in the shadow of the big seringa bushes, concluded he didn't
want it very much. But feeling very hungry, which was his usual
condition, he finished it to the last crumb. "There warn't any
sugar in, for one thing," he said critically. "I wonder why
folks can bake pies who don't know how, and Mamsie never can
have any."
"That boy found your cent in th' road, and brought it clear way
up here," cried Mrs. Marindy, on a high key, going into the
keeping room, where the old man sat absorbed in his paper.
"S'pose he did?" grunted old Mr. Peters.
"I sh'd think you'd 'a' give it to him, Pa. It's a shame. Such a
hot day as 'tis, too."
"I don't have no cents to throw away," snarled old Mr. Peters.
"And I wish you'd let me read my paper in peace and quiet."
"Well, I sh'd think anybody who'd got a heart in their bosom 'ud
feel sorry for them five little Pepperses. I don't s'pose they
see a cent to spend from one year's end to another." And she
made up her mind to bake a whole custard pie, sometime, and
smuggle it down to Mrs. Pepper.
"Though how I'll manage," she lamented, "would puzzle the Dutch
and Tom Walker. But I'll try, just the same."
Meanwhile, Joel, though he made light of the cent business, was
relating his visit to the Peters' homestead, and the presentation
of the piece of pie.
"'Twas most horrid old pie," he said, with a wry face.
"Oh, Joey," said Mrs. Pepper, "when Mrs. Peters tried to be kind
to you. You ate it, didn't you?" and she laughed with the others
when he said yes.
"But 'twas horrid," cried Joe. "I can't help it, Mamsie. There
wasn't any sugar in it, and it was black and smutty and thin.
Why don't we ever have any pie in the little brown house,
Mamsie?" he asked suddenly.
"Why don't little boys talk sensibly?" asked Mrs. Pepper. "It's
a great deal to have the little brown house, anyway, Joel, I sh'd
think you'd know that."
"Mamsie," said Polly, hearing this, "s'posin' we didn't have the
little brown house; just s'posin', Mammy," and her cheek turned
quite white.
"I know it, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, quickly, setting busy
stitches on Davie's jacket, where she was rapidly sewing a patch,
"that's the way to talk. Just supposing we hadn't any little
brown house."
"But we have got it, Mamsie," said Joel, throwing himself flat
on the floor, to indulge in a long and restful roll.
"Well, we may not always have it. If folks don't appreciate
their blessings, sometimes they fly away."
"How's the little brown house going to fly away, Mamsie?"
demanded Joel, sitting quite straight.
"Well, it may," said Mrs. Pepper, with a wise little nod.
"Mercies often take to themselves wings. Come, Polly, you may
pick out these basting threads; that patch is done, thank
fortune!"
Joel hopped to his feet, and ran swiftly out, craning his neck
to see the tip of the chimney on the little house, and surveying it
critically on all sides.
"It isn't going to fly--it isn't," he declared, quite relieved.
Polly humming away some merry nonsense to Mamsie, neither of
them heard him. So he came close to their chairs and repeated it:
"Say, the little brown house can't fly away--there ain't any
wings."
"You take care you don't say anything discontented about not
having pie and other things," said Mother Pepper with a smile,
looking off from her work for a minute to let her eyes rest on
his face, "and I guess the wings won't grow, Joey."
"Anyway, I'm glad I don't live at old man Peterses house," said
Joel, going back to his resting-place on the floor, and waving
his feet in the air.
"Mamsie, do you suppose old Mr. Peters ever was a little boy?"
asked Davie, thoughtfully.
"Dear me, yes," said Mrs. Pepper, abstractedly, as she was lost
in thought over the question, Could she get the patch on Joel's
little trousers before dark?
"A real boy?" persisted David. "Yes, of course," answered Mother
Pepper, moving her chair to get a little more of the waning
light. "But I don't know what kind of a boy," she added.
"I don't think he was a very nice boy, Mamsie," declared David.
"Not a real, very splendid one."
"Huh!" cried Joel, in a tone of contempt. "I guess he wasn't,
Dave Pepper! I wouldn't have played with him at all," he added,
in great disgust.
"Wouldn't you, Joel?" cried little David, running over to sit
down by him on the floor, and observing great care to keep clear
of the waving legs.
"No, indeed, sir," declared Joel. "I wouldn't have played once
with him, not if he'd lent me his knife. An' his skates and--"
"Oh, Joel, not even if he'd lent you his skates?" cried David,
incredulously.
"No, sir-ree! Nor if he'd let me have his horse to drive as much
as I wanted to," declared Joel, most positively, with another
wave of his legs.
Little David collapsed on the floor by his side, his eyes fixed
on the ceiling, as he lay and thought it over.
"I'd 'a' said, 'Go right away, you bad old Peters boy.'" cried
Joel, delighted at impressing David so completely, "'or I'll
take a stick to you.'"
"And then you'd be very much like old Mr. Peters yourself,
Joel," said Polly, catching the last words.
XVI
THE STAGE-COACH RIDE
"Children," said Mrs. Pepper, and how her eyes shone! "I've got
something very nice to tell you--that is, for Joel and David.
Your turn will come sometime, Polly," and Mother Pepper smiled
encouragingly at her.
"Polly's turn never comes," said Ben, gloomily, who felt
dreadfully fretted to think he couldn't earn money enough to do
something nice for her. "We eat it all up as fast as we get
paid," he had once said to his mother.
"And that's what we have mouths for," she had answered brightly.
It never would do for Ben to get discouraged, so she kept all
the little ache in her heart out of sight. Now she beamed at Ben.
"Oh, Polly's time's coming," she said; "never fear, Ben."
Ben looked ashamed when he heard Mamsie's hopeful words, and
brightened up at once.
"Thank you, Ben," she said, going up to his chair to lay her
hand on his shoulder. "Mother doesn't know what she'd do if her
big boy failed her. Well now, children, I must hurry and tell
you the good news about Joel and David. Mr. Tisbett has invited
them to go on the stage to-morrow to Strawberry Hill."
Once a week Mr. Tisbett ran the stage down to Strawberry Hill,
returning by the East District. It was quite the prettiest ride
out of Badgertown, following now and then the course of Cherry
brook, and past fertile fields and forests, by a winding,
rambling thoroughfare. And when once the settlement of Strawberry
Hill was reached, there were Green's Tavern and the stop for dinner!
Joel and David greeted this announcement with howls of delight.
Phronsie caught the spirit and danced around the old kitchen in
a clean pink calico dress, and cheeks to match.
"Oh, Phronsie, I don't believe you know what you're dancing
for," cried Ben with a laugh, and seizing her as the bustle died
down a bit.
"Yes, I do, Bensie," said Phronsie, struggling to get down to
dance again.
"Well, what is it then?"
"Joel and Davie said 'O-oh' and 'Goody'!" hummed Phronsie,
beginning to dance harder than ever.
"I thought so," laughed Ben.
"Don't tease her," begged Polly, coming up.
"Polly, I wish you were going too," said Ben, suddenly, who
couldn't help saying it.
"Dear me, I couldn't go and leave all the work, Ben," exclaimed
Polly, "even if Mr. Tisbett had asked me."
"Well, I wish you could go, all the same," sighed Ben.
Polly shook her head, and clapped her hands at Phronsie, and
tried to forget what Ben had said. But it stayed there, deep in
her heart, nevertheless.
Joel and David could hardly sleep that night for thinking of the
splendid treat of the morrow. Oh, if it should rain! They
trembled as they rolled over on their backs and listened for any
chance pattering on the roof.
"It doesn't rain a single drop," declared Joel, rolling over on
his side again, and carrying most of the bedclothes with him.
"But it may, Joel," said little Davie, fearfully.
"No, it isn't going to," said Joel, confidently.
"Mamsie said we were to be good boys," said David, after a pause,
in which Joel was lost in the wildest imaginings of sometime
driving Mr. Tisbett's black horses. "Don't you know she did,
Joey?" twitching his arm.
"Well, I'm going to be good. I'm always good," said Joel,
jerking away his arm.
"Oh, Joel," cried little Davie, involuntarily.
"Well, I'm going to be good to-morrow, anyway," declared Joel.
"You'll see, Dave; as good as pie."
"Because Mamsie said she'd trust us," continued David, "and we'd
make trouble for Mr. Tisbett unless we minded him."
Joel didn't reply, trying to decide whether he should hold the
reins both together in one hand or use two, Mr. Tisbett
observing both methods.
"I guess I'll hold 'em in two hands," he said at last, "'cause
most likely he won't let me take the whip at the same time.
Ain't I glad I haven't cut the right one any more!" He held it
up and squinted at it as well as he could for the darkness.
There wasn't even a scar to be seen, thanks to Mother Pepper's
good care.
"Boys--boys, go to sleep," called Polly's voice over the stairs.
"They're so excited," she said, going back to her mother, "about
tomorrow. Mamsie, isn't it good that they're going?" she cried,
with shining eyes.
Mrs. Pepper looked at her keenly. "Yes, 'tis, Polly," she
answered simply.
What a time they had getting the boys ready for their unwonted
journey! Joel rebelled at the thorough scrubbing that Polly
insisted on before he was inducted into his clean clothes.
"We wash all the time. Mamsie makes us," he grumbled. "Ow, Polly,
you're rubbing my ear off."
"That's only every day," said Polly, who dearly loved to fix up
with extra preparations on important occasions. "And this--why,
Joel Pepper, you've never been away on a journey before. Just
think, you're going on a stage-coach clear over to Strawberry
Hill!"
"I know it," said Joel, trying to appear as if it were an
everyday affair, while little David turned pale with excitement.
"Well, now then, I believe you're nice and clean," said Polly,
standing off and viewing Joel, red and shiny from her efforts.
"All except this other ear must be washed a little bit more."
"Oh, Polly," cried Joel, viewing her soapy cloth in alarm,
"you've done it enough. Mamsie," he howled, "Polly's a-washing
me just dreadful." But Mother Pepper did not seem to hear, so
Polly finished, and then began on Joel's hair.
This was so much worse an undertaking, that the whole household
were very glad indeed when it was over.
"I hope no one will ask you again to go anywhere, Joel," said
Ben. "Goodness me, Polly, I sh'd think you'd be all tired out
getting him ready!"
"Well, he's done now," said Polly, pushing back the damp rings
of hair from her own brow, while she pulled Joel's jacket
straight with the other hand. "Now, Joe, if you go and sit down
and don't move, you'll be all nice when Mr. Tisbett comes; and
I'll take Davie."
To little David the whole task of washing and combing his hair,
and arranging him in his neatly mended best clothes, was one
long, tremulous delight. He wouldn't have had it omitted for the
world. At last he was patted and brushed, and pronounced "just
perfect," Polly sealing her approval by a kiss that she meant for
his forehead, but it fell on the tip of his nose instead.
"You didn't kiss me," said Joel, in an injured voice.
"Well, you didn't stand still long enough," retorted Ben,
answering for Polly. "Goodness me, Joel, I'd as soon dress an
eel as you!"
"G'lang there! _Whoa!_" And the stagecoach rattled up in
fine shape.
"Mr. Tisbett's come! Mr. Tisbett's come!" roared Joel, as if
everybody couldn't see and hear the stage-driver's hearty tones,
to say nothing about the stamping of the horses and the rumble
of the wheels. And darting out, he flew over the grass. "Let me
sit up there with you, Mr. Tisbett," he screamed, trying to get
up on the wheel.
"Sho, there! So you may. Give us your hand, Joe, my boy," said
Mr. Tisbett, brimming over with good humor, and a warm feeling
at heart at making the Peppers so happy, and he put out his
brawny hand, gave a jerk, and in a minute there was Joel smiling
and shouting and waving his hat to David and the others
escorting him down to the roadside.
"Remember what I told you, Joel," said Mother Pepper, fixing her
black eyes on him.
"Yes'm," said Joel, nodding his head, "I'll remember, Mammy. I'm
going to sit next to Mr. Tisbett," he cried, seeing the
preparations to lift Davie up to a seat on the box.
"Joel," warned his mother.
"I'm a-goin' to have you up top here, along of me," said Mr.
Tisbett, "so's I can look out for you. And I'm a-goin' to tell
where you'll set, too, Joel. Now, you just hist over there, and
let Davie in betweenst us; he's littler. There you be," as Joel
promptly obeyed and took the outside seat.
"Good-by, Mammy," shrilled little David, stretching forward to
look past Mr. Tisbett's burly figure, and longing for another
kiss.
"Good-by, Davie."
"Good-by. Good-by, Joel."
"Crack-snap!" went Mr. Tisbett's whip. Off pranced the two
black horses, and round went the wheels. He never made such a
fine start in his life, Mr. Tisbett decided, when suddenly,
"Stop! oh, stop!" screamed Joel, and the stage-driver, looking
around at him, saw his face convulsed with the effort not to
cry, as he yelled again, flinging out his hands frantically,
"Stop!"
[Illustration: "'CRACK-SNAP!' WENT MR. TISBETT'S WHIP"]
"Whoa!" cried Mr. Tisbett to the prancing black horses, so
suddenly they nearly sat back on their haunches. "What's the
matter of ye, for the land's sakes o' Goshen?"
"I want to get down," cried Joel, with a frantic lunge. "Let me
get down!"
"Hold on there, or you'll break your neck," roared Mr. Tisbett.
"What you want to get down for?" and he scratched his head, his
habit when in perplexity.
"I want to kiss my Mamsie," stammered Joel, and now the tears
began to come.
"Sho!" cried Mr. Tisbett, "so you shall. There. Now then!" Joel,
in some way, was lifted up and swung clear of the wheel, when he
set out for a run to the little brown house. Mrs. Pepper and
Polly and Ben were standing still in the front yard and watching
them, while Phronsie was making cheeses, holding out her little
pink calico frock to sink slowly in a puff on the grass.
"Good-by, Mamsie," cried Joel, flinging his arms around her neck,
"I'll be good, I truly will."
"I know you will, Joel," said Mrs. Pepper, drawing him close to
her, while she kissed and fondled him to his heart's content.
Then he rushed back again. Mr. Tisbett leaned down and gave him
his brawny hand once more, and up he flew. "Crack! snap!" went
the whip--off pranced the horses--round went the wheels--and
away they all went!
Joel hung to the railing of the seat against which he leaned,
with a blissful feeling that he was rushing through the air, and
he saw nothing but those black horses below him. As for little
Davie, he didn't dare to breathe, but peered out from his place
between Mr. Tisbett's long, square figure and Joel, seeing
nothing, only conscious that everything was perfectly beautiful.
Mr. Tisbett slackened up after about a mile of this sort of
driving. He always liked to give a good impression in going
through the town. Folks invariably rushed to the windows, and
said, "The stage is going by," and they never seemed to be tired
of such amusement. So Mr. Tisbett always gratified them to the
fullest extent. To-day, as he hadn't many passengers till he
came to the Four Corners, he let the horses go at their utmost
speed, occasionally glancing at the rapt faces of the Pepper
boys, when he would roll his quid from one cheek to the other,
and smile in great satisfaction.
"Easy there, now," he said to the black horses, holding them up
a bit. "Well now, that's something like, eh, Joel?" And he
leaned over to see Joel's face.
Joel was slow in finding his tongue. At last he answered, "Yes,
sir," but continued to stare at the horses.
"I guess this ere boy likes it, if you don't," exclaimed Mr.
Tisbett, somewhat disappointed at Joel's lack of appreciation,
and peering down at Davie. "Eh, David?"
"I think it's just like Heaven," said little David, with a
long-drawn sigh of bliss.
"That's a fact," cried Mr. Tisbett, well pleased. "And so you
liked it?"
"I loved it, Mr. Tisbett," declared David, solemnly.
"And you've said it about right," declared Mr. Tisbett, the
smile dropping away from his jolly face, but the satisfaction
remaining. "And I love them two horses's if they was folks.
Fact!" And Mr. Tisbett slapped the toe of his big boot with his
whip. "Now Jerry's a trifle the smartest, and--"
"No! No!" howled Joe, in protest, and leaning clear over David
so abruptly that the stage-driver started and involuntarily
pulled up his horses smartly. "I like Bill the best."
"Hey--sho, now!" exclaimed Mr. Tisbett, relaxing his tight grip
on the reins. "You've waked up, have ye? Well, you set back and
hang on to that there railing, or you'll break your neck. Then
what would your Ma say to me? and I shouldn't never take you
again."
"Mr. Tisbett," said little Davie, deliberately, "I like Jerry
the best, too. I do."
"No, you don't," screamed Joel, with a nudge in Davie's side,
"Bill's the best. Say so, Dave."
"I can't," said little David, quite decidedly, "'cause I think
just as Mr. Tisbett does."
"They're both good; good as gold," Mr. Tisbett here made haste
to say. "An' sometimes I think one's better'n t'other, an' then
again I don't know. So, boys, the only way to fix it up straight
is to like 'em both best. Well, we're comin' to my first
passenger," and the stage-driver chirked up the horses. "Now
step lively there." And presently the turn of the road brought them
to a white house with green blinds and a big piazza across one
end.
There was a tall woman walking up and down in front of the house,
and by the roadside a great collection of boxes, and a huge
carpet bag, two baskets, and a bird-cage.
"Beats all how women act," exclaimed Mr. Tisbett, in vexation.
"Why can't she set in th' house and wait for me? I ain't never
been late. Now I s'pose she'll take my head off."
David glanced up in terror at Mr. Tisbett's shaggy head under
the big straw hat, and then at the tall woman who was to take it
off. "Joel," he whispered, "we mustn't let her." But Joel had no
ears for anything that Davie might say, but was occupied in
seeing the stage-driver flourish up to meet the passenger.
"Good mornin', Miss Beaseley," said Mr. Tisbett, in his
pleasantest way, springing over the wheel the moment the horses
stopped.
"I've been a-waitin' here," said Mrs. Beaseley, tartly, "the
longest time. I thought you never'd come."
"'Twould 'a' been a sight easier to 'a' waited in th' house,"
observed Mr. Tisbett, composedly, proceeding to pack the array
of boxes and bags in the coach, "bein's I warn't schedooled to
reach here till quarter past seven. And it's just three minutes to
that time now, Marm." He stopped to pull out an immense silver
watch, the only thing that could draw Joel's attention from the
black horses. Now he stared at it until it disappeared again in
Mr. Tisbett's waistcoat pocket.
"Well, you needn't waste the time now," said Mrs. Beaseley, in
asperity. "I'm sure there's little enough left. Put that carpet
bag in careful, Mr. Tisbett; it's got some cups and sassers in
I'm a-takin' to my daughter in Strawberry Hill."
"All right, Marm," said Mr. Tisbett, setting the carpet bag,
that seemed in danger of bursting, so full was it packed, on one
of the seats. "I hain't never broke any o' my passengers'
belongings yet, and I'm too old to begin to-day." To which Mrs.
Beaseley deigned no reply, only to say, "You put 'em all in, and
I'll get in last."
So Mr. Tisbett put in the bandbox and a smaller box, and one two
or three sizes larger, and the rest of the bags and the two
baskets, and a bundle. Then he picked up the birdcage.
"You let that be!" screamed Mrs. Beaseley. "I'm a-goin' to take
that in my hand; you'll scare that bird to death."
"You get in and set down, and I'll hand it in to you," said Mr.
Tisbett. "I ain't a-goin' to scare your bird. I've seen 'em
before, and handled 'em, too, for that matter."
"I shan't set foot in that stage till all my things is in, and
packed to suit me," declared Mrs. Beaseley, positively. "You
gimme the bird;" with that she seized the bird-cage, and holding
it well before her, she stepped up the first step. The next
minute she was precipitated on the floor of the stage, with the
birdcage under her. When she was helped up, and the bird-cage
was set on the seat opposite, Mr. Tisbett slammed to the stage
door quickly, and hopped nimbly to the box, leaving her
straightening her bonnet. All the while she was giving vent to a
torrent of abuse because the stage-coach steps were too high,
the bird screaming and fluttering wildly in fright.
"Didn't I tell you she'd take my head off?" said Mr. Tisbett,
with a sly wink at the boys, and a little chuckle as he resumed
the reins and they started off.
Little David drew a long breath of relief, and gazed again at
the shaggy head under the old straw hat. "It isn't off, Mr.
Tisbett," he said, "and I'm so glad."
"Hey?" exclaimed Mr. Tisbett, staring at him. "What's the boy
mean? Oh,--my soul an'--body!" And he slapped his thigh with his
brawny hand, and burst out into a hearty laugh that seemed to
echo on every side, as the stage-coach spun along.
"I sh'd think you'd laugh," exclaimed Mrs. Beaseley, in
withering scorn, inside the vehicle, "when I've smashed my best
bonnet, and shook that bird to death--like enough he'll die--and
tromped all up the front breadth to my dress." But as there was
no one to hear her, and Mr. Tisbett still laughed on, seeming
unable to stop himself, the stage-coach contributed a very merry
spectacle to those privileged to see it, as they bowled along to
the next passenger for Strawberry Hill.
"So you thought she'd really took my head off, did ye?" asked Mr.
Tisbett at last, and mopping his face with his bandanna. "O dear
me! Hee-hee-hee!"
"You said she was going to, Mr. Tisbett," said little David,
gravely.
"So I did. I see I must be careful what I say, after this. Well,
David, she'd like to 'a' took my head off, an' would, if she'd
had her way."
"O dear!" exclaimed little David, greatly shocked.
"But she hain't, yer see," finished Mr. Tisbett, cheerfully,
"it's on, an' set stiddy. Sho, now, easy there, Bill and Jerry!
We must stop for Mr. Filbert."
The next passenger was a thin, wiry little man, who seemed to
beg pardon constantly for being in somebody's way. And after Mr.
Tisbett had slung his hair trunk on the rack, Mr. Filbert
stepped gently into the stage-coach. "Excuse me, Marm," he said
to the woman. "Did I step on your toes?"
"You hain't hurt me none," said Mrs. Beaseley, "and you hain't
teched my toes. Goodness me, after the treatment I've had, an'
th' sass I've took, I guess I won't complain."
The little wiry man sank into the furthest corner and pulled out
from his pocket a newspaper, which he tried to read. But Mrs.
Beaseley, beginning on the statement of what she had suffered
waiting for Mr. Tisbett, and every minute since the journey was
begun, Mr. Filbert never got more than ten lines down the first
page.
At last, after picking up a little girl, and a boy who spent his
time in thrusting out his head from the swinging vehicle to
stare enviously up at Joel, the stage-coach rattled in fine
fashion, bringing everybody to the doors and windows, into
Strawberry Hill, and pulled up at the tavern. Here all the
passengers got down; Mrs. Beaseley insisting that she ought to
pay but half price, considering all things, and with very black
looks, when Mr. Tisbett coolly waited till every cent was in his
palm. The little thin man skipped nimbly out of the coach, and,
with a backward alarmed look at her, hurried to get into a wagon
waiting a little distance off, in which Mr. Tisbett deposited
the hair trunk.
"Say, how'd you get up there?" asked the boy, tumbling out of
the coach to stare up at Joel. The small girl, who was going to
spend Sunday at her grandmother's, got out with dignity,
carrying her best clothes in a bundle. She stopped a minute to
hear what Joel said.
"I stepped up," said Joel; "how'd you s'pose?"
"How'd he let you?" persisted the boy, pointing with a dingy
thumb to the stage-driver. "He never let me."
'"Cause he did," said Joel, curtly, "that's the reason."
"Oh!" said the boy, and Mr. Tisbett coming back, he moved off.
But he still continued to watch.