"What's that 'ere? O my gracious Peters!" as he saw what it was
as well as he was able, for his poor eyes. And getting off from
the team he went to the spot, shaking so in every limb, that he
could hardly walk.
There was no sound beneath the upturned sled, where it lay just
as it had been thrown against the wood-pung, and for one dreadful
moment Farmer Seeley thought the two boys to whom the small legs
and arms belonged were dead, and he shook so his false teeth rattled
in his head, and he sat right down in the snow.
"I must dig 'em out," he said to himself in a cold fright, "for
they've druv their heads clean into the snow, and they may get
stuffocated, if they ain't already dead."
So he did the best he could in that work, proceeding only a
little way, when Joel bounced up suddenly, shook his black hair,
and rubbed his eyes. "Oh, I remember," he said.
"Now, see here--you boy," screamed old Farmer Seeley, angrily,
"I'll have you took up, whoever ye be, a-runnin' into my ox-team,
an' a-buntin' into my wood. Um--I will!"
"Get Dave out," cried Joel, who cared very little for whatever
the old man might say, and pawing the snow wildly. "Help me get
Dave out."
"I can't help none," said the old man, querulously. "I'm stiff
in th' jints, an' beside, you've scart me to death, eenamost."
"Oh--oh!" screamed Joel, in a frightful panic. "Dave--get up,
Dave!"
But David lay like a little log of wood, as still as those on
the old pung.
XXVII
PRINCES AND PRINCESSES
"Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, "don't worry any more about the boys
not coming home; just keep the potatoes hot in the oven." For
Polly had run to the window about a dozen times, wondering where
they could be, and why they didn't come back for dinner.
"They are having a nice time, somewhere, bless their hearts,"
said Mrs. Pepper, with a smile. "I'm so glad the snow has come
early, for they've been longing for it so much." She hadn't felt
so happy and contented for a good while, for besides rejoicing
in her boys' pleasure, Mr. Atkins had given her this very
morning an order to knit as many mittens as she could, and she
even caught herself humming a little tune.
Polly heard her, and ran over to her side. "Oh, Mamsie Pepper!"
she exclaimed, "do sing it," and she threw her arms around her
neck.
"I can't sing now," said Mother Pepper, a little flush coming on
her cheek, "and besides, I don't need to, with you, Polly," and
she smiled fondly on her.
"I'll stop, Mamsie--if you'll only sing to us more," cried Polly.
"Then I never should sing, Polly," declared Mother Pepper, with
a little laugh. "I shouldn't know what to do, child, if I didn't
hear you singing round."
"Shouldn't you, Mammy?" asked Polly, much gratified, and curling
down into a little ball at her mother's feet.
"No, dear, I shouldn't." Mrs. Pepper stopped her work long
enough to lay her hand caressingly on Polly's brown hair. "Why,
it wouldn't seem like the little brown house at all, Polly, and
I don't know what we should any of us do, if you stopped it."
"Then I'll sing always for you, Mamsie," said Polly; "I truly
will."
"So do, child. Well, I must hurry along, or I shan't get time to
begin on those mittens. And just think, Polly, Mr. Atkins has
promised to let me knit as many pairs as I can."
"Mamsie," said Polly, suddenly, and hopping to her feet, "won't
you teach me to knit, and then I can help you."
"Yes," said Mrs. Pepper; "for it's good for you to know how. But
I shan't be willing to have you help me any more than you do now.
I wish you didn't have to work so hard, child," and an anxious
cloud overspread the brightness on Mother Pepper's face.
"Oh, I'm not going to work too hard," cried Polly, with happy
throbs at her mother's words. And she dashed off to her
interrupted work, and Mrs. Pepper smiled, as presently Polly
began to sing so merrily that Phronsie set up a little song,
till the old kitchen was the cosiest place possible. At last, in
a lull, Mother Pepper called, "Polly, what is this stopping at
the gate? Tell him we don't want any," as she saw it was a load
of wood.
Polly ran to the door, and was beginning to say, "We don't want
any wood," when her face turned very white, and she ran over the
snow on unsteady feet. "Oh, Joel, what is it?" throwing her arms
around him. But before he could answer, there was Mrs. Pepper
close behind her.
They lifted Davie down from the pile of wood, where they had
made him as comfortable as possible, Farmer Seeley and Joel;
the old man tried to tell that "'Twarn't none o' my fault. Th' boys
ran into me," but Joel, for the first time in his life, was without words.
"Mamsie, don't feel badly," said little Davie, putting up his
face to be kissed, as her arms received him. Joel flew to Polly
for comfort.
"And Mr. Seeley's nice," said David, who had found out the old
farmer's name on the long, slow, homeward journey, and now
seemed afraid he might be blamed, and not thanked enough.
The old farmer, not hearing this, or indeed much of the talk,
kept saying at intervals, "'Twarn't my fault. I ain't to blame,"
till Mrs. Pepper carried David into the little brown house, and
the others, following mournfully enough, the door was shut.
David was laid up with a sprained ankle, that was all, after the
upset. But Joel found it dismal enough to play out in the snow
alone, and he kept pretty close to the window, so that he could
look up and sing out once in a while to Dave seated by it in
Mamsie's big rocking chair. And pretty soon, one day, Ben
brought Davie out, all bundled up, and set him carefully on the
big sled.
"There you are!" cried Ben, depositing his burden, "as fine as
can be," all the rest of the family flocking around to tuck
David in tighter, and to pull his tippet closer, and to be sure
that he had his mittens on.
"Don't go very far, Joe," cautioned Mrs. Pepper.
"I won't, Mamsie," said Joe, proudly enough, marching off, while
the big sled, with Davie sitting upon it as happy as a king,
came sliding along behind.
"Hooray!" cried a harsh voice, when they had proceeded in this
way for a good distance down the road, David joyfully exclaiming
every minute, "Oh, Joey, it's so good to get out doors again."
"Hooray!" screamed the voice again, and Joel, staring as hard as
he could, saw two boys pop up from behind a stone wall, and come
rushing down toward him, each with a large snowball in his hand.
And the next thing, the snowballs flew through the air, and one
hit David in the neck, and burst all over his tippet. Joel
didn't care that the other one gave him a whack on the head.
"You stop that!" commanded Joel, with a face as red as fire.
"Don't you hit Dave again," and his black eyes flashed.
"We're bigger'n you," sneered one boy, and he picked up some
more snow, and began to roll it into a hard ball.
"No, you ain't, either," contradicted Joel, who never would
acknowledge any one to be bigger than himself. "And you let Dave
alone, I say."
"We're going to push him off th' sled," said the other boy, with
a dreadful grin.
At this Joel looked all around in despair for a moment to see if
any one was coming who would help. "Davie's ankle. O dear me!"
he thought. So he got between the sled and the biggest boy. "You
let him alone!" he cried sturdily, setting his teeth tight
together.
"Hoh--hoh--'fraid-cat--'fraid-cat!" laughed both boys, hopping
about in glee, and singing over and over, '"Fraid-cat--'fraid-cat!"
Joel clenched his little brown hands together tightly. It was
hard work not to fly at them and pommel away. "But Davie's
ankle--dear--dear!" So he held his breath and kept still.
Suddenly both boys made a rush at David, meaning to make him
eat snow and have one ball thrust down his back at one and the
same time, but Joel was too quick for them, and the first thing
they knew, as David gave a scream at their approach, two hard
little fists were pommelling them to right and left.
"Stop it!" they cried. But Joel didn't know how to stop; he
pounded away so much and so fast, and they didn't exactly seem
to know where he was going to strike next, that in a few minutes
both boys were crying as hard as they could.
"'Fraid-cat! 'Fraid-cat!" sang Joel, dancing around them, and
swinging his fists in the liveliest fashion.
"Joel Pepper!" exclaimed a voice, suddenly, that made all the
boys skip, while little Davie shook in much worse apprehension
than he did before. "Fighting in the public road! Well, I never
heard anything so dreadful!"
Joel whirled around, his fists still ready. "I ain't fighting,"
he denied stoutly. It was Miss Jerusha, Parson Henderson's
sister.
"And it's bad enough to fight, without telling a lie about it,"
said Miss Jerusha, holding up her black gloves in horror. "I
ain't fighting. And I didn't tell a lie," declared Joel. "And
you mustn't say so," he added, advancing on her with blazing
eyes.
Miss Jerusha retreated. "You're a very bad boy," she said tartly,
"and I shall have no more to say to you."
"You must say I don't tell a lie," insisted Joel with unpleasant
firmness, and throwing his head back.
"What are you doing, if you're not fighting?" began Miss Jerusha,
loudly; "pray tell."
Joel was just going to say, "They were going to hurt Davie,"
when, before he could get the words out, Polly was seen running
down the road toward them all, her hood flying back on her
shoulders.
"Oh, Joel, what _do_ you think--" she began, when she saw
the two boys, and, worst of all, Miss Jerusha; then she came to
a dead stop.
"Where are your manners?" snapped that lady, wanting to scold
some one. "I'm sure when I was a girl I was pretty spoken, when
I met people."
"How do you do, Miss Jerusha?" asked Polly. Then she couldn't
help regarding the two boys with wide-eyed astonishment; they
dug the toes of their shoes in the snow, and wouldn't look at her.
"She says I told her a lie," blurted Joel, not taking his
blazing eyes from Miss Jerusha's face.
"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly, in the greatest distress. "Joel
couldn't tell a lie, Marm; he never did."
Joel flung his black head higher, but he didn't take his eyes
from Miss Jerusha's face.
"I'm sure I don't know nor care whether he did or not," retorted
Miss Jerusha, shrilly. "And you're very pert, Polly Pepper, to
set yourself up against your elders. When I was a little girl I
never contradicted folks. Never in all the world! What is your
mother thinking of, to bring you up in this way?" And she held
up her black gloves again.
"Polly," called little Davie, where he had been crouching
timidly in the middle of the big sled, "can't we go home?"
"Yes," said Polly, hoarsely. "Joel, come home with me this
minute; don't say another word, Mamsie wouldn't like it," she
commanded. She seized the rope, and Joel, removing his eyes with
the greatest difficulty from Miss Jerusha's face, grasped it, too,
and the little Peppers went as swiftly as they could go, back
home to Mamsie, leaving the other three in the middle of the road.
"O dear!" gasped Polly, as they ran on. Then, "Joel, if we can
only get to Mamsie," while back on the sled Davie trembled with
delight at the very thought.
In front of the little brown house stood a big comfortable
sleigh of the old-fashioned pattern. Although it had once been
very handsome, it was now faded and ancient. A man who almost
looked as if he had gone into service along with the sleigh and
the other belongings of his mistress, sat primly upon the front
seat. He expressed as much pleasure at seeing the little Peppers
coming, as his stoical countenance would allow, but he didn't
move a muscle of face or figure. At any other time Joel would
have howled with delight at seeing Miss Parrott's man sitting
there before the house, and in a sleigh. And it wouldn't have
been a minute before he would have been in that sleigh, and on
that front seat, besieging that stiff figure to let him drive.
But now Joel flew by, dropping the rope, and rushed into the
house, and Polly was left to drag David to the door, and call to
Mamsie to help lift him off. But she stopped to say to Miss
Parrott's man, "I must stop to speak to Mamsie, first, if you
please."
Miss Parrott's man so far forgot the ancient usage of his years
that he rubbed his eyes as Polly turned away, and then he turned
and continued to gaze at her as long as she was to be seen. For
he really could not believe that it was the same little girl who
had danced down the road, with sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks,
and he even glanced nervously around, the more he thought about
it.
"Mamsie!" cried Joel, hoarsely, flinging himself into Mother
Pepper's arms, as she came to the door to meet him, her face
beaming with happiness at the realization that Miss Parrott's
sleigh actually was waiting at the door to take her little ones
for a sleigh-ride, "Mamsie! Miss Jerusha says I told a lie. Did
I, Mammy?" and Joel clutched her and broke into a torrent of
tears.
And then Polly got there, and Davie was lifted off the sled and
carried into the house, and among all three of them the story
was out.
And there was Miss Parrott's man sitting stiffly on the front
seat of the sleigh, only his head was turned, and his eyes were
staring like all possessed at the little brown house.
"Now, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, when there was no more to tell,
and the children gazed at her in amazement to see her so
cheerful, "you just get yourself ready, as soon as ever you can.
Wash your face good, and your eyes, and I'll spring to, and help
Joey and Davie. Phronsie's all ready." Indeed, she was, and
sitting patiently on her little cricket all this time, her small
mittened hands folded in her lap. To Phronsie, every bit of the
fuss of getting ready for a trip was always as much of a delight
as the expedition itself, and was enjoyed with grave pleasure.
"And, dear me!" continued Mother Pepper, in her briskest fashion,
all the while she was washing and patting and pulling the two
boys into just the right condition for such a grand occasion as
this, "there is Miss Parrott's man waiting out there all this
time! Now see how good you can stand still, Joey, and then we'll
be as quick as we can be." And pretty soon they were all ready,
and Joel's swollen nose and red eyes didn't look so very much
as if he had been crying, and Polly's face showed very little trace,
after all, that she had been crying, too. So they all went down to the
gate, Mother Pepper and Polly and Joel carrying David, and
Phronsie walking gravely behind.
"I am very sorry," said Mother Pepper to Miss Parrott's man,
still immovably staring at them, "to keep you waiting. It is not
my children's fault, I should say that." Then she helped them in,
and tucked the big fur robes all nicely around the three on the
back seat. Joel, of course, was by this time snugly settled on
the front seat.
"Now, children," said Mrs. Pepper, regarding them for a moment,
and standing quite still by the roadside, "you are to have the
very nicest time you ever had in all your lives. Remember!" and
she smiled at them, and all the sunbeams that ever shone seemed
to hop right down into their hearts. Miss Parrott's man solemnly
gathered up the reins tighter in his hands, and touched the
horses with the whip with the same dignity, and off they went.
Mrs. Pepper watched the big sleigh till she couldn't see a speck
of it; then she turned and went into the house, took down her
Sunday bonnet and shawl, for this was to be a call of importance,
and soon she had left the little brown house, and was walking
rapidly over the snowy road to the minister's house.
"I must get it over with as soon as I can, and be home before
they get back," she said to herself, going swiftly on.
It wasn't two minutes before Joel was laughing gayly, and
bobbing around with an important air on that front seat to the
others on the back seat, and Polly found herself tossing scraps
of nonsense back at him and the two others, and little Davie
smiled happily. As for Phronsie, she sat wedged in between the
other two, her little mittens folded in her lap, in grave
satisfaction. Miss Parrott's man drew a long breath when all
this was accomplished, and the only word he said for the first
two miles was, "I guess you're all right _now_."
Where they went, no one of the four little Peppers could have
told. It all seemed like Fairyland, a great enchanted space of
winding snowy roads, dazzling in the morning sunlight of a
perfect winter day; every little crystal sparkling away on a
pine tree, where it had to melt away, seemed to come out and
wink at them, as the stately horses bore them along. All the fields
sleeping under their soft, white blankets, were new to the Peppers
gliding by. That surely was not Deacon Brown's field, where they
used to race across lots, on a summer day! And as for that being
Mr. Blodgett's meadow--why! no one need ever tell them so; it
was enchanted ground, and they were princes and princesses
whirling by in their chariots.
"Let's play so," cried Polly, suddenly, and leaning back against
the padded cushion, feeling very glad indeed.
"What, Polly!" cried Joel, wheeling around, at the imminent
danger of tumbling out backward, and astonished that Polly
should want to play anything when they were enveloped with such
richness of enjoyment.
"Oh, that we were princesses and princes," answered Polly, with
a grand air, "and we were riding through our kingdom in a big
chariot."
"Oh, yes, let's--let's!" screamed Joel, "and I'm the biggest
prince," he announced, with another shout. "I wished I had a
feather in my cap," he added ruefully, remembering the splendid
one that Grandma Bascom's rooster had furnished for a former occasion,
when Polly decked him out a prince, and that was tucked away in
his box of treasures in the woodshed,--"O dear! if I'd only
brought it!"
"But we haven't got our things," said Polly, quickly, "so you
must just play it, Joel. That's as good as having the feather."
"I think it's heaven," said little Davie, with a long breath,
hanging out as far as he could over his side of the back seat.
"Polly, isn't it?"
"Yes, dear," said Polly, leaning past Phronsie to drop him a
kiss, which, by reason of the big sleigh going just then over a
hump of frozen snow, fell on the tip of his nose. This made him
laugh, and then Polly laughed, and Phronsie came out of her
grave delight, to gurgle her amusement; and Joel, hearing them
all have such a funny time back there, bobbed around again, and
_he_ laughed, though he never found out what it was all about.
And Miss Parrott's man learned more about princesses and princes
and golden chariots and Fairyland and enchanted things and
places in general than he ever heard in his life before, and when
at last they glided into Badgertown Centre, it really seemed as if
the cup of happiness would overflow.
"Polly," cried little David, his cheeks aflame under his woollen
cap that was drawn close around his ears, and sitting quite
erect as a prince should, "the people are all coming out to meet
us--the queen and king have sent us to do the errands; haven't
they, Polly?"
"Yes," cried Polly, delighted at the idea. "Oh, let's play
that!" So the four little Peppers drove down Badgertown main
street, where all the shops were, and old Mr. Beebe happened to
be standing by his little window watching for customers. "Ma--Ma!"
he screamed, "here's the Pepperses goin' by in a sleigh; it's Miss
Parrottses, I do declare."
And Mrs. Beebe, stopping to put on her best cap with the pink
ribbons before she ran out from the little parlor back of the
shop, of course didn't get there till long after the triumphal
procession was over. And of all the people who stared and
rejoiced in their happiness,--for there wasn't one who saw them
who didn't feel glad, down to the tips of the fingers and toes,
that the Peppers were going a-pleasuring,--no one of them all
suspected that it was a chariot load of princes and princesses
gliding by.
At last it was all over, and the golden chariot paused before
the little brown house. Polly and Joel carried David over the
snowy path, while Phronsie ran ahead like a mad little thing.
And so they all rushed in, royalty dropping off at the old flat
door stone.
"We've been princes," cried Joel, as Polly set Davie down, and
stamping the snow, gathered on the royal rush over the yard,
from his feet, "and I was the biggest prince."
"I was the best," declared David, twitching off his cap that had
gotten knocked over his eyes in the scramble to carry him in.
"Mamsie, I truly was."
"Oh, Mamsie!" cried Polly, dancing around the kitchen on happy
feet, her eyes glowing like stars, "it was perfectly gorgeous!"
for Polly dearly loved fine words, and she thought nothing could
be too grand for this occasion.
"And I was a princess," piped Phronsie, crowding up to hold fast
to her mother's gown. "I truly was, Mamsie. Polly said so."
"So you were," declared Mamsie, smiling happily on her whole
brood; "but then, you mustn't ever forget, children, that it's
well enough to be princes and princesses once in a while, but
you're my little brown house people every day."
End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Joel Pepper, by Margaret Sidney