“all day,” whispered little david, in a rapture. “just think, joey, all day!”

“i know it,” sang joel. “whoopity la! ow—you pulled my hair, polly.”

“well, i can’t help it,” said polly, “you jumped so, joel. do stand still.”

“i can’t,” said joel, giving a long stretch. “ow! mamsie, polly is hurting me dreadfully,” he whined to mother pepper, out in the kitchen.

“that’s because you don’t stand still and let her brush your hair as it should be done, i suppose,” said mrs. pepper, coolly. so joel, getting no comfort there, wisely determined to make the best of things, and he wrung his hands together, trying his best to keep still, only interrupting the proceedings by teasing to know when polly was to get through.

[164]at last it was over. “o dear me!” exclaimed polly, sinking into the first chair quite exhausted. “i’m so glad i’m through, joey.”

“so am i,” echoed joel, jubilantly and beginning to prance about; “now i’m going to do dave’s hair,” and he made a lunge at the old hair-brush in polly’s hand.

“no, you’re not,” declared polly, clinging tightly to it. “you go right away, joel pepper; the very idea! davie’s hair would look just like everything if you brushed it.”

“oh, i don’t want joel to do it,” cried david, in terror, and running over to polly’s side—“don’t let him, polly.”

“indeed i shan’t,” said polly, with vigor, and waving the old hair-brush defiantly. “now come, davie, and i’ll fix yours, and then you can all start for dear mrs. beebe’s. phronsie is so good; just look at her!”

there she was in her little chair, as still as a mouse, her eyes fastened on the red-topped shoes stuck out straight before her, and her hands folded in her lap. she had been patted and pulled into shape by polly, and then told to sit down and wait till the boys were ready. the getting-ready process, when the pepper children[165] were going out visiting, was always full of delight to phronsie, who wouldn’t have had one of the many details left out that polly considered were so important.

“umph, i can fix it as good as pie,” grunted joel. then he capered out into the old kitchen, snapping his fingers. “i don’t care—i don’t want to. whoopity la, we’re going to spend the day at mr. beebe’s shop!”

“misery me!” exclaimed polly, in dismay; “do stop, joe. you’ll muss up your hair dreadfully. oh, mamsie, he won’t be fit to be seen,” she wailed.

“joel,” said mrs. pepper, “stop this minute,” as joel capered by, “and go and sit down in that chair;” she pointed to the other side of the kitchen.

“o dear me!” grunted joel. “i don’t want to sit down, mamsie.”

“go and sit down at once, joe,” said mrs. pepper, firmly.

“can’t i take the chair into the bedroom and sit next to phronsie?” asked joel, who always tried for some alleviation of his punishments, and he began to drag it into the bedroom.

“yes, you may do that,” said mrs. pepper, “but you must sit down on it and keep still.” then she went back to her work.

[166]“and just think how you’ve spoilt your hair,” said polly, in exasperation, “and it did look so nice.” she heaved a great sigh. little david ducked under the brush swiftly going over his own head, to peer into her face. “never mind, davie,” she said, smiling at him. “dear mrs. beebe will think you look good anyway.”

“won’t she think joel looks good, too?” asked davie, anxiously.

“oh, yes, maybe,” said polly, stifling the sigh. “well, hold still, dear. i’ll brush him again before he puts on his cap.”

joel, who luckily hadn’t heard this, now crowded up as closely as possible to phronsie, and sat up on his chair as stiff as a ramrod. and at last everything was pronounced by polly all ready for the children to set forth on the visit; “except this,” said polly, flying over to joel and giving his stubby black hair the final attention amid his violent protests. and then they were hurried out to mother pepper in the kitchen to see how nice they all looked, as they stood in a row, and for her to give them their final charge before setting forth.

“you know, children,” she said, running her black eyes over the line in satisfaction; “that you[167] are to be very good, for polly and ben can’t go to mrs. beebe’s till afternoon. just think, this is the first time you have ever been out in company alone!” she surveyed them proudly,—“but mother trusts you, and i know you will be good.”

“i’ll be good,” said joel, promptly. “i’m always good.”

“i’ll try, mamsie; i will,” said little davie; “i will, truly, mamsie.”

“i know you will,” said mother pepper, beaming at her boys, “and phronsie, too,—i know she’ll be good.”

“i’ll be good,” piped phronsie, putting up her little red lips to be kissed.

so mrs. pepper took her baby in her arms, and gave her a good hug and a good-by kiss all at once, and then joel crowded in between them insisting on the same attention, and of course little davie couldn’t be forgotten. but at last the three were out on the flat door-stone, and mother pepper and polly in the doorway to see them start.

“now take hold of hands; let phronsie go in the middle,” said mrs. pepper, “and walk along nicely. be careful, joel, don’t run—remember—” as the children went down the path to the old gate.

[168]“doesn’t it seem funny, mamsie,” said polly, cuddling up close to mrs. pepper’s side, “to have them go alone out visiting?”

“yes,” said mrs. pepper, “but they’re old enough now. and you’re going, and ben, too, in the afternoon, so it’s all right,” yet she cast an anxious glance after the three little figures now going solemnly down the road.

“yes, i’m going in the afternoon and so is ben, down to our dear, sweet mrs. beebe’s,” sang polly, with a hop, skip, and a jump, getting back into the middle of the old kitchen floor. “mamsie,” as mrs. pepper came in and shut the door, “isn’t it just lovely that we’re really going to supper there?”

“i wish you could have gone for all day,” said mrs. pepper, with a sigh, and pausing a minute before taking up her work, “just like the other children—you and ben.”

“well, i can’t,” said polly, flinging back her brown hair where it tumbled over her forehead, “i’m going to help you, mamsie—o misery me!” catching sight of herself in the cracked looking-glass. then she burst out laughing and raced into the bedroom. when she came back, every hair was in place, and two braids hanging[169] neatly down her back. mrs. pepper looked up and smiled approval, that seemed to hop right down into polly’s heart, making it glow with comfort.

“i do think this is just the nicest place, mamsie,” she burst forth in the midst of flying about to do the belated morning work, left in order to get the children ready for their visit.

“so it is, polly,” nodded mrs. pepper; “it’s home, and the little brown house is—”

“the very sweetest place,” finished polly, in another burst, and guilty of interrupting.

and just then there was a little scrabbling noise outside the door, and the latch was lifted, and in stumbled joel, and after him davie holding fast to phronsie’s fat little hand. mrs. pepper dropped her work, and sprang up, her face very pale, for she didn’t see any one but the two boys, and polly let the tea-kettle she was carrying over to fill the dish-pan, clatter down to the floor—and away raced the hot water.

“oh, goodness!—oh, here’s phronsie!” cried polly, all in the same breath. then she sprang over the puddle of hot water to throw her arms around the little figure, but mrs. pepper was there first.

[170]“phronsie would come home,” said joel, in a loud, injured key. “her sunbonnet’s untied, and she wouldn’t let me or davie tie it up—she wanted polly to.”

“please, polly,” begged phronsie, holding up her hot little chin, and hanging with both hands to the strings of the pink sunbonnet, “tie me up, ’cause i must hurry to go and see my dear sweet mr. beebe and my dear sweet mrs. beebe.”

“she’s been saying that all the way back,” said davie, sitting down on the kitchen floor, “and we couldn’t hurry to go and see ’em, ’cause she made us come back for polly to tie up the strings.”

“and now we’ve got to go clear back there,” cried joel, wrathfully; “i mean to run every step of the way this time.”

“oh, no, joe, you mustn’t,” said mrs. pepper. “you’ll be a good boy and take hold of phronsie’s hand, and walk nicely, or else you’ll have to stay at home.”

“and that old sunbonnet is going to stay tied this time,” declared polly, getting down on her knees to make a wonderful bow of the strings; “there, says i, pet, that won’t come out! now, mr. sunbonnet, you behave yourself!” and she gave a pat on phronsie’s head.

[171]“mr. sunbonnet, you behave yourself,” gurgled phronsie. so the three children all took hold of hands and started again, mrs. pepper and polly watching them as before, until they were lost in the turn of the road.

all this made them somewhat late at the little shoe-shop down on badgertown’s main street. old mrs. beebe, in one of her best caps with flying pink ribbons, had been out to the old green door, at least three times, shading her eyes, and peering down the narrow cobbled pavement to come back in disappointment.

“you are sure mis’ pepper understood ’twas to-day th’ children was to come, pa?” she asked at last.

“did you ever know mis’ pepper to make a mistake?” answered the old gentleman, calmly sewing up a rip in one of his own old shoes that had been waiting for just such a spare time. he was just as much put out as was his wife at the threatened loss of the visit, but it never would do for both of them to show it at the same time.

“how you can, pa, go right on sewin’ an’ mendin’ same’s every day,” exclaimed old mrs. beebe, sitting down heavily on the settee running the length of their little shop where customers[172] sat to have their boots and shoes fitted on, “i don’t see, when we’re ’xpectin’ those blessed children every minute.” she smoothed down her black silk apron with her plump hands in vexation.

“it’s just because i am ’xpectin’ of ’em every minute to come in,” said old mr. beebe, “that i can set an’ be comf’table,” and he drew up his thread with slow, careful fingers.

“well, i can’t,” said the old lady, twitching the pink flying ribbons on either side of her cheeks into better place. “dear me, i wonder if i got out enough doughnuts; they’ll be awful hungry when they first get here,” and she hurried off into the pantry opening into the room back of the little shop. for this reason, she didn’t hear the small steps on the cobblestones underneath the little-paned window, nor the rattling of the latch, nor any of the bustle of the entrance of the little peppers. and when she got back after replenishing the doughnut plate, there they were surrounding old mr. beebe’s chair!

but didn’t they get a good welcome, though! and phronsie’s pink sunbonnet untied and hung up carefully in mrs. beebe’s bedroom, she soon had a doughnut in her hand while she[173] sat on mr. beebe’s knee; and mother beebe regaled the two boys with a sugary one apiece, and then they each had a cup of real milk.

“i like it,” said phronsie, very gravely, when the old lady set down the cup and wiped off the white drops that trailed away from the little lips; “very much indeed, dear mrs. beebe. why don’t i ever have truly milk at home?” and she put up her mouth for some more.

“i shall let her drink all she wants to,” said old mrs. beebe, nodding furiously over phronsie’s yellow head to the old gentleman, who put up a protesting hand. “there, honey-bird, so you should have some more. it won’t hurt her a mite,” she finished to her husband. and then away she went to see about getting dinner ready and to set out the table with the three extra little plates.

“now, phronsie,” said old mr. beebe, when the doughnut was all eaten, “i’m a-goin’ to show you some o’ my shoes i have for little folks, an’ where i keep ’em.”

“i wore my new shoes,” said phronsie, sticking out both feet to regard them affectionately.

“so you did, to be sure,” exclaimed old mr. beebe, in a tone of great surprise, not having been[174] able to see much else beside phronsie’s face since she had perched on his knees.

“and i must wipe them off,” said phronsie, regarding with great disfavor the dust from her long walk that had clung to them, and trying to slip down from his knee.

“no, no—you set still,” said old mr. beebe. “i’ll clean ’em, child.” with that he whipped out his big bandanna and softly patted and rubbed the little shoes quite bright again. “there—they’re as good as new. how nice you keep ’em, child!”

“they’re shut up in mamsie’s drawer,” said phronsie, following his every movement with great satisfaction. “and i wrap ’em up, dear mr. beebe, every day.”

“so you do,” laughed the old man. “well, that’s a good child.”

“and i love my new shoes—i do, dear mr. beebe.” phronsie put both arms around the black silk stock encircling his fat neck, and whispered in his ear.

“do you so?” whispered back old mr. beebe.

“yes, i do, very much indeed,” whispered phronsie again, nodding her yellow head at every word.

[175]“that’s a good child,” repeated the old gentleman. “well now, phronsie, i must show you where i keep the shoes for other little girls who are good an’ come in to buy ’em,” and he set her gently on the floor.

all this time joel and david had plastered their faces in among the rows of shoes and rubbers dangling from strings running across the shop-window, to see the passers-by in the narrow street, an occupation of which they were never tired, but now hearing old mr. beebe and phronsie opening drawers and undoing little boxes, the two boys deserted their perch in the window and ran across the little shop.

“oh, let me,” cried joel, throwing himself into the centre of operations,—“let me, mr. beebe, take ’em out,” while little david edged up on the other side of phronsie just as eagerly.

“softly—softly,” said the old gentleman; “take care there, joel, you mustn’t touch ’em till i tell you to—” as joel seized a small pair of shiny black slippers out of a box.

“oh, can’t i see ’em?” begged joel, dreadfully disappointed, and having a hard time to keep the tears back.

[176]“maybe,” said old mr. beebe, “but i’m going to show phronsie some of ’em first, an’ she’s goin’ to help me fit ’em if any little girl comes in to buy.”

“oh, may i help you to fit shoes?” screamed joel, with very red cheeks, and even davie cried out too, “oh, please, dear mr. beebe, let us help you fit shoes.”

the old gentleman burst into such a merry fit of laughter at this that even phronsie, although she didn’t in the least know what it was all about, laughed and clapped her hands in glee, joel and david whirling all around the two, begging and teasing so that old mrs. beebe left the little apple turnovers she was filling and ran out into the small shop, her spectacles pushed up to her cap border. “gracious me, pa,” she exclaimed, “i thought some of ’em was hurt.”

“there ain’t no one hurt, only me, ma,” said old mr. beebe, shaking and chuckling and wiping his eyes, “there—there, boys, maybe i’ll let you help me. i d’no but phronsie’s goin’ to—leastways, if there’s a little girl comes in with her ma for a new pair of shoes.”

when this was really explained to phronsie by joel’s screaming it out several times, and[177] davie’s repeating it carefully to her, she sat right down on the floor, quite overcome.

“look at phron!” laughed joel, pointing at her.

“you let her alone,” said old mr. beebe. “now, i tell you what you can do, joel, if you really want to help me.”

“i do; i do!” cried joel. if he couldn’t fit on shoes to possible customers, he could at least be of some importance in that delightful shop, and maybe sometime, if he were very good, old mr. beebe would really let him wait on folks fortunate enough to have money to buy shoes with.

“that’s good,” said the little shopkeeper, rubbing his hands in great satisfaction. “now then, i guess i can find some work for a boy of your size to do. yes, just the very thing.” he went over to the further side of the little shop and lifted the chintz valance hanging down from the lowest shelf. “see those boxes, joel?”

“yes, i do,” said joel, getting down on his knees and peering under the valance, little davie doing the same thing in confidence that something was going to be found for him to help, too.

“well, i want those all taken out and piled on that shelf.” old mr. beebe, who, after all,[178] much preferred them where they were, pointed off to the side of the shop he had left. “think you can do it, joey?”

“yes, sir—ee!” cried joel, decidedly, and beginning at once.

“see here,” said old mr. beebe, in alarm, lest his hard work in finding something for joel to do should result in injury to his beloved goods, “you mustn’t knock off the covers so.”

“i didn’t mean to,” said joel, his cheeks in a blaze, and speedily clapping the cover of the green box fast again.

“i know you didn’t,” said the old gentleman, kindly; “but you mustn’t go so fast, my boy. there—that’s it,” as joel carefully set one box on another and marched across the room with them. “and now, davie.”

david’s blue eyes sparkled with delight. “you can help me ever so much.” he led the way over to a set of drawers that ran around the side of the small shop to meet the little-paned window. “i’ve wanted these done ever so long, and now only to think, one of you pepper children has come to help me out!” and he took up a large snarl of shoe-strings of all lengths, very much tangled up.

[179]david’s face fell, but the old gentleman, not perceiving it, had him sit down on the settee. “now, says i,” and he laid the bunch in davie’s lap, “if you’ll pick that out for me and lay ’em straight, you’ll be a good boy as ever lived.”

to be “a good boy as ever lived” was such a dazzling outlook that little davie, smothering his sigh as he saw joel marching importantly across the shop with his delightful armful of green boxes, took up the snarl, and began at once to pick at the first shoe-string end that presented itself.

“and now, phronsie.” old mr. beebe by this time was over by her side, where she still sat on the floor, quite lost in the delightful thought of the little girl to whom she was to help to fit on her new shoes.

“oh!” she screamed, clapping her hands, as the old gentleman bent over her with—“now, phronsie.” “has she come, dear mr. beebe?”

“not yet,” he said, chuckling, “but you and i are to look out for her, for we never know when customers are comin’ in, phronsie.”

“i suppose she’s on the way,” said phronsie, in grave happiness, and getting up to her feet to smooth down her pinafore. “and she’ll sit[180] right here, dear mr. beebe, won’t she?” running over to pat the old settee.

“yes, maybe,” said the old gentleman, “or i rather think, phronsie, she’d better sit in that little chair where you did when you got your new shoes.”

“yes, she better have my little chair,” cried phronsie, in great excitement, deserting the old settee at once to run over and drag the small wooden chair away from its corner up beside it. and everything being now ready to fit on new shoes to some little girl who needed them very much, old mr. beebe and phronsie now began to watch earnestly for footsteps outside, and to see if the latch on the green door should fly up.

but the latch didn’t fly up, and no one coming, phronsie at last drew a long breath. “the little girl doesn’t come, dear mr. beebe,” she said in a tired voice.

“well, i declare,” mrs. beebe’s voice broke in upon them. “i declare, how busy you all be! an’ dinner’ll be ready in ten minutes: i’ve come to get th’ childern to wash their hands an’ faces.”

“oh, supposing the little girl should come, dear mr. beebe,” phronsie clutched his plump[181] hand and held back as old mrs. beebe waddled across the little shop.

“i guess she ain’t a-comin’ till aft’noon,” said the old gentleman, soothingly, and just then the big iron latch clicked and the green door was thrown open.

“i’ve come,” said a woman, hurrying in, a black crocheted bag dangling from her arm, “to see if you’ve got a pair of shoes to fit my little girl. oh, how do you do, mis’ beebe?”

phronsie screamed right out, “oh, she’s come—she’s come!” and pulled the little shopkeeper’s hand as hard as she could.

“so she has,” said old mr. beebe, every bit as much excited. “yes, indeed, mis’ phipps, i’ve got a splendid fit. walk right in an’ set down.” he waved her over toward the settee and the little wooden chair close to it. “an’ you come along with me, phronsie, an’ we’ll pick out some to suit this little girl.”

everything now settling down to business, old mrs. beebe turned to dave. “well, well, an’ what has pa set you to doin’?” she cried, bending over him and his snarl of shoe-strings. “i declare, i never see sech a boy; you’re pickin’ out those dreadful things jest splendid. yes,[182] this is mis’ pepper’s boy, mis’ phipps, that lives in the little brown house, an’ that’s the other one,” nodding over to joel, now down on his knees, prowling under the old chintz valance.

“and that’s phronsie,” added david, afraid she would be forgotten and left out in the enumeration, and laying down his strings long enough to point to her over with the old gentleman.

“is that so?” said the customer, regarding him with great interest. “an’ how is your ma?” turning off from the small girl on the little wooden chair, who was following phronsie and the little shopkeeper with her intent eyes. and without waiting for a reply, her gaze roved over to joel and at last switched off to phronsie and the little shopkeeper.

“i’m in a great hurry, mr. beebe,” she said importantly; “an’ if you hain’t got any shoes for marianna, why, i must go somewhere’s else. we are to meet her pa at simmons’s; he’s come to sell his grain, and he’ll be all put out ef we ain’t on time. i’ve sold my eggs and butter,” she volunteered, shaking the black crocheted bag on her arm, so that an old pocket-book could be seen dancing about within the meshes.

[183]“we’ll get marianna’s shoes es quick ’s we can,” said old mr. beebe, composedly, “but ef you’d rather go somewhere’s else, mis’ phipps, why, i’d advise you to.”

“oh, i didn’t say as i was goin’,” replied mrs. phipps, hastily. “you mustn’t get mad, mr. beebe,” she added in an injured tone.

“’n’ i’m glad you’ve had good luck,” said the old gentleman, beginning to feel that perhaps he had used unkindly speech.

“oh, i hain’t had such very good luck,” cried mrs. phipps, in great alarm lest the price of shoes should go up. “’tain’t no easy matter when all is counted up, to make much out o’ a few hens that do nothin’ all day but eat fit to burst.”

“well, here’s a pair, now.” mr. beebe took the two little shoes out from the box, turned them over several times in his big hands, felt of the leather of each upper, then finally placed them in phronsie’s hands. “you run over and show ’em to that lady,” he said, nodding over to the settee.

mrs. phipps eyed phronsie curiously, dividing her interest between her and the shoes, marianna doing the same, so that when the little shopkeeper advanced to them, there wasn’t much[184] progress made toward a trade, and old mrs. beebe, smothering a sigh, waddled out to see if by chance the stewed beef set back on the stove could have caught.

“it’s good leather,” said mr. beebe. “you needn’t pinch it so hard, mis’ phipps; that shoe’ll wear like iron.”

“it can stand a few pinches now, then,” said mrs. phipps, grimly, and nipping up another portion between her hard nails.

“now let’s slip on that shoe,” cried mr. beebe, quickly, “an’ see how it fits. maybe it won’t do at all.”

“i want it,” said marianna, suddenly, the first word she had spoken, and leaning over her mother’s arm, her mouth watering for the possession of the coveted treasure.

“stick out your foot then,” said old mr. beebe, cheerily. “now, phronsie, you sit down on the floor. then, says i, that shoe’ll fly on. tee—hee—hee!”

“that child ain’t a-goin’ to try on shoes!” gasped mrs. phipps, in amazement. “why, what are you thinkin’ of, mr. beebe?” she hitched her black crocheted bag up farther on her arm, throwing aside her shawl-ends nervously.

[185]“ef i fit shoes,” observed old mr. beebe, “i fit ’em as i please in my shop. as long as they fit, i dunno’s folks can complain.”

but phronsie took her gaze off from the customer’s face, and got up from the floor where she had obediently seated herself. “the lady doesn’t want me to, dear mr. beebe,” she said gravely, and her mouth quivered.

“oh, yes, she does,” said old mr. beebe, confidently, “or else, you see, phronsie, there ain’t goin’ to be any shoes fitted in this shop.”

“i want them shoes,” screamed marianna, in a loud cry, and pointing a red little finger at the one now dangling from mr. beebe’s hand. it was so piercing, that joel dropped a green box and sprang across the little shop to see what was the matter. david had long ago laid down his snarl of shoe-strings to give absorbing attention to his neighbors on the settee, and the little wooden chair.

“stop your noise,” commanded her mother, angrily. “i hain’t any objection to her, i’m sure,” turning to old mr. beebe, “so long’s you’re there.”

“there, you see, phronsie, th’ lady’s willin’,” said the old gentleman.

[186]“is she, dear mr. beebe?” asked phronsie, clinging to his hand and wishing very much that mamsie was there.

“yes, indeed; so sit down, child, and pull on th’ shoe.”

so phronsie got down on the old shop floor again, and marianna in a perfect tremor of bliss tore off her old shoe, and stuck out her very much darned brown cotton stocking. and phronsie, with both hands trembling in delight and with a great deal of fear lest the terrible lady staring at her from above might not like it after all, pulled on the new shoe, old mr. beebe only having to give a helping hand once when it stuck on the heel.

“it fits—it fits!” screamed marianna, her black eyes protruding. joel joined her in a crow, but that was at phronsie’s success in helping dear mr. beebe so well.

“keep still; you can’t tell nothin’ till it’s tied on,” said marianna’s mother. so phronsie began on the long strings. this was greater enjoyment even than to fit the shoes.

“here, let me help you,” joel dropped to the floor by her side.

“no—no,” protested phronsie, “i must do ’em all myself, joey.”

[187]“you let her be,” said the old gentleman, “an’ get me a chair, joel.”

“she’s doing ’em all in the wrong holes,” said joel, running for the chair which he dragged up to the scene of operations.

“never mind; there, phronsie,” old mr. beebe seated himself in the chair, and leaning over marianna’s foot, somehow or other each little hole soon had the right string in it, and a bow was neatly tied, and phronsie, with very pink cheeks, was regarding her work. “i did do it,” she cried in a joyful little voice.

“’taint done yet,” announced mrs. phipps—“not till she stamps in it.” so marianna stamped up and down in front of them all till even her mother had to be satisfied, and then the other shoe was put on and tied up, and everything was done but paying for them. at last the old pocket-book was drawn out of the black crocheted bag. “i suppose you’ll mend these up for nothin’, seein’ i’ve bought a new pair,” said mrs. phipps, suddenly, pausing before opening the pocket-book flap, and pointing to the old shoes on the floor.

old mr. beebe picked up one of marianna’s old shoes. “i couldn’t do that,” he said; “an’[188] besides, mis’ phipps, there ain’t nothin’ to mend. she’s run ’em all out.”

“humph—that’s all nonsense,” ejaculated marianna’s mother. but seeing that she couldn’t get anything out of the little shopkeeper but that one statement, she had the old shoes done up in a newspaper, and counting out the price of the new ones in quarters and ten-cent pieces, she took her departure, saying, “i shouldn’t let her wear those home ef i warn’t goin’ to make a call on th’ way this aft’noon.” then she peered into the room back of the shop, “i must say good-by to mis’ beebe.”

this took some minutes, as the smell of the dinner and the table all set made it impossible for mrs. phipps to leave it without a strong effort to include herself and her daughter in the family for that one meal, but old mrs. beebe, not looking at it in just that way, mrs. phipps twitched marianna’s hat straight and hauled her off without any good-by after all.

but oh! what a good dinner the little shopkeeper had sitting at the head of his table, with old mrs. beebe, her pink cap ribbons flying, at the other end, and the three little peppers, their plates filled with splendid pieces of stewed[189] beef and dumplings. how the spoons and forks flew! till even joel couldn’t eat any more, and davie was obliged to give up the effort to see the bottom of his plate cleared. and after dinner—well then, why, phronsie must have her nap. “for we can’t have polly come running in, and not have this blessed little creeter’s eyes as bright as buttons,” said the little old lady.

“oh, i’m not tired,” protested phronsie, vigorously.

“no, that would never do,” declared old mrs. beebe, just as decidedly. “now then, phronsie child, you shall curl up on pa’s sofa, an’ i’ll cover you with my plaid shawl; then, says i, you’ll be asleep in forty winks.”

to curl up on pa’s sofa, and, best of all, to have spread over her dear mrs. beebe’s plaid shawl, was after all something well worth thinking about. so phronsie allowed herself to be patted into place, and mrs. beebe pulled down the old green paper shade and waddled softly out. in five minutes she thrust her cap in around the half-opened door. there lay phronsie, one little hand grasping tightly the old frayed fringe, fast asleep as anything.

[190]meantime old mr. beebe had a hard time enough with the two boys! joel’s task of carrying the green boxes from under the chintz valance to the shelf was soon finished, but as he wouldn’t do anything till davie could join in it, and the snarl of strings was apparently (no matter how diligently worked over) not much nearer unravelling than when begun, and little david could not be persuaded to leave it, the old gentleman was in despair.

“come, davie,” he said for the third time. but david shook his head and kept picking away. he didn’t mean to be disobedient, but all his mind intent on helping dear good mr. beebe, it never entered his head to leave his task until completed.

at last joel flung himself flat on the floor, and waving both feet in the air, gave a loud cry of disapproval. “he’s a naughty boy,” he said, “and i shall tell mamsie he wouldn’t mind you.”

down fell davie’s snarl of shoe-strings to his lap. “oh, joel,” he cried, slipping from the old settee to the floor beside him, “don’t, don’t tell mamsie.”

“i will,” said joel, seeing his advantage with great delight and cocking one black eye at him. “i’ll tell her mr. beebe told you one—two—ten—’leven[191] times to stop those old strings, and you wouldn’t mind him—so there!”

“joel,” cried little david, in the greatest distress and clasping both hands; “i’ll stop this very minute. i will, joel, truly i will.”

“won’t you go at ’em again?” demanded joel, thinking it just as well to have it settled definitely.

“no, i won’t,” said davie, swallowing hard, “not till dear mr. beebe lets me, if you only won’t tell mamsie.”

“then, i won’t tell mamsie,” promised joel, springing to his feet. “come on, dave. now, what’ll we do, mr. beebe?” he cried.

“well now, i tell you,” said the old gentleman, wrinkling up his forehead in thought; “you’ve got to stretch your legs outdoors else you’ll be sick. s’posin’ you run down to th’ butcher’s shop an’ tell mr. hanks i may want, in th’ mornin’, a slice o’ ham. don’t say as i will, remember, but i may. an’ then come right back, an’ you can set in th’ window, an’ see th’ passin’, an’ watch fer polly an’ ben.”

“all right,” shouted joel, and seizing davie’s hand, he bore him off, and the two little figures clattered off over the cobblestones. presently there they were back again, and crowded up in[192] among the dangling shoes and slippers, their faces pressed against the small-paned window.

but it seemed as if polly would never come, although they knew she would get through her work first; it always took ben a good while when he was tackling any work at deacon blodgett’s, and they were nearly turning away in despair when, “hooray!”—joel spied her first, and he jumped so quickly he knocked down one of the strings and away flew a whole lot of rubbers into the middle of the floor.

“’tain’t hurt ’em a mite,” said old mr. beebe, as joel paused in his mad career. so off the two boys dashed to meet polly, flying up over the cobblestones, her cheeks as rosy as anything and her brown eyes dancing.

“oh, i’m so glad to get here!” she exclaimed, seizing them both. “o dear me, i thought i should never get through my work. where’s phronsie?”

“she’s asleep,” said joel, “and you’ve been awful slow;” all the while he clung to her hand tightly.

“i know it,” laughed polly, “but i’m so glad dear mrs. beebe made her take her nap. well, mamsie sent you her love, and she knew you’d been good children.”

[193]little david hung his head. that affair about the shoe-strings still troubled him, and he meant to tell mamsie as soon as he got home, but joel saved him all words at present.

“we’ve been as good as pie,” he declared. that made him think of that delightful dinner. “we had some, polly,” he cried, “little ones,” and he smacked his lips.

“and they were all juice,” said little davie, reflectively, from the other side.

“yes, and mrs. beebe has saved one for you and one for ben ’cause you couldn’t come to dinner,” said joel.

“has she?” cried polly, radiantly. “oh, isn’t that too good of her! and ben does so love little pies.”

“i wish she’d saved me one,” said joel. “so do i love ’em.”

“why, you ate yours up, joey,” said little davie, craning his neck around polly to regard him with surprise.

“i know it,” said joel, bursting into a laugh, “but i wish i had another.”

“well, if you’ve had one of dear mrs. beebe’s little pies, joe,” said polly, laughing too, “that’s quite enough,” as they scrambled up to the green door.

[194]and phronsie opened her eyes the minute they all swarmed into the room back of the little shop, old mr. and mrs. beebe joining the ranks, and sat up quite straight on pa’s old sofa, and put out her arms with a little crow—“oh, polly, take me!” tangled up as she was in the old plaid shawl. and then after they had all sobered down after the delight over polly’s coming, the old lady exclaimed suddenly, “dear me, i must set th’ table for supper, so’s to be all ready for ben.”

“oh, let me help,” cried polly, putting phronsie down and flying after her.

“let me too,” piped phronsie, stumbling after.

“and me—and me!” echoed joel and david.

and old mrs. beebe laughing and saying “yes, come along all of you,” the whole bunch of peppers rushed here and there quite overcome with delight, all getting hold of the table-cloth at once, so that nobody could pull it straight.

“see here,” said polly, when she had whirled around and around the table, first pulling one corner and then another straight, to have it immediately whisked away; “we can’t ever do it this way. now, only one of you must help me,[195] and the others stand still. take care, joe, you’ll tear it!”

“it’s all hanging on the floor,” declared joel.

“well, that’s because you twitched it so,” said polly, in vexation, and running around the table again to examine it for herself. “o dear me, so it is. well now, joel, you let it alone, and davie and i will straighten it.”

“i don’t want to fix it,” said joel, quite well pleased to have nothing to do with it, and only longing for the time to come when the dishes should be placed on the table. so polly and little david patted and pulled it quite straight and smoothed out all the crinkles. “now,” said polly with a long breath, stepping back to review the work, “doesn’t that look just fine though!”

then joel made a rush for the pantry door. “i’m going to get the dishes,” he shouted.

“oh, no, you mustn’t, joe,” cried polly, in alarm. “i’m going to take them down; you might break them.”

“i ain’t goin’ to have those dishes for supper to-day,” said old mrs. beebe. “i’m goin’ to set out my best chiney.”

“you’re going to set out your best china!” gasped polly, and looking over at the corner[196] cupboard, not believing that she could have heard straight.

“yes,” said old mrs. beebe, nodding till her pink cap ribbons trembled violently, “i am, for i hain’t used ’em since th’ minister took tea here when he first come to badgertown, an’ that’s ten years ago; an’ i was thinkin’ th’ other day i wish’t i had a chance to set ’em out.”

“but s’posing we should break them.” polly came over to say this in an awe-struck voice, while the boys, quite impressed with all this, crowded up to hear the whole of it, phronsie was spinning around the room making a merry little cheese and humming softly to herself. it was quite enough for her to be at supper at her dear sweet mrs. beebe’s and to have polly safely there.

“oh, you won’t break any of ’em,” said the little old lady, confidently, and going over to the corner cupboard; “i shall give th’ childern some mugs, but you and ben shall have a nice cup an’ saucer, an’ we’ll have th’ cake-plate and th’ glass pudding-dish,” and her eyes shone.

polly turned quite pale. it was perfectly splendid, but oh, if anything should happen to[197] those two cups and saucers that ben and she were to have! but she had no time to worry about it, as old mrs. beebe now handed down from one of the shelves a china mug. “there,” she said, “that’s for phronsie’s place. i used to drink out of it when i wasn’t any bigger’n she is. ‘from a friend,’” read the old lady, turning the mug around so that they all could get the best view.

“let me see—i want to see ‘from a friend,’” screamed joel, crowding up, while little davie edged up to gaze at the faded gilt letters.

“yes, my mother’s uncle give it to me. he said i was a good girl. i warn’t no bigger’n phronsie, an’ she’s a good girl, so i’m goin’ to let her drink out of it to-day.”

“phronsie, you’re going to drink out of ‘from a friend,’” screamed joel, deserting old mrs. beebe and the china mug to run and twitch her pink pinafore.

when phronsie understood that she was really to have her milk in that splendid china mug that her dear sweet mrs. beebe used to drink out of when she was a little girl, her delight knew no bounds. and she went and stood by the table-edge, quite satisfied not to move, so long as she[198] could look at it where polly had placed it ready for supper.

“i wish i could have a ‘from a friend’ to drink out of,” grumbled joel.

“hush, for shame, joe!” said polly. but old mrs. beebe had heard. “well, now i must see what i can get for you, joel,” she said kindly. “an’ then davie must have one, too.”

“yes, you must get dave one, too,” said joel, hopping from one set of toes to the other in delight.

“you can take pa’s cup; he hain’t used that for years,” said mrs. beebe. she handed down a great coffee cup. the handle was snipped and the flowers around the edge were much worn.

“the saucer’s broke, but you don’t need one,” said mrs. beebe, setting the cup within joel’s awe-struck hand.

“what’s that?” asked joel, running one finger over the edge of the cup that covered the top a little way.

“oh, that was when pa had a beard. he used to wear his hair all round his mouth,” said old mrs. beebe; “but he shaved it all off a good many years ago. an’ the saucer’s got broke, so we set th’ cup up[199] on th’ shelf. but i’m goin’ to let you drink out of it, now, joel.”

joel, vastly pleased to have something used by a big man with hair all round his mouth, marched with it to the table. “there, that’s mine,” he announced. “it’s a great deal better than any old ‘from a friend.’”

little davie held his hands closely clasped together. would the corner cupboard hold any more such splendid things to drink out of as joel and phronsie had received. he scarcely breathed when—“there, says i, davie, now what do you think!” and a little mug was held before him. it had two shining lustre bands running around it and between them was a yellow band, and on it, for all the world, was in big letters of gilt “for david.”

when david saw those words, he seized the little mug, and screamed right out, “it’s for me to drink out of!” and held it close to his blue eyes big with joy.

“that was my grandpa’s,” said old mrs. beebe, in as great a delight. “an’ his name was david—david brown. an’ now to think you are goin’ to drink out o’ it to-day, you preety creeter, you!” and she beamed at him.

[200]“oh, david!” exclaimed polly, hurrying over to him, “do be careful. oh, dear mrs. beebe, i don’t believe he ought to have it.” but davie hugged his treasure tightly to his bosom, and went unsteadily over to put it on the table.

“he won’t break it,” said mrs. beebe; “an’ besides, i’m goin’ to give it to him ’cause o’ th’ name, when i get through with bein’ able to look up an’ see it up there in that cupboard. an’ now you come an’ help me set out th’ cups and saucers for ben an’ you.”

“oh, here he comes!” cried polly, with a glance through the glass door opening into the little shop. “oh, ben!” and with a bound she flew off to meet him.

“hooray!” joel deserted his treasure, but little davie and phronsie had been so absorbed in theirs that they hadn’t heard a word.

“well,” cried ben, his cheeks glowing and his big blue eyes alight, as he came in with polly and joel hanging to him, and old mr. beebe, rubbing his hands in satisfaction, bringing up the rear. and he had hardly spoken to dear old mrs. beebe before joel dragged him off to the table. “i’ve got a cup all to myself; see, ben, see—see—and a big man used to drink[201] out of it with hair all round his mouth; and it’s mine. and phronsie got a ‘from a friend,’ and i like mine best.”

“hulloa!” exclaimed ben, “and so pet has got one, too,” and he bent to kiss her.

“yes,” hummed phronsie, putting a little finger gently on it, “and i like it, bensie, very much, i do.”

“well, see davie’s,” cried polly, getting hold of ben’s jacket to pilot him around the table; “only think of this ‘for david,’” and she held the shining little lustre mug up.

“well! well!” exclaimed ben, quite overcome; while old mr. beebe nodded and smiled over the heads of the five little peppers as pleased as the children themselves.

“and see our cups,” cried polly, at last, pointing to the corner cupboard where the whole array of ancient flowered china was spread forth. “you and i are each going to have one of those! dear mrs. beebe told me so her own self.”

“an’ now, says i, i must get ’em down, an’ then you an’ me, polly, will set on th’ supper. we’ll have it early ’cause ben must be hungry.”

“i am,” said ben, “awfully hungry. i believe i could eat a bear—every bit of him!”

[202]“oh, ben,” screamed joel, swarming over him excitedly, “not his head, ben, and his legs, and every single smitch of him.”

“yes, sir!” declared ben, recklessly. “i’m so hungry, joe, there wouldn’t be any bear when i got through.”