order, which was presently followed by Jane with a well-filled tray.
“Now,” said Jappy, when he heard the account of the adventure, “I say
that letter ought to go to your mother, Polly.”
“Oh,” said Polly, “it would scare mamsie most to death, Jappy!”
“Don't tell her the whole,” said Jasper, quickly, “I didn't mean
that--about the horses and all that--but only enough to let her see how
Phronsie tried to get it to her.”
“And I'm going to write to your brother Joel,” said Van, drawing up to
the library table; “I'll scare him, Polly, I guess; he won't tell your
mother.”
“Your crow-tracks'll scare him enough without anything else,” said
Percy, pleasantly, who really could write very nicely, while Polly broke
out in an agony:
“Oh, no, Van, you mustn't! you mustn't!”
“If Van does,” said Jasper, decidedly, “it'll be the last time he'll
write to the 'brown house,' I can tell him; and besides, he'll go to
Coventry.” This had the desired effect.
“Let's all write,” said Polly.
So a space on the table was cleared, and the children gathered around
it, when there was great scratching of pens, and clearing of ideas;
which presently resulted in a respectable budget of letters, into which
Phronsie's was lovingly tucked in the centre; and then they all filed
out to put it into the letterbox in the hall, for Thomas to mail with
the rest in the morning.
GETTING READY FOR MAMSIE AND THE BOYS
“And I'll tell you, Marian, what I am going to do.”
Mr. King's voice was pitched on a higher key than usual; and extreme
determination was expressed in every line of his face. He had met Mrs.
Whitney at the foot of the staircase, dressed for paying visits. “Oh,
are you going out?” he said, glancing impatiently at her attire. “And
I'd just started to speak to you on a matter of great importance! Of the
greatest importance indeed!” he repeated irritably, as he stood with one
gloved hand resting on the balustrade.
“Oh, it's no matter, father,” she replied pleasantly; “if it's really
important, I can postpone going for another day, and--”
“Really important!” repeated the old gentleman irascibly. “Haven't I
just told you it's of the greatest importance? There's no time to be
lost; and with my state of health too, it's of the utmost consequence
that I shouldn't be troubled. It's very bad for me; I should think you
would realize that, Marian.”
“I'll tell Thomas to take the carriage directly back,” said Mrs. Whitney
stepping to the door. “Or stay, father; I'll just run up and send the
children out for a little drive. The horses ought to be used too, you
know,” she said lightly, preparing to run up to carry out the changed
plan.
“Never mind that now,” said Mr. King abruptly. “I want you to give me
your attention directly.” And walking towards the library door, getting
a fresh accession of impatience with every step, he beckoned her to
follow.
But his progress was somewhat impeded by little Dick--or rather, little
Dick and Prince, who were standing at the top of the stairs to see Mrs.
Whitney off. When he saw his mother retrace her steps, supposing her
yielding to the urgent entreaties that he was sending after her to stay
at home, the child suddenly changed his “Good-byes” to vociferous howls
of delight, and speedily began to plunge down the stairs to welcome her.
But the staircase was long, and little Dick was in a hurry, and besides,
Prince was in the way. The consequence was, nobody knew just how, that
a bumping noise struck into the conversation that made the two below in
the hall look up quickly, to see the child and dog come rolling over the
stairs at a rapid rate.
“Zounds!” cried the old gentleman. “Here, Thomas, Thomas!” But as that
individual was waiting patiently outside the door on the carriage box,
there was small hope of his being in time to catch the boy, who was
already in his mother's arms, not quite clear by the suddenness of the
whole thing, as to how he came there.
“Oh! oh! Dicky's hurt!” cried somebody up above--followed by every
one within hearing distance, and all came rushing to the spot to ask a
thousand questions all in the same minute.
There sat Mrs. Whitney in one of the big carved chairs, with little Dick
in her lap, and Prince walking gravely around and around him with the
greatest expression of concern on his noble face. Mr. King was storming
up and down, and calling on everybody to bring a “bowl of water, and
some brown paper; and be quick!” interpolated with showers of blame on
Prince for sitting on the stairs, and tripping people up! while Dick
meanwhile was laughing and chatting, and enjoying the distinction of
making so many people run, and of otherwise being the object of so much
attention!
“I don't think he was sitting on the stairs, father,” said Jasper, who,
when he saw that Dicky was really unhurt, began to vindicate his dog.
“He never does that; do you Sir?” he said patting the head that was
lifted up to him, as if to be defended.
“And I expect we shall all be killed some day, Jasper,” said Mr. King,
warming with his subject; and forgetting all about the brown paper and
water which he had ordered, and which was now waiting for him at his
elbow, “just by that creature.”
“He's the noblest--” began Jasper, throwing his arms around his neck; an
example which was immediately followed by the Whitney boys, and the two
little Peppers. When Dick saw this, he began to struggle to get down to
add himself to the number.
“Where's the brown paper?” began Mr. King, seeing this and whirling
around suddenly. “Hasn't any body brought it yet?”
“Here 'tis sir,” said Jane, handing him a generous supply. “Oh, I don't
want to,” cried little Dick in dismay, seeing his grandfather advance
with an enormous piece of paper, which previously wet in the bowl of
water, was now unpleasantly clammy and wet--“oh, no, I don't want to be
all stuck up with old horrid wet paper!”
“Hush, dear!” said his mamma, soothingly. “Grandpapa wants to put it
on--there--” as Mr. King dropped it scientifically on his head, and then
proceeded to paste another one over his left eye.
“And I hope they'll all drop off,” cried Dick, savagely, shaking his
head to facilitate matters. “Yes, I do, every single one of 'em!” he
added, with an expression that seen under the brown bits was anything
but benign.
“Was Prince on the stairs, Dick?” asked Jasper, coming up and peering
under his several adornments. “Tell us how you fell!”
“No,” said little Dick, crossly, and giving his head another shake.
“He was up in the hall--oh, dear, I want to get down,” and he began to
stretch his legs and to struggle with so much energy, that two or three
pieces fell off, and landed on the floor to his intense delight.
“And how did you fall then?” said Jasper, perseveringly. “Can't you
remember, Dicky, boy?”
“I pushed Princey,” said Dick, feeling, with freedom from some of
his encumbrances, more disposed for conversation, “and made him go
ahead--and then I fell on top of him--that's all.”
“I guess Prince has saved him, father,” cried Jasper, turning around
with eyes full of pride and love on the dog, who was trying as hard as
he could to tell all the children how much he enjoyed their caresses.
And so it all came about that the consultation so summarily interrupted
was never held. For, as Mrs. Whitney was about retiring that evening,
Mr. King rapped at her door, on his way to bed.
“Oh,” he said popping in his head, in response to her invitation to come
in, “it's nothing--only I thought I'd just tell you a word or two about
what I've decided to do.”
“Do you mean what you wanted to see me about this afternoon?” asked Mrs.
Whitney, who hadn't thought of it since. “Do come in, father.”
“It's no consequence,” said the old gentleman; “no consequence at all,”
he repeated, waving his hand emphatically, “because I've made up my mind
and arranged all my plans--it's only about the Peppers--”
“The Peppers?” repeated Mrs. Whitney.
“Yes. Well, the fact of it is, I'm going to have them here for a
visit--the whole of them, you understand; that's all there is to it.
And I shall go down to see about all the arrangements--Jasper and I--day
after to-morrow,” said the old gentleman, as if he owned the whole
Pepper family inclusive, and was the only responsible person to be
consulted about their movements.
“Will they come?” asked Mrs. Whitney, doubtfully.
“Come? of course,” said Mr. King, sharply, “there isn't any other way;
or else Mrs. Pepper will be sending for her children--and of course you
know, Marian, we couldn't allow that--well, that's all; so good night,”
and the door closed on his retreating footsteps.
And so Polly and Phronsie soon knew that mamsie and the boys were to
be invited! And then the grand house, big as it was, didn't seem large
enough to contain them.
“I declare,” said Jasper, next day, when they had been laughing and
planning till they were all as merry as grigs, “if this old dungeon
don't begin to seem a little like 'the little brown house,' Polly.”
“Twon't,” answered Polly, hopping around on one toe, followed by
Phronsie, “till mamsie and the boys get here, Jasper King!”
“Well, they'll be here soon,” said Jappy, pleased at Polly's exultation
over it, “for we're going to-morrow to do the inviting.”
“And Polly's to write a note to slip into Marian's,” said Mr. King,
putting his head in at the door. “And if you want your mother to come,
child, why, you'd better mention it as strong as you can.”
“I'm going to write,” said Phronsie, pulling up after a prolonged skip,
all out of breath. “I'm going to write, and beg mamsie dear. Then she'll
come, I guess.”
“I guess she will,” said Mr. King, looking at her. “You go on, Phronsie,
and write; and that letter shall go straight in my coat pocket alone by
itself.”
“Shall it?” asked Phronsie, coming up to him, “and nobody will take it
out till you give it to mamsie?”
“No, nobody shall touch it,” said the old gentleman, stooping to kiss
the upturned face, “till I put it into her own hand.”
“Then,” said Phronsie, in the greatest satisfaction, “I'm going to write
this very one minute!” and she marched away to carry her resolve into
immediate execution.
Before they got through they had quite a bundle of invitations and
pleadings; for each of the three boys insisted on doing his part, so
that when they were finally done up in an enormous envelope and put into
Mr. King's hands, he told them with a laugh that there was no use for
Jappy and himself to go, as those were strong enough to win almost
anybody's consent.
However, the next morning they set off, happy in their hopes, and
bearing the countless messages, which the children would come up every
now and then to intrust to them, declaring that they had forgotten to
put them in the letters.
“You'd had to have had an express wagon to carry the letters if you had
put them all in,” at last cried Jasper. “You've given us a bushel of
things to remember.”
“And oh! don't forget to ask Ben to bring Cherry,” cried Polly, the last
minute as they were driving off although she had put it in her letter at
least a dozen times; “and oh, dear! of course the flowers can't come.”
“We've got plenty here,” said Jasper. “You would not know what to do
with them, Polly.”
“Well, I do wish mamsie would give some to kind Mrs. Henderson, then,”
said Polly, on the steps, clasping her hands anxiously, while Jasper
told Thomas to wait till he heard the rest of the message, “and to
grandma--you know Grandma Bascom; she was so good to us,” she said
impulsively. “And, oh! don't let her forget to carry some to dear, dear
Dr. Fisher; and don't forget to give him our love, Jappy; don't forget
that!” and Polly ran down the steps to the carriage door, where she
gazed up imploringly to the boy's face.
“I guess I won't,” cried Jasper, “when I think how he saved your eyes,
Polly! He's the best fellow I know!” he finished in an impulsive burst.
“And don't let mamsie forget to carry some in to good old Mr. and Mrs.
Beebe in town--where Phronsie got her shoes, you know; that is, if
mamsie can,” she added, remembering how very busy her mother would be.
“I'll carry them myself,” said Jasper; “we're going to stay over till
the next day, you know.”
“O!” cried Polly, radiant as a rose, “will you, really, Jappy? you're so
good!”
“Yes, I will,” said Jasper, “everything you want done, Polly; anything
else?” he asked, quickly, as Mr. King, impatient to be off, showed
unmistakable symptoms of hurrying up Thomas.
“Oh, no,” said Polly, “only do look at the little brown house, Jasper,
as much as you can,” and Polly left the rest unfinished. Jasper seemed
to understand, however, for he smiled brightly as he said, looking into
the brown eyes, “I'll do it all, Polly; every single thing.” And then
they were off.
Mamsie and the boys! could Polly ever wait till the next afternoon that
would bring the decision?
Long before it was possibly time for the carriage to come back from the
depot, Polly, with Phronsie and the three boys, who, improving Jasper's
absence, had waited upon her with the grace and persistence of cavaliers
of the olden time, were drawn up at the old stone gateway.
“Oh, dear,” said Van with an impatient fling; “they never will come!”
“Won't they, Polly?” asked Phronsie, anxiously, and standing quite
still.
“Dear me, yes,” said Polly, with a little laugh, “Van only means they'll
be a good while, Phronsie. They're sure to come some time.”
“Oh!” said Phronsie, quite relieved; and she commenced her capering
again in extreme enjoyment.
“I'm going,” said little Dick, “to run down and meet them.” Accordingly
off he went, and was immediately followed by Percy, who started with the
laudable desire of bringing him back; but finding it so very enjoyable,
he stayed himself and frolicked with Dick, till the others, hearing the
fun, all took hold of hands and flew off to join them.
“Now,” said Polly, when they recovered their breath a little, “let's all
turn our backs to the road; and the minute we hear the carriage we must
whirl round; and the one who sees 'em first can ask first 'Is mamsie
coming?”
“All right,” cried the boys.
“Turn round, Dick,” said Percy, with a little shove, for Dick was
staring with all his might right down the road. And so they all flew
around till they looked like five statues set up to grace the sidewalk.
“Suppose a big dog should come,” suggested Van, pleasantly, “and snap at
our backs!”
At this little Dick gave a small howl, and turned around in a fright.
“There isn't any dog coming,” said Polly. “What does make you say such
awful things, Van?”
“I hear a noise,” said Phronsie; and so they all whirled around in
expectation. But it proved to be only a market wagon coming at a furious
pace down the road, with somebody's belated dinner. So they all had to
whirl back again as before. The consequence was that when the carriage
did come, nobody heard it.
Jasper, looking out, was considerably astonished to see, drawn up in
solemn array with their backs to the road, five children, who stood as
if completely petrified.
“What in the world!” he began, and called to Thomas to stop, whose
energetic “Whoa!” reaching the ears of the frozen line, caused it to
break ranks, and spring into life at an alarming rate.
“Oh, is she coming Jappy? Is she? Is she?” they all screamed together,
swarming up to the carriage door, and over the wheels.
“Yes,” said Jasper looking at Polly.
At that, Phronsie made a little cheese and sat right down on the
pavement in an ecstasy.
“Get in here, all of you;” said Jasper merrily; “help Polly in first.
For shame Dick! don't scramble so.”
“Dick always shoves,” said Percy, escorting Polly up with quite an air.
“I don't either,” said Dick; “you pushed me awful, just a little while
ago,” he added indignantly.
“Do say awfully,” corrected Van, crowding up to get in. “You leave off
your lys so,” he finished critically.
“I don't know anything about any lees,” said little Dick, who, usually
so good natured, was now thoroughly out of temper; “I want to get in
and go home,” and he showed evident symptoms of breaking into a perfect
roar.
“There,” said Polly, lilting him up, “there he goes! now--one, two,
three!” and little Dick was spun in so merrily that the tears changed
into a happy laugh.
“Now then, bundle in, all the rest of you,” put in Mr. King, who seemed
to be in the best of spirits. “That's it; go on, Thomas!”
“When are they coming?” Polly found time to ask in the general jumble.
“In three weeks from to-morrow,” said Jasper. “And everything's all
right, Polly! and the whole of them, Cherry and all, will be here then!”
“Oh!” said Polly.
“Here we are!” cried Van, jumping out almost before the carriage door
was open. “Mamma; mamma,” he shouted to Mrs. Whitney in the doorway,
“the Peppers are coming, and the little brown house too!--everything and
everybody!”
“They are!” said Percy, as wild as his brother; “and everything's just
splendid! Jappy said so.”
“Everything's coming,” said little Dick, tumbling up the steps--“and the
bird--and--and--”
“And mamsie!” finished Phronsie, impatient to add her part--while Polly
didn't say anything--only looked.
Three weeks! “I can't wait!” thought Polly at first, in counting
over the many hours before the happy day would come. But on Jasper's
suggesting that they should all do something to get ready for the
visitors, and have a general trimming up with vines and flowers
beside--the time passed away much more rapidly than was feared.
Polly chose a new and more difficult piece of music to learn to surprise
mamsie. Phronsie had aspired to an elaborate pin-cushion, that was
nearly done, made of bits of worsted and canvas, over whose surface
she had wandered according to her own sweet will, in a way charming to
behold.
“I don't know what to do,” said Van in despair, “cause I don't know what
she'd like.”
“Can't you draw her a little picture?” asked Polly. “She'd like that.”
“Does she like pictures?” asked Van with the greatest interest.
“Yes indeed!” said Polly, “I guess you'd think so if you could see her!”
“I know what I shall do,” with a dignified air said Percy, who couldn't
draw, and therefore looked down on all Van's attempts with the greatest
scorn. “And it won't be any old pictures either,” he added.
“What is it, old fellow?” asked Jasper, “tell on, now, your grand plan.”
“No, I'm not going to tell,” said Percy, with the greatest secrecy,
“until the very day.”
“What will you do, sir?” asked Jasper, pulling one of Dick's ears, who
stood waiting to speak, as if his mind was made up, and wouldn't be
changed for anyone!
“I shall give Ben one of my kitties--the littlest and the best!” he
said, with heroic self-sacrifice.
A perfect shout greeted this announcement.
“Fancy Ben going round with one of those awful little things,” whispered
Jappy to Polly, who shook at the very thought.
“Don't laugh! oh, it's dreadful to laugh at him, Jappy,” she said, when
she could get voice enough.
“No, I sha'n't tell,” said Percy, when the fun had subsided; who,
finding that no one teased him to divulge his wonderful plan, kept
trying to harrow up their feelings by parading it.
“You needn't then,” screamed Van, who was nearly dying to know. “I don't
believe it's so very dreadful much, anyway.”
“What's yours, Jappy?” asked Polly, “I know yours will be just
splendid.”
“Oh, no, it isn't,” said Jasper, smiling brightly, “but as I didn't know
what better I could do, I'm going to get a little stand, and then beg
some flowers of Turner to fill it, and--”
“Why, that's mine!” screamed Percy, in the greatest disappointment.
“That's just what I was going to do!”
“Hoh, hoh!” shouted Van; “I thought you wouldn't tell, Mr. Percy! hoh,
hoh!”
“Hoh, hoh!” echoed Dick.
“Hush,” said Jappy. “Why, Percy, I didn't know as you had thought of
that,” he said kindly. “Well, then, you do it, and I'll take something
else. I don't care as long as Mrs. Pepper gets 'em.”
“I didn't exactly mean that,” began Percy; “mine was roots and little
flowers growing.”
“He means what he gets in the woods,” said Polly, explaining; “don't
you, Percy?”
“Yes,” said the boy. “And then I was going to put stones and things in
among them to make them look pretty.”
“And they will,” cried Jasper. “Go ahead, Percy, they'll look real
pretty, and then Turner will give you some flowers for the stand, I
know; I'll ask him to-morrow.”
“Will you?” cried Percy, “that'll be fine!”
“Mine is the best,” said Van, just at this juncture; but it was said a
little anxiously, as he saw how things were prospering with Percy; “for
my flowers in the picture will always be there, and your old roots and
things will die.”
“What will yours be, then, Jappy?” asked Polly very soberly. “The stand
of flowers would have been just lovely! and you do fix them so nice,”
she added sorrowfully.
“Oh, I'll find something else,” said Jappy, cheerfully, who had quite
set his heart on giving the flowers. “Let me see--I might carve her a
bracket.”
“Do,” cried Polly, clapping her hands enthusiastically. “And do carve a
little bird, like the one you did on your father's.”
“I will,” said Jasper, “just exactly like it. Now, we've got something
to do, before we welcome the 'little brown house' people--so let's fly
at it, and the time won't seem so long.”
And at last the day came when they could all say--To-morrow they'll be
here!
Well, the vines were all up; and pots of lovely climbing ferns, and all
manner of pretty green things had been arranged and re-arranged a dozen
times till everything was pronounced perfect; and a big green “Welcome”
over the library door, made of laurel leaves, by the patient fingers
of all the children, stared down into their admiring eyes as much as to
say, “I'll do my part!”
“Oh, dear,” said Phronsie, when evening came, and the children were, as
usual, assembled on the rug before the fire, their tongues running wild
with anticipation and excitement, “I don't mean to go to bed at all,
Polly; I don't truly.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” said Polly laughing; “then you'll be all fresh and
rested to see mammy when she does come.”
“Oh, no,” said Phronsie, shaking her head soberly, and speaking in an
injured tone. “I'm not one bit tired, Polly; not one bit.”
“You needn't go yet, Phronsie,” said Polly. “You can sit up half an hour
yet, if you want to.”
“But I don't want to go to bed at all,” said the child anxiously, “for
then I may be asleep when mamsie comes, Polly.”
“She's afraid she won't wake up,” said Percy, laughing. “Oh, there'll be
oceans of time before they come, Phronsie.”
“What is oceans,” asked Phronsie, coming up and looking at him,
doubtfully.
“He means mamsie won't get here till afternoon,” said Polly, catching
her up and kissing her; “then I guess you'll be awake, Phronsie, pet.”
So Phronsie allowed herself to be persuaded, at the proper time, to be
carried off and inducted into her little nightgown. And when Polly went
up to bed, she found the little pin-cushion, with its hieroglyphics,
that she had insisted on taking to bed with her, still tightly grasped
in the little fat hand.
“She'll roll over and muss it,” thought Polly; “and then she'll feel bad
in the morning. I guess I'd better lay it on the bureau.”
So she drew it carefully away, without awaking the little sleeper, and
placed it where she knew Phronsie's eyes would rest on it the first
thing in the morning.
It was going on towards the middle of the night when Phronsie, whose
exciting dreams of mamsie and the boys wouldn't let her rest quietly,
woke up; and in the very first flash she thought of her cushion.
“Why, where--” she said, in the softest little tones, only half awake,
“why, Polly, where is it?” and she began to feel all around her pillow
to see if it had fallen down there.
But Polly's brown head with its crowd of anticipations and busy
plans was away off in dreamland, and she breathed on and on perfectly
motionless.
“I guess I better,” said Phronsie to herself, now thoroughly awake, and
sitting up in bed, “not wake her up. Poor Polly's tired; I can find it
myself, I know I can.”
So she slipped out of bed, and prowling around on the floor, felt all
about for the little cushion.