 Chapter 1 of Five Little Peppers Grown-Up. Miss Pepper! Miss Pepper! Polly turned quickly. It was such an anxious little cry. What? Oh, Amy Lockhead! Amy threw herself up against Polly's gown. Oh, if I may, she began flushing painfully. You see, my brother is coming tomorrow. I have a letter, so if you will let me... Let you what? cried Polly with a little laugh. Go on, Amy. Don't be afraid. You see, it is just this way. Amy twisted her fingers together, drew her breath hard, and rushed on nervously. Jack, he's my brother, you know? Promise me. I never told you. If I would only learn to play on the piano. He'd take me to Europe with him next time, and now he's coming tomorrow and... And oh, what shall I do? Amy was far gone now, and she ended with a little howl of distress that brought two or three of the Salisbury girls flying in with astonishment. Go back, said Polly to them all, and they ran off as suddenly as they had popped in to leave Amy and the music teacher alone. Now, Amy, said Polly kindly, getting down on her knees beside the girl where she had thrown herself on the broad lounge. You must just understand, dear, that I cannot help you unless you will have self-control and be a little woman yourself. You told me I would be sorry if I didn't practice, mourned Amy, dragging her wet little handkerchief between her fingers. But I didn't suppose Jack was coming for six months, and I'd have time to catch up, and now, oh, dear me! And she burrowed deep into Miss Salisbury's big sofa pillow. Take care, warned Polly, with a ready hand to rescue the elaborate combination of silk and floss. It would be a very dreadful thing if this should get spoiled. Amy Loghead brought her wet cheek off suddenly. There isn't a single tear on it, Miss Pepper, she gasped. That's very fortunate, said Polly with a relieved breath. Well, Amy Child, how can I help you? She sat down now and drew the girl's hot little hand within her own. I can almost play that horrible Chopin, said Amy irreverently. That is, I could, if—oh, Miss Pepper!—she broke off suddenly and brought her flushed face very near to the one above her. Could you help me play it? Just hear me, you know, and tell me things you did over again about it? If I practice all the afternoon? Could you? This evening, do you mean? asked Polly a trifle sharply. Yes, said Amy faintly and twisting her handkerchief. Oh, dear me, I know you're so tired. What shall I do? But you don't understand, cried Polly, vexed with herself that she couldn't help her annoyance from being seen. I shall put someone else out if I give up my evening. I have an engagement, Amy. No, I don't see how I can do it, Child. I'm sorry. And then, before she knew how, she put both arms around the little figure. Don't cry, dear. I suppose I must. I'll get out of the other thing. Yes, fly at Chopin and keep your courage up, and I'll be over at seven. Then, tomorrow, Brother Jack will say, How fine, and off you'll go over the seas. Outside, Polly, after enlisting Miss Salisbury's favour for the evening's plan, was hurrying along the pavement, calling herself a hundred foolish names for helping an idle girl out of a scrape. And to think of losing the only chance to hear the outward, she mourned. Well, it's done now, and can't be helped. Even Jasper, when he hears of it, will think me as silly, I suppose, now to make my peace with Pickering. She turned down the avenue running out from the street that had the honour to contain Miss Salisbury's boarding and day school for young ladies, and met face to face, suddenly, a young man, about whose joy at meeting her there could be no doubt. Oh, Polly, he cried. Here, let me take that detestable thing, trying to get the music roll out of her hand. Take care how you talk about this, cried Polly, hugging it closer. Indeed, you shall not touch it, till you are glad that I am a music teacher. Oh, I must tell you, I was on my way to your house, because I was afraid you wouldn't understand a note. I can't go to-night. Can't go to-night, repeated Pickering, in his astonishment, forgetting all his manners. Why, Polly Pepper, what do you mean? Why, I must give it up, cried Polly nervously. Don't ask me, or perhaps I ought to tell you, Pickering, then you'll see I can't help myself. And Polly rapidly unfolded her plan for the evening, omitting all details as to Amy's careless waste of her lessons, despite all efforts to make her practice. At the end of the recital, Pickering dodged came to a full pause on the sidewalk, regardless of all passersby, and turned a glowering face on Polly, who was forced to stand still also and look at him. What idiocy, he exclaimed, to give up Dalbert for that ignoramus! Polly, are you losing your senses? I don't know, said poor Polly, who had lost the first flush of enthusiasm over her plan, and to whom nothing now seemed so delightful as the sight and sound of Dalbert and his wonderful melody. Well, it's done, so don't tempt me to feel badly, Pickering. Indeed, and it's not done, said Pickering angrily. You made the engagement, Polly. I never knew you to break one before, he added stingingly. The tears flew into Polly's brown eyes, and every bit of color deserted her round cheek. Don't call it that, Pickering, she implored, putting out her hand. I shall call it just what it is, declared Pickering in the stiffest fashion. It's a broken engagement, Polly, peppered nothing more nor less. Then, said Polly all her tears dried, I must go with you if you hold me to it. She raised her head and looked him full in the eyes. I will be ready, and she moved off with her most superb air without daining a goodbye. Oh, Polly! cried Pickering, starting forward to overtake her. See here, if you very much wish it, why, of course, Polly. Polly, do look around. What do you wish to say, asked Polly, not looking around as he gained her sight. Why, of course, cried Pickering, his words stumbling over each other. If you can't go, I'll give it up, and stay at home. And why should you stay at home? cried Polly, suddenly giving him a glimpse of her face. You lovely seats, do ask Alexia. Alexia! exclaimed Pickering angrily. Indeed, I will not. I don't want anyone if I can't have you, Polly. He was really miserable now, and needed comfort, so she turned around and administered it, as only Polly could. By the time the talk was over, she hurried off with a radiant face, and Pickering, with an expression only one removed from that of absolute gloom, retraced to steps to lay one of the lovely seats for the Dahlberg concert before miss Reese for her acceptance. Franzi came slowly down the hall to meet Polly as usual, this day with one of her company-white gowns on. Polly always knew when these were done that something unusual was to be expected from the daily routine of the household. Are you really and truly home, Polly? asked Franzi, taking the music roll to tuck it under her own arm. Yes, pet. Polly said a kiss on the red lips, and I am as hungry as a beaver, Franzi. So you must be, said Franzi, with a little sigh, for you were so long in coming home. Well, do hurry now, Polly. This last, as Polly was skipping over the stairs to her own room to freshen up a bit. Then Franzi turned into the dining-room to be quite sure that the butler had made the belated luncheon as fine as Polly could desire it. She didn't ask why I had on this gown. Mused Franzi, softly disposing again the flowers at Polly's plate. And it's funny, I think, for Polly always sees everything, and she began to look troubled at once. This is just as splendid as it can be, cried Polly coming in and picking up one of the roses at her plate. Franzi, you are just a deer to have everything so nice, and she fastened it at her belt. Why, dear me, you have a fine gown on. What is going to happen? And you didn't see it, said Franzi, a bit reproachfully as she gently smoothed the front-breadth of them all. Forgive me, dear, beg Polly. Well, what is it, Pet? Do tell me for I'm dying of curiosity, as the Salisbury girls say. Franzi stood up on tiptoe and achieved Polly's ear. Who do you think is coming to-night? She whispered impressively. Tonight? Oh, dear me, I can't possibly guess, said Polly, beginning to think that this one evening of all the year held supreme moments for her. Who is it, Franzi? Do tell me quickly. Well, said Franzi, drawing off to see the surprise delight sure to come on Polly's face. It's Jasper himself. Not Jasper, exclaimed Polly, quite gone with joy. Oh, Franzi Pepper, you can't mean that. But I do, said Franzi, for getting her age to hop up and down on the rub, weave a letter while you were at the school. And I wasn't to tell you suddenly, so I put on one of my nice gowns so you would know. But how could I possibly suppose that Jasper would come now? cried Polly, seizing Franzi's hands to execute one of the old-time dances. Now I almost know he is going to stay over Christmas. He is, he is, cried Franzi in a little scream. You've guessed it, Polly. And Manzi said, she's gone downtown with Grandpa Pa. He's going to get you tickets for the concert tonight so that you can all go together, even if you can't sit together. And she said that, oh, Franzi, exclaimed Polly in dismay, and she stood quite still. Aren't you glad? asked Franzi, her joy suddenly hushed. And I've done it myself, spoiled all this loveliness, cried Polly passionately, little white lines coming around her mouth, and Jasper here. Oh, Polly, Polly! Franzi clasped her gown imploringly. Don't Polly! I just won't go to the school, declared Polly at white heat. I don't care for the concert, but I'll send a note over to say that I am detained at home. What is it, Polly? begged Franzi, all sorts of dreadful surmises seizing her. Do tell me, Polly, won't you? It's nothing. You wouldn't understand, child, said Polly quickly. There, don't ask. Franzi crept away in a grieved fashion to be presently folded into Polly's warm arms. I'm bad today, Franzi, dear. They're pet now you are all right, aren't you? As she hugged her close. I am if you are Polly, said Franzi doubtfully. Well, I'm all right now, said Polly, her brow clearing. The bad has gone at last. I hope to stay away, Franzi. Now I must hurry and eat this nice lunch and you'd fixed for me. And she sprang toward the table. Don't you want to write a note first? Asked Franzi, wondering at Polly's strange mood and following her to the table-edge. You said so. No, I've given it up, said Polly, sitting down and beginning on her chop and toast. Plus, you dear, you've given me an orchid. Glancing down between her mouthfuls to the bouquet at her plate, you should have saved them all for Jasper. Turner said I might have it, said Franzi triumphantly, and I knew you'd give it to Jasper, so it's all right. It surely shall do double duty, said Polly merrily with a tender glance for the orchid. Well, how's baby? He's very nice, said Franzi with a grown-up air and didn't cry a bit for Manzi. And if you are really all right, Polly, I'll go up to the nursery and look at him. So I would, said Polly approvingly. Yes, I'm all right. See, I'm on my chop number two. Franzi smiled with great satisfaction at this and went off. At a quarter of seven, Polly, in a storm of her monstrance from all but one, hurried off to help poor Amy Lockhead through her slew of despond. Jasper alone, just arrived for dinner, was the only one who remained silent when the storm of disapproval broke forth over Polly and her doings. After the first astonished exclamation, he had absolutely refused to say anything, save Polly knows best. I don't know how to thank you, said Polly out in the wide hall where you hurried to meet her as she ran downstairs with her plainest walking things on, for I don't believe they would have let me go. I never saw Manzi feel so Jasper. And now Polly could not keep the tears back. She'll see it all right tomorrow, said Jasper soothingly. He put his hand out and grasped hers as in the old days in the little brown house, and Polly answered through her tears. I know Jasper. And then the maid appearing, who was to accompany her to Miss Salisbury's, Polly came out from her tears and said, I'm ready, Barbara. You are not needed, Barbara, said Jasper, reaching out for his topcoat from the oak and rack. What are you going to do? Gasped Polly, her hand on the doorknob and glancing back. Walk over with you to that center of culture and wisdom, said Jasper Cooley, close beside her now, his hat in his hand. Oh, Jasper! exclaimed Polly, and dismayed her face growing quite pale. Don't you'll be late for the concert! Barbara, Barbara! Polly looked past him to summon the departing maid. Barbara is a good girl and understands the duty of obedience, said Jasper, laughingly. There's no help for it, Polly. You must accept my escort. And he opened the door. But, Grandpa, he will be terribly disappointed not to have you go to the concert with him, cried Polly, getting down the steps with a dreadful weight at her heart. I made it all right with Father, said Jasper, as soon as I heard of your plan, and Mr. Alstine is on his way over to take my place. At least he ought to be in response to my note. Don't worry, Polly, come. Oh, what perfectly elegant seats! exclaimed Alexia Reese, waving her big ostrich fan contentedly and sweeping the audience with a long gaze. Everybody is here to-night, Pickering. That's not so, said Pickering savagely and bestowing a thump on his unaffending opera hat, already reduced to the smallest possible bulk. Don't spoil it, advised Alexia Cooley with the side long gaze at his face. Well, of course I mean everybody except Polly, and I'm sure Pickering it isn't my fault that she didn't come. Polly always was queer about some things. Pickering did not answer, but bestowed his glance on the program in his hand. And now she is queerer than ever. Said Alexia, glad to think that the dainty blue affair on her head she called a bonnet was already doing its work, as she heard a lady in the seat back of them question if it were not one of the newest of Madame Mark Todd's creations. So she sat more erect and played nonchalantly with her fan. Yes, and it's all because of those dreadfully horrid music lessons. Pickering coughed and rattled his program ominously, which Alexia pretended not to hear. Why, Mr. King, let's her do it, I can't see, she went on. Do stop, said Pickering shortly, and casting a nervous glance back at her shoulder. Never mind if they do hear, said Alexia sweetly, all the better, then they'll know we don't approve of her doing so at any rate. I do approve, said Pickering, his face flaming, if she wants to, and we've got to anyway, because we can't help ourselves. I do wish, Alexia, you wouldn't discuss our friends in this public way. And I don't think it is a very sweet thing to invite a girl to a concert and then get up a fight, said Alexia back at him. Goodness, who's fighting? exclaimed Pickering under his breath. You are, I wish you could see your face, it's as black as a thunder-cloud, said Alexia, with the consciousness that her own was as calm as a June morning. And I'm sure if you don't want to attract people to our conversation, you might at least look a little pleasanter. Pickering threw two or three nervous glances on either side to prove her words, and was by no means reassured to see the countenance of Billy Harlow, one of his young business friends, across the aisle, suffused with an attempt to appear as if he hadn't been a witness to the little by-play. Well, I'm morally certain I won't trouble you with another invitation to a concert, he said, too furious to quite know his own words. You needn't, said Alexia, swinging her fan with an even hand, and still smiling sweetly, this time including in it Billy, who had no girl with him. I really could endure life at home better than this bliss. And then Dahlbert came on the stage and it was the proper thing to keep quiet, so the hostilities died down. Going out of the opera house, Billy Harlow ran up to the two. Lovely time you've had, he said on Alexia's side and with a little grimace. Have an eye, said Alexia back again with the air of a martyr. Pickering, stalking along beside her side, had the air of a man who didn't care what was being said about him. Just look at him now, said Alexia softly, isn't he sweet? And fancy my bearing it for two hours, I don't think any other girl in our set could. Why didn't Miss Pepper come this evening? asked Mr. Harlow curiously. Pickering said he'd asked her. Oh, she gave it up to help some girl, said Alexia carelessly. She's the music teacher at Miss Salisbury's school, you know. Oh, is she? asked Mr. Harlow innocently, forgetting to mention the daily interviews he sustained with his sister's kitty and grace who were Salisbury girls on Miss Pepper's movements. And at the last minute he asked me to take her place, said Alexia with perfect frankness, and I was goose enough to do it. Isn't Miss Pepper going to give her recital pretty soon? asked Mr. Harlow incidentally as they worked their way along to the entrance. Yes, she is, said Alexia sharply. At the Exeter, we can't stop her. She says she's proud to do it, and it shows the girl's wonderful ability and all that sort of thing, and oh, dear me, after she's once done that she'll always be Miss Pepper the music teacher. Isn't it horrid? I believe this is our carriage, said Pickering stiffly, and without so much as a half glance at Billy. Come, Alexia. End of chapter one. Chapter two of Five Little Peppers Grown Up This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Five Little Peppers Grown Up by Margaret Sidney Chapter two Getting Ready for Christmas Baby ought to have a Christmas tree, said Franzi slowly. Ah, Kingfisher, how is that? Do you want a Christmas tree? Jasper dropped to all fours by the side of the white bundle in the center of the library rug as he propounded the momentous question. The baby plunged forward and buried both fat hands in the crop of brown hair so suddenly brought to his notice. Is that the way to show your acknowledgment, sir? cried Jasper, springing to his feet baby and all. Well, there you go. There, and there, and there, tossing the white bundle high in the air. Goodness, what a breeze you two contrived to raise, exclaimed Joel. Mamzy, as Mother Fisher put her head in the doorway, the little chap is getting the worst of it, I tell you. Joel's jealous, said Jasper with a laugh. Take care, Kingfisher, that really is my hair, sir. Mrs. Fisher nodded and tuckled to the baby and hurried off. He didn't really mean to pull your hair, Jasper, said Franzi in a worried way and getting up from the floor where she had been deserted by the baby, she hurried over to the two flying around in the center of the room. But he does pull dreadfully, though, said Polly, laughing. Don't you, you little king, pinching baby's toes as Jasper spun in past her. My goodness, exclaimed Mr. King coming in the opposite doorway. I should think it was a menagerie here. What's the matter, Franzi? Baby is pulling Jasper's hair, said Franzi slowly and revolving around the two dancers, but he really doesn't mean to, Grandpa. Oh, I hope he does, said old Mr. King cheerfully, coming in and sitting down in his favorite chair. I'm sure it speaks well for the young man's powers of self-defense if he gets Jasper a good tweak. Father, cried Jasper and pretended astonishment. Well, Kingfisher, as popular opinion is against me, I'll set you down again and nurse my poor scalp. And down went the white bundle again to the floor, Franzi going back to her post as nurse. There's been a terrible scheme worked up since you were out, sir, announced Joel to the old gentleman. Hey, what's that? demanded Mr. King staring at Polly. Oh, it isn't Polly this time, said Joel with a laugh. Generally it is Polly that sets all dreadful things going, but this time it is some other ringleader. Then I am sure I shan't approve if Polly isn't in it, declared the old gentleman flatly. But I am in it, Grandpa Pa, Polly made haste to say. I think it is very, very nice. That alters the case, said Mr. King. So what is it, Joe? Out with it. It's nothing more nor less than to upset this house from top to bottom, said Joel, and get up a dreadful howling, tearing Christmas tree. Oh, Joe Pepper, ejaculated Polly reproachfully, and you've always had such fun over our Christmas trees. How can you? It's for baby, cried Franzi with a pink flush on her cheek. He's never seen one, you know, Grandpa Pa. No, I should think not, said the old gentleman, looking down at the white bundle. Well, and so you want a Christmas tree for him, Franzi Child? I think we ought to have one, said Franzi, because you know he's never, never seen one, and we all have had so many beautiful trees, Grandpa Pa. To be sure, to be sure, said Mr. King. Well, now Franzi Child, come here and tell me all about it, and he held out his hand. Franzi cast an anxious glance at the bundle. Can I leave him, Grandpa Pa? she asked. Leave him. Mercy, yes, it does babies good to be left alone. He'll suck his thumbs or his toes. I'll stay with him, said Polly, running out of her corner to get on her knees before the baby. There now, sir, do you know what a blessed old care you are, smothering him with kisses? Yes, I really think we ought to have a Christmas tree, Franzi was saying, Grandpa Pa dear, huddling up against his waistcoat as usual. Then we surely will have one, declared old Mr. King, so that is settled. Do you hear young people, raising his voice, or does that little scamp of a baby take all your ears? We hear Grandpa Pa, said Polly from the floor, and I'm very glad it will be good fun to get up a Christmas tree. Seeing you never have had that pleasing employment, said Jasper Sotovoce on the rug before the fire. Never mind, it'll be just as good fun again, said Polly. And not a bit of work, oh no. Don't throw cold water on it, beg Polly under her breath while the baby scrambled all over her, don't Jasper, Franzi has set her heart on it. All right, but I thought you wanted every bit of time to get ready for your recital, and the other things, and then, besides, there's Franzi's performance down at Dunraven. Well, so I did, confessed Polly with a sigh, but I can get the time some way. Out of the other things, said Jasper grimly, Polly, you'll have no fun from the holidays, it isn't too late to stop this now. He darted over toward his father. Jasper cried Polly imploringly. What is it, my boy? Asked Mr. King quite deep in the plans for the tree, Joel having added himself to their company. Oh, nothing, Polly wants it, and we must make it a good one, said Jasper rather incoherently in beginning to retreat. Of course it will be a good one, said his father at trifle testily, if we have it at all, when did we ever get up a poor tree, pray tell? Polly drew a relieved breath, and gathering the baby up in her arms, she hurried over to the old gentleman's chair with a, now, when do you want to have the tree, Franzi? Must we have it Christmas day? asked Franzi, looking at her anxiously. Christmas day? Dear me, no. Why, what would the Dunraven children do, Franzi, if you took that day away from them? cried old Mr. King in astonishment. Franzi turned slowly back to him. I thought perhaps we ought to let baby have the tree Christmas day, she said. No, indeed, again said Mr. King. Come here, you little scamp, catching the baby out of Polly's hand to set him on his other knee. There now speak up like a man, and tell your sister that you are not particular about the time you have your tree. Ar, ooh, said the Fisher baby. That's it, said the old gentleman with approval while the others shouted. So now, as long as your brother says so, Franzi, why, I should have your tree the day before Christmas. Oh, Polly wants to go, began Jasper. Oh, cried Polly morningly to him. Yes, Franzi, you much better have it the day before, as Grandpa Pa says. And you don't suppose baby will feel badly afterwards when he gets bigger and cry because we didn't give him Christmas day, said Franzi. Do you, Grandpa Pa? Indeed I don't, declared the old gentleman, pinching a set of pink toes nearest to his hand. If he does, why, we'll all let him know what we think of such conduct. Then, said Franzi, clasping her hands, I should very much rather not take Christmas day from the Dunraven children, because you know, Grandpa Pa, they expect it. Of course they do, said old Mr. King. Bless me why we shouldn't know it was Christmas at all if we didn't go down to Bedford and carry it, and as for those children. The picture that this brought up of Dunraven without a Christmas threw such a shadow over Franzi's face that Polly hastened to say reassuringly, Oh, Grandpa Pa, we would never think of not carrying a Christmas to Dunraven, would we, Pat? And she threw her arms around Franzi. Of course not, chimed in Jasper and Joel, in a way to bring back the smiles to the little downcast face. And the baby crowed and seized Franzi's floating yellow hair with both hands, and they all got him one another's way to rescue it, and Mrs. Pepper hurried in again, this time for baby, and he was kissed all around, Franzi giving him two for fear he might think she was hurt, and one of the maids popped in with. There is a gentleman in the reception room to see Miss Mary. Jasper turned off with an impatient gesture. I do suppose it is Mr. Lockhead, said Polly, for he wanted to come some time and talk about Amy. Oh, dear, I hope I shall say the right thing. Doesn't the fellow know better than to come when we are home for the Christmas holidays, grumbled Joel? Jasper looked as if he could say as much, but instead walked to the window and looked out silently. He's very anxious about Amy, said Polly, running off to the door, where she paused and looked back for sympathy toward her little protege. I should think you would be, grunted Joel. She's a goose, and beside that she doesn't know anything. Oh, Joe, she hasn't any father nor mother, cried Polly in distress. Joel gave an inaudible reply, and Polly ran off, carrying a face on which the sunshine struggled to get back to its accustomed place. Beg pardon for troubling you, said a tall young man getting off from the Devon to meet her as she hurried into the reception room, but you were good enough to say that I might talk with you about my sister, and really I am very much at sea to know what to do with her, Miss Pepper. It was a long speech, and at the end of it Polly and the collar were seated. She and a big chair, and he back on the Devon opposite to her. I am glad to see you, Mr. Lockhead, said Polly brightly, and I hope I can help you, for I am very fond of Amy. It's good of you to say so, said Jack Lockhead, for she's a trying level minx enough, I suspect, and Miss Salisbury tells me you've had no end of trouble with her. Miss Salisbury shouldn't say that, cried Polly involuntarily, then she stopped with a blush. I mean, I don't think she quite understands it. Amy does really try hard to study. Oh, said Jack Lockhead, then he tapped his boot with his walking stick. So you really think my sister will amount to something, Miss Pepper? He looked at her keenly. Polly started. Oh yes, indeed! Why she must, Mr. Lockhead. He laughed and bit his mustache. And really, I don't think that Amy is quite understood, said Polly warmly and forgetting herself. If people believe in her, it makes her want to do things to please them. She says herself she has bothered you dreadfully, said Jack with a vicious thrust to the walking stick at his boot. She has a little, confessed Polly, but not dreadfully, and I do think, Mr. Lockhead, now that you have come, and that she sees how much you want her to study in practice, she will really do better. I do indeed, said Polly earnestly. Outside she could hear the two boys as she still called them, and Grandpa's voice in animated consultation over the ways and means she knew as well as if she were there, of spending the holidays, and it seemed as if she could never sit in the reception room another moment longer, but that she must fly out to them. Amy has no mother, said Jack Lockhead after a moment, and he turned away his head and pretended to look out of the window. I know it. Polly's heart leaped guiltily. Oh, how could she think of holidays and good times when this poor little girl, but fifteen, had only a dreary sense of boarding school life to mean home to her. And oh, I do think, Polly hastened to say and she clasped her hands as Fronzie would have done, it has made all the difference in the world to her, and she does just lovely. So much better, I mean, than other girls would in her place. I do really, Mr. Lockhead, repeated Polly. Am no sister, added Jack as if to himself. How is a fellow like me? Why, I'm twenty-five, Miss Pepper, and I've been knocking about the world ever since I was her age. My uncle took me then to Australia, into his business. How am I ever to understand, as you call it, that girl? It was impossible not to see his distress, and Polly, with the deaf ear to the chatter out in the library, now bent all her energies to helping him. Mr. Lockhead, she said, and the colour deserted her round cheek and she leaned forward from the depths of the big chair. I am afraid you won't like what I am going to say. Go on, please, said Jack, his eyes on her face. I think if you want to understand, Amy, said Polly, holding her hands very tightly together to keep her courage up, you must love her first. Hey, I don't understand, said Jack, quite bewildered. You must love her and believe she's going to do nice things and be proud of her, went on Polly steadily. How can I? She's such a little beggar, exclaimed Jack, won't study in all that. And you must make her the very best friend you have in all this world and let her see that you are glad that she is your sister and tell her things and never, never scold. Then Polly stopped and the colour flew up to the waves of brown hair on her brow. I wish you'd go on, said Jack Lockhead as she paused. Oh, I've said enough, said Polly with a gasp and beginning to wish she could be anywhere out of the range of those great black eyes. Do forgive me, she begged. I didn't mean to say anything to hurt you. Jack Lockhead got up and straightened himself. I much obliged you, Miss Pepper, he said. I think I'm more to blame than Amy, poor child. No, no, cried Polly, getting out of her chair. I didn't mean so. Indeed, I didn't, Mr. Lockhead. Oh, what have I said? I think you have done beautifully. How could you help things when you were not here? Oh, Mr. Lockhead, I do hope you will forgive me. I have only made matters worse, I'm afraid. And poor Polly's face drooped. Jack Lockhead turned with a sudden gesture. Perhaps you'll believe me when I say I've never had anything do me so much good in all my life is what you said. What are those two talking about all this unconscionable time? Joel was now exclaiming in the library as he glanced up at the clock. I could finish that Amy Lockhead in the sixteenth of a minute. Old Mr. King turned uneasily in his chair. Who is this young Lockhead? he asked of Jasper. Jasper, seeing that an answer was expected of him, drew himself up and said quickly, Oh, he's the brother of that girl at the Salisbury School, father. You know Polly goes over there to help her practice. Ah, said his father. Well, what is he doing here this morning, pray tell. That's what I should like to know, chimed in Joel. Well, last evening, said Jasper with an effort to make things right for Polly, he was there when they were playing and he seemed quite put out at his sister. Don't wonder, said Joel, everybody says she's a silly. And Polly tried to help Amy and make the best of her, and the brother asked if he might have a talk sometime about his sister. Polly couldn't help telling him yes, said Jasper, but with a pang at the handsome stranger's delight as she said it. A bad business, said the old gentleman irritably. We do not want your Lockheads coming here and taking up our time. Of course not, declared Joel. And I suppose he is an idle creature. Polly said something about his traveling a good deal. It's a very bad business, repeated Mr. King. Oh, he's all right in a business way, said Jasper, feeling angry enough in himself that he was sorry at Jack Lockhead's success. He has to travel. He's a member of the Bradbury and Graham Company. The Sydney Australia House, asked Mr. King in a surprise tone. So you've looked him up, have you, Jasper? Oh, I happened to run across Hubbard Crane yesterday, said Jasper carelessly, and he gave me a few facts. That's about all I know, father. An in-came Polly looking like a rose and following her a tall young man with large black eyes, whom she immediately led up to Mr. King's chair. Grandpa, she said, this is Mr. Lockhead, Amy's brother, you know? And Jasper went forward and put out his hand as an old acquaintance of the evening before, and Joel was introduced and mumbled something about, glad to know you, immediately retreating into the corner, and then there was a pause, which Polly broke by crying, oh, Grandpa, I am going to ask Amy to play at Dunraven for Fronze's poor children. Why, where is Fronze, looking around the room? Oh, she went out a little while after baby's exit, said Jasper, trying to speak lightly. Mr. Lockhead thinks she'd do it if I asked her. Polly went on in her brightest way. Now that will be lovely, and the children will enjoy it so much. Isn't there anything I could do? Asked Jack Lockhead after the Dunraven entertainment had been a bit discussed. Mr. King bowed his courtly old head. I don't believe there is anything. You're very kind, I'm sure. Don't speak of kindness, sir, he said. My time hangs heavy on my hands just now. He would like to be with his sister, said Jasper after a glance at Polly's face, and guilty of an aside to his father. Oh, yes, said Mr. King, to be sure. Well, Mr. Lockhead, and what would you like to do for these poor children of Fronze's Christmas Day? We shall be very glad of your assistance. I could bring out a stereo opticon, said Jack, no very new idea, but I have a few pictures of places I've seen, and maybe the children would like it for a half hour or so. Capital, capital, pronounced the old gentleman, quite as if he had proposed it. And before anyone knew how it had come about, there was Jack Lockhead talking over the rundown at Bedford with them all on Christmas morning as a matter of course, and as if it had been the annual affair to him that it was to all the others. Quite a fine young man, said Mr. King when Jack had at last run off with a bright smile and word for all, and Fronze will be so pleased to think of his doing all this for her poor children. Bless her. Well, David, my man, are you back so soon? So soon, Grandpa Pa, cried David, hurrying him from a morning downtown with another Harvard fresh, also home for the holidays, while it is lunch and time. Impossible, exclaimed old Mr. King pulling out his watch. Or, bless me, the boy is right. Now, Polly, my child, you and I must put off our engagement till afternoon. Then we'll have our Christmasing. End of Chapter Two Chapter Three Of Five Little Peppers Grown Up This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Five Little Peppers Grown Up By Margaret Sidney Chapter Three Christmas at Dunraven Grandpa Pa, cried Fronze, flying down the platform. The box of dolls isn't here. Goodness me, exclaimed old Mr. King whirling around. Tisn't possible, child, that we've come off without that. It must be with the other luggage. Oh, no, Grandpa Pa, dear, declared Fronze in great distress and clasping her hands to keep the tears back. It really surely hasn't come. Polly says so. Well, then if Polly says so, it must have been left at home, said the old gentleman. And there's no use in my going to look over the luggage. He groaned. What's the matter? Cried Joel, rushing up, his jolly face aglow. The worst thing that could possibly happen, said Mr. King irritably. Fronze's box of dolls is left behind. Then he began to fume up and down the platform, wholly lost to everything but his indignation. Who ejaculated Joel? That is a miss. And he looked down at Fronze, but her broad hat had drooped, the brown eyes seeking the platform. See here, Fronze. Fronze didn't speak for a breathing space. What is it, Joey? Then she said, not looking up. I'll go back after it. Don't you worry, child. Oh, but you can't, cried Fronze, throwing her head back quickly. The train will come, and then you won't be here. I'll take the next train. Of course I can't get back for this, said Joel, swallowing hard. I'll bring the box all right, and he dashed off. Joel! Oh, Joel! Cried Fronze, running after him. Don't go! She implored. Here, here, what's the matter? Cried old Mr. King, forgetting his indignation to hurry after her. Fronze, wait. What is it, dear? Joel's gone! Panted Fronze, flying back, her broad hat falling off to her shoulders. Oh, do stop him, Grandpa Pot, dear! I'd rather not take the dolls than to have Joel left. Stop him! I can't! Bless me! Here, somebody! Turning off to the little knots of his party, scattered over the platform. Where are you all? Polly came running up at this with a pale face. Oh, Grandpa Pot, she began at sight of him. Joel's gone home! Announced Fronze, clasping her hands in distress, after the box of dolls. Joel's gone home! Echoed Polly, standing quite still. Yes, said Fronze. Oh, Polly, do stop him and bring him back. She can't, cried the old gentleman. That boy's legs have carried him half over the town by this time. Nobody could stop him, child. And then most of the little knots heard the commotion and came hurrying up with, what is it, and oh, dear, what's the matter? In time to hear Polly groan, and Joe thought so much of going down to Dunraven with us. Well, where is he? cried Jasper, whirling around to look in all directions. While Ben took a few long strides to peer around the station, and David and the other Harvard Fresh, who had been invited to keep him company, ran one up and the other down the long platform. See here now! shouted old Mr. King so sharply that all the flying feet were arrested at once. Every one of you come back. Goodness me, the idea of the Bedford party being scattered to the four winds in this fashion. I'd help if I could, said Mr. Hamilton dice, but I really don't know what it's all about yet. Oh, dear, dear! Polly was yet wailing. Then she remembered and threw her arms around Fronzie, who was standing quite still by her side. Fronzie, precious pet, and she picked up her pretty stuffed gown to nail on the platform floor to look into the little face. Don't feel badly, dear. Joe will come on the next train. But he won't be with us, said Fronzie slowly, and turning her brown eyes piteously to Polly. I know it. Polly smothered aside, but we can't help it now. Grandpa Pa is feeling dreadfully. Oh, Fronzie, you wouldn't make him sick, dear, for all the world! Fronzie unclasped her hands and went unsteadily over to the old gentleman. Joe will come on the next train, Grandpa Pa, she said. Bless me, yes, of course, said Mr. King, seizing her hand. I don't see what we are making such a fuss for. He'll come on the next train. What's the riot? Ask Livingston Bailey, sonnering up and whirling his walking stick, hey. Joe's absconded, said Mr. Dice briefly. Hey. Going back after Fronzie's box of dolls, explained somebody else. Oh, dear me, cried a lecture race, trying to get near Polly, just like that boy. She still called him that, in spite of his being a Harvard man, he's always making some sort of a fuss. Perhaps the train will be late, suggested Mrs. Dice, who, as Mary Taylor, never could bear to see Fronzie unhappy. Hamilton, if you don't do something to help that child, I shall be sorry I married you, she whispered in her husband's ear. Late, it's late already, said Ben, pulling out his watch. It's five minutes past time. Well, it may be our luck to have it late enough, said Jasper, with a glance at Polly, as it's Christmas Day and a big train, so he may possibly get here. He'll find a cabbie that can make good time, he added, with a forlorn attempt at comfort. Jack Lockhead sonnered up and down on the edge of the group, longing to be of service, but feeling himself too new a friend to offer his sympathy. Who the dickens is that cat? asked Mr. Bailey in smothered wrath to Mrs. Dice. Why don't you know he's another friend of Polly's, said Mary Taylor Dice, smiling up sweetly into his face, and he's going down to help entertain Fronzie's poor children. Isn't he nice? Nice! repeated livingston bailey with a black look at the tall figure stalking on. How do I know? Who is the fellow anyway? But there was no time to reply. Here comes the train! cried Alexia. The warning bell struck and the rush of travelers from the waiting room began. Oh, dear me! Then she forgot all about her late unpleasantness with Pickering Dodge and running up to him she seized his arm. Oh, Pickering, do make the conductor wait for that horrid boy? I can't, said Pickering. The train's late anyway. There, get on, Alexia. Putting out his hand to help her up the steps. Oh, I forgot! She cried, drawing back that we'd had a fight. It isn't proper for you to help me, Pickering, and you wanted to ask it till you've begged my pardon. Then it will be a long day before you receive my assistance, said Pickering, lifting his cap and turning on his heel at the same time. Jasper tried to get up to Polly's side as she was hurrying Fronzie to the car. Old Mr. King holding fast to Fronzie's other hand, but livingston bailey got there first. Allow me, Miss Fronzie. He was saying with extended hand, upon my word it's a beastly crowd going today, sir. She will do very well with my assistance, said the old gentleman still holding Fronzie's little glove. And I suppose Christmas Day belongs to everybody, eh, bailey, hurrying in. Polly, her foot on the lower step, turned and sent a despairing glance down the platform, and Jasper, who saw it through the crowd, fell back a little to give a last look for Joel. All aboard, saying out the conductor, waving his hand. Come, oh, come! Called Polly with a frantic gesture from the doorway of the car as the train moved off. Oh, Jasper! As he swung himself up beside her. The next train runs down in an hour. Don't feel badly, Polly. Jasper had time to beg before they were drawn into the confusion of the car. But no one could pretend with any sort of success that Joel wasn't missed, and Polly had all that she could do to chase away the sorrowful expression of Fronzie's little face. And everybody tried his and her best to make it as festive a time as possible, and the other passengers nudged one another and sent many an envious glance at the merry party. It's Mr. King's family going down to Bedford, said the conductor to one inquiring mind. I take him every year, proudly. He's powerful, rich, but this ain't his affair. It all belongs to that little girl with the big hat. Then he dashed off and called a station, and after the stopping and moving of the train again he came back and sat on the arm of the seat to finish his account. You see, there was an old lady, a cousin of the old gentlemen's, and she made a will in favor of this child with the big hat. The conductor pointed his thumb at Fronzie, leaning over Mr. King's shoulder. The better to hear a wonderful story he was concocting for her benefit. Oh, she's got some two or three millions. What, that child? cried the listeners and amazed. Yes, the old lady was tough, but he dashed off again, called a station, slammed the door, and was back in position in less time than it takes to tell it. She was took sudden while Mr. King's folks was in Europe. And now that child has turned a handsome old place down yonder. He pointed with his thumb in the direction of Bedford. Done rave and lodge, the old lady always called it, into a sort of a home, and she chucked it full of children, mostly those whose fathers and mothers are dead. And every Christmas day Mr. King takes down a big crowd, and here somebody called him off not to be seen again till he put his head in the doorway and shouted, Bedford. Joel, swinging a big box as only Joel could, rushed into the spacious hall at Done rave and lodge. How are you all? Franzi disentangled herself from a group around the big fireplace where the long hickory logs snapped and blazed. Oh, Josie! she cried, precipitating herself into his long arms. Here's the taugry, cried Joel, setting down the doll box, while he gathered Franzi up in his arms. And you, Josie, cried Franzi with a happy little hum. You are all here yourself, as the group left the fire and surrounded them. Well, well, well, cried old Mr. King, lifting his head in its velvet lounging cap from the sofa where he had been napping. Are you really here, Joe? Just like you, greeted Alexia, running down the broad oak and stairs. Here he's come, to Polly appearing at the head. We were finishing the tree and we heard the noise. Dear me, Joe, I should think it was a cyclone, as she joined the group Polly close behind. Joel tossed her saucy answer while Polly got on her tiptoes and caught his crop of short black hair in her two hands. Oh, Joe, she said, dropping a kiss on it. It was lovely in you to go back. Joel felt well repaid for losing the jolly rundown and the grand entree into Dunraven, his soul loved, but he covered up what he thought by pulling Franzi into the middle of the hall. Come on, fron, he said, for a spin like old times. See here, cried Alexia, we ought to get back to that tree, Polly Pepper, or it won't be ready. Dear me, I dropped a box of frost all over the stairs, Joel made such a noise. At the mere mention of such a possibility is the tree not being ready. Everybody started, the last one in the procession picking up the doll box, their movements somewhat quickened, as loud calls were now set up above stairs for Polly, Polly. Come on, staying out, Joel, who had paid his respects in a flying fashion to grant the possofa and leaping over the stairs. Goodness me, Alexia, I should think you did spill this frost. Why didn't you go over more ground? I don't believe we can save one bit, mourned Alexia peering up the stair length, each step sparkling with myriad little frosty gems, as if Jack Frost himself had sprinkled it with a Christmas hand. Oh, dear, why did you come in with such a noise, Joe Pepper? Just like a girl, said Joel, jumps at everything and drops whatever she has in her hand. You all go up the other stairs. I'll sweep this in a minute and save what I can. Oh, Joe, don't stop. We want you for the tree, begged Polly. Fronzie has been waiting downstairs all this time for you to come. Let one of the maids do it. Joe already had his head in a closet he knew of, old, opening into the big hall. Give me the broom, said a voice close beside him. I have what? cried Joel, pulling out what he wanted, a soft floor brush. Oh, is that you, Lockhead, turning round? I believe so, said Jack laughing. Here, give me the broom. I'm no help about a tree. I'll have the stuff up there soon. And before Joel knew it, he was racing over the back stairs, wondering how it was he had let that disagreeable Jack Lockhead get hold of that broom. It makes me think of our first tree in some way, said Polly softly with glistening eyes, looking up at the beautiful branching spruce, its countless arms shaking out brilliant pendants, and gay with streamers and candles wherever a decoration could be placed. The whole tipped with a shining star. Oh, Benzie, can you ever forget that? Ben looked down from the top of the stepladder where he was adjusting some last bit of ornament. Never, Polly, he said, his eyes meeting hers. That was so beautiful, cried Polly, and we had it in our provision room, and Mrs. Henderson brought my bird over in the other things the last minute. And I had to, broken Mrs. Henderson with a laugh, and shaking the snips of green from her white apron, for you and Ben would have discovered the whole surprise. You were dreadful that day. I'm glad somebody else was dreadful in those times besides me, observed Joel from among the branches, where he was tying on the several presents Alexia handed him. Well, you see, said Polly with rosy cheeks, it was our first tree, and we were so afraid the children would find it out and spoil all the surprise. And did we? cried Fronzie in intense excitement, emerging from the depths of the tree, the better to look at Polly. Did we, Polly, and spoil it all? No, Pat, cried Polly, you were just as good as could be. I remember, said Joel, you told us stories, Polly, in the kitchen, and we tutored on our tin horns, finished David. Oh, Joe, do you remember those horns? And that molasses candy, said Joel, smacking his lips. I remember I ate mine up before breakfast. And did I have any? asked Fronzie, turning from one to the other. Yes, indeed you did, answered Joel. Why did you think we'd forget you, Fronzie? asked Polly a bit reproachfully. And don't you remember it? said David. No, said Fronzie. I don't, but I remember Serafina's bonnet. It was trimmed with some of Grandma Baskham's chicken feathers, said Joel. And Mamsey made it out of an old bonnet string, said Polly. Oh, dear, if only Mamsey were here today. And a cloud came over her face. But we've baby Fisher now, said Ben cheerfully, looking down at her. He's worth staying at home for, Polly. Of course he is, said Polly, her gaiety returning. And dear Papa Fisher was master of ceremonies then, but he wouldn't enjoy it to-day without Mamsey, so we oughtn't to wish him here. I wish he wouldn't begin about that little brown house and what elegant times you had in it, exclaimed Elexia, twitching at a present Joel had just tied on to be sure it was secure. I shall think this tree is perfectly horrid if you do, Polly Pepper. Go on, do go on, begged several voices. Meanwhile, Jack Lockhead had come silently up into the long hall and deposited an eat-box full of the gleaming frost on the table without any comments. Dear me, there is so much to tell, cried Polly with a little laugh if we begin about Jappy's tree. Whose tree? cried Livingston Bailey, who had been wrinkling his brows in great perplexity all through the recital. Why, Jaspers, said Polly and Ben together, Joel and David coming in as echoes. You see, said Franzi distinctly, that Jaspers and your grandpa sent the beautiful things to us. Mrs. Pepper and Polly and Ben had gotten the tree ready before, said Jasper hastily. Oh, didn't I want to be there, he added. Yes, Polly almost cried because you couldn't be, said Joel in among the branches. But she couldn't quite cry, said Davey, because you see we children would have found it out. Polly always sang in those days. Do you remember how we used to run behind the woodpile when we wanted to play in the tree, Polly? Asked Ben to get away from Joel and Dave. You spent most all your time in the little brown house sneaking off from us, said Joel vindictively. Well, we had to if we ever did anything, said Ben Cooley. I should think so, remarked Livingston Bailey, delighted to give a thrust at somebody. And weren't the guilt balls pretty? cried Polly, quite gone now in the reminiscences, though her fingers kept at their task. You did cover those knots beautifully, Benzie. I don't see how you could with such snips of paper. How did he make the balls? asked Alexia for getting herself in her interest and coming up to Polly. Why, we had some bits of bright paper, little bits, you know, and Ben covered hickory nuts with them and pasted them all as smoothly, you can't think. Oh, my, exclaimed Alexia. And Polly strung all the popcorn and fixed the candle-end somebody gave Mamzie in. Candle-ends? Why didn't you have whole ones, cried Alexia? Why, we couldn't, said Polly, and we were glad enough to get these. Oh, the tree looked just beautifully with them, I tell you. You see, said Fronzie, drawing near to look into Alexia's face, we were very, very poor, Alexia, so Polly and Benzie made the tree. Don't you understand? It was really Benzie's tree, said Polly honestly, for I didn't believe at first we could do it. Oh, yes, you did, Polly, corrected Ben hastily, at any rate, you saw it in a minute. And it's the first time you didn't believe a thing could be done, I imagine, declared Jasper with a bright nod at Polly. Well, Benzie thought of this tree and made me see that we could do it, persisted Polly, giving a little quirk to a rebellious pendant. Mrs. Henderson put the corner of her white apron to her eyes. I always have to, she said to Mrs. Dice, when the little brown house days bring those blessed children back to me. Jacklock had drew nearer yet, so near that he'd lost never a word. You ought to have seen what a Santa Claus Ben made, Polly was saying. I cut your performance yesterday at Baby's tree all out, old fellow, declared Ben, descending from the step ladder and bestowing an affectionate clap on Jasper's shoulder. I don't doubt it, Jasper gave back. We made the wig out of Mamzie's cushion hair, laughed Polly, and we had such a piece of work putting it all back the next morning. And Polly shook flower all over me for the snow, said Ben, laughing. Come back, Alexia, and hand me some more gim-cracks, do, cried Joel, poking his head out of the branches to look at his late assistant. Well, do go on about your tree in the brown house, begged Alexia, tearing herself away to answer Joel's demands, seeing you have begun. What did you do next, Polly? Well, we all marched into the provision room, went on Polly, her cheeks aglow, expecting to see our tree just as we had left it. All but Ben, he was going to jump into the window at the right time when the first thing—Polly sat right down on the floor, saying, oh, cried Joel, taking the words out of her mouth. I couldn't help it, I was so surprised, said Polly with shining eyes. There was a most beautiful tree full of just everything, and there was Mamzy almost crying. She was so happy, and there was Cherry singing away in his cage, and the corner of the room was all a bloom with flowers and— and Grandma Baskin was there, wasn't she funny? She used to give us hard old raisins sometimes, said Joel, afraid to show what he was feeling. And Fronzie screamed right out, went on Polly, and Davy said it was fairy land. By this time Alexia had dropped the present she was holding, and had run back to Polly's side again, and somehow most of the other workers followed her example, the circle of listeners closing around the little bunch of peppers. And Jasper sent a Christmas greeting beside the tree, Polly ended, and it was perfectly lovely. And Santa Claus and Polly took hold of hands and danced around the tree, said Joel. I'll never forget that. Well, you would better take hold of hands and dance down to the recitation room, said Parson Henderson's deep voice as he suddenly appeared in their midst. The children are all ready to give their carols. Come. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of Five Little Peppers Grown Up This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Five Little Peppers Grown Up by Margaret Sidney Chapter 4 The Festivities Fronzie looked down into the sea of eager faces. Oh, Grandpa Pa! She exclaimed softly and plucking his sleeve. Don't you think we might hurry and begin? Dear me, Fronzie, cried the old gentleman whirling around in his big chair to look at her, why they aren't all in child, glancing down the aisle where Jasper's chief usher with Ben and the others were busily settling the children. Bless me, what is Joel doing? Fronzie looked too, to see Joel hurrying up to the platform with a little colored child perched on his shoulder. She was crying all over his new coat, and at every step uttered a sharp scream. Toss the little beggar out, advised Livingston Bailey, as Joel shot by with his burden. Here, Joel, I'll give her a seat, cried David from a little knot of children, all turning excitedly around at the commotion. There's just one here. Much obliged, said Joel, stocking on, but she says she wants to see Fronzie about something. Polly, who caught the last words, looked down reproachfully at him from the platform, where Fronzie always insisted that she should sit close to her. Can't help it, Joel telegraphed back. I can't stop her crying. Fronzie heard now, and getting out of her chair, she stepped to the platform edge. Let me take her, she begged. Fronzie, you can't have her up here, Polly exclaimed, while old Mr. King put forth an uneasy hand to stop all such proceedings, and two or three of the others hurried up to remonstrate with Joel. She wants to see me, said Fronzie, putting her cool cheek against the dark little one. It's the new child that came yesterday, and she took her off from Joel's shoulder and staggered back to her seat by Polly's side. Fronzie, too, put her down, whispered Polly, it's almost time to begin. Glancing off at the clock under its weld of evergreen at the farther end of the hall, here do let me take her. But Fronzie was whispering so fast that she didn't hear. What is it? Please tell me quickly, for it is almost time to have the tree. At mention of the tree, the little creature sat straight in Fronzie's white lap. May I have some of it? If I am black? She begged, her beady eyes running with tears. Yes, said Fronzie, I've tied a big doll on it for you, my very own self. Then she put her lips on the dark little cheek. Now you must get down, for I have to talk to the children and tell them all about things and why they have a Christmas. But the little thing huddled up against Fronzie's waist ribbons. I'm the only one that's black, she said. I want to stay here. Now you see Joel begin, old Mr. King Harsley. Fronzie laid a soft hand on his arm. Please, Grandpa, dear, may she have a little cricket up here? She feels lonely down with the other children, for she's only just come. Oh, dear, dear, grown Polly, looking down at the little black object in Fronzie's lap. Now what shall we do? This lasts to Jasper as he hurried up. I suppose we shall have to let her stay, he began. When Fronzie looks like that, she won't ever let her go, declared Ben with a wise nod over at the two. She's just as determined as she was that day when she would send Mr. King her gingerbread boy, cried Polly, clasping her hands. Jasper gave her a bright smile. I wouldn't worry, Polly, he said. See, Joel has just put a cricket, it's all right. Looking into Polly's troubled eyes. Fronzie, having seated her burden on the cricket at her feet, got out of her own chair and took one step toward the platform edge beginning. Dear children, but the small creature left behind clutched the floating hem of the white gown and screamed harder than ever. Bless me, ejaculated Mr. King in great distress. Here will somebody take this child down where she belongs, while Polly, with flushed cheeks, leaned over and tried to unclass the little black fingers. Go up there, Joe, and stop the row, said Livingston Bailey from the visitor's seat at the end of the hall. You started it. Jack Lockhead took a step or two in the direction of the platform, then thought better of it and got back into his place again, hoping no one had noticed him in the confusion. Fronzie leaned over as well as she could for the little hands pulling her back. Jasper, she begged, do move the cricket so that she may sit by me. And before anybody knew quite how it was done, there was the new child sitting on her cricket and huddled up against the soft folds of Fronzie's white gown, while Fronzie, standing close to the platform edge, began again. Dear children, you know this is Christmas Day, your very own Christmas Day. And every Christmas Day since you came to the home, I have told you the story of the dear beautiful lady, and every single Christmas I am going to tell it to you again so that you will never, never forget her. Here Fronzie turned and pointed up to a large, full-length portrait of Mrs. Chatterton hanging on the wall over the platform. It was painted in her youth by a celebrated French artist and represented a beautiful young woman in a yellow satin gown whose rich folds of lace fell away from perfectly molded neck and arms. All the children stared at the portrait as usual in this stage of the proceedings. Now you must say after me, I thank my beautiful lady for this home, said Fronzie slowly. I thank my beautiful lady for this home, said every child distinctly. Because without her I could not have had it, said Fronzie. You must always remember that, children. Now say it. She stood very patiently. Her hands folded together and waited to hear them repeat it. Because without her I could not have had it, said the children, one or two coming in shrilly as a belated echo. And I thank her for the beautiful tree, said Fronzie. Now say it please. I thank her for the beautiful tree, shouted the children, craning their necks away from the portrait to get a glimpse into the curtain-veiled tree in the other room. Please can't we have it now? Begged several voices. No, not until you all hear the story. Well now, God took the beautiful lady away to heaven, but she is always going to be here, too. Again Fronzie pointed to the portrait, just as long as there is any home, and she is going to smile at you because you are all going to be good children and try to study and learn all that dear Mr. Henderson teaches you, and you are going to obey every single thing that dear Mrs. Henderson tells you just as soon as she speaks, said Fronzie slowly and turning her head to look at the different rows. I hope we'll be forgiven for sitting here and listening to old lady Chatterton's praises, whispered Mrs. Hamilton Dice to her husband. It makes me feel dreadfully wicked to swallow it all without a protest. Oh, we've swallowed that annually for three years now, said Mr. Dice with a little laugh, and grown callous. Your face is just as bad as it was the first time Fronzie eulogized her. I can't help it, declared his wife, when I think of that dreadful old, oh, come, remonstrated her husband, let's bury the past Fronzie has. Fronzie, ejaculated Mrs. Dice, oh, that blessed child, just hear her now. So on this Christmas day, Fronzie was saying in clear tones, you are to remember that you wouldn't have had this tree but for the beautiful lady, and on every single other day you must remember that you wouldn't ever have had this home, not a bit of any of it. Here she turned and looked around the picture hung walls and out of the long windows to the dark pines and furs on the broad lawn tossing their snow-laden branches, but for the beautiful lady, and you must every one of you help to make this home just the very best home that ever was, will you? And then she smiled down into their faces while she waited for her answer. Oh, yes, yes! screamed the children every one. The little black creature got off from her cricket at Fronzie's feet to look into her face. And I will too, she cried. And now you all want to thank Ms. Fronzie for her kind words we know, Jasper cried at this point, hurrying into the middle of the aisle, and so children, you may all stand up and say thank you and wave your handkerchiefs. Up flew all the rows of children to their feet, and a cloud of tiny white squares of cambrick fluttered in the air, and the children kept piping out, thank you, thank you. And old Mr. King began a cheer for Fronzie and another for the children, and then somebody down at the end of a long hall set up another for Mr. King, and somebody else started one for Mr. Henderson and another for Mrs. Henderson, and there was plenty of noise, and high above it all rang the peals of happy childish laughter. And when it was all done, everybody pausing to take breath, then Amy Lockhead sent out the finest march ever heard from the grand piano, and Polly and Jasper and all the rest marshaled the children into a procession, and Fronzie clinging to old Mr. King's hand on the one side and holding fast to the small black palm on the other, away they all went, the visitors falling into line, around and around the big hall, till at last, oh at last, they turned into the enchanted land that held the wonderful Christmas tree. And when they were all before it, and Fronzie in the center, she lifted her hand, and the room became so still one could hear a pin drop. And then the little children who had sung the carols in the morning stepped forward and began, It came upon the midnight clear that glorious song of old, and Fronzie drew a long breath and folded her hands, not stirring till the very last word died on the air. And then Jasper and the others slowly drew aside the white curtain, and oh the dazzling beautiful apparition that greeted everyone's eyes, no one could stop the children's noisy delight, and the best of it was that no one wanted to. So for the next few moments it was exactly like the merry time over the tree in the provision room of the little brown house years ago, just as Polly had said, only there was ever so much more of it, because there were ever so many more children to make it. And Polly and Ben were like children again themselves, and David and Joel were everywhere helping on the fun, in which excitement the other harbored man and even Livingston Bailey were not ashamed to take a most active part, as Jasper, who had borrowed Santa Claus's attire for this occasion, now made his appearance with the most astonishing bow. And then the presents began to fly from the tree, and Jacklock had seemed to be all arms, for he was so tall he could reach down the hanging gifts from the higher branches, so that he was in great demand, and Pickering Dodge, one eye on all of Polly's movements, worked furiously, and a lecture Reese and Kathy Harrison didn't give themselves hardly time to breathe, and there was quite enough for Mr. Halstein and the Cabots and Hamilton Dice to do, and everybody else, for that matter, to pass around the presents. And in the midst of it all, a big doll, resplendent in a red satin gown, and an astonishing hat was untied from the tree. Oh, I want to give it to her myself, cried Franzy. So you shall, declared Jasper, handing it to her. Susan, this is your very own child, said Franzy, turning to the little colored girl at her side. Now you won't feel lonely ever, will you? And she laid the doll carefully into the outstretched arms. And at last the green branches had shaken off their wealth of gifts, and the shining candles began to go out one by one. Grand Papa, cried Polly, coming up to old Mr. King and Franzy with a basket of mottos and bonbons enough to satisfy the demands of the most exacting children's home, we ought to get our paper caps on. Bless me, ejaculated old Mr. King, pulling out his watch. It can't be time to march. Ah, it's a quarter of four this minute. Here, child, to Franzy, pick out your bonbon so that I can snap it with you. Franzy gravely regarded the pretty bonbons in Polly's basket. I must pick out yours first, Grand Papa, she said slowly, lifting a silver paper and lace arrangement with a bunch of forget-me-nots in the center. I think this is pretty. So it is, most beautiful, dear, said the old gentleman in great satisfaction. Now we must crack it, I suppose. So he took hold of one end, and Franzy held fast to the other of the bonbon, and a sharp little report gave the signal for all the bonbons to be open. Thereupon everybody, old and young, hurried to secure one, and great was the snapping and cracking that now followed. Oh, Grand Papa, isn't your cap pretty, exclaimed Franzy, and pleased surprise, drawing forth a pink and yellow crinkled tissue bit. See, smoothing it out with a gentle hand, it's a crown, Grand Papa. Now that's perfectly lovely, cried Polly, setting down her basket. Here, let me help you, child. There, that's straight. Now, Grand Papa, please bend over so that Franzy can put it on. Instead, the old gentleman dropped one knee. Now, dear, he said gallantly. So Franzy set the pink and yellow crown on his white hair, stepping back gravely to view the effect. It is so very nice, dear Grand Papa, she said, coming back to a side. So Mr. King stood up with quite a regal air, and Franzy had a little blue and white paper bonnet tied under her chin by Grand Papa's own hand. And caps were flying onto all the heads, and each right hand held a tinkling little bell that had swung right merrily on a green branch tip. And away to Amy Lockhead's second march, on and on jangling their bells the procession went through the long hall, till old Mr. King and Franzy, who led, turned down the broad staircase and into the dining room, and here the guests stood on either side of the doorway while the little home children passed up through their midst. And there were two long tables, one for the home children, with a place for Franzy at its head, and another for old Mr. King at the foot, and the other table was for the older people, both gay with Christmas holly and sweet with flowers. And when all were seated, and a hush fell upon the big room, Franzy lifted her hand. We thank thee, O Lord, for this Christmas day, and may we love thee and serve thee all way, for Jesus Christ the holy child's sake. Amen. It rang out clear and sweet in childish trouble, floating off into the halls and big rooms. Now, Candice, Franzy lifted a plate of biscuits, and a comfortable figure of a colored woman, resplendent in the gayest of turbans, and a smart stuffed gown made its appearance by Franzy's chair. I'm here, honey, and Candice's broad palm received the first plate to be passed, which opened the ceremony of the Christmas feast. Oh, this Christmas feast at Dunraven. It surpassed all the other Dunraven Christmases on record, everybody said so. And at last, when no one could possibly eat more, all the merry, roomful, young and old must have a holly-sprig fastened to the coat, or gown, or apron, and the procession was formed to march back to the hall, and Mr. Jack Lockhead's stereo-opticon flashed out the most beautiful pictures that his bright descriptions explained to the delighted children, and then games and romps and more bonbons and favors and flowers, and at last the sleighs and barges for Mr. King's party were drawn up in the moonlight at the door of Dunraven, and the Christmas at the home was only a beautiful memory. Miss Mary, Mr. Livingston Bailey put out his brown driving-glove, this way, trying to lead her off from the gay group on the snow-covered veranda. Why, I don't understand, began Polly, in the midst of trying to make Franzi see that it was not necessary to go back and comfort Susan with another goodbye, and turning him a wilder face up at him. Why, I certainly supposed you accepted my offer to drive you to the station, said Mr. Bailey hurriedly, and still extending his hand. Come, Miss Pepper. Come, Polly, I have a seat for you. Cried a lecture just flying into the biggest barge. Do hurry, Polly. Polly, called Jasper, she could see that he stood by one of the sleighs beckoning to her. Meantime Franzi had been borne off by old Mr. King, and Polly could hear her say, Somebody, get Polly a seat, please. I considered her to promise, Livingston Bailey was saying under cover of the gay confusion, and accordingly I prepared myself. But, of course, if you do not wish to fill it, Miss Pepper, why, I— Oh, no, no, cried Polly hastily. If you really thought I promised you, Mr. Bailey, I will go, thank you. And without a backward glance at the others, she moved off to the gay little cutter, where the horse stood, shaking his bells impatiently. Where's Polly, somebody called out, and somebody else peered down the row of vehicles and answered, Mr. Bailey's driving her. And they were all off. Polly kept saying to herself, Oh, dear, dear, what could I have said to make him think I would go with him? And Livingston Bailey smiled happily to himself under the collar of his driving-coat, and the sparkling snow cut into little crystals by the horse's flying feet dashed into their faces, and the scraps of laughter and merry nonsense from the other sleighs made Polly want nothing so much as to cower down into the corner of the big fur robes for a good cry. And before she knew it, Mr. Bailey had turned off, leaving the gay procession on the main road. Oh, cried Polly then, and starting forward, Mr. Bailey, why, we're off the road. I know a shortcut to the depot. He answered hastily, it's a better way. But we may miss the train. Oh, do turn back and overtake them, begged Polly in a tremor. This is a vastly better road, said Mr. Bailey, and instead of turning back, he flicked the horse lightly with his whip. You'll say, Miss Mary, that it's much better this way. He tried to laugh. Isn't the slaying superb? Oh, yes! Oh, dear me! cried poor Polly, straining her eyes to catch a sight of the last vehicle with its merry load. Indeed, Mr. Bailey, I'm afraid we shan't get to the depot in time. There may be drifts on this road, or something to delay us. Oh, no indeed, cried Livingston Bailey confidently, now smiling again at his forethought, and driving over this very identical piece of roadway, when the preparations for the Christmas festivity were keeping all the other people busy at Dunraven, and leaving him free to provide himself with slaying facilities for the evening. Don't be troubled, I know all about it. I assure you, Miss Mary, we shall reach the depot as soon as the rest of the party do, for it's really a shorter cut. Polly beat her foot impatiently on the warm foot-muff he had rung with difficulty from the livery-keeper, and counted the moments unable to say a word. Miss Mary! Suddenly Mr. Livingston Bailey turned. Everything is forgiven under such circumstances, I believe, and he laughed. Polly didn't speak, only half hearing the words, her heart on the rest of the party every instant being carried further from her. And you must have seen! Paul, my word, it is impossible that you didn't see that—that— Oh, dear! burst out Polly suddenly, appearing anxiously down the white-winding highway, if there should be a drift on the road. Livingston Bailey bit his lip angrily. Pond, my word, Miss Mary, he began. You were the first girl I ever cared to speak to, and now you can't think of anything but the roads. Still, Polly peered into the unbroken whiteness of the thoroughfare, lined by the snow-laden pines and spruces, all inextricably mixed as the sleigh spun by. It was too late to turn back now, she knew. The best that could be done was to hurry on, and she began to count the huff beats and to speculate how long it would be before they would see the lights at the little station and find the lost party again. I might have spoken to a great many other girls, Livingston Bailey was saying, and I really don't know why I didn't choose one of them, another man in my place would, and you must do me the justice to acknowledge it. Pond, my word, you must, Miss Mary. Polly tore off her gaze from the snowy fields, where the branches of the trees were making little zigzag paths in the moonlight, to fasten it on as much of his faces was visible between his cap and his high collar. And I really shouldn't think you would play with me, declared Mr. Bailey nervously fingering the whip-handle. I shouldn't, don't you know, because you are not the sort of girl to do that thing. Pond, my word, you're not, Miss Mary. I—what do you mean? cried poor Polly, growing more and more bewildered. Why I—I—of course you must know, Pond, my word, you must, Miss Mary, for it began five years ago, before you went abroad, don't you know? Polly sank back among her fur robes while he went on. And I've done what no other fellow would, I'm sure, he said incoherently, in my place, kept constant, don't you know, to one idea, been with other girls, of course, but only really made up my mind to marry you, Pond, my word, I didn't, Miss Mary. And you've brought me out, away from the rest of the party, to tell me this, exclaimed Polly, springing forward to sit erect with flashing eyes. How good of you, Mr. Bailey, to announce your intention to marry me. You can't blame me, cried Mr. Bailey in an injured way. That cat of a lockhead means to speak soon, Pond, my word, the fellow does, and I've never changed my mind about it since I made it up, even when you began to give music lessons. Oh, how extremely kind, cried Polly. Don't put it that way, he began deprecatingly. I couldn't help it, don't you know, for I liked you awfully from the first, and always intended to marry you. You shall have everything in the world that you want, and go everywhere, and my family, you know, has an entree to any society that's worth anything. I wouldn't marry you, cried Polly stormily, if you could give me all the gold in the world. And as for family, here she sat quite erect with shining eyes. The peppers have always been the loveliest people that ever lived, the very loveliest. Oh, she broke off suddenly, starting forward. There's something on the road, see, Mr. Bailey. And spinning along, the horse now making up his mind to get to the depot in time, they both saw a big wagon, out of which protruded two or three bags evidently containing apples and potatoes. One of the wheels, determining to perform no more service for its master, was resting independently on the snowy thoroughfare, for horse and driver were gone. I beg your pardon, exclaimed Mr. Livingston Bailey suddenly, at sight of this, for bringing you around here, but how was I to know of that beastly wreck? We must get out, said Polly, springing off from her side of the sleigh, and lead the horse around. But this was not so easy a matter, for the farmer's wagon had stopped in the narrowest part of the road, either side shelving off under its treacherous covering of snow. At last, after all sorts of ineffectual attempts on Mr. Bailey's part to induce the horse to stir a step, Polly desperately laid her hand on the bridle. Let me try, she said. There, you good creature, petting the horse's nose. Come, that's a dear old fellow. And they never knew quite how, but in the course of time, they were all on the other side of the wreck. And Mr. Livingston Bailey was helping her into the sleigh, and showering her with profuse apologies for the whole thing. Never mind, said Polly, as she saw his distress, only never say such perfectly dreadful things to me again. And now hurry just as fast as you can, please! And presently a swift turn brought the twinkling lights at the little station to view, and there was the entire party calling to them as they now spied their approach to hurry up, and there was the train, holding its breath and curbed impatience to be off. End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Of Five Little Peppers Grown Up This Libber Box recording is in the public domain. Five Little Peppers Grown Up by Margaret Sidney Chapter 5 Bad News Oh, Mamsey, cried Polly and dismay, must Papa Fisher know? Certainly, said Mrs. Fisher firmly, your father must be told everything. Dear me, exclaimed Polly, turning off in dismay, it seems so, so unfair to Mr. Bailey, mightn't it be just as if he hadn't spoken, Mamsey? She came back now to her mother's side and looked anxiously into the black eyes. But he has spoken, said Mother Fisher, and your father must be told. Why, Polly, that isn't like you, child, to want to keep anything from him, she added reproachfully. Oh, I don't! I couldn't ever in all this world keep anything from Father Fisher, declared Polly vehemently, only, and the color flew into rosy waves over her face. This doesn't seem like my secret, Mamsey, and Mr. Bailey would feel so badly to have it known, and her head drooped. Still, it must be known by your father, said her mother firmly, and I must tell Mr. King, then it need go no further. Oh, Mamsey, exclaimed Polly in a sharp tone of distress, you would never in all this world tell Grandpa Polly. I most certainly shall, declared Mrs. Fisher. He ought to know everything that concerns you, Polly, and each one of you children, it is his right. Polly sat down in the nearest chair and clasped her hands. Grandpa Polly will show Mr. Bailey that he doesn't like it, she mourned, and it will hurt his feelings. Mrs. Fisher's lip curled. No more do I like it, she said curtly, in the first place to speak to you at all, and then to take such a way to do it. It wasn't a nice thing at all, child, for Mr. Bailey to do. Here Mrs. Fisher walked to the window, her irritation getting the better of her, so that Polly might not see her face. But he didn't mean to speak then, that is, began Polly. He should have spoken to your father, or to Mr. King, said Mrs. Fisher, coming back to face Polly, but I presume the young man didn't know any better, or at least he didn't think, and that's enough to say about that. But as for not telling Mr. King about it, why it isn't to be thought of for a minute, so I best have it over with it once. And with a reassuring smile at Polly, she went out and closed the door. Oh, dear me! cried poor Polly, left alone and springing out of her chair, she began to pace the floor. Now it will be perfectly dreadful for Mr. Bailey. Grandpa Polly will be very angry, he never liked him, and now he can't help showing what he feels. Oh, why did Mr. Bailey speak? Polly! called Jasper's voice out in the hall. For the first time in her life she felt like running away from his call. Oh, I can't go out, he'll guess something is the matter, she cried to herself. Polly, and there was a wrap at the door. Yes, said Polly from within. Can I see you a minute? Polly slowly opened the door and tried to lift her brown eyes to his face. Oh, Polly! He pretended not to notice anything amiss with her. I came to tell you first, and you can help me break it to father. Oh, what is it? cried Polly, looking up quickly. Oh, Jasper! As she saw that his face was drawn with the effort not to let her see the distress he was in. He tried to cover up his anxiety, but she saw a yellow paper in his hand. Oh, Jasper, you've a telegram! She cried breathlessly. Polly, said Jasper. He took her hand and held it firmly. You will help father and me to bear it, I know. Oh, Jasper! I will, promised Polly, clinging to his hand. Don't be afraid to tell me, Jasper. Listen, Marion has been thrown from her sleigh this morning. The horses ran, said Jasper hurriedly. The telegram says come. She may be living. Polly don't look so. For the room grew suddenly so dark to her that she wavered and would have fallen had he not caught her. I won't faint, she cried. Jasper, don't be afraid there. I'm all right. Now, oh, what can I do? Could you go with me when I tell father, asked Jasper? I'm so afraid I shall break it to him too sharply, and you know it won't do for him to be startled, if you could, Polly. For the second time everything seemed to turn black before her eyes, but Polly said bravely, Yes, I'll go, Jasper. And presently they hardly knew how the two found themselves at old Mr. King's door. There was a sound of voices within. Oh, dear me, exclaimed Polly. I forgot Mamsey was here. Jasper looked a surprise but said nothing, and as they stood there irresolutely, Mrs. Fisher opened the door and came out. Why, Polly, she exclaimed. Oh, Mrs. Fisher cried Jasper, we can't explain now, we must see father, but Polly will go and tell you. And in another minute they were both standing before Mr. King. The old gentleman was walking up and down his apartment, fuming at every step. The presumption of the fellow! How did he dare without speaking to me? Oh, uh, Polly! And then he caught sight of Jasper back of her. Father began Jasper. I've had a telegram from Brother Mason. Oh, now what is he doing? cried Mr. King irritably. I do wish Mason wouldn't be so abrupt in his movements. I suppose he is going abroad again. Well, let's hear. Jasper tried to speak, but instead looked at Polly. Dear Grand Papa! cried Polly, going unsteadily to the old gentleman's side and taking his hand in both of hers. Oh, we must tell you something very bad, and we don't know how to tell it, Grand Papa! She looked up piteously into his face. Old Mr. King put forth his other hand and seized the back of a chair to steady himself. Tell me at once, Polly, he said hoarsely. It isn't—Marion! It was all he could do to utter the name. She is hurt, said Polly, going to the heart of the matter without delay, but, oh, Grand Papa, it may not be very badly, and they want Jasper to go to New York. Mr. King turned to Jasper. Give me the telegram, my boy, he said, through white lips. When it was all read. Now tell Philip to pack me a portmanteau. Father, said Jasper, you are not going. No questions to be asked, Jasper, said his father. Be so good as to see that Philip packs quickly and that you are ready. And now Polly, the old gentleman, turned to her. I want to take you along, child, if your mother is willing. Will you go? Oh, Grand Papa, cried Polly, if I only may. Oh, do take me. I don't want to go without you, said Mr. King. There, run, child, and ask your mother if you may go. Send Franzi to me. I must explain matters to her and bid her good-bye. Election, some of the other girls were hurrying in the east doorway of the King mansion an hour later. Oh, where's Polly, Mrs. Fisher? cried Kathy Harrison. Polly is gone, said Mrs. Fisher, coming down the stairs. She looked as if she wanted to cry, but her hands held the basket of sewing as firmly as if no bad news had fallen upon the home. Gone, cried all the girls. Oh, Mrs. Fisher, where? Do tell us where Polly is. For answer, Mrs. Fisher made them all go into the little reception room in an angle of the hall, where she told them the whole story. If that isn't perfectly dreadful, cried a lecturers, throwing her muffin to a chair and herself on an ornament, why, we were going to make up a theater party for tomorrow night, Mrs. Fisher, and now Polly is gone. Her look of dismay was copied by every girl so exactly that Mrs. Fisher had no relief in turning to any of the other four. And there is her recital. What will she do about that? cried a lecture rushing on in her complaint. Perhaps she'll give it up after all, she added, brightening. Now I most know she will, Mrs. Fisher. And she started up and began to pirouette around the room. Of course she has had to postpone it, said Mrs. Fisher, looking after her. And she told Joel to write the notes to the pupils explaining matters. But never you fear a lecture that Polly will give up that recital for good and all, she added, with a wise nod at her. Well, she must give it up for now, anyway, said a lecture coming to a pause to take breath. That's some comfort. To think of Joe writing Polly's notes to the girls. Oh, dear me. Let us go and help him, proposed Kathy Erison. Suddenly he must hate to do such pokey work. Oh, dear me, began Alexia taking up her little bag to look at the tiny watch in one corner. We haven't the time. Yes, come on. She burst out incoherently. Where is he, Mrs. Fisher? In the library, hard at work, said Mrs. Fisher with a bright smile at the mall. Come on, girls, said a lecture rushing on. Now that's what I admire Mrs. Fisher for, she said, when they were well in the mall, she shows when she's not pleased and when she likes what a body does as well. I think she's just elegant, declared Kathy Erison, who had privately done a good deal of worshipping at Mrs. Fisher's shrine. She's a dear, voted Alexia. Well, do come on. Oh, Joe, as they reached the library door. Joel sat back at the writing table, a mass of Polly's note paper and envelopes sprawled before him, his head in his hands and his elbows on the table. Back of him paced pickering dodge with a worried expression of countenance. You two look so funny, burst out a lecture with laugh, doesn't he, girls? To the bright bevy following her. I guess you would if you were in my place, growled Joel, scarcely giving them a glance. Go away, Alexia. You can't get me into a scrape this morning. I have to dig it this. I don't want to get you into a scrape, cried Alexia with a cold shoulder to pickering, who had been claimed by the other girls. We are going to help you. Is that so? cried Joel radiantly. Then I say, you're just jolly, Alexia, and he beamed at her. Yes, we want to help, echoed Kathy, drawing up a chair to the other side of the table. Now do set us to work, Joel. Indeed, and I will, he cried, spreading a clear place with a reckless hand. Take care, warned Alexia. Take care you are spoiling all Polly's note paper. I wouldn't let you at my things I can tell you, Joel Pepper. As if I'd ever do this sort of thing for you, Alexia, threw back Joel. Well, do let us begin, begged Kathy impatiently drumming on the table, as the other two girls in Pickering dodged you near. Yes, do, cried the girls, and we'll toss those notes off in no time. I'll help you clear the table, cried Pickering, do let me. I can't write those notes, but I can get the place ready, and he began to pile the books on a chair. As he went around to Alexia's place, she looked up and fixed her gaze past him, not noticing his attempt to speak. All right, if she wants to act like that, I'm willing, said Pickering to himself savagely, and coolly going on with his work. Oh, dear me, grown Kathy Harrison, isn't it perfectly dreadful to have that dear, sweet Mrs. Whitney hurt? Oh, exclaimed Joel. Do stop, cried Alexia with a nudge. Haven't you any more sense, Kathy Harrison, than to speak of it? Kathy smothered her retort and bit her lips to keep it back. Well, dear me, we are not working much, cried Alexia pulling off her gloves. How many notes have you to write, Joe? Oh, a dozen, I believe, said Joel. That is counting this one. To whom is that? asked Alexia, peering over his shoulder. Oh, to Amy Lockhead. Yes, I promised Polly this should go first. That Lockhead girl was expecting her over this morning. Oh, she's a precious nuisance, grumbled Joel, dipping his pen in the ink. Well, then I will write to Desiree Fry, said Alexia. She was going to play a solo, Polly said at the recital. Oh, dear me, what shall I say? Polly said to tell them all what had happened, and that she should stay away as long as Auntie needed her, but she hoped to be home soon, and she would write them from New York. Oh, Joe, what a lot! exclaimed Alexia, leaving her pen poised in mid-air. Cut it short, then, said Joel. I don't care, only that's the sense of it. Oh, dear, began one of the girls. I can't bear to write of the accident, and in the holidays, too. Alexia made an uneasy gesture. Scrawled two or three words, then threw down her pen, and got out of her chair. It's no use, she cried running up to Pickering, who, his hands in his pockets, had his back to them all, and was looking out of the window. I can't let myself do anything till I've said, I'm sorry I was so cross, and she put out her hand. Hey! exclaimed Pickering, rolling round in astonishment. Oh, dear me! And he pulled his right hand out of his pocket, and extended it to her. Mrs. Whitney has got hurt, and she was always sweet, and never said cross things, and oh, dear me! Cried Alexia incoherently as he shook her hand violently. And I'm glad enough to have it made up, declared Pickering decidedly. It's bad enough to have so much trouble in the world without getting into fights with people you've known ever since you can remember. Trouble, repeated Alexia wonderingly. Oh yes, Mrs. Whitney's accident, you mean. I know it's awful for all of us. Pickering dodged turned on his heel, and walked off abruptly, and she ran back to her work with a final stare at him. I know now, she said to herself wisely, and I've been mean enough to hurt him when he was bearing it. Oh, dear me, things are getting so mixed up. Polly, you won't leave me, will you, till I get able to sit up? Cried Mrs. Whitney one day, a week after. No, Andy, indeed I won't, declared Polly, leaning over to drop a kiss on the soft hair against the pillows. Mrs. Whitney put up her hands to draw down the young face. Oh, Andy, exclaimed Polly in dismay. Be careful, you know doctors said you mustn't raise your arms. Well, just let me kiss you, dear, then, said Mrs. Whitney with a wan little smile. Oh, Polly, when the kiss and two or three others had been dropped on the rosy cheek, you are sure you can stay with me? I'm sure I can, and I will, said Polly firmly. Oh, Andy, I shall be so glad to be with you, you can't think how glad. She softly padded the pillows into the position Mrs. Whitney best liked, and then stood off a bit and beamed at her. It's dreadfully selfish in me to keep you, said Mrs. Whitney, when you love your work so, and what will the music scholars do, Polly? Oh, there all right, said Polly Gailey, they're working like beavers. Indeed, Andy, I believe they'll practice a great deal more than if I were home to be talking to them all the while. You're a dear, blessed comfort, Polly, said Mrs. Whitney, turning on her pillow with a sigh of relief. Now I do believe I shall get up very soon, but Jasper must go back. It won't do for him to stay away any longer from his business. Promise me, Polly, that you will make him see that he ought to go. I'll try, Andy, said Polly, and now that you are so much better, why I do believe that Jasper will be willing to go. Oh, do make him, begged Mrs. Whitney, and then she tucked her hand under her cheek, and the first thing Polly knew, she heard the slow, regular breathing that told she was asleep. Now that's just lovely, cried Polly softly, and I will run and speak to Jasper this very minute, for he really ought to go back to his business. But instead of doing this, she met a young girl as she was running through the hall who stopped her and asked, Can I see Mr. King? What? cried Polly, astonished that the domestics had admitted anyone as it was against the orders. Oh, I am a relation, said the girl Cooley, and I told the man at the door that I should come in, and he said then I must wait, for I could not see Mr. King now, and he put me in that little reception room, but I just walked out to meet the first person coming in the hall. Will you be so kind as to arrange it? She looked as if she fully expected to have her wish fulfilled, and her gaze wandered confidently around the picture-hung wall, until such time as Polly could answer. I'll see, said Polly, who couldn't help smiling, what I can do for you, but you mustn't be disappointed if Grandpa Pa doesn't feel able to see you. He is very much occupied, you know, with his daughter's ill— Oh, I understand, said the other girl, guilty of interrupting, but he will see me, I know, and her light-blue eyes are as calm as ever. Who shall I tell him wants to see him? asked Polly, her own eyes wide at the stranger in her ways. Oh, you needn't tell him any name, said the girl carelessly. Then I certainly shall not tell him you wish to see him, unless I carry your name to him, Polly said quite firmly, and she looked steadily into the fair face before her. Oh, dear me, said the girl, well, you may say that I am Mr. Alexander Chatterton's daughter, Charlotte. Polly kept herself from starting as the name met her ear. Very well, she said, I will do what I can, moving off. Oh, Grandpa Pa! For down the hall came Mr. King in velvet morning-jacket and cap. Hoity-toity, I thought no one was to be admitted, he exclaimed as he neared the door. Grandpa Pa! Polly endeavored to draw him off, but the young girl ran past her. Mr. King, she said quickly, I am Charlotte Chatterton. The dickens you are, exclaimed the old gentleman, looking her full in the face. Yes, sir, and my father is very ill. For a moment her voice trembled, but she quickly recovered herself. It isn't money I want, Mr. King, and she threw her head back proudly. But oh, will you come and see, father? Mr. King looked at her again, then over at Polly. Bring her in here, he said, pointing to the same little reception room that Charlotte had deserted. I want you to stay too, Polly, and the door closed upon them. End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 of Five Little Peppers Grown Up This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Five Little Peppers Grown Up By Margaret Sydney Chapter 6 of Many Things And father has asked her to go home when you and he go, cried Jasper in irritation. Yes, said Polly. Oh, Jasper, never mind. I dare say it will be for the best, and I'm so sorry for Charlotte. She'll be no end of bothered you, I know, said Jasper, and you must take her everywhere, Polly, and look out for her. What was father thinking of? He could not conceal his annoyance, and Polly put aside her own dismayed feelings at the new program to help him into his usual serene mood. But think, Jasper, how she has never had any fun in all her life, and now her father is sick. She'd much better stay and take care of him, declared Jasper. But he's sick because he is worried, so I do believe, Polly went on, for you ought to have seen his face when we took Charlotte home, and Grandpa Pa talked with him, and asked him to let Charlotte pass the rest of the winter with us. Oh, I am glad, Jasper, for I do like Charlotte. The girl may be well enough, said Jasper shortly, but she will bother you nevertheless, Polly, I'm afraid. Never mind, said Polly brightly, with a little pang in her heart for the nice times with the girls that now must be shared with another. Grandpa Pa thought he ought to do it, I suppose, and that's enough. It does seem as if the chattertons would never be done annoying us, said Jasper, gloomily. Now, when we once get this girl fastened on us, there'll be an end to the hope of shaking her off. Perhaps we shan't want to, said Polly merrily, for Charlotte may turn out perfectly lovely. I do believe she's going to. And then she remembered her promise to Mrs. Whitney, and she began, Auntie is worrying about your staying away so long from your business, Jasper, and she wants you to go back. A shade passed over his face. I suppose I ought to go, Polly, he said, and he pulled a letter from his pocket and held it out to her. I was going to show this to you, only the other matter came up. Polly seized it with dread. We need your services very much, the letter ran, and cannot wait longer for your return. We are very sorry to be so imperative, but the rush of work at this time of the year makes it necessary for all our force to be in place. Very sincerely, David Marlowe. You see, they are getting all the books planned out, and put in shape for the next year, and business just rushes, cried Jasper with shining eyes, showing his eagerness to be in the midst of the bustle of manufacture. What so early, cried Polly, letting the letter drop. Why, I thought you didn't do anything until spring, Jasper, about making the books, I mean. He laughed. The travellers go out on the road, then, he said, with almost all the books ready to sell. Out on the road, repeated Polly in a maze. Oh, what do you mean, Jasper? Well, you see, the business of selling is a good part of it done by salesmen, who travel with samples and take advance orders, said Jasper, finding it quite jolly to explain business intricacies to such an eager listener. Oh, said Polly. And when I get back, I shall be plunged at once into all the thick of the manufacturing work. He went on straightening himself up. Mr. Marlowe is as good as he can be, and he has waited now longer than he ought to. Oh, you must go, Jasper, cried Polly quickly, at once, this very day, and her face glowed. If you think Sister Marion is really well enough to spare me, he said, trying to strain his impatience to be off. Yes, yes, I do, declared Polly. Dr. Palfrey said this morning that all danger was over now from inflammation, and really it worries her dreadfully to think of your being here any longer. It really does hurt her, Jasper, repeated Polly emphatically. In that case, I'm off then, this afternoon, said Jasper, with a glad ring in his voice. Polly, my work is the very grandest in all the world. Isn't it? cried Polly with kindling eyes. Just think, to make good books, Jasper, that will never stop perhaps being read. Oh, I wish I was a man and could help you. Polly, he stopped a minute, looked down into her face, then turned off abruptly. You are sure you won't bother yourself too much with Charlotte? He said awkwardly, coming back. Yes, don't worry, Jasper, said Polly, wondering in his unusual manner. All right, then as soon as I've seen Father, I'll throw my traps together and be off. Declared Jasper, quite like the businessman again. But old Mr. King was not to hear about it just then, for when Jasper rapped at his door, it was to find that his father was fast asleep. See here, Jasper, said Mr. Whitney, happening along at this minute. Here's a nice piece of work. Percy declares that he shall be made miserable to go back to college tomorrow. His mother is able now for him to be settled at his studies. Won't you run up and persuade him? That's a good fellow. I'm going back to my work tonight, cried Jasper pulling at his watch. That is, if Father wakes up in time for me to take the train. Is that so good? cried Mr. Whitney. Well, run along and tell Percy that, for the boy is so worried over his mother that he can't listen to reason. So Jasper scaled the stairs to Percy's den. Well, fellow, I thought I'd come up and let you know that I'm off to my work, announced Jasper putting his head in the doorway. Hey, cried Percy, what's that? While I'm off, I say back to dig at the publishing business. Your mother doesn't want us fellows hanging around here any longer. It worries her to feel that we are idly. Is that so? cried Percy. How do you know? Polly says so. She let me into the secret. Says Sister Marion requested me to go back. Did Polly really say so? demanded Percy in astonishment. Yes, in good plain English. So I'm off. Well, if Polly really said that Mama wanted you to go, why, I'll get back to college as soon as I can, said Percy. But if she should be worse, he stopped short. They can send for you instantly. Trust Polly for that, said Jasper, but she won't be worse, not unless we worry her by not doing as she wishes. Well, good-bye. I'm off. So am I, declared Percy, springing up to throw his clothes into traveling order. All right, I'll take the train with you, Jappy. Now you see how much better I'm off, observed van coming into perch on the edge of the bed, while Percy was hurrying all sorts of garments into the trunk with a quick hand. I tell you, Percy, I struck good luck when I chose Father's business. Now I don't have to run like a dog at the beck of a lot of professors. Everyone to his taste, said Percy, and I can't bear Father's business for one. No, you'd rather sit up with your glasses stuck on your nose and learn how to dole out the law. That's you, Percy. I say I wouldn't try to keep the things on. With a laugh as he saw his brother's ineffectual efforts to pack and yet give the attention to his eyeglasses that they seemed to demand. See you here now, van, cried Percy warmly. If you cannot help, you can take yourself off. Goodness, I've left out my box of collars. Here it is, cried van, throwing it to him from the bed where it had rolled off under a pile of under- clothing. Well, you don't know how the things make you look, and Polly doesn't like them a bit. How do you know, demanded Percy, growing quite red and desisting from his employment a minute? Oh, that's telling. I know she doesn't, replied van provokingly. For answer, van felt his arms seized, and before he knew it, Percy was over him and holding him down so that he couldn't stir. Now, how do you know that Polly doesn't like my eyeglasses, he demanded? Oh, let me up, cried van. Tell on then. How do you know she doesn't like them? Because let me up and I'll tell. No, tell now, said Percy, having hard work to keep van from slipping out from under his hands. Boys, called Polly's voice. Oh, dear me, she's coming! exclaimed Percy, jumping to his feet and releasing van who, red and shining, skipped the door. Come in, Polly. I thought I'd find you up here, said Polly, in great satisfaction. Percy, can't I do something for you? Jasper says you are going back to college right away. Yes, you can, said Percy. Take van off. That would help me more than anything else you could do. Polly looked at van and shook her brown head so disapprovingly that he came out of his laugh. Oh, I'll be good, Polly, he promised. See that you are then, she said. Then she went over to the trunk and looked in. Percy, may I take those things out and fold them over again? She asked. Yes, if you want to, said Percy shame-facedly. I suppose I have made a mess of them, but it's too hard work for you, Polly. I should like nothing better than to attack that trunk, declared Polly merrily. Now van, you come and help me. That's a dear boy. And in five minutes, Polly and van were busily working together, he putting in the things while she neatly made them into piles, and Percy sorted and gave orders like a general. He does strut around so, said van under his breath. Just see him now. Hush, oh van, how can you? And he's going back to college, and you won't see him for ever so many weeks. Van swallowed something in his throat, and bent all his energies to settling different articles in the trunk. Percy, said Polly presently in a well, I do just envy you for one thing. What for, pray, asked Percy, settling his beloved eyeglasses for a better view of her. Why, you'll be with Joel and Davey, said Polly. Oh, you don't know how I miss those boys. She rested both hands on the trunk edge as she knelt before it. I wish she'd been our sister, said van ambiously. Then we'd have had good times always. I don't see much of Joel, said Percy. Dave once in a while I run across, but Joel, dear me. You don't see much of Joel, repeated Polly, her hands dropping suddenly in astonishment. Why, Percy Whitney, why not pray, tell? Why, Joel's awful good. Got a streak of going into the prayer meetings and that sort of thing, explained Percy, and we call him deacon pepper in the class. He goes to prayer meetings, and you call him deacon pepper, repeated Polly in amazement, while van burst out into a fit of amusement. Yes, said Percy, and he has a lot of old fogies always turning up that want help and all such stuff, and I expect that he is going to be a minister. He brought this out as something too dreadful to be spoken, and then fell back to see the effect of his words. Can you suppose it? cried Polly under her breath, still kneeling on the floor. Oh, boys, can you, looking from one to the other? Yes, I'm afraid it's true, said Percy, feeling that he ought to be thrashed for having told her while van laughed again. Oh, oh, it's too lovely, dear beautiful old Joel, cried Polly, springing suddenly to her feet, just think how good he is, boys. Oh, it's too lovely to be true. Percy retreated a few steps hastily, and, oh, how much better we ought to be, cried Polly in a rush of feeling, just think with Joel doing such beautiful things, oh, how glad Mamsey will be, and he never told, Joel never told. And he'll just about kill me if you tell him I've let it out, said Percy abruptly. Oh, dear me, how he'll pitch into me, exclaimed Percy in alarm. I never shall speak of it, declared Polly in a rapture, because Joel always hated to be praised for being good, but, oh, how lovely it is! And then Grand Papa called, and she ran off on happy feet. Whew, exclaimed Percy with a look over at van. I tell you what, if you want to get into Polly's good graces, you've just got to brush up on your catechism and such things, remarked van. Eyeglasses don't count. Percy turned off uneasily. Nor suppers in a bit of card playing, hey Percy. Hold your tongue, will you? cried his brother irritably. Nor swell clothes and a touch me if you dare manner, said van mockingly, sticking his fingers in his vest pockets. Percy made a lunge at him, then thought better of it. Leave me alone, can't you? he said crossly. Van opened his mouth to toss back a teasing reply when Percy opened up on him. I'd as soon take my chances with her on the suppers and other things as to have yours. What would Polly say to see you going for me like this I'd like to know? It was now van's turn to look uncomfortable, and he cast a glance at the door. Oh, she may come in, said Percy bursting into a laugh, then you'd be in a fine fix, and I wouldn't give a rush for the good opinion she'd have of you. Van hung his head, took two or three steps to the door, then came back hurriedly. I cried quits, Percy, he said, and held out his hand. All right, said Percy, smoothing down his ruffled feelings and putting out his hand, too. Van seized it, rung it in good, brotherly fashion, then raced over the stairs at a breakneck pace. Polly, he said, meeting her in the hall where she had just come from Mr. King's room. I've been blackguarding Percy, and you ought to know it. Oh, Van cried Polly, stopping short in a sorry little way. Well, you've been so good ever since you both promised years ago that you wouldn't say bad things to each other. Oh, that was different, said Van recklessly, but since he went to college, Percy has been a perfect snob, Polly. Polly said nothing, only looked at him in a way that cut him to the heart as she moved off slowly. Aren't you going to say anything? asked Van at last. I've nothing to say, replied Polly, and she disappeared into Mrs. Whitney's room and closed the door. That evening, Jasper and Percy, who went together for a good part of the way, had just driven to the station when the bell rang and a housemaid presently laid before Polly a card, at sight of which all the color deserted her cheek. Oh, I can't see him, she declared involuntarily. Who is it? asked old Mr. King, laying down the evening paper. Oh, Grandpa Polly cried Polly all in tremor at the thought of his displeasure. It does not matter. I can send word that I did not see anyone now that Andy is ill and— Polly, child, said the old gentleman, seriously displeased, come and tell me at once who has called upon you. So Polly, hardly knowing how, got out of her chair and silently laid the unwelcome card in his hand. Mr. Livingston Bailey, read the old gentleman. Well, upon my word, this speaks well for the young man's perseverance. I'm very tired, but I see nothing for it, but that I must respond to this. And he threw aside the paper and got to his feet. Grandpa Polly begged Polly tremblingly at his elbow. Please don't let him feel badly. It isn't possible, Polly, cried Mr. King, looking down at her, that you like this fellow, enough I mean to marry him. Oh, Grandpa Polly! exclaimed Polly in a tone of horror. Well, then, child, you must leave me to settle with him, said the old gentleman with dignity. Don't worry. I shan't forget myself, nor what is due to a Bailey, with a short laugh. And then she heard him go into the drawing-room and close the door. When he came back, which he did in the space of half an hour, his face was wreathed in smiles and he chuckled now and then, as he sat down in his big chair and drew out his eyeglasses. Well, Polly, child, I don't believe he will trouble you in this way again, my dear, he said, in a satisfied way, looking at her over the table. He wanted to leave the question open, thought it impossible that you could refuse him utterly and was willing to wait and ask permission to send flowers and all that sort of thing. But I made the young man see exactly how the matter stood, and that's all that need be said about it. It's done with, now and forever. And he took up his paper and began to read. Manzie said Fronzie that very evening as she was getting ready for bed and pausing in the doorway of her little room that led out of Mother Fisher's. Do you suppose we can bear it another day without Polly? Why, yes, Fronzie, said Mother Fisher, giving another gentle rock to baby's cradle. Of course we can, because we must. That isn't like you, dear, to want Polly back till Auntie has got through needing her. Fronzie gave a sigh and thoughtfully drew her slippered foot over the pattern of the carpet. It would be so very nice, she said, if Auntie didn't need her. So it would, said her mother, but it won't make Polly come any quicker to spend the time wishing for her. There, run to bed child, you are half an hour late tonight. Fronzie turned obediently into her own little room, then came back softly. I want to give baby Polly's good night kiss, she said. Very well, you may, dear, said Mrs. Fisher. So Fronzie bent over and set on baby's dear little cheek the kiss that could not go to Polly. If dear Grandpa Polly would only come home, and she sighed again. But just think how beautiful it is that Auntie was not hurt so much as the doctor's fear, to said her mother, Oh Fronzie, we can't ever be thankful enough for that. And now maybe God will let Grandpa and Polly come back pretty soon, said Fronzie slowly, going off toward her own little room. And presently Mrs. Fisher heard her say, Good night, Mamsey, dear. I'm in bed. A wrap at the door, and Jane put in her head, in response to Mrs. Fisher's, what is it? Oh, is Dr. Fisher here? asked Jane in a frightened way. No, he is downstairs in the library, said Mother Fisher. What is the matter, Jane, who wants him? Oh, something dreadful is the matter with Helen Fargo, I'm afraid, Mam, said Jane. Griggs has just run over to say that the doctor must come quick. Hush, said Mrs. Fisher, pointing to Fronzie's wide open door, but she was standing beside them in her little nightdress, and heard the next words plainly enough. Run downstairs, Jane, commanded Mother Fisher, and tell the doctor what Griggs said just as fast as you can, Jane. And in another minute, in rush the little doctor, seized his medical case, saying as he did so, I shan't come back here, wife, if it is diphtheria, but go to my office and change my clothes. There's considerable of the disease around. Good night, child. He stopped to kiss Fronzie, who lifted a pale, troubled face to his. Don't worry, I guess Helen will be all right, and he dashed off again. Now Fronzie child, said Mrs. Fisher, come to Mother, and let us talk it over a bit. So Fronzie cuddled up in Mamzie's lap, and laid her sad little cheek where she had been so often comforted. Mamzie, she said at last, lifting her head, I don't believe God will let Helen die, because you see, she's the only child that Mrs. Fargo has. He couldn't, Mamzie. Fronzie, darling, God knows best, said Mrs. Fisher, holding her close. But he wouldn't ever do it, I know, said Fronzie confidently. I'm going to ask him not to, and tell him over again about Helen's being the very only one that Mrs. Fargo has in all the world. So she slipped to the floor, and went into her own room again and closed the door. Dear Jesus, she said, kneeling by her little white bed, please don't take Helen away, because her mother has only just Helen, and please make Dear Papa give her the right things so that she will live at home, and not go to heaven yet. Amen. Then she clambered into bed, and lay looking out across the moonlight, where the light from Helen Fargo's room twinkled through the fir trees on the lawn. End of Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Fronzie. I can't tell her growned Mrs. Pepper the next morning at sight of Fronzie's peaceful little face. I never can say the word diphtheria in all this world. Fronzie laughed and played with Baby quite merrily, all such time as Miss Caruth, the governess, allowed her from the school room that morning. Everything is beautiful, King dear, she would say, on such little flying visits to the nursery. Grandpa Pon Polly, I do think, will be home pretty soon, and Helen is going to get well, because you know I asked God to let her, and he would never in all this world take her away from her mother. He wouldn't, King. She added confidentially in Baby's small ear. All day long the turreted Fargo mansion gleamed brightly in the glancing sunlight, giving no hint of the battle for a life going on within. Mrs. Fisher knew when her husband sent for the most celebrated doctor for throat diseases, knew when he came, and knew also when each hour those who were fighting the foe were driven back baffled, and several times she attempted to tell Fronzie something of the shadow hanging over the little playmate's home. But Fronzie invariably put aside all her attempts with a gentle persistence, always saying, he wouldn't you know, Mamsey? And at nightfall Helen had gone, and two white little hands were folded quietly across a young girl's breast. No one told Fronzie that night, no one could, and she clambered into her little white bed after saying her old prayer, then she lay in the moonlight again, watching Helen's house. The light is out, Mamsey, she called, in Helen's room, but I suppose she is asleep. And presently Mrs. Fisher, stealing in with unshed tears in her eyes, found her own child safe, folded in restful slumber, her hand tucked under her cheek. But the next morning when she must hear it. Fronzie, said Mrs. Fisher, come here, dear. It was after breakfast and Fronzie was running up into the schoolroom. Do you mean I am not to go to Miss Caruth? Asked Fronzie wonderingly and fingering her books. Yes, dear. Oh, Fronzie. Mrs. Fisher abruptly dropped her customary self-control and held out her arms. Come here, mother's baby, I have something bad to tell you and you must help me, dear. Fronzie came at once with wide open, astonished brown eyes and climbed up into the good lap obediently. Fronzie, said Mrs. Fisher, swallowing the lump in her throat and looking at the child fixedly. You know Helen has been very sick. Yes, mama, said Fronzie, still in a wonder. Well, and she suffered, dear, oh, so much. A look of pain stole over Fronzie's face and Mrs. Fisher hastened to say, but, oh, Fronzie, she can't ever suffer any more for—for God has taken her home, Fronzie. Has Helen died? asked Fronzie in a sharp little voice so unlike her own that Mrs. Pepper shivered and held her close. Oh, darling, how can I tell you? Yes, dear, God has taken her home to heaven. And left Mrs. Fargo without any little girl? asked Fronzie in the same tone. My dear, yes, he knows what is best, said poor Mrs. Fisher. The startled look on Fronzie's little face gave way to a grieved expression that slowly settled on each feature. Let me get down, Mamsie, she said quietly and gently struggling to free herself. Oh, Fronzie, what are you going to do, cried Mrs. Fisher? Do sit with mother. I must think it out, Mamsie, said Fronzie with grave decision, getting on her feet, and she went slowly up the stairs and into her own room, then closed the door. In all that day she said nothing. Even when Mother Fisher begged her to come and talk it over with her, Fronzie would say, I can't, Mamsie, dear. It won't talk itself. But she was gentle and sweet with baby and never relaxed any effort for his amusement. And at last, when they were folding hell and away lovingly in flowers from all who had loved her, Mrs. Fisher wrote in despair to Polly, telling her all about it and adding, You must come home, if only for a few days or Fronzie will be sick. I shall go too, declared old Mr. King, for marrying can spare me now. Oh, that blessed child, and I can come back here with you, Polly, if necessary. And Polly had nothing for it but to help him off, and Charlotte's father, being ever so much better, she joined them, and as soon as it was a possible thing, there they were at home, and Thomas was driving them up at his best speed to the carriage porch. Fronzie gasped the word and threw hungry little arms around Polly's neck. There they are, pet, cried Polly cheerily. You see, we're all home. Here's Grandpa. Where's my girl? cried old Mr. King hastily. Here, Fronzie, and she was in his arms while the tears rained down her cheeks. Bless me, exclaimed the old gentleman, putting up his hand at the shower. Well, that is a welcome home, Fronzie. Oh, Grandpa Pie didn't mean to, said Fronzie, drawing back into smay. I do hope it hasn't hurt your coat. Never mind the coat, Fronzie, said Mr. King, so you are glad to get us home, eh? Fronzie snuggled close to his side while she clung to his hand without a word. Well, we mustn't forget Charlotte, cried Polly, darting back to a tall girl with light hair and very pale blue eyes, standing composedly in one corner of the hall and watching the whole thing closely. Mamsey, dear, here she is, taking her hand to draw her to Mrs. Fisher. Don't mind me, said Charlotte perfectly at her ease. You take care of the little girl, as Polly dragged her on. Mrs. Fisher took a good long look at Charlotte Chatterton. Then she smiled. I am glad to see you, Charlotte. Charlotte took the firm fingers extended to her and said, thank you, then turned off to look at Fronzie again. And it wasn't till after dinner that Fronzie's trouble was touched on. Then Polly drew her off to a quiet corner. Now then, Fronzie, she said, gathering her up close in her arms. Tell me all about it, Pet. Just think. And Polly set warm kisses on the pale little cheek. How long it is since you and I have had a good talk. I know it, said Fronzie wearily, and she drew a long sigh. Isn't it good that dear Auntie is so much better? Cried Polly cheerily. Quite at a loss how to begin. Yes, Polly, said Fronzie, but she sighed again and did not lift her eyes to Polly's face. If anything troubles you, at last broke out Polly desperately. You'd feel better, Fronzie, to tell sister about it. I may not know how to say the right things, but I can maybe help a little. Fronzie sat quite still and folded and unfolded her hands in her lap. Why did God take away Helen? she asked, suddenly lifting her head. Oh, Polly, it wasn't nice of him, she added. A strange look coming into her brown eyes. Oh, Fronzie! exclaimed Polly, quite shocked. Don't dear, that isn't like you, Pat. Why God made us all and he can do just as he likes, darling. But it isn't nice, repeated Fronzie deliberately and quite firmly, to take Helen now. Why doesn't he make another little girl then for Mrs. Fargo? And she held Polly with her troubled eyes. Fronzie, cried Polly, then she stopped abruptly. Oh, what can I say? I don't know, dearie. It's just this way. We don't know why God does things, but we love him and we feel it's right. Oh, Fronzie don't look so there, there. And she drew her close to her in a loving, hungry clasp. I told you I didn't think I could say the right things to you, she went on hurriedly. But, Fronzie, I know God did just right in taking Helen to heaven. Just think how beautiful it must be there, and so many little children are there, and Helen is so happy. Oh, Fronzie, when I think of that, I am glad she is gone. Helen was happy here, said Fronzie decidedly, and she never, never would want to leave her mother alone to go off to a nicer place. Never, Polly. Polly drew a long breath and shut her lips. But Fronzie, don't you see, she cried presently. It may be that Mrs. Fargo wouldn't ever want to go to heaven unless Helen was there to meet her. It may be, Fronzie, and that would be very dreadful, you know. And God loved Mrs. Fargo so that he took Helen, and he is going to keep her happy every single minute while she is waiting and getting ready for her mother. Fronzie suddenly slipped down from Polly's lap. Is that true, she demanded? Yes, dear, said Polly. I think it is, Fronzie, and her cheeks glowed. Oh, can't you see how much nicer it is in God to make Mrs. Fargo happy for always with Helen, instead of just a little bit of a while down here? Fronzie went over to the window and looked up at the winter sky. It is a long way off, she said, but the bitter tone had gone, and it was a grieved little voice that added, and Mrs. Fargo can't see Helen. Fronzie, said Polly, hurrying over to her side. Perhaps God wants you to do some things for Mrs. Fargo, things I mean that Helen would have done. Why, I can't go over there, said Fronzie, wonderingly. Pop Fisher says I am not to go over there forever and ever so long, Polly. Well, you can write her little notes, and you can help her to see that God did just right in taking Helen away, said Polly, and that would be the very best thing you could do, Fronzie, for Mrs. Fargo, the very loveliest thing in all this world. Would it? asked Fronzie. Yes, dear. Then I'll do it. And perhaps God wants me to like heaven better. Does he, Polly, do you think? I really and truly do, Fronzie, said Polly softly. Then she leaned over and threw both arms around Fronzie's neck. Oh, Fronzie, can't you see? I never thought of it till now, but he has given you somebody else instead of Helen to love and do things for. Fronzie looked up wonderingly. I don't know what you mean, Polly, she said. There's Charlotte, cried Polly, going on rapidly as she released Fronzie. Oh, Fronzie, you can't think! It's been dreadfully hard and dull always for her at home with those two stiff great-aunts pecking at her. Tell me about it! begged Fronzie, turning away from the window and putting her hand in Polly's. Well, come over to our corner, then. So the two ran back, Fronzie climbing into Polly's lap, while a look of contentment began to spread over her face. You see, began Polly. Charlotte's mother has always been too ill to have nice times, and couldn't go out, you know, very much, nor keep the house, and so the two great-aunts came to live with them. Well, pretty soon they began to feel as if they owned the house, and Charlotte and everybody in it. Oh, dear! exclaimed Fronzie in distress. And Charlotte's father, Mr. Alexander Chatterton, couldn't stop it, and beside he was away on business most of the time, and Charlotte didn't complain, oh, she behaved very nice about it, Fronzie. Her father told Grandpa all about it, and by and by her mother died, and then things got worse and worse, but Mr. Chatterton never knew half how bad it was. But when he was sick it all came out, and it worried him so that he got very bad indeed, and then he set for Grandpa. Charlotte couldn't stop him, he made her go. You see, he was afraid he was going to die, and he couldn't bear to have things so very dreadful for Charlotte. And is he going to die? Broken Fronzie excitedly. Oh, no indeed! He was almost well when we came away. It was only his worrying over Charlotte that made him so bad. Oh, you ought to have seen him, Fronzie, when Grandpa offered to take Charlotte home with us for the winter. He was so happy he almost cried. I am so glad he was happy! Cried Fronzie in great satisfaction, her cheeks flushing. And so now I think God gave Charlotte to you for a little while, because you haven't Helen. I do, Fronzie, and you can make Charlotte glad while she is here, and help her to have a good time. Can I? cried Fronzie, her cheeks growing in deep pink. Oh, Polly, how? Charlotte is a big girl, how can I help her? That's your secret to find out, said Polly Merrily. Well, come now, kissing her. We must hurry back to Grandpa, or he'll feel badly to have you gone so long. Polly, cried Fronzie as they hurried over the stairs, put your ear down, too. I can't till we get downstairs, laughed Polly, or I'll tumble on my nose, I'm afraid. Well, here we are. Now then, what is it? And she bent over to catch the soft words. I'm sorry, said Fronzie, her lips quite close to Polly's rosy cheek. That I said God wasn't nice to take Helen away. Oh, I love him, Polly. I truly do. So you do, said Polly with a warm clasp. Well, here's Grandpa, as the library door opened and Mr. King came out to meet them. Polly, running over the stairs the next day, to greet Alexia and some of the girls who were determined to make the most of her little visit at home, was met first by one of the maids with the letter. Oh, now, cried Alexia, catching sight of it. I almost know that's to hurry you back, Polly. She shan't read it, girls. With that, she made a faint of seizing the large white envelope. Hands off from my property, cried Polly Merrily, waving her off, and sitting down on the stairs she tore the letter open. Alexia worked her way along till she was able to sit down beside her, when she was guilty of looking over her shoulder. Oh, well, Alexia, Reese, how perfectly dreadfully mean, cried one of the other girls, wishing she could be in the same place. Alexia turned to deaf ear and coolly read on, one arm around Polly. Oh, girls, girls! She suddenly screamed and jumping up, nearly over-setting Polly. She raced over the remaining stairs to the bottom, where she danced up and down the wide hall. Polly isn't going back. She isn't, she isn't, she kept declaring. What? cried all the girls. Oh, do stop, Alexia, what is it? Meantime, Cavie Harrison ran up and quickly possessed herself with a vacant seat. Why, Mr. Whitney writes to say that Polly needn't go back. Oh, how perfectly lovely in him, cried Alexia, bringing up fleshed and panting. Oh, dear me, I can't breathe. Oh, oh, cried all the girls, clapping their hands. But that doesn't mean that I shall not go back, said Polly, looking up from her letter to peer through the stair railing at them. I think, yes, I really do think that I ought to go back. How nonsensical, exclaimed Alexia impatiently, if Mr. Whitney says you are not needed, isn't that enough? Besides, he wrote it for Mrs. Whitney, I read it all. No, I don't think it is enough, answered Polly slowly, and turning the letter with perplexed fingers. For I know dear Auntie only told him to write because she thought I ought to be at home. And so you ought, declared Alexia very decidedly. She's quite right about it, and now you're here while you've just got to stay. So there, Polly Pepper, hasn't she, girls? Yes, indeed, cried the girls. Polly shook her brown head as she still sat on her stair busily thinking. Here comes Mr. King, cried Cathy Harrison, suddenly craning her neck at the sound of the opening of a door above them. Now I'm just going to ask him, and she sprang to her feet. Cathy, Cathy, begged Polly, springing up to. I just will, declared Cathy, obstinately scampering up over the stairs. Oh, Mr. King, may it Polly say home. Oh, do say yes, please. Yes, do say yes, please, called all the other girls in the hall below. Hoity-toity, exclaimed the old gentleman, well pleased at the onslaught. Now then, what's the matter, pray tell? I just won't have Cathy Harrison tell him, said Alexia, trying to run up over the stairs. Let me buy Polly, do she beg. No, indeed, cried Polly, spreading her arms. It's bad enough to have one of you up there besieging grandpa. Then I'll run up the back stairs, cried Alexia, turning in a flash. Oh, yes, the back stairs, exclaimed the other girls following her. Oh, do hurry, Polly's coming after us. But speed as she might, Polly could not overtake the bevy, who, laughing in panting, stood before Mr. King a second ahead of her. A pretty good race, said the old gentleman, laughing heartily, but against you from the first, Polly, my girl. Don't listen to them, Grandpa, dear, panned Polly. Man she stay at home, man she. Hush, girls, beg Polly. Oh, Grandpa, dear, don't listen to them. Auntie told Uncle Mason to write the letter, and you know. Why, yes, I know all you would say, Polly. But I've also had a letter from Mason, and I was just going to show it to you. He pulled out of his vest pocket another envelope, corresponding to the one in Polly's hand, which he waved at her. Oh, Grandpa! exclaimed Polly, quite aghast it is so easily going over to the enemy. With that, all the girls deserted the old gentleman and swarmed around Polly. See here now, commanded Mr. King, every single one of you young things come back here this minute. Goodness me, Polly, I should think they'd be the death of you. Polly didn't hear a word, for she was reading busily. Marion says, don't let Polly come back on any account. It worries me dreadfully to think of all that she is giving up, and I will be brave and do without her. She must not come back. Polly looked up to meet old Mr. King's eyes fixed keenly upon her. You see, Polly, he began, I really don't dare after that to let you go back. Oh, oh, oh! screamed all the girls. There, I told you so, exclaimed Elexia. End of Chapter 7