“i mustn’t cry again,” said david to himself the next morning. he stopped a minute picking up the

chips, before he threw them into the old basket. “maybe i’ll get to school some time and learn

things.”

then he threw the chips into the basket until it was full enough to empty into the wood-box behind

the old stove in the kitchen.

“mamsie,” cried joel, rushing in at dinner-time, “’twasn’t any fun piling wood at deacon blodgett’s

without dave.”

“davie can’t pile wood to-day, joel,” said mrs. pepper, “he had such a hard time yesterday going

after phronsie.” she glanced over at him affectionately, as she went into the pantry for the cold

potatoes to fry.

david began eagerly, “oh, mamsie—” then he stopped when he saw her face.

“o dear,” grumbled joel. “it’s awful hard work piling wood without dave. isn’t dinner ready?” he

asked, impatiently.

“it will be in a few minutes,” said mrs. pepper, slicing the potatoes over by the table. “see, joey, i’m

going to give you fried potatoes to-day.”

“oh, goody!” exclaimed joel, rushing over to the table and smacking his lips. “see, dave, fried

potatoes!”

david tried to smile as he turned off.

“and i shall fry them brown,” said mrs. pepper, cutting the last potato into thin strips.

“she’s going to fry ’em brown,” announced joel in great excitement, and running over to pull

david’s jacket, “real crispy brown, so they’ll crack in your teeth. won’t you, mamsie,—really crispy,

cracksy brown,” deserting david to rush over to the table again.

“yes,” said mrs. pepper, smiling at him, as she went over to the stove to set on the frying-pan.

“where’s ben? it’s time that he was here.”

“i forgot,” said joel, a flush spreading over his round cheeks; “deacon blodgett said ben wouldn’t

come home.”

mother pepper paused with the frying-pan in her hand. “did deacon blodgett say why?”

“they’re going to take something to eat in a basket,” said joel, beginning to look very injured, “and

they wouldn’t take me. they told me to run home and tell you.”

“oh, joey, and you forgot a message,” said mrs. pepper reprovingly.

“i didn’t mean to,” said joel, hanging his head.

“didn’t mean to, doesn’t excuse such a thing,” said mrs. pepper. then she set the frying-pan at the

back of the stove and stood quite still.

“mamsie—i didn’t,” cried joel, running over to hide his head in her gown, “i truly didn’t,” he

howled.

“no, he didn’t mean to,” echoed david, drawing near in great distress.

“i know, davie,” said mrs. pepper, stroking joel’s stubby black hair as he burrowed in her gown,

“but it is a very bad thing to forget a message.”

“i won’t ever do it again,” whimpered joel, his brown hands holding fast to her gown.

“i hope not, joel.” then she glanced over at the thin slices in the dish on the table. “ben does like

fried potatoes so much! that’s the reason i was going to have them to-day.”

“he can have mine,” said joel, twitching his head away from mother pepper’s gown, and not looking

at the potato-dish, for his mouth watered dreadfully.

“and give him mine,” said davie, hurrying over to mrs. pepper.

“no, children, there is enough for all, and i will fry some for ben at another time. run down and see

if polly and phronsie are coming from the store.”

“o dear, my legs are tired,” said joel crossly, and tumbling on the kitchen floor, he waved them in the

air.

“i’ll go—i’ll go,” said davie, running to get his cap.

“no,” said mother pepper. “you are not to go, davie.”

“dave wants to go,” said joel, rolling over to look at her with his black eyes.

“davie is very tired since yesterday,” said mrs. pepper. “get up, joel, and go to the gate at once.”

“polly’s always late,” grumbled joel, getting up to his feet.

“polly is never late,” said david stoutly. “she’s always and ever here,” and his face got very red.

“there—there, boys,” said mrs. pepper. “run along, joel.”

“mamsie,” david ran over to her, as the big green door banged, “i’m not tired. please let me help

about things.”

“you must be tired, davie,” mrs. pepper beamed affectionately at him, “and it won’t do for you to

run your legs off for i depend so much on you.”

david looked down at his legs. then he straightened up. “do you really depend on me, mamsie?”

and the color ran all over his little cheeks.

“indeed i do,” said mother pepper heartily. then she glanced up at the clock. “polly and phronsie

ought to be here.”

“they’re coming,” shouted davie gleefully, and rushing to the big green door, he swung it wide. in

jumped joel, swinging the molasses jug, and after him polly and phronsie.

“whoop!” screamed joel, “isn’t dinner ready? we’re going to have fried potatoes,” he announced to

polly.

“fried potatoes!” exclaimed polly in astonishment. then she ran over to the old stove. “oh, mamsie,

fried potatoes!” wrinkling up her nose at the sizzling in the old frying-pan.

“i like it,” said phronsie, clutching a little paper bag; “let me smell it, polly, do!” standing on her

tiptoes.

“i thought ben was coming home to dinner, and he does so like fried potatoes,” said mrs. pepper in a

low voice, as she turned the slices.

“isn’t ben coming to dinner?” asked polly.

“no—hush, polly!” with a glance over at joel, coming out from the pantry where he had put the

molasses jug. “ben’s gone somewhere with deacon blodgett. now hurry and get on phronsie’s

eating-apron.”

“joel was awfully good—he took the molasses jug from me,” said polly, tying on phronsie’s checked

eating-apron.

“i’m glad he thought to do it,” said mother pepper, with a smile. “now sit down, children, the

potatoes are done.”

“and mr. atkins gave phronsie a whole lot of peppermints,” said polly, when the meal was half

over, and the plates were scraped clean from all trace of potato slices.

“yes, he did,” said phronsie, bobbing her yellow head, and taking off her gaze from the dish where

the delightfully brown crackly things had been. when she had been obliged to relinquish her little

paper bag, after the eating apron was on, she had insisted that it should be kept in her lap. so now she

patted it lovingly.

“oo! peppermints!” screamed joel. “let’s see, phronsie,” and he hopped out of his seat.

“no, no, joey,” reproved mother pepper.

“she said peppermints,” said joel, slipping into his chair.

“i will give you some,” said phronsie, with another little pat on the paper bag, “and davie too,”

beaming across the table at him.

“oh, now—give ’em now,” cried joel, thrusting out his hand, his black eyes sparkling.

but mother pepper said “no,” again; that they must all wait till after dinner, and the dishes were

washed up and the floor swept. then if phronsie wanted to divide her peppermints, why, that would

be the best time of all.

so there was a merry bustle to see who would get through the part of the work that belonged to each

one. and there was so much fun and laughter that any one peering in at the little brown house would

really have supposed that play was going on. at last it was all done, and mamsie, over in the corner

sewing on one of the coats that polly had brought home in the bundle, declared that everything was

very nice, and that she couldn’t have done it any better herself.

“now the peppermints,” cried joel, running away from the sink where he had been scrubbing his

hands and polishing them on the big roller towel. “now, o goody!” he ran over to phronsie, still

clinging to her paper bag.

“let’s all sit down on the floor,” proposed polly. so down the whole four of them got in a ring, each

one drawing a long breath of anticipation.

“i’m going to give mamsie one first,” announced phronsie, slowly beginning to open the paper bag.

“let’s see how many you’ve got, phronsie,” said joel, putting out an impatient hand.

“don’t, joey,” said polly, seizing his hand; “let phronsie open her own bag.”

“i’ll open my bag,” hummed phronsie, suiting the action to the word. then she drew out a

peppermint drop, a pink one.

“she’s so slow,” said joel, impatiently. “turn up the bag, do, phronsie.”

“let her do it her own way, joey,” said polly; “they are her peppermints and we must all wait.”

“o dear!” groaned joel, holding his hands tightly together, his black eyes on the peppermint drops.

it took some time in this slow way for phronsie to get them all out. she hummed in a soft little voice

as she drew them forth, one by one, and laid them in polly’s lap. there were nine—five white ones,

and four pink ones.

“aren’t there any more?” cried joel. “let me shake the bag—maybe there’s another one.”

but all the vigorous shaking that joel administered couldn’t produce another peppermint drop.

“i shall give mamsie this one,” said phronsie, picking up one of the pink drops and running over to

mrs. pepper’s chair. “please open your mouth, mamsie.”

and the pink peppermint being dropped into mother pepper’s mouth, phronsie ran back in great

satisfaction.

“now me,” cried joel, sitting back on his heels, and holding out his hands.

“oh, joey, ben ought to have one saved for him,” said polly reprovingly.

“i shall give bensie this one,” said phronsie, patting another pink drop.

“ben wouldn’t care,” began joel. then he stopped, seeing polly’s brown eyes.

“that’s fine,” said polly, smiling at phronsie. “now i’m going to put this peppermint drop up on the

table, and you shall give it to ben when he comes in.”

“i shall give it to bensie when he comes in,” hummed phronsie. “and this one is for you.” she held

up the third pink peppermint to polly’s mouth.

“oh, no, child,” said polly, shaking her head. “you must save those other two for yourself, you

know.”

“then there won’t be any pink peppermints,” broke in joel, awfully disappointed, “and i wanted

one.”

“but phronsie must save some for herself,” said polly; “she just loves pink candy.”

“i will give you a pink one, joey,” said phronsie, beginning to look worried as she saw his face.

“no, joel, you oughtn’t to,” said polly.

“but i don’t want an old white one,” grumbled joel; “mean old white one.”

“then you’d better not take any,” said polly coolly. “no, phronsie, you must keep those two pink

ones. mr. atkins would want you to.”

“would mr. atkins want me to?” asked phronsie doubtfully.

“yes, of course,” said polly decidedly. “now, davie, it’s your turn, as joel doesn’t want any.”

“oh, i do—i do!” screamed joel. “i do want a peppermint, polly pepper.”

“all right, then give joel a white one, phronsie, and then one to davie. there, now isn’t that too

splendid for anything!” as the two boys began at once to crunch their peppermints.

david suddenly stopped. “you haven’t any, polly.”

“oh, phronsie is going to put a white one in my mouth,” said polly gayly, and opening her mouth

very wide.

“i’m going to put one in your mouth, polly,” laughed phronsie. so polly bent her head down, and in

went a white peppermint drop.

“now says i—in goes one in your own mouth, phronsie,—a pink one,” and in it went.

there was such a crunching of peppermint drops going on that no one heard the big green door open,

until mrs. pepper said, “why, how do you do?” then they all whirled around. there was mr. tisbett,

the stage-driver, whip in hand.

immediately he was surrounded by all the four children, joel howling, “oh, i know you’ve come to

take us in the stage-coach,” and trying to get the whip.

“no, i hain’t, not this time. you let my whip be, joel,” and in the midst of the clamor, he marched

over to mrs. pepper. “i’ve come for you, ma’am.”

“for me?” exclaimed mrs. pepper.

“yes’m. ef you don’t stop, joel pepper, scrougin’ for my whip, i’ll—” mr. tisbett didn’t finish, but

he looked so very fierce that they all fell back.

“hoh!” exclaimed joel, “i ain’t afraid of him,” and he swarmed all over the big stage-driver. “i’m

going on the stage. let me sit up in front with you, mr. tisbett,” he begged.

“yes’m,” mr. tisbett tucked the big whip under his arm, and turned his twinkling eyes toward mrs.

pepper. “old miss babbitt has broke her hip, and—”

“o dear me!” exclaimed mrs. pepper, dropping her work to her lap.

“fact; fell down th’ cellar stairs; stepped on th’ cat, an’ away she went.”

“did she kill the cat?” cried joel, tearing off his attention from the whip.

“land o’ goshen! you can’t kill a cat,” declared the stage-driver; “never heard o’ such a thing in all

my born days. well, she set up a screechin’ for you, mis pepper.” he whirled around again to mother

pepper’s chair.

a look of dismay spread over mother pepper’s face.

“she’s in an awful bad fix,” said mr. tisbett solemnly, “an’ there ain’t a neighbor that’ll go nigh her.

an’ she keeps a-screamin’ for you,” and mr. tisbett leaned against the table.

“polly, child, come here.” mrs. pepper was already folding up her work.

“what is it, mamsie?” as the group made way for her, the stage-driver regarding them all with a

relieved air as if responsibility of the whole affair was now off his mind.

“do you think that you could get along without mother for a little while?”

“for over night?” asked polly, in an awe-struck tone.

“yes,—can you do it, polly? poor old miss babbitt needs me; but i won’t go if you can’t manage

without me.” she rested her black eyes on polly’s flushed cheeks.

“you’ve never been away all night,” began polly, her cheeks going very white.

“i know it,” said mrs. pepper, a little white line coming around her mouth. “it hasn’t been necessary

before. but now, it seems as if the poor old woman needs me. and you’re a big girl, polly, and then

there’s ben to help you. well, what do you say, child?”

“she’s an awful cross old woman,” said polly grudgingly, not being able to look into her mother’s

face.

“that doesn’t make any difference,” said mrs. pepper. “she needs me.”

polly drew her shoe back and forth across the floor, still not looking into her mother’s face.

“it shall be as you say, polly,” said mrs. pepper quietly. meantime the stage-driver had drawn off

into a corner, the three children surrounding him.

“o dear me!” began polly, with a long breath and twisting her hands; then she burst out, “mamsie,

i’m awfully wicked—but i don’t want you to go.”

“very well,” said mrs. pepper, “then i will tell mr. tisbett that i cannot go,” and she began to get out

of her chair.

“but supposing,” said polly, with a little gasp, seizing her mother’s arm, “nobody had come to help

you when my eyes were bad?”

“yes, just supposing,” said mother pepper, sitting quite still.

“and now it’s worse, for she’s an old, old woman.”

“yes, polly.”

“then,” said polly, feeling sure she was going to cry, “i think you ought to go, mamsie. o dear!”

“are you quite sure, polly child?”

“yes-es—yes, mamsie!” and polly swallowed her sob. when she found that she could do that, she

threw her arms around mrs. pepper’s neck. “oh, mamsie, i do want you to go—really and truly, i do,

mamsie—and i’ll take care of the children.”

“i know you will, polly. now that’s my brave girl,” and mother pepper gathered her up in her arms

and held her close.

“and i’ll pack the bag,” said polly, running off on happy feet to drag out the old carpet-bag from the

closet in the bedroom.

and pretty soon the kitchen was in a great bustle, the children getting in each other’s way to help

mrs. pepper off. and mr. tisbett kept saying, “well, i never!” and slapping the big whip against his

knees, making joel drop whatever he was doing to run over at the enchanting sound. and phronsie

had to tie on mamsie’s bonnet—and every one hurried to help her into the stage.

“good-by,” said mother pepper, as all four tried to get on the step for a last kiss. “be good, children,

and obey polly!”

“i’m going to be good,” declared joel stoutly.

“i’ll try,” said david.

“let me tie your bonnet again,” said phronsie, with pleading hands.

“oh, phronsie, you can’t tie it again,” said polly. “mr. tisbett has got to go,” as the stage-driver up

on the box was cracking his whip impatiently. “you can kiss mamsie once more.”

“i can kiss my mamsie again,” said phronsie, as polly held her up.

“good-by, children,” said mrs. pepper to them all, as the big stage lumbered off. but her last smile

was for polly.