“All!” Polly's heart stood still as she thought of Cherry, stark and
stiff in the bottom of his cage, if he didn't get it soon. “Now,” said
the kind tones, briskly, “come, little girl, we'll make this all right
speedily. Let's see--here's a bird store. Now, then.”
“But, sir--” began Polly, holding back.
Even Cherry had better die than to do anything her mother wouldn't like.
But the gentleman already had her in the shop, and was delighting the
heart of the shop-keeper by ordering him to do up a big package of all
kinds of seed. And then he added a cunning arrangement for birds to
swing in, and two or three other things that didn't have anything to do
with birds at all. And then they came out on the wet, slippery street
again.
“Now, then, little girl,” said the gentleman, tucking the bundle under
his arm, and opening the umbrella; then he took hold of Polly's hand,
who by this time was glad of a protector. “Where do you live? For I'm
going to take you safely home this time where umbrellas can't run into
you.”
“Oh!” said Polly, with a little skip. “Thank you sir! It's up to Mr.
King's; and--”
“What!” said the gentleman, stopping short in the midst of an immense
puddle, and staring at her, “Mr. Jasper King's?”
“I don't know sir,” said Polly, “what his other name is. Yes it must be
Jasper; that's what Jappy's is, anyway,” she added with a little laugh,
wishing very much that she could see Jappy at that identical moment.
“Jappy!” said the stranger, still standing as if petrified. “And are
there little Whitney children in the same house!”
“Oh, yes,” said Polly, raising her clear, brown eyes up at him. The gas
lighter was just beginning his rounds, and the light from a neighboring
lamp flashed full on Polly's face as she spoke, showing just how clear
and brown the eyes were. “There's Percy, and Van, and little Dick--oh,
he's so cunning!” she cried, impulsively.
The gentleman's face looked very queer just then; but he merely said:
“Why, you must be Polly?”
“Yes, sir, I am,” said Polly, pleased to think he knew her. And then she
told him how she'd forgotten Cherry's seed, and all about it. “And
oh, sir,” she said, and her voice began to tremble, “Mamsie'll be so
frightened if I don't get there soon!”
“I'm going up there myself, so that it all happens very nicely,” said
the gentleman, commencing to start off briskly, and grasping her hand
tighter. “Now, then, Polly.”
So off they went at a very fast pace; she, skipping through the puddles
that his long, even strides carried him safely over, chattered away
by his side under the umbrella, and answered his many questions, and
altogether got so very well acquainted that by the time they turned in
at the old stone gateway, she felt as if she had known him for years.
And there, the first thing they either of them saw, down in a little
corner back of the tall evergreens, was a small heap that rose as they
splashed up the carriage-drive, and resolved itself into a very red
dress and a very white apron, as it rushed impulsively up and flung
itself into Polly's wet arms:
“And I was so tired waiting, Polly!”
“Oh dear me, Phronsie!” cried Polly, huddling her up from the dark, wet
ground. “You'll catch your death! What will mamsie say!”
The stranger, amazed at this new stage of the proceedings, was vainly
trying to hold the umbrella over both, till the procession could move on
again.
“Oh!” cried Phronsie, shaking her yellow head decidedly, “they're all
looking for you, Polly.” She pointed one finger solemnly up to the big
carved door as she spoke. At that Polly gathered her up close and began
to walk with rapid footsteps up the path.
“Do let me carry you, little girl,” said Polly's kind friend
persuasively, bending down to the little face on Polly's neck.
“Oh, no, no, no!” said Phronsie, at each syllable grasping Polly around
the throat in perfect terror, and waving him off with a very crumpled,
mangy bit of paper, that had already done duty to wipe off the copious
tears during her anxious watch. “Don't let him, Polly, don't!”
“There sha'n't anything hurt you,” said Polly, kissing her reassuringly,
and stepping briskly off with her burden, just as the door burst open,
and Joel flew out on the veranda steps, followed by the rest of the
troop in the greatest state of excitement.
“Oh, whickety! she's come!” he shouted, springing up to her over the
puddles, and crowding under the umbrella. “Where'd you get Phronsie?” he
asked, standing quite still at sight of the little feet tucked up to get
out of the rain. And without waiting for an answer he turned and shot
back into the house proclaiming in stentorian tones, “Ma, Polly's
come--an' she's got Phronsie--an' an awful big man--and they're out by
the gate!”
“Phronsie!” said Mrs. Pepper, springing to her feet, “why, I thought she
was up-stairs with Jane.”
“Now, somebody,” exclaimed old Mr. King, who sat by the library table
vainly trying to read a newspaper, which he now threw down in extreme
irritation as he rose quickly and went to the door to welcome the
wanderers, “somebody ought to watch that poor child, whose business
it is to know where she is! She's caught her death-cold, no doubt, no
doubt!”
Outside, in the rain, the children revolved around and around Polly and
Phronsie, hugging and kissing them, until nobody could do much more than
breathe, not seeming to notice the stranger, who stood quietly waiting
till such time as he could be heard.
At last, in a lull in the scramble, as they were dragging Polly and her
burden up the steps, each wild for the honor of escorting her into the
house, he cried out in laughing tones:
“Isn't anybody going to kiss me, I wonder!”
The two little Whitneys, who were eagerly clutching Polly's arms,
turned around; and Percy rubbed his eyes in a puzzled way, as Joel said,
stopping a minute to look up at the tall figure:
“We don't ever kiss strangers--mamsie's told us not to.”
“For shame, Joey!” cried Polly, feeling her face grow dreadfully red in
the darkness, “the gentleman's been so kind to me!”
“You're right, my boy,” said the stranger, laughing and bending down
to Joel's upturned, sturdy countenance, at the same instant that Mrs.
Pepper flung open the big door, and a bright, warm light fell straight
across his handsome face. And then--well, then Percy gave a violent
bound, and upsetting Joel as he did so, wriggled his way down the
steps--at the same time that Van, on Polly's other side, rushed up to
the gentleman:
“Papa--oh, papa!”
Polly, half way up the steps, turned around, and then, at the rush of
feeling that gathered at her heart, sat right down on the wet slippery
step.
“Why, Polly Pepper!” exclaimed Joel, not minding his own upset. “You're
right in all the slush--mother won't like it, I tell you!”
“Hush!” cried Polly, catching his arm, “he's come--oh, Joel--he's come!”
“Who?” cried Joel, staring around blindly, “who, Polly?” Polly had just
opened her lips to explain, when Mr. King's portly, handsome figure
appeared in the doorway. “Do come in, children--why--good gracious,
Mason!”
“Yes,” cried the stranger, lightly, dropping his big bundle and umbrella
as he passed in the door, with his little sons clinging to him. “Where
is Marian?”
“Why didn't you write?” asked the old gentleman, testily. “These
surprises aren't the right sort of things,” and he began to feel
vigorously of his heart. “Here, Mrs. Pepper, be so good as to call Mrs.
Whitney.”
“Pepper! Pepper!” repeated Mr. Whitney, perplexedly.
“She's coming--I hear her up-stairs,” cried Van Whitney. “Oh, let me
tell her!” He struggled to get down from his father's arms as he said
this.
“No, I shall--I heard her first!” cried Percy. “Oh, dear me! Grandpapa's
going to!”
Mr. King advanced to the foot of the staircase as his daughter, all
unconscious, ran down with a light step, and a smile on her face.
“Has Polly come?” she asked, seeing only her father. “Yes,” replied the
old gentleman, shortly, “and she's brought a big bundle, Marian!”
“A big bundle?” she repeated wonderingly, and gazing at him.
“A very big bundle,” he said, and taking hold of her shoulders he turned
her around on--her husband.
So Polly and Phronsie crept in unnoticed after all.
“I wish Ben was here,” said little Davie, capering around the Whitney
group, “an' Jappy, I do!”
“Where are they!” asked Polly.
“Don't know,” said Joel, tugging at his shoe-string. “See--aren't these
prime!” He held up a shining black shoe, fairly bristling with newness,
for Polly to admire.
“Splendid,” she cried heartily; “but where are the boys?”
“They went after you,” said Davie, “after we came home with our shoes.”
“No, they didn't,” contradicted Joel, flatly; and sitting down on the
floor he began to tie and untie his new possessions. “When we came home
Ben drew us pictures--lots of 'em--don't you know?”
“Oh, yes,” said Davie, nodding his head, “so he did; that was when we
all cried 'cause you weren't home, Polly.”
“He drawed me a be-yew-tiful one,” cried Phronsie, holding up her mangy
bit; “see, Polly, see!”
“That's the little brown house,” said Davie, looking over her shoulder
as Phronsie put it carefully into Polly's hand.
“It's all washed out,” said Polly, smoothing it out, “when you staid out
in the rain.”
Phronsie's face grew very grave at that.
“Bad, naughty old rain,” she said, and then she began to cry as hard as
she could.
“Oh dear, don't!” cried Polly in dismay, trying her best to stop her,
“oh, Phronsie, do stop!” she implored, pointing into the next room
whence the sound of happy voices issued, “they'll all hear you!”
But Phronsie in her grief didn't care, but wailed on steadily.
“Who is it anyway?” cried Joel, tired of admiring his precious shoes,
and getting up to hear them squeak, “that great big man, you know,
Polly, that came in with you?”
“Why, I thought I told you,” said Polly, at her wit's end over Phronsie.
“It's Percy and Van's father, Joey!”
“Whockey!” cried Joel, completely stunned, “really and truly, Polly
Pepper?”
“Really and truly,” cried Polly, bundling Phronsie up in her arms to lay
the little wet cheek against hers.
“Then I'm going to peek,” cried Joel, squeaking across the floor to
carry his threat into execution.
“Oh, you mustn't, Joe!” cried Polly, frightened lest he should. “Come
right back, or I'll tell mamsie!”
“They're all comin' in, anyway,” cried little Davie, delightedly, and
scuttling over to Polly's side.
“And here are the little friends I've heard so much about!” cried
Mr. Whitney coming in amongst them. “Oh, you needn't introduce me to
Polly--she brought me home!”
“They're all Pepperses,” said Percy, waving his hand, and doing the
business up at one stroke.
“Only the best of 'em isn't here,” observed Van, rather ungallantly, “he
draws perfectly elegant, papa!”
“I like Polly best, I do!” cried little Dick, tumbling after. “Peppers!”
again repeated Mr. Whitney in a puzzled way.
“And here is Mrs. Pepper,” said old Mr. King, pompously drawing her
forward, “the children's mother, and--”
But here Mrs. Pepper began to act in a very queer way, rubbing her eyes
and twisting one corner of her black apron in a decidedly nervous manner
that, as the old gentleman looked up, he saw with astonishment presently
communicated itself to the gentleman opposite.
“Is it,” said Mr. Whitney, putting out his hand and grasping the hard,
toil-worn one in the folds of the apron, “is it cousin Mary?”
“And aren't you cousin John?” she asked, the tears in her bright black
eyes.
“Of all things in this world!” cried the old gentleman, waving his
head helplessly from one to the other. “Will somebody have the extreme
goodness to tell us what all this means?”
At this the little Peppers crowded around their mother, and into all the
vacant places they could find, to get near the fascinating scene.
“Well,” said Mr. Whitney, sitting down and drawing his wife to his side,
“it's a long story. You see, when I was a little youngster, and--”
“You were John Whitney then,” put in Mrs. Pepper, slyly. “That's the
reason I never knew when they were all talking of Mason Whitney.”
“John Whitney I was,” said Mr. Whitney, laughing, “or rather, Johnny and
Jack. But Grandmother Mason, when I grew older, wanted me called by my
middle name to please grandfather. But to go back--when I was a little
shaver, about as big as Percy here--”
“Oh, papa!” began Percy, deprecatingly. To be called “a little shaver”
before all the others!
“He means, dearie,” said his mamma, reassuringly, “when he was a boy
like you. Now hear what papa is going to say.”
“Well, I was sent up into Vermont to stay at the old place. There was a
little girl there; a bright, black-eyed little girl. She was my cousin,
and her name was Mary Bartlett.”
“Who's Mary Bartlett?” asked Joel, interrupting.
“There she is, sir,” said Mr. Whitney, pointing to Mrs. Pepper, who was
laughing and crying together.
“Where?” said Joel, utterly bewildered. “I don't see any Mary Bartlett.
What does he mean, Polly?”
“I don't know,” said Polly. “Wait, Joey,” she whispered, “he's going to
tell us all about it.”
“Well, this little cousin and I went to the district school, and had
many good times together. And then my parents sent for me, and I went to
Germany to school; and when I came back I lost sight of her. All I could
find out was that she had married an Englishman by the name of Pepper.”
“Oh!” cried all the children together.
“And I always supposed she had gone to England for despite all
my exertions, I could find no trace of her. Ah, Mary,” he said
reproachfully, “why didn't you let me know where you were?”
“I heard,” said Mrs. Pepper, “that you'd grown awfully rich, and I
couldn't.”
“You always were a proud little thing,” he said laughing. “Well, but,”
broke in Mr. King, unable to keep silence any longer, “I'd like to
inquire, Mason, why you didn't find all this out before, in Marian's
letters, when she mentioned Mrs. Pepper?”
“She didn't ever mention her,” said Mr. Whitney, turning around to face
his questioner, “not as Mrs. Pepper--never once by name. It was always
either 'Polly's mother,' or 'Phronsie's mother.' Just like a woman,” he
added, with a mischievous glance at his wife, “not to be explicit.”
“And just like a man,” she retorted, with a happy little laugh, “not to
ask for explanations.”
“I hear Jappy,” cried Polly, in a glad voice, “and Ben--oh, good!” as
a sound of rushing footsteps was heard over the veranda steps, and down
the long hall.
The door was thrown suddenly open, and Jasper plunged in, his face
flushed with excitement, and after him Ben, looking a little as he did
when Phronsie was lost, while Prince squeezed panting in between the two
boys.
“Has Polly got--” began Jasper.
“Oh, yes, I'm here,” cried Polly, springing up to them; “oh, Ben!”
“She has,” cried Joel, disentangling himself from the group, “don't you
see, Jappy?”
“She's all home,” echoed Phronsie, flying up. “Oh, Ben, do draw me
another little house!”
“And see--see!” cried the little Whitneys, pointing with jubilant
fingers to their papa, “see what she brought!”
Jasper turned around at that--and then rushed forward.
“Oh, brother Mason!”
“Well, Jasper,” said Mr. Whitney, a whole wealth of affection beaming on
the boy, “how you have stretched up in six months!”
“Haven't I?” said Jasper, laughing, and drawing himself up to his
fullest height.
“He's a-standin' on tip-toe,” said Joel critically, who was hovering
near. “I most know he is!” and he bent down to examine the position of
Jasper's heels.
“Not a bit of it, Joe!” cried Jasper, with a merry laugh, and setting
both feet with a convincing thud on the floor.
“Well, anyway, I'll be just as big,” cried Joel, “when I'm thirteen,
so!”
Just then a loud and quick rap on the table made all the children skip,
and stopped everybody's tongue. It came from Mr. King.
“Phronsie,” said he, “come here, child. I can't do anything without
you,” and held out his hand. Phronsie immediately left Ben, who was
hanging over Polly as if he never meant to let her go out of his sight
again, and went directly over to the old gentleman's side.
“Now, then!” He swung her upon his shoulder, where she perched like a
little bird, gravely surveying the whole group. One little hand stole
around the old gentleman's neck, and patted his cheek softly, which so
pleased him that for a minute or two he stood perfectly still so that
everybody might see it.
“Now, Phronsie, you must tell all these children so that they'll
understand--say everything just as I tell you, mind!”
“I will,” said Phronsie, shaking her small head wisely, “every single
thing.”
“Well, then, now begin--”
“Well, then, now begin,” said Phronsie, looking down on the faces with
an air as much like Mr. King's as was possible, and finishing up with
two or three little nods.
“Oh, no, dear, that isn't it,” cried the old gentleman, “I'll tell you.
Say, Phronsie, 'you are all cousins--every one.'”
“You are all cousins--every one,” repeated little Phronsie, simply,
shaking her yellow head into the very middle of the group.
“Does she mean it, grandpapa? Does she mean it?” cried Percy, in the
greatest excitement.
“As true as everything?” demanded Joel, crowding in between them.
“As true as--truth!” said the old gentleman solemnly, patting the
child's little fat hand. “So make the most of it.”
“Oh!” said Polly, with a long sigh. And then Jasper and she took hold of
hands and had a good spin!
Joel turned around with two big eyes on Percy.
“We're cousins!” he said.
“I know it,” said Percy, “and so's Van!”
“Yes,” said Van, flying up, “and I'm cousin to Polly, too--that's best!”
“Can't I be a Cousin?” cried little Dick, crowding up, with two red
cheeks. “Isn't anybody going to be a cousin to me, too?”
“Everybody but Jasper,” said the old gentleman, laughing heartily at
them. “You and I, my boy,” he turned to his son, “are left out in the
cold.”
At this a scream, loud and terrible to hear, struck upon them all, as
Joel flung himself flat on the floor.
“Isn't Jappy--our--cousin? I--want--Jappy!”
“Goodness!” exclaimed the old gentleman, in the greatest alarm, “what is
the matter with the boy! Do somebody stop him!”
“Joel,” said Jasper, leaning over him, and trying to help Polly lift him
up. “I'll tell you how we'll fix it! I'll be your brother. That's best
of all--brother to Polly, and Ben and the whole of you--then we'll see!”
Joel bolted up at that, and began to smile through the tears running
down the rosy face.
“Will you, really?” he said, “just like Ben--and everything?”
“I can't be as good as Ben,” said Jappy, laughing, “but I'll be a real
brother like him.”
“Phoo--phoo! Then I don't care!” cried Joel wiping off the last tear
on the back of his chubby hand. “Now I guess we're better'n you,” he
exclaimed with a triumphant glance over at the little Whitneys, as he
began to make the new shoes skip at a lively pace up and down the long
room.
“Oh, dear!” they both cried in great distress.
“Now, papa, Jappy's going to be Joey's brother--and he isn't anything
but our old uncle! Make him be ours more, papa, do!”
And then Polly sprang up.
“Oh! oh--deary me!” And she rushed out into the hall and began to
tug violently at the big bundle, tossed down in a corner. “Cherry'll
die--Cherry'll die!” she cried, “do somebody help me off with the
string!”
But Polly already had it off by the time Jasper's knife was half out
of his pocket, and was kneeling down on the floor scooping out a big
handful of the seed.
“Don't hurry so, Polly,” said Jasper, as she jumped up to fly up-stairs.
“He's had some a perfect age--he's all right.”
“What!” said Polly, stopping so suddenly that two or three little seeds
flew out of the outstretched hand and went dancing away to the foot of
the stairs by themselves.
“Oh, I heard him scolding away there when I first came home,” said
Jasper, “so I just ran down a block or two, and got him some.”
“Is that all there is in that big bundle?” said Joel in a disappointed
tone, who had followed with extreme curiosity to see its contents.
“Phoo!--that's no fun--old bird-seed!”
“I know,” said Polly with a gay little laugh, pointing with the handful
of seed into the library, “but I shouldn't have met the other big bundle
if it hadn't have been for this, Joe!”