Five Little Peppers and How They Grew Complete Text (Charming Classics)

by Margaret Sidney

  “Oh, I don’t know,” replied Jane carelessly, “half an hour maybe; and they didn’t go anywhere as I see, at least they were talking at the door, and I was going up-stairs.”

  “Right here?” cried Van, and stamping with his foot to point out the exact place; “at this door, Jane?”

  “Yes, yes,” said Jane; “at that very door,” and then she went into the dining-room to her work.

  “O dear me!” cried Van, and flying out on the veranda he began to peer wildly up and down the drive. “And they’ve gone to some splendid place, I know, and wouldn’t tell us. That’s just like Percy!” he added, vindictively, “he’s always stealing away! don’t you see them, Joel? oh, do come out and look!”

  “’Tisn’t any use,” said Joel, coolly, sitting down on the chair Van had just vacated, and swinging his feet comfortably; “they’re miles away if they’ve been gone half an hour. I’m going up-stairs,” and he sprang up, and energetically pranced to the stairs.

  “They aren’t up-stairs!” screamed Van, in scorn, bounding into the hall. “Don’t go; I know that they’ve gone down to the museum!”

  “The what?” exclaimed Joel, nearly at the top, peering over the railing. “What’s that you said—what is it?”

  “A museum,” shouted Van, “and it’s a perfectly elegant place, Joel Pepper, and Percy knows I like to go; and now he’s taken Ben off; and he’ll show him all the things! and they’ll all be old when I take him—and—and—oh! I hope the snakes will bite him!” he added, trying to think of something bad enough.

  “Do they have snakes there?” asked Joel, staring.

  “Yes, they do,” snapped out Van. “They have everything!”

  “Well, they shan’t bite Ben!” cried Joel, in terror. “Oh! do you suppose they will?” and he turned right straight around on the stairs, and looked at Van.

  “No,” said Van, “they won’t bite—what’s the matter, Joe?”

  “Oh, they may!” said Joel, his face working, and screwing both fists into his eyes; at last he burst right out into a torrent of sobs. “Oh, don’t let ’em Van—don’t!”

  “Why, they can’t,” said Van, in an emphatic voice, running up the stairs to Joel’s side, frightened to death at his tears. Then he began to shake his jacket-sleeve violently to bring him back to reason, “Wait, Joe! oh, do stop! O dear, what shall I do! I tell you they can’t bite,” he screamed as loud as he could into his ear.

  “You said—you—hoped—they—would,” said Joel’s voice, in smothered tones.

  “Well, they won’t, anyway,” said Van, decidedly. “’Cause they’re all stuffed—so there, now!”

  “Ain’t they alive?” asked Joel, bringing one black eye into sight from behind his chubby hands.

  “No,” said Van, “they’re just as dead as anything, Joel Pepper—been dead years! and there’s old crabs there too, old dead crabs—and they’re just lovely! Oh, such a lot of eggs as they’ve got! And there are shells and bugs and stones—and an awful old crocodile, and—”

  “Oh dear!” sighed Joel, perfectly overcome at such a vision, and sitting down on the stairs to think. “Well, mamsie’ll know where Ben is,” he said, springing up. “And then I tell you, Van, we’ll just tag ’em!”

  “So she will,” cried Van. “Why didn’t we think of that before?”

  “I did,” said Joel. “That was where I was going.”

  Without any more ado they rushed into Mrs. Pepper’s big, sunny room, there to see, seated at the square table between the two large windows, the two lost ones bending over what seemed to be an object of the greatest importance, for Polly was hanging over Ben’s shoulder with intense pride and delight, which she couldn’t possibly conceal, and Davie was crowded as near as he could get to Percy’s elbow.

  Phronsie and little Dick were perched comfortably on the corner of the table, surveying the whole scene in quiet rapture; and Mrs. Pepper, with her big mending basket, was ensconced over by the deep window-seat just on the other side of the room, underneath Cherry’s cage, and looking up between quick energetic stitches, over at the busy group, with the most placid expression on her face.

  “Oh!—what you doing?” cried Joel, flying up to them. “Let us see, do, Ben!”

  “What is it?” exclaimed Van, squeezing in between Percy and Ben.

  “Don’t”—began Percy. “There, see, you’ve knocked his elbow and spoilt it!”

  “Oh, no, he hasn’t,” said Ben, putting down his pencil, and taking up a piece of rubber. “There, see, it all comes out—as good as ever.”

  “Isn’t it just elegant?” said Percy, in the most pleased tone, and wriggling his toes under the table to express his satisfaction.

  “Yes,” said Van, craning his neck to get a better view of the picture, now nearly completed, “It’s perfectly splendid. How’d you do it, Ben?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Ben, with a smile, carefully shading in a few last touches. “It just drew itself.”

  “’Tisn’t anything to what he can do,” said Polly, standing up as tall as she could, and beaming at Ben, “he used to draw most beautifully at home.”

  “Better than this?” asked Van, with great respect, and taking up the picture, after some demur on Percy’s part, and examining it critically. “I don’t believe it, Polly.”

  “Phooh; he did!” exclaimed Joel, looking over his shoulder at a wonderful view of a dog in an extremely excited state of mind running down an interminable hill to bark at a locomotive and train of cars whizzing along a curve in the foreground. “Lots better’n that! Ben can do anything!” he added, in an utterly convincing way.

  “Now give it back,” cried Percy, holding out his hand in alarm. “I’m going to ask mamma to have it framed; and then I’m going to hang it right over my bed,” he finished, as Van reluctantly gave up the treasure.

  “Did you draw all the time in the Little Brown House?” asked Van, lost in thought. “How I wish I’d been there!”

  “Oh my, no!” cried Polly, with a little skip, turning away to laugh. “He didn’t have hardly any time, and—”

  “Why not?” asked Percy.

  “’Cause there were things to do,” said Polly. “But sometimes when it rained, and he couldn’t go out and work, and there wasn’t anything to do in the house—then we’d have—oh!” and she drew a long breath at the memory, “such a time, you can’t think!”

  “Didn’t you wish it would always rain?” asked Van, still gazing at the picture.

  “Goodness, no!” began Polly.

  “I didn’t,” broke in Joel, in horror. “I wouldn’t ’a’ had it rain for anything!—only once in a while,” he added, as he thought of the good times that Polly had spoken of.

  “’Twas nice outdoors,” said little Davie, reflectively; “and nice inside, too.” And then he glanced over to his mother, who gave him a smile in return. “And ’twas nice always.”

  “Well,” said Van, returning to the picture, “I do wish you’d tell me how to draw, Ben. I can’t do anything but flowers,” he said, in a discouraged way.

  “Flowers aren’t anything,” said Percy, pleasantly. “That’s girls’ work; but dogs and horses and cars—those are just good!”

  “Will you, Ben?” asked Van, looking down into the big blue eyes, so kindly turned up to his.

  “Yes, indeed, I will,” cried Ben, “that is, all I know; ’tisn’t much, but everything I can, I’ll tell you.”

  “Then I can learn, can’t I?” cried Van, joyfully.

  “Oh, tell me, too, Ben,” cried Percy, “will you? I want to learn too.”

  “And me!” cried Dick, bending forward, nearly upsetting Phronsie as he did so. “Yes, say I may, Ben, do!”

  “You’re too little,” began Percy. But Ben nodded his head at Dick, which caused him to clap his hands and return to his original position, satisfied.

  “Well, I guess we’re going to, too,” said Joel, “Dave an’ me; there isn’t anybody goin’ to learn without us.”
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br />   “Of course not,” said Polly, “Ben wouldn’t leave you out, Joey.

  Phronsie sat quite still all this time, on the corner of the table, her feet tucked up under her, and her hands clasped in her lap, and never said a word. But Ben looking up, saw the most grieved expression settling on her face, as the large eyes were fixed in wonder on the faces before her.

  “And there’s my pet,” he cried, in enthusiasm, and reaching over the table, he caught hold of one of the little fat hands. “Why we couldn’t think of getting along without her! She shall learn to draw—she shall!”

  “Really, Bensie?” said Phronsie, the sunlight breaking all over the gloomy little visage, and setting the brown eyes to dancing. “Real, true, splendid pictures?”

  “Yes, the splendidest,” said Ben, “the very splendidest pictures, Phronsie Pepper, you ever saw!”

  “Oh!” cried Phronsie; and before any one knew what she was about, she tripped right into the middle of the table, over the papers and everything, and gave a happy little whirl!

  “My senses, Phronsie!” cried Polly, catching her up and hugging her; “you mustn’t dance on the table.”

  “I’m going to learn,” said Phronsie, coming out of Polly’s embrace, “to draw whole pictures, all alone by myself—Ben said so!”

  “I know it,” said Polly, “and then you shall draw one for mamsie—you shall!”

  “I will,” said Phronsie, dreadfully excited; “I’ll draw her a cow and two chickens, Polly, just like Grandma Bascom’s!”

  “Yes,” whispered Polly, “but don’t you tell her yet till you get it done, Phronsie.”

  “I won’t,” said Phronsie in the loudest of tones—but putting her mouth close to Polly’s ear. “And then she’ll be so s’prised, Polly! won’t she?”

  Just then came Jasper’s voice at the door.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Oh, do, Jappy,” cried Polly, rushing along with Phronsie in her arms to open the door. “We’re so glad you’re home!”

  “So am I,” said Jasper, coming in, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling; “I thought father never would be through downtown, Polly!”

  “We’re going to learn to draw,” said Percy, over by the table, who wouldn’t on any account leave his seat by Ben, though he was awfully tired of sitting still so long, for fear somebody else would hop into it. “Ben’s going to teach us.”

  “Yes, he is,” put in Van, bounding up to Jasper and pulling at all the buttons on his jacket he could reach, to command attention.

  “And us,” said Joel, coming up, too. “You forgot us, Van.”

  “The whole of us—every single one in this room,” said Van, decidedly, “all except Mrs. Pepper.”

  “Hello!” said Jasper, “that is a class! Well, Professor Ben, you’ve got to teach me then, for I’m coming, too.”

  “You?” exclaimed Ben, turning around his chair, and looking at him; “I can’t teach you anything, Jappy. You know everything already—”

  “Let him come, anyway,” said Polly, hopping up and down.

  “Oh, I’m coming, Professor,” laughed Jasper. “Never you fear, Polly; I’ll be on hand when the rest of the class comes in!”

  “And Van,” said Mrs. Pepper, pausing a minute in her work, and smiling over at him in a lull in the chatter—“I think flowers are most beautiful!” and she pointed to a little framed picture on the mantel, of the bunch of butter-cups and one huge rose that Van had with infinite patience drawn, and then colored to suit his fancy.

  “Do you?” cried Van, perfectly delighted; and leaving the group he rushed up to her side. “Do you really think they’re nice, Mrs. Pepper?”

  “Of course I do,” said Mrs. Pepper, briskly, and beaming on him; “I think everything of them, and I shall keep them as long as I live, Van!”

  “Well, then,” said Van, very much pleased, “I shall paint you ever so many more—just as many as you want!”

  “Do!” said Mrs. Pepper, taking up her work again. “And I’ll hang them every one up.”

  “Yes, I will,” said Van; “and I’ll go right to work on one to-morrow. What are you mending our jackets for?” he asked, abruptly, as a familiar hole caught his attention.

  “Because they’re torn,” said Mrs. Pepper, cheerfully, “and they won’t mend themselves.”

  “Why don’t you let Jane?” he persisted. “She always does them.”

  “Jane has enough to do,” replied Mrs. Pepper, smiling away as hard as she could, “and I haven’t, so I’m going to look around and pick up something to keep my hands out of mischief as much as I can, while I’m here.”

  “Do you ever get into mischief?” asked little Dick, coming up and looking into Mrs. Pepper’s face wonderingly. “Why, you’re a big woman!”

  “Oh dear me, yes!” said Mrs. Pepper. “The bigger you are, the more mischief you can get into. You’ll find that out, Dicky.”

  “And then do you have to stand in a corner?” asked Dick, determined to find out just what were the consequences, and reverting to his most dreaded punishment.

  “No,” said Mrs. Pepper, laughing. “Corners are for little folks; but when people who know better, do wrong, there aren’t any corners they can creep into, or they’d get into them pretty quick!”

  “I wish,” said little Dick, “you’d let me get into your lap. That would be a nice corner!”

  “Do, mamsie,” said Polly, coming up, “that’s just the way I used to feel; and I’ll finish the mending.”

  So Mrs. Pepper put down her work, and moved the big basket for little Dick to clamber up, when he laid his head contentedly back in her motherly arms with a sigh of happiness. Phronsie regarded him with a very grave expression. At last she drew near: “I’m tired; do, mamsie, take me!”

  “So mamsie will,” said Mrs. Pepper, opening her arms, when Phronsie immediately crawled up into their protecting shelter, with a happy little crow.

  “Oh, now, tell us a story, Mrs. Pepper,” cried Van; “please, please do!”

  “No, no!” exclaimed Percy, scuttling out of his chair, and coming up, “let’s talk of the Little Brown House. Do tell us what you used to do there—that’s best.”

  “So ’tis!” cried Van; “ALL the nice times you used to have in it! Wait just a minute, do.” And he ran back for a cricket, which he placed at Mrs. Pepper’s feet; and then sitting down on it, he leaned on her comfortable lap, in order to hear better.

  “Wait for me, too, till I get a chair,” called Percy, starting. “Don’t begin till I get there.”

  “Here, let me, Percy,” said Ben; and he drew forward a big easy chair that the boy was tugging at with all his might.

  “Now I’m ready, too,” said Polly, setting small finishing stitches quickly with a merry little flourish, and drawing her chair nearer her mother’s as she spoke.

  “Now, begin, please,” said Van, “all the nice times you know.”

  “She couldn’t tell all the nice times if she had ten years to tell them in, could she, Polly?” said Jasper.

  “Well, in the first place, then,” said Mrs. Pepper, clearing her throat, “the Little Brown House had got to be, you know, so we made up our minds to make it just the nicest brown house that ever was!”

  “And it was!” declared Jasper, with an emphatic ring to his voice. “The very nicest place in the whole world!”

  “Oh dear!” broke in Van, enviously; “Jappy’s always said so. I wish we’d been there, too!”

  “We didn’t want anybody but Jappy,” said Joel, not very politely.

  “Oh, Joey, for shame!” cried Polly.

  “Jappy used to bake,” cried little Davie; “and we all made pies; and then we sat round and ate them, and then told stories.”

  “Oh what fun!” cried Percy. “Do tell us!”

  So the five little Peppers and Jasper flew off into reminiscences and accounts of the funny doings, and Mrs. Pepper joined in heartily till the room got very merry with the glee and enthusiasm called forth; so m
uch so, that nobody heard Mrs. Whitney knock gently at the door, and nobody answering, she was obliged to come in by herself.

  “Well, well,” she cried, merrily, looking at the swarm of little ones around Mrs. Pepper and the big chair. “You are having a nice time! May I come and listen?”

  “Oh, if you will, sister,” cried Jasper, springing off from his arm of the chair, while Ben flew from the other side, to hurry and get her a chair.

  Percy and Van rushed, too, knocking over so many things that they didn’t help much; and little Dick poked his head out from Mrs. Pepper’s arms when he saw his mamma sitting down to stay and began to scramble down to get into her lap.

  “There now,” said Mrs. Whitney, smiling over at Mrs. Pepper, who was smiling at her. “You have your baby, and I have mine! Now children, what’s it all about? What has Mrs. Pepper been telling you?”

  “Oh, the Little Brown House,” cried Dicky, his cheeks all aflame. “The dearest little house, mamma! I wish I could live in one!”

  “’Twouldn’t be the same without the Peppers in it,” said Jasper. “Not a bit of it!”

  “And they had such perfectly elegant times,” cried Percy, enviously, drawing up to her side. “Oh, you can’t think, mamma!”

  “Well, now,” said his mamma, “do go on, and let me hear some of the nice times.”

  So away they launched again, and Mrs. Whitney was soon enjoying it as hugely as the children, when a heavy step sounded in the middle of the room, and a voice spoke in such a tone that everybody skipped.

  “Well, I should like to know what all this means! I’ve been all over the house, and not a trace of anybody could I find.”

  “Oh father!” cried Mrs. Whitney. “Van, dear, get up and get grandpapa a chair.”

  “No, no!” said the old gentleman, waving him off impatiently. “I’m not going to stay; I must go and lie down. My head is in a bad condition to-day; very bad indeed,” he added.

  “Oh!” said Phronsie, popping up her head and looking at him. “I must get right down.”

  “What’s the matter, Phronsie?” asked Mrs. Pepper, trying to hold her back.

  “Oh, but I must,” said Phronsie, energetically wriggling. “My poor sick man wants me, he does.” And flying out of her mother’s arms, she ran up to Mr. King, and standing on tiptoe, said softly, “I’ll rub your head, grandpapa, dear, poor sick man; yes, I will.”