Five Little Peppers at School Part 17

"Eh--what's that? Oh, yes." The old gentleman took down his handkerchief. "Dear me! what a mercy we are where we can breathe!" as Thomas whirled them dexterously past a small square. "What _are_ the health authorities about, to allow such atrocious old holes? Oh, yes, my boy, I'm sure I'd be delighted to have you help along those three lads.

And it's really work for boys. Polly's going to start up something for the girl."

"How perfectly fine!" exclaimed Jasper and Polly together, now that the consent was really gained. Then they fell into such a merry chatter that Pickering, left out in the cold, began to wriggle dreadfully. At last he broke out:

"Yes, I think it would be fine too," trying to work his head into the conference, where Polly and Jasper had theirs together buzzing over the plans.

But n.o.body paid him the slightest attention; so he repeated his remark, with no better success.

"I should think you might turn around," at last he said in a dudgeon, "and speak to a body once in a while."

"Why should we?" cried Jasper over his shoulder. "You don't think it's worth while to work for any of those people. No, Polly, we'll let him severely alone." Then he fell to talking again, busier than ever.

"Yes, I do," cried Pickering in a high, wrathful key, "think it's worth while too, so there, Jasper King!"

"Oh, he does, I do believe, Jasper," cried Polly, looking at Pickering's face.

"Why, of course I do," said Pickering.

"And so we must let him into the plans." So Polly turned around to draw Pickering in, and old Mr. King leaned forward in his seat, and the committee of ways and means got so very busy that they didn't even know when Thomas turned in at the big stone gateway, until Polly looked up and screamed out, "Why, we are home! Why, we _can't_ be!"

"Well, we are, Polly, my child," said old Mr. King, getting out to help her with his courtliest air. "We've been gone just three hours and a half, and a very good afternoon's work it is too. For Jim's children will care twice as much for what you young folks are going to do for them as for anything I may do. Yes, Polly, they will," as he saw her face. "And I'm sure if I were in their places, I'd feel just the same way."

X JOEL AND HIS DOG

"Now, children," hummed Phronsie, pausing in the midst of combing her doll's flaxen hair, "you must keep still, and be very good; then I'll get through pretty soon," and she bowed to the several members of her numerous family set up in a row before her, who were awaiting their turn for the same attention. Then she took up the little comb which had dropped to her lap, and set herself busily to her task again.

Alexia looked in at the door of the "baby-house," as Phronsie's little room devoted to her family of dolls, was called. "Oh my goodness me!"

she exclaimed, "don't you ever get tired of everlastingly dressing those dolls, Phronsie?"

Phronsie gave a sigh, and went patiently on with her work. "Yes, Alexia, I'm tired sometimes; but I'm their mother, you see."

"And to comb their hair!" went on Alexia, "Oh dear me! I never could do it in all this world, Phronsie. I should want to run and throw them all out of the window."

"Oh Alexia!" exclaimed Phronsie in horror, "throw them all out of the window! You couldn't do that, Alexia." She tightened her grasp on the doll in her arms.

"Yes, I should want to throw every one of those dreadful dolls out of the window, Phronsie Pepper!" declared Alexia recklessly.

"But they are my children," said Phronsie very soberly, trying to get all the others waiting for their hair to be fixed, into her arms too, "and dear Grandpapa gave them to me, and I love them, every single one."

"Well, now, you see, Phronsie," said Alexia, getting down on the floor in front of the doll's bureau, by Phronsie's side, "you could come out with me on the piazza and walk around a bit if it were not for these dreadfully tiresome dolls; and Polly is at school, and you are through with your lessons in Mr. King's room. Now how nice that would be, oh dear me!" Alexia gave a restful stretch to her long figure. "My!" at a twinge of pain.

"Does your arm hurt you, Alexia?" asked Phronsie, looking over her dolls up to Alexia's face.

"Um--maybe," said Alexia, nursing her arm hanging in the sling; "it's a bad, horrid old thing, and I'd like to thump it."

"Oh, don't, Alexia," begged Phronsie, "that will make it worse. Please don't, Alexia, do anything to it." Then she got up, and went over with her armful of dolls to the sofa, and laid them down carefully in a row.

"I'll fix your hair to-morrow, children," she said; "now I'm going away for a little bit of a minute," and came back. "Let's go down to the piazza," she said, holding out her hand.

"You blessed child, you!" exclaimed Alexia, seizing her with the well hand, "did you suppose I'd be such a selfish old pig as to drag you off from those children of yours?"

"You are not a selfish old pig, Alexia, and I like you very much," said Phronsie gravely, trying not to hit the arm in the sling, while Alexia flew up to her feet and whirled around the room with her. "And, oh, I'm so afraid you'll make it sick," she panted. "Do stop."

"I just can't, Phronsie," said Alexia; "I shall die if I don't do something! Oh, this horrid old arm!" and she came to a sudden standstill, Phronsie struggling away to a safe distance.

"Papa Fisher would not like it, Alexia," she said in great disapproval, her hair blown about her face, and her cheeks quite pink.

"Oh dear me!" Alexia, resting the sling in the other palm, and trying not to scream with the pain, burst out, "It's so tiresome to be always thinking that some one won't like things one does. Phronsie, there's no use in my trying to be good, because, you see, I never could be. I just love to do bad things."

"Oh no, Alexia," said Phronsie greatly shocked, "you don't love to do bad things. Please say you don't;" and before Alexia could say another word, the tears poured down the round cheeks, wetting Phronsie's pinafore. And although she clasped her hands and tried to stop them, it was no use.

"There now, you see," cried Alexia, quite gone in remorse. "Oh, what shall I do? I must go and get Mrs. Fisher," and she rushed out of the room.

Phronsie ran unsteadily after her, to call, "Oh Alexia!" in such distress that the flying feet turned, and up she came again.

"What is it, Pet?" she cried. "Oh dear me! What shall I do? I must tell your mother."

"I will stop," said Phronsie, struggling hard with her tears, "if you only won't tell Mamsie," and she wiped her cheeks hard with her pinafore. "There, see, Alexia," and tried to smile.

"Well, now, come back." Alexia seized her hand, and dragged her up the stairs. "Now I'm just going to stay up here with you, if you'll let me, Phronsie, and try not to do bad things. I do so want to be good like Polly. You can't think how I want to," she cried in a gust, as she threw herself down on the floor again.

"Oh Alexia, you never could be good like Polly," said Phronsie, standing quite still in astonishment.

"Of course not," said Alexia with a little laugh, "but I mean--oh, you know what I mean, Phronsie. I want to be good so that Polly will say she likes it. Well, come on now, get your horrible old--I mean, your dolls, and--"

"I wish very much you wouldn't call them dolls, Alexia," said Phronsie, not offering to sit down; "they are my children, and I don't think they like to be called anything else."

"Well, they sha'n't hear it, then," declared Alexia decidedly, "so get some of them, and brush their hair, just as you were doing when I came in, and I'm going to read aloud to you out of one of your books, Phronsie."

"Oh--oh!" Phronsie clapped her hands in glee. Next to Polly's stories, which of course she couldn't have now as Polly was at school, Phronsie dearly loved to be read to. But she suddenly grew very sober again.

"Are you sure you will like it, Alexia?" she asked, coming up to peer into Alexia's face.

"Yes, yes, Pet, to be sure I will," cried Alexia, seizing her to half smother her with kisses. "Why, Phronsie, it will make me very happy indeed."

"Well, if it will really make you happy, Alexia," said Phronsie, smoothing down her pinafore in great satisfaction, "I will get my children." And she ran over to the sofa, and came back with an armful.

"Now what book?" asked Alexia, forgetting whether her arm ached or not, and flying to her feet. "I'm going down to your bookshelf to get it."

"Oh Alexia," cried Phronsie in great excitement, "will you--could you get 'The Little Yellow Duck'?"

As this was the book Phronsie invariably chose when asked what she wanted read, Alexia laughed and spun off, perfectly astonished to find that the world was not all as blue as an indigo bag. And when she came back two steps at a time up the stairs, Phronsie was smiling away, and humming softly to herself, while the hair-brushing was going on.

"She had a blue ribbon on yesterday--Almira did," said Phronsie, reflecting. "Now, wouldn't you put on a pink one to-day, Alexia?"