and oh," she cried suddenly, with delight at the comfort she
could give him, "Mrs. Beebe says she's going to send you some
animals, if she can't come and bring 'em herself. Think of that,
Joe!"
"Oh--oh!" screamed Joel, in an ecstasy. "Now I don't care if
that old cat has run away. She bit me awfully yesterday," and he
held up his thumb; "and she's a mean old thing, and she wasn't a
very good tiger, anyway."
"Mrs. Beebe's animals will be a good deal nicer," said little
Davie, bringing up a shining face as his hands fell away. "What
kinds are they, Polly?"
"I don't know," said Polly; "that's all she told me."
"And we've got the monkey left, 'cause I'm going to be the
monkey," said Joel, with a bob of his black head; "and Dave's
going to be a kangaroo, only he don't jump as big as he ought
to."
"I jump as high as I can, Polly," said little David, getting off
from his step to go to her side, and look up into her face
anxiously.
"Oh, I know you'll be a lovely kangaroo, Davie," said Polly,
giving him a reassuring little hug, "and they don't always jump
high, Joel."
"Don't they?" asked Joel, in surprise.
"No, indeed, not unless they want to," said Polly. "But why
don't you be the kangaroo, then, Joe, and let Davie be something
else? Give him the snake, then he won't have to jump, and it's
easier to wriggle."
"Oh, no--no--no," cried Joel, in alarm, "I'm going to be the
snake myself, and slash around like everything. Dave can't be
the snake."
"Well, something else that's as easy as the snake, then," said
Polly, laughing. "You mustn't tire him all out, Joel, for then
Mamsie will have to stop the circus, and _that_ would be perfectly
dreadful, you know."
This made Joel decide at once that he would change his animals
round a bit; so he said, "I'll be the kangaroo myself, Dave. See
here," and he executed such a remarkable series of leaps and
hops, and long and short steps, that his audience of two were
quite overcome with admiration.
"Oh, I am so glad, Joel, that you'll be the kangaroo," said
Davie, with a long breath of relief, "for it tired me so to try,
and I couldn't do him good."
"No," said Joel, coming up bright and shining, as he finished
his last hop, "you couldn't, Davie. Now you must take some of
the others then, if you aren't to be the kangaroo." And he threw
himself on the grass at Polly's feet, as she and David now sat on
the step.
"Only one," said Polly; "you mustn't give him but one, Joe, to
take the place of the kangaroo."
"Well, the kangaroo was a big one," said Joel; "he ought to take
two others to make up."
"No, only one," said Polly, decidedly.
"I'd rather be a bird," said little Davie, timidly.
"Pshaw! a bird!" exclaimed Joel, in high disdain. "I'm not going
to have any old birds. Folks don't have 'em in a circus."
"Well, this is going to have a menag--menag--" said Polly, who
sometimes found it hard to manage all the big words she wanted
to use. "Anyway, what Ben called it the other night. He heard
'em talking of it at the Blodgetts'."
"I know," said Joel, steering clear of the word. "Do they have
birds in that thing that Ben told about?" he asked doubtfully.
"Oh, yes--beautiful ones--trained to do anything, Joel Pepper,"
cried Polly "Oh, your show wouldn't be anything without a bird!"
"Then I'll have one, and Dave shall be it," decided Joel,
veering around.
"And I'll do things," cried little Davie, very much excited, and
getting off from his step to hop along the path. "I'll sing."
"That's nothing!" said Joel, in scorn.
"And I'll hop and pick up crumbs," added David, anxious to
please and do everything that a well-brought-up bird should do.
"Hoh! that won't be anything!" exclaimed Joel, with a withering
look.
"I'll tell you, Joel, let's play that you trained Davie, who's a
bird, you know, to drag Seraphina around. We can tie her on a
board real nicely."
"Oh, yes, that's prime!" cried Joel, seeing hope ahead for
David's bird, if Polly only took hold of it.
"And then you can tell the audience that the trained bird is
going to ride on the monkey's back," cried Polly.
"Oh, hooray!" shouted Joel, prancing off to hop with David down
the path and over the grass.
"And then when you've got through showing him off, David must
sing a little song to show he is a bird. This way," and Polly
threw back her head and twittered twee-dee-ed, and chee-chee-ed,
and trilled in a way she had, till the boys looked up in the
branches of the old scraggy apple tree to see if there really
was any little bird there.
"That's fine!" cried Joel, clapping his hands and drawing a long
breath.
"Oh, I never can do it so nice as Polly," said David, in despair,
growing quite sober.
"Polly," cried Joel, suddenly, "couldn't you stay behind the
bushes and sing? and folks will think it's Dave,--the bird--I
mean."
"Why, yes, Joel, if Davie doesn't want to sing," said Polly;
"but he's the bird, you know, so it must be as he wants."
"But he can't sing good, you know," said Joel, impatiently.
"I'd rather you'd sing the bird, Polly," said little David,
"'cause I can't do it good like you; and I'll _be_ the bird."
And he repressed the sigh he felt like giving.
"Then I will, gladly," said Polly, who loved dearly to sing.
"And, Polly, will you play the band?" cried Joel, who had been
so busy getting his various animals planned for and ready, that
the music was left out of the reckoning.
"Dear me, Joe!" exclaimed Polly, in consternation. Yet she felt
quite flattered. "We haven't any table out here, except the stone
one," glancing at it, "and my fingers won't make any noise on
that. So I don't see how we can have the band." Polly always
made her fingers fly up and down on the kitchen table while she
sang, pretending it was a piano and she was a great musician,
for it was the dearest wish of her heart to learn to play on a
piano.
"Ben can get us a board, I know," cried Joel, confidently; so he
ran off to find him in the woodshed, for Ben was home to-day,
chopping wood. And pretty soon Joel came running back, proclaiming
that Ben had said yes, if Polly would play, that the board should be
all ready.
"O dear me!" cried Polly. "Well, then, I must hurry and go in
and practise," as she called drumming on the kitchen table; she
said this with quite an important air, as she hurried into the
house.
"Ben's going to be the elephant, isn't he, Joel?" she asked,
turning around in the doorway, for Joel changed his animals
about so often it was difficult to keep track of them.
"No," said Joel, "I'm going to be that."
"Why, I thought you were to be the bear," said Polly, in
surprise.
"I am, and Mr. Tisbett's black horses, and--"
"You can't be two horses, Joe," said Polly. "Dear me. Ben must
be one of them."
"Well, I'm going to be Bill, anyway," said Joel, in alarm. "Ben
can be Jerry. And I'm going to be Mr. Tisbett and make 'em go."
"You can't be Mr. Tisbett if you're Bill," said Polly, in
distress. "Oh, Joel, some one else must be stage-driver."
"This isn't stage-driver," corrected Joel, in a superior way.
"Hoh! don't you know anything, Polly Pepper! It's circus! And
the horses do things. I saw 'em in the big picture."
"Well, then, I can be Mr. Tisbett," said Polly, tingling to her
finger-tips at the prospect.
"Mr. Tisbett isn't a girl," said Joel, in scorn.
"But I can put on Ben's coat, and you can tell 'em I'm Mr. Tisbett,
same's you introduce all the animals," persuasively said Polly,
feeling as if nothing could be quite as nice as to be Mr. Tisbett
and manage those black horses.
"Yes, let Polly be Mr. Tisbett," begged little David, longing to
be that personage himself. "She'll make the circus splendid."
"All right," said Joel. "Well, I'm going to jump through the
paper hoops, anyway, on Ben's back. Are they safe?" he asked
anxiously.
"Yes, indeed," said Polly, who had a terrible time in making
them, Joel being the most critical of individuals, "as safe as
can be, in the bedroom cupboard;" and she ran off to get them,
but not so fast as Joel, who rushed eagerly past her.
"Take care, Joe, you mustn't get 'em," warned Polly, dashing
into the bedroom at his heels. But too late! Joel's hands were
on the paper rings, and he clutched them so tightly that, lo and
behold, one little brown fist went clear through one of them, to
come out on the other side!
"Now, see," began Polly, desperately. Joel gave one look, then
burst into a flood of tears.
"I've spoiled it! I've spoiled it! Oh, I can't jump through it
now!" he wailed, still holding them closely. "Oh, Polly, I've
spoiled--"
"Well, it's your own fault!" Polly was just going to say,
knowing that she would have to make a new one, and where should
she get the paper! Then her brow cleared, and she gave a sunny
smile. "Never mind, Joey!" she cried. "There, p'r'aps it isn't
much hurt," and she took the broken one, and began to smooth it
out.
"But it's bursted," cried Joel, trying to look through the rain
of tears. "Oh, Polly! I was going to make the hole when I jumped
through."
"Um!--" said Polly, busily considering. Then she sat down and
rested her elbows on her knees, first setting up the poor
bursted ring against the bureau; and, with her chin in her hands,
looked at it steadily. "I tell you, Joel, what we'll do," at
last she cried; "those edges where it is torn can be pasted
together, and--"
"But it'll be a hole!" shouted Joel, who had stopped crying
while Polly was thinking, knowing that she would get over the
trouble some way. Now he cried worse than ever. "There wasn't
goin' to be any hole, till I made one. O dear me!" and he flung
himself flat on the floor, to cry as if his heart would break.
"Joe, Joe," cried Polly, running over to him to shake his arm,
"you must stop crying this very minute. If you don't, I shall
not do anything for your circus. I won't be one of the animals,
nor I won't play any music, nor anything."
Joel gave a great gasp. "I'll stop," he promised.
"Well, now, you must stop at once," said Polly, firmly, seeing
the advantage she had gained. "So sit up, Joe, that's a good
boy," as he very unwillingly brought himself up. "Now, then,
I'll tell you what I'm going to do," and Polly seized the poor
ring, and, tossing back her brown hair, began to pat and to pull
the crooked edges together.
"You see, Joey, I'm going to put a little border of red paper
all around it," she said, patting and pulling away, "then it'll
be--"
"Oh, now that's goin' to be better than the other one," declared
Joel, in huge delight, his round face wreathed in smiles. "And
I'm going to break and smash the other one," and he doubled up
his brown fist and dashed toward it.
"No, you won't, Joe," cried Polly, in alarm. "I've only red
paper enough to go on the broken one, so if anything happens to
the other one, deary me! I don't know whatever in the world we
could do. Now run and get the cup of paste in the woodshed, and
in the shake of a lobster's whisker I'll have it all done," sang
Polly, gayly.
"Lobsters don't have whiskers," said Joel, as he ran for the
paste cup. "Cats do, Polly, but lobsters don't," as he brought
it back.
"Oh, yes, they do," contradicted Polly; "those long thin things
that stick out under their eyes. But never mind, anyway, and
don't talk about them, for I've got to put all my mind on this
dreadful ring."
"Polly, I wish I'd had a lobster in my circus," said Joel, after
a minute's panic, in which Polly pinched and snipped and pasted
and trimmed with red paper all around the hole, till any one
looking on would have said this was going to be the most
splendid circus ring in the whole world.
"Dear me, if you haven't enough animals and reptiles and things
in your circus, Joey Pepper!" exclaimed Polly. "You wouldn't have
had room for the lobster, anyway."
"But I wish I had him," repeated Joel, stolidly.
"And you must leave something for next time," said Polly, taking
up the big ring to whirl it around over her head, to watch the
effect of the red strip.
"Oh, Polly!" screamed Joel, his black eyes sparkling with
delight, "that's perfectly splendid! and I'll come right smash
through that red ring. Yes, sir-_ree!_" and he danced around
the bedroom, bumping into every object, as he was stretching
his neck to look at the ring Polly was whirling so merrily.
"Well, now that's done," said Polly, with a sigh of relief; "and
I'm thankful, Joey Pepper. Yes, it does look nice, doesn't it?"
and she surveyed the red border with pride. "Wasn't it good that
Mamsie gave me those strips of paper? Whatever should we have
done without them! Well, now, says I, you've got to hurry to get
all ready. Three o'clock comes pretty soon after dinner, and
there's ever and ever so much yet to do before you can have your
circus, Joey Pepper."
XXI
JOEL'S CIRCUS
"Joel," cried little David, his cheeks aflame, "Mrs. Beebe has
brought your animals. Come out to th' wagon." With that David's
heels twinkled down the narrow path to the gate.
Joel dropped the wooden box that was to be the tiger's den, if
Deacon Brown's cat should come back, and ran on the wings of the
wind to the big green wagon standing out in the road. His black
eyes roved anxiously over all the various things with which good
Mrs. Beebe had loaded the vehicle, as she had many errands on
her mind, and his heart beat fast at the sight of two or three
boxes that stuck up above the rest, and an old canvas bag on top
of them.
"Here, Joel," said Mrs. Beebe, her face beaming with
satisfaction. "You climb up behind and fetch down that bag."
Joel's black eyes stuck out with delight, and he hopped over the
back wheel in a twinkling and laid his hand on the old canvas bag.
"Not that one," said Mrs. Beebe. "Mercy me, them's Pa's oats he
told me to bring home--the other bag, Joel."
"I don't see any other," said Joel, staring around at the
various things, while his hand fell off from the canvas bag. He
had been almost sure he heard something stir within it.
"Dear me, child," exclaimed Mrs. Beebe, grasping the old leather
reins in one hand, while she leaned back over the seat, "there
they be," pointing to a paper bag laid nicely in between the two
boxes, so it couldn't fall out.
"Oh!" exclaimed Joel, swallowing hard. Then he wasn't to get one
of those big wooden boxes, after all.
"Yes, an' I guess you'll like 'em." Mrs. Beebe nodded and winked
at him, and smiled all over her round face. "Now you take 'em
and git out, that's a good boy, an' be quick, 'cause I've got
some more arrants to do, an' I'm a-goin' to try to come to your
show, Joel, seein' you've invited me so pretty." And with
another bob of her big bonnet she twitched the reins smartly,
and the old horse fell into a jog-trot, while Joel did as he was
bidden, and with his paper bag in his hand, sat down on the
grass, trying very hard not to cry.
"She _said_ animals," muttered Joel, swallowing something
that seemed to stick in his throat.
"Look in and see," whispered little David, with a very
distressed face, and sitting down on the grass to put one arm
around Joel.
Joel clutched his bag and stared gloomily. It didn't matter what
it held; Mrs. Beebe had said "animals," and to find that she
hadn't spoken the truth, made him feel so dreadfully that he
longed to scream out after her, and tell her he didn't like her
any more. He wouldn't ever like anybody who told a lie; and
Mamsie wouldn't ever let him go to see her, and Polly's brown
eyes would fill with scorn. Oh, he could feel just exactly how
Polly would look, and he shivered.
"Don't cry, Joe," said little Davie, feeling the thrill, and
hugging him tightly; "and do see what's in it."
Joel gave one plunge at the bag, untwisted it, and thrust in his
hand. Suddenly he started back, nearly upsetting David. "Oh!"
"What is it?" cried Davie, fearfully; "a snake, Joel?"
"No--that is, I guess so," answered Joel, dragging out a whole
handful of sugar cooky animals, and spinning them on the grass
in various directions. "I guess there's a snake there. She
_said_ animals, and they _are_ animals, Dave," and a smile broke
all over his chubby face.
David took one look at the sugar cooky animals flying over his
head. "Oh, Joe, and they've got currant eyes!" he screamed, and
clapped his hands. "See, there's a el'phant! Oh, and a goose,
and a monkey!" with a dive at the last.
"That isn't a monkey!" retorted Joel, with a pause in the work
of emptying the bag to investigate the animal in David's hand,
"that's a wild-cat."
"Oh, Joel, is it?" cried Davie.
"Um!" Suddenly Joel took it out of David's little palm, and
popped one end of it into his mouth. "Oh, goody!" was all he
said. "Have some, Dave?" and he shook the bag with the rest of
its contents at him. But David was sprawling over the grass,
picking up the scattered ones. Suddenly he stopped, with one
halfway to his mouth. "Don't you s'pose Mrs. Beebe wants you to
keep 'em for the circus, and give the folks some of them?"
Joel squirmed uncomfortably, taking large bites of the biggest
animals he could pick out, but said nothing.
David laid his pig down on the grass, and looked at it wistfully.
"They're mine," said Joel, crossly, and speaking as distinctly
as he could for his mouthful, and bolting a rabbit and a
hippopotamus together; "an' I'm goin' to eat 'em now."
David still gazed at his pig, but didn't offer to touch it.
Suddenly Joel threw down the bag. "I'm sorry I et 'em," he said
ruefully.
"You've got ever so many left," said Davie, cheerfully.
"An' we'll pick up those on the grass," said Joel, suiting the
action to the word, "an' save the rest for th' folks." And he
soon had the remainder safe in the bag, when both the boys
rushed into the house to display Mrs. Beebe's gift.
After this, it was all commotion; so much so that Mrs. Pepper
said she didn't know as she should ever let another circus come
into the orchard. But her black eyes twinkled, and she patted Joel's
head when she said it, and the anxious look ran away from Joel's
face; and then the dinner of potatoes and brown bread was soon
finished, and Polly somehow or other got the dishes all washed
up, and the kitchen as clean as a new pin, ever so much quicker
than on other days, and pretty soon Joel and all his animals and
the musician were out in the orchard in a perfectly dreadful
state of hurry and confusion.
But at last the show was in full progress; on the seats of honor
were Mother Pepper and Mrs. Beebe, who got in at the last minute,
just before they were to begin. And Grandma Bascom, who was
delighted to be able to hear for once, as she now could, all the
roars of the various animals, while Sally Brown and the
Henderson boys made up the rest of the audience. And everybody
clapped their hands, and said, "Oh, isn't that good!" and, "I
think that is fine!" And Grandma said, "La me!" and lifted her
black mitts, which she had put on to do honor to the occasion,
"and who would have thought it!" And Sally Brown and the
Henderson boys stared with envy, and wished they were some of
the animals and having such a good time. And Peletiah solemnly
determined within himself to get up a circus the very next week.
And the excited animals thrilled with delight when it came the
monkey's time to perform and jump through the big paper rings.
Joel bobbed out from behind the bushes, and told the audience
what was coming; then he bobbed in again, and Polly and Ben got
him into the monkey skin,--an old brown flannel petticoat that
Grandma Bascom had given the children to play with, "'Cause it's
so et up with moths, 'tain't fit to set a needle into to fix up,"
as she said. And Ben made a long, flapping tail out of an old,
frayed rope, and Polly had sewed a little tuft of hair, that
came out of Mamsie's cushion, on top of the monkey's head,
pulling it all around the face for some whiskers; so, when Joel
was really inside of it, he was perfectly awful. Particularly as
he showed all his teeth, and rolled and blinked his black eyes
every minute, so that Phronsie, who sat on the grass at Mamsie's
feet, when she wasn't an animal and needed to perform, shivered,
and clung close to Mrs. Pepper.
"Take me, Mamsie," she begged.
"'Tisn't a real, true, live monkey," cried Polly, rushing out
from behind the bushes as she heard her, "it's only Joel,
Phronsie."
"It's me," cried Joel, who had been making faces at Peletiah,
but stopping the minute he heard Phronsie. "It's me, Phronsie."
"I want a monkey," said Phronsie, bringing her face out from
under her mother's arm, "but not Joey. Please don't let Joey be
a monkey," and she patted Mrs. Pepper's cheek.
"Hush, dear," said Mother Pepper, "you'll spoil Joel's circus if
you talk. See, Phronsie, the monkey's going to jump through the
rings."
So Phronsie sat up very straight in Mrs. Pepper's lap, and the
wonderful act began, Polly being the musician, and singing her
merriest, while she drummed with her fingers on the board that
Ben had fixed across the stone table, running up and down with
so many little quirks and quavers it was really very remarkable
to hear.
Ben held up a big ring, saving the one with the red border for
the last.
"Hold it higher," said Joel, in between his roars and grimaces.
"No, sir," said Ben, firmly, "you aren't going to jump any
higher. Go on."
"Tisn't half as high as I jumped the other day," grumbled Joel.
"Go on," commanded Ben, "or I won't hold it at all," and Polly
bobbed her head at him as she drummed away. "Hurry up," she
seemed to say. So Joel sprang off from the lower branch of the
apple tree and went zip-tear-bang, at the paper ring. But
instead of going through, he knocked it out of Ben's hand, and
went with it, rolling over and over on the ground. When he got
up to his feet, the big paper ring was all in tags, and the hair
on the monkey's head was all over his eyes, and covering his red
face.
"Never mind, Joe," said Polly, running away from her piano, to
pull him out straight and fix him nice again, "you'll do it fine
next time, I guess."
"Ben jiggled it," announced Joel, stoutly, and with a rueful
face as he saw the broken ring.
"No, I didn't," declared Ben; "I kept it as steady as could be.
But you sprawled your legs and knocked it out of my hand. Take a
good flying leap, Joe, and keep your eye on the red border."
"Yes; I'm so glad there's a red border on it," said Polly,
hopping back to make her fingers run merrily up and down her
piano once more.
So Joel took a flying leap, keeping his black eyes fixed on the
red border, and came through the ring so splendidly that
everybody hopped up to their feet, and shouted and clapped their
hands, Grandma exclaiming, "La--for the land's sake!" while
Phronsie slid out of Mrs. Pepper's lap and gave a squeal of
delight.
"Hoh! that's nothing!" declared Joel, and before Ben could say
anything he ran and jumped up on the lower limb of the apple
tree, and winding his sturdy legs around the trunk, and then
springing from one branch to another, there he was, before any
one knew it, on the topmost bough!
"O mercy me--he'll be killed!" screamed Grandma, who saw it
first. Mother Pepper turned swiftly. "Joel!" she was going to
exclaim. But in a minute she knew it would be the worst thing
in the world to do. So she tried to smile and to say, "Come down,
Joey, and be careful."
But Joel was swinging and slashing the long rope tail, and
having a delightful time up there in the branches, and roaring
and screaming so, that Mother Pepper's quiet tones couldn't
possibly be heard.
Polly's face turned very white. "Oh, Ben, he'll be killed!" she
exclaimed. "He won't look at us, and we can't make him hear,"
for by that time everybody was shouting at him to come down, and
Phronsie was crying as if her heart would break.
"I'm goin' to hang by my tail," screamed Joel at them, and
before any of them could realize what he was doing, he had swung
the long rope over a branch and twisted it up in a knot, then he
swung himself out, and let his feet free from the bough.
Mrs. Pepper seized Ben's arm and said hoarsely, "Go up after
him." Ben was halfway up the trunk as fast as he could go, which
wasn't very good speed, as he was always slower at such things
than the other little Peppers. When Joel, head downward, saw him
coming up, he screamed, "Ha! I'm a monkey, and you can't catch
me," and he swung farther out than ever. The knot he had thought
so safe untwisted, and down, down, he went, the long rope curling
through the air to wind around his legs.