polly pepper drew a long breath and stepped up on the flat stone before the parsonage door. even then it was not too late to turn and run home! but mamsie—oh, that would never do, for hadn’t mrs. pepper sent her with the blue bowl that had contained the little pat of butter, and her thanks for it! and if she, polly, should turn her back on it all and run home, why, it would be such a dreadful thing and disgrace the little brown house forever. no, she must go through with it, and face miss jerusha, if, as she dreaded, that lady should come to the door. so she lifted the big brass knocker, and let it fall with a clang.
heavy steps sounded along the oil-cloth on the hall and the big door was thrown open. yes, it was just as dreadful as she expected! there was the minister’s sister.
[318]“go right away,” said miss jerusha, shaking a long, bony hand; “don’t you know any better’n to come to this door?”
“my mother sent me, and—” gasped polly, with shaking fingers hanging fast to the little blue bowl.
“your mother?—well, didn’t she know any better’n to have you come to this door?” broke in miss jerusha, with asperity; “an’ who is she, anyway?” all in the same breath.
“she’s mrs. pepper, and oh—”
“oh, are you one of those pepper children who live in that old brown house all down at the heel?” interrupted miss jerusha.
“yes,” said polly, with a warm little throb at her heart. wasn’t it just the dearest place on earth, and what would she give to be there now!
“well, you go right away,” commanded the minister’s sister, decidedly. “you needn’t come begging here. i declare, if you hain’t brought a bowl this blessed minute.”
“oh, we never begged in our lives,” cried polly, in horror, every bit of color flying from her round cheek. then she jumped off from the door-stone, only one thought possessing her,—to get to mamsie.
[319]“jerusha, who is it?” the parson’s wife came out of the keeping-room to the front door.
“oh, some sort o’ a begging person,” said miss jerusha, shortly, and trying to slam the door fast.
“a begging person?” mrs. henderson being of another mind about the big door, was presently peering down the path. “why, it’s polly pepper!” and she ran out after her.
“what nonsense!” sniffed miss jerusha, craning her long neck after her.
“polly,” called mrs. henderson. but polly’s wild little heart was urging her on so fiercely that she didn’t hear anything else but those dreadful words that had been spoken. so the minister’s wife picked up her skirts and ran as she seldom did since she was a girl. “polly,” she panted, at last coming up to the flying little figure; “oh, do stop,—for i really—can’t run any more.” and polly whirled around, her cheeks still white, and her brown eyes flashing.
“oh, polly.” mrs. henderson, dismayed at the face, thought better of any idea of possible questions then and there. “come,” she said, taking one of the hands away from the little blue bowl.
[320]“oh, i can’t,” said polly, in a passion, and standing quite still, and she tried to pull away her hand.
but the minister’s wife, not disclosing any idea of letting it go, but instead marching off toward the parsonage, polly had nothing to do but to walk along by her side, over the flat door-stone again, and although she felt as if she must die in doing it, pass that dreadful figure of miss jerusha in the hall, till at last the two were standing in the study doorway.
“well, polly?” parson henderson laid down his pen. he was in the midst of his next sunday’s sermon, to be sure, but as he somehow couldn’t work past that “seventhly,” he welcomed the interruption.
“well, i never!” miss jerusha, stalking after, looked over the two; “to think of bringin’ in that girl an’ interruptin’ you, adoniram!”
“oh, i’m glad to see polly pepper always,” said the minister, gayly. he was away from his desk by this time, and with polly’s cold little hand in his, was leading her to a seat, the minister’s wife getting on the other side. miss jerusha sniffed, and made for a chair at the end of the room.
[321]“well, i never!” she exclaimed again, as she sat down heavily and she raised her long hands.
“please let me go home,” begged polly, faintly, and turning away her brown eyes from the big, square figure. “oh, please, sir, do let me.”
“oh, jerusha,”—parson henderson held polly’s hand tightly as he turned to his sister,—“i want to talk to this little girl now, so please go into the keeping-room.”
“how you can be so imposed on, adoniram, is more’n i can see,” miss jerusha snorted, but she got up from her chair, stalked out, and brought the door to with a spiteful little snip. if she was going at all, she would do it thoroughly.
when polly pepper was let out of the big door, she had a posy in one hand, and in the other, a paper bag holding half a dozen little cupcakes fresh from the parsonage oven that very morning.
“now come again soon, polly.” mrs. henderson bent and kissed the rosy cheek.
“yes’m,” said polly, with a happy little thrill, “and oh, thank you so much, dear mrs. henderson, for mamsie’s cakes, and the flowers.” she gave a little hug to the posy and her brown eyes danced.
[322]“i’m glad you love flowers so much, polly,” said the minister’s wife, happy enough that she had cut her two precious rose-geranium blossoms. “well, come again, child, when you can.”
the dimity curtain in the keeping-room window was twitched away to admit a long face with its sharp eyes peering around the ruffled edge. but polly didn’t see it as she skipped happily down the path to the gate, and the minister’s wife hurrying back along the hall to the study, was not conscious of the “almira” called too late.
“well?” the parson who had recovered his pen, laid it down again.
“oh, adoniram,” she shut the door and came around to his chair, “we must do something for that child—for all those children.” she seized his well-worn sleeve and held it fast.
“i know—i know,” parson henderson nodded, thoughtfully, “and there’s ben. i must confess, almira, i get to thinking of him so much it’s hard to shake it off.”
“but he is a boy,” said his wife.
“even boys can suffer,” observed the parson, dryly.
“oh, i know, husband.” mrs. henderson now gripped his coat collar and peered round into[323] his face anxiously. “you know i think ben pepper has an awfully hard time, but, then, he can go out and work, and there’s polly,—she must stay in and help her mother, and have no schooling and no fun; and then, o dear me, there’s that blessed little thing, phronsie!”
“yes, there’s phronsie,” said the minister, with a twinge at the heart, “and joel and david; we mustn’t forget them, wife.”
“oh, i don’t forget them,” cried his wife; “i can’t for a single moment forget any one of those five poor little things. o dear me, if only there weren’t so many of them, adoniram.”
“and mrs. pepper, we mustn’t forget her, either,” the minister drummed on his desk with troubled fingers; “for she has really the hardest time of all.” and he got out of his chair, and drawing his wife’s arm within his own, began to pace over the well-worn carpet.
“adoniram,” she clutched his arm with her other hand, “just think if i hadn’t seen that child flying off! just think!” she brought her anxious blue eyes up to his dark ones.
parson henderson’s face dropped gloomily. “yes, we ought to do something to make up for jerusha.” he brought the last out with a deep flush.
[324]“oh, don’t look so, dear. you can’t help it,” cried his wife, with a remorseful throb at her unlucky words.
“i sometimes think,” began the minister, then he stopped short.
“don’t think,” she begged, under her breath; “you had to do it, and it was just lovely of you, adoniram.” she tried to get up on tiptoe to plant a little kiss between the troubled eyes. failing of this, she dropped it on the rusty sleeve,—“don’t, dear.”
“yes, there was no other place for her to go to, and she was good to mother.” but the dark eyes were still troubled.
“yes, it was lovely of you to have her here,” repeated mrs. henderson; “so don’t think any more of it, husband,” she implored.
“it’s you who are lovely, almira,” he said, with a sigh.
“nonsense; and i shouldn’t have loved you half as much if you hadn’t looked out for your sister,” cried his wife, with spirit; “so don’t let us worry any more about it. besides, just think of her going away to-morrow!—and two whole weeks, adoniram!” she drew a long breath, and hugged her husband’s arm tighter.
[325]“poor almira!” he said, looking down at her. then he laughed like a boy, it was so good to think of that to-morrow that cousin henry’s invitation would bring about.
“hush—hush!” said his wife, pinching his arm tighter. “i’m afraid she’ll hear. well, now, let us think about the peppers. there isn’t anything we can give them—” she broke off a minute, her gaze caught by a thin place in the study carpet, and she tried to step gingerly over it, guiding the parson askew—“and besides, mrs. pepper wouldn’t take it even if we had any money.”
“no, indeed,” said the parson, with decision, “i can’t think of that woman accepting money.”
“well—o dear me!” mrs. henderson wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. “i do believe the first thing is to make polly happy after this—this afternoon. supposing i set up the attic, adoniram, to-morrow, and get her to help me,” she brought up brightly.
“i thought that attic was in a perennial state of order,” said the minister, bursting into another laugh. “i’m sure, almira, you never have even a ladies’ prayer-meeting here without you first overhaul things up there, and sweep down the attic stairs.”
[326]mrs. henderson gave a merry little laugh, it was so good to see him cheery once more.
“well, i’m going to set it up to-morrow, anyway,” she declared. “there’s a chest that isn’t looked over, and ever so many things up there that ought to be seen to. and i’ll ask polly to come over and help, and then she can stay to dinner. you know jerusha goes early in the stage—” she brought up with satisfaction.
“and why not ask her to bring phronsie?” said the parson. “the child can play around, and she can be with us at dinner, too.”
“now, how nice it is that you always think of the best things!” cried his wife, in delight. “yes, that will be fine for to-morrow, and make polly forget everything that wasn’t pleasant, and we’ll all enjoy it as much as those two blessed children. why can’t peletiah run down now to the little brown house and invite them?”
“well, he can start,” said the minister, grimly, with a vivid remembrance of peletiah’s usual rate of speed; “that’s a good idea, wife.” so mrs. henderson hurried out of the study. “well, if peletiah is slow, it’s a comfort he’s so steady; we can always find him when wanted,” she reflected. and after many repetitions of the message[327] to be delivered to mrs. pepper had at last fixed it in his mind, he set forth at a stolid pace for the little brown house.
“somebody’s coming!” cried davie, hearing crunching on the gravel. “joey, wait a minute!”
joel, kneeling on the floor and pounding the cover on an old wooden box he was going to try to catch rabbits in, didn’t hear, and gave a lusty blow with his hammer. “gee—whickets!” as the nail,—a crooked one,—went in all askew.
“do stop,” begged davie, with one ear on the door. and “oh, joel, how can you say such perfectly dreadful words!” cried polly, from the corner where she was trying to fix up mamsie’s work-basket that had been upset.
“there is some one coming,” declared davie, a little pink spot coming on his cheek; “there surely is, polly,” and he stood quite still to listen.
“oh, no,” said polly, with a little laugh, “it can’t be, because we don’t ever have calls, you know.” she dropped a spool with a long white thread dangling from her fingers, down in her lap, and the laugh broke off suddenly. “i wish we could ever have calls; wouldn’t it be perfectly elegant if we only could,” she said wistfully.
[328]“oh, polly, don’t look so,” implored little davie, rushing over to her, while joel hammered in another nail with a great bang. “hoh! we do, too,” he cried; “mr. beebe comes and mrs. beebe. i like her best ’cause she brings doughnuts.”
“oh, joey, for shame,” cried polly, “to think only of what she brings us to eat!”
“they’re good,” said joel, smacking his lips, and laying down the hammer to think the better over the delights of good mrs. beebe’s visits.
“i like mr. beebe,” said david, turning off from polly to announce it.
“so do i,” said joel, sitting back on his heels, and flourishing his hammer; “he brings candy sticks.”
“he brings candy sticks,” hummed phronsie, shaking off the little snips and shavings of wood from her gown and getting up from the floor where she had been crouching by joel’s side, she ran over to polly who had now picked up the spools of thread remorsefully, and was hurrying away at fixing up the work-basket. “oh, polly, i want some pink candy sticks, i do.”
“there, now, joel, you see,” said polly, reprovingly. “no, no, phronsie, we can’t have any to-day, pet.”
[329]“but i want some, polly, i do—very much indeed,” said phronsie, gravely, and her little lips fell.
polly threw down the coat and was just gathering her up in her lap, when she stopped suddenly. “there is somebody at the door. oh, perhaps it is a call after all, children,” and she drew herself up and felt elegant at once.
“i’ll go,” cried joel, hopping to his feet.
“no, you mustn’t, joe,” said polly, decidedly; “davie heard it first—you must let him.”
“well, you said it wasn’t any one,” grumbled joel, but he stood still in his tracks.
“well, and i didn’t think it was,” said polly, pricking up her ears. “yes, there it is—sure enough,” as a soft, deliberate rap sounded on the old door. “now, davie, you open the door nicely and say mamsie isn’t home, but would they please to walk in.” she patted his hair softly. “i’m so glad i put on phronsie’s clean pink apron,” she said in great satisfaction.
little david went softly across the kitchen floor, wishing polly had let joel go since he wanted to so very badly, and with fingers trembling from his great responsibility, he lifted the latch and pulled the old door open.
[330]there stood peletiah, the minister’s son. joel, crowding up behind davie, took one look,—“hoh, ’tisn’t any one,” he cried, terribly disappointed.
“oh, joel,” exclaimed polly, springing to the door, very much ashamed at such a reception to the minister’s boy, and “oh, peletiah, do come in,” she cried heartily.
“yes, i’m coming in,” said peletiah, not a bit disturbed at joel’s words, “because my mother told me to.” and he stepped slowly into the middle of the old kitchen floor, where he stood and regarded them all steadily.
“won’t you sit down, peletiah?” said polly, with her best company manner. “joel, get a chair—” for joel had turned on his heel to make tracks for his rabbit-box again.
so joel had to whirl around, but little davie had seen his face. “oh, let me, polly,” he begged, but polly shook her head.
so joel dragged up one of the chairs ranged against the wall, and pushed it back of the minister’s son, but peletiah paid no sort of attention to it.
“my—mother—wants—mrs.—pepper—to—let—polly—and—phronsie—come—to—the—parsonage—to-morrow—morning—and—help—her—and—stay—to—dinner,”[331] he said, in a sing-song voice.
“what?” cried polly, not believing her ears. joel, who on furnishing the chair considered his hospitable duties all completed, was hurrying back to his beloved rabbit-box when “stay to dinner” caught his ear, and he bounded back.
“my—mother—wants—mrs.—pepper—to—let—polly—and—phronsie—come—to—the—parsonage—to-morrow—morning—and—help—her—and—stay—to—dinner,” said peletiah again, not moving a muscle.
“oh, goody!” cried polly, clapping her hands. then she thought of miss jerusha, and her face fell.
“oh, didn’t she want us? say, aren’t dave and i going?” joel plucked peletiah’s sleeve, and thrust his face eagerly into the midst of the group.
“my—mother—wants—mrs.—pepper—to—let—polly—and—phronsie—come—to—the—parsonage—to-morrow—morning—and—help—her—and—stay—to—dinner,” said peletiah again, patiently.
“o dear, dear, didn’t she ask us?” cried joel, terribly disappointed.
[332]“my—mother—wants—” began peletiah again.
“yes, yes, we understand, peletiah,” said polly, recovering her spirits that had fallen on account of miss jerusha, for surely the minister’s wife would make her be kind to them; polly could believe that, after to-day—“and aren’t you ashamed, joel?” all in the same breath.
“he keeps saying the same thing over and over,” cried joel, very much disgusted, “and he doesn’t tell about dave and me a bit, and i know she wants us, too,” he added, in an injured tone.
“my—mother—wants—” began peletiah once more.
“yes, yes, thank you,” cried polly, quickly. “now, joel, keep still. and we’ll be so glad to go, phronsie and i, that is, if mamsie will say we may. and please tell your mother so, and, oh, thank her ever so much, please.” polly folded and unfolded her hands in a dreadful panic lest she might not be saying just the right thing, for it was the first time an invitation of this kind had come to her, and mamsie away!
“and now you must stop and play with us,” polly hurried to say, for there were lively indications[333] on joel’s part that he was about to return to the subject uppermost in his own mind. “let’s think,” ran on polly, wrinkling her brows, “what we want to do first.”
“he can’t play,” said joel, with a sniff.
“why can’t we play ‘stage-coach’?” proposed polly, to save further remarks from joel. “come, boys, let’s fix the chairs.” and she bustled about to make things pleasant for their guest, little davie running to help her, and phronsie getting dreadfully in the way.
“he doesn’t know how to play,” said joel, loudly, supposing he hadn’t been understood.
“come on, joel,” called polly, making such a rattle with the chairs that she couldn’t be supposed to hear conversation. peletiah stood quite still and looked at them all.
“there, now, we’re ready,” announced polly, standing by the line of chairs set in the middle of the floor; “oh, no, not quite—you must turn that one around, davie.”
“so i must,” laughed little david, running to do it.
“i’m going to play ‘stage-coach,’” announced phronsie, in great glee, running over to stand in front of peletiah and look up at him. “i am.”[334] and she smoothed down her pink apron with great satisfaction.
“come, peletiah,” called polly, at the head of the line; “come, joel!”
all the little peppers rushed up to her, but peletiah stood stock-still.
“now, you know,” said polly, standing very importantly at the head of the line of chairs, “i ought to tell you, peletiah, this is the way we play stage-coach, because there aren’t enough of us to play it the really truly way, so we put ‘going to jerusalem’ and ‘stage-coach’ together. now, come on, we’re ready to begin.” so polly commenced to sing, as she slowly walked around the line, phronsie pattering after, and then joel and little david, all screaming at the top of their voices—“we’re going to je—ru—sa—lem, now won’t you come with us? we’re going to je—ru—sa—lem, now won’t you come with us?” and then suddenly, without a bit of warning, she cried, “we’re going in a stage-coach,” just as fast as she could say it, and the whole line broke into a wild scramble for the chairs, and everybody had a seat, for there was peletiah standing in his same place, and looking at them all.
[335]“i told you he couldn’t play,” said joel, hopping off from his chair, but polly was over by the minister’s boy.
“had you rather play something else, peletiah?” she asked, anxiously. oh, if mamsie would only come home, and how very dreadful it was, not to be able to do something for the minister’s boy when dear mrs. henderson was so good to them! polly racked her brains to think of just the right thing.
“perhaps he’d like ‘sally waters’ best,” she said, looking over at little david. it was small use, she knew, to ask joel.
“i like ‘sally waters,’” said little david, coming up to her side, “ever so much, polly.”
“so do i,” said polly, glad of some help. “well, now, phronsie, we’re going to play ‘sally waters.’”
“we’re going to play ‘sally waters,’” said phronsie, very much pleased and scrambling over to add herself to the group.
“i’m not going to play ‘sally waters,’” declared joel, in a bad temper, and wishing the minister’s boy would go home. “i’m going to nail on my box.”
[336]“no, no, joe.” polly deserted the guest and ran over to whisper in his ear, “’tisn’t polite when company is here.”
“well, he can’t play anything,” said joel, with a snort.
“well, you must come over and help entertain him.” it was a long word, and polly was very much pleased when she brought it out successfully, so she ran back crying joyfully, “well, now, come on for sally waters,” as joel dragged himself over.
“well, children—” mrs. pepper’s black bonnet appeared over their heads. they had been making so much noise no one had heard her come in. “i’m glad to see you, peletiah, and what a fine time you’re having!” and her tired face fairly beamed.
“mamsie!” the little peppers all shouted, all trying to get into her arms at once.
“yes, mother’s home,” said mrs. pepper, with a long sigh, and she dropped a kiss on each little face.
“don’t push so, joel,” said polly, reprovingly, “and you’re mussing mamsie’s bonnet.”
“well, davie’s pushing, too,” grumbled joel.
“oh, i didn’t mean to,” said little davie, but[337] he did want dreadfully to get up close to mamsie’s neck, and be cuddled.
“never mind the bonnet, polly,” said mrs. pepper, with a little laugh. “and we mustn’t forget peletiah,” she said.
“oh, he won’t play anything,” said joel, in scorn; “not a single thing, and polly’s tried and tried.”
“joel,” said mrs. pepper, sternly. that made joel hang his head in her gown.
“oh, mamsie,” cried polly, radiantly, “you can’t think what a perfectly splendid thing is going to happen, that is, if you will only say yes. do, mamsie, do—” and she threw her arms around mrs. pepper’s neck.
“how can i until i know what it is,” said mrs. pepper, bursting into a merry laugh. “and i think i best take off my bonnet first, polly; then you can tell me all about it.”
“oh, so you must,” said polly, very much ashamed at her thoughtlessness; “let me untie it, mamsie.”
“no, i’m going to untie my mamsie’s bonnet,” said phronsie, with great decision, who always wanted to perform that office when mrs. pepper came home.
[338]“oh, phronsie,” said polly, “mamsie’s so tired this afternoon, you better let me.”
“no, i shall do it,” said phronsie, standing on tiptoe and fumbling at the black strings. “my mamsie wants me to do it all by my own self.”
“you better let her, polly,” whispered mrs. pepper, over phronsie’s yellow hair.
“then i’m going to make you a cup of tea,” declared polly, springing over to the stove.
“yes, do,” said mrs. pepper, brightly; “how good it is to get home to you, children,” she said, with a happy glance around the old kitchen.
“i’m going to do something for mamsie,” said joel, pulling his head out from the depths of mrs. pepper’s gown. “i’m going to get her a chair.” so he went over and pulled out one of the “going-to-jerusalem-in-a-stage-coach” line. “there, now, mamsie, it’s for you,” he announced, dragging it up with a flourish.
“oh, joey, that’s so good,” she exclaimed, sitting down in it and drawing phronsie to her lap where she could fumble among the black strings to her heart’s content.
at this, little david’s face became very sorrowful, and he was just going to hurry over to polly, busy by the stove, for her to tell him what he could[339] do for mamsie, when mrs. pepper said suddenly, “davie, you can take mother’s bag, and hang it on the nail.” for when mrs. pepper went to help any badgertown people with their sewing, as she had been doing on this day, she always carried on her arm a stout brown calico bag to hold her sewing things.
david laughed right out, he was so pleased, as mrs. pepper slipped off the strings of the brown calico bag from her arm, and he strutted across the kitchen to hang it on the nail by the window.
“yes, i’m glad to see you, peletiah,” said mrs. pepper, very heartily.
“my—mother—wants—mrs.—pepper—to—let—polly—and—phronsie—come—to—the—parsonage—to-morrow—morning—and—help—her—and—stay—to—dinner,—” said peletiah, all in one breath.
“does she?” cried mrs. pepper. “then they shall go; yes, indeed.” and her black eyes shone with pleasure.
peletiah at that started and moved slowly to the door.
“you tell your mother,” said mrs. pepper, “that i am very much obliged, and that polly and phronsie will go.”
[340]“and polly said to tell her that phronsie and she would go if you said they might. i must tell her that, too,” said peletiah, precisely.
“well, i have said they might go, so that is all you need to say, peletiah,” said mrs. pepper; “only be sure to tell her i am very much obliged.”
but peletiah decided in his own mind as he went slowly off that he should give the whole of the two messages just as they came to him.
and the next morning polly hurried to the parsonage with phronsie, in a clean pink pinafore, clinging to her hand.
“o dear me!” thought polly, as she came in sight of it, and her heart sank with the dread of meeting a pair of sharp green eyes, and a long hard face, till she scarcely dared to look up. but she needn’t have worried, for miss jerusha had been gone a whole half-hour, and there at the gate was the minister’s boy waiting for her.
“i want to play what you did yesterday,” said peletiah.
“oh,—‘stage-coach,’” said polly, with a gasp, bringing her brown eyes to bear on his face.
“yes, and that other one,” said peletiah, “and i’m going to play it on sunday because it’s about jerusalem.”
[341]“oh, we don’t ever play it on sunday,” said polly, in horror at the mere thought.
“i’m going to play it on sunday because it’s about jerusalem, and ezekiel is, too,” declared peletiah, in exactly the same tone as before, as polly and phronsie hurried up the path to the door.
there was the parson’s wife waiting for them, and she drew the children in, peletiah following solemnly; and in the big bedroom, that polly had been in once before when she had come with a message from her mother to mrs. henderson, who was sick, they were told to lay off their things.
o dear me, was ever anything so elegant as to go visiting and be treated like grown-up ladies! and what place could be so splendid as that bedroom with big pink flowers trailing all over the chintz curtains and hanging from the bed-tester. polly made slow work of getting phronsie and herself ready to follow the minister’s wife, her eyes were so busy.
“you like it, dear?” said mrs. henderson, smiling down at her.
“oh, it’s beautiful,” sighed polly, the color flying all over her face.
[342]“it’s be—yewtiful,” hummed phronsie, not knowing in the least what for, but because polly said so. and the parson’s wife laughed again and taking a hand of either little pepper, she led them out and closed the door.
“now, then, polly,” she said, “what do you suppose i wanted you to come over for?”
“to help you,” said polly, happily. “oh, i’m so glad, dear mrs. henderson, please, may i?”
“yes, indeed,” said mrs. henderson, cheerily, “but you never can guess what it is you are going to help about, so i will tell you. we’re going to set up some things in the garret.”
“oh, may i go in the garret?” cried polly, stopping short in her excitement, “and phronsie, too—may we, may we?”
“yes, indeed,” laughed the parson’s wife, quite as excited, “and we are going to do ever so many things up there. fix up an old chest for one—dear me, i don’t know what we shall find wants doing when we get up there.”
“phronsie, we are going up garret!” cried polly, her eyes wide with anticipation. all her life she had longed to have a garret to go into to see its hidden treasures at least once; to play in one every day was beyond her wildest[343] dreams. now she was really to see one for herself!
mrs. henderson stopped to get a broom and a dust-pan; she already had a little whisk brush and a small brown-paper parcel in her hand.
“oh, let me carry them,” cried polly, eagerly.
“you may help,” said mrs. henderson, giving her the dust-pan and little brown-paper parcel, so polly picked her way over the stairs, helping phronsie up carefully.
“well, here we are!” the parson’s wife stopped to take breath at the top of the stairs, and set down her broom. “it wants setting up i think,” she exclaimed.
“oh, isn’t it lovely!” cried polly, her cheeks aflame, and peering on either side. how she longed to explore the dim recesses and cunning little hiding-places under the big beams where the slanting roof ran down to the eaves. and what delightful chances of fun were hidden behind the broken-backed chairs and other dilapidated furniture set away for some convenient mending time! and those funny bundles of dangling things, she found out afterward they were herbs, hanging from the beams, and on nails along the wall! and oh! there was a big bluebottle[344] buzzing like everything and knocking his head against the small-paned window.
“a spider has got him!” cried polly, running over to set him free. and the fat little black spider, not liking that at all, ran off like lightning, till such time as she could dart out of her hole, and mend her broken web in which to catch another fly.
“o dear me!” and then polly was off, and phronsie after her, to kneel down on the garret floor, where some one long years before had pasted strips of newspaper over the cracks.
“there’s printing on it,” she said, trying to read it, spreading her hands on either side. phronsie immediately did the same.
“j-o-n-a; what is that, dear mrs. henderson?” for the rest was cut off.
“why, that was the man’s name,” said mrs. henderson. “i suppose it was jonathan,” leaning over to read the old strip of newspaper. “and he was a blacksmith; see, polly.” she pointed to another strip. sure enough. the whole word, “blacksmith,” was there, bold and plain!
“it’s nice the whole word was saved, isn’t it?” said polly, patting it. so phronsie had to crawl over and pat it, too.
[345]“did he live here?” asked polly, finding it impossible to leave jonathan, the blacksmith, and sitting back on her heels to regard the minister’s wife.
“no, i don’t suppose he did,” said mrs. henderson; “that strip was cut from an old newspaper; but perhaps he lived somewhere about here,” she hastened to add, as polly’s face fell.
“i wish he had lived exactly here,” said polly, with a sigh, and letting her gaze wander over the old rafters.
“well, now, don’t you want to see what i’m going to do first? and you are to help me.” mrs. henderson was by this time over in the corner where a big beam ran down to the eaves, and tugging at an old hair trunk.
“oh, let me help you!” cried polly, springing to her feet, and rushing over.
“let me help,” echoed phronsie, getting up from the garret floor, and spatting her hands free from the dust, she ran to the corner, too, and the old trunk was soon dragged out and the lid with its great brass letters “s. h.” was thrown back.
“now, you see, polly,” said the minister’s wife, down on her knees before it, polly and phronsie crouched on either side, “this trunk was my[346] great-grandfather’s, stephen hinsdale, and this is the reason why we keep so many old things in it. just look!” she picked out one or two books whose leather backs flapped dismally. “they’re fairly worm-eaten,” she said, setting them on the floor.
“oh, where are the worms?” exclaimed polly, in great excitement, and picking up a book to examine it intently. “oh, do show me, dear mrs. henderson,” she begged, phronsie deserting her place to come around and look, too.
“oh, you can’t see them,” said mrs. henderson, “not the worms,—but there are the marks they’ve made. well, never mind now, polly, put it down, for i want to show you the rest of the things. i’m going to clear out this whole trunk.” and she lifted out a red woollen cape very long and heavy, and all riddled with little holes.
“now, only just look,” she exclaimed, in vexation, “the moths have nearly eaten this up, and i put camphor all round it. i do every spring.”
“oh, oh,” cried polly, in great distress.
“i want to wear it,” cried phronsie. “i do.” and she held out both arms.
“oh, you couldn’t wear it,” said the parson’s wife, with a little laugh; “it was for a big woman; my grandmother, polly.”
[347]“i want it,” said phronsie, in a grieved little voice, and still holding her arms out straight.
“oh, no, child.” then mrs. henderson rested both hands on the edge of the trunk, the old red cape dropping to her lap.
“i wouldn’t wonder,” she said, “if your mother could get you a little red coat out of that, phronsie. yes, you shall wear it, dear.”
“oh, i’m going to. i’m going to wear it.” phronsie gave a gleeful little shout and capered up and down the garret floor. “put it on, i want it on,” she begged, coming back to stand quite still.
“oh, phronsie, you can’t wear it now,” cried polly, with shining eyes, at the thought of the little red coat that was to be made. “it would drag on the floor.”
“never mind,” said mrs. henderson. so she put the old red woollen cape over phronsie’s shoulders, and it fell all around her, just as polly had said, dragging on the floor. but phronsie beamed perfect satisfaction, and she didn’t want it taken off until the minister’s wife said she would fold it up all ready to be taken home to mrs. pepper, which she did, and laid it in one of the broken-backed chairs. then phronsie sat down[348] beside it to lay a soft little hand on it, and watch it, while mrs. henderson and polly turned to the trunk again.
there seemed to be no end to the things that were in that trunk,—an old waistcoat with brass buttons was drawn tenderly out, belonging to stephen hinsdale himself, and laid down beside the books and some old fans, and a high broken-toothed comb, and a piece of carved ivory.
“that,” said the parson’s wife, “was brought from india. i remember old aunt sally letting me play with it when i wasn’t much older than phronsie.”
“oh, may i hold it?” begged polly, putting out a trembling hand.
“of course you may, polly,” said mrs. henderson, dropping it in her hand, “and once i thought i’d lost it down the well.”
“o dear me!” exclaimed polly, dropping the hand holding the carved bit of ivory to her lap.
“yes, it was a dreadful moment.” and the parson’s wife drew a long sigh even now after all those years. “you see, i was naughty, and took it out in the yard to play, and another little girl who had come over to see me wanted a drink of water, and i wouldn’t put down the piece of ivory,[349] i was so afraid she’d snatch it, and i was helping to pull up the bucket when the little carved bit slipped right out of my hand.”
“o dear me!” cried polly, turning pale with fright.
“and i shut my eyes, i was so scared. and jane said,—the little girl’s name was jane,—‘there, now, that’s because you wouldn’t give it to me.’ oh, i remember it just as if it were yesterday, polly pepper.”
“and did it go down into the well?” cried polly, in her distress, forgetting what her hand held tightly clasped in her lap, and leaning forward eagerly to scan mrs. henderson’s face.
“no, indeed,” cried the parson’s wife, with a merry laugh; “look in your lap, polly.”
“oh, i forgot,” cried polly, drawing a long breath of relief, and opening her hand; “wasn’t i silly? but i’m so very glad it didn’t go down into the well, dear mrs. henderson.”
“no, it caught on a little green weed growing out between the cracks of the curbstone, and i screamed and my big brother came running, and he picked it out. but i was not allowed even to touch the little piece of ivory for a whole year.”
[350]“o dear me!” said polly, sympathetically, and fumbling the small bit.
“well, now, we must get to the other things,” said mrs. henderson, briskly. “i’m so glad you could come over and help me, polly.”
and polly, feeling very happy at the thought of helping the minister’s wife, laid down the little piece of carved ivory carefully against the other old treasures, and bent all her energies to doing what mrs. henderson told her.
“you see, polly,” said the parson’s wife, when all the articles were drawn out of the chest, “we better turn it up on the side, and then we can brush it out.”
“oh, let me brush it out,” begged polly, jumping up to get the whisk broom.
“well, you may,” said mrs. henderson, picking up grandfather’s waistcoat to look it over, “and then you can roll up some fresh camphor. dear me, i don’t see how the moths do get in so!”
“oh, what fun!” cried polly, her brown eyes sparkling as she brushed vigorously away, sticking her head well within the old chest to poke out the corners.
“it’s fun to-day because you are here, polly, you and phronsie,” laughed mrs. henderson,[351] feeling just about the same age as one of the children.
“i’m glad i’m here,” said polly, with a little thrill at mrs. henderson’s words. “and i’m glad phronsie is here, too, but she doesn’t see all these perfectly beautiful things.” and polly pulled herself out to sit, brush in hand, and look over at her.
“never mind,” said the minister’s wife, hastily; “phronsie is happy where she is. don’t disturb her, polly.”
so polly fell to brushing away again.
“and now, polly, you can do something more,” said mrs. henderson, when the old chest was all brushed out, and set in position again. “and it will help me so much. you can roll up some little bits of this camphor,” and she opened the brown-paper parcel she had brought up to the garret, “and put each of them in a piece of newspaper, and fold it into grandfather’s waistcoat,—i always mean to keep that, polly, for i remember him in it,—and then i can run down and see about my dinner.”
this was the best of all, polly thought, to be intrusted to take care of grandfather’s waistcoat all by herself, while the minister’s wife was downstairs seeing to her dinner!
[352]“the newspapers are over there.” mrs. henderson pointed to the farther corner under the eaves. “i always keep a pile to wrap up things in.” so polly ran over and got them, and presently she was busy as a bee in the old garret, with phronsie still sitting up close to the broken-backed chair, and humming softly to herself, and patting every now and then the red woollen cape.
and then when mrs. henderson ran up to see how things were getting on, she was so pleased! and she told polly she could pack all the various articles back into the old chest, which delighted polly very much. and then left alone once more, the big old chest all packed up, polly seized the broom and swept every bit of dust from the old garret floor as far as she could reach, being especially careful to make it very clean over “jonathan, the blacksmith.” and then just as she had nearly begun brushing down the stairs, up ran the minister’s wife, with very pink cheeks after being over the kitchen stove.
“what a good girl you are, polly pepper!” she exclaimed. “now, i expected to have to do those stairs myself.” and she was so pleased, she almost let out a little secret, that the parson had waiting for the two little[353] peppers. “come, phronsie,” she called, “dinner’s ready, child.”
and then after polly had washed phronsie’s face and hands, and after that her own in the big blue and white bowl in the big bedroom, and phronsie’s hair had been brushed, and polly had made her own as neat as a pin, down they hurried, and if there wasn’t ben pepper, sitting next to parson henderson, and watching sharply for them to come in!
phronsie screamed right out, “bensie!” and rushed over to him, and polly ran and hugged him around the neck. “oh, i’m so glad you’ve come!” she gasped.
“i thought i’d bring him, so i went over and asked mrs. pepper. luckily, ben had just come in from his work,” said parson henderson, with a little satisfied chuckle. “now, then, peletiah and ezekiel, you let ben sit between you.”
peletiah and ezekiel solemnly made way for ben pepper as their father had said. and down they all sat, except polly, who helped mrs. henderson bring in the hot dishes.
when phronsie saw polly helping she tried to clamber out of her chair next to the minister to[354] do the same. but the parson laid his hand on her. “no, no, child,” he said, “you must stay and take care of me.”
“can i take care of you?” asked phronsie, stopping instantly and looking up at him.
“indeed you can,” declared mr. henderson, heartily.
“then i will,” said phronsie, settling back in her chair in great satisfaction. and presently there they all were, seven of them, the parson and his wife as young as the others, around the table, and the parsonage dinner was fairly under way.
“i’ve got a red cape, and it’s mine,” announced phronsie, nodding over to ben.
“have you?” cried ben, in great surprise.
“i gave her great-grandmother’s cape,” said the parson’s wife, down the table-length to her husband; “it’s dreadfully moth-eaten, but i think mrs. pepper can make her a little red coat out of the good part.”
“i wish you’d give her all the rest of the old things,” said the parson. “you get all tired out pulling them over.”
“i’ve had a good time this morning anyway,” said his wife, and she smiled down at polly.
[355]and after dinner, when they really couldn’t eat any more ham and eggs and baked indian pudding, peletiah came up to polly.
“i want to play ‘stage-coach jerusalem,’” he said, “and ezekiel does, too.”
“oh,” cried polly, “i guess we can, now ben has come, only—” and she looked at the dinner-table, and all the dishes to be cleared off and washed and set away—“we’ve got to do these first.”
“we’re going to play ‘stage-coach jerusalem,’” said ezekiel, hurrying over to ben, who had been looking on quite puzzled. “peletiah said he did it, and everybody but you, over to your house yesterday.”
“oh,” said ben.
“what’s that?” cried mr. henderson. so peletiah went slowly over and told his father all about it.
“wife,” cried the parson, “as soon as polly and you get those dishes done, why you and i will go in the ‘stage-coach jerusalem.’” and his eyes danced like a boy’s.
and sooner than anybody would think, every one of those dishes was washed and wiped, and set up on the dresser, or in the cupboard, and[356] polly brushed up the crumbs around the table. “there, now,” she cried, “we’re all ready!” and out they all ran into the big kitchen to get the stage-coach ready.
and presently the parson and his wife, and the three little peppers, and the two henderson boys had started on their journey to jerusalem, and somehow or other peletiah, who never seemed able to secure a seat, was at the last moment helped into one, ben shoving him along.
“i’m here!” he cried, hanging on to the back of the chair. “i’m in jerusalem!”
