THE UNINVITED GUEST
“They’re coming!” announced Joel, with a wry face. “O dear me!”
“How fine!” exclaimed Polly brightly. It was quite elegant to be
waiting for company, but it began to be a bit tiresome. Now they had
really come! “Hurry and open the door, Joe.”
Joel deserted the window and the green door being opened, in walked
Peletiah.
“Where’s Ezekiel?” cried Joel, looking past him.
“Oh, Joel,” exclaimed Polly, in great distress, for she dearly loved
fine manners, “you must shake hands.” Then she put out her hand, and
said, “I’m glad you’ve come, Peletiah.”
Joel stuck out his little brown hand, then drew it back. “He won’t do
it,” he said, as Peletiah, having to think about it first, wasn’t
ready.
“Never mind,” said Polly; “isn’t Ezekiel coming?”
“My mother said he would come in half an hour,” said Peletiah, “and I’m
going to stay until five o’clock.”
“O dear me!” said Joel, turning off in great disgust, “perhaps it’s
half an hour now. I’m going out to look for him,” and he danced out to
the flat door-stone.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Polly with a little laugh and hurrying after him.
“Why, it isn’t any time yet, Joey.”
“Why, Polly Pepper!” declared Joel, hopping up and down impatiently,
“it’s an awful long time, and he keeps saying things over and over.”
“Well, never mind,” said Polly again. “Now, you must come in and we’ll
begin to play something.”
“He can’t play,” said Joel, “and he keeps saying things over and over.”
“Well, you’re just doing that yourself, Joel Pepper,” Polly burst into
a merry laugh. “Now, come in.”
“I’m going to watch for Ezekiel,” said Joel obstinately.
“Oh, no, you mustn’t,” cried Polly decidedly. “I never heard of such a
way to have company. You must come in and make him have a good time at
your party.” And she laid hold of his sleeve.
“There isn’t any good time,” grumbled Joel, stumbling along, Polly
still holding his sleeve.
“Well now, boys,” said Polly, shutting the green door. “I think the
first thing we’ll do, will be to march.”
“That’ll be fine,” exclaimed Joel, clapping his hands. “I’m going to
lead.”
“Yes, you may,” said Polly. “Get the broom, Joel.”
So Joel ran over and pulled the broom down from its hook in the corner,
to stick it up by his shoulder and prance off. “Come on,” he shouted.
“Come, Peletiah,” said Polly, “you must march next.”
“I don’t want to march,” said Peletiah, not moving.
“Oh, yes, you do,” said Polly. “You’ve come to Joel’s party, and this
begins the party.”
Peletiah, not being able to contradict this, stepped slowly forward.
Then he stopped. “Folks don’t have to do everything they don’t want to
at a party,” he said.
“Yes, they do,” said Polly, bobbing her head decidedly, “when the party
is in the little brown house. Come now, you must get into line.”
So Peletiah, seeing no help for it, found himself back of Joel marching
off with his broom, as best he could, while Polly brought up the rear.
“Come on,” shouted Joel, prancing wildly off. Then he looked around.
“He isn’t marching--he’s just an old mud-turtle crawling,” he cried in
disgust.
“Oh, Joel!” cried Polly. “Now, Peletiah, you must go faster.”
“He called me a mud-turtle,” Peletiah stopped in his tracks, his face
red clear up to his tow hair.
“Joel oughtn’t to have said that,” said Polly, “but you must go faster.
Don’t you see I can’t march at all unless you do.”
“I’m not going to march,” declared Peletiah, deserting the ranks to go
across the kitchen and sit down in one of the chairs backed up against
the wall, “and he called me a mud-turtle, and as soon as I’m rested,
I’m going home.”
“Oh, no,” said Polly, “you couldn’t do that. Why, you are at a party.
Well now, don’t let’s march. We’ll play something else, till Ezekiel
comes. I know,” she clapped her hands and spun around once or twice in
the middle of the floor.
Joel threw down the broom wrathfully.
“You must hang it up first,” said Polly, coming out of her spin.
“I don’t want any party,” declared Joel, “not a single snitch of one.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” said Polly, running up to him. “Hang up the broom,
Joel--that’s a good boy. I’ve thought of something just too splendid
for anything.”
If Polly had thought of “something just too splendid for anything,”
that altered matters, and after all, the party might be quite worth
while. So Joel ran and got the broom back on its nail--then he was
back.
“What is it--what is it?” he cried, his black eyes sparkling.
“He called me a mud-turtle,” said Peletiah over in the chair backed up
against the wall, “and I’m going home.”
“Oh, no,” Polly ran over to stand in front of him. “Company never
goes home from a party till it’s over. Besides, we’re going to play
perfectly splendid things, and there’s the refreshments.”
“Refreshments!” howled Joel, “are there going to be refreshments! Oh, I
do want a party, Polly, I do,” and he swarmed all over her.
“Don’t, Joel,” she said in vexation. O dear, and it was to be such a
surprise, and now she’d told before it was time!
“They’re in the cupboard, the refreshments are,” said Joel, springing
off to the corner. “I know they are.”
“Joel, you mustn’t,” cried Polly, flying after to stop him. But she was
too late! He flung open the door of the old cupboard, and there on the
shelf was the custard pie, and beside it three cups and a pitcher.
“A pie!” screamed Joel, his nose wrinkling up, and he stood on his
tiptoes to reach it. “Oh, I want some now. Do let me, Polly.”
“For shame, Joel,” cried Polly angrily. “Come right straight away.” She
seized his calico blouse.
But Joel hung with both hands to the edge of the shelf. And the green
door opening, in came Ezekiel.
“There now, just see, here’s the rest of your company coming,” cried
Polly, quite lost in her vexation. “Now I don’t believe I shall let you
have any pie at all.”
“It’s my party,” howled Joel, still hanging to the shelf and looking
over his shoulder at her, “and I’m going to have the refreshments,
Polly.”
“How do you do, Ezekiel,” said Polly.
Ezekiel had on a new calico blouse, pink and white striped, that the
minister’s wife had sat up the night before to finish for the party.
And he was hardly able to take his thoughts from it, until he saw the
pie, and underneath it Joel hanging to the shelf. Then he stared out of
big eyes.
“I’m going to have some refreshments,” cried Joel over to him.
“Oh, no,” contradicted Polly. “Joel has been naughty,” she said to
Ezekiel, “and he ought not to have any pie.”
“He called me a mud-turtle,” said Peletiah, over in the chair by the
wall. He concluded not to say anything about going home since he heard
“refreshments and pie.”
“O dear!” exclaimed Polly, her cheeks very hot.
“Can’t I have any pie?” gasped Joel, dropping suddenly to the floor,
his face working dreadfully as he tried not to cry.
“I don’t see how you can,” said Polly slowly. She hated to say it, but
when a boy was naughty, why of course he ought not to have goodies.
Joel threw himself flat on the floor, and sobbed as if his heart would
break.
“And I can’t have any, either,” Polly leaned over him to say it,
“because I got angry.”
This was so very dreadful that Joel raised his head to look at her, the
tears dripping off from his round cheeks. And the old kitchen became so
very still, you could have heard a pin drop.
Peletiah slipped off from his chair and came slowly up. “And I was
naughty, too,” he said, “’cause I was going home.”
“Then Ezekiel will have the whole pie,” cried Joel, and down went his
head again to the floor, where he kicked and screamed so that all the
pins in the world dropping couldn’t possibly have been heard.
Did ever anybody see such a party! Polly clasped her hands tightly and
said to herself, “I won’t cry! Oh, if Mamsie were only here!”
But it wouldn’t do any good to keep saying that to herself. She must
_do_ something. She swallowed very hard. “I’m going to play ‘Old Father
Dubbin,’” she cried, and spun out to the middle of the old kitchen
floor.
Up came Joel’s head. “Are you really going to play ‘Old Father Dubbin,’
Polly?” he cried, blinking through his tears.
“Of course, I am,” cried Polly gayly, running into the bedroom to kneel
down before the bottom drawer of Mamsie’s big bureau. Here Polly kept
the things for that much-prized play of “Old Father Dubbin.” Phronsie’s
red-topped shoes were there, too, and the other few treasures possessed
by the “Five Little Peppers.” All except the fish-hooks, and the dried
bugs, and such choice possessions that Joel and David exulted in. Those
Mother Pepper said must be kept up in the loft.
Polly dragged out “Old Father Dubbin’s” queer little hat, and the rest
of his things. Her heart beat dreadfully and one or two tears dropped
into the drawer. “I mustn’t cry--anyway, not until the party is over,”
she said, shutting the drawer.
Out in the kitchen Joel was prancing about, screaming, “We’re going to
play ‘Old Father Dubbin’--we are!” until Ezekiel ran up to him. “I’m
going to play it, too.” So Joel seized his arms and they spun around
together.
Peletiah fidgeted first on one foot, then on the other. At last he
said, “I will play it, too.” And he tried to get in between the two
boys. But he was so slow, they only bumped into him, almost knocking
him over.
“You don’t know how,” Joel was just going to scream at him, as they
spun past him. Then he remembered, “Well, come on,” he said, opening
his arms.
Before he knew it, Peletiah was being danced about till he thought his
head would fly off. Then he was quite sure it would. He tried to say,
“_Stop_,” but he didn’t get breath enough.
“My goodness!” exclaimed “Old Father Dubbin,” coming out of the
bedroom, as they whirled past. The minute they caught sight of the old
gentleman, Joel gave a squeal and the dance came to such a sudden stop
that Peletiah’s feet flew out from under him and down he sat on the
floor. Ezekiel sank panting down beside him.
“Well now,” “Old Father Dubbin” looked through his big spectacles,
which were nothing but holes and a pasteboard frame tied around his
head, “you must all rest, before we begin the play.”
“Oh, no, no,” roared Joel, “I’m not tired, not a single squinchy bit.”
“But the company is,” said Old Father Dubbin, resting on his staff.
Joel looked down impatiently on the two boys. “You aren’t tired, are
you?” he said, “not a bit, are you?”
“I’m most dreadfully tired,” declared Peletiah, taking up one foot
to rub it. “And you stepped all over me, and wouldn’t let me stop,
either.”
“Humph!” said Joel disdainfully, turning on his small heel. “Well, when
can we begin?” he teased, going over to Old Father Dubbin.
“Just as soon as the company is rested,” said the old gentleman.
“Begin with me--do begin with me,” cried Joel, circling around him,
“please, Old Father Dubbin.”
Polly was just going to say, “It isn’t polite to begin before company
is ready,” and then when she thought what a dreadful time they had all
had, she said, “All right. Now come on.”
And they did come on, Old Father Dubbin and Joel; and Ezekiel forgot
how tired he was and screamed with delight, and Peletiah let his foot
take care of itself, and pretty soon the two boys hopped up and said
they were “plenty rested,” and then the old kitchen was in an uproar.
So of course no one heard what was happening in the bedroom.
There was a string of thin old gold beads that Mrs. Pepper kept rolled
up in soft paper in the little drawer at the top of the bureau. They
used to be worn on Father Pepper’s grandmother’s neck, and were to be
Polly’s some time, as the one treasure that was left. Now they were
spread on the old patched bedquilt, and somebody in a black hat pulled
down over his eyes, stopped to gaze at them. Then he turned off to
pull things over in the bureau once more, every now and then pausing
to listen to the babel going on in the kitchen. But as the window was
open, he didn’t care very much if the noise did stop, for couldn’t he
spring out at the least warning just as easily as he jumped in, pray
tell! So he rummaged on.
At last, Old Father Dubbin held up his staff. “All done,” he said, “the
play is over.” And Joel might tease and tease--there was to be no more
for that day. Everybody must sit down to draw a long breath.
Then the person in the bedroom took his hand out of the bureau
drawer, and stepping over to the bed he gathered up Father Pepper’s
grandmother’s gold beads, slipped them into his pocket, and jumped out
of the window.
“O dear, I’m so hot!” cried Joel, seeing that there was to be no
more “Old Father Dubbin,” no matter how he teased, “I’m going to get
Mamsie’s fan. Can’t I, Polly?”
“Yes,” said Polly. It was Joel’s party and they’d had such a dreadful
time,--and a sorry little look came into the brown eyes,--Mamsie surely
would let him take it. So Joel dashed into the bedroom to get the big
palm-leaf fan that was stuck into the frame of the looking glass over
the bureau.
Then they heard a dreadful scream that brought Old Father Dubbin into
the bedroom, and after him the two Henderson boys.
There was Joel, his black eyes wide with excitement, and swinging his
arms. “A burglar!” he shouted, “I’ll catch him,” and he dashed to the
window and jumped out.
Old Father Dubbin took one look all around; then flew over to the bed.
There was the roll of soft old paper that had held Father Pepper’s
grandmother’s gold beads, but empty. Polly dashed wildly out through
the kitchen, flung the green door wide and rushed after Joel.