Five Little Peppers Grown Up
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Margaret Sidney >> Five Little Peppers Grown Up
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"Well--well--well!" cried old Mr. King, lifting his head in its velvet
lounging cap from the sofa where he had been napping. "Are you really
here, Joe!"
"Just like you," greeted Alexia, running down the broad oaken stairs.
"Here, he's come!" to Polly, appearing at the head. "We were finishing
the tree, and we heard the noise. Dear me, Joe, I should think it was a
cyclone," as she joined the group, Polly close behind.
Joel tossed her a saucy answer, while Polly got on her tiptoes and
caught his crop of short black hair in her two hands. "Oh, Joe," she
said, dropping a kiss on it, "it was lovely in you to go back."
Joel felt well repaid for losing the jolly run down, and the grand
_entree_ into Dunraven, his soul loved, but he covered up what he
thought, by pulling Phronsie into the middle of the hall. "Come on,
Phron," he said, "for a spin like old times."
"See here," cried Alexia, "we ought to get back to that Tree, Polly
Pepper, or it won't be ready. Dear me, I dropped a box of frost all over
the stairs; Joel made such a noise."
At the mere mention of such a possibility as the Tree not being ready,
everybody started; the last one in the procession, picking up the
doll-box, their movements somewhat quickened, as loud calls were now set
up above stairs, for "Polly--Polly!"
"Come on," sang out Joel, who had paid his respects in a flying fashion
to Grandpapa's sofa, and leaping the stairs. "Goodness me, Alexia, I
should think you did spill this frost. Why didn't you go over more
ground?"
"I don't believe we can save one bit," mourned Alexia, peering up the
stair-length, each step sparkling with myriad little frosty gems, as if
Jack Frost himself had sprinkled it with a Christmas hand. "Oh, dear,
why did you come in with such a noise, Joe Pepper?"
"Just like a girl," said Joel; "jumps at everything and drops whatever
she has in her hand. You all go up the other stairs; I'll sweep this in
a minute, and save what I can."
"Oh, Joe, don't stop; we want you for the Tree," begged Polly. "Phronsie
has been waiting downstairs all this time for you to come. Let one of
the maids do it;" Joe already had his head in a closet he knew of old,
opening into the big hall.
"Give me the broom," said a voice close beside him.
"Eh--what?" cried Joel, pulling out what he wanted--a soft floor brush.
"Oh, is that you, Loughead?" turning around.
"I believe so," said Jack, laughing. "Here, give me the broom. I'm no
help about a Tree; I'll have the stuff up there soon," and before Joel
knew it, he was racing over the back stairs, wondering how it was he had
let that disagreeable Jack Loughead get hold of that broom.
"It makes me think of our first Tree, in some way," said Polly softly,
with glistening eyes, looking up at the beautiful branching spruce, its
countless arms shaking out brilliant pendants, and gay with streamers
and candles, wherever a decoration could be placed, the whole tipped
with a shining star. "Oh, Bensie, can you ever forget that?"
Ben looked down from the top of the step-ladder where he was adjusting
some last bit of ornament.
"Never, Polly," he said, his eyes meeting hers.
"That was so beautiful," cried Polly. "And we had it in our 'Provision
Room,' and Mrs. Henderson brought my bird over, and the other things the
last minute, and"--
"I had to," broke in Mrs. Henderson with a laugh, and shaking the snips
of green from her white apron, "for you and Ben would have discovered
the whole surprise. You were dreadful that day."
"I'm glad somebody else was dreadful in those times, besides me,"
observed Joel from among the branches, where he was tying on the several
presents Alexia handed to him.
"Well, you see," said Polly, with rosy cheeks, "it was our first Tree,
and we were so afraid the children would find it out, and spoil all the
surprise."
"And did we?" cried Phronsie, in intense excitement, emerging from the
depths of the Tree, the better to look at Polly, "did we, Polly, and
spoil it all?"
"No, Pet," cried Polly, "you were just as good as could be."
"I remember," said Joel, "you told us stories, Polly, in the kitchen,
and"--
"We tooted on our tin horns," finished David; "oh, Joe, do you remember
those horns?"
"And that molasses candy," said Joel, smacking his lips, "I remember I
ate mine up before breakfast."
"And did I have any?" asked Phronsie, turning from one to the other.
"Yes, indeed, you did," answered Joel.
"Why, did you think we'd forget you, Phronsie?" asked Polly, a bit
reproachfully.
"And don't you remember it?" said David.
"No," said Phronsie. "I don't; but I remember Seraphina's bonnet."
"It was trimmed with some of Grandma Bascom's chicken's feathers," said
Joel.
"And Mamsie made it out of an old bonnet string," said Polly. "Oh dear,
if only Mamsie were here to-day!" And a cloud came over her face.
"But we've Baby Fisher now," said Ben cheerfully, looking down at her.
"He's worth staying at home for, Polly."
"Of course he is," said Polly, her gayety returning. "And dear Papa
Fisher was master of ceremonies then; but he wouldn't enjoy it to-day
without Mamsie. So we oughtn't to wish him here."
[Illustration: "And did we," cried Phronsie "find it out,
Polly, and spoil it all?"]
"I wish you wouldn't begin about that Little Brown House, and what
elegant times you had in it," exclaimed Alexia, twitching at a present
Joel had just tied on, to be sure it was secure; "I shall think this
Tree is perfectly horrid, if you do, Polly Pepper."
"Go on--do go on," begged several voices. Meanwhile, Jack Loughead had
come silently up into the long hall, and deposited a neat boxful of the
gleaming frost on the table, without any comments.
"Dear me, there is so much to tell," cried Polly, with a little laugh,
"if we begin about Jappy's Tree."
"Who's Tree?" cried Livingston Bayley, who had been wrinkling his brows
in great perplexity all through the recital.
"Why, Jasper's," said Polly and Ben together; Joel and David coming in
as echoes.
"You see," said Phronsie distinctly, "that Jasper and dear Grandpapa
sent the beautiful things to us."
"Mrs. Pepper and Polly and Ben had gotten the Tree ready before," said
Jasper hastily. "Oh! didn't I want to be there!" he added.
"Yes; Polly almost cried because you couldn't be," said Joel in among
the branches.
"But she couldn't quite cry," said Davie, "because you see we children
would have found it out. Polly always sang in those days."
"Do you remember how we used to run behind the wood-pile when we wanted
to plan the Tree, Polly," asked Ben, "to get away from Joel and Dave?"
"You spent most all your time in the Little Brown House in sneaking off
from us," said Joel vindictively.
"Well, we had to, if we ever did anything," said Ben coolly.
"I should think so," remarked Livingston Bayley, delighted to give a
thrust at somebody.
"And weren't the gilt balls pretty?" cried Polly, quite gone now in the
reminiscences, though her fingers kept on at their task; "you did cover
those nuts beautifully, Bensie. I don't see how you could, with such
snips of paper."
"How did he make the balls?" asked Alexia, forgetting herself in her
interest, and coming up to Polly.
"Why, we had some bits of bright paper, little bits, you know, and Ben
covered hickory nuts with them, and pasted them all as smoothly; you
can't think!"
"Oh, my!" exclaimed Alexia.
"And Polly strung all the pop-corn, and fixed the candle-ends somebody
gave Mamsie, and"--
"Candle-ends? Why didn't you have whole ones?" cried Alexia.
"Why, we couldn't," said Polly, "and we were glad enough to get these.
Oh! the Tree looked just beautifully with them, I tell you."
"You see," said Phronsie, drawing near to look into Alexia's face, "we
were very, very poor, Alexia. So Polly and Bensie made the Tree. Don't
you understand?"
"It was really Bensie's Tree," said Polly honestly, "for I didn't
believe at first we could do it."
"Oh, yes, you did, Polly," corrected Ben hastily; "at any rate, you saw
it in a minute."
"And it's the first time you didn't believe a thing could be done, I
imagine," declared Jasper, with a bright nod at Polly.
"Well, Bensie thought of this Tree, and made me see that we could do
it," persisted Polly, giving a little quirk to a rebellious pendant.
Mrs. Henderson put the corner of her white apron to her eyes. "I always
have to," she said to Mrs. Dyce, "when the Little Brown House days bring
those blessed children back to me."
Jack Loughead drew nearer yet; so near that he lost never a word.
"You ought to have seen what a Santa Claus Ben made!" Polly was saying.
"I cut your performance yesterday at Baby's Tree, all out, old fellow,"
declared Ben, descending from the step-ladder and bestowing an
affectionate clap on Jasper's shoulder.
"I don't doubt it," Jasper gave back.
"We made the wig out of Mamsie's cushion hair," laughed Polly. "And we
had such a piece of work putting it all back the next morning."
"And Polly shook flour all over me, for the snow," said Ben, laughing.
"Come back, Alexia, and hand me some more gimcracks, do," cried Joel,
poking his head out of the branches to look at his late assistant.
"Well, do go on about your Tree in the Brown House," begged Alexia,
tearing herself away to answer Joel's demands, "seeing you have begun.
What did you do next, Polly?"
"Well, we all marched into the 'Provision Room,'" went on Polly, her
cheeks aglow, "expecting to see our Tree just as we had left it; all but
Ben, he was going to jump into the window at the right time, when the
first thing"--
"Polly sat right down on the floor, saying, 'Oh!'" cried Joel, taking
the words out of her mouth.
"I couldn't help it, I was so surprised," said Polly, with shining eyes.
"There was a most beautiful Tree, full of just everything; and there was
Mamsie, almost crying, she was so happy; and there was Cherry singing
away in his cage, and the corner of the room was all a-bloom with
flowers, and"--
"And Grandma Bascom was there--wasn't she funny? She used to give us
hard old raisins sometimes," said Joel, afraid to show what he was
feeling.
"And Phronsie screamed right out," went on Polly, "and Davie said it was
Fairyland."
By this time, Alexia had dropped the present she was holding, and had
run back to Polly's side again, and somehow most of the other workers
followed her example, the circle of listeners closing around the little
bunch of Peppers. "And Jasper sent a Christmas greeting, beside the
Tree," Polly ended, "and it was perfectly lovely."
"And Santa Claus and Polly took hold of hands and danced around the
Tree," said Joel; "I'll never forget that."
"Well, you would better take hold of hands and dance down to the
recitation room," said Parson Henderson's deep voice, as he suddenly
appeared in their midst, "the children are all ready to give their
carols. Come."
CHAPTER IV.
THE FESTIVITIES.
Phronsie looked down into the sea of eager faces "Oh, Grandpapa," she
exclaimed softly, and plucking his sleeve, "don't you think we might
hurry and begin?"
"Dear me, Phronsie," cried the old gentleman, whirling around in his big
chair to look at her, "why, they aren't all in, child," glancing down
the aisle where Jasper as chief usher with Ben and the others were
busily settling the children. "Bless me, what is Joel doing?"
Phronsie looked too, to see Joel hurrying up to the platform with a
little colored child perched on his shoulder. She was crying all over
his new coat, and at every step uttered a sharp scream.
"Toss the little beggar out," advised Livingston Bayley, as Joel shot by
with his burden.
"Here, Joe, I'll give her a seat" cried David from a little knot of
children, all turning excitedly around at the commotion, "there's just
one here."
"Much obliged," said Joel, stalking on, "but she says she wants to see
Phronsie about something."
Polly, who caught the last words, looked down reproachfully at him from
the platform where Phronsie always insisted that she should sit close to
her. "Can't help it," Joel telegraphed back, "I can't stop her crying."
Phronsie heard now, and getting out of her chair, she stepped to the
platform edge. "Let me take her," she begged.
"Phronsie, you can't have her up here!" Polly exclaimed, while old Mr.
King put forth an uneasy hand to stop all such proceedings, and two or
three of the others hurried up to remonstrate with Joel.
"She wants to see me," said Phronsie, putting her cool cheek against the
dark little one; "it's the new child that came yesterday," and she took
her off from Joel's shoulder, and staggered back to her seat by Polly's
side.
"Phronsie, do put her down," whispered Polly, "it's almost time to
begin," glancing off at the clock under its wealth of evergreen at the
farther end of the hall. "Here, do let me take her."
But Phronsie was whispering so fast that she didn't hear.
"What is it? Please tell me quickly, for it is almost time to have the
Tree."
At mention of the Tree, the little creature sat straight in Phronsie's
white lap. "May I have some of it, if I am black?" she begged, her beady
eyes running with tears.
"Yes," said Phronsie, "I've tied a big doll on it for you my very own
self." Then she put her lips on the dark little cheek. "Now you must get
down, for I have to talk to the children, and tell them all about
things, and why they have a Christmas."
But the little thing huddled up against Phronsie's waist-ribbons. "I'm
the only one that's black," she said. "I want to stay here."
"Now you see, Joel," began old Mr. King harshly. Phronsie laid a soft
hand on his arm. "Please, Grandpapa dear, may she have a little cricket
up here? She feels lonely down with the other children, for she's only
just come."
"Oh, dear--dear!" groaned Polly, looking down at the little black object
in Phronsie's lap. "Now what shall we do?" This last to Jasper as he
hurried up.
"I suppose we shall have to let her stay," he began.
"When Phronsie looks like that, she won't ever let her go," declared
Ben, with a wise nod over at the two.
"She's just as determined as she was that day when she would send Mr.
King her gingerbread boy," cried Polly, clasping her hands.
Jasper gave her a bright smile. "I wouldn't worry, Polly," he said.
"See, Joel has just put a cricket--it's all right," looking into Polly's
troubled eyes.
Phronsie, having seated her burden on the cricket at her feet, got out
of her own chair, and took one step toward the platform edge, beginning,
"Dear children." But the small creature left behind clutched the
floating hem of the white gown, and screamed harder than ever.
"Bless me!" ejaculated Mr. King in great distress. "Here, will somebody
take this child down where she belongs?" While Polly with flushed
cheeks, leaned over, and tried to unclasp the little black fingers.
"Go up there, Joe, and stop the row," said Livingston Bayley from the
visitor's seat at the end of the hall; "you started it."
Jack Loughead took a step or two in the direction of the platform, then
thought better of it, and got back into his place again, hoping no one
had noticed him in the confusion.
Phronsie leaned over as well as she could for the little hands pulling
her back. "Jasper," she begged, "do move the cricket so that she may sit
by me."
And before anybody quite knew how it was done, there was the new child
sitting on her cricket, and huddled up against the soft folds of
Phronsie's white gown, while Phronsie, standing close to the platform
edge, began again, "Dear children, you know this is Christmas Day--your
very own Christmas Day. And every Christmas Day since you came to the
Home, I have told you the story of the dear beautiful Lady; and every
single Christmas I am going to tell it to you again, so that you will
never, never forget her."
Here Phronsie turned, and pointed up to a large, full-length portrait of
Mrs. Chatterton hanging on the wall over the platform. It was painted in
her youth by a celebrated French artist, and represented a beautiful
young woman in a yellow satin gown, whose rich folds of lace fell away
from perfectly molded neck and arms.
All the children stared at the portrait as usual in this stage of the
proceedings. "Now you must say after me, 'I thank my beautiful Lady for
this Home,'" said Phronsie slowly.
"I thank my beautiful Lady for this Home," said every child distinctly.
"Because without her I could not have had it," said Phronsie. "You must
always remember that, children. Now say it." She stood very patiently,
her hands folded together, and waited to hear them repeat it.
"Because without her I could not have had it," said the children, one or
two coming in shrilly as a belated echo.
[Illustration: "Will you?" asked Phronsie, looking down into their
faces.]
"And I thank her for the beautiful Tree," said Phronsie. "Now say it,
please."
"I thank her for the beautiful Tree," shouted the children, craning
their necks away from the portrait to get a glimpse of the
curtain-veiled Tree in the other room. "Please can't we have it now?"
begged several voices.
"No; not until you all hear the story. Well, now, God took the beautiful
Lady away to Heaven; but she is always going to be here too," again
Phronsie pointed to the portrait, "just as long as there is any Home.
And she is going to smile at you, because you are all going to be good
children and try to study and learn all that dear Mr. Henderson teaches
you; and you are going to obey every single thing that dear Mrs.
Henderson tells you, just as soon as she speaks," said Phronsie slowly,
and turning her head to look at the different rows.
"I hope we'll be forgiven for sitting here and listening to old lady
Chatterton's praises," whispered Mrs. Hamilton Dyce to her husband. "It
makes me feel dreadfully wicked to swallow it all without a protest."
"Oh, we've swallowed that annually for three years now," said Mr. Dyce
with a little laugh, "and grown callous. Your face is just as bad as it
was the first time Phronsie eulogized her."
"I can't help it," declared his wife, "when I think of that dreadful
old"--
"Oh, come," remonstrated her husband, "let's bury the past; Phronsie
has."
"Phronsie!" ejaculated Mrs. Dyce. "Oh, that blessed child! Just hear her
now."
"So on this Christmas Day," Phronsie was saying in clear tones, "you are
to remember that you wouldn't have had this Tree but for the beautiful
Lady; and on every single other day, you must remember that you wouldn't
ever have had this Home; not a bit of any of it"--here she turned and
looked around the picture-hung walls, and out of the long windows to the
dark pines and firs of the broad lawn, tossing their snow-laden
branches, "but for the beautiful lady. And you must every one of you
help to make this Home just the very best Home that ever was. Will you?"
And then she smiled down into their faces while she waited for her
answer.
"Oh, yes, yes," screamed the children, every one. The little black
creature got off from her cricket at Phronsie's feet to look into her
face. "And I will too," she cried.
"And now you all want to thank Miss Phronsie for her kind words, we
know," Jasper cried at this point, hurrying into the middle of the
aisle, "and so, children, you may all stand up and say 'Thank you,' and
wave your handkerchiefs."
Up flew all the rows of children to their feet, and a cloud of tiny
white squares of cambric fluttered in the air, and the children kept
piping out, "Thank you--Thank you." And old Mr. King began a cheer for
Phronsie, and another for the children; and then somebody down at the
end of the long hall set up another for Mr. King, and somebody else
started one for Mr. Henderson, and another for Mrs. Henderson, and there
was plenty of noise, and high above it all rang the peals of happy,
childish laughter. And when it was all done, everybody pausing to take
breath, then Amy Loughead sent out the finest march ever heard, from the
grand piano, and Polly and Jasper and all the rest marshaled the
children into a procession, and Phronsie clinging to old Mr. King's hand
on the one side, and holding fast to the small black palm on the other,
away they all went, the visitors falling into line, around and around
the big hall, till at last--oh! at last, they turned into the Enchanted
Land that held the wonderful Christmas Tree. And when they were all
before it, and Phronsie in the center, she lifted her hand, and the room
became so still one could hear a pin drop. And then the little children
who had sung the carols in the morning stepped forward and began, "It
came upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old"--
And Phronsie drew a long breath, and folded her hands, not stirring till
the very last word died on the air.
And then Jasper and the others slowly drew aside the white curtain; and
oh! the dazzling, beautiful apparition that greeted every one's eyes! No
one could stop the children's noisy delight, and the best of it was,
that no one wanted to. So for the next few moments it was exactly like
the merry time over the Tree in the "Provision Room" of the Little Brown
House years ago, just as Polly had said; only there was ever so much
more of it, because there were ever so many more children to make it!
And Polly and Ben were like children again themselves; and David and
Joel were everywhere helping on the fun; in which excitement the other
Harvard man and even Livingston Bayley were not ashamed to take a most
active part, as Jasper, who had borrowed Santa Claus' attire for this
occasion, now made his appearance with a most astonishing bow. And then
the presents began to fly from the Tree, and Jack Loughead seemed to be
all arms, for he was so tall he could reach down the hanging gifts from
the higher branches, so that he was in great demand; and Pickering
Dodge, one eye on all of Polly's movements, worked furiously, and Alexia
Rhys and Cathie Harrison didn't give themselves hardly time to breathe;
and there was quite enough for Mr. Alstyne and the Cabots and Hamilton
Dyce to do, and everybody else, for that matter, to pass around the
presents. And in the midst of it all, a big doll, resplendent in a red
satin gown, and an astonishing hat, was untied from the tree.
"O, I want to give it to her myself!" cried Phronsie.
"So you shall," declared Jasper, handing it to her.
"Susan, this is your very own child," said Phronsie, turning to the
little colored girl at her side. "Now you won't feel lonely ever, will
you?" and she laid the doll carefully into the outstretched arms.
And at last the green branches had shaken off their wealth of gifts, and
the shining candles began to go out, one by one.
"Grandpapa," cried Polly, coming up to old Mr. King and Phronsie, with a
basket of mottoes and bonbons enough to satisfy the demands of the most
exacting Children's Home, "we ought to get our paper caps on."
"Bless me!" ejaculated old Mr. King, pulling out his watch, "it can't be
time to march. Ah, it's a quarter of four this minute. Here, child," to
Phronsie, "pick out your bonbon so that I can snap it with you."
Phronsie gravely regarded the pretty bonbons in Polly's basket. "I must
pick out yours first, Grandpapa," she said slowly, lifting a silver
paper-and-lace arrangement with a bunch of forget-me-nots in the center.
"I think this is pretty."
"So it is; most beautiful, dear," said the old gentleman, in great
satisfaction. "Now we must crack it, I suppose." So he took hold of one
end, and Phronsie held fast to the other of the bonbon, and a sharp
little report gave the signal for all the bonbons to be opened.
Thereupon, everybody, old and young, hurried to secure one, and great
was the snapping and cracking that now followed.
"Oh, Grandpapa, isn't your cap pretty?" exclaimed Phronsie in pleased
surprise, drawing forth a pink and yellow crinkled tissue bit. "See,"
smoothing it out with a gentle hand, "it's a crown, Grandpapa!"
"Now that's perfectly lovely!" cried Polly, setting down her basket.
"Here, let me help you, child--there, that's straight. Now, Grandpapa,
please bend over so that Phronsie can put it on."
Instead, the old gentleman dropped to one knee. "Now, dear," he said
gallantly. So Phronsie set the pink and yellow crown on his white hair,
stepping back gravely to view the effect.
"It is so very nice, dear Grandpapa," she said, coming back to his side.
So old Mr. King stood up, with quite a regal air, and Phronsie had a
little blue and white paper bonnet tied under her chin by Grandpapa's
own hand. And caps were flying on to all the heads, and each right hand
held a tinkling little bell that had swung right merrily on a green
branch-tip. And away to Amy Loughead's second march--on and on, jangling
their bells, the procession went, through the long hall, till old Mr.
King and Phronsie who led, turned down the broad staircase, and into the
dining-room; and here the guests stood on either side of the doorway
while the little Home children passed up through their midst.
And there were two long tables, one for the Home children, with a place
for Phronsie at its head, and another for old Mr. King at the foot. And
the other table was for the older people; both gay with Christmas holly,
and sweet with flowers. And when all were seated, and a hush fell upon
the big room, Phronsie lifted her hand.
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