Margaret Sidney

“ They didn’t want any supper that night because of the custard pie and the lemonade. And after Phronsie was fast asleep in the trundle-bed, and the two boys were tucked safely away in the loft, Polly and Ben curled up on the floor, either side of her big chair.
“I can’t think, Mamsie,” began Ben, “who it could be.” He wrinkled up his round face in distress.
“No,” said Mrs. Pepper, “we can’t think. But oh, Polly child.” She put her hand on Polly’s brown hair and her voice trembled.
“Mamsie,” cried Polly, “don’t feel badly. I don’t mind—so very much.” ”

“ Polly drew a long breath, and her hand shook that held to the sleeve.
Joel scrubbed his rusty little shoe on the woodshed floor. “Mrs. Brown is bad,” he said. “She ought to have asked us.”
“Stop saying that,” said Polly. “And when you have company, you can ask any one you want to.”
“I shall ask everybody,” declared Joel with a generous sweep of his hands, “just every single bit of folks.” His face brightened, “Polly, can’t I ever have company?”
“Goodness, no!” cried Polly, and she burst into a laugh; “the idea of our having company in the little brown house—Joey Pepper!” ”

“ He must see the bears!
“Well, promise,” said Ben, “and I’ll let you go.”
“I can’t see ’em,” fretted Joel, “unless I go close.”
“Yes, you can; nobody else touches the cages.”
Joel swept the crowd with his black eyes, disdainfully.
“Just look at Mamsie,” Ben leaned over and whispered this into Joel’s ear. Mrs. Pepper, holding Phronsie’s hand, was looking at him. Her face was white, but she smiled.
“I won’t go near those bears,” said Joel. “O dear!” He tried not to cry, but it was no use. The tears dripped down through the fingers clapped up to his face, and trailed all down his calico blouse. ”

“ Pepper, “so you see, Davie, it isn’t so much matter if people’s names don’t suit other folks. But the people themselves have got to be just right. Now run along and be nice to her. She is poor and old. Remember that, Davie boy.”
There was everything in that fine big lunch-basket. First came a table-cloth and napkins as fresh and sweet as if they had been packed away in lavender, as indeed was the case. Then seven little cups—and a big jar of lemonade, piles of bread and butter and cold chicken, cake, and biscuits. Was ever such a feast spread out for hungry people at a circus! ”

“ He had an awful feeling at his heart, for Mamsie had never given up like that before.
“No, no, Joel,” Mother Pepper managed a smile, and seized his sleeve.
“What’s the matter?” asked the farmer’s wife, clumsily picking her way up to them over the thick uneven grass, and still holding Phronsie’s hand.
“Nothing so very bad,” said Mrs. Pepper.
“Nothing so very bad!” echoed Joel, turning big eyes up to his mother.
“No,” said Mrs. Pepper cheerfully, “as long as nobody is sick. ”

“ At last he was over the cobble-stones of the narrow street in front of the shoe-shop, and lifting the knocker on Mr. Beebe’s door.
“Well, well,” cried the little shoemaker, turning away from a box of bed-slippers he was sorting to rub his hands together delightedly, “if here doesn’t come Davie Pepper!”
“Yes,” said David, “I’ve come.”
He took off his new cap—he didn’t want to, but Mamsie had said “Never keep a cap on when you go to see people,” and to enter the little shoe-shop was far more than to do business; it was to visit friends. So he held the new cap in his hands. ”

“ Then as Polly ran to get a dry cloth to wipe off the front of the clean print dress, the parson’s wife sat down on one of the big stones that Ben and the other boys had brought into “the orchard” to play tea-party with whenever the much-prized hours from work would allow.
Phronsie came slowly to her. “I want my Mamsie,” she said, patting Mrs. Henderson’s gown to attract attention. “I want her very much indeed, I do.”
“Yes, I know.” Then the parson’s wife lifted her on her lap. “So does Polly want Mamsie—and Davie. Where is Davie?” ”

“ Davie slid out of Mother Pepper’s lap and ran after him, the torn bit of calico flapping at the end of his blouse.
“Let me, Joel,” he cried, trying to reach the broom as Joel pranced on.
“You couldn’t do it,” said Joel. “I must squinge Old Man Peters myself,” holding the broom very high. Then he saw Davie’s face. “You may have it,” he said.
Polly ran into the bedroom and came back on her tiptoes. “Phronsie’s asleep,” she said. “Now I’m awfully glad, for I can clean out the stove. Then I can get the bread in.” ”

“ Phronsie folded her hands in her lap and sat quite still. Could anything be as splendid [401] as those sweet little ponies? And she sighed again. But Polly had said so, and it must be true.
Meantime David, who had scarcely dared to breathe through the whole show, screamed right out.
Everybody turned and stared, and a nervous woman down in the front said, “Gracious! somebody’s sick—get th’ doctor.” And one of the funny men in a white coat with red spots all over it, and a hat with holes where his eyes came, looked up as he was walking down beneath the seats saying things to make people laugh. ”

“ Still a woman should be asked about the movements of her own children. So she gave the order to the old coachman, and the horses were soon turned in the direction of the little brown house.
Davie forgot himself and sprang out without a word of thanks, and rushed up to the old green door.
“Oh, do forgive him, Miss Parrott,” begged Polly in distress, “he didn’t mean to be rude.”
For answer Miss Parrott only said, “Will you ask your mother to come out here?” But she smiled, so Polly knew that things weren’t so very bad, and she ran up the path, greatly relieved. ”

“ Would Ben ever come! “I wonder if you don’t all want me to tell you a story.”
“Oh!” screamed Joel and David together, “we do—we do!” running over to her.
“Well, I can’t tell a story ever in all this world while Phronsie is crying,” said Polly, at her wits’ end what to do next.
“Phronsie—stop crying!” Joel rushed over and shook her pink calico sleeve. “Polly can’t tell a story while you’re crying. She won’t stop,” he announced wrathfully.
For Phronsie kept on in a smothered little voice, “I want my Mamsie.”
“Phronsie,” Davie kneeled down on the kitchen floor beside her. “Please stop. ”

“ Pepper suffered herself to be led, and she presently found herself sitting, this time on the brocaded sofa, and Miss Parrott by her side.
“Jimmy is going to be a man,” she said, just as she had told the boy, only she never whispered a word of his wrong-doing, “if Badgertown people take hold and help.”
“And would it help to take him to the circus?”
“I think it would be the greatest help in all this world.” Mrs. Pepper leaned forward, her eyes sparkled, and she was as eager as Polly [381] now. “Don’t you see, he longs to go? Every boy does. ”

“ So Davie pulled off his shoe, and old Mr. Beebe sat down and pretty soon there was a brand-new shoestring in it, and the old one lay on the floor.
“I think th’ mate to that string is pretty poor,” said the little old shoemaker, peering at Davie’s other foot critically; “give me that shoe, Davie,” and when it was in his hand, he pulled out the shoestring. “Yes, it’s wore in spots,” he declared.
At last Davie was on his way home. Didn’t the shoes feel good though; the mended one all strong and just as good as ever, and with new shoestrings, too! He wanted to dance—but stopped suddenly. ”

“ Joel rolled over in terrible disappointment.
“He’s my bear,” said David, “you gave him to me, and—”
“Well, Peter isn’t yours,” said Joel, interrupting. “I’m going to have Peter, so there!”
“You may have the bear, and I’ll take Peter,” said David eagerly.
“You may. I don’t want Peter—you won’t let him do anything,” said Joel. “I’d a great deal rather have the bear,” he brought up in great satisfaction.
“Well, how nice that is, Davie, for you to tell Joel a story.” Mother Pepper coming up the stairs to the loft, beamed approvingly at him.
David’s cheeks got very hot. ”

“ Pepper had said he must pick up some kindlings.
“I do think folks are awfully good to us, Mamsie,” said Polly, turning away from the window, to pause a minute before beginning to sweep again. “Just supposing Miss Parrott hadn’t let us see that circus!” and her cheeks paled at the very thought.
[432] “Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, and her busy needle stopped. “Miss Parrott is good, and God is good, to let her do it.”
“Isn’t He?” cried Polly, with shining eyes. “And now to think that Davie has a new cap, too!” ”

“ Henderson.
“Badgertown people!” sniffed Miss Jerusha. [17] She set her spectacles straighter, and glared at the parson’s wife. “You’ve all gone mad over that little brown house family,” she said. “For my part, I hate shiftless folks who expect to be looked out for all the while.”
“Don’t you ever call the little brown house people shiftless again in my presence.” The parson’s wife got as tall as she could, even up to her tiptoes. “Anybody with a heart would be sorry for that poor brave woman, and those dear children who are trying to help her. ”

“ If he could only forget how he had run out that very morning to get the kindlings behind the wood-pile, and Ben and Polly were talking!
“It’s every bit,” said Ben, turning his old leather purse upside down, “ten cents, Polly.”
“O dear—dear! What shall we do, Ben? The potatoes are ’most gone and everything is so much worse!”
“Don’t feel so bad, Polly. Things will get better, I guess,” said Ben.
And then Davie, peering around the wood-pile, saw him pat Polly’s shoulder.
“Ben,” said Polly, and she threw her arms around his neck, “we must think up some more ways to help Mamsie. We must, Ben.” ”

“ David, both hands full of his treasures, gave a long blissful sigh, then hugged them to his breast, and he laughed aloud in glee.
“Mercy sakes! Get down off th’ counter, Joe,” said Mr. Atkins. “There,” as Joel slid to the floor, putting a fish-pole, just the size for a boy to swing, into the eager brown hand, “an’ there’s th’ hooks. Be careful not to git ’em stuck into you.”
“They’re goin’ to be stuck into the fishes,” cried Joel, seizing fish-pole and hooks. “I’m going to catch lots and lots. Come on, Dave,” beginning to march to the door in great excitement. ”

“ Little Mr. Beebe kept slapping his thigh, and declaring, “I do b’lieve Davie guessed it,” then he suddenly waddled over to the corner, got out a box of dilapidated shoes, picked out a pair, and sat down to work, “Yes, I verily b’lieve he guessed it.”
Mrs. Goodsell heaved a long sigh. It was no use to ask him to begin, for she knew he wouldn’t do it till he was ready—so she folded her large hands over the shawl-ends.
“You see,” said little Mr. Beebe, holding up a man’s shoe to thumb it critically, “it’s just this way, about David—O dear me! it beats all how th’ parson does wear out his shoes. ”

“ You can do it so much better, she says, than she can.”
[11] “Mrs. Peters, Davie?”
“Yes, and Miss Matilda sent the jelly—no, it isn’t jelly—but—I forget—”
“Yes, I know, dear. Now let Mother see where you are hurt.”
“Oh, Mamsie!” Polly, flying back with the camphor bottle, was aghast as Mrs. Pepper stripped off the calico blouse.
“Put down the camphor, Polly,” said Mother Pepper. Her lips were set very tightly together, and a bright spot burned on either cheek. “Bring Mother the oil bottle and get the roll of old cotton in the lower bureau drawer. Be careful not to wake up Phronsie. ”

“ So Joel ran and got the broom back on its nail—then he was back.
[346] “What is it—what is it?” he cried, his black eyes sparkling.
“He called me a mud-turtle,” said Peletiah over in the chair backed up against the wall, “and I’m going home.”
“Oh, no,” Polly ran over to stand in front of him. “Company never goes home from a party till it’s over. Besides, we’re going to play perfectly splendid things, and there’s the refreshments.”
“Refreshments!” howled Joel, “are there going to be refreshments! Oh, I do want a party, Polly, I do,” and he swarmed all over her. ”

“ Pepper, “now you and I have both got to be brave. It’s not time for crying, and you must just be mother’s girl, and lie down and keep warm under the clothes. That’s the very best way to help me.”
“I’ll try,” said Polly, as Mrs. Pepper tucked her in under the old comforter.
But although old Mrs. Beebe was kind as could be, and Grandma Bascom hobbled over every now and then, and Parson Henderson and his wife helped in every imaginable way, a black cloud settled over the little brown house. And one day Badgertown heard the news: “Joel Pepper is took sick with th’ measles, and he’s awful bad.” ”

“ MRS. PEPPER ATTENDS TO THE MATTER PARSON HENDERSON shut the gate with a firm hand, and stepped out into the road.
The parsonage door opened, and the minister’s wife ran down the path. “Here, Adoniram, take this to Mrs. Pepper.” She put a clean folded napkin, from which came a nice smell of something newly baked, into his hand. “Oh, I do hope Mrs. Pepper will let you see that horrible Mr. Peters,” she began anxiously.
“Mrs. Pepper always knows her own mind,” said the parson, “and if she wants to attend to the matter, it’s not for us, Almira, to interfere.” ”

“ The farmer’s wife might talk and talk over the charms of the pigs who were supposed to be waiting to be visited. Phronsie had no eyes nor ears for anything but the “chickies” and their soft little “peep—peep.”
At last Mrs. Brown said, “They’ll be sick [338] if they eat any more,” and getting up from the bench, she went off, tin pan and all. And Phronsie, slipping down to the ground beneath, sat down in the by-no-means-clean spot, and put her arms around the fluffy bunch that swarmed into her lap. ”

“ Miss Parrott shut the door after Mrs. Pepper, feeling extraordinarily light of heart. “I wish I were going to the circus, too,” she said. Then she brought herself up, “What has come over me at my time of life? How I act!”
Mrs. Skinner, down on Fletcher Road, had just lighted her oil lamp. It gave out a pleasant twinkle through the window, as Mrs. Pepper knocked at the door.
“I was just a-packin’ up th’ wash for them boarders over to the Hill,” she said, lifting a flushed face from the basket at her feet. “An’ Jimmy is goin’ to carry it over.” ”

“ Then the color ran over his face—Mamsie had told them not to show that they wanted anything while on this visit. In his anxiety that Phronsie should see the pigs, he had forgotten that.
“You needn’t to worry about th’ little gal,” said the farmer composedly, “Miss Brown’ll look out for her.”
“Will she let her see the pigs?” asked Davie, turning an anxious face up to the keen eyes under their shaggy brows.
“Sure!” said Mr. Brown. “There won’t be nothin’ that little gal ought to see, but what she’ll see it to-day. Ma’ll look out for that,” and he gathered up David’s little hand in his big one. ”