dreadful voice; and he pulled out from under his arm a big bag, and
popped it over the head of the poor man who had been running, and then
he tumbled him upside down, and shook him around in the bag down into
the bottom of it, and then he tied up the neck.”
“O Polly! tied up the man’s neck?” asked Ben.
“No, I mean the neck of the bag,” said Polly. “Then he set the bag,
with the man in it, on a big stone by the roadside. ‘Now, there you
must stay, till I come for you,’ he said; and he laughed as hard as he
could, and hopped off in the darkness.”
“Oh! oh! oh!” cried all the group, with smothered exclamations.
“Yes, and away he went to find the other eleven robbers; they each had
a bag, you know, just like his. Well, every time one of them met one of
the splendid rich men running to the minister’s house, why, the robber
pulled out his big bag from under his arm, and popped it over the
other man’s head, and turned him upside down, and shook him into the
bottom of the bag, and then tied up the neck,--the neck of the bag, I
mean,--and then put him on a big stone by the roadside, and told him to
stay there until he came back for him. And then those twelve robbers
just looked at each other, and said they wanted to sit down and rest.”
“I should think they’d want to,” said Ben, under his breath.
“Well, and then one of them said suddenly, ‘Come, now, let’s go to the
first house belonging to those men in the bags; we’ll find bushels of
gold I expect in the cellar, and”--
“And did they?” screamed Van, forgetting himself.
“Ho! ho! who’s talking now?” cried Percy, with a disagreeable little
laugh.
“Hush!” said old Mr. King, holding up a warning finger at both of them.
“And so they ran softly off on the tips of their toes,” said Polly,
hurrying on; “and before any one could breathe, hardly, there they were
in the house of one of the perfectly splendid rich men. Now, there was
a wise old cat there, living in that very house. She was all black
but two green eyes--no, I guess this cat had yellow eyes, yellow with
long black stripes in them that grew big when she was angry. Now, she
knew everything almost, and she was as good as she was clever. Well,
she just softly tripped along to her mistress’s bed, and hopped up,
and whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t you be afraid, mistress dear, but lie
perfectly still, and I’ll take care of those robber men, and won’t let
them hurt you;’ so the mistress turned over, and went to sleep again.”
“She was a nice cat,” said Phronsie, pausing in her work of patting old
Mr. King’s white hair to turn and look at Polly; “and I like her, I
do,” as Polly sent a smile over to her, and then raced on.
“Well, the cat ran off on the tips of her toes, and hopped up to the
kitchen shelf, and took down in her mouth a long, sharp knife; and then
she flew out of the back door, I tell you, oh! so fast, and away off.
And pretty soon she came up to a big bag with a man inside it, sitting
on a stone by the roadside. ‘Master, dear,’ she cried, hopping up to
put her mouth close to the bag, ‘is that you?’
“‘Oh, dear me, yes!’ said the poor man in the bag, in a muffled voice,
‘and I should like very much to get out.’
“‘Well,’ said the wise old cat, ‘I’ll let you out in a minute.’ So she
took the sharp knife in her paw, and she just slashed it good through
the string that tied up the neck of the bag, and in a minute out popped
the man, and stood up on his feet. And then they heard a cry, ‘Oh,
dear me, I’d like to get out!’ and, don’t you think, right around the
corner was another big bag with a man inside it, all tied up around the
neck, and sitting on a stone by the roadside. And so the man that had
just got out and his wise old cat, who slipped the sharp knife into
her mouth again, rushed around the corner; and the cat took the knife
in her paw before her master had a chance to, and she just slashed it
through the string that tied up the bag, and in a minute that man, too,
was out, and standing on his feet on the ground.”
Phronsie laughed in delight, and clapped her hands. “Polly, I like that
cat, and she’s good,” she cried again, dreadfully excited.
“So she is, Pet,” cried Polly, nodding away to her. Then she raced on.
“Well, those two men stared into each other’s faces; and one said,
‘Well, I declare, how do you do, Mr. Brown?’ and the other man said,
‘Well, I declare, how do you do, Mr. Smith?’ And just then they all
heard a little cry; and around another corner was another bag all
tied up just as the other two had been, and sitting on a stone by the
roadside. And then the wise old cat did just as she had done before;
and pretty soon there were three men standing up quite straight on the
ground, and they all said, ‘This is perfectly dreadful, isn’t it?’
“‘Now, I tell you, sirs,’ said the wise old cat, sitting down before
them, and staring at them very hard, ‘I’ve got a plan in my head, and
you must do as I say.’
“‘Indeed you must,’ whispered her master to the others, ‘because
when she looks like that, she knows how to do things. And she’s got
something on her mind.’
“‘Just as soon as we find all the men in this town who are tied up in
bags, and set on stones by the roadside, and get them out,’ said the
wise old cat, ‘we must hurry right home. But we’ve got to have twelve
men,’ and she bobbed her head to herself; but she didn’t tell her
master that there were twelve robbers in his house, for, you see, she
had counted them.
“And all this while those twelve robbers were eating up the mince-pies
that belonged to that cat’s mistress, and there she was going to have
all the cousins over to dinner the very next day. And those dreadful
robbers sat on the kitchen table, and ate, and ate, and ate. And then
they drank up all the milk.”
Phronsie stirred uneasily, and looked very sad over this; so Polly
hastened to say, before she could ask the question, “except some in the
pitcher up on the top shelf, that was put there for the littlest little
girl.”
But still Phronsie’s face was very grave. “Won’t there be any left for
that nice old cat when she gets home, Polly?” she asked.
“You must make some be reserved for that cat, Polly,” said Grandpapa,
nodding furiously over at Polly.
“Dear me, yes. We wouldn’t let that wise old cat go without hers!”
exclaimed Polly, quickly. “Such a dear as she is! Oh, there was a whole
bowl full, Phronsie, on another shelf, clear way back, that the robbers
didn’t see!”
Phronsie leaned back and put her head on old Mr. King’s breast, while
she drew a long sigh of relief. “Please tell some more, Polly,” she
begged.
“Well, so the wise old cat gave three nods over to the three men
waiting there for her to tell them things, and she said to each of
them, ‘Now put your bag under your arm, you’ll want it before long,
and follow me;’ and away she trotted on the tips of her toes, till she
had found and untied nine other men inside of big bags, and sitting on
stones on the roadside.
“‘Um--’ said the cat, her paw on her mouth, ‘I guess this is all;
anyway, we’ve got twelve. Now we must run, for master has a dozen
robbers in his house. Now, says I, see who gets there first.’”
“And which did?” cried Percy, and Van, and Joel, and David, all
together; Jasper and Ben laughing to hear the babel.
“Oh, the wise old cat, of course!” said Polly, laughing too. “You
didn’t think I’d let anybody beat her, did you? Well, she was waiting
there on the front door-step, as they all came puffing and panting up.
‘Now, do just as I say,’ she whispered into their ears, ‘and each of
you pick out the robber you see first, as you go in, and rush up and
pop your bag over his head, and tie it down fast with your string,
before he can scream. They’re just getting through eating mince-pie;’
for, you see, while she was waiting for these men to come, she had
taken the time to creep along the window-sill and peep within the
kitchen.
“‘Oh! oh!’ cried her master; ‘eating up my wife’s mince-pies, the
villains!’
“‘Now follow me!’ the cat commanded. ‘Have all your bags ready!’ and
in they rushed. And every man caught a robber by flopping his big bag
over his head before he saw him coming, and then they every one tied
the neck of the bag up just as it had been done before, and while the
robbers wriggled and screamed, and beat and kicked, as the bags were
shaken up and down, they couldn’t get out. And the wise old cat went
around to each bag. ‘Yes,’ she said, quite satisfied; ‘the knots are
all fast.’”
“Oh, wasn’t that perfectly splendid!” shouted Joel. And everybody
was so delighted with the capture of the robbers that they forgot to
reprove him. And Phronsie clapped her little hands, and crowed and
laughed with the rest; and Mrs. Whitney heard the noise and ran in to
see what the fun was. “Well, I declare,” she exclaimed, hurrying over
to their corner, “to think I’ve missed this splendid time!”
[Illustration: Mrs. Whitney heard the noise, and ran in to see what the
fun was.]
“Oh, Mamma!” cried little Dick, hopping out of the centre of the circle
closing around Polly; “she’s been telling us beautiful things about
robbers and--cats--and”--
“No, she hasn’t,” contradicted Van, “it’s only one cat. Dick’s so
little; he doesn’t know anything”--
“O Vanny!” reproved his mother.
“And I’m not little,” cried little Dick wrathfully, and standing very
tall. “And she did tell about robbers--Polly Pepper did.”
“Well, you said _cats_,” said Percy; “and ’twasn’t but one.”
“Never mind,” said Jasper; “this one was wise enough for a dozen cats.
Do stay, Sister Marian; it’s a fine story,” turning his kindling face
toward her.
“Indeed I will,” she cried; so he jumped up, and pulled forward an
easy-chair, and Polly waited till she was seated in its comfortable
depths.
“Now, Polly,” said Mrs. Whitney, with her sweetest smile, “I am as
anxious as any of these young creatures for this enchanting story.” So
Polly hurried on.
“Where was I? Let me see”--
“The robbers were tied up in the bags,” they all shouted at her.
“Don’t you know?” added Joel, not very politely. “Why, Polly Pepper,
have you forgotten?”
“Hush!” said Jasper warningly.
“Oh, yes, indeed!” exclaimed Polly. “Well, and then the cat cried in a
very loud voice, ‘Now I must go and wake mistress.’ So she ran up into
the bedroom, and she skipped upon the bed, and she called close to her
ear, ‘Wake up, mistress dear, the robbers are all caught, and waiting
for you.’ And so her mistress turned over, and opened her eyes; and
she looked at the cat, and said, ‘Is that so?’ And then she sat up
straight; and then she hopped off from the bed, and ran down the stairs
after the wise old cat.
“‘Shoulder your bags, every one of you!’ commanded the cat, running
into the kitchen; and she jumped up to the table to see that they
obeyed. And every man picked up the bag that had the robber inside it,
that he had caught, and he swung it off up on his shoulder.
“‘Now away to jail!’ shouted the cat.”
“Hooray!” screamed Joel, beating his hands together in great excitement.
“At the word ‘jail,’ every robber inside of a bag began to scream, and
beg to be let out, and”--
“Oh, do let them out!” begged Phronsie. “Please do, Polly.”
“Oh, Phronsie, I can’t!” said Polly. “They are bad, naughty, wicked
robbers, you know; and they’d kill that nice, dear old cat, maybe, if
they got out.”
“Would they?” asked Phronsie anxiously.
“Yes, indeed,” cried all the little circle together.
“I really think, Phronsie,” added Grandpapa decidedly, “that it is not
safe for Polly to let those bad robbers out.”
“Don’t tie the bags up very tight, then, please, Polly,” begged
Phronsie.
“Polly will fix it all right, Phronsie,” said Jasper, with a smile.
Polly thanked him with a little nod, and hurried on. “Well, so you see,
off they all went to jail. It was a great big stone house, oh! as big
as three or four houses that folks live in, and there was a row of pens
that”--
“Pig-pens?” asked Joel abruptly.
“Dear me, no,” said Polly, with a little laugh. “They were prisoners’
pens; and the wise old cat just raced along as hard as she could, all
the twelve men, with their bags on their backs, coming after. And she
spoke up, as bold as you please, to the man at the gate, who had a big
iron key in his hand, oh! as big as could be, ‘I’ve got a dozen robbers
for you to shut up and keep fast.’
“At that the man at the gate put his big key in the lock--open flew the
gate, and in went all the dozen robbers in their bags on the twelve
men’s backs, with the wise old cat at the head of the procession; and
in a minute they were each in one of the little pens, and”--
[Illustration: The robbers and their bags.]
“Couldn’t they take off the bags then, Polly?” cried Phronsie. “Please
let them for a very little bit of a while.”
“Yes,” said Polly, “they did. The wise old cat asked the gateman, who
locked them all in, to undo the bags.
“‘But you can have only your heads out,’ said the gateman to the
robbers, clanking his big key against the wall, ‘so you can see
things.’ And he tied the bags all up around their necks; each head
stuck out, you know, and the bag was drawn up in a ruffle, and tied
fast.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Phronsie.
“But that was much better,” said Jasper cheerfully. “Just think,
Phronsie, to get their heads out.”
“Yes,” said Phronsie slowly.
“And the next day the judge, the man who sat on a platform at the end
of the big hall, told one of the servants to bring a big bell, and call
everybody in, and to scream as loud as he could, ‘Twelve robbers in
bags to be sentenced.’ And the people kept coming in, and coming in,
and coming in, until there was only a little path in the centre for
them to bring the robbers in; and pretty soon the man with the bell
went up and down, and roared out, ‘Bring the robbers in!’ And twelve
other servants went out and got them, and set them up in a row right in
front of the judge on the platform”--
“And were their heads out?” asked Phronsie.
“Yes, their heads were all out, the bags were tied in ruffles, you
know, around their necks; and they tried to get on their knees to beg
the judge not to kill them; but instead, they flopped over, and the
servants had to go around among them and set them up straight again.
Well, oh! I forgot to tell you that the wise old cat sat up on the
platform,--the judge invited her, you know. And the judge whispered
something to the man with the big bell, and he ran out, and came racing
back with a long knife; and after him came another man, wheeling and
trundling a big grindstone”--
“Oh!” screamed Joel, in the greatest glee; “they’re going to chop off
all the robbers’ heads, I know.”
“O Polly!” began Phronsie, just ready to cry.
“Wait, and you’ll see, Pet,” said Polly reassuringly. Old Mr. King put
his hand over Phronsie’s small ones, and whispered something in her
ear, so she snuggled up against his breast once more.
“Well, oh, let me see! where was I--oh”--
“You are going to chop off all those robbers’ heads,” howled Joel and
Van together.
“‘Now,’ said the judge, in a perfectly awful voice, and looking at all
those dozen robbers, ‘you’ve got to promise to show the way to your
cave, or off go your heads!’ and he pointed to the man sharpening up
the long knife on the grindstone.
“The robbers shook so in their bags they all flopped over again, and
rolled on the floor. So somebody had to go and set them all straight
in a row once more. ‘Hurry up,’ cried the judge, ‘and say “Yes,” for
the knife is ready.’
“The man sharpening up the long knife began to brandish it in the air
over the head stuck out of the bag of the robber first in the line.
“‘Ow!’ screamed the robber, trying to draw his head under the ruffle.
‘I say, “Yes.”’
“‘And I say, “Yes,”’ screamed every one of the rest of the robbers,
huddling as best they could under their ruffles.
“‘Very well, then,’ said the judge. So the man with the knife laid it
down by the grindstone, and the judge gave his hand to the cat. ‘You
must go to the cave,’ he said, ‘and capture the rest of the robbers.’”
Joel and Van, who were horribly disappointed when the man put up his
knife, now brightened up at prospect of livelier work, and more to
their taste, at the cave. “Do hurry, Polly!” they clamored.
“Well, then the judge told the man who had rung the bell to jingle it
again, and scream out ‘Eighty-eight men wanted at once’ because, you
see, he knew there were just one hundred robbers in all. And when they
came in, he told them to go out and get a bag apiece, just like the
ones the twelve robbers were in. And pretty soon they were all ready;
and off they started, with the wise old cat at the head; and after her
came the twelve men with the robbers in the bags, all but their heads,
because, you see, those would have to be out, for them to see the way.
And the robbers said, ‘Left, right,’ as they had to turn, all along the
way to the cave, down the long and lonely road. Well, and finally they
reached the place, and they stopped and listened. ‘They are boiling
their hasty-pudding for supper,’ said one of the robbers, because, you
see, all the men made them tell things.
“‘This is the time, then,’ said the wise old cat to the first robber.
‘Now do you call out big and loud to let you in.’ So the robber did
it; he had to, you know; and a voice inside said, ‘Oh! that you, Jim,
back again?’ and the great stone door flew open; and, just as quick as
you could think, there they were all inside; and every man pulled out
a bag from under his arms, and flopped it over the head of a robber,
all except the robber who was stirring the hasty-pudding over a big
iron kettle,--he fell into the kettle instead, because he ducked his
head when he saw the bag coming. Well, and oh! they were all hauled
off to jail; but first the nice old cat took some sealing-wax she had
been wise enough to bring with her from the jail; and she stuck the big
stone door all up tight, so that no more robbers could use that cave.
“And the judge sentenced all the hundred robbers, in a bunch, to a
desert island, where there wasn’t any cave, nor anybody else,--not a
single person besides themselves. So they were all taken off in boats
the next day, and”--
“And could they get out of their bags then?” asked Phronsie, with a
long breath.
“Yes, after they got to the island,” said Polly, “but not a single
minute before. And as soon as they rolled them out of the boats, the
men who brought them untied the bags, and said ‘Scat!’ And away ran the
robbers, and were never seen again.”
XVI.
POLLY PEPPER’S CHICKEN-PIE.
“Yes, indeed, Jasper,” cried Polly; “I’ll tell about the chicken-pie
I made; only ’twasn’t a chicken-pie at all,” and she broke off into a
merry laugh.
“Hold on,” cried Ben, “you’ll spoil it all, Polly. Tell the story
first, that’s best.”
“So I will,” said Polly. “Well, in the first place, none of us in The
Little Brown House ever knew where it came from, to begin with. Ben
found it one day in a swamp down by the meadow, as he was digging
sweet-flag to sell, to get some money to buy a pair of boots for the
winter. It wasn’t hurt in the least, only it was so small it couldn’t
get out. The wonder is, how it ever got there at all; however, Ben
didn’t care for that, so long as he could get Master Chick in his
possession. So he took an old fence-rail; and by dint of poking and
urging the chicken, which didn’t want to come, and by floundering and
tumbling round in the bog till he was pretty wet himself, at last he
caught it.
“Oh! you must know it was a fine black chicken,--a Shanghai; and Ben
grasped it, oh, so tightly! under one arm, and he flew home, and
bursting into the door, he scared us, and he most upset me,--I was
helping Mamsie to pull out the basting-threads of the coat she had just
finished. And, goodness me, how that chicken did scream!”
[Illustration: Ben grasped it tightly under one arm and flew home.]
“Yes, and so did you, most as bad,” said Ben, bursting into a laugh. “I
never will forget; you said I’d scared you most to death.”
“Well, and so you did,” declared Polly; “we didn’t see that dreadful
chicken till you flapped it in our faces. It was lucky that the
children weren’t there, or I don’t know but what the roof of The Little
Brown House would have flown off with the noise.”
“Where were the children?” demanded Percy.
Joel twisted uneasily. It had always been a great trial to think of his
absence on such a momentous occasion.
Polly answered briskly, “Why, the two boys were down in Farmer Brown’s
cow-yard; there was a little hole full of water, something like a pond,
you know; and they were sailing boats, and”--
“Oh, dear me, I wish we hadn’t been!” grunted Joel. “I’d rather have
seen the black chicken come in.”
“And Phronsie had been put to bed early. It was almost dark, you know,
and she was tired out; so Mamsie and I were all alone.”
“And Mamsie thought it was a crow,” said Ben to Mother Pepper, who
still was at work over her mending-basket the same as ever. “Didn’t
you, Mamsie?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, with a smile at the remembrance. “He was more
like a crow, children, I’m sure, than anything else, he was so black.”
“Oh, how I wish we could have seen it!” exclaimed Percy and Van
together.
“And Ben said he’d give me half of the chicken,” ran on Polly; “and
then we could have him for Thanksgiving, and I could make my pie”--
“Oh, you ought to have seen Polly dance when I told her that!” said
Ben, laughing again.
“Oh, dear, you did have such good times in The Little Brown House!”
cried Percy enviously. “Why couldn’t we have been there!”
“And then we began to count up how long it would be to Thanksgiving.
We’d never had one, you know,” said Polly.
“Never had a Thanksgiving!” cried all the Whitney children together.
“Hush!” exclaimed Jasper, with a warning pull at the jacket nearest to
him.
“I remember,” said Mrs. Pepper, laying down her work. “It was July
then, and there were four months to wait; but if we could find out
where the chicken belonged, I told you, we must give it back.”
“And did you give it back?--did you?--did you?” clamored the Whitney
boys.
“No,” said Polly, “because we couldn’t find anybody who had ever seen
him; so we put him in the shed where the old gray goose was, and”--
“Oh! did you have an old gray goose, Polly Pepper?” cried Van. “Tell
about him, do.”
So Polly dilated at great length on the old gray goose,--how it was the
only living thing they had, because they were too poor to buy a cow or
a pig, or even a chicken, and how the old goose had lived there ever
since they could remember, and how cross it was, so they couldn’t play
with it, and how it bit Sally Brown one day, when she came over with an
errand from her mother, and--
“Tell about how it bit Sally Brown,” interrupted Van eagerly.
“If you stop for everything, Polly never’ll get that chicken-pie
baked,” said Ben.
“Yes,” said Jasper; “now don’t interrupt again. It’s a shame to have to
tell stories and be stopped every minute.”
“Oh, I don’t mind it!” said Polly brightly; “only if you have all about
Sally Brown and everything else, why I sha’n’t get through with the
chicken-pie.”
“Go on about the chicken-pie, then, do, Polly,” said Van reluctantly,
mentally determining to have the whole of Sally Brown and the old gray
goose some time. And so Polly ran on again,--how they always fed the
old gray goose every day most carefully, and Phronsie saved something
from her dinner for it most especially, and--
“It used to eat awfully,” grumbled Joel.
“Hush!” said Ben.
“And so you see,” cried Polly gayly, “how perfectly fine it was to
have such a splendid chicken come to us. Seems as if it was just on
purpose for Thanksgiving; for you must know that Mamsie had promised
us a chicken-pie as soon as she could manage it, and it was to be all
wings, and drumsticks, and wish-bones and”--
“O Polly Pepper!” exclaimed Percy, with a little laugh. “Chickens don’t
have but one wish-bone apiece.”
“I can’t help it,” retorted Polly recklessly; “seems as if this
chicken-pie was going to be better than any other that was ever baked
in all this world. Oh! and the crust was to be thick, and the gravy was
to be just lovely, and Phronsie was to have the wish-bone.”
“Yes, I was,” said Phronsie, with a small sigh, and folding her hands.
“And so, you see, when Mister Shanghai dropped down from the clouds in
the way he did, why, we were just as happy as we could be. Well, every
day when the work was done up we talked over just how that pie was to
be baked; and when it was too dark to see, for we didn’t light the
candle any earlier than we could help, and”--
“Why didn’t you light the candle early?” asked little Dick, pushing
forward into the middle of the group.
“Why, because we were poor,” said Polly, “and we had to save the
candles as long as we could. Well, and we used to play it really was
Thanksgiving, and the table was set, and”--