“yes, you must come, joe; so hurry up.”
ben slipped the last spoonful of mush and molasses into his mouth and pushed back his chair.
“oh, i don’t want to,” whined joel, scraping his saucer, violently. “polly, i’m awful hungry.”
“oh, you can’t be, joe,” said polly, hurrying off with her hands full of dishes to be washed; “you’ve had two big saucers full.”
“they weren’t full,” said joel, with an injured air, “only up to there,” rapping his spoon against the side of the saucer. “see, polly, only just that much.”
“well, that’s full,” said polly, peering back over her armful. “if you put any more in, you’d splash over the molasses.”
“i wouldn’t splash molasses,” declared joel, on a high key, “and i’m awful hungry.”
[79]“do say ‘awfully,’ joe,” corrected polly, with a little wrinkle in her brow.
“and you’ve just got to come along,” said ben, with a pat on his shoulder that meant it. “see davie! aren’t you ashamed, joe!”
little david had laid down his spoon on hearing ben, and, slipping off from his chair, was now over by the door, waiting.
“oh, davie,” cried polly, with a glance at his saucer of mush, as she set down her load by the waiting dish-pan, “you haven’t finished your breakfast. wait a minute for him, ben.” and she ran over to the door. “come, davie.”
“i don’t want it,” said little davie; “truly, i don’t, polly.”
“oh, yes, you do,” contradicted polly, taking hold of his jacket. “come back and finish your mush.”
“i wish i could have some more,” said joel, enviously, as david, with one eye on ben, who stood cap in hand, sat down again and made his spoon fly briskly.
“don’t eat so fast,” said polly; “misery me! you’ll choke yourself. no, no, davie,” as david pushed his saucer over toward joel. “joey’s had enough.”
[80]“i haven’t had near enough,” declared joel, stoutly.
“well, you aren’t going to have any more,” declared polly, decidedly. “davie must eat all that up, else he can’t go and help ben.”
so joel, seeing he was not to get any more breakfast, flung himself on the old kitchen floor and waved his legs in the air, shouting to davie to hurry up at every spoonful. until at last, his face quite red, and swallowing the last morsel, davie hopped off from his chair and ran over to ben. “i’m through,” he announced happily.
“that’s a good boy,” said ben, approvingly. “now, then, we’re off.”
seeing this, joel took down his legs from the air, and hopped up, racing after them, and banging the door as he went.
“o dear me!” cried polly, in vexation, “now joel’s forgotten to take the molasses can.” then she rushed over to a corner of the kitchen where joel had thrown it. it was his turn to-day to take it to the store, to be filled, on the way to deacon blodgett’s, where the boys were to work. then on the way home it was to be called for, all ready with a fresh supply for breakfasts in the little brown house.
[81]“where are you going, polly?” it was mother pepper’s voice from the bedroom, where she was getting off phronsie’s soiled little pinafore, down which trailed a sticky stream of molasses.
“oh, joe’s forgotten the molasses can, mamsie,” called back polly, and starting on a run after the boys; “jo-el!” she called, racing down the path. but ben, who hated above all things to be late to his work, was hauling them along at a pretty pace. and the wind carried away her voice, so they didn’t hear.
“o dear me!—well, i don’t care,” gasped polly, feeling every nerve tingle with delight in her healthy little body as she sped on, “if i don’t catch up with them at all. if i only could work at deacon blodgett’s,” she mourned, at the thought of the old dish-pan and the hateful tasks indoors that awaited her at home, where she would be cooped up all day. but she couldn’t even reach deacon blodgett’s, for just then ben turned.
“my goodness me!” as he spied her.
“it’s the molasses can,” panted polly, her brown hair flying, and swinging it at them as she raced up. “joel forgot it—”
“oh, joe, how could you?” began ben, reproachfully,[82] as the two little boys whirled about on the road.
“i didn’t mean to,” said joel, digging his rusty little shoe into the dirt, while his fingers worked nervously together, and his face got very red.
“oh, i don’t mind,” said polly, wiping her hot face. “it was good to run;” while ben took the molasses can with a “here, joe.”
“i didn’t mean to,” said joel, over again, and taking the can; “i didn’t, polly, truly.”
“oh, i know it,” said polly, smiling at him.
“well, come along now,” said ben, beginning to stride off faster than ever to make up for lost time. so little david, divided between sorrow for polly having such a long hot walk, and fear that joel was going to cry, ran by the big brother’s side, doing his best to keep up with him.
joel, on the other side of ben, hurried on, clutching the molasses can, to the turn in the road; then he suddenly spun around, and dashed back after polly’s fleeting footsteps.
“wait!” he wailed. but polly, all her thoughts intent on getting back to those waiting dishes,—for mamsie might stop and do them, oh, dreadful thought!—was going at her best pace. and presently polly dashed up through the old gateway,[83] up the path and over the flat door-stone, and after her joel as hard as he could run.
“oh, my goodness me, joe!” she cried, and then she sat right down on the big old stone. “what have you come back home for?”
“i’m sor-ry, polly,” panted joel, stumbling up to fling himself, molasses can and all, in her lap. “o dear me!—boo—hoo—hoo! i didn’t—didn’t—” he couldn’t get any further, for the tears rained all down his round, hot cheeks.
“oh, hush—mamsie will hear you,” warned polly, in great distress and lifting his stubby black head. “oh, misery me, joe, how you look!” for joe’s face was streaked from top to bottom where his grimy little hands had frantically tried to wipe away the tears, a few drops from the molasses can oozing out as he had bumped it up and down in his mad run, adding themselves to the general effect. “now you must come right around to the ‘provision-room’ door, and i’ll bring out a wet towel and wash you up; for it will worry mamsie dreadfully to think you didn’t stay with ben.”
“i don’t want to be washed up,” began joel, perfectly overcome with all this dreadful accumulation[84] of woe, most of which was now the fear of mamsie’s being worried.
“well, you are going to be,” declared polly, getting off from the door-stone; “the very idea, joel pepper; such a sight as you are! just think of going down to deacon blodgett’s in that way.” so polly hurried into the house, and joel crept miserably around its corner, and presently out through the “provision-room” door, there she was, towel in hand, and in less time than it takes to tell it, there he was, too, his round face all red and shining and spick-span clean.
“now, joe,” said polly, setting a kiss on each red cheek, “you run right straight down to deacon blodgett’s like a good boy, and don’t forget to leave the molasses can at mr. atkins’s,—and don’t bump it.”
“i’m sorry,” began joel, beginning again on what he had come back to say.
“well, you’ve said that ever so many times,” said polly, “so don’t say it again; only run along, because just think now you’ve been naughty to run away from ben and davie.”
so joel, feeling as if things that he’d got to be sorry for were piling up too fast for his taste,[85] gulped down his sobs, and started off, this time holding the old molasses can up high with both hands.
“o dear me!” cried polly to herself, “now he’ll tumble on his nose, i know. joe—don’t do so,” she screamed after him.
but as well try to stop the wind. and at last, joel had put the molasses can on the counter of mr. atkins’s shop, and sped out again, wild to get to the work at deacon blodgett’s that now seemed the loveliest thing in the world for a boy to do.
ben turned a disapproving glance on him as he panted into the barn.
“davie is up in the loft,” he said. “he’s picking over the nails. you go up and help him, joe.”
“i’m sorry,” gasped joel, flinging himself up against ben sawing away for dear life on some hickory sticks.
“take care—well, i sh’d think you would be, joe, running off like that,” said ben, not stopping his work an instant.
“o dear—dear!” joel twisted his small fists into his eyes, whirling around so that ben might not see him. and catching sight of this, ben threw down the saw, thinking, “i’ll tell[86] deacon blodgett i stopped a bit”—and the next thing joel knew he had two strong hands on his shoulders and he was spun about again.
“now, says i,” exclaimed ben, “what’s it all about, joel?”
so the whole story came out, and at the end joel scampered up over the crooked stairs to the loft where little davie, trembling first because joel had run away and then much worse because he had come back, and something dreadful seemed to be the matter, was suddenly pounced upon where he sat sorting out a big box of nails.
“i’ve come back!” announced joel, in the most cheerful of tones, and dropping to the floor by davie’s side.
david gave a little scream of delight, and throwing his arms around joel, upset the big box and away flew half of the nails, crooked and straight in the greatest confusion.
“there—now you see,” cried joel, springing after them, and succeeding in overturning the box again, thereby spilling out the most of the remainder.
“oh, i’ll pick ’em up,” exclaimed davie, in a transport, his little hands trembling in his efforts to recover them. since joel had come[87] back, the whole world might be upset and it wouldn’t be any matter.
“so will i,” cried joel, pawing wildly about in the straw scattered on the floor. so the two boys worked like everything, and presently were obliged to say that they had found all that they possibly could. and then setting the big box carefully between them, they set to work sorting out the good nails from the crooked ones.
“they’re ’most all crooked,” observed joel, shifting a handful in one grimy little palm, and peering into the big box.
“there’s some good ones,” said little davie, carefully picking out one as he spoke.
“i wish we could have the crooked ones,” said joel. “p’r’aps deacon blodgett’ll give ’em to us. i mean to ask him.”
“oh, no, you mustn’t, joe,” cried little david, in alarm; “you know mamsie told us never to ask for things.”
“well, i’ll tell him we want ’em,” said joel, patting a long crooked nail fondly before he laid it aside, “to build our rabbit-house with.” the pepper boys had never had a rabbit, nor was there any expectation that they ever would[88] possess one, but since joel had said they ought to get a house ready, and perhaps then a rabbit would come, little davie had worked as hard as he could to achieve it. every bit of board was saved, and there were not many, because polly had to have all that would burn nicely in the stove, of course. but, o joy!—mr. atkins, the storekeeper, finding all this out one day, presented the boys with some old boxes. nails were the hardest things to get, and every stray one that came in their way was hoarded as a great treasure. but they came in very slowly. and now here was the blodgett big box, and joel was not to ask for a single crooked one!
“no, no, no!” little davie dropped his work to bring his hot face over towards joel’s. “you mustn’t tell him, joel; mamsie wouldn’t like it.”
“that isn’t asking,” said joel, bobbing his black head obstinately, and picking away furiously at the assortment of nails in his hand.
“yes, it is,” said little davie. “oh, you mustn’t do it, joe.”
“no, it isn’t either,” contradicted joel, “and i shall tell him all about our rabbit-house, dave. so there, now.”
[89]“then i don’t want any rabbit,” declared davie, slipping back to his place on the floor, and wringing his hands.
“not want any rabbit!” reiterated joel, in amazement, and letting the nails stream through his fingers.
“no, i don’t,” said davie, quite pale and sitting very still, “want any rabbit at all, joel.”
“then i don’t want any nails,” roared joel,—“not a single smitch of a one.”
“oh, i am so glad,” said little davie, his pale face breaking into a smile, “’cause then, mamsie won’t be sorry, joel. she won’t, really.”
“and you’ll want a rabbit?” cried joel, hanging on davie’s lips.
“yes, i will,” nodded david, “very much, if you won’t want the nails, joel.”
“i won’t want one of the old nails,” said joel, diving vigorously into the box-depths for a fresh handful.
“boys!” called ben, from below, “are you working up there?”
“yes,” screamed joel, quickly, and picking at the nails with all his might.
but little david’s fingers got in each other’s way so much, over this new panic, started by[90] ben’s voice, that he made very little headway, and mixed up the pile of nails dreadfully.
“you’re putting in crooked ones,” said joel, twitching out one from the straight specimens. “hah,—hoh, just see that, dave pepper!”
“o dear me!” exclaimed poor little david, quite overcome with mortification.
“i’ll pick ’em out,” said joel, generously. “there,—there ain’t a single bad one in, now.”
so david, after assuring himself that this was really so, began to breathe easily once more, and the two pairs of small fingers kept busily on at their task, till the first thing they knew, heavy steps were heard ascending the crooked stairs and a long face appeared, its keen gray eyes spying them at once.
“well, boys!” said mrs. blodgett, walking along the floor of the loft, “now you must come in to dinner.”
“dinner!” screamed joel, hopping up to his feet, and making nails fly in every direction. little davie sat quite still, clasping his hands silently, “oh, are we to stay to dinner, mrs. blodgett?”
“yes,” said mrs. blodgett, her long face, with its high cheek bones, taking on a smile. “i’m[91] going to keep you to dinner. come, betsey is peeling the potatoes, so you must hurry.”
“did mamsie say we’re to stay?” asked david, trembling with delight, so that he could hardly get to his feet.
“no,” said mrs. blodgett, “but i expected you to stay, only the deacon forgot to say so, when he told ben to bring you along to look over those nails.”
“if mamsie didn’t say we were to stay, we can’t,” said little david, feeling the expected bliss dropping away from him at each step. joel, cantering over the crooked stairs, hadn’t heard, and he was singing at the top of his joy, and telling everybody within hearing that they were going to stay to dinner at mrs. blodgett’s, as he raced into the house.
deacon blodgett, wiping his face on the crash towel that hung by the sink-room door, heard him as he came rushing in.
“so you be, joel, so you be,” he cried, almost as much pleased. “well, now, joe, come and wash up.” he set the tin basin he had hung up on its nail, down again in the sink and pumped up some fresh water into it, as mrs. blodgett, with little davie, came in.
[92]“where’s ben, pa?” asked mrs. blodgett. “he wasn’t in the barn.”
“i sent him up to the wood-lot,” said the deacon; “he’ll be along at the right time. dinner ready, ma?”
“yes.” mrs. blodgett hurried into the kitchen, where betsey was making a terrible clatter dishing up the hot things. at the good smells, joel plunged his face down to the tin basin, and splashed the water all over his hot cheeks and into his eyes, then put out a hand blindly for the crash towel on its nail. “hurry up, dave!” he cried.
“we ought not to stay,” said little davie, huddling up to his side, the deacon having followed mrs. blodgett into the kitchen.
“mrs. blodgett said we must,” said joel, mopping away like everything. “oh, what do you s’pose they’re going to have for dinner?” wrinkling up his short nose in an effort to distinguish between the delightful smells.
little davie tried not to smell at all, even burying his nose in one hand, while he held to joel’s jacket with the other. “mamsie won’t like it,” he said, when the door opened, and there was ben, his ruddy face now quite red.[93] “oh, boys! i ought to have told you to go home before,” he cried, catching his breath, for he had run from the wood-lot every step of the way.
“we are going to stay to dinner,” announced joel, boldly; “mrs. blodgett said so.”
“well, you can’t,” said ben, shortly “for mamsie expects you home.”
joel didn’t stop to think, but dashed wildly into the kitchen and up against mrs. blodgett’s big blue-checked apron. “he’s going to send us home, ben is,” he gasped.
“what’s that?” deacon blodgett, catching the words, broke in. “hey, ben?”
“yes, sir,” said ben, in the doorway, with little davie hanging to his hand, “the boys ought to go home, for mamsie expects them.”
“oh, let ’em sit down and eat,” said the deacon, sociably, “there, joel, stop feeling bad, you h’ain’t got to go home. come, ben, set down, and here’s your chair, davie.” he was dropping into his own, while he talked.
“no, sir,” said ben, firmly.
it seemed as if he could never get the words out, when he saw the deacon’s face. maybe he wouldn’t give him any more work if he didn’t[94] mind him; for there was a little black cloud coming on the high forehead. and ben shivered from head to foot as he stood there.
“set down, set down,” deacon blodgett, pointing with his fork, kept repeating.
but ben shook his head, while joel sobbed in the depths of mrs. blodgett’s big apron, and davie hung helplessly to ben’s hand.
“there, pa, i guess i wouldn’t urge no more,” said mrs. blodgett, at last. “yes, you must go,” to joel, loosening his hold on her apron, “and some other time, maybe, i’ll ask your ma beforehand to let you stay.”
the deacon jabbed a potato with his fork from the big dish of smoking hot ones, and carried it to his plate without another word.
“and you can stay and eat dinner, ben,” said mrs. blodgett.
“no,” said ben, “thank you, mrs. blodgett, i’ve got my dinner same’s ever; polly put it up for me. it’s in the barn.” he kept talking, hoping the deacon would say something, but he didn’t even look up, and ben stifled a sigh, and went out after the two boys.
and after they had started for the “little brown house,” mother pepper, not wishing[95] them to work but half a day at a time helping ben, he sat down on a log of wood and ate his dinner. but he didn’t enjoy it very much, for thinking of them with every mouthful.
“well, dear me, what did make you so late?” cried polly, as the two boys walked into the kitchen. then she hopped out of her chair, where she sat over in the west window, pulling out basting-threads from one of the coats mrs. pepper had finished that morning before she went down to the parsonage to help the minister’s wife, and hurried to take out the potatoes she was keeping hot in the oven. in that way she didn’t see the two dismal little faces.
“now, then, says i, haven’t they got hot little jackets, though!” sang polly, running over with the two baked potatoes wrapped in an old towel; “hurry, and get into your chairs, boys, and i’ll cut you some bread.”
and she flew into the pantry. “that’s fine,” she sang, rushing out with it, when, catching sight of joel’s face, “what is the matter?” and she set the plate of bread down hard on the table, and stared at them.
“we couldn’t stay to dinner,” said davie, as joel, contrary to his usual custom, didn’t answer.
[96]“couldn’t stay to dinner!” echoed polly.
“oh, polly!” little davie, finding it hard to keep up this one-sided conversation any longer, and not willing to show joel’s part in the matter, now rushed to her, wailing, “mamsie wouldn’t have wanted us to,” and throwing his arms about her, he burst out crying as hard as he could.
now, all this time, phronsie, who had come in tired from play, had eaten her dinner very early, and polly had tucked her into the trundle bed for a long nap. so all was quite free in the old kitchen for the good talk that polly now set up with the two boys. and she soon had one each side of her, and leaning over her lap, when, the whole story once out, she comforted and coddled them quite as much as mother pepper herself could have done, which is really saying a good deal. and so, although the baked potatoes, waiting on the table got very cold, the three little peppers were bubbling over with happiness, and joel really forgot he was hungry, until polly sprang up, nearly upsetting the two small figures.
“oh, my goodness me!” running over to the table and beginning to pinch the brown jackets of the potatoes, “they’re as cold as two stones.”
[97]“i like ’em cold,” declared joel, rushing after her, and seizing one of the potatoes. “oh, ain’t they good!” tearing off the skin to scoop out a mouthful.
“put in some salt, joe, do,” said polly. but joel couldn’t wait for such small matters as salt, and he dug his spoon violently back and forth in the potato jacket. “i’m going to eat it, every scrap,” suiting the action to the word.
“no, no, joe, you mustn’t,” commanded polly, just in time, as the whole of the potato skin showed signs of rapidly disappearing.
“i’m so hungry,” cried joel.
“well, if you are very hungry, you can eat some bread,” said polly, wisely, and wishing she had something nice for them after their terrible disappointment about the beautiful dinner mrs. blodgett had wanted to give them. but what was there? o dear me! polly knew quite well, without looking into the cupboard, just exactly how bare she should find it.
“now, i tell you, joel and davie, what i’ll do. there isn’t anything else to eat, you know, but bread. you may have as much as you want of that. i’ll tell you a story, if you’ll be good[98] boys and eat it.—mamsie would let me, i know,” said polly to herself, thinking of the basting-threads not yet pulled out.
“why, it’s the middle of the day, polly,” said little davie, in astonishment, for polly never was able to leave the work that always seemed clamoring to be done, to tell stories to the children. that enjoyment had to be put off till the twilight hour, when it was too dark to see to do anything else.
“yes, i know,” said polly, recklessly, “but i’ll tell you one now, mamsie would say i could, if she were here.”
“then i want it,” said little david, happily, and reaching out his hand for a big piece of bread. and joel began to cram down his slice as quickly as possible to get the sooner to the story which he felt quite sure would not be forthcoming until polly saw the bread disappear, when the door opened so suddenly that they all three jumped.
deacon blodgett’s round face appeared. “how d’ye do, polly?” and without further ado, he marched in, and laid a bundle on the table wrapped in old newspaper, in between the potato skins and the plate of bread. “somethin’[99] mrs. blodgett sent, and i’ve got to go down to john hines’s, and if you’ll let joel and david go with me, i’ll take ’em along. they can tend to what’s in that bundle on th’ way.”
joel had already torn off the old newspaper, little davie quite willing to sit still and watch the proceeding.
there was disclosed a much-worn clean napkin with a red border all around it, and joel’s frantic hands soon got this open, and there were some of the slices of beef he had smelt just before dinner in the blodgett kitchen, and thick pieces of bread with,—really and truly there was, and plenty of it,—butter spread all over them! and at last—and didn’t joel’s eyes stick out then, and even davie held his breath!—two little apple turnovers tucked in at the bottom!
“they can eat those in th’ wagon,” said deacon blodgett, when he could be heard for the shouts sent out by joel, and davie’s crows of delight, “if you’ll say, ‘yes, they can go,’ polly.”
“oh, yes, yes, yes!” cried polly, saying it so fast, over and over, it seemed as if she were never going to stop. “dear mr. blodgett, they can[100] go, and oh, you are so good to ask them!” and it didn’t seem a minute before they were all off and she was picking up the potato skins and clearing the table neatly, as the rattle of deacon blodgett’s wagon wheels died away in the road.
