MAMSIE'S BIRTHDAY
"Run down and get the cinnamon, will you, Joey?" said Polly; "it's inthe 'Provision Room."
The "Provision Room" was a little shed that was tacked on to the mainhouse, and reached by a short flight of rickety steps; so called,because as Polly said, "'twas a good place to keep provisions in, evenif we haven't any; and besides," she always finished, "it sounds nice!"
"Come on, Dave! then we'll get something to eat!"
So the cinnamon was handed up, and then Joel flew back to Davie.
And now, Polly's cake was done, and ready for the oven. With manyadmiring glances from herself, and Phronsie, who with Seraphina, anextremely old but greatly revered doll, tightly hugged in her arms waswatching everything with the biggest of eyes from the depths of the oldchair, it was placed in the oven, the door shut to with a happy littlebang, then Polly gathered Phronsie up in her arms, and sat down in thechair to have a good time with her and to watch the process of cooking.
There was a bumping noise that came from the "Provision Room" thatsounded ominous, and then a smothered sound of words, followed by ascuffling over the old floor.
"Boys!" called Polly. No answer; everything was just as still as amouse. "Joel and David!" called Polly again, in her loudest tones.
"Yes," came up the crooked stairs, in Davie's voice.
"Come up here, right away!" went back again from Polly. So up the stairstrudged the two boys, and presented themselves rather sheepishly beforethe big chair.
"What was that noise?" she asked; "what have you been doing?"
"Twasn't anything but the pail," answered Joel, not looking at her.
"We had something to eat," said Davie, by way of explanation; "youalways let us."
"I know," said Polly; "that's right, you can have as much bread as youwant to; but what you been doing with the pail?"
"Nothing," said Joel; "'twouldn't hangup, that's all."
"And you've been bumping it," said Polly; "oh! Joel, how could you! Youmight have broken it; then what would mamsie say?"
"I didn't," said Joel, stoutly, with his hands in his pockets, "bump itworse'n Davie, so there!"
"Why, Davie," said Polly, turning to him sorrowfully, "I shouldn't havethought you would!"
"Well, I'm tired of hanging it up," said little Davie, vehemently; "andI said I wasn't a-goin' to; Joel always makes me; I've done it for twomillion times, I guess!"
"Oh, dear," said Polly, sinking back into the chair, "I don't knowwhat I ever shall do; here's Phronsie hurt; and we want to celebrateto-morrow; and you two boys are bumping and banging out the bread pail,and--"
"Oh! we won't!" cried both of the children, perfectly overwhelmed withremorse; "we'll hang it right up."
"I'll hang it," said Davie, clattering off down the stairs with a will.
"No, I will!" shouted Joel, going after him at double pace; andpresently both came up with shining faces, and reported it nicely done.
"And now," said Polly, after they had all sat around the stove anotherhalf-hour, watching and sniffing expectantly, "the cake's done!--dearme! it's turning black!"
And quickly as possible Polly twitched it out with energy, and set it onthe table.
Oh, dear; of all things in the world! The beautiful cake over which somany hopes had been formed, that was to have given so much happinesson the morrow to the dear mother, presented a forlorn appearance as itstood there in anything but holiday attire. It was quite black on thetop, in the center of which was a depressing little dump, as if to say,"My feelings wouldn't allow me to rise to the occasion."
"Now," said Polly, turning away with a little fling, and looking atthe stove, "I hope you're satisfied, you old thing; you've spoiled ourmamsie's birthday!" and without a bit of warning, she sat right down inthe middle of the floor and began to cry as hard as she could.
"Well, I never!" said a cheery voice, that made the children skip.
"It's Mrs. Beebe; oh, it's Mrs. Beebe!" cried Davie; "see, Polly."
Polly scrambled up to her feet, ashamed to be caught thus, and whiskedaway the tears; the others explaining to their new visitor the saddisappointment that had befallen them; and she was soon oh-ing, andah-ing enough to suit even their distressed little souls.
"You poor creeters, you!" she exclaimed at last, for about the fiftiethtime. "Here, Polly, here's some posies for you, and--"
"Oh, thank you!" cried Polly, with a radiant face, "why, Mrs. Beebe, wecan put them in here, can't we? the very thing!"
And she set the little knot of flowers in the hollow of the cake, andthere they stood and nodded away to the delighted children, like bravelittle comforters, as they were.
"The very thing!" echoed Mrs. Beebe, tickled to death to see theirdelight; "it looks beautiful, I declare! and now, I must run rightalong, or pa'll be worrying;" and so the good woman trotted out to herwaiting husband, who was impatient to be off. Mr. Beebe kept a littleshoe shop in town; and always being of the impression if he left it forten minutes that crowds of customers would visit it. He was the mostrestless of companions on any pleasure excursion.
"And Phronsie's got hurt," said Mrs. Beebe, telling him the news, as hefinished tucking her up, and started the old horse.
"Ho? you don't say so!" he cried; "whoa!"
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Beebe; "how you scat me, pal what's the matter?"
"What?--the little girl that bought the shoes?" asked her husband.
"Yes," replied his wife, "she's hurt her foot."
"Sho, now," said the old gentleman; "that's too bad," and he began tofeel in all his pockets industriously; "there, can you get out again,and take her that?" and he laid a small piece of peppermint candy, thickand white, in his wife's lap.
"Oh, yes," cried Mrs. Beebe, good-naturedly, beginning to clamber overthe wheel.
So the candy was handed in to Phronsie, who insisted that Polly shouldhold her up to the window to thank Mr. Beebe. So amid nods, and shakingsof hands, the Beebes drove off, and quiet settled down over the littlebrown house again.
"Now, children," said Polly, after Phronsie had made them take a bite ofher candy all around, "let's get the cake put away safe, for mamsie maycome home early.
"Where'll you put it?" asked Joel, wishing the world was all peppermintcandy.
"Oh--in the cupboard," said Polly, taking it up; "there, Joe, you canclimb up, and put it clear back in the corner, oh! wait; I must takethe posies off, and keep them fresh in water;" so the cake was finallydeposited in a place of safety, followed by the eyes of all thechildren.
"Now," said Polly, as they shut the door tight, "don't you go to lookingat the cupboard, Joey, or mammy'll guess something."
"Can't I just open it a little crack, and take one smell when she isn'tlooking?" asked Joel; "I should think you might, Polly; just one."
"No," said Polly, firmly; "not one, Joe; she'll guess if you do." ButMrs. Pepper was so utterly engrossed with her baby when she came homeand heard the account of the accident, that she wouldn't have guessedif there'd been a dozen cakes in the cupboard. Joel was consoled, as hismother assured him in a satisfactory way that she never should thinkof blaming him; and Phronsie was comforted and coddled to her heart'scontent. And so the evening passed rapidly and happily away; Bensmuggling Phronsie off into a corner, where she told him all the doingsof the day--the disappointment of the cake, and how it was finallycrowned with flowers; all of which Phronsie, with no small pride inbeing the narrator, related gravely to her absorbed listener. "And don'tyou think, Bensie," she said, clasping her little hand in a convincingway over his two bigger, stronger ones, "that Polly's stove was verynaughty to make poor Polly cry?"
"Yes, I do," said Ben, and he shut his lips tightly together.
To have Polly cry, hurt him more than he cared to have Phronsie see.
"What are you staring at, Joe?" asked Polly, a few minutes later, as hereyes fell upon Joel, who sat with his back to the cupboard, persistentlygazing at the opposite wall.
"Why, you told me yours
elf not to look at the cupboard," said Joel, inthe loudest of stage whispers.
"Dear me; that'll make mammy suspect worse'n anything else if you looklike that," said Polly.
"What did you say about the cupboard?" asked Mrs. Pepper, who caughtJoe's last word.
"We can't tell," said Phronsie, shaking her head at her mother; "causethere's a ca----" "Ugh!" and Polly clapped her hand on the child'smouth; "don't you want Ben to tell us a story?"
"Oh, yes!" cried little Phronsie, in which all the others joined witha whoop of delight; so a most wonderful story, drawn up in Ben's beststyle, followed till bedtime.
The first thing Polly did in the morning, was to run to the oldcupboard, followed by all the others, to see if the cake was safe; andthen it had to be drawn out, and dressed anew with the flowers, for theyhad decided to have it on the breakfast table.
"It looks better," whispered Polly to Ben, "than it did yesterday; andaren't the flowers pretty?"
"It looks good enough to eat, anyway," said Ben, smacking his lips.
"Well, we tried," said Polly, stilling a sigh; "now, boys, call mamsie;everything's ready."
Oh! how surprised their mother appeared when she was ushered out to thefeast, and the full glory of the table burst upon her. Her delight inthe cake was fully enough to satisfy the most exacting mind. Sheadmired and admired it on every side, protesting that she shouldn't havesupposed Polly could possibly have baked it as good in the old stove;and then she cut it, and gave a piece to every child, with a little posyon top. Wasn't it good, though! for like many other things, the cakeproved better on trial than it looked, and so turned out to be reallyquite a good surprise all around.
"Why can't I ever have a birthday?" asked Joel, finishing the last crumbof his piece; "I should think I might," he added, reflectively.
"Why, you have, Joe," said Ben; "eight of 'em."
"What a story!" ejaculated Joel; "when did I have 'em? I never had acake; did I, Polly?"
"Not a cake-birthday, Joel," said his mother; "you haven't got to thatyet."
"When's it coming?" asked Joel, who was decidedly of a matter-of-factturn of mind.
"I don't know," said Mrs. Pepper, laughing; "but there's plenty of timeahead."
Five Little Peppers and How They Grew Page 3