on the subject of music, began to find prickles running up and down his
legs from sitting so still. “I wish he'd stop.”
“Is he the one that cured your measles--and Polly's eyes?” asked Jasper
running to the window. “I want to see him.”
“Well there he is,” cried Ben, as the doctor put his head out of the gig
and bowed and smiled to the little group in the window.
“He's just lovely,” cried Polly, “oh! I wish you knew him.”
“If father's sick again,” said Jasper, “we'll have him--he looks nice,
anyway--for father don't like the doctor over in Hingham--do you know
perhaps we'll come again next summer; wouldn't that be nice!”
“Oh!” cried the children rapturously; “do come, Jasper, do!”
“Well, maybe,” said Jasper, “if father likes it and sister Marian and
her family will come with us; they do some summers. You'd like little
Dick, I know,” turning to Phronsie. “And I guess all of you'd like all
of them,” he added, looking at the group of interested listeners. “They
wanted to come this year awfully; they said--'Oh grandpapa, do let us go
with you and Jappy, and--”
“What!” said the children.
“Oh,” said Jasper with a laugh, “they call me Jappy--its easier to say
than Jasper; ever so many people do for short. You may if you want to,”
he said looking around on them all.
“How funny!” laughed Polly, “But I don't know as it is any worse than
Polly or Ben.”
“Or Phronsie,” said Jappy. “Don't you like Jappy?” he said, bringing
his head down to her level, as she sat on the little stool at his feet,
content in listening to the merry chat.
“Is that the same as Jasper?” she asked gravely.
“Yes, the very same,” he said.
When they parted--Jappy and the little Peppers were sworn friends; and
the boy, happy in his good times in the cheery little home, felt the
hours long between the visits that his father, when he saw the change
that they wrought in his son, willingly allowed him to make.
“Oh dear!” said Mrs. Pepper one day in the last of September--as a
carriage drawn by a pair of very handsome horses, stopped at their
door, “here comes Mr. King I do believe; we never looked worse'n we do
to-day!”
“I don't care,” said Polly, flying out of the bedroom. “Jappy's with
him, mamma, and it'll be nice I guess. At any rate, Phronsie's clean as
a pink,” she thought to herself looking at the little maiden, busy with
“baby” to whom she was teaching deportment in the corner. But there was
no time to “fix up;” for a tall, portly gentleman, leaning on his
heavy gold cane, was walking up from the little brown gate to the big
flat-stone that served as a step. Jasper and Prince followed decorously.
“Is this little Miss Pepper?” he asked pompously of Polly, who answered
his rap on the door. Now whether she was little “Miss Pepper” she never
had stopped to consider.
“I don't know sir; I'm Polly.” And then she blushed bright as a rose,
and the laughing brown eyes looked beyond to Jasper, who stood on the
walk, and smiled encouragingly.
“Is your mother in?” asked the old gentleman, who was so tall he could
scarcely enter the low door. And then Mrs. Pepper came forward, and
Jasper introduced her, and the old gentleman bowed, and sat down in
the seat Polly placed for him. And Mrs. Pepper thanked him with a heart
overflowing with gratitude, through lips that would tremble even
then, for all that Jasper had done for them. And the old gentleman
said--“Humph!” but he looked at his son, and something shone in his eye
just for a moment.
Phronsie had retreated with “baby” in her arms behind the door on the
new arrival. But seeing everything progressing finely, and overcome by
her extreme desire to see Jappy and Prince, she began by peeping out
with big eyes to observe how things were going on. Just then the old
gentleman happened to say, “Well, where is my little girl that baked me
a cake so kindly?”
Then Phronsie, forgetting all else but her “poor sick man,” who also was
“Jasper's father,” rushed out from behind the door, and coming up to the
stately old gentleman in the chair, she looked up pityingly, and said,
shaking her yellow head, “Poor, sick man, was my boy good?”
After that there was no more gravity and ceremony. In a moment, Phronsie
was perched upon old Mr. King's knee, and playing with his watch;
while the others, freed from all restraint, were chatting and laughing
happily, till some of the cheeriness overflowed and warmed the heart of
the old gentleman.
“We go to-morrow,” he said, rising, and looking at his watch. “Why, is
it possible that we have been here an hour! there, my little girl,
will you give me a kiss?” and he bent his handsome old head down to the
childish face upturned to his confidingly.
“Don't go,” said the child, as she put up her little lips in grave
confidence. “I do like you--I do!”
“Oh, Phronsie,” began Mrs. Pepper.
“Don't reprove her, madam,” said the old gentleman, who liked it
immensely. “Yes, we go to-morrow,” he said, looking around on the group
to whom this was a blow they little expected. They had surely thought
Jasper was to stay a week longer.
“I received a telegram this morning, that I must be in the city on
Thursday. And besides, madam,” he said, addressing Mrs. Pepper, “I think
the climate is bad for me now, as it induces rheumatism. The hotel is
also getting unpleasant; there are many annoyances that I cannot put up
with; so that altogether, I do not regret it.”
Mrs. Pepper, not knowing exactly what to say to this, wisely said
nothing. Meantime, Jappy and the little Peppers were having a sorry time
over in the corner by themselves.
“Well, I'll write,” cried Jasper, not liking to look at Polly just then,
as he was sure he shouldn't want anyone to look at him, if he felt like
crying. “And you must answer 'em all.”
“Oh, we will! we will!” they cried. “And Jappy, do come next summer,”
said Joel.
“If father'll only say yes, we will, I tell you!” he responded eagerly.
“Come, my boy,” said his father the third time; and Jasper knew by the
tone that there must be no delay.
Mr. King had been nervously putting his hand in his pocket during the
last few moments that the children were together; but when he glanced
at Mrs. Pepper's eyes, something made him draw it out again hastily,
as empty as he put it in. “No, 'twouldn't do,” he said to himself; “she
isn't the kind of woman to whom one could offer money.”
The children crowded back their tears, and hastily said their last
good-bye, some of them hanging on to Prince till the last moment.
And then the carriage door shut with a bang, Jasper giving them a bright
parting smile, and they were gone.
And the Peppers went into their little brown house, and shut the door.
GETTING A CHRISTMAS FOR THE LITTLE ONES
And so October came and went. The little Peppers were very lonely after
Jasper had gone; even Mrs. Pepper caught herself looking up one day when
the wind blew the door open suddenly, half expecting to see the merry
whole-souled boy, and the faithful dog come scampering in.
But the letters came--and that was a comfort; and it was fun to answer
them. The first one spoke of Jasper's being under a private tutor, with
his cousins; then they were less frequent, and they knew he was studying
hard. Full of anticipations of Christmas himself, he urged the little
Peppers to try for one. And the life and spirit of the letter was so
catching, that Polly and Ben found their souls fired within them to try
at least to get for the little ones a taste of Christmastide.
“Now, mammy,” they said at last, one day in the latter part of October,
when the crisp, fresh air filled their little healthy bodies with
springing vitality that must bubble over and rush into something,
“we don't want a Thanksgiving--truly we don't. But may we try for a
Christmas--just a little one,” they added, timidly, “for the children?”
Ben and Polly always called the three younger ones of the flock “the
children.”
To their utter surprise, Mrs. Pepper looked mildly assenting, and
presently she said, “Well, I don't see why you can't try; 'twon't do any
harm, I'm sure.”
You see Mrs. Pepper had received a letter from Jasper, which at present
she didn't feel called upon to say anything about.
“Now,” said Polly, drawing a long breath, as she and Ben stole away into
a corner to “talk over” and lay plans, “what does it mean?”
“Never mind,” said Ben; “as long as she's given us leave I don't care
what it is.”
“I neither,” said Polly, with the delicious feeling as if the whole
world were before them where to choose; “it'll be just gorgeous, Ben!”
“What's that?” asked Ben, who was not as much given to long words as
Polly, who dearly loved to be fine in language as well as other things.
“Oh, it's something Jappy said one day; and I asked him, and he says
it's fine, and lovely, and all that,” answered Polly, delighted that she
knew something she could really tell Ben.
“Then why not say fine?” commented Ben, practically, with a little
upward lift of his nose.
“Oh, I'd know, I'm sure,” laughed Polly. “Let's think what'll we do
for Christmas--how many weeks are there, anyway, Ben?” And she began to
count on her fingers.
“That's no way,” said Ben, “I'm going to get the Almanac.” So he went to
the old clock where hanging up by its side, was a “Farmer's Almanac.”
“Now, we'll know,” he said, coming back to their corner. So with heads
together they consulted and counted up till they found that eight weeks
and three days remained in which to get ready.
“Dear me!” said Polly. “It's most a year, isn't it, Ben?”
“'Twon't be much time for us,” said Ben, who thought of the many hours
to be devoted to hard work that would run away with the time. “We'd
better begin right away, Polly.”
“Well, all right,” said Polly, who could scarcely keep her fingers
still, as she thought of the many things she should so love to do if she
could. “But first, Ben, what let's do?”
“Would you rather hang up their stockings?” asked Ben, as if he had
unlimited means at his disposal; “or have a tree?”
“Why,” said Polly, with wide open eyes at the two magnificent ideas, “we
haven't got anything to put in the stockings when we hang 'em, Ben.”
“That's just it,” said Ben. “Now, wouldn't it be better to have a tree,
Polly? I can get that easy in the woods, you know.”
“Well,” interrupted Polly, eagerly, “we haven't got anything to hang on
that, either, Ben. You know Jappy said folks hang all sorts of presents
on the branches. So I don't see,” she continued, impatiently, “as
that's any good. We can't do anything, Ben Pepper, so there! there isn't
anything to do anything with,” and with a flounce Polly sat down on
the old wooden stool, and folding her hands looked at Ben in a most
despairing way.
“I know,” said Ben, “we haven't got much.”
“We haven't got anything,” said Polly, still looking at him. “Why, we've
got a tree,” replied Ben, hopefully. “Well, what's a tree,” retorted
Polly, scornfully. “Anybody can go out and look at a tree outdoors.”
“Well, now, I tell you, Polly,” said Ben, sitting down on the floor
beside her, and speaking very slowly and decisively, “we've got to do
something 'cause we've begun; and we might make a tree real pretty.”
“How?” asked Polly, ashamed of her ill-humor, but not in the least
seeing how anything could be made of a tree. “How, Ben Pepper?”
“Well,” said Ben, pleasantly, “we'd set it up in the corner--”
“Oh, no, not in the corner,” cried Polly, whose spirits began to rise
a little as she saw Ben so hopeful. “Put it in the middle of the room,
do!”
“I don't care where you put it,” said Ben, smiling, happy that Polly's
usual cheerful energy had returned, “but I thought.--'twill be a little
one, you know, and I thought 'twould look better in the corner.”
“What else?” asked Polly, eager to see how Ben would dress the tree.
“Well,” said Ben, “you know the Henderson boys gave me a lot of corn
last week.”
“I don't see as that helps much,” said Polly, still incredulous. “Do you
mean hang the cobs on the branches, Ben? That would be just dreadful!”
“I should think likely,” laughed Ben. “No, indeed, Polly Pepper! but
if we should pop a lot, oh! a bushel, and then we should string 'em, we
could wind it all in and out among the branches, and--”
“Why, wouldn't that be pretty?” cried Polly, “real pretty--and we can do
that, I'm sure.”
“Yes,” continued Ben; “and then, don't you know, there's some little
candle ends in that box in the Provision Room, maybe mammy'd give us
them.”
“I don't believe but she would,” cried Polly; “twould be just like
Jappy's if she would! Let's ask her now--this very same minute!”
And they scampered hurriedly to Mrs. Pepper, who to their extreme
astonishment, after all, said “yes,” and smiled encouragingly on the
plan.
“Isn't mammy good?” said Polly, with loving gratitude, as they seated
themselves again.
“Now we're all right,” exclaimed Ben, “and I tell you we can make the
tree look perfectly splendid, Polly Pepper!”
“And I'll tell you another thing, Ben,” Polly said, “oh! something
elegant! You must get ever so many hickory nuts; and you know those bits
of bright paper I've got in the bureau drawer? Well, we can paste them
on to the nuts and hang 'em on for the balls Jappy tells of.”
“Polly,” cried Ben, “it'll be such a tree as never was, won't it?”
“Yes; but dear me,” cried Polly, springing up, “the children are coming!
Wasn't it good, grandma wanted 'em to come over this afternoon, so's
we could talk! Now hush!” as the door opened to admit the noisy little
troop.
“If you think of any new plan,” whispered Ben, behind his hand, while
Mrs. Pepper engaged their attention, “you'll have to come out into the
wood-shed to talk after this.”
“I know it,” whispered Polly back again; “oh! we've got just heaps of
things to think of, Bensie!”
Such a contriving and racking of brains as Polly and Ben set up after
this! They would bob over at each other, and smile with significant
gesture as a new idea would strike one of them, in the most mysterious
way that, if observed, would drive the others almost wild. And then,
frightened lest in some hilarious moment the secret should pop out,
the two conspirators would betake themselves to the wood-shed as before
agreed on. But Joel, finding this out, followed them one day--or, as
Polly said, tagged--so that was no good.
“Let's go behind the wood-pile,” she said to Ben, in desperation; “he
can't hear there, if we whisper real soft.”
“Yes, he will,” said Ben, who knew Joel's hearing faculties much better.
“We'll have to wait till they're a-bed.”
So after that, when nightfall first began to make its appearance, Polly
would hint mildly about bedtime.
“You hustle us so!” said Joel, after he had been sent off to bed for two
or three nights unusually early.
“Oh, Joey, it's good for you to get to bed,” said Polly, coaxingly;
“it'll make you grow, you know, real fast.”
“Well, I don't grow a-bed,” grumbled Joel, who thought something was in
the wind. “You and Ben are going to talk, I know, and wink your eyes, as
soon as we're gone.”
“Well, go along, Joe, that's a good boy,” said Polly, laughing, “and
you'll know some day.”
“What'll you give me?” asked Joel, seeing a bargain, his foot on the
lowest stair leading to the loft, “say, Polly?”
“Oh, I haven't got much to give,” she said, cheerily; “but I'll tell you
what, Joey--I'll tell you a story every day that you go to bed.”
“Will you?” cried Joe, hopping back into the room. “Begin now, Polly,
begin now!”
“Why, you haven't been to bed yet,” said Polly, “so I can't till
to-morrow.”
“Yes, I have--you've made us go for three--no, I guess fourteen nights,”
said Joel, indignantly.
“Well, you were made to go,” laughed Polly. “I said if you'd go good,
you know; so run along, Joe, and I'll tell you a nice one to-morrow.”
“It's got to be long,” shouted Joel, when he saw he could get no more,
making good time up to the loft.
To say that Polly, in the following days, was Master Joel's slave, was
stating the case lightly. However, she thought by her story-telling she
got off easily, as each evening saw the boys drag their unwilling
feet to-bedward, and leave Ben and herself in peace to plan and work
undisturbed. There they would sit by the little old table, around the
one tallow candle, while Mrs. Pepper sewed away busily, looking up to
smile or to give some bits of advice; keeping her own secret meanwhile,
which made her blood leap fast, as the happy thoughts nestled in her
heart of her little ones and their coming glee. And Polly made the
loveliest of paper dolls for Phronsie out of the rest of the bits of
bright paper; and Ben made windmills and whistles for the boys; and a
funny little carved basket with a handle, for Phronsie, out of a hickory
nut shell; and a new pink calico dress for Seraphina peered out from
the top drawer of the old bureau in the bedroom, whenever anyone opened
it--for Mrs. Pepper kindly let the children lock up their treasures
there as fast as completed.
“I'll make Seraphina a bonnet,” said Mrs. Pepper, “for there's that old
bonnet-string in the bag, you know, Polly, that'll make it beautiful.”
“Oh, do, mother,” cried Polly, “she's been wanting a new one awfully.”
“And I'm going to knit some mittens for Joel and David,” continued Mrs.
Pepper; “cause I can get the yarn cheap now. I saw some down at the
store yesterday I could have at half price.”
“I don't believe anybody'll have as good a Christmas as we shall,” cried
Polly, pasting on a bit of trimming to the gayest doll's dress; “no, not
even Jappy.”
An odd little smile played around Mrs. Pepper's mouth, but she said not
a word, and so the fun and the work went on.
The tree was to be set up in the Provision Room; that was finally
decided, as Mrs. Pepper showed the children how utterly useless it would
be to try having it in the kitchen.
“I'll find the key, children,” she said, “I think I know where 'tis, and
then we can keep them out.”
“Well, but it looks so,” said Polly, demurring at the prospect.
“Oh, no, Polly,” said her mother; “at any rate it's clean.”
“Polly,” said Ben, “we can put evergreen around, you know.”
“So we can,” said Polly, brightly; “oh, Ben, you do think of the best
things; we couldn't have had them in the kitchen.”
“And don't let's hang the presents on the tree,” continued Ben; “let's
have the children hang up their stockings; they want to, awfully--for I
heard David tell Joel this morning before we got up--they thought I
was asleep, but I wasn't--that he did so wish they could, but, says he,
'Don't tell mammy, 'cause that'll make her feel bad.”
“The little dears!” said Mrs. Pepper, impulsively; “they shall have
their stockings, too.”
“And we'll make the tree pretty enough,” said Polly, enthusiastically;
“we shan't want the presents to hang on; we've got so many things. And
then we'll have hickory nuts to eat; and perhaps mammy'll let us make
some molasses candy the day before,” she said, with a sly look at her
mother.
“You may,” said Mrs. Pepper, smiling.
“Oh, goody!” they both cried, hugging each other ecstatically.
“And we'll have a frolic in the Provision Room afterwards,” finished
Polly; “oh! ooh!”
And so the weeks flew by--one, two, three, four, five, six, seven,
eight! till only the three days remained, and to think the fun that
Polly and Ben had had already!
“It's better'n a Christmas,” they told their mother, “to get ready for
it!”
“It's too bad you can't hang up your stockings,” said Mrs. Pepper,
looking keenly at their flushed faces and bright eyes; “you've never
hung 'em up.”
“That isn't any matter, mamsie,” they both said, cheerily; “it's a
great deal better to have the children have a nice time--oh, won't it be
elegant! p'r'aps we'll have ours next year!”
For two days before, the house was turned upside down for Joel to find
the biggest stocking he could; but on Polly telling him it must be his
own, he stopped his search, and bringing down his well-worn one, hung it
by the corner of the chimney to be ready.
“You put yours up the other side, Dave,” he advised.
“There isn't any nail,” cried David, investigating.
“I'll drive one,” said Joel, so he ran out to the tool-house, as one
corner of the wood-shed was called, and brought in the hammer and one or
two nails.
“Phronsie's a-goin' in the middle,” he said, with a nail in his mouth.
“Yes, I'm a-goin' to hang up my stockin',” cried the child, hopping from
one toe to the other.
“Run get it, Phronsie,” said Joel, “and I'll hang it up for you.
“Why, it's two days before Christmas yet,” said Polly, laughing; “how
they'll look hanging there so long.”
“I don't care,” said Joel, giving a last thump to the nail; “we're
a-goin' to be ready. Oh, dear! I wish 'twas to-night!”
“Can't Seraphina hang up her stocking?” asked Phronsie, coming up to
Polly's side; “and Baby, too?”
“Oh, let her have part of yours,” said Polly, “that'll be
best--Seraphina and Baby, and you have one stocking together.”
“Oh, yes,” cried Phronsie, easily pleased; “that'll be best.” So for
the next two days, they were almost distracted; the youngest ones asking
countless questions about Santa Claus, and how he possibly could get
down the chimney, Joel running his head up as far as he dared, to see if
it was big enough.
“I guess he can,” he said, coming back in a sooty state, looking very
much excited and delighted.
“Will he be black like Joey?” asked Phronsie, pointing to his grimy
face.
“No,” said Polly; “he don't ever get black.”
“Why?” they all asked; and then, over and over, they wanted the
delightful mystery explained.
“We never'll get through this day,” said Polly in despair, as the last
one arrived. “I wish 'twas to-night, for we're all ready.”
“Santy's coming! Santy's coming!” sang Phronsie, as the bright afternoon
sunlight went down over the fresh, crisp snow, “for it's night now.”
“Yes, Santa is coming!” sang Polly; and “Santa Claus is coming,” rang
back and forth through the old kitchen, till it seemed as if the three
little old stockings would hop down and join in the dance going on so
merrily.
“I'm glad mine is red,” said Phronsie, at last, stopping in the wild
jig, and going up to see if it was all safe, “cause then Santy'll know
it's mine, won't he, Polly?”
“Yes, dear,” cried Polly, catching her up. “Oh, Phronsie! you are going
to have a Christmas!”
“Well, I wish,” said Joel, “I had my name on mine! I know Dave'll get
some of my things.”
“Oh, no, Joe,” said Mrs. Pepper, “Santa Claus is smart; he'll know yours
is in the left-hand corner.”
“Will he?” asked Joel, still a little fearful.
“Oh, yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Pepper, confidently. “I never knew him to
make a mistake.”
“Now,” said Ben, when they had all made a pretence of eating supper,
for there was such an excitement prevailing that no one sat still long
enough to eat much, “you must every one fly off to bed as quick as ever
can be.”
“Will Santa Claus come faster then?” asked Joel.
“Yes,” said Ben, “just twice as fast.”
“I'm going, then,” said Joel; “but I ain't going to sleep, 'cause I mean
to hear him come over the roof; then I'm going to get up, for I do so
want a squint at the reindeer!”
“I am, too,” cried Davie, excitedly. “Oh, do come, Joe!” and he began to
mount the stairs.
“Good night,” said Phronsie, going up to the centre of the
chimney-piece, where the little red stocking dangled limpsily, “lift me
up, Polly, do.”
“What you want to do?” asked Polly, running and giving her a jump. “What
you goin' to do, Phronsie?”
“I want to kiss it good night,” said the child, with eyes big with
anticipation and happiness, hugging the well worn toe of the little old
stocking affectionately. “I wish I had something to give Santa, Polly, I
do!” she cried, as she held her fast in her arms.
“Never mind, Pet,” said Polly, nearly smothering her with kisses; “if
you're a good girl, Phronsie, that pleases Santa the most of anything.”
“Does it?” cried Phronsie, delighted beyond measure, as Polly carried
her into the bedroom, “then I'll be good always, I will!”
CHRISTMAS BELLS!
In the middle of the night Polly woke up with a start.
“What in the world!” said she, and she bobbed up her head and looked
over at her mother, who was still peacefully sleeping, and was just
going to lie down again, when a second noise out in the kitchen made her
pause and lean on her elbow to listen. At this moment she thought she
heard a faint whisper, and springing out of bed she ran to Phronsie's
crib--it was empty! As quick as a flash she sped out into the kitchen.
There, in front of the chimney, were two figures. One was Joel, and the
other, unmistakably, was Phronsie!
“What are you doing?” gasped Polly, holding on to a chair.
The two little night-gowns turned around at this.