Five Little Peppers Midway Part 28

Every flower had to be put in place by the young people. Old Turner for once stood one side. And Polly must put the white satin boxes filled with wedding cake on the little table where one of the waiters would hand them to departing guests. And Phronsie must fasten Mamsie's pearl broach--the gift of the five little Peppers--in her lace collar the very last thing. And Jasper collected the rice and set the basket holding it safely away from Joel's eager fingers till such time as they could shower the bride's carriage. And all the boys were ushers, even little d.i.c.k coming up grandly to offer his arm to the tallest guest as it happened.

And old Mr. King gave the bride away! And Dr. Fisher at the last forgot all the one hundred and thirty eyes, and his "I will," rang out like a man's who has secured what he has long wanted. And ever so many of the guests said "What a good father he will make the children," and several attempted to tell the Peppers so. "As if we didn't know it before,"

said Joel indignantly.

And Alexia and all the other girls of Polly's set were there, and Joel's little blue and white creature came, to his great satisfaction, with her aunt, who was quite intimate in the family; and Pickering Dodge was there of course, and the Alstynes, and hosts of others.

And Mother Pepper in her silver-gray gown and bonnet, by the side of her husband, with Phronsie clinging to one hand, heard nothing but heart-felt wishes for her happiness and that of the five little Peppers.

And there was not so much as the shadow of a skeleton at the wedding breakfast. And Cousin Mason Whitney took charge of the toasts--and everybody felt that just the right things had been said. And then there was a flutter of departure of the bridal party, and in the rattle of the wheels Phronsie piped out bravely as she threw the slipper after the departing coach:

"Mamsie has been taking care of us all these years; now we're going to be good and let her be happy."

XV

MRS. CHATTERTON HAS A NEW PLAN

"Polly is learning to play beautifully," mused Phronsie, nursing one foot contemplatively, as she curled up on the floor. "And Ben is to be a capital business man, so Papa Fisher says, and Joel is going to buy up this whole town sometime, and Davie knows ever so many books from beginning to end, but what can I do?"

Down went the little foot to the floor, and the yellow head drooped over the white ap.r.o.n.

"Nothing," mourned Phronsie, "just nothing at all; not even the wee-est teeniest bit of anything do I know how to do. O, dear!"

Outside, Jasper was calling to Prince. Phronsie could hear the big dog rushing over the lawn in response, barking furiously as he went. But she did not move.

"And Mamsie will never be glad for me, unless I learn how to do things too. If I don't hurry, I shall never be grown up."

"Tweet--tweet--ch-r-r-r"--Cherry in his cage over her head, chirped vigorously by way of consolation, but Phronsie did not lift her head.

Cherry seeing all his efforts in vain, stopped his song and rolled one black eye down at her in astonishment, and soon became quite still.

Presently the rustle of a stiff black satin gown became the chief intruder upon the silence. It was so a.s.serting that Phronsie lifted her head to look into the face of Mrs. Chatterton, standing before her, playing with the rings on her long white hands, and regarding her as if she would soon require an explanation of such strange conduct.

"What are you doing, Phronsie?" at last demanded the lady.

"Thinking," said Phronsie; and she laid her chin in her hand, and slowly turned her gaze upon the thin, disagreeable face before her, but not as if in the slightest degree given up to a study of its lines and expression.

"So I perceive," said Mrs. Chatterton harshly. "Well, and what are you thinking of, pray tell?"

Still Phronsie looked beyond her, and it was not until the question had been repeated, that an answer came.

"Of many things," said Phronsie, "but I do not think I ought to tell you."

"And why not, pray?" cried the lady, with a short and most unpleasant laugh.

"Because I do not think you would understand them," said Phronsie. And now she looked at the face she had before overlooked, with a deliberate scrutiny as if she would not need to repeat the attention.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Chatterton angrily, "and pray how long since your thoughts have been so valuable?"

"My thoughts are nice ones," said Phronsie slowly, "because they are about nice people."

"Ah!"

"And they won't tell themselves. And I ought not to make them. They would fly away then, and I should never find them again, when I wanted to think them."

"Your mother brought you up well, I must say," observed Mrs.

Chatterton, deliberately drawing up a chair and putting her long figure within it, "to talk in this style to a lady as old as I am."

Phronsie allowed one foot to gently trace the pattern on the carpet before she answered. "I know you are very old," she said at last, "but I cannot tell my thoughts to you."

"Very old!" cried Mrs. Chatterton, her chin in the air. "Indeed! well, I am not, I would have you know, Miss Phronsie," and she played with the silk cord of her satin wrapper. "I hate a child that is made a prig!" she added explosively under her breath.

Phronsie made no reply, being already deep in her own calculations once more.

"Now, Phronsie," said Mrs. Chatterton, suddenly drawing herself out of her angry fit, and clearing her brow, "I want you to give your attention to me a moment, for I have something I must say to you.

That's why I came in here, to find you alone. Come, look at me, child.

It isn't polite to be staring at the carpet all the time."

Phronsie, thus admonished, took her gaze from the floor, to bestow it on the face above her.

"It's something that n.o.body is to know but just you and me," began Mrs.

Chatterton, with a cautious glance at the door.

Then she got out of her chair, and going across the room, closed it carefully. "There, that's better; Polly is always around. Now we are quite alone," coming back to her seat.

"You see, Phronsie," she proceeded, not caring that the brown eyes were slowly adding to their astonishment an expression that augured ill for any plans she might be hoping to carry out toward propitiation. "It is necessary to be careful not to be overheard, for what I am going to say to you must be kept quite secret."

"I must tell Mamsie," said Phronsie distinctly.

"Indeed you will not," declared Mrs. Chatterton. "She is the very one of all others who ought not to know. You can help her, Phronsie, if you only keep quiet."

Phronsie's eyes now became so very large that Mrs. Chatterton hastened to add:

"You know Polly is learning to be a music teacher when she grows up."

Phronsie made no reply.

"And a very creditable one she will be, from all acounts I can gather,"

contributed Mrs. Chatterton carelessly. "Well, Ben is doing well in Cabot & Van Meter's, so he's no trouble to your mother. As for the two boys, I know nothing about them, one way or the other. But you, as you are a girl, and the only one not provided for, why, I shall show a little kindness in your direction. It's wholly disinterested and quixotic, I know," added Mrs. Chatterton, with a sweeping gaze at the walls and ceilings, "for me to give myself a thought about you or your future. And I shall never receive so much as a thank you for it. But I've pa.s.sed all my life in thinking of others, Phronsie," here she brought down her attention to the absorbed little countenance, "and I cannot change now," she finished pensively.

A silence fell upon them, so great that Mrs. Chatterton broke it nervously. "Goodness me, Phronsie, you are not like a child; you are too uncanny for anything. Why don't you ask questions about my secret?"

"Because I ought not to know it," said Phronsie, finding her tongue.

"Haven't I told you that you will help your mother only by not telling her?" said Mrs. Chatterton. "How would you like to learn how to take care of yourself when you are a big girl?"

A light slowly gathered in the brown eyes, becoming at last so joyous and a.s.sured, that Mrs. Chatterton's face dropped its hard lines, to lose itself in a gratified smile.