So they had individually and collectively been entrusted 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.
The children all had to play “Clap in and clap out” in the bedroom while it came; and “Stagecoach,” too—“Anything to make a noise,” Ben said. And then after they got nicely started in the game, he would be missing to help about the mysterious thing in the kitchen, which was safe since Polly couldn’t see him go on account of her bandage. So she didn’t suspect in the least. And although the rest were almost dying to be out in the kitchen, they conscientiously stuck to their bargain to keep Polly occupied. Only Joel would open the door and peep once; and then Phronsie behind him began—“Oh, I see the sto—” but David swooped down on her in a twinkling, and smothered the rest by tickling her.
Once they came very near having the whole thing pop out.
“Whatever is that noise in the kitchen?” asked Polly, as they all stopped to take breath after the scuffle of “Stagecoach.” “It sounds just like grating.”
“I’ll go and see,” cried Joel, promptly; and then he flew out where his mother and Ben and two men were at work on a big, black thing in the corner. The old stove, strange to say, was nowhere to be seen! Something else stood in its place, a shiny, black affair, with a generous supply of oven doors, and altogether such a comfortable, homelike look about it, as if it would say, “I’m going to make sunshine in this house!”
“Oh, Joel,” cried his mother, turning around on him with very black hands, “you haven’t told!”
“No,” said Joel, “but she’s hearing the noise, Polly is.”
“Hush!” said Ben, to one of the men.
“We can’t put it up without some noise,” the man replied, “but we’ll be as still as we can.”
“Ain’t it a big one, ma?” asked Joel, in the loudest of stage whispers, that Polly on the other side of the door couldn’t have failed to hear if Phronsie hadn’t laughed just then.
“Go back, Joe, do,” said Ben, “play tag—anything,” he implored, “we’ll be through in a few minutes.”
“It takes forever!” said Joel, disappearing within the bedroom door. Luckily for the secret, Phronsie just then ran a pin sticking up on the arm of the old chair into her finger; and Polly, while comforting her, forgot to question Joel. And then the mother came in, and though she had ill-concealed hilarity in her voice, she kept chattering and bustling around with Polly’s supper to such an extent that there was no chance for a word to be got in.
Next morning it seemed as if the Little Brown House, would turn inside out with joy.
“Oh, mammy!” cried Polly, jumping into her arms the first thing, as Doctor Fisher untied the bandage, “my eyes are new! just the same as if I’d just got ’em! Don’t they look different?” she asked, earnestly, running to the cracked glass to see for herself.
“No,” said Ben, “I hope not; the same brown ones, Polly.”
“Well,” said Polly, hugging first one and then another, “everybody looks different through ’em, anyway.”
“Oh,” cried Joel, “come out into the kitchen, Polly; it’s a great deal better out there!”
“May I?” asked Polly, who was in such a twitter looking at everything that she didn’t know which way to turn.
“Yes,” said the doctor, smiling at her.
“Well, then,” sang Polly, “come mammy, we’ll go first; isn’t it just lovely—oh, MAMMY!”—and Polly turned so very pale, and looked as if she were going to tumble right over, that Mrs. Pepper grasped her arm in dismay.
“What is it?” she asked, pointing to the corner, while all the children stood around in the greatest excitement.
“Why,” cried Phronsie, “it’s a stove—don’t you know, Polly?”
But Polly gave one plunge across the room, and before anybody could think, she was down on her knees with her arms flung right around the big, black thing, and laughing and crying over it, all in the same breath!
And then they all took hold of hands and danced around it like wild little things; while Doctor Fisher stole out silently—and Mrs. Pepper laughed till she wiped her eyes to see them go.
“We are never going to have any more burnt bread,” sang Polly, all out of breath.
“And your back isn’t going to break any more,” panted Ben, with a very red face.
“Hooray!” screamed Joel and David, to fill any pause that might occur, while Phronsie gurgled and laughed at everything just as it came along. And then they all danced and capered again; all but Polly, who was down before the precious stove examining and exploring into ovens and everything that belonged to it.
“Oh, ma,” she announced, coming up to Mrs. Pepper, who had been obliged to fly to her sewing again, and exhibiting a very crocky face and a pair of extremely smutty hands, “it’s ’most all ovens, and it’s just splendid!”
“I know it,” answered her mother, delighted in the joy of her child. “My! how black you are, Polly!”
“Oh, I wish,” cried Polly, as the thought struck her, “that Doctor Fisher could have seen it! Where did he go to, ma?”
“I guess Doctor Fisher has seen it before,” said Mrs. Pepper, and then she began to laugh. “You haven’t ever asked where the stove came from, Polly.”
And to be sure, Polly had been so overwhelmed that if the stove had really dropped from the clouds it would have been small matter of astonishment to her, as long as it had come; that was the main thing!
“Mammy,” said Polly, turning around slowly, with the stove-lifter in her hand, “did Doctor Fisher bring that stove?”
“He didn’t exactly bring it,” answered her mother, “but I guess he knew something about it.”
“Oh, he’s the splendidest, goodest man!” cried Polly, “that ever breathed! Did he really get us that stove?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, “he would; I couldn’t stop him. I don’t know how he found out you wanted one so bad; but he said it must be kept as a surprise when your eyes got well.”
“And he saved my eyes!” cried Polly, full of gratitude. “I’ve got a stove and two new eyes, mammy, just to think!”
“We ought to be good after all our mercies,” said Mrs. Pepper, thankfully, looking around on her little group. Joel was engaged in the pleasing occupation of seeing how far he could run his head into the biggest oven, and then pulling it out to exhibit its blackness, thus engrossing the others in a perfect hubbub.
“I’m going to bake my doctor some little cakes,” declared Polly, when there was comparative quiet.
“Do, Polly,” cried Joel, “and then leave one or two over.”
“No,” said Polly; “we can’t have any, because these must be very nice. Mammy, can’t I have some white on top, just once?” she pleaded.
“I don’t know,” dubiously replied Mrs. Pepper; “eggs are dreadful dear, and—”
“I don’t care,” said Polly, recklessly; “I must just once for Doctor Fisher.”
“I tell you, Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper, “what you might do; you might make him some little apple tarts—“most every one likes them, you know.”
“Well,” said Polly, with a sigh, “I s’pose they’ll have to do; but sometime, mammy, I’m going to bake him a big cake,
so there!”
10
A Threatened Blow
One day, a few weeks after, Mrs. Pepper and Polly were busy in the kitchen. Phronsie was out in the “orchard,” as the one scraggy apple-tree was called by courtesy, singing her rag doll to sleep under its sheltering branches. But “Baby” was cross and wouldn’t go to sleep, and Phronsie was on the point of giving up, and returning to the house, when a strain of music made her pause with dolly in her apron. There she stood with her finger in her mouth, in utter astonishment, wondering where the sweet sounds came from.
“Oh, Phronsie!” screamed Polly, from the back door, “where are—oh, here, come quick! it’s the beau-ti-fullest!”
“What is it?” eagerly asked the little one, hopping over the stubby grass, leaving poor, discarded “Baby” on its snubby nose where it dropped in her hurry.
“Oh, a monkey!” cried Polly; “do hurry! the sweetest little monkey you ever saw!”
“What is a monkey?” asked Phronsie, scurrying after Polly to the gate where her mother was waiting for them.
“Why, a monkey’s—a—monkey,” explained Polly, “I don’t know any better’n that. Here he is! Isn’t he splendid!” and she lifted Phronsie up to the big post where she could see finely.
“O-oh! ow!” screamed little Phronsie, “see him, Polly! just see him!”
A man with an organ was standing in the middle of the road playing away with all his might, and at the end of a long rope was a lively little monkey in a bright red coat and a smart cocked hat. The little creature pulled off his hat, and with one long jump coming on the fence, he made Phronsie a most magnificent bow. Strange to say, the child wasn’t in the least frightened, but put out her little fat hand, speaking in gentle tones, “Poor little monkey! come here, poor little monkey!”
Turning up his little wrinkled face, and glancing fearfully at his master, Jocko began to grimace and beg for something to eat. The man pulled the string and struck up a merry tune, and in a minute the monkey spun around and around at such a lively pace, and put in so many queer antics that the little audience were fairly convulsed with laughter.
“I can’t pay you,” said Mrs. Pepper, wiping her eyes, when at last the man pulled up the strap whistling to Jocko to jump up, “but I’ll give you something to eat; and the monkey, too, he shall have something for his pains in amusing my children.”
The man looked very cross when she brought him out only brown bread and two cold potatoes.
“Haven’t you got nothin’ better’n that?”
“It’s as good as we have,” answered Mrs. Pepper.
The man threw down the bread in the road. But Jocko thankfully ate his share, Polly and Phronsie busily feeding him; and then he turned and snapped up the portion his master had left in the dusty road.
Then they moved on, Mrs. Pepper and Polly going back to their work in the kitchen. A little down the road the man struck up another tune. Phronsie who had started merrily to tell “Baby” all about it, stopped a minute to hear, and—she didn’t go back to the orchard!
About two hours after, Polly said, merrily:
“I’m going to call Phronsie in, mammy; she must be awfully tired and hungry by this time.”
She sang gaily on the way, “I’m coming, Phronsie, coming—why, where!—” peeping under the tree.
“Baby” lay on its face disconsolately on the ground—and the orchard was empty! Phronsie was gone!
“It’s no use,” said Ben, to the distracted household and such of the neighbors as the news had brought hurriedly to the scene, “to look any more around here—but somebody must go toward Hingham; he’d be likely to go that way.”
“No one could tell where he would go,” cried Polly, wringing her hands.
“But he’d change, Ben, if he thought folks would think he’d gone there,” said Mrs. Pepper.
“We must go all roads,” said Ben, firmly; “one must take the stage to Boxville, and I’ll take Deacon Brown’s wagon on the Hingham road, and somebody else must go to Toad Hollow.”
“I’ll go in the stage,” screamed Joel, who could scarcely see out of his eyes, he had cried so; “I’ll find—find her—I know.”
“Be spry, then, Joe, and catch it at the corner!”
Everybody soon knew that little Phronsie Pepper had gone off with “a cross organ man and an awful monkey!” and in the course of an hour dozens of people were out on the hot, dusty roads in search.
“What’s the matter?” asked a testy old gentleman in the stage of Joel who, in his anxiety to see both sides of the road at once, bobbed the old gentleman in the face so often as the stage lurched, that at last he knocked his hat over his eyes.
“My sister’s gone off with a monkey,” explained Joel, bobbing over to the other side, as he thought he caught sight of something pink that he felt sure must be Phronsie’s apron. “Stop! stop! there she is!” he roared, and the driver, who had his instructions and was fully in sympathy, pulled up so suddenly that the old gentleman flew over into the opposite seat.
“Where?”
But when they got up to it Joel saw that it was only a bit of pink calico flapping on a clothesline; so he climbed back and away they rumbled again.
The others were having the same luck. No trace could be found of the child. To Ben, who took the Hingham road, the minutes seemed like hours.
“I won’t go back,” he muttered, “until I take her. I can’t see mother’s face!”
But the ten miles were nearly traversed; almost the last hope was gone. Into every thicket and lurking place by the road-side had he peered—but no Phronsie! Deacon Brown’s horse began to lag.
“Go on!” said Ben hoarsely; “O, dear Lord, make me find her!”
The hot sun poured down on the boy’s face, and he had no cap. What cared he for that? On and on he went. Suddenly the horse stopped. Ben doubled up the reins to give him a cut, when “WHOA!” he roared so loud that the horse in very astonishment gave a lurch that nearly flung him headlong. But he was over the wheel in a twinkling, and up with a bound to a small thicket of scrubby bushes on a high hill by the road-side. Here lay a little bundle on the ground, and close by it a big, black dog; and over the whole, standing guard, was a boy a little bigger than Ben, with honest gray eyes. And the bundle was Phronsie!
“Don’t wake her up,” said the boy, warningly, as Ben, with a hungry look in his eyes, leaped up the hill, “she’s tired to death!”
“She’s my sister!” cried Ben, “our Phronsie!”
“I know it,” said the boy kindly; “but I wouldn’t wake her up yet if I were you. I’ll tell you all about it,” and he took Ben’s hand, which was as cold as ice.
11
Safe
“It’s all right, Prince,” the boy added, encouragingly, to the big dog that, lifting his noble head, had turned two big eyes steadily on Ben. “He’s all right; lie down again!”
Then, flinging himself down on the grass, he told Ben how he came to rescue Phronsie.
“Prince and I were out for a stroll,” said he. “I live over in Hingham,” pointing to the pretty little town just a short distance before them in the hollow; “that is,” laughing, “I do this summer. Well, we were out strolling along about a mile below here on the cross-roads; and all of a sudden, just as if they sprung right up out of the ground, I saw a man with an organ, and a monkey, and a little girl, coming along the road. She was crying, and as soon as Prince saw that, he gave a growl, and then the man saw us, and he looked so mean and cringing I knew there must be something wrong, and I inquired of him what he was doing with that little girl, and then she looked up and begged so with her eyes, and all of a sudden broke away from him and ran towards me screaming, ‘I want Polly!’ Well, the man sprang after her; then I tell you”—here the boy forgot his caution about waking Phronsie—“we went for him, Prince and I! Prince is a noble fellow” (here the dog’s ears twitched very perceptibly), “and he kept at that man; oh! how he bit him! till he had to run for fear the m
onkey would get killed.”
“Was Phronsie frightened?” asked Ben; “she’s never seen strangers.”
“Not a bit,” said the boy, cheerily; “she just clung to me like everything—I only wish she was my sister,” he added, impulsively.
“What were you going to do with her if I hadn’t come along?” asked Ben.
“Well, I got out on the main road,” said the boy, “because I thought anybody who had lost her, would probably come through this way; but if somebody hadn’t come, I was going to carry her in to Hingham; and the father and I’d had to contrive some way to do.”
“Well,” said Ben, as the boy finished and fastened his bright eyes on him, “somebody did come along; and now I must get her home about as fast as I can for poor mammy—and Polly!”
“Yes,” said the boy, “I’ll help you lift her; perhaps she won’t wake up.”
The big dog moved away a step or two, but still kept his eye on Phronsie.
“There,” said the boy, brightly, as they laid the child on the wagon seat; “now when you get in you can hold her head; that’s it,” he added, seeing them both fixed to his satisfaction. But still Ben lingered.
“Thank you,” he tried to say.
“I know,” laughed the boy; “only it’s Prince instead of me,” and he pulled forward the big black creature, who had followed faithfully down the hill to see the last of it. “To the front, sir, there! We’re coming to see you,” he continued, “if you will let us—where do you live?”
“Do come,” said Ben, lighting up, for he was just feeling he couldn’t bear to look his last on the merry, honest face; “anybody’ll tell you where Mrs. Pepper lives.”
“Is she a Pepper?” asked the boy, laughing, and pointing to the unconscious little heap in the wagon; “and are you a Pepper?”
“Yes,” said Ben, laughing, too. “There are five of us besides mother.”
“Jolly! that’s something like! Good-bye! Come on, Prince!”
Then away home to mother! Phronsie never woke up or turned over once till she was put, a little pink sleepy heap, into her mother’s arms. Joel was there, crying bitterly at his forlorn search. 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!
Five Little Peppers and How They Grew Complete Text (Charming Classics) Page 8
