Chapter 5

“Have you!” said Mrs. Pepper, taking off her shawl, and laying her parcel of work down on the table, “now, that's nice!”

“Oh, mammy!” cried Polly, “it does seem so good to be all together again!”

“And I thank the Lord!” said Mrs. Pepper, looking down on her happy little group; and the tears were in her eyes--“and children, we ought to be very good and please Him, for He's been so good to us.”

THE CLOUD OVER THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE

When Phronsie, with many crows of delight, and much chattering, had gotten fairly started the following morning on her much-anticipated drive with the doctor, the whole family excepting Polly drawn up around the door to see them off, Mrs. Pepper resolved to snatch the time and run down for an hour or two to one of her customers who had long been waiting for a little “tailoring” to be done for her boys.

“Now, Joel,” she said, putting on her bonnet before the cracked looking-glass, “you stay along of Polly; Ben must go up to bed, the doctor said; and Davie's going to the store for some molasses; so you and Polly must keep house.”

“Yes'm,” said Joel; “may I have somethin' to eat, ma?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper; “but don't you eat the new bread; you may have as much as you want of the old.”

“Isn't there any molasses, mammy?” asked Joel, as she bade Polly good-bye! and gave her numberless charges “to be careful of your eyes,” and “not to let a crack of light in through the curtain,” as the old green paper shade was called.

“No; if you're very hungry, you can eat bread,” said Mrs. Pepper, sensibly.

“Joel,” said Polly, after the mother had gone, “I do wish you could read to me.”

“Well, I can't,” said Joel, glad he didn't know how; “I thought the minister was comin'.”

“Well, he was,” said Polly, “but mammy said he had to go out of town to a consequence.”

“A what!” asked Joel, very much impressed.

“A con--” repeated Polly. “Well, it began with a con--and I am sure--yes, very sure it was consequence.”

“That must be splendid,” said Joel, coming up to her chair, and slowly drawing a string he held in his hand back and forth, “to go to consequences, and everything! 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?”

“No,” said Polly, very decidedly; “never, never, never!”

“Then, I don't want to be one,” said Joel, veering round with a sigh of relief, “and besides I'd rather have a pair of horses like Mr. Slocum's, and then I could go everywheres, I guess!”

“And sell tin?” asked Polly, “just like Mr. Slocum?”

“Yes,” said Joel; “this is the way I'd go--Gee-whop! gee-whoa!” and Joel pranced with his imaginary steeds all around the room, making about as much noise as any other four boys, as he brought up occasionally against the four-poster or the high old bureau.

“Well!” said a voice close up by Polly's chair, that made her skip with apprehension, it was so like Miss Jerusha Henderson's--Joel was whooping away behind the bedstead to his horses that had become seriously entangled, so he didn't hear anything. But when Polly said, bashfully, “I can't see anything, ma'am,” he came up red and shining to the surface, and stared with all his might.

“I came to see you, little girl,” said Miss Jerusha severely, seating herself stiffly by Polly's side.

“Thank you, ma'am,” said Polly, faintly.

“Who's this boy?” asked the lady, turning around squarely on Joel, and eying him from head to foot.

“He's my brother Joel,” said Polly.

Joel still stared.

“Which brother?” pursued Miss Jerusha, like a census-taker.

“He is next to me,” said Polly, wishing her mother was home; “he's nine, Joel is.”

“He's big enough to do something to help his mother,” said Miss Jerusha, looking him through and through. “Don't you think you might do something, when the others are sick, and your poor mother is working so hard?” she continued, in a cold voice.

“I do something,” blurted out Joel, sturdily, “lots and lots!”

“You shouldn't say 'lots,” reproved Miss Jerusha, with a sharp look over her spectacles, “tisn't proper for boys to talk so; what do you do all day long?” she asked, turning back to Polly, after a withering glance at Joel, who still stared.

“I can't do anything, ma'am,” replied Polly, sadly, “I can't see to do anything.”

“Well, you might knit, I should think,” said her visitor, “it's dreadful for a girl as big as you are to sit all day idle; I had sore eyes once when I was a little girl--how old are you?” she asked, abruptly.

“Eleven last month,” said Polly.

“Well, I wasn't only nine when I knit a stocking; and I had sore eyes, too; you see I was a very little girl, and--”

“Was you ever little?” interrupted Joel, in extreme incredulity, drawing near, and looking over the big square figure.

“Hey?” said Miss Jerusha; so Joel repeated his question before Polly could stop him.

“Of course,” answered Miss Jerusha; and then she added, tartly, “little boys shouldn't speak unless they're spoken to. 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.”

Polly sat quite still; and Miss Jerusha continued:

“Now, I hope you will learn to be industrious; and when I come again, I will see what you have done.”

“You aren't ever coming again,” said Joel, defiantly; “no, never!”

“Joel!” implored Polly, and in her distress she pulled up her bandage as she looked at him; “you know mammy'll be so sorry at you! Oh, ma'am, and” she turned to Miss Jerusha, who was now thoroughly aroused to the duty she saw before her of doing these children good, “I don't know what is the reason, ma'am; Joel never talks so; he's real good; and--”

“It only shows,” said the lady, seeing her way quite clear for a little exhortation, “that you've all had your own way from infancy; and that you don't do what you might to make your mother's life a happy one.”

“Oh, ma'am,” cried Polly, and she burst into a flood of tears, “please, please don't say that!”

“And I say,” screamed Joel, stamping his small foot, “if you make Polly cry you'll kill her! Don't Polly, don't!” and the boy put both arms around her neck, and soothed and comforted her in every way he could think of. And Miss Jerusha, seeing no way to make herself heard, disappeared feeling pity for children who would turn away from good advice.

But still Polly cried on; all the pent-up feelings that had been so long controlled had free vent now. She really couldn't stop! Joel, frightened to death, at last said, “I'm going to wake up Ben.”

That brought Polly to; and she sobbed out, “Oh, no, Jo--ey--I'll stop.”

“I will,” said Joel, seeing his advantage; “I'm going, Polly,” and he started to the foot of the stairs.

“No, I'm done now, Joe,” said Polly, wiping her eyes, and choking back her thoughts--“oh, Joe! I must scream! my eyes aches so!” and poor Polly fairly writhed all over the chair.

“What'll I do?” said Joel, at his wits' end, running back, “do you want some water?”

“Oh, no,” gasped Polly; “doctor wouldn't let me; oh! I wish mammy'd come!”

“I'll go and look for her,” suggested Joel, feeling as if he must do something; and he'd rather be out at the gate, than to see Polly suffer.

“That won't bring her,” said Polly; trying to keep still; “I'll try to wait.”

“Here she is now!” cried Joel, peeping out of the window; “oh! goody!”

JOEL'S TURN

“Well,” Mrs. Pepper's tone was unusually blithe as she stepped into the kitchen--“you've had a nice time, I suppose--what in the world!” and she stopped at the bedroom door.

“Oh, mammy, if you'd been here!” said Joel, while Polly sat still, only holding on to her eyes as if they were going to fly out; “there's been a big woman here; she came right in--and she talked awfully! and Polly's been a-cryin', and her eyes ache dreadfully--and--”

“Been crying!” repeated Mrs. Pepper, coming up to poor Polly. “Polly been crying!” she still repeated.

“Oh, mammy, I couldn't help it,” said Polly; “she said--” and in spite of all she could do, the rain of tears began again, which bade fair to be as uncontrolled as before. But Mrs. 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.

“Oh, she said that we ought to be doing something; and I ought to knit, and--”

“Go on,” said her mother.

“And then Joel got naughty; oh, mammy, he never did so before; and I couldn't stop him,” cried Polly, in great distress; “I really couldn't, mammy--and he talked to her; and he told her she wasn't ever coming here again.”

“Joel shouldn't have said that,” said Mrs. Pepper, and under her breath something was added that Polly even failed to hear--“but no more she isn't!”

“And, mammy,” cried Polly--and she flung her arms around her mother's neck and gave her a grasp that nearly choked Mrs. Pepper, “ain't I helpin' you some, mammy? Oh! I wish I could do something big for you? Ain't you happy, mammy?”

“For the land's sakes!” cried Mrs. Pepper, straining Polly to her heart, “whatever has that woman--whatever could she have said to you? Such a girl as you are, too!” cried Mrs. Pepper, hugging Polly, and covering her with kisses so tender, that Polly, warmed and cuddled up to her heart's content, was comforted to the full.

“Well,” said Mrs. Pepper, when at last she thought she had formed between Polly and Joel about the right idea of the visit, “well, now we won't think of it, ever any more; 'tisn't worth it, Polly, you know.”

But poor Polly! and poor mother! They both were obliged to think of it. Nothing could avert the suffering of the next few days, caused by that long flow of burning tears.

“Nothing feels good on 'em, mammy,” said Polly, at last, twisting her hands in the vain attempt to keep from rubbing the aching, inflamed eyes that drove her nearly wild with their itching, “there isn't any use in trying anything.”

“There will be use,” energetically protested Mrs. Pepper, bringing another cool bandage, “as long as you've got an eye in your head, Polly Pepper!”

Dr. Fisher's face, when he first saw the change that the fateful visit had wrought, and heard the accounts, was very grave indeed. Everything had been so encouraging on his last visit, that he had come very near promising Polly speedy freedom from the hateful bandage.

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.

“Now, I will help mother! I will, so there!” and in another minute she would have been up in the sick room. But the first thing she knew, a gentle but firm hand was laid upon hers; and she found herself back again in the old rocking-chair, and listening to the Doctor's words which were quite stern and decisive.

“Now, I tell you,” he said, “you must not take off that bandage again; do you know the consequences? You will be blind! and then you will be a care to your mother all your life!”

“I shall be blind, anyway,” said Polly, despairingly; “so 'twon't make any difference.”

“No; your eyes will come out of it all right, only I did hope,” and the good doctor's face fell--“that the other two boys would escape; but,” and he brightened up at sight of Polly's forlorn visage--“see you do your part by keeping still.”

But there came a day soon when everything was still around the once happy little brown house--when only whispers were heard from white lips; and thoughts were fearfully left unuttered.

On the morning of one of these days, when Mrs. Pepper felt she could not exist an hour longer without sleep, kind Mrs. Beebe came to stay until things were either better or worse.

Still the cloud hovered, dark and forbidding. At last, one afternoon, when Polly was all alone, she could endure it no longer. She flung herself down by the side of the old bed, and buried her face in the gay patched bed-quilt.

“Dear God,” she said, “make me willing to have anything,” she hesitated--“yes, anything happen; to be blind forever, and to have Joey sick, only make me good.”

How long she staid there she never knew; for she fell asleep--the first sleep she had had since Joey was taken sick. And little Mrs. Beebe coming in found her thus.

“Polly,” the good woman said, leaning over her, “you poor, pretty creeter, you; I'm goin' to tell you somethin'--there, there, just to think! Joel's goin' to get well!”

“Oh, Mrs. Beebe!” cried Polly, tumbling over in a heap on the floor, her face, as much as could be seen under the bandage, in a perfect glow, “Is he, really?”

“Yes, to be sure; the danger's all over now,” said the little old lady, inwardly thinking--“If I hadn't a-come!”

“Well, then, the Lord wants him to,” cried Polly, in rapture; “don't he, Mrs. Beebe?”

“To be sure--to be sure,” repeated the kind friend, only half understanding.

“Well, I don't care about my eyes, then,” cried Polly; and to Mrs. Beebe's intense astonishment and dismay, she spun round and round in the middle of the floor.

“Oh, Polly, Polly!” the little old lady cried, running up to her, “do stop! the doctor wouldn't let you! he wouldn't really, you know! it'll all go to your eyes.”

“I don't care,” repeated Polly, in the middle of a spin; but she stopped obediently; “seems as if I just as soon be blind as not; it's so beautiful Joey's going to get well!”

SUNSHINE AGAIN

But as Joel was smitten down suddenly, so he came up quickly, and his hearty nature asserted itself by rapid strides toward returning health; and one morning he astonished them all by turning over suddenly and exclaiming:

“I want something to eat!”

“Bless the Lord!” cried Mrs. Pepper, “now he's going to live!”

“But he mustn't eat,” protested Mrs. Beebe, in great alarm, trotting for the cup of gruel. “Here, you pretty creeter you, here's something nice.” And she temptingly held the spoon over Joel's mouth; but with a grimace he turned away.

“Oh, I want something to eat! some gingerbread or some bread and butter.”

“Dear me!” ejaculated Mrs. Beebe. “Gingerbread!” Poor Mrs. Pepper saw the hardest part of her trouble now before her, as she realized that the returning appetite must be fed only on strengthening food; for where it was to come from she couldn't tell.

“The Lord only knows where we'll get it,” she groaned within herself.

Yes, He knew. A rap at the door, and little David ran down to find the cause.

“Oh, mammy,” he said, “Mrs. Henderson sent it--see! see!” And in the greatest excitement he placed in her lap a basket that smelt savory and nice even before it was opened. When it was opened, there lay a little bird delicately roasted, and folded in a clean napkin; also a glass of jelly, crimson and clear.

“Oh, Joey,” cried Mrs. Pepper, almost overwhelmed with joy, “see what Mrs. Henderson sent you! now you can eat fit for a king!”

That little bird certainly performed its mission in life; for as Mrs. Beebe said, “It just touched the spot!” and from that very moment Joel improved so rapidly they could hardly believe their eyes.

“Hoh! I haven't been sick!” he cried on the third day, true to his nature. “Mammy, I want to get up.”

“Oh, dear, no! you mustn't, Joel,” cried Mrs. Pepper in a fright, running up to him as he was preparing to give the bedclothes a lusty kick; “you'll send 'em in.”

“Send what in?” asked Joel, looking up at his mother in terror, as the dreadful thought made him pause.

“Why, the measles, Joey; they'll all go in if you get out.”

“How they goin' to get in again, I'd like to know?” asked Joel, looking at the little red spots on his hands in incredulity; say, ma!

“Well, they will,” said his mother, “as you'll find to your sorrow if you get out of bed.”

“Oh, dear,” said Joel, beginning to whimper, as he drew into bed again, “when can I get up, mammy!”

“Oh, in a day or two,” responded Mrs. Pepper, cheerfully; “you're getting on so finely you'll be as smart as a cricket! Shouldn't you say he might get up in a day or two, Mrs. Beebe?” she appealed to that individual who was knitting away cheerily in the corner.

“Well, if he keeps on as he's begun, I shouldn't know what to think,” replied Mrs. Beebe. “It beats all how quick he's picked up. I never see anything like it, I'm sure!”

And as Mrs. Beebe was a great authority in sickness, the old, sunny cheeriness began to creep into the brown house once more, and to bubble over as of yore.

“Seems as if 'twas just good to live,” said Mrs. Pepper, thankfully once, when her thoughts were too much for her. “I don't believe I shall ever care how poor we are,” she continued, “as long as we're together.”

“And that's just what the Lord meant, maybe,” replied good Mrs. Beebe, who was preparing to go home.

Joel kept the house in a perfect uproar all through his getting well. Mrs. Pepper observed one day, when he had been more turbulent than usual, that she was “almost worn to a thread.”

“Twasn't anything to take care of you, Joe,” she added, “when you were real sick, because then I knew where you were; but--well, you won't ever have the measles again, I s'pose, and that's some comfort!”

Little David, who had been nearly stunned by the sickness that had laid aside his almost constant companion, could express his satisfaction and joy in no other way than by running every third minute and begging to do something for him. And Joel, who loved dearly to be waited on, improved every opportunity that offered; which Mrs. Pepper observing, soon put a stop to.

“You'll run his legs off, Joel,” at last she said, when he sent David the third time down to the wood-pile for a stick of just the exact thickness, and which the little messenger declared wasn't to be found. “Haven't you any mercy? You've kept him going all day, too,” she added, glancing at David's pale face.

“Oh, mammy,” panted David, “don't; I love to go. Here Joe, is the best I could find,” handing him a nice smooth stick.

“I know you do,” said his mother; “but Joe's getting better now, and he must learn to spare you.”

“I don't want to spare folks,” grumbled Joel, whittling away with energy; “I've been sick--real sick,” he added, lifting his chubby face to his mother to impress the fact.

“I know you have,” she cried, running to kiss her boy; “but now, Joe, you're most well. To-morrow I'm going to let you go down-stairs; what do you think of that!”

“Hooray!” screamed Joel, throwing away the stick and clapping his hands, forgetting all about his serious illness, “that'll be prime!”

“Aren't you too sick to go, Joey?” asked Mrs. Pepper, mischievously.

“No, I'm not sick,” cried Joel, in the greatest alarm, fearful his mother meant to take back the promise; “I've never been sick. Oh, mammy! you know you'll let me go, won't your?”

“I guess so,” laughed his mother.

“Come on, Phron,” cried Joel, giving her a whirl.

David, who was too tired for active sport, sat on the floor and watched them frolic in great delight.

“Mammy,” said he, edging up to her side as the sport went on, “do you know, I think it's just good--it's--oh, it's so frisky since Joe got well, isn't it, mammy?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Pepper, giving him a radiant look in return for his; “and when Polly's around again with her two eyes all right--well, I don't know what we shall do, I declare!”

“Boo!” cried a voice, next morning, close to Polly's elbow, unmistakably Joel's.

“Oh, Joel Pepper!” she cried, whirling around, “is that really you!”

“Yes,” cried that individual, confidently, “it's I; oh, I say, Polly, I've had fun up-stairs, I tell you what!”

“Poor boy!” said Polly, compassionately.

“I wasn't a poor boy,” cried Joel, indignantly; “I had splendid things to eat; oh, my!” and he closed one eye and smacked his lips in the delightful memory.

“I know it,” said Polly, “and I'm so glad, Joel.”

“I don't suppose I'll ever get so many again,” observed Joel, reflectively, after a minute's pause, as one and another of the wondrous delicacies rose before his mind's eye; “not unless I have the measles again--say, Polly, can't I have 'em again?”

“Mercy, no!” cried Polly, in intense alarm, “I hope not.”

“Well, I don't,” said Joel, “I wish I could have 'em sixty--no--two hundred times, so there!”

“Well, mammy couldn't take care of you,” said Ben; “you don't know what you're sayin', Joe.”

“Well, then, I wish I could have the things without the measles,” said Joel, willing to accommodate; “only folks won't send 'em,” he added, in an injured tone.

“Polly's had the hardest time of all,” said her mother, affectionately patting the bandage.

“I think so too,” put in Ben; “if my eyes were hurt I'd give up.”

“So would I,” said David; and Joel, to be in the fashion, cried also, “I know I would;” while little Phronsie squeezed up to Polly's side, “And I, too.”

“Would what, Puss?” asked Ben, tossing her up high. “Have good things,” cried the child, in delight at understanding the others, “I would really, Ben,” she cried, gravely, when they all screamed.

“Well, I hope so,” said Ben, tossing her higher yet. “Don't laugh at her, boys,” put in Polly; “we're all going to have good times now, Phronsie, now we've got well.”

“Yes,” laughed the child from her high perch; “we aren't ever goin' to be sick again, ever--any more,” she added impressively.

The good times were coming for Polly--coming pretty near, and she didn't know it! All the children were in the secret; for as Mrs. Pepper declared, “They'd have to know it; and if they were let into the secret they'd keep it better.”

So they had individually and collectively been intrusted with the precious secret, and charged with the extreme importance of “never letting any one know,” and they had been nearly bursting ever since with the wild desire to impart their knowledge.

“I'm afraid I shall tell,” said David, running to his mother at last; “oh, mammy, I don't dare stay near Polly, I do want to tell so bad.”

“Oh, no, you won't, David,” said his mother encouragingly, “when you know mother don't want you to; and besides, think how Polly'll look when she sees it.”

“I know,” cried David in the greatest rapture, “I wouldn't tell for all the world! I guess she'll look nice, don't you mother?” and he laughed in glee at the thought.

“Poor child! I guess she will!” and then Mrs. Pepper laughed too, till the little old kitchen rang with delight at the accustomed sound.