 CHAPTER XXIII. A few mornings after the emptying of the little brown house into the big one, when he and Van were rehearsing for the fiftieth time all the points of the eventful night. Phew! If I'd been here they wouldn't have got away, I guess. What would you have done? asked Van, bristling up at this reflection on their courage and squaring up to him. What would you have done, Joel Pepper? I'd have pitched right into him, like, everything, said Joel valiantly, and caught him. Yes, every single one of the bunglers. The what? said Van, bursting into a loud laugh. The bunglers, said Joel with a red face. That's what you said they were, anyway, he added positively. I said, burglars, said Van, doubling up with amusement, while Joel stood, a little sturdy figure regarding him with anything but a sweet countenance. Well, anyway, I'd have caught him, so there, he said, as Van at last showed signs of coming out of his fit of laughter and got up and wiped his eyes. How do you have caught him? asked Van scornfully, surveying the little square country figure before him. You can't hit any. Can't, said Joel, the black-eyed flashing volumes, and coming up in front of Van. You'd better believe I can, Van Whitney. Come out in the backyard and try, then, said Van, hospitably, perfectly delighted at the prospect and flying alone towards the door. Come right out and try. All right, said Joel, following sturdily, equally delighted to show his skill. There, said Van, taking off his jacket and flinging it on the grass, while Joel immediately followed suit with his little home's bun one. Now we can begin perfectly splendid. I won't hit hard, he added patronizingly, as both boys stood ready. Hit as hard as you've a mind to, said Joel. I'm a going to. Oh, you may, said Van politely, because you're company. All right, now. So at it they went. Before many minutes were over, Van relinquished all ideas of treating his company with extra consideration, and was only thinking how he could possibly hold his own with the valiant little country lad. Oh, if he could only be called to his lessons, anything that would summon him into the house. Just then a window above their heads was suddenly thrown up, and his mama's voice in natural surprise and distress called quickly, Children, what are you doing? Oh, Van, how could you? Both contestants turned around suddenly. Joel looked up steadily. We're hitting, ma'am. He said I couldn't, and so we came out and... Oh, Vanny, said Mrs. Whitney reproachfully, to treat a little guest in this way. I wanted to, said Joel cheerfully, towards great fun. Let's begin again, Van. We mustn't, said Van, readily giving up the charming prospect and beginning to edge quickly toward the house. Mama wouldn't like it, you know. He hit splendidly, mama, he added generously, looking up. He does, really. And so does Van, cried Joel, his face glowing at the praise. We'll come out every day, he added, slipping into his jacket and turning enthusiastically back to Van. And perhaps he could have pitched into the burglars, finished Van, ignoring the invitation and tumbling into his jacket with alarming speed. I know I could, cried Joel, scampering after him into the house, if I'd only a Ben here. Where's Ben, said Van, bounding into the hall and flinging himself down on one of the chairs. Oh, dear, I'm so hot. Say, Joe, where are you supposed Ben is? I don't know, replied Joel, who didn't even puff. I saw him a little while ago with Master Percy, said Jane, who was going through the hall. There now, and they've gone off somewhere, cried Van, in extreme irritation and starting up quickly. I know they have. Which way did they go, Jane, and how long ago? Oh, I don't know, replied Jane carelessly, half an hour maybe. And they didn't go nowhere as I see. At least they were talking at the door, and I was going upstairs. Right here, cried Van, and stamping with his foot to point out the exact place, at this door, Jane? Yes, yes, said Jane, at that very door, and then she went into the dining room to her work. Oh, dear me, cried Van, and flying out on the veranda, he began to peer wildly up and down the drive. And they've gone to some splendid place, I know, and wouldn't tell us. That's just like Percy, he added vindictively. He's always stealing away. Don't you see him, Joel? Oh, do come out and look! Tisent any use, said Joel Cooley, sitting down on the chair Van had just vacated and swinging his feet comfortably. They're miles away if they've been gone half an hour. I'm going upstairs. And he sprang up and energetically pranced to the stairs. They aren't upstairs, screamed Van, in scorn, bounding into the hall. Don't go. I know that they've gone down to the museum. The what? exclaimed Joel, nearly at the top, peering over the railing. What's that you said? What is it? A museum, shouted Van, and it's a perfectly elegant place, called Joel Pepper, and Percy knows I like to go. And now he's taken Ben off, and he'll show him all the things, and they'll all be old when I take him, and, and, oh, I hope the snakes will bite him, he added, trying to think of something bad enough. Do they have snakes there, asked Joel, staring? Yes, they do, snapped out Van, they have everything. Well, they shan't bite Ben, cried Joel in terror. Oh, do you suppose they will? And he turned right straight around on the stairs, and looked at Van. No, said Van, they won't bite. What's the matter, Joe? Oh, they may, said Joel, his face working and screaming both fists into his eyes. At last he burst right out into a torrent of sobs. Oh, don't let them, Van, don't. Why, they can't, said Van, in an emphatic voice, running up the stairs to Joel's side, frightened to death at his tears. Then he began to shake his jacket sleeve violently to bring him back to reason. Wait, Joe, oh, do stop, oh, dear, what shall I do? I tell you, they can't bite, he screamed as loud as he could into his ear. You said, you, hope they would, said Joel's voice in smothered tones. Well, they won't anyway, said Van decidedly, because they're all stuffed, so they're now. Ain't they alive? Nor anything, asked Joel, bringing one black eye into sight from behind his chubby hands. No, said Van, they're just as dead as anything, Joel Pepper, been dead years, and there's old crabs there, too, old dead crabs, and they're just lovely. Oh, such a lot of eggs as they've got, and there are shells and bugs and stones and an awful old crocodile and, oh, dear, sighed Joel perfectly overcome at such a vision and sitting down on the stairs to think. Well, maims you'll know where Ben is, he said, springing up, and then I tell you, Van, we'll just tag him. So she will, cried Van. Why didn't we think of that before? I wanted to think. I did, said Joel. That's where I was going. Without any more ado they rushed into Mrs. Pepper's big, sunny room, there to see, seated at the square table between the two large windows, the two lost ones bending over what seemed to be an object of the greatest importance, for Polly was hanging over Ben's shoulder with intense pride and delight, which she couldn't possibly conceal, and Davey was crowded as near as he could get to Percy's elbow. Fronzie and Little Dick were perched comfortably on the corner of the table, surveying the whole scene in quiet rapture, and Mrs. Pepper, with her big mending basket, was ensconced over by the deep window seat just on the other side of the room, underneath Cherry's cage, and looking up between quick energetic stitches, over at the busy group, with the most placid expression on her face. Oh, what you doin', cried Joel, flying up to them? Let us see, do Ben. What is it, exclaimed Van, squeezing in between Percy and Ben? Don't, Percy began. There, see, you've knocked his elbow and spoiled it. Oh, no he hasn't, said Ben, putting down his pencil and taking up a piece of rubber. There, see, it all comes out as good as ever. Isn't it just elegant, said Percy, in the most pleased tone, and wriggling his toes under the table to express his satisfaction? Yes, said Van, craning his neck to get a better view of the picture, now nearly completed. It's perfectly splendid. How'd you do it, Ben? I don't know, replied Ben with a smile, carefully shading in the last few touches. It just drew itself. Is it anything to what he can do, said Polly, standing up as tall as she could and beaming at Ben? He used to draw most beautiful at home. Better than this, asked Van with great respect and taking up the picture, after some demure on Percy's part, and examining it critically. I don't believe it, Polly. Foo, he did, exclaimed Joel, leaning over his shoulder at a wonderful view of a dog in an extremely excited state of mind, running down an interminable hill to bark at a locomotive and train of cars whizzing along a curve in the foreground. Lots better than that, Ben can do anything, he added, in an utterly convincing way. Now give it back, cried Percy, holding out his hand in alarm. I'm going to ask Mama to have it framed, and then I'm going to hang it right over my bed, he finished, as Van reluctantly gave up the treasure. Did you draw all the time in the little brown house? Asked Van, lost in thought. How I wish I'd been there. Dear no, cried Polly with a little skip, turning away to laugh. He didn't have hardly any time, and why not, asked Percy? Because there was things to do, said Polly. But sometimes when it rained and he couldn't go out and work and there wasn't anything to do in the house, then we'd have, oh, and she drew a long breath at the memory. Such a time, you can't think. Didn't you wish it would always rain? Asked Van, still gazing at the picture. Dear no, began Polly. I didn't, broken Joel in horror. I wouldn't have had it rain for anything. Only once in a while, he added, as he thought of the good times that Polly had spoken of. Twas nice outdoors, said little Davey reflectively, and nice inside, too. And then he glanced over to his mother, who gave him a smile in return. And twas nice always. Well, said Van, returning to the picture. I do wish you'd tell me how to draw, Van. I can't do anything but flowers, he said, in a discouraged way. Flowers aren't anything, said Percy pleasantly. That's girl's work. But dogs and horses and cars, those are just good. Will you, Van? Asked Van, looking down into the big blue eyes, so kindly upturned to his. Yes, indeed I will, cried Van. That is, all I know. Tisn't much, but everything I can, I'll tell you. Then I can learn, can't I? Cried Van joyfully. Oh, tell me, too, Van, cried Percy. Will you, I want to learn, too. And me, cried Dick, bending forward, nearly upsetting Franzi as he did. Yes, say I may, Van, do. Your too little began, Percy, but Van nodded his head at Dick, which caused him to clap his hands and return to his original position, satisfied. Well, I guess we're going to, too, said Joel. Dave and me, there isn't anybody going to learn without us. Of course not, said Polly. Van wouldn't leave you out, Joey. Franzi sat quite still all this time, on the corner of the table, her feet tucked up under her, and her hands clasped in her lap, and never said a word. But Van, looking up, saw the most grieved expression settling on her face, as the large eyes were fixed in wonder on the faces before her. And there's my pet, he cried in enthusiasm, and reaching over the table he caught hold of one of the little fat hands, why we couldn't think of getting along without her. She shall learn to draw. She shall. Really, Benzi, said Franzi, the sunlight breaking all over the gloomy little visage, and setting the brown eyes to dancing. Real, true, splendid pictures? Yes, the splendidest, said Ben, the very splendidest pictures, Franzi Pepper, you ever saw. Oh, cried Franzi, and before anyone knew what she was about, she tripped right into the middle of the table, over the papers and everything, and gave a happy little whirl. Dear me, Franzi, cried Polly, catching her up and hugging her, you mustn't dance on the table. I'm going to learn, said Franzi, coming out of Polly's embrace, to draw whole pictures, all alone by myself. Ben said so. I know it, said Polly, and then you shall draw one from Mamesee. You shall. I will, said Franzi, dreadfully excited. I'll draw her a cow and two chickens, Polly, just like Grandma Baskham's. Yes, whispered Polly. But don't you tell her yet till you get it done, Franzi. I won't, said Franzi, in the loudest of tones, but putting her mouth close to Polly's ear, and then she'll be so surprised, Polly, won't she? Just then came Jasper's voice at the door. Can I come in? Oh, do, Jabby, cried Polly, rushing along with Franzi in her arms to the open door. We're so glad you've got home. So am I, said Jasper, coming in, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling. I thought father never would be through downtown, Polly. We're going to learn to draw, said Percy, over by the table, who wouldn't on any account leave his seat by Ben, though he was awfully tired of sitting still so long, for fear somebody else would hop into it. Ben's going to teach us. Yes, he is, put in van, bounding up to Jasper and pulling at all the buttons on his jacket he could reach to command attention. And us, said Joel, coming up to, you forgot us, van. The whole of us, every single one in this room, said van decidedly, I'll accept Mrs. Pepper. Helloa, said Jasper. That is a class. Well, Professor Ben, you've got to teach me then, for I'm coming too. You, said Ben, turning around his chair and looking at him, I can't teach you anything, Jabby. You know everything already. Let him come anyway, said Polly, hopping up and down. Oh, I'm coming, Professor, laughed Jasper. Never you fear, Polly. I'll be on hand when the rest of the class comes in. And van, said Mrs. Pepper, pausing a minute in her work and smiling over at him in the lull of the chatter. I think flowers are most beautiful. And she pointed to a little framed picture on the mantle of a bunch of butter cups and one huge rose that van had with infinite patients drawn and then colored to suit his fancy. Do you, cried van, perfectly delighted and leaving the group he rushed up to her side. Do you really think they're nice, Mrs. Pepper? Of course I do, said Mrs. Pepper briskly and beaming on him. I think everything of them, and I shall keep them as long as I live, van. Well then, said van, very much pleased, I shall paint you ever so many more, just as many as you want. Do, said Mrs. Pepper, taking up her work again, and I'll hang them every one up. Yes, I will, said van, and I'll go right to work on one tomorrow. What you're mending our jackets for, he asked abruptly, as a familiar hole caught his attention. Because they're torn, said Mrs. Pepper cheerfully, and they won't mend themselves. Why don't you let Jane, he persisted. She always does them. Jane's got enough to do, replied Mrs. Pepper, smiling away as hard as she could. And I haven't, so I'm going to look around and pick up something to keep my hands out of mischief as much as I can while I'm here. Do you ever get into mischief, asked little dick, coming up and looking into Mrs. Pepper's face, wonderingly? Why, you're a big woman. Dear me, yes, said Mrs. Pepper. The bigger you are, the more mischief you can get into. You'll find that out, dicky. And then do you have to stand in a corner, asked dick? Determined to find out just what were the consequences, and reverting to his most dreaded punishment. No, said Mrs. Pepper, laughing. Corners are for little folks. But when people who know better do wrong, there aren't any corners they can creep into, or they get into them pretty quick. I wish, said little dick, you'd let me get into your lap. That would be a nice corner. Do, maimsy, said Polly, coming up. That's just the way I used to feel. And I'll finish the mending. So Mrs. Pepper put down her work and moved the big basket for little dick to clamber up, when he laid his head contentedly back in her motherly arms with a sigh of happiness. Franzi regarded him with a very grave expression. At last she drew near. I'm tired. Do, maimsy, take me. So maimsy will, said Mrs. Pepper, opening her arms, when Franzi immediately crawled up into their protecting shelter with a happy little crow. Oh, now tell us a story, Mrs. Pepper, cried Van. Please, please do. Oh, no, exclaimed Percy, scuttling out of his chair and coming up. Let's talk of the little brown house. Do tell us what you used to do there. That's best. So tis, cried Van, all the nice times you used to have in it, wait just a minute, do. And he ran back for a cricket, which he placed at Mrs. Pepper's feet, and then sitting down on it, he leaned on her comfortable lap in order to hear better. Wait for me, too, till I get a chair, called Percy, starting. Don't begin till I get there. Here, let me, Percy, said Ben. And he drew forward a big, easy chair that the boy was tugging at with all his might. Now I'm ready, too, said Polly, setting small finishing stitches quickly with a merry little flourish, and drawing her chair near her mother's as she spoke. Now begin, please, said Van, all the nice times you know. She couldn't tell all the nice times if she'd had 10 years to tell them in. Could she, Polly, said Jasper. Well, in the first place then, said Mrs. Pepper, clearing her throat. The little brown house had got to be, you know. So we made up our minds to make it just the nicest brown house that ever was. And it was, declared Jasper, with an emphatic ring to his voice, the very nicest place in the whole world. Oh, dear, broken Van, enviously. Jappy's always said so. I wish we'd been there, too. We didn't want anybody but Jappy, said Joel, not very politely. Oh, Joey, for shame, cried Polly. Jappy used to bake, cried little Davy. And we all made pies. And then we sat around, and ate them, and then told stories. Oh, what fun, cried Percy. Do tell us. So the five little peppers, and Jasper, flew off into reminiscences and accounts of the funny doings. And Mrs. Pepper joined in heartily till the room got very merry with the glee and enthusiasm called forth. So much so, that nobody heard Mrs. Whitney knock gently at the door. And nobody answering, she was obliged to come in by herself. Well, well, she cried merrily, looking at the swarm of little ones around Mrs. Pepper in the big chair. You are having a nice time. May I come in and listen? Oh, if you will, sister, cried Jasper, springing off from his arm of the chair, while Ben flew from the other side to hurry and get her a chair. Percy and Van rushed, too, knocking over so many things that they didn't help much. And little Dick poked his head out from Mrs. Pepper's arms when he saw his mama sitting down to stay and began to scramble down to get into her lap. There now, said Mrs. Whitney, smiling over at Mrs. Pepper, who was smiling at her. You have your baby, and I have mine. Now, children, what's it all about? What has Mrs. Pepper been telling you? Oh, the little brown house, cried Dicky, his cheeks all aflame. The dearest little house, mama, I wish I could live in one. Twit and be the same without the peppers in it, said Jasper, not a bit of it. And they had such perfectly elegant times, cried Percy, ambiously drawing up to her side. Oh, you can't think, mama. Well now, said his mama, do go on and let me hear some of the nice times. So away they launched again, and Mrs. Whitney was soon enjoying it as hugely as the children, when a heavy step sounded in the middle of the room and a voice spoke in such tone that everybody skipped. Well, I should like to know what all this means. I've been all over the house and not a trace of anybody could I find. Oh, father, cried Mrs. Whitney. Van Deere, get up and get grandpa a chair. No, no, said the old gentleman, waving him off impatiently. I'm not going to stay. I must go and lie down. My head is in a bad condition today. Very bad indeed, he added. Oh, said Fronzie, popping up her head and looking at him. I must get right down. What's the matter, Fronzie? asked Mrs. Pepper, trying to hold her back. Oh, but I must, said Fronzie, energetically wriggling. My poor, sick man wants me. He does. And flying out of her mother's arm, she ran up to Mr. King and standing on tiptoe, said softly. I'll rub your head, grandpa Deere, poor, sick man. Yes, I will. And you're the best child, cried the old gentleman, catching her up and marching over to the side of the room where there was a lounging chair. There now, you and I, Fronzie, will stay by ourselves. Then my head will feel better. And he sat down and drew her into his arms. Does it ache very bad, said Fronzie, in a soft little voice. Then reaching up, she began to pat and smooth it gently with one little hand. Very bad, dear grandpa. It won't, said the old gentleman. If you only keep on taking care of it, little Fronzie. Then, said the child, perfectly delighted, I'm going to take all care of you, grandpa, always. So you shall, so you shall, cried Mr. King, no less delighted than she was. Mrs. Pepper? Sir, said Mrs. Pepper, trying to answer, which she couldn't do very well surrounded as she was by the crowd of little chatterers. Yes, sir. Excuse me. What is it, sir? We've got to come to an understanding about this thing, said the old gentleman. And I can't talk much today because my headache won't allow it. Here the worried look came into Fronzie's face again and she began to try to smooth his head with both little hands. And so I must say it all in as few words as possible, he continued. What is it, sir? Again asked Mrs. Pepper, wonderingly. Well, the fact is, I've got to have somebody who will keep this house. Now, Marian, not a word, as he saw symptoms of Mrs. Whitney's joining in the conversation. You've been good, just as good as can be under the circumstances, but Mason will be home in the fall and then I suppose you'll have to go with him. Now, I, said the old gentleman, forgetting all about his head and straightening himself up suddenly in the chair. I'm going to get things into shape so that the house will be kept for all of us so that we can come or go. And how can I do it better than to have the peppers? You, Mrs. Pepper, and all your children, come here and live and... Oh, father, cried Jasper, rushing up to him and flinging his arms around his neck. He gave him such a hug as he hadn't received for many a day. Goodness, Jasper, cried his father, feeling his throat. How can you express your feeling so violently? And besides, you interrupt. Beg pardon, sir, said Jasper, swallowing his excitement and trying to control his eagerness. Did you say yes, Mrs. Pepper? Quared the old gentleman impatiently. I must get things fixed up today. I'm really too ill to be worried, ma'am. Why, sir, stammered Mrs. Pepper, I don't know what to say. I couldn't think of imposing all my children on you and imposing? Who's talking of imposing? Said Mr. King in a loud key. I want my house kept. Will you live here and keep it? That is the question. But, sir, began Mrs. Pepper again. You don't think. I do think. I tell you, ma'am, I do think, snapped the old gentleman. It's just because I have thought that I've made up my mind. Will you do it, Mrs. Pepper? What are you going to do, ma'am, see? Ask Joel quickly. I don't know as I'm going to do anything yet, said poor Mrs. Pepper, who was almost stunned. To come here and live, cried Jasper, unable to keep still any longer and springing to the children. Don't you want to, Joel? To live, screamed Joel. Oh, wickety, yes. Do, ma, come here and live, do. To live, echoed Fronzie over in the old gentleman's lap. In this beautiful place. Oh, oh. Oh, maimsy was all that Polly could say. And even Ben had his arms around his mother's neck whispering, do, in her ear, while little Davy got into her lap and teased her with all his might. What shall I do? cried the poor woman. Did ever anybody see the like? It's the very best thing you could possibly do, cried the old gentleman. Don't you see it's for the children's advantage? They'll get such educations, Mrs. Pepper, as you want for them. And it accommodates me immensely. What obstacle can there be to it? If I was only sure it was best, said Mrs. Pepper doubtfully. Oh, dear Mrs. Pepper, said Mrs. Whitney, laying her hand on hers. Can you doubt it? Then, said Mr. King, getting up but still holding on to Fronzie, we'll consider it subtle. This is your home, children, he said waving his hand at the five little peppers in a bunch. And having thus summarily disposed of the whole business, he marched out with Fronzie on his shoulder. End of Chapter 23. Chapter 24 of Five Little Peppers and How They Grew. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Karen. Five Little Peppers and How They Grew by Margaret Sidney, Chapter 24. Polly's Dismal Morning. Everything had gone wrong with Polly that day. It began with her boots. Of all things in the world that tried Polly's patients most, were the troublesome little black buttons that originally adorned those useful parts of her clothing and that were fondly supposed to be there when needed. But they never were. The little black things seemed to be invested with a special spite. For one by one they would hop off on the slightest provocation and go rolling over the floor just when she was in her most terrible hurry, compelling her to fly for needle and thread on the instant. For one thing Mrs. Pepper was very strict about, and that was Polly should do nothing else till the buttons were all on again and the boots buttoned up firm and snug. Oh, dear, said Polly, sitting down on the floor and pulling on her stockings. There now see that hateful old shoe, Mamzy. And she thrust out one foot into Smay. What's the matter with it? Said Mrs. Pepper, straightening the things on the bureau. You haven't worn it out already, Polly. Oh, no, said Polly with a little laugh. I hope not yet, but it's these dreadful hateful old buttons. And she twitched the boot off from her foot with such an impatient little pull that three or four more went flying under the bed. There now, there's a lot more, I don't care. I wish they'd all go, they might as well. She cried, tossing that boot on the floor in intense scorn while she investigated the state of the other one. Are they all off? Asked Franzy, pulling herself up out of a little heap in the middle of the bed and leaning over the side where she viewed Polly sorrowfully. Every one, Polly? No, said Polly, but I wish they were mean old things. When I was going down to play a duet with Jasper, we should have had a good long time before breakfast. Oh, man, did I go just once, Mamzy. Nobody will see me if I tuck my foot under the piano and I can sew them on afterwards. There'll be plenty of time. Do just once, Mamzy. No, said Mrs. Pepper firmly. There isn't any time but now and piano playing isn't very nice when you've got to stick your toes under it to keep your shoes on. Well then, grumble Polly, hopping around to your stocking feet. Where is the work basket, Mamzy? Oh, here it is on the window seat. A rattle of spools, scissors, and necessary utensils showed plainly that Polly had found it, followed by a jumble of words and despairing ejaculations as she groped hurriedly under chairs and tables to collect the scattered contents. When she got back with a very red face, she found Franzy, who had crawled out of bed, sitting down on the floor in her little nightgown and examining the boot with profound interest. I can saw him, Polly, she said, holding up her hand for the big needle that Polly was trying to thread. I can now, truly, let me Polly do. Dear no, said Polly, with a little laugh, beginning to be very much ashamed. What could you do with your little mites of hands pulling this big thread through that old leather? There scamp in debate again, you'll catch cold out here. Isn't very cold, said Franzy, tucking up her toes under the nightgown, but Polly hurried her into bed where she curled herself up under the clothes watching her make a big knot. But the knot didn't stay, for when Polly drew up the long thread triumphantly to the end, out it flew and away the button hopped again as if glad to be released. And then the thread kinked horribly and got all twisted up in disagreeable little snarls that took all Polly's patience to unravel. It's because you're in such a hurry, said Mrs. Pepper, who was getting Franzy's clothes. And coming over across the room she got down on one knee and looked over Polly's shoulder. There now, let mother see what's the matter. Oh dear, said Polly, resigning the needle with a big sigh and leaning back to take a good stretch, followed by Franzy's sympathizing eyes. They'll never be on and there goes the first bell. As a loud sounds under Jane's vigorous ringing peeled up over the stairs. There won't be time anyway now. I wish there wasn't such a thing as shoes in the world. And she gave a flounce and sat up straight in front of her mother. Polly, said Mrs. Pepper sternly, deftly fastening the little buttons tightly into place with quick firm stitches. Better be glad you've got them to sew it all. There now, here they are. These won't come off in a hurry. Oh Mamzy, cried Polly, ignoring for a moment the delights of the thinnest shoe to fling her arms around her mother's neck and give her a good hug. You're just the splendidest, goodest Mamzy in all the world and I'm a hateful cross all bare so I am. She cried remorsefully, butting herself into her boots. Which done, she flew at the rest of her preparations and tried to make up for lost time. But was all of no use. The days seemed to be always just racing ahead of her and turning a corner before she could catch up to it. And Ben and the other boys only caught dissolving views of her as she flitted through halls or over stairs. Where's Polly? Said Percy at last, coming with great dissatisfaction in his voice to the library door. We've called her, I guess, a million times and she won't hurry. What do you want to have her do? Asked Jasper, looking up from the sofa where he'd flung himself with a book. Why, she said she'd make van and me our sails, you know. Said Percy, holding up a rather forlorn looking specimen of a boat, but which the boys had carved with the greatest enthusiasm. And we watch her now. Can't you let her alone till she's ready to come? Said Jasper quickly. You're always teasing her to do something, he added. I didn't tease, said Percy indignantly, coming up to the sofa, boat in hand to enforce his words. She said, she'd love to do him, so there, Jasper King. Coming, coming. Saying Polly over the stairs and bobbing into the library. Oh, here you are, Percy. I couldn't come before Mamsey wanted me. Now says I, for the sails. And she began to flap out a long white piece of cotton cloth on the table to trim into just the desired shape. That isn't the way, said Percy, crowding up the brightness that had flashed over his face at Polly's appearance beginning to fade. Oh, those won't be good for anything. Those ain't sails. I haven't finished, said Polly, snipping away vigorously and longing to get back to Mamsey. Wait till they're done, then they'll be good as good as can be. And it's bad enough to have to make them put in Jasper, flinging aside his book and rolling over to watch them without having to be found fault with every second, Percy. They're too big, said Percy, surveying them critically and then looking at his boat. All of that corner's coming off, cried Polly cheerfully, giving it a sharp cut that scented flying on the floor. And they won't be too big when they're done, Percy. All hemmed in everything. There, as she held one up for inspection. That's just the way I used to make Benz in mine when we sailed boats. Is it? Asked Percy, looking with more respect at the piece of cloth Polly was waving alluringly before him. Just exactly like it, Polly? Yes, said Polly, laying it down again for pattern. Oh, how does this go? Oh, that's it, there. Yes, this is just exactly like Benzies in mine. That was when I was ever so little and then I used to make jowls on Davies afterwards and, and we're theirs just like this? Asked Percy, laying his hand on the sail she had finished cutting out precisely, said Polly, with a pin in her mouth, just as like as two peas, Percy Whitney. Then I like them, cried Percy, veering round him regarding them with great satisfaction as Van bounded in with a torrent of complaints and great disappointment in every line of his face. Oh, now that's too bad, he cried, seeing Polly fold up the remaining bits of cloth and pick up the scraps on the floor. And you've gone and better cut out every one of them and never told me a word. You're a mean old hateful thing, Percy Whitney. Oh, don't, said Polly on her knees on the floor. I forgot, began Percy and she cut him so quick and I've been waiting, said Van in a loud, wrathful key and waiting and waiting. Nevermind, Van, said Jasper consolingly, getting off from the sofa and coming up to the table. They're done and done beautifully, aren't they? He said, holding up one. But this only proved fresh fuel for the fire of Van's indignation. And you shan't have him so, he cried, making a lunge at the one on the table. For I made most of the boat there. Oh no, you didn't, cried Percy in the greatest alarm, hanging onto the boat in his hand. I cut all the keel and the bow and, oh dear, said Polly, in extreme dismay, looking at Jasper. Come, I'll tell you what I'll do, boys. What, said Van, cooling off a little and allowing Percy to edge into a corner with a beloved boat and one sail. What will you, Polly? I'll make you another pair of sails, said Polly, groaning within herself as she thought of the wasted minutes. And then you can see me cut him, Van. Will you really? He said, delight coming all over his flush face. Yes, I will, cried Polly. Wait a minute till I get some more cloth. And she started for the door. Oh, now that's too bad, said Jasper, to have to cut more of those tiresome old things then let her off. Oh no, I won't, I won't. He cried in the greatest alarm, running up to her as she stood by the door. You did say so, Polly, you know you did. Of course I did, Vanny, said Polly, smiling down into his eager face. And we'll have a splendid pair in just one minute, she's saying. And so the sails were cut out, and the hems turned down and basted, and tucked away into Polly's little work basket, ready for the sewing on the morrow. And then Mr. King came in and took Jasper off with him. And the two Whitney boys went up to Mama for a story. And Polly sat down in Mamsey's room to tackle her French exercise. End of chapter 24. Chapter 25 of Five Little Peppers and How They Grew. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. Recording by Natalie Sullivan. Five Little Peppers and How They Grew by Margaret Sidney, chapter 25. Polly's Big Bundle. The room was very quiet, but presently fronzy, straight in, and seeing Polly studying climbed up in a chair by the window to watch the birds hop over the veranda and pick up worms in the grass beside the carriage drive. And then came Mrs. Pepper with the big mending basket and ensconced herself opposite by the table and nothing was to be heard but the tick-tick of the clock and an occasional dropping of a spool of thread or scissors from the busy hands flying in and out among the stockings. All of a sudden there was a great rustling in Cherry's cage that swung in the big window on the other side of the room. And then he set up a loud and angry chirping, flying up and down and opening his mouth as if he wanted to express his mind, but couldn't, and otherwise acting in a very strange and unaccountable manner. Dear me, said Mrs. Pepper, what's that? It's Cherry, said Polly, lifting up her head from Fesquel. And oh, dear me, and flinging down the pile of books in her lap on a chair, she rushed across the room and flew up to the cage and began to wildly gesticulate and explain and shower down on him every endearing name she could think of. What is the matter, asked her mother, turning around in her chair, in perfect astonishment? What upon earth, Polly? How could I, cried Polly, in accents of despair, not heeding her mother's question? Oh, Mamsey, will he die, do you think? I guess not, said Mrs. Pepper, laying down her work and coming up to the cage, while Franzi scrambling off from her chair and hurried to the scene. Why, he does act queer, don't he? Perhaps he's been eating too much. Eating, said Polly, oh, Mamsey hasn't had anything, and she pointed with shame and remorse to the seed-cup with only a few dried husks in the very bottom. Oh, Polly, began Mrs. Pepper, but seeing the look on her face she changed her tone for one more cheerful. Well, hurry and get some now, he'll be all right, poor little thing, in a minute. There, there! She said, nodding persuasively at the cage. You pretty creature, you, so you shan't be starved. At the word starved, Polly went as though a pin had been pointed at her. There isn't any Mamsey in the house, she stammered. He had the last yesterday. When you forgot him today, asked Mrs. Pepper, with a look in her black eyes, Polly didn't like. Yeson, said poor Polly in a low voice. Well, they must have something right away, said Mrs. Pepper, decidedly. That's certain. I'll run right down to Fletcher's and get it, cried Polly. It won't take me but a minute, Mamsey. Jasper's gone, and Thomas too, so I've got to go, she had it, as she saw her mother hesitate. If you could wait till then, gets home, said Mrs. Pepper, slowly. I'm most afraid it will rain, Polly. Oh, no, Mamsey, cried Polly, feeling as if she could fly to the ends of the earth to a tone, and longing beside for the brisk walk downtown. Going up to the window, she pointed triumphantly to the little bit of blue sky still visible. There now, see, it can't rain yet a while. Well, said Mrs. Pepper, while Fronzie, standing in a chair where their face pressed close to the cage, was telling Cherry through the bars, not to be hungry, please don't, which he didn't seem to mind in the least, but went on screaming harder than ever. And besides, Tis isn't much used to wait for Ben, nobody knows where he'll get shoes to fit himself, and Joe, and Davion, one afternoon. But be sure, Polly, to hurry, for it's getting late and I shall be worried about you. Oh, Mamsey, said Polly, turning back just a minute. I know the way to Fletcher's just as easy as anything. I couldn't get lost. I know you do, said Mrs. Pepper, but it'll be dark early on account of the shower. Well, she said, pulling on her well-worn purse from her pocket. If it does sprinkle, you get into a car, Polly, remember. Oh, yes, I will, she cried, taking the purse. And there's ten cents for your birdseed in that pocket, said Mrs. Pepper, pointing to a coin racing away into a corner by itself. Yes, some said Polly, wild to be off. And there's a five-cent piece in that one for you to ride up with, said her mother, tying up the purse carefully. Remember for you to ride up with. Well, I guess you better ride up anyway, Polly. Come to think. And then you'll get home all the quicker. Where are you going, asked Franzi, who, on seeing the purse, knew there was some expedition on foot and beginning to clammer down out of the chair. Oh, I want to go too. I do. Take me, Polly. Oh, no, Pet, I can't, cried Polly. I've got to hurry like everything. I can hurry too, cried Franzi, drawing her small figure to its utmost height. Oh, so fast, Polly! And it's ever so far, cried Polly, in despair, as she saw the small underlip of the child begin to quiver. Oh, dear me, ma'am, see what shall I do? Run right along, said Mrs. Pepper briskly. Now, Franzi, you and I ought to take care of Cherry, poor thing. At this, Franzi turned and wiped away two big tears while she gazed up at the cage in extreme commiseration. I guess I'll give him a piece of bread, said Mrs. Pepper, to herself. At this word, bread, Polly, who was halfway down the hall, came running back. Oh, ma'am, see, don't, she said. It made him sick before. Don't you know it did? So fat and stuffy? Well, hurry along, then, said Mrs. Pepper, and Polly was off. Through the ground she sped, only intent on reaching the bird's door, her speed heightened by the dark and rolling bank of cloud that seemed to shut right down suddenly over her and envelop her, warningly. It's good I've got the money to ride up with, she thought to herself, hurrying along through the busy streets, filled now with anxious crowds, homeward rushing to avoid the threatening shower. Well, here I am, she said, with a sigh of relief, as she at last reached Mr. Fletcher's big bird's door. Here she steadily resisted all temptations to stop and look at the new arrivals of birds, and to feed the carrier pigeons who seemed to be expecting her, and who turned their soft eyes up at her reproachfully when she failed to pay her respects to them. Even the cunning blandishments of a very attractive monkey that always had entertained the children on their numerous visits failed to interest her now. Mamsey would be worrying, she knew, and besides, the sight of so many birds eating their suppers out of generously full seed-cups only filled her heart with remorse as she thought of poor Cherry and his empty one. So she put down her ten cents silently on the counter and took up the little package of seed and went out. But what a change! The cloud that had seemed but a cloud when she went in was now fast descending in big, ominous sprinkles that told of a heavy shower to follow. Quick and fast they came, making everybody fly to the nearest shelter. I don't care, said Polly to herself, holding fast her little package. I'll run and get in the car, then I'll be all right. So she went on with nimble footsteps, dodging the crowd, and soon came to the corner. A car was just in sight. That was fine. Polly put her hand in her pocket for her purse, to have it already, but as quickly drew it out again and stared wildly at the car, which she allowed to pass by. Her pocket was empty. Oh dear, she sent herself as a sudden gust of wind blew around the corner and warned her to move on. Now what shall I do? Well I must hurry. Nothing for it, but to run now. And secretly glad at the chance for a good hearty run along the hard pavement, a thing she had been longing to do ever since she came to the city, Polly gathered her bundle of seed up under her arm and set out for a jolly race. She was enjoying it hugely when, a sudden turn of the corner brought her up against a gentleman who, having his umbrella down to protect his face, hadn't seen her till it was too late. Polly never could tell how it was done, but the first thing she knew she was being helped up from the wet, slippery pavement by a kind hand, and a gentleman's voice said in the deepest concern, I beg your pardon, it was extremely careless in me. It's no matter, said Polly, hopping up with a little laugh and straightening her hat. Only—and she began to look for her parcel that had been sent spinning. What is it, said the gentleman, bending down and beginning to explore too in the darkness? My bundle began, Polly. Oh dear! No need to ask for it now. There lay the paper wet and torn, down at their feet. The seed lay all over the pavement, scattered far and wide, even out to the puddles in the street, and not a cent of money to get any more with. The rain that was falling around them, as they stood there, sent with the sound of eerie drops such a flood of misery into Polly's heart. What was it, child? Asked the gentleman, peering sharply to find out what the little shiny things were. Birdseed gasped Polly. Is that all, said the gentleman with a happy laugh? I'm very glad. All, Polly's heart stood still as she thought of Cherry, stark and stiff in the bottom of his cage, if he didn't get it soon. Now, said the kind tones briskly, come, little girl, we'll make this all right speedily. Let's see. Here's a bird store. Now then. But sir began Polly holding back. Even Cherry had better die than to do anything her mother wouldn't like. But the gentleman already had her in the shop and was deletting the heart of the shopkeeper by ordering him to do up a big package of all kinds of seed. And then he added a cunning arrangement for birds to swing in, and two or three other things that didn't have anything to do with birds at all. And then when they came out on the wet slippery street again. Now then, little girl, said the gentleman, tucking the bundle under his arm and opening the umbrella. Then he took hold of Polly's hand, who by this time was glad of a protector. Where do you live? For I'm going to take you safely home this time where umbrellas can't run into you. Oh! said Polly with a little skip. Thank you, sir. It's up to Mr. King's end. What? said the gentleman, stopping short in the midst of an immense puddle and staring at her. Mr. Jasper King's? I don't know, sir, said Polly, what his other name is. Yes. It must be Jasper. That's what Jappy is, anyway. She added with a little laugh, wishing very much that she could see Jappy at that identical moment. Jappy said the stranger, still standing as if petrified, and are their little Whitney children in the same house? Oh, yes, said Polly, raising her clear brown eyes up at him. The gaslighter was just beginning his rounds, and the light from the neighboring lamp flashed full on Polly's face as she spoke, showing just how clear and brown the eyes were. There's Percy in van and little dick. Oh, he's so cunning, she cried impulsively. The gentleman's face looked very queer just then, but he merely said, Why? You must be Polly. Yes, sir, I am, said Polly, pleased to think he knew her. And then she told him how she'd forgotten Sherry Seed and all about it. And, oh, sir, she said, and her voice began to tremble. Mamzy will be so frightened if I don't get there soon. I'm going up there myself, so that it all happens very nicely, said the gentleman, commencing to start off briskly and grasping her hand tighter, now then Polly. So if they went at a very fast pace, she, skipping through the puddles at his long, even strides, carried him safely over, chattered away by his side under the umbrella and answered his many questions, and altogether got so very well acquainted that by the time they turned in at the old stone gateway she felt as if she had known him for years. And there the first thing they either of them saw, down in the little corner, back of the tall evergreens, was a small heap that rose as they splashed up the carriage-drive, and resolved itself into a very red dress and a very white apron, as it rushed impulsively up and flung itself into Polly's wet arms. And I was so tired waiting, Polly. Oh, dear me, Fransy, cried Polly, huddling her up from the dark wet ground. You'll catch your death. What will Mamsey say? The stranger, amazed at this new stage of the proceedings, was vainly trying to hold the umbrella over both, till the procession could move on again. Oh, cried Fransy, shaking her yellow head decidedly. They're all looking for you, Polly. She pointed one finger solemnly up to the big carved door as she spoke. At that Polly gathered her up close and began to walk with rapid footsteps up the path. Do let me carry you, little girl, said Polly's kind friend, persuasively, bending down to the little face on Polly's neck. Oh, no, no, no, said Fransy, at each syllable, grasping Polly around the throat in perfect terror and waving him off with a very crumpled, mangy bit of paper that had already done duty to wipe off the copious tears during her anxious watch. Don't let him, Polly, don't. There shan't anything hurt you, said Polly, kissing her reassuringly, and stepping briskly off with her burden just as the door burst open, and Joel flew out on the veranda steps, followed by the rest of the troupe and the greatest state of excitement. Oh, wickedie, she's come, he shouted, springing up to her over the puddles and crowding under the umbrella. Where'd you get Fransy? He asked, standing quite still at sight of the little feet tucked up to get out of the rain. And without waiting for an answer he turned and shot back into the house, proclaiming in stentory in tones, ma, Polly's home, and she's got Fransy, an awful big man, and they're out by the gate. Fransy said Mrs. Pepper springing to her feet while I thought she was upstairs with Jane. Now somebody exclaimed old Mr. King, who sat by the library table, vainly trying to read a newspaper, which he now threw down, in extreme irritation as he rose quickly and went to the door to welcome wanderers. Somebody ought to watch that poor child whose business it is to know where she is. Things caught her death cold, no doubt, no doubt. Outside in the rain the children revolved around and around Polly and Fransy, hugging and kissing them until nobody could do much more than breathe, not seeming to notice the stranger who stood quietly waiting till such time as he could be heard. At last, in a lull in the scramble as they were dragging Polly and her burden up the steps, each wild for the honor of escorting her into the house, he cried out in laughing tones. Isn't anybody going to kiss me, I wonder? The two little Whitney's, who were eagerly clutching Polly's arms, turned around, and Percy rubbed his eyes in a puzzled way. As Joel said, stopping a minute to look up at the tall figure, we don't ever kiss strangers. Mamsies told us not to, for shame, Julie, cried Polly, feeling her face grow dreadfully red in the darkness. The gentleman's been so kind to me. You're right, my boy, said the stranger, laughing and bending down to Joel's upturned, sturdy countenance. At the same instant that Mrs. Pepperflung opened the big door, a bright, warm light fell straight across his handsome face. And then, well, then Percy gave a violent bound, and upsetting Joel as he did so, wriggled his way down the steps at the same time that van, on Polly's other side, rushed up to the gentleman. Papa, oh, Papa! Polly, halfway up the steps, turned around, and then, at the rush of feeling that gathered at her heart, sat right down in the wet, slippery step. Why, Polly, Pepper exclaimed Joel, not minding his own upset. You're right in all the slush. Mother won't like it, I tell you. Hush, cried Polly, catching his arm. He's come. Oh, Joel, he's come. Who, cried Joel, staring around blindly? Who, Polly? Polly had just opened her lips to explain, when Mr. King's portly, handsome figure appeared in the doorway. Do come in. Children. Why? Good, gracious, mason! Yes, cried the stranger, lightly dropping his big bundle on umbrella as he passed in the door, with his little sons clinging to him. Here's Marion. Why didn't you write, asked the old gentleman, Testily? These surprises aren't the right sort of things, and he began to feel vigorously of his heart. Here, Mrs. Pepper, be so good as to call Mrs. Whitney. Pepper! Pepper! repeated Mr. Whitney perplexedly. She's coming. I hear her upstairs, cried Van Whitney. Oh, let me tell her. He struggled to get down from his father's arms as he said this. No. I shall. I heard her first, cried Percy. Oh, dear me! Mr. Pepper's going, too. Mr. King advanced to the foot of the staircase as his daughter, all unconscious, ran down with a light step and a smile on her face. Has Polly come, she asked, seeing only her father? Yes, replied the old gentleman shortly, and she's brought a big bundle, Marion. A big bundle, she repeated, wonderingly, and gazing at him. A very big bundle, he said, and taking hold of her shoulders he turned her around on her husband. So Polly and Fronzie crept in, unnoticed after all. I wish Ben was here, said little Davy, capering around the Whitney group. And Jappy, I do. Where are they, asked Polly. Don't know, said Joel, tugging at his shoestring. See, aren't these prime? He held up a shining black shoe, fairly bristling with newness for Polly to admire. Splendid, she cried heartily. But where are the boys? They went after you, said Davy, after we came home with our shoes. No, they didn't, contradicted Joel flatly and sitting down on the floor. He began to tie in and tie his new possessions. When we came home, Ben drew his pictures. Lots of them, don't you know? Oh, yes, said Davy, nodding his head. So he did. That was when we all cried. Because you weren't home, Polly. He dragged me a beautiful one, cried Fronzie, holding up her mangy bit. See? Polly, see? That's the little brown house, said Davy, looking over her shoulder as Fronzie put it carefully into Polly's hand. It's all washed out, said Polly, smoothing it out when she stayed out in the rain. Fronzie's face grew very grave at that. Bad, naughty old rain, she said, and then she began to cry, as hard as she could. Oh, dear, don't, cried Polly and dismay, trying her best to stop her. Oh, Fronzie, do stop, she implored, pointing into the next room, whence the sound of happy voices issued. They'll all hear you. But Fronzie and her grief didn't care, but wailed on steadily. Who is it anyway, cried Joel, tired of admiring his precious shoes, and getting up to hear them squeak, that great big man you know, Polly, that came in with you? Why? I thought I told you, said Polly, at her wit's end over Fronzie. It's Percy and Van's father, Joey. Wacky, cried Joel, completely stunned. Really and truly, Polly Pepper? Really and truly, cried Polly, bundling Fronzie up in her arms to lay the little wet cheek against hers. Then I'm going to peep, cried Joel, speaking across the floor to carry his threatened execution. Oh, you mustn't, Joel, cried Polly, frightened, lest he should. Come right back, or I'll tell Mamsey. They're all coming in anyway, cried little Davy, delightedly and scuttling over to Polly's side. And here are the little friends I've heard so much about, cried Mr. Whitney, coming in amongst them. Oh, you needn't introduce me to Polly. She brought me home. They're all peppers, is said Percy, waving his hand, and doing the business up at one stroke. Only the best of them is in here, observed Van, rather un-gallantly. He draws perfectly elegant Papa. I like Polly best, I do, cried little Dick, tumbling after her. Peppers, again repeated Mr. Whitney in a puzzled way. And here is Mrs. Pepper, said old Mr. King, pompously drawing her forward, the children's mother, and—but here Mrs. Pepper began to act in a very queer way, rubbing her eyes and twisting one corner of her black apron in a decidedly nervous manner that, as the old gentleman looked up, he saw with astonishment presently communicated itself to the gentleman opposite. Is it, said Mr. Whitney, putting out his hand and grasping the hard toil worn one in the folds of the apron, is it cousin Mary? And aren't you cousin John, she asked, to the tears in her bright black eyes? Of all things in this world, cried the old gentleman, waving his head helplessly from one to the other. Will somebody have the extreme goodness to tell us what all this means? At this the little peppers crowded around their mother, and to all the vacant places they could find, to get near the fascinating scene. Well, said Mr. Whitney, sitting down and drawing his wife to his side, it's a long story. You see, when I was a little youngster and— You were John Whitney, then, put in Mrs. Pepper slyly. That's the reason I never knew why they were all talking of Mason Whitney. John Whitney I was, said Mr. Whitney, laughing, or rather, Johnny and Jack. But grandmother Mason, when I grew older, wanted me called on my middle name to please grandfather. But to go back, when I was a little shaver, about his biggest Percy here, oh, Papa began Percy deprecatingly, to be called a little shaver before all the others. He means dear, he said, as Mama reassuringly, when he was a boy like you. Now hear what Papa's going to say. Well, I was sent up into Vermont to stay at the old place. There was a little girl there, a bright black-eyed little girl. She was my cousin, and her name was Mary Bartlett. Who's Mary Bartlett? asked Joel, interrupting. There she is, sir, said Mr. Whitney, pointing to Mrs. Pepper, who was laughing and crying together. Where, said Joel, utterly bewildered? I don't see any Mary Bartlett. What does he mean, Polly? I don't know, said Polly. Wait, Joey, she whispered. He's going to tell us all about it. Well, this little cousin and I went to the district school, and had many good times together. And then my parents sent for me, and I went to Germany to school. And when I came back, I lost sight of her. All I could find out was that she had married an Englishman by the name of Pepper. Oh, cried all the children together. And I always suppose she had gone to England, for despite all my exertions, I could find no trace of her. Oh, Mary, he said reproachfully, why didn't you let me know where you were? I heard, said Mrs. Pepper, that you'd grown awfully rich. And I couldn't. You always were a proud little thing, he said, laughing. Well, but, broke in, Mr. King, unable to keep silence any longer. I'd like to inquire, Mason. Why you didn't find all this out before in Marion's letters when she mentioned Mrs. Pepper? She did never mention her, said Mr. Whitney, turning around to face his questioner. Not as Mrs. Pepper, never once by name. It was always either Polly's mother or Francie's mother, just like a woman he added with a mischievous glance at his wife, not to be explicit. And just like a man she retorted with a happy little laugh, not to ask for explanations. I heard Jappy, cried Polly in a glad voice. And then, oh, good, as a sound of rushing footsteps was heard over the verandah steps and down the long hall. The door was thrown suddenly open and Jasper plunged in, his face flushed with excitement. And after him, Ben, looking a little as he did when Francie was lost, while Prince squeezed panting in between the two boys. Has Polly got, again, Jasper? Oh, yes, I'm here, cried Polly, springing up to them. Oh, Ben, she has cried Joel, disentangling himself from the group. Don't you see, Jappy? She's all home, echoed Francie, flying up. Oh, Ben, do draw me another little house. And see, see, cried the little Whitney's, pointing with jubilant fingers to their papa. See what she brought? Jasper turned around at that and then rushed forward. Oh, brother Mason. Well, Jasper said Mr. Whitney, a whole wealth of affection beaming on the boy. How you have stretched up in six months. Have an eye, said Jasper, laughing and drawing himself up to his fullest height. He's a stand-in on tiptoe, said Joel critically, who was hovering near. I most know he is, and he bent down to examine the position of Jasper's heels. Not a bit of it, Joe, cried Jasper, with a merry laugh, and setting both feet with a convincing thud on the floor. Well, anyway, I'll be just as big, cried Joel, when I'm 13, so. Just then a lad and quick wrap on the table made all the children skip and stopped everybody's tongue. It came from Mr. King. Francie said here, come here, child. I can't do anything without you, and held out his hand. Francie immediately left Ben, who was hanging over Polly, as if he never meant to let her go out of his sight again, and went directly over to the old gentleman's side. Now then he swung her upon his shoulder where she perched like a little bird, gravely surveying the whole group. One little hand stole around the old gentleman's neck and patted his cheek softly, which so pleased him that for a minute or two he stood perfectly still so that everybody might see it. Now Francie, you must tell all these children so that they'll understand. Say everything just as I told you, mind. I will, said Francie, shaking her small head wisely, every single thing. Well then, now begin. Well then, now begin, said Francie, looking down on the faces with an air as much like Mr. King's, as was possible, and finishing up with two or three little nods. Oh, no, dear, that isn't it, cried the old gentleman. I'll tell you. Say, Francie, you are all cousins, every one. You are all cousins, every one, repeated little Francie simply, shaking her yellow head into the very middle of the group. Does she mean it, Grandpa Pa? Does she mean it, cried Percy, in the greatest excitement? As true as everything, demanded Joel crowding in between them. As true as truth, said the old gentleman solemnly patting the child's little fat hand, so make the most of it. Oh, said Polly, with a long sigh. And then Jasper, and she, took hold of hands and had a good spin. Joel turned around with two big eyes on Percy. We're cousins, he said. I know it's at Percy and so's Van. Yes, said Van, flying up. And I'm cousin to Polly, too. That's best. Can I be a cousin, cried little Dick, crowding up with two red cheeks? Isn't anybody going to be a cousin to me, too? Everybody but Jasper, said the old gentleman, laughing heartily at them. You and I, my boy, he turned to his son, are left out in the cold. At this scream, loud and terrible, to hear a struck upon them all, as Joel, flung himself, flat on the floor. Isn't Jappy our cousin? I want Jappy! Goodness exclaimed the old gentleman in the greatest alarm. What is the matter with the boy? Do somebody stop him? Joel, said Jasper, leaning over him and trying to help Polly lift him up. I'll tell you how we'll fix it. I'll be your brother. That's best of all. Brother to Polly and Van and the whole of you. Then we'll see. Joel bolted up at that and began to smile through the tears running down the rosy face. Will you really, he said, just like Ben and everything? I can't be as good as Ben's, had Jappy laughing, but I'll be a real brother like him. Foo-foo! Then I don't care, cried Joel, wiping off the last tear on the back of his chubby hand. Now I guess we're better in you, he exclaimed to the triumphant glance over at the little Whitney's as he began to make the new shoes skip at a lively pace up and down the long room. Oh, dear, they both cried in great distress. Now, Papa, Jappy's going to be Joey's brother. And he isn't anything but our old uncle. Make him be ours more, Papa, do. And then Polly spring up. Oh, oh, dearie me! And she rushed out into the hall and began to tug violently at the big bundle, tossed down in a corner. Cherry'll die, cherry'll die, she cried. Do somebody help me off at the string? But Polly already headed off by the time Jasper's knife was half out of his pocket and was kneeling down on the floor, ripping out a big handful of the seed. Don't hurry so, Polly, said Jasper, as she jumped up to fly up the stairs. He's had some a perfect age. He's all right. What, said Polly, stopping so suddenly that two or three little seeds flew out of the outstretched hand and went dancing away to the foot of the stairs by themselves. Oh, I hurt him scolding away there when I first came home, said Jasper, so I just ran down a block or two and got him some. Is that all there is in that big bundle, said Jewel, in a disappointed tone, who had followed up with extreme curiosity to see its contents, food, that's no fun, old bird seed. I know, said Polly, with a gay little laugh, pointing with a handful of seed into the library. But I shouldn't have met the other big bundle if it hadn't have been for this, Jewel. End of Chapter 25. Recording by Natalie Sullivan. End of Five Little Peppers and How They Grew. By Margaret Sidney