, hurrying on; “and oh! the loveliest lady
with a pink sash, and long, floating hair; and she
had a basket of roses on one arm, and she was
picking up her gown and courtesying just like
this.” Polly jumped to her feet, and executed a
most remarkable courtesy.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Was she standing on the handle?” asked
Percy, who had a fancy for all minute details.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me, no!” said Polly, laughing merrily;
and she nearly fell on her nose, as she was
just finishing the courtesy; “she couldn’t stand
on the handle. She was on the front of the
China Mug, to be sure; and there was a most
beautiful little man, and he had a cocked hat
under his arm, and he was bowing to her as she
courtesied.”</p>
<p>“Tell how the beautiful little man bowed,”
begged the children. So Polly, who had hopped
into her seat, had to jump up again, and show
them just exactly how <SPAN href="#image51">the beautiful little man</SPAN>,
with the cocked hat under his arm, bowed to
<SPAN href="#image51">the lovely lady</SPAN> with a pink sash on, and a basket
of roses hanging on her arm. Then she hurried
back, quite tired out, to her place.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image51" id="image51"> <ANTIMG src="images/image51.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="442" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_409">The beautiful man and the lovely lady on the china mug.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“He had on a blue coat, and his hair was all
white, and”—</p>
<p>“O Polly! was he so very old?” cried Van
from his sofa-corner.</p>
<p>“Dear me, no!” said Polly again; “he was
young and most beautiful, but his hair was
powdered, just as the man’s is in the big picture
in the drawing-room; and it was tied up in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</SPAN></span>
back with a bow of ribbon just like that one
too; and he had buckles on his knees, and
on his shoes, just the very same. Well, he
kept bowing and bowing all the time, and
the lovely lady with the pink sash on, and the
basket of roses hanging on her arm, kept courtesying
to him all the time; and they had been
doing that for two or three hundred years.”</p>
<p>“O Polly Pepper!” exclaimed Percy quite
shocked; “how could they bow and courtesy
for two hundred years?”</p>
<p>“Well, they did,” said Polly, hurrying on;
“and”—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“If you interrupt again, out you go,” from
Jasper.</p>
<p>“And at last one night when we were all
abed,—Mamsie and Phronsie and I in the bedroom,
and the three boys in the loft,—and all
of us fast asleep, suddenly the beautiful little
man exclaimed, ‘I am quite tired out bowing
to you!’ ‘And I am quite, quite exhausted
courtesying to you all the time,’ declared the
lovely lady.</p>
<p>“‘And I shall stop bowing, and turn my back
on you,’ said the beautiful little man.</p>
<p>“‘And I shall not courtesy again, but I shall
turn my back on you,’ said the lovely lady.</p>
<p>“‘And I shall walk away,’ said the beautiful
little man.</p>
<p>“‘And I shall walk away from you,’ declared
the lovely lady.</p>
<p>“And so they both whirled around, and
walked away as fast as ever they could from
each other; and when they got to the funny
twisted handle on the back of the mug, the
lovely lady went under it, but the beautiful little
man hopped over it briskly, and on they both
hurried; and the first thing either of them
knew, there they were on the front of the mug<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</SPAN></span>
staring into each other’s faces as they went by.
And so round and round the mug they walked,
and they never spoke when they went past each
other except to say, ‘I shall not bow to you,’
and ‘I shall not courtesy to you,’ and then away
they went again. Oh, it was too dreadful to
think of!</p>
<p>“And at last they had been going on so,
around and around, oh! two million times, I
guess; and the lovely lady’s poor little feet had
become so tired out, that she could hardly step
on them, and she sobbed out to herself,—she
had just passed the beautiful little man on the
front of the mug, so he couldn’t see her,—‘I
know I shall drop down and die, if I keep on
like this;’ so she gave a great jump, and she
flew clear over the edge of the mug, and hopped
down inside.”</p>
<p>“Oh, oh!” screamed little Dick in a transport.</p>
<p>“And when the beautiful little man came
stepping around to the front of the mug the
next time, lo, and behold! there was no lovely
lady, with a basket of roses hanging on her arm,
to say, ‘I won’t courtesy to you.’</p>
<p>“‘How glad I am that that tiresome creature<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</SPAN></span>
has gone!’ he exclaimed, as he skipped off
around the mug. And he said it the next time,
and”—</p>
<p>“I don’t think he was nice at all,” observed
little Dick, bobbing his head so decidedly that
some of the brown paper concluded to fly off at
once.</p>
<p>“And he said it the next time,” ran on Polly,
“and the next; but when he came around again,
he rubbed his eyes, and tried to stop, but his
feet wouldn’t let him; so on he had to go.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” said Percy and Van, “couldn’t
he really stop, Polly?”</p>
<p>“No,” said Polly, “he couldn’t really, but
around the mug he must keep going. And the
time after, when he came to the front once
more, it was all he could do to keep from bursting
into tears. And at last he screamed right
out, ‘Oh, dear, lovely lady! where have you
gone?’”</p>
<p>“Why, she was in the mug,” said Van, tumbling
off from the sofa-corner in a great state
of excitement; “do tell him that, Polly,” coming
up to her chair.</p>
<p>“Keep still,” said Ben, holding up a warning
finger.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“But he couldn’t stop, for you see his feet
wouldn’t let him,” said Polly; “and he began to
cry dreadfully big tears all over his fine blue coat
and his cocked hat; and every time before he
reached the front of the mug, he watched between
his sobs, to see if she had got back; and
when he found that she hadn’t, he screamed
worse than ever, ‘Oh, dear, sweet, lovely lady!
where have you gone?’”</p>
<p>“I don’t think she was nice,” said Percy; “she
might have said something.”</p>
<p>“And there she was all huddled up in the
bottom of the mug,” said Polly; “crying so hard
she could scarcely breathe; and she tried to
call back to him ‘Oh, dear, beautiful little man!
do come and help me out;’ but her voice didn’t
reach anywhere, for it was such a wee, little
squeal; so on he had to go around and around,
and she kept on shaking and trembling down
in the very bottom of the mug.”</p>
<p>The excitement among the Whitney boys
was intense; the little bunch of Peppers and
Jasper preserving a smiling content, knowing
well what was to become of the lovely lady
and the beautiful little man, since Polly had told
it more than once in The Little Brown House.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Do hurry, and tell them,” whispered Ben
in her ear; so Polly laughed and hastened on.</p>
<p>“‘I’ll help you,’ suddenly said a voice close
by on the shelf. The lovely lady bobbing away
in the very bottom of the mug, and the beautiful
little man crying his eyes out as he walked
around and around the China Mug, stopped
weeping and screaming to listen with all their
ears.</p>
<p>“‘I am Sir Bow-wow,’ declared the voice,
which came out, you must know, of Phronsie’s
crockery dog that a lady in the centre of Badgertown
gave her, when she was a baby, to cut
her teeth on. Phronsie used to put his head
in her mouth, and bite hard, and that made her
teeth come through quicker. Well, he was
brown and ugly, and one ear was gone, because
she had dropped him a good many times. Oh!
and two or three of his toes were broken off;
but he was a great help now in this dreadful
trouble that had overtaken the lovely lady and
the beautiful little man, because he had a good
head to think out things.”</p>
<p>“I am so glad Phronsie didn’t bite it off,”
said Van with a sigh of relief.</p>
<p>“Well, go on,” said Percy briefly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Sir Bow-wow cleared his throat; then he
asked sharply, ‘Are you sure you won’t ever
say such dreadful things as I heard from you,
ever again, in all this world?’</p>
<p>“‘Oh, quite, quite sure!’ said the lovely lady,
heaving a long sigh; ‘if you will only get me
out of this dismal place, Sir Bow-wow, I will
be just as good as I can be.’</p>
<p>“‘And if you will only bring back that lovely
lady I will be just as good as I can be,’ said
the beautiful little man; ‘Sir Bow-wow, I promise
you.’ And they couldn’t hear each other,
only what the brown crockery dog said; and
he asked again, ‘Are you sure you won’t turn
your backs on each other, but you will bow and
courtesy as prettily as you always used to?’</p>
<p>“And they both promised him most solemnly
that they would do that very thing, if he would
only help them now out of this dreadful, dreadful
trouble. So the brown crockery dog jumped
up to the top of the funny, twisted handle of
the China Mug, and sat there and scratched his
head very gravely, and thought and thought,
while the beautiful little man walked twice
around the China Mug. ‘The very thing!’
at last exclaimed Sir Bow-wow. ‘Now, then,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</SPAN></span>
hurry, lovely lady,’ and he put one of his paws
over the top of the mug, and then peeped over.
‘Can’t you reach up?’ he asked.</p>
<p>“But the lovely lady down in the bottom of
the China Mug, although she stood on all her
tip toes couldn’t so much as touch the end
of his paw. ‘I shall die here,’ she said, in a
faint voice, huddling down in a miserable, little
heap, and beginning to weep again.</p>
<p>“‘Nonsense!’ cried Sir Bow-wow, although he
was terribly afraid that she would. ‘I’ll think
again.’ So he scratched his head once more,
and thought, while the beautiful little man
walked twice around the China Mug. ‘This
time I have it!’ declared the brown crockery
dog, and he put his paw over the edge of the
mug. ‘Twine the roses in the basket on your
arm into a vine, and throw up one end over my
paw, and I will pull you up.’</p>
<p>“And the lovely lady stopped crying, and began
to laugh, all the while she set to work
busily making a vine out of the roses in the
basket hanging on her arm; and she twisted the
thorns and leaves all in and out so nicely, that
before long she had a streaming garland; and
she threw up one end of it over the paw of Sir<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</SPAN></span>
Bow-wow, just as he had told her to do, and, in a
minute, there she was standing on the edge of the
China Mug, up by the funny twisted handle.</p>
<p>“‘That’s fine!’ cried Sir Bow-wow, so greatly
pleased that he wanted to bark; but he didn’t
dare for fear of scaring the beautiful little man
who was now approaching the funny twisted
handle. ‘Hurry and hop down, O lovely lady,
and run to your place, for here he comes!’</p>
<p>“So the lovely lady hopped down, and hurried
with all her might to her old place on the front
of the China Mug, crowding her rose garland
into the basket hanging on her arm as she went
along. And she had just got there, and was
picking up her gown to make a little courtesy,
when the beautiful little man came up and
stood quite still.</p>
<p>“‘I will make you a bow all the rest of my
life,’ he said, bowing away as fast as he could.</p>
<p>“‘And I will courtesy to you as long as I
live,’ she said, dropping him a most beautiful
one. And so as there was nothing else for him
to do, Sir Bow-wow ran to his end of the shelf,
and stood up as stiff as ever. And that’s the
way we found them all the next morning when
we got up and went into the kitchen,” said Polly.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XXIV" id="XXIV">XXIV.</SPAN><br/> <small>BROWN BETTY.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">Mrs. Whitney sat in her room, her soft
hair floating over her dressing-gown, with
little Dick in her arms, just as he had run wailing
with his story of distress.</p>
<p>“My throat isn’t sore,” he screamed between
his tears; “and I want to go out with the other
boys.”</p>
<p>Polly, running along the hall, with a new book
that Jasper had loaned her tucked under her
arm, a happy half-hour dancing before her eyes,
heard him, and stopped suddenly, then she
turned back, and put her brown head in the
doorway.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” and she came close to Mrs.
Whitney’s chair.</p>
<p>“I’m not sick,—and I want to go out with
the boys,” roared Dick, worse than ever. “I
want to go out—I want to go out.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“I suppose that’s just what Brown Betty
cried,” said Polly, saying the first thing that
popped into her head of all the stories she used
to tell in The Little Brown House.</p>
<p>“Eh?” Little Dick lifted his head from the
nest where he had burrowed under his mother’s
soft hair, and regarded her closely through his
tears.</p>
<p>Polly knelt down by Mrs. Whitney’s side,
and turned her back on Jasper’s new book,
where she laid it on the floor. “You don’t
know how Brown Betty wanted to get out,” she
said; “but she couldn’t do it, not a bit of it.”</p>
<p>“Why not?” demanded Dick suddenly, and
edging along on his mother’s lap to look into
Polly’s eyes. “Why couldn’t she get out,
Polly?”</p>
<p>“Why, because she fell in,” said Polly, shaking
her brown head sadly, “and there was no
one to help her out, no matter how much she
cried; so she made up her mind not to cry at
all.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t she cry a teenty, wee bit?” asked
little Dick, trying to wipe away the drops on
his cheeks with his chubby hand.</p>
<p>“Not a single bit of a tear,” said Polly decidedly;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</SPAN></span>
“what was the use? it wouldn’t help
her to get out. You see, it was just this way.
She was hurrying down the garden path, just
as fast as her feet would carry her, and she had
a big bundle in her mouth”—</p>
<p>“In her mouth?” repeated little Dick in
astonishment; and, slipping from his mother’s
lap, he cuddled on the floor beside Polly, and
folded his small hands.</p>
<p>“Yes, in her mouth,” said Polly merrily.
“Oh! didn’t I tell you? Brown Betty was a
dear little bug, just as brown as could be; and
the bundle in her mouth was a piece of a dead
fly she was taking home for her children’s
dinner.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said Dick; “tell me, Polly.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Whitney slipped out of her chair to
finish her dressing, first pausing to pat Polly’s
brown hair.</p>
<p>“So you see poor Brown Betty couldn’t look
very well where she was going; for the piece of
a dead fly stuck out in front of her eyes so far,
that the first thing she knew, down she went—down,
down, down,—and she never stopped
till she stood in the midst of hundreds and
hundreds of black creatures.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“O Polly!” exclaimed little Dick in dismay.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly; “and there she was, and
she couldn’t speak for a minute, for she had
come so far and so fast, that it was impossible
for her to catch her breath, so the black creatures
ran around and around her in great glee,
and every one of them said: ‘How very nice
and fat you are; now we’ll eat you up.’”</p>
<p>“O Polly!” cried little Dick again, and
snuggling up closer; “didn’t she cry then.”</p>
<p>“No,” said Polly, “she didn’t, because you see
it wouldn’t have done any good,—she’d got to
think up things, how to get out, and all that,
you know, so there wasn’t any time to cry.
And she spoke up just as soon as she could
catch her breath, ‘Oh, what a wonderful place
is this!’ and she rolled her little bits of eyes
all around; and the ants said”—</p>
<p>“Oh! were the hundreds of black creatures
ants?” asked little Dick.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed; oh! didn’t I tell you?” cried
Polly, all in one breath; “they were dear little
black ants, and the deep, deep place that Brown
Betty tumbled into when she was carrying home
the piece of a dead fly, was their house. And
when she said ‘Oh, what a wonderful place is<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</SPAN></span>
this!’ they were all very much pleased, and they
ran around and around her faster than ever, all
talking together, and they said, ‘She seems
to be very wise,—it’s a pity to eat her just
now. We will wait and let her tell us things
first.’</p>
<p>“And Brown Betty heard them say that as
they were all running around and around her;
for you see when she made up her mind not
to cry, she thought she would better keep her
ears open as well as her eyes, and find out some
way to escape.”</p>
<p>“What’s escape?” interrupted little Dick.</p>
<p>“Oh! to get out, so they wouldn’t eat her
up!” said Polly; “well, and so when she heard
them say that, why, Brown Betty thought of
something else that would give her more time
to think up things, how to get away. And she
said, ‘Oh! if I might only see some of the splendid
places you’ve got in your house, I should be
so happy;’ for you see she had heard how the
ants build great, long halls and rooms, and ever
so many nooks and crannies. And the big ant
that made them all mind everything she said,
heard her say it, because Brown Betty called it
as out loud as she could; and so the big ant<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</SPAN></span>
spoke up, and ordered a company of a hundred
ants to get into line.”</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image52">“O Polly, a hundred ants!” cried little
Dick with an absorbed face.</SPAN></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image52" id="image52"> <ANTIMG src="images/image52.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="550" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_424">“O Polly, a hundred ants!” cried little Dick with an absorbed face.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Yes, indeed, that’s nothing,” said Polly;
“sometimes they had a thousand march off
somewhere, wherever the big Queen Ant would
tell them to go. Well, these hundred ran right
around Brown Betty, and got her in the middle.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[425]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘Now, go and show her the long corridor,’
said the big Mother Ant.”</p>
<p>“You said she was the Queen Ant,” corrected
Dick.</p>
<p>“Yes, so she was, and the Mother Ant too,”
said Polly; “but I like that best, so I’m going
to call her so. Well”—</p>
<p>“Polly,” said little Dick hastily, “I very
much wish you’d call her Captain Ant.”</p>
<p>“Well, I will,” said Polly, bursting into a
merry laugh, that made Mrs. Whitney smile
too, a smile that went right down into Polly’s
heart, and made her forget all about Jasper’s
new book lying there on the floor. “Now she’s
Captain Ant; we mustn’t forget that, Dicky.”</p>
<p>“We mustn’t forget that,” repeated Dick, in
great satisfaction. “Now go on, Polly, do.”</p>
<p>“So the company of a hundred ants went off
just as Captain Ant had told them, to show
Brown Betty the long corridor.”</p>
<p>“What’s a long cor—what is that word,
Polly?”</p>
<p>“Corridor; oh! that’s a great long hall, ever
and ever so long,” said Polly; “and it was broad
and splendid, and the walls were as smooth as
a board, and the top was just as smooth too,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[426]</SPAN></span>
and out of it ran different rooms, and nooks, and
crannies, and funny little places. So, when
Brown Betty heard Captain Ant command them
to show her the long corridor, she began to set
her busy little head to thinking that perhaps
she might steal away from them, and hide somewhere
in one of these queer little spots.”</p>
<p>“And did she?” cried little Dick eagerly.</p>
<p>“Oh, I can’t tell you now!” said Polly; “wait
and see. Well, off they went down the long
corridor with the smooth dirt walls, and”—</p>
<p>“You said it was board,” corrected little
Dick.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, Dicky!” said Polly, “I said it was as
smooth as a board, but they were all made of
dirt,—dirt walls; and everything was all polished
off by the ants till it was straight, and
high, and splendid. Well, off they went.</p>
<p>“‘What a perfectly remarkable place,’ cried
Brown Betty, rolling up her little bits of eyes
at everything as they marched her along in the
middle, which pleased them very much; so they
let her drop behind the procession once in a
while to admire something or other.”</p>
<p>“Oh! now she is going to run away, I know,”
said Dick in great excitement.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[427]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh, she can’t get away yet!” said Polly.
“You wait and see, Dicky. Just then, while
she was hanging back from the rest of the
company,—for they were all talking together,
as they ran around and around, and saying how
extremely wise she was, and what a pity it was
that they had got to eat her up, after they had
shown her all about,—she heard a little noise.
You see, she was peering into a little cranny.”</p>
<p>“What’s a cranny?” asked Dick abruptly.</p>
<p>“Oh! a little hide-away place in the wall,”
said Polly. “Well, she was peering in there,
and wondering if she could slip in when the
hundred ants weren’t looking, when she heard
this little noise.”</p>
<p>“What was it?” asked Dick, getting as close
to Polly as he could.</p>
<p>“You’ll see. And then as she peered in, she
saw another brown bug, just like herself, only
bigger, chained to the side of the wall, so she
couldn’t get away.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Dick; “how big
was the chain?”</p>
<p>“Oh! it wasn’t big at all,” said Polly; “how
could it be, to fasten up that wee brown
bug? It was all made of the hairs of the black<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[428]</SPAN></span>
spiders dropped in the garden, where the ant
house was; and the ants had twisted them
together, and made chains to tie up their prisoners
with.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said Dicky, drawing a long breath.
“And was she tied up tight?”</p>
<p>“Oh! just as tight,” said Polly; “the chain
went all around her leg, and over her neck, and
there she was sobbing away as if her heart
would break.”</p>
<p>“What made her cry?” asked Dick. “Why
didn’t she think up things, how to get away,
just like your brown bug, Polly?” and he drew
himself up with the determination to be like
Brown Betty.</p>
<p>“Well, you see she didn’t,” said Polly, “that’s
just the difference; so there she was chained
to the wall of that cranny.</p>
<p>“‘They’re waiting till I get fat enough,’ said
this poor creature to Brown Betty, ‘then they’ll
eat me; I heard them say so.’</p>
<p>“Now, Brown Betty couldn’t act as if she
heard anything you know, for all those hundred
ants would pounce on them both, and cut their
heads off, maybe; so she said, ‘Hush, and I’ll
try to save you;’ then she hurried off to the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[429]</SPAN></span>
company. ‘Now show me something more wonderful
yet,’ she said.</p>
<p>“‘We’ll show her the Hall of Justice,’ said
the ants one to another.”</p>
<p>“What is that, Polly?” asked little Dick.</p>
<p>“Oh, you’ll see! <SPAN href="#image53">the ants are going to tell
Brown Betty</SPAN> all about it;
then you’ll know. Well,
so off they went; and by
this time they thought so
much of Brown Betty’s
wisdom, for they were all
talking of it together,
that they got very careless
about keeping her
in the middle, but they
let her wander at the
end of the procession,
and stop when she wanted
to admire anything very much.”</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="image53" id="image53"> <ANTIMG src="images/image53.jpg" width-obs="370" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_429">Brown Betty and the ants.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“Oh, now I know that she is going to run
away!” exclaimed little Dick, striking his hands
together in great delight.</p>
<p>“And at last there they stood in the middle
of the great Hall of Justice. Brown Betty
just blinked her eyes, she was so afraid she<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[430]</SPAN></span>
should cry, when the ants all screamed out
together, ‘We try our prisoners here before
we eat them up.’ But she pretended she didn’t
care; and she said, ‘What’s that big chair up
there?’ pointing to the end of the long room.</p>
<p>“‘That is not a chair,’ said the ants all together,
‘that is the throne.’</p>
<p>“‘What’s a throne?’ asked Brown Betty, to
gain time to think out things by keeping them
talking. Besides, she was trembling so with
fright, that her poor little knees knocked together,
and she had to say something or she
would have dropped in a dead faint.</p>
<p>“‘Oh,—oh,—so wise a creature not to know
what a throne is!’ exclaimed all the ants together
in astonishment; and they ran around
and around worse than ever, till poor Brown
Betty’s head spun to see them go, they made
her so giddy.</p>
<p>“‘It’s where the Queen Ant sits to’”—</p>
<p>“You said you’d call her Captain Ant,” broke
in Dick.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, so I did!—well, Captain Ant,”
corrected Polly. “‘Well, it’s where the Captain
sits,’ said the ants all together, still running
around and around, ‘to try the prisoners.’</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[431]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘Oh!’ said Brown Betty, her poor knees
knocking together worse than ever. Then she
managed to pick up courage to ask the first
thing that came into her head. ‘How does she
try them?’</p>
<p>“One of the hundred ants ran out from the
company, and close up to Brown Betty. ‘She
is so wise,’ he said to himself, ‘I want to show
her that I am wise too.’ So he hurried up to
her side. ‘Do you see that sword hanging up
there?’ he whispered; and the other ninety-nine
ants were all talking together and running
about so they didn’t hear him.</p>
<p>“‘Where?’ asked Brown Betty, peering up
above the throne. ‘I see nothing.’</p>
<p>“‘Of course,’ said the ant who wanted to
show how wise he was; and he laughed softly,
he was so pleased that he could tell her something
new. ‘You can’t see it till I tell you
where it is, so I am wiser than you. Well,
when the Queen has that in her hand, she can
do anything she pleases,—it all comes to pass.
It hangs just back of the throne, at the top.
Now, don’t you think I am wise?’</p>
<p>“Brown Betty’s heart gave a great jump.
‘Oh, sir!’ she cried, ‘what a wonderful creature<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[432]</SPAN></span>
you are!’ which so delighted the ant, that he
ran round and round her sixty times without
stopping, talking to himself all the while; ‘She
says I’m a wonderful creature.’</p>
<p>“All this time Brown Betty was thinking how
she could get up into that throne; and presently
she said as loud as she could, ‘One of the most
wonderful places that ever I was in is this very
spot. But I must sit on that throne before I
can say it is <em>the</em> most wonderful place,’ she
added boldly, while her poor knees shook and
knocked so together she thought she should
die.</p>
<p>“‘She must say it is <em>the</em> most wonderful place
she was ever in,’ declared the company of ants
in consternation, ‘else Captain Ant will have
our heads off when we carry her back;’ and
they ran round and round her worse than ever,
saying this over all the time.</p>
<p>“At last they all stopped and swarmed around
her, keeping her in the middle. ‘Will you say
“This is <em>the</em> most wonderful place I was ever
in,” if we let you get up in the throne?’ they
cried at her.</p>
<p>“‘I will,’ promised Brown Betty as quick as a
flash. So they opened their ranks; and before<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[433]</SPAN></span>
she could think twice, there she was up in the
throne, and looking down into their faces. But
how to get hold of the sword, she didn’t know.”</p>
<p>“O Polly, do let her get that sword!” cried
little Dick in great distress. “Please show her
how. Please hurry, Polly, and show her how
quick.”</p>
<p>“And there she was, looking down into their
faces, and she knew she must hurry and say the
words she had promised, and then get down;
and she was at her wits’ end to know what to
do.”</p>
<p>“Please hurry, and show her how quick,”
begged little Dick, his knees knocking together.</p>
<p>“‘What a wonderful top to that throne!’ cried
Brown Betty; ‘I must see that first;’ and as
quickly as she said the words, up she ran with
all speed to the very tip of the throne spread
over her head. The wise ant who had told her
of the sword, just then screamed out, ‘Hold
her back!’ but it was too late; Brown Betty’s
little bits of eyes were keen and sharp; there
was the sword, hanging before her; and in a
second it was in her mouth, and she was waving
it over the hundred ants.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[434]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘Stop where you are!’ she screamed at
them, ‘or I’ll cut your heads off!’ and not a
single ant moved.”</p>
<p>“She killed them all, she killed them!” piped
Dicky in the most joyful tone; and springing
to his feet he danced all over the dressing-room,
singing, “Brown Betty killed them all!”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, she didn’t!” said Polly, as soon as
she could make herself heard.</p>
<p>“She didn’t kill them!” exclaimed little Dick,
coming to a dead stop in amazement.</p>
<p>“Oh, no! of course not,” said Polly; “Brown
Betty wouldn’t do such a cruel thing, if she
could get away and help the other brown bug
off without hurting them. She just slipped
down from the throne, waving her sword at
them, and telling them she would cut their
heads off if they stirred; but they couldn’t, you
know; then she slammed the door of the Hall
of Justice tight to, and locked them all in.”</p>
<p>“That was worse,” said Dicky, coming up
quite close to her.</p>
<p>“Oh! some of the other ants would come
by and by, to look for them,” said Polly comfortingly,
“and let them out. So down the
long corridor she ran with the Captain’s sword<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[435]</SPAN></span>
in her mouth, till she reached the cranny where
the other brown bug was tied.</p>
<p>“‘Stop crying!’ she commanded; and with
one flash of the sword, she snipped the chain
everywhere it was fastened. ‘Now come on;’
and she dragged the prisoner out. And away
they went, Brown Betty waving the sword high;
for she didn’t know when she would meet any
ants, and she must be ready to keep them off.</p>
<p>“‘You’ve been here longer than I,’ she cried
to the other brown bug; ‘don’t you know some
way out?’</p>
<p>“‘Let me stop and think,’ begged the other
brown bug; ‘you hurry me so I can’t think of
anything.’ So Brown Betty pulled her into a
little cubby-hole, they were racing by, in the
corridor, while she stood on guard, still waving
the Captain’s sword.</p>
<p>“‘I will give you till I can count ten,’ she
said. ‘One—two—three—four—five—six—seven—eight’”—</p>
<p>“Oh, dear!” groaned little Dick.</p>
<p>“‘Nine—ten’—</p>
<p>“‘Straight ahead! turn to your right!’
screamed the other brown bug; and out into
the long corridor they stepped once more, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[436]</SPAN></span>
ran like lightning; and then, after awhile,
‘Turn!’ she said; ‘I heard them say that they
had built a secret way;’ and there was a little
narrow slit of a way, down which they turned;
and they turned, and they turned, till finally after
they had got through turning, all of a sudden
out it came into the green grass; and, don’t you
think, right around the door, only they didn’t
see it, it was so covered with a clump of leaves,
were six little, wee, tiny brown bugs, all crying
and screaming and rubbing their eyes for their
mammy, and there she was right in their midst.”</p>
<p>“O Polly! was it Brown Betty’s home she
got to?” screamed little Dick, throwing his
arms around her, his cheeks aflame.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, “it truly was; and Brown
Betty would never have found it at all if she
hadn’t gone back to save the other brown bug.”</p>
<p>“And what did she do with the Captain’s
sword?” at last asked Dicky, coming out of his
entrancement.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” said Polly; “but here come
the boys, Dicky.”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[437]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XXV" id="XXV">XXV.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE SILLY LITTLE BROOK.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“Please, Polly,” entreated Phronsie, pulling
Polly’s gown gently.</p>
<p>“O Pet! there isn’t time,” said Polly hastily,
“to tell you a story now. Why, Mamsie will
call us in a quarter of an hour.”</p>
<p>“Just the ‘Silly Little Brook,’” pleaded
Phronsie, folding her hands.</p>
<p>“Why, you’ve heard that fifty thousand
times,” said Polly; “oh,—oh! don’t ask for that.”
She gave a long yawn, and flew back to the
table. “Where is that pink embroidery silk
Auntie gave me? Now I’ll try that new stitch.”</p>
<p>“Here ’tis,” said Phronsie, getting down on
the floor, and spying it where it had trailed off
on the table-cloth; and she quickly brought it
up in her hand.</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s good!” exclaimed Polly in great
satisfaction, with one eye on the French mantel<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[438]</SPAN></span>
clock. “Now, if I had to hunt for that tiresome
pink silk, the whole quarter of an hour would
be gone; and I must try this rosebud to show
to Auntie Whitney.” She seized her embroidery
work, huddling up silks and thimble, and
all, and ran to ensconce herself in a cosey corner
of the library sofa, humming softly to herself
the last piece of music Monsieur had given
to her.</p>
<p>“I might have a <em>piece</em> of the ‘Silly Little
Brook,’” said Phronsie, standing quite still by
the table.</p>
<p>“What is it?” cried Polly, coming out from
the trills and runs, to stare at her. “Oh, that
story! I forgot all about it, Phronsie. Yes, indeed,
you shall have it.” And a remorseful
wave made her cheek rosy red. “I’m a selfish
little pig, Phronsie. Come over, and I’ll tell it
right away.”</p>
<p>“You’re not a little pig,” said Phronsie, hurrying
over to the sofa to tuck herself away in a
blissful frame of mind close to Polly; “and I
am so glad you are going to tell it, and please
begin right off, Polly,” all in one breath.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed, I will,” said Polly with a sorry
little twinge for the minutes lost. “Well, you<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[439]</SPAN></span>
know the Silly Little Brook was not our Cherry
Brook,” she began, well knowing that fact must
usher in the story.</p>
<p>“It was not our Cherry Brook,” repeated
Phronsie distinctly, and smoothing down her
white apron, “because our Cherry Brook was a
nice brook, and didn’t do silly things.”</p>
<p>“That’s so,” assented Polly, wondering if she
was making her rosebud pink enough; “well,
one day, quite early in the morning, when the
sun was peeping over the top of a high
mountain”—</p>
<p>“Tell how he peeped over, please, Polly,”
begged Phronsie, who dearly loved to have Polly
act out her stories.</p>
<p>So Polly laid down her rosebud, thimble, and
all, in Phronsie’s lap, and got up and told it
over again, to Phronsie’s intense satisfaction;
then she hopped back to her embroidery work.</p>
<p>“And at the same time the Silly Little
Brook awoke, and opened its eyes to the sun
and the world. ‘Oh! how do you do?’ said the
Sun, laughing as the Silly Little Brook blinked
its eyes at him.</p>
<p>“‘Who are you?’ asked the Silly Little
Brook; ‘I never saw you before.’</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[440]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘Of course not,’ said the Sun, laughing worse
than ever, ‘because you have never been
awake before. Come, now, it is time for you to
get to work; you’ve been a long time asleep.
Look back of you.’</p>
<p>“The Silly Little Brook did just as the Sun
told her, and looked back of her. ‘I don’t see
anything,’ she said, ‘except a black hole in the
ground.’</p>
<p>“‘Of course you don’t,’ said the Sun, ‘because
that’s all there is to see. You’ve just
come out of that hole, where you’ve been asleep
all your life. Now look ahead!’</p>
<p>“The Sun said this so loud, and stared at her
face so long, that the Silly Little Brook began
to feel quite uncomfortable; so she winked and
blinked and said nothing.</p>
<p>“‘Look ahead,’ commanded the Sun sharply.
‘Oh, you silly, stupid, little thing!’ And this
time she obeyed; and there was a tiny, wee,
little stream of clear, white water trickling away
like a thread down the mountain.”</p>
<p>“It was the Silly Little Brook,” cried Phronsie,
clapping her hands in glee, just as if she
hadn’t heard the story time and again.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly, bobbing her head, and setting<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[441]</SPAN></span>
in quick stitches, “so it was. ‘Now hurry
up!’ said the Sun; by this time he was very
fierce, for his face had been getting rounder
and bigger every minute, ‘and set to work, for
you have a great deal to do. Be a useful little
brook, and don’t stop on your way, and I shall
be glad that you woke up. Good-day!’ And
the Silly Little Brook felt her feet give way
before her, and in a minute she was slipping
and sliding down, down, the mountain side.</p>
<p>“‘I’m not going to be sent down in this fashion,’
she grumbled as soon as she could catch
her breath, while she rested a bit in a hollow.
‘I shall choose my way, and what I’ll do; and
I’m not going to work all the time either, and
that cross old Sun needn’t think he can command
me to do it. I’m going to play as much
as I want to.’ With that she rested in the
hollow all that day, and the next, and the
next.”</p>
<p><SPAN href="#image54">Phronsie shook her yellow head mournfully</SPAN>,
as one who knows a sorrowful tale too well.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image54" id="image54"> <ANTIMG src="images/image54.jpg" width-obs="431" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_441">Phronsie shook her yellow head mournfully.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“The first day,” said Polly, hurrying on,
“the birds came to see the Silly Little Brook;
and they sang sweet songs over her head, and
they told her pretty stories, and they dipped<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[442-</SPAN><br/><SPAN name="Page_443" id="Page_443">443]</SPAN></span>
their beaks in her clear little pool of water in
the hollow; and the Silly Little Brook said
to herself, ‘Oh, what a lovely time this is!
How good it was for me that I didn’t mind
what the cross old Sun said to me when he
told me not to stop. Forsooth! I shall stop
here as long as I want to.’”</p>
<p>“What does for—what is it, Polly,—mean?”
asked Phronsie who always asked this
question at this particular stage of the story.</p>
<p>“Oh, it doesn’t mean anything!” said Polly
carelessly.</p>
<p>“Then, why did she say it?” persisted Phronsie.</p>
<p>“Oh, because it sounded nice!” said Polly,
twitching her pink silk thread out to replace it
with a green one to begin on the calyx; “people
have to say things sometimes that don’t mean
anything—in a story.”</p>
<p>“Do they?” said Phronsie with wondering
eyes.</p>
<p>“Well, she did any way,” said Polly; “so she
said ‘Forsooth!’ and tossed her head, and immediately
she felt very big and grand. And
the next day the birds came, and everything
was lovely, and the Silly Little Brook went<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[444]</SPAN></span>
to sleep at night, and dreamed of all sorts of
beautiful things. But the day after, she looked
up, and saw to her astonishment a flock of birds,
that was whirring along over the tip of the
mountain-side, pause when they got to her, and
look down; then they whispered together, and
presently off they flew, chattering, ‘Oh, no—no;
we’ll not stop there!’</p>
<p>“What to make of it the Silly Little Brook
did not know; she only tossed her head, and
grew angrier and angrier, and said she didn’t
care. But she went to sleep sobbing as hard
as she could that night; and her pillow, a
clump of moss, was wet with tears.”</p>
<p>Phronsie moved uneasily, but said not a
word.</p>
<p>“At last, as morning broke, the Silly Little
Brook heard a voice close to her ear say, ‘O
dear Brook, wake up! I have something to say
to you;’ and there was Robin Redbreast.”</p>
<p>“I am so glad he has come, Polly,” ejaculated
Phronsie in relief.</p>
<p>“The Silly Little Brook at that opened her
eyes. ‘What is it?’ she asked sadly.</p>
<p>“‘Don’t you know why the birds are flying
over your head, to seek other streams, without<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[445]</SPAN></span>
so much as giving you a gentle word,—and
no one remains to tell you the truth but
me?’ asked Robin.</p>
<p>“‘No, I don’t!’ said the Silly Little Brook;
‘tell me, Robin.’</p>
<p>“‘Look for yourself,’ said Robin Redbreast.</p>
<p>“So the Silly Little Brook turned her eyes
to look at herself in the little hollow where
she had rested, and lo and behold, instead of
the clear, white water with the shade just like
the violets in our woods at Badgertown, you
know, Phronsie,” and Polly’s hands with their
work dropped to her lap, “why”—</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, I know,” said Phronsie with a
small sigh, hearing which, Polly picked up her
work again and hurried on.</p>
<p>“Why, there was a dark, dirty pool of water
with a little green scum coming all over the
top of it.</p>
<p>“‘Oh, Horrors!’ screamed the Silly Little
Brook, ‘why, where have I gone? That isn’t
my little Brook.’</p>
<p>“‘Yes it is,’ said Robin, shaking his head
sadly; ‘you’re turned into this hateful thing
because you staid still. O dear Brook! why
didn’t you obey the good Sun, and go on?’</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[446]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘I will now,’ said the Silly Little Brook,
bursting into a torrent of tears; and she tried
to start. But her feet were all tangled up in a
mess of leaves and green things that weren’t
nice, and she couldn’t stir a step.”</p>
<p>Phronsie here moved uneasily again, but
waited for Polly to go on.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[447]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“‘I’ll help you,’ said Robin Redbreast quickly;
and, jumping down, he picked patiently all the
sticks and leaves he could in his bill, and carried
them out of the way of the Silly Little Brook
when she should once more start to run down
the mountain-side.”</p>
<p>“He was a nice Robin Redbreast, Polly, and
I like him,” Phronsie exclaimed joyfully.</p>
<p>“So he was, Pet,” Polly made haste to
answer. “Well, but as fast as he picked off the
leaves and sticks out of the way of the Silly
Little Brook, ever so many others would come
blowing down on her from the trees, and choke
up the path again. So at last poor Robin Redbreast
had to sit down quite tired out, and declare
he could do no more.”</p>
<p>“Please hurry and tell it, Polly,” begged
Phronsie, pulling her sleeve, for Polly dearly
loved to stop a bit in the most impressive
spots.</p>
<p>“Well, and then the Silly Little Brook began
to sob and to scream louder than ever; and the
sticks and leaves flew around her thick and
fast, for it was a very windy day; and the birds
flew over her head, never so much as giving her
a glance; and it was very dreadful indeed,” said<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[448]</SPAN></span>
Polly, holding up her embroidery at arm’s
length to see if the calyx was beginning to look
exactly as if the rosebud were just picked from
the garden.</p>
<p>“Please hurry,” begged Phronsie, pulling her
sleeve again.</p>
<p>“So I will,” said Polly; “I think that is just
as near right as I can get it, although it doesn’t
look like a real rose,” she sighed; “but you
must let me stop once in a while, child, for the
story sounds better.”</p>
<p>“But I want the Silly Little Brook to stop
crying and get out,” said Phronsie in gentle
haste.</p>
<p>“Well, so I will let her out, you’ll see,” promised
Polly, hurrying on to set in more green
stitches, determined, since she couldn’t make
it like a real rose from Grandpapa’s garden,
she would have it as good a one as possible.</p>
<p>“‘I shall die here,’ mourned the Silly Little
Brook; and the wind in the trees sobbed over
her, ‘She will die there,’ until Robin Redbreast
let his head droop on his pretty red
bosom.”</p>
<p>“Please hurry, Polly,” said Phronsie pleadingly,
and there were tears in the brown eyes.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[449]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“But suddenly up jumped Robin,” cried
Polly, casting aside her embroidery on the sofa;
and suiting the action to the word, she sprang
to her feet and waved her arms. “And he
trilled out loud and clear, while he flapped his
wings, ‘Stop your crying, dear Brook, I will go
and bring some help;’ for he had heard what
the Silly Little Brook had not been able to
hear, as she was weeping so hard, the notes
way up in the sky of some little birds that he
knew.”</p>
<p>“Polly!” exclaimed Phronsie, in great excitement,
and slipping from the sofa to plant herself
in front of Polly,—still waving her arms,
and crying, “Stop your crying, dear Brook, I will
go and bring some help,”—“I love that Robin
Redbreast, I do.”</p>
<p>“Well, we must get back to the sofa, and
finish this story, or Mamsie’ll call us before
we’re ready,” laughed Polly, her arms tumbling
to her sides; and she picked up Phronsie,
and in a minute there they were in the cosey
corner once more.</p>
<p>“So off he flew post-haste,” hurried on
Polly, picking up her needle once more to set
quick stitches; “and oh! as soon as you could<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[450]</SPAN></span>
think, back he came, and a whole troop of
<SPAN href="#image55">Robin Redbreasts</SPAN> who were on a journey
together, and there were so many of them that
they picked out every stick and leaf before the
new ones had a chance to choke up the way:
and pretty soon, ‘Start now!’ they said; <SPAN href="#image55">and
the Silly Little Brook</SPAN> put out her feet, and
away she went slipping and sliding and trickling
and running like a mad little thing down
the mountain-side.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image55" id="image55"> <ANTIMG src="images/image55.jpg" width-obs="521" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_450">The birds and the silly little brook.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>Phronsie clapped her hands and shouted in
glee.</p>
<p>“‘Don’t stop again,’ screamed every one of
those Robin Redbreasts after her, ‘but go on—and
on—and on.’”</p>
<p>“Pol—<em>ly</em>!” called Mamsie over the stairs—and
“Phron—<em>sie</em>! it’s time to go down town to
buy your shoes.”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[451]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak"><SPAN name="XXVI" id="XXVI">XXVI.</SPAN><br/> <small>DOWN IN THE ORCHARD.</small></h2></div>
<p class="cap">“It was such a comfort to have an orchard,”
said Polly, clasping her hands in delight
at the remembrance. “You can’t think; and
we used to have such fun out there when the
work was done up”—</p>
<p>“How many trees were there?” asked Percy,
with an eye for details.</p>
<p>“Oh, there weren’t any <em>trees</em>!” said Polly
quickly; “there was just one; but we played
there were ever and ever so many, so we called
it an Orchard.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Percy and Van
together.</p>
<p>“It was an apple-tree,” said Joel; “and there
weren’t any apples on it either, only we used
to play there were.”</p>
<p>“O Joel!” exclaimed Polly, “have you forgotten?
Don’t you remember one year that
we got some?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[452]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Mean old things!” declared Joel; “and so
hard, they’d almost break your teeth.”</p>
<p>“Well, you and Dave managed to eat them,”
said Ben, laughing.</p>
<p>“Because we couldn’t get any others,” said
Joel; “and they were only about a dozen of
them, I guess.”</p>
<p>“That was better than nothing,” said Polly.
“Well, you see we did have apples on the
tree sometimes, so we could call it an orchard;
and when we had our work done, we could
go out there and play. And Phronsie could
always take Seraphina and stay there ever so
long, because it was just a little way back of
the kitchen-door; so you see we thought a
great deal indeed of our Orchard.”</p>
<p>“Tell us what you used to do out in your
Orchard?” begged Van abruptly; “every single
thing.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” said Polly, drawing a long
breath at the delightful remembrances. “I
can’t tell you all the things we used to do
there, any more than I can about all the good
times we had in the dear old kitchen.”</p>
<p>“There’s no use in asking the Peppers to
tell all the good times they had in The Little<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[453]</SPAN></span>
Brown House,” declared Jasper, with kindling
eyes, “because, you see, they just can’t do it.
I know, because I’ve been there.”</p>
<p>“Jappy always feels so smart because he’s
been at The Little Brown House,” exclaimed
Van enviously.</p>
<p>“Well, why shouldn’t I?” retorted Jasper
gayly. “It’s something to feel smart over, I
can tell you, to go to The Little Brown House.”</p>
<p>“I wish we could ever go there,” said Percy
wishfully.</p>
<p>“Well, if you want to hear Polly tell of
what we did down in our Orchard, you would
better stop talking, and let her begin,” advised
Ben.</p>
<p>“I think so too,” laughed Jasper. “I’m as
bad as the rest; but when it comes to talking
about The Little Brown House, why, I
just forget and pitch in. Now do go on, Polly;
we beg your pardon;” and he shook his head
at the other boys.</p>
<p>“Yes, we do beg your pardon,” Percy and
Van made haste to say, seeing that Jasper had
said it first.</p>
<p>“All right,” said Polly; “then, I’ll begin
straight off, to tell you of one nice time we<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[454]</SPAN></span>
had down in our Orchard. You see, Mamsie
was off at the minister’s house, helping to
make over the parlor carpet, and we really
hadn’t any work to do. And, for a wonder,
Ben was home, because there was no wood
for him to chop anywhere; and it was a long,
hot summer afternoon. First, we thought we’d
go off to the woods, and”—</p>
<p>“And why didn’t you?” broke in Van, with
wide eyes for the indifference to the charms
of the woods.</p>
<p>“Hush!” said Jasper, holding up his hand.</p>
<p>Percy was just going to say, “I should
think you’d have gone to the woods, and dug
up moss and flowers and cunning little roots.”
But hearing Jasper’s “Hush!” he ducked involuntarily,
very glad he hadn’t spoken.</p>
<p>“Oh! Phronsie wasn’t very well,” said Polly;
“that is, she hadn’t been, and we knew Mamsie
wouldn’t want her to walk so far. And
besides, it was just as much fun to play in
our Orchard. So we all decided to go there.
Well, off we started”—</p>
<p>“Why, I thought you said it was just a little
way back of the kitchen-door,” said Percy surprised
out of himself.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[455]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“So it was,” answered Polly; “but we played
it was ever so far off; and we walked around
and around The Little Brown House, all but
Phronsie, she sat on the back-steps till we
were ready to go into the Orchard; then she
got down, and we all went in together,” said
Polly, with a grand flourish as if escorting
her auditors into enchanted space, big beyond
description. “Well, and don’t you think there
was the greatest surprise when we got there!”</p>
<p>“Oh, tell us!” begged all the Whitney boys
impatiently.</p>
<p>“Why, Ben had run off,—after we had talked
over whether we would go to the woods or
not, and we didn’t think we ought to, for
Mamsie wouldn’t like to have Phronsie walk
so far,—and he had brought back some flowers
and some moss, and ever so many things.”</p>
<p>“That’s nice,” said Percy in a satisfied way.</p>
<p>“And there they were on the little stone
table,” said Polly.</p>
<p>“Oh! did you have a stone table in your
Orchard?” asked Van.</p>
<p>“Yes; I’ve seen it ever so many times,” said
Jasper. Then he pulled himself up laughing,
“Beg pardon, Polly.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[456]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Ho! ho! You’re talking,” cried Van at
him.</p>
<p>“Can’t help it,” said Jasper recklessly,
“when you begin to ask about the good times
in The Little Brown House, I must talk.”</p>
<p>“You see,” said Polly to the Whitney boys,
“we had to have a table for our tea-parties
and ever so many other things, and so Ben
chose a big stone in a field; it was Deacon
Brown’s meadow, and he”—</p>
<p>“You said it was a field, Polly Pepper,” interrupted
Percy in his most literal way.</p>
<p>“Well, it was just about the same thing,”
said Polly, laughing.</p>
<p>“Never mind him, Polly,” said Jasper; and
“You never will get this story if you keep stopping
her all the time,” from Ben. So Polly
hurried on. “And Deacon Brown was just as
glad as he could be, of course, to have that
big stone carried off from his meadow.”</p>
<p>“Why?” asked Van. “I should think all the
Brown children would have wanted it to play on.”</p>
<p>“Oh! there are such oceans of stones in
Badgertown,” cried Polly, lifting her hands.</p>
<p>“O Polly!” exclaimed Ben; “<em>oceans</em> of
stones?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[457]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Well, I mean such a very, very, great
many,” said Polly, with the color flooding her
face, “you can’t think, boys; and they bother
the farmers dreadfully when they want to cut
their grass; the poor cows have such hard work
to get their noses in between them—the stones,
I mean—in order to get anything to eat.”</p>
<p>“The farmers almost have to whittle off the
cows’ noses for them to get a bite,” said Ben.</p>
<p>“And Joel and David would pick rocks for
the farmers sometimes,” said Polly; “but that
was nice, because”—</p>
<p>“Mean old work,” said Joel, stretching himself,
“picking rocks. Didn’t our backs ache,
Dave?”</p>
<p>Little David twisted uneasily in his chair,
unwilling to say how very unpleasant he had
found the task of picking rocks, and wishing
that the question had not been asked.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Polly brightly, “it was nice
when the boys brought home the fresh vegetables
that the farmers would give them for
picking those rocks. You ought to have seen
Mamsie’s face then!”</p>
<p>Joel straightened up at that, and forgot all
about his aching back, and little David was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[458]</SPAN></span>
very glad he hadn’t been obliged to say anything.
“So now you see,” ran on Polly, “how
very glad Deacon Brown was to give Ben the
big stone for our orchard table; so Ben tugged
and tugged and”—</p>
<p>“And we helped; Dave and I did,” shouted
Joel. “Didn’t we, Ben?”</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed,” said Ben heartily, “you did,
both of you. I don’t believe I could ever have
brought the great thing down to the orchard
without you.” Thereupon Joel felt very big
and tall, and little David sat up as high in his
chair as possible.</p>
<p>“Oh, it was a perfectly splendid table!” exclaimed
Polly; “you can’t think how fine it was
when it was all set up under our apple-tree. It
was most flat on top; and it was as high as this,
and as big as this;” and she put out her hands,
and began to measure it all off briskly.</p>
<p>“Ho,—that isn’t near big enough!” cried
Joel, springing to her side; <SPAN href="#image56">“’twas as big as
this;”</SPAN> and he executed the most remarkable
series of curves, spreading his arms to the infinite
discomfort of every one in his neighborhood.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image56" id="image56"> <ANTIMG src="images/image56.jpg" width-obs="566" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_458">“’Twas as big as this!”</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“See here!” called Ben at him, amidst the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[459]</SPAN></span>
general laugh at Joel’s table, “if you go on
knocking off all our heads in this fashion, we’ll
put you out this second,—yes, sir! The idea
of such a stone as that. Why, it would have
taken a pair of horses and a cart to bring it,
let alone our digging it up. O Joe!”</p>
<p>“I don’t care,” said Joel sturdily; “it was as
big as that, anyway,” bringing his arms in with
a sudden swoop.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[460]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Well, now, Joe,” said Jasper, “if you don’t
keep quiet, we sha’n’t get any further in this
story than that table;” which had the effect
of sending Joel into his seat as quickly as he
had jumped off. And Polly began again before
he had a chance to speak. “And there on the
top of the table was a big bunch of flowers;
we had a tea-cup that Mamsie had given us, because
it was cracked and the handle was gone,
and Ben had put some of the flowers he brought
from the woods into it; but the rest he made
up into little bunches, and laid one on every
little stone seat; for I forgot to tell you, the
boys had brought five little stones, one for each
of us, so we could always have our chairs ready
for us, you know.”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” sighed little Dick, quite
overcome with longing; “how I do wish we
could have little stone seats!”</p>
<p>“And a stone table,” added Van enviously.</p>
<p>“And a whole Orchard,” finished Percy,
“just like the Peppers.”</p>
<p>Meantime Polly was hurrying on. “Well,
when we saw all those lovely things that Ben
had done,—Phronsie spied them first,—we
just danced around him, and we held our hands<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[461]</SPAN></span>
together tight, so he couldn’t get out of the
ring, and we all courtesied and bowed, and
thanked him as much as we could.”</p>
<p>“I should think you did,” said Ben, laughing.</p>
<p>“Then we made him take the best seat in
honor of it all,” went on Polly.</p>
<p>“And Polly made a speech of thanks,” said
Joel; “it was prime. And Ben said ‘Much
obliged for the speech.’”</p>
<p>“And then we set about giving our play,”
said Polly quickly.</p>
<p>“Our what?” asked the Whitneys.</p>
<p>“Why, our play,” said Polly; “didn’t you
know that was what we were going to do that
hot afternoon, when we decided to go out in the
Orchard? Well, I must tell you; we were going
to act a little play.”</p>
<p>“Oh,—oh,—how fine!” exclaimed Percy
and Van, while Ben cried, “It was Polly’s play;
she thought it all out.”</p>
<p>“Well, they helped to act it,” said Polly;
“and that was best”—</p>
<p>“Do go on,” begged the Whitney boys; and
this time Jasper said, too, “Do go on, Polly.”</p>
<p>“Well, the play was ‘The Little White Rabbit
and Mister Fox.’”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[462]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Oh! oh!” exclaimed the Whitneys, while
Jasper smiled approval. “Yes, Phronsie was
to be the White Rabbit, you see; we’d got an
old white bedspread Mamsie let us take for
our plays; and we tied up two ends, so they
stuck up high, and those made the ears; and
when she was in it, and the paws all puckered
up, she looked very nice, and”—</p>
<p>“And I was the White Rabbit, Jasper,”
said Phronsie gravely, turning to him.</p>
<p>“I know, Pet,” he said, smiling at her; “so
you were, to be sure,” as Polly hurried on.</p>
<p>“Well, Ben was Mister Fox, and he did look
so funny,” cried Polly, bursting into a laugh,
in which Joel and David joined in the remembrance.
“You see, he had a big piece of an
old fur rug that the minister’s wife gave him
one day, to carry away, because the moths had
got into it, and she didn’t want it any longer.
And it made just a splendid bear, or a wolf,
or a lion, only this time it was a fox”—</p>
<p>“Oh, that old fur rug was fine!” exploded
Joel with sparkling eyes, breaking in. “And
one time we”—but Ben pulling him down,
Polly was allowed to go on.</p>
<p>“Well, the first thing in the play,” said<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[463]</SPAN></span>
Polly briskly, “the Little White Rabbit is fast
asleep under the tree, and old Mister Fox
comes stealing up behind her, and says very
softly, ‘My dear Miss Rabbit;’ and she opens
her eyes and wakes up.</p>
<p>“‘Oh!’ she says, ‘is that you, Mister
Fox?’ and he says, ‘Yes; and won’t you come
home with me and see my little teenty wee
foxes?’”</p>
<p>“Oh! were there little foxes, Polly Pepper?”
cried the Whitney boys delightedly.</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed, there were,” said Polly quickly;
“there were two little foxes in a hole a little
way off; they were Joel and David, you know;
they were spectators with me while Little
White Rabbit was asleep, and Mister Fox was
waking her up. Then when he invited her
to go and see his little foxes, why, the boys
scampered off and got into their hole.”</p>
<p>“Where was the hole, Polly?” asked Percy.</p>
<p>“Oh! we had scooped a place under the bank
where the grass grew high,” said Polly, “and
it made a splendid cave whenever we wanted
wild beasts. Only to-day it was the house of
the teenty wee little foxes. Well, so then,
<SPAN href="#image57">Little White Rabbit</SPAN> said she would go with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[464]</SPAN></span>
<SPAN href="#image57">Mister Fox</SPAN> and see his little foxes; and he
gave her his hand and off he led her.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="image57" id="image57"> <ANTIMG src="images/image57.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="577" alt="" title="" /></SPAN><br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_463">The Little White Rabbit and Mister Fox.</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p>“O Polly! the Little White Rabbit didn’t
really go with Mister Fox, did she?” exclaimed
little Dick in horror.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes she did, Dicky!” said Polly. Then
seeing his face, she made haste to add, “But it
was Ben, you know, so she wasn’t afraid.”</p>
<p>“Oh! yes, it was Ben,” repeated little Dick,
hugging himself in relief.</p>
<p>“Well, and so off they went to the hole<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[465]</SPAN></span>
where the teenty wee little foxes were,” said
Polly; “and the Little White Rabbit put her
paw in Mister Fox’s paw; and when they got
there, Mister Fox says, ‘Now just step down
into my hole where the teenty wee little foxes
are, because you can see them so very much
better.’”</p>
<p>“And did she, Polly? did she?” interrupted
little Dick anxiously.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Polly; “but the teenty little
wee foxes were Joel and David, you know; so
they couldn’t hurt the Little White Rabbit.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes! they were Joel and David,” said
little Dick, drawing a relieved sigh.</p>
<p>“Well, when Phronsie—I mean the Little
White Rabbit—had stepped down into the hole,
up jumps the two teenty little foxes, and they
ran; and they ran past her, and past Mister Fox
as quickly as they could, so as to be audience,
you know, because I was the man with the big
gun to go out and shoot Mister Fox, and it was
time for him to do it; so Joel and David, I mean
the two teenty little wee foxes, sat down on
their stone seats, and the man with the big gun
picked it up and he ran, and he ran to the hole;
and just as Mister Fox was going to eat up the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[466]</SPAN></span>
Little White Rabbit, he put his gun up to his
shoulder, and <em>Bang!</em> it went, and over tumbled
Mister Fox, and Little White Rabbit was safe!”</p>
<p>It was impossible to describe the excitement
that now possessed the entire group, and it
was some minutes before anybody could be
heard. Then Joel cried, “Polly, tell the rest—tell
the rest!”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes!” cried Polly with shining eyes,
“the best was what came after. What do you
think we found when we all raced back—you
know I had hold of the Little White Rabbit’s
paw, and Mister Fox was scampering after?”</p>
<p>“Why, I thought you said when the man’s
big gun went <em>Bang!</em> Mister Fox tumbled over
dead,” cried Percy.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes! so he did,” said Polly coolly; “but
he had to jump up, you know, and come and be
audience, because then the little foxes were going
to try to get the Little White Rabbit; and
you see he had to take their place and look on,
or there wouldn’t be any spectators.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” said the Whitney boys.</p>
<p>“Yes; well, we were all three running along,
Mister Fox just behind, when Joel and David,
I mean the little teenty wee foxes, came racing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[467]</SPAN></span>
over the grass. ‘O Polly Pepper!’ they
screamed; ‘Come—come!’ and then they
turned and flew back. I can tell you we
all ran then!”</p>
<p>“What was it? oh, what was it?” screamed
Percy and Van and Little Dick together.</p>
<p>“Why, there on the stone lay—what do
you think?—a big orange, and a bag of peanuts!”</p>
<p>“Oh, dear me!” cried all the Whitney boys,
tumbling backward in dreadful disappointment.
“Is that all?” gasped Percy.</p>
<p>“All?” repeated Polly. “Why, you can’t
think how perfectly splendid it was to see that
big orange, as yellow as gold, and that magnificent
bag of peanuts, standing there on that
stone table. Why it seemed as if they must
have dropped right down from the little puffy
white clouds sailing above our heads, for we
couldn’t imagine where they came from. And
we never thought of finishing up our play; but
the Little White Rabbit hopped out of her
white skin, and Mister Fox tumbled out of his
old fur rug; and it took us all the rest of the
afternoon to cut and divide that splendid, big,
yellow orange, and to count out those magnificent<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[468]</SPAN></span>
peanuts, and to give them all around, except
the time it took to eat them.”</p>
<p>“That was best!” exclaimed Joel, smacking
his lips.</p>
<p>“And we saved some for Mamsie,” said little
Davie; “didn’t we, Polly?”</p>
<p>“Why, of course,” said Polly; “we all saved
the best for her.”</p>
<p>“And Polly kept saying ‘I do wish we knew
where they came from,’ every minute or so,”
said Ben.</p>
<p>“But we didn’t tell, did we, Dave?” said
Joel, chuckling at the remembrance.</p>
<p>“No,” said little David; “but I wanted to,
when Polly kept trying to find out.”</p>
<p>“And did you know?” cried Van, turning on
him.</p>
<p>“Of course we did,” said Joel, puffing with
importance; “we knew every single bit of it all,
because we were sitting on our stone chairs,
and we saw it all. Only Polly thought because
we didn’t tell, that they’d been put there
before—while we were all at Mister Fox’s
hole. But we could keep a secret, couldn’t we,
Dave?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said little Davie slowly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[469]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“It never entered our heads that you could
keep still if you knew it, Joe,” said Ben.</p>
<p>“Well, who did put them there?” demanded
Van, bursting with impatience.</p>
<p>“Why, our good, dearest, and loveliest Dr.
Fisher,” said Polly with glowing cheeks; “Papa
Fisher—only he wasn’t Papa Fisher, then; he
was just Dr. Fisher. Why, here he comes
now!”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p class="noic"><span class="adauthor">THE</span><br/>
<span class="adtitle">FAMOUS PEPPER BOOKS</span></p>
</div>
<p class="noi adauthor">By <span class="smcap">Margaret Sidney</span></p>
<p class="noic">IN ORDER OF PUBLICATION</p>
<p class="noic">Cloth 12mo Illustrated $1.50 each</p>
<hr class="r35" />
<p class="noi adauthor">Five Little Peppers and How they Grew.</p>
<p>This was an instantaneous success; it has become a genuine child classic.</p>
<p class="noi adauthor">Five Little Peppers Midway.</p>
<p>“A perfect Cheeryble of a book.”—<cite>Boston Herald.</cite></p>
<p class="noi adauthor">Five Little Peppers Grown Up.</p>
<p>This shows the Five Little Peppers as “grown up,” with all the
struggles and successes of young manhood and womanhood.</p>
<p class="noi adauthor">Phronsie Pepper.</p>
<p>It is the story of Phronsie, the youngest and dearest of all the Peppers.</p>
<p class="noi adauthor">The Stories Polly Pepper Told.</p>
<p>Wherever there exists a child or a “grown-up,” there will be a welcome
for these charming and delightful “Stories Polly Pepper told.”</p>
<p class="noi adauthor">The Adventures of Joel Pepper.</p>
<p>As bright and just as certain to be a child’s favorite as the others in the
famous series. Harum-scarum “Joey” is lovable.</p>
<p class="noi adauthor">Five Little Peppers Abroad.</p>
<p>The “Peppers Abroad” adds another most delightful book to this
famous series.</p>
<p class="noi adauthor">Five Little Peppers at School.</p>
<p>Of all the fascinating adventures and experiences of the “Peppers,” none
will surpass those contained in this volume.</p>
<p class="noi adauthor">Five Little Peppers and Their Friends.</p>
<p>The friends of the Peppers are legion and the number will be further
increased by this book.</p>
<p class="noi adauthor">Ben Pepper.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p class="noi adauthor">Five Little Peppers in the Little Brown House.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<hr class="r35" />
<p class="noic">LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., <span class="smcap">Boston</span></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p class="adtitle">A Little Maid of Boston Town</p>
<p class="noi adauthor">By MARGARET SIDNEY</p>
<p class="noic"><b>12mo Cloth Illustrated by FRANK T. MERRILL $1.50</b></p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/image58.jpg" width-obs="150" height-obs="205" alt="A Little Maid of Boston Town" title="A Little Maid of Boston Town" /></div>
<p class="cap">The opening chapters introduce us to
old Boston in England. Margaret
Sidney went there in 1907 and absorbed
the atmosphere of Cotton Mather’s “St.
Botolph’s Town,” gathering for herself
facts and traditions. Then “St. Botolph’s
Town” yields its scenic effects, and the
setting of the story is changed to Boston
Town of New England.</p>
<p>The story is absorbing, graphic, and
truly delightful, carrying one along till it
seems as if actual participation in the
events had been the lot of the reader. The same naturalness
that is so conspicuous in her famous “Pepper Books” marks
this latest story of Margaret Sidney’s. She makes characters
live and speak for themselves.</p>
<p class="smfont">It is an inspiring, patriotic story for the young, and contains striking
and realistic pictures of the times with which it deals.—<cite>Sunday School
Magazine, Nashville.</cite></p>
<p class="smfont">The author presents a story, but she gives a veracious picture of conditions
in the town of Boston during the Revolution. Parents who are
seeking wholesome books can place this in the front rank with entire
safety.—<cite>Boston Globe.</cite></p>
<p class="smfont">Surely Margaret Sidney deserves the gratitude of many a child, and
grown-ups, too, for that matter, in telling in so charming, yet, withal, so
simple a manner, of these early days in this country.—<cite>Utica Observer.</cite></p>
<p class="smfont">A really thrilling tale of the American Revolution. Interesting for
both old and young.—<cite>Minneapolis Journal.</cite></p>
<hr class="r35" />
<p class="noic"><i>For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of
price by the publishers</i></p>
<p class="noi adauthor">LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., Boston</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="tnote">
<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber’s Notes:</p>
<p class="smfont">Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to
follow the text that they illustrate, so the page number of the
illustration may not match the page number in the List of
Illustrations.</p>
<p class="smfont">Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.</p>
<p class="smfont">Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p>
<p class="smfont">Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p>
<p class="smfont">The Author’s em-dash style has been retained.</p>
</div>
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
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