scornfully around the roomful. "They're no good. Where's that other boy
that was at supper last night?" she craned her neck to catch the sight
she desired.
"She means Pip," said Alexia. Pip, at hearing his name, unguardedly
raised his head.
"There he is! There he is!" exclaimed Elvira, joyfully. And, deserting
Polly, she rushed over to the pile of greens. "I'm goin' to play with
you," she said.
But Pip slipped nimbly out and was over by the step-ladder and
scrambling up.
"Take her away," he howled, burrowing up to Ben. "Ow! Take her away!"
Polly rushed over to the pile of greens.
"He ran away," cried Elvira, with flashing eyes, "an' I had come to play
with him."
"Elvira," said Polly, getting down on her knees to look into the angry
eyes, "what did I tell you? Either you will mind what I say or Ben will
take you right over to Madam Van Ruypen's. Which shall it be?"
For answer Elvira seized Polly's brown gown with both hands and sniffled
into it, "Oh, don't send me to that big old woman. Don't, don't, don't!"
"Then will you let Pip alone?" said Polly, sternly.
"Yes, yes," mumbled Elvira.
"Very well, then come back with me," and Polly led her over to the work
with Ben.
But as Pip would not come down from the step-ladder unless Ben brought
him, and even then he had eyes of terror for Elvira, there was some
delay before the wreath over the lattice window could be hung up.
Meantime, Jasper was getting on famously with Matthew and Mark, who were
soon tying wreaths, one on either side of him.
"You'd better take off your tippet, Matthew," said Jasper at length,
seeing the drops of perspiration roll down the red cheeks.
"Oh, I ain't hot," said Matthew, pulling the green string tight with
strong fingers.
"Dear me," said a voice, strong-lunged and hearty, "this looks very
comfortable."
"Oh, she's come!" Elvira dropped a green sprig she was holding for Polly
and seized her gown. There stood Madam Van Ruypen surveying the roomful
with an air of the greatest satisfaction on her face.
"Get her a chair, Ben," cried Polly. "Elvira," shaking herself free, "if
you don't behave, you remember," and she hurried off to greet the
visitor.
"Well, this is quite comfortable," repeated the old lady, first going up
to speak to Jasper, and then sitting down in the chair that Ben brought,
wiping it off carefully on the way.
"She looks like a big polar bear," said Alexia, in a whisper to Clare,
to whom she had flown up again, and was now bunching rapidly. "Dear me,
I don't see how she can stand so many furs and things."
"Well, she's taking them off, now," said Clare. "See, Ben's helping
her."
"She thinks there's nobody like Ben," said Alexia, diving on the floor
for a specially nice green bit.
"Well, there isn't," said Clare, holding up his festoon to squint along
its outline. "I do believe this is almost done, Alexia."
"Well, I should think it was quite time," said Alexia, stretching her
long arms restfully back of her head. "You've been so awfully slow over
it, Clare."
"Yes, I do believe it is," repeated Clare, in a joyous tone.
"And if that old woman is going to stay here all the morning," said
Alexia, "I shall just die. 'Twould be too awful for anything, Clare."
"She wouldn't hurt you," said Clare, tying away with redoubled vigor at
the delightful prospect of soon having it through; "and if Polly and Ben
can stand it, I guess you and I can."
"Well, I'm going to turn my back on her," said Alexia, whirling around
so that her light braids flew out, "then I shan't have to see her every
minute."
"Yes," Madam Van Ruypen was saying, "I thought I'd bring over a few
things that were forgotten for the tree, you know," pointing to its
white shrouded outline with her long black glove. "They're out in the
carriage, Ben. Will you tell Carson to bring them in?"
"What's she saying? Oh, what's she saying?" cried Alexia, wildly, and
whirling about again till her braids flew out the other way like pump
handles.
"I thought you didn't want to see her," Clare burst out into a laugh.
"Oh, this is different; she's telling something, and she doesn't sit up
like a great, stiff I-don't-know-what," said Alexia. Then she hopped up
from her seat and ran over to the old lady's chair.
"Yes, and I have something I'm going to bring over to-night," Madam Van
Ruypen was announcing, as Ben and Carson, the coachman, came in, their
arms laden with bundles of all shapes and sizes, all carefully wrapped
from curious eyes.
"Ow!" howled Joel, taking a flying leap from his chair. "Come on, Pip,
she's got things!"
"I sent for that minister, Mr. What's-his-name--oh, St. John," the old
lady was saying. "It will be a good thing for him to have a bit of city
life, and he can help to manage these children," she waved her black
gloves over to the two boys, but gave the most attention to Elvira after
all, "till I get a little accustomed to them. And he's to get here this
afternoon; so I'll bring him over to the tree to-night, Ben."
XXII
AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE
And the young minister came hurrying down on the mountain express train,
reaching there in the "very nick of time," as Madam Van Ruypen observed.
She was thus able to appear with him at the grand dinner at the King
household, where she was to preside at one of the small round tables,
for the big state dining table was to be discarded for this Christmas
night, and the assembled company were to meet around little tables; this
had been decided upon after an important conference held by Grandpapa,
Aunty Whitney, and Polly.
So now, much to her great satisfaction, Madam Van Ruypen looked around,
as she sat up, resplendent in black velvet, lace, and gems, in her
little company. There was the young minister--of course he had the seat
on her right hand. Ben, equally of course, had the other side, and, as
long as Ben was there, why, Polly must be; and then there was Jasper.
Well, everybody wanted him, but he said, "Oh, I'll sit with Polly and
Ben;" so he had a particularly soft and easy seat, with sofa cushions
piled back of him, for it would be truly dreadful if he should get too
tired! And then Alexia sat down before anybody asked her, and she looked
so horror-stricken at the idea of being at any other table than the one
where Polly Pepper sat, that Madam Van Ruypen laughed and said
indulgently, "Oh, let her stay," for which Alexia loved her ever after.
And then Pickering Dodge was discovered in a corner, with such a longing
eye that Polly cried out in the kindness of her heart,--
"Oh, do let Pick come to this table," so there he was, and that made
seven.
"A very comfortable number," observed Madam Van Ruypen, shaking out her
napkin with a happy hand, so that all the jewels on her fingers fell to
trembling and shining at a great rate. Just then Pip rushed up and flung
himself against Ben's chair, holding on with excited fingers.
"Let me, Ben," he cried, "sit with you!" his little pale face all aglow.
"Oh, we can't have that boy," said Madam Van Ruypen, decidedly.
Ben's ruddy face went quite pale. "I wish we might," he said, fixing his
blue eyes on the Roman nose and white puffs.
"Oh, no, indeed," said Madam Van Ruypen, shaking the big white puffs
more decidedly yet. "You see for yourself there are seven seats. Any
more would be quite uncomfortable."
"I don't need so much room," said Ben, shoving his chair.
"Nor I," said Jasper. "Dear me, it isn't necessary that I have this
great big thing. It's that which takes up so much room."
"Oh, yes, you do, Jasper," said Polly, quite alarmed at his efforts to
move; "you must keep that chair, at any rate."
Ben looked over at Pickering in great trouble. Meantime he held Pip's
nervous fingers fast.
"I don't see," said Pickering, swallowing something that seemed to choke
in his throat, "why we can't all move up, just a bit, you know,"
beginning on his own chair--"or else, why, I'll quit and go to another
table."
"Oh, no, you shan't, Pick," declared Jasper, "not a bit of it;" he
looked so distressed at the mere thought that Polly beseechingly raised
her eyes to the stately, forbidding old face.
"Oh, if you all like to be crowded," said the old lady, meeting Polly's
brown eyes, "why, I am sure I don't care." So, the butler bringing a
small chair, Pip crowded in next to Ben, and everything was merry once
more.
And the young minister proved to be quite nice, and Madam Van Ruypen
fairly beamed at him as the feast went on. And Pickering Dodge and he
struck up quite a friendship across the table, and even made plans for a
skating match on the morrow.
"Now tell me," at last said the old lady, when the talk ran a bit low,
"what can I do with the boys? And that girl--" she glanced to the end of
the room, where Elvira, despite her disappointment at not being at
Joel's table, was comforting herself as best she might by giving
undivided attention to a chicken wing, which she held in both fingers.
"You better send them to school," said Mr. St. John, quickly. "And just
as soon as you can get them there."
"Will the mother allow it?" asked the old lady, brightening up.
"Will she allow it? My dear madam," the minister straightened up and
forgot how afraid of her he was, when she sat, a formidable figure in
the little mountain church of a summer Sunday, and how very much he had
disliked her, albeit her generous contributions whenever the plate went
around--and now he smiled broadly, "if you could only have seen her when
that box--"
"Never mind that," said Madam Van Ruypen, abruptly, and waving her hand
with authority. "The question is, Will she allow me to send these
children to school?"
"I think there's no doubt about it," said Mr. St. John, determined to
find his own way to tell the story as he wanted it to appear. "Well, as
I was saying, that cabin--why, we didn't any of us know what that poor
woman was suffering. I blame myself," his head dropped and he drummed on
the table with his fingers.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the old lady, "you're not to blame." Then she
added, with a remembrance of the summers spent in the mountain nook,
"I'm sure I should have known."
"My dear madam," exclaimed the young minister, very much shocked to
think that in the face of all her generosity he should have thrust a
question for reproach, "you have been so very good, and have saved them
all."
"Perhaps so," said the old lady, grimly. "But it wouldn't have been a
bad idea if it had happened earlier, I'm thinking."
"But just think, if it hadn't gone to them just when it did," continued
the young minister, determined to have the benefaction receive its full
measure of appreciation. "Why, that poor mother was hurrying down to
tell the selectman she could do nothing more,--the children were
starving, and he must take them to the poorhouse,--when she met John
Bramble, the expressman, you know, with the box in his cart."
Madam Van Ruypen laid down her fork and made a violent effort to get her
handkerchief out of the velvet and jet bag that dangled from her waist.
As for Polly and the others, they never thought of eating, but listened,
with their eyes fastened on the young minister's face.
"I never supposed it was as bad as that," said the old lady, brokenly;
at last, with her fingers on her handkerchief, beginning to feel a
little bit better.
"Nor did any of us," said Mr. St. John. "Why, John Bramble hasn't got
over it yet. And I don't know that he ever will. Well, the misery is
over now, thanks to you."
"All the thanks necessary to be expressed," said Madam Van Ruypen, quite
recovering herself and laying a hand on Ben's arm, to pull him forward
into notice, "are due to this lad here."
Ben slunk back covered with confusion, and wished for nothing quite so
much as to roll under the table quite out of sight. Seeing which Jasper
spoke up: "Oh, it would be fine to have them go to school, wouldn't it?"
and diverted attention so that it gave Ben time to breathe freely once
more.
"Yes, indeed," said the minister; "it would be the making of them. And
then that would give you a chance to have Luke and Matilda and Jane come
down for a visit, maybe," and he laughed--he couldn't help it--at the
face before him.
"I think not," said the old lady, dryly. "At least for a spell, until I
get a little rested from Elvira," and then they all laughed. But the
main thing was settled: the mountain children were to go to school.
Ben could hardly believe his ears; and he forgot to eat his dinner,
while he gazed across the room where Matthew and Mark were placidly
engaged at that pleasing occupation at a table with Joel and a whole
company of other boys. Matthew had finally been induced to have his red
tippet taken off, but insisted on keeping it across the back of his
chair, where in the intervals of the dinner he could now and then feel
of it. "Oh!" Ben gave a long sigh of satisfaction.
"What's the matter?" cried Madam Van Ruypen, turning off from the young
minister; then she glanced at Ben's full plate. "This lad would rather
look out for those boys than to eat his dinner," she said, which made
Ben feel so ashamed again that he picked up his knife and fork and, with
a very red face, plied them briskly.
Well, at last, as everything must have an ending sometime, that
delightful dinner drew to a close. And then Grandpapa, who sat at the
table of honor in the centre of the spacious apartment, with Phronsie at
his side, rose and made them all a little speech, and said that although
the Christmas this year came a little late, it found them all very
happy, as, please God, the sick one was well, and they had so many new
friends to make good cheer with them. And he wished every one the very
merriest of all Merry Christmases!
And then there was a great burst of music out in the hall, and a big
orchestra, cleverly concealed in a thicket of palms and ferns, struck up
their liveliest march. And all the company, Grandpapa and Phronsie, of
course, leading the way, set forth in a procession that finally wound up
in the big playroom to circle around the Christmas tree, still under its
white cloud.
And then, in the beautiful rose-colored light streaming from the long
lines of candles in their red shades, the choir boys from St. Stephen's
marched in and around the white-enfolded tree, singing their beautiful
carol.
Pip, clinging to Ben's hand, started forward, entranced, his little
pasty-colored face looking keen and alight. And as the choir boys sang
on and on, Madam Van Ruypen found herself strangely drawn to it. "I must
ask Mr. King who that boy is," she said to herself.
But she didn't have a chance to hear any recital that evening. Dear me,
who could expect it, with a Christmas-tree party in full blast! And then
the tree was unveiled, to stand forth in all its glory. Oh, such a
brilliant sight! And they all took hold of hands, forming in a big, big
circle, and marched around it a couple of times.
And then, a smart jingling of sleigh bells was heard.
"Oh, he's coming! he's coming!" screamed Phronsie, clapping her hands
and dancing, little Dick doing the same.
"Who?" It was Elvira who picked Phronsie's little muslin sleeve.
"Santa Claus," said Phronsie, turning a happy face with dewy eyes. "He
is! He is coming!" and she danced harder than ever.
"Who's Santa Claus?" demanded Elvira, but nobody heard her, for the
jingling sleigh bells suddenly paused, and in he popped, the old saint
himself, right through the window!
Now, although Miss Mary Taylor was there, nobody thought to ask her
where Mr. Hamilton Dyce was, except when Phronsie piped out, "I want
him," and ran up to Miss Taylor, who blushed and looked prettier than
ever. But after the presents had all been given out and Santa Claus had
bowed and disappeared to get into his sleigh and drive off with his
reindeer, Mr. Hamilton Dyce made his appearance in the midst of the
festivities, wiping his forehead and looking very hot, but smiling all
over his face.
At sight of him Phronsie dropped Grandpapa's hand, and ran up to him. "I
wanted you," she said, "and you didn't come."
"But I'm here now, Phronsie," said Mr. Dyce, swinging her to his
shoulder.
"Yes, you are here now," repeated Phronsie, folding her hands in great
satisfaction, and surveying the company from her high perch. "But you
didn't see Santa Claus," and she gave a little sigh.
"Oh, well, I saw him out there," Mr. Dyce bobbed his head toward the
hall.
"Did you?" cried Phronsie, in great delight; "and wasn't he a nice Santa
Claus?" She bent down to gaze into the face beneath her, whose cheek she
patted.
"I'm glad you liked him," said Mr. Dyce, laughing.
"And did he get into his sleigh?" cried Phronsie, in great excitement.
"I heard the bells. Oh, I should so very much like to see him once drive
off."
"Oh, I didn't see him get into his sleigh, Phronsie," said Mr. Dyce.
"Didn't you?" said Phronsie, much disappointed.
"Well, now we ought to go over and see what Grandpapa wants," said Mr.
Dyce, catching sight of the old gentleman's face.
"And there are such a many presents for you," said Phronsie, in a happy
little tone, and patting the broad back.
"You don't say so!" cried Mr. Dyce.
"Yes, oh, such a many; do hurry and get them," gurgled Phronsie, as off
he pranced with her on his shoulder.
Presents? Well, if Mr. Hamilton Dyce had many, what can be said of the
gifts that had been rained down on all sides for every one else in the
big room! And the best of it all was that each one seemed to think that
nothing ever could be happier, as a selection of gifts, and that no
Santa Claus who would understand them better, could by any means have
visited them.
"But I like this best," said Matthew, and he laid his hand on the red
woollen tippet.
Ben and he happened to be alone in a corner. "Do you, though?" said Ben,
his eyes lighting.
"Yes, I've always wanted one," said Matthew.
XXIII
THE SLEIGHING PARTY
"Oh, yes, Pip," said Ben, "you must go."
"Oh, I don't want to," cried Pip, in great alarm, and, clinging to Ben's
hand, he huddled up closer than ever. "Don't make me go to that old
woman's; don't," he pleaded.
"Why not?" asked Ben, whirling him around to let his blue eyes search
keenly the distressed little face.
"She looks at me so," said Pip, squirming uncomfortably; "she's always
looking at me."
"Well, supposing she does, she won't bite you," said Ben, with a little
laugh. Then he stopped suddenly. "Now then, Pip," and he put his hand on
the small shoulder, "it's best for you to go; there's to be a jolly good
time. Just think, Madam Van Ruypen is to give you all a sleigh-ride! And
off you'll go into the country and have a supper and come home by
moonlight. Why, everybody's going!"
"Are you going?" asked Pip, suddenly, his face emerging a little from
its wrinkles.
"Well, no, I'm not," said Ben, "but everybody else is; I'm going to stay
with Jasper."
"Oh, I won't go! I won't go!" screamed Pip, wholly beside himself with
distress. "I'm going to stay with you, I am." With that he wound his
wiry little arms around one of Ben's, and beat his feet nervously on the
floor.
"See here now, Pip," Ben lifted him clear from the floor, and set him
down on the window-seat, then he stood in front of him, "now just look
at me," which Pip did, swinging miserable little feet and twisting his
hands.
"It is best for you to go on this party, and so you must go. Why, you'd
have to stay with Jocko if you didn't," added Ben, "or else amuse
yourself."
"Oh, I don't want to stay with Jocko," replied Pip, who had good
reasons, after his introduction to the monkey by Joel, for this
decision.
"Well, you needn't," said Ben, bursting into a laugh, "but you must go
on the sleighing party, and without me. Do you understand, Pip?"
Pip did, after he had carefully scanned Ben's face. At first he
snivelled softly, but at last even that died away.
"Very well," said Ben. "Now then, you are to go with Joel. He'll see
that you have a good time, for he said so. Here he comes now," as hasty
feet scampering down the back stairs proclaimed Joel's approach.
"Where's Pip? I can't find him," cried Joel, rushing up with a very red
face. "Oh, here he is! Well, come on, Pip," and he plunged toward the
door.
"Hold on!" roared Ben. "Pip has got to go up to Mamsie; she's going to
put some extra things on him so he won't get cold."
"Oh, bother!" said Joel, beating his feet impatiently on the floor.
"Why, there isn't any need for such a tremendous hurry, Joe," said Ben.
"Now then, Pip, step lively upstairs to Mamsie's room; she wants to fix
you up herself."
So Pip slowly got off from the window-seat, and, with many a backward
glance at Ben, he crept upstairs.
"Go ahead, old snail," sang out Joel beneath. "O dear me! He'll never be
ready, Ben," and now he beat his woollen mittens together as he pranced
up and down the hall.
"Oh, yes, he will," said Ben, soothingly. "Don't rage so, Joel."
"And he's such a muff," said Joel, but he said it under his breath and
with one eye on Ben.
"Hush up, Joe," said Ben, "there's no use in talking that way. And what
are you in such a hurry to get to Madam Van Ruypen's for? Why, she
doesn't expect you till three o'clock, and its only"--Ben pulled out his
silver watch--"twenty-five minutes past two. What a silly thing you are,
Joe!"
Joel dug the toes of his shoes into the rug. "Larry'll get there first
if I don't," he whined; "you know he will."
"Nonsense! And what if he does; you aren't invited till three o'clock.
Wait and go with Polly."
"Oh, I'm not going with a lot of girls," cried Joel, in a dudgeon, and
extricating his toes from the rug. "You know they're always coming for
her, Ben Pepper."
"Well, go with Percy and Van," said Ben. "Don't fly off in such a
tangent."
But this suggestion only added fresh fuel to Joel's fire to be off.
"Oh, do make Pip hurry." He fairly howled it now. "Percy and Van have
started already, I most know. They said they'd get ahead of me." And he
rushed up and nipped Ben's arm.
"Goodness me! What a crab you are, Joe!" cried Ben, shaking him off, and
then feeling of his arm.
"Well, do make him hurry," begged Joel. "O dear me, all the boys will
get ahead of me!"
"Well, let them for once," said Ben, coolly. "And Aunty Whitney won't
allow the boys to go now, you may be sure. So rest easy, Joe. And one
thing more, you are not to race Pip over there at lightning speed. Do
you understand, Joe?"
"O dear!" said Joel, wrinkling his round cheek in great disdain, "he's
such a--"
"Yes, yes, I know," said Ben, hastily. "Well, now, I'm off to Jasper."
"Oh, Ben," Joel flew after him, "I wish you were going, I do."
"Well, I'm not," said Ben, "so good-by." He pulled his jacket away from
Joel's detaining hand, got around the corner of the hall, and hurried up
the front stairs.
Meantime, Polly was having a perfectly dreadful time in little Doctor
Fisher's office. There he sat behind his big table, rolling up some
powders in tiny papers, and looking at her over his spectacles.
"Oh, please, papa Doctor," begged Polly, clasping her hands, "do let me
stay at home."
"That wouldn't ever do in all this world." Doctor Fisher shook his head
gravely, and the big spectacles seemed to blink so much displeasure at
her, that Polly felt very wicked indeed. "It would stop the party at
once, Polly."
"Well, it's no fun at all," said Polly, mournfully, "without Jasper and
Ben." She could hardly keep the tears from streaming down her cheeks.
"I don't suppose there'll be so much fun in it as if Jasper and Ben
could go," said the little Doctor, quietly, "but that isn't the question
just at present. It seems to be the best thing that this sleighing party
should be carried out. Think of those poor children, Polly."
Polly twisted uneasily on her feet.
"And how they've never in all their lives had any pleasure like this,"
the little doctor proceeded artfully.
"O dear me!" said Polly.
"And what such a thing in Badgertown would have meant to you children,
Polly," said the little man, softly. He laid down his powder papers and
looked at her.
"Oh, I'll go, I'll go!" exclaimed Polly, perfectly overwhelmed, and
running around the big table to throw both arms around his neck.
"I knew you would, Polly my girl. There--there." Doctor Fisher patted
her gently. "Now that's right, and your mother will be so pleased. She
told Madam Van Ruypen she was sure you would help the thing along. So
bundle up and start--that's right!" He set his spectacles straight and
fairly beamed at her, as she ran out of the room.
* * * * *