what he’d like, Joe.”
“Yes, that’s the way to do,” said Polly, approvingly, and trying to
whirl around on her piano stool, which she couldn’t do very well as it
was a stiff wooden chair. “Each one just take turns and choose. But
then, O dear me, we ought to have let you choose first, Jasper, ’cause
you’ve come over from Hingham to spend the day with us; O dear me!”
Poor Polly, who dearly loved to be hospitable, was now so mortified
not to do Mamsie credit by having good manners, that the color went
clear up to her brown hair, and she sat quite still in distress.
“See here,” said Jasper, quickly, “I didn’t want to choose first, for
I’m not company, Polly; I’m just living in the Little Brown House
to-day, and I’m your big brother.”
“Oh, oh!” screamed Joel, forgetting all about his desire to dance, and
deserting Phronsie to rush over to Jasper, “are you our big brother,
Jappy? are you really?”
“Yes,” said Jasper, eagerly, “I am; that is, if you’ll all have me,”
and his gray eyes shone.
“Oh, we will, we will,” screamed Joel. “Oh, Dave, Jappy’s our big
brother. Now we’ve got two.”
And presently, the three younger little Peppers were clinging to him,
for Phronsie was soon acquainted with the blissful news by Davie
screaming it rapturously into her ear. And Polly hopped off from her
piano stool to seize Jasper’s hand, declaring, “Oh, how fine! Jappy’s
really to be our big brother. Ben’ll be so glad,” and so the compact
was signed at once.
“Well, now, we must begin and choose what Polly is to play,” said
Jasper at last, when this was all settled, and feeling very fine and
big to be considered one of the Little-Brown-House family; “who’s
next,--Davie?”
“Yes,” said David, “I am,” and he came over to the old table, where
Polly was seating herself again before her piano. “Please play that
little brook piece, Polly,” he said softly.
“Oh, how nice,” said Jasper, approvingly; “what’s the name, Polly?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, with rosy cheeks, and beginning to play.
“She just makes it,” said little Davie, and coming around back of
Polly, to gaze up into Jasper’s face, “and then she plays it, and the
water runs all over the stones; you’ll see,” and having communicated
this piece of information, he hurried back to slip up close to Polly on
her other side again.
“Did you make it up in your head, Polly?” cried Jasper, admiringly. “O
dear me, I wish I could ever do that. All I can do is to play stupid
old pieces that I learn.”
“Oh, this isn’t much, Jasper, only Davie likes it,” said Polly, all in
a tremor at having Jasper find out that she made it up.
“Well, I don’t like it,” said Joel, hanging back discontentedly
from the group; “it’s dreadful soft and squashing; I’d rather have
something nice.”
“Look here, sir,” Jasper turned on him, “you’ve had your piece, Joe.
Now I just know that I shall like this best.”
To have Jasper like the new choice best invested it at once in Joel’s
mind with new interest, and he drew nearer, not taking his black eyes
off once from the new big brother’s face.
And Polly, since she must play her own piece, made up in her head,
remembered what Mother Pepper always said, “Do everything just the best
you know how, Polly.” And so she sat quite straight, and sang away, and
made her fingers run up here and there, all along the old table front,
and she even put in a great many more tumbles of the water over the
stones, than little Davie had ever dreamed of. And then she sat back in
the old wooden chair and drew a long breath.
“O dear me!” exclaimed Jasper, excitedly, “I’d give anything, Polly
Pepper, to play like that; and to think you made it up out of your own
head. It’s too splendid for anything!” and his eyes shone.
“Isn’t it?” Little David ran out of his place by Polly’s side over
again to Jasper. “Isn’t it, Jappy?” he cried, his blue eyes very big,
and hopping up and down in front of him.
“I should say it was!” cried Jasper, taking Davie’s hands for a good
spin in the middle of the floor; “it’s just too splendid for anything,
Davie Pepper,” he repeated, enthusiastically.
“I like it,” said Joel, veering around. Then he ran over to the two
whirling about. “He’s my big brother’s much as yours, Dave Pepper,” and
he crowded in to get hold of Jasper’s hand, and spin too.
“So you shall,” declared Jasper, well pleased to be adopted into all
the comradeship of the Little Brown House. “Now, then, Joe; I’ll give
you a spin that is one!”
And Polly flew off from her piano stool and ran over with Phronsie for
the fun, and there they all were, capering about, until, flushed and
out of breath, the whole bunch of children stopped short.
“O dear me!” exclaimed Polly, pushing back the little rings of brown
hair from her forehead, “that was just splendid, only I’m afraid we’ve
tired Phronsie to death,” throwing her arms about her.
“I’m not tired, Polly,” panted Phronsie, her cheeks very pink; “please
do so some more.”
“Come, now!” cried Polly, “you mustn’t dance any more. You’re all tired
out. Mamsie wouldn’t want you to.”
That Mamsie wouldn’t want her to was sufficient reason why Phronsie
shouldn’t dance any more at present, so she dropped her little pink
calico skirt that she had gathered up, and stood still obediently.
“I’ll tell you,” said Jasper, seeing her face, “what you might do, when
you’re rested; when it’s my turn to choose a piece for Polly to play,
then you can dance to it.”
Everybody shouted at that, they were so pleased to find that Phronsie
was not really to be disappointed, and Phronsie, dreadfully excited,
began to hop up and down, “Polly’s going to play, and I’m going to
dance, I am.”
And then she chose her piece, for of course it was her turn next. And
it was just what Polly and the two boys knew it would be, the goodnight
song Mrs. Pepper used to croon to her baby, “Hush, my dear, lie still
and slumber.”
“Oh, yes, Phronsie, I’ll play, ‘Hush, my dear,’” said Polly, who saw
the words coming long before Phronsie opened her red lips. And Phronsie
very gravely stood close to her side, while Polly sang it through and
through; each time that she tried to stop, Phronsie would say “again”
and pull Polly’s brown calico gown.
At last, Joel was worn out waiting for Polly to get through, and Davie
was in a condition that was not much better, so Jasper broke in, “Now
it’s my turn to choose” and the one he begged for was “Old Kentucky
Home.”
“I think that’s beautiful,” said Polly, pushing back her sleeves, to
begin afresh, while Phronsie, seeing that she was not to get any more
“Hush, my dear,” went off to sit down on her little stool and think it
all over. She was only roused by Jasper singing out, “Now, then, for
your dance, Phronsie!” and there he was holding out his hand.
So Phronsie hurried off to her dance, and Polly began on the liveliest
of jigs, every now and then looking over her shoulder, to be sure to
keep good time; for Phronsie, who always wanted to make cheeses when
very happy, would puff out, without a bit of warning, the skirt of her
little pink calico gown in the very midst of the measure, and down she
would sink to the old floor, to bob up and dance again.
“It’s perfectly awful to keep time to her,” said Polly, who dearly
loved to be exact about things, especially with a tune.
“I know it,” said Jasper, sympathetically, “but oh, she’s so sweet!”
“Isn’t she?” cried Polly, with shining eyes, and beginning to play away
with new vigor.
But at last Phronsie must be stopped, for Mamsie would surely say so if
she were home. And then Polly had to hold her, as with flushed cheeks
she begged to be taken up into her lap, and then the music-stool was
taken away and the grand piano became an old kitchen table once more.
“And now,” said Polly, “if Ben would only come, we could have our
baking, Jasper. O dear, I wish he would!”
“I’m going to watch outside,” said Joel, prancing off to the door.
“That won’t make him come any quicker,” said Jasper. “Can’t we help
about something, Polly?” He wrinkled his brows and gazed around the old
kitchen.
“No,” said Polly, following his gaze, “there isn’t anything to do,
but--” then she stopped.
“Oh, what?” cried Jasper, eagerly, and hanging over her chair where she
sat with Phronsie.
“Oh, you can’t do it,” said Polly, wishing she had bitten the end of
her tongue before she had spoken.
“But we can, Polly,” insisted Jasper, “I know we can. Do tell what it
is,” he begged.
“Why, Mamsie is going to ask Ben to fill the tub in the ‘Provision
Room’ with water to wash to-morrow, and I’m going to help her.”
“Oh, Polly, do you wash things?” asked Jasper, looking admiringly at
her fingers, now smoothing Phronsie’s yellow hair.
“Yes, indeed!” answered Polly, proudly. “I can do them real nicely,
Mamsie says.” Then she blushed at her own praise and hung her head.
“Oh!” exclaimed Jasper, “how I wish I could help! Does Ben wash things,
too?”
“Oh, yes, indeed!” said Polly. “You ought to see him. He ties on one of
Mamsie’s aprons. Ben washes all the sheets; they’re the biggest things,
you know. And he wrings them out, and then we all go outdoors and have
great fun pinning them to the line. And Phronsie has a little string;
haven’t you seen the hook out on the side of the woodshed? And we
fasten it up for her, and she washes all her doll’s clothes. Oh, it’s
such fun!” Polly clasped her hands around her knees and drew a long
breath.
“You do have such good times,” said Jasper, enviously. “O dear me, and
I’ve never had a sister or brother.”
Down dropped Polly’s hands, “Oh, I forgot,” she said.
“I mean a little sister, or near my own age,” corrected Jasper. “Sister
Marion is just as nice as she can be,” and his gray eyes glowed. “You
ought to see her, Polly; you’d love her dearly, but she’s ever so much
older than I am.”
Polly regarded him sorrowfully. Then she brightened up. “Well, Mamsie
will let you come here all the time you can,” she cried, meaning from
this minute on to do everything she could to make a boy happy who
hadn’t any sisters near his own age, nor any brothers at all. To do
this nothing was so good as to let him join them in a baking frolic.
“Oh, I do wish Ben would come,” she said again, for about the fifth
time, just as Joel, out on the path, screamed out, “Oh, here he is!”
and dashed off, Davie, as usual, at his heels to meet Ben.
Jasper was just springing over the rickety steps leading down into the
“Provision Room.” “Polly,” he called, “where’s the pail to fill the
tub with?” And Polly, racing after to get it for him, where it hung
behind the door, of course, they didn’t either of them hear Joel’s cry
nor see him run down the road with Davie. So the first thing the two
knew, Ben’s face appeared. “Halloa!” he cried. “Oh, are you filling
that old tub?”
“Yes,” said Polly, “we are; and now you won’t have to break your arms
over it, Bensie.”
“Well, I guess I’m not going to let you fill that tub, Jasper,” said
Ben, decidedly. “No, sir--ee!” and he made a lunge at the pail now in
Jasper’s hand.
“And I guess I’m not going to let you have this pail,” cried Jasper,
merrily, and squaring off, “No, sir--_ee_!”
And there they were going round and round in the middle of the
“Provision Room,” the pail swinging wildly out from Jasper’s arm. At
last, in one unlucky moment, down he tripped, and Ben rolled over him,
and the pail flew off and ran away by itself.
“Hooray!” Joel and David, who had both run after Ben, now seized it
together. “Let me have it,” screamed Joel. “I’m going to fill Mamsie’s
tub.”
“We didn’t either of us get it, you see,” said Jasper, bursting into a
laugh, and sitting still on the earthen floor. “Oh, Ben, to see your
face,” and he laughed harder than ever.
“’Tisn’t worse than yours,” said Ben; “it can’t be, Jasper. Yours is
dirty from top to bottom.”
“Well, that’s because you rolled me in the dirt,” said Jasper, coolly,
and rubbing his face. “Well, I think we’ll need to get into the tub,
instead of the clothes,” he added.
“Oh, I’ll get you a towel and the basin,” said Polly; “then you can
wash your faces. Misery me! how you both look!” she exclaimed, as she
ran out to get it all ready for them.
“Joe,” called Ben, as Joel and David hurried off dragging the big pail,
which banged over the rickety steps, “don’t you get that water; Jasper
and I are coming out for it.”
And in a minute or two, there the two boys were, all washed up, fresh
and clean, out by the big barrel into which a rain-spout ran to collect
the water so that Mrs. Pepper could wash the clothes, with Polly and
Ben helping her.
And between them they made very quick work over filling the big tub.
And then--after the hands were all washed up spick and span,--“Oh, now
for the baking!” exclaimed Ben, with great satisfaction, and hanging up
the towel by the sink.
“Yes, now for the baking!” they all exclaimed. And soon the old kitchen
was the scene of a great excitement, till it thrilled with life in
every corner. And the fire burned with clear little winks of light that
seemed to say, “Go right ahead, and be as jolly as you want to, I’m
with you in everything!”
And the flour bag was brought out from the old cupboard. It took two of
the boys to get it, although it wasn’t a big bag by any means, nor was
it anywhere near being full. It was brown flour, to be sure, but Jasper
declared that was ever so much nicer than if it were white. And the
little tins--they were just as clean and shining as they could be, for
Polly always kept them so. Besides, she had given them an extra rubbing
over that very morning to have them ready. But now, of course, they
must have the dish-towel whisked over them again, to be actually sure
that they were all right. Oh, the old kitchen was a very busy place,
any one could see, with something for all the fingers to do. Even
Phronsie was provided for in that respect, for she was polishing up the
little tin biscuit cutter most carefully.
“But, dear me!” Polly stopped in the midst of all this merry bustle.
“Oh, how could I forget!” Then she dashed into the bedroom and threw
open the middle drawer of the old bureau, just above the one where
Phronsie’s red-topped shoes were always kept. And she pulled out one
of Mrs. Pepper’s clean blue-checked aprons. “Here,” as she ran back to
Jasper, “I must tie it around your neck--Mamsie said so--before you
began to bake.”
“That’s fine,” exclaimed Jasper, as the big apron fell down in folds
almost to his feet, and Polly tied the strings around his neck. “Now,
says I, you’ll see what biscuits I’m going to make!” and he brandished
the rolling pin.
And then Phronsie must sit up to the table and have a small piece of
dough to make little biscuits all alone by herself. And she patted the
lump into shape, turning it over and over to push it here and there
before she cut one out with the top of the small tin salt-shaker that
Polly took off for her, and singing softly to herself all the while.
This she did so many times that at last Joel looked up from his end of
the table. “Look at Phron,” he cried, “she hasn’t cut one single one
out yet!”
“Hush, Joe.” Polly, with a tin plate covered with small lumps of dough
that were going to be the most beautiful biscuits in good time, in her
hand, turned quickly as she was just going to slip them into the hot
oven, and ran up against Ben. “O dear me!” as he put up his hand, but
away went the tin plate, falling bottom upward, and all the little
lumps hitting the floor.
[Illustration: “O DEAR, THAT’S MY FAULT!” CRIED BEN, IN GREAT
DISTRESS.--_Page 124._]
“O dear, that’s my fault,” cried Ben, in great distress. “Polly, I’m
dreadfully sorry--” and getting down to pick them up.
“Oh, no, it isn’t,” cried Polly; “never mind, Ben,” as she saw his
face. Jasper and the others immediately left the baking table to hurry
to the scene.
“We can scrape them off,” said Ben, ruefully, and getting a knife to
begin operations.
“But they’ve been on the floor,” said Polly, “and they’ll never be so
nice,” and she sighed.
“Well, let’s make some more,” said Jasper, “and throw these away,
Polly. That’s easy enough.”
“But we can’t throw them away,” said Polly, in horror, “and we haven’t
very much flour in the bag,” and she leaned over to look into it.
“Mamsie said that was all we could take.”
“Then we must cut off the tops of the biscuits, Polly,” said Ben;
“there’s no other way.”
“And Dave and I’ll eat ’em,” said Joel, briskly.
“Well, you must have a sharp knife then, Ben,” said Polly. “Wait, I’ll
get it.” So she ran and got Mamsie’s special one in the little drawer
under the sink that Mrs. Pepper always used when there was any meat
(which wasn’t often) to cut up, and all the bunch of children watching,
the tops of the little biscuits were slowly cut off by Ben.
“They’re dreadfully small,” grumbled Joel, who thought it a great
waste. “You might have given them to Dave and me.”
“For shame, Joel!” said Polly; “you couldn’t ever have eaten them
unless Ben had pared them. O dear me, they are small,” her face
falling, “but I guess they’ll be good.”
“I’m sure they will,” said Jasper, “and, Polly, they’ll be so cunning
on the plate. Do put them on the blue one that is up in the cupboard
there.” He nodded his head over to the corner where the few best dishes
were kept.
“Oh, we couldn’t take that down, Jasper,” said Polly, quickly, “not
unless Mamsie says we may.”
“And if you don’t hurry and get those biscuits in the oven, you can’t
put them on any plate,” broke in Ben, wisely.
“That’s so,” laughed Jasper. So Polly started again with her tin plate
of little lumps of dough. And the oven door was flung wide, and in they
slipped, and then the door banged, good and hard, and all they had to
do was to bake as nicely as possible till they were a lovely brown.
“Oh, I hope they’ll be good,” said Polly, anxiously coming back to the
table to oversee operations.
“Oh, I guess they will,” said Ben, comfortingly.
“I can’t do anything with mine, Polly,” said Jasper, patting and
punching the lumps of dough in his hand at a great rate. “It sticks
dreadfully,--see there! It’s in no end of a mess.”
“That’s because you want some more flour on your fingers,” said Polly,
holding out the little bowl in which was a sprinkling of flour for just
that very purpose; “there, Jasper, stick them in.”
“Is that so?” cried Jasper, freeing one set of fingers to get the
others in a worse plight. “Ow; it’s all sticking to my other hand. I’ve
just spoiled it, Polly.” He held out the little wad hanging to his
thumb and finger and gazed at Polly in dismay.
“Oh, no, it isn’t,” said Polly, picking it off to set it on the
bread-board; “it’ll come as good as can be after you get some more
flour on your fingers, and--”
“Your biscuits’s burning!” screamed Joel, sniffing. “They
are--burning--Polly!”
But she didn’t need this second shout to make her run and fling the
oven door open, Jasper hurrying after, his fingers all over dough, and
all the others following.
“O dear, dear!” he mourned. “Now I made you stop. Oh, Polly, I _am_ so
sorry!” kneeling down beside her. “Here, let me pull them out.”
“Oh, Jasper, you’ll burn your hands,” she cried. But he already had the
tin plate out; “whew!” dropping it just in time on the old table.
“Oh, did you burn you?” cried Polly. “Oh, what would Mamsie say to have
such a thing happen to any one spending the day at the Little Brown
House! O dear me!” She was quite gone in distress.
“Only just the veriest bit,” said Jasper, blowing on his thumb. “There;
that’s all right now. Don’t worry, Polly.”
And Ben was as much distressed to have anything happen to Jasper. “Come
over and stick it under the pump,” he said, leading the way.
“Don’t want to,” said Jasper; “it’s all right now, I tell you, Ben.”
Meantime, Joel had been hanging over the tin plate with the little
lumps of dough and loudly protesting that they were all burned up,
and that now nobody could eat them. Finally, Polly and Ben satisfying
themselves that Jasper’s thumb was really as he said, “all right,”
turned off to investigate for themselves the state of the biscuits.
“Indeed, they’re not burned at all,” declared Jasper. “They’re just a
lovely brown, and they’ll taste awfully good, I know they will.”
“So do I,” said Ben.
“Give me one,--just one,” begged Joel.
“Get away,” said Ben, as Joel lunged at the tin plate. “You just said
they were all burned, Joe.”
“Well, they aren’t,” said Joel. “Do give me just one, Ben,” he whined.
“No,” said Ben, firmly, “you can’t have one till we all have some; and
we aren’t near through our baking. Why, just look at Phronsie! She
hasn’t finished hers yet.”
“Phronsie never’ll get hers done,” grumbled Joel. “She turns it over
and over all the time.”
“Well, you’ve got to wait,” said Ben, and that ended the matter. And
then they all set to work busier than ever, around the table, and the
little brown biscuits that were baked, were slipped off from the tin
plate, and another batch slipped on it; Jasper’s being given the place
of honor in the middle. And Ben brought out a pan that Mamsie and Polly
always baked their bread in. “There, Polly, let’s put some in there,”
as he set it on the table.
“That’s good!” exclaimed Jasper, beaming in approval. “Oh, Polly, my
apron’s coming off--”
“O dear me!” exclaimed Polly, “I’ll tie it up again, Jasper,” and she
dropped the dough she was patting deftly, on to the bread-board.
“You keep still, Polly,” said Ben; “I’ll tie him up,” suiting the
action to the word. “There, I guess you won’t get that out in a hurry,
Jasper.”
“You’ll have to untie me, old chap,” said Jasper, “when the baking’s
over. Oh, Polly, this plate is all full now. Let me put it in the
oven.”
“And I’ll open the door,” said Ben, hurrying over. “That’s just fine,”
he said, regarding the biscuits admiringly.
“Let me see--let me see before you put them in!” cried Joel, getting
from his chair to run over to the stove. “I want to see them, Ben.”
“Come on, then,” said Ben, as Jasper paused, resting the tin plate on
the sill of the oven.
“Oh, aren’t they splendid!” exclaimed Joel, his fingers itching to get
hold of one of them, “and those others are little bits of squinchy
ones--”
“You be still, and not abuse those other biscuits,” said Jasper,
slipping the tin plate carefully into the centre of the oven; “they’re
just splendid, too--” and Ben shut the oven door with a clang.
“They’re dreadfully little,” said Joel, clambering up into his chair.
“Well, now they’re all done but Phronsie’s,” said Polly, as the tin
bread-pan was ready to slip into the oven on its last journey. “I’ve
saved a place for hers, right here in the middle.”
“Come, Pet, aren’t you ready?” said Ben, going over to her high-chair.
“I will be, Bensie,” said Phronsie, “in a minute,” and turning over her
pat of dough again.
“That’s just the way she’s been doing all the while,” said Joel.
“Never mind,” said Ben. “Well, now, Pet, I guess that’s done.”
“In just a minute--please wait, Bensie,” she begged, pushing up the
little lump of dough softly; “see, it isn’t nice like Polly’s,” and she
turned it again.
“O dear!” groaned Joel, impatiently.
“Phronsie,” said Jasper, running around to the other side of the
high-chair, “see what a cunning little place Polly has saved for you,
in the pan--to put your biscuits in.”
“Has Polly saved a place for me?” asked Phronsie, in gentle surprise,
and pausing as she was turning her little dough-pat again.
“Yes, indeed,” cried Polly, running over to show her the bread-pan,
“right there, Phronsie,--see, in the very middle; and your biscuits
will be next to Jasper’s and Ben’s.”
“And mine’ll be there, too!” screamed Joel, interrupting; “tell her,
Polly; mine’ll be there, too.”
“Yes,” said Polly, “Joel’s will be there, too, and Davie’s. I declare,
almost every single one of us are in that pan; our biscuits, I mean. So
put yours in, Phronsie.”
“Are yours there, Polly?” asked Phronsie, stopping with her hand
holding the small pat of dough almost over the pan.
“Er--no,” said Polly; “I didn’t have any in this pan, Phronsie.”
“Then I don’t want to put my biscuits in,” said Phronsie, pulling back
her hand. “I want them to go in next to yours, Polly, I do.”
“O dear me!” said Polly, “now whatever shall we do, Ben?” over
Phronsie’s yellow head.
“I don’t know,” said Ben, at his wit’s end. Still, something must be
done, for Polly was dreadfully worried, and to have Polly troubled was
about the worst thing that could possibly happen, in Ben’s estimation.
“Now, Phronsie,” he said, “if you don’t put your biscuits in the pan,
there, just where Polly has said, you’ll make her feel very bad.”