ALL TOGETHER.
“Mrs. Benson,” said Joel, regarding her fixedly, “they used to say of
me in the old days, that I was perfectly dreadful when I was sick, to
make them stand round, you know, and all that. Now, I know you won’t
say that, will you?” he asked wheedlingly.
“I don’t know,” said the little old lady, shaking her head at her
minister. “You do get your own way somehow or other, sir.”
Joel burst into a loud laugh, then he pulled himself up.
“Jim,” he said, “I’m dreadfully abused by them all, am I not, my fine
fellow?” to a man in the corner.
“Hey, sir?” said Jim, coming forward.
“I say I’m most dreadfully abused,” cried Joel. “Now, I’m going to get
up out of this bed,” giving a smart kick to the clothes.
“And I say you mustn’t,” cried the little old lady in alarm, and
running, both hands full of dishes which she cast on a table on her
way. “Hold down the clothes, Jim, that side; oh! what would the doctor
say?”
“A fig for the doctor!” cried Joel with another lunge, that brought all
the clothes clear away from both sides. “Now, Jim, hand me my toggery,
and help me into it.”
“Oh, oh!” cried little Mrs. Benson, finding the clothes twitched out of
her hands, beginning now to wring them together. “What shall we do? Son
Henry has gone to his store, or I’d call him.”
“And ‘son Henry’ couldn’t do a bit of good if he were here,” observed
Joel calmly; and, sitting on the side of the bed, he issued orders for
his raiment, to right and to left, to Jim. “No, Mother Benson, I’m not
going to be caught by all my family, after they cabled they were to
start--why, they may be here to-morrow, and I tucked into bed like a
sick baby. No, indeed, ma’am! Why, I’m as well as a fish.”
Joel bared a brawny arm, and viewed it with affection, then swung it
out for her to see.
“And just think, it was only a week ago yesterday, and you were picked
up with a big cut on your head, and we all thought you dead for ever so
long,” mourned Mrs. Benson.
“Well, I wasn’t dead; and is that any reason for being mewed up
forever, Mrs. Benson?” asked Joel. “Nonsense! my old head is all ready
for another crack.”
“Heaven forbid!” cried the little old lady, stopping the wringing, to
run around the foot of the bed, and take Joel’s black curls in her
hands and kiss them over and over.
“Such good nursing as I’ve had, Mrs. Benson!” exclaimed Joel, who liked
immensely all this petting. “Jim, you and I will long remember this,
won’t we, old fellow?”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said Jim heartily.
“There!” said Joel, swinging himself up to his full height at last, and
marching across the room. “I’m as good as new, made over, and patched
up, and warranted. Now, Jim, get me a barber, and we’ll have all this
mop off in double quick time.” He shook back the black waves over his
forehead.
“Oh, sir!” cried the little old lady in the greatest distress, “don’t
touch those beautiful curls! I wouldn’t have one of ’em cut for
anything.”
[Illustration: “There!” said Joel, marching across the room. “I’m as
good as new, made over, and patched up, and warranted.”]
“They are the bane of my life,” cried Joel, shaking them viciously.
“You can’t think how I just detest this poll of mine, Mrs. Benson. Why
that idiot of a doctor didn’t shave it all, I don’t see.”
“I wouldn’t let him, sir,” said Mrs. Benson. “And he said the cut on
the head wasn’t what troubled him; you were exhausted with all you’d
done. It’s only a wonder that you pulled through at all.”
“Nonsense!” exploded Joel. “Well, now, don’t you tell my family all
this stuff when they come.”
“I’m going to tell your family everything and all there is to it,”
declared little Mrs. Benson obstinately. “I’m a-going to tell them, if
’twas the last word I’d ever speak, how that precious deary took care
of the old woman, and got her where she could be saved by you and Jim.
And they’re going to hear what _you_ did, and that nothing would have
been of any earthly use if it hadn’t been for you. They shall hear it,
every blessed word, sir. And after there wasn’t so much as a rat left
aboard, and you’d seen the captain and Jim off, you jumped for your
life, and was struck by a floating spar. There, and there, and there!”
she cried.
“Mrs. Benson, dear Mrs. Benson,” began Joel.
“You won’t get me to say I won’t,” cried the little old lady, “because
I _will_ tell them every single thing that you did, and what folks
said, and the whole. There again, sir.”
“Jim, get the barber!” roared Joel at him in great dismay. So the
barber, a thin, dapper little man, soon appeared with all his
paraphernalia; and presently Joel’s black curls were sprawling all over
the floor, little Mrs. Benson on her knees picking them up, and patting
them, and doing them up in a clean old handkerchief to lay away in her
lavender drawer with the rest of her treasures.
And in the midst of it all, in walked Polly and Jasper, Ben and David,
while the three children were here, there, and everywhere.
And on the morrow, the doctor being obliged to say that Joel was
perfectly able to go, having recovered in a remarkable manner, all
the party bade good-by to little Mrs. Benson and “son Henry” and his
family, and off they hurried to Rome; Jim being proud as possible--for
wasn’t he the Rev. Mr. Pepper’s body-servant, to remain so, and go back
home with them?
“I like that house,” said King, looking back at the ironmonger’s red
brick dwelling, on the stoop of which was drawn up the little old lady
and her son the ironmonger and all his family, “a great deal better
than I do the hotel. I wish I could have stayed over night there; it’s
got lots of things in the big front room I didn’t have a chance to see.”
“And oh, they’re so good!” cried Polly, looking back from the carriage
with tears in her eyes. “I can never forget, Joey dear, how good
they’ve been to you.”
“If it had not been for going there, I couldn’t have made Phronsie and
Grandpapa go and leave me,” said Joel. “But dear me, Polly, that good
woman just nursed me up: you can’t think how good she was to me,” cried
Joel affectionately.
“I love her,” broke out Barby, and patting Uncle Joel’s knee to attract
his attention; “and she’s my very own Mrs. Benson, she is; and when I
go again, I shall say, ‘How do you do, my very own Mrs. Benson, and
pretty well I thank you mostly.’”
So in great glee they kept each other’s spirits up along the way. But
as they neared Rome, Polly’s heart sank, and even Joel fidgeted about;
and Jasper and the “Pepper boys” had all they could do to keep things
bright and cheery. Only now and then had it been possible to hear
from Phronsie and the others, and then but scraps of information: that
Roslyn May was mending, although the fever was not broken up; that
Grandpapa was keeping bravely all his anxiety and distress to himself;
and Mamsie wrote how beautiful Phronsie was, till Joel had all he
could do to keep from crying outright. He thought he loved Phronsie as
much as he could before--they all did; but since that night when they
both faced death, and, worse than anything that threatened themselves,
knew that it hung over dear Grandpapa, Joel’s whole soul was bound up
in Phronsie, and it seemed to him as if he could never wait to see
her again. Over and over he beguiled the way with the story of what
Phronsie had said and done on the ship all through that dreadful night,
till Polly and the boys and the children, hanging on his words, knew it
all by heart. And so on to Rome. At last they were there.
Little Dr. Fisher, who had received their telegram, met them. He looked
worn and tired; but he mastered a cheery smile for King and for Polly
and her babies, and he wrung Joel’s hand as only he could wring it;
and he said, “The fever hasn’t left him, but he’s holding his own;”
and that was all they could get out of him. And then they all hurried
off to the hotel where Roslyn May lay fighting for his young life, and
Phronsie, Grandpapa, and Mamsie were watching over him.
“Polly,” said Doctor Fisher desperately, and getting a moment with her
alone. “I must tell you, I think the chances are slim unless”--
A little cry broke from Polly’s lips.
“Hush, Polly, my girl,” warned the little doctor disapprovingly,
regarding her over his big spectacles, “why, that isn’t like you. It
all depends on our keeping our heads, you know.”
“I won’t do it again, Papa Fisher,” said poor Polly.
“Unless we can persuade Roslyn that Phronsie and he are not to be
separated again, I was going to say,” went on Father Fisher calmly.
“You see, he has suffered off here alone by himself a long time--I
know, because he has told me all about it; and then when he came back
after Mr. King,--I don’t blame your father,” the little doctor made
haste to say quickly, “but it was pretty tough on Roslyn,--and then
when he came back to plunge into his work again after Mr. King’s
send-off, why, he hadn’t much strength to fall back on.”
“What can we do?” asked Polly eagerly. “O papa-doctor! tell me, what
can we do?” and she clasped her hands. “I’ll do just anything, if
you’ll only tell me.”
The little doctor beamed on her. “Bless you, Polly,” he said, “I depend
on you to do it all.”
“All?” cried Polly, aghast.
“Yes,” Dr. Fisher nodded briskly. “You see,--I must be quick, for
that scamp of a Joe is listening with all his ears,--you see, Polly,
Roslyn May has got it into his head that as soon as he is well, the old
gentleman will spirit Phronsie away again.”
“He shouldn’t,” began Polly indignantly, “when Grandpapa has brought
her clear over here just to show that he has given up all opposition.”
“Tut, tut, child!” said the little doctor; “you can’t reason with a
sick man. All I say is, that Roslyn May has got it into his head that
Phronsie is to melt away in some sort of fashion as soon as he gets
well; and I can’t do much for him--I really can’t, Polly, as long as
that is in his mind.” He shook his head, and looked so very dejected
and miserable, that Polly’s heart ached for him.
“O Father Fisher,” she cried, “this is very dreadful! Oh, don’t look
so!” seizing his hand; “perhaps something will happen,” she added,
brightening up, “to make him believe that Phronsie is to belong to him.”
“There’s only one thing,” said the little doctor; and he put his mouth
to Polly’s ear and whispered something. “Oh, no, no!” cried Polly,
starting back, “it couldn’t ever be in all this world, _here_!”
“Why not?” Doctor Fisher set his spectacles straight, and looked at her.
“Because--because, why, Phronsie should be married at home, and have
the biggest wedding, Papa Fisher, you ever saw, and such a beautiful
one! Oh, no, no, no, no!” cried Polly, who couldn’t stop herself, but
felt as if she were racing down hill, and all out of breath.
“Wouldn’t it be better than not to have _any_ wedding, Polly?” asked
the little doctor slowly, and looking at her with his small keen eyes.
“Oh, dear me! yes, of course,” cried poor Polly in horror, and
feeling as if the whole world were going awry just then. Not to have a
beautiful wedding, such as Phronsie ought to have, just such an one as
Polly had planned, oh, so many times in her heart, for the pet of the
family! She drew away, and her eyes filled with tears despite all her
efforts.
Doctor Fisher paused a moment to give her time to recover herself, and
looked very grave. “A big wedding isn’t the best of all blessings,” he
said; “and I don’t believe but what Phronsie would prefer the quiet
one--your mother thinks so.”
“Does Mamsie think Phronsie better be married here?” asked Polly,
feeling as if everybody were deserting her.
“She surely does, Polly,” said the little doctor. “Well, I looked to
you to influence Mr. King--but say no more,” as the others crowded
around.
Mamsie! oh, when Polly found herself in the dear arms, and felt the
dear eyes upon her, she seized Jasper’s hand. “O Jasper, we’ll never
let her go again,” she cried, “in all this world!”
[Illustration: “Oh, when Polly found herself in the dear arms, and felt
the dear eyes upon her.”]
But amidst the happiness of all being together again, Polly carried
around with her a heavy heart. She knew that the little doctor was
disappointed in her; and somehow, when she saw the dear Mamsie again,
she felt that this disapproval was shared by the one, whom, next to
Jasper, she loved the best in the world. And in amongst all the delight
with which the whole bunch of Peppers revolved around Phronsie, there
was a little feeling of bitterness creeping up in Polly’s heart, that
Phronsie herself was pining for something more that they must give her.
Jasper found Polly so. “What is it, dear?”
“O Jasper! I’ve put it out of my head, but it won’t stay out,” cried
Polly. “Do you think that Phronsie and Roslyn should be married here?”
“I surely do, Polly,” said Jasper decidedly.
“What?” cried Polly, aghast, all her fine visions of radiance on
Phronsie’s wedding morn tumbling at once. “Then, let us go to Mamsie,”
she said humbly, “and tell her we think so. Don’t let us stop to talk
about it, Jasper; but we ought to go at once--this very minute.”