The Adventures of Joel Pepper Part 28

"S'pose he did?" grunted old Mr. Peters.

"I sh'd think you'd 'a' give it to him, Pa. It's a shame. Such a hot day as 'tis, too."

"I don't have no cents to throw away," snarled old Mr. Peters.

"And I wish you'd let me read my paper in peace and quiet."

"Well, I sh'd think anybody who'd got a heart in their bosom 'ud feel sorry for them five little Pepperses. I don't s'pose they see a cent to spend from one year's end to another." And she made up her mind to bake a whole custard pie, sometime, and smuggle it down to Mrs. Pepper.

"Though how I'll manage," she lamented, "would puzzle the Dutch and Tom Walker. But I'll try, just the same."

Meanwhile, Joel, though he made light of the cent business, was relating his visit to the Peters' homestead, and the presentation of the piece of pie.

"'Twas most horrid old pie," he said, with a wry face.

"Oh, Joey," said Mrs. Pepper, "when Mrs. Peters tried to be kind to you. You ate it, didn't you?" and she laughed with the others when he said yes.

"But 'twas horrid," cried Joe. "I can't help it, Mamsie. There wasn't any sugar in it, and it was black and s.m.u.tty and thin.

Why don't we ever have any pie in the little brown house, Mamsie?" he asked suddenly.

"Why don't little boys talk sensibly?" asked Mrs. Pepper. "It's a great deal to have the little brown house, anyway, Joel, I sh'd think you'd know that."

"Mamsie," said Polly, hearing this, "s'posin' we didn't have the little brown house; just s'posin', Mammy," and her cheek turned quite white.

"I know it, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, quickly, setting busy st.i.tches on Davie's jacket, where she was rapidly sewing a patch, "that's the way to talk. Just supposing we hadn't any little brown house."

"But we have got it, Mamsie," said Joel, throwing himself flat on the floor, to indulge in a long and restful roll.

"Well, we may not always have it. If folks don't appreciate their blessings, sometimes they fly away."

"How's the little brown house going to fly away, Mamsie?"

demanded Joel, sitting quite straight.

"Well, it may," said Mrs. Pepper, with a wise little nod.

"Mercies often take to themselves wings. Come, Polly, you may pick out these basting threads; that patch is done, thank fortune!"

Joel hopped to his feet, and ran swiftly out, craning his neck to see the tip of the chimney on the little house, and surveying it critically on all sides.

"It isn't going to fly--it isn't," he declared, quite relieved.

Polly humming away some merry nonsense to Mamsie, neither of them heard him. So he came close to their chairs and repeated it: "Say, the little brown house can't fly away--there ain't any wings."

"You take care you don't say anything discontented about not having pie and other things," said Mother Pepper with a smile, looking off from her work for a minute to let her eyes rest on his face, "and I guess the wings won't grow, Joey."

"Anyway, I'm glad I don't live at old man Peterses house," said Joel, going back to his resting-place on the floor, and waving his feet in the air.

"Mamsie, do you suppose old Mr. Peters ever was a little boy?"

asked Davie, thoughtfully.

"Dear me, yes," said Mrs. Pepper, abstractedly, as she was lost in thought over the question, Could she get the patch on Joel's little trousers before dark?

"A real boy?" persisted David. "Yes, of course," answered Mother Pepper, moving her chair to get a little more of the waning light. "But I don't know what kind of a boy," she added.

"I don't think he was a very nice boy, Mamsie," declared David.

"Not a real, very splendid one."

"Huh!" cried Joel, in a tone of contempt. "I guess he wasn't, Dave Pepper! I wouldn't have played with him at all," he added, in great disgust.

"Wouldn't you, Joel?" cried little David, running over to sit down by him on the floor, and observing great care to keep clear of the waving legs.

"No, indeed, sir," declared Joel. "I wouldn't have played once with him, not if he'd lent me his knife. An' his skates and--"

"Oh, Joel, not even if he'd lent you his skates?" cried David, incredulously.

"No, sir-ree! Nor if he'd let me have his horse to drive as much as I wanted to," declared Joel, most positively, with another wave of his legs.

Little David collapsed on the floor by his side, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, as he lay and thought it over.

"I'd 'a' said, 'Go right away, you bad old Peters boy.'" cried Joel, delighted at impressing David so completely, "'or I'll take a stick to you.'"

"And then you'd be very much like old Mr. Peters yourself, Joel," said Polly, catching the last words.

XVI

THE STAGE-COACH RIDE

"Children," said Mrs. Pepper, and how her eyes shone! "I've got something very nice to tell you--that is, for Joel and David.

Your turn will come sometime, Polly," and Mother Pepper smiled encouragingly at her.

"Polly's turn never comes," said Ben, gloomily, who felt dreadfully fretted to think he couldn't earn money enough to do something nice for her. "We eat it all up as fast as we get paid," he had once said to his mother.

"And that's what we have mouths for," she had answered brightly.

It never would do for Ben to get discouraged, so she kept all the little ache in her heart out of sight. Now she beamed at Ben.

"Oh, Polly's time's coming," she said; "never fear, Ben."

Ben looked ashamed when he heard Mamsie's hopeful words, and brightened up at once.

"Thank you, Ben," she said, going up to his chair to lay her hand on his shoulder. "Mother doesn't know what she'd do if her big boy failed her. Well now, children, I must hurry and tell you the good news about Joel and David. Mr. Tisbett has invited them to go on the stage to-morrow to Strawberry Hill."

Once a week Mr. Tisbett ran the stage down to Strawberry Hill, returning by the East District. It was quite the prettiest ride out of Badgertown, following now and then the course of Cherry brook, and past fertile fields and forests, by a winding, rambling thoroughfare. And when once the settlement of Strawberry Hill was reached, there were Green's Tavern and the stop for dinner!

Joel and David greeted this announcement with howls of delight.

Phronsie caught the spirit and danced around the old kitchen in a clean pink calico dress, and cheeks to match.

"Oh, Phronsie, I don't believe you know what you're dancing for," cried Ben with a laugh, and seizing her as the bustle died down a bit.

"Yes, I do, Bensie," said Phronsie, struggling to get down to dance again.