Five Little Peppers And How They Grew

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"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 Dr.
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
some time, mammy, I'm going to bake him a big cake, so there!"

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, skurrying 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 gayly 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 clothes-line; 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; "oh, 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.

SAFE

"It's all right, Prince," the boy added, encouragingly to the big dog
who, 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-road; 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 monkey 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!

"Ben will bring her, mammy; I know God will let him," she
whispered.

But when Ben did bring her, Polly, for the second time in her life,
tumbled over with a gasp, into old Mrs. Bascom's lap.

Home and mother! Little Phronsie slept all that night straight
through. The neighbors came in softly, and with awestruck visages
stole into the bedroom to look at the child; and as they crept out
again, thoughts of their own little ones tugging at their hearts, the
tears would drop unheeded.

NEW FRIENDS

Up the stairs of the hotel, two steps at a time, ran a boy with a big,
black dog at his heels. "Come on, Prince; soft, now," as they
neared a door at the end of the corridors

It opened into a corner room overlooking "the Park," as the small
open space in front of the hotel was called. Within the room there
was sunshine and comfort, it being the most luxurious one in the
house, which the proprietor bad placed at the disposal of thi5 most
exacting guest. He didn't look very happy, however--the gentleman
who sat in an easy chair by the window; a large, handsome old
gentleman, whose whole bearing showed plainly that personal
comfort had always been his, and was, therefore, neither a matter
of surprise nor thankfulness.

"Where have you been?" he asked, turning around to greet the boy
who came in, followed by Prince.

"Oh, such a long story, father!" he cried, flushed; his eyes
sparkling as he flung back the dark hair from his forehead. "You
can't even guess!"

"Never mind now," said the old gentleman, testily; "your stories
are always long; the paper hasn't come--strange, indeed, that one
must needs be so annoyed! do ring that bell again.

So the bell was pulled; and a porter popped in his head.

"What is it, sir?"

"The paper," said the old gentleman, irritably; "hasn't it come yet?"

"No, sir," said the man; and then he repeated, "taint in yet, please,
sir."

"Very well--you said so once; that's all," waving his hand; then as
the door closed, he said to his son, "That pays one for coming to
such an out-of-the-way country place as this, away from papers--I
never will do it again."

As the old gentleman, against the advice of many friends who
knew his dependence on externals, had determined to come to this
very place, the boy was not much startled at the decisive words. He
stood very quietly, however, until his father finished. Then he said:

"It's too bad, father! supposing I tell you my story? Perhaps you'll
enjoy hearing it while you wait--it's really quite newspaperish."

"Well, you might as well tell it now, I suppose," said the old
gentleman; "but it is a great shame about that paper! to advertise
that morning papers are to be obtained--it's a swindle, Jasper! a
complete swindle!" and the old gentleman looked so very irate that
the boy exerted himself to soothe him.

"I know," he said; "but they can't help the trains being late."

"They shouldn't have the trains late," said his father, unreasounbly.
"There's no necessity for all this prating about 'trains late.' I'm
convinced it's because they forgot to send down for the papers till
they were all sold."

"I don't believe that's it, father," said the boy, trying to change the
subject; "but you don't know how splendid Frince has been, nor"--
"And then such a breakfast!" continued the old gentleman.

"My liver certainly will be in a dreadful state if these things
continue!" And he got up, and going to the corner of the room,
opened his medicine chest, and taking a box of pills therefrom, he
swallowed two, which done, he came back with a somewhat easier
expression to his favorite chair.

"He was just splendid, father," began the boy; "he went for him, I
tell you!"

"I hope, Jasper, your dog has not been doing anything violent,"
said the old gentleman. "I must caution you; he'll get you into
trouble some day; and then there'll be a heavy bill to pay; he grows
more irritable every day."

"Irritable!" cried the boy, flinging his arms around the dog's neck,
who was looking up at the old gentleman in high disdain. "He's
done the most splendid thing you ever saw! Why, he saved a little
girl, father, from a cross old organ-man, and he drove that
man--oh! you ought to have seen him run!"

And now that it was over, Jasper put back his head and laughed
long and loud as he remembered the rapid transit of the musical
pair.

"Well, how do you know she wasn't the man's daughter?" asked his
father, determined to find fault someway. "You haven't any
business to go around the country setting your dog on people. I
shall have an awful bill to pay some day, Jasper--an awful bill!" he
continued, getting up and commencing to pace up and down the
floor in extreme irritation.

"Father," cried the boy, half laughing, half vexed, springing to his
side, and keeping step with him, "we found her brother; he came
along when we were by the side of the road. We couldn't go any
further, for the poor little thing was all tired out. And don't you
think they live over in Badgertown, and"-- "Well," said the old
gentleman, pausing in his walk, and taking out his watch to
wonder if that paper would ever come, "she had probably followed
the organ-man; so it served her right after all."

"Well, but father," and the boy's dark eyes glowed, "she was such a
cunning little thing! she wasn't more than four years old; and she
had such a pretty little yellow head; and she said so funny--'I want
Polly."

"Did she?" said the old gentleman, getting interested in spite of
himself; "what then?"

"Why, then, sir," said Jasper, delighted at his success in diverting
his thoughts, "Prince and I waited--and waited; and I was just
going to bring her here to ask you what we should do, when"--
"Dear me!" said the old gentleman, instinctively starting back as if
he actually saw the forlorn little damsel, "you needn't ever bring
such people here, Jasper! I don't know what to do with them, I'm
sure!"

"Well," said the boy, laughing, "we didn't have to, did we, Prince?"
stroking the big head of the dog who was slowly following the two
as they paced up and down, but keeping carefully on the side of his
master; "for just as we really didn't know what to do, don't you
think there was a big wagon came along, drawn by the ricketiest
old horse, and a boy in the wagon looking both sides of the road,
and into every bush, just as wild as he could be, and before I could
think, hardly, he spied us, and if he didn't jump! I thought he'd
broken his leg"--

"And I suppose he just abused you for what you had done,"
observed the old gentleman, petulantly; "that's about all the
gratitude there is in this world."

"He didn't seem to see me at all," said the boy. "I thought he'd eat
the little girl up."

"Ought to have looked out for her better then," grumbled the old
gentleman, determined to find fault with somebody.

"And he's a splendid fellow, I just know," cried Jasper, waxing
enthusiastic; "and his name is Pepper."

"Pepper!" repeated his father; "no nice family ever had the name of
Pepper!"

"Well, I don't care," and Jasper's laugh was loud and merry; "he's
nice anyway,--I know; and the little thing's nice; and I'm going to
see them--can't I, father?"

"Dear me!" said his father; "how can you, Jasper? You do have the
strangest tastes I ever saw!"

"It's dreadful dull here," pleaded the boy, touching the right string;
"you know that yourself, father, and I don't know any boys around
here; and Prince and I are so lonely on our walks--do permit me,
father!"

The old gentleman, who really cared very little about it, turned
away, muttering, "Well, I'm sure I don't care; go where you like,"
when a knock was heard at the door, and the paper was handed in,
which broke up the conversation, and restored good humor.

The next day but one, Ben was out by the wood-pile, trying to
break up some kindlings for Polly who was washing up the dishes,
and otherwise preparing for the delights of baking day.

"Hulloa!" said a voice bethought he knew.

He turned around to see the merry-faced boy, and the big, black
dog who immediately began to wag his tail as if willing to
recognize him.

"You see I thought you'd never look round," said the boy with a
laugh. "How's the little girl?"

"Oh! you have come, really," cried Ben, springing over the
wood-pile with a beaming face. "Polly!"

But Polly was already by the door, with dish-cloth in hand. "This is
my sister, Polly," began Ben--and then stopped, not knowing the
boy's name.

"I'm Jasper King," said the boy, stepping upon the flat stone by
Polly's side; and taking off his cap, he put out his hand. "And this
is Prince," he added.

Polly put her hand in his, and received a hearty shake; and then she
sprang over the big stove, dish-cloth and all, and just flung her
arms around the dog's neck.

"Oh, you splendid fellow, you!" said she. "Don't you know we all
think you're as good as gold?"

The dog submitted to the astonishing proceeding as if he liked it,
while Jasper, delighted with Polly's appreciation, beamed down on
them, and struck up friendship with her on the instant.

"Now, I must call Phronsie," said Polly, getting up, her face as red
as a rose.

"Is her name Phronsie?" asked the boy with interest. "No, it's
Sophronia," said Polly, "but we call her Phronsie." "What a very
funny name," said Jasper, "Sophronia is, for such a little thing--and
yours is Polly, is it not?" he asked, turning around suddenly on her.

"Yes," said Polly; "no, not truly Polly; it's Mary, my real name
is--but I've always been Polly."

"I like Polly best, too," declared Jasper, "it sounds so nice."

"And his name is Ben," said Polly.

"Ebenezer, you mean," said Ben, correcting her.

"Well, we call him Ben," said Polly; "it don't ever seem as if there
was any Ebenezer about it."

"I should think not," laughed Jasper.

"Well, I must get Phronsie," again said Polly, running back into the
bedroom, where that small damsel was busily engaged in washing
"Baby" in the basin of water that she had with extreme difficulty
succeeded in getting down on the floor. She had then, by means of
a handful of soft soap, taken from Polly's soap-bowl during the
dish-washing, and a bit of old cotton, plastered both herself and
"Baby" to a comfortable degree of stickiness.

"Phronsie," said Polly--"dear me! what you doing? the big dog's out
there, you know, that scared the naughty organ-man; and the
boy"--but before the words were half out, Phronsie had slipped
from under her hands, and to Polly's extreme dismay, clattered out
into the kitchen.

"Here she is!" cried Jasper, meeting her at the door. The little
soapy hands were grasped, and kissing her--"Ugh!" he said, as the
soft soap plentifully spread on her face met his mouth.

"Oh, Phronsie! you shouldn't," cried Polly, and then they all burst
out into a peal of laughter at Jasper's funny grimaces.

"She's been washing 'Baby," explained Polly, wiping her eyes, and
looking at Phronsie who was hanging over Prince in extreme
affection. Evidently Prince still regarded her as his especial
property.

"Have you got a baby?" asked Jasper. "I thought she was the baby,"
pointing to Phronsie.

"Oh, I mean her littlest dolly; she always calls her 'Baby," said
Polly. "Come, Phronsie, and have your face washed, and a clean
apron on."

When Phronsie could be fairly persuaded that Prince would not
run away during her absence, she allowed herself to be taken off;
and soon re-appeared, her own, dainty little self. Ben, in the
meantime, had been initiating Jasper into the mysteries of cutting
the wood, the tool-house, and all the surroundings of the "little
brown house." They had received a re-inforcement in the advent of
Joel and David, who stared delightedly at Phronsie's protector,
made friends with the dog, and altogether had had such a
thoroughly good time, that Phronsie, coming back, clapped her
hands in glee to hear them.

"I wish mammy was home," said Polly, polishing up the last cup
carefully.

"Let me put it up," said Jasper, taking it from her, "it goes up here,
don't it, with the rest?" reaching up to the upper-shelf of the old
cupboard.

"Yes," said Polly.

"Oh, I should think you'd have real good times!" said the boy,
enviously. "I haven't a single sister or brother."

"Haven't you?" said Polly, looking at him in extreme pity. "Yes, we
do have real fun," she added, answering his questioning look; "the
house is just brimful sometimes, even if we are poor."

"We aren't poor," said Joel, who never could bear to be pitied.
Then, with a very proud air, he said in a grand way-- "At any rate,
we aren't going to be, long, for something's coming!"

"What do you mean, Joey?" asked Ben, while the rest looked
equally amazed.

"Our ships," said Joel confidently, as if they were right before their
eyes; at which they all screamed!

"See Polly's stove!" cried Phronsie, wishing to entertain in her turn.
"Here 'tis," running up to it, and pointing with her fat little finger.

"Yes, I see," cried Jasper, pretending to be greatly surprised; "it's
new, isn't it?"

"Yes," said the child; "it's very all new; four yesterdays ago!"

And then Polly stopped in sweeping up and related, with many
additions and explanations from the others, the history of the
stove, and good Dr. Fisher (upon whom they all dilated at great
length), and the dreadful measles, and everything. And Jasper
sympathized, and rejoiced with them to their hearts content, and
altogether got so very home-like, that they all felt as if they had
known him for a year. Ben neglected his work a little, but then
visitors didn't come every day to the Peppers; so while Polly
worked away at her bread, which she was "going to make like
biscuits," she said, the audience gathered in the little old kitchen
was in the merriest mood, and enjoyed everything to the fullest
extent.

"Do put in another stick, Bensie dear," said Polly; "this bread won't
befit for anything!"

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