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The Adventures of Joel Pepper

by Margaret Sidney · English · Gutenberg #7434 · 460,037 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Adventures of Joel Pepper

Author: Margaret Sidney


        
Release date: February 1, 2005 [eBook #7434]
                Most recently updated: April 28, 2013

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7434

Credits: Produced by Eric Eldred, Susan Skinner and the Online
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF JOEL PEPPER ***




Produced by Eric Eldred, Susan Skinner and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team










THE ADVENTURES OF JOEL PEPPER

By MARGARET SIDNEY



[Illustration: "'WHY, IT'S THE MAN WHO STOLE POLLY'S BREAD!' HE ALMOST
SCREAMED."]




CONTENTS

I. JOEL AND THE SNAKE

II. WHAT DAVE HEARD

III. DEACON BROWN'S NAIL PILE

IV. THE MUFFIN MAN AND THE TRAMP

V. ON BANDY LEG MOUNTAIN

VI. AB'M'S BIRTHDAY PARTY

VII. JOEL GOES A-FISHING

VIII. WHY THEY SAID NO

IX. THE BAG OF RYE FLOUR

X. MAMSIE'S SURPRISE

XI. DR. FISHER'S VISIT

XII. AT GRANDMA BASCOM'S

XIII. PASSENGERS FOR THE BOXFORD STAGE

XIV. DEACON BLODGETT'S BONFIRE

XV. OLD MAN PETERS' CENT

XVI. THE STAGE-COACH RIDE

XVII. THE FIGHT AT STRAWBERRY HILL

XVIII. IN THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE

XIX. CIRCUS PLANS

XX. CIRCUS OR MENAGERIE?

XXI. JOEL'S CIRCUS

XXII. THE MINISTER'S CHICKENS

XXIII. THE BLACKBERRIES AND THE BULL

XXIV. HOW JOEL STARTED THE FIRE

XXV. JOEL SELLS SHOES FOR MR. BEEBE

XXVI. Miss PARROTT'S COACH AND THE COASTING

XXVII. PRINCES AND PRINCESSES




THE ADVENTURES OF JOEL PEPPER




I

JOEL AND THE SNAKE


"Come on, Dave!"

It was Joel's voice, and Polly pricked up her ears. "'Tisn't
going to hurt you. Hoh! you're a 'fraid-cat--old 'fraid-cat!"

"No, I'm not 'fraid-cat," declared little Davie, trying to speak
stoutly; "I'm coming, Joel," and his little rusty shoes pattered
unevenly down the rickety board walk.

"Jo-_el_!" called Polly, thinking it quite time now to
interfere.

Joel scuttled behind the old woodshed, and several smothered
grunts proclaimed his disapproval at the interruption.

"Now I know you're up to some mischief," declared Polly, "so you
just come into the house, Joel Pepper, and tell me what it is."

"'Tisn't," said Joel, loudly insisting. "_Don't go, Dave_,"
in a loud whisper. Thereupon ensued a lively scuffle, evidently,
by the noise they made.

"I must," said little Davie; "Polly called us."

"No, she didn't call _you_," declared Joel. "You stay here.
She said 'Joel.'"

"Bo-_oys_!" sang out Polly's voice, not to have any doubt
in the matter.

"There, she did call me," cried Davie, wriggling to get free
from Joel's clutch; "she said 'boys!'"

"She's always calling us," said Joel, in an injured voice,
dragging himself away from the charms of the woodshed to
straggle slowly back to the house.

There sat Polly on the big stone that served as a step for the
back door, with her hands folded in her lap. Little Davie
skipped by Joel, and ran up to her, with a flushed face.

"Now I should like to know what you've been up to, Joey Pepper?"
said Polly, her brown eyes full on him.

"Haven't been up to anything," mumbled Joel, hanging his chubby
face.

"Yes, you have, I know," declared Polly, in her most positive
fashion; "now tell me what it is, and right straight off, Joel.
Begin." She kept her hands still folded in her lap. "What were
you going to do?"

Joel squirmed all over the little patch of ground before the
flat doorstone, and dug the toes of his shoes into the dirt.

"Don't do so," cried Polly. "You'll get bigger holes in 'em. Oh,
Joel, to think how naughty you are, and Mamsie away!"

At that Joel gave a loud howl, nearly upsetting Polly from her
stone; then, digging his two fists into his eyes, he plunged
forward and thrust his black head on the folded hands in her lap.
"I ain't naughty," he screamed. "I ain't, and Mamsie won't care.
O dear--ooh--ooh!"

"Tell me what you were going to do, before I can say you are not
naughty," said Polly, dreadfully frightened at his outburst, but
not unfolding her hands.

"I was only going to--going to--going to--" mumbled Joel, trying
to burrow past her hands, and get into the comforting lap.

"Going to do what?" demanded Polly, still not moving.

"I was going to--going to--" said Joel, in smothered tones.

"Stop saying you were going to," commanded Polly, in her firmest
tones.

"You told me to tell you," said Joel. "O dear! I was going to--"

"Well, tell then, at once; what were you going to do? Hurry up,
Joe; now go on."

"I was going to--" began Joel again. "O dear me! I was going to--"
he mumbled, burrowing deeper yet.

"Joel Pepper!" cried Polly, in a tone that brought him bolt
upright, his round face streaked with tears that his dirty
little hands had tried to wipe off, the rest of them trailing
over his round nose. "O dear me! Now you must go into the
'provision room' and stay. Don't you remember Mamsie said you'd
have to go there the next time you wouldn't tell what you'd
done?" And Polly looked as if she were going to cry at once.

"Oh, no--no!" screamed Joel, in the greatest distress, and
clutching Polly's arm. "I'll tell you, Polly; I'll tell." And he
began to rattle off a lot of words, but Polly stopped him.

"No, it's too late now. I've said it, and you must go; for
Mamsie wouldn't like it if you didn't."

Thereupon Joel gave a terrible howl. Little Davie, in distress,
clapped his hands to his ears. "Oh, Polly, don't make him," he
was saying, when heavy steps came around the corner of the house.
"Any ra-ags to sell?" sang out the voice of a very big man.

Joel took one black eye away from his brown hands, and shot a
sharp look at him. Then he howled worse than ever.

"No," said Polly, "not to-day, Mr. Biggs. There was a bagful
Mamsie said I might sell, but I can't get it now."

"Sho! that's too bad," ejaculated Mr. Biggs. "What's the matter
with him?" pointing a square, dingy thumb at Joel. "Stomach-ache?"

"No," said Polly, sadly, "it's worse than that. Please go away,
Mr. Biggs, and come some other day."

"Worse'n stomach-ache," said Mr. Biggs, in astonishment, and
slapping his big hands together; "then I can't take him with me.
But t'other one might go, if you say so, marm." He always called
Polly marm, and she liked it very much. He now pointed to David.

"Where are you going?" asked Polly, while

David took away his hands from his ears to hear, too.

"Why, you see, marm, Mis' Pettingill, up to th'East Quarter--you
know Mis' Pettingill?"

"No," said Polly.

"I do," roared Joel, forgetting his distress. "I know, Polly.
She lives in a nice yellow house, and there's a duck-pond, and
cherry trees." He pranced up to Mr. Biggs, smiling through his
tears.

"That's it," cried Mr. Biggs, delighted at being understood.
"This boy knows." He laid his hand heavily on Joel's shoulder.
"Well, he seems to be better now, so I'll take him and t'other
one along of me, marm, if you say so. Ye see, Mis' Pettingill
told me to come up there sometime, 'cause she's got a lot o'
rags--ben a-makin' quilts, she said, all winter, and I laid out
to go to-day, so here I be, on my way."

"Whickets!" shouted Joel, the last tear gone. "Come on, Dave. Oh,
won't we have fun! I'm going to sit in the middle. Let me drive.
Let me, Mr. Biggs." He swarmed all over the big rag-man.

Little David stood perfectly still and clasped his hands in
delight.

[Illustration: "'WHICKETS!' SHOUTED JOEL, THE LAST TEAR GONE"]

Polly drew a long breath, and the rosy color flew out of her
cheek. "You can't go, Joe," she said slowly. "Mamsie wouldn't
like it, after you've been naughty."

Joel's arms fell down at his side, and he stared wildly at her a
moment. Then he flung himself flat on the ground and roared.

"He's worse agin," said Mr. Biggs, in great distress. "I guess
he wants pep'mint. My mother used to give me that when I'd et
green apples."

But Polly shook her head. "He can't go, Mr. Biggs," she said;
"but Davie can."

At this little Davie gave a squeal of joy, and took three steps
down the grass plot, but stopped suddenly.

"All right," said Mr. Biggs, heartily. "Come on, boy; I must be
off. It's a good piece down to Mis' Pettingill's. And she always
wants me to take time a-weighin' her rags." And he began to
lumber off.

"I don't want to go if Joel can't," said Davie, slowly, and
turning his back to the red rag-wagon waiting out in the road.
He twisted his fingers hard, and kept saying, "No, I don't want
to go, Polly, if Joel can't."

"All right, Davie," said Polly, beginning to cuddle him; "only
you must remember, Mr. Biggs won't go again this summer out to
Mrs. Pettingill's, most likely."

Davie shook his head again, and twisted his fingers worse than
ever. "I don't want to go if Joel can't," he said, while Joel
roared harder still, if that were possible. So Polly had to run
down the grassy slope to overtake Mr. Biggs, who was now getting
up into his red cart, in front of the dangling tin dishes,
brooms, and pails with which it was filled.

"If you please, sir," she said, the rosy color all over her
cheek, "there can't either of the boys go."

"Hey? What's the matter with the littlest one," cried Mr. Biggs,
turning around with one foot on the shaft. "Is he took sick,
too?"

"No--no," said Polly, clasping her hands in distress, "but he
won't go unless Joel goes. Oh, I do thank you so much, Mr. Biggs,
for asking them."

"Sho now! that's too bad," said the rag-man, his foot still on
the shaft, and his big face wrinkled perplexedly. "Beats all,
how suddint they're took. Now you better give 'em a dose o'
pep'mint, marm, both on 'em."

But Polly shook her head as she ran back up the grassy slope
again. So Mr. Biggs had nothing to do but to drive off, which he
did, staring hard at them; and every little while he turned back,
to gaze in astonishment over his shoulder, until the big red
wagon went round the slope of the hill and was lost to view.

"Now, Joel," said Polly, firmly, "you must just stop making such
a noise, and go right into the provision room, and get the stool,
and sit down till I tell you to get up."

To sit down on the old wooden stool in the middle of the
provision room, with the door shut, was one of the worst
punishments that Mrs. Pepper inflicted; and Polly's cheek got
quite white. Little Davie, on seeing this, untwisted his fingers
and went up to her. "Don't cry, Polly," he said suddenly, as he
saw her face, and laid his hand in hers.

Joel stopped roaring, and looked up at her through his tears.

"I'm not going to cry," said Polly, "because I know Joel will be
good now, and go at once and get on his stool in the provision
room."

Joel swallowed hard and stumbled up to his feet, wiping his
cheeks with the back of one grimy hand.

"That's right," said Polly; "now go right in and shut the door."

"O dear me," said little Davie, hiding his face in Polly's gown,
as Joel went slowly off. They could hear the provision room door
shut. Then Polly turned. "Oh, Davie," she cried. Then she
stopped, at the sight of his face.

"Now you and I must go in the house and think of something to do
for Mamsie before she gets home," she cried in a cheery burst.
So they both hurried in over the old flat stone.

"Now what will it be, Davie?" asked Polly, with another glance
at his pale little face. "Let's think," she wrinkled her brows
in perplexity.

"We can't wash the dishes," said Davie, slowly, standing quite
still in the middle of the old kitchen, "'cause they're all done,
Polly."

"No, and we can't wash the floor, 'cause that's all done," said
Polly, wrinkling her forehead worse than ever. "Dear me, we must
think of something, Davie. O dear me, what can it be?"

"We might," said little David, slowly, "try to write some
letters, Polly. That would make Mamsie glad, I guess."

"O dear me," exclaimed Polly, in dismay, "I suppose it would,
Davie." She sighed, and stood quite still.

"I s'pose Mamsie would say, 'How nice,'" said little David,
reflectively.

"And you and I ought to get right at it this very minute,"
declared Polly, all her energy returning to her after that one
dreadful pause, "so come on." And presently the two had the old
table against the wall pulled out into the middle of the kitchen
floor, and Polly ran and got the big piece of foolscap paper
laid away carefully in the upper bureau drawer in the bedroom.
Across the top ran the letters set there by the minister in
obedience to Mrs. Pepper's request.

"I'll get the brown paper--let me, Polly," cried David, quite in
his usual spirits now. And he clambered up, and got out a
carefully folded piece laid away after it had come home wrapped
around one of the parcels of coats and sacks Mrs. Pepper had
taken to sew.

"Won't it be most beautiful when we can write on the white paper,
Polly?" he cried, as he ran back into the kitchen, waving the brown
paper at her.

Polly set the precious copy along the top of the white foolscap,
straight on the table.

"Oh, that will be a long time, Davie," she said, gazing in an
awe-struck way at the array of wonderful letters Parson
Henderson had made for them. "Mamsie won't ever let us try until
we can make 'em good and straight. O dear me, I don't s'pose
I'll ever get a chance." She sighed; for writing bothered Polly
dreadfully. "The old pen twists all up whenever I get it in my
hand, and everything goes crooked."

"Oh, Polly, you're going to write real nice, by and by," said
little Davie, setting down the brown paper, and smoothing out
the creases. "Now where's the ink-bottle? Let me get it, Polly,
do," he begged, running over to the corner cupboard.

"No, you mustn't, Dave," said Polly in alarm, "you'll spill it.
I'll get it," hurrying after him.

"I won't spill it, Polly"--but Polly was already on her tiptoes,
and lifting down the old black ink-horn that had been Father
Pepper's. "Isn't it nice that Mrs. Henderson filled it up for us
so good?" she said, carrying it over carefully to set on the
table. "You can get the pen, Davie."

So David ran over to the shelf where, in a corner behind the
little china mug given to Phronsie when she was a baby, lay the
pen in its long black holder. Getting up on a chair, he seized
it.

"If Phronsie hadn't gone with Mamsie, she'd want to write," he
said, "wouldn't she, Polly?" as he hopped down again.

"Yes, indeed," said Polly, drawing up the inkstand into the best
place, and sighing. "Well, dear me, I'd ever so much rather hold
her hand while she writes, than to do it myself." And she gave a
long stretch.

"Then you wouldn't ever learn yourself," said little Davie,
wisely, and putting the pen down carefully.

"No," said Polly, with a little laugh, "I s'pose I shouldn't,
Davie." O dear me, she thought, I ought not to laugh when Joel's
in there all alone in the provision room. "Well, now we're all
ready. I'm just going to peek and see if he's all right. You
stay here, Davie."

With that she hopped off down the little steps to look through
the big crack in the old door of the provision room.

"Why--where--" she started back and rubbed her eyes, and stared
again. "Oh! Davie," she screamed. Then she clapped her hands
over her mouth. "It never'd do to scare him," she said. And she
opened the provision room door and rushed in. The old stool
stood in the middle of the floor, but there was no Joel to be
seen.

Polly ran here and there. "Joel--_Joel_!" she cried,
peering into every corner, and looking into the potato bag and
behind some boxes that the storekeeper had given the boys to
make things out of, and that were kept as great treasures. "O
dear me, what shall I do? I must tell Davie now, so he can help
me find him--" when she heard a funny noise, and rushing outside,
she heard Joel say, "Don't come, Polly, he's 'most dead."

Polly gave a gasp, and bounded to his side, as Joel flopped
around on the ground, his back toward her, his black eyes
fastened on something doubled up in his fists.

"O dear me, Joel, what is it?" cried Polly, bending over him.

"Ow--go way!" roared Joel, twisting worse than ever, and
squeezing his brown hands together tightly; "he'll get away,
maybe, and bite you."

"Oh, he'll bite you, Joe," cried Polly, in great alarm. "O dear
me, let me see what it is! I can help, Joel, I can help."

She flung herself down on the ground close to his side. Just
then out rushed Davie from the provision room.

"Keep him away, keep him away," screamed Joel, trying to turn
his back on both of them. But Polly caught sight of a dangling
thing hanging from his clenched hands.

"Oh, Joel!" She gave one scream, "It's a snake!"

"I know it," said Joel, trying to twitch back again; "it's an
ugly mean old adder, Polly, but he's most dead. I've squeezed
his neck."

"Let me see him," cried Polly. "Turn around, Joel. I'll help you.
O dear me!" as Joel whirled back, the long body of the snake
flopping from one side to the other. "If he'd keep still, I
could cut off his tail high up. I'll go and get the hatchet--"
and she ran off.

"Hoh! you needn't," cried Joel after her, in great dudgeon, and
giving a final wrench. "There, I've deaded him; see, Polly--see,
Dave!" and he held the snake up triumphantly.

"A snake!" screamed Davie, tumbling over backward on the grass.
"O dear me, it's a snake, Polly!" and he huddled up his feet and
tucked them under him.

"Ain't he big?" cried Joel, swinging the long dangling body at
Davie as Polly ran back.

"Don't scare him, Joel," she cried. "O goodness me! What a big
one, and a gray adder, too. Oh, Joel, are you sure he didn't
bite you anywhere? Do throw him down and let me see," she begged
anxiously. But Joel swung the snake back and forth. "Hoh, I
guess not!" he said scornfully, "not a single snip, Polly. Ain't
he big! I killed him all alone by myself."

"Yes--yes, but do put him down, Joel," she begged, "and let me
see if you're all right."

So Joel at last set his snake on the ground, and straightened
out his tail; then he commenced to run all around him. "Ain't he
a buster, Polly!" he cried, his eyes shining.

Polly looked at him reprovingly out of her brown eyes. "Mamsie
wouldn't like you to say that word," she began. "But you won't
again, I know," seeing his face.

"No," said Joel, brightening up, "I won't, Polly. But ain't he
big! You couldn't a-killed him, Dave," he cried at little Davie
tucking up his toes under him on the grass.

"No," said Davie. "O dear me, he may be alive and bite us all
now."

"Hoh!" exclaimed Joel, "he's just as dead as anything. See!" and
he twitched up the long gray snake by the tip of the tail and
swung it over his head.

"Oh, don't, Joe!" begged Polly, running over to put her arms
around David, who burrowed into them as far as he could. "Do put
him down, and come and tell us how you killed him. There, let's
all sit down on the doorstep. Come, boys."

"I'm going to hold my snake," announced Joel, stopping the swing
in mid-air to pat the adder's head lovingly. "Ain't he sweet,
Polly?"

Davie shivered and turned his eyes away.

"No, you must not hold him," said Polly, decisively. "If you do,
you can't sit on the step beside us."

"Then I won't hold him," said Joel, running up to them, "but
I'll have him close to me," and he laid the snake by the side of
the doorstep. "I'm going to sit here by you, Polly."

Little Davie thrust up his head and looked fearfully around
Polly.

"You can't have that snake here, Joel," announced Polly, in her
most determined tone. "Put him off on the grass in the orchard,"
as the one scraggy apple tree was called. "Now hurry, like a
good boy, and then come and tell us how you killed him."

"I can't see him good, 'way off there," grumbled Joel, and
picking up his snake he dragged him through the grass. "Just a
little bit nearer," he pleaded.

"Not a single bit of an inch nearer, Joel Pepper," said Polly,
firmly. So Joel laid the snake down and ran back and sat down on
the end of the step by Polly.

"Now begin," said Polly.

"Well, I was sittin' on the old stool," said Joel, his chubby
face getting very red, "when I heard a scrunchin' an' a swishin',
an' I thought 'twas you, Polly, so I didn't look round."

"No," said Polly, with a little shiver, "it wasn't me. Go on,
Joey."

"Well, it scrunched an' it swished, and it didn't stop, so then
I looked around."

"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly, throwing one arm around Joel, and
drawing him to her. Little Davie sat up quite straight and
folded his hands.

"And he was sticking up his head behind the potato bag, looking
at me just like this." Joel flew off the doorstep and stood up
as tall as possible and ran out his tongue.

Little Davie gave a loud scream. "Oh, you brave Joel!" exclaimed
Polly, tumbling off from the doorstep to throw her arms around
him, and kiss his stubby black hair.

"Phoo! that's nothing!" cried Joel, who always hated to be
praised.

"And I'm just as proud of you as I can be," Polly ran on with
kindling eyes. "Oh, Joel!"

Joel wriggled all over with delight at that "Oh, Joel!"

"And now come back and tell us the rest," said Polly, hanging to
his brown hand. "Go on, Joel," as they sat down again on the
doorstep.

"Well, he looked at me, and I looked at him," said Joel, "and
then I said 'Squish!' and he bobbed down his head, just a minute,
and I jumped and I grabbed him by the neck, and that's all,
Polly." And Joel gave a long stretch.

But Polly had her arms around his neck. "Oh, you brave, brave
Joel," she cried. "Mamsie'll be so proud of you! Think what
she'll say when she comes home!"




II

WHAT DAVE HEARD


"Dave," said Joel, in a whisper. It was the middle of the night,
and the loft was very still, save for Ben's breathing over in
his bed in the corner.

"Don't say a word!" Joel laid his mouth close to the ear on the
straw pillow; "if you do, I'll nip you and snip you."

"Ow!" said little Davie, huddling down under the scanty blanket
and dragging it over his head.

"Sh--, be still!" cried Joel, with a wrathful pinch. "Ben'll
hear you,--there now, just see!"

"What's the matter, boys?" asked Ben, sleepily.

Down flew Joel in a heap under his end of the blanket, where he
bestowed a kick from one set of toes on David in a little heap
against the wall.

The loft was as still as a mouse, so Ben turned over again. "I
guess Joel wanted a drink of water, and he's gone to sleep and
forgot all about it. Now, that's good," and off he went again.

Joel's black stubby head popped up, and he peered into the
darkness. "Now, I've got to wait ever'n ever so long," he
grumbled softly to himself. "No, there he goes!" he added
joyfully, as Ben breathed hard. "Now, Dave," he rolled over and
ducked under the blanket-end, "if you scream again, I'll snip,
and snip, and snip you, most dreadful."

"I won't," declared little David, fearfully. "Oh, I won't, Joe,"
huddling off from the little brown fingers.

"Promise, now, you'll never tell,--black and blue,--hope to die
if I do."

"We must tell Mamsie," said David.

Joel gave an impatient wriggle. "Mamsie won't care, and she's
too busy. Now say it, 'black and--"'

"And we must tell Polly," cried little Davie, in a smothered
voice. "Oh, Joel, we _must_ tell Polly."

"_Sh!_" cried Joel, with a warning pinch on the small arm
that sent David into a worse heap than before. "Now, you've gone
and waked Ben up again," and he pricked up one ear from under the
bedclothes.

"Oh!" exclaimed little David, thinking of Mamsie and Polly whom
he was not to tell.

Joel drew a long breath, as Ben did not stir.

"Well, say 'black and blue--hope to die if I do,'" commanded
Joel, sliding back again under the blanket. "Hurry up, Dave."

"'Black and--blue--hope--to die if I do,'" mumbled poor little
David, stuffing the end of the blanket into his mouth, trying
not to cry as he thought of Mamsie and Polly.

"Now, you know I've found a cave, and I'm goin' up there to live
some day," announced Joel in a smothered whisper, his mouth
close to David's ear.

"Where?" cried David, fearfully.

"_Sh!_ don't speak so loud. Over in 'Bandy Leg Mountain.'"

"Ooh,--dear me!" cried David, stopping himself in the middle of
a scream. "Won't old 'Bandy Leg' catch you, Joel?"

"Hoh--no, I ain't afraid!" declared Joel. "He's been dead a
hundred years, I guess. An' beside, I could knock him flat, yes,
sir-ree!" He doubled up his little brown fist, and bounced up in the
middle of the old shake-down.

"What's the matter, Joe?" called Ben, sleepily; "turn over and
go to sleep, and you'll forget again about the drink of water."

Joel flung himself flat, and burrowed along the whole length of
the bed, knocking Davie's shins all the way.

"You're pullin' all the blanket off me," said Davie, clutching
his end from Joel's frantic grasp.

"Go to sleep, boys," said Ben, sharply. "And Joe, stop grumbling
for a drink of water. Now you've waked up David."

Joel gripped Davie fast and clapped one hand over his mouth.

"Dear me, I think Ben might stay asleep a minute," he muttered
in an injured voice. "Now, don't you speak a single word and
I'll tell you all about it," after a long pause, in which they
heard nothing but a rat nibbling away in the corner.

"I'm goin' up there to-morrow, an' I'm goin' to take my gun, an'
some things to eat, an'--"

"Oh, Joel!" interrupted little David, "you can't ever in all
this world. Polly won't let you."

"Polly'll let us go an' play some to-morrow," said Joel,
sturdily, "'cause there ain't any work to do. So there now! An'
maybe I'll see a bear. An'----"

"O dear me!" exclaimed little Davie, quite overcome, and trembling
in every limb. "He'll eat you. Joel, I'm going to tell Polly."

"You can't," said Joel, coolly; "you said 'Black-an-blue-hope-
to-die-if-I-do,' and I'm goin' to take you."

"Oh, I can't go," declared Davie, bouncing up in terror. "I
ain't goin'. I ain't, Joey. I ain't----"

"_Sh-sh_!" warned Joel, with another nip.

"I ain't--I ain't--" cried David, softly, through his tears.

"Pshaw! I guess there ain't any bear up there," said Joel,
scornfully. "Be still, Dave!"

"An' old--old Bandy Legs'll catch--catch me," mumbled David,
digging his small knuckles into his eyes.

"Old Bandy Legs has been dead ever'n ever so long. I guess a
thousand years," said Joel; "an' there's flowers there--oh, most
beautiful ones!"

"Are there?" asked David, taking down his hands. "What kinds,
Joel?"

"Oh, all sorts. The most be-yewtiful flowers, red and yellow and
green, you can't think, Dave Pepper."

"I never saw a green flower," said little David, thoughtfully.

"Well, they're up there. Oh, sights an' sights," said Joel,
recklessly. "An' pink and blue an'----"

"Are you sure there are green flowers up there, Joel?" asked
David, huddling up to him close.

"Sh--stop talking--oh, the most _beyewtiful_ things, I tell
you, grow up by that cave."

"I might go up and get some not very near the cave, Joel," said
Davie, after a long breath. "Not very near."

"So you could," said Joel, quickly. "Then I guess you'll be glad,
Dave Pepper, that you came up with me."

"I shall bring down most of the green ones, Joey," cried little
David, joyfully, "'cause I can get the others down below the
mountain."

"Yes--yes," whispered Joel, impatiently.

"An' if I plant 'em, they'll grow, and then Mamsie'll be glad,
an' Polly too," he whispered, dreadfully excited. "Won't Polly
be glad though, Joe? She's never seen a green flower."

"Yes; now go to sleep," cried Joel, with a nudge, "and remember
not to say a word to me to-morrow about it."

"Can't I say anything to you behind the wood pile?" asked David,
in surprise.

"No, not a teenty word. An' don't you look at me. If you do, Old
Bandy Legs'll come after you."

"You said he was dead," cried David in a fearful whisper, and
crouching tight to Joel and gripping him with both arms. "O dear
me!"

"So he is; but he'll catch you if you say a single word. Now go
to sleep, an' when I tell you to come with me to-morrow, you
must start just as quick as scat."

"I shall take a basket for the green flowers," said Davie,
trying not to think of "Old Bandy Legs."

"No, you mustn't; you can bring 'em down in your arms."

"I can't bring many," said little David, swallowing hard. "I
can't bring many, Joe, an' Polly'll want some in her garden."

"Well, old Bandy Legs won't let you get any, if you don't stop,"
said Joel, crossly, "so there now!" and he rolled off to the edge
of the old straw bed, and in two minutes was fast asleep, leaving
little Davie peering up at the rafters to watch for the first streak of
light, determined to get as many green flowers as he possibly could
for Polly's garden.

"I'll twist up a birch-bark basket, to bring 'em down in," he
decided. And the first thing either of them knew, there was
Polly shaking their arms and laughing. "You lazy little things,
you--get up! I've been calling and calling and calling you to
breakfast."

Joel and David flew up into the middle of the bed.

"Joe was teasing all night for a drink of water," said Ben, as
Polly ran down into the kitchen. "An' I was just going to get up
and fetch him some, when he tumbled to sleep again."

"Dear me," said Polly, rushing at her work; "well, I'll keep
their porridge warm. Now, Phronsie, you can't help me about
these dishes."

"I'm just as big since yesterday," said Phronsie, standing up on
her tiptoes to turn an injured face to Polly. "See, Polly."

"So you are," said Polly, bursting into a laugh. "Well, I tell
you, Pet, what you might do that would help me more."

"More than to wash the dishes, Polly?" cried Phronsie, tumbling
down from her tiptoes. "Oh, do tell me, Polly!" And she ran up
to her, and seized Polly's check apron with both fat little
hands.

"Why, you see I can't do the dishes, all of 'em, till the boys
get through their breakfast," said Polly, with a sober face,
looking at the old clock, as she thought of the seams on the
sacks she was going to fly at as soon as the work was done in
the kitchen. How nice it was that Mamsie had promised she might
try this very morning while Mrs. Pepper was down at the
parsonage, mending the minister's study carpet. "Now I guess the
money'll begin to come in, and Mamsie won't have to work so
hard," thought Polly over and over, and her heart beat merrily,
and the color flew over her cheek.

"Tell me, Polly," begged little Phronsie, holding the apron
tight.

"Well, now, Pet, there's a snarl of thread in the work-basket.
Don't you remember, the spool rolled under the table, and nobody
saw it go, and the boys kicked it up and made it into a mess, an'
Mamsie put it into the little bag, an' I was to pick it out when
I got time? If you only could do that, Phronsie, just think how
it would help."

Phronsie gave a long sigh. She dropped the apron, and folded her
hands. "Would it help so very much, Polly?" she asked.

"Ever an' ever so much," said Polly. "You needn't do but a
little now, an' some other day p'raps you could do some more."

"I'm going to do it all," said Phronsie, shaking her yellow head
determinedly. So she got her little wooden chair from against
the wall, and set it in the middle of the kitchen floor, and
then brought the little cotton bag out of the old work-basket.
"I shall do it all this very one minute," she declared softly,
as she sat down and drew out the snarl of thread.

"Now, boys," called Polly, as she took one look at her, and just
stopped to drop a kiss on the yellow hair, "you must just come
downstairs this very minute. If you don't, you can't have any
breakfast."

"Coming," sang Joel, and presently down he tumbled, two steps at
a time, pulling on his jacket as he went.

"Such a long time to stay abed," reproved Polly; "just think of
it, it's after seven o'clock, Joel Pepper, and Mamsie's been
gone half an hour!"

"An' I'm working," said Phronsie, twitching at the end of the
thread with an important air. "I'm going to pick out the whole
of this, I am, for Mamsie. See, Joey!" She held up the snarl,
and away the spool raced, as if glad to get off once more.

"Hoh!" said Joel, "you're making it worse'n ever, Phron."

"No, I'm not," cried Phronsie, clutching the snarl with both
little fists. "Oh, no, I'm not; am I, Polly?" And the big tears
began to race over her round cheeks.

"No," said Polly. "Oh, for shame, Joel, to make Phronsie cry!"

"I didn't make her cry," denied Joel, stoutly, his face working
badly. "I'll get the spool--I'll get the spool. See, Polly, here
'tis," and he dived under the table, and came up bright and
shining with it in his hand.

"There now, Phronsie; see, Joel's got it for you," said Polly,
beaming at him. "Now, Pet, I'll tell you what, let's put
Mamsie's basket on the floor, and old Mr. Spool in it. There,
Joey, drop him in, then he can't run away again. Now, then!"

"Mr. Spool can't run away again," smiled Phronsie through her
tears, and leaning out of her little wooden chair to see Joel
drop the spool in. "That's nice, Polly, isn't it? Now he can't
run away again," she hummed.

"Indeed, it is," sang Polly, delighted; "he's fast now, so fly
at your snarl, Pet, Mamsie'll be so pleased to think you've
picked out some of it."

"I'm going to pick it all out," declared Phronsie in a tone of
determination. And wiping off the tears on the back of her fat
little hand, she set to work, humming away again to herself.

"Now, whatever keeps David!" cried Polly, dishing out Joel's
mush from the kettle on the stove, and setting the bowl on the
table.

"He's coming," said Joel, hastily. "O dear me, I wish we ever
had anything, Polly Pepper, but mush and molasses for breakfast!"

"Some people don't have anything half as good," said Polly,
starting for the stairs.

"What don't they have?" asked Joel in alarm, as he watched her
go.

"Oh, I don't know; different things. Da-_vid!_" she called.

"You said they didn't have things half as good," said Joel,
stopping with a spoonful of porridge halfway to his mouth. "So
you know what they are, now, Polly Pepper."

"Oh, well, they don't. Plenty and plenty of people don't get
near as good things as we have every day for breakfast."

"What are they, the things the plenty and plenty of people get?"
persisted Joel, beginning on his breakfast comfortably, since
Polly was going to talk.

"Oh--let me see," said Polly, pausing at the foot of the stairs.
"Old bread, for one thing."

"Is it mouldy?" asked Joel.

"Um--yes, I s'pose so," answered Polly, wrinkling up her face.
"Eat your own breakfast, Joe, and not stop to think of what
other people have. Da-_vid!_'"

"You said 'things,'" said Joel, severely, "and you only told me
mouldy old bread, Polly Pepper! What else?"

"O dear, I don't know."

"You _said_----"

"I mean--well, cold potatoes, for one thing. I s'pose most
everybody has potatoes. Now eat your breakfast, Joey Pepper.
Those are things. Eat your breakfast this minute!"

When Polly spoke in that tone, the three little Peppers knew
they must obey. Joel ducked his head over his bowl of mush, and
began to hurry the spoonfuls as fast as he could into his mouth.

"I must go up and see what is the matter with David," said Polly,
preparing to run up the stairs. Just at this moment he appeared
coming slowly down. "Oh, here you are!" cried Polly, brightly,
running over to the old stove to dish out his bowl of mush. "Now,
Davie, fly at your breakfast, 'cause I've got to sew all the
morning just as hard as ever I can."




III

DEACON BROWN'S NAIL PILE


"Now, boys," said Polly, as Joel pushed back his chair, "I want
you to help me, that is, as soon as Davie has finished his
breakfast."

"Oh, that's too bad," grumbled Joel, loudly, "when we got all
our kindlings chopped yesterday, an' there ain't anything else
to do. You know you said we could play to-day, Polly Pepper!"

"I didn't say all day; but of course you can," replied Polly,
with a fine scorn, "if you don't _want_ to help, Joel. I'm
sure the little brown house can get along without a boy who
isn't glad to make it as nice as he possibly can."

The idea of the little brown house getting along without him
made Joel aghast at once, and he stood quite still. Davie laid
down his spoon, and got out of his chair quickly.

"What is it, Polly?" he cried, the pink color all over his cheek.

"Dear me!" cried Polly, merrily, "the very idea of a boy trying
to help who hasn't finished his breakfast. Go back and eat every
bit of that mush and molasses, Davie dear; then, says I, we'll
see what you can do."

"I'll be through in just a minute, Polly." David ran back and
clambered into his chair, plying his spoon so fast that Polly
cried in dismay, "Oh, Davie, you'll choke yourself!"

"No, I won't," said Davie, with a very red face, and swallowing
hard, "it's all slipping down. There, see, Polly. I'm all
through; truly I am." He got out of his chair again, and ran up
to her.

"So you are," said Polly, glancing approvingly at the bare bowl.
"Well now, I'll tell you, Davie, what you can do. You know that
pile of old nails that Deacon Brown said Ben might have? Well,
'tisn't nice, you know, to play all day, so you may pick over
some of 'em, and get the good ones out. Ben will be so surprised,
even if you don't get but a few ready."

"I'm going to work all the morning at 'em," declared little
Davie, gladly, hopping off toward the door.

"No, I don't want you to work but a little while," said Polly,
decisively, and picking up the breakfast dishes to wash. "You
can have most all to-day to play in. And then some other day,
when there isn't any other work to do, you can pick over some
more; and pretty soon, before you know it, they'll all be done, and
Ben'll be so surprised, for they'll be ready when he wants to mend
the woodshed."

"I don't want to pick over any crooked old nails," proclaimed
Joel, loudly, and knocking his heels against the pantry door. "I
sh'd think Deacon Brown might have given us some good ones."

"For shame, Joel!" said Polly, hurrying across the floor with
the pile of dishes; "it's fine of him to give us these. And
there are lots of good ones amongst 'em."

"You told me not to say 'lots,' the other day," said Joel, with
a sharp look out of his black eyes to see if Polly would relent.

"So I did," she cried, and the color flew over her cheek. "Dear
me, it is so hard not to say things that you don't like to hear
other people say."

"Well, I don't want to pick over old rusty nails," said Joel,
ignoring this remark, "and it's real mean, Polly Pepper, to make
me, when I want to go and play!" And he kicked his heels worse
than ever.

"I don't make you," said Polly, pouring the hot water into the
dish-pan and dashing in the soap, "but I shouldn't think it was
nice to go out to play right after breakfast. You might work an
hour, and then you'd enjoy the play all the better."

"I'd enjoy the play now. And a whole hour, too!" cried Joel, in
a dudgeon. "Why, Polly Pepper! a whole hour!"

"That's right, Davie," said Polly, smiling brightly at him, as
the little fellow ran out into the woodshed. Then she began to
sing, without looking at Joel.

"A whole hour," shouted Joel. But Polly kept a cold shoulder
toward him, running up and down in a merry song till a little
bird outside the window trilled away as hard as he could, to
keep her company.

"A whole hour--" Joel ran up and pulled her dress. "It's as mean
as it can be to make me work a whole hour, Polly Pepper!"

"Chee--chee--chee," called the little bird, and away Polly sang,
splashing the dishes up and down in the hot soap-suds, till the
old kitchen seemed full of merry bustle. Joel regarded her closely
for two or three minutes, and then went slowly out.

David was up on top of the wood bin in the shed, and tugging at
the box of nails that Ben had put on one of the beams.

"I can't get it down," he said. "Come help me, Joel, do."

But Joel kicked his feet on the woodshed floor. So little David
gave another pull at the box, wavered, and clutched wildly at
the air, and before Joel could speak, came tumbling down, and
after him, the heavy box, spilling the nails as it fell. He lay
quite still, and Joel only stopped to take one look.

"Oh, Polly, Dave's killed, I guess," he screamed, rushing into
the kitchen, his face working fearfully.

Polly stopped her song in mid-air, and turned quite white. "Oh,
no, I guess not," she said with a gasp, as she saw his face.
Then she remembered Phronsie. "Come out here, Joe," and she
gently pushed him out into the little entry.

"I guess I'll go, too," said Phronsie, who had been humming a
soft refrain to Polly's song, and laying down the snarl carefully in
Mamsie's big work-basket she went softly out after them.

"Now, Joel," Polly was saying out of white lips, "don't you
scream. Think of Phronsie, and--"

"What is it, Polly?" asked Phronsie's soft voice.

"O dear me! What shall I do!" Polly turned. "Phronsie dear, you
mustn't come now." Joel had sunk down and covered his face with
his hands, trying not to scream. "Go right back to your chair,
Polly says so. Be a good girl, Pet." She looked straight into
the blue eyes wide with astonishment at being sent back.

"Please let me, Polly," begged the little girl.

"No," said Polly, firmly, "Mamsie wouldn't like it. Go back,
Phronsie, and shut the door."

Phronsie turned without a word and went slowly back, and as
Polly seized Joel's hand and sped into the woodshed, they could
hear the kitchen door shut, and knew that she had gone back to
her chair.

When Polly and Joel reached little David, Joel was beyond words,
and he fell down and flung his arms around the little figure. Davie
stirred and moaned. "Help me lift him up, Joe," cried Polly, hoarsely.

"I couldn't get the nails," said David, "and then they all
spilled. I'm sorry, Polly," and he opened his eyes and looked up
into her white face.

When Joel saw that David could speak, he gave a great gasp. "It
was my fault," he sobbed.

"Never mind, Davie dear," said Polly, soothingly. "We can pick
the nails up."

"I'll pick 'em up," cried Joel, delighted to find something to
do, and he sprang up and went scrambling around and sweeping
them into a pile with his fingers, while the big tears trailed
down his round cheeks.

"See, now," said Polly, trying to speak gayly, "how the old
nails have to hop into the box again."

"So they do," said David, with a wan little smile. Then he shut
his eyes.

"Run as fast as you can, Joe," said Polly, "and ask Grandma
Bascom to come over." Then she lifted Davie and struggled with
him to a pile of grain bags in the corner. "I can't get him into the
bedroom till Joel helps me, and besides, I must get Phronsie out
of the kitchen first," she thought. "Oh, God! _please_ don't
let Davie die," she cried deep in her heart.

Joel flew on the wings of the wind, his heart beating like a
trip-hammer, over down across the lane to Grandma Bascom's
little cottage. Grandma, with a tin pan full of wet corn meal,
was just going out to feed her hens, when he dashed up behind
her. "Please come!" he shouted, his trembling mouth close to her
cap-border. "Polly wants you!"

[Illustration: "'PLEASE COME!' HE SHOUTED CLOSE TO HER CAP-BORDER"]

"Polly's here, now that's nice!" said Grandma, well pleased.
"You just wait a minute, and I'll be ready to see her. Come,
Biddy-Biddy," she called, and waddling off, she gathered up a
handful of the wet corn meal.

"Oh, come now!" roared Joe, and seizing her hand, he pulled her
back toward the kitchen. "Dear Grandma Bascom, please come;
Dave's killed, I guess," and before she knew it, she was halfway
to the little brown house, and in a minute or two more there she
was before Davie lying on the pile of grain bags, and Polly
holding his hand, and fanning him with an old newspaper.

"He's all right," said Grandma, with a practised eye; "only just
fainted a bit. Now 'tisn't anything to what my son John's Abram
did one summer he spent with me. Used to tumble over most every
day."

"He fell," said Polly. She could say no more, but pointed up to
the beam. Then she found her voice. "The box of nails--I didn't
know 'twas up there, see!" and she pointed to them, where Joel
had tried to gather them up.

"He fell down from there?" asked Grandma, looking up at the beam.

Polly nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Joel wrung his
hands together, and stood quite still.

"In that case," said Grandma, "this boy must go for Dr. Fisher
just as soon as he can."

"Run, Joe, as hard as ever you can," gasped Polly.

No need to tell Joel that. Over the fields and across lots he
ran like a deer, scaling stone walls in a flash, only to reach
the doctor's house to be told that he was away twenty miles into
the country. Then Joel sat down on the grass by the roadside,
and burying his face in his hands, cried as if his heart would
break.

He didn't mind that a pair of spirited black horses were coming
down the road, the bright horses all a-jingle, and the carriage
all a-bloom with gay colors, and merry with cheery voices.

"What's the matter?" called somebody to him, but he cried on as
hard as he could.

Then his little shoulder in his homespun jacket was shaken
smartly. "See here, my boy, either you tell me what you're
screaming for, or I'll pick you up and carry you off."

Joel looked up, the streams of tears making muddy paths along
his face, where he had rubbed it with his grimy hands. "Dave's
killed," he burst out, "and the--the doctor's gone away!"

"Come on." It was a kind face that was over him, and in a minute
Joel felt himself lifted by a pair of strong arms that presently
tossed him into the carriage, in amongst the occupants, while
the owner of the arms jumped in beside him. "Do you know the way
home?" he asked.

"Of course," said Joel; "it's the little brown house--" then he
began to cry again.

"See here, my lad, look at me." Joel rolled his eyes up at the
man, the rest of the people keeping quite still to listen. "You are
a brave boy, I know. Now I'm a doctor, and if you'll just take me
to your house, I'll have a look at that Dave of yours. Which way?"

Joel sat bolt upright as well as he could, being crammed in
between a big fat man and his kind friend, and directed this way
and that way, his tears all gone, and before any one could
hardly think twice, the pair of black horses and the jingling
harness and big carriage had stopped before the little brown
house, and the doctor was springing over the stepping-stones in
such a lively fashion that Joel had to run to keep up with him,
until there they were, with Grandma Bascom waddling around in
search of some herbs that were drying in the corner of the
woodshed, and Polly still holding David's hand as he lay on the
pile of grain bags. And in five minutes the new doctor had all
the examination made, and Davie was sitting up, his head on
Polly's shoulder; and no bones were broken, and all the trouble
was the fright produced by the shock of the fall. And the color
flew back into Polly's cheek, and Grandma Bascom kept saying,
"Praise the Lord--and who be ye, anyway?" bobbing her cap-border
at the new doctor. And he laughed and didn't tell her.

But he did tell some funny stories. And little Davie laughed;
and when they saw that, they all laughed, and the people out in
the carriage said, "Just like Dr. Herman," and one tall girl,
with her hat all covered with red roses, said, "Uncle John is
always doing such queer things. I do wish he would hurry and
come. It is too bad to have our driving tour interrupted like
that." And pretty soon down the stepping-stones he came, as
light and quick as could be, Grandma Bascom lifting both hands
and calling after him, "Well, you're an angel of the Lord,
anyway," and the new doctor was laughing. But he had stopped to
look into Polly's brown eyes. "Don't worry, little girl, he's
all right," he said.

Joel squeezed past them through the doorway, and ran after him.

"Please stop just a minute," he begged.

"Hey?" said the doctor, turning his foot on the step. The tall
girl in the hat with big red roses looked impatient enough, and
beat her foot on the carriage floor, but Joel kept on.

"I like you," he burst out, "ever'n ever so much."

The doctor put one hand on Joel's stubby black hair, and turned
his grimy face up. "You've got to be a man," he said; "now look
out for it while you're a boy. I guess you'll do." He jumped
into the carriage and drove the black pair of horses off at a
smart gait down the road, while Joel stood on the roadside grass
to see him go.




IV

THE MUFFIN MAN AND THE TRAMP


So when the time came that was to bring Mamsie home that night,
tired, but happy to fold her baby to her heart, for Phronsie
always climbed into her lap to untie her bonnet-strings, there
was David, running around brisk as a bee, his cheeks pink as a
rose, and Joel, who had stuck to the old box of nails all day,
despite Polly's pleadings to stop and rest, gave a shout that
the last was done, and stretched his tired legs. Then he gave a
hop and skip and jump around and around the grass before the
little brown house.

"Whickets! that feels good!" he cried, stopping for a long
breath by the old green door; then away again, kicking up his
heels like a colt.

"He's done 'em almost every one," said Davie, mournfully,
standing on the doorstone to see him go; "he wouldn't let me
help only a teenty bit, and he's so tired, Polly."

"Joel wanted to do 'em, Davie dear," said Polly, coming to the
door, on hearing that, and giving him a loving little pat. "I
know all about it, why he wanted to do it"--for Joel had told
her the whole story--"and Mamsie'll be glad he did it. How I
wish she'd come!" peering down the dusty road.

"How I wish she'd come!" echoed Phronsie, poking her head in
between Polly's gown and the door jamb.

"Dear me," cried Polly, whirling around, "are you there, Pet?
Well, Mamsie's coming pretty soon. I think I see--No, 'tisn't,"
as David started to scamper over the stepping-stones--"it's a
man turning the road. Anyway, she'll be here before we hardly
know it, I guess. Now let's play something, and that'll make the
time go faster."

"Oh, hooray!" cried little Davie, and, "Hooray!" piped Phronsie.
"_Joel--Joel!_" screamed David; and Phronsie clapped her hands and
screamed too, and Polly laughed and called as hard as she could, for
Joel, imagining himself a gay trotting horse, was slapping his legs
with a switch, and careering around the back of the little brown
house in a great state of excitement. Now hearing the calls, he
came whooping around, making all the noise he possibly could,
so there was a perfectly dreadful din, and no wonder that the
man Polly had seen turning the road came nearer without any
one noticing him.

He thought it was so convenient for him that all the children in
the house should be out in the front yard, that perhaps he had
better hop over the stone wall and go quietly in at the back
door; for really he was very hungry, and there must be as much
as a piece of bread, although the little brown house didn't look
as if it held much meat and pie and cake. So over the wall he
went, and slunk in through the tall grass, just as Polly was
marshalling her forces on the greensward in front and saying,
"Now, children, what shall we play?"

"Tag--tag!" screamed Joel, crowding up in front. "Now begin,
Polly, do, and let me be it."

"I'd rather have the Muffin Man," said Davie, wistfully.

"Muffin--Man--Muffin--Man," echoed Phronsie, beating her small
hands. "Oh, Polly, please do let us have the Muffin Man," she
cried, her yellow hair flying over her flushed face as she
hopped up and down. "Please, Polly!"

"Pshaw!" Joel exclaimed, contemptuously, "that old Muffin Man,
he's no fun. I say 'Tag.' Do begin, Polly," he pulled her sleeve
impatiently.

"The Muffin Man is so very nice," said Davie, reflectively, "and
we haven't played it in so long."

"That old--" began Joel, crossly. Then he caught Polly's eye.
"All right, Dave," he cried. "Go on, Polly. And let Dave be the
Muffin Man, do, Polly."

Polly shot him a beaming glance. "Now that's nice," and she took
Phronsie's hand, who was so overcome with delight she could not
stand still, but was engaged in making a cheese, and tumbling
over in a heap on the grass. "Come on, Pet," and Polly pulled
her up, "don't you see the Muffin Man is waiting for us?" for
there was David standing off at the end of the grass-plot, as
stiff as a stick, and most dignified, all ready to receive his
visitors.

It was after the merry line was dancing back into place that
Joel happened to glance up at the window of the kitchen. And as
quick as a shot he dropped Polly's hand and skipped off on the
tips of his toes over the grass and around the back of the house.

"Dear me!" cried Polly, "whatever can have happened to Joel?"

"Do come on, Polly," begged Phronsie, pulling at her other hand,
and lifting her flushed face pleadingly, "and let us see the
Muffin Man once more."

"So we will, dear," said Polly. "Now then!" So they danced off
gayly. "We all know the Muffin Man--the Muffin Man--the Muffin
Man. We all know the Muffin Man, that lives in Crumpet Lane."

Meantime, Joel rushed in over the back doorstep and into the
kitchen before the man he had seen through the kitchen window
could hear him and turn away from the old cupboard. When he did,
he said something that wouldn't have sounded nice had Joel
stopped to hear it. As it was, he bounded in. "What are you
doing in our house?" he cried, doubling up his fists. "Hey?"
said the man. He wasn't very nice to look at either, and he
peered over and around Joel's sturdy figure, to see if more of
the children were coming after. When he saw that Joel was alone,
and could hear the gay voices out on the grass-plot, he looked
perfectly wicked, and he laughed as he pointed a long and dirty
hand at him.

"You scream, or stir from your tracks, and I'll make mincemeat
of you!" he hissed.

"I ain't a-goin' to scream," declared Joel, scornfully, "an' I'm
goin' to drive you out of our house." With that he dashed at the
man with both small brown fists well doubled up, pommelling
right and left, and butting his stubby black head into the
stranger's waistcoat. And the next minute he was caught in the
long hands and tossed with a thump to the old kitchen floor, and
the wicked eyes were over him as he lay there panting.

"What did I tell you!" cried the man. "Now I'm going to make
mincemeat of you."

"We all know the Muffin Man that lives in Crumpet Lane," sang
Polly and Phronsie merrily, out on the grass-plot, as they
danced away.

"Where _is_ Joel?" cried Polly, as they stopped to take
breath.

"Just once more," begged Phronsie, pulling her hand; "please,
Polly." So down to see the Muffin Man again they danced.

Meantime, Joel was tied up tight and fast with the clothes-line
to the table leg, and in order that he should not use his tongue,
Seraphina's clothes, where Phronsie had thrown her on the
floor, were torn off and crammed into his mouth.

"Now I guess you'll keep still," said the man, turning back to
the cupboard with a grin; "and as long as those youngsters are
at their noise out there, I'm safe enough," and he pulled out
Polly's bread she had just baked that day, done up in a clean
old towel.

"Humph!" as he thrust his tousled head into the cupboard, and
searched for butter, and ran his dirty hands all over the clean,
bare shelves--"well, this will keep me from starving." So he
rolled the towel as tightly as he could over the bread, and
slouched off, shaking his fist at Joel with a parting scowl.

"Now, Phronsie, I can't play another single time," said Polly.
"I must see where Joel is." So she dropped the fat little hand
and raced off, the other children after her.

"Joel--Joel--" they all cried, and just then Mamsie was coming
down the road--oh! so tired, as she had had to stay later than
usual, for the Conference was to meet at the minister's house
next day, and besides the study carpet to be put down, there
were ever and ever so many things to be done. But she had an
extra quarter of a dollar in her pocket, and Polly was to run over
after the Conference dinner and get a basket of the eatables.
"If they leave any," Miss Jerusha, the minister's sister, had said
grimly, "which isn't very likely. I've heard 'em preach often enough
of starved souls. La! 'tisn't a circumstance to the starved bodies
they bring along to Conference." So Mrs. Pepper was turning in
at the dooryard of the little brown house in a happy frame of mind,
when she heard a babel of voices, and Phronsie's little shrill voice
above them all.

"Goodness me, the house must be afire!" she exclaimed, hurrying
over the grass and in at the door. There was Joel, tied hand and
foot, his black eyes blazing, while he was talking as fast as he
could rattle, and Polly was untying the clothes-line, little
Davie getting in the way, with trembling fingers, while Phronsie
stood still and screamed.

"He's got all our bread!" shouted Joel. "Oh, Mamsie!" Phronsie
turned and saw Mrs. Pepper, and ran to her with outstretched
arms.

"Whatever in all this world," exclaimed Mother Pepper, grasping
her baby tightly. "There--there--Phronsie, don't cry, Mammy's
here."

"Oh, Mamsie--Mamsie!" mourned Polly, tugging at the knots in the
clothes-line. Davie scuttled over to Mother Pepper and tried to
get within her arms, too.

"Our bread!" screamed Joel, in a rage, and kicking at the knots.
"Let me up! I'm going after him. He's got it all out of the
cupboard, I tell you!"

"Joel," said Mrs. Pepper, kneeling down by him, with Phronsie by
her side, and putting both arms around his struggling figure,
"Mother doesn't care about the bread; she's got you safe."

Joel snuggled up close to her. "I couldn't help his gettin' it,"
he sniffled, "Mamsie, I couldn't." Then he broke out into a loud
sob.

"Mother knows you couldn't," said Mrs. Pepper, and she shivered
as she thought of what might have been. "You're my brave boy.
But you mustn't go after him, nor out of the house."

"Oh, Mammy!" exclaimed Joel, lifting up his head, his tears all
gone. "I can catch him." He gave an impatient pull at the knots.

"Take care, Joe," cried Polly, "you're pulling 'em tighter. Oh,
Mammy, let us all go after him," she begged with flashing eyes.
"We can catch the bad wicked man."

"No," said Mrs. Pepper, firmly, "not a single one of you must
stir out of this house unless I tell you. And as for bread, why,
we can do without it so long as Joel is safe."

"Phooh!" said Joel, "he didn't hurt me any," just as Polly got
the last knot out that tied his arms. Then he set to work to
help her get his legs free. And in a trice he jumped to his feet
and ran to the window.

"Oh, Mamsie," he teased, craning his neck to look up and down
the road, "do let me go. I can get some sticks in the woodshed,
and I guess I can scare him then."

"All of us," pleaded Polly, hurrying to Mrs. Pepper; "just think,
Mamsie, with big sticks. Do let us."

But Mother Pepper shook her head. "We'll all go over to Grandma
Bascom's and see if he went there. Then Ben'll be home, and he
can run over and tell Deacon Brown. He'll know how to catch the
thief."

"I'm goin' with Ben," announced Joel, decidedly, and coming into
the middle of the kitchen with a bound. "He's my thief. An' I'm
goin' with Mr. Brown to catch him. So there!"

Mrs. Pepper shivered again, but smiled at Phronsie, who clutched
her tightly with her little arms around the neck. "Well, I
declare!" she said with a cheery laugh, "aren't you going to
untie Mother's bonnet-strings, Baby?"

"Yes, Phronsie," said Polly, with another little laugh, "so you
ought to. I declare, we're all so excited we don't know what to
do. I'm going to make your tea, Mamsie," and she spun off to the
old stove.

Mrs. Pepper smiled at her approvingly. "I won't wait for that
now; we ought to get over and see how Grandma Bascom is. I don't
believe he went there, but we'll see."

"I forgot all about her," said Polly, in a shamefaced way. "I'll
run down the lane and see. You don't need to come, Mamsie. We
three will go."

"I'm goin'. I'm goin'," screamed Joel, rushing for the door.

"Joel," called his mother, "come here." Joel slowly retraced
his steps.

"Remember one thing. You stay with Polly, and do just as she
says. And now, children, hurry along. And if you see the man,
you call me." And Mrs. Pepper went to the door, and, with
Phronsie in her arms, watched them scramble down the lane, and
up to Grandma's little cottage.

But Grandma Bascom hadn't seen anybody pass that way, and wasn't
a bit afraid. There she sat, drinking her bowl of tea out under
the lilac bushes.

"Run in an' get some pep'mint drops out o' the cupboard," she
said sociably, "they're in the big green dish. Be careful of it,
for it's cracked."

"We can't," said Polly, "Mamsie wants us to come right home."

Joel's mouth watered. "'Twon't take but a minute, Polly," he
said.

"No, Joe, we mustn't," said Polly, firmly. "Good-by, Grandma.
Now, let's run, boys, as fast as we can, home to Mamsie, and see
which will get there first."




V

ON BANDY LEG MOUNTAIN


And so Joel finally went to the cave alone. But not before a
good many weeks, for the two boys didn't get play-day again in a
long while. There was work to do picking rocks for the neighboring
farmers; and then came potato-planting time when they could help
Ben as he worked for Deacon Brown, who always paid them well
in potatoes that kept them through the winter. And, dear me, there
was always wood to pick up and split, Ben doing the heaviest part
of the chopping; and errands down to the store for Indian meal
and molasses and flour, and to fetch and carry back the coats
and sacks that Mamsie was always sewing up. So at it they kept
all the pleasant days. And, of course, on the rainy days no one
could think of getting off to the woods. So presently Joel almost
forgot about wanting to go, until one day when Polly broke out,
"Now, boys, you can play a good while to-day; your work's all done
up."

Joel twitched Davie's arm and hauled him out to the woodpile
behind the shed. "Now come on, Dave, let's go to old Bandy Leg
Mountain."

"No, I don't want to. I'm never goin' there," said Davie,
shrinking back.

"Not after the flowers?" said Joel, aghast at that.

David looked longingly off to the tip of the mountain
overhanging Badgertown.

"N-no," he said slowly.

"You see," said Joel, wheedlingly, "there must be such a very
great lot up there, and nobody to pick 'em, Dave."

Davie turned his blue eyes full of delight: "I might go a little
way; but I'm not going to the cave; only just after the flowers--the
green ones and the others."

"All right," said Joel, carelessly, thinking that after Davie
got started he could persuade him to keep on. "Now, you wait
here till I get my gun."

Joel's gun was an old willow branch out of which he had knocked
the pith; then he would put in round pebbles, when he wanted to
use it, and punch them out suddenly with another stick, screaming
out at the same time, "Look out, my gun's going off. _Bang!_"

So he ran off nimbly and got his gun from the corner of the
woodshed, where he had hidden it, and then in to Polly in the
kitchen.

"Give us somethin' to eat, Polly, please. Dave an' me."

"You can get some bread in the tin pail in the provision room,
Joe," she said, without looking up. She was trying to sew up a
long seam in one of the coats Mother Pepper was making for Mr.
Atkins, and it bothered her dreadfully, for it wouldn't look
like Mamsie's, try as she would. And she had picked it out three
times, and was just threading her needle to begin again, when
Joel rushed in.

"Why, you've only been through breakfast a little while," she
said quickly. "Dear me, Joe, seems to me you're always hungry."

"How I wish 'twas gingerbread!" cried Joel, tumbling over the
rickety steps in a trice. "Polly, why don't we ever have any?"
he called back, twitching off the cover of the pail. It fell to
the floor and rattled off, making a great noise.

"Stop banging that pail, Joe," called Polly, in a sharp little voice,
and twisting the end of the thread tighter. "Dear me, this hateful
thing won't go in that eye. Go in, you!" with a push that sent the
thread way beyond the needle.

"I ain't bangin' the pail," contradicted Joel, in a loud,
injured voice; "the old thing fell down. 'Twarn't my fault." And
he ran noisily across the provision room to pick it up.

"Well, set it on tight," said Polly, "and you're a very naughty
boy, Joel, and always making a fuss over the bread pail."

Joel didn't hear her, as he was busily engaged in cramming the
cover on the pail, and in a minute or two he came up with his
pockets full of dry bread, and his chubby face beaming with
satisfaction.

Polly tried again, without avail, to thread her needle, and at
last, as he ran out with a good whoop, she laid it down and put
her head back against Mamsie's big chair in which she was
sitting. "O dear," she sighed, "how I wish I could go off to-day
and play just once! How good it must be in the woods!"

"Don't you suppose you'll go when you are a big woman?" asked
Phronsie, laying down Seraphina, where she sat on the floor, and
regarding her gravely. "Ever, Polly?"

"O dear me, yes," said Polly, twitching up her head again, and
picking up the needle and thread. "And I'm a bad, naughty girl,
Phronsie, to fret," she added, her ill-humor flying. "There, now
you've concluded to go in, have you?" this to the eye of the
needle.

"You're never bad, Polly," said Phronsie, taking up Seraphina
once more, feeling that everything was right, as she had seen
Polly smile, and beginning to tie on a remarkable bonnet upside
down.

"Yes I am, Pet, often and often," said Polly, with very red
cheeks, "and I ought to be put in the corner."

"Oh, Polly,--put in the corner!" cried Phronsie, in a tone of
horror. "Why, you couldn't be. You're Polly!"

"Well, I need it," said Polly, shaking her brown head, while the
needle flew in and out merrily. Suddenly she laid it down. "I
must go out and tell Joel I'm sorry. I was cross to him. I'll be
back in a minute," and she sped off.

When she came back she looked very sober.

"They've gone down to the brook, I suppose," glancing at the
clock. "Well, I'll tell Joe just as soon as he gets home," and
slipping into the big chair again, she set to work, and
presently the old kitchen was very quiet, except for the little
song that Phronsie was crooning to Seraphina. At last this
stopped, and Polly, looking off from her work, saw that Phronsie
had fallen over on the floor, and was fast asleep.

"Poor thing!" exclaimed Polly, "she wants her nap." So she took
her up, and carried her into the bedroom, and laid her on the
big four-poster, and came out and shut the door.

"Now I do believe I'll have time to finish these two seams, if I
fly at 'em," she said joyfully. "Then, says I, this old coat's
done, and Mamsie can send the bundle back to-night when she gets
home"--for Mrs. Pepper was away helping one of the village
housekeepers to make her supply of soft soap. Many and many such
an odd job did Mother Pepper get, for which she was thankful
enough, as it helped her to eke out her scanty pittance.

Joel and David trotted on as fast as possible, by many a short
cut through the woods, till they reached the foot of "Bandy Leg
Mountain," so called because the hermit who had lived and died
there had short crooked legs. And at last they began to climb up its
face, David peering on every side for any chance at spying out the
wonderful flowers.

"I most b'lieve there aren't any," at last he said, his feet
beginning to drag.

"Come on," cried Joel, way ahead. "Hoh! what you stoppin' down
there for? Of course you won't find any until you get up nearer
the top. Come on!" and he disappeared in a thick clump of
undergrowth.

"Where are you, Joel?" cried Davie. He was now too frightened to
move, and he was sure he heard a lion roar, though it was only
his heart beating and thumping; so he sat down on the moss and
pine needles, and waited. Joel would surely come back. Meantime
a little bird came up and perched on the branch above his head,
and sang to him, so he felt less lonely.

Joel, supposing Davie was close behind him, trudged on and on.
"Hooray, we're most there!" he shouted at last. "Come on, Dave,"
and he turned around. "Why--Dave--Dave!"

"I guess he's just back there," and Joel ran on, for there was the
big hole in the rocks, and perhaps he'd really see a bear! and,
O dear! he must have his gun ready. And Joel soon stopped thinking
about David, but bounded ahead as fast as he could, and squirmed
in through the narrow slit, and wriggled along down toward the end
of the cave.

Suddenly a very funny noise struck his ear; it wasn't a bit like
a bear, nor even a wood-chuck, for they couldn't talk. And there
surely were a number of voices. Joel stopped squirming, and
stared with wide eyes into the darkness. It smelt dreadfully in
there, so close and hot, and before he could stop it he gave an
awful sneeze.

"What's that?" exclaimed one of the voices. Then they whispered,
and Joel heard some one say, "We're found out." And another one
said a bad word, and laughed, saying nobody'd ever find them
there.

"I guess there's lots in there," said Joel, "an' I better go,"
so he wriggled back out into the light. And he hadn't been there
but a minute when something came squirming down along after him.
Joel flew into the bushes and peered out between the branches.

"Why, it's the man who stole Polly's bread!" he almost screamed.
The man went past the bush, so near that his long dirty fingers
could have picked him out in a minute, and then went down the
other way, looking around carefully, and whistling away softly
to himself, and presently returned to the cave. And as soon as
he had gone in again, Joel hopped out of his bush, and ran at a
lively pace down the mountain-side, thinking only of meeting
David, and then to get Ben and Deacon Brown and a lot of men,
"and won't we come back and catch every single one of 'em,
then!"

There was David fast asleep under his tree, and the little bird
singing to him. "Dave--Dave!" shouted Joel, shaking him hastily,
"wake up! The man that stole our bread's up there. The cave's
full of 'em. I'm goin' to get Ben, an' catch 'em!"

"I'm goin'--to--get--the--flowers," said little Davie, sitting
up straight and blinking. Joel seized his hand and spun him
along as fast as he could around the rocks and boulders that now
stood in the way.

Ben was at Deacon Blodgett's, and looked up to see Joel and
David, hot and panting, rush into the field. "I'm so tired,"
said Davie, and sank down; "O dear me, Ben, I'm so tired."

Joel told his story, rattling it off so that Ben had to shake
his jacket many times. "Hold on there, Joe," he said, "you
haven't seen half that. You've been asleep."

"Come up and see," cried Joel, excitedly. "Oh, Ben, come up and
see."

"What's all this?" asked Farmer Blodgett, drawing near. So Ben
told it as well as he could for Joel, who wanted to go over
every word again, and at last they made him understand.

"Now that boy," said Mr. Blodgett, shifting his quid of tobacco
into the other cheek, "bein's he's a Pepper, knows what he's
a-talkin' of. I'm of th' opinion pretty strong that I'm a-goin' up
Bandy Leg."

"Oh, good! Mr. Blodgett," exclaimed Joel, hopping up and down in
his delight. "Do please hurry this minute and come on."

"Bein's I've lost more hens and chickens the last two weeks than
I ever have in my life before, and only yest'day wife had a hull
pan o' doughnuts took off from the back steps where she'd set
'em to cool, why I'm of the opinion pretty strong that Bandy Leg
Mountain will bear lookin' into. So I'll call Peter an' Jed, an' we'll
hoof it up there right away."

"Oh, Mr. Blodgett, do hurry," begged Joel, "and come." And he
began to dance off impatiently.

"Hold on!" cried the farmer, turning back, "you ain't goin'."

Joel stood absolutely still. "Not going!"

"Th' idee o' takin' a leetle chap like you," laughed Deacon
Blodgett. "Why, I couldn't look your Ma in the face, Joel Pepper,
ef I sh'd do sech a thing."

Joel scanned Ben's face.

"I'm sorry, Joe," said Ben, "but Mamsie wouldn't like it, you
know."

Joel gave a howl. "They're mine. And he's my man who stole our
bread; an' they all b'long to me, for I found 'em." He kept
screaming on.

"Mercy me!" cried Ben, shaking his arm, "stop screaming so, Joe,
you're scaring all Mr. Blodgett's men. They'll think you're half
killed. See 'em running here."

"I don't have to go after 'em, to call 'em, s'long as you yell
like that," observed Farmer Blodgett, grimly.

"An' they all b'long to me, every single one of 'em," screamed
Joel, harder than ever, "so there! an' Mamsie'd let me," he
added in a fresh burst.

"Well, I can't let you," declared Ben, decidedly, "without she
says so; and if we wait here much longer, all those fellows will
be slipping off, maybe. They can hear you up there, for all I
know, you make such a noise."

"See here," cried Deacon Blodgett, sternly, "Joe Pepper, you
stop that noise! Ain't you 'shamed, bein' Mrs. Pepper's boy, to
take on so? Now I'll tell you what I'll do. You've done a good
thing a-drummin' up those scamps, an' I don't wonder you want to
go an' see 'em ketched."

"I want to help catch 'em, and they're mine," said Joel, through
his tears.

"Well,"--and the farmer smiled grimly,--"I don't wonder, so now
I'll tell you what I'll do. Peter shall go along with you home,
an' if your Ma says come, he'll bring you after us. So march
lively."

"Mother isn't home," said Ben. "She's at Miss Perkins' working,
to-day." While Joel screamed shrilly, "Oh, dear-dear-dear,
p'r'aps she won't let me go!"

"Then you hadn't ought to want to," said Deacon Blodgett,
sternly. "Start lively, now, and see."

But Mrs. Pepper, looking into her boy's eyes, and hearing his
story, stood quite still, and Joel's heart went down to his toes.

"I think a boy who can act as bravely as you have, Joe," she
said at last, slowly, "ought to go and see the job finished.
Mother can trust you. Run along," and Joel's feet twinkled so
fast that Peter could hardly see them go.




VI

AB'M's BIRTHDAY PARTY


The robbers were caught, and were lodged in the county jail,
and all the farmers who had hen-roosts robbed, and the farmers'
wives who had their doughnuts stolen, kept coming over to the
little brown house or stopping Mrs. Pepper after church on
Sunday to thank her for what her boy had done, until it got so
that when Joel saw a bonnet coming along the dusty road, or a
wagon stop in front, he would run and hide.

"I won't have 'em put their hands on my head and call me good
boy," he cried, shaking his black hair viciously. "I'll kick
'em--so there!" So one day, when he caught sight of a wagon just
about to stop, he ran, as usual, as fast as he could, off over
to Grandma Bascom's.

"Now that's too bad," said a big tall woman, who got out of the
wagon and made her way up to the door, "for Mis' Beebe said in
partic'ler I was to bring Joel, an' he ain't to home."

"Go and call him, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, "Come in, won't you,
and sit down?"

Phronsie tried to drag forward a chair, while Polly ran out the
back door, calling, "Joel--Joel!"

"Bless her heart!" exclaimed the visitor, looking at Phronsie.
"No, I can't set; I've got to keep an eye on that horse." As Mr.
Beebe, who ran the little shoe shop up in the town, owned a
horse that nothing but a whip could make go, this seemed
unnecessary. However, Mrs. Pepper only smiled hospitably, while
the woman went on.

"You see, I've only jest about come, as 'twere, on from the West,
an' bein' my boy's got a birthday, an' him bein' grandson, as
you may say, to Mis' Beebe, she thought she'd give him a party."

"Oh, are you Mr. Beebe's daughter?" asked Mrs. Pepper, in
perplexity. "I thought the old people hadn't any children."

"No more'n they hain't," said the visitor, leaning composedly
against the door jamb and keeping her eye on the horse; "but as
you may say, Ab'm's their grandson, for my husband's mother was
sister to Mis' Beebe, an' she's dead, so you see it's next o'
kin, an' it comes in handy to call her Grandma."

"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Pepper.

"Well, an' so Mis' Beebe's goin' to give Ab'm a party. La! she's
been a-bakin' doughnuts all this mornin', got up at four o'clock
an' begun 'em. I never see such sugary ones. They're sights, I
tell you."

Polly now ran in. "I can't find Joel, Mamsie," she said sadly.

"Well, Mis' Beebe said I was to bring him most partic'ler; she'd
rather see him than any of the rest o' you. She said, 'Marinthy,
be sure to bring that boy who was so brave about them robbers.
Tell him I've made some doughnuts special for him.'"

"O dear!" exclaimed Polly, clasping her hands, "whatever can we
do, Mamsie, to find him?"

"You must not wait any longer," said Mrs. Pepper, remembering
how, the day before, Joel, had run down to the brook, and been
gone for hours, following along its course, never coming home
till dinner-time. "Get Phronsie ready, and Davie and yourself.
But I'm sorry for Joey to lose the treat," she said sadly.

"So'm I," said Abram's mother, "an' Mis' Beebe'll feel dreadful
bad. Well, I'm afraid that horse'll start, so I'll get in, an'
you can all come out when you get ready."

Pretty soon Polly emerged from the bedroom with a sad look on
her rosy face, and her brown eyes drooped as she led Phronsie
along as fresh and sweet as a rose, all ready.

"Tisn't nice a bit to go without Joel, Mamsie," said Polly,
disconsolately.

"You can't help it, Polly," replied her mother, "and it won't do
to keep Abram's mother waiting. So go on, and take care of the
children, and see that they behave nicely. And don't let
Phronsie eat more than one doughnut. And be careful to tie the
shawl over her when she comes home."

"I'll remember, Mamsie," said Polly, and wishing there wasn't
such a thing in the world as a party, she put Phronsie into the
wagon, and climbed up beside her. Davie, with a very sober face
at thought of leaving Joel behind, craned his neck and watched
for him as long as the little brown house was in sight.

"You see," said Abram's mother, twitching the reins, when at
last the old horse decided to start, "I had to hurry away an'
get in. I sh'd a-liked to a' set an' passed the time o' day
longer with your Ma, but I didn't darst to. It's dretful to
have a horse run. I couldn't never a-catched him in all this
world, stout as I be. Land! I hain't run a step for ten years,
'cept last spring I was to Sister Jane's, an' her cow took
after me, an' I had to."

"O dear," breathed Phronsie, turning her face up as she sat
squeezed in between Abram's mother and Polly, "did he hurt you?"

"Bless your heart!" exclaimed the woman, beaming at her, "no,
for he didn't catch me. You see I had on a red shawl, an' the
critter didn't like it."

"Oh!" said Phronsie.

"No; sho there, easy, you!" cried Abram's mother, holding the
old leather reins as tightly as possible, and bracing back; "I
guess he won't run, bein's I'm so strong in my hands. Well, you
see Jane she hollered out o' th' window, 'Throw away your shawl,
M'rinthy, he'll kill you.'"

"O dear me!" exclaimed Phronsie. "An' did he kill you, Mrs. Big
Woman?" she asked anxiously.

"No; why here I be," said Abram's mother, with a hearty laugh.
"Well, how could I throw off my shawl an' me a-runnin' so, an'
'twas all pinned across me, an' my brother'd brought it from
over seas. So I had to run."

Phronsie sighed, and kept her troubled eyes raised to the big
face above her.

"An' the first thing't ever I knew, I went down kerslump into a
big compost heap, an'--"

"What's a compost heap?" asked Davie, getting up to stand in the
wagon back of them.

"Oh, manure an' sich, all gone to rot," said Abram's mother.

"O dear me!" said Davie.

"An' that cow--'twas a bull, I forgot to tell you, Jane's
husban' told me afterwards--he kept right on over my head,
couldn't stop, you know, an' he went bang up against a tree on
t'other side, an' it knocked him flat."

"Did it hurt him?" asked Phronsie, in a sorry tone.

"I s'pose so," said Abram's mother, "for he didn't know nothin',
an' th' men folks came who'd seen me runnin' an' heard Jane
hollerin' an' took him off before he came to, which he did after
a spell, as lively as a cricket. An' they dragged me up, more
dead'n alive, an' I hain't run a step since."

Phronsie drew a long breath of relief that no one was killed.
Davie gazed at Abram's mother in great satisfaction. "Tell us
some more," he said.

"An' I might as well have flung off that red shawl," she went on,
ignoring his request, "if I could a' got out that pin, for it
was all smutched up, fallin' in that mess, an' I couldn't put it
on my back. It beats all how you never know what's best to do;
but then, says I, you've no call to worry afterwards, if you
decide in a hurry. Sho now, go easy, you!" And at last they drew
up at Mrs. Beebe's door.

There she stood in the doorway, in a cap with new pink ribbons,
and old Mr. Beebe just a little back, smiling and rubbing his
hands, and in the little window where the shoes and rubbers and
slippers were hanging was a big round face plastered up against
the small panes of glass.

"There's Ab'm, now," exclaimed his mother, proudly. "I guess
when you see him you'll say there never was sech a boy. Well,
I'm glad we're here safe an' sound, an' this horse hain't run nor
nothin'. Now, hop out,"--which injunction was not needed.

Good Mrs. Beebe ran her eye over the little bunch of Peppers as
they jumped down over the wheel. "Why, where's Joel?" she cried.
"In the bottom o' th' wagon, I s'pose," she added, laughing and
shaking her fat sides.

"Yes, where's Joel?" cried Mr. Beebe, rubbing his hands together
harder than ever. "I want him to tell me all about how he
ketched them robbers."

Polly was just going to tell all about Joel, and why he couldn't
come, when the big woman shouted out, "They couldn't find him,
for he warn't to home."

"Sho, now, that's too bad!" ejaculated Mr. Beebe, dreadfully
disappointed. Mrs. Beebe already had Phronsie in her arms, and
was whispering to her some of the delights to come. "Well, well,
well, come right in, all of you, and make yourselves to home.
I'll take care of the horse, Marinthy; go in an' set down."

"I'm sure I'm glad to," said Marinthy, getting over the little
steps quickly after the Pepper children, and nearly knocking
down David, who came last. "Ab'm, come here an' make your
manners," she called. Ab'm got down from the pile of boxes where
he had been looking out of the window, and slouched forward, his
finger in his mouth.

"Speak up pretty, now," said his mother, pulling his jacket down
with a twitch, and looking at him admiringly; "these children's
come to your party. Say how do you do, an' you're glad to see
'em."

"How do you do, an' you're glad to see 'em--"

"Land sakes alive!" cried his mother, with a shake; "hain't you
no more manners'n that? Do say it right."

"You told me to say it so," said Ab'm, doggedly.

"No, I didn't," retorted his mother with another shake. The
little bunch of Peppers turned quite pale, and scarcely breathed.

"Did anybody ever see sech a boy, an' he that's had no pains
spared 'n his bringin' up? Well, he's ten to-day, thank fortune,
an' he'll soon be a-takin' care o' himself."

Phronsie crept closer to Polly. "Take me home," she said. "I
want my Mammy."

"O dear me," thought Polly, "whatever shall I do! It will make
dear Mr. and Mrs. Beebe feel so badly if I don't stop her. Phronsie,"
and she drew her off one side of the shop, old Mrs. Beebe having
gone into the inner room, "you know Mamsie told us all to be good."

"Yes," said Phronsie, her lips quivering, and the tears
beginning to come in her blue eyes.

"Well, it would just about make dear Mrs. Beebe and dear Mr.
Beebe sick to have you feel badly and go home."

"Would it?" asked Phronsie, swallowing hard.

"Yes," said Polly, decidedly, "it would. People never go to a
party, and then say they must go home."

"Don't they, Polly?" asked the little girl.

"No," said Polly, decidedly, "I never heard of such a thing. And
just think, Phronsie Pepper, how Mamsie would look! Oh, you
can't mean to be a naughty girl."

"I--won't--be a naughty--girl, Polly," promised Phronsie,
battling with her tears, "an' I won't look at the big woman, nor
the boy. Then I'll stay."

So Polly kissed her, and pretty soon Mrs. Beebe bustled in, her
round face quite red with the exertions she had been making, and
Mr. Beebe having seen to his horse, came in rubbing his hands
worse than ever, saying, "Now, if we only had Joel, we'd be all
right."

"Now, my dears,"--began Mrs. Beebe. "Why, you haven't laid off
your things yet!" to the Peppers.

"No'm," said Polly, "but we will now, thank you, Mrs. Beebe,"
and she untied Phronsie's sun-bonnet and took off the shawl,
David putting his cap down on the counter, keeping a sharp,
disapproving eye on Ab'm every minute.

"When are you coming for a new pair of shoes?" whispered Mr.
Beebe, getting hold of Phronsie and lifting her to his knee.

Phronsie thrust out her little foot. "See," she cried gleefully,
forgetting for a moment the big woman and the boy, "dear, nice
Mr. Beebe, they're all here." Then she poked out the other foot.
"I buttoned 'em up all myself."

"No?" cried Mr. Beebe, greatly delighted; "well, now, when those
are worn out, you come and see me again, will you?"

"They aren't ever going to be worn out," said Phronsie,
positively, and shaking her head.

"Hoh, hoh!" laughed Ab'm, suddenly finding his tongue, "your
shoes ain't never goin' to wear out! Ma, did you hear her?"

Phronsie started and hid her face on Mr. Beebe's fat shoulder.
Polly hurried to her side.

"Be still!" cried his mother; "hain't you no manners, an'
they're company? Ab'm Bennett, I'm ashamed of ye." With that she
leaned over and gave him a box on the ear.

It was perfectly dreadful, and Polly had all she could do to
keep from bursting out crying. And what they would have done, no
one knows, if Mrs. Beebe hadn't said, "Won't you all walk out
into the parlor an' set down to the table? Come, Pa, you lead
with Phronsie."

"Ab'm oughter," said his mother; "that's style, seein' th'
party's fer his birthday."

"Well, you go first then, Marinthy," said old Mr. Beebe, dryly,
"with him, an' Phronsie an' I'll foller on. Now then, my dear."
He set her on the floor, and bent his old white head down to
smile into her face reassuringly, while her trembling fingers
held his hand fast.

"Polly," said little David, as they brought up the rear of the
procession, "I am so very much afraid of that boy."

"The party will soon be through," said Polly, encouragingly.
"I'm so glad that Joel isn't here, for he'd say something, I'm
afraid, if Ab'm scares Phronsie again," and she gave a sigh of relief.

Oh, the table! There were doughnuts, sure enough, as Mrs.
Marinthy had said, "The biggest I ever see, and the sugariest."
No wonder good Mrs. Beebe got up at four o'clock to make them!
And a great dish of pink and white sticks and cunning little
biscuits with real butter on them, and a cake, with little round
candies sprinkled all over the top. Was there ever such a
beautiful birthday party!

Phronsie, clinging to good Mr. Beebe's hand, thought not, and
her glances wandered all up and down in delight, to bring her
eyes at last up to Polly's brown ones, when her little face
broke into a happy smile. Ab'm was so intent on choosing which
of the pink and white sticks he should pick for, that he could
think of nothing else, so Mrs. Beebe got them all seated without
any further trouble. Old Mr. Beebe was just saying, "Now, if
Joel was only here, we'd be all right," when the shop door
opened suddenly, and into the little parlor ran Joel, very red
in the face.

"Now that's nice enough," cried Mrs. Beebe, getting out of her
chair, her pink cap-ribbons all in a flutter, while old Mr. Beebe
exclaimed, with a beaming face, "Well, I declare! ef I ain't glad
to see you. Set right down by me."

"No, he'll set here, Pa," said Mrs. Beebe, pushing up the chair
next to Ab'm; "there's more room this side." So Joel marched up
and got into his seat.

"An' so you thought you'd come," said Mr. Beebe, with a jolly
little laugh. "Now we'll have fine times, won't we, Phronsie?"
patting her hand. "How'd you git here?"

"I walked," said Joel, who couldn't for his life keep his eyes
from the doughnuts, "'cept when I met a man with a load of hay.
An' he was so slow I got down again, for I was afraid I'd miss
the party."

"Hee, hee, hee!" chuckled Mr. Beebe; "well, wife, do give Joel a
doughnut; he must be tired, a-comin' so far."

"Oh, thank you," cried Joel, thrusting out his hand eagerly.

"'Tain't style, where I come from out West, to help the
doughnuts first, an' specially when that boy's just come," said
Mrs. Marinthy, with a great air.

Joel dropped his doughnut to his plate as if it had been a hot
cake, and leaned over to fasten his black eyes on her big face.
"Well, pass the biscuits, do, then," said old Mr. Beebe, good-naturedly;
"let's get somethin' a-goin', Ma." So the little biscuits were
passed, but Joel did not take one; he still sat regarding Ab'm's mother.

"Ma, Ma," said Ab'm in a loud whisper, and twitching her elbow,
"this strange boy's a-lookin' at you all the time. Make him stop,
do."

At this Phronsie gave a little cry. "Don't let 'em hurt Joey,"
she gasped, turning to Mr. Beebe.

"There shan't nothin' hurt Joel, don't you be afraid," he
whispered back.

"Hoh, hoh!" cried Ab'm, pointing a big fat finger at her, that
might have been cleaner; "hear her now. An' she said her shoes
warn't never goin' to wear out. Hoh, hoh!"

"You let our Phronsie alone," screamed Joel, tearing his black
eyes off from Mrs. Marinthy's face to fasten them on her son.
"Ow! he pinched me," roared Ab'm, edging suddenly off to his
mother.

"I didn't," cried Joel, stoutly; "I did't touch him a single bit!
But he shan't scare Phronsie, or I'll pitch into him. Yes, sir-ree!"

"Joel!" cried Polly, in great distress, across the table.

"Well, he shan't scare Phronsie," cried Joel, "this boy shan't,
or I will pitch into him," and his black eyes blazed, and he
doubled up his little brown fists.

"Joel," commanded Polly, "do you stop, this very minute," and,
"Oh, sir!" looking up at Mr. Beebe, and, "Oh, marm!" and her
brown eyes were fixed imploringly on Mrs. Beebe's round
countenance, "I do feel so ashamed, and Mamsie will be so sorry.
But please will you let us go home?" And poor Polly could say no
more.

"An' I sh'd think you'd better go home," said Ab'm's mother,
with asperity; "a-comin' to a birthday party and abusin' the boy
it's give for. I never see th' like. An' to think how I driv'
you clear over here, an' that horse most runnin' away all the
time."

Polly got out of her chair and sorrowfully went up to Joel.
"We'll sit out in the shop, if you please, dear Mr. and Mrs.
Beebe, till you get through the party. And then, if you please,
we'd like to go home." Joel's head dropped, and his little brown
fists fell down. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Mrs. Beebe picked off the biggest pink stick from the pile on
the dish and slid it on Joel's plate. "Eat that," she whispered.
"Ab'm's goin' home in a week, an' then, says I, you shall come
over an' visit with me." And Mr. Beebe looked over at him and
nodded his white head, and Joel was quite sure he winked
pleasantly at him. But the pink stick and doughnut lay quite
untouched on his plate, and after a time, Polly having crept
back to her seat, the biscuits had been passed around again, and
the grand cake with the candies on top had been cut, the pink
and white sticks were divided, and the doughnuts went up and
down the table, and lo and behold! the party was over.

"I've had a birthday party," said Ab'm, with great satisfaction,
sliding out of his chair with a black look for Joel, and
stuffing what he couldn't eat into his pocket.

"You come with me," said Mrs. Beebe to Joel, "and let the others
go back into the shop." So he followed her into a little entry,
and out of that opened a cupboard.

"Now there's a paper bag up on that shelf," said Mrs. Beebe.
"You can climb up and git it; that's right. Now, says I." She
waddled back to the supper table. "Come here, Joel, my boy, and
hold it open there and there." In went the biggest doughnuts
that were left, some little biscuits, several pieces of the fine
cake, and last of all, three or four pink and white sticks.

"You tell your Ma," said Mrs. Beebe, speaking very soft, "that
Mr. Beebe an' me thinks a sight o' you, an' that you're a-comin'
out here to spend the day just as soon as Ab'm goes. Now
remember."

"Yes'm, I will," said Joel, twisting up his bag. "An' I'll come,
Mrs. Beebe, if Mamsie'll let me."

"An' take care the things don't fall out," warned Mrs. Beebe.

Joel gave the bag another twist, and gripped it fast.

"An' I guess Pa's got the horse around all right," said Mrs.
Beebe, going out into the shop, "so I s'pose you all must go,
though sorry I be to have you." She gave Polly a motherly little
pat on the shoulder, and fairly cried over Phronsie. "Well,
you've got to go, I s'pose," she said again, "'cause Pa's
a-waitin'; yes, Pa," she called, "they're a-comin'." And presently
the little Peppers, except Phronsie, all clambered over the
wheel; then Polly and Joel lifted her up, and away they went,
Mrs. Beebe watching them off till a turn of the narrow street
hid them from view.

"That Ab'm," said Mr. Beebe, after they had gone quite a piece,
and glancing back over his shoulder, "well, he ain't reelly no
kin to us, thank the Lord, an' they're a-goin' next week. I can
tell you one thing, Polly, he an' his Ma don't git inside our
house agin."




VII

JOEL GOES A-FISHING


Joel sat on the back doorstep and kicked his heels
disconsolately. Davie was lying down on Mamsie's bed, fast
asleep. He was tired out picking rocks all the forenoon, and
Polly had shut the door and said he mustn't be waked up. So
there he lay, his arm thrown up over his flushed cheeks; and the
long hot summer afternoon ahead of Joel, and he must spend it
alone.

"All the birds have lots of themselves to play with," grumbled
Joel, idly slinging a stone at a pack of chattering young ones
who could not contain their pride at being able to fly so finely,
but kept screaming every minute, "Look at me. Chee-chee-chee.
See-me-chee-chee-chee!"

Now they cocked their little heads and stared down with their
black beady eyes at Joel; when they saw it was he, they chirped
and twittered worse than ever. "See me. Chee-chee-chee!
Look-at-me-chee-chee-chee!"

"Stop it!" cried Joel, crossly, looking up at them; "Davie's
abed, an' I haven't any one to play with, an' you have, lots an'
lots." Then a smile broke out and ran all over his chubby face,
and he flung another stone he had picked off as far as he could
into the grass.

The little birds, glad to see him smile, fluttered their wings
and flew off, screaming proudly, "See-me-chee-chee-chee!"

"I'm going fishing down to Cherry Brook," said Joel, left alone
with not a bird in sight. Even the squirrels seemed to have
business at a distance that afternoon; so he hopped off from his
stone and ran to get his old tin pail and the remnant of an iron
spoon that Polly had given the boys to dig worms with; and very
soon he had a good quantity wriggling and squirming away, and he
came shouting, flushed and happy, by the window where she sat
sewing.

"I'm goin' fishin', Polly," he said, slinging his birch pole
over his shoulder.

"All right," said Polly, nodding and smiling away at him. "Sh,
Joel, don't make such a noise. You'll wake up Davie."

"Then he could go with me," declared Joel, on the edge of
another whoop.

"No, indeed, Mister Joel," said Polly, with a decisive nod of
her brown head, "you needn't think it. Davie's legs aren't so
strong as yours, and he's all tired out."

"My legs are dreadful strong, Polly," said Joel, well pleased at
Polly's words. And he set down his pail of angleworms, and the
pole carefully beside it. "See, Polly," and he flopped over
suddenly, turning two or three somersaults, to stand still on
his head.

"Oh, Joel--Joel!" cried Polly, forgetting all about David, and
dropping her work to her lap "don't. You mustn't do that. Stop
it!"

"Pooh! that's nothing," said Joel, wiggling his legs far apart,
and peering at her out of his sharp black eyes.

"Joel!" screamed Polly, "get up this minute, and don't you go
upside down again! Mamsie wouldn't like it. Get up, I say!"

"Pooh! that's nothing," again declared Joel, slowly flopping
over to lie still on the grass. Then he began to slap his legs
up and down. "Ain't I dreadful strong, Polly? Ain't I?"

"And your face is dreadfully red," said Polly; "I shouldn't
wonder if sometime you burst a blood vessel in you, if you do
that perfectly awful thing."

"How could it burst?" cried Joel. "Tell me, Polly," bringing his
legs down quite still to hear the answer. "Tell me, Polly."

"You'd know, I guess," answered Polly. "Don't, Joel, you make me
feel as if I sh'd fly to even think of it, and here I ought to
be sewing every single minute." Just then the bedroom door
opened, and out walked David, dewy-eyed, and with very pink
cheeks. "Did you call, Polly?" he asked; "I heard you say something."

"Now you've gone and waked Davie up," exclaimed Polly, in a tone
of great vexation.

"Goody!" screamed Joel, "now you will let him go fishing, won't
you?" And he jumped to his feet and ran to the window to thrust
his stubby head over the sill. "Dave, Dave, come out an' see the
lot o' worms I've dug."

"No," said Polly, feeling dreadfully at the sight of David's
face, as it fell at her words. "I'm sorry, Davie, but you were
real tired, an' Mamsie wouldn't like you to go off any this
afternoon."

"It's only to Cherry Brook," cried Joel, loudly.

"Now, Polly Pepper, I think you're real mean to keep him in, an'
we'd catch a whole lot o' fish, an' maybe have some for supper."

It was always Joel's ambition to catch a fish big enough to cook,
but as the brook, a little tumbling stream over a few ragged
rocks, on the edge of Deacon Brown's meadow lot, only held
minnows, with an occasional turtle and frog, this had never as
yet happened.

Phronsie laid down the bit of calico she was puckering up by
drawing through it a needle to which a coarse thread was tied,
and looked gravely at Joel. "You must not say so of my Polly,"
she said gravely, shaking her head.

Joel's black hair ducked beneath the window. "I didn't mean--"
he mumbled. "Polly, I didn't, truly." Then he flung himself on
the grass and burst into tears, kicking over the pail. The
angleworms wriggled along till they got to the edge, then
quietly took themselves off.

David drew a long sigh and folded his hands. "I'm not a bit
tired, and I should like to go, Polly," he said.

"No, Davie dear," said Polly, kindly, "you'd be tired before
you'd gone halfway. And Mamsie wouldn't like it. Do go back
and lie down again on the bed."

"Oh, I can't," said little David, shrugging his shoulders, "it's
all alone in there, Polly."

"Well, I can't leave my sewing, and you must have it dark, or
else you won't go to sleep. Do try, Davie, that's a good boy."

But little Davie still shrugged his shoulders, and wouldn't even
look at the bedroom door, but kept his back toward it.

"Dear me, Phronsie," cried Polly, in despair. "Now, if you'd go
in and lie down by his side and hold his hand, maybe he'd go to
sleep. He's half sick, and I don't want Mamsie to come home and
find him so."

"I've got to sew, Polly," said Phronsie, with an important air,
and holding up her mangy bit of calico, where all but one corner
was in a pucker, "so I must stay right here and finish it. Truly,
I must, Polly."

"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly, quickly, "then I don't know what
is to be done. And Mamsie will come home, and then what will she
say?" with another worried glance at David's flushed cheeks.

Phronsie drew a long breath and set another crooked stitch.
"I'll go, Polly," at last she said, with a long sigh, putting the
puckered calico bit, with the needle hanging, carefully on the
floor by her side. Then she got slowly out of her little wooden chair.

"Now, that's a good girl," cried Polly, reaching out her arms to
catch her, and nearly smothering her with kisses. "Whatever
should I do without you, Phronsie, pet? I'm sure I don't know."

"You couldn't do without me, could you, Polly?" cried Phronsie,
very much pleased as Polly let her go and flew back to her
sewing again.

"No in-_deed_!" cried Polly, warmly. "There, take Davie's
hand, and both of you go into the bedroom like good children,
and shut the door and go to sleep. That's nice!" and she smiled
approvingly at them as they disappeared.

Joel cried on and on, his tears trailing off into the grass,
till at last, as Polly took no notice of him, he raised his head
to look in at the window at her. She didn't seem to see him, but
sewed on and on quite composedly, as if Joel were not there. So
he finally jumped up, and seeing his tin pail overturned on its
side, he hurried to investigate.

"Oh, my worms have all run off!" he shouted. "Polly, the bad old
things have every single one of 'em run away!" and he beat the
bottom of the pail with the broken iron spoon in his vexation.

"Joel Pepper!" cried Polly, a little red spot coming in either
cheek as she flung down her work on the floor by Phronsie's
calico bit, "that's twice you've made a most awful noise; now
you'll wake Davie up again, you bad, naughty boy," and without
stopping to think, she dashed out doors, and before Joel could
hardly breathe, she seized his shoulders and shook him smartly.

"Oh, what have I done! What have I done!" she exclaimed, and
throwing herself down on the grass, she covered her face with
her hands, waving back and forth in distress.

"You shook me!" cried Joel, his black eyes sparkling in anger.
"Now I'll beat you, Polly Pepper," and he raised the old broken
iron spoon. There they were--two little Peppers--oh, dreadful,
to tell it--and Mamsie away!

"You may, Joe," said Polly, brokenly, and rocking back and forth,
while the big tears dripped down between her fingers, "for I've
been bad to you, and Mamsie away." She could hardly speak for
her sobs. "How could I! Oh, Joey, I'm so sorry. O dear--dear--dear!"

She went off now into such a gust of crying, that Joel forgot
all about his anger. He threw away the spoon, and kneeling
beside her, he put his arms about her neck. "Don't cry, Polly,"
he begged, "please don't."

"I can't help it, Joe," said Polly, struggling with her sobs. "O
dear me! I can't ever forgive myself. I don't see how I came to
do it. O dear me!"

At last Joel, in despair, jumped to his feet. "I'm going to get
Grandma Bascom."

"Oh, no, you mustn't, Joe," cried Polly, bringing a very red
face suddenly to view, the tears running in little rivers down
her nose and cheeks. "There, see! I'm not going to cry any more.
Come back, Joe," for he was starting off at a lively pace.

"Sure?" cried Joel, stopping a minute.

"Yes, I won't cry any more," cried poor Polly, swallowing very
hard--"there, see, Joey dear," and she wiped off the last tear.
"Now I'll help you dig some more worms," she said, racking her
brains to think of something by which to make up to Joel for the
shaking.

"Will you?" cried Joel, in delight. "Oh, Polly, how nice! Here's
the spoon--here's the spoon," and he ran and picked it out of
the long grass.

"Yes, I will," promised Polly, stifling a sigh as she thought of
the work to be made up in some way on the coat seams.

"And I'll sit here and see you," remarked Joel, doubling up in
an easy position on the grass, "'cause you see there isn't but
one spoon, Polly. Now dig a good lot," he said with a restful
stretch.

So Polly dug and dug away, being careful to select long, fat
worms. And presently there was a good number all wriggling away
in the bottom of the pail. And at last Joel hopped up and peered
in. "Oh, Polly, what a lot! An' they're juicy ones, and a great
deal better'n mine. Now I guess I'll catch some fish, an' you
shall fry 'em for supper." He seized the pail, and slung the
pole over his shoulder again, and trudged off.

"All right," said Polly, with a loving little pat, "and oh, Joey,
I'm so sorry I was cross and shook you."

"I don't care," said Joel, pleasantly, "'cause you dug my worms
for me, Polly," and he raced off.

But Polly went into the little brown house with a very sober
face. And it wasn't till all the children, Ben and all, were
abed that night, and she crept into Mamsie's arms and sobbed it
all out on her breast, that she felt better and like being Polly
again.

Joel rushed through the undergrowth and tangle of berry bushes,
breaking through the wild grape vines that slapped him in the
face and caught his pole; and, creeping and ducking under them,
at last he struck the little path to the Cherry Brook, that
gurgled its way along Farmer Brown's meadow. Underneath the cool
trees it was dank and mossy, and he flung himself down to rest,
first carefully setting his precious pail up against a big stone.

"I'm just goin' to catch the biggest fish you ever saw, Joel
Pepper," he exclaimed to himself, for want of company. "Yes
sir-_ree_," untwisting the string which, for want of a fishing
line, he had tied to his pole. "Then I guess, when Polly sees it,
she'll be glad. Now I'll get the very juiciest worm in the pail."
So he went to the pail, and was just leaning over to investigate
its depths, when he heard voices.

Joel knew in a minute whose they were, and he tried to scrabble
his things together and run and hide them in the thick bushes,
when the boys to whom the voices belonged broke through the
undergrowth on the other side of the brook.

"It's the Pepper boy," said one of them in an awful whisper.
Then they stood still a minute, all three staring at each other.
At last Joel picked up his pole and started to march away.

"Hold on," called one of the boys, the biggest and dirtiest, and
he jumped across the brook. Joel went steadily along as well as
he could for the vines and stubby trees, determined not to turn
back for anybody's call, at any rate that dirty Jim Belden.

But Jim gave him no chance to think, and the first thing he knew,
Joel was seized roughly by the shoulder. "Gimme them worms," and
Jim tugged at the handle of the pail.

"I won't; they're my worms," screamed Joel, hanging on for dear
life; "so there, now! you go right away. Polly dug 'em, Polly
dug 'em," he kept saying. But the scuffle was short, as the other
boy raced up, and pulled too, so that pretty soon Joel was tumbled
heels over head, into the brook, and the pail was in the hands of
the biggest boy, who cried out joyfully, "Oh, see what a lot! now
we'll go up to th' 'Pool.'" This was a deep spot a half mile or
so away, where the stream widened. Mrs. Pepper never allowed the
two boys to go there, unless Ben could go too, which was seldom
indeed, and only looked upon as a very great treat.

Joel burst out in a great passion, as soon as he could scramble
out of the brook, "Give me back my pail!" and he looked so very
fierce, although he was so small, that without another word the
other two ran away as fast as they could. Joel plunged after them,
angrier every minute, and instead of turning off to the "Pool,"
Jim and the other boy ran straight across Deacon Brown's field.

"Oh, now he'll catch 'em," thought Joel, joyfully, without a
thought of giving up the race. There was a man off in the
further corner of the field. "Mr. Br-own," screamed Joel,
shrilly. "Mr. Br-own!"

Jim and the other boy, seeing their mistake, turned off to the
undergrowth. "Hold on there!" commanded Deacon Brown, in a dreadful
voice. So there was nothing to do but stop.

[Illustration: "'GIVE ME BACK MY PAIL!'"]

But when he got to the spot where they stood rooted to the
ground, there were no worms in the pail, they having been
jiggled out in the chase. So Joel had to go back, and pick up
his pole with the string hanging to it, and carry that home and
his empty pail. "But that Jim Belden didn't have the worms,
anyway," he said, with great satisfaction.




VIII

WHY THEY SAID NO


Ben came in and hung his cap up on its peg behind the door.
Polly didn't see his face, for she was tying on Phronsie's
eating apron, and Mother Pepper was in the pantry, else some one
would have discovered that he was strangely excited.

"Come," said Polly, "we can't wait any longer for those boys.
Can we, Mamsie?" she called.

"No, we better sit down," said Mrs. Pepper, coming out with a
plate in her hand. "I'm sorry they're late, for I've got a
surprise for you all to-night." She set the plate on the table,
and her black eyes sparkled. "Now, then, see that!"

"Ooh!" cried Polly, her brown eyes very wide, while Phronsie
stopped climbing into her chair to precipitate herself into the
midst of the group. "See, Ben! See!" exclaimed Polly, "it's
white cake with real frosting on top. Oh, Mammy, where did you
get it?"

Ben looked at the six big slices lying across the plate, but he
didn't seem to see them. However, Polly didn't notice, for she
was dancing around the table with Phronsie, to see which side
the cake looked the best.

"White on top--real white on top!" sang Phronsie, beating her
little hands together.

"I know it," cried Polly, almost as much excited. "Oh, how I
wish those two boys were here! Mamsie, where _did_ you get
it? from dear Mrs. Henderson, I s'pose."

"No, guess again," said Mrs. Pepper, cheerily. Then she looked
at Ben steadily out of her black eyes. "I was going past Miss
Barber's, and she knocked on the window, and when I stopped she
ran out, and gave it to me all done up. 'I've been watching for
you,' she said, 'for I knew you were helping at Deacon Brown's
to-day. We had comp'ny last night, and I want you to have some
of sister's cake. She's had real good luck.' So that's all the
story about the cake, Polly." Mother Pepper still looked at Ben,
though she spoke as cheerily as ever.

"I'm so glad Miss Barber did have company last night," said
Polly, her mouth watering for the taste of "sister's cake."

"I want a piece," said Phronsie, stopping her dance suddenly,
to hold out both hands.

"Oh, no, Phronsie," said Polly, with a little laugh, "you must
eat your bread first. Folks don't ever eat cake first."

"Don't they?" asked Phronsie.

"No, indeed; there, hop up into your chair." Polly flew into her
own. "Why don't those boys come?" she cried in a vexed little
way.

"It won't make them come any quicker to fret over it," observed
Mother Pepper, composedly, and getting into her chair. "Come,
Ben, sit down, and we'll begin."

So the grace was said, and the bread was passed. "Oh, Ben!"
exclaimed Polly, in dismay, "you didn't wash your hands!" as he
was going to take a piece.

"I forgot it," said Ben, looking down at them. Then he got out
of his chair and went out into the woodshed, where a tin basin
and a towel and soap were always ready, for Mother Pepper said
they might be poor, and that they couldn't help, but they could
keep clean and nice.

Polly nibbled at her dry bread, but she couldn't keep her eyes
off the cake, and Phronsie bit little pieces all around the edge
of her slice. Then she laid it down. "Now I'm ready for the
cake," she said, holding out both hands again. "Please give it
to me, Mammy."

"Oh, no, Phronsie," said Mrs. Pepper, shaking her head, "Mother
can't give it to you till you've eaten all your slice. Besides,
you must wait till Polly is through, and I will pass it to her
first."

"I don't want any more bread, Mammy dear," said Phronsie,
gravely.

"You must eat it," said Mrs. Pepper, firmly.

"See, Phronsie, mine's going fast," cried Polly, with another
bite that rapidly diminished her slice. "Oh, you can't think how
soon it will be gone, if you begin to eat." And Polly munched
away determinedly, but she kept looking at the cake. Ben came in,
and slid into his chair, and took a piece of bread.

"Why don't those boys--" began Polly. "Oh, I forgot, Mamsie,"
with a little laugh, and the door opened, and in burst Joel and
David with very red faces, and talking at once.

"Oh, it's comin'!"

"Over at Hillsbury--"

"Horses and--"

"Monkeys--"

"And a big elephant and--"

"A band--" this from Joel, who screamed it above Davie's faint
treble.

"And a bear, and a hippi--hoppi--"

Polly dropped her bread-slice in astonishment, and Mrs. Pepper
sat quite straight in her chair. Phronsie had just concluded to
try again and do like Polly, so she sat quite still and stared,
with her bread halfway to her mouth. Ben's head drooped over his
plate, and he pushed his bread in rapidly, nearly choking
himself.

"Boys," said Mrs. Pepper, "don't both talk together. Joel, you
may begin, because you are the oldest." But it was impossible to
stop them, as they rushed up to her and threw their arms around
her.

"Oh, Mammy," cried little Davie, his cheeks aflame, "you can't
think--there's monkeys!"

At that Phronsie gave a little squeal, and before Polly could
stop her, she slipped out of her chair and plunged over to her
mother. "Oh, Mammy, I want a monkey, I do."

"And bears--and horses," shouted Joel, winding both arms around
Mother Pepper's neck.

"Whatever in all this world!" exclaimed Mrs. Pepper, looking
over their heads. Then her eyes fell on Ben. "Do you know
anything of all this?" she asked.

"Yes'm," said Ben, his head dropping lower yet, while Joel and
David howled on, and Phronsie screamed to be taken up in her
mother's lap, and that she wanted a monkey too. Polly sat as if
paralyzed.

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Pepper.

"The circus," said Ben, slowly, "coming over to Hillsbury."

Polly sprang from her chair, upsetting it, and plunged over to
Mrs. Pepper. "Oh, Mamsie!" she screamed, as loud as the others,
"the circus! the circus! Oh, oh! Can't we go? We must!"

Poor Mrs. Pepper sank back in her chair, with the four little
Peppers swarming all around her, and all pleading together, till
the kitchen seemed fairly to ring with the noise.

"We can't, Polly," said Ben, hoarsely. "You know we can't. And
Joel and David ought not to have told."

Polly turned a deaf ear, and kept on, "Oh, Mamsie, we've never
seen one, 'cept the pictures. We must go!" On hearing this from
Polly, Joel and David made as much worse clamor as was possible,
drowning Phronsie's voice.

"Aren't you ashamed, Polly!" cried Ben over at her. "You know we
can't go, so what's the use?"

"We can go," cried Polly, passionately, back at him, "if
Mamsie'll only say so. We've never seen one, and we _must_
go."

"Now, children," said Mother Pepper, in a firm voice that rose
above the din, "stop, every one of you, at once, and go and sit
down."

When Mamsie spoke like that, the five little Peppers always knew
that she meant to be obeyed, so they drew off from her and
tumbled into their chairs; all but Phronsie. "I'll take you into
my lap," said Mother Pepper, so Phronsie snuggled, well-contented,
in her usual nest, and folded her small hands.

"Now, then," said Mrs. Pepper, "as it is quiet enough so I can
think, I'll hear the story. Ben, you may begin."

"Oh, let me--let me, Mamsie," begged Joel. "You said I might,
'cause I'm the oldest."

"That was because it was between you and David to tell it, and
you didn't take the chance," said Mother Pepper, coolly. "Now
Ben must do it."

"Why, there's a big yellow paper down to the store," began Ben,
slowly, and trying to make it as short as possible, "and--"

"It's got pictures of all the horses," interrupted Joel,
springing up from his seat, his black eyes dancing, "and--"

"Joel, sit down," said Mrs. Pepper, sternly, "and don't
interrupt. Go on, Ben."

Joel dropped, as if shot, back into his chair.

"And it's comin' to Hillsbury next week Wednesday," went on Ben,
unwillingly, "and that's all, Mamsie. Only Joe and David
shouldn't a-told."

"Tisn't all," declared Polly, defiantly, with very red cheeks;
"we must go! We've never seen a circus, and now it's goin' to be
in Hillsbury, we _must_ go!" She seemed unable to stop herself. Ben
stared at her in amazement.

"Must is a hard word to use, Polly," said Mother Pepper, dryly.

"I mean you'll let us, I 'most know," mumbled Polly, her cheeks
turning scarlet, and twisting her hands together. "Won't you,
Mamsie?"

"Won't you, Mamsie?" piped Phronsie, poking her head up like a
little bird out of her nest, to look into Mother Pepper's face.

"How much does it cost, Ben?" asked Mrs. Pepper, smiling down at
her baby, but not answering.

"Fifteen cents for any one over twelve, and ten cents for boys
and girls under twelve," said Ben.

"Um, that would be one fifteen cents for you, and ten cents for
Polly and Joel, and--"

"Why, you must go, Mamsie," cried Polly; "we shouldn't any of us
want to go without you, should we, Ben?"

"No, indeed," said Ben. "But we ain't any of us going, Polly,"
he finished.

At this there was another howl, breaking out from the two boys.
Polly turned quite pale, but said nothing.

"Be quiet, Joel and David," said Mrs. Pepper, turning her black
eyes on them. "No, children, if I could let you go at all, I
should trust you with such a boy as Ben, and such a girl as
Polly, to look after you." Polly raised her head, that had
drooped at her mother's reproof, and Ben sat quite straight in
his chair. "But I don't see as it's right for me to let you go."
There was a sign of another outbreak, but something in Mamsie's
eyes stopped it halfway.

"In the first place, it's five miles to Hillsbury," said Mrs.
Pepper, slowly, as if trying to put off the final decision as
long as possible; "and you younger children couldn't walk it."

"I could, Mamsie," declared Joel, springing up again.

"Sit down, Joel; well, Davie couldn't. I shouldn't be willing
for him to try, and walk clear back. And Phronsie--" Mrs. Pepper
looked down at Phronsie's yellow head, and smiled. It wasn't
necessary for her to say a word. "Mr. Tisbett'll be goin' over,"
said little Davie, hopefully, "an' he can take us."

"And that would cost money," said Mrs. Pepper.

"Somebody will let us sit in behind," said Joel, confidently;
"there'll be lots of wagons goin'."

"And ever so many people going in them," added Mrs. Pepper. "No,
my children shan't ever be a burden to other folks," and she
lifted her head proudly. "Polly, run into the bedroom and get
the stocking-leg." The stocking-leg, in the upper drawer of the
big bureau that belonged to Father Pepper's mother, always held
the stray quarters and half dollars laid up for a nest-egg
against a rainy day. Polly jumped out of her chair, glad to have
something to do, and ran into the bedroom.

"I sh'd have screamed if I'd sat there another minute longer,"
she said, leaning up against the bureau. "O dear me! We
_must_--I mean, what shall we do if we can't go? I guess
Mamsie will let us go." And she pulled open the upper drawer,
took out the stocking-leg, and ran back to put it in Mrs.
Pepper's hand.

Mrs. Pepper slowly untied the red flannel string and shook out
the contents on the table, the eyes of all five little Peppers
riveted on them. There were six silver quarters, three halves,
two ten-cent pieces, and eight pennies.

"Three dollars and twenty-eight cents," said Mrs. Pepper, slowly,
as she set the pieces in a row. No one dared to speak, except
Joel. "What a lot!" he cried joyfully; "now we can go, Mammy,
can't we? Oh, whickets!" and he clapped David on the back.

"Children," said Mrs. Pepper, and her eyes swept the whole
circle around the table, but they rested on Polly's face, "there
won't anything pay very well, circus or anything else, if we go
when we hadn't ought to. We haven't got a debt, thank the Lord,
but that money--" she pointed to the row--"is all that keeps us
from it."

It was impossible for Joel not to see by Polly's and Ben's faces,
more than by what Mrs. Pepper had said, that they were not
really to go, and he flung himself out of the chair and face
downward on the floor, breaking into heartrending sobs, little
Davie at once joining him. Polly got out of her seat and hurried
over to them on unsteady feet. "Boys," she said in a broken
little voice, "don't cry so. You make Mamsie feel badly. Look at
her face." But they didn't hear her.

"Boys,"--she got down close to them and put her mouth to Joel's
ear,--"you are making Mamsie sick," she said; "just look at her
face." At the word "sick," Joel stopped screaming, and bobbed up
his head to take a good look at Mrs. Pepper. "Mamsie, don't be
sick," he screamed, now thoroughly frightened. And jumping up,
he ran to throw his arms around her, and hug her tightly.

"Mother won't be sick as long as she's got such good children as
she has," cried Mother Pepper, putting her arms around Joel, to
draw him close to her. But her lips were very white.

"Now, boys," said Ben, "I sh'd think you were two big babies,
you act so. Joel's most a man, he's so big."

"I'm big, too, Ben," said David, getting up from the floor and
wiping off the tears with the back of a grimy hand. "I'm most as
tall as Joel is," and he stood very straight.

"Hoh! he isn't either," contradicted Joel, turning his round
face, all tear-stained and streaky. "Now just look here, Ben,"
and he sprang out from Mother Pepper's arms and rushed up to
David's side. "There, sir!"

"Well, you are both of you big enough to act better," said Ben,
coolly. "Come on, now, to supper."

"You're standing on your tiptoes," cried little David, getting
down on the floor by Joel to investigate. "Isn't he, Polly? Come
and see."

"I'm not either," cried Joel, flatly; "hear my heels." And he
slapped them down on the floor smartly. "Children, don't
quarrel," said Polly, finding her voice, "and come to supper. I
don't b'lieve you know what we've got."

"What?" asked Joel, indifferently, feeling quite sure of the dry
bread and possible molasses.

"Come and see," called Polly, trying to speak gayly.

"I see," piped David, craning his neck. Since he couldn't be as
tall as Joel, it was well to turn his attention to other matters.
"_Cake!_"

"Yes," said Phronsie, poking her head up again to shake it very
gravely, "it's cake. And please may I have some, Mammy?" holding
out her hand.

"So you shall," said her mother; "dear knows, I can't expect you
to wait any longer for it. Polly, give her a good piece."

When Joel saw Polly handing out cake with white frosting on top,
his black eyes stuck out, and he rushed without delay for his
seat, teasing for a piece at once. But on Polly's assuring him
that the bread must be eaten first, he began at once on the
slice she cut for him. And being really very hungry, now that
they had time to think about it, the two boys soon had their
portions eaten, nobody discovering, in the excitement, that the
little hands were grimy, until Phronsie spoke. "See Joey's hands,
Polly," and then everybody looked.

"My!" exclaimed Polly, quite herself, now. "I never saw such
hands, Joel Pepper! Go right away and wash 'em as soon as ever
you can."

"Smutty hands and cake!" exclaimed Mother Pepper.

Joel was so busy cramming the cake into his mouth that he didn't
half hear. "I'm most through," he mumbled.

"Lay down your cake, and go and wash your face and hands at once,
Joel," commanded Mrs. Pepper.

"Dave'll eat it," said Joel, his mouth half full.

"Oh, no, I won't," said little David, "and I'm going too, to
wash mine." So he laid his cake-slice on his plate, and ran into
the woodshed.

"You had a bigger piece than mine," said Joel, getting the tin
basin first, and filling it at the pump.

"No, I didn't," said David; "they were just alike."

"Well, it's bigger now," said Joel, bringing the basin to set
it on the wood bench and thrust his face in. Then he splashed
his hands, and gave them a hasty wipe on the long brown towel
hanging from the rack. "Anyway, it's bigger now. There, I'm done,
and you ought to give me a bite of yours."

Little David gave a sigh. "Well, you may have just one," he said
slowly. Then he threw out the water from the basin, and
carefully filled it again, while Joel dashed back gleefully into
the kitchen.

"Joel, what are you doing, biting Davie's cake!" exclaimed Polly,
a minute afterward, and looking across the table while she
snipped off a little piece of the white frosting from her slice,
wishing the whole world was made of cake with white on top, and
wondering how long she could make hers last.

"Dave said I might," said Joel, with a very red face, and one
cheek very much puffed out, while he turned David's slice over
so that it didn't show where the big bite had been taken off.
But his face grew quite red, and he didn't look in her brown
eyes.

"For shame, Joe!" cried Ben at him, in a way that made Mother
Pepper look around. She hadn't heard Polly. Down went Joe under
the table, and in a minute or two David hurried in.

Nobody said a word. David picked up his cake, and his face fell
as he saw the big hole. But he said nothing, and fell to
nibbling.

"I'd give some back, but mine's et up," said Joel, miserably,
under the table.

"It's too bad, David," said Polly; "here now, you may have some
of mine," and she broke off a generous bit.

"I told him he might have a bite," meekly said David, who never
could bear to have Joel blamed. "I wanted him to have it," he
added cheerfully.

"O dear-dear-dear," boohooed Joel.

Davie dropped his cake in a worried way.

"Don't, Joey," he said, leaning over to look at him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," blubbered Joel. "O dear me!"

David, unable to bear it any longer, slipped out of his chair,
and crept under the table to comfort Joel. But it wasn't till
Polly said, "Come, Joey," that he would show his face. Then he
twisted his knuckles into his eyes, and hung his head.

Mother Pepper said never a word, only held out her arms, and
Joel walked straight into them, bursting into the loud sob he
had held back so long; and then she took his hand and led him
into the bedroom, and the rest of the children sat still and
very uncomfortable, and Davie wouldn't look at his cake. When
they came out again, Joel marched straight to David, and said,
"You may have my knife."

Joel's knife, with the tip of one blade broken, and the other
all gone, was his dearest treasure.

It had been given to him by Deacon Brown, and its possession had
made him very proud and boastful. It was the one thing Davie
longed for, above all others.

"Oh, no, Joe, not your knife!" he cried, aghast, and shrinking
back.

"Yes, you may have it," said Joel, decidedly, and running out
into the entry to hurry into the woodshed to the wooden box
where he kept his treasures.

"Yes, Davie, I would take it," said Mrs. Pepper. "Joel feels
very sorry he's taken any of your cake, and he'd rather you had
the knife."

"But it's Joel's knife," said Davie, "and he loves it."

"Not so much as he does to grow up a good boy," said Mother
Pepper, proudly, as Joel came running in and laid the knife on
the table in front of David. "It's yours, and I'm sorry I et
your cake," he said in one burst.

Polly hopped out of her seat, and ran around the table to take
Joel's black stubby head in her two hands. "Oh, Joel! I'm so
glad!" she cried, in a happy little gust.

"Good for you, Joe!" cried Ben, approvingly.

"Pooh!" exclaimed Joel, twisting off, his face getting redder
and redder. "Mamsie, stop 'em--do;" yet he liked it very much.

"Oh, Ben," cried Polly, after the last scrap of the wonderful
cake had disappeared, the dishes were cleared away, and Phronsie
put to bed, and everything was spick-span once more, "I've just
thought of something perfectly splendid!"

"What is it?" cried Joel, who, despite all his efforts, was just
beginning to think of the circus again. "Do tell, Polly! Now
you're goin' to whisper with Ben, and you won't tell us."

"No, I shan't--and yes, I will," said Polly, all in the same breath.
"It's this, Mamsie. Mayn't we have a little play out in the
orchard next Wednesday, and can't Joel and David sit up a little
longer to-night to talk it over? I've just thought of something
splendid to act."

"Oh, may we, may we?" cried the two boys, in a tumult.

"Instead of the circus," Polly's brown eyes were saying. "Do,
Mammy."

"Yes, you may," said Mrs. Pepper, indulgently, "sit up half an
hour longer."

"We've had a cake to-night, and now Mamsie's going to let you
two boys sit up. I think nobody ever had such a perfectly
beautiful time," declared Polly, as they dragged their chairs
around the table again, and Mamsie got out her big mending
basket, "did you, Ben Pepper?"

"No, I never did, Polly," said Ben, happy in seeing her face
bright and rosy once more, with the little smiles running all
over it.

"Now begin," cried Joel, drumming impatiently on the table;
"what's the play to be, Polly? I'm going to be a bear," he
announced.

"Oh, Joel, you were a bear last time," said Polly, with a
little frown between her eyebrows.

"I don't care, I'm going to be a bear," repeated Joel,
obstinately.

"See here, now, Polly makes this play, and you've got to be just
what she says," said Ben.

"I'm so tired making plays with bears in 'em," said Polly,
pushing off the little rings of brown hair with an impatient
hand. Then she caught her mother's eye. "Never mind, Joey," she
said with a gay little laugh, "I'll make the bear."

"Yes, you must be tired," declared Ben. "Joe, you oughtn't to
tease Polly so. It's bad enough to have to make the plays, I
think."

"Oh, I don't care," laughed Polly. "Well, now here's the play.
You see, we want something quite fine and extra," and she looked
at Ben meaningly. He nodded, so she rushed ahead, well pleased.
"Well, the name is Mr. Primrose and his Cat."

"And the bear," shouted Joel. "And I know what I'm going to do,
Polly, I'm going to eat the cat up."

"Oh, no, you mustn't, Joe," said Polly, "for the cat is going to
be Phronsie. Now you must be good and not scare her."

"I'll tell her I'm nothing but Joel, and I ain't a bear," said
Joel.

"Hush about your old bear, Joe," said Ben. "Polly can't get on
at all if you don't keep still."

"I'll fix it, Joey," said Polly, kindly, "so you can be a bear,
only you must promise not to roar too much and scare Phronsie."

"I won't scare her a single bit, Polly," promised Joel, eagerly.

So then Joel and his bear being settled, Polly launched forth on
the wonderful play, and Mother Pepper glanced up now and then
from her mending, and a smile began to come on the face that had
been soberly bent on her work.

"Poor things!" she said to herself. "And bless 'em, for the
comforts they are!" But she sighed as she glanced around the
bare old kitchen.




IX

THE BAG OF RYE FLOUR


All that week Mother Pepper kept Joel and David away from the
Store, and Polly or Ben had to go, whenever the errands made it
necessary. Polly, when it was her turn, did not trust herself to
look at the flaming yellow sheets of paper with the big staring
letters across them, stuck up in the dirty store windows, or
hung from the beams in among the kitchen utensils, or breadths
of calico and gingham, wherever they would attract the most
attention.

One, in particular, was nailed up just inside the door. It was
pretty hard to avoid this, but Polly turned her head away, and
tried not to think of it, but keep her mind on what Mamsie said
just before starting. "Don't keep looking at what you want and
can't have, but keep busy over what you can have;" so she set
her brain hard to work over the play, trying to decide whether
she would have Mr. Primrose, who was to be Ben, rescue from the
bear the white cat, who was to be Phronsie, in the remains of
the old white fuzzy mat that Mrs. Henderson had given them to
play with, or whether she (Polly), who was to be the fairy,
should change her back into the small damsel she was at first,
or whether--

"Well, Polly, my girl," said Mr. Atkins, with a hearty laugh,
"I've spoke to you three times, and you seem deef to-day."

He was a jolly good-tempered man, and very kind to Mrs. Pepper,
sometimes giving her sacks and coats to make when he really
didn't need them just then; and though he never waited for his
money but once, and that was when the children had the measles,
and Joel nearly died, he used to give large measures of things,
and sometimes he'd slip in an apple or two, and once a whole
fine orange went into the bag of Indian meal, so as to be a
surprise when it was opened at home. So Polly liked Mr. Atkins
very much.

Now she blushed rosy red. "Oh, I didn't mean--" she began, and
was just going to say, "Please, I'd like three pounds rye flour,
Mr. Atkins," when he broke out, "I s'pose you're athinkin'
about the circus--don't wonder--I got my mind some on it
myself."

"O dear, no," cried Polly, hastily, all in a tremble, and only
anxious to get it out of her mind as soon as possible, and
whirling around with her back to the wonderful picture.

"I s'pose, now, your Ma don't approve of 'em," he said, looking
quite solemn all at once; "well there, I s'pose they ain't quite
'xactly the thing, but they look pretty nice on paper. See that
fellow, now, Polly, a-flyin' through that ring. Beats all how
they do it. Makes my head spin to look at him. See there!" and
Mr. Atkins pointed a stubby forefinger, shaking with excitement,
to the big poster hanging by the counter.

"Oh, I can't look, Mr. Atkins," she said hastily. "Please do
hurry and give me the flour." And then she got so very miserable,
for fear she had been rude, that she stood quite still, and the
color flew out of her cheek.

"I s'pose your Ma don't approve," observed Mr. Atkins again, not
being able to tear his gaze off from the splendid evolutions of
the man flying through the ring, and others of a like nature;
"well-well-well, I d'no's 'tis 'xactly the thing, but then--an'
then them horses. Why, Polly, this man is a-ridin' five great
strong prancing ones all to once, dancing like ginger." Polly
gave a great gasp. "Oh, if Joel could only see those horses once!
It was too bad--it was cruel." Her heart seemed to jump into her
throat, and to choke her. "We _must_ go!" It seemed to her
as if she screamed it, as she started suddenly and ran out of
the store on wild little feet.

But Mr. Atkins, and the men and boys and women and girls left
behind, were all staring open-mouthed at the pictures, and
spelling out the no less wonderful descriptions of the staring
yellow posters with the big flaring letters, so no one noticed
her particularly, until the storekeeper tore his gaze away from
the man flying through the paper rings, and the other one riding
five prancing horses, and remarked, "I declare, I don't b'lieve
I put up that rye flour for Polly Pepper, after all. Well,
she'll come back for it, most likely, so I'll get it ready.
Three pounds, she said." So he weighed it out, and tied it up,
and set it to one side, saying to the frowsy-haired boy who
helped him, "Jim, that's Mrs. Pepper's little girl's bundle, now
remember."

"Yes," said Jim, with no eyes or ears for anything but the
circus posters.

Polly ran across the road, and into Mr. Slimmen's meadow
opposite, and to the further end, where she flung herself down
on the stone wall, and pushed off the brown hair from her hot
forehead. "O dear me, how could I!" she cried, twisting her
hands tightly together. "What would Mamsie say! Now she never'll
trust me to go to the store again. Oh, I shall cry! O dear,
dear!"

"_Moo!_" said Mr. Slimmen's cow, coming close to the stone
wall, to lay a friendly nose on Polly's gingham sleeve, and to
stare with wide eyes of surprise at her being there at all.

"O dear me!" cried Polly, glad of anything to speak to, and
laying her hot face against the soft one so near, and she threw
her arms up over the cow's neck.

"_Moo!_" said Mr. Slimmen's cow, as if she quite understood
the matter, and no one need explain. And Polly felt quite
comforted, although the dreadful thought of going back into the
store nearly overcame her. But remembering that Mamsie would be
waiting for her, and worry if she did not soon come back, Polly
made a desperate effort and hopped off the stone wall.

"_Moo!_" said Mr. Slimmen's cow, as if sorry to have her go,
as Polly ran off, determined to get it over with as soon as
possible.

She had her bundle tucked under her arm, glad that no one had
spoken to her; for Jim just pointed to it, when she laid the
money down on the counter, and then turned back to study the
poster again, and was skipping over the ground, when she met
Joel coming at a lively pace down the road.

"Oh, Polly, what a lot of time you've been gone!" he exclaimed.
"Mamsie sent me after you."

"Did she?" cried Polly, in dismay. "Well, we must hurry back
then, as fast as we can."

"I'm goin' to the store," said Joel, edging down toward Mr.
Atkins'.

"What for?" demanded Polly, stopping a moment. "Did Mamsie send
you for anything?"

"N-no--not exactly," said Joel, digging his bare toes into the
sand; "but I might--might--p'r'aps get a letter, Polly," he
added, as a bright idea struck him. Mr. Atkins, besides being
the storekeeper, was also postmaster.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Polly; "why, Mamsie never has any letters,
Joel. There isn't anybody to write to her."

"She may, p'r'aps," said Joel, confidently "there may be one
this afternoon. I'm goin' to see," and he darted off before
Polly had time to stop him.

"_Joel_!" she called, running after him. But as well try to
stop the north wind. Joel raced up over the steps and disappeared
within the store. Polly, endeavoring to reach him before he saw
the yellow and red posters again, put forth all her effort, but
stubbed her toe against a big stone, and fell flat. Away flew her
bundle of flour--thud went the paper bag, and off came the string,
and there it was all spilled on the ground.

Joel didn't ask about the letter for Mamsie, but the minute his
black eyes fell on those horses careering and prancing and
dancing, he was nearly beside himself. And pushing in between
the men and boys of the largest group, he stared, spellbound,
and lost to everything else.

"Now that's too bad!" said a voice that Polly loved dearly to
hear, and some one lifted her up out of the sandy road. The dust
was all in her eyes, so she couldn't see for a minute, but she
knew 'twas Parson Henderson. "Well, Polly, I don't believe you
are much hurt," he said kindly. "A tumble in the dirt isn't the
worst thing in the world, is it?"

Polly looked around for her bundle, anxiously. All the while she
was saying, "Oh, thank you, sir. I'm not hurt a bit." But all
the money for the rye flour gone! She could get no more, for
Mamsie never had things charged, although Mr. Atkins was quite
willing to do so. "'Tisn't safe," Mrs. Pepper always said; "if I
do it once, I may again, so I'll pay as I go."

Parson Henderson looked off the road over his spectacles and saw
the rye flour all sprinkled on every side, just where it had
flown. "Now that's too bad!" he said. "Well, Polly, they say
it's no use to cry over spilt milk, and I suppose spilt flour is
just as bad," and he took her hand. "Let us see if Mr. Atkins
hasn't some more." But Polly hung back; still, she must go into
the store and get Joel. So she started forward again, and said
impulsively, "I won't get any more flour, please, Mr. Henderson,
but Joel's there, and he must come home with me."

"I'm intending to get some flour to send to Mrs. Pepper," said
Parson Henderson, "and you don't have anything to do about it,
but to carry the bundle, Polly," he added lightly. So they were
presently in the centre of the store. When Mr. Atkins saw the
minister, he got away from the red and yellow poster as soon as
he could, and came forward, rubbing his hands. So Mr. Henderson,
not saying a word about Polly's accident, bought some rye flour,
and several other things for the parsonage, chatting pleasantly
all the time. But the storekeeper didn't say a word about the
circus.

Polly was up by Joel, where he stood, his round face plastered
up to the flaming sheet. "Come home, Joey," she whispered,
trying to draw him off.

"Gee-wheezes!" exclaimed Joel, his cheeks red as fire, and his
black eyes sticking out. "See, Polly, I can ride as good as that
man," pointing to the one who had so roused Mr. Atkins'
admiration, "if I had five horses. Yes, sir-_ree_!"

The farmers standing about burst out laughing, and punched each
other to see him.

"Joel," said Polly, in a low voice, and putting her arm around
him, "come home at once, that's a good boy!"

"Look at that white horse, Polly!" cried Joel, quite gone with
excitement. "See him dance, like this, Polly," and he slapped
his sturdy leg, and kicked out suddenly. Everybody laughed, the
farmers guffawing in delight; and one small girl on the edge of
the group who burst out, "Tehe-ee!" couldn't stop. Joel suddenly
turned and saw them all; and he doubled up his little brown
fists, and squared his shoulders. "Stop laughing at me!" he
cried, throwing back his head defiantly, his black eyes sparkling
in anger.

[Illustration: "'GEE-WHEEZES! I CAN RIDE AS GOOD AS THAT MAN'"]

"Joel!" commanded Polly, in great distress. Then a hand reached
over between them and touched him on the shoulder. "Come here,
my boy," said Parson Henderson, and before Joel knew it, there
he was marching off out of the store.

Parson Henderson said not a word, only, "Run back, Polly, and
get the bundle of rye flour for me. Tell Mr. Atkins I'll step in
for the other things." And Polly, doing as she was bidden, and
catching up with them as they walked slowly down the dusty road,
heard the minister say, "Well now, Joel, I should like to go
fishing with you some day."

Joel, who had hung his head sheepishly, now raised it. "Oh,
would you?" he cried; "that would be prime!"

"Yes," said Parson Henderson, "I think it would be, Joel," and
he laughed gayly.

"O dear, isn't he good!" cried Polly, softly, to herself, as she
gained Joel's other side. Then she suddenly ran around him, and
stepped up to the minister.

"I think you might walk next to me," said Joel, in a dudgeon,
craning his neck to look past Parson Henderson.

"So I will, Joel," answered Polly, "in a minute." Then she
looked up into the minister's face. "Oh, thank you so very much,
sir!" she said, the color rushing all over her round cheeks.

"All right, Polly," said the minister, smiling down at her.
"I've enjoyed my walk very much, and Joel and I are going
fishing together, some day. Now I must say good-by," and he
stopped.

"Here is your bundle," said Polly, handing up the rye flour.

"That's Mrs. Pepper's bundle," answered Parson Henderson,
cheerily, and he was gone.

"What's in the bundle?" cried Joel, crowding up to Polly. "Let
me see; let me see, Polly."

"Take care, Joe," said Polly, whirling around and covering the
bundle with her arms as best she could, "or you'll spill it
again."

"Spill it again?" repeated Joel, wonderingly. "I haven't spilled
any bundle, Polly Pepper. Let me see what's in it?" and he tried
to get hold of one end that stuck out.

"Joel Pepper!" exclaimed Polly, quite worn out, "you've been a
bad, wicked boy, and now you're going to tear this bundle all to
pieces. Stop it!" she commanded sharply.

"I haven't been a bad, wicked boy," contradicted Joel, in a loud,
vehement tone, and stamping with his bare heel in the dust that
flew up in their faces in a little cloud, "so there now, Polly
Pepper!"

And there they were, those two little Peppers, in the middle of
the road, in such a state, and Mamsie smiling over her work as
she thought of her children!




X

MAMSIE'S SURPRISE


Polly cried herself to sleep that night, although Mother Pepper
had comforted and cuddled her when the whole story had come out
on their return; how in a minute the passion had died down when
the two children thought of Mamsie as they stood there in the
road. "Joel was the first to be sorry," Polly had said generously,
when confessing it all.

"No, I wasn't," contradicted Joel, "Polly looked sorry first."

"Polly was older," Mother Pepper had said gravely.

"I know it," said Polly, and her head drooped lower yet.

"But Joey was very naughty indeed in Mr. Atkins' store and
besides, he ought not to have gone there." And Mrs. Pepper's
face looked very sad indeed.

The two children, not having a word to say to this, stood very
mournfully in front of her. The bedroom door was shut fast, and
Ben was doing his best out in the kitchen to keep the other two
children amused, in this unwonted state of affairs.

"I wish you'd punish me, Mammy," said Polly, in a broken little
voice, "real hard."

"And me, too," cried Joel, sniffling.

"I've never punished you children since you were big enough to
know better," said Mother Pepper, slowly, "and I don't believe I
can begin now. And it seems to me it's the best way for you to
punish yourselves. So I'll leave you to think over it," and she
went out and closed the door on them.

How long they sat there, Polly didn't know, and as for Joel, he
was in such a state of mind, he couldn't tell anything, only
that Polly and he finally crept out in the gathering dusk of the
long afternoon. No one but Mother Pepper ever knew the reason
for the many unwelcome little tasks that Joey did after that,
and, strange to relate, without a single grumble, while as Polly
couldn't very well do more work than she did at present, and as
there were no luxuries to give up in the way of eatables, the
Peppers having butter and other nice things only when people
were good enough to send them some, it is hard to think what she
could do to punish herself. But that was Mother Pepper's and Joel's
and her secret. And then Mamsie cuddled them and comforted
them. Only Polly, when she went to bed that night, felt the tears
drop quite fast on her pillow, and that was the last thing she
remembered before she dropped to sleep.

Meantime, it was rather hard work rehearsing the little play.
"We'd give that up, Mamsie," cried Polly, though Joel made a wry
face as he agreed to it, "but the others want it so much."

"But that wouldn't be a very good way: to make other people suffer
for your faults," Mrs. Pepper had replied. So the work over the
little play went on, as if nothing sad had happened. But Polly
carried a sorry little face about, until Phronsie would look at
her wonderingly, or Davie would forget to smile; on such
occasions Mrs. Pepper would look at her and raise her finger
warningly, and Polly would exclaim, "Oh, I forgot," and then she
would toss them a merry little bit of nonsense that made them
happy at once. But down in her heart Polly had many sad thoughts.
At last it was the great day. Nobody said "circus," but all the
five little Peppers shouted it was the Play Day! And it really
didn't rain, and the sky was as blue as could be, and Mamsie
stayed home that day, and oh! Polly was quite sure she smelt
something very nice, when she raced into the kitchen in the
middle of the morning. Mother Pepper had sent them all out to
rehearse the play in the orchard, and in the midst of it Polly
cried out that she had forgotten the wings she was to put on as
fairy godmother, when she appeared in time to rescue the little
white cat, and to change her into a small girl again. She had
made them, with the greatest trouble, out of thin paper and some
old wire, and for fear they would get broken in the woodshed,
Mamsie had said she might put them in the lower drawer of the
big bureau in the bedroom, where Phronsie's red-topped shoes
were always kept wrapped up. So now Polly dashed suddenly into
the kitchen to run after them.

"Oh, Mamsie!" she exclaimed suddenly, wrinkling up her nose at
the unwonted smell of something baking.

Mother Pepper was stooping over the oven door, which was open.
She closed it quickly, and stood straight. "Polly," she said,
and there was a little laugh in her eyes, although her firm lips
were closed, "you are not to say anything what you think to the
other children."

"No, Mamsie, I won't," promised Polly, with a wild thought at
her heart, "Could Mamsie possibly be making a cake?" as she
rushed into the bedroom, got the wings, and raced out again. And
all through the rehearsing she kept thinking how good it smelt
when that little whiff from the oven flew out.

And Mother Pepper smiled away to herself, and the voices from
the orchard, with its one scraggy apple tree, came pealing in
through the open window, as the rehearsal for the grand play was
in progress. And then the whole bunch of little Peppers hurried
off to get some wild flowers, "for it won't be much," Polly had
said, "without some posies to put on the table" (the big stone
Ben had tugged home from Deacon Brown's meadow).

"I'm glad Polly'll have her posies," said Mrs. Pepper, hearing
that, and seeing them go on the flower-hunt, as she paused a
moment at the window. "Now they'll be good to trim the ca--"

And it almost popped out, and she didn't mean to whisper the
secret, even to herself!

When the children came back from roaming the fields and woods,
with the blossoms and green vines gathered in their aprons and
arms, and they were all nicely set in the cracked teacup with
the handle gone that Mamsie had given them some time before, and
some other dishes that Mrs. Pepper had handed out with strict
charges to be careful of 'em, they all stood off in a row from
the stone table, in delighted admiration.

"Isn't it perfectly beautiful!" exclaimed Polly, in a rapture,
and clasping her hands.

"Perfectly beautiful!" breathed little David.

"Be-_yew_-ful!" echoed Phronsie, hopping up and down with
very pink cheeks, and her hair flying.

"It looks very well, Polly," said Ben, in a practical way.

"I wish we had somethin' to eat," began Joel.

"Oh, Joey!" cried Polly, reproachfully. But her heart jumped at
the recollection of the lovely smell that came from the oven,
and Mamsie's face. "Now, children," she said, "we've got
everything all done," with a quick glance around, "and Phronsie
must have her nap, so's to be a nice little wide-awake white cat.
Oh, Ben, leave the fur rug and the other things out under the
table," as Ben began piling them up to carry back to the
woodshed.

"Mamsie said, Always put everything back when we'd got through
playing," said Ben.

"Well, she'll let us put them there, we're going to use them so
soon, I know," said Polly, "if you tuck 'em in neatly. Won't you,
Mamsie?" she cried, running to the window to thrust her brown
head in.

"Yes," said Mrs. Pepper.

"And may we all come in now?" asked Polly.

"Yes," said Mother Pepper again.

"Don't forget your wings, Polly," cried Joel, picking them up
where Polly had carefully laid them against the tree, and
rushing to her, waving them aloft.

"Take care, Joel" warned Ben, but too late. One wing flopped
over, and caught in a knobby old branch of the apple tree, and
in a minute there was a big hole right in the middle!

"Oh, you--" began Polly, passionately, when she turned and saw
what was done. In a minute she dashed over to Joel and threw her
arms around him. "You couldn't help it," she finished, "and I
can paste a piece of paper over it, and it will be most as good
as new," while the children stood aghast at the mischief, and
Ben exclaimed, "How could you, Joe! Why didn't you let it
alone?"

"I didn't mean to. And now it won't fly--fly," screamed Joel, in
a gust.

"Oh, yes, it will," declared Polly, merrily; "you'll see. And
when I get it on, Joey Pepper, look out and look if you don't
see me sailing up to the sky."

Joel came out of his sobs and looked up to the blue sky, and
smiled through his tears, and when David and Phronsie saw Polly
so merry, they smiled too, and Ben caught Polly's eye and didn't
say any more. So they all marched into the house, and Phronsie
was tucked up on Mamsie's bed, for her nap, and Polly sat down
to mend her broken wing.

Mrs. Pepper, going on with her work, sent her a smile and loving
look, that said just as plainly as words could speak it, "You're
trying hard, Polly, my girl, and Mother knows it." So Polly
began to hum at her task, and presently the kitchen became the
very cheeriest place possible. What they would have done if any
of them had happened to spy out what was on the upper shelf of
the cupboard, covered carefully with a clean old towel, cannot
possibly be told.

At last it came to be three o'clock, the hour of the grand play.
Mrs. Pepper, as audience, was seated in her big rocking chair
that Ben had brought out from the kitchen and placed in the best
spot on the grass to see it all, and Polly and Ben and Joel and
David and Phronsie were in the depths of excitement, and
flitting here and there, Polly, as chief director, having a
perfectly awful time to get them into their parts, particularly
as Phronsie would keep rushing up, the old white fur rug nearly
tripping her up every step, to lay her soft face against Mother
Pepper's, and cry out, "I'm to be a white cat, Mamsie. I truly
am!" And Joel would insist on roaring like a bear, and prancing
and waving his arms, around which Polly had tied a lot of black
hair that Mamsie had let her take out of her cushion.

[Illustration: "'I'M TO BE A WHITE CAT, MAMSIE'"]

"Joel, you spoil everything!" cried Ben at him. "See here, now
all your hair is tumbling off from your arms."

"They ain't arms. They're paws," said Joel, stopping suddenly
to look with dismay at the damage he was making. "Polly didn't
tie it on good," he said, trying to stuff back the loose hair.

"Yes, she did, too, real good," retorted Ben, "only you are
flourishing round so, nothing would keep on you. Keep still,
can't you!"

"And I'll tie it on again," said Polly, "if you'll wait till I
fix Davie--just a minute--there, Davie, you're all right. Now,
says I, Mr. Bear," and she flew over to Joel again.

Once more Mother Pepper sent her a swift approving smile, and
Polly's heart was so warm that a little sunbeam seemed suddenly
to have hopped right down there. And the little play went on
from first to last perfectly splendidly, and Mrs. Pepper,
feeling very strange indeed to be sitting there in the middle of
the afternoon with nothing in her hands to work over, clapped
them together and applauded enough for a big audience. And there
never was such a good time in all this world--no, not even under
the big white circus tent over in Hillsbury!

"I'm glad you like it!" cried Polly, tumbling over in a heap on
the grass when it was all over, and the audience got out of the
big rocking chair.

"It was very nice indeed, Polly," said Mother Pepper, with
shining eyes.

"Indeed it was!" declared Ben with enthusiasm, which meant a
great deal from him.

"And now, children," said Mrs. Pepper, "you rest on the grass
and talk it over, and I will call you into the house by and by."

"I don't ever want to go in," declared Joel, positively, and
rolling over on the grass to wave his legs in the air, while
little Davie lay quite still. "It was good to be in the play,
Polly," he said, "but it's nice to rest here."

"I was a white cat, Polly," said Phronsie, sitting down on the
grass as close to Polly as she could get, and tucking up her
feet under her.

"So you were, Pet," cried Polly, "the loveliest, sweetest white
cat in all the world, Phronsie dear," giving her a little hug.
"O dear me, I'm glad it's done, and that it was nice."

"It was the nicest thing you've ever done, Polly," declared Ben,
with emphasis.

"Chil-_dren_!" Mamsie's voice, and it had a new sound.

But Joel gave his sturdy legs another wave. "I wish we could
stay out here longer," he said. So it happened that he was last
in the procession filing into the little brown house, instead of
first, as was usually the case.

"_Oh, Mamsie_!" cried Polly, and, "_Oh, Mamsie_!"
exclaimed every one of the others, while Joel pushed in between
them as fast as he could, anxious to see what it all was.

There was the table drawn out in the middle of the kitchen and
spread with a clean white cloth. And on it stood a cake, yes, a
big one, and there was--yes, there actually was white on top!
When Polly saw that, she sat right down in the first chair. As
for Ben, he was just as much astonished, and couldn't stop the
children from reaching out to pick at the cake.

"I took some of your flowers, Polly, to trim it with," said
Mother Pepper, pointing to the wreath running around the big
cake. "Now, children, all of you sit down, and Polly shall cut
it, for she made the play." She handed Polly the big knife,
sharpened up till it shone as bright as could be.

"Let me--let me!" screamed Joel, with no eyes now for anything
but the sharp knife "I've never cut a cake. Mammy, let me!"

"Neither has Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, quietly. "No, Joe, Polly
made the play, else you couldn't any of you have had this nice
time."

"And she's worked herself most to death to get us through it,"
said Ben.

Polly had seized the big knife, and taken one step toward the
wonderful cake. Now she stopped, and looked over at Joel. "You
may," she said, smiling brightly.

"Oh, goody!" cried Joel, plunging forward. Then he stopped
suddenly, on meeting his mother's eye. "I'd rather not," he said.

"Go on, Polly, Joel's right," said Mrs. Pepper, in satisfaction.
So the slices were cut very slowly, Polly breathing hard with
anxiety. But the white frosting didn't fall off a bit, and each
piece was soon laid on a plate by Mother Pepper, and passed,
first to Ben and then to the others, and to Phronsie last of all,
of course, because she was the youngest.

When it was all over, this delightful surprise of Mamsie's, and
Polly and Mrs. Pepper were clearing up, Joel nudged David. "Come
on, Dave," he whispered, and the two boys ran out to the orchard
again.

"I'm goin' to be bear again," cried Joel. "O dear me! Ben's
taken in all the black hair," he cried, in great disappointment.

"He had to put it back in Mamsie's cushion again," said David.
"You know he promised."

"He might have left it a little bit of a while," grumbled Joel.

"He said he'd do it right away," persisted David, "so he had to,
Joel."

"Well, anyway, I'll be bear again without the black hair, then,"
declared Joel. "Now, look out, Dave, 'cause I'm goin' to climb
up th' apple tree."

"Bears don't climb up trees," observed little David, critically,
watching Joel's progress, quite content to sit down on the grass
meanwhile.

"Well, I'm goin' to, when I'm a bear," cried Joel, now well up
in the midst of the gnarled branches. "I'm goin' to climb trees,
and do everything I want to, so there, Dave Pepper!"

Little David said nothing, and turned his gaze downward, and a
big green worm, that had somehow lost his way in the tall grass,
meandered past him, trying to get home. So he put forth a gentle
finger, bending down the biggest spears accommodatingly, and was
so absorbed in the matter that he forgot Joel, until he heard a
voice, "Hi, there; look, Dave, look!"

"O dear me, Joe!" exclaimed David, letting the green spears
swing back abruptly, and viewing Joel in alarm, "you'll fall. Do
come down."

"Pooh! I can bend way out. See, Dave! See!" cried Joel, twisting
his legs around the branch on which he sat, almost at the very
tip of the apple tree, and he swung both arms exultingly. There
was a crack, a swish, and something came tumbling through the
air, and before David could utter a sound, there lay Joel on the
grass at his feet.




XI

DR. FISHER'S VISIT


Ben picked him up, as Mother Pepper and the others hurried out,
on hearing David scream. Joel lay so still and white in Ben's
arms that Polly turned quite faint. But when she saw Mamsie's
face, she bent over to Phronsie. "Come here, Pet," she tried to
say, as she drew her off that she might not see.

"What is it, Polly?" asked Phronsie, wonderingly. "What is Ben
carrying Joey for?"

"Now I must wash off the cake-crumbs, they're all over your face,
Phronsie," said Polly, desperately.

"Carry him into the bedroom," Mother Pepper was saying.

"Come, child," Polly pulled Phronsie hastily toward the woodshed,
"you must really let me wash your face."

"Why do you want to wash it in the woodshed, Polly?" asked
Phronsie, obstinately, holding back. "I want to wash it in
Mamsie's nice bowl."

"Oh, Phronsie, please come," begged Polly, still holding her arm.
"See, if you don't, I shall cry." Which was the truth as the
tears were beginning to come in Polly's brown eyes. Seeing this,
Phronsie yielded, and pattered along by Polly's side obediently,
and allowed her little face to be scrubbed and wiped quite dry,
Polly's heart all the while going like a triphammer, and her
ears pricked up for any word that might tell her of Joel. At
last she could bear it no longer.

"Phronsie," she said, when the round cheeks and hands were as
clean as clean could be, "now look at me, dear."

Phronsie lifted her blue eyes and fixed them in wide-eyed
astonishment on Polly's face.

"What makes you do so, Polly?" she asked wonderingly.

"Never mind," said Polly, with an awful feeling at her heart, it
was so still out in the kitchen and bedroom. "Now, you must do
just as I tell you, and not ask me any questions. Polly wants
you to do it, to go and sit down on that bench," pointing to a
little low one in the corner, "and not stir till I call you."

Phronsie looked over at the little bench.

"I'll go, Polly," she said with a sigh, "if you want me to."

Polly dropped a hasty kiss on the yellow hair, then fled on
unsteady feet through the kitchen and into the bedroom. Mother
Pepper was bending over Joel. Ben was holding the bowl of water,
and Davie was crying and wringing his hands at the foot of the
bed, with his eyes on Joel's face.

"You better go for Dr. Fisher, Ben," Mrs. Pepper said hoarsely,
putting the wet cloth into the bowl.

Polly crept up to her side. "Hasn't Grandma Bascom anything?"
she asked. "Shall I go and see?"

"No," said Mrs. Pepper. "And the doctor must see if he's broken
any limbs, or is hurt inside." Ben was already out and running
down the road at top speed.

It seemed an hour. It was really but ten minutes, when a step
bounded out in the kitchen. Mrs. Pepper looked at Polly, who
stole silently out, and with a gasp almost tumbled into the arms
of a little man with very big spectacles. "Oh, Dr. Fisher!" she
cried, "I'm _so_ glad!"

"And I'm glad, too," said little Dr. Fisher, beaming at her.
"Why, what's the matter, Polly, my girl?" as Polly seemed to be
almost tumbling over. "You see, I've come to take Phronsie to
ride. I haven't been able to a good while back," he mourned,
"but perhaps you'd better go," setting his spectacles to take a
keen look at her.

"Oh, Dr. Fisher! Ben's gone for you," gasped Polly, seizing his
hand, to draw him to the bedroom door.

"Gone for me!" repeated Dr. Fisher, taking the words out of her
mouth. "Who's sick?" and his face paled abruptly.

"Joel," gasped Polly; "he fell from the apple tree. Oh, do come,
dear Dr. Fisher."

The little doctor was by this time in the bedroom. "Don't worry,
ma'am," he said to Mrs. Pepper, then he hurried to the side of
the bed and bent over Joel.

"I ain't sick," exclaimed Joel, opening his eyes to look up into
the big spectacles. "I wish people'd let me alone," and he gave
an irritable flounce. "Oh--it's Dr. Fisher," he finished
joyfully.

"So it is," assented the little doctor, bobbing his head amiably,
so that the big spectacles slipped down to the end of his nose.
Then he looked to the others to keep still.

"You'll take me to ride with you in the gig, won't you, Dr.
Fisher?" begged Joel. His face was still white, but his eyes
were as bright as ever.

"Maybe," said the little doctor. "Well, now let's see. You've
been playing up in the apple tree, haven't you?" Meanwhile, his
long thin fingers were going rapidly all over Joel's bones and
muscles.

"Yes," said Joel, nodding. "And I was a bear, Dr. Fisher."

"I used to play bear when I was no bigger than you are, Joel,"
said Dr. Fisher, whose fingers seemed to be everywhere at once.

"I don't b'lieve you were as big a bear as I was," said Joel,
sturdily. "No, sir-_ree_! And I went clear out to the tip
of th' apple tree. Now could you do that, Dr. Fisher?" he asked
triumphantly.

"I wouldn't try it again, if I were you," said the little doctor,
ignoring the question, while his fingers went rapidly on their
work.

"And may I go to ride in your gig?" begged Joel, twisting away
to the other side of the bed, "and what are you feeling my legs
all over for?"

Little Dr. Fisher stood up quite straight and looked across at
Mrs. Pepper. "He's sound as a nut," he said.

"Praise the Lord!" exclaimed Mother Pepper. Polly ran up to her
and threw her arms around her. "Mamsie, just think, Joel's all
well!" she cried convulsively.

Little Davie threw himself flat on the floor and cried as hard
as he could. Polly ran over to him, "Why, Davie," she cried,
getting down on the floor by his side, "don't you understand?
Joel's all well. Dr. Fisher says so."

"I know it," sobbed Davie, "but I can't stop. I'm so happy,
Polly."

"Well, you must stop," commanded Polly, firmly, "'cause you'll
make Joel feel badly if he hears you, Davie."

So Davie hushed his tears. Since Joel might hear him, there must
be no crying. But he sat on the floor, and wouldn't get up.

And then the door opened suddenly, and Ben hurried in with a
white, disappointed face. "He isn't home, and they don't know
when--Why!" for there sat little Dr. Fisher laughing and peering at
him over his big spectacles.

"Yes, Joel may go to ride," said Dr. Fisher, when Ben had gotten
over his surprise a bit; "that is, if Polly will give up her
seat,--for I'd invited her," and he looked over at her.

"Yes, I will, indeed," said Polly, with a happy little laugh.
"Oh, Joe, you'll have such a good time!" kissing his cheek, into
which the color was slowly coming back.

"I know it," said Joel, wheeling over to give a roll out of bed.

"Take it easy," said Dr. Fisher, "there's plenty of time. Feel
all right, my boy?"

"No, I don't," said Joel, standing on the floor.
Mrs. Pepper's cheek paled, and an anxious look came into her
black eyes at once.

"Whereabouts do you feel badly?" asked the doctor, in surprise.

"Here," said Joel, laying his hand on his jacket-front. "I'm so
hungry."

"Do give him something to eat, Mrs. Pepper," said Dr. Fisher,
laughing heartily, "then we'll be off. And Polly, you and I will
have a ride next time," he said, darting off before Mrs. Pepper
had a chance to pay him, or even to thank him.

"But that I never could do enough," she said, wiping her eyes on
her apron, "but the Lord will, I know."

Joel was already in the gig, peeping out at them, and teasing Dr.
Fisher to hurry. They had driven off, and been gone some time,
when suddenly Polly started in dismay as she was setting the
table for supper.

"You most dropped that dish, Polly," said little Davie, looking
at her in amazement.

"I forgot--Phronsie--O dear!" gasped Polly, setting the dish in
her hand suddenly on the table, and plunging out of the room.

There sat Phronsie in the woodshed on the little bench, her
rusty little shoes placed patiently before her, and her hands
folded in her lap. "I'm so tired, Polly," she said plaintively.

"So you must be!" cried Polly, in a spasm of remorse, and
lifting her up. "Well, now we'll have such a nice time, Phronsie,
you can't think," covering her with kisses.

"You never came, Polly," said Phronsie, mournfully shaking her
yellow head, "never at all."

"Don't, Phronsie," cried Polly, almost smothering her as she hugged
her tightly.

"Oh, Polly, you hurt me!" cried Phronsie.

"Did I, Pet? well, I won't do so any more. Now, says I, one,
two--three, here we go into the kitchen!" and Polly set her down
on the floor.

"It is nice to walk with my feet," said Phronsie, giving a long
stretch to her fat little legs. "Little things kept sticking
into 'em, Polly, most all the time."

"The prickles, from sitting still," said Polly. "Oh, Phronsie
dear, I never shall forgive myself for forgetting you," as
Phronsie pattered across the kitchen, to clamber into Mother
Pepper's lap.

But notwithstanding all the wonderful things that happened that
day, Joel didn't quite forget the circus, and he whispered to
David that night, after they had hopped into bed, and pulled the
sheet over their heads, "I'm goin' to have a circus of my own,
so there!"

Little David was all worn out with the exciting events of the
day, and he didn't hear him, as he fell asleep almost as soon as
his head touched the pillow. So Joel, not finding it very much
fun to talk when there was no one to listen, closed his eyes,
and before he knew it, he was asleep too. Ben, looking across
at the two little faces, as he came up into the loft to go to bed,
said to himself, "Well, I'm thankful that Joe's asleep." And he
gave a sigh of relief.

The next days were full of work. "Play can't come all the time,"
Mrs. Pepper observed wisely. She sent Polly down with the money
for the doctor's visit, pinned up carefully in a paper, which
the little doctor promptly returned the next day, Polly having
left it, as he was away on his rounds. So Mrs. Pepper could do
nothing but tie it into the old stocking-leg again, in the
bureau drawer. "Children," she said, drawing them all up around
her, "we must never forget to do something for Dr. Fisher, and
may the Lord give us a chance soon. He's been so good to us."

"There never'll come a chance, Mamsie," said Polly,
disconsolately, "we're so poor."

"Chances come, if people look for 'em," observed Mrs. Pepper,
shortly, as she shut the drawer.

"We ain't poor," cried Joel, who never could bear to be called
so.

"Yes, we are," said Polly, positively, "we are poor, Joel.
That's the truth, Joel, and you oughtn't to mind hearing it."

"Well, we ain't goin' to be poor," declared Joel, confidently.

"When Joel's ships come in, I s'pose he means," said Ben, and
the children shouted.

"I don't care," said Joel, when the laugh died down, "we ain't
goin' to be poor when I git to be a man. I'm goin' to be awful
rich."

"Well, you'll have to work when you're a boy, then," said Mrs.
Pepper, sensibly. "Riches don't tumble into lazy folks' laps."

"Then I'm goin' to work right straight off," cried Joel,
springing away on nimble feet. "Come on, Dave, and help pick
those old rocks."

But a terrible shower came on, and drove them all within doors,
and it grew so dark that Polly couldn't see to sew. So the three
youngest children gathered around her and clamored for a story.

"Yes," said Polly, "I will. Let's get down on the floor in a
ring." So they all sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor,
after some delay, caused by Joel's vociferous demand to sit
next to Polly.

"Phronsie must be one side," said Polly, "of course."

"Yes, I must, Joey," said Phronsie, cuddling up closer yet to
Polly.

"Well, the other side, then," said Joel, struggling to slip in
between Polly and little David, and twitching Davie's arm.

"Stop, Joe, and sit down over here," cried Ben, seizing him by
the jacket, "else you shan't sit anywhere."

"Ow!" howled Joel, pulling smartly at David.

"Davie got here first," said Polly, "and he's younger. How can
you, Joe?" she added reproachfully.

"He's always younger," said Joel, gloomily, "and I never sit next
to you, Polly."

"Oh!" cried Polly, "yes, you did, Joel Pepper, just the very
last time I told stories."

"Well, that was just forever ago," said Joel, still holding
David's arm, and showing no disposition to give up.

"Well, I think if Mamsie should come in now," warned Polly, for
Mrs. Pepper had gone over to Grandma Bascom's--the old lady
having been sick for a day or two--and been caught there by the
sudden shower, "and should see you, you'd feel badly, Joey."

At the mention of Mamsie, Joel's grasp on Davie's arm dropped,
and he slunk back. Then Ben pulled him into a place next to him,
quiet was restored, and Polly was soon launched on one of her
wonderful stories, "Mr. Kangaroo and the silly little Duck," and
presently they were all so absorbed that no one noticed the sun
was shining brightly, until they heard a voice, "Well, I declare,
sitting down in the day-time to tell stories!"

Polly sprang to her feet and stared.

"Ugh!" cried Joel, taking one look at their visitor.
"I should think," said Miss Jerusha, the minister's sister, in a
very tart voice, and raising her black mitts very high, "that
children as old as you are could find some work to do, without
sitting down to fold your hands and tell good-for-nothing
stories."

"They aren't good-for-nothing," shouted Joel. "You haven't heard
'em; they're just beautiful!"

"Be still, Joe," commanded Ben. But Joel broke away from him,
and jumped to his feet.

"And Mamsie lets Polly tell us stories," he blurted out fiercely.

"Well, then, she's a very unwise woman," said Miss Jerusha,
calmly seating herself in Mrs. Pepper's rocking chair.

"She ain't!" screamed Joel, quite beside himself with rage.

"Our mother's just right," said Ben, slowly getting to his feet.
There was a light in his pale blue eyes as he bent them on Miss
Jerusha, that made her look away a minute, but she soon returned
to the charge. "_I_ never was allowed to sit idle in the day-time,"
she said, "when I was a little girl."

"I don't believe you ever were little," said Joel, bluntly, and
glaring at her across the kitchen.

"Joel, Joel!" cried Polly, in great distress. "Oh, please excuse
him, Ma'am, he never talks so, and Mamsie will feel so very
badly, when she knows it."

"I am very glad I came," said Miss Jerusha, sitting up stiff and
tall, "for you children need some instruction, I can plainly see.
Poor things! well, it's not to be wondered at, when we consider
you've had no bringing up."

"We have had bringing up, Miss Jerusha," said Ben. "Children,
you go into the bedroom, and shut the door, and stay there,"
he said to the three little ones. And never having seen him so
before, the two boys went off wonderingly, without a word, and
holding Phronsie by the hands. "Our mother is our mother," went
on Ben, proudly, "the very best mother in all the world, and
she's brought us up, oh, how she has worked to bring us up!
and if we're naughty, it's all our own fault!" It was a long
speech for Ben to make, and Polly stared at him in an amazement
mingled with pride, while her breast heaved, and she clasped her
hands tightly together, so afraid she should speak a word and spoil
it all, for Miss Jerusha was really uncomfortable, that they could
both see.

Meantime, Joel was climbing out of the bedroom window. "I'm
goin' to Grandma Bascom's for Mamsie," he cried passionately.

"We must stay here, Phronsie," said little Davie, holding
tightly to her hand, and standing still in the middle of the
floor, "'cause Ben told us to, you know."

"Ugh!" they could hear Joel exclaim, as he jumped clear of the
window sill to the grass beneath; but they didn't know that the
old cracked pane of glass had given away under his hand, nor
that a little stream of blood was trickling down his wrist, as he
raced over through the lane, and rushed into Grandma Bascom's
little cottage.




XII

AT GRANDMA BASCOM'S


"The land sakes!" exclaimed Grandma Bascom, seeing him first.
She was propped up in bed, and Mrs. Pepper was heating some
gruel on the stove out in the shed. "What's the matter?" as Joel
held his arm out, and the blood was dripping down his little
blouse.

"Nothin'," said Joel, shortly; "where's Mamsie?"

"Out in the shed," said Grandma. "Now you show her your arm as
soon as you can."

"Tisn't my arm," said Joel, "it's my hand," and he ran into the
shed. "Come over home, Mamsie, do," he implored. "That old woman
up to the minister's is at our house."

"I can't come," said Mrs. Pepper, not turning around, "till I
fix Grandma comfortable. And for shame, Joel, to speak so of
Miss Jerusha! Remember how good Parson Henderson is to us; and
his wife, too."

"That ain't Miss Jerusha," said Joel, setting his teeth together,
and wishing his hand wouldn't ache so; "and she's talking awful,
and Ben's sent us all out."

"Then she must be disagreeable," said Mrs. Pepper, beginning to
look worried. "Well, I'll soon have this done, then I'll be over.
Ben'll have to bear it as best he can," and she sighed.

So Joel turned off and went out of doors, and the little stream
of blood kept on trickling.

"Has he cut it bad?" asked Grandma, anxiously, when Mrs. Pepper
brought in the cup of steaming gruel a few minutes later.

"Who?" asked Mother Pepper, absently.

"Why--Joel. Hain't you seen it?" screamed Grandma, who, like a
great many deaf people, always spoke her loudest, especially
when she was excited. "The blood was all runnin' like everything
down his arm. I guess he's most cut it off," she added with a
groan, for Grandma always had a warm spot in her heart for Joel.

Mrs. Pepper's face grew very pale, and she set the cup of gruel
down hastily on the little stand by the bed-head, where Grandma
could reach it. Then she hurried to the door. "_Joel_!" she
called, prepared to run over home if he didn't answer.

"What?" said a miserable little voice, as unlike Joel's as
possible. There he sat crouching down under the big "laylocks,"
as Grandma always called them.

It wasn't a moment, then, before Mother Pepper had him in the
kitchen and the blood washed off, and as well as she could see,
for the little stream that flowed again, she found out where the
trouble was, in the long zigzag cut down the fleshy part of
Joel's little brown hand.

"Mother'll fix you up all right," she kept saying. And Joel, who
didn't mind anything, now that he had Mamsie, watched every
movement out of attentive black eyes.

"Has he cut it bad? O dear me!" shouted and groaned Grandma from
the bed.

"No," screamed Joel, "'tain't hurt at all."

"Oh, Joey!" reproved Mrs. Pepper, tying up the poor hand in a
bit of old cloth. "Now run in and show Grandma, and I'll ask her
if she has got any court plaster."

So Joel ran in and sat on the edge of Grandma's bed, on top of
the gay patched quilt, and recounted just how it all happened.

"Hey?" exclaimed Grandma, every minute.

"I can't make her hear nothin'," said Joel at last, in despair,
turning to his mother. "What gets into folks' ears to make 'em
deaf, Mamsie?"

"Oh, it often comes on when they're old," answered Mrs. Pepper,
who had been searching all this time in all the cracked bowls
and cups for the scraps of court plaster. "It will be such a
piece of work to get her to tell me where it is," she said to
herself.

"I ain't ever goin' to be deaf when I'm old," declared Joel, in
alarm.

"You don't know whether you will or not," said Mrs. Pepper,
rummaging away, "so you better use your ears to good advantage
now, while you've got 'em."

"I'll always have 'em," said Joel, putting up both hands to feel
of these appendages and see if they were there. "I guess they
can't get off," and he shook his head smartly.

"How'd you cut it?" asked Grandma, shrilly, for the fiftieth
time.

Joel slipped off the gay patched bedquilt, and ran up to his
mother, drawing a long breath.

"O dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Pepper, seeing the bandage of old
cloth, which was quite red and damp. "Go and sit down and hold
your hand still. I must ask Grandma where that court plaster is.
I know she has some, because when Polly cut her finger, you know,
Grandma gave her a piece."

"You can't make her hear," said Joel, despairingly, and sitting
down as his mother bade.

"I must," said Mrs. Pepper, firmly; "and if a thing has to be
done, why it has to be, that's all; we've got to have that court
plaster."

So she put her ear close to Grandma's cap-border, and after a
great deal of explaining on Mother Pepper's part, and as many
interruptings on Grandma Bascom's, who wanted everything said
over again, at last it was known that the court plaster lay
between the leaves of the big Bible, on the stand under the old
looking-glass between the windows.

"I put it there so's to have it handy," screamed Grandma,
leaning back in great satisfaction against her pillows again.

Mrs. Pepper, feeling quite worn out, got the court plaster and
cut off a piece. "Now then, Joel," she said, coming up to him.

"The cloth's all wet and soppy," said Joel, beginning to twitch
at the bandage.

"Don't do that, Joey," commanded Mother Pepper, quickly, "you'll
make it bleed worse'n ever. Dear me! I should think it was wet!"
suppressing a shiver, as she rapidly unwound the old cloth, now
very red. "Come here, over the basin." And presently the poor
hand was washed off again with warm water, the long cut closed,
and the strip of black court plaster stuck firmly over the wound.

"Why don't you put cold water on, Mammy?" asked Joel; "it would
feel so good."

"Is it cut bad?" Grandma kept screaming.

"You can go and let her see it, Joey, now that it's all done up
nicely. There's no use in trying to tell her," said Mother
Pepper, clearing away the traces of the accident. So Joel hopped
up on the big bed again and displayed his wounded hand, and
Grandma oh-ed and dear me-ed over it, and then she reached over
to the little drawer in the stand at the head of the bed.

"Put your hand in, Joel," she said, "and take as many's you
want."

Joel's black eyes stuck out as he saw the big peppermint drops,
pink ones and white ones, rolling round in the drawer the minute
it was pulled open. "Can I have as many as I want, Grandma?" he
screamed, hopping off from the bed to hang over the drawer.

"Yes," said Grandma, delighted to think she could do something
to help, "'cause you've hurt your hand."

"I'm glad I hurt it!" exclaimed Joel. "O my! what a lot,
Grandma!" which Grandma didn't hear, only she knew he was
pleased by the sight of his chubby face; so she smiled, too.
Mrs. Pepper found them so when she came up to the bed.

"I'm going home now, Grandma," she said. "I'll be over again by
and by, or Polly will."

"Hey?" said Grandma. So Mrs. Pepper nodded and smiled and
pointed to the door, and Grandma seemed satisfied.

"She told me I might have as many's I wanted," said Joel, with
great satisfaction. "I like Grandma ever so much."

"Take care, Joey, you don't take too many," said Mrs. Pepper.
"Grandma's good to you, so you must be good to her, and come
right home from here. You may stay half an hour," pointing to
the old clock. "Miss Jerusha will be gone by that time," she
said to herself with a grim smile.

"I'll come right home, Mamsie," said Joel, quite upset in his
mind whether to take two white peppermint drops and two pink
ones, or if it would do to take three apiece.

"And don't let any cold water get on that hand," charged Mrs.
Pepper the last thing.

"Why, Mamsie?" asked Joel, looking up.

"'Cause it would be very bad," said Mother Pepper, shaking her
head warningly, "very bad, Joel. Remember, now."

"What would it do to me?" asked Joel.

"I don't know," said Mrs. Pepper; "it might almost kill you to
chill it. Maybe you'd have lockjaw, Joel Pepper."

"What's that?" demanded Joel, deserting the peppermint drops for
a minute to run to the door and seize his mother's gown. "What's
lockjaw, Mammy?"

"I guess you'd find out if you had it," said Mrs. Pepper, grimly.
"Why, you can't open your jaws. Let go of my gown, Joel. I must
hurry home." And with visions of Miss Jerusha in the little
brown house, she hurried off as fast as she could down the lane.

"Huh!" exclaimed Joel, left quite alone staring after her. "I
guess I ain't going to have any old lockjaw. And I could open my
jaws, too." Thereupon wide apart flew his two sets of white
teeth, at such a distance that he seemed to be all mouth. Then
he snapped them together again so quickly that it made him wink
violently; repeating this operation till he was quite convinced
that nothing should ever be the matter with his jaws. "And if
they ever do get locked up, I'm goin' to keep the key myself."
Then he ran back to his peppermint drops again, quite satisfied.
Grandma Bascom was sound asleep.

Joel softly moved two pink peppermint drops over to one side of
the drawer, and set two white ones next to them. "They're awful
small," he said to himself, and changed the pink ones for two
others of the same color. Then the same thought occurring to him
in regard to the white ones, those had to go back and two
different white ones take their places. Then he drew back, and
gazed at them admiringly.

"I don't s'pose Mamsie'd care if I took one more, if 'twas a
little one," he presently thought. But the difficulty was, should
it be a pink one or a white one? It took Joel so long to decide
this, that at last he put one of each over in his collection at
the side of the drawer, then hastily pushed the rest of Grandma's
into a pile at one end. "There, she's got a lot," he exclaimed. And
as he looked at them, the pile seemed to grow bigger yet; so he
picked off one, a great pink drop, from the very top.

"Now I must get a white one to match it," he said, fumbling over
the pile till he had flattened it quite out. They looked so many
more when this was done, that Joel felt quite right in extracting
the last two. "It might a' made her sick. P'r'aps she's been eating
too many." And as this thought struck him, he pulled out two more,
picked up the ones he had set to one side, slammed to the drawer,
by this time realizing that Grandma could not hear, and ran out
of the bedroom to the "laylock" bushes, where he sat down to
enjoy the peppermint drops.

He had demolished the third one, eating as slowly as possible,
in a way Phronsie had of nibbling around the edges to make it
last as long as possible; and then, with his cut hand, there
wasn't anything he could do; when suddenly Mamsie's words, "Be
good to Grandma," swept through his mind, with an awful twinge.
Joel stopped eating and looked at the heap of pink and white
peppermint drops he had laid down on the grass by his side; then
turned his back to them, and began his nibbling again. "She's
got enough," he said, munching on. "She said, take as many's I
wanted. So there now!"

But in a minute he had hopped to his feet, and snatched up the
pink and white pile, raced through the kitchen and into the
bedroom, and twitching open the drawer to the little stand, he
dumped his fistful in, all except one. Then, without trusting
himself to look at them, he slammed the drawer quite tight, and
leaning over Grandma, he put his mouth close to her cap-border
where she lay snoring away. "I put 'em all back, Grandma," he
whispered, "except four."

Something made him glance up at the old clock. It was five
minutes past the half hour, and Joel, with a dreadful feeling at
his heart, for disobedience was a thing Mamsie never overlooked,
fled over to the little brown house.




XIII

PASSENGERS FOR THE BOXFORD STAGE


"I declare, that's fine!" said Ben, the next day. It was dull
and cloudy, and he squinted up at the sky. "There isn't a bit of
wind. Now Mr. Blodgett'll have that bonfire, I guess; that'll
suit you, Joe, as you can't have much fun with that hand."

Joel squealed right out. "That's prime! And I can pile in the
sticks and straw just as well with my other hand."

"You aren't goin' to touch that bonfire, once it's lighted,"
declared Ben, in his most decided way. "Now you remember that,
Joe Pepper!"

"There ain't any good in it, if I can't help," cried Joel,
horribly disappointed.

"You can see it," said Ben, "same's David."

"Hoh! what's that!" cried Joel; "that won't be any fun."

"Then you can stay at home," said Ben, coolly. "As for having
you, Joe, careering round that fire, and cutting up your capers,
we ain't goin' to let you. Like enough you'd be half burnt up."

"Phoo!" cried Joel, in high disdain, and snapping the fingers of
his well hand, "I wouldn't get afire."

"I wouldn't trust you. You'd be afire before you knew it. You
needn't tease, Joe; Mamsie wouldn't allow it." And Ben walked
off and shut the door.

"Ben never let's me do anything," howled Joel, twisting his face
up into a dreadful knot, and wishing there was something he
could do with his left hand, for the other was all tied up in a
sling, Mother Pepper wisely concluding that to be the only way
to keep it still. "If I tie it up, Joel, you can't use it," she
had said, fastening the broad strip of white cloth firmly over
his shoulder. And Joel, knowing there was no use in protesting,
had borne it as well as he could, making Davie wait on him, and
driving Polly almost to despair in her efforts to amuse him,
while she did up the morning work, Mother Pepper being away.
"Why don't you play stage-coach, Joel?" proposed Polly now, as
Joel couldn't vent his disappointment loudly enough.

"That's no fun, with one hand," said Joel, disconsolately,
drumming on the window pane.

"Some folks always drive with their left hand," said Polly.

"Mr. Tisbett doesn't," said Joel, gloomily regarding the bunch
of white cloth that covered his right hand. "He always drives
with this one," sticking it out, "'cept when he takes both."

"Well, you can play there's been an accident, and you got hurt,
and so you had to drive with that hand," said Polly.

"So I can," cried Joel, bounding away from the window, "so I can,
Polly Pepper. I'll have it right now, and it's to be a perfectly
awful one. Come on, Dave, let's fix up the coach, and you get
inside, and I'll upset you, and most smash everything to death."
And Joel ran hither and thither, dragging the chairs, and
Phronsie's little cricket, and everything movable into place as
well as he could with one hand.

"Take care, Joe," warned Polly, wondering if she hadn't done
wrong in proposing stagecoach, "don't fly round so. You'll hurt
your hand. I'd get up on the front seat if I were you, and begin
to drive."

"Would you have the horses run into something, Polly, kersmash,"
cried Joel, tugging at Mamsie's rocking chair to bring it into
line, "or make the stage-coach tumble over and roll down hill?"

"Dear me," cried Polly, going into the pantry to mix up her
brown bread, and wondering which would be the less of the two
evils, "I'm sure I don't know, Joel."

"I'm goin' to have 'em do both," decided Joel. "Dave, pull this
up, will you?" So little David ran and gave a lift on the other
side of the big rocking chair, to haul it into place. "We'll run
into somethin' an' th' horse'll shy, and that'll make the old
stage-coach roll down hill. Gee-whickets!" he brought up, in
huge delight.

"I shan't let you play it at all," said Polly, from the pantry,
"if you say such words, Joel. You'll just have to stop and go
and sit down. So remember."

Joel was clambering up into Mr. Tisbett's seat on the box, but
he ducked his head at Polly's rebuke. "Get in, Dave," he shouted,
recovering himself. "Hurry up. You're the passenger that wants
to go to Boxford. You're awful slow. I'll drive off without you
if you don't make haste," he threatened, gathering up in his
left hand the bits of string that were fastened to a nail in the
corner of the shelf.

Little David, feeling it a dreadful calamity to be left behind
when he wanted to go to Boxford, hopped nimbly into the opening
in the pile of chairs that represented the stage-coach, and off
they drove.

"I can't hold my whip," cried Joel in distress, after a minute
or so of bowling along on the road to Boxford, accompanied with
much shouting to Mr. Tisbett's pair of black horses, and
excitement generally as the stage-driver tried to get out of the
way of the great number of teams on the turnpike. "O dear, it
ain't any fun without the whip!" and the whole establishment
came to a dead stop.

"I'll hold the whip," cried the passenger, eagerly, poking his
head out of the stage-coach window.

"No, you won't, either," cried Joel. "You're the passenger. O
dear me, there ain't any fun without th' whip!"

"Then I can drive," said little David. "Do let me, Joel," he
pleaded.

"I won't either," declared Joel, flatly. "I'm Mr. Tisbett, and
besides, there won't be anybody inside if you get up here."

"Phronsie might be passenger," said David, reflecting a moment.

"Goody, oh, so she might!" cried Joel, "and Seraphina too. And
that'll make more upset. Then you may come up here, Dave," he
promised. But when Polly was made acquainted with this fine plan,
she refused to allow Phronsie to enter into such a noisy play. And
Joel's face dropped so dismally that she was at her wits' end
to know how to straighten out the trouble. Just then one of
the Henderson boys came up to the door with a little pat of
butter in a dish for Mrs. Pepper.

"Here comes Peletiah Henderson," announced Polly, catching sight
of him through the window. "Now, p'r'aps he can stop and play
with you, Joel."

"He ain't much good to play," answered Joel, who never seemed to
be able to wake up the quiet boy to much action.

"Oh, Joel, he'll play real pretty, I guess," said Polly,
reprovingly, "and he's such a good boy."

"He might be the passenger," said Joel, thinking busily, as
Polly ran to the door to let the Henderson boy in. "We'll play
he's the minister goin' over to preach in Boxford, and we'll
upset him just before he gets there. Jump out, Dave, and get
up here."

"I don't know as we ought to upset him if he's the minister,"
objected David, doubtfully, as he clambered up to Joel's side.
Still, a perfect thrill of delight seized him at his promotion
to the seat of honor, and his little hands trembled as Joel laid
the precious whip within them.

"No, I guess I'd rather you had the reins," decided Joel,
twitching away the whip to lay the bits of string in David's
little brown hands. "You can drive first, 'cause I want to crack
the whip awful loud as we start. And then I'll take 'em again."

David, who would much rather have cracked the whip, said nothing,
feeling it bliss enough to be up there on the box and doing
something, as Peletiah, a light-haired, serious boy, walked
slowly into the kitchen.

"You're the passenger," shouted Joel at him, and cracking his
whip, "and you're going over to Boxford. Hurry up and get into
the stage-coach. I'm Mr. Tisbett."

[Illustration: "'YOU'RE THE PASSENGER!' SHOUTED JOEL"]

"And I'm helping, Peletiah," cried David, turning a very pink
and happy face down toward him.

"I don't want to go to Boxford," said Peletiah, deliberately,
and standing quite still, while Polly ran into the pantry to
slip the little pat of butter on to another plate.

"Oh, how good it looks!" she said, longing for just one taste.

"Well, you've got to go," said Joel, obstinately, "so get in."

"I don't want to go to Boxford," repeated Peletiah, not stirring.

Joel cracked the whip angrily, and glared down at him.

"P'r'aps he wants to go somewhere else," said little David,
leaning forward and clutching the reins carefully, "and that'll
be just as good."

"Do you?" asked Joel, crossly. "Want to go anywheres else,
Peletiah?"

Peletiah considered so long over this that Joel, drumming with
his heels on the dashboard, got tired out, and shouted, "Hurry
up and get in--th' stage-coach's goin'!" which had the desired
effect, to make the passenger skip in much livelier than he
intended.

"Now we're goin' to Boxford," announced Joel, positively,
cracking his whip at its loudest. "Be careful, David; hold the
horses up."

"He said he didn't want to go to Boxford," put in little David,
trembling all over at the vast responsibility of holding in Mr.
Tisbett's black horses, and the passenger's being taken where he
didn't want to go.

"Well, he didn't tell us where he did want to go," said Joel,
"and th' stage is goin' to Boxford. Boxford, Box," he screamed
to imaginary people along the road. "Anybody want to go to
Boxford?"

"I said I didn't want to go to Boxford," interrupted the
passenger in the general din.

"Well, you've got to," said Joel, "'cause the stage is goin'
there. Boxford--Boxford! Anybody goin' to Boxford? Want to go,
Marm?" an imaginary old woman sitting on a stone by the roadside.

"I'm goin' to get out," announced Peletiah, in a tone that
convinced Joel that remonstrance was useless.

"No, you mustn't," cried Joel, "and you can't, either, for th'
accident's comin' now," he added cheerfully.

Davie held his breath, and clutched the lines tighter yet, and
Joel screamed shrilly, "Look out!" and gave an awful kick with
his heels to the back of the top chair, and before anybody could
say a word, over it came, knocking Davie with it, and before the
passenger could get out, Mr. Tisbett and his assistant and the
best part of the whole establishment seemed to be on top of him.

Polly heard the noise and came rushing out. "Oh, boys--boys!"
she cried in a fright, "are you hurt?" for everything seemed to
be in a heap together, with some small legs kicking wildly about,
trying to extricate the persons to whom they belonged.

"I ain't," announced Joel, hopping out of the heaps and shaking
the black hair out of his eyes. "Oh, Polly, it was such fun!" he
cried.

"Davie! Davie and Peletiah!" cried Polly, an awful dread at her
heart, on account of the little guest, as she hung over the
wreck, pulling busily at the chairs, "are you all safe?"

Little David tried to speak, but his head ached dreadfully, and
the breath seemed to have left his body. Peletiah said slowly,
"I barked my shin, and I didn't want to go to Boxford."

"O dear me," exclaimed Polly, fishing him out, "that's too bad!
Joel, you oughtn't to have taken him to Boxford if he didn't
want to go."

"That wouldn't 'a' made any difference," declared Joel, "'cause
we had to get upset, anyway."

"Well, Davie's hurt, I expect," said Polly, looking Peletiah
carefully all over, as in duty bound to a guest, as he stood up
before her.

"Oh, no, I ain't, Polly," said little David, trying to speak
cheerfully, and crawling out with a big lump on his forehead.

"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly, at sight of it. "Well, I'm glad,
child, it's no worse," as she rapidly examined the rest of him.
"Now you must have some pieces of wet brown paper on that."

"I'm glad I haven't got to have wet brown paper all over me,"
declared Joel, with a grimace--"old, slippery, shiny brown
paper."

"I barked my shin," gravely announced Peletiah, standing quite
still.

"Oh, so you did," cried Polly, with a remorseful twinge. "Now
you must wait, Davie, till I fix Peletiah up, for he's company,
you know."

"I guess Grandma's got some wormwood--the stuff she made for
Phronsie's toe when 'twas pounded," suggested Joel, quite
oblivious to the black looks which Peletiah was constantly
casting on him.

"You may run over and see," said Polly. "O dear me, no, you
can't, Joe, just look at your hand!" as she happened to glance
up.

Joel looked down quickly at the big white bundle in the sling.
"There ain't nothin'--" He was going to say, "the matter with my
hand, Polly," when he saw some very red spots spreading quickly
along its surface.

"Oh, now you've burst open the cut," cried Polly, forgetting
herself, and turning quite white. "What shall we do, and Mamsie
away!"

Little David, at that, burst into a loud cry, and Joel tried to
say, "No, I haven't," but looking very scared at Polly's scream.

"Oh, I'll fix it, Joe," she exclaimed in haste, though how she
managed to get the words out she never knew. "Let me see, Mamsie
would untie it if she were here, and put on court plaster. Now,
David, you run over to Grandma's and ask her to give us some
more. She told us to come if we wanted it, and I'll put on a fresh
piece just as tight, oh, you can't think!" Polly kept talking all the
time, feeling that she should drop if she didn't, and little David,
forgetting all about the lump on his forehead, that now was most
as big as an egg, ran off as fast as he could, and presently returned
with the court plaster, waving it over his head.

Polly took off the bloo

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