valance, little Davie doing the same thing in confidence that something
was going to be found for him to help, too.
“Well, I want those all taken out and piled on that shelf.” Old Mr.
Beebe, who, after all, much preferred them where they were, pointed
off to the side of the shop he had left. “Think you can do it, Joey?”
“Yes, sir--ee!” cried Joel, decidedly, and beginning at once.
“See here,” said old Mr. Beebe, in alarm, lest his hard work in finding
something for Joel to do should result in injury to his beloved goods,
“you mustn’t knock off the covers so.”
“I didn’t mean to,” said Joel, his cheeks in a blaze, and speedily
clapping the cover of the green box fast again.
“I know you didn’t,” said the old gentleman, kindly; “but you mustn’t
go so fast, my boy. There--that’s it,” as Joel carefully set one box on
another and marched across the room with them. “And now, Davie.”
David’s blue eyes sparkled with delight. “You can help me ever so
much.” He led the way over to a set of drawers that ran around the side
of the small shop to meet the little-paned window. “I’ve wanted these
done ever so long, and now only to think, one of you Pepper children
has come to help me out!” And he took up a large snarl of shoe-strings
of all lengths, very much tangled up.
David’s face fell, but the old gentleman, not perceiving it, had him
sit down on the settee. “Now, says I,” and he laid the bunch in Davie’s
lap, “if you’ll pick that out for me and lay ’em straight, you’ll be a
good boy as ever lived.”
To be “a good boy as ever lived” was such a dazzling outlook that
little Davie, smothering his sigh as he saw Joel marching importantly
across the shop with his delightful armful of green boxes, took up the
snarl, and began at once to pick at the first shoe-string end that
presented itself.
“And now, Phronsie.” Old Mr. Beebe by this time was over by her side,
where she still sat on the floor, quite lost in the delightful thought
of the little girl to whom she was to help to fit on her new shoes.
“Oh!” she screamed, clapping her hands, as the old gentleman bent over
her with--“Now, Phronsie.” “Has she come, dear Mr. Beebe?”
“Not yet,” he said, chuckling, “but you and I are to look out for her,
for we never know when customers are comin’ in, Phronsie.”
“I suppose she’s on the way,” said Phronsie, in grave happiness, and
getting up to her feet to smooth down her pinafore. “And she’ll sit
right here, dear Mr. Beebe, won’t she?” running over to pat the old
settee.
“Yes, maybe,” said the old gentleman, “or I rather think, Phronsie,
she’d better sit in that little chair where you did when you got your
new shoes.”
“Yes, she better have my little chair,” cried Phronsie, in great
excitement, deserting the old settee at once to run over and drag the
small wooden chair away from its corner up beside it. And everything
being now ready to fit on new shoes to some little girl who needed them
very much, old Mr. Beebe and Phronsie now began to watch earnestly for
footsteps outside, and to see if the latch on the green door should fly
up.
But the latch didn’t fly up, and no one coming, Phronsie at last drew a
long breath. “The little girl doesn’t come, dear Mr. Beebe,” she said
in a tired voice.
“Well, I declare,” Mrs. Beebe’s voice broke in upon them. “I declare,
how busy you all be! An’ dinner’ll be ready in ten minutes: I’ve come
to get th’ childern to wash their hands an’ faces.”
“Oh, supposing the little girl should come, dear Mr. Beebe,” Phronsie
clutched his plump hand and held back as old Mrs. Beebe waddled across
the little shop.
“I guess she ain’t a-comin’ till aft’noon,” said the old gentleman,
soothingly, and just then the big iron latch clicked and the green door
was thrown open.
“I’ve come,” said a woman, hurrying in, a black crocheted bag dangling
from her arm, “to see if you’ve got a pair of shoes to fit my little
girl. Oh, how do you do, Mis’ Beebe?”
Phronsie screamed right out, “Oh, she’s come--she’s come!” and pulled
the little shopkeeper’s hand as hard as she could.
“So she has,” said old Mr. Beebe, every bit as much excited. “Yes,
indeed, Mis’ Phipps, I’ve got a splendid fit. Walk right in an’ set
down.” He waved her over toward the settee and the little wooden chair
close to it. “An’ you come along with me, Phronsie, an’ we’ll pick out
some to suit this little girl.”
Everything now settling down to business, old Mrs. Beebe turned to
Dave. “Well, well, an’ what has Pa set you to doin’?” she cried,
bending over him and his snarl of shoe-strings. “I declare, I never see
sech a boy; you’re pickin’ out those dreadful things jest splendid.
Yes, this is Mis’ Pepper’s boy, Mis’ Phipps, that lives in the Little
Brown House, an’ that’s the other one,” nodding over to Joel, now down
on his knees, prowling under the old chintz valance.
“And that’s Phronsie,” added David, afraid she would be forgotten and
left out in the enumeration, and laying down his strings long enough to
point to her over with the old gentleman.
“Is that so?” said the customer, regarding him with great interest.
“An’ how is your Ma?” turning off from the small girl on the little
wooden chair, who was following Phronsie and the little shopkeeper with
her intent eyes. And without waiting for a reply, her gaze roved over
to Joel and at last switched off to Phronsie and the little shopkeeper.
“I’m in a great hurry, Mr. Beebe,” she said importantly; “an’ if you
hain’t got any shoes for Marianna, why, I must go somewhere’s else. We
are to meet her Pa at Simmons’s; he’s come to sell his grain, and he’ll
be all put out ef we ain’t on time. I’ve sold my eggs and butter,” she
volunteered, shaking the black crocheted bag on her arm, so that an old
pocket-book could be seen dancing about within the meshes.
“We’ll get Marianna’s shoes es quick ’s we can,” said old Mr. Beebe,
composedly, “but ef you’d rather go somewhere’s else, Mis’ Phipps, why,
I’d advise you to.”
“Oh, I didn’t say as I was goin’,” replied Mrs. Phipps, hastily. “You
mustn’t get mad, Mr. Beebe,” she added in an injured tone.
“’N’ I’m glad you’ve had good luck,” said the old gentleman, beginning
to feel that perhaps he had used unkindly speech.
“Oh, I hain’t had such very good luck,” cried Mrs. Phipps, in great
alarm lest the price of shoes should go up. “’Tain’t no easy matter
when all is counted up, to make much out o’ a few hens that do nothin’
all day but eat fit to burst.”
“Well, here’s a pair, now.” Mr. Beebe took the two little shoes out
from the box, turned them over several times in his big hands, felt
of the leather of each upper, then finally placed them in Phronsie’s
hands. “You run over and show ’em to that lady,” he said, nodding over
to the settee.
Mrs. Phipps eyed Phronsie curiously, dividing her interest between
her and the shoes, Marianna doing the same, so that when the little
shopkeeper advanced to them, there wasn’t much progress made toward a
trade, and old Mrs. Beebe, smothering a sigh, waddled out to see if by
chance the stewed beef set back on the stove could have caught.
“It’s good leather,” said Mr. Beebe. “You needn’t pinch it so hard,
Mis’ Phipps; that shoe’ll wear like iron.”
“It can stand a few pinches now, then,” said Mrs. Phipps, grimly, and
nipping up another portion between her hard nails.
“Now let’s slip on that shoe,” cried Mr. Beebe, quickly, “an’ see how
it fits. Maybe it won’t do at all.”
“I want it,” said Marianna, suddenly, the first word she had spoken,
and leaning over her mother’s arm, her mouth watering for the
possession of the coveted treasure.
“Stick out your foot then,” said old Mr. Beebe, cheerily. “Now,
Phronsie, you sit down on the floor. Then, says I, that shoe’ll fly on.
Tee--hee--hee!”
“That child ain’t a-goin’ to try on shoes!” gasped Mrs. Phipps, in
amazement. “Why, what are you thinkin’ of, Mr. Beebe?” She hitched
her black crocheted bag up farther on her arm, throwing aside her
shawl-ends nervously.
“Ef I fit shoes,” observed old Mr. Beebe, “I fit ’em as I please in my
shop. As long as they _fit_, I dunno’s folks can complain.”
But Phronsie took her gaze off from the customer’s face, and got up
from the floor where she had obediently seated herself. “The lady
doesn’t want me to, dear Mr. Beebe,” she said gravely, and her mouth
quivered.
“Oh, yes, she does,” said old Mr. Beebe, confidently, “or else, you
see, Phronsie, there ain’t goin’ to be _any_ shoes fitted in this shop.”
“I want them shoes,” screamed Marianna, in a loud cry, and pointing a
red little finger at the one now dangling from Mr. Beebe’s hand. It was
so piercing, that Joel dropped a green box and sprang across the little
shop to see what was the matter. David had long ago laid down his snarl
of shoe-strings to give absorbing attention to his neighbors on the
settee, and the little wooden chair.
“Stop your noise,” commanded her mother, angrily. “I hain’t any
objection to her, I’m sure,” turning to old Mr. Beebe, “so long’s
you’re there.”
“There, you see, Phronsie, th’ lady’s willin’,” said the old gentleman.
“Is she, dear Mr. Beebe?” asked Phronsie, clinging to his hand and
wishing very much that Mamsie was there.
“Yes, indeed; so sit down, child, and pull on th’ shoe.”
So Phronsie got down on the old shop floor again, and Marianna in
a perfect tremor of bliss tore off her old shoe, and stuck out her
very much darned brown cotton stocking. And Phronsie, with both hands
trembling in delight and with a great deal of fear lest the terrible
lady staring at her from above might not like it after all, pulled on
the new shoe, old Mr. Beebe only having to give a helping hand once
when it stuck on the heel.
“It fits--it fits!” screamed Marianna, her black eyes protruding. Joel
joined her in a crow, but that was at Phronsie’s success in helping
dear Mr. Beebe so well.
“Keep still; you can’t tell nothin’ till it’s tied on,” said Marianna’s
mother. So Phronsie began on the long strings. This was greater
enjoyment even than to fit the shoes.
“Here, let me help you,” Joel dropped to the floor by her side.
“No--no,” protested Phronsie, “I must do ’em all myself, Joey.”
“You let her be,” said the old gentleman, “an’ get me a chair, Joel.”
“She’s doing ’em all in the wrong holes,” said Joel, running for the
chair which he dragged up to the scene of operations.
“Never mind; there, Phronsie,” old Mr. Beebe seated himself in the
chair, and leaning over Marianna’s foot, somehow or other each little
hole soon had the right string in it, and a bow was neatly tied, and
Phronsie, with very pink cheeks, was regarding her work. “I did do it,”
she cried in a joyful little voice.
“’Taint done yet,” announced Mrs. Phipps--“not till she stamps in it.”
So Marianna stamped up and down in front of them all till even her
mother had to be satisfied, and then the other shoe was put on and
tied up, and everything was done but paying for them. At last the old
pocket-book was drawn out of the black crocheted bag. “I suppose you’ll
mend these up for nothin’, seein’ I’ve bought a new pair,” said Mrs.
Phipps, suddenly, pausing before opening the pocket-book flap, and
pointing to the old shoes on the floor.
Old Mr. Beebe picked up one of Marianna’s old shoes. “I couldn’t do
that,” he said; “an’ besides, Mis’ Phipps, there ain’t nothin’ to
mend. She’s run ’em all out.”
“Humph--that’s all nonsense,” ejaculated Marianna’s mother. But seeing
that she couldn’t get anything out of the little shopkeeper but that
one statement, she had the old shoes done up in a newspaper, and
counting out the price of the new ones in quarters and ten-cent pieces,
she took her departure, saying, “I shouldn’t let her wear those home
ef I warn’t goin’ to make a call on th’ way this aft’noon.” Then she
peered into the room back of the shop, “I must say good-by to Mis’
Beebe.”
This took some minutes, as the smell of the dinner and the table all
set made it impossible for Mrs. Phipps to leave it without a strong
effort to include herself and her daughter in the family for that one
meal, but old Mrs. Beebe, not looking at it in just that way, Mrs.
Phipps twitched Marianna’s hat straight and hauled her off without any
good-by after all.
But oh! what a good dinner the little shopkeeper had sitting at the
head of his table, with old Mrs. Beebe, her pink cap ribbons flying, at
the other end, and the three little Peppers, their plates filled with
splendid pieces of stewed beef and dumplings. How the spoons and forks
flew! till even Joel couldn’t eat any more, and Davie was obliged to
give up the effort to see the bottom of his plate cleared. And after
dinner--well then, why, Phronsie must have her nap. “For we can’t have
Polly come running in, and not have this blessed little creeter’s eyes
as bright as buttons,” said the little old lady.
“Oh, I’m not tired,” protested Phronsie, vigorously.
“No, that would never do,” declared old Mrs. Beebe, just as decidedly.
“Now then, Phronsie child, you shall curl up on Pa’s sofa, an’ I’ll
cover you with my plaid shawl; then, says I, you’ll be asleep in forty
winks.”
To curl up on Pa’s sofa, and, best of all, to have spread over her dear
Mrs. Beebe’s plaid shawl, was after all something well worth thinking
about. So Phronsie allowed herself to be patted into place, and Mrs.
Beebe pulled down the old green paper shade and waddled softly out. In
five minutes she thrust her cap in around the half-opened door. There
lay Phronsie, one little hand grasping tightly the old frayed fringe,
fast asleep as anything.
Meantime old Mr. Beebe had a hard time enough with the two boys! Joel’s
task of carrying the green boxes from under the chintz valance to the
shelf was soon finished, but as he wouldn’t do anything till Davie
could join in it, and the snarl of strings was apparently (no matter
how diligently worked over) not much nearer unravelling than when
begun, and little David could not be persuaded to leave it, the old
gentleman was in despair.
“Come, Davie,” he said for the third time. But David shook his head and
kept picking away. He didn’t mean to be disobedient, but all his mind
intent on helping dear good Mr. Beebe, it never entered his head to
leave his task until completed.
At last Joel flung himself flat on the floor, and waving both feet in
the air, gave a loud cry of disapproval. “He’s a naughty boy,” he said,
“and I shall tell Mamsie he wouldn’t mind you.”
Down fell Davie’s snarl of shoe-strings to his lap. “Oh, Joel,” he
cried, slipping from the old settee to the floor beside him, “don’t,
don’t tell Mamsie.”
“I will,” said Joel, seeing his advantage with great delight and
cocking one black eye at him. “I’ll tell her Mr. Beebe told you
one--two--ten--’leven times to stop those old strings, and you
wouldn’t mind him--so there!”
“Joel,” cried little David, in the greatest distress and clasping both
hands; “I’ll stop this very minute. I will, Joel, truly I will.”
“Won’t you go at ’em again?” demanded Joel, thinking it just as well to
have it settled definitely.
“No, I won’t,” said Davie, swallowing hard, “not till dear Mr. Beebe
lets me, if you only won’t tell Mamsie.”
“Then, I won’t tell Mamsie,” promised Joel, springing to his feet.
“Come on, Dave. Now, what’ll we do, Mr. Beebe?” he cried.
“Well now, I tell you,” said the old gentleman, wrinkling up his
forehead in thought; “you’ve got to stretch your legs outdoors else
you’ll be sick. S’posin’ you run down to th’ butcher’s shop an’ tell
Mr. Hanks I may want, in th’ mornin’, a slice o’ ham. Don’t say as I
will, remember, but I may. An’ then come right back, an’ you can set in
th’ window, an’ see th’ passin’, an’ watch fer Polly an’ Ben.”
“All right,” shouted Joel, and seizing Davie’s hand, he bore him
off, and the two little figures clattered off over the cobblestones.
Presently there they were back again, and crowded up in among
the dangling shoes and slippers, their faces pressed against the
small-paned window.
But it seemed as if Polly would never come, although they knew she
would get through her work first; it always took Ben a good while when
he was tackling any work at Deacon Blodgett’s, and they were nearly
turning away in despair when, “Hooray!”--Joel spied her first, and he
jumped so quickly he knocked down one of the strings and away flew a
whole lot of rubbers into the middle of the floor.
“’Tain’t hurt ’em a mite,” said old Mr. Beebe, as Joel paused in his
mad career. So off the two boys dashed to meet Polly, flying up over
the cobblestones, her cheeks as rosy as anything and her brown eyes
dancing.
“Oh, I’m so glad to get here!” she exclaimed, seizing them both.
“O dear me, I thought I should never get through my work. Where’s
Phronsie?”
“She’s asleep,” said Joel, “and you’ve been awful slow;” all the while
he clung to her hand tightly.
“I know it,” laughed Polly, “but I’m so glad dear Mrs. Beebe made her
take her nap. Well, Mamsie sent you her love, and she knew you’d been
good children.”
Little David hung his head. That affair about the shoe-strings still
troubled him, and he meant to tell Mamsie as soon as he got home, but
Joel saved him all words at present.
“We’ve been as good as pie,” he declared. That made him think of that
delightful dinner. “We had some, Polly,” he cried, “little ones,” and
he smacked his lips.
“And they were all juice,” said little Davie, reflectively, from the
other side.
“Yes, and Mrs. Beebe has saved one for you and one for Ben ’cause you
couldn’t come to dinner,” said Joel.
“Has she?” cried Polly, radiantly. “Oh, isn’t that too good of her! And
Ben does so love little pies.”
“I wish she’d saved me one,” said Joel. “So do I love ’em.”
“Why, you ate yours up, Joey,” said little Davie, craning his neck
around Polly to regard him with surprise.
“I know it,” said Joel, bursting into a laugh, “but I wish I had
another.”
“Well, if you’ve had one of dear Mrs. Beebe’s little pies, Joe,” said
Polly, laughing too, “that’s quite enough,” as they scrambled up to the
green door.
And Phronsie opened her eyes the minute they all swarmed into the room
back of the little shop, old Mr. and Mrs. Beebe joining the ranks, and
sat up quite straight on Pa’s old sofa, and put out her arms with a
little crow--“Oh, Polly, take me!” tangled up as she was in the old
plaid shawl. And then after they had all sobered down after the delight
over Polly’s coming, the old lady exclaimed suddenly, “Dear me, I must
set th’ table for supper, so’s to be all ready for Ben.”
“Oh, let me help,” cried Polly, putting Phronsie down and flying after
her.
“Let me too,” piped Phronsie, stumbling after.
“And me--and me!” echoed Joel and David.
And old Mrs. Beebe laughing and saying “Yes, come along all of you,”
the whole bunch of Peppers rushed here and there quite overcome with
delight, all getting hold of the table-cloth at once, so that nobody
could pull it straight.
“See here,” said Polly, when she had whirled around and around the
table, first pulling one corner and then another straight, to have it
immediately whisked away; “we can’t ever do it this way. Now, only
one of you must help me, and the others stand still. Take care, Joe,
you’ll tear it!”
“It’s all hanging on the floor,” declared Joel.
“Well, that’s because you twitched it so,” said Polly, in vexation,
and running around the table again to examine it for herself. “O dear
me, so it is. Well now, Joel, you let it alone, and Davie and I will
straighten it.”
“I don’t want to fix it,” said Joel, quite well pleased to have nothing
to do with it, and only longing for the time to come when the dishes
should be placed on the table. So Polly and little David patted and
pulled it quite straight and smoothed out all the crinkles. “Now,” said
Polly with a long breath, stepping back to review the work, “doesn’t
that look just fine though!”
Then Joel made a rush for the pantry door. “I’m going to get the
dishes,” he shouted.
“Oh, no, you mustn’t, Joe,” cried Polly, in alarm. “I’m going to take
them down; you might break them.”
“I ain’t goin’ to have those dishes for supper to-day,” said old Mrs.
Beebe. “I’m goin’ to set out my best chiney.”
“You’re going to set out your best china!” gasped Polly, and looking
over at the corner cupboard, not believing that she could have heard
straight.
“Yes,” said old Mrs. Beebe, nodding till her pink cap ribbons trembled
violently, “I am, for I hain’t used ’em since th’ minister took tea
here when he first come to Badgertown, an’ that’s ten years ago; an’ I
was thinkin’ th’ other day I wish’t I had a chance to set ’em out.”
“But s’posing we should break them.” Polly came over to say this in
an awe-struck voice, while the boys, quite impressed with all this,
crowded up to hear the whole of it, Phronsie was spinning around the
room making a merry little cheese and humming softly to herself. It was
quite enough for her to be at supper at her dear sweet Mrs. Beebe’s and
to have Polly safely there.
“Oh, you won’t break any of ’em,” said the little old lady,
confidently, and going over to the corner cupboard; “I shall give th’
childern some mugs, but you and Ben shall have a nice cup an’ saucer,
an’ we’ll have th’ cake-plate and th’ glass pudding-dish,” and her eyes
shone.
Polly turned quite pale. It was perfectly splendid, but oh, if anything
should happen to those two cups and saucers that Ben and she were to
have! But she had no time to worry about it, as old Mrs. Beebe now
handed down from one of the shelves a china mug. “There,” she said,
“that’s for Phronsie’s place. I used to drink out of it when I wasn’t
any bigger’n she is. ‘From a Friend,’” read the old lady, turning the
mug around so that they all could get the best view.
“Let me see--I want to see ‘From a Friend,’” screamed Joel, crowding
up, while little Davie edged up to gaze at the faded gilt letters.
“Yes, my mother’s uncle give it to me. He said I was a good girl. I
warn’t no bigger’n Phronsie, an’ she’s a good girl, so I’m goin’ to let
her drink out of it to-day.”
“Phronsie, you’re going to drink out of ‘From a Friend,’” screamed
Joel, deserting old Mrs. Beebe and the china mug to run and twitch her
pink pinafore.
When Phronsie understood that she was really to have her milk in that
splendid china mug that her dear sweet Mrs. Beebe used to drink out of
when she was a little girl, her delight knew no bounds. And she went
and stood by the table-edge, quite satisfied not to move, so long as
she could look at it where Polly had placed it ready for supper.
[Illustration: “LET ME SEE--I WANT TO SEE ‘FROM A FRIEND’!” SCREAMED
JOEL.--_Page 197._]
“I wish I could have a ‘From a Friend’ to drink out of,” grumbled Joel.
“Hush, for shame, Joe!” said Polly. But old Mrs. Beebe had heard.
“Well, now I must see what I can get for you, Joel,” she said kindly.
“An’ then Davie must have one, too.”
“Yes, you must get Dave one, too,” said Joel, hopping from one set of
toes to the other in delight.
“You can take Pa’s cup; he hain’t used that for years,” said Mrs.
Beebe. She handed down a great coffee cup. The handle was snipped and
the flowers around the edge were much worn.
“The saucer’s broke, but you don’t need one,” said Mrs. Beebe, setting
the cup within Joel’s awe-struck hand.
“What’s that?” asked Joel, running one finger over the edge of the cup
that covered the top a little way.
“Oh, that was when Pa had a beard. He used to wear his hair all round
his mouth,” said old Mrs. Beebe; “but he shaved it all off a good many
years ago. An’ the saucer’s got broke, so we set th’ cup up on th’
shelf. But I’m goin’ to let you drink out of it, now, Joel.”
Joel, vastly pleased to have something used by a big man with hair all
round his mouth, marched with it to the table. “There, that’s mine,” he
announced. “It’s a great deal better than any old ‘From a Friend.’”
Little Davie held his hands closely clasped together. Would the corner
cupboard hold any more such splendid things to drink out of as Joel
and Phronsie had received. He scarcely breathed when--“There, says I,
Davie, now what do you think!” and a little mug was held before him. It
had two shining lustre bands running around it and between them was a
yellow band, and on it, for all the world, was in big letters of gilt
“_For David._”
When David saw those words, he seized the little mug, and screamed
right out, “It’s for me to drink out of!” and held it close to his blue
eyes big with joy.
“That was my Grandpa’s,” said old Mrs. Beebe, in as great a delight.
“An’ his name was David--David Brown. An’ now to think you are goin’
to drink out o’ it to-day, you preety creeter, you!” and she beamed at
him.