Davie, who was pattering ahead, "and good night, Joey."
"Good night," snivelled Joel. "O dear me, I don't want Dave to
go. Well, anyway, he ain't goin' away ever again, Polly Pepper--so
there!"
The next morning, as soon as it was light enough to see them,
Joel picked up all his crickets. It was no easy matter, for they
made him an awful piece of work, hopping and jumping into all
the corners; and, just as soon as his thumb and fingers were on
them--away they were off again. But Ben had said every one must
go. So at it Joel kept, until the perspiration just rolled from
his tired, hot face.
"I don't like 'em, Polly," he confided, when the last one was
escorted out of doors, "and I ain't ever goin' to bring one in
again."
"I wouldn't, Joe," said Polly, "and it isn't nice to scare folks,
I think."
"I think so, too," said Phronsie, with a wise nod of her yellow
head, as she sat on the floor, playing with David.
"Think what, Phronsie?" cried Joel, suddenly.
"What Polly said," replied Phronsie, patting Seraphina, who was
being shown the pictures in a bit of old newspaper that David
was pretending to read.
"Hoh! Hoh!" cried Joel, bursting into a laugh. "You don't know
whatever you're talking about, Phron. Does she, Polly?"
"Don't tease her," said Polly; but Phronsie didn't hear, being
absorbed in correcting Seraphina, who had wobbled over on her
back instead of sitting up elegantly to view the pictures.
Joel ran down the next day to see Mrs. Beebe, Mother Pepper
giving the long-desired permission. Davie had a little sore
throat, and he much preferred to stay near Mamsie's chair.
"Now, Joe, remember to be good," warned Mother Pepper, the last
thing, when he had been washed and dressed and brushed and
declared quite prepared.
"I'm going to be always good," declared Joel. "I ain't ever
going to be like Ab'm," he added in disgust.
"Joel," reproved Mrs. Pepper, sternly, "don't judge other folks;
it's enough for you to do to look out for yourself."
Joel hung his head, abashed.
"Well, good-by," said Mrs. Pepper, the stern lines on her face
breaking into a smile.
"Good-by, Mamsie!" Joel flew back suddenly, to throw his arms
around her neck, then he rushed up to do the same thing to Polly,
and then to Phronsie.
"Don't kiss David," said his mother, "'cause you may take his
throat."
"Then I want to kiss him," cried Joel. "Mayn't I, Mammy?" he
wheedled. "I don't want Dave to have it."
"Oh, he'd have it just as much," said Mrs. Pepper, sewing away
for dear life.
"How could he?" cried Joel, in great astonishment, and standing
quite still. "Say, Mammy, how could he, if I took it?"
"You'd find if you took it there'd be quite enough sore throat
for two," answered Mrs. Pepper. "Well, run along, Joe, you
wouldn't understand, and 'tisn't necessary that you should; only
you are to do as I say, that's all."
So Joel ran off, waving a good-by to David; and since he was not
allowed to kiss him, he gave a rousing "Hooray," which delighted
little Davie greatly, as he stood, his face pressed to the
window, to see him go.
Once within Mrs. Beebe's home, it was enchantment enough. It was
a good afternoon for the shoe business, Mr. Beebe having two
customers. One of them was a very fussy woman who had a small
boy in charge. Joel was in high glee at being called upon to
help lift down ever so many boxes, until pretty near every shoe in
the stock was tried on. Mrs. Beebe kept coming out of the little
parlor at the back of the shop, and saying, "Ain't you through
with Joel yet, Pa?" all of which made Joel feel very important,
indeed, and almost decided him to keep a shoe shop, when he grew
up, instead of being a stage-coach driver.
"No," said Mr. Beebe, shortly, "I ain't through with him, Ma.
He's a master hand at getting them boxes down."
"Hain't you got a pair a little mite broader across the toes?"
asked the woman. "Stand up and stamp in 'em, Johnny." So Johnny
stood up and stamped in the new shoes.
"Real hard," said his mother. So he stamped real hard.
"I'd druther have another pair a mite broader," said the woman,
discontentedly.
"I showed you some broader ones," said old Mr. Beebe. "Well,
Joel, my boy, you'll have to climb up and hand down that box up
in the corner. P'r'aps some of those will suit."
So Joel, who wished he could be there every day in the year, and
that that woman would all the time bring in boys who wanted different
shoes from any that Mr. Beebe had, climbed up like a squirrel and
brought the box to Mr. Beebe.
"Now, Marm," said the shoe-store keeper, deftly whipping a good
roomy pair, "I guess these are about what you want," and he
laughed cheerily.
"No, they ain't either," said Johnny's mother, snappishly taking
them, and viewing them critically, "they're big as all out doors,
Mr. Beebe."
"Well, he wants 'em to wear out o' doors, don't he?" said Mr.
Beebe, "so I guess they'll suit, at last."
"Well, they won't," said the woman, "an' you needn't try 'em on,
Johnny. They're a sight bigger'n they orter be. I guess I can
tell soon's I see a shoe."
"Can't Joel come now, Pa?" asked old Mrs. Beebe, presenting her
cap-border in the doorway again. It was quite fine, with new
pink ribbons which she had put on because she had company.
"Yes, pretty soon, Ma," replied her husband, quite worn out.
"Well, I'm sure I'm sorry I can't suit you, Marm," turning to
the woman, "but I honestly can't, for I've shown you every
shoe in my shop. Here, Joel, we'll begin and pack 'em up again,"
he said, sorting the pairs out from the pile on the counter that ran
across the side of the shop, and slinging them by the string that
tied them together, over his arm.
"I'll see that pair," said the woman, suddenly, touching one as
it dangled over Mr. Beebe's arm.
"All right, Marm," said Mr. Beebe, most obligingly. So he knelt
down before Johnny again, and pulled on the shoes, and Johnny's
mother told the boy to stand up and stamp in 'em, all of which
was performed, and old Mr. Beebe got up and pulled out his
bandanna and wiped his hot face.
"Now that's somethin' like," said the woman, with a bob of her
head, while her little eyes twinkled. "I guess I know the right
shoe, as well as the next one. Why didn't you show 'em to me
before?" she snapped.
"You've had them shoes on twice before," said Mr. Beebe, "or at
least the boy has, and first they were too broad, and then they
were too narrer."
"Well, I'll take 'em, anyway, now," said the woman, laying down
the money, "and I guess I know, as well as the next one, whether
my boy's tried on shoes or not."
"Now, Joel," said old Mr. Beebe, when the little green door with
its jangling bell had really closed on her and on Johnny, "as
soon as we get these shoes back again in the boxes, you better
run into th' parler, 'cause Ma's been a-waitin' considerable."
Joel, much divided in his mind whether he would rather stay in
the shop altogether, with the delightful shoes, or go out and
spend half of the time with Mrs. Beebe and the doughnuts and
pink and white sticks he felt almost sure were waiting for him,
came to the conclusion that he really couldn't decide which was
the more delightful; and then the shop-door bell jangled again,
and there was another customer.
This time it was a little thin old man, and although he came
from another town, he seemed to be a great friend of Mr. Beebe's,
who now joyfully welcomed him.
"Well, I declare, if 'tain't Obadiah Andrews!" exclaimed the
shoe-shop keeper, radiantly, taking a good look at the newcomer.
"I haven't seen you for a week o' Sundays, Obadiah."
"Nor I hain't seen you," declared the little man, just as well
pleased, and sitting down gladly. "I'm most beat out, a-gittin'
here, so I want some new shoes, Jotham, and I cal'late I'll get
'em about as nice as they make 'em here."
"I cal'late so, too, Obadiah," said old Mr. Beebe, rubbing his
hands together in a pleased way. "Now, Joel, we'll get down all
the shoes on this side," and he ambled across the shop, "an' you
can put up the boys' sizes, afterwards, if you want to."
"Pa, ain't you most through with Joel? Oh, why, here's Mr.
Andrews!" exclaimed Mrs. Beebe. Then she came into the little
shop and sat down, while Mr. Beebe and Joel got out the shoes
that were to be tried on. "It's so nice that I can pass the time
o' day with you, meanwhilst," she observed.
But it didn't take very long to satisfy old Mr. Andrews. As soon
as the first shoe was pulled on he declared it was just right,
although the shoe-shop keeper offered to try on the others.
"P'r'aps these'll pinch when you get home," suggested Mr. Beebe,
anxiously, "or somethin' else as bad will be the matter with
'em." But the little old man said, "No; do 'em up, Jotham."
So the shoes were rolled in paper, and tied with a red string,
and then Mr. Obadiah Andrews said, "Now I'm a-goin' to set an'
visit, and pass the time o' day with you, Jotham."
"So do," cried old Mr. Beebe, delightedly, counting out the
change. "Now, Joel, you can pile all them shoes back, and then
finish the boys' sizes, if you want to; and after that, Ma, he
can go into the parlor, and be company to you."
When Mrs. Beebe and Joel finally got into the parlor, leaving
the two old friends talking busily, there only remained ten
minutes before it was time to go home.
"O dear me!" exclaimed old Mrs. Beebe, quite aghast, as she
glanced at the clock. "Well, you must obey your Ma, and the only
thing I see out of it is, you must come again." So she stuffed
into a paper bag all the pink and white sticks and doughnuts
that were piled so nicely, in a company fashion, on a blue plate.
"There," she said, smothering her disappointment as best she
could, "take these home with you, and tell your Ma I expect you
again, some day. We can't help it, 'cause Pa's been so busy,"
as Joel ran off.
"I've sold shoes all the afternoon," he screamed, rushing into
the little brown house, and for a moment forgetting the paper
bag and its precious contents. Then it came ever him in a burst.
"Look at this!" swinging it over Polly's brown head. She bobbed
it up suddenly. "Look out!" screamed Joel, but too late; Polly's
brown head bumped into the bag, and away it spun, and the
doughnuts and pink and white sticks went flying all over the
kitchen floor.
"Now, that's too bad," cried Polly, jumping up to help pick them
up. "Oh, Joel, what a perfectly splendid lot!"
"Ain't it!" said Joel, his mouth watering to begin on them.
"Here's one more," spying a pink stick behind Mamsie's chair.
"Here 'tis. I've got it!" emerging in triumph, and holding it
fast. "Where's Phronsie and Dave?"
"Over at Grandma's," said Polly.
"O dear!" began Joel, then he thought a minute. "I'm going to
take Grandma a doughnut, Polly," he cried, dancing off, and
swinging the bag, into which he had crammed all the "goodies."
He heard Phronsie singing to Grandma, which she was very fond of
doing, and perched up on the side of the bed, Grandma smiling
away, as well pleased as though she heard every word.
"Dave," screamed Joel, bounding in, and swinging the bag, "you
don't know what I've got," and he hopped up on the bed between
Grandma and Phronsie.
When Davie saw that, he got out of his chair and speedily hopped
up on the bed, too. Grandma laughed till the tears rolled down
her cheeks.
"I guess you'll laugh more yet, Grandma," declared Joel,
untwisting the top of his bag, and bringing a pair of bright
black eyes very close to it to peer within. "It's perfectly
splendid!" he cried, holding his hands so no one else could see.
"Oh, Joey, do show us!" cried Phronsie, getting up to kneel on
the patched bedquilt, to look over his arm.
"You may take one peek," decided Joel, suddenly, bringing his
eyes away from the mouth of the bag to gaze at them. "Grandma
must have the first one; then you must guess what it is."
"I guess it's doughnuts," said little Davie, "'cause you've been
to Mrs. Beebe's, and besides, I smell 'em." Grandma smiled all
the time, just as happily as if she had heard everything that
had been said.
"There's something else," said Joel, emphatically, "but 'tisn't
your guess. Now, Grandma," he held the bag close up to the old
lady's cap-border, "look!"
"My!" exclaimed the old lady. "What you got, Joel?" as he
twitched away the bag.
"Didn't you see?" cried Joel; "well, you may have one more peek,
'cause you are Grandma," and he brought it up again before her
eyes.
"Doughnuts?" said Grandma. "My sakes! where'd you get 'em?"
"You may have one," said Joel, peering into the depths of the
bag to fish out a good-sized one, that was sugary all over,
which he dropped in her hands.
"Give me one," begged Phronsie, holding out both hands.
"In a minute," said Joel. "Now, Grandma, what else is in here?"
giving the bag a shake.
"Hey?" asked Grandma; "speak louder, Joel."
"O dear me! I can't speak so's she'll hear," said Joel, in
despair, to the others. So he shook the bag again, when the
bottom of it came out, and away the doughnuts and pink and white
sticks flew, and rolled all over the patched bed-quilt.
"There, now," said Joel, in disgust; "there isn't any use in
anybody's guessing anything. But we can eat 'em now," he added,
brightening.
XXVI
MISS PARROTT'S COACH AND THE COASTING
It was snowing tiny flakes when Joel's eyes popped open, and
the small, feathery things whirled against the little paned
window, as if they would very much like to come in.
"Dave--Dave!" cried Joel, poking him, "get up--it's snowing!"
David's eyes flew quite wide at that, and he sat up at once. "Oh,
Joel," he squealed, as he watched the flakes, "ain't they
pretty!"
"Um! I guess so," said Joel, springing into his clothes;
"they're nice for snowballs and to slide on, anyway."
David reached over for one blue woollen stocking on the floor by
the side of the bed, and sat quite still with it in his hand,
regarding the snowy whirl.
"You ain't got dressed a bit," cried Joel, spinning around, "and
I'm all ready."
"So will I be all ready," cried little David, pulling on the
stocking with all haste, and flying at the rest of his clothes with
alacrity. "Wait, Joe--do," as Joel began to clatter downstairs.
"Can't," said Joel, racing off, "I'm going to get the sled."
"Wa-it," called Davie, half crying.
But Joel was in the woodshed, hauling out the precious sled that
Ben had made for the boys out of some boards and old sleigh
runners that had been given him. He was dragging it out with a
dreadful noise from the corner where it had stayed all summer,
when Polly came running out.
"I don't believe it's going to snow much," she said, squinting
at the feathery specks. "You won't want your sled to-day, boys."
"I'm goin' to have it ready," said Joel, with another pull.
"Well, I'll help you," said Polly, taking hold of one end. "Dear
me, I do think this is the most splendid sled in all the world,"
she exclaimed enthusiastically. "I don't see how Ben could make
it so nice."
"Ben can do anything," declared Joel, tugging away.
"I know it," said Polly, with pride. "Well, I wish he had time
to go coasting all he wants to," she added sorrowfully.
"Maybe he will have, this winter," suggested Joel, who never
could bear to see Polly sad.
"P'r'aps," said Polly; "but there's always wood to chop in the
winter, Joe. There--here it comes!" as the big sled tumbled out
with a rush, to be dragged into the middle of the woodshed floor.
David now came running downstairs, and Phronsie, hearing that
the sled was to be drawn out, pattered into the woodshed, too.
"Oh, Polly," she cried in rapture, "now I'm going out to ride on
it this very minute," and she danced round and round, clapping
her hands in glee.
"O dear me!" cried Polly, pointing out of the little low window.
"See, Phronsie, there's only the leastest little bit of snow.
Why, I do verily b'lieve it's going to stop."
At this dreadful suggestion, every one of the little Peppers in
the woodshed rushed to the window, and Joel flung wide the door,
so that a cold blast, carrying a feathery cloud of little flakes,
swept in.
"Oh, Joel!" exclaimed Polly, "shut the door, Phronsie'll catch
cold." Joel was already out in the house-place, dancing about,
declaring it was going to be awful deep, and they could make a
snow man soon, he guessed; so little Davie ran and pushed to the
door, shutting off all chance of hearing the rest of what he was
saying. He was gone some time, and the others ran into the
kitchen, for Polly declared they would get no breakfast that day
if she did not hurry up, and David and Phronsie thought it much
nicer to watch the snowstorm from those windows than from the
little tucked-up window in the woodshed. The consequence was
that Joel ran in just as they had begun breakfast, in a fine
glow, his cheeks very red, and his chubby nose as well. "Why
didn't you come?" he demanded, with sparkling eyes.
"Where?" cried Polly. "Oh, Joe, what have you been doing? Your
face is as red as fire."
"And your nose is red, too," said David.
"I don't care," said Joel, slipping into his seat. "Give me some
mush, Polly, do!" he begged hungrily, passing his bowl. "Oh,
'twas just prime, I tell you!"
"What?" asked Polly, quickly. "You keep saying it's fine, and
don't tell us what you've been doing. That isn't polite," she
added, for Polly was quite particular as to her manners, and
liked to be very genteel before the other children.
"Oh, I've been riding in Miss Parrott's coach," said Joel,
trying to appear as if this were an everyday occurrence, and
eating on as if nothing had happened. Miss Parrott lived in an
old ancestral house, about two miles from Badgertown. She was
very rich, but kept entirely to herself, and drove about in an
ancient coach, the envy of all the villagers. "And I called you
all to come, and you wouldn't."
"Oh, Joel Pepper!" cried Polly, greatly shocked to think of the
splendid chance they all had missed, and dropping the big spoon
with which she was serving the mush, "you never called us one
single bit!"
"No, you never did!" added David, solemnly, and looking at Polly
with all his eyes.
"Never did!" echoed Phronsie, shaking her yellow head positively.
"Polly, I want some more mush, I do."
"Yes, I did, too," spoke up Joel, loudly.
"Joel!" reproved Mother Pepper.
"Well, I did, Mamsie," repeated Joel, in a very injured tone. "I
called just like this, 'come quick! and ride in Miss Parrott's
coach;' so there!"
"O dear me!" cried Polly, passionately, sitting back in her
chair, "I'd rather have gone in that coach than have done
anything else, and now you've been, and we never'll get a chance
again. Never in all this world!"
"How did it happen, Joel?" asked Ben. "Do tell the whole story
from the beginning."
"Why, you see it was this way," began Joel. "Polly, give me some
more mush, do," passing his bowl.
"O dear me, do tell first, Joe," cried Polly, impatiently. "I
don't know where the spoon is," for the big spoon had tumbled
off to the floor, and she hadn't seen it go in the excitement.
"Joel, get a clean one," said Mrs. Pepper, "and then pick up the
other; it's likely it fell down."
So Joel hopped out of his chair and got a clean spoon for Polly,
and then dived under the table and came back with the other
spoon. "Now begin and tell us all about it," said his mother.
"No, Polly, you needn't help him the mush till he's told."
So Joel, seeing he wasn't to get the mush until the whole story
how he got his ride in the Parrott coach was related, began at
once, and rattled it off as fast as he could. "The--man--that--
drives--it--stopped--an'--I--was--in--th'--yard--an'--he--said--
don't--you--wanter--all--hands--o'--you children--to drive--
I've--got--to drive a--piece--down th'--road--an' I--called--
and--called--you--an'--we--went--an'--that's all. Now give me
some mush!"
"If we only had known!" mourned Polly, clasping her hands. "Is
it lined with green satin, Joel?" she asked suddenly.
"I don't understand," said Mrs. Pepper, in a puzzled way. "Where
were you, Joel, when Miss Parrott's man asked you? And you
didn't go bareheaded, and without your coat?"
"Out in the yard, Mamsie," answered Joel. "Polly, do give me
some mush," for Polly was so absorbed waiting to hear if Miss
Parrott's coach was really lined with green satin, that she had
forgotten all about Joe and his breakfast. So now she hastily
dipped out the mush into the bowl that was waiting for it. "Is it
really lined with green satin, Joel?" she cried breathlessly.
"I don't know," said Joel, all his attention upon his bowl of
mush.
"I most know it is," said Polly, leaning her elbows on the table,
and her head upon her hands, to think how it would really seem
to be riding in a coach lined with green satin.
"And now I never shall go," she ended.
"Why didn't you come back for us?" asked David, suddenly. He
hadn't eaten anything since Joel had rushed in with the
wonderful story, and between Polly's disappointment and his own,
was in a great state of distress.
"Oh, I thought you were coming right off," said Joel, swallowing
rapid mouthfuls; "and then, when I got into the coach, the man
that drives Miss Parrott said he couldn't wait no longer."
"Any longer, you mean," corrected Mrs. Pepper.
"Yes'm," said Joel; "and then we drove off."
"You see, we had to shut the door to the woodshed," said Polly,
"'cause Phronsie would catch cold if we didn't, and we didn't
hear a single word when you called, Joel Pepper; not a single
one!"
"Where'd you go?" asked David, suddenly.
"Oh, down to the Centre," said Joel, "to two--no, I guess four stores,
and then he brought me home--that is, almost home. He dropped
me at the corner."
"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly.
"Oh, jolly! look at the snow!" screamed Joel, flying out of his
chair. And sure enough, while they had been so engrossed, there
it had been coming down faster and faster, until it was a
powdery veil, almost too thick to see through.
So somewhere in the middle of the morning, Joel and David
started off with their sled, drawing on their mittens with the
greatest satisfaction, and bobbing good-by to the others
watching them from the windows.
All went well, until Joe proposed that they should go to Simon's
Hill, a long steep thoroughfare some two miles distant, that
swung at the bottom very abruptly into the turnpike. And
trudging off there, they climbed it with despatch, and began to
coast down.
"Oh, whickets!" cried Joel, who was steering, little Davie hanging
on behind, more than three-quarters afraid, though he wouldn't let
Joel see it for all the world. "Gee-haw-gee-haw-whee-dimp-dump,"
as they flew over the rises, bumping and twisting from side to side.
[Illustration: "GEE-HAW-GEE-HAW-WHEE-DIMP-DUMP"]
"Oh, take care, Joe," screamed David, in terror, "we most went
over," for on one side the road ran down abruptly into a thicket
of evergreen and scrub oaks.
"Hoh, we're going straight!" sang out Joel, "you're always such
a 'fraid-cat, David Pepper."
"I ain't a 'fraid-cat," protested Davie, "and I want to go home
to mother."
"Well, you are going down again, eleven, no, I guess sixty
times," declared Joel, "after this. Gee-whiz-bump-bump-bang!"
This last was brought out of him by a sudden slewing to the side,
where the slope ran off to the evergreen, scrub oak thicket; but
Joel missed the edge by about an inch, so he screamed with
delight, and whizzed safely down the rest of the hill.
"I ain't going down ever again," said David, "not once, Joel,"
as they flew along and the cold air swept his pale cheeks.
Just then, along the turnpike toward the abrupt turn of the
hill-road, was coming an ox-pung, loaded with wood, and driven
by old Farmer Seeley, who was almost as blind as a bat and deaf
as a post.
"Hi!" screamed Joel, whizzing along. "See us come down," but
Farmer Seeley neither saw nor heard, and just then he concluded
to steer his team up as near as possible to the hill-road. Joel
saw this, and yelled, but he might as well have screamed to the
hill. It was all done in a moment. Down flew the clumsy home-made
sled, that couldn't be turned in a second; Joel frantically
steering to get past the big awkward team, that was blocking up
the way, David clinging to him in a dumb helpless terror.
Z-z-rr-thud! and the first thing that old Farmer Seeley knew, four
small arms and legs were waving frantically in the air, and
thrown suddenly, with a mixture of boards and runners, against
the ox-team of wood, with an awful crash; and then all was still.