Five Little Peppers and their Friends

by Margaret Sidney

  IV

  MISS TAYLOR'S WORKING BEE

  Looking both sides of the road, not daring to think what she would say ifshe really did see Clem, Polly sped on. But not a glimpse of the tallgirl's figure met her eyes, and at last she turned in at a gateway and ranup the little path to the door. Mrs. Forsythe saw her through the windowthat opened on the piazza.

  "Why, Polly Pepper," she cried, "what a pity that Clem didn't find you! Shewent over to your house."

  "Oh, I know, I know," panted Polly, with scarlet cheeks.

  "Don't try to talk," said Mrs. Forsythe, "you are all out of breath. Comein, Polly."

  "Oh, I can't. I mean I would like to see Clem," mumbled Polly, with anawful dread, now that she was on the point of finding her, of what sheshould say. It was all she could do to keep from running down the piazzasteps and fleeing home as fast as she had come.

  "Why, Clem isn't at home," said Mrs. Forsythe, in a puzzled way; "you knowI told you she had gone over to your house. She wanted you to go down-townwith her, to buy some materials to take over to Miss Mary's this afternoonand begin something new for the fair."

  "Oh!" said Polly, in a faint voice, and hanging to the piazza railing.

  "You see, she was all tired out over that sofa-pillow. I told her it wasquite too ambitious a piece to do, and she was so discouraged I gave hersome more money, and advised her to get something fresh. She had almostmade up her mind to give up working for the fair altogether."

  "Oh, dear me!" gasped Polly, quite overcome.

  "Yes." Mrs. Forsythe leaned comfortably against the door-casing. It wassuch a comfort to tell her worries to Polly Pepper. "Clem said all theother girls were making such pretty things, and it was no use for her totry. She can't get up new ideas quickly, you know, and she was ashamed notto take in something nice, and so she said she didn't mean to do anything.I couldn't bear to have her give it up, for she ought to keep with yougirls." Mrs. Forsythe's face fell into anxious lines. "She gets unhappy byherself, with no young people in the house and only my mother and me tobrighten her up. So I talked with her a long while this morning, and atlast got her to be willing to try again. Well, it's all right now, forshe's started to find you, and go down-town to buy the things," and MrsForsythe smiled happily.

  Polly sank to the piazza steps and buried her face in her hands.

  "Why, my dear, are you ill?" Clem's mother deserted the door-casing andcame quickly out. "Let me get you something."

  "Oh, no, no!" Polly sprang to her feet and hurried down the steps. "I mustgo home," she said hoarsely; and not pausing to think, only to get toMamsie, she sped away on the wings of the wind, not stopping until she hadturned in at the little green wicket-gate where she wouldn't be likely tomeet any one.

  "Oh, dear, dear!"--and she hurried across the grass--"supposing Mamsieisn't at home! She was going out for Auntie. What _shall_ I do?"

  In her despair she raced over the greensward and plunged into the Wistariaarbor--to stand face to face with Clem!

  Polly was too far gone in distress to say anything. Clem jerked up her headfrom the table, and raised a defiant pair of cheeks, wet and miserable."Oh, dear, dear!" was all Polly could get out. But she stumbled in and puther arms around her neck, and down went the two heads together.

  "I'm awfully sorry," blubbered Clem. "Oh, dear! I forgot my handkerchief."

  "Take mine." Polly put a wet little wad into her hand. "Oh, Clem, if youdon't let me go down-town with you and buy that handkerchief case!"

  "Let you!" cried Clem. "You won't want to go with me, Polly. But I'm notgoing to work a handkerchief case."

  "Oh, yes, you are," declared Polly positively. "If you don't, ClemForsythe!"

  "It was mean in me to choose it," said Clem, beginning to sniffle again,now that she had a handkerchief.

  "Oh, no, no!" said Polly in alarm. "Now I know you won't forgive me whenyou say such things. For it was all my fault; I was stingy mean to want tokeep it to myself."

  "You aren't ever mean, Polly Pepper!" Clem hugged her so tightly by theneck that the neat little ruffle Mamsie sewed in that very morning wasquite crushed. When she saw that, Clem was in worse distress than ever.

  "See here! Why, Clem Forsythe!" Polly Pepper flew up to her feet sosuddenly, that Clem started in amazement, and stared at her as well as shecould with her eyes full of tears.

  "Why, can't you see? Haven't we been two goosies--geese, I mean--not tothink of it before!"

  "What?" asked Clem helplessly.

  "Why, you might make a violet _glove_ case," said Polly, in a burst.Then she began to dance around the arbor. "Oh, Clem, how perfectly lovely!"

  "I don't see," began Clem dismally, "and I don't know how to make a glovecase."

  "Why, make it just like my handkerchief case, only long," flung Polly overher shoulder, as she danced away.

  "But I don't want to copy yours," protested Clem, "for it really would bemean."

  "But this would make a set, yours and mine," said Polly breathlessly, andcoming up to shake the downcast shoulders, "don't you see? Oh, you goosie!and I've been another, not to think of it before. And oh, such a set! Why,it would sell for a lot of money. And I'll ask Jasper to draw you the samekind of bunch of violets on your glove case, and we'll go right down-town,now. I can make Phronsie's bag when I get home. Come on!"

  When Clem once had the idea in her mind, she got off from the bench, andPhronsie, watching anxiously from Polly's window for her return, saw thetwo girls hurrying across the lawn, their arms around each other andtalking busily. And it wasn't but a moment or two, and she was flying overthe grass to meet them. Polly had explained that the little ribbon bag wasto be made just as soon as the materials for the new glove case werebought. Polly had run up for her hat, and to get her little purse, for shejust remembered that her green silk for the violet stems was nearly out,and Phronsie had said good-bye and gone back to the house on happy feet, totell Clorinda and watch at the window till Polly should come again.

  And just after luncheon, for they must start early in order to have a goodlong afternoon at Miss Mary's, Polly and Phronsie set forth, the new littlebag hanging from Phronsie's arm. Jasper went with them as far as thecorner, where he turned off to go to Jack Rutherford's, for the boys wereto meet there to write letters for the post office. They had promised to bethere bright and early.

  "Oh, Jasper, it was so good of you to draw that dear bunch of violets forClem," said Polly for about the fiftieth time; "it was too sweet foranything."

  "Too sweet for anything," hummed Phronsie, all her eyes on her bag,dangling as she walked.

  "Take care, you came near falling on your nose, Phronsie." Jasper put out awarning hand.

  "I think it's so nice there's a pink stripe in it, Polly," said Phronsie,patting her bag affectionately.

  "Yes, isn't it, Pet!" cried Polly, glad she hadn't snipped up that veryribbon for little sachet bags. "And the green stripe, too, is pretty,Phronsie."

  "It's pretty," cooed Phronsie, "and my cushion-pin is inside, Japser," sheannounced.

  "Is it really?" said Jasper.

  "Yes, it is really and truly, Japser, and I'm going to work on it," sheadded, with a very important air.

  "You don't say so, Pet!" he cried. "Why, you are going to a working beejust the same as the big girls, aren't you?"

  "I'm very big," said Phronsie, stepping so high she nearly fell into amud-puddle. Whereat Jasper picked her up, bag and all, and marched off,laughing, not to set her down till they reached the corner.

  "Well, good-bye. Take care now, Phronsie," and he gave her a kiss."Good-bye, Polly, and good luck to your bee."

  "And I do hope you'll have splendid success with the letters, Jasper,"Polly craned her neck around the corner to say, the last thing. Then shetook Phronsie's hand and hurried along to meet a throng of girls, all boundfor Miss Mary's.

  There on the big stone steps was Mr. Hamilton Dyce.

  "I heard there was to be a bee here this afternoon," he said, looking downat them all
with a smile, "so I thought I'd come."

  "I'm coming," announced Phronsie, breaking away from Polly and holding upher bag; and she began to mount the steps.

  "So I perceive," said Mr. Dyce, running down to meet her. "Well, Phronsie,I must tell you I came partly to see you."

  "And I've got a cushion-pin inside," said Phronsie confidingly, as shetoiled up.

  "Have you, though?" cried Mr. Dyce. "Take care, don't go so fast. Let someof these girls race ahead of us; we'll take our time. How d'ye, Polly, andAlexia, and all the rest of you?"

  "But I must hurry," said Phronsie, with a very pink face, as the bevyrushed by, "for I'm going to work on my cushion-pin."

  "So you must. Well, then, here goes!" Mr. Dyce swung her up to his shoulderand went, two steps at a time, in through the crowd of girls, so that hearrived there first when the door was opened. There in the hall stood MissMary Taylor, as pretty as a pink.

  "I heard there was to be a bee here this afternoon, and I've broughtPhronsie; that's my welcome," he announced.

  "See, I've got a bag," announced Phronsie from her perch, and holding itforth.

  So the bag was admired, and the girls trooped in, going up into Miss Mary'spretty room to take off their things. And presently the big library, withthe music-room adjoining, was filled with the gay young people, and thebustle and chatter began at once.

  "I should think you'd be driven wild by them all wanting you at the sameminute." Mr. Dyce, having that desire at this identical time, naturallyfelt a bit impatient, as Miss Mary went about inspecting the work, helpingto pick out a stitch here and to set a new one there, admiring everyone'sspecial bit of prettiness, and tossing a smile and a gay word in everychance moment between.

  "Oh, no," said Miss Mary, with a little laugh, "they're most of them mySunday-school scholars, you know."

  "That's all the more reason that you ought not to be bothered with themweek days," observed Mr. Dyce. "Now why can't you sit down here and amuseme?" He pushed up an easy-chair into a cosy-corner, then drew up anottoman, on which he sat down.

  "Oh, look at that Mr. Dyce," said Clem, quite in a flow of spirits, as shethreaded her needle with a strand of violet silk; "he's going to keep MissMary off there all to himself. What did make him come this afternoon?"

  "Well, he isn't going to have Miss Mary!" cried Alexia Rhys, twitching herpink worsted with an impatient hand. "Horrors! Now I've gone and gottenthat into a precious snarl. The very idea! She's our Sunday-school teacher.Oh, Miss Mary!" she called suddenly.

  Miss Taylor, just sitting down in the easy-chair, turned. "What is it,Alexia?"--while Mr. Dyce frowned. At which Alexia laughed over at him.

  "Please show me about my work," she begged.

  "You little tyrant!" called Mr. Dyce, as Miss Mary went over.

  "Do I slip one stitch and then knit two?" asked Alexia innocently. Polly,next to her on a cricket, opened wide eyes.

  "Yes," said Miss Mary, "just the same as you have been knitting all along,Alexia."

  "Well, I couldn't think of anything else to ask," said Alexia coolly. Thenshe laid hold of Miss Mary's pretty, gray gown.

  "Oh, don't go back to him," she implored. "Do stay with us girls, we're allyour Sunday-school class--that is, most of us. _Please_ stay with us,Miss Mary."

  Miss Mary cast an imploring glance over at the gentleman, which he seemedto see, although apparently he wasn't looking.

  "Phronsie, you and I will have to move over, I think"; for by this time hehad her in his lap; and so he bundled her across the room unceremoniously.

  "Oh, I've lost my needle!" cried Phronsie, peering out from his arms ingreat distress.

  "Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Dyce; so he set her down and dropped to all-foursto peer about for the shining little implement, Phronsie getting down onher knees to assist the search.

  Alexia, seeing the trouble, deserted her knitting, and flew out of herchair to help look for it.

  "You little tyrant!" exclaimed Mr. Dyce, as she added herself to the group,"to call Miss Mary over there! I should think it was quite bad enough tohave you Sundays, Alexia."

  "Miss Mary thinks a great deal of me," said Alexia composedly. "Dear me,what a plaguey little thing that needle is! Never mind, Phronsie, don'tfeel badly. I guess--oh, here it is, and sticking straight up."

  "And all this would never have happened but for your calling Miss Maryaway," observed Mr. Dyce, getting up straight again. "What a littlenuisance you are, Alexia!" All of which she had heard from him so manytimes before that it failed to disturb her, so she went back to her seat inhigh spirits, Phronsie hopping over like a small rabbit to a little cricketat Polly's feet. At this there was a bustle among the girls.

  "Sit next to me, Miss Mary," begged Silvia Horne, sweeping a chair clear.

  "No, no," cried Amy Garrett, "she's coming here!"

  "I call that nice," exclaimed Alexia decidedly, "when I asked her to comeacross the room! I'm going to sit next to her of course."

  "You'd much better have stayed with me," laughed Mr. Hamilton Dyce, "sincethere'll be one long fight over you. Better come back."

  But Miss Mary, protesting that the girls needed her, finally settled it bygetting her chair into the middle of the group, which she made into acircle.

  "There, now, we're all comfy together," she announced. "Now, Mr. Dyce, youmust read us something."

  "Oh, tell us a story," put in Alexia, who didn't relish listening toreading.

  "Oh, yes, a story, a story," they one and all took it up. Even Phronsielaid down her big needle which she was patiently dragging back and forth,with a very long piece of red worsted following its trail across the faceof her "cushion-pin" in a way to suit her own design, to beg for the story.

  "Oh, Phronsie!" exclaimed Polly, for the first time catching sight of this,"you can't work with such a long thread. Let me cut off some of it, do."

  "Oh, no, no," protested Phronsie, edging off in alarm.

  "Why, it'll get all knotted up," said Polly, in concern; "you better let metake off a little--just a little, teenty bit, Phronsie."

  "No, no," declared Phronsie decidedly, "I must hurry and get my cushion-pindone."

  "She thinks she'll get it done faster with a great, long thread," giggledone of the girls over in the corner. Mr. Dyce turning to fix her with astare, she subsided, ducking behind her neighbor's back.

  "Phronsie, I must buy that cushion-pin at the fair," he announced. "I wantsuch an one very much indeed."

  Phronsie got off from the little cricket where he had placed her, and wentstraight over to him, to lay her hand with the "cushion-pin" in it on hisknee. "Then I will sell it to you," she said gravely, "and the poorchildren can go into the country." Then she went back to her seat and tookup her work once more.

  Some of the girls laughed, but Alexia frowned furiously at them; and Mr.Dyce and Miss Mary apparently seeing no amusement in it, they all began tobeg for the story again, till the clamor bade fair to stop the needles fromdoing their work.

  "I guess you'll have to," Miss Mary smiled over at him from the center ofthe circle, while the color deepened on her cheek.

  "I want a story told to me first," he said coolly, leaning back in hischair. "What is all this bee for, and this fair? I know just a hint aboutthat, but let me have the whole story from beginning to end. Now then, someone tell me. I am very anxious to hear."

  "You tell, Polly," cried Alexia, and "Let Polly Pepper tell, can't she,Miss Mary?" begged all the girls, every one saying the same thing. So MissMary said yes, and Polly laid down her violet handkerchief case in her lap,although she hated to stop working, and began:

  "You see, Miss Mary said one day in Sunday-school----"

  "Oh, Polly, not that!" said Miss Taylor, in dismay.

  "Go on, Polly, and tell every word," said Mr. Hamilton Dyce. "I'm to betold the whole story; from the very beginning, now mind. You said, 'One dayin Sunday-school.' Now go on."

  "Yes," said Polly, her cheeks like a rose for fear her dear Miss Mary mightnot l
ike it, "Miss Mary said we ought to be doing things, not alwaystalking about them and learning how to be good; and she said there were somany poor children who were waiting for us to help them. And----"

  "Polly, you don't need to tell that. He wants to know about the fair," MissTaylor broke in suddenly.

  "Oh, dear!" said poor Polly, blushing rosier than ever and moving hercricket so that she need not see Miss Mary's face, while Mr. Dyce,protesting that he was not to be cheated out of a single word of thenarration, made her go back and tell over the last thing she said. This wasso much worse that Miss Mary decided she would let the story go on at allhazards, so she leaned back in her chair resignedly, while Polly went on:

  "Well, and so we said, 'Yes, Miss Mary, we'd like to' and what could we do,for we didn't know how to help poor children."

  "And I said I didn't want to," broke in Alexia suddenly.

  "But you did, Alexia!" cried Polly, whirling around on her cricket toregard her affectionately. "Oh, Mr. Dyce, she did help"--looking over athim anxiously.

  "Oh, yes, I see," nodded that gentleman, "and she's working on somefandango for the fair just as hard as you other girls."

  "Oh, this horrible old shawl!" said Alexia, regarding the worsted foldsdangling from her needle with anything but favor. "Well, I didn't want it,and nobody will buy it, I know, but the other girls were all going to dothings, so I had to."

  "Well, go on, Polly," said Mr. Dyce, with a laugh. So Polly, quitesatisfied that he really understood how Alexia was helping along the workfor the poor children the same as the others, hurried on with the story.

  "Well, so then Miss Mary proposed that we hold a fair, and Grandpapa saidwe might have it on his grounds; and Auntie Whitney said why not have agarden party, and sell tickets, for perhaps some people wouldn't care tobuy things and----"

  "And I'm going to put my cushion-pin on the table," piped Phronsiesuddenly, her checks all aglow with excitement, and dropping her needleagain.

  "So you shall," cried Mr. Dyce, "only you must have a little card saying'Sold' on it; for I am surely going to buy that pincushion, Phronsie."

  And then Polly flew back to her work again, and Mr. Dyce told such a veryfunny story about some monkeys who were going to give a party in the woodsto all the other animals, that Phronsie forgot all about her needle, andran over to clamber up into his lap.

  And then, oh, the needles flew; and Clem's green stems began to grow, and atiny bud showed itself, and then a full-blown violet. And Alexia's pinkshawl took ever so many rows, and all the work seemed to flourish likemagic. And at last, Miss Mary looked up at the clock.

  "Time to put up work, girls," she cried gayly. And then wasn't there agreat bustle, every one trying to see which would get hers into her bagfirst! And then, oh, such a stretching of tired arms and feet!

  "Oh, dear me! the prickles are all running up and down my legs," exclaimedAlexia.

  "Hush, well, so are mine," declared Clem. "Oh, dear me--ow! I haven't satstill for so long--ever, I guess."

  "Nor I," laughed another girl.

  "Come." Miss Mary was telling Mr. Dyce to lead the way to the dining-room.So they all fell into line, and, when there, they forgot tired legs andarms in the delights of the little feast set out.

  Miss Mary sat down by the small table and poured chocolate for them, awhite-capped maid at her chair, Mr. Hamilton Dyce on the other side asgrand helper. Then the girls settled down in pretty groups on the broadwindow-seats, and on the high-backed chairs, and gave themselves up to thesupreme content of the hour.

  And then Miss Mary proposed that they should wind up the afternoon with adance, which was received with a shout of delight. So she led the way tothe drawing-room and sat down before the grand piano.

  "Can't one of you girls play?" asked Mr. Dyce, at that.

  "Oh, no, no," said Miss Mary, "the girls must dance." So, without waitingfor any words, she struck into a two-step.

  "Oh, I'll play, I'll play." Polly Pepper ran out from the midst of thegroup.

  "Polly, come back, you are going to dance with me," cried Alexia.

  "No, you're always getting her first. She's going to dance with me,"announced Clem.

  Polly was already over at the piano, trying to be heard, but Miss Mary onlylaughed and shook her head.

  "No use, Polly," said Mr. Dyce, and he put his arm around her, and awaythey went down the length of the drawing-room.

  "Well, at least you haven't got this first dance," said Alexia.

  "Nor you, either," retorted Clem. "So come on, let's dance together," andaway they went, too.

  And at last, when it was time to go home, Mr. Hamilton Dyce, who hadabsented himself after that first dance, drove up with a flourish to thedoor in his runabout.

  "I've come for Phronsie Pepper," he said.

  So Phronsie, half asleep, had her hat tied on, and kissed Miss Mary, andPolly lifted her up and guided her foot over the step, Mr. Dyce, the reinsin one hand, helping her with the other.

  "Good-bye," he called, his eyes on no one but Miss Mary.

  "Oh, my bag, my bag!" cried Phronsie, in a wail of distress, and leaningforward suddenly.

  "Take care, child; where are you going?" Mr. Dyce put forth a restraininghand and held her closely.

  "My bag!" Phronsie looked back, the tears racing over her round cheeks.

  "I'll bring it home," called Polly from the steps, where she was back amongthe knot of girls.

  "My bag!" Phronsie continued to wail.

  "Dear me!" cried Polly, "she must have it now." So she ran into the houseto get it, where Phronsie had left it on her little cricket, Mr. Dycemeanwhile saying, "There, there, child, you shall have it," while he turnedthe little mare sharply about.

  "We can't ever find the needle," said Alexia, rushing after Polly into thelibrary, and getting down on her knees to prowl over the floor. "Miseryme!"--with a jump--"I've found it already, sticking straight into me!"

  So Phronsie's "cushion-pin" was thrust into the gay littlepink-and-green-striped workbag, and Polly danced out with it andhanded it up to her. Mr. Dyce cracked the whip, and this time theywere fairly off.