pick him up, everything seemed to turn black around Polly's eyes.
She never knew how it happened, but there was Mother Pepper
sitting on the grass with Joel's head in her lap, and Mrs. Beebe
hurrying into the kitchen for water and cloths to wash the blood
away, and Grandma waddling down the lane to get things from the
cottage. And Ben sliding down the tree, the rest of the little
Peppers crouching up in misery around Mamsie and her boy.
Polly's white lips only formed the words, "Dr. Fisher--I'll go--you
stay here and help Mamsie," and she was off in a flash. For
Polly could run the swiftest of any of them, her feet hardly
touching the ground.
Somebody called her name as she spun along the dusty ground, but
she didn't stop--only sped on. But by laying the whip smartly
over the back of his horse, the man in the wagon came up by her
side and yelled at her, and then she saw that it was Mr. Tisbett.
"Oh, I can't stop, sir!" she wailed, clasping her hands, "for
Joel's dead, I guess."
"Now you just git in here," commanded Mr. Tisbett, getting down
to the ground; and without waiting for Polly to obey, he picked
her up and set her on the seat. "I take it you're goin' after
th' doctor. Now he ain't to home, for this is his day for
Hillsbury, ye know. But I tell you," he added briskly, as he saw
Polly's face, "I'm a master hand at doctorin', an' I'm goin' to
take a look at Joel." All this time he was getting over the
wheel and into his seat, and turning down the road toward the
little brown house.
"What's th' matter with Joel?" he asked at length, after
slapping Black Bill smartly, who now ran at his liveliest pace.
"He fell from the apple tree," said Polly, in a low voice. "Oh,
Mr. Tisbett, could you go a little bit faster, please?" she
implored.
"Yes, yes," said Mr. Tisbett, obligingly, and applying the whip
again to the horse's flanks. "Now it's lucky enough my stage-coach
got a mite broke this morning, an' I had to wait over a trip, and
so I've met you. We'll soon be there, Polly, don't you worry a
mossel. I fell out o' apple trees time after time when I was a boy,
and it hain't hurt me none. Git ap, Bill! An' at any rate, I'll fix
Joel up. I used to be a doctor 'fore I was a stage-driver. Ye hain't
never known that, hev ye, Polly?" and he smiled down on her.
"No," said Polly, with a thrill of hope at her heart. "Oh, if
Black Bill only would go a little faster!"
"Fact," said Mr. Tisbett, rolling the tobacco quid into his
other cheek. "I was what ye might call a nat'ral doctor,
bone-setter, and all that; never took a diplomy--but land sakes alive,
I donno's it's necessary, when ye got to make a bone into shape,
to set an' pint to a piece o' paper to tell where ye was
eddicated. Git up an' set th' bone, I say, an' if ye can do it
all right, I guess it's a good enough job to the feller what
owns the bone. Git ap, Bill!" and they drew up in front of the
little brown house.
Mr. Tisbett never waited to ask questions, although Mrs. Pepper
looked at him inquiringly, but just took hold of the job he had
come to do, and Polly explained to Mamsie. And presently
everybody was obeying the stage-driver just as soon as he spoke
a word. And his big hands were just as gentle and light, and his
fingers, that always seemed so clumsy holding the old leather
reins, were a great deal softer in their touch than Mother Pepper's
own, as they wandered all over Joel's body.
"That boy's all right, and bound to scare ye a great many times,
Marm," at last he said. "Don't you worry a mite, Mrs. Pepper,
he'll come out o' it, when he gits ready."
But Mother Pepper shook her head as she hung over her boy.
"Mammy," said Polly, crawling up to her like a hurt little thing,
"I do believe Mr. Tisbett knows," she whispered. "I do, Mammy."
But Mrs. Pepper only shook her head worse than ever.
"What shall we do, Ben?" cried Polly, rushing up to him; "just
look at her, Ben. Oh, what can we do for Mamsie! She's never
been like that."
"Nothing," said Ben, gloomily; "we can't any of us do anything
till Joel comes to himself. There won't anything else help her."
But Mrs. Pepper suddenly raised her head and looked at them
keenly. "Come here, Polly," and at the same instant it seemed,
so quickly she obeyed, Polly was at her side.
"Mother feels that her boy will be all right," said Mrs. Pepper.
And she even smiled.
XXII
THE MINISTER'S CHICKENS
Mr. Tisbett was right. And before he left, Joel was sitting on
his knee, and hearing various accounts of Black Bill; how he ran
away once when he was a colt, and Mr. Tisbett never caught him
till he'd chased him over into Hillsbury; and how once, when the
pole broke going down a hill, Black Bill had held Jerry from
kicking and plunging loose, and brought 'em all down in safety
to the bottom.
"I tell you, sir," declared Mr. Tisbett, bringing his big fist
down on his knee, "that's a horse for you, ef ever there was one.
And you shall go along of me sometime, Joe, and have a ride in
th' stage-coach again, if your Ma'll let you."
"Hooray!" cried Joel, hugely pleased. "When I'm a man, Mr.
Tisbett, I'm goin' to have a stage just like yours, and two
horses just exactly like Black Bill."
"Take my advice," said the stage-driver, "an don't try to get
two horses exactly alike, 'cause you're bound to be disappointed.
Now there's Jerry; ain't a mite like Black Bill, but he's awful good
to run along with him."
"Then I shall have one like Jerry, instead," decided Joel,
folding his hands in great satisfaction, since Mr. Tisbett
advised it so. "Now I'm going to finish my circus, and be
monkey." And he began to get down from the stage-driver's knee.
"You hold on there," said Mr. Tisbett, firmly; "you've been
monkey long enough, and scart your Ma and all on us nigh almost
to death. Don't you go up that tree again, Joel Pepper! If you
do, I won't take you on no more stage rides with me. You hear me,
now."
Yes, Joel did hear, so although he whimpered and teased, and
declared he hadn't played monkey more than a half a minute, and
he'd lost most all his circus, Mr. Tisbett sat up stiff and
straight, holding him tightly, and said, "If I hear of you goin'
up that ere tree again, you don't go with me." So Joel promised
he would be very good, and then he hopped down and got into
Mamsie's lap, and let himself be cuddled to his heart's content.
"My land!" exploded Mrs. Beebe, when quiet was restored. "I
declare, I'm all beat out. You could knock me down with a
feather," she confided to Polly. "Well, well, well, that boy's
saved for something. Now, Joel, why don't you have the animals
now? Did you like 'em?" and she settled her glasses to get a
good look at him, and assure herself that he was really
uninjured. "It's a miracle," she kept saying to Grandma, who
bobbed her cap all the while, as if she heard every word.
"They were awful good," said Joel, in satisfaction. "Give me the
rest of 'em, Polly," and he held out his hand.
"So you shall have 'em, Joel," cried Polly, glad to think there
was something she could do, and she ran and brought the little
sugar cooky animals where she had fixed them in some large
leaves ready for Joel to pass them around among the company at
the close of the performance.
"Mamsie must have the first one," said Joel, picking out the
biggest and best, with the largest currant eyes, to force it
between Mrs. Pepper's pale lips, "then Polly next."
"Oh, no, Joe," said Polly, "I'm not company. Give one to Grandma
and to Mrs. Beebe first."
"Oh, you pretty creature you!" exclaimed Grandma. "So you want
me to have a cake?" as Joel turned to her with one in his hand.
"Tisn't a cake--it's an animal," corrected Joel, irritably.
"Yes, yes--so 'tis a cake," repeated Grandma Bascom, taking the
animal.
"'Tisn't," said Joel. "Mamsie, make her stop saying things that
aren't so, over and over."
"Joel," said Polly, quickly, "Mrs. Beebe hasn't any animal. Why
don't you give her a--let me see," and she considered deeply.
"I'd give her a bird, Joel, here's a lovely one," and she
pounced on a most remarkable specimen in the bird line one would
wish to see. "Mrs. Beebe, wouldn't you like that?" she asked.
"Oh, I should so," replied Mrs. Beebe, smiling all over her face
to see how well Joel was, and putting out her hand. "Bless your
heart, Joel, I'd rather have the bird than any other."
"Had you?" asked Joel, greatly pleased.
"Yes, indeed I had. I always set dreadfully by birds," said Mrs.
Beebe. So Joel gave her the bird, then he leaned over and picked
out a horse, very much baked on one side, and with one leg shorter
than the other "That's for you, Mr. Tisbett," he said.
"That suits me," said Mr. Tisbett, heartily. "Well, now I never!
Seems to me I can't eat it, 'twould be almost like chewing up a
critter, but I'll keep it to remember you by," and he slipped it
into his big pocket. Then he got up and shook himself. "And now
I must be a-goin'. Don't you be a mite worried, Mrs. Pepper,
take my advice; that boy'll scare you more times than you can
count. So you might as well get used to it. Now look sharp, Joe,
and remember what you promised."
"Phronsie must have the--"
"Oh, Joey, I want the piggie, I do," cried Phronsie, whose eyes
had been fastened on the cooky animals ever since Polly had
brought them up on the beautiful green leaves. "May I, Joel?"
she begged.
"Hoh, that isn't good!" said Joel, disdainfully. "He's a horrid
old pig."
"Hush, Joey," said Polly, and her face turned rosy red,
remembering Mrs. Beebe. But old Mrs. Beebe only laughed, and
said she knew the pig wasn't baked good, he would whirl over
on one side in the pan. And sometime she would bake Joel a
good nice one. But Phronsie kept on pleading for this particular
pig. "Do, Joel, please," she begged, "give me the dear, sweet
piggie." So Joel put it in her hand, when she cuddled it lovingly
up against her fat little neck, not thinking of such a thing as
eating it.
And then David must pick out the one he wanted, and then Ben.
And then all over again, around and around, till there wasn't
another cooky animal left. And when he saw that, Joel hopped
down from Mamsie's lap and marched up to Mrs. Beebe. "Your
animals were better'n mine," he said.
"They don't tumble out of trees," said Mrs. Beebe, laughing. And
then everybody got very merry, and Polly said, Could they play a
game? and Mrs. Pepper looked at Joel hopping about, and she said,
Yes, with a glad thrill that her boy was safe. "It will help him
to forget his accident," she said to Polly. So after all, the
circus wound up with a fine ending.
And in the midst of it Mrs. Brown came panting over, having
run nearly every step of the way. When she saw Joel spinning
around in The Barberry Bush, she leaned against the side of the
little brown house, and said, "O my!"
Mrs. Pepper hurried over to her. "Sally ran home and said Joel
had tumbled from a tree, so I brought these over as soon's I
could," panted Mrs. Brown, opening her apron, and there were
ever so many bottles of medicine.
"O dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Pepper, with a thankful throb to
think they were not wanted, and, "You are so good, Mrs. Brown."
"So we go round the barberry bush," sang Joel, piping out the
loudest of any one, and kicking up his heels as he danced.
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Brown, "I never did, in all my life! Just
hear that boy!"
And she hadn't been gone but a moment or two, carrying her apron
full of medicines with her, before Mrs. Henderson came hurrying
along down the dusty road. Her face was flushed, and she looked
anxious enough. Mrs. Pepper said, "Run, Polly, and meet her, and
tell her Joel is all right. Bless her! She is a parson's wife!"
So Polly ran with all her might, and stood before Mrs. Henderson,
flushed and almost breathless.
"Joey's all well," she managed to say.
"Thank you, Polly," said Mrs. Henderson, smiling down into the
flushed face. "And I am so glad to know it, for Peletiah came
home very frightened. Well, take your mother this. Stay, I
better go and see her, I guess." So she went up to the little
group back in the orchard, and heard all about Joel's accident
from himself, as he wanted to tell it all, up to the time when
they picked him up.
Mrs. Henderson wiped her eyes many times during the recital,
then she drew Joel to her. "You must come over to see my new
chickens some day."
"I'll go to-morrow," said Joel, sociably, "if Mamsie'll let me."
"Oh, Joey!" reproved Mrs. Pepper. "Please excuse him," to Mrs.
Henderson, "he doesn't think what he is saying."
"So you shall, Joey," said the parson's wife, with a pleasant
smile, "and bring the others with you. Let them come, Mrs.
Pepper, do."
"Ben can't go, of course," said Mrs. Pepper, "and Polly can't,
either," and her face grew sober, "for Mr. Atkins says I may get
some more coats to-morrow morning, and she's getting so she
helps me a good deal."
"Never mind," said Polly, trying to laugh. How she would love to
see those new chickens!
"Polly shall come some other time," said Mrs. Henderson, with a
kindly smile on her face. "To-morrow afternoon, Mrs. Pepper, at
three o'clock, please let them come over."
So the next afternoon Joel, with many injunctions to be good,
escorted the other two children to Parson Henderson's, Mrs.
Pepper and Polly watching them from the door stone as they
trudged off down the road, Phronsie clinging to Joel's hand, and
David on the other side.
"She's a parson's wife, now!" said Mrs. Pepper for the fiftieth
time, as the children turned the bend in the road, and wiping
her eyes she went back into the house to pick up her sewing and
go to work. "Well, Polly, you and I will have a fine time to fly
at this now."
The two needles clicked away busily enough as Polly sat down on
the cricket at Mrs. Pepper's feet. "Whatever should we do without
Mr. Atkins, too, Mamsie?" she said.
"Polly," said Mother Pepper, suddenly, and she laid down her
work a moment, although time was precious enough, "Mother's
sorry you couldn't go, too. But a nice time will come for you
sometime, I hope," though she sighed.
"Never mind me, Mammy," said Polly, cheerily.
"But I can't help minding, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, sadly,
"when I think how few nice times you have. But I'll try all the
harder." And she picked up her work again, and made the needle
fly faster than ever.
"And it's so very nice that Joel can go and see those new
chickens," said Polly, suppressing a sigh, "after he fell
yesterday, and Phronsie, oh, you can't think, Mamsie! how she
runs on about the chickens she saw there once."
"Yes, it is nice," said Mrs. Pepper, but she sighed again.
Meantime Joel was in a state of supreme delight. Kneeling down
in front of the coop, with his face pressed close to the bars,
he was watching every movement of the fluffy little things, counting
them over and over, and speculating what he would do if they were
his, Phronsie crouching down by one side, while David was as close
on the other, and all three children speechless with delight.
Presently Joel broke the silence. "I'm going to take out one,"
he said.
"Oh, no, Joe!" cried Davie, in alarm, and tumbling backward from
the coop.
"Yes, I am," said Joel, obstinately, who never could brook
interference. "It won't hurt it a bit, and I'll put it right
back."
Phronsie didn't hear him, her whole attention being absorbed by
the wonderful chickens. So Joel cautiously pulled up one slat of
the coop a very little way. "There, you see," he cried in
exultation, "I can do it just as easy as not;" when a bee,
humming its way along, stung him smartly on the arm, and Joel
twitched so suddenly that up went the slat quite high, and
before he could stop them, out walked the old mother hen, and
two of her children.
"Oh, Joe, Joe! they're out!" screamed David. Phronsie rolled
over on the grass in a little ball, as Joel knocked against her,
and nobody thought for a moment of shutting the bar down. So
three more chickens stepped out and hopped away over the grass.
"Oh, Joe, Joe, they're all coming out!" cried David, quite
beside himself with horror.
"Shut the bar! shut the bar!" screamed Joel, running hither and
thither, and only making the mother frantic, in her efforts to
get away from him, and to protect her brood.
"I can't," mourned Davie, tugging bravely at it. So Joel stopped
chasing the hen and the chickens, and rushed up to slam down the
bar, and two more chickens having hopped out in the meantime,
there they were--seven downy little balls, hurrying about in a
great state of excitement to reach mother, who was clucking
noisily for them to hurry and come under her wing.
"Oh, Joe! see what you've done," cried Davie, in distress,
trying to help in every direction, but only succeeding in
getting in the way. "O dear me! You can't ever get 'em back in
the coop, in all this world." Phronsie, meanwhile, picked
herself up, and eagerly entered into the chase, gurgling in
delight as she pattered first after one little fluffy ball, and
then another.
"Yes, I can," said Joel, confidently, rushing here and there.
"You stand still, Dave, and don't let 'em get by you. Then
I'll drive 'em up."
But after about five minutes of this sort of work, Joel found
that he couldn't do it very well, for as fast as he got one
chicken headed for David, the others all scattered in every
direction, while Mistress Biddy scampered and waddled and
clacked to her children, till the parsonage garden seemed full
of hens and chickens. At last Joel stopped and wiped his hot
face, David looking at him from a distance in despair.
"You stay there, Dave, I'm going to tell 'em," and Joel marched
off with an awful feeling at his heart. But he didn't dare to
stop to think about it, but mounted the steps of the parsonage
and went down the wide hall. There was nobody to be seen, and
Joel was just going to run out to the kitchen, if, perhaps, Mrs.
Henderson could be found there. Suddenly the study door opened,
and there stood the minister himself in the doorway.
"Well, Joel," said Parson Henderson, kindly, "I'm glad to see
you. Do you want anything, my boy?"
Joel's knees knocked together, but he answered, "I've let all
the hens and chickens out."
"You've let all the hens and chickens out?" repeated the
minister, but he only half understood, and stood staring down
into Joel's black eyes.
"Yes, sir," said Joel, twisting his brown hands together tightly.
If he should cry now, before his story was told, maybe the
minister would never get those chickens into the coop. He must
make him understand. "They're all running everywhere in the
grass," he added miserably.
"Do you mean Mrs. Henderson's new chickens?" asked the minister,
starting a bit. Then he added composedly, "Oh, no, Joel, they're
quite safe. She is very particular about looking after the coop
herself."
"But they are," gasped Joel. Then he forgot that it was the
minister, and seized his hand. "Please--they're running awfully,
and they'll die, maybe."
Parson Henderson bestowed on him a long searching gaze. "How did
they get out?" he asked.
"I let 'em out," blurted Joel, "and they're all running. Do come,
sir." And he fairly tugged at the minister's hand as if it had
been David's.
The parson went swiftly down the long hall, Joel hanging to his
hand. Just then a voice called down the winding stairs,
_"Jotham! Jotham!"_
It was Miss Jerusha. Joel gave one glance up the stairs, and
held tighter than ever to the minister's hand. "Do come," he
cried, in an agony. "Oh, please! sir."
"Mehitable's chickens are out!" screamed Miss Jerusha, now
appearing at the top of the stairs. She was in a short gown and
petticoat, and had been doing up her hair, having just taken the
ends of the side wisps out of her mouth, where she had conveyed
them for the easier combing of the back locks.
"I know it," said Parson Henderson, quietly; "Joel has just told
me." With that he pressed the little brown hand that was in his
own.
"Go back to your room, Jerusha," he said. "I'll see to the
chickens."
"And there's those other two Pepper children," cried Miss
Jerusha after him, with a tart look at Joel, "all over the place.
And Mehitable is baking a cake for 'em--think of it!"
"Is she baking a cake for us?" cried Joel, finding his tongue,
as the minister, still holding his hand, went out toward the
garden.
"Yes," said Parson Henderson, "she is, Joel."
"And I've let out all her hens and chickens!" cried Joel. "O
dear, dear!" and the tears he couldn't hold back any longer
rained all down his chubby face.
"See here," Parson Henderson stopped a minute, "if you're going
to help me, Joel, you can't cry, that's very certain. Why, I
expect you and I will have every one of those chickens safe and
sound in that coop in--well, in next to no time."
"I'll help you!" cried Joel, dashing off the tears at once, and
swallowing hard. "Oh, do hurry, please, Mr. Henderson," pulling
hard at the kind hand.
"Softly--softly there, Joel, my boy," said the minister. "If
we're going to get those chickens into that coop, we mustn't
scare them to begin with. Now, you run into the barn, and get a
little corn in the quart measure."
So Joel, glad of something to do, dropped the minister's hand,
and ran off at lightning speed, and soon raced back again with
the quart measure half full of corn.
"That's well," said Parson Henderson, approvingly. "Now then,
the first thing to do is to make the mother go back into the
coop. Here, Mrs. Biddy, take a bit of this nice corn." He flung
out a kernel or two to the hen, whose feathers that had started
up in a ruffle and fluff, at sight of Joel, now drooped, and her
excited clacking stopped.
"Keep perfectly still, Joel," said Parson Henderson, over his
shoulder.
All this time, Phronsie and David, at sight of Parson
Henderson's approach, had stood as if frozen to the ground,
never taking their eyes from his face, except to look at Joel.
The parson then went along a few steps nearer to the coop,
scattering one or two kernels as he went. Mistress Biddy eyed
them all wistfully. "Come on," said the minister, gently.
"Cluck--cluck," said the mother hen, sociably, and she waddled
slowly, and picked up the first kernels. These were so good that
she came readily after the next, and so followed the parson, as
he let fall two more. The little fluffy balls, when they saw their
mother so employed, all scampered like mad after her, to surround
her. At last, she was so busily employed, that she didn't notice
that she was running into an angle formed by the coop and the
end of the barn. There was a rush. A sudden squawk, and the
parson emerged from this corner, with Mistress Biddy in his hands.
"Now, Joel, you can help me so much," he said cheerily. "Run and
push up the bar to the coop. Be careful not to let any more
chickens out. There, that's right!" In went Mistress Biddy, who
gave an indignant fluff to her gray feathers, and then cackled
crossly, and the bar flew down into place.
"That's fine!" exclaimed the minister in great satisfaction,
getting up straight again. "Now, Joel, it won't be such a task
to catch the little chickens. Come away from the coop, and
they'll run up when they hear her call," which was indeed the
fact. They soon began to scamper as hard as they could from all
directions as Mistress Biddy set up a smart "cluck, cluck,"
until all of the seven were swarming over each other to get into
the coop to mother.
It was surprising, then, to see the minister's hands; they
seemed to be here, there, and everywhere, and to pounce upon
those little fluffy balls with unerring aim, and presently,
there they were, Joel lifting the bar when bidden, in the coop,
"peeping" away and huddling up to the dear gray feathery nest.
The chickens who hadn't run out came up, as if wanting to hear
the story, and what it was like to be out in the world.
Mr. Henderson sat down on the long grass. "That's a very good
job done, Joel," he said.
Just then the kitchen door opened, and a pleasant voice called,
"Come, Joel and David and Phronsie Pepper, I've got a new baked
cake for you."
XXIII
THE BLACKBERRIES AND THE BULL
"Now, Joel," said Polly, a few days after, "you mustn't tease
for the pie, you know, 'cause Mamsie may not be able to get the
white flour."
"P'r'aps she will," said Joel, swinging his tin pail, and
kicking the sweet fern with his bare feet; "then, Polly, we
could have it, couldn't we?"
"Maybe," said Polly, with her thoughts not so much on blackberry
pie, as how good it was to be out of doors for a whole afternoon.
"Oh, Joe, what a big butterfly!"
"Hoh--that's nothing!" said Joel, who was rather tired of
butterflies. "I'm going to pick bushels and bushels of blackberries,
Polly."
"You'll do well if you pick a quart," said Polly, laughing,
remembering his past experiences. "Oh, Joel, isn't it just
lovely to go blackberrying like this!" and her brown eyes sparkled.
"The bushes scratch like everything," said Joel, with another
kick at the sweet fern.