kicking his well-worn shoes on the floor. Little Davie gave a great
sob at that, not so much at the loss of a sight of the elephant, as
that wasn’t his particular choice of all the great wonders of this
magnificent show, but the little white mice, who could do all sorts
of tricks; hadn’t he stood on tiptoe to spell all about the wonderful
things they could do, when sent on an errand to the store. At all such
times when there was a chance to get near the great posters tacked up
by the side of the little boxes and pigeonholes running down one side
of the store (for Mr. Atkins, besides keeping the general store, was
also postmaster of the village), he had been lost to the charms of
the rest of the great show. And now he was never to see those dear
wonderful little mice! He snuggled up closer to Joel, and wound one arm
around his neck.
“And the snakes--the great big one that eats the camel,” roared Joel,
getting, in his anger, dreadfully mixed. “Oh--oh!”--making his feet fly
harder than ever.
“Polly, you see,” said Ben, bending down to whisper in her ear.
“I can’t--can’t--he--lp it--” said Polly, gustily, between her fingers.
“Yes, you can.” Ben shut his lips firmly together, and a very
disapproving look came into his blue eyes. Polly felt it all over her
miserable little body and her head sank lower than ever.
“Mamsie’s worried,” began Ben, a dreadful feeling at his heart as if
the Little Brown House were going all to pieces, since Polly seemed to
be failing them all in this way,--when she sprang up, a rain of tears
running down her flushed face. “Oh, Bensie, I’m so bad and wicked,” and
she flung herself into his arms.
“There, there, there,” said Ben, giving her what he meant for love pats
on her shaking shoulder, “you aren’t bad now, you know, Polly.”
“Yes, I am,” said Polly, in a smothered voice; “oh, Ben, I am.”
“Well, you ought to stop now,” said Ben, “or else you will be bad, very
bad indeed,” he added decidedly.
“I can’t, oh, I can’t, Ben,” said poor Polly, huddling up against his
neck.
“Yes, you can,” said Ben, hating dreadfully to be cross, but obliged
to stand his ground, “for you’ll make Mamsie sick if you don’t stop,
Polly.”
“Oh, Ben!” Polly gave a convulsive start and clutched him firmer than
ever. But the sobs stopped. “You surely will,” said Ben, more decidedly
than ever, and seeing his advantage, “make our Mamsie sick, Polly
Pepper.”
“Oh, I won’t, I won’t,” exclaimed Polly, wildly, and raising her brown
head. Ben was aghast to see her face with the tears from her brown eyes
streaming over it, and he had an awful feeling to think he had been
cross to her. But the next minute she brushed them all off with her
hand and sprang across the old kitchen and into the bedroom.
“Now, then, boys,” said Ben, going over to the little figures squirming
on the floor. “You must get up this very minute. Stop screaming, Joe.”
Joel at that rolled over on his back to look at Ben out of streaming
eyes. “We can’t--can’t see--the el’funt,” he cried, waving frantic
little hands.
“Stop this minute!” said Ben, sternly. Little David at the sound of his
voice so perfectly awful, wriggled himself loose from Joel and got up
to his feet to look tremblingly at Ben.
“Never mind if we can’t,” said Ben, stoutly; “that’s nothing.”
Joel, in the greatest surprise, wiped away the tears from his black
eyes with the back of a grimy hand,--“that was nothing, not to be able
to see the elephant, oh!”--and he got up to his feet to stare into
Ben’s face.
“We can’t see the el’funt,” he repeated, as loud as he could, supposing
that Ben hadn’t heard.
“Hush,” cried Ben, pulling his sleeve, “Mamsie’ll hear. Well, supposing
we can’t, that’s not worth crying about.”
“We can’t see the el’funt,” said Joel again, but this time to little
David. But David was pressed up closely to Ben’s side, so he didn’t
appear to hear the statement and Joel in a greater surprise than ever,
was again reiterating it, when Polly ran out of the bedroom.
“Oh, boys,” she began. She didn’t dare look at Ben, but somehow she
seemed to feel his approval hop right down into a corner of her heart,
“let’s set up the kitchen. You must fix the mat, Joey. You kicked it
up, and we must get it down straight before Mamsie comes back.”
“We can’t see the el’funt,” began Joel, in a loud, injured tone,
hurrying over to her; Polly would hear him anyway.
“Yes,--yes, never mind,” cried Polly, rushing about, straightening the
chairs against the wall, and making a great to-do about fixing up.
“_Never mind!_” and “_that’s no matter_.” Joel whirled about in
astonishment. Little David was down on the floor, pulling the braided
mat straight, while Ben had run over to help Polly, and they were
whispering away at a great rate.
“I’m going to do that,” cried Joel, getting down to twitch the mat from
Davie’s fingers; “Polly told me to do it.”
“Now, then,” back came Polly and Ben together. “We must see what else
we can do,” cried Polly, in a twitter to provide something to keep the
small fingers busy. And, “O dear me! They’ll begin talking about the
circus if we can’t find something more for them to do. Oh, Ben, I can’t
think of a single thing.”
“Joel,” said Ben, “I’m going to Grandma Bascom’s; want to come with me,
and Davie?” He edged to the door looking back as he spoke.
“Don’t you?” Both boys sprang after him as quick as a shot, and none
too soon, for out came Mrs. Pepper from the bedroom just as the door
shut.
And then Polly told her where they had gone, and Mrs. Pepper sat down
to the work so sadly interrupted when the plans to go to the circus
were screamed out, and took up her needle to send it flying back and
forth faster than ever on one of Mr. Atkins’s coats. And Polly drew up
the little stool at her feet and began to pick, with quick remorseful
fingers, the basting-threads out of another coat that was finished.
It wasn’t till then that Phronsie deserted her place. “Oh, Polly,” and
she drew a long breath, as she came up to the side of the little stool,
“what is it?” and she put her face in between the busy fingers and the
basting-threads.
“Take care,” said Polly, “you almost made me break that, Pet. What do
you mean, Phronsie?”
“What is it?” still demanded Phronsie, in a puzzled way.
“Whatever does she mean, Mamsie?” cried Polly, wrinkling up her
forehead and dropping the coat in her lap, so that the long white
basting-thread trailed off to the floor.
“Why, I suppose she’s thinking of all you children, how badly you felt
because you couldn’t go to the circus, Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper, with a
keen glance from her black eyes on Phronsie’s troubled face; “but never
mind that now,” she added quickly, seeing Polly’s own. “Come here,
Phronsie,” she cleared her sewing out of her lap, and held out her arms.
Phronsie ran into them like a frightened rabbit. “What is it, Mamsie?”
she cried, lifting her face.
“See here, Phronsie,” said Mrs. Pepper, holding her very close; “look
up at Mother,” which really wasn’t very necessary to say, as Phronsie
hadn’t taken her blue eyes from Mamsie’s face. “Everything is all
right; I want you to understand that, child. Mother says it’s all right
now.”
“Is Polly right?” asked Phronsie, looking off at Polly’s brown head,
which was drooping just then.
“Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Pepper, in such a hearty tone that Polly
raised her head a little, “Polly is all right, Phronsie.”
Phronsie drew a long breath. “And is Bensie all right, too?” she asked.
“Yes, Ben is all right, too,” Mother Pepper answered.
“And is Joel all right?” Phronsie regarded her mother closely again,
but the look of fear had dropped out of her face, and she put up one
little hand to her mother’s cheek. “Is he, Mamsie?”
“Joel is all right, Phronsie.” Then Mother Pepper smiled, “And Davie,
too. Everybody and everything is all as it should be, child.”
“Oh, I’m so glad,” cried Phronsie, with a little crow of delight, and
patting her hands together. Then she slipped down from her mother’s lap.
“It is, it is! Every single thing, and I’m glad,” and she began to
dance as hard as she could up and down the old kitchen.
“And now, Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper, picking up her sewing again,
and sending a bright smile down to Polly, “you better fly at those
basting-threads as quick as ever you can,” which Polly did, and when
the boys came running in, with all thoughts of circus driven out of
their heads, the old kitchen was as bright as ever, and fairly running
over with good cheer.
Meantime, Mrs. Pepper and Polly had been talking, for Mamsie had cast
about in her own mind very hard to discover some way to make up as far
as possible to the children for their disappointment about the circus.
It really seemed that its heralded arrival had driven all Badgertown
people almost out of their wits with joy, to think it was coming to
their village on the morrow. And all households were busily planning
for some, if not all, of their members to attend the performances.
But one after another of the nice plans that presented themselves to
Mrs. Pepper took money to carry them out, so, of course, that would
have been as bad as to buy circus tickets. What could she do? “There
must be some way, and I’ve got to find it,” she said, stitching on, her
lips pressed tighter together than ever.
At last she laid down her needle.
“Polly,” she said, “how would you like to have company to-morrow
afternoon?”
“_To have company!_” repeated Polly, dropping the coat to stare at her
mother.
“I don’t mean real company,” Mrs. Pepper made haste to add, “but to
play company. You know you said you’d like to, sometime when Ben would
be home.”
“And is Ben going to be home to-morrow?” said Polly. “I thought he was
going to Mr. Henderson’s to work.”
“I shall tell Mr. Henderson he can’t go to-morrow afternoon to the
parsonage,” said Mrs. Pepper, calmly. “Would you like it?”
“If Ben can stay home, I’d like it, oh, so very much,” exclaimed Polly,
joyfully, and deserting her stool, the coat flying off in a heap, she
threw her arms around Mrs. Pepper’s neck.
“Oh, Mamsie! You’re just too good for anything!” Then off she ran to
Phronsie, still spinning contentedly around by herself.
“Phronsie,” she cried, seizing her and dancing away to keep step with
the small feet. “We’re going to have company to-morrow afternoon; we
are, Phronsie Pepper!”
Phronsie tried to pull herself away from Polly, seeing which Polly
stopped short.
“Oh, Polly,” cried Phronsie, breathlessly, and gazing up at Polly’s
face.
“Yes, we really and truly are, Pet, and Ben’s to stay home, and play
company, too.” With that, she danced off by herself, while Phronsie
hopped up and down and laughed to see Polly go. It was just at this
moment that the three boys raced in.
“Halloa!” exclaimed Ben, out of his wits almost with joy to see Polly
so happy. For although he had diverted the boys from their distress,
the fear of what Polly was suffering, and of Mamsie, too, had made
him not sure of himself. He might rush off into the house to see how
things were there, and then, of course, Joel and David would be sure
to follow. And then--Ben had groaned and said to himself--it would be
worse than before.
But now,--why, there was Polly, capering away, her brown hair flying,
and her cheeks red, and Mother Pepper over in the corner looking up to
greet them with smiles.
“Hooray!” screamed Ben, at his loudest, “well, I guess I’m going to
dance, too!” So he sprang over and grasped Polly’s hands.
“Me, too,” cried Joel, going after the others. But little Davie hurried
over to Phronsie, hopping up and down and laughing. “Dance with me,
Phronsie,” he said, holding out his hands. And Phronsie put hers in
them, and there they all were, the Five Little Peppers, skipping and
spinning around and around the old kitchen. There wasn’t any tune to
go by, to be sure, for Polly was too out of breath to sing, but the
laughter and scraps of chatter made a merry din, every bit of which
sank down into Mother Pepper’s heart, making it warm with contentment.
“O dear me!” At last even Polly was forced to stop.
“Wasn’t that fine!” cried Ben, his blue eyes shining. Joel had tumbled
off to the corner where little Davie and Phronsie had sunk down to rest.
“I should just say ’twas!” declared Polly, “and, oh, Ben!” clasping her
hands, “what do you think? We’re going to have company to-morrow.”
“What!” cried Ben, in amazement.
“Our play company, you know,” said Polly, seizing him by the front
of his jacket with both hands, a favorite way of hers, when she had
something very special to say, “we’re going to have it to-morrow.
Mamsie just said so!”
“Did she really, now?” cried Ben, his ruddy cheeks putting on, if
possible, a deeper glow than the spin had caused.
Polly nodded her head delightedly, gripping his jacket tighter than
ever.
“Oh, now, see!” exclaimed Joel, glancing over at them from his corner,
“they’re having secrets, Polly and Ben are,” and he sprang up to
his feet and plunged across the kitchen to them. “Tell me, what is
it,--tell me,” he clamored.
“That’s prime!” Ben was saying as Joel plunged up to them, and then, of
course, little David and Phronsie followed fast.
“Oh, I think that’s mean,” protested Joel, loudly, “not to tell us.
You’re always having secrets. What is it?” Then he laid hold of Ben’s
jacket, too. “I should think you might tell Dave and me,” he whined.
“And Phronsie,” added little David. But Ben didn’t hear this, as Joel
was making such a to-do.
“Well, you make so much noise, Joe,” said Ben, coolly, “that we can’t
tell you.”
“Oh, I won’t,--I won’t,” promised Joel, in a great state of excitement
and hanging tightly to Ben. “Tell us,--tell us, what is it, Ben?” he
screamed as much louder as possible than he had teased before.
But Ben burst into a hearty laugh, Joel revolving about him anxiously
and teasing all the while.
“O dear me! Do be still,” cried Polly, seizing Joel’s arm; “don’t you
see, Joel, we can’t possibly tell you anything while you’re screaming
so, and you couldn’t hear it if we did.” She shook his little arm.
“Now, stop, and we’ll tell you.”
Joel’s hands dropped away from Ben. “Will you, really?” he said.
“Yes,” said Polly, “really and truly we will; we were going to tell
you, Joel, anyway, and Davie and Phronsie.”
“Goodness me!” exclaimed Ben, wiping his eyes and drawing a long
breath, “has this dreadful noise really stopped?” and he pretended to
be very much astonished.
“Yes,” said Polly, laughing, “but it will begin again, I’m afraid, if
you don’t look out. Oh, children, just think,” she clasped her hands,
“we’re going to have our company to-morrow afternoon. Mamsie has just
said so!”
“_Our company_,” screamed Joel, while little Davie stared, Phronsie
standing quietly by Polly’s side where she had run.
“Yes, our play company,” said Polly; “you know we’ve been waiting
till Ben could be home, and Mamsie says he is not to work to-morrow
afternoon, and we can have it then; she just said so, while you were
out of doors.”
Joel took a good look at her face, then he tore himself away from the
group to stand on his head in the middle of the floor. In this way he
always gave expression to his deepest joy.
“Polly,” screamed little Davie, shrilly, “can we really have it
to-morrow, really, Polly?”
“Yes,” said Polly, happily, her brown eyes dancing, “as true’s you
live, Davie Pepper.”
And little David ran, not to join Joel, but to Mother Pepper’s chair.
“Oh, I’m so glad, Mamsie,” he cried, throwing himself into her lap on
top of the coat she was sewing so busily.
When Phronsie saw him, she started for Mamsie, too, and precipitated
herself in Mother Pepper’s lap, the two children making a dreadful
mix-up of the work. “Take me, Mamsie, too,” she begged.
“So Mother will,” declared Mrs. Pepper, casting aside the sewing as
well as she could and bundling the two children into her lap; “there,
now, here you both are,”--little Davie constantly saying, “I am so
glad, Mamsie.”
“I am so glad,” murmured Phronsie, though she didn’t know in the least
what it was all about, and swinging her feet contentedly.
“And now, Polly,” Ben was saying over in their corner, Joel hanging on
each word, “we must begin to get things ready if we’re going to have
all that company to-morrow.”
“So we must,” cried Polly, with an important air, “because you see we
never know how many are coming.”
“That’s so,” assented Ben.
The Pepper children had long ago decided, on talking over this company
afternoon, that whenever they could hold it, four of them should sit in
state and receive, while one should knock at the door, and be ushered
in as caller, with great ceremony. And after this call was ended, the
one who had made it should slip into the seat of another, who should go
out and be caller. And so turn about and turn about, till every one had
made a call, and again on a second round of visits if they wished. “For
we can play it as long as we want to,” Polly had said, smoothing down
her calico apron in great delight.
“I guess you’ll be glad to stop,” said Ben, grimly.
“Oh, Ben Pepper!” Polly exclaimed, “indeed, we shan’t. Well, now for
the first thing--we must dress up.” She wrinkled up her forehead at
that, and the delight dropped out of her face. “O dear, what shall we
do for clothes?”
“There’s the feathers, you know,” said Ben, reassuringly.
The box of feathers was out in the woodshed, and carefully guarded as a
great treasure, ready for just such a grand dressing-up as this company
would require.
There were several beautiful ones that the roosters in neighboring
barn-yards had discarded, to be eagerly seized by Joel and David. And
one or two whole chicken wings, given by the parson’s wife for the
collection. And oh, best of all! two long, soft, flying ones, from
Grandma Bascom’s old feather duster that she was throwing away, and
that Polly had run home with.
“Aren’t these splendid,” she had cried, waving them triumphantly, as
she dashed into the kitchen.
“Whickets!” screamed Joel, “oh, give them to me. I want them, Polly,”
making a dash for them.
“No, you won’t, Joe,” declared Polly, holding them high, “they must
go into our feather box.” And Ben, who happened to be on hand at that
moment, seized them and carried them off to put them in safety. For,
once in the “Feather Box,” no marauding fingers ever disturbed them,
the three smallest little Peppers being in duty bound never to raise
the lid until Polly or Ben said so.
“I know,” said Polly, when Ben said, “There’s the feathers,” “but we
can’t dress up much in them.” And her face, by this time, looked gloomy
enough.
“Polly,” said Ben, who couldn’t bear to see her look so, “see here,
don’t you know how you pinched up a hat for Joel to play soldier with?
Why can’t you do some more?”
“But we don’t want to be soldiers for company,” said Polly, turning a
surprised look on him that didn’t lighten the gloom a bit.
“But, don’t you see,” Ben whirled on her eagerly, “you can pinch up the
paper into ever so many different shapes and stick the feathers in, and
they’ll be beautiful hats, Polly.”
Polly stared at him out of her brown eyes. Then she seized his hands.
“Oh, Ben, so I can,” she cried, dreadfully excited. “I never thought
of that, and we can have as many hats and bonnets as we want.”
“As long as the feathers hold out,” laughed Ben, well pleased to see
the effect of his plan, “and the paper,” he added.
“Now, Phronsie and David,” Mother Pepper was saying, when the jollity
over Ben’s plan of the paper bonnets and hats began to wax very high,
“you’d better jump down from Mother’s lap, and go over there.”
“I’d rather stay here,” said both children at once, snuggling deeper in
her lap.
“But you see, Mother must sew now, else this coat won’t be done. No,
you run over,” and obediently they slid down to the floor and scrambled
off to the little group.
And the box of feathers was brought out from the woodshed, Joel and
David being sent off to get it, which filled them with the greatest
delight, and Ben ran to collect all the paper in the house that didn’t
have to be saved to light the fire with, Mother Pepper donating a stiff
brown piece that had wrapped up some things given her by the parson’s
wife.
When Polly saw that donation, she was quite overcome. “That will
make the most splendid hat of all,” she declared; “I shall put the
feather-duster plumes on that.”
“Do, Polly,” said Ben, “it’ll be fine.”
And then all the three younger children (the box of feathers being now
on hand) were set to work to hunt for pins. “For we can’t fasten the
feathers on without,” said Polly; and when this seemed a difficult
matter,--for pins cost money and were always carefully saved in the
Pepper household,--why, Mamsie came to the rescue, and said she would
loan them some. But Polly must put them into the paper hats and bonnets
very carefully so that they wouldn’t be lost out, and return them all
after the company had gone.
And Polly promised, you may be sure! “And the children better hunt
for pins all they can, for you never know where a pin can be found,”
observed Mother Pepper, wisely. And so the three younger ones got down
to prowl in all possible and impossible places for the little slippery
things, and Joel and David hunted with all their eyes for any little
stray gleams of light in the dirt whenever they went outdoors.
And the next morning in burst Joel with a small paper box high in his
hand. It hadn’t any cover and if he hadn’t made such a noise anybody
might have heard something jingling within. “See what I’ve got!” he
screamed.
“Oh, Joe, what is it?” Polly was pinching up a remarkable hat on
which she was tacking a rooster feather. An old newspaper was at her
feet that Davie was cutting up according to her directions. Phronsie
was busy with the snips of paper and bits of the feathers that Polly
broke off, under the belief that she was making for Seraphina the most
beautiful bonnet in all the world.
“Umph, I guess I’ve got something you haven’t got,” screamed Joel,
waving the box high, whereat some little things, very tiny, flew out of
the box, making him sprawl immediately on the floor to hunt after them,
when the rest of the contents promptly went out to join the first lot.
“O dear me!” exclaimed Joel, in the greatest vexation.
“I’ll help you find them,” cried David, throwing down Mamsie’s big
scissors and deserting the newspaper. Phronsie carefully laid down her
paper snips and the bits of feathers. “I’ll help you, Joey,” she said,
going over to get down and prowl by his side.
“Oh, they’re pins,” exclaimed little David, his blue eyes very big.
“Take care,” said Joel, irritably, “you’re covering ’em all up.”
“Where’d you get them?” asked David, picking up two or three; “why,
they’re all crooked.”
“She wouldn’t give me any but crooked ones,” said Joel, pawing the
floor on every side.
Polly heard these words. “Joel,” and she dropped the wonderful hat,
“where did you get those pins? You haven’t asked anybody for them,--oh,
Joel!” and she was over by the other children, consternation all over
her face.
“Grandma Bascom gave them to me,” said Joel, prowling away, “and now
they’re all spilled--”
“Grandma Bascom?” repeated Polly. “Oh, Joe, you didn’t ask for them;
Mamsie’d be so sorry.”
“No,” said Joel, “I didn’t ask for one single old pin,” and he cocked
up one black eye at her, but he didn’t stop working with his hands.
“She asked me to stay and I told her I couldn’t ’cause Dave and me was
hunting for pins, and she said she’d got some only they were crooked--
Ow--get away, Dave,--you’re on my place--”
“Go on, tell what else she said,” commanded Polly, beginning to breathe
freer.
“And then she said I could have ’em as well as not, ’cause she was
going to throw them away when she got round to cleaning out the
drawers--”
“Are you sure?” asked Polly, as he began to regard his work again very
closely.
“When she got round to cleaning out the drawers,” repeated Joel, in a
very high voice to be the better understood.
“Well, I am glad,” said Polly, with a long breath, “that you didn’t ask
for them, Joe,” and she ran back to her work with a light heart.
“I’ve found one,” announced Phronsie, holding up a big pin; “I have,
Joel.”
“Well, put it in the box,” said Joel. So Phronsie dropped the bent and
twisted pin in the little pasteboard box, and then she had to get up to
run over and tell Polly about it, before she hurried back to get on the
floor and hunt alongside of the two boys for more.
“And I shall pin on the feathers from the duster with that very pin,”
Polly decided to herself as she worked busily away, “because Grandma
gave them to us as well as the crooked pins!”