Books: The Adventures of Joel Pepper
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Margaret Sidney >> The Adventures of Joel Pepper
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"Oh, Joel, are you really here?" exclaimed Polly, laughing and
crying over him together.
"Yes," said Joel, "I am, Polly;" then he looked up from her arms
that she had thrown around his neck. "You've lost your berries,
Polly Pepper, and the tin pail. Now what will Mamsie say?"
"I guess she won't say anything," said Polly, with a little
shiver. "Come, children, we must run, now, as fast as we can,
for it is going to rain like everything."
"Joey," said Polly, when they paused a moment to take breath,
"you must give Phronsie some of your berries when we get home;
that's a good boy, for I promised her some of mine. Hers got
spilt, and now I haven't any."
"Well, mine shook out of the pail," said Joel, dismally, "when I
swung it at that old bull's face."
"I'll give her mine," declared Davie. "You shall have 'em all,
Phronsie."
Phronsie, at that, could not express her delight, but she clasped
her hands, and gave a great sigh of satisfaction.
When they all reached home, there was Mamsie watching for them
anxiously. And they all scampered in out of the rain like so
many rabbits.
"Children, I've got such a surprise for you," said Mother Pepper,
as soon as she could take off the wet clothes from Phronsie, and
get her into something dry. "Now, you all better get your things
off, and hang 'em to dry by the stove, and get on some clean
clothes."
"I ain't wet, and we haven't got any berries, 'cept Dave, an' he
gave 'em to Phronsie," said Joel. "They all got shook out of the
pails, Polly's and mine did, when the bull chased us."
"When the bull chased you!" repeated Mrs. Pepper, while her
black eyes roved from one to the other.
"Oh, Joel, don't tell Mamsie this way," said Polly, pulling his
jacket. "Besides, Phronsie doesn't know what we ran for."
"David," said Mrs. Pepper, "take Phronsie into the bedroom and
shut the door. Now then, Polly and Joel, tell me all about it,
every word."
So they did, not sparing themselves a bit of the account, Joel
cutting in when he thought Polly didn't tell enough what she did.
"But oh, Mamsie, you can't think how splendid Joe was!" cried
Polly, with shining eyes; "he couldn't have done better if he'd
had a sword and gun." Then she told it all over--his part--dilating
at great length upon it, until Joel got down on the floor and
rolled and kicked in dismay, because he couldn't stop her.
"Make her stop, Mamsie," he howled.
"And oh, when Ben comes home, won't I have a splendid story to
tell him!" finished Polly. "How I wish he'd come now," and the
queerest thing was, the door opened, and in he walked.
"I got through earlier than I expected," he said. "Why, what
makes you all look so queer?"
"We've had enough to make us look queer," answered Mrs. Pepper.
Her eyes shone too! "Polly will tell you," she added.
So Polly, glad enough to tell the story, went over it all, bit
by bit. When she came to Joel's part, Ben seized him from off
the floor. "See here, I'll give you a ride, Joe, in honor of
it," and setting him on his shoulder, Ben pranced around and
around the old kitchen, till Joel screamed with delight.
"I tell you what, that was fine!" declared Ben, and his eyes
shone too. Then Phronsie drummed on the bedroom door, and begged
to be let out, in spite of all that Davie could do to stop her.
"Do run and let her out, and Davie, too," said Mrs. Pepper,
quite as excited as either Polly or Ben.
"I'll go," said Joel, flying off with alacrity. So Phronsie and
David came running in, well pleased to be once more in the midst
of things; and then it was time for supper, and all the while
she was laying the cloth and getting out the dishes, Polly was
looking at Joel, and her brown head went up proudly, and every
once in a while she would run over and drop a kiss on his stubby
hair.
And when Davie went up to the loft back of him that night, as
they were going to bed, Joel turned around on the upper stair.
"We'll play bull to-morrow, Dave," he said.
"No, I don't want to," said little Davie, with a shiver.
"Pooh! I do; it's splendid! You may be the bull, if you want
to," said Joel, generously.
"I don't want to," protested Davie, fretfully, and hurrying off
his clothes, to tuck into bed, where he huddled down.
"Well, you've got to," said Joel, determinedly, giving his
jacket a fling to the corner, "'cause if you don't, I'll be the
bull, and chase you just awful. So there now, Dave Pepper!"
But Davie was spared that tribulation, for when the next day
came, Mrs. Pepper had so much work for them all to do, that the
chase dropped entirely out of Joel's mind, even if he had a
moment in which to accomplish it. The great surprise that Mrs.
Pepper had told them of, now came out, everybody being so full
of the adventure with the bull, that it completely crowded out
everything else.
"Now you can't guess," said Mrs. Pepper, smiling at them all,
when she had repeated, "such a surprise, children," "so I might
as well tell you. It was--"
"Oh, Mammy, let us guess," howled Joel. "I know--it is a horse!
Somebody's given you one."
A perfect shout greeted this, but Joel was in no wise dashed. "I
don't care," he said, "that would be a surprise."
"Yes, I think it would be," laughed Ben. "Guess again, Joe, and
don't give such a wild one."
"Then I guess it's some candy," said Joel, coming down with a
long jump to a possibility; "and do give us some right away."
"No, it isn't candy," said Mrs. Pepper, smiling at him.
"Then I don't care what it is," declared Joel, turning off
indifferently; "and say, Polly, what have you got for breakfast?"
"The same as ever," said Polly, with only half an ear for him,
her mind being intent on the splendid surprise; "you know, Joel;
what makes you ask?"
"Mean old breakfast!" said Joel, with a grimace. "Polly, why
don't we ever have anything but mush?"
"You know that too, Joe," said Polly, with a cold shoulder for
him. "Do let me be, I want to guess Mamsie's surprise. O dear me!
whatever can it be?" She wrinkled up her brows, and lost herself
in a brown study.
"I guess I know," said Ben, slowly, after a good look at Mrs.
Pepper's face.
"What?" roared Joel, interested again, since Ben had guessed it.
"It's blackberries," answered Ben, with a shrewd nod of his head.
"Isn't it, Mamsie?"
"Yes, it is," said Mrs. Pepper; "you've guessed it, sure enough,
Bensie."
"Hoh--old blackberries!" cried Joel, dreadfully disappointed,
and falling back to the other corner.
"The blackberries aren't to be ours," said Mrs. Pepper; "that
is--"
"Not to be ours," repeated the children together, while even Ben
looked surprised.
"No." Mrs. Pepper laughed outright to see their faces. "You
can't guess," she said again, "so I'll tell you. Mrs. Brown is
sick, and I'm to make her blackberry jell over here; and she's
given me some sugar, besides the pay she'll give me, so now we
can have our pie."
There was a perfect babel at this, the five little Peppers
having always before them the hope of some day hearing their
mother say they should have a blackberry pie--to make up for not
being able to accomplish the chicken pie that Polly and all the
others had so longed for--and which was quite beyond their
expectations. Now the blackberry pie was really coming!
"Make it now. Make it now, Mamsie, do," begged Joel, his mouth
watering.
"Goodness me!" exclaimed Polly; "why, it's before breakfast, Joe.
The idea of teasing Mamsie to do it now."
"And I can't do it just after breakfast, either," said Mrs.
Pepper, "for I must begin as soon as I can on the jell, and you
must all help me. There is ever so much you can all be useful in,
about making jell. All but Ben, he's got to go to work, you
know."
"When will you make the pie, then?" cried Joel, trying to
smother his disappointment, and finding it hard work to do so.
"Just as soon as ever this jell is done and out of the way,"
said Mother Pepper, in her cheeriest tones. "So, Polly, fly at
getting the breakfast ready, and when that's eaten, we'll all,
except Ben, tackle the jell."
When the dishes were all cleared off, and Polly was washing them,
Mrs. Pepper turned to Joel. "Run over to Mrs. Brown's now, Joe,
and get her kettle."
"What kettle?" asked Joe, who didn't relish being turned out
of the kitchen in all the bustle of getting ready for the jelly-making.
"The preserve-kettle," answered Mrs. Pepper. "She'll tell you
where 'tis. I told her I'd send you over for it. And be real
still, Joe, and don't ask her questions, 'cause she's miserable,
and is in for a long sick spell if she doesn't look out."
So Joel went off, wishing there weren't any such things in the
world as preserve-kettles, and presently, back he came, dragging
it after him "bump-bump."
"Oh, Joe," cried Mrs. Pepper, in dismay, "how could you!"
"I don't b'lieve he's hurt it, Mamsie," said Polly, running up
to examine the kettle closely; "he couldn't, could he? it's all
iron."
"No, I don't suppose he could really hurt it any," said Mrs.
Pepper, "but he oughtn't to drag it along and bump it. Things
that don't belong to us should be handled extra carefully. Well
now, Joe, set down the kettle, and go and wash your hands, you
and Davie, and then come back and pick over these blackberries,
and Polly'll take hold as soon as she gets through with the
work."
"O dear, I don't want to pick over old blackberries," whined
Joel.
"Then I suppose you don't care for any of the pie when it's
baked," said his mother, coolly; "folks who can't help along in
the work, shouldn't have any of the good things when they're
passed around."
"Oh, yes, I do want some pie," declared Joel, vehemently. "Dave
and me both want some; don't we, Dave?"
"Yes, I do," said little Davie, "very much indeed, Mamsie."
"And I want some pie," echoed Phronsie, hearing the last words,
and smoothing down her pink apron.
"So you shall have, Phronsie," promised Mrs. Pepper, "and so
shall every one of you who's glad to work, and be useful."
"We'll be useful and work," cried Joel, tumbling out into the
woodshed to wash up. "Come on, Dave; then we'll get our pie when
it's baked."
XXIV
HOW JOEL STARTED THE FIRE
"Now," said Polly, to the old stove, "just remember how you
acted that day when Mamsie made Mrs. Brown's jelly!" She was
standing in front of it, and she drew herself up very straight.
"You ought to be ashamed, you naughty thing, you! to make such
trouble. Now I've stuffed you up all good and nice in the holes,
and when I come home I'll build a fresh fire, and then, says I,
you've got to bake a whole batch of bread just as nice!" and
Polly shook her brown head very decidedly, and whirled off to
the bedroom door. "Come, Phronsie," she called, "hurry up, Pet.
O dear me!" Phronsie still sat on the floor by the big bureau,
with one red-topped shoe in her hand, and patting it.
"The other one is on, Polly," said Phronsie, as she saw Polly's
face; "truly it is," and she stuck one foot out.
"I sh'd think it was," laughed Polly; "every button is in the
wrong button-hole, Phronsie."
Phronsie looked at the little shoe very gravely, then her lip
quivered.
"Deary me, that's no matter," exclaimed Polly. "We'll have that
all right in a twinkling." So she sat down on the floor, and
took Phronsie's foot in her lap, and unbuttoned and buttoned up
the shoe. "There now, that's done as spick-span as can be."
"What is 'spick-span,' Polly?" said Phronsie.
"Oh, nice--just right. Dear me, it means ever so many things,"
said Polly, with a little laugh. "Now then, let's have the other
shoe on," and she held out her hand for it.
"Let me put it on," cried Phronsie, and drawing it back in alarm;
"let me, Polly, oh, I want to put it on my very own self, I do!"
"Well, so you shall," promised Polly, "if you'll hurry, for you
know I've got to bake my bread when I get back."
"Isn't there any bread?" asked Phronsie, drawing on the little
shoe, and pausing, lost in thought, when it was half on.
"Yes, just enough to last till I get the new loaves baked," said
Polly, longing to give the shoe a twitch and expedite matters;
"that is, I think so. I never know how much Joel will eat."
"O dear me!" exclaimed Phronsie, much troubled.
"See here now, Pet," cried Polly, decidedly, "if you don't pull
on that shoe quickly, I shall have to do it, for we must start--"
which had the effect to make the little red-topped shoe slip on
to Phronsie's fat foot in a trice.
"Now then, we're ready," said Polly at last, tying on Phronsie's
pink sunbonnet. "Come, Phronsie," and she took her hand. "Joel,"
she called, as they went out the doorway, "where are you?"
"Here," said Joel, thrusting his head down the loft stairs,
where he had heard every word that Polly had said to the old
stove.
"Now you and Davie must look after the little brown house," said
Polly, feeling very grown up and important, "and be good boys
while we're gone down to the store after the bundle of sacks Mr.
Atkins has got for Mamsie."
"Yes," said Joel, "we will, Polly."
So Polly ran over the stairs and kissed Joel and little Davie,
who crowded up for one also, and then Phronsie had to come
up to be kissed too.
"What are you two boys doing?" asked Polly.
"Nothin'," said Joel.
David was silently digging his toes back and forth on the floor.
"Well, you better come right down and play in the kitchen," said
Polly, "then you can look after things;" and she helped Phronsie
downstairs and took her hand, and they walked down the path and
off on to the road in a very dignified way, for Polly loved to
be fine, and it was always a gala occasion when she could dress
Phronsie up neat and nice, for a walk to the store.
"I very much wish we had a parasol," sighed Polly, who never
could get over the longing for one, ever since she saw Miss
Pettingill's green sunshade, with waving fringe, that she
carried to church; "but then, I don't suppose I'll ever get
one," and she sighed again.
"It's nice to be walking down to the store, Polly," observed
Phronsie, peering up at her from the depths of the pink
sunbonnet, and smoothing her pink calico gown down in front.
"So it is, Chick," said Polly, with a merry laugh. "I don't
b'lieve anybody ever had such perfectly good times as we do, in
all this world."
"No, I don't b'lieve they ever did," said Phronsie, shaking her
yellow head, delighted to see Polly gay once more. So they
walked on quite contentedly.
Meanwhile, Joel turned to Davie up in the loft. "We'll keep the
crickets in the box," he said, "till by'n by, an' go down,
'cause Polly said so. And I'm goin' to help her; you'll see."
With these mysterious words he shoved a tin box half full of
hopping black crickets under the bed, saying, "There, the
cover's on. Come on, Dave," and scrambled down the stairs to the
kitchen.
Little David went down more slowly, as if something were on his
mind. When he reached the kitchen, Joel was standing in front of
the stove, a pile of paper was down on the floor at his feet,
and he had a match in his hand. Davie stared at him in amazement.
"I'm going to help Polly," declared Joel, loudly, holding his
match quite fast with one hand, while he twitched off one of the
covers, with the lifter.
"Oh, Joe, you aren't going to make a fire?" cried little David,
horror-stricken, and rooted to the spot.
"Of course I am," declared Joel, boldly. "I heard Polly talking
to the old stove just before she went away, and she's got to
bake bread when she gets home, an' it's all right, an' she'll be
so glad to see it ready for her." All the time he was talking he
was stuffing the paper into the stove; then he ran into the
woodshed, bringing out some kindlings. "We've got to fill the
wood box, Dave," he said, to make talk and divert David's mind;
and he crammed the wood in after the paper, till there wasn't
much room left.
"You ought not to do it, Joe. O dear me, do stop," implored
David, clasping his hands.
"I'm big enough," declared Joel, strutting around and pulling at
the things that Polly said were dampers--though why they should
be damp, when there was a fire in the stove every day, he never
could see. "And when Polly sees that I can make it as good's she
can, she'll let me do it every day. Yes, sir-_ree!_" With
that he drew the match, and held it to an end of the paper,
sticking up. And forgetting to put back the cover, he raced off
to the wood, shed again for another armful of kindling.
_"Joel!"_ screamed David, left behind in the kitchen. "Come!
Oh, we're afire! We're afire!"
Joel dropped his kindlings and the heavier pieces of wood he had
gathered up, and went like a shot back to the stove again. Great
tongues of flame were shooting up toward the dingy ceiling.
"Why didn't you put the cover on?" cried he, terribly frightened,
for he began to think, after all, perhaps it would be quite as
well to let Polly make the fire. "It'll be all right, I'll have
it on in a minute," suiting the action to the word, as he stuck
the lifter into the cover and advanced to the stove.
"Oh, Joe, you'll be burnt up," cried David, in a dreadful voice,
and wringing his hands.
Joel made a dash, but the flames swirled out at him, so he
backed off.
"You can't do it," screamed Davie; "don't try it, Joe, you'll be
all burnt up."
When Davie said that he couldn't do it, Joel made up his mind
that he would. Besides, the very thought of the little brown
house taking fire turned him desperate with fright; so he made a
second dash, and somehow, he never could tell what made it,
the cover slid on, and the flames muttered away to themselves
inside, in a smothered kind of way, and there they were, shut up
as tight as could be.
"'Twas just as easy as nothing," said Joel, drawing a long
breath, and beginning to strut up and down, still carrying the
cover-lifter. "You're such a 'fraid-cat, Dave," he added
scornfully.
David was beyond caring whether or no he was called a 'fraid-cat,
being stiff with fright, so Joel strutted away to his heart's
content. "Now I must put in more wood," he declared, and,
twitching off the cover, he crammed the stove as full as it
would hold, on top of the blazing mass. Then he wiggled the
dampers again, to suit him, paying particular attention to the
little one in the pipe, then wiped his grimy hands, in great
satisfaction, on his trousers.
"You see 'tisn't anything to make a fire," he observed to David;
"an I'm goin' to build it every single day, after this. Polly'll
be so s'prised. Now come on, Dave, let's go an' play," and
Joel gave a long and restful stretch.
Little David, seeing the stove behaving so well, gave a sigh of
relief, and coming slowly out of his fright, clattered after
Joel, and soon they were down back of the house, where they had
scooped out the ground, and filling it with water, had made what
they called a pond. Here they now began to sail boats made out
of bits of paper.
"Hi--there--you!" shouted a harsh voice. Joel and David,
absorbed in getting their boats across the pond without running
into each other, didn't hear. "_Hi!_" yelled the voice again, "your
house is afire!"
Joel lifted his black head and stared. "Come here, you!"
screamed a man, jumping out of a wagon in the middle of the road,
in front of the little brown house. He was big and redheaded,
and he held a whip in his hand.
This he shook frantically up toward the roof, screaming,
_"Your house is afire!"_
Sure enough. Great volumes of smoke came pouring out of the
chimney, which wasn't any too good, and once in a while a tongue
of flame would sweep out, licking the sides of the bricks,
as much as to say, "You can't shut me up entirely, you see." Oh,
how merrily they danced!
[Illustration: "''TWAS JUST AS EASY AS NOTHING,' SAID JOEL"]
"Get a bucket. Step lively, if you want to save your house!"
roared the man at Joel, who took one good look at the chimney,
then sprang for Mamsie's pail. "Get something, Dave," he
screamed, "and bring some water."
Now that the fire had really come, David, strange to say, felt
all his fright dropping from him. It was as if Mamsie said,
"Save the little brown house, dears," and he rushed on the wings
of the wind over down across the lane, and helped himself to
Grandma Bascom's big bucket, always standing on a bench beside
her kitchen door. And, with it almost full of water, he soon
stood by the big red-headed man's side.
"You're a likely-headed pair o' chaps," said the man, as Joel
dashed up with his pail, which he hadn't been able to find at
once, as Mamsie had put some cloth she was going to bleach into
it, and set it in the woodshed. "Now, then, I must climb the
roof, an' you two boys must keep a-handin' up th' water as smart
as you can."
"Oh, I'm goin' up on the roof," cried Joel, and springing up the
gutter-pipe.
"Do ye think ye kin?" asked the man. But Joel was already
halfway up. And presently the first pail of water was handed up,
and splash it went on the flames, by this time coming out very
lively at the chimney-top. But it didn't seem to do any good,
only to sizzle and siss, for just as soon as a pailful of water
was dashed on, out they popped again, as bright as ever. A boy,
coming whistling down the road, stopped suddenly, took one look,
and ran like lightning over across the fields on a short cut.
"Fire--_fire!_" he screamed, and pretty soon, by dint of jumping
stone walls and fences, he got into the street, at the end of which
stood Mr. Atkins' grocery store. "Fire--_fire!_" he bawled every
step of the way. "Where--where?" cried the people at the store,
rushing to the door and craning their necks, as he flew by, intent
on getting to the fire-engine house, so as to run back with the men
who dragged the machine by the ropes.
"At the Pepperses little brown house," bawled the boy, plunging
on.
"Now, Polly," Mr. Atkins was just saying, when the boy's scream
was heard, "you tell your Ma she needn't hurry about these coats.
I guess that paper'll cover 'em, if I put another knot in th' string.
My land! what's that!--"
"_Fire! Fire!_" the boy was bawling all along the street.
"It's the Pepperses little brown house."
Somebody said, "Poor children." Others, "Don't let 'em hear,"
"Too late!" and various other things.
"Come, Phronsie," said Polly, hoarsely, seizing the little fat
hand. Phronsie, who was regarding some very pink and white
sticks in a big candy jar on the shelf, tore her gaze away, and
followed obediently as Polly pulled her along to the door.
"Oh, Polly, you hurt me," she said in a grieved way.
"Here, I'll take you," cried an old farmer with a long beard
that looked like a bunch of hay, and he seized Phronsie and set
her in his big wagon. Polly hopped in beside. "Don't be scart.
We'll all go down and help," screamed a half dozen voices after
her. Rattle--rattle--clang came the fire-engine, the boy who had
brought the news having secured one of the most important places
at one of the long ropes. And away they went, the procession
gaining in length and strength at each step, till it seemed as
if all Badgertown were on the road and bound for the little
brown house.
The big red-headed man had dashed up to the roof by the side of
Joel. "You better go down and hand water," he said, "an' bring
the axe, we may have to cut away th' ruf." Joel, knowing it was
worse than useless to disobey, slid down, and got the axe first,
to have it ready--oh, dreadful thought!--to cut the little brown
house with; and then the two buckets, as full as they could be
lifted, went up, and came down empty. Up and down. Up and down.
"Here come th' folks," yelled the man on the roof. "Now we're
all right. Don't you be scart, boys, th' fire-engine's comin'."
None too soon! A little fork of flame was just beginning to pop
its head out between the shingles close to the chimney, as if to
say, "You really needn't think you are going to keep us shut
up." Up clattered the fire-engine with a dreadful noise into the
back yard, which suddenly seemed to be full of people of all
sizes. Joel, when he saw the firemen on hand, sprang for the roof
again. This time he staggered up with his bucket of water.
"Oh, Joel!" He looked down and saw, as well as he could, for
something seemed to be the matter with his eyes, Polly's face.
Now that the danger was all over, for of course the fire-engine
and all those people would save the little brown house, Polly
was the last person whom Joel really wanted to see. And he
busied himself in helping to haul up the water-buckets, that now
came up pretty lively as the boys filled them and handed them to
the firemen.
"You'd better get down," said more than one fireman. The roof
now seemed to swarm with them.
"I ain't goin' to," said Joel, obstinately, reaching out for
another bucket; "it's our house, so there!"
"Let him alone," said the big red-headed man, "he'll work as
smart as any two of ye men. If it hadn't 'a' been for him and
that one there," pointing with a grimy thumb to David on the
ground, still patiently getting water and handing up his bucket,
"we'd 'a' been all burnt up, by this time."
Joel's face got fiery red, all through the smut and grime. "If it
hadn't been for me!" and down went his black head. Would Mamsie
and Polly ever, ever forgive him?"
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