give it to me, and the boy'll put a paper on it for you."
"Oh, no, no," said Phronsie, edging away in alarm, and cuddling the
little yellow cat up in her neck, "she doesn't want to be wrapped up.
Don't, Bensie," as he tried to take it out of her arms.
"All right," said Ben, with a laugh.
"Oh, Ben, she can't carry it all the afternoon in that way," said Polly,
disapprovingly.
"It won't do any harm if she does," said Ben, with a glance at her, "and
I don't believe, Polly, she'll put that cat down till we get home," he
added.
So out they went, Joel and David having to be dragged away from the
alluring toys of every description on all sides, fairly clamoring to be
purchased.
"Oh, I want that steam-engine," howled Joel. "See, Dave, see!"
"I'd rather have the express-wagon," said David, who hadn't been able to
take his eyes from it, the second he spied it.
"Huh, old wagon!" Joel exclaimed in contempt; "a steam-engine'll go,
like this!" He shot out his arm, regardless where it went.
"Take care!" a voice sang out, but it was too late. Over went a pile of
toys, just purchased, from the arms of a cash-girl on its way to be
wrapped up. Smash went something--a big doll with pink cheeks and very
blue eyes; and, with an awful feeling at his heart, Joel, with everybody
else who saw the accident, bent over the heap of little pieces on the
floor--all that remained of the pretty face.
"You broke it!" declared the cash-girl, aghast at the mischief, and her
teeth fairly chattering with fright, as she whirled around to Joel.
"I didn't mean--" he began stoutly; David looked wildly around for Ben
and Polly. They were ahead with Phronsie, so he ran after them on
unsteady feet.
"I didn't mean--" Joel was saying again, as they hurried up in great
distress.
"Oh, Ben, don't let Phronsie see!" cried Polly, as soon as she caught
sight of the broken doll, for Phronsie never could bear to think of one
being hurt, and she tried to draw her away. Too late! Phronsie rushed
into the very middle of the group, just as the floor-walker was
protesting, "Of course you didn't do it," to Joel, for it never would do
to charge the trouble to rich Mr. King's household. He knew all the
children well, as they had been many times at the shop with the old
gentleman, who was one of its best customers.
"Oh, let me take her," begged Phronsie, eagerly. "Polly, can't I? Oh,
please give her to me!"
"And it was all your own carelessness," went on the floor-walker,
sternly, fastening his gaze on the cash-girl and quite delighted to
blame somebody. "And I shall report you to the office. Now go ahead with
those other things, and then come here and pick up these pieces, and
take the doll back." With that he turned off from everybody who had
stopped to look at the accident, and marched off with his best manner
on, and his head well in the air.
"O dear me!" the cash-girl took two or three steps off toward the
wrapping counter, and began to cry all over the rest of the purchases
piled in her arms, as she staggered on.
Meantime Phronsie had sat right down on the floor, and was cuddling up
the doll without any face, against the little yellow cat.
Joel stumbled off after the girl. "Don't cry," and he twitched her arm.
"You be still, and go right away," cried the girl, turning on him as
well as she could for the pile of bundles, and she stamped her foot in
rage; "you've made me smash that doll, and they'll take it out of my
pay, and now I can't get my mother any Christmas present at all." The
tears were rolling down her cheeks, and her face worked dreadfully.
"They shan't!" declared Joel, his black eyes flashing.
"An' now you'll make me smash these, I s'pose," said the cash-girl. "You
go right away, you bad boy, you. Boo-hoo-hoo!"
"I'll tell 'em I did it," said Joel, bounding off to overtake the
floor-walker. "Say, oh, do stop!" for he had almost reached the office
door. "Mister, _please_," and he seized the end of the departing coat,
Polly and Ben both calling, astonished as they saw him fly past, to
stop.
"Hey? Oh, is that you?" The floor-walker smoothed out his face when he
saw who it was.
"Yes," said Joel, "it is, and you mustn't make that girl pay for that
doll."
"Oh, don't you worry about that," said the floor-walker, easily, with a
smile, "she's a careless thing and I must make an example of her, or
she'll break something else. It's all right, my boy," and he put his
hand, where the big diamond ring shone up from the little finger,
familiarly on the sturdy shoulder.
"It isn't all right," declared Joel, hotly, "and she didn't do it. I
knocked her with my arm and that old doll fell off;" he swallowed hard.
What an awful hole that would make in his pocket-book! Perhaps he
wouldn't be able to buy only half as many things for his Christmas
presents as he had scrawled on the list within it, and the blood surged
all over his round cheeks to his stubby black hair. "How much did it
cost?" he asked faintly.
"Oh, you won't have to pay for it," said the floor-walker, smiling
pleasantly, till he showed his white teeth. "Mr. Persons wouldn't ever
charge you a cent for it."
"Thank you!" bobbed Joel, in intense relief, "that's awfully good!" and
he laughed, too, and gleefully slapped his pocket till, encountering the
big pin again, he thought better of that, and said once more, "Thank
you, mister," in the exuberance of his delight, and was moving off.
"Oh, no, indeed," repeated the floor-walker, decidedly, "he wouldn't
ever think of it; the girl's got to pay," and he turned off, too.
"Hey!" cried Joel, whirling around. Then he ran back to the tall man's
side. "Has that girl got to pay?" he demanded, his black eyes flashing
and his eyes working dreadfully; "say, tell me, has she?"
"Why, of course," said the man, "don't you worry, he won't touch a cent
of your money; and you keep still, I shan't tell him, so he won't know,
anyway."
"Well, I shall tell him myself," said Joel, in a burst, and dashing up
to the first door he saw, he opened it and plunged in before the
floor-walker could stop him.
So Ben and Polly, staring in the direction he had run, of course lost
track of him and had nothing to do but to wait there till he came back.
Joel pranced up to the first desk he saw, of which the room appeared to
be full, and found himself by the side of a young man, with a very large
head of tow-colored hair, who was doing his best to find the bottom of a
long column of figures. As he paid no attention to Joel's sudden
appearance, the floor-walker had time to add himself to their company.
At this the young man deserted his figures, thrust his pencil in the
thicket of tow hair, and said, "Hey, that you, McKenzie?"
But Mr. McKenzie paid small heed. "Here, you don't want to come in
here," he said to Joel, "I'll fix that up for you." But Joel, not caring
to wait for attentions that didn't appear to be forthcoming, dashed off
to the next door. "Where's the big man?" he demanded.
"Hey?" The busy worker raised his head in astonishment to stare into the
chubby face thrust into his own.
"The big man, the one who's ahead of you all?" said Joel, impatiently,
waving his arms around comprehensively to take in the whole counting
room.
"Oh, Mr. Persons, I guess he means," contributed the man at the
neighboring desk. By this time everybody in the department had become
interested, and pens were laid down and heads were bobbed up.
"Yes, yes," cried Joel, quite delighted to recognize the name that in
his excitement had slipped away. "Where is he?" drumming on the desk
impatiently.
"In there, kid," the bookkeeper stuck his penholder over his shoulder,
and following its lead, Joel was soon within a little office, that, if
he had taken time to notice, would have showed him "Private" in big
letters across the door.
But Joel hadn't time to waste on anything but the matter in hand, and he
plunged up to the desk and burst out: "It was my fault, and I want to
pay for it. Don't let him make the little girl pay, please don't." He
laid hold of the gray-haired man's arm at this last, and held on with a
grip, for Mr. McKenzie hurried up.
Mr. Persons dropped his pen in astonishment. His mouth flew open, but he
said not a word.
"I'll explain it, sir," began the floor-walker, with deference, but he
had a withering look for Joel. "You see, one of the--"
"Oh, don't let him tell it," burst in Joel, in terror, and gripping the
arm on the desk worse than ever; "he wants that poor little girl to
pay." He brought his black eyes so close to the gray-bearded face that
the countenance holding them obscured everything else.
"I'll tell you how it is, sir," said McKenzie, hastily.
"On the contrary, I'll let the boy tell his story," said Mr. Persons,
dryly. "Now, then, what is it, my lad?" and he brought his eyes, just as
sharp in their way, although the palest of blue ones, to bear on Joel's
face.
So Joel, perfectly happy now that he had the telling of the story in his
own way, began with great satisfaction, and never stopped to draw breath
until he turned to pull out his pocket-book. Then he tugged at Mamsie's
big shawl-pin till he grew quite red in the face. At last it was out,
and so was the money. "How much is it?" he cried.
"Oh, you want to pay for it?" asked Mr. Persons, with a keen look into
his flushed face.
"Yes, sir," Joel bobbed his black head. "How much is it?" he demanded
again, this time impatiently. Since it was all settled, he began wildly
to think of Ben and Polly and the others.
"Mr. Persons," this time the floor-walker got back of the big office
chair, and whispered the information as to who the boy was, without
Joel's hearing a word.
Mr. Persons nodded. "Well," he said to Joel, his face not moving a
muscle, "you may give me a dollar, my lad, and we'll consider that
everything is all squared up in regard to the injury to that doll."
So Joel counted out a dollar from his hoarded silver pieces and put them
into Mr. Persons's hand, the floor-walker staring in amazement at his
employer. Then he fastened up his pocket again, sticking Mamsie's big
shawl-pin in tighter than ever.
"All right, thank you, sir," and he marched out through the rows of men
at their desks in the big counting room, all curiously staring at him as
he passed.
Outside he found Ben and Polly making anxious inquiries of every one;
David following closely, beyond saying a word, and Phronsie, who didn't
know that he was lost, only that the poor sick doll had to be left to
get a new head on.
"What _have_ you been about, Joe?" cried Ben, for even David was not
quite clear how it all had happened.
"Oh, something--" said Joel, carelessly craning his neck to look about
on all sides. "Oh, whickets! There she is." And he was gone again, this
time in chase of a small cash-girl.
When everything was finally all explained, and the cash-girl had stepped
off with a radiant face, Ben drew his charges off into a quiet corner,
and said quite decidedly, "See here, now, we'll buy Grandpapa's present
first, and make sure of it."
"Yes, do," said Polly, "for we never will get through in all this world.
Well, what shall we choose, Ben?"
"What do you choose?" asked Ben, looking only at her.
"Oh, I know, I know," said Joel, eagerly.
"Hush, Joe, let Polly say."
"I don't know," said Polly.
"Polly doesn't know," broke in Joel, "let me tell; I know something
splendid, Ben."
"You be still, Joe," said Ben, "and let Polly think."
"Why, I thought perhaps he'd like books," said Polly, slowly, wrinkling
up her brows in little puckers.
"Hoh!" exclaimed Joel, in great disgust, "books aren't any good. I
know--"
"Books will be fine, Polly," said Ben, smiling approval. "Anything else
for second choice?"
"No," said Polly, "I can't think of another thing. Grandpapa has got
just every single thing in the world, I do believe," she brought up with
a sigh.
"I heard him say he'd broken his gold pen," said Ben, "the other day."
"Oh, Bensie!" cried Polly, with sparkling eyes, and seizing his arm,
"how perfectly splendid you are to always think up the right things."
"No, I don't, Polly." Ben was guilty of contradiction, but his cheek
glowed. "You always get ahead of me with twenty plans while I'm thinking
up one."
"But your one is the best," laughed Polly, squeezing his arm
affectionately. "Oh, now let's hurry and buy the gold pen."
"Well, do you children want it?" asked Ben, looking around at them,
"because it must be something that we all like, else Grandpapa won't
care anything for it."
"Phoo!" cried Joel, horribly disappointed at such a quiet present.
"What's an old pen, anyway? Can't write with it, without a handle."
"Well, we are going to give the handle, of course," said Ben, "only it
must be a black one, for we haven't money enough for a solid gold one."
"And did you suppose we'd give Grandpapa a pen without a handle, Joey?"
said Polly, quite horror-stricken at the very idea.
"Well, you said pen," persisted Joel.
"And so it is pen," said Ben, gayly, his spirits rising fast, "and
handle, too. Well, now, do you vote for it, Joe?" and he slapped his
back.
"Yes," said Joel, "if you'll give the handle, too."
And David saying "yes," then Polly had to explain it all to Phronsie.
"And just think, pet, you can sit by him at his table, and watch him
write with it," she finished.
"Oh, I want to buy my dear Grandpapa a pen," cried Phronsie, dreadfully
excited and hopping up and down; "do, Bensie, please get it now, this
very one minute!"
IV
"IT'S JOEL'S OLD LADY"
So a pen was bought, and a lovely gold-mounted black handle, all the
children hanging over the purchase in rapt attention. And it was left to
be marked with Grandpapa's initials and to be sent to Ben in two days,
in order to be actually sure to be on hand in time for Christmas, which
now was only a week away. "For suppose it shouldn't be there in time!"
breathed Polly. At which the rest of the Pepper children took alarm.
"Oh, won't it?" gasped Joel, in distress, trying to fly back to the
counter, as the whole bunch moved away in great delight at this
momentous undertaking accomplished.
"Here, you!" Ben seized his jacket and pulled him back, then he slipped
away himself, while Polly reassured Joel that she was only supposing
that if they hadn't bought Grandpapa's present this very day what might
have happened, so that she didn't see Ben go, until, as he hurried back,
"Why, where--" she began, looking around.
"Nothing," said Ben, answering her question, and his face grew red,
"only I thought you'd better have the parcel sent to you," for he
remembered just in time how dearly Polly loved to receive bundles
addressed to her own self.
"Oh, Ben!" exclaimed Polly, in dismay, "you shouldn't have done so. I'm
going back to tell them to change it."
"Indeed you won't," declared Ben, bursting into a laugh, "I guess
changing it once is enough. Come on, Polly."
But once outside they couldn't get along for the throng.
"What is it?" cried David, who happened to be first, Joel hanging back
to look at the things on the last counter. "A fire. Oh, Polly, it must
be!"
"A fire!" Joel caught the last word. "Oh, good, that's prime!" He
cleared the steps with a bound. But Ben was after him and had him fast.
It was impossible to see what the commotion was about, the people
pressing up to the curbstone in such a throng.
"It isn't any fire at all," declared Joel, with a sniff, quite willing
to be led back by Ben. "There aren't any fire-engines or anything! Come
on, let's go to Gallagher's."
"Gallagher's" was the best all-round shop in town, and it was the
children's perfect delight whenever allowed to go there.
"But something has happened," said Polly, standing on her tiptoes, and
craning her neck to look up the street where the group was the thickest.
"O dear me! It's a woman, and she's hurt!"
"Tried to go across the street and got knocked down," volunteered a man,
who, having seen all he wanted to, kindly made way for Polly to take his
place.
"O dear me!" she began, then she caught sight of the face. "Ben," she
clutched his sleeve, "it's Joel's old lady!"
Sure enough, the face, now as white as the big puffs of hair above it,
came into view as two men lifted the owner, a big, stately woman, to the
sidewalk. They came close to the little Peppers, so that the stiff black
silk coat, now plentifully besprinkled with mud, brushed them as it
passed. Joel gave a howl as she was carried by. "It's that cross old
woman!" he exclaimed.
"Hush, Joel!" Polly pulled his arm.
"Get out of the way!" said the men, pushing with their burden into the
drug store, two doors off.
The bystanders, having seen all that satisfied their curiosity, rushed
off to the delayed Christmas shopping. Only the Pepper children were
left.
"Polly," said Ben, hoarsely, and his blue eyes shone, "just think,
supposing she belonged to us."
"She couldn't," said Joel, decidedly, "she's awful cross."
"For shame, Joel," said Ben, sternly. "I'm going in to see." He hurried
after just as the men laid down the old woman on the marble floor.
"Blest if I know who she is!" said one of them, wiping his forehead as
the perspiration rushed off.
"She run right in front of the wagon, I seen her myself," said the
other.
"Well, I guess she's dead," said the first man. Ben pushed up nearer,
motioning for the rest of the children who had followed to keep back.
Meantime the proprietor ran to the telephone. "I would thank you to call
my carriage," said the old lady, the eyes in the white face flying open.
The two men who had brought her in, and the little fringe of spectators,
principally composed of the druggist's clerks and the little group of
Peppers, tumbled back suddenly.
"She's out of her head," said one of the men behind his hand. "She
didn't have no carriage." Ben pushed by him, the old woman's eyes
closing again, when Polly knelt down by her side, and forgetting how
scared she had been by that face the last time she saw it, she seized
the poor stiff hand in its black glove. "Oh, ma'am," she cried, "can't
you tell me who you are, and we will get you home?"
The eyes flew wide open again, and the face was quite as terrible, where
she lay on the floor of the druggist's shop; the Roman nose and the big
white puffs stood up in such a formidable way.
"Oh!" the keen black eyes bored into Polly's face; but "lift me up, and
call my carriage," was all she said.
Ben heard, as did the others, and he rushed up to the proprietor just as
the doctor, a dapper little man with a very big instrument case, came
importantly in.
"I don't want anything done to me," said the old lady, viewing the new
arrival from head to foot. She was now sitting up, having made Polly
help her to that position. "And see here, boy," she glanced around for
Ben, "I'd thank you to give me a hand," and disdaining the proffered
assistance of the young medical man, she was on her feet, and
proceeding, though somewhat unsteadily, toward the door.
"There he is," she raised one of her black gloves, "there's Carson,"
pointing to a coachman driving a spirited pair of bays down the street,
anxiety written all over his florid face, as he looked to right and to
left. "Here, stop him."
Which was easy to do, as Ben rushed tumultuously out, for the coachman
turned when down at the corner, driving slowly back to scan once more
every shop door, and the passers-by on either side.
"I thought I'd walk over to Summer Street," said the old lady, "and I
told Carson to wait there, when the wagon knocked me down." Meanwhile
she clung to Polly's hand.
"Are you sure, madam, that you are not hurt?" the young physician pushed
up. "Such an accident as yours should be attended to."
"When I require your services I can inform you," said the old lady,
turning on him with so much vigor that he fell back involuntarily. "I
shall call my own physician when I reach home. That's right, girl, help
me to my carriage," and clinging to Polly's hand she went down the
drug-shop steps, Carson ejaculating "O Lord!" in great relief at seeing
her, and nervously slapping his knee, though it had been all her own
fault that she was in such a plight.
"Um!" She wouldn't groan, but it was perilously near it as she got into
the carriage with Polly's and Ben's help and settled back on the
cushions with a grimace.
"Oh, you _are_ hurt!" cried Polly, the color dying from her cheek, and
looking in the window in great concern.
"Nonsense!" said the old woman, in her sharpest tone. Then she drew her
breath hard. "Your name, girl, and your brother?" She looked inquiringly
at Ben.
"Yes," said Polly, with a glad little smile up at him; "he's Ben."
"What's the last name?"
"Pepper." Ben and Polly said it together, and the three others crowded
up to the carriage door, crying out, "We're all Peppers."
"Um!" said the old woman, looking them all over, but her gaze rested the
longest on Joel.
"I'm sorry you got hurt," he blurted out with a very red face, and
wishing he had remained in the background.
"And where do you live?" asked the old woman, without the slightest
attention to his remark.
"At Mr. King's," said Ben. "He's my own dear Grandpapa," announced
Phronsie, pressing up closely, "and I've bought him a dear little cat,"
holding it as high as she could.
"Drive home, Carson," was all the old woman said. So Carson, almost
beside himself with delight that she was safely inside, went off at his
best pace, and the carriage was soon lost to view around the corner.
"Well," said Ben, "she'll soon be home now," with a sigh of relief. "We
must make haste and get to Gallagher's."
When they came out of Gallagher's an hour later, they were so laden down
with bundles, little and big, for the children insisted on carrying
everything home, that Polly and Ben had all they could do, what with
their own parcels, to pilot the three younger ones along.
Everything had gone off splendidly, just the right presents had been
found and bought, and, bubbling over with joy, the little group hurried
along to get home to Mamsie, knocking into everybody and being knocked
about in return by big and crisscrossed bundles of every description, as
their owners endeavored to wind their way along the crowded streets.
"O dear, where is Papa Doctor?" cried Polly, for the third time, when
the coffee was brought in at dinner, and the children, who couldn't take
any, were busy over the nuts and raisins. The shopping expedition had
been hilariously told by the whole bunch, all except Phronsie, who had
been too sleepy to more than mumble to Mamsie her purchase of the little
cat, before she hid it in the under drawer of the big mahogany bureau.
She wanted dreadfully to take it to bed with her, but that would never
do, as it was to be a Christmas gift. So she patted it lovingly good-by,
and, after her nursery tea, was popped into bed herself.
"O dear me!" Polly ended with a sigh, for she never felt just
comfortable unless she could tell Doctor Fisher everything, so half the
pleasure of the recital was lost to her.
"He is busy with a case, I suppose," said Mother Fisher, yet she looked
worried and cast an anxious glance at the door.
"Working himself to death," observed old Mr. King, from the head of the
table, yet his eyes gleamed with delight. "Just what I said," he was
revolving in his own mind; "if he would come to the city, he could lead
the profession."
Polly gave a little start and grew pale.
"Grandpapa doesn't mean that," whispered Ben; "don't, Polly," when the
door opened and the little doctor marched in, head erect and his eyes
shining behind their big spectacles.
"Well, well," he declared breezily, "I thought you'd be through dinner,"
and without a bit of warning he went up to Polly's and Ben's chairs. "I
don't know which of you children I'm proudest of," he began.
Everybody stared and laid down knives and forks, while the little
doctor, as if he had the happiest sort of a tale to unfold when the
proper time came, nodded over to his wife. "I've been attending Mrs. Van
Ruypen," this time he bobbed his head over toward Mr. King.
"What, is Mrs. Van Ruypen sick?" asked the old gentleman, quickly.
"Got knocked down in the street," the little doctor brought it out
jerkily.
When the little Peppers heard that they all started, and Joel exclaimed,
"Oh!" and slunk down in his chair, wishing he could go under the table,
while old Mr. King started a rapid fire of questions. Little Doctor
Fisher, skipping into his seat, replied as fast as he could, till the
accident and its result was pretty generally known around the table.