the four little peppers went in and shut the big green door.
“i want my mamsie.” phronsie stood still in the middle of the kitchen floor.
“so do i,” howled joel.
davie began, but stopped at sight of polly’s face.
“now see here,” cried polly, running over to throw her arms around phronsie, “we must all be good.
we promised mamsie, you know.”
“i want her back,” cried joel, in a loud voice, as phronsie wailed steadily on.
“how would you like to play ‘old father dubbin’?” cried polly, in a shaking voice. “wouldn’t that
be just too fine for anything!”
“can we really?” cried joel, his shouts breaking off suddenly.
“yes,” said polly. “now, pet, we are going to play ‘old father dubbin.’ don’t you want to,
phronsie?”
phronsie showed her little white teeth in a merry gurgle. “i do want to play it ever so much, polly,”
she said, smiling through her tears.
“hurrah! hurrah!” screamed joel, hopping about. “come on, dave, we’re going to play ‘old father
dubbin!’ we haven’t played it for ever and ever so long,” he added in an injured tone.
“of course not,” said polly, bustling about. “now, boys, come and help me get ready.”
no need to tell them this, as they scampered after her.
“old father dubbin” was saved, since polly made up the game, for very special occasions like the
present when it was absolutely necessary for the children to be diverted. so now the kitchen rang
with the noise, and they all spun around till tired out, for of course the one idea was to keep
everybody from a chance to cry.
at last polly looked up at the old clock. “oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, brushing her brown hair
out of her eyes. “we’ve got to stop. we can’t play all the time. dear me! i haven’t got a bit of breath
left.”
“i have,” declared joel, “and we haven’t played more’n half of all the time. don’t stop, polly—don’t
stop!” he came whirling up to her.
“don’t stop,” echoed phronsie, dancing up. “i want ‘old father dubbin’ some more.”
“i very much wish,” said davie with red cheeks, “we could play it again, polly.”
“no,” said polly decidedly, “it’s five o’clock, and we must all set to work now. besides, ben will get
home soon.”
“o dear!” grumbled joel. “what’ll we work on, polly?”
“well,” said polly, “you and davie can go and chop some kindlings for to-morrow morning.”
“we’re always chopping kindlings,” said joel, peevishly.
“of course,” said polly, in a cheery voice, “because we’re always wanting them. now go along,
boys. i must sweep up, for we’ve made such a dust playing ‘old father dubbin,’” and she dashed off
after the broom.
“and i’m going to sweep up, too,” cried phronsie, running over to the corner where her little broom
was kept behind the wood-box.
“come on, dave, we’ve got to chop those old kindlings,” said joel, gloomily, going over to the door.
“i’m going to bring in a lot,” said davie, spreading his arms wide.
“i’m going to bring in enough for two hundred—no, five hundred mornings,” declared joel, as they
ran out to the woodshed.
“now, phronsie,” said polly, when the sweeping up was all done, and the chairs placed back neatly
against the wall, “i think you and i better set the supper-table. ben will be here soon, you know.” she
gave a long sigh and gazed out of the window. oh, if ben would only hurry and come! it was getting
dark, and the hardest hour of all the day to have mamsie away was drawing near.
“bensie will be here soon,” hummed phronsie, running over to help polly lay the table cloth.
“yes,” said polly. “now, that’s a good girl, phronsie. you see—”
“i’ve got the most,” cried joel, staggering in at the doorway, his arms full of all sorts and sizes of
sticks. “whickets! see me, polly!”
“oh, joey, i don’t want to see you when you say such words,” said polly reprovingly.
“i won’t say ’em any more. now look—look!” joel swelled up in front of her, and brandished his
armful.
“o my!” exclaimed polly, “what a nice lot! and davie, too! dear me, how you two boys do help!”
“i haven’t got so much,” said david, drawing slowly near with both arms around his kindlings.
“his sticks are better than mine,” said joel critically, as the boys stood before polly.
“yes,” said polly, her head on one side to view them the better. “i believe they are, joel. well, it’s a
nice lot altogether, anyway. now put them all in the wood-box.”
“now what shall we do?” asked joel, fidgeting about, the kindlings all dumped in the wood-box, and
going over to mother pepper’s big calico-covered chair, his round face very sober.
“i believe,” said polly meditatively, “we’d better light the candle—it’s growing dark.”
“why, polly pepper! light the candle!” exclaimed joel. “mamsie wouldn’t light it so early.”
phronsie stopped suddenly in putting her blue and white plate on the table. “i want my mamsie,” she
said soberly. then she sat down in a little bunch on the floor, and put her head in her lap.
“o dear me!” cried polly in dismay. would ben ever come! “i wonder if you don’t all want me to tell
you a story.”
“oh!” screamed joel and david together, “we do—we do!” running over to her.
“well, i can’t tell a story ever in all this world while phronsie is crying,” said polly, at her wits’ end
what to do next.
“phronsie—stop crying!” joel rushed over and shook her pink calico sleeve. “polly can’t tell a story
while you’re crying. she won’t stop,” he announced wrathfully.
for phronsie kept on in a smothered little voice, “i want my mamsie.”
“phronsie,” davie kneeled down on the kitchen floor beside her. “please stop. polly wants to tell a
story. you’ll make polly sick if you don’t stop crying.”
up came phronsie’s yellow head, and she wiped off the tears with one fat little hand. “do i make you
sick, polly?” she asked, in a tone of deep concern.
“yes, i think i shall be,” said polly gravely, “if you don’t stop crying.”
“then i will stop,” said phronsie brokenly. “i don’t want you to be sick, polly. please don’t be.”
“now if ever there was a good child, it’s you, phronsie,” cried polly, seizing her to smother the little
face with kisses. “well, come on, boys, we must sit around the fireplace, and i’ll tell you a story.”
“there isn’t any fireplace,” said joel, as polly led the way over to the stove.
“well, i’m going to pretend there is,” said polly, getting down on the floor in front of the stove, “and
a splendid fire, too. my! don’t you hear the logs crackle, and isn’t this blaze perfectly beautiful!” and
she spread out both hands.
“you’re always pretending there are things that ain’t there,” grumbled joel.
“of course,” said polly gayly, “that’s the way to have them.”
“i think the blaze is beautiful, too,” declared davie, throwing himself down by her side and spreading
his hands.
“well, i guess i’m going to have some of the blaze,” said joel, in an injured tone, and he crowded in
between polly and david.
“well now, phronsie, put your head in my lap,” said polly. but she turned a cold shoulder to joel.
joel fidgeted about. “dave, you can sit next to polly,” he whispered.
“that’s right,” polly flashed him a smile over phronsie’s yellow head.
“you may have the place,” said davie, trying not to want it very much.
“i’ll tell you what,” said polly, “how would it do for each of you to have the place half of the time,
and i’ll tell you when to change?”
a smile ran over david’s face.
“all right,” said joel, folding his little brown hands. “now begin.”
“well, now, i’m going to tell you about—” said polly.
“oh, the circus story!” shouted joel wildly. “do tell about the circus story, polly.”
“do you want the circus story, davie?” asked polly.
“say yes, dave. do say yes,” said joel, nudging him.
“yes, i do,” said davie in great satisfaction.
“and you’d like to hear about all the animals, phronsie, wouldn’t you?” asked polly, bending over
the yellow head in her lap.
“polly,” asked phronsie, lifting her head in great excitement, “is that about the dear, sweet little
monkey?”
“yes, pet,” said polly, “it is.”
“then,” said phronsie, clapping her hands, “i should like to hear about it very much indeed. please
begin right straight off, polly,” and she laid her head down in polly’s lap again.
“well, you see,” began polly—would ben never come!
“don’t say, ‘you see,’” interrupted joel impatiently; “do tell about the animals, and have a bear—no,
two bears—”
“you’re always having a bear,” said polly, with a little laugh. “well, there were lots of bears in this
circus i am going to tell you of.”
“how many?” demanded joel.
“oh, fifty,” said polly recklessly.
“whickets!” cried joel in amazement.
“now, joel, i can’t tell any story if you’re going to say such naughty words.”
“i won’t—i won’t,” cried joel in alarm at losing the story. “were there really fifty bears, polly?” he
crowded up close to her.
“yes,” said polly, bobbing her brown head. “and the circus man said he was thinking of buying two
more.”
“o dear me!” cried joel, quite overcome and snuggling down against her arm. “well, go on.”
“well, there was a hip-hip-pot-amus,” polly finally brought the whole out with great pride.
“yes, yes,” said joel.
david clasped his hands in silent rapture, and kept his gaze on the black stove that was a crackling
fire on the hearth.
“and a rho-do-den-dron,” added polly, “and—”
“what’s a rho-rho-do—what you said?” interrupted joel, his head bobbing up again.
“oh, a great big creature,” said polly.
“how big?” demanded joel.
“oh, my goodness—i can’t ever tell how big he was,” said polly.
“i want to know how big he was,” grumbled joel. “so big?” he spread his arms wide.
“o dear me!” cried polly, with a little laugh. “why, that isn’t anywhere near as big, joey pepper, and
he splashed into the water, and—”
“where did he splash into the water?” cried joel; “say, polly, where did he?”
“why, there was a pond next to the circus tent,” said polly, going on wildly, her gaze on the window
to see when ben came around the corner of the little brown house.
“as big as the pond over at cherryville?” demanded joel.
“yes, just as big as that,” said polly, willing to make it any size.
“dave,” cried joel, poking his face over david’s shoulder, “it was just like that great big pond over at
cherryville. only mr. tisbett wouldn’t let us go near it,” he said resentfully; “he wouldn’t, polly,
when he took us over on the stage. well, go on,” and he threw himself back against polly once more.
“make him splash, and splash, that great big thing. what was his name, polly?”
“rho-do-rho-do-den-dron,” said polly, wishing she never had seen the picture in the animal book on
mrs. blodgett’s center-table. “well, now, it’s time for you and davie to change places, joel. why!”
“hulloa! so you’ve got a rhododendron, polly.”
“oh, ben!” every one of the children jumped to their feet. polly got to him first and threw wild arms
around his neck.
“we’ve been playing ‘old father dubbin’,” announced davie.
ben choked off what he was going to ask, “where’s mamsie?” if “old father dubbin” had been
played, something pretty bad must have happened, for polly to rescue the little brown house from
gloom with that game. “well, now,” he said, “i suppose we’ve got to have that story finished.”
“yes, yes, we have,” howled joel, dancing about. “go on, polly, do,” and he flopped down in front of
the stove and thrust out his hands. “there’s a big fire on the hearth,” he said to ben.
“and hear the logs crackle,” said davie, sitting down by his side and spreading his hands, too.
“oh, i see,” said ben gravely. “now come on, phronsie, and we’ll hear the rest about that wonderful
rhinoceros,” and he sat down, pulling her into his lap.
“no, no, that wasn’t his name,” contradicted joel; “’twas—oh, what was it, polly?” and he wrinkled
up his face.
“’twas what ben said,” polly hung her head.
“your name is prettier than mine, anyway, polly,” said ben. “well now let’s hear the rest of the
story.”
so polly, quite happy now that ben was actually there, ran her arm in his, and launched into such a
merry account of what that rhinoceros was capable of that even joel was satisfied and david wasn’t
conscious of breathing.
a gentle pull brought polly to suddenly. “tell about my dear, sweet little monkey, do, polly,” begged
phronsie.
“to be sure,—how could i forget you?” cried polly remorsefully.
“oh, i don’t want a monkey,” screamed joel; “we can have him any day. do go on about that—that
—”
“see here, joe,” ben gave him a small pat on his back, “it’s time to rest that rhinoceros. he’s awfully
big, and he gets tired easily.”
“does he?” cried joel.
“yes.”
“well, then, go on about the monkey.”
“i’m going to have my dear, sweet monkey now,” whispered phronsie in ben’s ear.
“yes, i know,” ben whispered back. “well, go on, polly.”
so the monkey went through all the antics that belonged to one, and a good many more that hadn’t
anything to do with a monkey at all.
at last ben looked up at the old clock. “whew! well, polly pepper, i should say it was time for
supper!”
at that they all jumped up, and in the scuffle to get to the table first, polly drew ben aside. “mamsie’s
gone to old miss babbitt’s,” she whispered. “mr. tisbett came for her. miss babbitt has broken her
hip.”
“whew!” said ben again.
“and how shall ever we get the children to bed,” said polly, in a distressed little voice, “without
mamsie?”
ben looked all around the old kitchen with a sober face. “same’s you’ve done all the afternoon—
keep ’em busy.”
“we can’t play ‘old father dubbin’ again,” said polly. “we must save that for next times when
things are bad.”
“that’s so,” said ben; “then it must be blind man’s buff, or puss-in-the-corner, i suppose.”
“what are you whispering about?” cried joel, coming up curiously. “you’re always getting off into a
corner and whispering things.”
“well, that’s because we can’t talk unless we do get into a corner. you’re always poking around so,
joe,” said ben. “come on now, all hands to supper!”
he swung phronsie up to his shoulder and then into the chair that he had made high enough for her
by nailing a board across two strips of wood. “now says i, here you go, puss!”
they were all so tired when they got through with blind man’s buff, the supper dishes first being well
out of the way, that phronsie, who wanted to be “puss,” fell asleep on the little cricket before they
could get her into the corner. so polly bundled her off to the trundle-bed and tucked her up with a
kiss.
“now the worst is over,” she said, coming out of the bedroom, to ben.
“and you two boys—it’s time you were off,” said ben, pointing to the loft, “or you’ll tumble asleep
like phronsie.”
“i’m not sleepy,” said joel, digging his knuckles into his black eyes and trying to keep awake.
“i am,” said davie, “and my legs are tired.” and he stumbled off to the loft stairs.
“hoh!” exclaimed joel, following slowly, “i ain’t sleepy a single bit. and polly and you are going to
talk over secrets after we’re gone,” and he turned half-way up the loft stairs to show an injured face.
“well, you wouldn’t hear any secrets if you stayed,” declared ben coolly, “so you might as well take
yourself off, joe.”
