Books: The Adventures of Joel Pepper
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Margaret Sidney >> The Adventures of Joel Pepper
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"You can't," said Joel, coolly; "you said 'Black-an-blue-hope-
to-die-if-I-do,' and I'm goin' to take you."
"Oh, I can't go," declared Davie, bouncing up in terror. "I
ain't goin'. I ain't, Joey. I ain't----"
"_Sh-sh_!" warned Joel, with another nip.
"I ain't--I ain't--" cried David, softly, through his tears.
"Pshaw! I guess there ain't any bear up there," said Joel,
scornfully. "Be still, Dave!"
"An' old--old Bandy Legs'll catch--catch me," mumbled David,
digging his small knuckles into his eyes.
"Old Bandy Legs has been dead ever'n ever so long. I guess a
thousand years," said Joel; "an' there's flowers there--oh, most
beautiful ones!"
"Are there?" asked David, taking down his hands. "What kinds,
Joel?"
"Oh, all sorts. The most be-yewtiful flowers, red and yellow and
green, you can't think, Dave Pepper."
"I never saw a green flower," said little David, thoughtfully.
"Well, they're up there. Oh, sights an' sights," said Joel,
recklessly. "An' pink and blue an'----"
"Are you sure there are green flowers up there, Joel?" asked
David, huddling up to him close.
"Sh--stop talking--oh, the most _beyewtiful_ things, I tell
you, grow up by that cave."
"I might go up and get some not very near the cave, Joel," said
Davie, after a long breath. "Not very near."
"So you could," said Joel, quickly. "Then I guess you'll be glad,
Dave Pepper, that you came up with me."
"I shall bring down most of the green ones, Joey," cried little
David, joyfully, "'cause I can get the others down below the
mountain."
"Yes--yes," whispered Joel, impatiently.
"An' if I plant 'em, they'll grow, and then Mamsie'll be glad,
an' Polly too," he whispered, dreadfully excited. "Won't Polly
be glad though, Joe? She's never seen a green flower."
"Yes; now go to sleep," cried Joel, with a nudge, "and remember
not to say a word to me to-morrow about it."
"Can't I say anything to you behind the wood pile?" asked David,
in surprise.
"No, not a teenty word. An' don't you look at me. If you do, Old
Bandy Legs'll come after you."
"You said he was dead," cried David in a fearful whisper, and
crouching tight to Joel and gripping him with both arms. "O dear
me!"
"So he is; but he'll catch you if you say a single word. Now go
to sleep, an' when I tell you to come with me to-morrow, you
must start just as quick as scat."
"I shall take a basket for the green flowers," said Davie,
trying not to think of "Old Bandy Legs."
"No, you mustn't; you can bring 'em down in your arms."
"I can't bring many," said little David, swallowing hard. "I
can't bring many, Joe, an' Polly'll want some in her garden."
"Well, old Bandy Legs won't let you get any, if you don't stop,"
said Joel, crossly, "so there now!" and he rolled off to the edge
of the old straw bed, and in two minutes was fast asleep, leaving
little Davie peering up at the rafters to watch for the first streak of
light, determined to get as many green flowers as he possibly could
for Polly's garden.
"I'll twist up a birch-bark basket, to bring 'em down in," he
decided. And the first thing either of them knew, there was
Polly shaking their arms and laughing. "You lazy little things,
you--get up! I've been calling and calling and calling you to
breakfast."
Joel and David flew up into the middle of the bed.
"Joe was teasing all night for a drink of water," said Ben, as
Polly ran down into the kitchen. "An' I was just going to get up
and fetch him some, when he tumbled to sleep again."
"Dear me," said Polly, rushing at her work; "well, I'll keep
their porridge warm. Now, Phronsie, you can't help me about
these dishes."
"I'm just as big since yesterday," said Phronsie, standing up on
her tiptoes to turn an injured face to Polly. "See, Polly."
"So you are," said Polly, bursting into a laugh. "Well, I tell
you, Pet, what you might do that would help me more."
"More than to wash the dishes, Polly?" cried Phronsie, tumbling
down from her tiptoes. "Oh, do tell me, Polly!" And she ran up
to her, and seized Polly's check apron with both fat little
hands.
"Why, you see I can't do the dishes, all of 'em, till the boys
get through their breakfast," said Polly, with a sober face,
looking at the old clock, as she thought of the seams on the
sacks she was going to fly at as soon as the work was done in
the kitchen. How nice it was that Mamsie had promised she might
try this very morning while Mrs. Pepper was down at the
parsonage, mending the minister's study carpet. "Now I guess the
money'll begin to come in, and Mamsie won't have to work so
hard," thought Polly over and over, and her heart beat merrily,
and the color flew over her cheek.
"Tell me, Polly," begged little Phronsie, holding the apron
tight.
"Well, now, Pet, there's a snarl of thread in the work-basket.
Don't you remember, the spool rolled under the table, and nobody
saw it go, and the boys kicked it up and made it into a mess, an'
Mamsie put it into the little bag, an' I was to pick it out when
I got time? If you only could do that, Phronsie, just think how
it would help."
Phronsie gave a long sigh. She dropped the apron, and folded her
hands. "Would it help so very much, Polly?" she asked.
"Ever an' ever so much," said Polly. "You needn't do but a
little now, an' some other day p'raps you could do some more."
"I'm going to do it all," said Phronsie, shaking her yellow head
determinedly. So she got her little wooden chair from against
the wall, and set it in the middle of the kitchen floor, and
then brought the little cotton bag out of the old work-basket.
"I shall do it all this very one minute," she declared softly,
as she sat down and drew out the snarl of thread.
"Now, boys," called Polly, as she took one look at her, and just
stopped to drop a kiss on the yellow hair, "you must just come
downstairs this very minute. If you don't, you can't have any
breakfast."
"Coming," sang Joel, and presently down he tumbled, two steps at
a time, pulling on his jacket as he went.
"Such a long time to stay abed," reproved Polly; "just think of
it, it's after seven o'clock, Joel Pepper, and Mamsie's been
gone half an hour!"
"An' I'm working," said Phronsie, twitching at the end of the
thread with an important air. "I'm going to pick out the whole
of this, I am, for Mamsie. See, Joey!" She held up the snarl,
and away the spool raced, as if glad to get off once more.
"Hoh!" said Joel, "you're making it worse'n ever, Phron."
"No, I'm not," cried Phronsie, clutching the snarl with both
little fists. "Oh, no, I'm not; am I, Polly?" And the big tears
began to race over her round cheeks.
"No," said Polly. "Oh, for shame, Joel, to make Phronsie cry!"
"I didn't make her cry," denied Joel, stoutly, his face working
badly. "I'll get the spool--I'll get the spool. See, Polly, here
'tis," and he dived under the table, and came up bright and
shining with it in his hand.
"There now, Phronsie; see, Joel's got it for you," said Polly,
beaming at him. "Now, Pet, I'll tell you what, let's put
Mamsie's basket on the floor, and old Mr. Spool in it. There,
Joey, drop him in, then he can't run away again. Now, then!"
"Mr. Spool can't run away again," smiled Phronsie through her
tears, and leaning out of her little wooden chair to see Joel
drop the spool in. "That's nice, Polly, isn't it? Now he can't
run away again," she hummed.
"Indeed, it is," sang Polly, delighted; "he's fast now, so fly
at your snarl, Pet, Mamsie'll be so pleased to think you've
picked out some of it."
"I'm going to pick it all out," declared Phronsie in a tone of
determination. And wiping off the tears on the back of her fat
little hand, she set to work, humming away again to herself.
"Now, whatever keeps David!" cried Polly, dishing out Joel's
mush from the kettle on the stove, and setting the bowl on the
table.
"He's coming," said Joel, hastily. "O dear me, I wish we ever
had anything, Polly Pepper, but mush and molasses for breakfast!"
"Some people don't have anything half as good," said Polly,
starting for the stairs.
"What don't they have?" asked Joel in alarm, as he watched her
go.
"Oh, I don't know; different things. Da-_vid!_" she called.
"You said they didn't have things half as good," said Joel,
stopping with a spoonful of porridge halfway to his mouth. "So
you know what they are, now, Polly Pepper."
"Oh, well, they don't. Plenty and plenty of people don't get
near as good things as we have every day for breakfast."
"What are they, the things the plenty and plenty of people get?"
persisted Joel, beginning on his breakfast comfortably, since
Polly was going to talk.
"Oh--let me see," said Polly, pausing at the foot of the stairs.
"Old bread, for one thing."
"Is it mouldy?" asked Joel.
"Um--yes, I s'pose so," answered Polly, wrinkling up her face.
"Eat your own breakfast, Joe, and not stop to think of what
other people have. Da-_vid!_'"
"You said 'things,'" said Joel, severely, "and you only told me
mouldy old bread, Polly Pepper! What else?"
"O dear, I don't know."
"You _said_----"
"I mean--well, cold potatoes, for one thing. I s'pose most
everybody has potatoes. Now eat your breakfast, Joey Pepper.
Those are things. Eat your breakfast this minute!"
When Polly spoke in that tone, the three little Peppers knew
they must obey. Joel ducked his head over his bowl of mush, and
began to hurry the spoonfuls as fast as he could into his mouth.
"I must go up and see what is the matter with David," said Polly,
preparing to run up the stairs. Just at this moment he appeared
coming slowly down. "Oh, here you are!" cried Polly, brightly,
running over to the old stove to dish out his bowl of mush. "Now,
Davie, fly at your breakfast, 'cause I've got to sew all the
morning just as hard as ever I can."
III
DEACON BROWN'S NAIL PILE
"Now, boys," said Polly, as Joel pushed back his chair, "I want
you to help me, that is, as soon as Davie has finished his
breakfast."
"Oh, that's too bad," grumbled Joel, loudly, "when we got all
our kindlings chopped yesterday, an' there ain't anything else
to do. You know you said we could play to-day, Polly Pepper!"
"I didn't say all day; but of course you can," replied Polly,
with a fine scorn, "if you don't _want_ to help, Joel. I'm
sure the little brown house can get along without a boy who
isn't glad to make it as nice as he possibly can."
The idea of the little brown house getting along without him
made Joel aghast at once, and he stood quite still. Davie laid
down his spoon, and got out of his chair quickly.
"What is it, Polly?" he cried, the pink color all over his cheek.
"Dear me!" cried Polly, merrily, "the very idea of a boy trying
to help who hasn't finished his breakfast. Go back and eat every
bit of that mush and molasses, Davie dear; then, says I, we'll
see what you can do."
"I'll be through in just a minute, Polly." David ran back and
clambered into his chair, plying his spoon so fast that Polly
cried in dismay, "Oh, Davie, you'll choke yourself!"
"No, I won't," said Davie, with a very red face, and swallowing
hard, "it's all slipping down. There, see, Polly. I'm all
through; truly I am." He got out of his chair again, and ran up
to her.
"So you are," said Polly, glancing approvingly at the bare bowl.
"Well now, I'll tell you, Davie, what you can do. You know that
pile of old nails that Deacon Brown said Ben might have? Well,
'tisn't nice, you know, to play all day, so you may pick over
some of 'em, and get the good ones out. Ben will be so surprised,
even if you don't get but a few ready."
"I'm going to work all the morning at 'em," declared little
Davie, gladly, hopping off toward the door.
"No, I don't want you to work but a little while," said Polly,
decisively, and picking up the breakfast dishes to wash. "You
can have most all to-day to play in. And then some other day,
when there isn't any other work to do, you can pick over some
more; and pretty soon, before you know it, they'll all be done, and
Ben'll be so surprised, for they'll be ready when he wants to mend
the woodshed."
"I don't want to pick over any crooked old nails," proclaimed
Joel, loudly, and knocking his heels against the pantry door. "I
sh'd think Deacon Brown might have given us some good ones."
"For shame, Joel!" said Polly, hurrying across the floor with
the pile of dishes; "it's fine of him to give us these. And
there are lots of good ones amongst 'em."
"You told me not to say 'lots,' the other day," said Joel, with
a sharp look out of his black eyes to see if Polly would relent.
"So I did," she cried, and the color flew over her cheek. "Dear
me, it is so hard not to say things that you don't like to hear
other people say."
"Well, I don't want to pick over old rusty nails," said Joel,
ignoring this remark, "and it's real mean, Polly Pepper, to make
me, when I want to go and play!" And he kicked his heels worse
than ever.
"I don't make you," said Polly, pouring the hot water into the
dish-pan and dashing in the soap, "but I shouldn't think it was
nice to go out to play right after breakfast. You might work an
hour, and then you'd enjoy the play all the better."
"I'd enjoy the play now. And a whole hour, too!" cried Joel, in
a dudgeon. "Why, Polly Pepper! a whole hour!"
"That's right, Davie," said Polly, smiling brightly at him, as
the little fellow ran out into the woodshed. Then she began to
sing, without looking at Joel.
"A whole hour," shouted Joel. But Polly kept a cold shoulder
toward him, running up and down in a merry song till a little
bird outside the window trilled away as hard as he could, to
keep her company.
"A whole hour--" Joel ran up and pulled her dress. "It's as mean
as it can be to make me work a whole hour, Polly Pepper!"
"Chee--chee--chee," called the little bird, and away Polly sang,
splashing the dishes up and down in the hot soap-suds, till the
old kitchen seemed full of merry bustle. Joel regarded her closely
for two or three minutes, and then went slowly out.
David was up on top of the wood bin in the shed, and tugging at
the box of nails that Ben had put on one of the beams.
"I can't get it down," he said. "Come help me, Joel, do."
But Joel kicked his feet on the woodshed floor. So little David
gave another pull at the box, wavered, and clutched wildly at
the air, and before Joel could speak, came tumbling down, and
after him, the heavy box, spilling the nails as it fell. He lay
quite still, and Joel only stopped to take one look.
"Oh, Polly, Dave's killed, I guess," he screamed, rushing into
the kitchen, his face working fearfully.
Polly stopped her song in mid-air, and turned quite white. "Oh,
no, I guess not," she said with a gasp, as she saw his face.
Then she remembered Phronsie. "Come out here, Joe," and she
gently pushed him out into the little entry.
"I guess I'll go, too," said Phronsie, who had been humming a
soft refrain to Polly's song, and laying down the snarl carefully in
Mamsie's big work-basket she went softly out after them.
"Now, Joel," Polly was saying out of white lips, "don't you
scream. Think of Phronsie, and--"
"What is it, Polly?" asked Phronsie's soft voice.
"O dear me! What shall I do!" Polly turned. "Phronsie dear, you
mustn't come now." Joel had sunk down and covered his face with
his hands, trying not to scream. "Go right back to your chair,
Polly says so. Be a good girl, Pet." She looked straight into
the blue eyes wide with astonishment at being sent back.
"Please let me, Polly," begged the little girl.
"No," said Polly, firmly, "Mamsie wouldn't like it. Go back,
Phronsie, and shut the door."
Phronsie turned without a word and went slowly back, and as
Polly seized Joel's hand and sped into the woodshed, they could
hear the kitchen door shut, and knew that she had gone back to
her chair.
When Polly and Joel reached little David, Joel was beyond words,
and he fell down and flung his arms around the little figure. Davie
stirred and moaned. "Help me lift him up, Joe," cried Polly, hoarsely.
"I couldn't get the nails," said David, "and then they all
spilled. I'm sorry, Polly," and he opened his eyes and looked up
into her white face.
When Joel saw that David could speak, he gave a great gasp. "It
was my fault," he sobbed.
"Never mind, Davie dear," said Polly, soothingly. "We can pick
the nails up."
"I'll pick 'em up," cried Joel, delighted to find something to
do, and he sprang up and went scrambling around and sweeping
them into a pile with his fingers, while the big tears trailed
down his round cheeks.
"See, now," said Polly, trying to speak gayly, "how the old
nails have to hop into the box again."
"So they do," said David, with a wan little smile. Then he shut
his eyes.
"Run as fast as you can, Joe," said Polly, "and ask Grandma
Bascom to come over." Then she lifted Davie and struggled with
him to a pile of grain bags in the corner. "I can't get him into the
bedroom till Joel helps me, and besides, I must get Phronsie out
of the kitchen first," she thought. "Oh, God! _please_ don't
let Davie die," she cried deep in her heart.
Joel flew on the wings of the wind, his heart beating like a
trip-hammer, over down across the lane to Grandma Bascom's
little cottage. Grandma, with a tin pan full of wet corn meal,
was just going out to feed her hens, when he dashed up behind
her. "Please come!" he shouted, his trembling mouth close to her
cap-border. "Polly wants you!"
[Illustration: "'PLEASE COME!' HE SHOUTED CLOSE TO HER CAP-BORDER"]
"Polly's here, now that's nice!" said Grandma, well pleased.
"You just wait a minute, and I'll be ready to see her. Come,
Biddy-Biddy," she called, and waddling off, she gathered up a
handful of the wet corn meal.
"Oh, come now!" roared Joe, and seizing her hand, he pulled her
back toward the kitchen. "Dear Grandma Bascom, please come;
Dave's killed, I guess," and before she knew it, she was halfway
to the little brown house, and in a minute or two more there she
was before Davie lying on the pile of grain bags, and Polly
holding his hand, and fanning him with an old newspaper.
"He's all right," said Grandma, with a practised eye; "only just
fainted a bit. Now 'tisn't anything to what my son John's Abram
did one summer he spent with me. Used to tumble over most every
day."
"He fell," said Polly. She could say no more, but pointed up to
the beam. Then she found her voice. "The box of nails--I didn't
know 'twas up there, see!" and she pointed to them, where Joel
had tried to gather them up.
"He fell down from there?" asked Grandma, looking up at the beam.
Polly nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Joel wrung his
hands together, and stood quite still.
"In that case," said Grandma, "this boy must go for Dr. Fisher
just as soon as he can."
"Run, Joe, as hard as ever you can," gasped Polly.
No need to tell Joel that. Over the fields and across lots he
ran like a deer, scaling stone walls in a flash, only to reach
the doctor's house to be told that he was away twenty miles into
the country. Then Joel sat down on the grass by the roadside,
and burying his face in his hands, cried as if his heart would
break.
He didn't mind that a pair of spirited black horses were coming
down the road, the bright horses all a-jingle, and the carriage
all a-bloom with gay colors, and merry with cheery voices.
"What's the matter?" called somebody to him, but he cried on as
hard as he could.
Then his little shoulder in his homespun jacket was shaken
smartly. "See here, my boy, either you tell me what you're
screaming for, or I'll pick you up and carry you off."
Joel looked up, the streams of tears making muddy paths along
his face, where he had rubbed it with his grimy hands. "Dave's
killed," he burst out, "and the--the doctor's gone away!"
"Come on." It was a kind face that was over him, and in a minute
Joel felt himself lifted by a pair of strong arms that presently
tossed him into the carriage, in amongst the occupants, while
the owner of the arms jumped in beside him. "Do you know the way
home?" he asked.
"Of course," said Joel; "it's the little brown house--" then he
began to cry again.
"See here, my lad, look at me." Joel rolled his eyes up at the
man, the rest of the people keeping quite still to listen. "You are
a brave boy, I know. Now I'm a doctor, and if you'll just take me
to your house, I'll have a look at that Dave of yours. Which way?"
Joel sat bolt upright as well as he could, being crammed in
between a big fat man and his kind friend, and directed this way
and that way, his tears all gone, and before any one could
hardly think twice, the pair of black horses and the jingling
harness and big carriage had stopped before the little brown
house, and the doctor was springing over the stepping-stones in
such a lively fashion that Joel had to run to keep up with him,
until there they were, with Grandma Bascom waddling around in
search of some herbs that were drying in the corner of the
woodshed, and Polly still holding David's hand as he lay on the
pile of grain bags. And in five minutes the new doctor had all
the examination made, and Davie was sitting up, his head on
Polly's shoulder; and no bones were broken, and all the trouble
was the fright produced by the shock of the fall. And the color
flew back into Polly's cheek, and Grandma Bascom kept saying,
"Praise the Lord--and who be ye, anyway?" bobbing her cap-border
at the new doctor. And he laughed and didn't tell her.
But he did tell some funny stories. And little Davie laughed;
and when they saw that, they all laughed, and the people out in
the carriage said, "Just like Dr. Herman," and one tall girl,
with her hat all covered with red roses, said, "Uncle John is
always doing such queer things. I do wish he would hurry and
come. It is too bad to have our driving tour interrupted like
that." And pretty soon down the stepping-stones he came, as
light and quick as could be, Grandma Bascom lifting both hands
and calling after him, "Well, you're an angel of the Lord,
anyway," and the new doctor was laughing. But he had stopped to
look into Polly's brown eyes. "Don't worry, little girl, he's
all right," he said.
Joel squeezed past them through the doorway, and ran after him.
"Please stop just a minute," he begged.
"Hey?" said the doctor, turning his foot on the step. The tall
girl in the hat with big red roses looked impatient enough, and
beat her foot on the carriage floor, but Joel kept on.
"I like you," he burst out, "ever'n ever so much."
The doctor put one hand on Joel's stubby black hair, and turned
his grimy face up. "You've got to be a man," he said; "now look
out for it while you're a boy. I guess you'll do." He jumped
into the carriage and drove the black pair of horses off at a
smart gait down the road, while Joel stood on the roadside grass
to see him go.
IV
THE MUFFIN MAN AND THE TRAMP
So when the time came that was to bring Mamsie home that night,
tired, but happy to fold her baby to her heart, for Phronsie
always climbed into her lap to untie her bonnet-strings, there
was David, running around brisk as a bee, his cheeks pink as a
rose, and Joel, who had stuck to the old box of nails all day,
despite Polly's pleadings to stop and rest, gave a shout that
the last was done, and stretched his tired legs. Then he gave a
hop and skip and jump around and around the grass before the
little brown house.
"Whickets! that feels good!" he cried, stopping for a long
breath by the old green door; then away again, kicking up his
heels like a colt.
"He's done 'em almost every one," said Davie, mournfully,
standing on the doorstone to see him go; "he wouldn't let me
help only a teenty bit, and he's so tired, Polly."
"Joel wanted to do 'em, Davie dear," said Polly, coming to the
door, on hearing that, and giving him a loving little pat. "I
know all about it, why he wanted to do it"--for Joel had told
her the whole story--"and Mamsie'll be glad he did it. How I
wish she'd come!" peering down the dusty road.
"How I wish she'd come!" echoed Phronsie, poking her head in
between Polly's gown and the door jamb.
"Dear me," cried Polly, whirling around, "are you there, Pet?
Well, Mamsie's coming pretty soon. I think I see--No, 'tisn't,"
as David started to scamper over the stepping-stones--"it's a
man turning the road. Anyway, she'll be here before we hardly
know it, I guess. Now let's play something, and that'll make the
time go faster."
"Oh, hooray!" cried little Davie, and, "Hooray!" piped Phronsie.
"_Joel--Joel!_" screamed David; and Phronsie clapped her hands and
screamed too, and Polly laughed and called as hard as she could, for
Joel, imagining himself a gay trotting horse, was slapping his legs
with a switch, and careering around the back of the little brown
house in a great state of excitement. Now hearing the calls, he
came whooping around, making all the noise he possibly could,
so there was a perfectly dreadful din, and no wonder that the
man Polly had seen turning the road came nearer without any
one noticing him.
He thought it was so convenient for him that all the children in
the house should be out in the front yard, that perhaps he had
better hop over the stone wall and go quietly in at the back
door; for really he was very hungry, and there must be as much
as a piece of bread, although the little brown house didn't look
as if it held much meat and pie and cake. So over the wall he
went, and slunk in through the tall grass, just as Polly was
marshalling her forces on the greensward in front and saying,
"Now, children, what shall we play?"
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