CHAPTER XXIV.
HOME!
"I don't want to leave you, Mrs. Higby," said Phronsie slowly.
Mrs. Higby looked as if she were about to throw her apron over her headagain. "You blessed child!" she exclaimed, half-crying and allowing herhands to rest on the rim of the dish-pan.
"You have been so very good to us," continued Phronsie, shaking heryellow head decidedly. "I love you, Mrs. Higby, very much indeed." Withthat she clasped the farmer's wife around her stout waist and held herclosely.
"Dear--dear!" cried Mrs. Higby, violently caressing Phronsie; "youprecious lamb, you, to think I sha'n't hear you pattering around anymore, nor asking questions."
"I've made you ever so much trouble, Mrs. Higby," said Phronsie, in apenitent little voice, and enjoying to the fullest extent the pettingshe was receiving. "And I'm so sorry."
"Trouble!" exploded the farmer's wife, smoothing Phronsie's yellow hairwith her large red hands, "the land! it's only a sight of comfort you'vebeen. Why, I've just set by you!"
"I've come in here," said Phronsie, reflectively peering around at thespotless kitchen floor, "with muddy boots on and spoiled it; and I'vetalked when you wanted to weigh out things, and make cake, and once,don't you remember, Mrs. Higby, I left the pantry door open and the catgot in and ate up part of the custard pudding."
"Bless your heart!" exclaimed Mrs. Higby, with another squeeze, "I'veforgot all about it."
"But I haven't," said Phronsie, with a sigh, "and I'm sorry."
"Well, now," said the farmer's wife, "I'll tell you how we will settlethat; if you'll come again to the farm, and give my old eyes a sight ofyou, that'll make it all right."
"You're not old," cried Phronsie, wriggling enough out of Mrs. Higby'sarms to look at the round red cheeks and bright eyes. "Oh, Mrs. Higby!and you're just as nice!" With that she clasped her impulsively aroundthe neck. "And Pickering likes you too, Mrs. Higby," continued Phronsie,"he says you're as good as gold."
"You don't say so!" cried Mrs. Farmer Higby, intensely gratified; "well,he's as nice a boy as ever lived, I'm sure, and I'm just as tickled as Ican be that that fever was broke up so sudden, for you see, Phronsie,he's got the making of being a right smart man yet."
"Grandpapa is going to have Pickering go home with us," said Phronsie,confidentially, and edging away from the farmer's wife to facilitateconversation. "And he's going to stay at our house with us till he getsnice and strong."
"Well, I'm dreadful glad of that," declared Mrs. Higby heartily, "forthat a'nt of his--well, there, Phronsie, she ain't to my taste; she issuch a making sort of woman--she comes in here and she wants to make medo this, and do that, till I'm most out of my wits, and I'd like to takemy broom and say 'scat' as I do to the cat," and a black frown settledon Mrs. Higby's pleasant face.
Phronsie began to look quite grave. "She loves Pickering," she saidthoughtfully, "and when he was so bad she cried almost all the time,Mrs. Higby."
"Oh! she loves him well enough," answered Mrs. Higby, "but she fussesover him so, and wants her way all the same. It would be good if shethought somebody else knew something once in a while," and she began tosplash in the dish-pan vigorously to make up for lost time, quicklyheaping up a pile of dishes to drain on the little old tray.
"Let me wipe them, do, Mrs. Higby," begged Phronsie eagerly, and withoutwaiting for the permission she felt quite sure of, Phronsie picked upthe long brown towel and set to work.
Upstairs Jasper and his father were going over again all the incidentsof Mr. King's and Polly's trip, that the old gentleman was willing tocommunicate, and Jasper, despite his eagerness to know all the whys andwherefores, held himself in check as well as he could, scarcelyrealizing that he was really to go back to Mr. Marlowe's.
And Polly and Mrs. Cabot were busily packing, with the aid of a farmer'sdaughter who lived near, while Polly, who dearly loved to do it allherself, was forced to stand by and direct matters; and old Mr. Lougheaddivided his time between stalking out to the piazza where Pickering wasslowly pacing back and forth in his "constitutional," to insist that heshouldn't "walks his legs off," and calling Polly from her work, "justto help me a bit, my dear"--when he got into a tight place over thepacking that he insisted should be done by none but his own two hands.
And the whole farmhouse was soon thrown into such a bustle and ferment,that any one looking in would have known without the telling, that "Mr.King's family are going home." And after a day or so of all this, FarmerHigby carried a wagon-load of trunks down to the little station, and hiswife drove the carryall, in the back of which Pickering was carefullytucked with Mrs. Cabot, who insisted on being beside him, and old Mr.Loughead in front--the others of the party merrily following in a largeold vehicle of no particular pattern whatever--and before anybody couldhardly realize it, the train came rushing in, and there were hurriedgood-bys, and hand-shakes, and they were off--Phronsie crying as sheheld to her, "I wish you were going too, I do, dear Mrs. Higby." And thefarmer and his wife were left on the platform, staring after them withsorry eyes.
"Well, now, Phronsie," said Mr. King, as they quieted down, and Phronsieturned back after the last look at the little station, "I think it istime to answer your question, so as to let you go home without anythingon your mind."
"About Charlotte, you mean, Grandpapa?" whispered Phronsie softly, withwide eyes, and glancing back to see that no one else heard.
"To be sure--about Charlotte," said the old gentleman. "Well, I'veconcluded you ought to have your way, and make Charlotte a gift of somemoney, if you want to."
"Oh, Grandpapa!" cried Phronsie, in a suppressed scream, and havinggreat difficulty not to clap her hands; "oh, how good!" then she satquite still, and folded them in silent rapture.
"And I'll see that it is fixed as soon as may be after we get home,"said the old gentleman, "and I'm sure I'm glad you've done it, Phronsie,for I think Charlotte is a very good sort of a girl."
"Charlotte is just lovely," cried Phronsie, with warmth, "and I think,Grandpapa, that dear Mrs. Chatterton up in heaven, is glad too, thatI've done it."
Old Mr. King turned away with a mild snort, and then not finding anywords to say, picked up the newspaper, and Phronsie, full of her newhappiness, looked out the window as the cars sped along.
"There's Thomas!" cried Jasper, at sight of that functionary waiting onhis carriage-box as he had waited so many other times for them; now forthe jolliest of all home-comings.
"And the girls," finished Polly, craning her neck to look out the carwindow at a knot of them restlessly curbing their impatience on theplatform as the train moved into the station and--"why, Mamsie. Oh,Jasper! how slow we are!"
Pickering Dodge shook his long legs impatiently as he got out of hisseat. "Don't try to help me, Mr. Loughead," he said testily, as the oldgentleman offered his arm; "I'm not sick now. No, thanks, I'll go outalone."
Jasper now ran up, but he didn't offer to help, but waited patiently forPickering's slow movements as he worked his way unsteadily down theaisle.
"Don't stop by me," said Pickering, rather crossly, "go ahead, Jasper,and get the fun."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Jasper, yet feeling his heart bound at the merrydin as Polly was surrounded, and the babel of voices waxed louder; foreverybody was now out of the car but Pickering and himself--"here we arenow," as they neared the car step.
Alexia Rhys, back on the platform hanging to Polly who had one hand inMother Fisher's at the expense of all the other girls who couldn't getthe chance, looked up and saw Pickering Dodge, and dropping Polly's armshe ran lightly across the stream of passengers and put out her hand.
"How do you do, Pickering? it's so good to see you back."
Pickering shot her an astonished glance, then he said gratefully, "Thankyou, Alexia," and he actually let her help him down the steps, which soastonished her that it took away her breath and left her without a wordto say.
And the rest was all bustle and confusion--Mr. King declaring it wasworse than a boarding-school
--everybody talking together--and Jasper ranoff to see to the luggage for the whole party, followed by Ben trying tohelp. And old Mr. Loughead had to be introduced all around, and littleDoctor Fisher tried to get them all settled in the carriages, but atlast gave it up in despair.
"Charlotte, my girl, go and tell Polly to get in, will you?" he said,turning to Charlotte Chatterton. "Phronsie won't stir till Polly issettled."
"Oh, Polly! let me drive you home; I've got my dog-cart here," cried ClemForsythe alluringly, and trying to pull her off as Charlotte ran up withher message.
"No, no," cried Sally Moore, "I brought my phaeton on purpose; you knowI did, Clem--come with me, Polly, do."
"You'll have to get in here," called Doctor Fisher, waiting at thecarriage, "to end it."
"Yes, I think I shall," said Polly merrily, and running to him followedby Phronsie. "Girls, come over this evening, won't you?" she looked backto call after them.
"Yes, we'll be over this evening," cried the girls back again, andPhronsie hopping in after her, the carriage-door was shut, and off theyrolled.
And old Turner was waiting at the steps as the carriage rolled up thewinding drive, with a monstrous bouquet of his choicest blossoms forPolly, and one exactly like it only a little smaller, for Phronsie; andPrince came rushing out getting in every one's way and nearly devouringPhronsie; and there was King Fisher running away on toddling feet fromhis nurse to meet them, screaming with all his might; and Mrs. Fargowith Johnny in her arms crowing with delight--all stood on the broadstone porch.
"Oh--oh!" cried Polly, jumping out, her cheeks aflame; "are we really athome!"
"Oh--oh!" echoed Phronsie, flying at them all, and trying to keep holdof Prince at the same time.
And there in the wide hall drawn back within the shadow of the oakendoor, were Mr. and Mrs. Whitney and Dick ready to pounce upon them in amoment.
And no one ever hinted a suspicion that the college boys were steamingalong as fast as they could, for the evening's festivities; and old Mr.King appeared superbly indifferent to the fact that Mr. Marlowe waswaiting at a hotel for that hour to arrive; and everybody rushed off toget ready for dinner, with the exception of Polly and Jasper andPhronsie.
"Oh! we must go in the conservatory just for a minute," begged Phronsie,flying off on eager feet.
"We'll only take one peep," said Polly, just as eagerly, "come on,Jasper."
And then Polly had to run into the long drawing-room, and just look ather piano, and lay her fingers lovingly on the keys.
"Don't try it with your lame hand, Polly," begged Jasper, close beside.
"No, I won't," promised Polly, running light scales with the fingers ofthe other hand. "But oh! Jasper, I do verily believe I could. My armfeels so well."
"Well, don't, Polly," begged Jasper again.
"No, of course I won't," said Polly, with a little laugh, "but it won'tbe many weeks, you dear"--this to the piano, as she unwillingly got upfrom the music-stool, and let Jasper lead her off--"before you and Ihave all our good times together!"
* * * * *
Polly, in a soft white gown, sat on a low seat by Mother Fisher's side,her head in Mamsie's lap. It was after dinner, and the gas was turnedlow.
"Mamsie," said Polly, and she threw one hand over her head to claspMother Fisher's strong fingers closer, "it's so good to be home--oh! youcan't think how I wanted you."
Just then somebody looked into Mother Fisher's bedroom.
"Oh! beg pardon," said Jasper, as he saw them. But there was so muchlonging in the voice that Polly called out, "Oh! come, Jasper. May he,Mamsie?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Fisher; "come in, Jasper."
Jasper came in quickly and stood a moment looking down at them. "It's solovely to be home, Jasper," said Polly, looking up at him and playingwith her mother's fingers.
"Isn't it?" cried Jasper, with feeling, "there never was anything sonice! Mrs. Fisher, may I sit down by you here?" and he went over to herwhere she sat on the sofa--it was the same big comfortable affair whereJoel had flung himself, when he declared he could not keep on at school;and where Mamsie had often sat when the children brought her theirtroubles, declaring it was easier to tell her everything on the roomy,old-fashioned sofa, than anywhere else.
"Yes, indeed!" cried Mrs. Fisher cordially, and making way for him tosit down by her side.
"Now isn't this nice!" breathed Polly, lifting her head out of hermother's lap to look at him on Mamsie's other side. "Now, Jasper, youbegin, and we'll tell her all about it, as we always do, you know, whenwe get home from places."
"I want to tell her something--and to you too, Polly," began Jasperquietly. "Mrs. Fisher--may I speak?" He leaned over and looked into theblack eyes above Polly's shining brown hair.
"Yes," said Mother Fisher as quietly.
"How funny you are, Jasper," cried Polly with a laugh, "asking Mamsie insuch a solemn way. There now, begin, do."
"Polly," said Jasper, "look at me, do, dear!"
Polly lifted her brown eyes quietly. "Why, Jasper?"
"NOW, JASPER, YOU BEGIN," CRIED POLLY, "AND WE'LL TELLMAMSIE ALL ABOUT IT, AS WE ALWAYS DO WHEN WE GET HOME!"]
"I waited because I thought I ought," said Jasper, trying not to speaktoo quickly. "It seemed at one time as if you were going to be happy,and I should spoil it, Polly, if I spoke; but now--oh, Polly!" He putout his hand, and Polly instinctively laid her own warm palm within it."Do you think you could love me--I've loved you ever since the LittleBrown House days, dear!"
"Oh, Jasper!" Polly cried, with a glad ring in her voice, "how good youare," and she clung to his hand across Mamsie's lap.
"Will you, Polly?" cried Jasper, holding her hand so tightly that shewinced a bit, "tell me quickly, dear."
"Will I what?" asked Polly wonderingly.
"Love me, Polly."
"Oh! I do--I do," she cried; "you know it, Jasper. I love you with allmy heart."
"Polly, will you marry me? Tell her, Mrs. Fisher, do, and make herunderstand," begged Jasper, turning to Mother Fisher imploringly.
"Polly, child," said Mamsie, putting both arms around her, careful notto disturb Jasper's hand over Polly's, "Jasper wants you to be hiswife--do you love him enough for that?"
Polly, not taking her brown eyes from Jasper's face, laid her other handupon his, "I love him enough," she said, "for that; oh, Jasper!"
Old Mr. King walked proudly down the long drawing-room with Polly on hisarm. Everybody was in the highest possible spirits. The Lord of Misrulehad made a triumphant entree, covering himself with glory and winninggreat applause for his long train of masquers; whose costumes if notgotten up on strict historical lines, made up any lack by the variety ofother contrivances, each one following his own sweet will in dressing.They had gone through with the minuet and the pantomimes; and Charlotte,in a peaked hat and a big flowered brocade gown rich with tambour lace,had sung "like a nightingale," as more than one declared, and now theroom was in a buzz of applause.
Old Mr. King took this time to walk up and down the long room with Pollyseveral times quite pompously; and once in a while the little Lord ofMisrule would rush up to them, say something very earnest, seize Polly'shand and give it a shake and then dart away; which proceeding Joel wouldimitate, at such times leaving Robert Bingley to his own devices--untilJoel, evidently struck by remorse, would as suddenly fly back andintroduce his college friend violently to right and left, to make up forlost time.
"That's three times you've introduced me to that girl in blue," saidBingley, on one of these occasions, when he could get Joel aside for aminute. "Do let me alone--I was having a good enough time where I was."
"Did I?" cried Joel, opening his black eyes at him, "oh! beg pardon,"and off he rushed at Polly again.
"How queerly they do act!" cried Alexia, to a knot of the girls. "Andjust look at Mr. King, he holds on to Polly every minute--I'm going tosee what it's all about."
So she hurried across the room as fast as her high-heeled
slippers wouldlet her. "Polly--Polly, did you really like it all?" she askedbreathlessly. "Oh! dear me, this ruff will be the death of me," pickingat it with impatient fingers.
"Don't, Alexia," cried Polly, "it's so pretty--it was all just as fineas could be, and splendidly gotten up!"
"Well, it nearly killed us," declared Alexia, fanning herself violently,"and this old ruff will end me. There!" and she made a little break inthe starched affair under her chin, "that's one degree less of misery."
"What would Queen Bess do to you?" cried Polly, saying the first thingthat came in her head, to keep off questions she saw trembling onAlexia's tongue.
"Queen Bess was an old goose to wear such a thing," retorted Alexia."Oh, Polly! do come with us. Let her, do, Mr. King," to the oldgentleman who made all sorts of signs that served to show he meant tokeep Polly to himself. "We girls want her now," she added saucily.
"You keep away," said old Mr. King, with an emphatic nod and a twinklein his eye, "and the other girls; I'm going to have Polly tonight; youcan come over in the morning and see her." And he moved off coolly,carrying Polly with him.
"POLLY, DO COME WITH US!"]
Alexia stood a moment transfixed with astonishment. "Joel--Joel, what isit?" she cried in a stage whisper, as that individual pranced by in oneof his fits of remorse looking up Bingley. "Do tell me what's come overPolly, and why does Mr. King act so queerly?"
Joel flashed her a smile, but wouldn't say anything, and his eyestwinkled so exactly like Mr. King's, that Alexia lost all patience.
"Oh! you horrid boy," she cried, and ran back dismally to the girls,with nothing to tell.
And Charlotte Chatterton walked as if she disdained the ground, herpeaked hat towering threateningly, while her sallow face was wreathedwith smiles; and it seemed as if she couldn't sing enough, throwing inencores in a perfectly reckless fashion.
"What is it? oh! I shall die if I don't know," exclaimed Alexia, overand over. "Girls, if some of you don't find out what's going on, I shallfly crazy!"
And the room buzzed and buzzed with delight, the growing mystery notlessening the hilarity.
"That's an uncommonly fine fellow I've just been talking with," saidMason Whitney, coming up to old Mr. King still keeping Polly by hisside; "I haven't met such a man in one spell; he's a thorough-goingintellectual chap, and he's been around the world a good deal, it's easyto see by his fine manner. Where did you pick him up?"
"Whom are you talking of, Mason?" asked Mr. King, in his crispestfashion.
"Why, that new man--Mr.--Mr.--I didn't catch the name when I wasintroduced, that you invited here to-night," said Mr. Whitney, with alittle touch of the asperity yet remaining over the failure of his planfor Jasper, and he jerked his head in the direction of Mr. Marlowe.
"He?--oh! that's Jasper's publisher, Mr. Marlowe," said the oldgentleman, trying to speak carelessly; then he burst into a laugh at Mr.Whitney's face.
"Whew!" exclaimed that gentleman, as soon as he could speak, "I've gotto eat humble pie before my fourteen-year-old son Dick, and you've takenmy breath away, Polly," looking at her blooming cheeks and happy eyes,"with that piece of news, and"--
"What news--oh, what news?" cried Alexia, coming up, too frantic toremember her manners. "Please tell us girls, for we are dying to know."
"You come away!" retorted Mr. Whitney unceremoniously, and Mr. Kinglaughed, and Polly shook her white fan at them as the two moved off, andit was just as bad as ever!
"Pickering, do you know?" at last demanded Alexia, as he leaned againstthe doorway surveying the bright crowd.
"Yes, I know enough--that is, I can guess--don't ask me."
"Oh, what!" breathlessly cried Alexia, seizing his arm; "do tell me,Pickering, that is a dear--oh, I thought I was talking to the girls--Idon't know what I'm doing anyway, Polly has so upset me."
"Well, she has upset me, too, Alexia," said Pickering gloomily, "but itisn't her fault; she couldn't help it."
Alexia, feeling that here was coming something quite worth her while tohear, waited patiently.
"You all know I've loved Polly for years," said Pickering steadily; "Imade no secret of it."
"I know it," said Alexia, full of sympathy, and not daring to breathe,lest she should spoil it all. "Well, go on."
"And when I was sick, I hoped that things might be different--for Pollywas sorry for me. But one day Aunt was talking about it to me, in a waythat made me mad, and I knew that Polly would be bothered awfully if sheever got at her, so I told Polly the first chance I got, that she wasnever to be sorry for me any more, for I'd made up my mind not to thinkof her in that way again; which was an awful lie," declared Pickeringsuddenly, standing quite erect, "for I can't help it."
"Oh, dear--dear!" exclaimed Alexia, quite gone in sympathy, "aren'tthings just shameful in the world! Of course you oughtn't to be allowedto marry Polly, for you are not half good enough for her, Pickering,"she added frankly, "but I'm so sorry for you!" and she put out her handinstinctively.
Pickering took it, and held it a minute in a calm grasp, with the air ofa man considering it better to take the little, since he couldn't getall he wanted.
"And you will be my own brother, Jasper," said Phronsie.]
"But now tell why Polly and Mr. King and all the family act so funnily?"cried Alexia, pulling away her hand and suddenly awaking to the factthat this important piece of news had not been made known to her.
"Can't you see for yourself?" cried Pickering, with an impatient stare."Why, Alexia, where are your eyes?" which was all she could get him tosay, as Pickering walked off immediately.
Jasper all this while seemed to find it impossible to be separated fromMother Fisher; and together they wandered up and down the drawing-room,Phronsie clinging to his hand. "I always longed since the Little BrownHouse days, to call you Mamsie," he said affectionately, looking downinto Mrs. Fisher's face, "and now I can!"
"And you will really and truly be my very own brother, Jasper," saidPhronsie, as they walked on.
Five Little Peppers Grown Up Page 25
