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--"