SUNLIGHT THROUGH THE CLOUD
Deacon Blodgett exclaimed, “’Tain’t no use, I can’t set myself to work
on nothin’,” and then leaned helplessly against the barn door.
Mrs. Blodgett sighed. She was far beyond words. At last she threw her
apron over her head. When she did that, the Deacon knew she was pretty
far gone.
“Don’t, Ma,” he begged, “take on so. Hem!” He swallowed hard and smote
one big hand across the other. “’Twouldn’t be so bad ef I c’d jest see
David a-runnin’ in to pile wood. Land! how smart that boy works to try
to take Joel’s place!”
“Don’t speak of Joel, Pa,” said Mrs. Blodgett in a muffled voice.
“Mercy me, ef he sh’d die!”
“Joel ain’t a-goin’ to die,” declared Deacon Blodgett, stoutly, “don’t
you think it, Ma.”
“I d’no,” Mrs. Blodgett shook her head till the apron flapped dismally.
“No mortal man c’d do more’n Doctor Fisher. Do look down th’ road, Pa,
an’ see ef his gig is comin’.”
“Dr. Fisher won’t leave the little brown house to-day till Joel’s
better,” declared the Deacon, not moving; but his eyes roved anxiously
up and down the thoroughfare.
“I wish you’d go over to Mis Pepper’s, an’ find out how Joel is,” Mrs.
Blodgett’s voice came out in a thin little quaver from behind the apron.
The Deacon braced up firmer yet against the barn door. Then he said,
“You better go yourself, Mother.”
“Mercy!” ejaculated his wife with a shiver, “I’m about sick as ’tis
now, I couldn’t never face Mis Pepper--O dear me!”
“Neither can I--an’ all is, I’m goin’ to work.” Deacon Blodgett brought
himself suddenly away from the barn door and strode off.
“Where you goin’, Pa?” Down fell Mrs. Blodgett’s apron from her head.
“Down to th’ east paster,” said the Deacon, not turning his head. “I
can’t stand still no longer an’ think o’ nothin’ but that boy.”
“Well, I ain’t a-goin’ to stay to home,” declared Mrs. Blodgett.
“Nobody to talk to but Mary Ann, an’ she keeps harpin’ on the
Pepperses. I’ll go down an’ see Grandma Bascom.”
So she tied on her bonnet with trembling fingers and hurried off. When
she left the main road and struck the little lane that led down to
Grandma’s house, she stopped abruptly. “O dear me! that’s almost as bad
as to go to Mis Pepper’s, for Mis Bascom’ll take on somethin’ dreadful.
My! what’s that in th’ bushes!”
A little crackling noise struck her ears, and one or two small branches
stirred in the shrubbery alongside the road. There wasn’t any wind to
speak of, and Mrs. Blodgett paused in fright, her fingers on her lips;
but being no coward, she marched up and shook the nearest bush.
“We don’t want no tramps in Badgertown,” she began. Then she burst out,
“Why, _David Pepper_!”
There on the ground, his face grubbing into the grass, lay David
squirming back and forth, his little hands clenched.
“You poor little creeter, you!” Mrs. Blodgett got down on the ground
beside him, and fairly gathered him up to her ample bosom. “You
couldn’t cry in the little brown house, an’ so you’ve come out here.
Poor lamb!”
“_Joel!_” ’Twas all that Davie was capable of.
“There--there--now you jest stop!” Mrs. Blodgett spoke sharply, she was
so scared, for the sobs were shaking David from top to toe; but to stop
was beyond him, so she laid him down on the grass.
“Now I’m jest goin’ to your house an’ see how things is, Davie. Then
I’ll come back an’ tell you.” She got up with difficulty and shook her
calico gown free from the dirt and mold.
“Don’t--don’t!” screamed David, sitting up. “Oh, Mrs. Blodgett,
_don’t_!”
“Yes, I’m goin’, Davie, an’ you better come along of me.” She held out
her hand. “Your ma would want you to.” “’Tain’t half so bad as to let
him stay here an’ be scared to death in them bushes,” she reflected.
“Would Mamsie want me to?” asked Davie, blinking at her through the
tears that ran down his cheeks.
“She certainly would,” declared Mrs. Blodgett. “O my!” she cried,
pricking up her ears. “Well, you wait here a minute. I’ll come back for
you.”
She darted down the road, if such locomotion as she set up could be
called darting, and presently she saw just ahead Dr. Fisher’s old gig.
“_Wait!_” she tried to scream, but her tongue flapped up to the roof of
her mouth and stuck there, as she panted on.
A farmer’s boy in an old wagon coming around the corner thrust his
fingers in his mouth and gave such a whistle that the little doctor
thrust out his head.
“Lady wants you--she’s a-runnin’ fit to split,” said the boy, pointing
to the Deacon’s wife pounding the dust up dreadfully at every step.
Dr. Fisher pulled up the old horse and hopped out of the gig.
“Good gracious, is that you, Mrs. Blodgett!” he exclaimed, hurrying to
meet her.
The Deacon’s wife was beyond speech, only being able to puff, her hand
at her side and her face very red. So the little Doctor began the
conversation.
“Do you know where David Pepper is?” he asked anxiously.
That made Mrs. Blodgett find her tongue. “He’s in them bushes,” she
said, pointing a shaking finger back down the road.
“Get in--get right in,” said Dr. Fisher joyfully, taking hold of
her fat arm, and hurrying her to the gig, “and we’ll get Davie--his
mother’s awfully worried about him.”
Mrs. Blodgett had no chance to speak further until the gig was well
under way for David’s bush. “He don’t look as ef Joel was worse,” she
said to herself, peering into the little Doctor’s face, “but I’m mortal
afraid to ask.”
“And now that Joel is going to get well,” said Doctor Fisher, “why we
must get David home to his mother.”
“_Joel goin’ to git well_,” screamed Mrs. Blodgett, nipping his arm,
and turning her red face toward him.
“Yes, indeed!” declared the little Doctor. “Praise God--Joel is saved
to us all!” His face was very grave, but there was a light in the eyes
back of the big spectacles that made the Deacon’s wife say brokenly,
“Bless th’ Lord!”
“You may well say that,” said Dr. Fisher brokenly.
“An’ you too--I say bless you!” cried the Deacon’s wife heartily, “for
I guess th’ Lord Himself can’t do much ef folks won’t help, too. Well,
here’s David in that bush there.”
Dr. Fisher pulled up the old horse sharply, tossed the reins over the
dashboard and leaped out over the wheel.
“Hulloa, David!” he cried, pushing back the branches. “Well--well!”
Davie shivered and shrank back further under the bush.
“Oh, Joey is going to get well,” said the little Doctor cheerily,
poking his big spectacles in under the branches.
David sprang up and threw his arms convulsively around the little
Doctor’s neck.
“There--there--good gracious, you hug worse’n a bear, Dave,” cried Dr.
Fisher, bundling him up in his arms. “Now then, hop in with you!” He
deposited him on the old leather seat, and jumped into the gig beside
him. “We must get you home to your mother before you can say Jack
Robinson!”
If David’s legs had a hard time of it when Joel was so sick, it was
nothing to the way they had to run now that the dark cloud had passed
over the little brown house.
Up and down the loft stairs where Joel tossed impatiently on the
shake-down, Davie toiled to suit Joel’s demands, who wanted something
every minute. At last Mrs. Pepper interfered. “You mustn’t, Joey,” she
said; “Davie will be worn out.”
“I’ve been sick,” declared Joel, with an important air, “and Dave likes
to get things.”
“Yes, I do,” said Davie eagerly, and lifting a pale face. “Do let me,
Mamsie.”
“There, you see,” said Joel triumphantly.
“No,” said Mother Pepper, “you mustn’t send him over the stairs so
much, Joey. He’s very tired.”
“I’m not much tired,” said David, wishing that Mamsie wouldn’t keep him
from waiting on Joel.
“Yes, you are, Davie child. You’ve been mother’s boy all these weeks,
and worked so hard.”
A pink flush crept all over David’s pale little face. He folded his
hands, and stood quite still.
“I’m mother’s boy, too,” declared Joel, “ain’t I, Mamsie?” He rolled
over in the shake-down, and fastened his black eyes on her.
“Indeed you are,” declared Mrs. Pepper warmly, “both of you. But, Joel,
I want you to remember how hard Davie has worked all the time that Ben
and you have been sick. You must never forget that, Joey.”
“I won’t forget,” said Joel, “and I want to get up.” With that he gave
his legs a fling, and ran his toes out of bed.
“Oh, Joel,” cried Mother Pepper in alarm, “you mustn’t do that. It is
the very worst thing that could happen to a boy with the measles--to
get his feet cold.” And she tucked him in again snug and tight.
“My toes are hot,” said Joel, wriggling worse than ever, and making the
old comforter bulge up at the side.
“I’ll sit on it, Mamsie, and hold it down,” said Davie, getting on the
edge of the bed. “There.”
“_Ow!_ No, you don’t,” declared Joel, bouncing up so suddenly that
Davie slid off to the floor in a little heap.
“Joel--Joel!” reproved Mother Pepper.
“Well, he was sitting all over my toes,” declared Joel, throwing his
legs about, so that Mother Pepper had to tuck him all up again.
“Can’t you pin him in, Mamsie?” asked Davie, picking himself up, to
hover over the bed. “I will get your big shawl-pin,” and he started for
the stairs.
“Hoh! I ain’t going to be pinned in bed,” cried Joel in a dudgeon.
“Mamsie, make him come back,” he whimpered. “Don’t let him get the pin,
I’ll be good.”
“See that you are then, Joel,” said Mrs. Pepper. “Come back, Davie,” as
he was half-way over the stairs. “Joel is going to be a good boy, and
keep his feet in bed.”
“O dear,” grumbled Joel, flouncing all over the bed as David ran back,
“I want Polly to come up and tell me a story.”
“Polly can’t come now,” said Mrs. Pepper. There was a little white line
around her mouth; she had her back to the bed, so that Joel could not
see her face.
“She never comes,” grumbled Joel. “Oh, I’m _so_ hot. Why can’t she
come, Mamsie?”
“Can’t I tell a story?” said David, coming close. “I will, Joey.”
“Phoh!” Joel bent his black eyes on him. “You can’t tell a story, Dave
Pepper.”
“Now I think Davie could tell a story very nicely,” said Mother Pepper
with a smile for David.
“I can try,” said Davie, his heart beating dreadfully at the mere
thought. But something had to be done to keep Joel from finding out
that Polly’s eyes were so bad.
“All right,” said Joel ungraciously, “but I know it won’t be good for
anything.”
“Now that’s very nice of you, Davie, and I know it will be a good
story, Joel.” Mrs. Pepper gave a final tuck-in to the old comforter,
and went quickly down-stairs.
“Get up on the bed, Dave,” said Joel, beginning to feel better about
the story, since Mamsie thought it would be a good one. So David hopped
on the foot of the shake-down and folded his hands, and wondered how in
the world he was ever going to begin.
“Well, begin,” said Joel impatiently.
“Well once,” said David, “there was--”
“Yes,” said Joel, “go on.”
“There was--”
“You said that before.”
“I know it. Well, there was--”
“Stop saying there was,” cried Joel crossly.
“But there really was,” insisted David, feeling sure that in another
moment he should certainly jump off from the bed, and fly over the
stairs.
“Well, go on. Was what?” roared Joel, flinging back the comforter.
“Oh, you mustn’t do that,” cried David, sliding along on the bed, still
feeling that he would rather do the tucking up than to tackle the
story. “Mamsie said you must keep the clothes up,” and he pulled the
comforter up around Joel’s neck.
“Go away,” cried Joel, “and you can’t tell a story any more
than--than--an old hopper-toad.”
“I’m not a hopper-toad,” cried David, a little pink flush coming over
his face.
“Yes, you are, Dave Pepper, a bad old hopper-toad,” insisted Joel
vindictively, “and you don’t know any story, you old hopper-toad, you!”
David’s face worked dreadfully. “I ain’t--and I won’t tell you any
story.” He got off from the bed and marched to the stairs.
“Oh, you must,” cried Joel in alarm. A bad story was better than none.
“You promised, and you’ve got to, or I’ll call Mamsie, and tell her.”
He tossed off the old comforter again.
“Don’t call Mamsie,” cried Davie, hurrying back.
“All right,” said Joel. Then he snuggled down in the bed, and drew the
long-suffering bed-clothes up so that only his ears were sticking out.
“Go on.”
“Well,” said David, climbing on the foot of the bed again and beginning
very slowly, “Once there was--”
“Don’t say that again,” commanded Joel, sticking up his face from the
folds of the comforter.
“A boy,” said David hurriedly.
“How big was he?” asked Joel with faint interest. But it was just as
well to get the age settled on in the beginning.
“Oh, about as big as--” David hesitated.
“Have him as big as me,” said Joel, “and his arms as big,” he thrust
out one, “and his legs just as exactly as big,” and he stuck out his
foot.
“Oh, get back, Joe,” cried David, frantically pushing up the
bed-clothes.
“Well, go on,” said Joel, huddling down again.
“And this boy was going along one day--”
“What was the boy’s name?” asked Joel suddenly.
“I don’t know,” said David helplessly.
“Don’t know,” Joel gave another kick to the clothes, and snorted,
“Hoh!--you’re a great one, Dave Pepper, to tell a story about a boy and
not know his name.”
“Well, it was--” David floundered helplessly, “Peter,” he brought out
finally.
“All right,” said Joel, quite satisfied. “Now go on.”
“Well, one day, he was going to school.”
“Oh, don’t have him go to school,” whined Joel, dreadfully disappointed
that a boy with such a satisfying name as Peter should waste time over
books. “Make him going to shoot something--Go--Bang!” Joel threw up
his arms, and screwed up one eye over an imaginary gun.
“All right, I will,” said David accommodatingly. “Well--but you must
put in your arms, Joel.”
“Go on,” said Joel, huddling back in bed again, “go on, Dave.”
“Well, so Peter was going to school, and--”
“No--no,” interrupted Joel, “he was going out to shoot something; you
said so, Dave.”
“So I did,” said Davie. “Well, Peter was going out to shoot something,
and--”
“What was he going to shoot?” demanded Joel.
“I don’t know,” said Davie helplessly.
“O dear,” grumbled Joel, “you don’t know any story, and you won’t let
Peter do anything,” and he flounced all over the bed.
“Oh, I will--I will,” cried Davie in great distress. “I’ll let Peter
shoot anything you want--I will truly, Joel.”
“I’d rather have a bear,” said Joel, stopping his tossing about; “no,
two bears. Make it two bears, Dave,” he cried, very much excited.
“I will,” said David, thinking it just as easy to deal with two bears,
as long as he didn’t know in the least what to do with one. “Well,
Peter was going to school--I mean out to shoot something, and he went
down the road--”
“With his gun over his shoulder,” interrupted Joel.
“Yes, with his gun over his shoulder, and--and then he turned down the
corner.”
“Don’t have any corner,” said Joel, “he went right straight into the
woods, _slap bang_!”
“Oh, yes,” said David, “he went into the woods, and--”
“And have the bear--no, the two bears, come right now this very minute.”
“Yes,” said David, “I will. Well, Peter went into the woods, and he saw
a big tree, and--”
“_Ow!_ Don’t have any tree,” howled Joel. “Make a big hole for the
bears to live in.”
“I won’t have any tree,” said David.
“Peter heard an awful noise,” and Joel growled fiercely, “and all of
a sudden--gee whiz! and Peter looked up at a big pile of stones--no,
let’s have it a cave, an awful big cave.”
“Yes, let’s,” said David, leaning forward in great delight from his
post on the foot of the bed.
“Oh, such a big noise!” and Joel gave another growl, so much worse than
the first that Davie gave a little scream, and a delightful shiver ran
up and down his small back, as Joel showed all his little white teeth,
“and Peter put up his gun, for the two bears were looking out of the
cave just like this--” Joel’s black eyes were simply dreadful, they
were so big, and he bounced up to sit in the middle of the bed.
“Oh, Joey,” exclaimed David in great distress, “do lie down. Mamsie
won’t like it-- Oh, Joey!”
“O dear!” Joel tumbled back. “I can’t shoot the bears lying down.”
“Well, you’ve got to,” said Davie, tucking him up again, “for Mamsie
would feel dreadfully to have you sit up. Now go on about the bears.”
“Well, the two bears--no, one bear, jumped out of the cave first, and
Peter put up his gun, and _Bang!_ and over went the bear, and--”
“Oh, Joey!” cried Davie, in his post again on the foot of the
shake-down, his blue eyes aflame, “did Peter kill the bear?”
“Yes, of course,” said Joel, “just as dead as dead could be, and the
other one, too--oh, no,” he cried suddenly, “I’m going to have the
other bear chew Peter.”
“Oh, no, Joel,” exclaimed David in horror. It was bad enough for a boy
to be kept from school and turned into the woods, without being chewed
up by a bear. “Don’t let him, Joe,” he begged, clasping his hands in
great distress.
“Well, he won’t chew him _all_ up,” said Joel unwillingly, “only his
legs and--”
“Oh, don’t let the bear chew Peter’s legs,” cried David, leaning over
close to Joel’s face; “then Peter can’t run away.”
“I’m not going to have Peter run away,” declared Joel, bobbing his
black head decidedly.
“Oh, yes, I will, too,” he cried joyfully, and clapping his hands.
“I’ll have the bear chew him a little on one leg, and then when Peter
runs, the bear can chase him, and chew him on the other, and--”
“Joel,” exclaimed David, with very red cheeks, “I think that bear is a
bad old bear, and I don’t like him.”
“And then he can chew Peter all up, every teenty speck,” cried Joel,
with sparkling eyes. “Yes sir!” smacking his lips.
David tumbled quickly off from the bed, and made for the stairs. “I’m
not going to stay here, if you have Peter chewed up,” he declared, his
blue eyes flashing.
“Dave, don’t go.” Up went Joel’s head from the pillow, “I won’t let him
be chewed up. You can have that bear for your own. Don’t go, Dave.”
“Can I have him for my very own?” asked David, drawing near the bed.
“Yes, you may,” promised Joel, swallowing hard, “if you’ll come back.”
“I sha’n’t let Peter be chewed up,” said Davie, clambering on to his
old place on the bed once more, “and I sha’n’t have him shoot the bear
either.”
“What will you do?” cried Joel in great astonishment.
“I’m going to have the bear go right into his hole again; and Peter is
going to school,” said David with great decision.
“O dear me!” Joel rolled over in terrible disappointment.
“He’s my bear,” said David, “you gave him to me, and--”
“Well, Peter isn’t yours,” said Joel, interrupting. “I’m going to have
Peter, so there!”
“You may have the bear, and I’ll take Peter,” said David eagerly.
“You may. I don’t want Peter--you won’t let him do anything,” said
Joel. “I’d a great deal rather have the bear,” he brought up in great
satisfaction.
“Well, how nice that is, Davie, for you to tell Joel a story.” Mother
Pepper coming up the stairs to the loft, beamed approvingly at him.
David’s cheeks got very hot. “I didn’t tell the story,” he said, and
his face fell.
“He had Peter,” said Joel quickly.
“Joel had two bears, and he told all about ’em,” said David; “I didn’t
tell any story,” he said again in a sorry little voice.
“And--and--he told about Peter, and he’s going to school,” Joel brought
up with a wry face.
“Well, now,” said Mother Pepper, “I think that must have been a very
good story, and how nice that you two boys could tell it together.”