JIMMY
There was a sound of somebody hurrying along the road back of her, who
wasn’t accustomed to running, and who couldn’t walk fast. And then that
somebody gasped, “Mrs. Pepper!”
Mrs. Pepper turned, “Why, Mary Pote!”
“Well,” said Mary Pote, bringing her short roly-poly figure to a
standstill and putting her hand to her side, “I’m mortal glad you
stopped, for I couldn’t have held out much more. I’ve been chasin’ you
clear from Atkins’s store.” She brought this all out in gasps.
“Now that’s too bad,” exclaimed Mrs. Pepper sympathetically.
“You see-- My! but I’m hot.” Mary Pote twitched off her leghorn hat,
and began to fan herself furiously.
Mrs. Pepper looked about. “There’s a big stone,” she said, “let us sit
down.”
“I’m sure I’m glad to,” said Mary Pote, going off to the roadside after
her, and sinking down under an old scrub oak, over which blackberry
vines scrambled at their own sweet will. Mrs. Pepper sat down on the
other end of the stone, and placed the bundle of coats Mr. Atkins had
given her, on the grass at her feet.
“When I get my breath enough, I’ll tell you,” said Mary Pote, “what I
was following you for.”
Mrs. Pepper folded her hands in her lap, and let her gaze wander off to
the hills encircling Badgertown. It was hard to remember when she had
done a thing like this, idling of a morning on a roadside stone.
“Well now,” said Mary Pote, “I’m getting my second wind and I’ll begin.
Miss Parrott sent me down to say that she wanted to have you and the
children go to the circus to-morrow at Cherryville.”
“_To the circus!_” Mrs. Pepper hastily turned her gaze from the hills
and turned to Mary Pote in blank amazement.
“To the circus, I said,” Mary Pote nodded and picked off a spear of
grass to break into small bits and scatter in her lap, “though if all
is told, I b’lieve it’s a sight more of a menagerie than any other
show. Anyway, Miss Parrott told me to tell you that she was going to
send you all to it, if you’d go.”
“Not all of us?” said Mrs. Pepper incredulously.
“Every single one of you. I’ll give you her very words,--‘Mary Pote,
you go down and say to Mrs. Pepper that I want her and all the children
to go to the circus to-morrow. Mind, Mary Pote, Mrs. Pepper and every
one of the Five Little Peppers.’ There you have it.” She picked off a
second spear of grass and sent the bits after the others.
Mrs. Pepper drew a long breath. “Oh, I don’t think I can,” she said.
“I wouldn’t think, if I was you,” said Mary Pote, “I never do when Miss
Parrott says a thing, but I just get up and do it.”
“It’s so good of her,” began Mrs. Pepper. Oh, to have Polly see the
animals that she was always making up into stories to keep the children
quiet, and Phronsie--only think of her delight over the monkeys. And
there was Joel--well, Mrs. Pepper by this time was so excited that she
turned a face on which two red spots were coming in her cheeks. Mary
Pote had the good sense to let the thing work itself out, and kept
quiet.
And Davie, could Mother Pepper ever forget his face when the circus
came to Cherryville last, and almost all Badgertown folks went over but
the little-brown-house people? And Davie, his eyes on her, had tried
to smile when Joel howled in his distress at missing it. And there was
good, faithful Ben, who wouldn’t even show that above all things he had
longed to see a circus.
“I would like to have the children see it,” she said slowly--her eyes
alight.
“Well, if I was you--I wouldn’t sit on that stone considering it any
longer,” said Mary Pote. “Miss Parrott is one to speak her mind, and if
she asks you, you might take it for granted that she wants you. Well,
I must get back--she took me off from that black silk basque I was
finishing, to come down. Simmons is going to pick me up at Mr. Beebe’s
shoe-shop, so I must get there as soon as I can.” Mary Pote rose from
her end of the big stone and shook her front breadth free of the grass
bits. “Well, is it yes or no?” she said.
“It is yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, her voice trembling with happiness, “and
oh, Mary Pote, will you tell her how I thank her. She is _so good_ to
ask us.”
“I’ll tell her.” Mary Pote pushed back her little corkscrew curls on
either side of her round face and clapped on her leghorn hat.
“Oh,” turning back, “she said, ‘tell Mrs. Pepper to be ready at eleven
o’clock.’”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, scarcely realizing the bliss that was actually
in her grasp.
“And one thing more,” Mary Pote looked over her shoulder. “She said
you’d find the lunch-basket in the carriage.”
Mrs. Pepper tried to say something; but Mary Pote was moving off intent
on reaching old Mr. Beebe’s shoe-shop, for Simmons didn’t like to wait
for any one sent on errands, and he could make it very unpleasant for
days if thus detained.
Suddenly Mrs. Pepper started, took a step forward--then another and
faster, all her effort being to overtake the little roly-poly figure
hurrying over the dusty road.
“Mary--_Mary Pote!_” Her voice was so clear that it carried well, and
her steps so rapid that she soon stood beside the little woman.
“Now you aren’t going to say ‘No.’” Mary Pote regarded her with
disfavor.
“I’ve come for something else--to ask you to beg a favor of Miss
Parrott.” The color flew suddenly out of Mrs. Pepper’s cheek, but she
went on bravely. Mary Pote stared with all her eyes.
“It’s this,” Mrs. Pepper went on rapidly. It was best to get it out
as soon as possible. “To beg her to let me take another boy with my
children.”
“What boy?” asked Mary Pote abruptly.
“Jimmy Skinner.”
“What--that woman that lives on Fletcher Road--her boy?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper.
“He’s an idle, good-for-nothing boy,” declared Mary Pote, shaking her
head decidedly till the corkscrew curls flew out. “No, I don’t b’lieve
Miss Parrott would ever countenance his going in all this world.”
“His mother works so hard--it would please her,” began Mrs. Pepper.
“That’s true enough, but the boy, no, he ain’t worth doing things
for. I shouldn’t think you’d want him along with your children, Mrs.
Pepper.” She regarded her curiously.
“Jimmy thinks a great deal of his mother,” said Mrs. Pepper. She
fastened her black eyes on the little woman’s face. “That’s enough to
save any boy. Won’t you ask Miss Parrott to let him go?”
“What? Me ask her? Oh, I couldn’t.” Mary Pote started back and put
up both hands. “I’ll do anything to oblige you, Mrs. Pepper, but I
couldn’t do that. Besides, she’d only say ‘No.’”
“Well, good-by,” said Mrs. Pepper. She turned and went rapidly back to
the big stone, picked up her bundle, and sped home.
Polly ran out to meet her, and take the bundle of coats. “I’m going on
an errand, child,” said her mother, “and I may be home a little late,
so don’t worry.”
Polly’s brown eyes looked questions, but Mrs. Pepper only smiled, as
she turned off.
She didn’t give herself much time to reflect all the way to the
Parrott estate. And at last Hooper was ushering her into the solemn
drawing-room with its rich furniture and heavy brocaded hangings, and
presently Miss Parrott was before her,--and the thing was to be done.
“Now, Mrs. Pepper, do take off your bonnet, you look so tired, and I
will give you some tea.” And Miss Parrott’s heavy black silk gown was
trailing across the room to the bell-cord.
“Oh, no, please,” Mrs. Pepper put up a protesting hand. “I must speak
to you--please, Miss Parrott.”
It was so pleading a tone, very like Polly’s, that Miss Parrott turned
back and sat down in the high-backed chair, regarding her visitor
curiously.
“You are so good to me and to my children that I cannot thank you
enough, Miss Parrott,” began Mrs. Pepper.
“There--there,” returned Miss Parrott, raising a protesting hand, only
it sparkled with ancestral rings. “Mary Pote brought back your thanks,
so say no more about that.”
“Miss Parrott.” Mrs. Pepper hesitated a bit, then took the plunge,
“I very much wish that a boy might go to the circus with me and my
children.” It was all done in one sentence.
“A boy?” Miss Parrott gazed at her. It seemed like a long time, but it
was really only a breathing space. “What boy, Mrs. Pepper?”
“Jimmy Skinner.”
Miss Parrott’s long face dropped. If Mary Pote had been there, she
could tell the “signs of the times” it gave. Mrs. Pepper could guess,
but her black eyes did not droop, and now she went on steadily.
“His mother lives on Fletcher Road, a hard-working woman, glad to do
anything.”
Miss Parrott’s brow wrinkled. “Go on,” she said, “if you please, Mrs.
Pepper.”
“And Jimmy thinks a great deal of his mother,” Mrs. Pepper considering
it wise to bring this point to the front as speedily as possible, went
on pleadingly.
“If I remember rightly,” said Miss Parrott drily, “that Jimmy is
considered by the village people to be an idle, good-for-nothing boy,
Mrs. Pepper.”
“Yes, he’s idle,” confessed Mrs. Pepper, “but I believe he will work,
for he thinks so much of his mother.”
“And you want him to go to the circus with _your_ children, and in _my_
carriage!”
It was perfectly dreadful the silence that followed. At last Mrs.
Pepper said in a low but distinct voice, “Yes, Miss Parrott.”
“I am sorry--but I am obliged to say I consider it unwise to draw that
boy into the company.” Miss Parrott drew herself up stiffly against
the high-backed chair, till she looked exactly like the portrait in
the wide hall, the most disagreeable of all the ancestors whom she
possessed.
Mrs. Pepper opened her lips, thought better of it, and closed them.
Then she got off from her chair.
“Do sit down,” Miss Parrott waved her long fingers. “I want to oblige
you, Mrs. Pepper,” she said, struggling to throw a little cordiality
into her manner and tone, “but I cannot see my way clear to grant this
request.”
Again there was silence, cold and dreadful; then Mrs. Pepper moved
toward the door. Miss Parrott got out of her chair, “Don’t go.”
She took a step or two, astonished at herself. When had she ever
capitulated to any one, and here was a plain woman from a little brown
house making her experience such a strange desire to yield to the
distasteful request!
“I really wish you would tell me,” she laid the long fingers on Mrs.
Pepper’s shawl, “all about it--why you wish that boy to be drawn in
to the company, with your children. It is most astonishing. I cannot
understand it.”
So Mrs. Pepper suffered herself to be led, and she presently found
herself sitting, this time on the brocaded sofa, and Miss Parrott by
her side.
“Jimmy is going to be a man,” she said, just as she had told the boy,
only she never whispered a word of his wrong-doing, “if Badgertown
people take hold and help.”
“And would it help to take him to the circus?”
“I think it would be the greatest help in all this world.” Mrs. Pepper
leaned forward, her eyes sparkled, and she was as eager as Polly
now. “Don’t you see, he longs to go? Every boy does. And if he can be
invited by you, Miss Parrott--”
“And go with you, and the Five Little Peppers,” interrupted Miss
Parrott. “Yes, I begin to see.”
“And once he thinks that he’s a boy that people believe has got
something worth while in him, why, he’ll see it himself.”
“Yes, yes,” said Miss Parrott, finding herself thawing all over.
“And then when he sees that, he’ll take hold and work--if it is found
for him.” Here Mrs. Pepper went more slowly and looked fixedly into the
long face.
“You mean that perhaps I might find some work for him,” said Miss
Parrott. “Well, perhaps so, but I haven’t got that boy to the circus
yet. Let us settle that matter first,” and a grim smile stole over her
long face. “Now proceed, please, Mrs. Pepper.”
“And a boy who has something worth while in him, can’t help but grow up
to be a man,” Mrs. Pepper said with emphasis, “a _real_ man, can he,
Miss Parrott?”
“I suppose not,” said Miss Parrott, a bit grudgingly, as all her
defenses were thrown down. Then she smiled, “Oh, you may take the
boy--that Jimmy,” she said, “with you to-morrow. I can’t say I believe
all the good is to result that you think; but you can try the scheme.
He’ll probably worry the life out of you--tease the animals almost to
death, and get into innumerable scrapes--and I should think you had
enough trouble without calling this down on your head. But you can take
him.”
Miss Parrott shut the door after Mrs. Pepper, feeling extraordinarily
light of heart. “I wish I were going to the circus, too,” she said.
Then she brought herself up, “What has come over me at my time of life?
How I act!”
Mrs. Skinner, down on Fletcher Road, had just lighted her oil lamp. It
gave out a pleasant twinkle through the window, as Mrs. Pepper knocked
at the door.
“I was just a-packin’ up th’ wash for them boarders over to the Hill,”
she said, lifting a flushed face from the basket at her feet. “An’
Jimmy is goin’ to carry it over.” A proud smile ran up to her eyes
that she turned on the big awkward boy.
“That’s fine,” said Mrs. Pepper. Then without more ado, she gave Miss
Parrott’s invitation. It had two different effects. It sent Mrs.
Skinner down on a pile of clothes waiting in a chair to be sorted and
washed. She raised both red toil-worn hands. “Glory!” was all she was
able to utter. Jimmy stood perfectly still, but his eyes burned into
Mrs. Pepper’s face.
“And now be at the little brown house to-morrow, Jimmy, by eleven
o’clock,” Mrs. Pepper made speedy work of it, and got herself out to
carry the joyful news home.
Could it really be true that her children were to see a circus at last,
or was she dreaming?