Part 17

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, 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.”

“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, 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!

“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 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 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.

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 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!”

XIII

COMPANY AT THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE

Polly sat down in despair just as Mother Pepper finished. As for Joel, he burst into a howl, and even little Davie sobbed softly to himself. Phronsie alone was just as sweet as ever, for she didn’t know in the least what it was all about. While Ben, more distressed on account of Polly than loss to himself and the others, wrung his hands as he stood quite still, his blue eyes on Polly’s face.

“No, it wouldn’t be right for you children to go to the circus,” Mother Pepper had just said; “there is only just so much money in the stocking, and it has to be saved for the things we must have.”

She had poured out into her lap the ten-cent and five-cent pieces, and pennies, with two stray quarters, from the old black stocking that the children had brought out from its resting-place in the old bureau in the bedroom, in the wild hope that she would say, “yes,”--especially since Sally Brown, the next neighbor about half a mile distant, was going with her family.

“Oh, there’s lots and lots of money,” cried Joel, sticking his brown fingers in the little pile of coins to churn them about. “Oh, Mamsie!”

And “Oh, Mamsie!” echoed little Davie, with very red cheeks. How his blue eyes shone!

“And we’ve never seen a circus,” broke in Polly, passionately. “Never in all this world--oh, Ben!” With that Polly flung her arms around Ben’s neck, and burst out crying.

Ben’s ruddy cheek turned quite white. “Don’t, Polly,” he said hoarsely, and patted her back with an unsteady hand.

Mrs. Pepper took Joel’s little brown hand in her steady one.

“She’s going to give us some money, and we’re going!” screamed Joel, in a transport, to the others. Phronsie, at this, stopped her capering about the middle of the kitchen floor to come up with wondering eyes.

“No, Joel,” said Mrs. Pepper. Her voice shook, but she steadied it as she went on, and gathering up the coins she began to put them into the old black stocking again. “Mother can’t let you have this money, for it wouldn’t be right,” she added firmly.

Then it was that Polly broke away from Ben’s shoulder and sat down despairingly. And amid Joel’s howls and little Davie’s sobs the money was all shaken down into the toe of the stocking, tied up, and Mrs. Pepper went into the bedroom with it.

“Polly, you oughtn’t to,” said Ben, going over to her. Joel had thrown himself down on the old floor to give himself up to an abandonment of grief, and little Davie had crept alongside him to lay his wet cheek next to Joel’s stormy one. Phronsie stood still, looking from one group to the other in grave wonder.

“Oh, I know it,” cried Polly, gustily, as she began to cry and twisting her fingers dreadfully, “but we’ve--never--seen--seen--a circus.”

“I know it,” said Ben, with a twinge. How many times, ever since he had seen the flaming red and yellow posters in Mr. Atkins’s store, he had determined to take some of the money earned by chopping wood for Deacon Blodgett and doing chores at the parsonage, and go off to the circus with Polly,--yes, he surely couldn’t go without Polly, for he wouldn’t enjoy it a bit without her! And then, every single time, he found himself bringing home that same money to put it into Mother Pepper’s hand. And she had smiled and said, “Did anybody ever have such a comfort as you are, Ben!” And now Mamsie had gone into the bedroom so sorrowfully, and Ben shivered as he remembered how white her face was.

“Oh, you oughtn’t to do so, Polly,” he repeated hoarsely, and putting his hand on her shoulder.

“We--we won’t--see--the el’funt,” sobbed Joel, in angry spasms, and kicking his well-worn shoes on the floor. Little Davie gave a great sob at that, not so much at the loss of a sight of the elephant, as that wasn’t his particular choice of all the great wonders of this magnificent show, but the little white mice, who could do all sorts of tricks; hadn’t he stood on tiptoe to spell all about the wonderful things they could do, when sent on an errand to the store. At all such times when there was a chance to get near the great posters tacked up by the side of the little boxes and pigeonholes running down one side of the store (for Mr. Atkins, besides keeping the general store, was also postmaster of the village), he had been lost to the charms of the rest of the great show. And now he was never to see those dear wonderful little mice! He snuggled up closer to Joel, and wound one arm around his neck.

“And the snakes--the great big one that eats the camel,” roared Joel, getting, in his anger, dreadfully mixed. “Oh--oh!”--making his feet fly harder than ever.

“Polly, you see,” said Ben, bending down to whisper in her ear.

“I can’t--can’t--he--lp it--” said Polly, gustily, between her fingers.

“Yes, you can.” Ben shut his lips firmly together, and a very disapproving look came into his blue eyes. Polly felt it all over her miserable little body and her head sank lower than ever.

“Mamsie’s worried,” began Ben, a dreadful feeling at his heart as if the Little Brown House were going all to pieces, since Polly seemed to be failing them all in this way,--when she sprang up, a rain of tears running down her flushed face. “Oh, Bensie, I’m so bad and wicked,” and she flung herself into his arms.

“There, there, there,” said Ben, giving her what he meant for love pats on her shaking shoulder, “you aren’t bad now, you know, Polly.”

“Yes, I am,” said Polly, in a smothered voice; “oh, Ben, I am.”

“Well, you ought to stop now,” said Ben, “or else you will be bad, very bad indeed,” he added decidedly.

“I can’t, oh, I can’t, Ben,” said poor Polly, huddling up against his neck.

“Yes, you can,” said Ben, hating dreadfully to be cross, but obliged to stand his ground, “for you’ll make Mamsie sick if you don’t stop, Polly.”

“Oh, Ben!” Polly gave a convulsive start and clutched him firmer than ever. But the sobs stopped. “You surely will,” said Ben, more decidedly than ever, and seeing his advantage, “make our Mamsie sick, Polly Pepper.”

“Oh, I won’t, I won’t,” exclaimed Polly, wildly, and raising her brown head. Ben was aghast to see her face with the tears from her brown eyes streaming over it, and he had an awful feeling to think he had been cross to her. But the next minute she brushed them all off with her hand and sprang across the old kitchen and into the bedroom.

“Now, then, boys,” said Ben, going over to the little figures squirming on the floor. “You must get up this very minute. Stop screaming, Joe.”

Joel at that rolled over on his back to look at Ben out of streaming eyes. “We can’t--can’t see--the el’funt,” he cried, waving frantic little hands.

“Stop this minute!” said Ben, sternly. Little David at the sound of his voice so perfectly awful, wriggled himself loose from Joel and got up to his feet to look tremblingly at Ben.

“Never mind if we can’t,” said Ben, stoutly; “that’s nothing.”

Joel, in the greatest surprise, wiped away the tears from his black eyes with the back of a grimy hand,--“that was nothing, not to be able to see the elephant, oh!”--and he got up to his feet to stare into Ben’s face.

“We can’t see the el’funt,” he repeated, as loud as he could, supposing that Ben hadn’t heard.

“Hush,” cried Ben, pulling his sleeve, “Mamsie’ll hear. Well, supposing we can’t, that’s not worth crying about.”

“We can’t see the el’funt,” said Joel again, but this time to little David. But David was pressed up closely to Ben’s side, so he didn’t appear to hear the statement and Joel in a greater surprise than ever, was again reiterating it, when Polly ran out of the bedroom.

“Oh, boys,” she began. She didn’t dare look at Ben, but somehow she seemed to feel his approval hop right down into a corner of her heart, “let’s set up the kitchen. You must fix the mat, Joey. You kicked it up, and we must get it down straight before Mamsie comes back.”

“We can’t see the el’funt,” began Joel, in a loud, injured tone, hurrying over to her; Polly would hear him anyway.

“Yes,--yes, never mind,” cried Polly, rushing about, straightening the chairs against the wall, and making a great to-do about fixing up.

“_Never mind!_” and “_that’s no matter_.” Joel whirled about in astonishment. Little David was down on the floor, pulling the braided mat straight, while Ben had run over to help Polly, and they were whispering away at a great rate.

“I’m going to do that,” cried Joel, getting down to twitch the mat from Davie’s fingers; “Polly told me to do it.”

“Now, then,” back came Polly and Ben together. “We must see what else we can do,” cried Polly, in a twitter to provide something to keep the small fingers busy. And, “O dear me! They’ll begin talking about the circus if we can’t find something more for them to do. Oh, Ben, I can’t think of a single thing.”

“Joel,” said Ben, “I’m going to Grandma Bascom’s; want to come with me, and Davie?” He edged to the door looking back as he spoke.

“Don’t you?” Both boys sprang after him as quick as a shot, and none too soon, for out came Mrs. Pepper from the bedroom just as the door shut.

And then Polly told her where they had gone, and Mrs. Pepper sat down to the work so sadly interrupted when the plans to go to the circus were screamed out, and took up her needle to send it flying back and forth faster than ever on one of Mr. Atkins’s coats. And Polly drew up the little stool at her feet and began to pick, with quick remorseful fingers, the basting-threads out of another coat that was finished.

It wasn’t till then that Phronsie deserted her place. “Oh, Polly,” and she drew a long breath, as she came up to the side of the little stool, “what is it?” and she put her face in between the busy fingers and the basting-threads.

“Take care,” said Polly, “you almost made me break that, Pet. What do you mean, Phronsie?”

“What is it?” still demanded Phronsie, in a puzzled way.

“Whatever does she mean, Mamsie?” cried Polly, wrinkling up her forehead and dropping the coat in her lap, so that the long white basting-thread trailed off to the floor.

“Why, I suppose she’s thinking of all you children, how badly you felt because you couldn’t go to the circus, Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper, with a keen glance from her black eyes on Phronsie’s troubled face; “but never mind that now,” she added quickly, seeing Polly’s own. “Come here, Phronsie,” she cleared her sewing out of her lap, and held out her arms.

Phronsie ran into them like a frightened rabbit. “What is it, Mamsie?” she cried, lifting her face.

“See here, Phronsie,” said Mrs. Pepper, holding her very close; “look up at Mother,” which really wasn’t very necessary to say, as Phronsie hadn’t taken her blue eyes from Mamsie’s face. “Everything is all right; I want you to understand that, child. Mother says it’s all right now.”

“Is Polly right?” asked Phronsie, looking off at Polly’s brown head, which was drooping just then.

“Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Pepper, in such a hearty tone that Polly raised her head a little, “Polly is all right, Phronsie.”

Phronsie drew a long breath. “And is Bensie all right, too?” she asked.

“Yes, Ben is all right, too,” Mother Pepper answered.

“And is Joel all right?” Phronsie regarded her mother closely again, but the look of fear had dropped out of her face, and she put up one little hand to her mother’s cheek. “Is he, Mamsie?”

“Joel is all right, Phronsie.” Then Mother Pepper smiled, “And Davie, too. Everybody and everything is all as it should be, child.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” cried Phronsie, with a little crow of delight, and patting her hands together. Then she slipped down from her mother’s lap.

“It is, it is! Every single thing, and I’m glad,” and she began to dance as hard as she could up and down the old kitchen.

“And now, Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper, picking up her sewing again, and sending a bright smile down to Polly, “you better fly at those basting-threads as quick as ever you can,” which Polly did, and when the boys came running in, with all thoughts of circus driven out of their heads, the old kitchen was as bright as ever, and fairly running over with good cheer.

Meantime, Mrs. Pepper and Polly had been talking, for Mamsie had cast about in her own mind very hard to discover some way to make up as far as possible to the children for their disappointment about the circus. It really seemed that its heralded arrival had driven all Badgertown people almost out of their wits with joy, to think it was coming to their village on the morrow. And all households were busily planning for some, if not all, of their members to attend the performances.

But one after another of the nice plans that presented themselves to Mrs. Pepper took money to carry them out, so, of course, that would have been as bad as to buy circus tickets. What could she do? “There must be some way, and I’ve got to find it,” she said, stitching on, her lips pressed tighter together than ever.

At last she laid down her needle.

“Polly,” she said, “how would you like to have company to-morrow afternoon?”

“_To have company!_” repeated Polly, dropping the coat to stare at her mother.

“I don’t mean real company,” Mrs. Pepper made haste to add, “but to play company. You know you said you’d like to, sometime when Ben would be home.”

“And is Ben going to be home to-morrow?” said Polly. “I thought he was going to Mr. Henderson’s to work.”

“I shall tell Mr. Henderson he can’t go to-morrow afternoon to the parsonage,” said Mrs. Pepper, calmly. “Would you like it?”

“If Ben can stay home, I’d like it, oh, so very much,” exclaimed Polly, joyfully, and deserting her stool, the coat flying off in a heap, she threw her arms around Mrs. Pepper’s neck.

“Oh, Mamsie! You’re just too good for anything!” Then off she ran to Phronsie, still spinning contentedly around by herself.

“Phronsie,” she cried, seizing her and dancing away to keep step with the small feet. “We’re going to have company to-morrow afternoon; we are, Phronsie Pepper!”

Phronsie tried to pull herself away from Polly, seeing which Polly stopped short.

“Oh, Polly,” cried Phronsie, breathlessly, and gazing up at Polly’s face.

“Yes, we really and truly are, Pet, and Ben’s to stay home, and play company, too.” With that, she danced off by herself, while Phronsie hopped up and down and laughed to see Polly go. It was just at this moment that the three boys raced in.

“Halloa!” exclaimed Ben, out of his wits almost with joy to see Polly so happy. For although he had diverted the boys from their distress, the fear of what Polly was suffering, and of Mamsie, too, had made him not sure of himself. He might rush off into the house to see how things were there, and then, of course, Joel and David would be sure to follow. And then--Ben had groaned and said to himself--it would be worse than before.