“Why, the long skinny ones that belonged to the old woman,” said Polly.
“She put them in the basket, and just pulled them out again.”
“But she said she put in a gift for Ara--what did you call her, Polly?”
said Phronsie.
“Araminta Sophia,” said Polly; “well, she said that because she was a
naughty old woman, Phronsie. There wasn’t any gift at all. Now go and
sit in your chair again, that’s a good girl, then I’ll go on with the
story.”
So Phronsie clambered into her chair, and laid her hands in her lap.
But her mind was busy over the naughty old woman, and the absence of
the gift in the little basket that was to bring home the fish.
“Well, where was I?” began Polly again. “Oh! I know. Araminta Sophia
was hanging up the green umbrella on the golden hook, when suddenly the
door of the shed opened wide, and in came her father, the queer little
man. ‘What a time you have been away, daughter,’ he squeaked out.
“‘I couldn’t help it, father,’ said Araminta Sophia; and then she told
him the reason why and all about it; but the queer little man only
said, ‘What a tiresome story; tell me some other time.’”
“I don’t think that was very polite,” began Joel, but Ben took another
hold of his jacket collar.
“He was more polite than you are,” whispered Ben.
“‘And you needn’t take the trouble to hang up that green umbrella,
daughter,’ said the queer little old man; ‘for I am going out to walk
with it myself.’
“‘Father!’ exclaimed Araminta Sophia, turning pale with fright, ‘why,
you’ve never done such a thing in all your life;’ and she clasped her
hands tightly together around the green umbrella.
“‘Silly chit!’ cried the queer little old man in a terrible passion,
‘do you think you are going to tell me what to do? Give me that
umbrella this very second.’
“Araminta Sophia tumbled down to her knees, holding on to the green
umbrella, and besought him that he wouldn’t take it from her, but would
let her hang it in its place on the golden hook.
“‘The man out there with his gun will shoot you,’ at last she said.
‘He’s most dreadfully big too,’ which was the very worst thing she
could have said; for the queer little man always fancied that he was as
strong as a lion, and it made him very angry to hear of anybody bigger
than he was. So now he squeaked out in what he fancied was a terrible
voice, ‘Give me that umbrella this instant, or I’ll put you up in the
corner with your face to the wall.’
“After this terrible threat, Araminta Sophia handed him the green
umbrella without a word; and then she tumbled over on the floor in a
dead faint, and the old white cat, who caught all the spiders and mice
in the perfectly funny little house, crept in and licked her face,
until she came to and sat up straight.”
“That was nice of the old white cat,” said Phronsie to herself,
smoothing down her apron again in satisfaction.
[Illustration: Phronsie smoothed down her white apron in satisfaction.]
“But by that time the queer little old man was gone, and the green
umbrella with him. At first he walked along quite fiercely, taking
what he thought were very big steps, but they were little bits of
mincing steps like”--
“Show us, Polly, do,” begged Van. So Polly hopped out from her seat
behind the table, and amid peals of laughter she minced up and down
like a tiny, queer little man, until she nearly tumbled over on her
nose.
“Dear me!” she exclaimed, as she hopped into her seat again, “it’s
perfectly dreadful to be so little. Well, where was I? Oh, well! off
he stepped, holding up the green umbrella as proudly as possible, and
wishing there was somebody to see how nice he looked; but there wasn’t,
only a pig behind a fence looking out through the holes, and he didn’t
care in the least, for he was grunting for something to eat, so you see
the queer little old man had to go mincing and nipping on quite alone.
“Well, and before he knew it, he was stepping off very briskly. ‘Dear
me, how young I feel!’ he exclaimed to himself. ‘It all comes of
carrying this green umbrella; now I mean to take it out to walk every
day.’ And as he finished the last word, he found himself running.
“‘This is perfectly splendid!’ he cried joyfully; ‘I don’t know when
I’ve had such a good run. Now I’ll enjoy it till I get to that tree
yonder; then I must stop, for I shall be quite tired.’
“And in a minute he was close to the big tree; but just as swiftly,
before he could draw another breath, he was whisked by. He stuck out
his arm, the one that wasn’t carrying the green umbrella, you know, and
he tried to catch hold of the tree; but alas! he was running by at the
top of his speed, and now the big tree was clear way behind, and”--
“And couldn’t he stop?” cried Phronsie with wide eyes. “Do make him
stop, Polly.”
“I can’t,” said Polly, “because this is the story, you know, of how the
green umbrella ran away with the queer little old man.”
[Illustration: The umbrella runs away with the queer little man.]
“This queer little old man has got to run, Phronsie,” said Jasper, “so
we shall have to let him.”
But Phronsie sighed as she folded her hands.
“And the queer little old man knew, too, by this time that he had got
to run,” Polly was saying; “and he began to sigh and to groan, ‘Oh, I
wish I hadn’t taken this green umbrella;’ and all the while he was
going faster and faster, till his head began to spin, and he thought he
should drop down in the road; but he couldn’t, you see, for his little
bits of feet kept hopping and skipping along, so of course there was
no time for him to tumble flat. And in a minute he came to a great big
pond and”--
“Like what you said Cherry Brook was?” cried Van, breaking in.
“Dear me, no,” said Polly with a little laugh; “this was ever and ever
so many times bigger, like”--
“Oh! I know,” declared Joel in an important way, quite delighted to
show Van his superior knowledge; “it was like Spot Pond, Polly, over by
Badgertown woods.”
“Yes,” said Polly with shining eyes, “it was, Joel, just like dear old
Spot Pond by Badgertown woods;” and she leaned her cheeks on her two
hands and her elbows on the table, lost in delightful reminiscence over
Joel’s words.
Van got out of his chair, and slipping away from the reach of Jasper’s
fingers, he plucked Polly’s sleeve. “You said the queer little old man
and the green umbrella came to a big place just like Spot Pond,” he
whispered in her ear.
“What--oh!” said Polly, lifting her head up suddenly. “Yes, so I did.
‘Well now,’ said the poor little queer old man to himself, ‘I shall
surely stop; I am so glad to see this water, for I am really almost run
to death.’ But the green umbrella made him hop clear across the pond;
and there he was on the other side, running for dear life through a
brambly wood, and up the side of a mountain.”
Van ran back to his seat, hugging himself joyfully at this entrancing
stage of the story. “Now, there were some people living on the top of
that mountain,” said Polly quite impressively, “who were very funny
people indeed. They were thin and tall--oh! just as thin as bean-poles,
and as high; and when they went out they always pulled on seven-league
boots, and”--
“What are those boots, Polly?” asked Phronsie quickly.
“Oh! let me tell her,” cried Van eagerly, delighted to think there was
something he could show off in to advantage. “I know; my fairy book
tells all about it.”
“Well, I shall tell,” declared Percy for the same reason. “You see,
Phronsie”--
“No, indeed you shall not,” exclaimed Van in a dudgeon; and forgetting
all about Polly Pepper being there, “I began first;” and deserting his
chair again, he ran over to Phronsie’s side, and tried to take her
hand; but she kept it folded over the other one in her lap, and looked
gravely at him.
“And I say I shall,” cried Percy in a passion and forgetting the same
thing; “and as for your beginning first, you are always crowding in, so
that’s nothing.”
Polly leaned back in her big chair, and looked at them in dismay.
“And I think you would both better go out of my den,” said Jasper
coldly.
“O Jasper!” exclaimed Polly quickly. At the sound of her voice both
boys turned and looked at her. “I didn’t mean to!” exclaimed Van,
wilting miserably. “And I didn’t either,” cried Percy, wishing he
wasn’t so big, and could creep into a corner.
“And please don’t,” cried Polly at them; and she clasped her hands, and
her cheeks got rosy red again.
“We won’t! we won’t!” they both promised; and Van slipped back to his
seat, and Percy said, “You may tell Phronsie, Van, if you want to.”
“No, I don’t,” said Van, getting down as small in his chair as he
could, feeling Polly’s brown eyes looking him through.
“I would rather have Polly tell me,” said Phronsie with grave eyes for
both of the boys.
“Yes, you tell her, Polly, do,” said Jasper; “that is best.”
So Polly told Phronsie all about what seven-league boots were, and
how the people who wore them could take great big steps, longer than
anybody else in all the world, and how they could jump from the top of
a mountain to another one just as easily as anything, and nothing could
catch them. “And so you see,” said Polly, winding up her description,
“when these tall, thin people heard the little queer man with the green
umbrella coming up, they all burst out laughing. ‘We’ll show him what
running is. Get on your boots,’ said every one to each other.
“And every single one of them hurried and pulled on his seven-league
boots.”
“Oh, goody!” howled Joel, slipping away from Ben’s hand.
“Now, the queer little old man tried to stop when he got up to them;
but instead of that he whisked along by them, and there he was way
ahead, and going at a perfectly dreadful rate.
“‘Ho, ho!’ cried the seven-league boot-men, ‘you little upstart, you,
what do you mean by going by us without a word;’ for you see they
didn’t like it to see such a very little person treat them so coolly,
and there he was way off ahead of them. ‘We’ll teach you better
manners;’ and off after him they raced.”
“And did they catch him?” cried Van. “And what did they do to him?”
asked Percy. Little Dick, who hadn’t spoken, but had been lost in
thought, now got out of his chair, and stumbled into the centre of the
group.
“Ha, ha, ha!” he screamed suddenly, as loud as he could.
“Goodness me, Dicky, how you scared me!” exclaimed Polly with a jump.
“He scared us all, I guess,” said Ben.
“And you would better get back into that chair of yours,” said Jasper,
“if you don’t want the house to come down on our heads after that
noise.”
Little Dick, thus adjured, plunged back as suddenly as he had come, and
climbed into his chair.
“But step as long and as high as they could, the seven-league boot-men
couldn’t come up to the queer little man with the green umbrella; for
just as soon as he flew out of one city over the church-spires, and the
big houses, they would just be coming in, and so all they could see of
him would be the green umbrella, flying along, and a little twinkling
thing, with tiny sticks of legs and arms, under it. And at last,
besides being very angry, they were very much puzzled. ‘We’ve never had
anything beat us before,’ they called to each other as they stepped
along.
“And all the while, don’t you think, the queer little old man was
calling and screaming back at them, ‘Oh! you dear big boot-men,’ for
he didn’t know anything about seven-league boots, ‘do stop me, for I’m
running away, and I can’t stop myself.’
“And at last the seven-league boot-men stopped in surprise, unable to
take another step, they were so much astonished.
“‘Let’s talk it over,’ they said, ‘and then when we’ve come to a
conclusion what the matter is, why we’ll start again after him.’
“So they all stopped on the tip of the nearest mountain, and sat down
and put their chins in their hands.
“‘It’s something about that umbrella,’ at last said one boot-man,
suddenly lifting his head.
“‘Sure enough,’ cried another, slapping him on the back; ‘that’s the
brightest thing that has been said yet. Think some more.’
“‘I believe it’s because it’s green,’ said another, who wanted to be
just as bright too.
“‘Sure enough,’ said the boot-man who had said so before. ‘Now we must
get him to throw away that dreadful green umbrella, for we can’t be
beaten you know.’
“‘We must get him to throw away that dreadful green umbrella,’ repeated
every one of the boot-men. Then they all got up, and”--
“And did they get the queer little man to throw away the green
umbrella?” cried little Davie impulsively. “Oh! I didn’t mean to
interrupt, Polly,” he cried as soon as he thought.
“I know, Davie, you’ve been real good,” said Polly, smiling approvingly
at him. “Well, now you’ll see; so off they all stepped, with their
dreadfully long steps, after the queer little old man with the green
umbrella, and pretty soon one of the boot-men, who was a little ahead,
called out, ‘I spy him; he isn’t more than seven miles off.’”
“Oh, my!” screamed Joel.
“And sure enough; there he was--running along--the green umbrella just
flying through the air, and the little sticks of arms and legs under
it twinkling in and out.
“‘Hurry! hurry! hurry now for your lives!’ roared all the boot-men at
each other; and they raced as they had never in all their lives raced
before. And at last when they were nearly ready to drop, they came so
near to the queer little man that they could hear him faintly squeal
out, ‘Oh, do stop me! I’m running away, and I can’t stop.’
“‘Throw down that dreadful green umbrella,’ roared all the boot-men at
him together.
“‘I can’t,’ squealed the queer little man, running on faster than ever.
‘It won’t let go of my neck;’ for you must know, I forgot to tell you,
that the crooked handle that used to hang on the golden peg in the
woodshed, where Araminta Sophia hung it up, had hooked itself, after he
got to running fast, around the neck of the queer little old man, and
there he was fast and tight.”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed ever so many voices.
“Did it hurt him?” asked Phronsie piteously.
“Oh, no! I guess not, Pet,” answered Polly; “he was running so fast I
don’t believe he felt it much. Anyway, he couldn’t get it off, try as
hard as he would. And so on he ran, worse than ever.”
“Can’t he _ever_ stop?” asked little Dick suddenly, in great excitement.
“You’ll see, Dicky,” said Polly with a smile, while the others begged
her not to stop but to hurry on. “‘Shut up that dreadful green
umbrella, then,’ screamed out one of the boot-men with the first thing
that came in his head; and in a minute, before they could take another
step, _flap!_ went the green umbrella; _snap!_ went the green umbrella;
and _stop!_ the poor little legs and arms of the queer little man came
to a standstill.
“‘How very queer!’ he gasped. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’ he
snapped out as the boot-men all came up, for he was very cross by this
time. ‘Why didn’t you think of it yourself instead of making us chase
you all over the world?’ they snapped back; for you see they were very
cross too.”
“O Polly! had they been all over the world?” cried Percy in
astonishment.
“Pretty much,” said Polly; “and you see they were very tired; and
besides they didn’t like it, for they never had been obliged to take
such a chase before.”
“I should like to ask,” said Ben, “what this queer little man happened
to be standing on when the green umbrella got shut up? You stopped him
in the air, you know, Polly.”
“Oh! I forgot to say,” Polly answered briskly, with a little laugh,
“that they happened to be just running over a very high mountain. So
when the green umbrella got shut up, why, of course, all he had to do
was to stand still on the top of it.”
“Oh!” said Ben.
XXI.
THE LITTLE SNOW-HOUSE.
“Dear me, how we have all run!” exclaimed Polly, sitting down and
wiping her hot face.
“And I beat, I beat!” whooped Joel excitedly. “I got to the big gate
first of all.”
“That’s because I didn’t hear Ben say ‘three’ in time to begin with
you,” said Percy, his face growing unpleasantly red, and wishing he
hadn’t run at all.
“Ho, ho!” screamed Van, “that’s a good one; just hear Percy. Well, I
stubbed my toe, so I didn’t beat.”
“You’ve won the prize, Joe,” said Jasper, coming up and drawing a long
breath. “Well, that was a race, to be sure.”
“You said you’d let the one who beat have a wish, and you’d do it if
it was a possible thing,” cried Joel with a crow of delight. “Well, I
choose for Polly to tell us a story now;” and he flung himself down on
the grassy terrace by her side.
“O Joel Pepper!” exclaimed Jasper in dismay, “we none of us thought
you’d choose that, because we knew you wanted so many things.”
“Well, I do choose that,” declared Joel obstinately, and shaking his
stubby black hair; “and I don’t want anything else. So begin, Polly,
do;” and he drummed impatiently against the green bank with his heels.
“Ben,” said Jasper in despair, rushing up to that individual, “isn’t
there anything we can do to bring Joe to his senses? Polly’s tired to
death. Oh! why did we promise?”
“No,” said Ben with a long face, “not when Joe makes up his mind. And
we did promise. But I’ll tell the story.” And he drew a long breath,
and his face dropped longer yet.
“Ben’s going to tell the story,” announced Jasper, rushing back
cheerily. “Now all sit down,” as Phronsie pattered back along the
winding road through the shrubbery, having run a race with herself
quite contentedly. “Here, child;” and he sat down on the grass, and
drew her into his lap.
“But I don’t want Ben to tell the story,” cried Joel coolly. “I want
Polly; and you promised you’d give me my wish if ’twas a possible
thing,” he asserted in a loud and positive tone.
“Well, ’tisn’t a possible thing; Polly’s tired to death,” said Jasper
shortly. “Here, Ben, come along, and dash a story at this persistent
chap.”
“Polly isn’t tired,” contradicted Joel, looking in surprise at Polly’s
blooming cheeks. “She’s never tired; and you’ve promised,” he repeated
in an injured tone.
“And I’m quite rested now,” exclaimed Polly, tossing back the damp
rings of hair away from her brow, “so I can tell it just as well. But
what in the world shall it be about?” and she broke into a merry laugh.
“Don’t try to think,” said Ben, who threw himself on the grass by her
side. “Joe’s a mean little beggar to ask it, Polly,” he whispered in
her ear.
But Polly tossed him a scrap of a whisper back again, and then she
began. “Now, it’s so hot to-day, and the middle of summer, it doesn’t
seem as if it ever had been winter with the snow on the ground; and
it will make us cool, with nice little creeps all down our backs, if I
tell you about our little snow-house, and”--
Joel jumped to his feet with howls of delight. “O Polly!” he screamed,
“do tell about it. That’s the most splendid story of all!” Then he
suddenly became very grave, and stood quite still.
“Come along and sit down, then, Joel,” said Polly, “and I’ll begin.”
But Joel didn’t move.
“Come along,” cried Ben, quite out of sorts, “and get into your seat,
and don’t stand there like a stick.” But still Joel stood very still.
“I don’t want any story,” he blurted out suddenly.
“Don’t want any story,” repeated Percy and Van in surprise; while
little Dick began to cry piteously, and laid his head in Polly’s lap.
“Polly doesn’t want to tell it,” began Joel in a gasp, and wishing very
much that he had stayed at the big gate where he won the race.
“Oh, yes I do!” cried Polly brightly. “I want to tell it, Joey, I do
truly; so sit down like a good boy, and I’ll begin right off.”
“Do you really?” asked Joel, edging up, with both black eyes fixed on
her face.
“Yes, indeed; I’m all rested now,” declared Polly; “and if I don’t tell
that story I shall feel very badly indeed, Joey Pepper.”
So Joel, feeling that it was quite right to be glad that the story
was to be told, since Polly had said that she should feel badly if
she didn’t tell it, gave another whoop of delight, and scuttled back
to crowd in next to Polly, while the others settled down in great
satisfaction, and Polly began in her cheeriest fashion.
“Well, you must know, boys, that we used to have just the best times in
The Little Brown House the minute it began to be winter, and the snow
commenced to fall, and we could look out and see it all, and plan what
we could do.”
“And you could get your sleds out,” burst in Van--“And go sleighing
too,” said Percy.
“Oh, we didn’t have sleds!” said Polly quickly; “at least, only one
that Ben made us.”
“Didn’t have sleds!” exclaimed the Whitney boys.
“I helped,” said Joel sturdily; “and so did Dave.”
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t have been much of a sled unless Ben had made
it,” said Polly, looking up at Ben affectionately. “But you two boys
did help, though,” she made haste to add, as she saw their faces.
“And we couldn’t go coasting only when we had all our work done,” Polly
went on, “because, you see, we were poor, and that was play.”
There was silence for the space of a moment, it being quite beyond the
power of the Whitney boys to say anything. “But when Mamsie did let us
go, oh, it was perfectly splendid!” and Polly’s cheeks grew rosy red,
and her eyes kindled in delight at the remembrance.
“Tell us, tell us,” begged Percy and Van, coming out of their deep
reflection.
“Well, maybe, some time,” said Polly; “but now I’m going to tell you
about our little snow-house. You see, it had been awfully cold one
winter,” here Polly hurried on with all her speed, after a glance at
Ben’s face, “and we hadn’t had much snow, because it was ’most too cold
to snow, and we children had been hoping that we might have some; and
every day Joel would come shouting in that he guessed it would snow
before night, and”--
“And we had to fill the wood-box and chop kindlings all the time, I
remember,” grumbled Joel; “and our fingers most froze, didn’t they,
Dave.”
“Maybe,” said David, with a glance at Polly’s face, and very much
wishing that the question had not been asked.
“Never mind,” said Ben; “don’t bother to tell any more about the cold,
Polly, but get along to the story.”
“And so I will,” she said briskly, with another look at his face.
“Well, and one day--oh! I remember it as well as could be, for Joel had
said the same thing about the snow coming, over and over, and”--
“And it did come,” interrupted Joel triumphantly, “so, there”--
“You mustn’t tell before I get to it,” said Polly.
“That’s a fact,” said Ben. “If Polly tells this story, she must be let
alone. Now, Joe, don’t you say another word.”
Joel, at this, subsided, and folded his chubby hands tightly together,
and Polly went on. “Well, and pretty soon, do you know, down came the
white flakes of snow, so soft and pretty and white; and Mamsie said we
might stop our work for five minutes, and watch it from the window.
We’d wanted it so, you know, for days and days.
“And then David and Joel began to scream how they were going to take
the sled Ben had made, out that afternoon, as soon as the ground was
covered, and have a fine time coasting; and then Mamsie told us to look
around at the clock; and we did, and then our time was up, and we had
to fly at our work again.”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed the Whitney boys with one voice.
“Well, in the middle of the afternoon the snow was pretty deep; it had
been falling just as thick and fast as could be, and Joel came stamping
in from the woodshed, where he had been cutting kindlings, and he
pulled on his mittens, and said, ‘Now, Mamsie, may we?’ and ‘Come on,
David’ all at the same time.”
“Just as he says two thing together now,” said Ben, bursting into a
laugh, in which all joined at Joel’s expense, until he laughed too.
“But Mamsie shook her head. ‘Not until I’ve gone into the Provision
Room and seen how many potatoes, and how much Indian meal we have left,
Joey,’ she said. And then off she went, and Joel pounded his heels
on the kitchen floor, and slapped his hands in the mittens together,
and kept calling on David to hurry and be ready when Mamsie came back.
Oh! I remember just as well as can be,--just everything about that
afternoon;” and Polly came to a sudden stop, lost in thought.
“Polly Pepper! Polly Pepper!” cried Van, shaking her elbow, “do tell us
the story.”
“And did she let Joel and David go coasting?” begged Percy, trying to
conceal the eagerness he felt in the recital.
“You’ll see,” said Polly, waking out of her revery. “Well, at last
Mamsie came back from the Provision Room, and the very first look that
we had of her face we knew that Joel and David couldn’t go.”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed the Whitney children, horribly disappointed.