Ben Pepper Part 20

"Is it true--is Jasper coming home?" cried Polly, breathlessly rushing up.

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Whitney tore off her gaze from the letter, and turned shining eyes on her. "Oh, Polly, this has just come and I was going to find you. Yes, yes, d.i.c.k, Mamma will attend to you presently; he is really coming home."

"When is he coming?" asked Polly, clasping her hands impatiently.

"Oh, not until next week, but it is, oh, so much, to have the doctor set a time. Just think, Polly," and she turned her face, now almost as rosy as Polly's own, upon her affectionately.

"She tore my lace," said little d.i.c.k, thinking it a good time to begin again on the announcement he had been trying to make ever since he had arrived, and he held up the frayed end.

"Yes, yes, dear," said Mrs. Whitney, indifferently without even a glance at it; "and he is to bring Pip, and he wants us all to make him have the best time in the world. Oh, won't we, children! for it will please Jasper." Her eyes glowed as she looked around at them all. At this little d.i.c.k deserted his lace. "Oh, I will, Mamma," he promised, "and he shall have my rocking-horse, and that'll please Jasper, I guess," and he began to march up and down the hall in great importance.

"And now, Polly," said Mrs. Whitney, "and, boys, we must think up what we are to do for the real Christmas, when Jasper and father and Ben get home; oh, and Pip--we mustn't forget Pip."

"Oh, no, we won't forget Pip," they cried, as they all hurried downstairs to bring the good news to Mother Fisher and the others.

And so, although Polly did not forget about Alexia, it was some time before she could get Mrs. Whitney's ear to tell her about it.

"Now I'll tell you what we'll do, Polly," said Mrs. Whitney, when she had heard it all; "I'll have the carriage right away, and you and I will drive over and get Alexia to come back to dinner."

"Oh, and can't she stay over night, Aunty?" cried Polly, hopping up and down in great excitement.

"Yes, indeed, if her Aunt will let her," said Mrs. Whitney, delighted to have everything coming out so nicely; "so now run off and get on your things, child."

No need to tell Polly that. She was soon ready, and before long there they were, Aunty Whitney and she, driving off to bring Alexia home and comfort her up.

"She isn't home," said the maid, who answered the door-bell of Mrs.

c.u.mmings's aristocratic boarding-house on the Avenue.

"Isn't home?" repeated Polly, faintly.

"No'm."

"What is it, Polly?" asked Mrs. Whitney, from the carriage.

"Alexia isn't home," said Polly, disconsolately, and feeling as if the whole world were out of joint.

"Miss Rhys took her away," said the maid, who, beginning to be communicative, saw no reason why she shouldn't tell the whole, "and she didn't want to go, either."

"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly.

"No, she didn't; but Miss Rhys wouldn't leave her alone 'cause she was crying so, and she was going to Miss Barnard's to tea, and so she made her go, too."

"Aunty,"--Polly flew down the steps,--"oh, can't we," she cried desperately, "go over and get Alexia; can't we, Aunty?"

"At Miss Barnard's, is she?" asked Mrs. Whitney, who had heard only part of the maid's information.

"Yes, and Alexia does hate to go there," said Polly, in a burst, "and she was crying. Oh, Aunty!"

That "Oh, Aunty!" settled it. "Yes, child, tell Thomas to drive to Miss Barnard's, and get in."

So Polly, seeing a little light on what had been so dark and miserable, hopped into the carriage, and off they went to Miss Barnard's.

Miss Hetty Barnard was a maiden lady upon whose company Miss Rhys placed herself whenever the dull routine of boarding-house life, or a new st.i.tch in knitting or crochet, gave her a desire for the society of her friend. All such visits Alexia carefully avoided if a possible thing.

And Polly, knowing full well the details of those enforced upon her by her aunt, as Alexia, the day after, poured the miseries of each in her ear, sat forward on the green leather seat and clasped her hands, impatient to get there.

"Oh, if they only haven't gone in to tea," she breathed.

"It's early yet, child," said Mrs. Whitney, rea.s.suringly, "scarcely half after five o'clock," glancing at the little silver watch in the carriage pocket before her; "so don't worry, Polly."

"But Miss Barnard has tea so very early," said Polly, in a small panic.

"Oh, here we are!" she brought up gleefully, as the carriage rolled up to the Barnard door and stopped.

"Yes, here we are," laughed Mrs. Whitney, just as well pleased, as Polly jumped out and ran up the steps.

Polly hadn't half finished, "Is Alexia Rhys here, and can I see her?"

before a rustle began in the stuffy little parlor, and out rushed the object of her search.

"Oh, Polly, Polly!" exclaimed Alexia, seizing her with both hands to draw her down the hall; her head sank on Polly's shoulder and she began to cry as hard as she could.

"Ow!" said Polly, as the tears ran down her neck; "O dear me, Alexia, do stop!"

"Oh, I can't," said Alexia, "and do take me away, Polly, for it's too dreadful here, and we're just going out to tea, and I never can live through it. O dear!"

"Well, I'm going to," said Polly, as soon as she could be heard.

"What!" exclaimed Alexia, bounding away to look at her.

"Yes, if your Aunt will let you come," said Polly, with happy little thrills.

"Oh, Aunt will let me quick enough," said Alexia; "but do you really mean it? O dear, it'll be 'most as bad at your house, for there's Mrs.

Whitney, and I tore that lace,--oh, I can't go!"

"You must come; Aunty Whitney is out in the carriage, and we've come for you, and you are to stay all night," explained Polly; "don't you see, Alexia, she wants you?"

"Does she? Oh, goody," and, "O dear, how can she?" was jumbled all up by Alexia, who was now hugging and kissing Polly at a great rate.

"Tea is ready." A thin little woman, who was alternately feeling of her brooch and smoothing down her plaid silk gown as she came along the hall, announced it so suddenly that both girls jumped.

"Oh, I can't stay, Miss Barnard," said Alexia, recovering herself; "I'm going home with Polly Pepper," and without another word she ran back into the stuffy little parlor to announce that fact to her Aunt.

"And whom have we here?" demanded little Miss Barnard, who hadn't half heard Alexia, and peering out of small, near-sighted eyes into the corner where Polly stood.

"It's Polly Pepper," said Polly, coming out into the light, "and I've come for Alexia; that is--"

"To be sure, to be sure, now I know you," Miss Barnard raised her hands, "and how you grow, Polly,"--a remark the little maiden lady never failed to make when seeing any of the young folks at close enough, range to speak to. "Well, and do you want to take Alexia away? Why can't you stay to tea with her? I wish you would; my maid has quite enough prepared.

Quite enough, indeed," and Miss Barnard waved her hands to indicate the extent of her larder.

"Oh, I can't, indeed, Miss Barnard," cried Polly, hastily. "And Aunty Whitney is waiting out in the carriage. Would you please tell Alexia to hurry?"