up, and Betserilda put them in the flower-basket, and then they covered
them with moss, and then they both took hold of the handle again; but
they didn’t start to go back until Lucy Ann had most politely invited
all the birds and squirrels to come and visit her garden.”
[Illustration: Lucy Ann’s garden.]
“And would they come, Polly?” cried Phronsie greatly excited.
“To be sure; yes, indeed,” said Polly. “Every one of them said ‘Thank
you;’ and every one of them said they would, and they’d bring all their
friends.”
“Oh, how nice!” cried Phronsie; and she sank back in great satisfaction
in the corner of her seat.
“Well, when everything was at last ready in Lucy Ann’s Garden, and
Betserilda had brought the big water-pot, and watered it all over, and
every little leaf was pulled and patted out, and nothing more was left
to be done, Lucy Ann sat down a minute to think, and she put her head
in her hands, like this;” down went Polly’s brown head, and everything
was still a minute.
[Illustration: She put her head in her hands, like this.]
“Go on, Polly Pepper,” begged Van, pulling her sleeve; “don’t think any
more, but tell the rest of the story.”
“Lucy Ann screamed out,” said Polly, lifting her head so suddenly they
all started, “‘I’ve got an idea!’
“Betserilda set down the watering-pot, and dropped a courtesy; for she
wasn’t allowed to speak, you know, unless told to.”
“Why not, Polly?” asked Van, who wanted the last bit of information
possible.
“Because she was kept to wait on Lucy Ann,” said Polly; “and unless
Lucy Ann told her to, she couldn’t speak.”
“Oh!” said Van.
“‘I’m going to give a party,’ screamed Lucy Ann, jumping up and down,
‘in my garden. Now speak, Betserilda, and say that is a most beautiful
idea.’
“‘That is a most beautiful idea,’ said Betserilda.
“‘I thought so,’ said Lucy Ann. ‘Now, do you run all through the wood,
and give my invitation to every bird and squirrel you see, and every
snake and hop-toad, and every chipmunk and woodchuck, and tell them to
come to-night as soon as the moon gets up. Hang up the watering-pot on
the first crotch of the tree you find going down, and run as fast as
you can.’”
“Oh! oh!” screamed the Whitney boys in glee.
“Didn’t I tell you ’twas a prime story?” cried Joel, punching Van, who
never could get so far away as to be beyond his fingers.
“Ow! Be still!” said Van, edging off again.
“So Betserilda did as she was bid, and hung up the watering-pot on the
first crotch of the tree she could find underneath Lucy Ann’s Garden,
and then away she ran on the tips of her toes into the wood again. And
pretty soon every squirrel and bird and hop-toad and snake and chipmunk
had his invitation, and”--
“You left out the woodchuck,” said Ben; “poor thing, do let him come to
that wonderful party, Polly.”
“Of course he came,” cried Polly gayly; “we wouldn’t let him be
forgotten, and so”--
“Couldn’t the poor dear sweet little brown worms come, Polly?” asked
Phronsie, leaning anxiously forward.
“Dear me, yes,” cried Polly, catching sight of Phronsie’s face; “of
course those nice angle-worms came. We wouldn’t leave them out for all
the world. Well, and in a minute or two every one of the people, I mean
the wood-creatures, were dressing up and combing their hair, and”--
“O Polly Pepper!” exclaimed Percy in distress, “now I know this story
can’t be true; because squirrels don’t comb their hair, and birds,
and”--
“How do you know?” cried Polly at him.
“Well, hop-toads don’t, anyway,” declared Percy obstinately.
“Well, my hop-toads do,” said Polly. “I shall make every one of them
comb their hair, and clean their clothes, and prink up to go to that
party, so there, Percy Whitney!”
“And this is Polly Pepper’s story,” said Jasper. “Do keep still, Percy,
or out you go from Mother Pepper’s room.”
“Oh! she can have them do it if she wants to,” said Percy, shrinking
back in alarm, with one eye on Jasper and another on Ben, and trying to
keep himself as small as possible.
“And they couldn’t hardly wait for the moon to come up, they were all
so anxious to go,” Polly ran on. “You see, none of them had ever been
to a party before in all their lives.”
“I just hate parties!” exploded Joel, having experienced several trials
in that line since coming to live at Mr. King’s; “and they were very
silly to want to go.”
“Now, what do you think Lucy Ann had thought out while Betserilda was
away?” asked Polly suddenly.
No one of the children could possibly guess, so Polly dashed on. “Well,
she had it come in a flash into her head; and off she ran and did it,
and got back all out of breath, running up one pair of steps to her
garden, just as Betserilda came up the other pair.
“‘Betserilda,’ she said, ‘what do you suppose I’ve done? Speak.’
“‘I don’t know,’ said Betserilda.
“‘That’s a good girl, because if you’d said you did know, you’d be a
naughty girl, because it all came out of my head. I’ve engaged the
band, and we’re going to dance.’”
The Whitney boys clapped their hands and shouted approval.
“Betserilda said nothing, because, you know, she couldn’t speak unless
Lucy Ann told her she might. ‘You may talk now,’ said Lucy Ann, ‘and
say, “What a good idea.”’ So Betserilda said at once, ‘What a good
idea.’
“‘Isn’t it?’ cried Lucy Ann, quite delighted.”
“Was Lucy Ann really to have a band play? And where did she get it?”
cried Percy and Van together.
“Yes, indeed,” said Polly; “she was--a real true cricket-band. She’d
engaged every one of the black crickets; and she commanded them to
stop chirping, so as to save their music till evening. And every one
said he would; and one of them said he’d bring some cousins that were
visiting him, called fiddlers, and”--
“Oh! there isn’t any cricket called a fiddler,” cried Van.
“There is a black bug down by the seaside with a fiddle up over his
shoulder,” said Polly. “I saw a picture of him in Parson Henderson’s
book before I told this story in the little snow-house, so there, Van!”
“And don’t you interrupt again,” said Ben at him, “or out you must go.
Now then, Polly, let’s have the rest of that story.”
“Where was I? oh, yes; ‘We’re surely going to dance,’ cried Lucy Ann,
hopping on all her toes. ‘Now run into the house, and get my pink gauze
gown all ready, and my little silver shoes, and lay them on the bed;
and then tell the cook to make five hundred little ice-creams and cakes
and put each on a big green leaf when it’s ready to bring up to the
garden. Run for your life, Betserilda.’
“So Betserilda ran for her life down one pair of stairs, and Lucy Ann
hopped down the other pair, and the birds and the squirrels and the
hop-toads and the snakes and all the rest of them kept combing their
hair and prinking up, and peeking out of the wood, and saying to each
other, ‘Hasn’t the sun gone down yet?’ and ‘Isn’t the moon ever coming
up?’ until at last it was time to go to the party.
“And everybody in Lucy Ann’s house kept peeking out of all the windows.
They didn’t even stop for dinner, but had the servants bring it to
them, and they ate it sitting in the windows, so they needn’t miss
anything; so when the moonlight really did come, they were all ready
to see every bit of the party too. Well, Lucy Ann in her pink gauze
gown tripped away across the grass in her little silver slippers, and
went up the stairs to her garden with Betserilda coming after. And when
all the wood-creatures saw her going up, and knew that the party was
actually to begin, they all started in fine shape; but they had to wait
a bit, which was quite a pity, for the biggest squirrel and the long
brown snake fell into a quarrel which should go first in the procession.
“‘Lucy Ann invited me first,’ said the big squirrel, chattering so fast
they could hardly hear the words.
“‘She likes me best,’ said the long brown snake, lashing the
pine-needles on the ground with his tail.
“This made the big squirrel very angry; and he cried in a sharp voice,
‘I’ll bite you;’ and he was just going to do it, when somebody, way
back in the procession, cried out, ‘You’re mussing your hair, flying in
such a rage.’
“‘To be sure,’ said the big squirrel, putting up one paw to smooth his
head carefully; ‘let us not quarrel and bite till after the party. We
will both go in together, that’s the best way.’
“‘As you like,’ said the long brown snake, who didn’t want to fight;
‘there is room enough for us both, as I am quite thin.’ So they both
led off; and soon they were all up in the garden, and making splendid
bows and courtesies to Lucy Ann. And as fast as each one made his
bow or courtesy, she would say, if it pleased her, ‘That’s a good
one,--check it off, Betserilda;’ and Betserilda would make a little
mark in a big black book she had in her hand. And if it was very bad,
Lucy Ann would say it must be done over again. But at last they were
ready to dance.”
“Who danced with Lucy Ann?” asked Van, breaking in; but Jasper pulled
him back, and Polly went on.
“And the cricket band struck up; and then Lucy Ann stood upon a
mushroom she had had brought up in the garden for a stool, so she
looked very tall and big, and she said, ‘Look at me,’ and everybody
looked at her with all his eyes; ‘I am going to say something.’
“‘I’m not going to dance with any of you,’ she said; ‘for, you see, I
cannot dance with all; I should be quite tired out, there are so many
of you. But I must dance; so I am going to wait for my prince, for of
course some one will come;’ and she smoothed down her pink gauze gown
in great contentment, and fluttered her pink feather fan. ‘Now begin; I
shall wait for my prince;’ and she hopped off from her mushroom stool,
and the cricket band struck up their liveliest tune; and while Lucy Ann
sat down by a little clump of violets at the very end of her garden,
every single one of the party folks began to dance.
“Now, there was in the wood one person who didn’t happen to be invited
to that party. Lucy Ann didn’t know he was there, so she couldn’t send
him an invitation you see. And he had only arrived that day, being
on his way to another place when he succeeded in running away from a
cruel master; and when he saw the nice cool wood, he thought he would
stop awhile and get rested. And then he overheard the chatter about the
party, though nobody saw him; and after that he made up his mind he
would stay and see it all from an overhanging tree.”
“I know what it was,” piped Phronsie in a gleeful voice; “he was a”--
“Hush--hush!” cried Ben, springing forward, and “Don’t tell, Pet,” from
Polly as she rushed on.
“And when he heard Lucy Ann say that about her prince, and waiting for
him to come and dance with her, he said to himself,--
“‘Why shouldn’t I be the prince?’ and the next minute he was combing
his hair, and prinking up, and then he was ready.”
“Oh! oh!” screamed all those who hadn’t heard the story in the little
snow-house; and Joel kept nudging Van and saying, “Didn’t I tell you it
was a prime one?”
“Well, it was getting pretty late now, you know, for the prince was so
anxious to look nice, he took a good deal of time to prink up; and
Lucy Ann began to look sad, and she called Betserilda, who had to stand
perfectly still behind the clump of violets. ‘I am really afraid I
shall have to cry,’ said Lucy Ann; ‘for my prince doesn’t come, and I
don’t know what to do, for my tears will make it so wet in the garden
that they will all get cold;’ and just then up came the prince, his cap
in his hand, along the stairway, and there was the sweetest, dearest
little monkey you ever saw in a red coat, standing before her!” cried
Polly, with a sudden flourish, and jumping to her feet.
XXIII.
THE CHINA MUG.
“Oh, no! I won’t have them on,” declared little Dick, shaking his head
savagely, till it seemed as if every one of the small bits of brown
paper must fly off.
“O Dicky!” exclaimed Polly in dismay, “you’ve bumped your head so
falling down-stairs.”
“Haven’t bumped my head,” cried Dick, whirling around so that none
of the children could investigate the big lumps on his head. “I wish
they’d all tumble off;” and he gave another vigorous shake, that made
the biggest piece of wet brown paper settle over his left eye.
“Very well,” said Polly coolly; “we must go to Mrs. Whitney then, and
tell her that you are shaking off all the brown paper. I was going to
tell you a story, but we can’t have it now.”
Little Dick plucked off the big bit of wet brown paper from his eye,
and looked at her. “I’ll stick them on again,” he said.
[Illustration: Little Dick plucked off the big bit of wet brown paper
from his eye.]
“Very well,” said Polly once more; “I’ll put them back; that’s a good
boy;” and she proceeded to do so, till Dicky was ornamented with the
brown paper bits, all in the right places. “‘Now,’ says I, as Grandma
Bascom used to say, ‘we’ll have the story.’ I’m going to tell you about
‘The China Mug.’”
“I’m glad of that,” said Jasper, “because that was one of the stories
we had on a baking-day in The Little Brown House,--do you remember,
Polly?”
“As if we could ever forget,” cried Polly happily. And thereupon ensued
such a “Do you remember this?” and “Oh! you haven’t forgotten that in
The Little Brown House!” that the Whitney children fell into despair,
and began to implore that the story might begin at once.
“You’re always talking of the good times in The Little Brown House,”
cried Van, who never could forgive Jasper for his good fortune in
having been there.
“Can’t help it,” said Jasper, showing signs of rushing off again in
reminiscence; so Polly hastened to say, “We really ought not to talk
any more about it, but get on with the story. Well, you know, the China
Mug was _our_ China Mug, and it stood on the left corner of the shelf
in the kitchen of The Little Brown House.”
“Is it a true story?” clamored Van.
“Oh, you mustn’t ask me!” cried Polly gayly, who wasn’t going to be
called from the land of Fancy just then by any question.
“Don’t interrupt, any of you,” said Jasper, “or I’ll ask Polly not to
tell about ‘The China Mug;’ you would better keep still, for it’s a
fine story, I can tell you.”
So Van doubled himself up in a ball on the corner of the big sofa, and
subsided into quiet, and Polly began once more.
“Yes, the China Mug was really and truly our China Mug on the left
corner of the shelf in the kitchen of The Little Brown House. It was
a very old mug, oh! I don’t know how many years old, two or three
hundred, I guess; for you see it was our father’s mug when he was a
little boy, and his father had it when he was a little boy, and”--
“Did they all drink their milk from it?” broke in little Dick,
forgetting all about the indignity of having his head plastered up with
bits of wet brown paper; “all those little boys, Polly?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Polly; “for you see they were all called
Samuel, and every Samuel in the family had this mug, so”--
“I wish I could be Samuel, and have a mug that was in The Little Brown
House,” said Dick reflectively.
“Well, it had a funny twisted handle,” said Polly, hurrying on; “and
oh! the loveliest lady with a pink sash, and long, floating hair; and
she had a basket of roses on one arm, and she was picking up her gown
and courtesying just like this.” Polly jumped to her feet, and executed
a most remarkable courtesy.
“Was she standing on the handle?” asked Percy, who had a fancy for all
minute details.
“Oh, dear me, no!” said Polly, laughing merrily; and she nearly fell on
her nose, as she was just finishing the courtesy; “she couldn’t stand
on the handle. She was on the front of the China Mug, to be sure; and
there was a most beautiful little man, and he had a cocked hat under
his arm, and he was bowing to her as she courtesied.”
“Tell how the beautiful little man bowed,” begged the children. So
Polly, who had hopped into her seat, had to jump up again, and show
them just exactly how the beautiful little man, with the cocked hat
under his arm, bowed to the lovely lady with a pink sash on, and a
basket of roses hanging on her arm. Then she hurried back, quite tired
out, to her place.
[Illustration: The beautiful man and the lovely lady on the china mug.]
“He had on a blue coat, and his hair was all white, and”--
“O Polly! was he so very old?” cried Van from his sofa-corner.
“Dear me, no!” said Polly again; “he was young and most beautiful, but
his hair was powdered, just as the man’s is in the big picture in the
drawing-room; and it was tied up in the back with a bow of ribbon just
like that one too; and he had buckles on his knees, and on his shoes,
just the very same. Well, he kept bowing and bowing all the time, and
the lovely lady with the pink sash on, and the basket of roses hanging
on her arm, kept courtesying to him all the time; and they had been
doing that for two or three hundred years.”
“O Polly Pepper!” exclaimed Percy quite shocked; “how could they bow
and courtesy for two hundred years?”
“Well, they did,” said Polly, hurrying on; “and”--
“If you interrupt again, out you go,” from Jasper.
“And at last one night when we were all abed,--Mamsie and Phronsie and
I in the bedroom, and the three boys in the loft,--and all of us fast
asleep, suddenly the beautiful little man exclaimed, ‘I am quite tired
out bowing to you!’ ‘And I am quite, quite exhausted courtesying to you
all the time,’ declared the lovely lady.
“‘And I shall stop bowing, and turn my back on you,’ said the beautiful
little man.
“‘And I shall not courtesy again, but I shall turn my back on you,’
said the lovely lady.
“‘And I shall walk away,’ said the beautiful little man.
“‘And I shall walk away from you,’ declared the lovely lady.
“And so they both whirled around, and walked away as fast as ever they
could from each other; and when they got to the funny twisted handle on
the back of the mug, the lovely lady went under it, but the beautiful
little man hopped over it briskly, and on they both hurried; and the
first thing either of them knew, there they were on the front of the
mug staring into each other’s faces as they went by. And so round
and round the mug they walked, and they never spoke when they went
past each other except to say, ‘I shall not bow to you,’ and ‘I shall
not courtesy to you,’ and then away they went again. Oh, it was too
dreadful to think of!
“And at last they had been going on so, around and around, oh! two
million times, I guess; and the lovely lady’s poor little feet had
become so tired out, that she could hardly step on them, and she sobbed
out to herself,--she had just passed the beautiful little man on the
front of the mug, so he couldn’t see her,--‘I know I shall drop down
and die, if I keep on like this;’ so she gave a great jump, and she
flew clear over the edge of the mug, and hopped down inside.”
“Oh, oh!” screamed little Dick in a transport.
“And when the beautiful little man came stepping around to the front of
the mug the next time, lo, and behold! there was no lovely lady, with a
basket of roses hanging on her arm, to say, ‘I won’t courtesy to you.’
“‘How glad I am that that tiresome creature has gone!’ he exclaimed,
as he skipped off around the mug. And he said it the next time, and”--
“I don’t think he was nice at all,” observed little Dick, bobbing his
head so decidedly that some of the brown paper concluded to fly off at
once.
“And he said it the next time,” ran on Polly, “and the next; but when
he came around again, he rubbed his eyes, and tried to stop, but his
feet wouldn’t let him; so on he had to go.”
“Oh, dear!” said Percy and Van, “couldn’t he really stop, Polly?”
“No,” said Polly, “he couldn’t really, but around the mug he must keep
going. And the time after, when he came to the front once more, it
was all he could do to keep from bursting into tears. And at last he
screamed right out, ‘Oh, dear, lovely lady! where have you gone?’”
“Why, she was in the mug,” said Van, tumbling off from the sofa-corner
in a great state of excitement; “do tell him that, Polly,” coming up to
her chair.
“Keep still,” said Ben, holding up a warning finger.
“But he couldn’t stop, for you see his feet wouldn’t let him,” said
Polly; “and he began to cry dreadfully big tears all over his fine blue
coat and his cocked hat; and every time before he reached the front of
the mug, he watched between his sobs, to see if she had got back; and
when he found that she hadn’t, he screamed worse than ever, ‘Oh, dear,
sweet, lovely lady! where have you gone?’”
“I don’t think she was nice,” said Percy; “she might have said
something.”
“And there she was all huddled up in the bottom of the mug,” said
Polly; “crying so hard she could scarcely breathe; and she tried to
call back to him ‘Oh, dear, beautiful little man! do come and help
me out;’ but her voice didn’t reach anywhere, for it was such a wee,
little squeal; so on he had to go around and around, and she kept on
shaking and trembling down in the very bottom of the mug.”
The excitement among the Whitney boys was intense; the little bunch of
Peppers and Jasper preserving a smiling content, knowing well what was
to become of the lovely lady and the beautiful little man, since Polly
had told it more than once in The Little Brown House.
“Do hurry, and tell them,” whispered Ben in her ear; so Polly laughed
and hastened on.
“‘I’ll help you,’ suddenly said a voice close by on the shelf. The
lovely lady bobbing away in the very bottom of the mug, and the
beautiful little man crying his eyes out as he walked around and around
the China Mug, stopped weeping and screaming to listen with all their
ears.
“‘I am Sir Bow-wow,’ declared the voice, which came out, you must know,
of Phronsie’s crockery dog that a lady in the centre of Badgertown
gave her, when she was a baby, to cut her teeth on. Phronsie used to
put his head in her mouth, and bite hard, and that made her teeth come
through quicker. Well, he was brown and ugly, and one ear was gone,
because she had dropped him a good many times. Oh! and two or three of
his toes were broken off; but he was a great help now in this dreadful
trouble that had overtaken the lovely lady and the beautiful little
man, because he had a good head to think out things.”
“I am so glad Phronsie didn’t bite it off,” said Van with a sigh of
relief.
“Well, go on,” said Percy briefly.
“Sir Bow-wow cleared his throat; then he asked sharply, ‘Are you sure
you won’t ever say such dreadful things as I heard from you, ever
again, in all this world?’
“‘Oh, quite, quite sure!’ said the lovely lady, heaving a long sigh;
‘if you will only get me out of this dismal place, Sir Bow-wow, I will
be just as good as I can be.’
“‘And if you will only bring back that lovely lady I will be just as
good as I can be,’ said the beautiful little man; ‘Sir Bow-wow, I
promise you.’ And they couldn’t hear each other, only what the brown
crockery dog said; and he asked again, ‘Are you sure you won’t turn
your backs on each other, but you will bow and courtesy as prettily as
you always used to?’
“And they both promised him most solemnly that they would do that very
thing, if he would only help them now out of this dreadful, dreadful
trouble. So the brown crockery dog jumped up to the top of the funny,
twisted handle of the China Mug, and sat there and scratched his head
very gravely, and thought and thought, while the beautiful little man
walked twice around the China Mug. ‘The very thing!’ at last exclaimed
Sir Bow-wow. ‘Now, then, hurry, lovely lady,’ and he put one of his
paws over the top of the mug, and then peeped over. ‘Can’t you reach
up?’ he asked.
“But the lovely lady down in the bottom of the China Mug, although she
stood on all her tip toes couldn’t so much as touch the end of his paw.
‘I shall die here,’ she said, in a faint voice, huddling down in a
miserable, little heap, and beginning to weep again.
“‘Nonsense!’ cried Sir Bow-wow, although he was terribly afraid that
she would. ‘I’ll think again.’ So he scratched his head once more, and
thought, while the beautiful little man walked twice around the China
Mug. ‘This time I have it!’ declared the brown crockery dog, and he put
his paw over the edge of the mug. ‘Twine the roses in the basket on
your arm into a vine, and throw up one end over my paw, and I will pull
you up.’
“And the lovely lady stopped crying, and began to laugh, all the while
she set to work busily making a vine out of the roses in the basket
hanging on her arm; and she twisted the thorns and leaves all in and
out so nicely, that before long she had a streaming garland; and she
threw up one end of it over the paw of Sir Bow-wow, just as he had
told her to do, and, in a minute, there she was standing on the edge of
the China Mug, up by the funny twisted handle.