A LETTER TO JASPER
"Mamsie, what shall we do?" implored Polly of her mother.
"I don't know," said her mother; "however did that get into her head, doyou suppose?"
"I am sure I can't tell," said Polly, jumping up and beginning to stirbriskly to make up for lost time. "P'r'aps she heard us talking aboutJasper's having to take care of his sick father, and how hard it must beto be sick away from home."
"Yes," said Phronsie, "but he'll be glad to see my gingerbread boy, Iguess; poor, sick man."
"Oh, Phronsie," cried Polly, in great distress, "you aren't ever goingto make a 'gingerbread boy' to-day! see, we'll put in a cunning littlecake for Mr. King--full of raisins, Phronsie; won't that be lovely!"and Polly began to fill a little scalloped tin with some of the cakemixture.
"N-no," said the child, eying it suspiciously; "that isn't like a'gingerbread boy,' Polly; he'll like that best."
"Mamsie," said Polly, "we can't let her make a dreadful, horrid'gingerbread boy' to send Mr. King! he never'll let Jasper come hereagain."
"Oh, let her," cried Joel; "she can bake it, and Dave an' I'll eat it,"and he picked up a raisin that had fallen under the table and begancrunching it with great gusto.
"That wouldn't be fair," said Polly, gloomily. "Do get her off from it,mammy."
"Phronsie," said Mrs. Pepper, going up back of the child, who satpatiently in her high chair waiting for Polly to let her begin, "hadn'tyou rather wait and give your 'gingerbread boy' to Jasper for hisfather, when he comes?"
"Oh, no, no," cried Phronsie, twisting in her chair in greatapprehension, "I want to send it now, I do."
"Well, Polly," said her mother, laughing, "after all it's best, I think,to let her; it can't do any harm anyway--and instead of Mr. King'snot letting Jasper come, if he's a sensible man that won't make anydifference; and if he isn't, why, then there'd be sure to something comeup sometime to make trouble."
"Well," said Polly, "I suppose she's got to; and perhaps," as aconsoling idea struck her, "perhaps she'll want to eat it up herselfwhen it's done. Here, Phronsie," giving her a handful of the cakemixture, which she stiffened with flour to the right thickness, "there,you can call that a 'gingerbread boy;' see, won't it make a beautifulone!"
"You needn't think," said Mrs. Pepper, seeing Phronsie's delighted face,and laughing as she went back to her work, "but what that gingerbreadboy'll go?"
When the little cakes were done, eight of them, and set upon the tablefor exhibition, they one and all protested that they never saw so fine alot. Polly was delighted with the praise they received, and her mother'scommendation that she was "growing a better cook every day." "How gladJasper'll be, won't he, mamsie?" said she.
The children walked around and around the table, admiring and pointingout the chief points of attraction, as they appeared before theirdiscriminating eyes.
"I should choose that one," said Joel, pointing at one which wasparticularly plummy, with a raisin standing up on one end with a festiveair, as if to say, "there's lots of us inside, you better believe!"
"I wouldn't," said Davie, "I'd have that--that's cracked so pretty."
"So 'tis," said Mrs. Pepper; "they're all as light as a feather, Polly."
"But my 'gingerbread boy," cried Phronsie, running eagerly along with aparticularly ugly looking specimen of a cake figure in her hand, "is thebe-yew-tifullest, isn't it, Polly?"
"Oh, dear," groaned Polly, "it looks just awfully, don't it, Ben!"
"Hoh, hoh!" laughed Joel in derision; "his leg is crooked, seePhronsie--you better let Davie an' me have it."
"No, no," screamed the child in terror; "that's my sick man's'gingerbread boy,' it is!"
"Joe, put it down," said Ben. "Yes, Phronsie, you shall have it; there,it's all safe;" and he put it carefully into Phronsie's apron, when shebreathed easier.
"And he hasn't but one eye," still laughed Joel, while little Daviegiggled too.
"He did have two," said Polly, "but she punched the other in with herthumb; don't, boys," she said, aside, "you'll make her feel bad; do stoplaughing. Now, how'll we send the things?"
"Put 'em in a basket," said Ben; "that's nicest."
"But we haven't got any basket," said Polly, "except the potato basket,and they'd be lost in that."
"Can't we take your work-basket, mamsie?" asked Ben; "they'd look sonice in that."
"Oh," said Mrs. Pepper, "that wouldn't do; I couldn't spare it, andbesides, it's all broken at the side, Ben; that don't look nice."
"Oh, dear," said Polly, sitting down on one of the hard wooden chairsto think, "I do wish we had things nice to send to sick people." And herforehead puckered up in a little hard knot.
"We'll have to do 'em up in a paper, Polly," said Ben; "there isn'tany other way; they'll look nice in anything, 'cause they are nice," headded, comfortingly.
"If we only had some flowers," said Polly, "that would set 'em off."
"You're always a-thinkin' of flowers, Polly," said Ben. "I guess thecakes'll have to go without 'em."
"I suppose they will," said Polly, stifling a little sigh. "Where's thepaper?"
"I've got a nice piece up-stairs," said Ben, "just right; I'll get it."
"Put my 'gingerbread boy' on top," cried Phronsie, handing him up.
So Polly packed the little cakes neatly in two rows, and laid the'gingerbread boy' in a fascinating attitude across the top.
"He looks as if he'd been struck by lightning!" said Ben, viewing himcritically as he came in the door with the paper.
"Be still," said Polly, trying not to laugh; "that's because he baked sofunny; it made his feet stick out."
"Children," said Mrs. Pepper, "how'll Jasper know where the cakes comefrom?"
"Why, he'll know it's us," said Polly, "of course; 'cause it'll make himthink of the baking we're going to have when he gets well."
"Well, but you don't say so," said Mrs. Pepper, smiling; "tisn't politeto send it this way."
"Whatever'll we do, mammy!" said all four children in dismay, whilePhronsie simply stared. "Can't we send 'em at all?"
"Why yes," said their mother; "I hope so, I'm sure, after you've got 'embaked; but you might answer Jasper's letter I should think, and tell himabout 'em, and the 'gingerbread boy'."
"Oh dear," said Polly, ready to fly, "I couldn't mamsie; I never wrote aletter."
"Well, you never had one before, did you?" said her mother, composedlybiting her thread. "Never say you can't, Polly, 'cause you don't knowwhat you can do till you've tried."
"You write, Ben," said Polly, imploringly.
"No," said Ben, "I think the nicest way is for all to say somethin',then 'twon't be hard for any of us."
"Where's the paper," queried Polly, "coming from, I wonder!"
"Joel," said Mrs. Pepper, "run to the bureau in the bedroom, and openthe top drawer, and get a green box there."
So Joel, quite important at the errand, departed, and presently put thedesignated box into his mother's hand.
"There, now I'm going to give you this," and she took out a small sheetof paper slightly yellowed by age; but being gilt-edged, it looked verymagnificent to the five pairs of eyes directed to it.
"Now Ben, you get the ink bottle and the pen, and then go to work."
So Ben reached down from the upper shelf in the cupboard the ink bottle,and a pen in a black wooden penholder.
"Oh, mamsie," cried Polly, "that's where Phronsie bit it off when shewas a baby, isn't it?" holding up the stubby end where the little ballhad disappeared.
"Yes," said Mrs. Pepper, "and now you're going to write about her'gingerbread boy' with it--well, time goes, to be sure." And she bentover her work again, harder than ever. Poor woman! if she could onlyscrape together enough money to get her children into school--that wasthe earnest wish of her heart. She must do it soon, for Ben was twelveyears old; but with all her strivings and scrimpings she could onlymanage to put bread into their mouths, and live from day to day. "I knowI ought to be thankful for that,"
she said to herself, not taking timeeven to cry over her troubles. "But oh, the learning! they must havethat!"
"Now," said Polly, "how'll we do it Ben?" as they ranged themselvesaround the table, on which reposed the cakes; "you begin."
"How do folks begin a letter?" asked Ben in despair, of his mother.
"How did Jasper begin his?" asked Mrs. Pepper back again. "Oh," criedPolly, running into the bedroom to get the precious missive. "Dear MissPolly'--that's what it says."
"Well," said Mrs. Pepper, "then you'd better say, 'Dear MisterJasper'--or you might say, 'Dear Mr. King.'"
"Oh, dear!" cried Polly, "that would be the father then--s'pose heshould think we wrote to him!" and Polly looked horror-stricken to thelast degree.
"There, there 'tis," said Ben: "'Dear Mister Jasper'--now what'll wesay?"
"Why, say about the cakes," replied Polly.
"And the 'gingerbread boy," cried Phronsie. "Oh, tell about him, Polly,do."
"Yes, yes, Phronsie," said Polly, "we will--why, tell him how we wishhe could have come, and that we baked him some cakes, and that we do sowant him to come just as soon as he can."
"All right!" said Ben; so he went to work laboriously; only hishard breathing showing what a hard task it was, as the stiff old penscratched up and down the paper.
"There, that's done," he cried at length in great satisfaction, holdingit up for inspection.
"Oh, I do wish," cried Polly in intense admiration, "I could write sonice and so fast as you can, Ben."
"Read it, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, in pride.
So Polly began: "Dear Mister Jasper we were all dreadfully sorrythat you didn't come and so we baked you some cakes.'--You didn't sayanything about his being sick, Ben."
"I forgot it," said Ben, "but I put it in farther down--you'll see ifyou read on."
"Baked you some cakes--that is, Polly did, for this is Ben that'swriting."
"You needn't said that, Ben," said Polly, dissatisfied; "we all baked'em, I'm sure. 'And just as soon as you get well we do want you to comeover and have the baking. We're real sorry you're sick--boneset's goodfor colds."
"Oh, Ben!" said Mrs. Pepper, "I guess his father knows what to givehim."
"And oh! the bitter stuff!" cried Polly, with a wry face. "Well, it'shard work to write," said Ben, yawning. "I'd rather chop wood."
"I wish! knew how," exclaimed Joel, longingly.
"Just you try every day; Ben'll teach you, Joe," said his mother,eagerly, "and then I'll let you write."
"I will!" cried Joe; "then, Dave, you'll see how I'll write--I tellyou!"
"And I'm goin' to--ma, can't I?" said Davie, unwilling to be outdone.
"Yes, you may, be sure," said Mrs. Pepper, delighted; "that'll make aman of you fast."
"Oh, boys," said Polly, lifting a very red face, "you joggle the tableso I can't do anything."
"I wasn't jogglin'," said Joel; "the old thing tipped. Look!" hewhispered to Davie, "see Polly, she's writing crooked."
So while the others hung around her and looked over her shoulder whilethey made their various comments, Polly finished her part, and also heldit up for inspection.
"Let us see," said Ben, taking it up.
"It's after, 'boneset's good for colds,'" said Polly, puckering up herface again at the thought.
"We most of us knew you were sick--I'm Polly now--because you didn'tcome; and we liked your letter telling us so. Oh, Polly! we weren't gladto hear he was sick!" cried Ben, in horror.
"I didn't say so!" cried Polly, starting up. "Why, Ben Pepper, I neversaid so!" and she looked ready to cry.
"It sounds something like it, don't it, mammy?" said Ben, unwilling togive her pain, but appealing to Mrs. Pepper.
"Polly didn't mean it," said her mother consolingly; "but if I were you,I'd say something to explain it."
"I can't put anything in now," said poor Polly; "there isn't any roomnor any more paper either--what shall I do! I told you, Ben, I couldn'twrite." And Polly looked helplessly from one to the other for comfort.
"Yes, you can," said Ben; "there, now I'll show you: write it fine,Polly--you write so big--little bits of letters, like these."
So Polly took the pen again with a sigh. "Now he won't think so, Iguess," she said, much relieved, as Ben began to read again.
"I'll begin yours again," Ben said: "We most of us knew you were sickbecause you didn't come, and we liked your letter telling us so becausewe'd all felt so badly, and Phronsie cried herself to sleep--" (that'sgood, I'm sure.) "The 'gingerbread boy' is for your father--pleaseexcuse it, but Phronsie would make it for him because he is sick. Thereisn't any more to write, and besides I can't write good, and Ben'stired. From all of us."
"Why, how's he to know?" cried Ben. "That won't do to sign it."
"Well, let's say from Ben and Polly then," said Polly; "only all theothers want to be in the letter."
"Well, they can't write," said Ben.
"We might sign their names for 'em," suggested Polly.
"Here's mine," said Ben, putting under the "From all of us" a big, bold"Ben."
"And here's mine," echoed Polly, setting a slightly crooked "Polly" byits side.
"Now Joe, you better let Ben hold your hand," said Polly, warningly. ButJoel declaring he could write had already begun, so there was no hopefor it; and a big drop of ink falling from the pen, he spattered the "J"so that no one could tell what it was. The children looked at each otherin despair.
"Can we ever get it out, mammy?" said Polly, running to Mrs. Pepper withit.
"I don't know," said her mother. "How could you try it, Joe?"
"I didn't mean to," said Joel, looking very downcast and ashamed. "Theugly old pen did it!"
"Well," said Polly, "it's got to go; we can't help it." But she lookedso sorrowful over it that half the pleasure was gone for Ben; for Pollywanted everything just right, and was very particular about things.
"Now, Dave." Ben held his hand, and "David" went down next to Joel.
But when it was Phronsie's turn, she protested that Polly, and no oneelse, must hold her hand.
"It's a dreadful hard name to write--Phronsie is," said Polly, as sheguided Phronsie's fat little hand that clung faithfully to the stubbyold pen. "There, it's over now," she cried; "and I'm thankful! Iwouldn't write another for anything!"
"Read it all over now, Ben," cried Mrs. Pepper, "and don't speak,children, till he gets through."
"Don't it sound elegant!" said Polly, clasping her hands, when he hadfinished. "I didn't think we ever could do it so nice, did you, Ben?"
"No, indeed, I didn't," replied Ben, in a highly ecstatic frame of mind."Now--oh! what'll we do for an envelope?" he asked in dismay.
"You'll have to do without that," said Mrs. Pepper, "for there isn't anyin the house--but see here, children," she added, as she saw the sorryfaces before her--"you just fold up the letter, and put it inside theparcel; that'll be just as good."
"Oh dear," said Polly; "but it would have been splendid the other way,mammy--just like other folks!"
"You must make believe this is like other folks," said Mrs. Pepper,cheerily, "when you can't do any other way."
"Yes," said Ben, "that's so, Polly; tie 'em up quick's you can, and I'lltake 'em over to Deacon Blodgett's, for he's goin' to start early in themorning."
So after another last look all around, Polly put the cakes in the paper,and tied it with four or five strong knots, to avoid all danger of itsundoing.
"He never'll untie it, Polly," said Ben; "that's just like a girl'sknots!"
"Why didn't you tie it then?" said Polly; "I'm sure it's as good asa boy's knots, and they always muss up a parcel so." And she gave aloving, approving little pat to the top of the package, which, despiteits multitude of knots, was certainly very neat indeed.
Ben, grasping the pen again, "here goes for the direction.
"Deary, yes!" said Polly. "I forgot all about that; I thought 'twasdone."
"How'd you s'pose he'd get it?" asked Ben, co
olly beginning the "M."
"I don't know," replied Polly, looking over his shoulder; "s'poseanybody else had eaten 'em up, Ben!" And she turned pale at the verythought.
"There," said Ben, at last, after a good many flourishes, "now 'tisdone! you can't think of another thing to do to it, Polly!"
"Mamsie, see!" cried Polly, running with it to Mrs. Pepper, "isn't thatfine! 'Mr. Jasper E. King, at the Hotel Hingham."
"Yes," said Mrs. Pepper, admiringly, to the content of all the children,"I should think it was!"
"Let me take it in my hand," screamed Joel, reaching eagerly up for thetempting brown parcel.
"Be careful then, Joe," said Polly, with an important air. So Joel tooka comfortable feel, and then Davie must have the same privilege. Atlast it was off, and with intense satisfaction the children watched Bendisappear with it down the long hill to Deacon Blodgett's.
The next day Ben came running in from his work at the deacon's.
"Oh, Polly, you had 'em!" he screamed, all out of breath. "You had 'em!"
"Had what?" asked Polly in astonishment. "Oh, Bensie, what do you mean?"
"Your flowers," he panted. "You sent some flowers to Jasper."
"Flowers to Jasper!" repeated Polly, afraid Ben had gone out of hiswits.
"Yes," said Ben; "I'll begin at the beginning. You see, Polly, when Iwent down this morning, Betsey was to set me to work. Deacon Blodgettand Mrs. Blodgett had started early, you know; and while I wasa-cleanin' up the woodshed, as she told me, all of a sudden she said,as she stood in the door looking on, 'Oh, Ben, Mis' Blodgett took someposies along with your parcel.' 'What?' said I; I didn't know as I'dheard straight. 'Posies, I said,' says Betsey; 'beautiful ones theywere, too, the best in the garding. I heard her tell Mr. Blodgett itwould be a pity if that sick boy couldn't have some flowers, and sheknew the Pepper children were crazy about 'em, so she twisted 'em inthe string around the parcel, and there they stood up and looked fine, Itell you, as they drove away.' So, Polly!"
"Bensie Pepper!" cried Polly, taking hold of his jacket, and spinninghim round, "I told you so! I told you so!"
"I know you did," said Ben, as she gave him a parting whirl, "an' I wishyou'd say so about other things, Polly, if you can get 'em so easy."
Five Little Peppers and How They Grew Page 14
