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Ben Pepper

by Margaret Sidney · English · Gutenberg #35178 · 498,329 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Ben Pepper

Author: Margaret Sidney

Illustrator: Eugenie M. Wireman


        
Release date: February 5, 2011 [eBook #35178]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35178

Credits: Produced by Heather Clark, Mary Meehan and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEN PEPPER ***




Produced by Heather Clark, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net









                             BEN PEPPER

                         BY MARGARET SIDNEY

AUTHOR OF "FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AND THEIR FRIENDS," "A LITTLE MAID
OF CONCORD TOWN," "OLD CONCORD," "HESTER, AND OTHER NEW ENGLAND
STORIES," ETC.


    _ILLUSTRATED BY
    EUGENIE M. WIREMAN_

    BOSTON:
    LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.

    PEPPER
    TRADE MARK
    Registered in U. S. Patent Office.

    COPYRIGHT, 1905,
    BY HARRIETT M. LOTHROP.

    PUBLISHED, AUGUST, 1905.

    _Twentieth Thousand_

    Norwood Press:
    Berwick & Smith Co., Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.




[Illustration: THEN SHE HOPPED AWAY FROM POLLY AND MADE A LITTLE CHEESE
RIGHT ON THE SIDEWALK.]




PREFACE


It was quite impossible that the detailed records presented through the
later Pepper books, of the doings and sayings of the "Little Brown
House" family, should omit Ben. He, the eldest-born of Mother Pepper's
brood, and her mainstay after the father died, the quiet,
"steady-as-a-rock boy," as the Badgertown people all called him, with
lots of fun in him too, because he could not help it, being a Pepper,
was worthy of a book to himself.

So the hosts of readers of the Pepper Series decided, and many of them
accordingly be-sought the author to give Ben a chance to be better
known. He was always so ready to efface himself, that it was Margaret
Sidney's responsibility, after all, to bring him more to the front, to
be understood by all who loved his life in the earlier records.

So Margaret Sidney, despite Ben's wishes, has written this latest
volume. To do it, Polly and Joel and David and Phronsie have told her
most lovingly the facts with which it is strewn. Most of all, Mother
Pepper-Fisher contributed to the new book, out of a heart full of
gratitude and love for her Ben.

MARGARET SIDNEY.




CONTENTS


I. THE CHRISTMAS SHOPPING EXPEDITION

II. BEN'S PLAN

III. HAPS AND MISHAPS

IV. "IT'S JOEL'S OLD LADY"

V. "THE PRESENTS ALL GO FROM SANTA CLAUS"

VI. BEN GOES SHOPPING WITH MADAM VAN RUYPEN

VII. "WHERE'S PIP?" AND JASPER TURNED BACK

VIII. "ANY ONE WHO WANTS TO PLEASE JASPER," SAID BEN, "HAD BETTER TAKE
UP THIS CHAP"

IX. WHAT A HOME-COMING

X. "I'LL LOVE HER JUST FOREVER!"

XI. AN AFTERNOON CALL

XII. VAN

XIII. THE BIG BOX

XIV. THE CHILDREN IN THE MOUNTAIN CABIN

XV. THE MINISTER LOOKS AFTER HIS PARISHIONERS

XVI. WHO WILL HELP?

XVII. "NOW WE CAN HAVE OUR CHRISTMAS!"

XVIII. TELLING ALL THE NEWS

XIX. JOCKO

XX. REPAIRING DAMAGES

XXI. THE POSTPONED CHRISTMAS MORNING

XXII. AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE

XXIII. THE SLEIGHING PARTY

XXIV. JASPER AND BEN

XXV. IT WAS POLLY WHO HEARD IT FIRST

XXVI. "COULD YOU TAKE HIM, BEN?"

XXVII. "MR. KING, WHO IS THAT PIP YOU HAVE HERE?"

XXVIII. BEN DECIDES THE MATTER FOR HIMSELF




ILLUSTRATIONS


Then she hopped away from Polly and made a little cheese right on the
sidewalk

"O dear me," wailed Polly, burrowing deeper within the folds of the
black alpaca apron

And the first person he ran up against was a small boy, his hands full
of little wads of paper bundles

"See what you've done; that's castor oil"

There was an awful pause, every one staring at the smooth layer of brown
paper

"Did you ever see such sweet little fingers?" said Polly




Ben Pepper




I

THE CHRISTMAS SHOPPING EXPEDITION


"Oh, yes, the children can go as long as Ben and Polly are with them,"
said Mother Fisher, with pride. "I'll trust them anywhere," her face
said as plainly as if she had put it all into words.

"I wish I could go with them." Mrs. Whitney took her gaze from the busy
fingers sorting the pile of small stockings Jane had brought up from the
laundry, and went abruptly over to the window with a troubled face.

"But you can't," said Mrs. Fisher, cheerfully, nowise dismayed at the
number of holes staring up at her, "so don't let us think any more of
it. And Ben's big enough to take them anywhere, I'm sure. And Polly can
look after their manners," she thought, but didn't finish aloud.

"You see father didn't know about this picture exhibit till Mr. Cabot's
note came a half hour ago, begging him not to miss it. And if I told him
of the children's plans, he'd give the whole thing up and stay at home
rather than have them disappointed. He mustn't do that."

"Indeed he mustn't!" echoed Mrs. Fisher, in her most decided fashion,
and putting the last stocking into place on top of the big pile on the
table. "Hush! Here comes Polly!"

"Oh, Mamsie!" Polly rushed up to the work-table. "Just think what
splendid fun!" She threw her arms around Mrs. Fisher's neck and gave her
a big hug. "Isn't Aunty Whitney too lovely for anything to take us out
to buy our Christmas presents? Dear me! What richness!"

"Polly, see here, child," Mother Fisher brought her face around to look
into the rosy one; "Mrs. Whitney cannot--"

Polly tore herself away with a gasp, and stood quite still, her brown
eyes fixed on Mother Fisher's face, and the color dying out of her
cheek. "Do you mean we are not to go, Mamsie?" she cried, her hands
working nervously; "we must!" she brought up passionately.

"You see, Polly," Mrs. Whitney came quickly away from the window. Polly
at that turned and stared in dismay. O dear! To think Aunty Whitney was
there, and now she would be so distressed. "It is just this way," Mrs.
Whitney was hurrying on in quite as unhappy a state as Polly had feared:
"Father has received word that there is a picture exhibit this
afternoon, and I must go with him. I'm sorry, dear, but it can't be
helped." She bent to kiss Polly's cheek where the color had rushed this
time up to the brown hair.

"I'm so sorry, too," Polly burst out, clinging to Mrs. Whitney's hand.
Oh, why had she given way to her passion? The tears were running down
her cheeks now, "I didn't mean--" she murmured.

"Why, you are going, Polly," said Mrs. Whitney, comfortingly, and
patting the brown hair.

"What?" exclaimed Polly, bringing up her head suddenly to stare into the
kind face.

"Yes," laughed Mrs. Whitney, "the Christmas shopping isn't to be given
up. Mrs. Fisher is going to let you and Ben take the children. Just
think, Polly, that's much better than to go with me," she finished
gayly.

All this time Mother Fisher had sat quite still, her black eyes fastened
on Polly's face. "I don't know," she said slowly, "about their going
now."

"Oh, Mrs. Fisher," cried Mrs. Whitney, in dismay, "you can't think of--"
but she didn't finish, on seeing Mrs. Fisher's face. Instead, she went
softly out and closed the door.

"I didn't mean--" mumbled Polly again, and then she tumbled down on her
knees and hid her face on Mamsie's lap, and sobbed as hard as she could.

"Yes, that's the trouble, Polly," Mother Fisher's hands were busy
smoothing the brown hair; "you didn't mean to, but you said it just the
same; and that's the mischief of it, not to mean to say a thing, and yet
say it."

"O dear me!" wailed Polly, burrowing deeper within the folds of the
black alpaca apron. "Why did I? O dear!"

[Illustration: "O DEAR ME," WAILED POLLY, BURROWING DEEPER WITHIN THE
FOLDS OF THE BLACK ALPACA APRON.]

Mother Fisher's hands kept on at their task, but she said nothing, and
at last Polly's sobs grew quieter. "Mamsie," she said faintly.

"Yes, dear."

"I'm so sorry."

"I know you are, child; but, Polly, there is no 'must' unless mother
says so. And to fly into a passion--why, then you ought not to go at
all."

"Oh, I don't want to go now, Mamsie," cried Polly, flying up to sit
straight on the floor, and brushing away the tears with a hasty hand, "I
really don't, Mamsie."

"Well, then you see you'll just keep the children at home," said Mrs.
Fisher; "for I can't let Ben have all the care alone, and they'll be so
disappointed."

Polly gave a groan and wriggled on the carpet in distress.

"You see, Polly, that's the trouble when we give way to our passion; it
hurts more than ourselves," said Mother Fisher, "so I can't see but that
you have got to go."

"Oh, I don't want to, Mamsie; don't make me," cried Polly, squeezing her
mother's hands tightly in both of her own. "I can't go now!"

"Tut, tut, Polly," said Mrs. Fisher, reprovingly; "'can't' isn't the
thing to say any more than 'must.'" And her black eyes had such a look
in them that Polly ducked her head, taking refuge in the lap again.

"And now you must get up," said Mother Fisher, "and get ready, for I am
going to let you and Ben take the children; that's decided."

"Oh, Mamsie!" Polly found her feet somehow, and flung her arms again
around her mother's neck; "you won't trust me ever again. O dear me!"

"Yes, I will," said Mrs. Fisher, quickly, and, seizing Polly's hands,
she made the brown eyes look at her; "why, Polly child, did you suppose
Mother would let you go and help Ben take care of the children if she
didn't know you would do everything just right? Never say such a word as
that again, Polly!" and the black eyes shone with love and pride. "And
now hurry, child, for here's Ben coming," as steps sounded in the hall,
and then his voice asking, "Where's Mamsie?"

Polly flew up to her feet and stumbled over to the washstand. "O dear
me!" she gasped, catching sight of her face in the long mirror on the
way, "I can't--oh, I mean my eyes are so red, and my nose, Mamsie! Just
look at it!"

"That's the trouble of crying and giving way to fits of passion,"
observed Mrs. Fisher, quietly; "it makes a good deal of trouble, first
and last," as Ben came hurrying in.

Polly splashed the water all over her hot face with such a hasty hand
that a little stream ran down the pretty brown waist, which only served
to increase her dismay.

"Oh, Mamsie!" Ben was saying, "we're not to go, after all. What a pity!
Polly'll be so sorry." His blue eyes looked very much troubled. To have
anything make Polly sorry hurt him dreadfully.

"Oh, yes, you are going, Ben," Mrs. Fisher made haste to say.

"Why, Aunty Whitney can't go," said Ben, in surprise. "Grandpapa just
said she is going out with him."

"You didn't say anything of the shopping plan, Ben?" ejaculated Mrs.
Fisher, involuntarily, yet she knew she didn't need to ask the question.

"Why, no," said Ben, in amazement; "of course not, Mamsie."

"Of course not, too," said his mother, with a little laugh; "and why I
asked such a stupid question, I'm sure I don't know, Ben."

All this gave Polly time to sop her face quite cool, and she had buried
her red cheeks in the towel to dry them off, when Mother Fisher, having
made Ben acquainted with the joyful news, called, "Come, Polly, it's
time to get on your hat and coat."

"Halloo, Polly, you there?" cried Ben, whirling round, as Polly hurried
into the little room next to get her out-of-door things.

"Yes," called back Polly, on her way, "I'll be ready in a minute, Ben."

"Isn't it no end jolly that we're going, Polly?" he cried, deserting his
mother to hurry over to the doorway where he could stand and see Polly
get ready. His blue eyes shone and his head was held very high. To think
that Polly and he were to be allowed to take the children out shopping
amid all the excitement of Christmas week! It was almost too good to be
true! "Say, Polly, did you ever know anything like it?" He came in and
pressed close to the bureau where Polly was putting on her hat.

"Yes, yes, I know. Ugh!" Polly, with all her eyes on the red-rimmed ones
looking out at her from the mirror, beside what she saw of the poor
swollen nose, jammed on the hat over her face and jumped away from the
bureau.

"You needn't hurry so," said Ben, "'tisn't any matter if we don't start
right away. Besides, I don't suppose Jane has Phronsie ready yet. But
isn't it perfectly splendid that we can go alone, you and I, and, just
think, Polly Pepper, can take the children?" He was quite overcome again
at the idea and leaned against the bureau to think it all out.

"Yes," said Polly, in a muffled voice. But she was in the closet now,
getting into her coat, because if she stayed out in the room Ben would
help her into it, and then he would be sure to see her face! So Ben,
although he thought it funny that Polly, who was generally bubbling over
with joy at the prospect of any pleasant expedition, should be very
quiet and dull in the light of such an extraordinary one, set it down to
the hurry she was in getting ready.

"Oh, Polly, don't hurry so!" he cried, going over to the closet. "Here,
come out here, and let me help you with that."

"Ugh, no, go right away, Ben," cried Polly, wriggling off frantically,
and only succeeding in flopping up one sleeve to knock her hat farther
down over her nose. "O dear me! where _is_ the other armhole?"

"Do come out," cried Ben; "whoever heard of trying to put on a coat in a
closet? Whatever makes you, Polly?"

"And I do wish you'd go away," cried Polly, quite exasperated, and
setting her hat straight, forgetting all about her face.

But instead, Ben, after a good look, took hold of her two shoulders and
marched her out into the room. And before Polly knew it, her other arm
was in its sleeve, and he was trying to button up her coat.

"Oh, Bensie," she mumbled; "I'm so sorry I was cross."

"Never mind," said Ben, giving her a comforting pat. "Well, come on, now
you're ready, Polly."

And Joel and David plunging in tumultuously into Mamsie's room, followed
by Jane ushering in Phronsie all attired for the trip, the whole bunch
gathered around Mother Fisher's chair for final instructions.

"See, Mamsie," piped Phronsie, crowding up closely, to hold up the
little money-bag dangling by its chain from her arm; "my own purse, and
I'm going to buy things."

"Don't, Phron," said Joel, "push so," and he tried to get past her to
stand nearest to Mother Fisher.

"What are you doing yourself," said Ben, "I sh'd like to know, Joel
Pepper?"

"Well, that was my place," said Joel, loudly, and not yielding an inch.

"Joel!" said Mrs. Fisher.

"It was my place," he grumbled. But he hung his head and wouldn't look
up into Mamsie's face.

"It's my very own purse," cried Phronsie, in a joyful little key, "and
I'm going to buy things, I am. See, Mamsie!" She held it up before Mrs.
Fisher, and patted it lovingly, while she crowded in worse than ever.

"Yes, I see," said Mrs. Fisher, smiling down into her face, but there
was no smile for Joel, and looking up he caught her black eyes resting
on him in a way he didn't like.

"You may have it, Phron!" he exclaimed, tumbling back against David
suddenly, who was nearly knocked over by his sudden rebound. "I'd just
as lief you would. Here, get in next to Mamsie."

"And I'm going to buy you something, Mamsie," said Phronsie, standing on
her tiptoes to whisper confidentially into Mother Fisher's ear.

"You are, dear?" Mrs. Fisher leaned over to catch the whisper, but not
before she sent a smile over to Joel that seemed to drop right down into
the farthest corner of his heart. "Now Mother'll like that very much
indeed."

"And you must be s'prised," said Phronsie, bobbing her head in its big,
fur-trimmed bonnet, and fastening a grave look of great importance on
Mrs. Fisher's face.

"Hoh--hoh!" began Joel, who had recovered his composure. Then he
thought, and stopped. And again Mother Fisher smiled at him.

"Now, children, you understand this is the first time you have ever been
out shopping without Mr. King or Mrs. Whitney or me," began Mrs. Fisher,
looking around on them all. "Well, it's quite time that you should make
the trial, for I can trust you all." She lifted her head proudly and her
black eyes shone. "I'm sure you'll all be good."

"Oh, we will, we will, Mamsie," declared all the little Peppers
together. And their heads went up, too, in pride.

"So I am going to let Ben and Polly take you about in the shops. And
whatever they tell you, you are to do. And remember one thing, you are
not to crowd and push."

"We can't see if the big people all get in front," said Joel,
grumblingly.

"Then you must go without seeing," said Mrs. Fisher, decidedly. "At any
rate, you are not to crowd and push. Remember, Joel, and all of you."

"I won't," said Joel, "crowd and push. Now may we go, Mamsie?" and he
began to prance to the door impatiently.

"One thing more. Come back, Joel." Mrs. Fisher waited until the group
was once more quiet around her chair. "And you are none of you to handle
things."

"Not when we are going to buy them?" cried Joel, in an injured tone.
"Oh, Mamsie, I sh'd think we might when we are out shopping. And I've
got such lots of money in my pocket-book." He swung it high, clenched in
his hot little fist.

"Take care or you'll lose it if you show it like that, Joe," said Ben.

"How am I going to lose it?" demanded Joel, squaring around at Ben.

"Somebody'll pick it out of your hand if you don't look out," warned
Ben.

"I guess there won't anybody pick my pocket-book. I'm going to get a
pin," and he raced off to the big mahogany bureau in the corner.

"What for?" asked David, who always followed Joel's movements with
attention; "what are you going to do with a pin, Joel?"

"I'm going to pin up my pocket so no old picker can get my purse,"
declared Joel, with energy, and running back with the biggest pin he
could find on the cushion, the one Mrs. Fisher fastened her shawl with.

"Yes, and likely enough you'll forget all about it and stick your own
hand in," said Ben, "then, says I, what'll you do, Joel?"

"Humph--I won't forget," snorted Joel, puckering up the pocket edge and
jamming the pin through the folds; "there, I guess the pickers will let
my pocket alone. Yes-sir-ee," he cried triumphantly.

"Now you remember you are not to touch things on the counters," Mrs.
Fisher was saying. "I don't want my children to be picking and handling
at such a time. You can look all you want to; but when you see what you
would really like to buy, why, Polly and Ben must ask the saleswoman to
show it to you."

"I've got my money-purse," said Phronsie, exactly as if the fact had not
been announced before; "see, Mamsie," and she held it up with an
important air.

"I see," said Mother Fisher, "it's the one Grandpapa gave you last
birthday, isn't it, Phronsie?"

"Yes," she said, patting it lovingly. "My dear Grandpapa gave it to me,
and it's my very own, and I'm going to buy things, I am."

"So you shall," said Mrs. Fisher, approvingly. All the while Joel was
screaming, "Come on, Phron, we'll be late," as he pranced out into the
hall and down the stairs.

"Oh, Mamsie," Polly flung her arms around Mrs. Fisher's neck, "I wish
you were going too."

"Well, Mother can't go," said Mrs. Fisher, patting Polly's shoulder;
"and take care, Phronsie will hear you."

"And I want to kiss my Mamsie good-by, too," said Phronsie, clambering
up into Mrs. Fisher's lap, as well as she could for the fur-trimmed
coat. So Mother Fisher took her up, and Phronsie cooed and hummed her
satisfaction, and was kissed and set down again. And then David had to
say good-by too, and Ben as well; and then Polly made up her mind she
would have the last kiss, so it was some minutes before the four
children got out of Mamsie's room and ran down the stairs. And there
they found Joel hanging on to the newel post and howling: "You've been
an awful long time. Come on!"

"We wanted to bid Mamsie good-by," said Polly, twitching Phronsie's coat
straight. "Well, we're all ready now; come on, children."

Joel had thrown the big front door open with a flourish and was rushing
out. When Polly said that about Mamsie, he stopped suddenly, then
plunged back, nearly upsetting Phronsie, and ran over the steps as fast
as he could. "Oh, Mamsie," he cried, flying up to her. Mrs. Fisher had
gotten out of her chair, and was now over by the window to see her
little brood go off so happy and important. "Why, Joel!" she exclaimed,
"what's the matter?" as he precipitated himself into her arms.

"I want to kiss you good-by, too," howled Joel, burrowing within them;
"good-by, Mamsie!"

"So you shall, Mother's boy," said Mrs. Fisher, cuddling him. "Well now,
Joel, you remember all I said."

"I'll remember," said Joel, lifting a radiant face; "I'll be good all
the time."

"Yes, you must, else Mother'll feel badly. Well, good-by."

Joel's good-by floated back as he raced down the stairs and overtook the
group waiting for him out on the big stone steps.

"Who's keeping us waiting now, I wonder?" said Ben, as he came up
panting.

"Well, I guess I'm going to bid my Mamsie good-by, too," said Joel,
importantly. "Come on, Dave, let's race to the big gate!"




II

BEN'S PLAN


When Phronsie saw the two boys racing away, she wanted to run too, and
started to patter off after them.

"No, no, Phronsie," said Polly, calling her back. "She'll get all tired
out to begin with," she said to Ben, "then what should we do?"

"Oh, I want to race to the big gate with Joel and David," said Phronsie,
coming back slowly. "Can't I, Polly? Do let me," she begged.

"No," said Polly, decidedly, "you'll get all tired out, Phronsie."

"I won't be tired," said Phronsie, drawing herself up very straight; "I
won't be, Polly."

"You will be if you run and race to begin with," declared Polly, very
much wishing she could join the boys herself. But she was holding
Phronsie's hand by this time, and it never would do to leave her. "So we
must walk till we reach the car."

Phronsie heaved a sigh, but she kept tight hold of Polly's hand, and
walked obediently on.

"You see," said Polly, who never could bear to hear Phronsie sigh,
"we're going shopping, Phronsie, and there's a good deal of walking we
have before us, and--"

"And I have my money-bag," cried Phronsie, breaking in jubilantly, and
not waiting for Polly to finish, and lifting it high as it dangled from
her arm. "See, Polly, and dear Grandpapa gave it to me, he did."

"I know, pet," said Polly; "take care, now, or you'll tumble on your
nose."

"And I'm going to buy my dear Grandpapa something," declared Phronsie,
with a bob of her fur-trimmed bonnet; "I am, Polly."

"So you shall," cried Polly, radiantly; "now that'll be fine."

"Polly," said Ben, on her other side, "I've been thinking of something
that perhaps it would be good to do."

"Oh, Ben, what is it?" she cried, all in a twitter to know, for Ben's
plans, if sometimes slow, were always so good to follow.

"Why, let's us all put our money together instead of buying little
things for Grandpapa, for of course we are all going to give him
something, and buy one good present." It was a long speech for Ben, and
he was quite glad when it was all out.

"Let's," said Polly, quite enchanted. "Oh, Ben, you do think of just the
right things."

"No," said Ben, "I don't think up such nice things as you do, Polly,"
and he looked at her admiringly; "I can't."

"Well, your things are always best in the end, anyway," said Polly,
unwilling to take so much praise, and preferring that Ben should have
it.

"O dear me!" Joel, with David at his heels, came tumbling up. "You are
so slow, just like snails," he grumbled.

"Just like snails," echoed Phronsie, with very pink cheeks, stepping
very high, all her attention on the money-bag dangling from her wrist.

"Well, we can't go any faster, Joe," said Ben, "so you must make up your
mind to be satisfied."

"Well, I'm not satisfied," declared Joel, in a dudgeon.

"So it seems," said Ben, with a little laugh.

"And it isn't the way, when people are going shopping, to run through
the street," said Polly, "so when you get outside the gateway, you've
got to walk, Joel. It isn't elegant to race along."

When Polly said "elegant" with such an air, the children always felt
very much impressed, and little David now hung his head quite ashamed.

"I'm sorry I ran, Polly," he said.

"Oh, it's no matter in here," said Polly, "but when we get outside, then
you must walk in a nice way. Mamsie'd want you to. Oh, now, Ben, go on
with your plan and tell the rest."

"Oh, now you've been talking up things, you and Ben; you're always doing
that, Polly Pepper," cried Joel, loudly. And he tried to crowd in
between Polly and Phronsie.

"See here, you get back!" cried Ben, seizing his jacket collar; "you're
not to crowd so, Joe."

"Well, you and Polly are always talking secrets," said Joel, but he fell
back with Ben nevertheless, "and keeping them from Dave and me."

"Then you should have stayed with us," said Ben, calmly.

"We didn't know you were going to talk secrets," grumbled Joel.

"Oh, we've only just begun," said Polly, brightly, looking over past
Phronsie, "so you'll hear it all, Joey; and Davie, too," she added,
looking off to little David on the farther end of the line.

"I'm not going to stir a step away ever again," declared Joel, squirming
up as close to Ben as he possibly could, "then you can't talk things
without I hear them."

"You've got to give me a little more of the walk, Joe," said Ben,
striding on and thrusting out his elbow on Joel's side, "else you'll go
behind."

"O dear! I want to hear what you're going to say," whined Joel. But he
gave way, moving up against David, who was the last in the row. "Well,
do begin," he begged.

"Yes, do tell them, Ben," said Polly.

"Well, you see," said Ben, as they turned out of the big stone gateway,
"we are all to give Grandpapa a present, each one, I mean."

"I am," shouted Joel, jumping up and down, "Whoopity la, whickets, I
am!"

"Oh, Joel Pepper!" exclaimed Polly, looking down the row at him.
Whenever Polly said "Joel Pepper," everybody felt that the case was very
serious. So Joel hung his head and looked quite sheepish.

"Mamsie would be so sorry to hear you say that," went on Polly.

"Well, he isn't going to say it again," said Ben, "I don't believe."

"No, I'm not," declared Joel, his black head going up again, "never
again, Polly."

"That's right," and she smiled approvingly. "Oh, now, do go on again,
Ben," she said, "with your plan."

"Yes, we're all going to give Grandpapa presents," cried Joel, before
Ben had time to put in a word. "I am, and I won't tell what I'm going to
buy, either. You can't make me, Dave." He slapped the pocket containing
his purse, but encountering the big pin, drew off his fingers. "Ow!"

"There, who's hurt now?" cried Ben, with a laugh as he looked down at
the rueful face.

"Pooh--it didn't hurt any," said Joel, pulling off his glove to suck the
drop of blood that came up to meet him.

David, who never could bear to see Joel hurt, pressed up to see the
extent of his injury, and turned pale. Perhaps it went clear through his
finger, for it was Mamsie's big shawl-pin!

"Oh, don't, Joel," cried Polly, with a grimace; "take your handkerchief,
do!"

"No, I'm not going to," said Joel, squirming away, and repeating the
process as another little drop appeared; "I can spit it out, and my
handkerchief'll stay bad."

"Joel," said Polly, sternly, "you must not do that. Do you hear me?"

"Well, that's the last drop, anyway," declared Joel, "so I haven't got
to do anything."

"Let me see," said Polly, feeling quite motherly with all her brood to
look after. So the whole row stopped and Joel leaned over and thrust out
his finger for Polly to examine it.

"Yes, that's all right," she said with a sigh of relief. "Well, now, we
must hurry, for we have so much to do. And, Ben, do go on."

"Well, you see Grandpapa has so many things that it'll be hard to pick
out five that he'd like," said Ben, "so I thought--"

"He'll like mine," interrupted Joel.

"Hold on, Joe, and wait till I get through," commanded Ben, turning on
him.

"And if you interrupt again, you must walk behind, Joel," said Polly,
severely.

"I don't want to walk behind," said Joel, ducking as he caught her
glance.

"Well, then, you mustn't interrupt Ben again," declared Polly, in her
most decided fashion.

"Oh, I won't, I won't!" he promised, much alarmed as he saw her face.

"See that you don't, then," said Ben. "Well, so it seems as if perhaps
it would be a good plan to all put our money together and get Grandpapa
one good thing."

"I think it would be a perfectly elegant plan," declared Polly,
radiantly.

Joel stood stock-still twitching the end of Ben's coat, so that he was
pulled up short. "I'm not going to put any money in," he cried in a loud
tone.

"Hey? Oh, then, you don't like the plan, Joe?" said Ben, getting his
coat free and whirling around on him.

"I'm not going to put any money in," repeated Joel, in the same high
key.

"Well, then, you needn't," said Ben, nowise disturbed.

"Oh, Ben, then we can't any of us do it," said Polly, quite dismayed,
"and it would have been so perfectly splendid." She stopped short, and
Phronsie, looking up in surprise, pulled her hand gently. "Oh, Polly,"
she exclaimed, "are you sick?"

"Oh, the rest of us will do it," said Ben, coolly, "and Joel can stay
outside."

"Oh, I'm not going to stay outside," howled Joel, throwing his arms
around Ben and clinging to him in his distress. "I'm not. I'm not, Ben,
don't make me."

"I don't make you," said Ben, getting himself free from Joel's frantic
little hands; "if you don't want to join us, why, you'll just have to
stay by yourself."

"I'm not going to stay by myself," cried Joel, in the greatest distress,
"need I, Polly?" and he flew over to her. "I don't want to stay by
myself, I don't."

But Ben answered instead of Polly.

"Hush now, Joel, we're to walk along quietly, else you'll have to go
home. And we'll vote now, and all who don't want to get Grandpapa one
big, nice present, can just stay out of the plan. Polly and I are going
together in it, anyway."

Which was just the same as saying the plan would be carried out. If
Polly and Ben were to join in it, all the remainder of the "Five Little
Peppers" would consider it the greatest calamity to be left out, so Joel
pushed as near to Ben as he could get as the whole group drew off to the
curbstone to vote on the question.

"I'm in it,--I'm in it," screamed Joel, making more than one passer-by
turn the head to look back at the busy little group. "Come on, Dave,"
twitching that individual's jacket to get him into the centre of things.
"He's in it, too, Ben," he added, anxious to have that settled beyond a
doubt. "David is."

"Everybody is looking at us," said Polly, whose greatest pride was to
have the children appear well, and she looked quite mortified. "O dear
me!" and this was only the beginning of the Christmas shopping!

"Now you must just understand, Joe," Ben laid hold of him; "we aren't
going to have such carryings on. Look at Polly, how you're making her
feel."

All the children now regarded Polly anxiously, Phronsie standing on
tiptoe to achieve the best result. "Oh, I won't make her feel," cried
Joel, much alarmed, "I won't. Please don't, Polly; I'll be good," he
promised. His face worked, and he had hard work not to burst out crying.

"All right, Joey," said Polly, trying to smile, and the little pucker
between her eyebrows straightened itself out at once. And she leaned
over and set a kiss on the chubby cheek.

"You kissed me on the street!" said Joel, quite astounded. "Why, Polly
Pepper, and you said the other--"

"Never mind," broke in Ben, hastily.

"And I couldn't help it," said Polly, happily, yet with a backward
glance to see if any one saw it, for Polly deeply loved to be fine on
all occasions.

"And if we are going shopping for Christmas presents," said Ben, "we
must hurry up. Hush, Joe, don't say a word. Now how many want to put in
their money to buy one big, nice present for Grandpapa instead of little
bits of ones? Put up your hands."

Joel's hand shot up as high as he could raise it, while he stood on
tiptoe, and of course Polly's went up, and so did David's. But Phronsie
stood looking down at her money-bag dangling from her arm, while she
patted it lovingly and crooned softly to herself.

"She doesn't understand," said Polly, so she got down until she could
look into the face within the fur-trimmed bonnet. "Look up, pet; now
don't you want to buy Grandpapa a big, big present with all of us?"

"I'm going to buy my dear Grandpapa a present," cried Phronsie, in a
happy little voice, and, taking her gaze from the money-bag, "I am,
Polly," she declared, dreadfully excited. Then she put her mouth close
to Polly's rosy cheek; "I'm going to buy him a cat," she whispered.

"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly, nearly tumbling over backward.

"Yes, I am," said Phronsie, decidedly, "a dear sweet little cat, and
Grandpapa will like it, he will."

"Well, now," said Polly, recovering herself, "don't you want to put the
rest of your money you were going to spend for Grandpapa's present into
something big? We're all going to do that, Phronsie, and give him a nice
Christmas present."

"My present will be nice," said Phronsie, gravely.

"Yes, yes, I know," said Polly, quickly, and giving the boys a look that
told them to keep away from this conference; "but don't you want to help
to buy this big present, too? I would, Phronsie pet, if I were you!"

"I shall give him the cat," said Phronsie, decidedly and bobbing her
head.

"Yes, of course. But you can help to buy the other, too," said Polly.

"I'll help to buy the other," hummed Phronsie. Then she hopped away from
Polly and made a little cheese right on the sidewalk. The fur-trimmed
coat flew out as well as it could, and the money-bag also.

"Oh, Phronsie!" exclaimed Polly, in dismay, getting her up as quickly as
possible.

"I'm going to buy a cat and a big thing, too, for my dear Grandpapa,"
announced Phronsie to all the bunch, as Polly got her straight and
smoothed down her coat and settled her bonnet.

All this proceeding took so much time that Ben now hurried them off, and
they walked briskly along till presently they turned into the main
street where the most of the holiday shoppers were out in full force.
And as Joel wanted to stop at each window that presented a smart
display, and that was furnished at nearly every step of the way, they
didn't make so very much progress after all.

"We shan't get anywhere at this rate," said Ben, at last, in despair,
and, hauling Joel away from a fascinating window against which he had
set his chubby face, quite lost to the delightful show within, he struck
off at a smart pace, threading his way quickly in and out of the crowd
of shoppers, so that Polly and Phronsie, clinging to her hand, had great
difficulty to keep track of him at all. David was pattering along in
front as close to Ben as he could get.

At last they stopped before a big toy-shop, and Ben drew breath.

"O dear me!" cried Polly, hurrying up. Phronsie's bonnet was pushed awry
where an excited shopper had knocked a big bundle against it, so she
couldn't see anything till Polly had set it straight.

All this took a little time; meanwhile the bunch of shoppers was
stopping the crowd.

"Get out of the way," roared an expressman at them. He was so crowded up
with bundles that only his head was to be seen above the pile; there was
another heap on the pavement and a man loading up, as fast as he could,
the already well-filled wagon, and he gave Joel a punch with something,
not his hand, for that was full.

"Stop that!" Joel squared up at him and doubled up his little fist.

"Joe, Joe!" cried Ben, suddenly.

"That man pushed me with an old bundle," said Joel, his eyes flashing.

"Well, come on," said Ben, picking his sleeve. Polly, busy with
Phronsie, had heard nothing of it.

"O dear, dear!" David was wailing.

"And I'll give you something more'n a push if you don't get out of the
way," declared the expressman, trying to look over his shoulder as he
edged his way to the wagon, "you saucy cub, you!"

"And he's calling me names," cried Joel, wildly; "let me go back and
make him stop," and he shook his small fists in the air. "He's a bad old
man and he hasn't any right. Let me go, Ben."

But Ben by this time had Joel well within the shop, and, the others
following, they were soon lost in the important business of choosing
Christmas presents.

"Let Phronsie buy hers first," said Polly. And the others, even Joel,
saying, "Yes, let Phronsie buy hers first," they edged their way along,
Phronsie proclaiming in a high key, as they threaded their course down a
long aisle, that she was going to buy Grandpapa a cat, so that everybody
turned and smiled, until at last they found a saleswoman, who seemed to
be willing and able to wait on them.

"So you want a cat?" she said to Phronsie, who could just manage to see
over the counter by standing on her tiptoes.

"Yes," said Phronsie, "I do, a really and truly cat for my dear
Grandpapa."

"Oh, we haven't any real cats," said the woman, turning back from the
shelf she was looking over with a pair of sharp eyes. "We don't keep
live cats in a shop. Nobody does," she added.

"She means that it must have fur on," explained Polly, while the younger
boys never took their eyes from the transaction. This was quite one of
the most important events of the afternoon for Phronsie to choose her
own present. Just at this juncture a stout old lady, with a stiff black
silk coat that made her bigger than ever, as it had a trick of flying
open, and the sides blowing off seemed ready to engulf all unfortunate
passers-by, swept past Phronsie, and she disappeared from view for a
moment.

"Stop that!" roared Joel, looking up into the soft white puffs above the
woman's nose; "you 'most knocked my sister over."

The stately old woman looked down into the chubby face. "You impertinent
boy!" she exclaimed, then set her profile disdainfully in the opposite
direction and sailed on.

"Oh, Ben!" cried Polly, in consternation, all the color gone out of her
face; "what shall we do?"

"Here, pet," and Ben swung Phronsie up to his shoulder. "Now, that's the
best place for you in such a crowd."

"I want a truly cat," Phronsie kept saying from her perch, and, swinging
her feet delightedly, she grasped Ben's neck so tightly it seemed as if
he could hardly breathe; and his face got very red.

"I tell you we haven't got any live cats," declared the saleswoman,
impatiently, and slamming the glass door beneath. "Here's a china one,"
and she set it on the counter.

"Oh, no!" Phronsie shook her head. Polly meanwhile had been looking
after the stately old woman, and clasping and unclasping her hands
nervously. It wouldn't take but a minute to go after her, for the big
figure had paused in front of the doll counter, and say how sorry she
was, for he was her brother, and would she please to excuse it? And
without stopping to think, Polly dashed off through the crowd, no one of
the little bunch of Peppers seeing her go, as they were lost in the
transaction that was to get Phronsie her cat.

She plunged up suddenly to the side of the stiff black silk coat, now
wedged in against the overcrowded counter, its owner by no means in the
best temper at her failure to attract any saleswoman to wait on her.

"Oh, ma'am," Polly looked up into the impatient face, and everything she
had intended to say flew right out of her mind, for the white puffs
seemed to stand right out like mountains, and the Roman nose was so very
dreadful. "My brother," was all she could manage to say.

"Hey?" The stately old woman laid down a doll and glared at her. "My
brother," began Polly, wishing that she was back with the others. If
only she could catch a glimpse of Ben, but the intervening crowd surged
in waves between her and the spot where she had left them, so that they
were swallowed up. Meantime there was that dreadful old woman, with her
cold, sharp eyes just like gimlets boring her through and through, and
waiting for her to finish what she had to say.

"My brother," began Polly, faintly, and her head dropped, "said
something naughty to you."

"Well?" said the old lady, and she turned her back on the doll counter
as far as she was able for being wedged in so, and this time Polly felt
that she must make herself understood. Besides, the people on either
side were beginning to be interested, and were nudging each other not to
miss this funny thing.

So she began quite decidedly, determined to be brave and say it all
through. "My brother--" But the stately old lady broke in, "I don't know
anything about your brother, nor you, girl, and if you speak to me
again, I shall call the proprietor," and she shook with indignation till
all the jingling jet things, and there seemed to be a great many under
her silk coat, made a great commotion.

"I came to ask you to forgive my brother who spoke to you because you
brushed against my little sister." Polly was speaking so fast now, a
little red spot on either cheek, that the stately old woman had to hear.
"It was naughty of him, and Mamsie would be sorry."

"Naughty?" The old lady gasped for breath; it was such a new idea to ask
her to forgive a saucy boy; still, she couldn't make any other reply
than "It was scandalous, and you are nearly as bad, interrupting me in
the midst of my Christmas shopping." Then she turned to the dolls again,
leaving Polly to stumble back as best she might to the place where she
had left Ben and the children. But they were not there.




III

HAPS AND MISHAPS


"I want Polly," Phronsie was saying, wholly lost now to the fact that
the "really truly cat" for Grandpapa had not been found. "Bensie, I do!"

"Yes, Phronsie," Ben made out to say, holding her hand fast; "we'll see
her pretty soon."

"She's lost!" cried Joel, wildly, who up to this time had been so
diverted by the bewildering array of tin soldiers, drums, and express
wagons displayed on all sides as they threaded their way in among the
crowds that surrounded the counters and shelves, that he hadn't given
his mind to anything else. "She's lost, Polly is!" he ended with a howl.

At this direful announcement Phronsie gave one cry, then she sat right
down on the floor and lifted up her voice, "I want Polly!"

It was impossible to quiet her, and everybody in the immediate vicinity
turned and stared. A small girl, trying to decide between a woolly dog
and a pig, both of whose charms had held her for the past ten minutes,
laid them down on the counter and ran over to the place where the cry
came from. When she saw the little group she pushed in between them. "O
dear me!" she cried to Phronsie, sitting there in a small heap and
sobbing pitifully, "how'd she get hurt?"

Little David made way for her instantly, but Joel, who had stopped his
wails in surprise at her appearance, stood his ground. "Go away," he
said, his black eyes shining through his tears.

The small girl paid no attention to him. "How'd she get hurt?" she kept
on asking.

"She isn't hurt," said Ben, not looking up as he knelt on the floor and
wiped Phronsie's streaming tears with his handkerchief. "There, there,
Phronsie, stop crying."

"O dear me!" exclaimed the girl; "what a little goose to cry!" and she
laughed derisively.

"She isn't a goose," cried Joel, in a loud, injured tone; "my sister
isn't a goose; so now you just take that back, you girl, you!"

"Joel," commanded Ben, sternly, "stop this moment," just as a
floor-walker stalked up. "You're blocking the way," he said with a great
deal of official manner, "and you must just take yourselves off out of
this aisle."

Little David, who up to this time, clasping and unclasping his hands
nervously, had said nothing, now looked up into the cross face. "We've
lost Polly," he exclaimed.

The floor-walker, not understanding, repeated to Ben, "You've just got
to get out of this aisle."

But the small girl had heard. "O dear me!" she exclaimed again; "now
that's perfectly dreadful," and she sat right down by Phronsie's side.
"I'll go and find her for you," she said, putting her hands on
Phronsie's two small ones, doubled up in the folds of the fur-trimmed
coat. "And I'm sorry I called you a goose. Don't cry, I'll bring her
back."

Phronsie, astonished out of her grief, and hearing the welcome words,
"I'll bring her back," looked up radiantly, the tears trailing off down
the round cheeks, while Joel, whose face had become a lively red,
blurted out, "And I'm sorry I was bad to you," staring at the girl.

"Oh, I didn't mind you," said the girl, carelessly. "Now, who is Polly?"
She looked at Ben as she spoke. Meanwhile, she was helping Phronsie to
her feet. "Here she is now, I guess." She gave a sharp, birdlike glance
between the crowd, then started off like a flash, winding herself in and
out of the throng, and up to a girl a little bigger than herself. "Are
you Polly?" she demanded breathlessly.

Polly, rushing along, searching one side and the other frantically for a
glimpse of Ben's blue cap and sturdy shoulders (she hadn't much hope of
seeing the children, for the crowd was very thick just here), hurried
on, scarcely hearing the words.

"Because if you are, she wants you, the little girl does. And I guess
they all do," said the girl, rushing after.

"Where are they?" cried Polly, turning on her, "please be quick and tell
me."

"Come on, I'll take you." The girl made her way through the crowd,
edging along, and Polly, with the color coming back to her cheeks that
had gone quite white, followed as nimbly as she could, till, "Here she
is; here's Polly!" She heard Joel's voice. And in a minute Polly was in
their midst, her arms around Phronsie, and cuddling her to her heart's
content.

And after this episode they all settled down to the business of shopping
at once; all except Ben, who looked here and there for the small girl
who had found Polly. She had slipped away in the crowd.

"And we didn't even thank her," said Ben, sorrowfully.

"Well, we must go to some other store and get Phronsie's cat," said
Polly, "as long as we can't find her," with a sigh, so they all followed
Ben as he made a way for them through the crowd, Phronsie clinging to
Polly's hand as if she never meant to let her go again. All at once Ben
darted aside, then turned back to Polly. "There she is," he pointed over
to the counter where the small girl had her pig and woolly dog once
more, taking each up affectionately, then laying it down.

"Well, you can't do that all day," observed the saleswoman, crossly.
"Take one, or leave it, or I'll put 'em both up again."

"He'd like 'em both," said the small girl, "my brother would, an' I
don't know which."

The saleswoman snatched up the pig and reached out an impatient hand for
the woolly dog.

"Oh, Polly, just hear that!" whispered Ben; "she wants them for her
brother, and she was so good to us."

"I know it," said Polly. "O dear me, I wish she could get them both."

Ben fumbled in his pocket and brought out his brown leather pocket-book.
"You give it to her," he said, putting a silver half-dollar into Polly's
hand.

"Oh, whick--!" began Joel, with his big eyes at the half-dollar.

"Don't say anything, Joel," said Ben, hurriedly, and dragging him off;
"here, just look at that steam-engine, will you?"

Polly shut her fingers over the half-dollar, and still holding
Phronsie's hand, she leaned over the small shoulder, which now she saw
was thin, and touched the rusty black coat sleeve. "That's for the
woolly dog," she said softly, so nobody heard, and slipping the
half-dollar into the red hand without any glove on.

"Oh, my!" cried the girl, staring first at her hand with the silver
half-dollar shining up at her from the middle of it, and then into
Polly's face, "what's that for?"

"You were so good to us," said Polly, simply, and before the girl could
say a word, she had slipped back to Ben, and this time they were soon
lost in the crowd down the aisle, on their way to another shop.

"You've given away a whole half-dollar," gasped Joel, staring up into
Ben's face.

"Hush!" said Ben, hauling him on, as Polly flew back; "well, now, then,
we must hurry, else we never will get through."

"Yes, we must get Phronsie's cat," said Polly, with a happy little
thrill. "Oh, Ben, just think," she whispered, for Ben never could bear
to be thanked, "she's bought that woolly dog by this time, I 'most
know."

"Do hush!" begged Ben.

"Oh, now, I know you are whispering secrets," declared Joel, trying to
crowd in between them.

"No, we are not," said Polly, "really and truly we are not; are we,
Ben?"

"Then what are you whispering for?" demanded Joel, before Ben could
answer, as they all hurried out, Phronsie announcing gleefully that she
was going to buy Grandpapa's cat, and pulling Ben along, whose hand she
held, so that there was no time to peer into the shop windows.

Polly and the boys brought up the rear of the little procession. And
there, sure enough, up on the top shelf of the animal department of the
next toy-shop, was a little yellow cat with very green eyes, and a pink
ribbon around her neck, looking down on the "Five Little Peppers" as if
she had expected them all the while, as they hurried up to anxiously
scan the assortment. And oh, she had really-and-truly fur on! When she
saw that, Phronsie screamed right out: "She's there. Oh, I want her!"
and stretched out her arms, the money-bag dangling merrily, as if its
services would be wanted presently. "Oh, Polly, I want her, I do!"

And before any one would believe it, it was all done so quickly, the
little yellow cat was taken down and paid for, and Phronsie had it in
her hand, and was stroking its back lovingly, and telling it about dear
Grandpapa, and that it was going to him on Christmas Day, and ever so
much more.

"Ain't you going to have it wrapped up?" asked the saleswoman. "Here,
give it to me, and the boy'll put a paper on it for you."

"Oh, no, no," said Phronsie, edging away in alarm, and cuddling the
little yellow cat up in her neck, "she doesn't want to be wrapped up.
Don't, Bensie," as he tried to take it out of her arms.

"All right," said Ben, with a laugh.

"Oh, Ben, she can't carry it all the afternoon in that way," said Polly,
disapprovingly.

"It won't do any harm if she does," said Ben, with a glance at her, "and
I don't believe, Polly, she'll put that cat down till we get home," he
added.

So out they went, Joel and David having to be dragged away from the
alluring toys of every description on all sides, fairly clamoring to be
purchased.

"Oh, I want that steam-engine," howled Joel. "See, Dave, see!"

"I'd rather have the express-wagon," said David, who hadn't been able to
take his eyes from it, the second he spied it.

"Huh, old wagon!" Joel exclaimed in contempt; "a steam-engine'll go,
like this!" He shot out his arm, regardless where it went.

"Take care!" a voice sang out, but it was too late. Over went a pile of
toys, just purchased, from the arms of a cash-girl on its way to be
wrapped up. Smash went something--a big doll with pink cheeks and very
blue eyes; and, with an awful feeling at his heart, Joel, with everybody
else who saw the accident, bent over the heap of little pieces on the
floor--all that remained of the pretty face.

"You broke it!" declared the cash-girl, aghast at the mischief, and her
teeth fairly chattering with fright, as she whirled around to Joel.

"I didn't mean--" he began stoutly; David looked wildly around for Ben
and Polly. They were ahead with Phronsie, so he ran after them on
unsteady feet.

"I didn't mean--" Joel was saying again, as they hurried up in great
distress.

"Oh, Ben, don't let Phronsie see!" cried Polly, as soon as she caught
sight of the broken doll, for Phronsie never could bear to think of one
being hurt, and she tried to draw her away. Too late! Phronsie rushed
into the very middle of the group, just as the floor-walker was
protesting, "Of course you didn't do it," to Joel, for it never would do
to charge the trouble to rich Mr. King's household. He knew all the
children well, as they had been many times at the shop with the old
gentleman, who was one of its best customers.

"Oh, let me take her," begged Phronsie, eagerly. "Polly, can't I? Oh,
please give her to me!"

"And it was all your own carelessness," went on the floor-walker,
sternly, fastening his gaze on the cash-girl and quite delighted to
blame somebody. "And I shall report you to the office. Now go ahead with
those other things, and then come here and pick up these pieces, and
take the doll back." With that he turned off from everybody who had
stopped to look at the accident, and marched off with his best manner
on, and his head well in the air.

"O dear me!" the cash-girl took two or three steps off toward the
wrapping counter, and began to cry all over the rest of the purchases
piled in her arms, as she staggered on.

Meantime Phronsie had sat right down on the floor, and was cuddling up
the doll without any face, against the little yellow cat.

Joel stumbled off after the girl. "Don't cry," and he twitched her arm.

"You be still, and go right away," cried the girl, turning on him as
well as she could for the pile of bundles, and she stamped her foot in
rage; "you've made me smash that doll, and they'll take it out of my
pay, and now I can't get my mother any Christmas present at all." The
tears were rolling down her cheeks, and her face worked dreadfully.

"They shan't!" declared Joel, his black eyes flashing.

"An' now you'll make me smash these, I s'pose," said the cash-girl. "You
go right away, you bad boy, you. Boo-hoo-hoo!"

"I'll tell 'em I did it," said Joel, bounding off to overtake the
floor-walker. "Say, oh, do stop!" for he had almost reached the office
door. "Mister, _please_," and he seized the end of the departing coat,
Polly and Ben both calling, astonished as they saw him fly past, to
stop.

"Hey? Oh, is that you?" The floor-walker smoothed out his face when he
saw who it was.

"Yes," said Joel, "it is, and you mustn't make that girl pay for that
doll."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," said the floor-walker, easily, with a
smile, "she's a careless thing and I must make an example of her, or
she'll break something else. It's all right, my boy," and he put his
hand, where the big diamond ring shone up from the little finger,
familiarly on the sturdy shoulder.

"It isn't all right," declared Joel, hotly, "and she didn't do it. I
knocked her with my arm and that old doll fell off;" he swallowed hard.
What an awful hole that would make in his pocket-book! Perhaps he
wouldn't be able to buy only half as many things for his Christmas
presents as he had scrawled on the list within it, and the blood surged
all over his round cheeks to his stubby black hair. "How much did it
cost?" he asked faintly.

"Oh, you won't have to pay for it," said the floor-walker, smiling
pleasantly, till he showed his white teeth. "Mr. Persons wouldn't ever
charge you a cent for it."

"Thank you!" bobbed Joel, in intense relief, "that's awfully good!" and
he laughed, too, and gleefully slapped his pocket till, encountering the
big pin again, he thought better of that, and said once more, "Thank
you, mister," in the exuberance of his delight, and was moving off.

"Oh, no, indeed," repeated the floor-walker, decidedly, "he wouldn't
ever think of it; the girl's got to pay," and he turned off, too.

"Hey!" cried Joel, whirling around. Then he ran back to the tall man's
side. "Has that girl got to pay?" he demanded, his black eyes flashing
and his eyes working dreadfully; "say, tell me, has she?"

"Why, of course," said the man, "don't you worry, he won't touch a cent
of your money; and you keep still, I shan't tell him, so he won't know,
anyway."

"Well, I shall tell him myself," said Joel, in a burst, and dashing up
to the first door he saw, he opened it and plunged in before the
floor-walker could stop him.

So Ben and Polly, staring in the direction he had run, of course lost
track of him and had nothing to do but to wait there till he came back.

Joel pranced up to the first desk he saw, of which the room appeared to
be full, and found himself by the side of a young man, with a very large
head of tow-colored hair, who was doing his best to find the bottom of a
long column of figures. As he paid no attention to Joel's sudden
appearance, the floor-walker had time to add himself to their company.
At this the young man deserted his figures, thrust his pencil in the
thicket of tow hair, and said, "Hey, that you, McKenzie?"

But Mr. McKenzie paid small heed. "Here, you don't want to come in
here," he said to Joel, "I'll fix that up for you." But Joel, not caring
to wait for attentions that didn't appear to be forthcoming, dashed off
to the next door. "Where's the big man?" he demanded.

"Hey?" The busy worker raised his head in astonishment to stare into the
chubby face thrust into his own.

"The big man, the one who's ahead of you all?" said Joel, impatiently,
waving his arms around comprehensively to take in the whole counting
room.

"Oh, Mr. Persons, I guess he means," contributed the man at the
neighboring desk. By this time everybody in the department had become
interested, and pens were laid down and heads were bobbed up.

"Yes, yes," cried Joel, quite delighted to recognize the name that in
his excitement had slipped away. "Where is he?" drumming on the desk
impatiently.

"In there, kid," the bookkeeper stuck his penholder over his shoulder,
and following its lead, Joel was soon within a little office, that, if
he had taken time to notice, would have showed him "Private" in big
letters across the door.

But Joel hadn't time to waste on anything but the matter in hand, and he
plunged up to the desk and burst out: "It was my fault, and I want to
pay for it. Don't let him make the little girl pay, please don't." He
laid hold of the gray-haired man's arm at this last, and held on with a
grip, for Mr. McKenzie hurried up.

Mr. Persons dropped his pen in astonishment. His mouth flew open, but he
said not a word.

"I'll explain it, sir," began the floor-walker, with deference, but he
had a withering look for Joel. "You see, one of the--"

"Oh, don't let him tell it," burst in Joel, in terror, and gripping the
arm on the desk worse than ever; "he wants that poor little girl to
pay." He brought his black eyes so close to the gray-bearded face that
the countenance holding them obscured everything else.

"I'll tell you how it is, sir," said McKenzie, hastily.

"On the contrary, I'll let the boy tell his story," said Mr. Persons,
dryly. "Now, then, what is it, my lad?" and he brought his eyes, just as
sharp in their way, although the palest of blue ones, to bear on Joel's
face.

So Joel, perfectly happy now that he had the telling of the story in his
own way, began with great satisfaction, and never stopped to draw breath
until he turned to pull out his pocket-book. Then he tugged at Mamsie's
big shawl-pin till he grew quite red in the face. At last it was out,
and so was the money. "How much is it?" he cried.

"Oh, you want to pay for it?" asked Mr. Persons, with a keen look into
his flushed face.

"Yes, sir," Joel bobbed his black head. "How much is it?" he demanded
again, this time impatiently. Since it was all settled, he began wildly
to think of Ben and Polly and the others.

"Mr. Persons," this time the floor-walker got back of the big office
chair, and whispered the information as to who the boy was, without
Joel's hearing a word.

Mr. Persons nodded. "Well," he said to Joel, his face not moving a
muscle, "you may give me a dollar, my lad, and we'll consider that
everything is all squared up in regard to the injury to that doll."

So Joel counted out a dollar from his hoarded silver pieces and put them
into Mr. Persons's hand, the floor-walker staring in amazement at his
employer. Then he fastened up his pocket again, sticking Mamsie's big
shawl-pin in tighter than ever.

"All right, thank you, sir," and he marched out through the rows of men
at their desks in the big counting room, all curiously staring at him as
he passed.

Outside he found Ben and Polly making anxious inquiries of every one;
David following closely, beyond saying a word, and Phronsie, who didn't
know that he was lost, only that the poor sick doll had to be left to
get a new head on.

"What _have_ you been about, Joe?" cried Ben, for even David was not
quite clear how it all had happened.

"Oh, something--" said Joel, carelessly craning his neck to look about
on all sides. "Oh, whickets! There she is." And he was gone again, this
time in chase of a small cash-girl.

When everything was finally all explained, and the cash-girl had stepped
off with a radiant face, Ben drew his charges off into a quiet corner,
and said quite decidedly, "See here, now, we'll buy Grandpapa's present
first, and make sure of it."

"Yes, do," said Polly, "for we never will get through in all this world.
Well, what shall we choose, Ben?"

"What do you choose?" asked Ben, looking only at her.

"Oh, I know, I know," said Joel, eagerly.

"Hush, Joe, let Polly say."

"I don't know," said Polly.

"Polly doesn't know," broke in Joel, "let me tell; I know something
splendid, Ben."

"You be still, Joe," said Ben, "and let Polly think."

"Why, I thought perhaps he'd like books," said Polly, slowly, wrinkling
up her brows in little puckers.

"Hoh!" exclaimed Joel, in great disgust, "books aren't any good. I
know--"

"Books will be fine, Polly," said Ben, smiling approval. "Anything else
for second choice?"

"No," said Polly, "I can't think of another thing. Grandpapa has got
just every single thing in the world, I do believe," she brought up with
a sigh.

"I heard him say he'd broken his gold pen," said Ben, "the other day."

"Oh, Bensie!" cried Polly, with sparkling eyes, and seizing his arm,
"how perfectly splendid you are to always think up the right things."

"No, I don't, Polly." Ben was guilty of contradiction, but his cheek
glowed. "You always get ahead of me with twenty plans while I'm thinking
up one."

"But your one is the best," laughed Polly, squeezing his arm
affectionately. "Oh, now let's hurry and buy the gold pen."

"Well, do you children want it?" asked Ben, looking around at them,
"because it must be something that we all like, else Grandpapa won't
care anything for it."

"Phoo!" cried Joel, horribly disappointed at such a quiet present.
"What's an old pen, anyway? Can't write with it, without a handle."

"Well, we are going to give the handle, of course," said Ben, "only it
must be a black one, for we haven't money enough for a solid gold one."

"And did you suppose we'd give Grandpapa a pen without a handle, Joey?"
said Polly, quite horror-stricken at the very idea.

"Well, you said pen," persisted Joel.

"And so it is pen," said Ben, gayly, his spirits rising fast, "and
handle, too. Well, now, do you vote for it, Joe?" and he slapped his
back.

"Yes," said Joel, "if you'll give the handle, too."

And David saying "yes," then Polly had to explain it all to Phronsie.
"And just think, pet, you can sit by him at his table, and watch him
write with it," she finished.

"Oh, I want to buy my dear Grandpapa a pen," cried Phronsie, dreadfully
excited and hopping up and down; "do, Bensie, please get it now, this
very one minute!"




IV

"IT'S JOEL'S OLD LADY"


So a pen was bought, and a lovely gold-mounted black handle, all the
children hanging over the purchase in rapt attention. And it was left to
be marked with Grandpapa's initials and to be sent to Ben in two days,
in order to be actually sure to be on hand in time for Christmas, which
now was only a week away. "For suppose it shouldn't be there in time!"
breathed Polly. At which the rest of the Pepper children took alarm.
"Oh, won't it?" gasped Joel, in distress, trying to fly back to the
counter, as the whole bunch moved away in great delight at this
momentous undertaking accomplished.

"Here, you!" Ben seized his jacket and pulled him back, then he slipped
away himself, while Polly reassured Joel that she was only supposing
that if they hadn't bought Grandpapa's present this very day what might
have happened, so that she didn't see Ben go, until, as he hurried back,
"Why, where--" she began, looking around.

"Nothing," said Ben, answering her question, and his face grew red,
"only I thought you'd better have the parcel sent to you," for he
remembered just in time how dearly Polly loved to receive bundles
addressed to her own self.

"Oh, Ben!" exclaimed Polly, in dismay, "you shouldn't have done so. I'm
going back to tell them to change it."

"Indeed you won't," declared Ben, bursting into a laugh, "I guess
changing it once is enough. Come on, Polly."

But once outside they couldn't get along for the throng.

"What is it?" cried David, who happened to be first, Joel hanging back
to look at the things on the last counter. "A fire. Oh, Polly, it must
be!"

"A fire!" Joel caught the last word. "Oh, good, that's prime!" He
cleared the steps with a bound. But Ben was after him and had him fast.

It was impossible to see what the commotion was about, the people
pressing up to the curbstone in such a throng.

"It isn't any fire at all," declared Joel, with a sniff, quite willing
to be led back by Ben. "There aren't any fire-engines or anything! Come
on, let's go to Gallagher's."

"Gallagher's" was the best all-round shop in town, and it was the
children's perfect delight whenever allowed to go there.

"But something has happened," said Polly, standing on her tiptoes, and
craning her neck to look up the street where the group was the thickest.
"O dear me! It's a woman, and she's hurt!"

"Tried to go across the street and got knocked down," volunteered a man,
who, having seen all he wanted to, kindly made way for Polly to take his
place.

"O dear me!" she began, then she caught sight of the face. "Ben," she
clutched his sleeve, "it's Joel's old lady!"

Sure enough, the face, now as white as the big puffs of hair above it,
came into view as two men lifted the owner, a big, stately woman, to the
sidewalk. They came close to the little Peppers, so that the stiff black
silk coat, now plentifully besprinkled with mud, brushed them as it
passed. Joel gave a howl as she was carried by. "It's that cross old
woman!" he exclaimed.

"Hush, Joel!" Polly pulled his arm.

"Get out of the way!" said the men, pushing with their burden into the
drug store, two doors off.

The bystanders, having seen all that satisfied their curiosity, rushed
off to the delayed Christmas shopping. Only the Pepper children were
left.

"Polly," said Ben, hoarsely, and his blue eyes shone, "just think,
supposing she belonged to us."

"She couldn't," said Joel, decidedly, "she's awful cross."

"For shame, Joel," said Ben, sternly. "I'm going in to see." He hurried
after just as the men laid down the old woman on the marble floor.

"Blest if I know who she is!" said one of them, wiping his forehead as
the perspiration rushed off.

"She run right in front of the wagon, I seen her myself," said the
other.

"Well, I guess she's dead," said the first man. Ben pushed up nearer,
motioning for the rest of the children who had followed to keep back.
Meantime the proprietor ran to the telephone. "I would thank you to call
my carriage," said the old lady, the eyes in the white face flying open.
The two men who had brought her in, and the little fringe of spectators,
principally composed of the druggist's clerks and the little group of
Peppers, tumbled back suddenly.

"She's out of her head," said one of the men behind his hand. "She
didn't have no carriage." Ben pushed by him, the old woman's eyes
closing again, when Polly knelt down by her side, and forgetting how
scared she had been by that face the last time she saw it, she seized
the poor stiff hand in its black glove. "Oh, ma'am," she cried, "can't
you tell me who you are, and we will get you home?"

The eyes flew wide open again, and the face was quite as terrible, where
she lay on the floor of the druggist's shop; the Roman nose and the big
white puffs stood up in such a formidable way.

"Oh!" the keen black eyes bored into Polly's face; but "lift me up, and
call my carriage," was all she said.

Ben heard, as did the others, and he rushed up to the proprietor just as
the doctor, a dapper little man with a very big instrument case, came
importantly in.

"I don't want anything done to me," said the old lady, viewing the new
arrival from head to foot. She was now sitting up, having made Polly
help her to that position. "And see here, boy," she glanced around for
Ben, "I'd thank you to give me a hand," and disdaining the proffered
assistance of the young medical man, she was on her feet, and
proceeding, though somewhat unsteadily, toward the door.

"There he is," she raised one of her black gloves, "there's Carson,"
pointing to a coachman driving a spirited pair of bays down the street,
anxiety written all over his florid face, as he looked to right and to
left. "Here, stop him."

Which was easy to do, as Ben rushed tumultuously out, for the coachman
turned when down at the corner, driving slowly back to scan once more
every shop door, and the passers-by on either side.

"I thought I'd walk over to Summer Street," said the old lady, "and I
told Carson to wait there, when the wagon knocked me down." Meanwhile
she clung to Polly's hand.

"Are you sure, madam, that you are not hurt?" the young physician pushed
up. "Such an accident as yours should be attended to."

"When I require your services I can inform you," said the old lady,
turning on him with so much vigor that he fell back involuntarily. "I
shall call my own physician when I reach home. That's right, girl, help
me to my carriage," and clinging to Polly's hand she went down the
drug-shop steps, Carson ejaculating "O Lord!" in great relief at seeing
her, and nervously slapping his knee, though it had been all her own
fault that she was in such a plight.

"Um!" She wouldn't groan, but it was perilously near it as she got into
the carriage with Polly's and Ben's help and settled back on the
cushions with a grimace.

"Oh, you _are_ hurt!" cried Polly, the color dying from her cheek, and
looking in the window in great concern.

"Nonsense!" said the old woman, in her sharpest tone. Then she drew her
breath hard. "Your name, girl, and your brother?" She looked inquiringly
at Ben.

"Yes," said Polly, with a glad little smile up at him; "he's Ben."

"What's the last name?"

"Pepper." Ben and Polly said it together, and the three others crowded
up to the carriage door, crying out, "We're all Peppers."

"Um!" said the old woman, looking them all over, but her gaze rested the
longest on Joel.

"I'm sorry you got hurt," he blurted out with a very red face, and
wishing he had remained in the background.

"And where do you live?" asked the old woman, without the slightest
attention to his remark.

"At Mr. King's," said Ben. "He's my own dear Grandpapa," announced
Phronsie, pressing up closely, "and I've bought him a dear little cat,"
holding it as high as she could.

"Drive home, Carson," was all the old woman said. So Carson, almost
beside himself with delight that she was safely inside, went off at his
best pace, and the carriage was soon lost to view around the corner.

"Well," said Ben, "she'll soon be home now," with a sigh of relief. "We
must make haste and get to Gallagher's."

When they came out of Gallagher's an hour later, they were so laden down
with bundles, little and big, for the children insisted on carrying
everything home, that Polly and Ben had all they could do, what with
their own parcels, to pilot the three younger ones along.

Everything had gone off splendidly, just the right presents had been
found and bought, and, bubbling over with joy, the little group hurried
along to get home to Mamsie, knocking into everybody and being knocked
about in return by big and crisscrossed bundles of every description, as
their owners endeavored to wind their way along the crowded streets.

"O dear, where is Papa Doctor?" cried Polly, for the third time, when
the coffee was brought in at dinner, and the children, who couldn't take
any, were busy over the nuts and raisins. The shopping expedition had
been hilariously told by the whole bunch, all except Phronsie, who had
been too sleepy to more than mumble to Mamsie her purchase of the little
cat, before she hid it in the under drawer of the big mahogany bureau.
She wanted dreadfully to take it to bed with her, but that would never
do, as it was to be a Christmas gift. So she patted it lovingly good-by,
and, after her nursery tea, was popped into bed herself.

"O dear me!" Polly ended with a sigh, for she never felt just
comfortable unless she could tell Doctor Fisher everything, so half the
pleasure of the recital was lost to her.

"He is busy with a case, I suppose," said Mother Fisher, yet she looked
worried and cast an anxious glance at the door.

"Working himself to death," observed old Mr. King, from the head of the
table, yet his eyes gleamed with delight. "Just what I said," he was
revolving in his own mind; "if he would come to the city, he could lead
the profession."

Polly gave a little start and grew pale.

"Grandpapa doesn't mean that," whispered Ben; "don't, Polly," when the
door opened and the little doctor marched in, head erect and his eyes
shining behind their big spectacles.

"Well, well," he declared breezily, "I thought you'd be through dinner,"
and without a bit of warning he went up to Polly's and Ben's chairs. "I
don't know which of you children I'm proudest of," he began.

Everybody stared and laid down knives and forks, while the little
doctor, as if he had the happiest sort of a tale to unfold when the
proper time came, nodded over to his wife. "I've been attending Mrs. Van
Ruypen," this time he bobbed his head over toward Mr. King.

"What, is Mrs. Van Ruypen sick?" asked the old gentleman, quickly.

"Got knocked down in the street," the little doctor brought it out
jerkily.

When the little Peppers heard that they all started, and Joel exclaimed,
"Oh!" and slunk down in his chair, wishing he could go under the table,
while old Mr. King started a rapid fire of questions. Little Doctor
Fisher, skipping into his seat, replied as fast as he could, till the
accident and its result was pretty generally known around the table.

"But what have the children to do with it?" at last demanded Mr. King,
in a puzzled way, as he was never able to take his mind off very long
from the Peppers and their affairs.

The little doctor burst into a happy laugh, he was so pleased, and it
was so very contagious that before long everybody at the table had
joined, until any one looking in would have said, "Well, well, it's no
use to wait for Christmas to be jolly, for here we are merry as a grig
now!"

"I don't know in the least what I'm laughing at," said old Mr. King, at
last, "but you are enough, Fisher, to start us off always. Now be so
good as to tell me what it is all about," and he wiped his eyes.

"Why, the old lady, Mrs. Van Ruypen, whatever her name is, wasn't so
very much hurt," said Ben, his blue eyes shining.

"And it's so very lovely, Grandpapa," cried Polly, her cheeks very red,
and clapping her hands, even if she were at the table.

"It's prime!" shouted Joel, coming up straight in his chair, his black
eyes shining. But at the next remark, down he slid again, wishing he
hadn't said anything.

"Oh, it isn't that!" said Doctor Fisher, quickly, "I'm glad enough I can
fix the old lady up; but it's my children." Then he set his glasses
straight, which had slipped down his nose, and beamed affectionately on
the four faces.

Mrs. Fisher slipped her hand on his tired one, as it rested on his lap.
"What is it, Adoniram?" she asked.

"Why, that old--I mean Mrs. Van Ruypen,--I should just as soon think of
a stone gate-post breaking out--says our children helped her, and she's
overcome with gratitude. Think of it, Mary, that old stone post!"

"Oh!" cried Joel, burrowing deeply, till his face was almost obscured.

"And she can't say enough about them. Wants them to come over
to-morrow."

"Ugh!" with that Joel wholly disappeared, sliding down under the table.

"Where are you going, Joe?" Ben exclaimed, and the butler hurrying over,
Joel was soon drawn out and installed once more on his chair. This time
he was the centre for all eyes.

"Oh, Joel!" Mother Fisher's delight which had spread over her face died
out so suddenly, that Joel blurted out, dreadfully distressed, "I didn't
mean to, Mamsie," and he choked back the tears, not to add to his
disgrace.

"Brighten up, Joel," said little Doctor Fisher, cheerily. "We'll forgive
him this time, Mary, for Mrs. Van Ruypen sent her love to him, and
particularly wants him to come to-morrow, and--"

"No, no," howled Joel, this time all lost to control, "I was bad to
her," and every bit of blood rushed up to his round face.

"Why, she says she was bad to you," observed the little doctor,
demurely; "anyway you are to go with the others to-morrow, Joe, so it's
all right, my boy."




V

"THE PRESENTS ALL GO FROM SANTA CLAUS"


Joel protested up to the very last that he couldn't go to see the big
lady in the black silk coat.

"But maybe she won't have it on," said David, who had been anxiously
hanging on Joel's every word, and surveying his round countenance in
fear. Supposing Joel shouldn't really go! This would be worse than all,
and David clasped and unclasped his hands nervously.

"Of course she won't have it on!" exclaimed Polly, briskly. "Why, the
very idea, she wouldn't wear that in the house!"

"Now you see, Joel," cried David, much relieved, and his face
brightening, "she won't, really, for Polly says so."

"Well, you've got to go anyway," declared Ben, in a downright way there
was no mistaking. "So say no more, Joe, but get your cap."

The other Pepper children were all in a bunch in the wide hall revolving
around Joel, who felt, as long as he postponed getting his coat and cap,
he was surely safe from making the awful expedition. But now, seeing
Ben's blue eyes upon him, he set out for the closet in the back hall
where the boys' outer garments were kept, grumbling at every step.

"O dear me! This is too dreadful for anything," sighed Polly, sinking
down on the last step of the stairs. When Phronsie saw her do this, she
hurried over, and snuggled up in her fur-trimmed coat as close as she
could get to her side.

"I wish Jasper was home," said Ben, with a long breath, and going across
to stand in front of the two.

"So we wish all the time," said Polly, "but then, he can't come till
Friday, and that's just forever."

Little David, left alone, thought the best thing he could do would be to
run after Joel. So he precipitated himself upon that individual, who,
just knocking down his cap from its hook, was beginning to prowl around
the floor in the corner of the closet.

"Can't find it," growled Joel, knocking off more things in his
irritation.

"Oh, let me!" cried David, delighted to help. "Let me, Joel; I'll get
it!"

"You keep off," cried Joel, lifting a hot, red face; "I'll get it
myself. And I won't go to see that old woman!" he declared savagely.

"Oh, yes, you must, Joe!" cried David, in alarm.

"I won't, I won't, I won't!" declared Joel, feeling with each repetition
of the word a happy independence.

"Yes, indeed, the children have gone," a voice suddenly proclaimed above
the stairs, as somebody opened the door and came out into the upper
hall. "Yes, Mrs. Whitney, they have gone to Mrs. Van Ruypen's."

"It's Mamsie," gasped David, clutching Joel's shoulders, who ducked back
into his corner so suddenly that they both went down in a little heap.

"Did she hear?" gasped Joel, holding his breath for the answer.

"I don't believe so," said David, when he could extricate himself from
Joel sufficiently, who now grasped him by both hands in a way very
uncomfortable for conversation. "No, I don't really believe she did,
Joel, 'cause she said we'd gone."

"She'll hear us now, anyway," said Joel, thrust into the depths of
gloom, his independence completely deserting him; "what'll we do?"

Little David found his feet and tiptoed out to listen under the stairs.
"She's going into her room," he announced in a whisper, coming back to
the closet. "Come, Joey, do hurry."

So Joel picked up his cap and crammed it on his head, and stepped out of
the closet, but he had a very gloomy air when the two boys presented
themselves in the front hall.

"O there! now you see," said Polly to Ben, quite in despair, "just how
very dreadful it's all going to be, when Joel goes with such a face."

"Well, come on," said Ben, setting his lips tightly together. So Polly
and Phronsie got off from the stair, and if the expedition was not begun
in hilarity, it was at least started.

But when they reached the big house of Mrs. Van Ruypen, that loomed up
across the square like a heavy, dark brown fortress, the situation was
much worse.

"I'm not going in," declared Joel, all his terrors returning, and he
planted his feet firmly on the pavement, determined not to go up the
first step. How it was done, he never knew, but the next moment he was
at the top of the flight under Ben's hands, who released him enough to
ring the bell, and the butler answering the summons, Joel was really the
first person to enter, which he did with a bound, as if extremely eager
to get in.

And then, it was all like a dream! They were ushered into a reception
room, high and dark and gloomy, and told to take off their things, for
madam would receive them upstairs. In the excitement of it all, Polly,
while undoing Phronsie's coat and taking off her bonnet, forgot all
about Joel, and it wasn't really until after they had mounted the long
stairs that she had the first thought about him. And then, O dear me!
there stood Madam Van Ruypen, with a long white hand, fairly blazing
with rings, outstretched to welcome them.

"Where's the other boy?" she demanded, looking over the group.

"He came," said Polly, faintly, growing quite scarlet at such dreadful
manners in one of her family, for which she felt responsible. "He really
did, ma'am."

"Impossible!" exclaimed Madam Van Ruypen; "you can see for yourself he's
not here," and her face fell.

Ben said never a word, but dashed down the long flight. There was Joel,
the picture of gloom, on one of the big chairs in the reception room. He
had run back, after Ben supposed that he was at his heels, and found the
only refuge he could think of.

"You're a nice boy," said Ben, picking him off from his chair. "Now
march, Joe," and he kept him well in front of him; and at last, there he
was, and Madam Van Ruypen had taken his hand. But he didn't look at her.

"Well, at last you are all here," she was saying; "now I'm going to tell
you what I wanted you for."

No one of the five little Peppers appeared to breathe, except Phronsie,
who chirped out, "Oh, we've come all this way to see you!"

"Yes, yes, I know," said Madam Van Ruypen, who was vastly pleased at
that, and she nodded her head, that had a ponderous affair of lace and
jet upon it, down toward Phronsie; "but there was something I especially
wanted of you, and I'll tell it in one word. You must choose the toys
I'm going to send to some poor children." Without another word, she
turned and swung the door wide to another room, and there, before their
entranced eyes, was toyland!

Joel took one look, and howled out, "Oh, I will; let me; let me!"
bounding in.

"So you shall," said Madam Van Ruypen, laughing heartily. "There, get in
there, all of you, and set to work."

There was no need to tell them this, and they were soon running about,
not pausing long in any spot, for the attractions overflowed on tables
and chairs, and even the carpet appeared to be covered with the best
specimens of toys from all the shops in town. But Phronsie went directly
over and sat down in front of a big doll, and gazed at her without a
word.

"Oh, it's just like Gallagher's," cried Polly, flying about with
sparkling eyes, and she clasped her hands. "Oh, what richness!"

"Hoh, it's better than Gallagher's," retorted Joel, in scorn, who had
always thought that shop was the very finest place imaginable. "Dave,
here's the steam-engine, the very one!" he cried, spying it in a corner.

Madam Van Ruypen laughed again, and this time it seemed as if she were
not going to stop. And pretty soon the whole room looked as if Santa
Claus himself had been there with his load, while as for the babel of
voices,--well, it was exactly like a flock of blackbirds all chattering
together.

"You said they were going to poor children," said Polly, at last, flying
up to the tall figure that now it seemed as if they had known all their
lives. "Oh, do tell us about it."

"So I will." Madam Van Ruypen swept off the articles from a big
easy-chair, preparatory to sitting down.

"Let me!" said Ben, coming up in his slow way. But the toys were half
off, and Polly had gathered up the rest, and the big figure was already
in the chair.

"You see," she began--

"Oh, would you please wait?" begged Polly, in great distress, looking
over across the room where Joel and David were deep in the charms of
some mechanical toy.

"Yes, to be sure," said Madam Van Ruypen, good naturedly, while Polly
ran over to them. "Boys, come!" she cried hurriedly.

"Something's the matter with this pig," said Joel, not looking at her,
and fussing with the animal in question.

"Well, put it down," said Polly, impatiently. "She's going to tell us
what she wants us to do."

"Then Dave'll get my pig," said Joel, with one eye askance at that
individual.

"Oh, no, he won't touch it; will you, Davie?" said Polly. "Do put it
down, Joe, and come along."

"No, I won't," said David, "touch it a single bit." So Joel laid the pig
carefully down, and the two boys hurried after Polly.

Madam Van Ruypen now began again.

"Phronsie ought to hear," said Joel, as he crowded up.

"Hush," said Ben, looking over at her where she still sat absorbed in
the big doll; "you let her be, Joel, and keep still."

"I have had so much trouble over every Christmas," said Madam Van
Ruypen, proceeding briskly, "selecting presents for some children I
happen to know about, who ought to have them, that really I sometimes
wish there wasn't any Christmas."

Wish there wasn't any Christmas! Every one of the Peppers who heard
those direful words tumbled back in dismay and gazed at her in
amazement.

"I really did, but I don't now!" Madam Van Ruypen drew a long breath,
then she laughed again. "Well, here we are, and this Christmas I mean to
have an easy time, for I'm not to select a single thing myself, but put
all the responsibility on you young people."

"Do you really mean," cried Polly Pepper, crowding up quite closely,
with flushed cheeks, "that we can pick out the toys and things for you
to give to your poor children? Oh, do you mean it?"

"To be sure, bless you, yes; why, that is just why I got you over here,
and what I've had this room turned into a toy-shop for." She waved her
long, white hands over at the array.

"Oh, oh, Joel," Polly seized the arm next to her and gave it a little
tweak, "do begin, for she wants us to pick out the things she is to send
to the poor children. I'm going to choose that work-box, and that
backgammon board, and--" and Polly ran off and was deep in a dozen
things at once.

"Hoh, I'm not," said Joel, who couldn't bear backgammon; "I'm going to
choose my pig, when I fix him so he'll squeak, and my steam-engine. Yes,
sir! that's the best of all."

And immediately the entire room was in a bustle.

Ben turned off with the others, but presently came slowly back to stand
a minute at Madam Van Ruypen's chair, where she sat with folded hands.

"Well, what is it?" she asked, looking up into his face.

"Were you picking out toys for the poor children when we saw you
yesterday?" asked Ben, looking at her steadily.

"Dear me, yes; what do you suppose could have induced me to go into such
a mob?" cried Madam Van Ruypen.

"Oh!" said Ben, then he turned back and set to work on doing what he
could to pick out the things he should want if he were really a poor
boy, not likely to get presents in any other way.

But the nicest of all things, so he thought,--thick boots, mittens, and
fur tippets to keep out the cold,--were not there, and he stifled a
sigh, and gave his mind to do the best he could under the circumstances.

"Something is the matter, I see." He didn't know it, but there the old
lady was, close by his side, and the next words showed clearly that she
had discovered what was on his mind.

"Out with it, Ben,--for that's your name, I believe."

"Yes," said Ben, "it is."

"Well, you might as well tell me, for I see very plainly that you don't
think I've had the right things sent up from the stores. What would you
send to poor children for their Christmas?"

"I think a boy would like a pair of boots," said Ben, slowly; then he
came to the conclusion that he might as well tell the whole, "or a thick
coat, or some mittens, and a tippet."

"But those wouldn't be Christmas presents; those are everyday things,"
said the old lady, sharply.

"They wouldn't be his everyday things," said Ben, sturdily.

"Oh, perhaps that is so," said Madam Van Ruypen, thoughtfully. "Well,
let us see." She took up some books, whirled the pages a minute, to give
herself time to think, then she pushed them all away impatiently. "You
go on, and choose what you think some boys would like out of the things
that are here, as we haven't any clothes among them," then she turned
away, and swept back into her seat. And Ben, feeling very sure that the
wrong thing had been said by him, set to work, as best he might, to do
as she wanted.

When the task was over, it seemed as if all the toys and gay articles
had been chosen, every one!

"They are all perfectly beautiful," sighed Polly, "and we can't leave
any out."

"So I am to send them all," said Madam Van Ruypen, much pleased to think
that her experiment in having the things sent up was so approved, and
looking around at them all.

"Oh, yes, yes!" they cried, Joel especially vociferating that not a
single one was to be omitted. Now that he had discovered the weak part
in the pig's voice, and had fixed it to his satisfaction, everything was
all right.

"Please give her to the poor child," begged Phronsie, who had the whole
thing explained to her by Polly, and coming up with very pink cheeks to
hold as high as she could the big doll. "Oh, do, please do, and give it
right away."

"Oh, I shall not give it," said Madam Van Ruypen, decidedly.

A quiver came into Phronsie's voice and her lip drooped, and she looked
as if she were going to cry. "Please," she began.

"Santa Claus is going to take it to her," said the old lady, making
haste to explain when she saw Phronsie's face. "Don't you be afraid,
child; the poor little girl will get her doll."

"Oh, then I'm glad," said Phronsie, beginning to smile. And two little
tears that were just starting out determined to go back again. Then she
laughed gleefully. "Polly, Polly," she cried in great excitement, "the
big lady is going to take it to the poor little girl; she is, Polly, she
said so."

"I shan't take it," said Madam Van Ruypen, nodding over to Polly; "the
little girl won't know it's from me, but she will have it all the same."

"Shan't you tell her you sent it?" demanded Joel, who had caught the
words, and whirling around suddenly; "shan't you tell her about any of
the things?" waving his hands in all directions.

"Of course not," declared Madam Van Ruypen. "Dear me, not for the world,
Joel, would I have them know where the things come from. The presents
all go from Santa Claus."

"Oh!" said Joel.

"And now you don't know--you can't even guess," said Madam Van Ruypen,
"what a load you have taken off my mind by coming here to help me."

"Have we?" cried Polly, with glistening eyes.

"Oh, so much!" declared the old lady.

"I haven't," said Joel; "I've only had a good time," and patting his
steam-engine lovingly. Then he set it off once more. "Whee,--whiz,--see
her go!" he cried.

"Stop, Joey, we're all through," said Polly.

"And it's time to go," said Ben.

"And send 'em to-night, do," said Joel, deserting his engine abruptly to
march up to the old lady.

"Oh, Joel!" cried Polly, much ashamed.

"And tell the boy who gets the pig to turn him upside down when the
squeak won't come," said Joel, nowise abashed.

"Come on, Joe," said Ben, picking his sleeve.

"Oh, wait a moment, Ben," said Madam Van Ruypen, laying a detaining hand
on his arm, as the others said good-by and filed downstairs to get coats
and hats on. "I think, myself, it might be advisable to add a few things
to wear to these presents, and I want you to go to-morrow afternoon with
me to choose them. Will you?"

And Ben said "Yes," quite overwhelmed with the thought. He was actually
going shopping with Madam Van Ruypen!




VI

BEN GOES SHOPPING WITH MADAM VAN RUYPEN


All the rest of the Peppers crowded up to the windows to watch Ben go
off in state in the Van Ruypen carriage, Phronsie climbing up on a chair
to see him the better. As for Ben himself, he was so amazed at the whole
thing, to think that he was by Madam Van Ruypen's side, and expected to
give his opinion as to matters and things, that for some minutes he had
all he could do to keep his attention on what she was saying.

"You see, Ben," at last he made out, "I don't know in the least what to
get for a boy, and if it were not for you, I shouldn't think of such a
thing as to pick out clothes for one. Well, here we are," as Carson drew
up to a large tailoring establishment. "We'll go in and do our best, but
it must be you who does the selecting."

Ben, with an awful feeling at his heart at all this responsibility,
stumbled after her as she marched down the long store, the salesmen all
vying with each other to attract her attention and wait upon her. She
didn't notice any of them, but kept on her way, her Roman nose and white
puffs of hair held well up, until at the end of the aisle a little
dapper man stepped up, rubbing his hands obsequiously together, and
stopped her progress.

"Anything I can show you, madam?" he said with a bow and a flourish.

Madam Van Ruypen looked him all over carelessly. "Oh, well, I suppose
you can; this boy here," she turned to Ben, "understands what I want.
Now then, Ben, speak up and tell the man, for I know nothing about it."
With that she looked around for a chair, which the little dapper man,
hurrying off, soon brought, and, sitting down, she drew up her stately
figure to its full height, and left Ben to his own devices.

"I suppose it must be a coat," began Ben. Oh, if Mamsie were only there!
Instead, was the big figure in the black silk coat, whose eyes had such
a way of boring right through one that it seemed to take the breath away
of the one being inspected.

"I suppose so," said the old lady, "as we have come for clothes; why, a
coat appears to be essential, and if I were to express an opinion, I
should consider that the rest of the suit would be a good investment,
too."

"Quite right," assented the shopman. "Now I will show you some. This
way, madam; here, stay, and I will move your chair."

"You will do nothing of the sort," said Madam Van Ruypen, shortly; "this
is not to be of my purchasing; this boy will attend to it for me. Ben,
you go along with the man and select the articles."

"Do you mean I'm to go without you, ma'am?" asked Ben, quite aghast at
the very idea, his blue eyes very wide.

"Of course," said the old lady, having hard work not to laugh; "I said
so, I believe."

"But, but--I may not pick out the right things," stammered Ben.

"I'll trust you," said Madam Van Ruypen, waving him off summarily. So as
there was nothing else to do, Ben followed the little man down what
seemed an interminable number of aisles, at last pausing before a set of
drawers, on either hand of which was a cabinet with doors.

"Now, here," said the salesman, swinging wide one of the doors, "is just
the thing. It's for yourself, I suppose," and he took down with a deft
hand a jacket and a pair of trousers.

"Oh, no, it isn't," Ben made haste to say, answering the question.

"Hey--oh!" the little man whirled around to stare at him,--"your brother
then?"

"No," said Ben, growing hot and red in the face. "It isn't for any of
us,--no one I know; she's going to give them away to some boy who--" he
was going to say "needs them," but the salesman shut off the words from
his mouth, and, clapping to the door, led the way off down another aisle
to a counter where the suits were piled high; "I've got just the very
thing for you here," he announced, twitching one out; "there, now, see
that."

"But that is much too nice," said Ben, putting his finger on the fine
goods, and wishing he were anywhere else in the world but in that store,
and the perspiration began to trickle in little drops down his face.

"So?" the salesman leaned his hands meditatively on the counter, and
surveyed him. "Well, I'll show you some other goods. Come this way," and
again they traversed some more aisles, took an elevator, and went up
what seemed to Ben a great many floors, at last coming out to a
department which, as far as the eye could see, was stacked with thick,
ready-made goods of serviceable materials.

"There," said the little man, giving quick, birdlike glances on either
side, and, at last pausing, he slapped his hand smartly down on a small
pile of suits, "is just the ticket for you."

"Yes," said Ben, and he ran his hand approvingly over the thick surface,
"I guess it is; it looks good."

"And it is good," said the salesman, emphatically; "it'll outwear three
of those other ones downstairs. We haven't but a few of these left. Now,
how big is the boy you want it for?"

"I don't know," said Ben, helplessly.

"Well, we've got to have something to go by," said the salesman; "of
course you can't buy at random and haphazard."

"She didn't say," said Ben, with a nod over in the direction supposed to
be where Madam Van Ruypen was waiting several floors below for the
transaction to be completed. "But she's going to give them to a boy," he
added desperately, "and so I guess I'll pick out the very best you have
for the money, and it'll be right. They'll fit some boy."

"Right you are," declared the salesman, delighted to have the matter
satisfactorily arranged, and, pulling out a coat and jacket, he held
them up before Ben's eyes. "Now that is the best money value we've got
in the store. Fact. We're closing them out. Couldn't afford to give 'em
at this low figure, but there's only these few left, and we don't allow
remnants to bother us long, no, sir." He rattled on so fast that Ben,
who was slowly going over the coat, which he had by this time gotten
into his own hands, in a close examination as to buttons and
buttonholes, only half heard him. Indeed, it wasn't in the least
necessary, for he hadn't held the garment for a moment before he knew
quite well that here was a good bargain, and one well fitted to warm
some poor boy, and to wear well.

"You can't find fault," said the little man, in great satisfaction, when
the whole suit had been gone over in this slow way, "'cause there ain't
any. Fact! Well, do you want it?"

"How much is it?" asked Ben.

"Nine-fifty. It's worth three dollars more, but we're closing them out,
as I told you, and we don't give room to remnants. It's a bargain if
ever there was one. Fact! Do you want it?"

"Yes, if she says so," said Ben. And now his spirits quite rose, for it
was a good thing, and he was not ashamed to show it to Madam Van Ruypen,
or to any one else, as his selection. So the salesman flung the suit
over his arm, and skipped off, followed by Ben. And they shot down the
elevator and went back down all the aisles. There she sat, stiff and
immovable, in her chair.

"Oh, only one?" she asked, as the salesman held up the bargain.

"I didn't know you wanted two," gasped Ben; "you didn't say so."

"Oh, I suppose I did not mention it. But have you been all this time
picking out a paltry one?" She didn't even offer to touch the suit, and
scarcely glanced at it.

"Do you like it?" asked Ben. "See, it's thick and warm, isn't it?"
lifting the sleeve for her to see it the better.

"Oh, I suppose it will serve its purpose, and be warm enough," she said
carelessly. "Well, now," to the salesman, "will you go back and bring
another one, a smaller size, and stay, still another, for there must be
some more boys in the family? There ought to be. No, you don't need to
go, Ben; he can pick them out. Just the same quality, mind," and she
dismissed the little man.

When he had disappeared, she cast an approving glance at the suit thrown
across the counter. "Very well chosen," she said. "And now, see here,
run down to the neckwear counter--or stay," and she raised her black
glove.

A small army of salesmen seemed to rush to the scene, so many appeared.
"What is it, madam?" for all knew, at least by sight, the wealthy old
lady, who, try as hard as she might, never seemed to be able to make
much impression on the Van Ruypen money-bags. "Take this boy to the
different departments that he selects, and let him buy what pleases
him," she said to the first salesman that reached her.

"Yes, madam," he said, well pleased, and leading off with Ben. But just
then a floor-walker touched him on the shoulder, "Mr. Moses wants you,"
he said, "about those vests."

"Oh, all right," said the salesman; "here, Perkins," and beckoning to a
tall young man, who appeared to Ben very much dressed up, he turned the
boy over to him, and went off.

"Well, what do you want?" asked Mr. Perkins, leisurely surveying Ben's
sturdy figure from his greater height.

"A red woollen tippet, I think," said Ben.

"A red woollen tippet!" repeated the salesman, nearly falling backward.
"Oh, we haven't got one in the store!"

"Haven't you?" asked Ben, very much disappointed, for he had set his
heart on seeing that the boy who was to have those good warm clothes
should have a red woollen tippet to tie around his throat, and perhaps
go over his cap, and down around his ears, if it was very cold. Anyway,
the ends were to tuck in the jacket. Ben knew just exactly how that
tippet was to look when it was all fixed, ready for a sharp, cold, snowy
day.

"Well, I can suit you," said the salesman, noting the disappointed tone;
"we've got silk scarfs, nice ones, all--"

"Oh, I don't want a silk scarf," said Ben, quickly.

"Some of them are plaid; you don't know how fine they are. This way,"
and he stepped off.

But as Ben stood quite still, there was nothing for the salesman to do
but to come back, which he did, quite discomfited.

"Have you got any caps?" asked Ben, leaving the red tippet out of the
question as an impossibility in this shop.

"Caps? Oh, yes, this way," and away they went, down aisles, up in
elevators, and into the department where nothing but headgear showed
itself.

This time, knowing there were to be three boys provided for with suits,
Ben picked out the same number of good, strong caps, the salesman all
through the process plainly showing his disgust and disappointment at
what he thought was to be a fine purchase, turning out to be such a poor
trade. But Ben knew nothing of what was going on in the other one's
mind, and would have cared still less, had he known, all his attention
being absorbed in the bargain he was making for Madam Van Ruypen. At
last the business was concluded.

"Do you keep gloves?" he asked, as they turned away.

"Yes," said the salesman, sullenly, and slapping the three cloth caps
together disdainfully.

"Mittens?" asked Ben.

"No, indeed," said Mr. Perkins, emphatically. "Mittens, the very idea!"
then he winked at a young man, who looked as if a wrinkle, by any
chance, never existed in his clothes, and whose hair was evidently just
fresh from the barber's. "We don't keep anything but first-class goods."

The other young man made no attempt to conceal his broad smile. And by
this time Ben had considerable attention down the long store. He
couldn't help but see it, and he held his head high, and his blue eyes
flashed.

"Well, give me the money--" Mr. Perkins held out his hand, the one with
the big ring on.

"I don't pay for them," said Ben.

"Well, I guess you do, young man," declared Mr. Perkins, in a high key,
designed to impress the onlookers. "You've bought these caps," and he
gave them another disdainful slap together, "and you'll pay for them,
and now, right sharp off!" he added in a very unpleasant way.

"But I haven't bought them for myself," said Ben.

"Hey? Oh! What are you talking about?" Mr. Perkins whirled around at
him. "Who sent you here, anyway?" glaring down at him.

"I haven't been sent," said Ben; "I came with the one who is going to
buy them."

"Well, who is he? Take me to him." Mr. Perkins craned his neck this way
and that, trying to see the friend of his customer.

"If you will follow me, you will see for yourself," said Ben, stepping
off. When he paused by Madam Van Ruypen's chair, Mr. Perkins was in a
bad state. His long limbs seemed wobbling under him, and his usually
glib tongue appeared to be fastened to the roof of his mouth. He
delivered up the caps with a limp and feeble hand, then cast an
appealing eye down at Ben.

"Very good," said the old lady, without a glance at them. "Put them with
these other articles," pointing to the suit left on the counter. "Now,
then, Ben, are these all the things you can find here, pray tell?"

"Yes," said Ben, "they don't seem to keep what I want in this shop."

"Let me look again," cried Mr. Perkins, in great distress, "I think
maybe I can find something to suit you. Don't go yet, I almost know we
can find something," he kept on in such misery, saying the same thing
over and over, that Madam Van Ruypen stared at him in amazement.

Meanwhile, the other young man, who had followed Ben and Mr. Perkins
with his eye till they arrived at Madam Van Ruypen's chair, soon spread
the astounding news that the boy who wanted mittens had good reason to
hold his own against everybody, and was by no means a person to be
safely laughed at. "And Perkins is having a fit," he wound up, to the
group of salesmen unencumbered by customers.

"I don't think you can," said Ben, quickly; "I must try some other
shop."

"But just come and let me show you some things," begged Mr. Perkins, in
a frenzy.

"Oh, go along, Ben," said Madam Van Ruypen; "you might as well, for I
must wait here until the other man brings down those extra suits."

So Ben had nothing to do but to move off with Mr. Perkins. When they had
turned into a convenient corner, "See here," said the salesman, and his
face paled, "you won't tell on me, will you?" His mouth twitched, and
anxious wrinkles seemed to run all over his face, making him suddenly
quite old and worn.

"What do you think?" said Ben, indignantly, and he turned on his heel in
contempt.

"You see," Mr. Perkins hurried after him, and spoke as if his throat
were parched, the words came out so jerkily, "I couldn't stay here a
minute, you know, if the old man knew I'd treated any one belonging to
her badly."

"I don't belong to her," said Ben.

"Well, you came with her," said Mr. Perkins, quite willing now to
believe Ben much higher up yet, if that were possible, in the social
scale. "And I've got a mother," he swallowed hard with a kind of choke,
"and three sisters, and--"

"You needn't be afraid," Ben stopped the rest; "I give you my word I'll
not speak of it."

"Honest Injun, now?" said Mr. Perkins, anxiously.

"I've given you my word," said Ben; "that's all I'll say," looking at
him squarely.

Mr. Perkins drew a long breath, and the wrinkles seemed to drop right
out of his face. "Thank you," he said. "Now, if you'll come this way,
I'll show you some things that you want."

When the two joined the old lady there was quite a little array of
articles in Mr. Perkins's hands, which he did not slap disdainfully
together. To be sure there were no mittens; but there were some thick
cloth gloves, and a stout, large handkerchief, and some heavy stockings.
And as the other two suits had been brought down from the top floor,
there was quite a respectable pile of purchases to be done up and put in
the handsome brougham waiting at the door.

And Mr. Perkins insisted, also, on seeing them out, although the first
salesman, by his manner, proclaimed it quite unnecessary, and the tall
young man's "Thank you" was said last of all, and he appeared to look
only at Ben.

"Quite a gentle-mannered young man," observed Madam Van Ruypen, as the
carriage door was closed; "such a contrast to the ordinary, pert
creature. I shall make an excuse to shop there again, and I shall insist
upon having him wait upon me. Well, now, Ben, while we are driving to
Birdsall's, where you can, maybe, get the articles you couldn't find
here, let us think up some boys to give these things to." She pointed to
the big bundle on the opposite seat, which, more for the pleasure of
actually carrying it home, than because of the Christmas rush, she had
decided to take with her.

"Don't you know the boys you are going to give the clothes to?"
exclaimed Ben, turning in great astonishment to gaze at her.

"Dear me, no," said Madam Van Ruypen, with a laugh, "but that doesn't
make any matter. There are boys enough who will like those things, I
haven't any doubt. I only thought, seeing you've been such a help to me
in buying them, that perhaps you'd think of the boys to fit them to.
Well, there's the City Missionary Society; they'll tell me, probably."

Ben removed his gaze from the white puffs and Roman nose, and looked
steadily out of the window. Gone seemed the city buildings and streets
to give place to country lanes, with here and there a farm-house to
break the stretch of long, snow-covered roads. If only he dared to say
his thought!

"And as long as you can't help me," Madam Van Ruypen's voice had a
little break in it, as if she were not, somehow, finding quite as much
satisfaction in the expedition as she had hitherto enjoyed, "why, I
suppose--"

"Why don't you send them to a country boy?" cried Ben, whirling suddenly
around on the green leather seat, his blue eyes shining.

"Hey, what--why--" began the old lady. Then there was an awful pause.
And just as Ben had made up his mind that the whole morning expedition
had been made a failure, and by him, she broke out, "I have the very
thing, and, Ben, there are three boys in that family. Only think, I've
forgotten them all this time, since I saw them up in the mountains last
summer."

Ben drew a long breath, and his face said, "Do tell me about them,"
though he couldn't say a word.

"There isn't much to tell," said the old lady in a shamefaced way, "for,
being boys, I didn't somehow get interested in them. Their mother did my
washing when I was at the hotel. Their father had died, you see."

"Oh," said Ben.

"And now it comes to me, though I didn't think much of it at the time,
that the people at the hotel said the boys, that is the two older ones,
had to walk three miles to school every day. It was only a little
settlement, you see." Madam Van Ruypen didn't add that she had sent some
money to the mother, on hearing this story, and then straightway forgot
all about the matter.

"So now, oh, Ben, just think what you've made me remember! And we'll
make the box just as big as we can. What do you want to buy now?" She
turned on him eagerly.

"Mittens," said Ben, promptly, "and a red woollen tippet."




VII

"WHERE'S PIP?" AND JASPER TURNED BACK


"Something is the matter!" cried Polly, hoarsely. "Oh, Ben, I know there
is!" She rushed up to him in the hall and seized his arm.

"Nonsense!" said Ben, but his cheek paled, and his blue eyes, usually so
steady, didn't look at her. If Polly were frightened, something dreadful
must have happened.

"There is, there is," repeated Polly, quite wildly, "for Aunty Whitney
has gone to Grandpapa. And there's a telegram come,--and, oh, Ben, can
it be Jasper?" With that Polly held so tightly to the sturdy arm she had
grasped that at another time Ben would have cried, "Hands off, Polly!"
This time he didn't even feel it.

"Oh, no, Polly," was all he could say reassuringly, yet his knees
knocked together and everything for a moment seemed to swim before his
eyes.

"I saw it myself. It was a telegram that Jane had," Polly was saying,
between little sobs that cut Ben through and through like a knife. "And
Christmas--" and she could get no farther.

"See here, Polly," Ben came to his senses enough to shake himself free,
then he threw his arms around her and held her fast, "don't let us act
like this until we know for sure. I'm going to find out" With that he
rushed off, and Polly, too wild with distress to be left alone, stumbled
after him down the hall, as he hurried to find Jane.

That individual was huddled down in a corner of the back hall which she
fondly supposed cleverly concealed her, her apron up to her eyes, and
mumbling something behind it to herself. Ben precipitated himself so
suddenly upon her that there was no time for recovery of her composure.
She dashed down the apron to look up at him and also see Polly at his
heels.

"O my!" she began, dreadfully frightened at the sight of the two she
most dreaded to meet at this moment.

"You might as well tell us, Jane," said Ben, swallowing very hard, and
he reached out and seized Polly's hand, "because we know some bad news
came. Now, what is it?" If Polly had pinched his arm in her fright, it
was nothing to the grip he now gave her fingers, without his knowing it,
while she threw her arm around his neck and held on.

"O my gracious!" Jane shook with fright, but she saw no way out of it
but to tell, so she added, twisting her apron-end into a ball, "Yes, it
did come, O me, O my!"

"It is about Jasper," said Ben, quietly.

"How'd you know, Master Ben?" cried Jane, in astonishment, remembering
how she had become possessed of the news which yet couldn't have
travelled through the house.

"Never mind, what is it?" demanded Ben, sharply. "Be quick now, Jane;
you might as well tell us first as last."

"O me!" cried Jane, deserting the apron-end to wring her hands
desperately, "I wish I hadn't listened. Oh, I can't tell you, don't make
me!"

"Jane," Ben leaned over her as well as he could for Polly hanging to
him, "you've just _got_ to tell us, so you might as well be quick about
it. Don't you see you're only making us feel worse?"

As Ben wasn't given to long speeches, Jane had time to look up in
surprise at his face, and then she made up her mind to tell the whole
story.

"If you must know--but don't let 'em blame me 'cause I told you," she
burst out.

"You shan't be blamed," promised Ben. "Go on."

"Well, there's been a fire at the school, and Master Jasper's hurt,
burned, I guess, and--"

"Ben!" a voice rang through the hall.

"O mercy me!" Jane bounded to her feet, seized her feather duster, which
implement she had been wielding when the fatal telegram had been handed
in, and scuttled down the back hall.

"Ben, Ben! Does any one know where he is?" It was Aunty Whitney, whose
gentle voice was never heard on such a key, and she was actually running
down the hall, her pretty face all streaked with tears. "Oh, Ben, there
isn't a moment to lose. Father wants you to go with him to Jasper. I
can't tell you what for."

"I know," said Ben, quietly, while Polly stuffed her fingers into her
mouth to keep from screaming.

Mrs. Whitney didn't stop to express any surprise, but her face looked
relieved that he had heard the news.

"And you must catch the next train," she hurried on, her voice breaking;
"oh, Ben, you must."

"I'm ready," cried Ben. He gave Polly one kiss, then pulled her arms
away from his neck.

"Your mother says you can go, and she is getting your things together."

"I'll--I'll help put them up," said Polly, blindly staggering off after
him as he rushed down the hall.

"No, no, Polly," cried Mrs. Whitney, "your mother said you must stay
with me,--and Polly, I need you so badly." She opened her arms and Polly
ran into them, and though there wasn't very much comforting done, it was
good to be together.

And Thomas whirled up to the door, and Mr. King and Ben and Mr. King's
valet got into the carriage, into which portmanteaus were thrown, and
away the horses sprang in a mad rush to make the train. And it was all
done in such bewildering haste that the group in the hall scarcely knew
or understood anything until the big front door shut with a clang, and
they were alone. And nothing to tell of it all but that dreadful yellow
telegram lying on Mr. King's writing-table just where it had been
thrown.

     "Fire at school dormitory early this morning. Your son Jasper
     hurt. Come at once.

    "JACOB A. PRESBREY."

Polly never knew for long weeks afterward just how she got through that
dreadful day, except that Joel and David had to be soothed, no one being
able so well as herself to stop the howls of the former, who, on hearing
the news, threw himself flat on the floor in a corner of Grandpapa's
writing room, refusing all comfort. Little David crouched closely to
him, and with never a word laid his head on his shoulder.

And afterward Polly found herself installed as Mrs. Whitney's little
nurse, sitting upon the bed most of the time, and smoothing the soft,
fair hair, as it lay on the pillow, with a trembling hand.

"You can't know what a comfort you are to me, Polly," every once in a
while Mrs. Whitney would say, and reaching up a hand to feel for Polly's
fingers.

"Am I?" said Polly, careful not to let the tears drop where they could
be seen.

"Yes, indeed! And oh, Polly, I don't really believe that we ought to
think the worst. God wouldn't let anything happen to our Jasper. He
wouldn't, Polly." But Mrs. Whitney clutched the pillow, and turned her
face into it and sobbed. And Polly smoothed her hair, and said not a
word.

And all those terrible hours passed away--how, no one could tell.
Outside they could hear Phronsie, who, of course, knew nothing of the
blow that had fallen upon the household, gayly laughing and chattering
away. She had been told that Grandpapa had gone away and that she must
not go into his room; so she hadn't seen Joel and David. But Mother
Fisher had hard work to keep the incessant calls for Polly from being
sounded over the halls and stairs, and at last she took Phronsie into
her room and closed the door.

"Now, Mother's baby," said Mrs. Fisher, seating herself on the wide
haircloth sofa, and drawing Phronsie into her lap. How often had Jasper
sat on this old sofa and told her his boyish confidences the same as her
own children! She gave a groan at the thought of what might be happening
now at that distant school.

"What is it, Mamsie?" asked Phronsie, in gentle surprise, and lifting a
soft little hand to her mother's cheek.

"Oh, my pet," Mrs. Fisher drew Phronsie quickly to her breast, "you
mustn't mind Mamsie."

"But you made a funny noise here, Mamsie," and Phronsie touched her
mother's throat.

"Did I? Well, never mind, dear. Now I must tell you, you cannot have
Polly to-day, Phronsie."

"But I want Polly," said Phronsie, regarding her mother with grave
displeasure.

"Yes, I know, dear. But you cannot have her just to-day. Mother does not
think it is best."

Phronsie's lip quivered and her brown eyes closed to squeeze the tears
back. But despite all her efforts they would come, and two big ones
rolled down her cheeks.

"And Mamsie will be very much disappointed in her little girl if she
cries," went on Mrs. Fisher, "for Aunty Whitney needs Polly to-day. So
Phronsie must be brave and let Polly stay with her."

"Is Aunty Whitney sick?" asked Phronsie, with sudden interest, her eyes
flying open at once. For any one to be sick was to enlist her sympathy,
and she at once gave up all thoughts of having Polly to herself.

"Yes, that is, she will be, I am afraid, if Polly does not stay with
her," said Mother Fisher; "so you must be a good child, and not call for
Polly."

"I will be good," said Phronsie, sliding down from her mother's lap, and
folding her hands. "I will be good." She bobbed her yellow head. "And
Aunty Whitney will get all well, because Polly is there."

Meanwhile the train bearing Mr. King and Ben was speeding swiftly on its
way. For the first hour the old gentleman sat erect on his chair, gazing
straight before him at the flying landscape, and with never a word for
his companion. Then he suddenly turned with a little groan, and laid his
hand on Ben's shoulder. "You are such a comfort to me," he said
brokenly.

"Am I?" said Ben, all the color rushing to his face. He a comfort to
Grandpapa! He hadn't gotten over wondering what had given him this honor
of being allowed to go with him,--and now, to think of being a comfort!

"What I should have done without you, Ben, I cannot tell," Grandpapa was
saying, his hand slipping down until it rested on Ben's woollen glove,
"but, oh, my boy, I am so glad I have you."

Ben said never a word; he couldn't have spoken, it seemed to him, to
save his life, but he lifted his blue eyes to the white, drawn face, and
old Mr. King did not seem to feel anything lacking. And so, on and on;
the revolutions of the wheels, the flashing in and out of strange
cities, the long, steady, tireless plunge of the heavily laden express,
by river and lake, hill-top and plain, only rang one refrain through
every heart-throb, over and over, loud and clear above the reverberation
of the train,--"What shall we find at our journey's end?"

And when it was reached at nightfall, Grandpapa still had Ben's fingers
in his grasp; the valet rushed into the Pullman from another car,
gathered up the luggage, and out all the passengers poured from the
train. There on the platform was Dr. Presbrey himself.

"It is not so bad as we feared," were his first words, as he reached Mr.
King's side; and, without waiting for a word, for he saw the old
gentleman was beyond it, he led the way to his carriage.

"Stop a bit," Grandpapa made out to say through white lips, "a
telegram--tell them at home." He looked at Ben, but Dr. Presbrey sprang
back into the station, wrote it, sent it off, and was with them once
more; and then it was only a matter of moments and Jasper was reached,
at the master's house, where he had been carried after the fire.

"Don't go in," said one of a crowd of boys, who surrounded Ben on the
steps, old Mr. King being in advance, a medical man and one or two
teachers coming out of the house to meet the party. "Don't go in," he
repeated, laying detaining hands on him; "it's perfectly awful in there;
everybody's crying."

"He may want me," said Ben, hoarsely, nodding toward the white-haired
old gentleman ahead, and trying to free himself. The other boys closed
in around him.

"Oh, Dr. Smith won't let you get near him," volunteered one boy; "catch
him!"--which proved to be true. Old Mr. King was just at the moment
being ushered into the front parlor, and the medical man followed and
closed the door with such a snap that it was impossible for any one else
to even dream of entering.

"Now, what did I tell you?" said the boy, triumphantly.

"You're Ben, aren't you?" asked the first boy, who hadn't relinquished
his hold, the other boys drawing up.

"Yes," said Ben.

"Well, we've heard all about you, and the rest of you. King talked just
whole packs about you all."

"Don't," said Ben, and he put up his hand; everything seemed to turn
suddenly dark.

"Hush up, Grayson, can't you have some sense?" said a tall, dark-haired
boy, angrily, and by a speedy movement he had rescued Ben from the first
grasp. "Now, then, come over to my room," he pointed to a long building
on the west, "and I'll tell you all about it."

But Grayson had no mind to be so easily pushed off. "That's no fair," he
cried; "I had him first."

"No, sir, take your hands off, I'm--" and he clutched Ben again,
determined to fight to the end for possession.

"That's right. Get out, Tim," a dozen voices took it up in a subdued
tone, it is true, but equally determined to see fair play.

And the tall, dark-haired boy, being shouldered off the steps, Ben soon
found himself sitting down in the midst of Jasper's school companions,
Grayson still hanging like a leech to him.

"You see we can't do anything but hang around here," one of the boys was
saying, "and when anybody comes out, why, we hear a bit how he is."

"And to think it needn't have happened only for Pip,--O dear!" said a
stout, chubby-cheeked boy, who didn't look as if he ever did anything
but laugh and eat.

"Pip! He wasn't worth saving, little rat," exploded Tim, who, being on
the outskirts of the crowd, had to vent his vexation over somebody.

"You'd better let King hear you say that," cried a boy, with a
belligerent glance over at Tim. Then, as he remembered how little
prospect there might be of Jasper's ever being troubled by the remark,
he ground his teeth together to keep from saying more before Ben.

"See here, fellows." Grayson, having made first capture, deemed it his
further duty to do the right thing by Ben. "We ought to tell him all
about it. And I'll begin," and without more ado, he started off.

Ben clasped his woollen gloves tightly together, and looked over the
heads of the boys up to the sky. Was it possible that the stars had ever
twinkled in friendly fashion at them, as Polly and the other children
had run out of the little brown house with him at such fortunate times
when their mother had let them sit up; and the moon had beamed down on
them too, so sociably that Polly made up little stories about their
shining light, so that they had all grown to love them very dearly. Now,
it seemed as if great tears were dropping out of the sky, and Ben
shivered and listened, and gripped his hands tighter together than ever.

"You see, it began--well, no one knows how it did begin," Grayson was
rushing on; "I think Beggins was drunk."

"What stuff!" ejaculated another boy, contemptuously. "Beggins never got
off the handle; the Doctor would have fired him long ago."

"There must always be a first time," said Grayson, nowise discomfited.
"Beggins is the night watchman," he explained to Ben. "Well,
anyway,--hush up, fellows,--the fire broke out, we don't any of us know
how. It doesn't signify. What we do know is that in about five minutes
from the first alarm it got too hot for us in there." He hopped to his
feet and pointed to the broken outline of a long building. Even in the
dim light, Ben, dropping his gaze from the sky, could see the ruined
chimney, the ragged side wall, and the blackened, crushed windows.

"And it was every one to save his skin. Great Scott! I'll never forget
that yell that Toddy sent up. He's the teacher on our hall, Todd is,"
Grayson explained again, as he dropped into his seat beside Ben.

"Nor the bell clanging," put in another boy; "Christopher Columbus, I
thought it was all day with us then!"

"And I couldn't find my clothes!"

"Well, 'twas no worse for you than for any of us," retorted the boy the
other side of Grayson. "There wasn't a rag for any of us to get into but
blankets, and sheets, and--"

"You see we were waked up out of a sound sleep; it was about three
o'clock this morning," Grayson took the words out of any mouth that
might be intending to explain, "so we just vamosed the ranch. I tell
you, there was some tall sprinting. And King was with us; I remember
seeing him. But he was last, and he looked back; then somebody sang out,
'Where's Pip?'"

"Pip?" Ben found his tongue, that had seemed to be glued to the roof of
his mouth, enough for that one syllable.

"Oh, it isn't his real name," said Grayson, in a hurry to explain again
before any one else could put in a word; "his own was so ridiculously
long,--Cornelius Leffingwell,--only think, for such a mite of a
chap,--so we had to call him Pip, you see. Well, somebody was fool
enough to scream out, 'Where's Pip?' and Jasper turned back."

Ben clenched both hands tightly together in a grip that would have hurt
but for the woollen gloves.

"And I roared out, 'Come along, King--'"

"And so did I."

"And I." The voices took it up, one after another.

"For it wasn't the time to look out for any skin but your own; it was as
much as your life was worth to turn back," cried Grayson, bearing down
on the other voices.

"Boys!" The big door back of them burst open suddenly, and a teacher's
head appeared, making them all jump as if shot. "Go right away from
these steps!"

"How is he?" Nothing seemed to dash Grayson, and he took time to ask
this quite comfortably, still holding to Ben, while the other boys moved
off the steps and around the corner of the master's house.

"Somewhat better. Be off with you!" The teacher waved his hand, and
closed the door.

"That old Sterrett,--well, he's a dragon," declared Grayson, between his
teeth, and, dragging Ben to a convenient angle, where the other boys
soon gathered, the narrative was taken up where it had been dropped.

"I grabbed King, but you might as soon try to hold an eel. He _would_
go."

Ben groaned, and this time so heavily that Grayson pulled himself up
short. "See here, I won't tell any more; you're going to keel over."

For answer he was in an instant whirled completely around on his two
feet, and instead of his having any sort of a grasp on Ben, it was the
visitor who held his coat collar in a woollen-gloved hand in such a way
that it didn't seem as if Grayson were ever to be free again.

"Now tell everything you know! I can't wait! Be quick about it!"

It was the same face he had shown to Jane, and, just as she had done,
Grayson made all possible haste to answer, "Oh, I will, I will!" the
other boys in their astonishment staring silently at the two.

"Pip couldn't be found. He slept in the north wing, but he'd run into
another boy's room, so King lost time, and if he hadn't screeched,--Pip,
I mean,--why, he never would have got out. And there King--oh, well, he
crawled under the bed,--Pip, I mean, nasty little beggar,--and there
King found him, and dragged him out. He told us all about it,--Pip, I
mean,--and King slung him on his back, and by that time it was no use to
try for the stairs; the flames were roaring up like mad, so King tried
for the roof of the 'Lab.' Had to go through Toddy's room, and jumped
out of one of the windows. And he made it.--Oh, don't hang on to a
fellow so!--And there we saw him, and the firemen got a ladder up, and,
oh--" Here Grayson gave out and actually blubbered.

Ben looked around for some one to take up the tale. And the tall,
dark-haired boy they had called "Tim," now seeing his opportunity,
pushed up.

"It's better you should have the whole," he said; "without a bit of
warning we saw the roof overhanging the 'Lab'--laboratory, of course, I
mean--waver, and then fall, and we screamed to King to look out; it
wouldn't have done any good if he had heard, for the chimney toppled,
and some bricks knocked him over, and then he saw it coming and kept Pip
underneath."

Ben's hand had fallen from the jacket collar to his side, and he didn't
seem to breathe.

"You are to come. Mr. King wants you." Somebody reached through the
crowd of boys, and drew him off and away.




VIII

"ANY ONE WHO WANTS TO PLEASE JASPER," SAID BEN, "HAD BETTER TAKE UP THIS
CHAP"


And the first thing Ben knew, he was being hurried over the stairs and
into Master Presbrey's big library. There stood Grandpapa, and, wonder
of wonders, with a smile on his face!

"You are to see Jasper," said the old gentleman, briefly.

Ben staggered back, it was all so sudden, and stared up at the one the
boys had called "Dr. Smith" standing near.

"Yes," said the gentleman, "he has asked for you." And without further
ado Ben was piloted into the back room, and there, looking eagerly
toward the door, was Jasper in the big bed and propped up with pillows.

"Halloo!" It was all either of them said at first; then Ben, with a lump
in his throat, leaned over and grasped the fingers on the coverlet.

"You see I'm all right," said Jasper, his eyes roving affectionately all
over Ben's square figure.

"Yes," nodded Ben.

"But it was good, though, to see Father and you." And Jasper's dark eyes
beamed; then a wave of pain swept its trail over his face. And the
doctor, seeing that, unceremoniously bundled Ben out of the room, and
back to old Mr. King again.

But the next day, oh, that was joy! for Ben was not only let in again,
but allowed to stay a good half-hour. And this time he found his tongue,
for Dr. Smith said a little cheery talking was just the thing. So the
budget of home news was undone, and Ben regaled Jasper, who hungrily
took in every word.

"It's a shame I spoiled all the Christmas," murmured Jasper, his face in
the pillow, his thoughts flying back to Polly and the others, busy with
the preparations for that gay festival.

"Oh, that's no matter," said Ben, cheerily, "and perhaps you'll be able
to come home soon, and we'll have it then."

"But it won't be Christmas," said Jasper, dejectedly.

"Well, but we can call it Christmas," said Ben, "so that'll be just as
good." Then, for want of something else to say, he began on Mrs. Van
Ruypen buying all sorts of things for poor people, of course with never
a word of himself mixed up in it.

"Now isn't that fine?" cried Jasper, taken for the moment off from the
loss of Christmas to the family, and bringing his face into view again.

"Yes," said Ben, "it is," and he went on so fast that Polly herself
couldn't have told it better, Dr. Smith smiling to himself in
satisfaction at the experiment of letting Ben in.

"Well, now, boys," he said at last, coming up to the bed, "time is up.
But you can come in, maybe, this afternoon," to Ben.

"Oh, let him stay now!" begged Jasper.

"Can't," said the doctor, laconically. And off Ben went again. And this
time he, too, smiled. And the first person he ran up against was a small
boy, his hands full of little wads of paper bundles, crammed tightly
together in his nervous fists.

[Illustration: AND THE FIRST PERSON HE RAN UP AGAINST WAS A SMALL BOY,
HIS HANDS FULL OF LITTLE WADS OF PAPER BUNDLES.]

"They're for him," said the small boy, emptying the fistful into Ben's
hands, who involuntarily thrust his out, as it seemed to be expected of
him.

"For whom?" asked Ben, in astonishment.

"Why, for him," said the boy, pointing with a set of sticky fingers he
first put into his mouth, off toward Jasper's room. "Of course; hurry
and give 'em to him before the doctor sees. It's candy." He couldn't
repress his longing as his eyes now fell on the wads in Ben's hands. "I
got 'em down town. Hurry up!" and his little face, pasty-colored and
sharp, scowled at the delay.

"If you mean I'm to give these to Jasper," said Ben, holding the little
packets toward the small figure, "I can't do any such thing; the doctor
wouldn't like it."

"You are a 'fraid cat," said the boy, contemptuously; "but he won't hurt
you, 'cause you're a stranger, so hurry up!" and he laid his sticky
fingers on Ben's arm.

"But don't you understand that these things will hurt Jasper?" said Ben,
kindly, into the scowling little face.

"Hoh! I guess not," said the boy, with another longing look at the
little packets; "they'll make him well, do take 'em to him. O dear!" and
his thin lips trembled, his sticky little fingers flew up to his eyes,
and he turned his face to the wall.

"Now, I guess you're Pip," said Ben, hustling the little wads all into
one hand, and putting the other on the small shoulder.

"Yes, I am," snivelled Pip, flattening his face against the wall, "and
all the boys hate me, and say I've killed King, and--O dear!" he whined.

"Well, now, you just see here," Ben turned the little figure swiftly
around; "no more of that."

It was so sudden that Pip released one pale eye from his sticky fingers
to peer up at the big boy, and he stopped snivelling in amazement.

"The worst thing you can do for Jasper King is to carry on like this,"
said Ben, firmly. "Come, now, wipe your eyes," which Pip at once
proceeded to do on his jacket sleeve, "and take your candy," and Ben
dropped the little packets of sweets back into their owner's hands.
"I'll tell Jasper all you wanted to do for him; it was nice of you." Ben
was astounded to find how fast he was getting on in conversation. Really
he hadn't supposed he could talk so much till he got this Pip on his
hands. Meantime, his grasp still on the small shoulder, he was marching
him off, and downstairs, and across the school yard, not exactly knowing
what in the world to do with him after all.

"Great Scott! If that Pepper boy hasn't got Pip!" A dozen heads, their
owners just released from recitation, were thrust up to the windows of a
class room. Meantime Pip, in the familiar borders of the school yard,
and remembering everything again with a rush, began to snivel once more,
so that Ben was at his wits' end, and seeing a boy a good deal bigger
than his companion coming down the long path, he hailed him
unceremoniously.

"See here, can't you do something for him?" Ben bobbed his head down at
the cowering shoulders. "Can't you play ball with him?" He said the
first thing that came into his head.

"You must excuse me," said the boy, with an aristocratic air, and, not
knowing Ben in the least, he looked him all over contemptuously. "King
was my great friend. I don't know this little cad at all, nor you
either," and he walked on.

Pip's head slunk down deeper yet between his shoulders at that, and he
snivelled worse than ever.

"Come along, I'll play with you myself," said Ben. "Got a ball, Pip?"

"Ye-es," said Pip, between a snivel and a gasp, "but the fellows wo-on't
let you play with me. O dear, boo-hoo-hoo!"

"Oh, yes, they will," said Ben. "Come, let's get your ball. Where's your
room?"

So Pip, seeing that he was to have company all the way, led off somehow
to his room, and the little wads of candy were placed in the bureau
drawer. Once the ball was in Ben's hands he managed to follow him to a
corner of the playground where, without any more words, Ben soon had him
throwing and catching in such a rapid fashion there was no time for
tears or anything else but the business in hand.

Meantime the boy they had met on the long path had marched off, very
angry at having been spoken to by such a common-looking person in
company with Pip, whom nobody had liked from the first, certainly not
after the injury to their favorite, King. And nursing his wrath he
projected himself into the class room where the heads of the boys were
still at the windows.

"Something must be done with that Pip!" he fumed, throwing down his book
on the first desk.

"What's the poor chap done now?" cried Tim, turning off from his window
quite readily, as there was nothing more to be seen. "Can't you let up
on him, Bony?"

"No," said Bony, called short for Bonaparte, much to his distress, for
the great air which he assumed he fondly hoped was to bring him
distinction, "and none of us ought to."

"It wasn't the poor little beggar's fault that King got hurt," said Tim,
thrusting his hands in his pockets and lounging over toward Bony, "and
we ought to remember that."

"Don't preach," cried Bony, derisively. "Well, he is such an
insufferable little cad!" he brought up in disgust. "And that country
lout--Great guns! how did that fellow dare to address me?" With that he
began to fume up and down the room, puffing out his chest at every step.

"Has any one dared to speak to our Bony?" cried Tim, throwing his head
back and blowing out his cheeks, in step and manner imitating as much as
his long figure could, as he followed the other one down between the
rows of desks.

"See here, now, Tim," Bony turned suddenly amid the roars of the
delighted boys, "you quit that now," and he doubled up his fists in a
rage.

"Excuse me, your high mightiness, if I object to being crushed," said
Tim, coolly, and folding his fists, which were long and muscular like
the rest of his body. "Now, then, Bony, if you like."

But Bony didn't like, taking refuge in, "You're no gentleman," and
turning his back.

"I suppose not," said Tim, coolly, and regarding his fists
affectionately, "but I don't see why these wouldn't do. I really can't
see, Bony, why you object to them; they're a good pair."

"What's the row, anyway?" The boys, not to be balked out of all the fun,
seeing that Bony would not fight, crowded around him. "What's upset you,
Bony?"

"Enough to disturb any one," he cried, glad to vent injured feelings on
something. "A common country fellow just now spoke to me on the long
path; fancy that, will you? I never saw him in my life, and he took it
upon himself to give me advice about Pip."

"What?" cried ever so many of the boys.

"Yes, just fancy. And there I had just come from seeing Mr. King," here
Bony threw out his chest again and looked big. "I'd had a long talk with
him; his father knew my father very well, _very_ well indeed, and he
wants me to meet Ben Pepper that he brought here yesterday," and Bony
paused to see the effect on his auditors.

"Well, you've met him," said one boy. Some of the others gave a long
whistle.

"No such thing," retorted Bony. "I wasn't with your crowd when he got
here last night," he added superciliously. "This is quite
different,--quite in the social way,--and his grandfather is going to
introduce us."

"You won't need any introduction," said Tim, with a chuckle. "Hush up,
boys," for the room was in an uproar of cat-calls and peals of laughter.

"Yes, I will, too," said Bony, in a superior way, "for I never speak
unless properly introduced. My set never does."

"Well, you've broken your rule for once then," said Tim, in a hush now,
every boy holding himself in check to lose no word, "for that country
lout with Pip was Ben Pepper."

Bony sat down on the nearest desk, his chest sank in, and he groped
feebly with his hands, mumbling something--what, the boys couldn't have
told, even if the babel that now set up around him had been less. And
Mr. Sterrett coming in, and the other boys rushing out, he was presently
asked if he were ill.

"No, sir," said Bony, getting up from the desk; "oh, no, sir, I--I only
sat down a minute," and he slipped out, leaving his Bonaparte air behind
him.

But if the boys didn't have any more fun with Bony, they did with the
ball game going on between the two over in the playground corner, which
they soon spied, and off they rushed there.

"Let us in, Pepper, will you?" cried Tim, his long legs getting there
first.

"Sure," said Ben, his round cheeks all aglow with the exercise. "Now
then, Pip, wait a bit," the ball just then getting ready to fly from the
thin little hand.

Pip paused, his small pasty-colored face, that without having gained any
color had quieted down from its nervousness, now took on a fresh alarm,
and he looked ready to run.

"They're all going to play with us," said Ben, looking around brightly
on the group as the other boys rushed up. "Now, then, Pip, we'll have a
splendid game!"

"Yes, we'll play," cried the boys, in different keys. And before long
the whole playground resounded with shouts of enjoyment. Ben couldn't
play the most scientific game according to their rules, but he was a
capital pitcher, and he took all errors in a sturdy good humor that kept
things jolly. Altogether, by the time the game was over, everybody in it
had voted that Pepper was worthy to be King's friend.

"You'll have that little chap at your heels every minute, after this,"
Tim nodded over toward Pip, who was running after, having lingered
behind a bit to get his ball, as Ben struck off on the path leading to
Master Presbrey's house.

"All right, let him come," said Ben.

"He'll be an awful nuisance," said Tim; "take my advice, Pepper, and
drop him now."

"Can't," said Ben, "can't oblige," and his fingers closed on the thin
little ones crowding into them, as Pip ran up to his other side.

"And I think any one who wants to please Jasper," said Ben,--he hated to
preach, but it must be done,--"had better take up this chap."

Tim coughed and stuck his hands deeply in his pockets.

"I'm going down this way," said Ben, striking off on a side path, and he
marched off with pip.

"I never knew such a chap," Tim waited for a crowd of the boys who had
joined in the game to come up; "he's been here a little more than one
day, and he leads us all by the nose. Boys, we've just got to take up
that Pip, and we might as well do it handsomely as not."




IX

WHAT A HOME-COMING


Van sprang off the car steps and rushed up tumultuously to Polly in the
midst of the group come down to the railroad station to meet the boys.

"O dear," he grumbled in a loud voice, "now we can't have any Christmas
at all."

"Hulloa, Van--Hulloa, Percy." Pickering Dodge tried his best to cover
this remark by an extra amount of hilarity, as he clapped each of the
boys smartly on the back. "Well, you're an awful long time in getting
here--I should say half an hour late."

"For shame, Van!" cried Percy at his heels, and edging off toward Polly.

"For shame?" repeated Van, hotly; "well, that's no more than you've been
saying on the train,--'we can't have any Christmas,'--and you know it,
Percy Whitney."

"Stop that, you little beggar." Pickering's long arm got possession of
Van, who, instead of occupying the vantage-ground of first arrival, had
now the vexation of seeing Percy in that coveted position.

"Why did you pull me back?" he cried in a small fury at hearing the
bustle and excitement of the group he had just left so summarily.

"Because you were making yourself a nuisance. Fancy such a way to come
home for the holidays, Van."

"There aren't to be any holidays," howled Van, his face very red. "Let
me go, Pick," struggling violently to free himself from Pickering's long
fingers.

"No, indeed." Pickering wound his fingers into a still tighter hold.
"Not much, sir, until you stop those whines. How you can go on so, I
don't see!"

By this time, Pickering, over his shoulder, had the ill luck to see
Clare take the first place in marshalling off the party, a position he
had fully expected to occupy himself whenever Jasper and Ben were away.
All this didn't in the least add to his satisfaction. "Well, I wish
you'd stayed back in your school," he declared in extreme irritation.
And Alexia, running up, only made matters worse by crying out: "Come on,
Van, I'm sure it's bad enough to bear all these dreadful things without
coming clear down here for a boy like you. Do come on, we're all waiting
for you." So it was a very gloomy party that finally became settled in
the two carriages.

"I'm not going to sit with him," declared Van, having freed himself from
Pickering, and bolting for the second carriage.

"No, you're coming with me," said Alexia, hurrying after him. "Come,
Polly, here's a seat. Here," and she waved frantically.

But Polly was already in the other carriage. And seeing this, Alexia was
about to desert her charge, when Thomas, on the box of the forward
conveyance, whipped up and off it went.

"O dear me!" cried Alexia; "somebody stop it. Why, Polly Pepper was
going with me," and she was just about to jump out.

"No use, Alexia," said Pickering, who at the last moment had found
himself crowded out of carriage number one, and putting her to one side
as he helped Cathie in, and then David, at last he got in himself.
"Don't you see they're a good bit on the way home already?"

"Yes, and here I am shut up in here with all of you, whom I don't want
in the least to go with," cried Alexia, in the greatest dismay, sitting
down in her corner too suddenly for comfort, as the horses started up,
and waving her hands frantically.

"Thank you," said Pickering, with a low bow, "I'm sure we all feel much
obliged to you."

"Well, I don't," said Cathie, in a dudgeon, "feel obliged a single bit,
and I'm sure I didn't want to come with you, Alexia, only there wasn't
room in the other carriage, so I had to."

"And I thought Polly Pepper was surely coming in this carriage," ran on
Alexia, too vexed to stop herself, and turning anything but a sweet
countenance upon the rest of the carriage-load. "She started for it."

"Don't look so at me, Alexia," said Pickering. "I'm not to blame; Clare
took her off."

"It's just like Clare--always meddling," said Alexia, thoroughly out of
temper. "Van Whitney, you're sitting all over my coat, and it's my best
one, too," and she turned and twitched it away with an angry hand.

"I didn't sit all over it," retorted Van, "and I didn't want to come
with you, but you made me."

"Well, because you and Pickering were having such a fight. O me, I wish
I'd let you alone," she added, sinking back into her corner.

But Van, much preferring Alexia to Pickering, couldn't say the same, so
the carriage rolled on to a gloomy silence within.

"Oh, I say," began Pickering, after this had gone on for some minutes,
"this is a sweet way to go to Mr. King's, isn't it?"

"Well, we can't help it," cried Alexia, flying up from her corner; "I'm
sure, Pickering, you can't blame any of us. And I haven't got Polly
Pepper; you know she was coming in here with me, and everything is just
as bad as it can be."

"You're always tagging on to Polly Pepper; I'm glad you haven't got her
this time," declared Cathie, in venom from her corner.

"Of course I'm always after Polly," said Alexia, decidedly, "when she's
my very dearest friend. O my, don't I wish I could get out!"

"Well, you will pretty soon," said Pickering, coolly; "we'll all get
out, for we'll be there in a minute. And then how we'll look, for we're
supposed to be helping Mr. King's family, and they're in such trouble."

"O dear me!" exclaimed Alexia, in great distress, whirling around
suddenly to look out of the window, her long, fight braids flying over
her shoulder. "Pickering Dodge, we aren't near Mr. King's yet," she
declared, peering out; "we haven't got to--oh, yes we have--O dear me,
what shall we do?" and she flew back again into her corner.

"We've just got to do something," said Pickering, in a determined voice.
Little David had been past speaking for some time, and, wedged in
between Cathie and Pickering, had been chiefly occupied in twisting his
hands, and trying not to think how very dreadful it all was, and how
Mamsie would feel to see them all come in.

"We can't do anything," said Alexia, despairingly; "it's all as dreadful
as it can be, and we can't help it," and she ran her long arms as far as
she could into her muff, and hugged it up tightly.

"Well, we've got to help it," said Pickering. "There's Jasper," he broke
off suddenly, for it was as much as he could do to think about the
accident that had summoned Mr. King and Ben away from home, let alone
trying to talk about it, and he swallowed hard and looked out of his
window.

"O dear me!" exclaimed Alexia, faintly from her corner.

Then she sat up straight. "Oh, I know, let's look pleasant, that's what
the man says when he takes my photograph, and he won't throw back his
old woollen cover from the machine till I smile, so I'm going to
now,"--which she did with such surprising effect, that Pickering,
turning around, couldn't help but join all the others in the general
laugh that set up; even little David forgot everything else for that
moment.

The consequence was that when the carriage drew up to the door of the
big stone house, the occupants tumbled out and ran up the steps in quite
good humor, to join the other half of the party, in the centre of which
were Mother Fisher and Mrs. Whitney.

"Now that's very nice and cheerful," said Mother Fisher, beaming on them
all. Mrs. Whitney, her arms around her two boys, was beyond speaking.
"You must all stay and have luncheon with Percy and Van; they'll enjoy
it so much more," and she led the way to the dining room.

"Ugh, O dear me!" Alexia ran after her. "Oh, don't ask me; I can't stay,
Mrs. Fisher, truly I can't."

"Why, Alexia,"--Mother Fisher turned on her in great surprise,--"it will
help to make things pleasanter," she said slowly.

"Oh, I can't; don't ask me," mumbled Alexia, wildly, and twisting her
hands together. One thing only she now really longed for, and that was
to stay for the dear little luncheon party she knew Polly's mother had
made ready. But she had lost it all; and she darted back and, clutching
Polly's arm a moment in passing, "I'm going home," she said.

"What?" cried Polly, flying around to seize her. "Oh, no, indeed, you
are not, Alexia. Why, you are all to stay; didn't you hear Mamsie say
so?"

"Well, I can't," said Alexia. "O dear me, I'm going to cry, and I can't
get my handkerchief. Polly Pepper, do let me go!"

But instead, Polly held very fast indeed to her, and the next moment
Alexia found herself in the big dining room, in the midst of the
delightsome luncheon party made for the two schoolboys' home-coming.

"Well, I shan't sit down, anyway," declared Alexia, desperately, "and
I'm going to tell Mrs. Fisher." With that she darted away from Polly and
ran over to her mother. "I haven't been cheerful, and I was just as bad
as I could be coming up in the carriage," she said as fast as the words
would come, "so you see I can't stay."

"This is your seat, Alexia," said Mother Fisher, just as if she hadn't
heard a single word, and laying her hand on a chair, she pulled it out
from the table; "hurry and sit down, dear, for those two boys must be
very hungry after their journey," and Alexia obeyed and slipped into her
chair, for once in her life not waiting to get Polly Pepper next to her.

And after the little luncheon was over,--and it didn't seem to have made
a bit of difference that every one besides the two hungry boys had
already had a midday meal, for it all tasted so good,--why, things began
to get a bit more cheery. And Mother Fisher and Mrs. Whitney even smiled
over to each other. But Van, his hunger appeased, slipped out after his
mother when at last the feast was over.

"Oh, Vanny, my boy, it is so good to get you home," she cried,
affectionately throwing her arm around him, as they went down the hall.

"I'm going to your room," announced Van, without any preamble.

"How good that is," she declared as he hugged up close to her. "You
don't know, Van, how I have wanted to see you and Percy."

"O dear," said Van, but he crowded closer than ever.

"And--well, here we are," and Mrs. Whitney hurried into her pretty room
with the haste of a girl, and turned her face with its little pink glow
of happiness on him. "Oh, Van!"

"I've been bad," said Van, not looking at her, but dropping his eyes to
the floor.

"Oh, Van!" Mrs. Whitney laid her hand on her heart, and all the pretty
flush died from her cheek. "What--" but she couldn't get any farther,
for somebody fumbled at the door, and, without any further announcement,
walked in.

"O dear me!" exclaimed Percy, withdrawing when he saw Van.

"Come in, Percy," called his mother, before he could beat a retreat. It
would be some relief to have both of her boys, but what could have
happened!

So Percy walked in, and he stood just like Van, only worse, for he
didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

"Why, what is it? What can it be?" cried their mother. "Oh, do tell me,
boys; don't be afraid."

Van turned off on his heel till he got his back to Percy. Then he found
his tongue. But it was only to say again, "I was bad."

"Well, so was I," Percy got the words out with great difficulty, staring
gloomily at the carpet, and thrusting his hands in his pockets to pull
them out as suddenly.

"You must just tell me what you have done," said Mrs. Whitney, looking
desperately first at one and then at the other, "or I shall go for Mrs.
Fisher," and she started for the door.

"Oh, no, no, Mamma!" they cried together, and Van whirled around and
held her gown.

"I certainly shall," declared their mother, firmly, "unless you tell me
at once what is the matter," and she took another step toward the hall.

"I fretted about--" began Van.

"Not having any Christmas," said Percy, coming in as a finish. "O dear!"

"Oh, boys!"

"Don't look so, Mamma, don't!" implored Van, clutching her gown with
desperate fingers.

"And I did, too," said Percy. His hands now seemed to have no comfort in
his pockets, so he twisted them miserably together.

"You mean when you were coming home in the carriage?" asked Mrs.
Whitney, a sorrowful little droop coming in her pretty mouth.

"Yes," said Van, his head hanging. "O dear me,"--he had hard work not to
cry, but he wagged his head from side to side, and somehow kept the
tears back,--"I did, anyway."

"Well, I did, too," said Percy, hastily; "that is, on the train. O
dear!"

"Well, this is very bad," said their mother. But her voice was quite
gentle, and she put her arm around each of them. "When we know how happy
we ought to be that Jasper is really better, although he can't come home
until after Christmas, how can we think of a holiday, and fret because
we lose it?"

"We won't fret," said Percy, eagerly. "Oh, we won't, Mamma, ever again."

"No," said Van, "we won't, truly, Mamma."

While this was going on in Mrs. Whitney's room, there was a small clamor
raised downstairs. Where in the world were the two boys just come home
from school?

"I know," declared Alexia, who had recovered her spirits. "Polly," and
she drew her off into the library, "they went upstairs with Mrs.
Whitney," she said with a loud whisper in her ear.

"I heard you," cried little Dick, creeping in back of the two girls,
"and I shall just go up to Mamma's room," and he began to skip off
joyously.

"Oh, no, you mustn't," cried Alexia, deserting Polly to race after him
and seize his blouse. "The very idea--Polly, come and help me hold this
dreadful boy."

"I shall go up and see my Mamma," said Dick, in a small fury, and
pulling and kicking violently. "She is my very own Mamma, and I _shall_
see her."

"But you mustn't," said Alexia, very red in the face. "O dear me, why
did I speak! Polly, do help me," for just then Phronsie had run in
between the two girls, and before any one had a chance to hardly
breathe, a dreadful sound struck their ears.

"There, see what you have done!" exclaimed little Dick, in a wrathful
key. Alexia's fingers fell away, and he held up a dangling end of lace,
all frayed and ragged. "You've torn my blouse, and I _shall_ see my
Mamma." With that he set out on a run for the stairs.




X

"I'LL LOVE HER JUST FOREVER!"


"I'm going home," cried Alexia, hoarsely, and rushing blindly down the
hall.

"Alexia!" Polly deserted Phronsie and raced after her. "You can't mean
it; do come back. It isn't any matter that lace was torn," she added
breathlessly, as she gained her side.

"Polly Pepper," gasped Alexia, "how can you say so? It's the most
dreadful thing!" and she turned wide eyes of amazement at her.

"I mean it isn't near as bad as for you to run home," said Polly,
hastily; "that would make Mrs. Whitney feel ever so much worse."

At the mention of Mrs. Whitney's name, Alexia's long figure shook all
over. "Horrors! I can't ever see her again!" and she buried her face in
her hands.

"Now, Alexia, aren't you ashamed to act so?" said Polly. "Dear me, over
a bit of lace that can be mended, I most know; and we've had so much
trouble," and she sighed.

"And I've made a mess of it ever since those boys came home, and now
I've gone and torn that lace," mumbled Alexia, between her fingers, the
sigh making her nearly frantic. "Polly Pepper, I _shall_ go home,"--with
that she sprang away from Polly, and ran upstairs to Polly's room to get
her things.

Polly, with only one thought to get Mamsie, who alone seemed to be the
person to manage this new trouble, hurried off to find her. But Mrs.
Fisher, happy in the success of the little luncheon party, had
disappeared to some unknown house duty, and couldn't at this very moment
be found. So Polly had the distress to hear, before she could run over
the stairs herself, the big front door bang, and, hurrying to the
window, she saw Alexia running down the driveway and pulling her coat
around her as she ran.

For the first moment Polly had wild thoughts of flying off after her.
Then, remembering what Mamsie had once said, "If you want to help,
Polly, take time to think what would be the best way," and that Mamsie
would say now, in this trouble, "Don't go, for the boys are just
home,"--"O dear me!" she cried as Joel rushed in and up to the window,
and without a bit of warning seized her about the waist and spun her
into the middle of the floor.

"Oh, Joey, what is it?" she gasped when she could get her breath.

"He's going to bring Pip," cried Joel, bobbing his black head at her.
"Come on, Polly, whoopity la!" and he held out his hands for another war
dance.

"Oh, Joel,"--Polly seized his hands and stood quite still,--"you don't
mean Jasper is coming soon?" The color flew into her cheeks till they
were rosy red.

"Yes, I do, too," said Joel, prancing off by himself, since Polly
wouldn't dance; "he's coming to-morrow; no, I guess next week--anyway,
he's coming." With that he executed some remarkable steps as only Joel
could.

"How did you know, Joel? Stop and tell me." Polly flew after him around
and around the room.

"A letter," said Joel; "whoopity la! and he's going to bring Pip."

"A letter?" Now she must find Mamsie or Aunty Whitney, and Polly left
Joel dancing away and got over the stairs with her best speed to find
Mrs. Whitney just coming to call her. She held in her hand an open
letter, scraps of which she was reading aloud to the two boys hanging on
either arm, little Dick, unable to attract attention to his torn lace,
pulling at her gown impatiently.

"Is it true--is Jasper coming home?" cried Polly, breathlessly rushing
up.

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Whitney tore off her gaze from the letter, and turned
shining eyes on her. "Oh, Polly, this has just come and I was going to
find you. Yes, yes, Dick, Mamma will attend to you presently; he is
really coming home."

"When is he coming?" asked Polly, clasping her hands impatiently.

"Oh, not until next week, but it is, oh, so much, to have the doctor set
a time. Just think, Polly," and she turned her face, now almost as rosy
as Polly's own, upon her affectionately.

"She tore my lace," said little Dick, thinking it a good time to begin
again on the announcement he had been trying to make ever since he had
arrived, and he held up the frayed end.

"Yes, yes, dear," said Mrs. Whitney, indifferently without even a glance
at it; "and he is to bring Pip, and he wants us all to make him have the
best time in the world. Oh, won't we, children! for it will please
Jasper." Her eyes glowed as she looked around at them all. At this
little Dick deserted his lace. "Oh, I will, Mamma," he promised, "and he
shall have my rocking-horse, and that'll please Jasper, I guess," and he
began to march up and down the hall in great importance.

"And now, Polly," said Mrs. Whitney, "and, boys, we must think up what
we are to do for the real Christmas, when Jasper and father and Ben get
home; oh, and Pip--we mustn't forget Pip."

"Oh, no, we won't forget Pip," they cried, as they all hurried
downstairs to bring the good news to Mother Fisher and the others.

And so, although Polly did not forget about Alexia, it was some time
before she could get Mrs. Whitney's ear to tell her about it.

"Now I'll tell you what we'll do, Polly," said Mrs. Whitney, when she
had heard it all; "I'll have the carriage right away, and you and I will
drive over and get Alexia to come back to dinner."

"Oh, and can't she stay over night, Aunty?" cried Polly, hopping up and
down in great excitement.

"Yes, indeed, if her Aunt will let her," said Mrs. Whitney, delighted to
have everything coming out so nicely; "so now run off and get on your
things, child."

No need to tell Polly that. She was soon ready, and before long there
they were, Aunty Whitney and she, driving off to bring Alexia home and
comfort her up.

"She isn't home," said the maid, who answered the door-bell of Mrs.
Cummings's aristocratic boarding-house on the Avenue.

"Isn't home?" repeated Polly, faintly.

"No'm."

"What is it, Polly?" asked Mrs. Whitney, from the carriage.

"Alexia isn't home," said Polly, disconsolately, and feeling as if the
whole world were out of joint.

"Miss Rhys took her away," said the maid, who, beginning to be
communicative, saw no reason why she shouldn't tell the whole, "and she
didn't want to go, either."

"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly.

"No, she didn't; but Miss Rhys wouldn't leave her alone 'cause she was
crying so, and she was going to Miss Barnard's to tea, and so she made
her go, too."

"Aunty,"--Polly flew down the steps,--"oh, can't we," she cried
desperately, "go over and get Alexia; can't we, Aunty?"

"At Miss Barnard's, is she?" asked Mrs. Whitney, who had heard only part
of the maid's information.

"Yes, and Alexia does hate to go there," said Polly, in a burst, "and
she was crying. Oh, Aunty!"

That "Oh, Aunty!" settled it. "Yes, child, tell Thomas to drive to Miss
Barnard's, and get in."

So Polly, seeing a little light on what had been so dark and miserable,
hopped into the carriage, and off they went to Miss Barnard's.

Miss Hetty Barnard was a maiden lady upon whose company Miss Rhys placed
herself whenever the dull routine of boarding-house life, or a new
stitch in knitting or crochet, gave her a desire for the society of her
friend. All such visits Alexia carefully avoided if a possible thing.
And Polly, knowing full well the details of those enforced upon her by
her aunt, as Alexia, the day after, poured the miseries of each in her
ear, sat forward on the green leather seat and clasped her hands,
impatient to get there.

"Oh, if they only haven't gone in to tea," she breathed.

"It's early yet, child," said Mrs. Whitney, reassuringly, "scarcely half
after five o'clock," glancing at the little silver watch in the carriage
pocket before her; "so don't worry, Polly."

"But Miss Barnard has tea so very early," said Polly, in a small panic.
"Oh, here we are!" she brought up gleefully, as the carriage rolled up
to the Barnard door and stopped.

"Yes, here we are," laughed Mrs. Whitney, just as well pleased, as Polly
jumped out and ran up the steps.

Polly hadn't half finished, "Is Alexia Rhys here, and can I see her?"
before a rustle began in the stuffy little parlor, and out rushed the
object of her search.

"Oh, Polly, Polly!" exclaimed Alexia, seizing her with both hands to
draw her down the hall; her head sank on Polly's shoulder and she began
to cry as hard as she could.

"Ow!" said Polly, as the tears ran down her neck; "O dear me, Alexia, do
stop!"

"Oh, I can't," said Alexia, "and do take me away, Polly, for it's too
dreadful here, and we're just going out to tea, and I never can live
through it. O dear!"

"Well, I'm going to," said Polly, as soon as she could be heard.

"What!" exclaimed Alexia, bounding away to look at her.

"Yes, if your Aunt will let you come," said Polly, with happy little
thrills.

"Oh, Aunt will let me quick enough," said Alexia; "but do you really
mean it? O dear, it'll be 'most as bad at your house, for there's Mrs.
Whitney, and I tore that lace,--oh, I can't go!"

"You must come; Aunty Whitney is out in the carriage, and we've come for
you, and you are to stay all night," explained Polly; "don't you see,
Alexia, she wants you?"

"Does she? Oh, goody," and, "O dear, how can she?" was jumbled all up by
Alexia, who was now hugging and kissing Polly at a great rate.

"Tea is ready." A thin little woman, who was alternately feeling of her
brooch and smoothing down her plaid silk gown as she came along the
hall, announced it so suddenly that both girls jumped.

"Oh, I can't stay, Miss Barnard," said Alexia, recovering herself; "I'm
going home with Polly Pepper," and without another word she ran back
into the stuffy little parlor to announce that fact to her Aunt.

"And whom have we here?" demanded little Miss Barnard, who hadn't half
heard Alexia, and peering out of small, near-sighted eyes into the
corner where Polly stood.

"It's Polly Pepper," said Polly, coming out into the light, "and I've
come for Alexia; that is--"

"To be sure, to be sure, now I know you," Miss Barnard raised her hands,
"and how you grow, Polly,"--a remark the little maiden lady never failed
to make when seeing any of the young folks at close enough, range to
speak to. "Well, and do you want to take Alexia away? Why can't you stay
to tea with her? I wish you would; my maid has quite enough prepared.
Quite enough, indeed," and Miss Barnard waved her hands to indicate the
extent of her larder.

"Oh, I can't, indeed, Miss Barnard," cried Polly, hastily. "And Aunty
Whitney is waiting out in the carriage. Would you please tell Alexia to
hurry?"

"Is Mrs. Whitney out in the carriage?" cried Miss Barnard, catching at
this desirable information and letting everything else slip. "Oh, then,
I must speak to her; surely I must, for I wouldn't be so rude as to let
her be at my door without a word from me. Elvira," she thrust her head
into the small parlor to throw a word over to Miss Rhys, who was just
saying "Yes" to Alexia, "I'll be with you in a bit; I must first speak
to my dear friend, Mrs. Whitney."

"It's very cold," said Polly, as the little maiden lady laid her hand on
the knob of the front door. Alexia was frantically throwing on her hat
and coat in the dim recesses of the back hall.

"That may be, but I wouldn't neglect my duty," said Miss Barnard, with
the air of knowing what was required of her; "but perhaps I had best be
careful," pausing with her hand on the knob, "so would you mind, my
dear, handing my shawl; you will find it on the hat-rack at the end of
the hall."

So Polly had nothing to do but to go down after it.

"The very idea," exclaimed Alexia, in smothered wrath, "to ask you to
get her old shawl!"

"Hush!" begged Polly, with a warning pinch.

"And just think of her going out to see Mrs. Whitney! Come on, Polly, I
know the way to the back door," and she seized Polly's arm.

But Polly got away, and carried the shawl down to Miss Barnard and laid
it over the wiry little shoulders; and at last the front door was
opened.

"My dear Mrs. Whitney," exclaimed the little maiden lady, skipping out
to the carriage step, and holding out both hands, "you don't know how
very glad I am to see you here; now do get out and have tea with Miss
Rhys and me."

"Oh, it is quite impossible, Miss Barnard," said Mrs. Whitney, "thank
you. Now, girlies," with a smile over the little maiden lady's head to
Polly and Alexia, "step in, both of you, for we must hurry home."

"O dear, I am so sorry," cried Miss Barnard, as the girls rushed to
obey; then she gave a little cackle, intended to be very winning,
"perhaps some time you will come, my dear Mrs. Whitney, I should _so_
admire to have you--hee-hee."

"How Aunt can--" began Alexia, as the good-bys were said and the
carriage door slammed and away they went. "Polly Pepper, I've just
killed your foot, I know, but I couldn't help stepping all over you, for
that dreadful woman fluttered me so. O dear, and I haven't said anything
to Mrs. Whitney," and Alexia could feel her sallow cheek grow hot and
red.

"I'll forgive you," said Mrs. Whitney, with a little laugh.

"And how Aunt can take up with her," finished Alexia in vexation, "O
dear me, I can't see."

"She has some good qualities," said Mrs. Whitney, kindly; "we must
remember that."

"Well, I don't know where they are," fumed Alexia. "She's quite the most
odious person I ever saw, and I'm so tired of her everlastingly coming
to see Aunt. Oh, Polly!" She gave such a cry of distress that both Polly
and Mrs. Whitney turned in dismay. "I can't go, I can't go; I forgot my
nose and eyes. I cried so, see how they look!" She leaned forward in the
carriage to display them the better.

"Is that all?" exclaimed Mrs. Whitney, with a sigh of relief; while
Polly cried, "Oh, Alexia, that's no matter," comfortingly, "and they
don't show so very much; really they don't."

"And then that lace." Alexia, now that she was really on the way to be
comforted, began to feel all the first distress of the accident
over-whelming her again. "O dear, I am so sorry, Mrs. Whitney!" she
mumbled shamefacedly.

"Now, Alexia," and Mrs. Whitney leaned over and put both hands on the
anxious face, then she drew it down and set a kiss where a stream of
tears had run, "do you know, dear, you will make me feel badly if you
ever speak of that lace again, or worry about it, child." She turned the
other cheek, and dropped a soft kiss on it. "Promise now, say you will
not."

"I won't," mumbled Alexia, looking up into the blue eyes, and she didn't
speak another word till safe up in Polly's room.

Then she shut the door and marched up to her.

"She kissed me, she really did, and twice, and just as if she really
wanted to! And no one has ever done that but you, Polly Pepper, and I'll
love her just forever!"




XI

AN AFTERNOON CALL


And so the real Christmas rang its joy-bells, passing over the King
household as if such a thing as a holiday was never thought of.

Polly gave her presents to the girls of her set, and in every way she
and the other members of the household kept up all the delights of the
season, so far as it concerned people outside of their family. But when
all the little and big white-papered gifts for her began to pour into
the care of the butler who attended the door, they were carefully
deposited in a little room off from the main hall, set apart for the
purpose, there to lie untouched until "we have _our_ real Christmas,"
she said.

And as it was arranged with Polly's gifts, so it was to be the order of
proceedings in regard to the presents of every other member of the
family; till the little room seemed fit to burst with richness, and even
Hobson despaired of getting much more in.

"We'll have to get some other place, and that's true enough," he said to
himself, with a sigh, and dumping down a huge box just left at the door.

Joel, racing along the hall at the sound of the arrival, panted, "What
is it? Oh, Hobson, who is it for?" all in the same breath.

"Hold on, Master Joel!" cried Hobson, and feeling of his arm gingerly,
after the eager pinch from Joel's fingers. "Well, it was for you, if you
must know," he said irritably. "But you can't go in," twitching the door
in alarm, and trying to turn the key.

"Oh! I will too; it was mine!" cried Joel, very hot and red faced, and
struggling to squeeze by the portly figure of the butler. "You've no
right to put me out," he fumed.

"Mrs. Whitney gave me this key," said the butler, puffing from his
exertions to keep Joel off with one hand, and to adjust the implement in
its lock with the other. "And I, O bless me," as it slipped from his
fingers and jingled to the floor.

"There,--goody,--O jumbo!" exclaimed Joel, pouncing on it where it fell
on the edge of the rug, then he slipped away from the big hand, and,
prancing off, shook the key high in the air in derision. "Now I can go
in whenever I like. Whoop it up! Yes-sir-ee!"

Hobson, beyond answering, made a dive in his direction, which Joel
quickly eluded, and, the bell ringing again, there could be no further
attempt to rescue the key, and Joel danced off, chuckling triumphantly.
And hopping through the back drawing-room on a short cut across to the
side hall, he rushed up almost into the face of a big figure sitting up
in state on one of the high-backed carved chairs.

"O dear me!" exclaimed Joel, backing out summarily.

"I am very glad to see you, Joel," said Madam Van Ruypen, with her best
smile on, "for I'm going to wait until Mrs. Whitney gets home," and
extending her hand.

Joel, forgetting his key, put hand and all into her black glove.

"Dear me," she said, looking at her palm, "what have we here, Joel?"

"It's a key," blurted Joel, recovering it quickly, "and I can't stay,"
feeling questions in the air, and he was for bolting out again.

"Indeed, you will stay," declared Madam Van Ruypen, coolly; "a talk with
you is the very thing I want! Sit down," and she pointed a black-gloved
finger over to an opposite ottoman. And Joel sat down.

"Now, my dear boy," she said as sweetly as if she had come expressly to
see him, and was quite sure of her welcome, "before your aunt comes
home, I want to talk with you."

"Oh, I'll go and put it back," said Joel, supposing it was all about the
key, and beginning to slide off from his ottoman.

"Put what back?" demanded the old lady with sharp eyes full on him.

"The key," said Joel, fumbling it first in one set of fingers, then in
the other. "I'll--" and he was on his feet.

"Sit down," said Madam Van Ruypen, pointing to the ottoman, and again
Joel sat down with a decided conviction that he didn't like afternoon
calls; and he gazed anxiously at the door to see if by any chance Aunty
Whitney would appear.

"You see, Joel, I depend on you," Madam Van Ruypen was saying.

Joel, all his thoughts on the little room off from the hall, and the
desire which now possessed him to get back the key into the butler's
hands before he could go with his story to Mother Fisher, sat and swung
his feet in dismal silence, every word of the old lady's falling on
heedless ears.

At last she stopped short and surveyed him with smart displeasure.

"You haven't heard a word I've said," she declared sharply.

"No'm," said Joel, promptly; and, coming to himself with an awful
consciousness that here was something dreadful to add to the matter of
the key that now began to quite weigh him down, he stopped swinging his
feet and sat stiffly on the chair.

"Well, do you come straight here," she demanded; and somehow Joel found
himself off from his chair, and over by the old lady's side.

"No, not there; I want you in front where I can look at you," and she
summarily arranged him to her liking. "There you are! Now, Joel,"--she
surveyed him as long as it suited her, Joel not taking his black eyes
from her face,--"do you know what I want this talk with you for?"

"No'm," said Joel.

"Well, I'll tell you; listen, now."

"Yes'm," said Joel, gripping his key tighter than ever.

"You'd much better give me that key," said Madam Van Ruypen, with a
sudden sharp look down at his clenched hand; "you are not attending at
all to what I am saying, Joel."

"Oh, no, no," cried Joel, quite alarmed, and thrusting his fistful back
of him. "O dear! Let me go, ma'am, _please do_!"

Instead of this request being complied with, Madam Van Ruypen leaned
over and calmly laid a black glove on his hot little fist. "Give it to
me at once," she commanded; "I'll keep it for you until I've said my
say."

"I can't," screamed Joel; "'tisn't mine. O dear me, I can't." Clapping
his other hand on his fist to hold it tighter yet, he wriggled away in
distress to stand in the middle of the floor, the old lady viewing him
with fast-rising choler; at last she arrived at the height of her
displeasure.

"Go away at once," she said coldly, "and send your brother David here.
He's a boy of sense, and the best one, after all, to deal with, seeing
Ben isn't home."

Joel, nearly blinded by the tears that now ran freely down his cheeks,
stumbled out to do as he was bidden, forgetting in his misery the key
still doubled up in his fist. But search high and low as he might, David
could not be found. And at last Joel, quite gone in distress, rushed
into Mother Fisher's room. There was no one in it, and Joel flung
himself down on the wide old sofa, and cried as if his heart would
break.

Meantime Madam Van Ruypen, despairing of Mrs. Whitney's return, and
despite her summons to servants, unable to find a trace of Joel or
David, swept out of the back drawing-room, got into her carriage, and
was driven off home in a very bad frame of mind.

And Joel sobbed on until he could scarcely see out of his eyes, and
still Mother Fisher didn't come. And the butler crossly set the other
Christmas gifts that kept arriving, in a closet under the hall stairs,
much too small a place for them, and everything was about as bad as it
could be.

A smart clap on the back brought Joel up, but he hid his face behind his
hands.

"Phoh! What are you crying for?" It was Van; and he was so delighted to
catch Joel in this plight that he chortled over and over, "Joe Pepper's
been crying!" and he began to dance around the room.

"I haven't," cried Joel, too wild to think of anything but Van's taunts,
and dashing his hands aside.

"Oh, what an _awful_ whopper!" exclaimed Van, coming quite close to peer
up into Joel's face, "and you don't know how you look,--just like that
baboon at the Zoo, with the little squinched-up eyes!" he added
pleasantly.

"I don't care--go 'way!" said Joel, crossly, and flapping out his hands,
regardless of anything but the wild desire to keep Van from a close
inspection. Something jingled as it fell to the floor.

"What's that?" cried Van, dancing away from Joel, and peering with
bright eyes on the carpet.

"It's nothing," screamed Joel, flying down in front of the sofa, and
pawing wildly along the carpet. "I tell you 'tisn't," he kept on
screaming. "Go 'way this minute."

"Oh, now I know you've got something that doesn't belong to you, and
you're keeping it secret from the rest of us." Van threw himself flat on
the floor and tried to crowd in between Joel and the old sofa.

"I haven't; it's mine, it's--it's--Go right away!"

But struggle and push as he might, Van somehow seemed to wedge himself
in; and Joel's poor eyes not allowing him to see much, it was just one
minute, when--"O goody!" The key was in Van's hand, and he was dancing
again in the middle of the room.

Joel sprang to his feet and tossed his stubby black hair off from his
forehead, "You give that right straight back here, Van Whitney!" he
shouted.

"Catch me!" cried Van. Then he swung the key tauntingly over toward
Joel. "Hoh, don't you wish you may get it, Joe Pepper, don't you, now?"

For answer Joel made a blind rush at him, and there they were, flying
around and around in Mother Fisher's room, Van now having all he could
do to look out for himself and keep away from Joel's sturdy fists,
without the care of keys. So he flung his captured prize as far as he
could over into the opposite corner. And hearing it land somewhere, Joel
released him, and ran blindly over where it appeared to strike. And as
Van followed quickly, there really didn't seem to be any chance of
recovering it, at least in peace, with another on its trail who had a
sharp pair of eyes in his head.

Joel turned suddenly, and before Van had the least idea what he was
about, he was seized and hustled off to Mother Fisher's closet, bundled
in, the door slammed to, the key turned in the lock, and there he was.

"Now," said Joel, drawing the first long breath, "I'll get that key easy
enough," and he rushed over to begin operations.

"_Let me out!_" screamed Van, in muffled accents, and banging on the
closet door.

"Don't you wish you may?" Joel, pawing and prowling frantically along
the floor, found time to hurl him this over his shoulder. Then he rubbed
his smarting eyes and set to work with fresh vigor, not paying any
further attention to Van's entreaties. At last, when it really seemed as
if that key had been possessed of little fairy legs and run off, Joel
pushed aside Mother Fisher's big workstand, a thing he had done at least
three times before, and there it was shining up at him where it had
hidden behind one of the legs!

"I've got you now," cried Joel, jubilantly pouncing on it. And this
time, not daring to trust it in his hands, he thrust it deep within his
pocket, and with never a thought of Van, who had stopped his cries to
listen to Joel, he tore out of the room, and down the stairs, three at a
time.

"Has any one seen Mamsie?" he cried of the first person he met, one of
the under servants passing through the back hall.

"Why, she's gone out with Mrs. Whitney," said the maid.

"Bother!" exploded Joel, dancing impatiently from one foot to the other.

"Yes, they've gone out making calls, I s'pose," said the maid, delighted
to think she had any news to impart.

Joel made a grimace at that, not having at any time a reason for liking
calls, and this afternoon with a positive aversion to them. And that
brought back Madam Van Ruypen unpleasantly to his mind.

"Has she gone?" he asked in a dreadful whisper; and clutching the maid's
arm, "has she, Hannah?"

"Ow!" exclaimed Hannah, edging off quickly. "Yes, I told you she had;
she and Mrs. Whitney, too. You don't need to pinch me to death, Master
Joel, to find out."

"Oh, I don't mean Mamsie," cried Joel, impatiently. "I mean _she_,--has
_she_ gone?" and pointing off toward the back drawing-room, "Say,
Hannah, has she?"

"Whoever do you mean?" demanded Hannah, glancing over her shoulder in
the direction indicated.

"Why, _she_," repeated Joel, stamping impatiently to enforce his words,
"Madam Van Ruypen, of course."

"I didn't know she was there," said Hannah, "I'll go and see," and she
started for the back drawing-room door.

"Oh, no, no," cried Joel, in a lively terror, and running after her, he
laid hold of her apron string; "I don't want to know, Hannah; I don't,
really."

"Why, you asked me," snapped Hannah, twitching away the apron string;
"there, now, you've mussed it all up," she added in vexation, and now
quite determined, if for no other reason than to spite Joel, to explore
the back drawing-room, she opened the door and went in.

Joel, seeing she had escaped him, fled precipitately and, not waiting to
restore the key to Hobson, a thing he had intended to do if he couldn't
find Mamsie, now considered out of doors to be the only safe place for
him. For of course Hannah would come for him to go back to Madam Van
Ruypen sitting in dreadful state to receive him. It sent cold chills
down his spine just to think of it! And he rushed madly along down by a
cross cut to the green wicket gate on his way over to Larry Keep's.

"Hullo! Well, you needn't knock a chap down," as some one bumped into
him.

"I didn't. 'Twas you knocked me."

"No such thing," said Larry, recovering himself, "and I was going for
you; and Van, too."

At mention of Van, Joel's face dropped, and all the color rushed out of
it. "O dear me, I forgot; he's in the closet."

"_In the closet?_" repeated Larry, his blue eyes opening their widest.

"Yes, I shut him up. Oh, come with me." In his distress he seized
Larry's arm, and together they raced, Joel far in advance, up to the big
house.




XII

VAN


Larry, keeping after Joel as well as he could, found him at the head of
the back stairs, and gesticulating wildly to "Hurry, you're slow as a
snail. Hush, she'll hear you!"

"Who?" cried Larry, breathlessly, as he gained his side.

"Never mind, come along." He hauled him on and into Mother Fisher's
room, dashing up to the closet, turned the key with a click, and flung
wide the door, "Why, he isn't here!"

"Who?" cried Larry, forgetting all about Van, and not knowing whom he
was expected to see.

Joel's teeth were chattering so that he couldn't answer. "He's got out,"
he managed to say.

"Who?" Larry crowded up closer and peered fearfully into the closet
depths.

"Why, Van," cried Joel, impatiently; "oh, well, he's got out some way.
Come on," and he turned to go.

"Van!" exclaimed Larry, faintly.

"Yes, I told you so. I shut him up."

"Oh, I thought you meant in your closet," said Larry, the mad race
remaining uppermost in his mind to the effect of crowding out other
things that now began to assert themselves. "Well, then, he's here now."

"Phoo, no, he isn't," declared Joel, waving his fingers convincingly;
"you can see for yourself. Somebody's let him out, and he's locked the
door to cheat me."

But Larry was not to be convinced. "He is, I know he is," leaning
forward the better to peer around within the closet.

"Take care," warned Joel, who had good reason to know Van's capabilities
along that line, "maybe he's hiding in the corner, and he'll tweak you."

At this Larry, who also had occasion to know Van quite well, bounded
back quite suddenly, saying, "I see a shoe sticking out," and pointing
to it.

"Oh, that's Mamsie's," said Joel, determined not to believe. Then the
moment he had said it he remembered that Mother Fisher's shoes were
always kept in the shoe-box over in the corner. "We'll give it a pull,"
he said, doing his best to speak carelessly, which Larry proceeding to
do, out came the leg attached which clearly belonged to Van. But it was
limp, and lay just where it was dropped with a thud on the closet floor.

Joel, with his heart thumping so he could hardly breathe, sprang into
the closet, twitched away Mother Fisher's long black silk gown, seized
Van where he lay under its folds, and got him outside to lay him flat on
the carpet.

"He's dead, I guess," said Larry, cheerfully.

"Get some water," screamed Joel, "and open the window;" meantime he
slapped Van's hands smartly together and called him to open his eyes,
and this not succeeding, he ran over to Mother Fisher's medicine closet,
rushed back, and in his trepidation emptied a whole bottle of something
all over the white face.

"That's no good," said Larry. The window now being open, he advanced
with a water pitcher whose contents he promptly distributed in the same
way. "See what you've done; that's castor oil."

[Illustration: "SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE; THAT'S CASTOR OIL."]

It was no time to cast criticisms upon each other, and Joel soon had a
cologne bottle, and Larry the ammonia, and in two minutes their united
efforts had Van sitting up in the middle of the floor with anything but
a pleased expression on his face, into which his usual color was slowly
creeping.

And just then in rushed Polly.

"Whatever in the world--" she began, stopping in sheer amazement.

"See what they've done," cried Van, in a towering passion, shaking his
head like a half-drowned rat, and he pointed to his clothes, from which
little streams of water were running off to join the pools on the
carpet. "_Tchee! Tchee!_ Get away," and he knocked the ammonia bottle
out of Larry's hand.

"O dear me!" cried Polly, "pick it up, do; don't let it get spilled," as
it spun off.

"Now I should just like to know what all this is about," she demanded
indignantly, as she joined the group.

"Well, I guess he'd have been in a tight fix if we hadn't--" began
Larry, recovering the ammonia bottle. Then he stopped short.

"Hadn't what? Go on," said Polly.

"Hadn't--hadn't--" Larry, not looking at Joel, floundered miserably.

"I'll tell you," said Van, wishing so much of the ammonia hadn't gone
into his mouth, and up his nose, and stopping to cough and splutter. "O
dear, wait a minute, Polly, I'll tell you!"

But Polly was fixing her brown eyes sternly on Larry and Joel, who stood
with his head cast down, and wringing his hands together miserably.

"Now, you two boys must just stay in this room," at last she said
decidedly, feeling quite sure there was nothing more to be gotten out of
them, "and sit there," pointing to the wide sofa, "till Mamsie comes
home, and--"

"No, no," howled Joel; "I'll tell, I'll tell, Polly. Don't make us sit
there."

"Yes, you must," said Polly, firmly, feeling that the responsibility
that had fallen upon her in Mother Fisher's absence quite weighed her
down, "and when Mamsie comes, she will have to know it all," and her
mouth drooped sorrowfully.

"'Tisn't any matter," said Van, getting up to his feet and giving a
final shake, so that the little drops flew far and wide, "I don't mind
it,--I'm all dry now."

"No, you are not," said Polly, guilty of contradicting, "Vannie, you're
just as wet as you can be," feeling of his jacket; "run off and get into
dry things as soon as you can. Yes, you two boys must sit there; at
least Joel, you must," pointing to the sofa again.

"I'm going to stay if Joel has to," declared Larry, after an awful pause
in which he had fully decided to cut and run. And down he sat by Joel,
who had flung himself in great distress on Mamsie's sofa.

Van started toward the door, took two steps, turned and rushed back to
lean over Joel, "I won't ever tell," he whispered, and ran out as fast
as he could go.

And Polly wiped up the carpet and put back the bottles and the water
pitcher, and tidied things up, the boys watching her out of miserable
eyes.

"Polly," came pealing over the stairs.

"Yes," called Polly, back again, pausing in her work long enough to add,
"don't come up, Alexia, I'll be right down;" but Alexia, following the
sound of her own voice, was already rushing into the room.

"Well, if I ever," she began, pausing by Polly's side. "What _are_ you
doing, Polly Pepper?"

"Oh, nothing much," said Polly, running off into the bath room with the
wet cloth; "I'll be through in a minute, Alexia."

"Oh, you two boys have been up to mischief," said Alexia, running her
pale eyes over the two culprits, "and now you've bothered Polly, and we
shan't have time to go down-town at all, and here we all are working
ourselves almost to death for our Christmas when Jasper and Ben get
home."

It was a long speech, and it had its effect, for the boys wilted
perceptibly. That is, Larry did; Joel already being in that state where
a greater degree of misery would not easily be noticed.

"It just passes me," said Alexia, provoked not to rouse them to reply,
"how you can act so. But then, you are boys. I suppose that's the
reason."

"I didn't act so," cried Larry, "and you've no right, Alexia, to scold
us. 'Tisn't your house, anyway," he took refuge lamely in that fact, and
he swung his feet in defiance.

"Well, somebody must scold you," said Alexia, "and no one else will,
unless I come over. Well, anyway,--Polly, where are you?"

"Here," said Polly, hurrying in,--"oh, don't, Alexia, say
anything,--they feel badly about it, whatever it is."

"Don't you know what they've been doing?" asked Alexia, with wide eyes,
and whirling around to stare at the boys.

"No," said Polly, "I don't, Alexia, but Mamsie'll make it right, for
they're going to tell her," and again she cast a sorrowful glance at
them.

"Well, come on," said Alexia, turning her back on the sofa and its
occupants; "I don't care in the least what they've done, so long as I
have you, Polly. Hurry up, Polly, and get on your hat."

"I can't go," said Polly, standing quite still, and not looking at the
boys this time.

"Can't go? why, Polly Pepper, you know you said the red-and-green holly
ribbon had all given out, and you must get some more so we could tie up
the rest of the presents this evening."

"Well, I can't go," said Polly, with a sigh. Then she folded her hands
and shook her head.

When Polly looked like that, Alexia always knew it was no use to beg and
plead, so now she turned on the boys.

"Now see what you've gone and done," she cried in a passion. "Polly
won't go down-town because you're keeping her home. And there we've all
had our Christmas put off (Alexia wouldn't hear to celebrating the
holiday until the Peppers could have theirs), and you two boys have just
gone and spoiled it all."

"Alexia--Alexia!" implored Polly.

"I will say so," cried Alexia, perversely, "they've upset all our nice
Christmas; and just think, Jasper almost killed, and--"

"Ow!" howled Joel, springing from the old sofa. He wavered a moment on
unsteady feet, then dashed out of the room.

Larry, left without any support whatever, concluded to sink down against
the sofa-pillow and bury his face in its soft depths.

"Oh, Alexia!" mourned Polly, but that one word was quite enough.

"O dear, dear!" gasped Alexia, wringing her long fingers together, "I
didn't mean--oh, what have I done?"

"I must go after him," said Polly, hoarsely, and springing past her to
the door.

"Let me, oh, let me," mumbled Alexia, plunging after her. "I'll go,
Polly."

"No, you stay here." Polly was off halfway down the stairs. Alexia
turned back to the sofa.

"I don't see why you boys always make such a fuss," she began, too
nervous to keep still, and twisting her fingers together.

Larry, having the sofa-pillow stuffed up all around his ears, could not
be expected to hear conversation. So Alexia, finding it all one sided,
began to rage up and down the room, alternately whimpering that she
didn't mean to say it, and blaming the boys for the whole thing. At
last, Larry, finding it necessary to get a wholesome breath of fresh
air, sat up straight and tossed aside the pillow.

"Oh, now you can hear me," cried Alexia, turning on him with sparkling
eyes; "you must confess, Larry, that you've been perfectly awful, both
of you boys, and made it just as bad as can be for everybody."

"I haven't been bad," retorted Larry, glaring at her, and pushing off
the hair from his hot face, "so there, now; I didn't do a single thing."

"Well, what's it all about, anyway?" cried Alexia, running over to him
to sit down by his side.

"What whole thing?" said Larry, edging off. "Go away, Alexia," and he
scrambled off to the sofa end, where he planted himself at a safe
distance.

"Why, you know just as well as I do," said Alexia, and hurrying to place
herself next to him as quickly as if he had invited her there.

"No, I don't," said Larry, with anything but a sweet countenance. "Do go
away, Alexia."

"Why, Larry Keep!" exclaimed Alexia, and her pale eyes were very wide,
"you must know; and now tell me all about it."

Larry, for answer, hopped nimbly over the sofa arm. "No, I won't. I
haven't anything to tell. Go away, Alexia."

"Oh, what an _awful_ boy," exclaimed Alexia, raising her long hands in
horror, "to get off this sofa, when Polly Pepper told you to sit here."

"She didn't either; she said Joel must," corrected Larry, defiantly. "So
there, now, Alexia Rhys!"

"Well, you know she meant you," said Alexia, "only she didn't exactly
like to make you, 'cause you don't live here."

"Well, Joel's gone, and I'm not going back," declared Larry, flatly, and
regarding the sofa with anything but pleasure.

"Well, that's dreadfully mean," said Alexia, leaning back composedly to
look him all over, "to run away, now Joel's gone. He'd expect you to
stay here, of course."

To do anything that Joel would not expect not fitting into Larry's
ideas, he slipped back into his place again, crowding up against the
sofa arm as closely as possible.

"Now tell me all about it," said Alexia, happily, and leaning forward to
catch every word.

"All about what?" said Larry, sourly.

"Why, all about just everything, you stupid boy; what you and Joel have
been up to, and the whole thing," said Alexia, hungrily.

"There hasn't been any whole thing," said Larry, gloomily, and very much
wishing he had "been up to something" that had yielded at least a little
bit of fun.

"O dear me, how tiresome you are!" exclaimed Alexia, quite exasperated,
and picking up the big sofa-pillow to bestow impatient dabs upon it. "O
my goodness me!"

For in walked Mrs. Fisher, and Alexia, feeling that in the interview to
come she should certainly not be in the right place, skipped to her feet
and out of the room, leaving Larry in a miserable state enough to face
Joel's mother.




XIII

THE BIG BOX


The little widow ran down the road, not much more than a good-sized
trail cut between two hard, frozen banks of snow. Her shoes flapped
miserably, and with one hand she held the remnant of a bonnet on her
head, the other 

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