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.