“Well, she did any way,” said Polly; “so she said ‘Forsooth!’ and
tossed her head, and immediately she felt very big and grand. And the
next day the birds came, and everything was lovely, and the Silly
Little Brook went to sleep at night, and dreamed of all sorts of
beautiful things. But the day after, she looked up, and saw to her
astonishment a flock of birds, that was whirring along over the tip
of the mountain-side, pause when they got to her, and look down; then
they whispered together, and presently off they flew, chattering, ‘Oh,
no--no; we’ll not stop there!’
“What to make of it the Silly Little Brook did not know; she only
tossed her head, and grew angrier and angrier, and said she didn’t
care. But she went to sleep sobbing as hard as she could that night;
and her pillow, a clump of moss, was wet with tears.”
Phronsie moved uneasily, but said not a word.
“At last, as morning broke, the Silly Little Brook heard a voice close
to her ear say, ‘O dear Brook, wake up! I have something to say to
you;’ and there was Robin Redbreast.”
“I am so glad he has come, Polly,” ejaculated Phronsie in relief.
“The Silly Little Brook at that opened her eyes. ‘What is it?’ she
asked sadly.
“‘Don’t you know why the birds are flying over your head, to seek other
streams, without so much as giving you a gentle word,--and no one
remains to tell you the truth but me?’ asked Robin.
“‘No, I don’t!’ said the Silly Little Brook; ‘tell me, Robin.’
“‘Look for yourself,’ said Robin Redbreast.
“So the Silly Little Brook turned her eyes to look at herself in the
little hollow where she had rested, and lo and behold, instead of the
clear, white water with the shade just like the violets in our woods
at Badgertown, you know, Phronsie,” and Polly’s hands with their work
dropped to her lap, “why”--
“Yes, yes, I know,” said Phronsie with a small sigh, hearing which,
Polly picked up her work again and hurried on.
“Why, there was a dark, dirty pool of water with a little green scum
coming all over the top of it.
“‘Oh, Horrors!’ screamed the Silly Little Brook, ‘why, where have I
gone? That isn’t my little Brook.’
“‘Yes it is,’ said Robin, shaking his head sadly; ‘you’re turned into
this hateful thing because you staid still. O dear Brook! why didn’t
you obey the good Sun, and go on?’
“‘I will now,’ said the Silly Little Brook, bursting into a torrent
of tears; and she tried to start. But her feet were all tangled up in
a mess of leaves and green things that weren’t nice, and she couldn’t
stir a step.”
Phronsie here moved uneasily again, but waited for Polly to go on.
“‘I’ll help you,’ said Robin Redbreast quickly; and, jumping down, he
picked patiently all the sticks and leaves he could in his bill, and
carried them out of the way of the Silly Little Brook when she should
once more start to run down the mountain-side.”
“He was a nice Robin Redbreast, Polly, and I like him,” Phronsie
exclaimed joyfully.
“So he was, Pet,” Polly made haste to answer. “Well, but as fast as he
picked off the leaves and sticks out of the way of the Silly Little
Brook, ever so many others would come blowing down on her from the
trees, and choke up the path again. So at last poor Robin Redbreast had
to sit down quite tired out, and declare he could do no more.”
“Please hurry and tell it, Polly,” begged Phronsie, pulling her sleeve,
for Polly dearly loved to stop a bit in the most impressive spots.
“Well, and then the Silly Little Brook began to sob and to scream
louder than ever; and the sticks and leaves flew around her thick and
fast, for it was a very windy day; and the birds flew over her head,
never so much as giving her a glance; and it was very dreadful indeed,”
said Polly, holding up her embroidery at arm’s length to see if the
calyx was beginning to look exactly as if the rosebud were just picked
from the garden.
“Please hurry,” begged Phronsie, pulling her sleeve again.
“So I will,” said Polly; “I think that is just as near right as I can
get it, although it doesn’t look like a real rose,” she sighed; “but
you must let me stop once in a while, child, for the story sounds
better.”
“But I want the Silly Little Brook to stop crying and get out,” said
Phronsie in gentle haste.
“Well, so I will let her out, you’ll see,” promised Polly, hurrying on
to set in more green stitches, determined, since she couldn’t make it
like a real rose from Grandpapa’s garden, she would have it as good a
one as possible.
“‘I shall die here,’ mourned the Silly Little Brook; and the wind in
the trees sobbed over her, ‘She will die there,’ until Robin Redbreast
let his head droop on his pretty red bosom.”
“Please hurry, Polly,” said Phronsie pleadingly, and there were tears
in the brown eyes.
“But suddenly up jumped Robin,” cried Polly, casting aside her
embroidery on the sofa; and suiting the action to the word, she sprang
to her feet and waved her arms. “And he trilled out loud and clear,
while he flapped his wings, ‘Stop your crying, dear Brook, I will go
and bring some help;’ for he had heard what the Silly Little Brook had
not been able to hear, as she was weeping so hard, the notes way up in
the sky of some little birds that he knew.”
“Polly!” exclaimed Phronsie, in great excitement, and slipping from
the sofa to plant herself in front of Polly,--still waving her arms,
and crying, “Stop your crying, dear Brook, I will go and bring some
help,”--“I love that Robin Redbreast, I do.”
“Well, we must get back to the sofa, and finish this story, or
Mamsie’ll call us before we’re ready,” laughed Polly, her arms tumbling
to her sides; and she picked up Phronsie, and in a minute there they
were in the cosey corner once more.
“So off he flew post-haste,” hurried on Polly, picking up her needle
once more to set quick stitches; “and oh! as soon as you could think,
back he came, and a whole troop of Robin Redbreasts who were on a
journey together, and there were so many of them that they picked out
every stick and leaf before the new ones had a chance to choke up the
way: and pretty soon, ‘Start now!’ they said; and the Silly Little
Brook put out her feet, and away she went slipping and sliding and
trickling and running like a mad little thing down the mountain-side.”
[Illustration: The birds and the silly little brook.]
Phronsie clapped her hands and shouted in glee.
“‘Don’t stop again,’ screamed every one of those Robin Redbreasts after
her, ‘but go on--and on--and on.’”
“Pol--_ly_!” called Mamsie over the stairs--and “Phron--_sie_! it’s
time to go down town to buy your shoes.”
XXVI.
DOWN IN THE ORCHARD.
“It was such a comfort to have an orchard,” said Polly, clasping her
hands in delight at the remembrance. “You can’t think; and we used to
have such fun out there when the work was done up”--
“How many trees were there?” asked Percy, with an eye for details.
“Oh, there weren’t any _trees_!” said Polly quickly; “there was just
one; but we played there were ever and ever so many, so we called it an
Orchard.”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Percy and Van together.
“It was an apple-tree,” said Joel; “and there weren’t any apples on it
either, only we used to play there were.”
“O Joel!” exclaimed Polly, “have you forgotten? Don’t you remember one
year that we got some?”
“Mean old things!” declared Joel; “and so hard, they’d almost break
your teeth.”
“Well, you and Dave managed to eat them,” said Ben, laughing.
“Because we couldn’t get any others,” said Joel; “and they were only
about a dozen of them, I guess.”
“That was better than nothing,” said Polly. “Well, you see we did have
apples on the tree sometimes, so we could call it an orchard; and when
we had our work done, we could go out there and play. And Phronsie
could always take Seraphina and stay there ever so long, because it was
just a little way back of the kitchen-door; so you see we thought a
great deal indeed of our Orchard.”
“Tell us what you used to do out in your Orchard?” begged Van abruptly;
“every single thing.”
“Oh, dear me!” said Polly, drawing a long breath at the delightful
remembrances. “I can’t tell you all the things we used to do there,
any more than I can about all the good times we had in the dear old
kitchen.”
“There’s no use in asking the Peppers to tell all the good times they
had in The Little Brown House,” declared Jasper, with kindling eyes,
“because, you see, they just can’t do it. I know, because I’ve been
there.”
“Jappy always feels so smart because he’s been at The Little Brown
House,” exclaimed Van enviously.
“Well, why shouldn’t I?” retorted Jasper gayly. “It’s something to feel
smart over, I can tell you, to go to The Little Brown House.”
“I wish we could ever go there,” said Percy wishfully.
“Well, if you want to hear Polly tell of what we did down in our
Orchard, you would better stop talking, and let her begin,” advised Ben.
“I think so too,” laughed Jasper. “I’m as bad as the rest; but when it
comes to talking about The Little Brown House, why, I just forget and
pitch in. Now do go on, Polly; we beg your pardon;” and he shook his
head at the other boys.
“Yes, we do beg your pardon,” Percy and Van made haste to say, seeing
that Jasper had said it first.
“All right,” said Polly; “then, I’ll begin straight off, to tell you of
one nice time we had down in our Orchard. You see, Mamsie was off at
the minister’s house, helping to make over the parlor carpet, and we
really hadn’t any work to do. And, for a wonder, Ben was home, because
there was no wood for him to chop anywhere; and it was a long, hot
summer afternoon. First, we thought we’d go off to the woods, and”--
“And why didn’t you?” broke in Van, with wide eyes for the indifference
to the charms of the woods.
“Hush!” said Jasper, holding up his hand.
Percy was just going to say, “I should think you’d have gone to the
woods, and dug up moss and flowers and cunning little roots.” But
hearing Jasper’s “Hush!” he ducked involuntarily, very glad he hadn’t
spoken.
“Oh! Phronsie wasn’t very well,” said Polly; “that is, she hadn’t been,
and we knew Mamsie wouldn’t want her to walk so far. And besides, it
was just as much fun to play in our Orchard. So we all decided to go
there. Well, off we started”--
“Why, I thought you said it was just a little way back of the
kitchen-door,” said Percy surprised out of himself.
“So it was,” answered Polly; “but we played it was ever so far off; and
we walked around and around The Little Brown House, all but Phronsie,
she sat on the back-steps till we were ready to go into the Orchard;
then she got down, and we all went in together,” said Polly, with a
grand flourish as if escorting her auditors into enchanted space, big
beyond description. “Well, and don’t you think there was the greatest
surprise when we got there!”
“Oh, tell us!” begged all the Whitney boys impatiently.
“Why, Ben had run off,--after we had talked over whether we would go to
the woods or not, and we didn’t think we ought to, for Mamsie wouldn’t
like to have Phronsie walk so far,--and he had brought back some
flowers and some moss, and ever so many things.”
“That’s nice,” said Percy in a satisfied way.
“And there they were on the little stone table,” said Polly.
“Oh! did you have a stone table in your Orchard?” asked Van.
“Yes; I’ve seen it ever so many times,” said Jasper. Then he pulled
himself up laughing, “Beg pardon, Polly.”
“Ho! ho! You’re talking,” cried Van at him.
“Can’t help it,” said Jasper recklessly, “when you begin to ask about
the good times in The Little Brown House, I must talk.”
“You see,” said Polly to the Whitney boys, “we had to have a table for
our tea-parties and ever so many other things, and so Ben chose a big
stone in a field; it was Deacon Brown’s meadow, and he”--
“You said it was a field, Polly Pepper,” interrupted Percy in his most
literal way.
“Well, it was just about the same thing,” said Polly, laughing.
“Never mind him, Polly,” said Jasper; and “You never will get this
story if you keep stopping her all the time,” from Ben. So Polly
hurried on. “And Deacon Brown was just as glad as he could be, of
course, to have that big stone carried off from his meadow.”
“Why?” asked Van. “I should think all the Brown children would have
wanted it to play on.”
“Oh! there are such oceans of stones in Badgertown,” cried Polly,
lifting her hands.
“O Polly!” exclaimed Ben; “_oceans_ of stones?”
“Well, I mean such a very, very, great many,” said Polly, with the
color flooding her face, “you can’t think, boys; and they bother the
farmers dreadfully when they want to cut their grass; the poor cows
have such hard work to get their noses in between them--the stones, I
mean--in order to get anything to eat.”
“The farmers almost have to whittle off the cows’ noses for them to get
a bite,” said Ben.
“And Joel and David would pick rocks for the farmers sometimes,” said
Polly; “but that was nice, because”--
“Mean old work,” said Joel, stretching himself, “picking rocks. Didn’t
our backs ache, Dave?”
Little David twisted uneasily in his chair, unwilling to say how very
unpleasant he had found the task of picking rocks, and wishing that the
question had not been asked.
“Well,” said Polly brightly, “it was nice when the boys brought home
the fresh vegetables that the farmers would give them for picking those
rocks. You ought to have seen Mamsie’s face then!”
Joel straightened up at that, and forgot all about his aching back, and
little David was very glad he hadn’t been obliged to say anything. “So
now you see,” ran on Polly, “how very glad Deacon Brown was to give Ben
the big stone for our orchard table; so Ben tugged and tugged and”--
“And we helped; Dave and I did,” shouted Joel. “Didn’t we, Ben?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Ben heartily, “you did, both of you. I don’t
believe I could ever have brought the great thing down to the orchard
without you.” Thereupon Joel felt very big and tall, and little David
sat up as high in his chair as possible.
“Oh, it was a perfectly splendid table!” exclaimed Polly; “you can’t
think how fine it was when it was all set up under our apple-tree. It
was most flat on top; and it was as high as this, and as big as this;”
and she put out her hands, and began to measure it all off briskly.
“Ho,--that isn’t near big enough!” cried Joel, springing to her side;
“’twas as big as this;” and he executed the most remarkable series of
curves, spreading his arms to the infinite discomfort of every one in
his neighborhood.
[Illustration: “’Twas as big as this!”]
“See here!” called Ben at him, amidst the general laugh at Joel’s
table, “if you go on knocking off all our heads in this fashion, we’ll
put you out this second,--yes, sir! The idea of such a stone as that.
Why, it would have taken a pair of horses and a cart to bring it, let
alone our digging it up. O Joe!”
“I don’t care,” said Joel sturdily; “it was as big as that, anyway,”
bringing his arms in with a sudden swoop.
“Well, now, Joe,” said Jasper, “if you don’t keep quiet, we sha’n’t get
any further in this story than that table;” which had the effect of
sending Joel into his seat as quickly as he had jumped off. And Polly
began again before he had a chance to speak. “And there on the top of
the table was a big bunch of flowers; we had a tea-cup that Mamsie
had given us, because it was cracked and the handle was gone, and Ben
had put some of the flowers he brought from the woods into it; but
the rest he made up into little bunches, and laid one on every little
stone seat; for I forgot to tell you, the boys had brought five little
stones, one for each of us, so we could always have our chairs ready
for us, you know.”
“Oh, dear me!” sighed little Dick, quite overcome with longing; “how I
do wish we could have little stone seats!”
“And a stone table,” added Van enviously.
“And a whole Orchard,” finished Percy, “just like the Peppers.”
Meantime Polly was hurrying on. “Well, when we saw all those lovely
things that Ben had done,--Phronsie spied them first,--we just danced
around him, and we held our hands together tight, so he couldn’t get
out of the ring, and we all courtesied and bowed, and thanked him as
much as we could.”
“I should think you did,” said Ben, laughing.
“Then we made him take the best seat in honor of it all,” went on Polly.
“And Polly made a speech of thanks,” said Joel; “it was prime. And Ben
said ‘Much obliged for the speech.’”
“And then we set about giving our play,” said Polly quickly.
“Our what?” asked the Whitneys.
“Why, our play,” said Polly; “didn’t you know that was what we were
going to do that hot afternoon, when we decided to go out in the
Orchard? Well, I must tell you; we were going to act a little play.”
“Oh,--oh,--how fine!” exclaimed Percy and Van, while Ben cried, “It was
Polly’s play; she thought it all out.”
“Well, they helped to act it,” said Polly; “and that was best”--
“Do go on,” begged the Whitney boys; and this time Jasper said, too,
“Do go on, Polly.”
“Well, the play was ‘The Little White Rabbit and Mister Fox.’”
“Oh! oh!” exclaimed the Whitneys, while Jasper smiled approval. “Yes,
Phronsie was to be the White Rabbit, you see; we’d got an old white
bedspread Mamsie let us take for our plays; and we tied up two ends, so
they stuck up high, and those made the ears; and when she was in it,
and the paws all puckered up, she looked very nice, and”--
“And I was the White Rabbit, Jasper,” said Phronsie gravely, turning to
him.
“I know, Pet,” he said, smiling at her; “so you were, to be sure,” as
Polly hurried on.
“Well, Ben was Mister Fox, and he did look so funny,” cried Polly,
bursting into a laugh, in which Joel and David joined in the
remembrance. “You see, he had a big piece of an old fur rug that the
minister’s wife gave him one day, to carry away, because the moths had
got into it, and she didn’t want it any longer. And it made just a
splendid bear, or a wolf, or a lion, only this time it was a fox”--
“Oh, that old fur rug was fine!” exploded Joel with sparkling eyes,
breaking in. “And one time we”--but Ben pulling him down, Polly was
allowed to go on.
“Well, the first thing in the play,” said Polly briskly, “the Little
White Rabbit is fast asleep under the tree, and old Mister Fox comes
stealing up behind her, and says very softly, ‘My dear Miss Rabbit;’
and she opens her eyes and wakes up.
“‘Oh!’ she says, ‘is that you, Mister Fox?’ and he says, ‘Yes; and
won’t you come home with me and see my little teenty wee foxes?’”
“Oh! were there little foxes, Polly Pepper?” cried the Whitney boys
delightedly.
“Yes, indeed, there were,” said Polly quickly; “there were two little
foxes in a hole a little way off; they were Joel and David, you know;
they were spectators with me while Little White Rabbit was asleep, and
Mister Fox was waking her up. Then when he invited her to go and see
his little foxes, why, the boys scampered off and got into their hole.”
“Where was the hole, Polly?” asked Percy.
“Oh! we had scooped a place under the bank where the grass grew high,”
said Polly, “and it made a splendid cave whenever we wanted wild
beasts. Only to-day it was the house of the teenty wee little foxes.
Well, so then, Little White Rabbit said she would go with Mister Fox
and see his little foxes; and he gave her his hand and off he led her.”
[Illustration: The Little White Rabbit and Mister Fox.]
“O Polly! the Little White Rabbit didn’t really go with Mister Fox, did
she?” exclaimed little Dick in horror.
“Oh, yes she did, Dicky!” said Polly. Then seeing his face, she made
haste to add, “But it was Ben, you know, so she wasn’t afraid.”
“Oh! yes, it was Ben,” repeated little Dick, hugging himself in relief.
“Well, and so off they went to the hole where the teenty wee little
foxes were,” said Polly; “and the Little White Rabbit put her paw in
Mister Fox’s paw; and when they got there, Mister Fox says, ‘Now just
step down into my hole where the teenty wee little foxes are, because
you can see them so very much better.’”
“And did she, Polly? did she?” interrupted little Dick anxiously.
“Yes,” said Polly; “but the teenty little wee foxes were Joel and
David, you know; so they couldn’t hurt the Little White Rabbit.”
“Oh, yes! they were Joel and David,” said little Dick, drawing a
relieved sigh.
“Well, when Phronsie--I mean the Little White Rabbit--had stepped down
into the hole, up jumps the two teenty little foxes, and they ran; and
they ran past her, and past Mister Fox as quickly as they could, so as
to be audience, you know, because I was the man with the big gun to go
out and shoot Mister Fox, and it was time for him to do it; so Joel and
David, I mean the two teenty little wee foxes, sat down on their stone
seats, and the man with the big gun picked it up and he ran, and he ran
to the hole; and just as Mister Fox was going to eat up the Little
White Rabbit, he put his gun up to his shoulder, and _Bang!_ it went,
and over tumbled Mister Fox, and Little White Rabbit was safe!”
It was impossible to describe the excitement that now possessed the
entire group, and it was some minutes before anybody could be heard.
Then Joel cried, “Polly, tell the rest--tell the rest!”
“Oh, yes!” cried Polly with shining eyes, “the best was what came
after. What do you think we found when we all raced back--you know
I had hold of the Little White Rabbit’s paw, and Mister Fox was
scampering after?”
“Why, I thought you said when the man’s big gun went _Bang!_ Mister Fox
tumbled over dead,” cried Percy.
“Oh, yes! so he did,” said Polly coolly; “but he had to jump up, you
know, and come and be audience, because then the little foxes were
going to try to get the Little White Rabbit; and you see he had to take
their place and look on, or there wouldn’t be any spectators.”
“Oh!” said the Whitney boys.
“Yes; well, we were all three running along, Mister Fox just behind,
when Joel and David, I mean the little teenty wee foxes, came racing
over the grass. ‘O Polly Pepper!’ they screamed; ‘Come--come!’ and then
they turned and flew back. I can tell you we all ran then!”
“What was it? oh, what was it?” screamed Percy and Van and Little Dick
together.
“Why, there on the stone lay--what do you think?--a big orange, and a
bag of peanuts!”
“Oh, dear me!” cried all the Whitney boys, tumbling backward in
dreadful disappointment. “Is that all?” gasped Percy.
“All?” repeated Polly. “Why, you can’t think how perfectly splendid it
was to see that big orange, as yellow as gold, and that magnificent bag
of peanuts, standing there on that stone table. Why it seemed as if
they must have dropped right down from the little puffy white clouds
sailing above our heads, for we couldn’t imagine where they came from.
And we never thought of finishing up our play; but the Little White
Rabbit hopped out of her white skin, and Mister Fox tumbled out of
his old fur rug; and it took us all the rest of the afternoon to cut
and divide that splendid, big, yellow orange, and to count out those
magnificent peanuts, and to give them all around, except the time it
took to eat them.”
“That was best!” exclaimed Joel, smacking his lips.
“And we saved some for Mamsie,” said little Davie; “didn’t we, Polly?”
“Why, of course,” said Polly; “we all saved the best for her.”
“And Polly kept saying ‘I do wish we knew where they came from,’ every
minute or so,” said Ben.
“But we didn’t tell, did we, Dave?” said Joel, chuckling at the
remembrance.
“No,” said little David; “but I wanted to, when Polly kept trying to
find out.”
“And did you know?” cried Van, turning on him.
“Of course we did,” said Joel, puffing with importance; “we knew every
single bit of it all, because we were sitting on our stone chairs, and
we saw it all. Only Polly thought because we didn’t tell, that they’d
been put there before--while we were all at Mister Fox’s hole. But we
could keep a secret, couldn’t we, Dave?”
“Yes,” said little Davie slowly.
“It never entered our heads that you could keep still if you knew it,
Joe,” said Ben.
“Well, who did put them there?” demanded Van, bursting with impatience.
“Why, our good, dearest, and loveliest Dr. Fisher,” said Polly with
glowing cheeks; “Papa Fisher--only he wasn’t Papa Fisher, then; he was
just Dr. Fisher. Why, here he comes now!”
THE
FAMOUS PEPPER BOOKS
By MARGARET SIDNEY
IN ORDER OF PUBLICATION
Cloth 12mo Illustrated $1.50 each
Five Little Peppers and How they Grew.
This was an instantaneous success; it has become a genuine child
classic.
Five Little Peppers Midway.
“A perfect Cheeryble of a book.”--_Boston Herald._
Five Little Peppers Grown Up.
This shows the Five Little Peppers as “grown up,” with all the struggles
and successes of young manhood and womanhood.