Margaret Sidney

“ Pepper?”
“She didn't ever mention her,” said Mr. Whitney, turning around to face his questioner, “not as Mrs. Pepper—never once by name. It was always either 'Polly's mother,' or 'Phronsie's mother.' Just like a woman,” he added, with a mischievous glance at his wife, “not to be explicit.”
“And just like a man,” she retorted, with a happy little laugh, “not to ask for explanations.”
“I hear Jappy,” cried Polly, in a glad voice, “and Ben—oh, good!” ”

“ Outside, in the rain, the children revolved around and around Polly and Phronsie, hugging and kissing them, until nobody could do much more than breathe, not seeming to notice the stranger, who stood quietly waiting till such time as he could be heard. ”

“ And without waiting for an answer he turned and shot back into the house proclaiming in stentorian tones, “Ma, Polly's come—an' she's got Phronsie—an' an awful big man—and they're out by the gate!”
“Phronsie!” said Mrs. Pepper, springing to her feet, “why, I thought she was up-stairs with Jane.”
“Now, somebody,” exclaimed old Mr. King, who sat by the library table vainly trying to read a newspaper, which he now threw down in extreme irritation as he rose quickly and went to the door to welcome the wanderers, “somebody ought to watch that poor child, whose business it is to know where she is! ”

“ Make him be ours more, papa, do!”
And then Polly sprang up.
“Oh! oh—deary me!” And she rushed out into the hall and began to tug violently at the big bundle, tossed down in a corner. “Cherry'll die—Cherry'll die!” she cried, “do somebody help me off with the string!”
But Polly already had it off by the time Jasper's knife was half out of his pocket, and was kneeling down on the floor scooping out a big handful of the seed.
“Don't hurry so, Polly,” said Jasper, as she jumped up to fly up-stairs. “He's had some a perfect age—he's all right.” ”

“ So off they went at a very fast pace; she, skipping through the puddles that his long, even strides carried him safely over, chattered away by his side under the umbrella, and answered his many questions, and altogether got so very well acquainted that by the time they turned in at the old stone gateway, she felt as if she had known him for years. ”

“ Pepper, laying down her work and coming up to the cage, while Phronsie scrambled off from her chair and hurried to the scene. “Why, he does act queer, don't he? P'raps he's been eating too much?”
“Eating!” said Polly, “oh mamsie, he hasn't had anything.” And she pointed with shame and remorse to the seed-cup with only a few dried husks in the very bottom.
“Oh, Polly,” began Mrs. Pepper; but seeing the look on her face, she changed her tone for one more cheerful. “Well, hurry and get him some now; he'll be all right, poor little thing, in a minute. ”

“ PHRONSIE OVERLOOKS THE PROCEEDINGS.
“Phronsie,” said he, “come here, child. I can't do anything without you,” and held out his hand. Phronsie immediately left Ben, who was hanging over Polly as if he never meant to let her go out of his sight again, and went directly over to the old gentleman's side. ”

“ Pepper, while Phronsie, standing in a chair with her face pressed close to the cage, was telling Cherry through the bars “not to be hungry, please don't!” which he didn't seem to mind in the least, but went on screaming harder than ever! “And besides, 'tisn't much use to wait for Ben. Nobody knows where he'll get shoes to fit himself and Joe and Davie, in one afternoon! But be sure, Polly, to hurry, for it's getting late, and I shall be worried about you.
“Oh, mamsie,” said Polly, turning back just a minute, “I know the way to Fletcher's just as easy as anything. I couldn't get lost.” ”

“ Whitney, sitting down and drawing his wife to his side, “it's a long story. You see, when I was a little youngster, and—”
“You were John Whitney then,” put in Mrs. Pepper, slyly. “That's the reason I never knew when they were all talking of Mason Whitney.”
“John Whitney I was,” said Mr. Whitney, laughing, “or rather, Johnny and Jack. But Grandmother Mason, when I grew older, wanted me called by my middle name to please grandfather. But to go back—when I was a little shaver, about as big as Percy here—”
“IS IT—IS IT COUSIN MARY?” ”

“ Here she steadily resisted all temptations to stop and look at the new arrivals of birds, and to feed the carrier-pigeons who seemed to be expecting her, and who turned their soft eyes up at her reproachfully when she failed to pay her respects to them. Even the cunning blandishments of a very attractive monkey that always had entertained the children on their numerous visits, failed to interest her now. ”