Margaret Sidney

“ Polly set down the bowl of butter, and sped on the wings of the wind for the doctor. Something dreadful was the matter, she felt, for never had a physician been summoned to the hearty Pepper family since she could remember, only when the father died. Fear lent speed to her feet; and soon the doctor came, and bent over poor little Phronsie, who still lay in her mother's arms, in a burning fever. ”

“ Pepper took her up firmly in her arms, as if she were Phronsie, and sat down in the old rocking-chair and just patted her back.
“There, there,” she whispered, soothingly, “don't think of it, Polly; mother's got home.”
“Oh, mammy,” said Polly, crawling up to the comfortable neck for protection, “I ought not to mind; but 'twas Miss Jerusha Henderson; and she said—”
“What did she say?” asked Mrs. Pepper, thinking perhaps it to be the wiser thing to let Polly free her mind. ”

“ I'm glad you're here, Polly!—how could the fellow forget when—”
“Oh well, you know,” said Polly, with a happy little wriggle under her brown coat, “I'm here now.”
“So you are! so you are!” laughed the old gentleman suddenly; “where can Jasper be so long.”
“They're all in the carriage,” answered the boy skipping back. “Now, father! now Polly!”
He was fairly bubbling over with joy and Mr. King forgot his dudgeon and joined in the general glee, which soon became so great that travellers gave many a glance at the merry trio who bundled away to Thomas and the waiting grays. ”

“ Joel turned around with two big eyes on Percy.
“We're cousins!” he said.
“I know it,” said Percy, “and so's Van!”
“Yes,” said Van, flying up, “and I'm cousin to Polly, too—that's best!”
“Can't I be a Cousin?” cried little Dick, crowding up, with two red cheeks. “Isn't anybody going to be a cousin to me, too?”
“Everybody but Jasper,” said the old gentleman, laughing heartily at them. “You and I, my boy,” he turned to his son, “are left out in the cold.”
At this a scream, loud and terrible to hear, struck upon them all, as Joel flung himself flat on the floor. ”

“ And when the teacher came he was simply the Fairy (an ugly little one, it is true, but still a most powerful being) who was to unlock its mysteries, and conduct her into Fairyland itself. He was a homely little Frenchman, with a long, curved nose, and an enormous black moustache, magnificently waxed, who bowed elaborately, and called her “Mademoiselle Pep-paire;” but he had music in his soul, and Polly couldn't reverence him too much.
And now the big piano gave out new sounds; sounds that told of a strong purpose and steady patience. Every note was struck for mother and the home brood. ”

“ So Ben drew upon his powers as story-teller, to suit his exacting audience, and was making his bear work havoc upon poor Tommy in a way captivating to all, even Joel, when, “Well, I declare,” sounded Mrs. Pepper's cheery voice coming in upon them, “if this isn't comfortable!”
“Oh, mammy!” cried Phronsie, jumping out of Polly's arms, whither she had taken refuge during the thrilling tale, and running to her mother who gathered her baby up, “we've had a bear! a real, live bear, we have! Ben made him!” ”

“ For the door opened, and Phronsie, with a scream of delight, bounded into Ben's arms.
“It's just jolly,” said Ben, coming in, his chubby face all aglow, and his big blue eyes shining so honest and true; “it's just jolly to get home! supper ready, Polly?”
“Yes,” said Polly; “that is—all but—” and she dashed off for Phronsie's eating apron.
“Sometime,” said Phronsie, with her mouth half full, when the meal was nearly over, “we're going to be awful rich; we are, Ben, truly!” ”

“ And Polly kept at it steadily day after day; getting through with the lessons in the schoolroom as quickly as possible to rush to her music, until presently the little Frenchman waxed enthusiastic to that degree that, as day after day progressed and swelled into weeks, and each lesson came to an end, he would skip away on the tips of his toes, his nose in the air, and the waxed ends of his moustache, fairly trembling with delight, “Ah, such patience as Mademoiselle Pep-paire has! I know no other such little Americane!” ”

“ It was just on the edge of the twilight; and the little Peppers, all except Ben, the oldest of the flock, were enjoying a “breathing spell,” as their mother called it, which meant some quiet work suitable for the hour. All the “breathing spell” they could remember however, poor things; for times were always hard with them nowadays; and since the father died, when Phronsie was a baby, Mrs. Pepper had had hard work to scrape together money enough to put bread into her children's mouths, and to pay the rent of the little brown house. ”

“ Long before it was possibly time for the carriage to come back from the depot, Polly, with Phronsie and the three boys, who, improving Jasper's absence, had waited upon her with the grace and persistence of cavaliers of the olden time, were drawn up at the old stone gateway.
“Oh, dear,” said Van with an impatient fling; “they never will come!”
“Won't they, Polly?” asked Phronsie, anxiously, and standing quite still.
“Dear me, yes,” said Polly, with a little laugh, “Van only means they'll be a good while, Phronsie. They're sure to come some time.” ”

“ The testy old gentleman in the seat opposite had relented and ordered the coach about and brought him home in an outburst of grief when all hope was gone. And one after another they all had come back, disheartened, to the distracted mother. Polly alone, clung to hope!
“Ben will bring her, mammy; I know God will let him,” she whispered.
But when Ben did bring her, Polly, for the second time in her life, tumbled over with a gasp, into old Mrs. Bascom's lap.
Home and mother! Little Phronsie slept all that night straight through. ”

“ So Ben reached down from the upper shelf in the cupboard the ink bottle, and a pen in a black wooden penholder.
“Oh, mamsie,” cried Polly, “that's where Phronsie bit it off when she was a baby, isn't it?” holding up the stubby end where the little ball had disappeared.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, “and now you're going to write about her 'gingerbread boy' with it—well, time goes, to be sure.” And she bent over her work again, harder than ever. Poor woman! if she could only scrape together enough money to get her children into school—that was the earnest wish of her heart. ”

“ When I'm a man, Polly Pepper, I'm going to be a minister, and have a nice time, and go—just everywhere!”
“Oh, Joel!” exclaimed Polly, quite shocked; “you couldn't be one; you aren't good enough.”
“I don't care,” said Joel, not at all dashed by her plainness, “I'll be good then—when I'm a big man; don't you suppose, Polly,” as a new idea struck him, “that Mr. Henderson ever is naughty?” ”

“ But the little Pepper household soon had something else to think of more important even than Polly's eyes, for now the heartiest, the jolliest of all the little group was down—Joel. How he fell sick, they scarcely knew, it all came so suddenly. The poor, bewildered family had hardly time to think, before delirium and, perhaps, death stared them in the face.
When Polly first heard it, by Phronsie's pattering downstairs and screaming: “Oh, Polly, Joey's dre-ad-ful sick, he is!” she jumped right up, and tore off the bandage. ”

“ She had been going on so for some time, till at last, Polly, who was afraid she would tire herself all out, sat down at the foot and begged and implored the little girl, who had nearly reached the top, to stop and rest.
“You'll be tired to death, Phronsie!” she said, looking up at the small figure on its toilsome journey. “Why you must have gone up a million times! Do sit down, pet; we're all going out riding, Phronsie, this afternoon; and you can't go if you're all tired out.”
“I won't be tired, Polly,” said Phronsie, turning around and looking at her, “do let me go just once more!” ”

“ 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!” as a sound of rushing footsteps was heard over the veranda steps, and down the long hall. ”

“ Pepper, taking another cold potato, and sprinkling on a little salt; “folks shouldn't complain so long as they've anything to eat.”
“But I'm so tired of it—same old thing!” growled Joel; “seems as if I sh'd turn into a meal-bag or a molasses jug!”
“Well, hand it over, then,” proposed Ben, who was unusually hungry, and had a hard day's work before him.
“No,” said Joel, alarmed at the prospect, and putting in an enormous mouthful; “it's better than nothing.”
“Oh, dear,” said little Phronsie, catching Joel's tone, “it isn't nice; no, it isn't.” ”

“ Now,” and she turned back to Polly again, “didn't you ever knit a stocking?”
“No, ma'am,” said Polly, “not a whole one.”
“Dear me!” exclaimed Miss Jerusha; “did I ever!” And she raised her black mitts in intense disdain. “A big girl like you never to knit a stocking! to think your mother should bring you up so! and—”
“She didn't bring us up,” screamed Joel, in indignation, facing her with blazing eyes.
“Joel,” said Polly, “be still.”
“And you're very impertinent, too,” said Miss Jerusha; “a good child never is impertinent.” ”

“ Pepper, in a whisper, as Phronsie closed her eyes and breathed regularly.
“And then will you have your dinner, ma?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, “I don't care—if the boys come.”
“The boys'll never come,” said Polly, impatiently; “I don't believe—why! here they are now!”
“Oh, dear,” said Joel, coming in crossly, “I'm so hungry—oh—butter! where'd you get it? I thought we never should get here!”
“I thought so too,” said Polly. “Hush! why, where's Ben?”
“He's just back,” began Joel, commencing to eat, “and Davie; something is the matter with Ben—he says he feels funny.” ”

“ She had then, by means of a handful of soft soap, taken from Polly's soap-bowl during the dish-washing, and a bit of old cotton, plastered both herself and “Baby” to a comfortable degree of stickiness.
“Phronsie,” said Polly—“dear me! what you doing? the big dog's out there, you know, that scared the naughty organ-man; and the boy—” but before the words were half out, Phronsie had slipped from under her hands, and to Polly's extreme dismay, clattered out into the kitchen.
“Here she is!” cried Jasper, meeting her at the door. The little soapy hands were grasped, and kissing her—“Ugh!” ”

“ Pepper over in the corner; “but what in the world!”
“Yes, yes,” cried Phronsie, perfectly delighted at being at last understood, and hopping on one toe; “my sick man.”
“I shall give up!” said Polly, tumbling over in a chair, with the cake spoon in her hand, from which a small sticky lump fell on her apron, which Joel immediately pounced upon and devoured. “What do you want to bake, Phronsie?” she gasped, holding the spoon sticking up straight, and staring at the child.
“A gingerbread boy,” said the child, promptly; “he'd like that best; poor, sick man!” ”