Books: The Adventures of Joel Pepper

M >> Margaret Sidney >> The Adventures of Joel Pepper

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But it didn't take very long to satisfy old Mr. Andrews. As soon
as the first shoe was pulled on he declared it was just right,
although the shoe-shop keeper offered to try on the others.

"P'r'aps these'll pinch when you get home," suggested Mr. Beebe,
anxiously, "or somethin' else as bad will be the matter with
'em." But the little old man said, "No; do 'em up, Jotham."

So the shoes were rolled in paper, and tied with a red string,
and then Mr. Obadiah Andrews said, "Now I'm a-goin' to set an'
visit, and pass the time o' day with you, Jotham."

"So do," cried old Mr. Beebe, delightedly, counting out the
change. "Now, Joel, you can pile all them shoes back, and then
finish the boys' sizes, if you want to; and after that, Ma, he
can go into the parlor, and be company to you."

When Mrs. Beebe and Joel finally got into the parlor, leaving
the two old friends talking busily, there only remained ten
minutes before it was time to go home.

"O dear me!" exclaimed old Mrs. Beebe, quite aghast, as she
glanced at the clock. "Well, you must obey your Ma, and the only
thing I see out of it is, you must come again." So she stuffed
into a paper bag all the pink and white sticks and doughnuts
that were piled so nicely, in a company fashion, on a blue plate.
"There," she said, smothering her disappointment as best she
could, "take these home with you, and tell your Ma I expect you
again, some day. We can't help it, 'cause Pa's been so busy,"
as Joel ran off.

"I've sold shoes all the afternoon," he screamed, rushing into
the little brown house, and for a moment forgetting the paper
bag and its precious contents. Then it came ever him in a burst.
"Look at this!" swinging it over Polly's brown head. She bobbed
it up suddenly. "Look out!" screamed Joel, but too late; Polly's
brown head bumped into the bag, and away it spun, and the
doughnuts and pink and white sticks went flying all over the
kitchen floor.

"Now, that's too bad," cried Polly, jumping up to help pick them
up. "Oh, Joel, what a perfectly splendid lot!"

"Ain't it!" said Joel, his mouth watering to begin on them.
"Here's one more," spying a pink stick behind Mamsie's chair.
"Here 'tis. I've got it!" emerging in triumph, and holding it
fast. "Where's Phronsie and Dave?"

"Over at Grandma's," said Polly.

"O dear!" began Joel, then he thought a minute. "I'm going to
take Grandma a doughnut, Polly," he cried, dancing off, and
swinging the bag, into which he had crammed all the "goodies."

He heard Phronsie singing to Grandma, which she was very fond of
doing, and perched up on the side of the bed, Grandma smiling
away, as well pleased as though she heard every word.

"Dave," screamed Joel, bounding in, and swinging the bag, "you
don't know what I've got," and he hopped up on the bed between
Grandma and Phronsie.

When Davie saw that, he got out of his chair and speedily hopped
up on the bed, too. Grandma laughed till the tears rolled down
her cheeks.

"I guess you'll laugh more yet, Grandma," declared Joel,
untwisting the top of his bag, and bringing a pair of bright
black eyes very close to it to peer within. "It's perfectly
splendid!" he cried, holding his hands so no one else could see.

"Oh, Joey, do show us!" cried Phronsie, getting up to kneel on
the patched bedquilt, to look over his arm.

"You may take one peek," decided Joel, suddenly, bringing his
eyes away from the mouth of the bag to gaze at them. "Grandma
must have the first one; then you must guess what it is."

"I guess it's doughnuts," said little Davie, "'cause you've been
to Mrs. Beebe's, and besides, I smell 'em." Grandma smiled all
the time, just as happily as if she had heard everything that
had been said.

"There's something else," said Joel, emphatically, "but 'tisn't
your guess. Now, Grandma," he held the bag close up to the old
lady's cap-border, "look!"

"My!" exclaimed the old lady. "What you got, Joel?" as he
twitched away the bag.

"Didn't you see?" cried Joel; "well, you may have one more peek,
'cause you are Grandma," and he brought it up again before her
eyes.

"Doughnuts?" said Grandma. "My sakes! where'd you get 'em?"

"You may have one," said Joel, peering into the depths of the
bag to fish out a good-sized one, that was sugary all over,
which he dropped in her hands.

"Give me one," begged Phronsie, holding out both hands.

"In a minute," said Joel. "Now, Grandma, what else is in here?"
giving the bag a shake.

"Hey?" asked Grandma; "speak louder, Joel."

"O dear me! I can't speak so's she'll hear," said Joel, in
despair, to the others. So he shook the bag again, when the
bottom of it came out, and away the doughnuts and pink and white
sticks flew, and rolled all over the patched bed-quilt.

"There, now," said Joel, in disgust; "there isn't any use in
anybody's guessing anything. But we can eat 'em now," he added,
brightening.

XXVI

MISS PARROTT'S COACH AND THE COASTING

It was snowing tiny flakes when Joel's eyes popped open, and
the small, feathery things whirled against the little paned
window, as if they would very much like to come in.

"Dave--Dave!" cried Joel, poking him, "get up--it's snowing!"

David's eyes flew quite wide at that, and he sat up at once. "Oh,
Joel," he squealed, as he watched the flakes, "ain't they
pretty!"

"Um! I guess so," said Joel, springing into his clothes;
"they're nice for snowballs and to slide on, anyway."

David reached over for one blue woollen stocking on the floor by
the side of the bed, and sat quite still with it in his hand,
regarding the snowy whirl.

"You ain't got dressed a bit," cried Joel, spinning around, "and
I'm all ready."

"So will I be all ready," cried little David, pulling on the
stocking with all haste, and flying at the rest of his clothes with
alacrity. "Wait, Joe--do," as Joel began to clatter downstairs.

"Can't," said Joel, racing off, "I'm going to get the sled."

"Wa-it," called Davie, half crying.

But Joel was in the woodshed, hauling out the precious sled that
Ben had made for the boys out of some boards and old sleigh
runners that had been given him. He was dragging it out with a
dreadful noise from the corner where it had stayed all summer,
when Polly came running out.

"I don't believe it's going to snow much," she said, squinting
at the feathery specks. "You won't want your sled to-day, boys."

"I'm goin' to have it ready," said Joel, with another pull.

"Well, I'll help you," said Polly, taking hold of one end. "Dear
me, I do think this is the most splendid sled in all the world,"
she exclaimed enthusiastically. "I don't see how Ben could make
it so nice."

"Ben can do anything," declared Joel, tugging away.

"I know it," said Polly, with pride. "Well, I wish he had time
to go coasting all he wants to," she added sorrowfully.

"Maybe he will have, this winter," suggested Joel, who never
could bear to see Polly sad.

"P'r'aps," said Polly; "but there's always wood to chop in the
winter, Joe. There--here it comes!" as the big sled tumbled out
with a rush, to be dragged into the middle of the woodshed floor.

David now came running downstairs, and Phronsie, hearing that
the sled was to be drawn out, pattered into the woodshed, too.
"Oh, Polly," she cried in rapture, "now I'm going out to ride on
it this very minute," and she danced round and round, clapping
her hands in glee.

"O dear me!" cried Polly, pointing out of the little low window.
"See, Phronsie, there's only the leastest little bit of snow.
Why, I do verily b'lieve it's going to stop."

At this dreadful suggestion, every one of the little Peppers in
the woodshed rushed to the window, and Joel flung wide the door,
so that a cold blast, carrying a feathery cloud of little flakes,
swept in.

"Oh, Joel!" exclaimed Polly, "shut the door, Phronsie'll catch
cold." Joel was already out in the house-place, dancing about,
declaring it was going to be awful deep, and they could make a
snow man soon, he guessed; so little Davie ran and pushed to the
door, shutting off all chance of hearing the rest of what he was
saying. He was gone some time, and the others ran into the
kitchen, for Polly declared they would get no breakfast that day
if she did not hurry up, and David and Phronsie thought it much
nicer to watch the snowstorm from those windows than from the
little tucked-up window in the woodshed. The consequence was
that Joel ran in just as they had begun breakfast, in a fine
glow, his cheeks very red, and his chubby nose as well. "Why
didn't you come?" he demanded, with sparkling eyes.

"Where?" cried Polly. "Oh, Joe, what have you been doing? Your
face is as red as fire."

"And your nose is red, too," said David.

"I don't care," said Joel, slipping into his seat. "Give me some
mush, Polly, do!" he begged hungrily, passing his bowl. "Oh,
'twas just prime, I tell you!"

"What?" asked Polly, quickly. "You keep saying it's fine, and
don't tell us what you've been doing. That isn't polite," she
added, for Polly was quite particular as to her manners, and
liked to be very genteel before the other children.

"Oh, I've been riding in Miss Parrott's coach," said Joel,
trying to appear as if this were an everyday occurrence, and
eating on as if nothing had happened. Miss Parrott lived in an
old ancestral house, about two miles from Badgertown. She was
very rich, but kept entirely to herself, and drove about in an
ancient coach, the envy of all the villagers. "And I called you
all to come, and you wouldn't."

"Oh, Joel Pepper!" cried Polly, greatly shocked to think of the
splendid chance they all had missed, and dropping the big spoon
with which she was serving the mush, "you never called us one
single bit!"

"No, you never did!" added David, solemnly, and looking at Polly
with all his eyes.

"Never did!" echoed Phronsie, shaking her yellow head positively.
"Polly, I want some more mush, I do."

"Yes, I did, too," spoke up Joel, loudly.

"Joel!" reproved Mother Pepper.

"Well, I did, Mamsie," repeated Joel, in a very injured tone. "I
called just like this, 'come quick! and ride in Miss Parrott's
coach;' so there!"

"O dear me!" cried Polly, passionately, sitting back in her
chair, "I'd rather have gone in that coach than have done
anything else, and now you've been, and we never'll get a chance
again. Never in all this world!"

"How did it happen, Joel?" asked Ben. "Do tell the whole story
from the beginning."

"Why, you see it was this way," began Joel. "Polly, give me some
more mush, do," passing his bowl.

"O dear me, do tell first, Joe," cried Polly, impatiently. "I
don't know where the spoon is," for the big spoon had tumbled
off to the floor, and she hadn't seen it go in the excitement.

"Joel, get a clean one," said Mrs. Pepper, "and then pick up the
other; it's likely it fell down."

So Joel hopped out of his chair and got a clean spoon for Polly,
and then dived under the table and came back with the other
spoon. "Now begin and tell us all about it," said his mother.
"No, Polly, you needn't help him the mush till he's told."

So Joel, seeing he wasn't to get the mush until the whole story
how he got his ride in the Parrott coach was related, began at
once, and rattled it off as fast as he could. "The--man--that--
drives--it--stopped--an'--I--was--in--th'--yard--an'--he--said--
don't--you--wanter--all--hands--o'--you children--to drive--
I've--got--to drive a--piece--down th'--road--an' I--called--
and--called--you--an'--we--went--an'--that's all. Now give me
some mush!"

"If we only had known!" mourned Polly, clasping her hands. "Is
it lined with green satin, Joel?" she asked suddenly.

"I don't understand," said Mrs. Pepper, in a puzzled way. "Where
were you, Joel, when Miss Parrott's man asked you? And you
didn't go bareheaded, and without your coat?"

"Out in the yard, Mamsie," answered Joel. "Polly, do give me
some mush," for Polly was so absorbed waiting to hear if Miss
Parrott's coach was really lined with green satin, that she had
forgotten all about Joe and his breakfast. So now she hastily
dipped out the mush into the bowl that was waiting for it. "Is it
really lined with green satin, Joel?" she cried breathlessly.

"I don't know," said Joel, all his attention upon his bowl of
mush.

"I most know it is," said Polly, leaning her elbows on the table,
and her head upon her hands, to think how it would really seem
to be riding in a coach lined with green satin.

"And now I never shall go," she ended.

"Why didn't you come back for us?" asked David, suddenly. He
hadn't eaten anything since Joel had rushed in with the
wonderful story, and between Polly's disappointment and his own,
was in a great state of distress.

"Oh, I thought you were coming right off," said Joel, swallowing
rapid mouthfuls; "and then, when I got into the coach, the man
that drives Miss Parrott said he couldn't wait no longer."

"Any longer, you mean," corrected Mrs. Pepper.

"Yes'm," said Joel; "and then we drove off."

"You see, we had to shut the door to the woodshed," said Polly,
"'cause Phronsie would catch cold if we didn't, and we didn't
hear a single word when you called, Joel Pepper; not a single
one!"

"Where'd you go?" asked David, suddenly.

"Oh, down to the Centre," said Joel, "to two--no, I guess four stores,
and then he brought me home--that is, almost home. He dropped
me at the corner."

"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly.

"Oh, jolly! look at the snow!" screamed Joel, flying out of his
chair. And sure enough, while they had been so engrossed, there
it had been coming down faster and faster, until it was a
powdery veil, almost too thick to see through.

So somewhere in the middle of the morning, Joel and David
started off with their sled, drawing on their mittens with the
greatest satisfaction, and bobbing good-by to the others
watching them from the windows.

All went well, until Joe proposed that they should go to Simon's
Hill, a long steep thoroughfare some two miles distant, that
swung at the bottom very abruptly into the turnpike. And
trudging off there, they climbed it with despatch, and began to
coast down.

"Oh, whickets!" cried Joel, who was steering, little Davie hanging
on behind, more than three-quarters afraid, though he wouldn't let
Joel see it for all the world. "Gee-haw-gee-haw-whee-dimp-dump,"
as they flew over the rises, bumping and twisting from side to side.

[Illustration: "GEE-HAW-GEE-HAW-WHEE-DIMP-DUMP"]

"Oh, take care, Joe," screamed David, in terror, "we most went
over," for on one side the road ran down abruptly into a thicket
of evergreen and scrub oaks.

"Hoh, we're going straight!" sang out Joel, "you're always such
a 'fraid-cat, David Pepper."

"I ain't a 'fraid-cat," protested Davie, "and I want to go home
to mother."

"Well, you are going down again, eleven, no, I guess sixty
times," declared Joel, "after this. Gee-whiz-bump-bump-bang!"
This last was brought out of him by a sudden slewing to the side,
where the slope ran off to the evergreen, scrub oak thicket; but
Joel missed the edge by about an inch, so he screamed with
delight, and whizzed safely down the rest of the hill.

"I ain't going down ever again," said David, "not once, Joel,"
as they flew along and the cold air swept his pale cheeks.

Just then, along the turnpike toward the abrupt turn of the
hill-road, was coming an ox-pung, loaded with wood, and driven
by old Farmer Seeley, who was almost as blind as a bat and deaf
as a post.

"Hi!" screamed Joel, whizzing along. "See us come down," but
Farmer Seeley neither saw nor heard, and just then he concluded
to steer his team up as near as possible to the hill-road. Joel
saw this, and yelled, but he might as well have screamed to the
hill. It was all done in a moment. Down flew the clumsy home-made
sled, that couldn't be turned in a second; Joel frantically
steering to get past the big awkward team, that was blocking up
the way, David clinging to him in a dumb helpless terror.
Z-z-rr-thud! and the first thing that old Farmer Seeley knew, four
small arms and legs were waving frantically in the air, and
thrown suddenly, with a mixture of boards and runners, against
the ox-team of wood, with an awful crash; and then all was still.

"Land o' Goshen!" ejaculated Farmer Seeley, at the crash.
"What's that 'ere? O my gracious Peters!" as he saw what it was
as well as he was able, for his poor eyes. And getting off from
the team he went to the spot, shaking so in every limb, that he
could hardly walk.

There was no sound beneath the upturned sled, where it lay just
as it had been thrown against the wood-pung, and for one dreadful
moment Farmer Seeley thought the two boys to whom the small legs
and arms belonged were dead, and he shook so his false teeth rattled
in his head, and he sat right down in the snow.

"I must dig 'em out," he said to himself in a cold fright, "for
they've druv their heads clean into the snow, and they may get
stuffocated, if they ain't already dead."

So he did the best he could in that work, proceeding only a
little way, when Joel bounced up suddenly, shook his black hair,
and rubbed his eyes. "Oh, I remember," he said.

"Now, see here--you boy," screamed old Farmer Seeley, angrily,
"I'll have you took up, whoever ye be, a-runnin' into my ox-team,
an' a-buntin' into my wood. Um--I will!"

"Get Dave out," cried Joel, who cared very little for whatever
the old man might say, and pawing the snow wildly. "Help me get
Dave out."

"I can't help none," said the old man, querulously. "I'm stiff
in th' jints, an' beside, you've scart me to death, eenamost."

"Oh--oh!" screamed Joel, in a frightful panic. "Dave--get up,
Dave!"

But David lay like a little log of wood, as still as those on
the old pung.

XXVII

PRINCES AND PRINCESSES

"Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, "don't worry any more about the boys
not coming home; just keep the potatoes hot in the oven." For
Polly had run to the window about a dozen times, wondering where
they could be, and why they didn't come back for dinner.

"They are having a nice time, somewhere, bless their hearts,"
said Mrs. Pepper, with a smile. "I'm so glad the snow has come
early, for they've been longing for it so much." She hadn't felt
so happy and contented for a good while, for besides rejoicing
in her boys' pleasure, Mr. Atkins had given her this very
morning an order to knit as many mittens as she could, and she
even caught herself humming a little tune.

Polly heard her, and ran over to her side. "Oh, Mamsie Pepper!"
she exclaimed, "do sing it," and she threw her arms around her
neck.

"I can't sing now," said Mother Pepper, a little flush coming on
her cheek, "and besides, I don't need to, with you, Polly," and
she smiled fondly on her.

"I'll stop, Mamsie--if you'll only sing to us more," cried Polly.

"Then I never should sing, Polly," declared Mother Pepper, with
a little laugh. "I shouldn't know what to do, child, if I didn't
hear you singing round."

"Shouldn't you, Mammy?" asked Polly, much gratified, and curling
down into a little ball at her mother's feet.

"No, dear, I shouldn't." Mrs. Pepper stopped her work long
enough to lay her hand caressingly on Polly's brown hair. "Why,
it wouldn't seem like the little brown house at all, Polly, and
I don't know what we should any of us do, if you stopped it."

"Then I'll sing always for you, Mamsie," said Polly; "I truly
will."

"So do, child. Well, I must hurry along, or I shan't get time to
begin on those mittens. And just think, Polly, Mr. Atkins has
promised to let me knit as many pairs as I can."

"Mamsie," said Polly, suddenly, and hopping to her feet, "won't
you teach me to knit, and then I can help you."

"Yes," said Mrs. Pepper; "for it's good for you to know how. But
I shan't be willing to have you help me any more than you do now.
I wish you didn't have to work so hard, child," and an anxious
cloud overspread the brightness on Mother Pepper's face.

"Oh, I'm not going to work too hard," cried Polly, with happy
throbs at her mother's words. And she dashed off to her
interrupted work, and Mrs. Pepper smiled, as presently Polly
began to sing so merrily that Phronsie set up a little song,
till the old kitchen was the cosiest place possible. At last, in
a lull, Mother Pepper called, "Polly, what is this stopping at
the gate? Tell him we don't want any," as she saw it was a load
of wood.

Polly ran to the door, and was beginning to say, "We don't want
any wood," when her face turned very white, and she ran over the
snow on unsteady feet. "Oh, Joel, what is it?" throwing her arms
around him. But before he could answer, there was Mrs. Pepper
close behind her.

They lifted Davie down from the pile of wood, where they had
made him as comfortable as possible, Farmer Seeley and Joel;
the old man tried to tell that "'Twarn't none o' my fault. Th' boys
ran into me," but Joel, for the first time in his life, was without words.

"Mamsie, don't feel badly," said little Davie, putting up his
face to be kissed, as her arms received him. Joel flew to Polly
for comfort.

"And Mr. Seeley's nice," said David, who had found out the old
farmer's name on the long, slow, homeward journey, and now
seemed afraid he might be blamed, and not thanked enough.

The old farmer, not hearing this, or indeed much of the talk,
kept saying at intervals, "'Twarn't my fault. I ain't to blame,"
till Mrs. Pepper carried David into the little brown house, and
the others, following mournfully enough, the door was shut.

David was laid up with a sprained ankle, that was all, after the
upset. But Joel found it dismal enough to play out in the snow
alone, and he kept pretty close to the window, so that he could
look up and sing out once in a while to Dave seated by it in
Mamsie's big rocking chair. And pretty soon, one day, Ben
brought Davie out, all bundled up, and set him carefully on the
big sled.

"There you are!" cried Ben, depositing his burden, "as fine as
can be," all the rest of the family flocking around to tuck
David in tighter, and to pull his tippet closer, and to be sure
that he had his mittens on.

"Don't go very far, Joe," cautioned Mrs. Pepper.

"I won't, Mamsie," said Joe, proudly enough, marching off, while
the big sled, with Davie sitting upon it as happy as a king,
came sliding along behind.

"Hooray!" cried a harsh voice, when they had proceeded in this
way for a good distance down the road, David joyfully exclaiming
every minute, "Oh, Joey, it's so good to get out doors again."

"Hooray!" screamed the voice again, and Joel, staring as hard as
he could, saw two boys pop up from behind a stone wall, and come
rushing down toward him, each with a large snowball in his hand.
And the next thing, the snowballs flew through the air, and one
hit David in the neck, and burst all over his tippet. Joel
didn't care that the other one gave him a whack on the head.

"You stop that!" commanded Joel, with a face as red as fire.
"Don't you hit Dave again," and his black eyes flashed.

"We're bigger'n you," sneered one boy, and he picked up some
more snow, and began to roll it into a hard ball.

"No, you ain't, either," contradicted Joel, who never would
acknowledge any one to be bigger than himself. "And you let Dave
alone, I say."

"We're going to push him off th' sled," said the other boy, with
a dreadful grin.

At this Joel looked all around in despair for a moment to see if
any one was coming who would help. "Davie's ankle. O dear me!"
he thought. So he got between the sled and the biggest boy. "You
let him alone!" he cried sturdily, setting his teeth tight
together.

"Hoh--hoh--'fraid-cat--'fraid-cat!" laughed both boys, hopping
about in glee, and singing over and over, '"Fraid-cat--'fraid-cat!"

Joel clenched his little brown hands together tightly. It was
hard work not to fly at them and pommel away. "But Davie's
ankle--dear--dear!" So he held his breath and kept still.

Suddenly both boys made a rush at David, meaning to make him
eat snow and have one ball thrust down his back at one and the
same time, but Joel was too quick for them, and the first thing
they knew, as David gave a scream at their approach, two hard
little fists were pommelling them to right and left.

"Stop it!" they cried. But Joel didn't know how to stop; he
pounded away so much and so fast, and they didn't exactly seem
to know where he was going to strike next, that in a few minutes
both boys were crying as hard as they could.

"'Fraid-cat! 'Fraid-cat!" sang Joel, dancing around them, and
swinging his fists in the liveliest fashion.

"Joel Pepper!" exclaimed a voice, suddenly, that made all the
boys skip, while little Davie shook in much worse apprehension
than he did before. "Fighting in the public road! Well, I never
heard anything so dreadful!"

Joel whirled around, his fists still ready. "I ain't fighting,"
he denied stoutly. It was Miss Jerusha, Parson Henderson's
sister.

"And it's bad enough to fight, without telling a lie about it,"
said Miss Jerusha, holding up her black gloves in horror. "I
ain't fighting. And I didn't tell a lie," declared Joel. "And
you mustn't say so," he added, advancing on her with blazing
eyes.

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