The Adventures of Joel Pepper

by Margaret Sidney

  XV

  OLD MAN PETERS' CENT

  Joel was walking along the road very slowly, swinging on his armthe tin pail that was to bring home the molasses. "I wish someone would come along who'd give me a ride," he thought, feelinghot, and wishing he were home, to lie on the cool grass in theorchard, after he had first drunk all he wanted to at the well.

  "I could drink the whole bucketful," he declared. "My, ain't Ithirsty! Oh, goody, I hear a wagon!" and he hopped to one sideof the road. "Ugh--it's old man Peters!"

  Mr. Peters slackened up as he passed Joel, but he didn't offerto let him ride. And Joel didn't want to, anyway. After a grumpylook at the Pepper boy, the old man in the wagon put the well-wornleather reins between his knees and took out a battered pocket-book,scowling above its contents as he went over a business transactionjust completed at Badgertown. Then he slapped it together andstuck it into his pocket, and seizing the reins, he doubled themup, cutting the horse across the thin flanks.

  "Gee-lang, there--will you!" cried old man Peters, shrilly, "orI'll make ye!"

  Joel stepped back into the middle of the road, and began totrudge along in the wake of the wagon. Suddenly he stopped, andstared at something shining in the road. It was little and round,but it sent up a bright gleam that found an answering one inJoel's black eyes.

  "Oh, I've found a whole cent!" he exclaimed joyfully. Then hisheart stood quite still. It must belong to old man Peters.

  "I don't care," said Joel, defiantly, to himself, "he left it inthe road. It's mine, now, for I picked it up." And he clutchedit tightly in his warm little palm, and dug his heels into thehot sand, glad enough he had had to go to the store after thatmolasses, for otherwise he wouldn't have found that cent.

  "It doesn't belong to you." It seemed as if Mamsie was walkingthere beside him, and had said the words, and involuntarily Joelglanced on either side. "I don't know as he dropped it," he saidto himself, walking very fast, and trying to shake off theunwelcome thoughts; "I didn't see him."

  "But you did see him take his pocket-book out, and you ought tohurry after him and give it back," and Joel started on a livelyrun, without giving himself a chance to think twice.

  "Mr. Peters! Mr. Peters!" he cried, running along, and screamingafter the retreating wagon.

  Mr. Peters looked back and shook his whip at him. "I ain'ta-goin' to give you a ride," he said, "an' you needn't think youcan catch on behind." So he gave the horse another cut, thatmade him amble along at his best speed.

  Joel chased as long as he was able to, the perspirationstreaming from his red face, screaming when he could find breath,"Stop, Mr. Peters, a minute," till Mr. Peters shook his fist athim as well as his whip. At last Joel dropped from sheerexhaustion on the roadside grass.

  "That Pepper boy--th' one they call Joel--is a perfectnuisance," snarled Mr. Peters, after putting his horse up in thebarn, and going into the house. "I passed him on the road, andhe looked as if he 'xpected me to give him a lift."

  "Oh, Pa, why didn't you?" said Mrs. Peters, pityingly, "theyhave such a hard time, those little Pepperses. I s'pose he wasdreadful tired."

  "S'pose he was," said Mr. Peters, going into the keeping room tosit down over the weekly paper. "I warn't a-goin' to take him up;and then the imperdent little chap started to run after me,a-yellin' all the way. I'd a horsewhipped him if I c'd 'a' reachedhim."

  "I wish you wouldn't feel so about boys," deprecatingly said hiswife, a little woman; "they don't hurt you none, and I wish youwouldn't, Pa."

  "Well, I ain't a-goin' to have 'em round me," snarled Mr. Peters."An' there ain't no call for you to say any more about's fur'sI know, Marindy," and he jerked open the newspaper, put his feeton the round of another chair, got his spectacles out of theircase and on his nose, and prepared to be comfortable. He neverknew when his paper slid to the floor, and his bald head wasbobbing over his empty hands. Mrs. Marinda Peters was upstairssorting rags to give the rag-man when next he came by, the onlyway she could earn a little money for her own use, and thedaughter was away; so Joel Pepper walked in without any one'sknowing it. He had knocked and knocked at the kitchen door untilhis knuckles were sore, and tired of waiting, concluded to walkin by himself; for go home he would not, with Mr. Peters' centin his pocket. So he marched in and stood by the old man's chair.

  "Here's your cent," he said, holding it out in his hot fingers.His empty pail struck suddenly on the edge of the chair with aclang, the noise, more than the words, waking the old man up.

  "Hey? What d'ye want?" cried Mr. Peters, his eyes flying opensuddenly.

  "Your cent," said Joel, holding it out. "A cent? I hain't anymoney to give ye," snarled old Mr. Peters, now fully aroused,"And d'ye git out of this house soon's ye can, or I'll give yesuthin' to git for." His spectacles slipped to the end of hisnose as he started to get out of the chair.

  "I don't want any cent," said Joel, hotly, sticking the onebetween his finger and thumb up under the old man's nose."Here, take it. Don't you see it? It's yours."

  "Mine? My cent?" repeated the old man, staring at it. "What d'yemean? I hain't give ye no cent."

  "I found it in the road. You dropped it," said Joel, feelingtired to death. And dropping it hastily on the window-ledge hehurried off, swinging his tin pail violently.

  "What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Peters, at the sound of thevoices; and, leaving the rag-bag suddenly, she hurried over thestairs. Old Mr. Peters, hearing her coming, picked up the cent,and, not stopping to put it in the old leather pocket-book,slipped it into his vest pocket, and seizing the newspaper, fellto reading.

  "Joel," called Mrs. Peters, as Joel was running out of theuntidy yard, "what is it? Come here and tell me."

  "Let th' boy alone, can't ye, Marindy?" screamed Mr. Peters,irritably; "beats all how you allers interfere in my business--justlike a woman!" he fumed, as Joel came back slowly.

  "'HEY, WHAT D'YE WANT?' CRIED MR. PETERS"]

  But Mrs. Peters was as persistent in her way as her husband, andshe soon had the whole story laid bare. When that was done, shetook Joel into the buttery and gave him a big wedge of custardpie. "You better go t'other way, and not past the keepin' roomwindow," she said, "and eat it."

  Joel, with enthusiasm considerably abated as he examined his piein the shadow of the big seringa bushes, concluded he didn'twant it very much. But feeling very hungry, which was his usualcondition, he finished it to the last crumb. "There warn't anysugar in, for one thing," he said critically. "I wonder whyfolks can bake pies who don't know how, and Mamsie never canhave any."

  "That boy found your cent in th' road, and brought it clear wayup here," cried Mrs. Marindy, on a high key, going into thekeeping room, where the old man sat absorbed in his paper.

  "S'pose he did?" grunted old Mr. Peters.

  "I sh'd think you'd 'a' give it to him, Pa. It's a shame. Such ahot day as 'tis, too."

  "I don't have no cents to throw away," snarled old Mr. Peters."And I wish you'd let me read my paper in peace and quiet."

  "Well, I sh'd think anybody who'd got a heart in their bosom 'udfeel sorry for them five little Pepperses. I don't s'pose theysee a cent to spend from one year's end to another." And shemade up her mind to bake a whole custard pie, sometime, andsmuggle it down to Mrs. Pepper.

  "Though how I'll manage," she lamented, "would puzzle the Dutchand Tom Walker. But I'll try, just the same."

  Meanwhile, Joel, though he made light of the cent business, wasrelating his visit to the Peters' homestead, and the presentationof the piece of pie.

  "'Twas most horrid old pie," he said, with a wry face.

  "Oh, Joey," said Mrs. Pepper, "when Mrs. Peters tried to be kindto you. You ate it, didn't you?" and she laughed with the otherswhen he said yes.

  "But 'twas horrid," cried Joe. "I can't help it, Mamsie. Therewasn't any sugar in it, and it was black and smutty and thin.Why don't we ever have any pie in the little brown house,Mamsie?" he asked suddenly.

  "Why don't little boys talk sensibly?" asked Mrs. Pepper. "It's
a great deal to have the little brown house, anyway, Joel, I sh'dthink you'd know that."

  "Mamsie," said Polly, hearing this, "s'posin' we didn't have thelittle brown house; just s'posin', Mammy," and her cheek turnedquite white.

  "I know it, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, quickly, setting busystitches on Davie's jacket, where she was rapidly sewing a patch,"that's the way to talk. Just supposing we hadn't any littlebrown house."

  "But we have got it, Mamsie," said Joel, throwing himself flaton the floor, to indulge in a long and restful roll.

  "Well, we may not always have it. If folks don't appreciatetheir blessings, sometimes they fly away."

  "How's the little brown house going to fly away, Mamsie?"demanded Joel, sitting quite straight.

  "Well, it may," said Mrs. Pepper, with a wise little nod."Mercies often take to themselves wings. Come, Polly, you maypick out these basting threads; that patch is done, thankfortune!"

  Joel hopped to his feet, and ran swiftly out, craning his neckto see the tip of the chimney on the little house, and surveying itcritically on all sides.

  "It isn't going to fly--it isn't," he declared, quite relieved.Polly humming away some merry nonsense to Mamsie, neither ofthem heard him. So he came close to their chairs and repeated it:"Say, the little brown house can't fly away--there ain't anywings."

  "You take care you don't say anything discontented about nothaving pie and other things," said Mother Pepper with a smile,looking off from her work for a minute to let her eyes rest onhis face, "and I guess the wings won't grow, Joey."

  "Anyway, I'm glad I don't live at old man Peterses house," saidJoel, going back to his resting-place on the floor, and wavinghis feet in the air.

  "Mamsie, do you suppose old Mr. Peters ever was a little boy?"asked Davie, thoughtfully.

  "Dear me, yes," said Mrs. Pepper, abstractedly, as she was lostin thought over the question, Could she get the patch on Joel'slittle trousers before dark?

  "A real boy?" persisted David. "Yes, of course," answered MotherPepper, moving her chair to get a little more of the waninglight. "But I don't know what kind of a boy," she added."I don't think he was a very nice boy, Mamsie," declared David."Not a real, very splendid one."

  "Huh!" cried Joel, in a tone of contempt. "I guess he wasn't,Dave Pepper! I wouldn't have played with him at all," he added,in great disgust.

  "Wouldn't you, Joel?" cried little David, running over to sitdown by him on the floor, and observing great care to keep clearof the waving legs.

  "No, indeed, sir," declared Joel. "I wouldn't have played oncewith him, not if he'd lent me his knife. An' his skates and--"

  "Oh, Joel, not even if he'd lent you his skates?" cried David,incredulously.

  "No, sir-ree! Nor if he'd let me have his horse to drive as muchas I wanted to," declared Joel, most positively, with anotherwave of his legs.

  Little David collapsed on the floor by his side, his eyes fixedon the ceiling, as he lay and thought it over.

  "I'd 'a' said, 'Go right away, you bad old Peters boy.'" criedJoel, delighted at impressing David so completely, "'or I'lltake a stick to you.'"

  "And then you'd be very much like old Mr. Peters yourself,Joel," said Polly, catching the last words.