chicken with,” said Ben.
“Well, and now something very dreadful happened,” said Polly; “very
dreadful indeed. I won’t tell you what it was, but”--
“Oh, tell, tell, Polly Pepper, do!” cried all the Whitney boys in a
clamor.
“No, not just yet,” said Polly, shaking her brown head decidedly;
“because that would spoil the story. But I’m going to pretend that the
old gray goose and the black chicken could talk together, and tell you
what they said.”
[Illustration: The old gray goose holds a conversation with the black
chicken.]
“And then will you tell us the perfectly dreadful thing that happened?”
asked Van anxiously; while the others cried delightedly, “Oh, that will
be fine!”
“Yes,” said Polly, with a reassuring nod over at him, “I will Vanny,
tell it all. Well, so here is what they said. The old gray goose began
it:
“‘Humph!’ she said, with a very knowing look; ‘you don’t know as much
as you will in a short time--say in November.’
“Now, what November was, the chicken, of course, couldn’t tell, for
he had never seen a November; so he asked the cross old goose very
plainly, but very politely, one day, to tell him exactly what she did
mean. This was the week before Thanksgiving; and it rained, and it was
cold and dreary, and the two were perched on a rail, shivering with
the cold. But what the old gray goose was saying made Shanghai shake
and shiver worse than anything else, only he pretended that he wasn’t
frightened a bit.
“Now, you must know that the old gray goose was very angry at the
Shanghai chicken for coming there at all; and when she saw us all feed
it, she got angrier and angrier, till she tried to say very bad things
indeed to that poor little black chicken.”
“That was naughty,” little Dick burst out vehemently.
“Yes, she was very naughty indeed,” said Phronsie, shaking her head
gravely.
“So she was,” declared Polly; “wait, and you’ll see what happened.
Well, she went on, and on, and talked, and talked, about how the
chicken was to be baked in pieces in a pie, and all that.
“‘I’ve seen ’em!’ she said with the air of one who knew everything.
‘Year after year, hens and chickens, yes, and geese, stepping around
in the morning, oh! so happy and smart; and then at evening they would
go past here to market, all stiff and stark, with their heads off and
Mr. Brown’s boy holding them by their legs! All for pies, and so that
people may eat themselves sick; and they call it a Thanksgiving!’
“Oh, how the chicken shook! It seemed as if it would fall off from
its perch; but it was very dark, so the old goose didn’t notice it.
Shanghai wouldn’t for all the world have had her; so he controlled
himself, and, being a brave little fellow, he stopped the beating of
his heart, and he spoke up loud:--
“‘Well, why weren’t you baked in a pie, then, along with the others?’
“‘What!--why--well--’ stammered the goose, ‘they were going to kill me
time and again,--but--well, the fact is, they thought so much of me
they couldn’t bear to.’ In spite of its fright, the chicken couldn’t
help laughing softly to itself.
“‘Well, come, you’d better go to bed!’ crossly snapped the goose;
‘they’ll come for you bright and early in the morning. I heard ’em
saying so.’
“‘Well! then I say,’ declared the chicken, drawing himself up on his
long legs till he looked, oh, so tall! ‘they won’t find _me_ here;
that’s all I’ve got to say!’
“‘Why, where will you go?’ demanded the goose, seeing that she had
gone too far in the desire to make the poor little chicken as unhappy
as possible.
“‘Oh, I’m going to set out for my own fortune!’ gayly replied the
chicken. ‘At any rate, it can’t be any worse than to be baked in a pie.
I think I see myself staying here for _that_! No; good-night, Mrs.
Goose. Thank you for all your kindness; I’m off!’
“‘Yes! and be stuck in a bog for your pains!’ scornfully hissed the
old goose, seeing it was useless to advise or to urge further; but the
chicken’s long legs were going at a pretty smart pace down the hill,
and it was soon out of sight, and it was never seen by any of us in The
Little Brown House again.”
“Oh, dear me!” screamed Percy and Van together; “then, you didn’t have
any chicken-pie. Why, Polly Pepper-- And you said you had one!” While
little Dick roared steadily, only the words, “chicken,” and “pie,” and
“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” could be heard.
When the noise was quelled as best it could be, by Jasper and Ben,
Polly was saying, “Well that was the very dreadful thing that happened,
you know I told you about, and”--
“And didn’t you have anything?”--
“Any pie--any pie at all,” screamed and wailed the Whitney children,
beside themselves with distress. So Polly hastened to reassure them.
“There, there, don’t feel so, boys; you’ll see it all turned out
beautifully, after all.”
“How could it,” exclaimed Van, horribly disappointed, “if you didn’t
have any chicken-pie, after all?”
“You’ll see,” was all that Polly would tell him by way of comfort, as
she hurried on.
“Well, ’twas a beautiful morning, wasn’t it, Ben,” cried Polly, “when
you went out to kill the chicken?”
“Yes,” said Ben; “but what I remember most of all was, how you all
screamed and cried, and said you’d rather go without the pie than to
have the chicken killed.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the little bunch of Whitneys.
“I know it,” said Polly. “And so, after all, it was better that that
black Shanghai ran away.”
“O Polly Pepper!” cried all the children but Phronsie.
“Yes,” said Polly stoutly; “I really think it was. Well, never mind,
let us go on and hear the rest of it. Joel was the first one to tell us
the chicken had gone. He rushed screaming in, ‘O Mamsie! Mamsie! the
chicken isn’t there!’”
“Oh, dear me!” interrupted Joel; “I remember.”
“And after him came Davie flying in, and then I can’t tell you how we
all acted in that kitchen.”
“You didn’t, Polly,” said Ben hastily; “all the rest of us did.”
“I know I was just as bad as any of us,” said Polly. “Well, anyway,
then we all went out and hunted for the chicken, and”--
“And didn’t you ever find him?” demanded Percy.
“No, she said so before,” said Van; “she said they never saw him again,
don’t you know?”
“No, we couldn’t find him,” said Polly to Percy, “though we hunted high
and low,--in the woodshed, and the Provision Room, and all about the
house, and down in the pine wood, oh! and over by Cherry Brook. Well,
you can’t think how we searched for that long black chicken. Yes, and
Ben ran down to the swamp where he had found it, when he was digging
sweet-flag, to see if perhaps Mister Shanghai had run back there, and
got stuck in the bog; but no, he wasn’t there, not a bit of him, so
finally we all had to come home and tell Mamsie that we couldn’t find
him. And it rained dreadfully all that afternoon; and there was the
flour-bag standing up all ready in the pantry, oh, dear! and so we had
to tell stories to keep the children from being too sorry and forlorn,
and”--
“You did, Polly,” corrected Ben. “I couldn’t; but you told some
splendid stories.”
“Oh! will you tell us some of those splendid stories, Polly Pepper?”
cried Percy radiantly. “Will you? that you told that rainy afternoon,
when the black chicken ran away?”
“She’s going to tell us how the old gray goose bit Sally Brown, too,”
declared Van positively, not losing sight of this future bliss.
“And so I will, Van,” promised Polly; “and I’ll tell you one of the
stories I told the children on that dreadful afternoon when it rained,
and the black chicken ran away. But not now; I must finish about the
chicken-pie.”
“Tell more than one, Polly,” begged the children; “_please_ tell us all
the stories you told then.”
“We’ll see,” said Polly brightly; “I’ll tell you some, but I don’t know
as I could tell you all the stories I told that dreadful afternoon. I
had to tell a good many, you know; it was so very hard to get over.
Well, now we must hurry. Where was I? Oh”--
“You said you were telling stories,” shouted Van, first of all.
“Yes, I know. Well, it was Ben who first proposed the best thing
you could think of in all this world. All of a sudden he jumped up,
and waved his hand like this.” Polly sprang to her feet. “See here,
children, why not let’s have the old gray goose?” she shouted.
“And you all screamed at me ‘The goose,’ in great scorn,” said Ben.
“I know we did,” said Polly humbly, her hand falling to her side; “but
that was because we weren’t as smart as you were, to see what a wise
thing it was to have the old gray goose. I remember you said, if we
can’t have chicken-pie, why we must take the next best, and that’s
goose.”
“Well, you all came around finely in a little while, though,” said
Ben, smiling at her. “And Mamsie said: ‘I think Ben is right; and the
old gray goose is really too cross to be allowed to live, for it isn’t
safe to have her around any longer; so she really ought to be killed,
anyway, and we can boil her a good while to make her as tender as
possible; so you can have your pie, Polly!’”
“Oh, dear me!” said the Whitney children.
“And Polly said: ‘but why couldn’t the old gray goose have run away, I
wonder?’ and that made us all laugh,” said Ben, “instead of crying any
more.”
“Oh, I’m so glad!” screamed Van; and he rolled over and over on the
floor in a ball. “Now the old gray goose, the bad, naughty, hateful old
thing, is going to be killed, instead of the chicken she scared so.”
“So am I,” cried Percy; but he sat quite straight and dignified in his
chair, only clapping his hands by way of approval. “Oh, do tell on,
Polly!” he begged.
“And so the old gray goose, huddling in from the rain, and chuckling to
herself at the state of affairs, didn’t dream what was coming; and on
the next morning, chop--off went her head--and we had our pie.”
“And Polly had some flowers on it, after all,” said Ben; “for, at the
last minute, a neighbor ran in with a bunch of posies; and she said:
‘I’m real sorry you had such a time about your pie, children.’ So, you
see, the old gray goose was decked up fine after all; for Polly stuck
them in her bony, tough old breast.”
“And Mamsie baked us such a beautiful pudding,” cried Polly, looking
over at Mrs. Pepper with a bright smile.
“Most all plums,” said Joel, smacking his lips at the remembrance. “My!
wasn’t it good, though!”
“And did Phronsie get her wish-bone?” asked little Dick anxiously.
“Why, how could she, when the black chicken ran away with it?” cried
Polly.
XVII.
PHRONSIE PEPPER’S NEW SHOES.
“It was such hard work to make the fire burn that morning,” said Polly.
“Something was the matter with the old stove worse than usual. The big
cracks seemed bigger than ever, although Ben had stuffed them up with
putty the week before, and”--
“What had he stuffed them up for?” demanded little Dick, plunging into
the centre of the group.
“Hush!” said Van, laying a violent hand on his jacket, “do be still;
you crowd so, and ask questions.”
“I don’t ‘crowd so and ask questions,’” said little Dick tartly; and he
turned a very red face to Polly. “What did he do so for, Polly?”
“Why, we were very poor, you know,” said Polly; “and the old stove was
all tired out, it had been baking so long--oh! for years and years;
and it had big holes and cracks come in it that let the air through,
and then that put the fire out.”
“Oh!” said little Dick.
“We weren’t so very poor,” said Joel uneasily, who never could bear to
be pitied.
“No, not when our ships came in,” said Ben soberly; but his eyes
twinkled, at which Polly laughed merrily.
“Oh, dear me!” she cried, wiping her eyes; “Joel’s ships were always
coming in.”
“What do you mean, Polly Pepper?” cried Van quickly. “You say so many
funny things. What were Joel’s ships? and when did they come in?”
“Now, see here,” said Jasper, “if you ask so many questions, Polly
never can get to the story how Phronsie got her new shoes. And to think
how you three chaps have been teasing her to tell it! If I were Polly,
I wouldn’t give you a single scrap of it.”
But Polly tossed him a bright smile over her shoulder, and dashed off
again as fast as she could.
“You see, boys, when the putty that Ben had stuffed into the old stove
tumbled out that morning, I was just going to put my pans of bread
into the oven. Think of that!”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed the Whitney boys.
“Well, there wasn’t any more putty. Oh! I forgot to tell you that Ben
was away at his work, so he couldn’t fix it, and besides, there wasn’t
any.”
“Why didn’t you take some cotton wool?” cried Van.
“Dear me!” exclaimed Polly with a little laugh, “we never had cotton
wool. That would have been splendid--most as good as having a new
stove. But sometimes Davie used to give us a boot-top, and”--
“A boot-top!” cried both of the Whitney boys together.
“Yes, when anybody gave him an old boot-top, he’d save it for the
stove; the bits of leather stuffed it up just finely, and”--
“I’d have given a boot-top too, if I’d had it,” said Joel grimly; and
his chubby face lengthened.
“Oh! Joel was splendid too,” said Polly, turning a radiant face on him;
“he gave things too, and helped to do the stuffing. I don’t know what I
should ever have done in all this world without those two boys;” and
she beamed at them. “Well, I must hurry, or you never will hear about
Phronsie’s new shoes. Oh! where was I?”
“Why, you were stuffing up the old stove to make it burn,” said all the
Whitney boys together. “Don’t you know, Polly Pepper?”
“Oh, yes! Well, and I was in the midst of it, when Phronsie came out of
the bedroom and said, ‘Oh! I am so hungry, Polly.’ Dear me, and there I
was; my hands were just as black as could be, and Joel and David were
away, you know, and so Phronsie begged to go to the Provision Room
herself to the bread-pail that always hung under the steps, and I told
her she might.
[Illustration: “Oh! I am so hungry, Polly.”]
“Well, when she went along,” said Polly, hurrying over this part of
it, as she thought she saw Phronsie’s head droop a bit, “she took the
big bread-knife out of the cupboard; she thought, you know, it would
help me; and the first thing anybody knew, down she rolled over those
dreadful old rickety steps!”
Every one in the group sat perfectly still, as if not daring to
breathe; and little Dick threw his arms around Phronsie, while his
mouth worked dreadfully as he tried not to cry.
“And I cut my thumb,” said Phronsie, holding it up.
“Yes,” said Polly, hurrying on; “it was only her thumb she cut, but how
it did scare me! I don’t know how I ever got down over those stairs;
and there she was in a little heap at the bottom, and that dreadful old
bread-knife lying down on the floor a little way off. Oh, dear me! I
can’t bear to think of it even now; and there were little dabs of blood
on her pink apron, and all over her face. But she said it was only her
thumb.”
“Yes,” said Phronsie gravely; “it was only my thumb.”
“And so it was surely, as I soon found out,” said Polly, drawing a
long breath. “Well, we soon got Phronsie up-stairs, all right.”
“Yes,” said Joel; “and the first thing Polly did, she said to the old
stove, ‘Oh! you old naughty thing, now think what you’ve done this
morning’--that’s what she told us.”
“And then I had to get some court-plaster to stick the cut together
with,” said Polly; “so Phronsie sat in Mamsie’s old rocking-chair,
while I ran over to Grandma Bascom’s for it; for you know, of course,
that if any of us got into any trouble, why, the first thing we did was
to get into Mamsie’s chair, if she wasn’t home.”
Phronsie put one soft little hand on Mother Pepper’s lap, and patted it.
“And she had cake,” said Joel; “Mamsie’s chair, and a piece of cake
too.”
“Yes, there was a piece that had been given Mamsie, and we were saving
it up for a treat that we were to have had that very night; but when
Phronsie got hurt, why, of course she must have it. Well, I thought
Grandma Bascom never would find that court-plaster. She wanted so to
hear all about how Phronsie got hurt in the first place, and then she
didn’t know where she had put the court-plaster; and, oh, dear me! I
thought I should fly, to think of poor Phronsie curled up in the big
chair waiting for me; but at last Grandma found it in the cupboard
drawer; and she cut off a piece, and then it wasn’t but a minute or two
and the cut was stuck together and tied up in an old handkerchief, and
Phronsie’s pink apron was taken off, and she had a clean one on, and I
brushed her curls, and everything was getting all right again; and then
in popped Ben!”
“And Ben whistled ‘Whew!’” said little Davie, “just as loud as he
could. Polly told us he did.”
“And they both kissed Phronsie all around again, and Ben kissed her the
most, because he hadn’t been there at the first,” said Joel; “Polly
told us--oh! and then Polly said”--
“Oh! let me tell,” begged David in great excitement.
“No, I began first,” said Joel; “I want to myself, Dave.”
“Yes, he did begin first, Davie,” said Polly, smiling into his little
eager face. “Joel ought to tell.” So Joel began again triumphantly, in
a loud voice, “Well, Polly said--oh! I’d rather Dave told--you may,” he
broke off suddenly, and looking over at David.
“No,” said Davie. “You began first; you tell”--
“But Joel wants you to, Davie,” said Polly, smiling over at Joel in a
way to make the color fly up on his round cheeks in his delight, “so I
would.”
“Let Phronsie tell,” said Joel, “that’s best. Go on, Phron; tell what
Polly said.”
“She said,” began Phronsie, “right in Bensie’s ear, she told me so,
that I ought to have my new shoes. Yes, she did”--
“Just think of that!” exclaimed old Mr. King, who hadn’t spoken a word,
but had sat quite still, holding Phronsie cuddled up in his arms. “I
should say so too; it was just the time for those new shoes to be
bought.”
“But Polly didn’t tell me then,” said Phronsie, twisting around to look
into his face; “she whispered to Bensie, and he whispered in her ear,
and they told me to wait.”
“Just think of that,” said Grandpapa, patting her small hand, as it lay
confidingly in his big palm.
“Yes,” said Phronsie, “they did; and Polly said, ‘Sh, sh! if Mamsie
will only say yes.’”
“Well, and at dinner-time in flew Joel and Davie hungry as bears--they
were always hungry,” said Polly, laughing, “and the bread was not done,
and”--
“And we had to eat the old crusts in the pail; we always had to,”
grumbled Joel.
“And Joel said he could have rolled down the stairs without getting
hurt,” said David; “and he was going to take the bread-knife, and try
it.”
“But I got that away from you, sir,” said Ben; “we’d had enough cuts
for that day.”
“And I showed them my thumb,” said Phronsie with an important air.
“Yes, and Polly took off the handkerchief; but she wouldn’t let us peek
under the court-plaster,” said David.
“Well, I guess not,” said Polly.
“And then she told us lots and lots of stories,” said Joel.
“Oh! will you tell them to us, Polly Pepper, when you get through about
Phronsie’s new shoes?” begged the Whitney boys all together.
“Oh! not to-day,” said Polly. “I will some other time, maybe.”
“They’ve got to be lots and lots of them,” declared all three together.
“Well, do let Polly finish this one first,” cried Jasper. “Father,
can’t you stop these chaps from interrupting her every minute,”
appealing to old Mr. King.
Instead of this, the old gentleman leaned back in his chair, and
laughed so long and so heartily that every one in the room joined; and
when they sobered down, Polly was saying, “And then Mamsie came home,
and everything was all right.”
“And Mamsie said I could have my new shoes, all-to-myself shoes,”
declared Phronsie, very much excited, and sitting very straight in old
Mr. King’s lap; “she did, Grandpapa.”
“So she did,” assented the old gentleman, bowing his stately head
gravely.
“That’s nothing,” said Percy Whitney in a dissatisfied way, “to have a
pair of shoes given you. Why didn’t they give you something better than
that?”
Phronsie opened her eyes very wide. “I never had a pair whole mine
before,” she said simply.
“Never had a pair of shoes before,” screamed Percy and Van together,
while little Dick made a big O of his mouth in utter astonishment.
Jasper leaned forward and tried to pull all three jackets together.
“Gently, boys,” said Mrs. Whitney, laying a soft hand on the shoulder
nearest to her.
“Don’t you understand,” said Polly, “that we were very poor, very poor
indeed; and Phronsie had never had a pair of shoes all to herself
before.”
The Whitney boys had no words to offer at that, but sat quite
speechless.
“And Mamsie had promised them just as soon as she could get the money.”
“And I never had any new shoes,” said Phronsie, shaking her yellow
head. “No, I never did.”
“And one day I heard her asking Seraphina her doll, ‘Do you suppose
I’ll ever get my new shoes? Not till I get to be a big woman, I guess.’”
“And did you say ‘Yes’, Mrs. Pepper--did you--did you?” cried Van,
jumping out from the centre of the group to precipitate himself at
Mother Pepper’s elbow.
“Yes, I did,” said Mrs. Pepper, smiling at him; “I thought, seeing
Phronsie had got hurt, it was just the right time for those new shoes
to be bought.”
“She did--she did say ‘Yes,’” proclaimed Van, flying back again, as if
bearing a wholly new fact.
“And I should say so too,” declared old Mr. King positively, and
gathering Phronsie up closely in his arms again.
“Well, and so it was all ‘really and truly,’ as Phronsie said,
settled,” ran on Polly once more; “and now, just think, Phronsie was to
have her new shoes, and all to herself!”
It was impossible to describe the effect of this announcement upon her
auditors as Polly made this statement most impressively, and she rushed
on, “and Ben was to run over and ask Deacon Brown if we couldn’t have
his green wagon, and”--
“And we were to sit in behind,” shouted Joel--“Dave and me. Oh, g’lang!
didn’t we have fun, though!” cracking an imaginary whip.
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Van discontentedly, and rolling over on the
library rug; “why couldn’t we ever have lived in a little brown house
and sat in behind in a green wagon.”
“Mamma,” screamed little Dick, with cheeks all aflame, and plunging up
to Mrs. Whitney’s side, “can’t we? can’t we?”
“What, dear?” asked Mrs. Whitney.
“Sit in behind in a green wagon? Can’t we, mamma, just like Polly and
Phronsie, and”--
“Ha, ha! Polly and Phronsie didn’t sit in behind,” shouted Joel, “they
sat on the seat with Ben; Dave and me sat”--
“I sat with Polly and Bensie,” announced Phronsie, clasping her hands
in delight, and drawing a long sigh of satisfaction; “and I could see
the horse, and we were going to get red-topped shoes.”
“Yes, she wanted them,” said Ben, nodding to the others. “Oh! it just
scared me, for I was afraid we couldn’t get them.”
“But we did,” declared Phronsie, shaking her yellow head
positively--“oh! beautiful red-topped ones, Grandpapa;” and she turned
to him confidingly.
“Bless your heart!” exclaimed old Mr. King suddenly, and patting her
little hands, “so you did; dear me, yes, to be sure.”
“Well, it was _such_ a time to get Phronsie ready the next day,” said
Polly with a long sigh; “dear me, I thought I never should get through.
And then she had to sit in her little chair and wait for the rest of
us, and for Ben to bring the horse and the green wagon from Deacon
Brown’s. Oh! and we were so afraid it would rain--just suppose it had!”
and she brought up suddenly at the direful prospect.
“And did it? did it rain?” cried Percy anxiously, pulling her sleeve.
“No; it was clear as a bell,” said Polly. “Oh, you can’t think how
beautiful that day was! Seems to me I never saw the sun shine any
brighter; ’twas just as if it were made for us. And Mamsie stood on
the door-step to see us go; and the last thing she said was, ‘Be sure
not to get them rights and lefts, they’ll wear longer,’ and ‘Get them
plenty broad;’ and I had her purse with the money in it.”
“And Joe and David were just dreadful,” said Ben, as Polly stopped a
minute to take breath; “they dangled their legs out the back of the
wagon, and they screamed and made an awful racket--we couldn’t keep
them still. They scared the old horse most to death.”
“Well, he wouldn’t go unless he was scared,” said Joel, “would he,
Dave?”
“No,” laughed Davie; “and then Ben said he’d turn around and drive home
again if we didn’t stop, so that scared us; and then Polly thought
she’d lost Mamsie’s purse with all the money in it, and that was worse
than ever.”
“Yes,” said Polly with a long breath; “how frightened we all were. That
was perfectly dreadful.”