Five Little Peppers Midway Page 9

  IX

  A SUDDEN BLOW

  "Mamsie," cried Polly, suddenly, and resting her hands on her knees asshe sat on the floor before the stove, "do you suppose there is any onepoor enough in Badgertown to need the little brown house when we lockit up to-morrow?" "Not a soul," replied Mrs. Pepper, quickly; "no morethan there was when we first locked it up five years ago, Polly. I'vebeen all over that with the parson last evening; and he says thereisn't a new family in the place, and all the old ones have their homes,the same as ever. So we can turn the key and leave it with a clearconscience."

  Polly drew a long breath of delight, and gazed long at the face of thestove that seemed to crackle out an answering note of joy as the woodsnapped merrily; then she slowly looked around the kitchen.

  "It's so perfectly lovely, Mamsie," she broke out at length, "to seethe dear old things, and to know that they are waiting here for us tocome back whenever we want to. And to think it isn't wicked not to havethem used, because everybody has all they need; oh! it's so deliciousto think they can be left to themselves."

  She folded her hands now across her knees, and drew another long breathof content.

  Phronsie stole out of the bedroom, and came slowly up to her mother'sside, pausing a bit on the way to look into Polly's absorbed face.

  "I don't think, Mamsie," she said quietly, "that people ought to be sovery good who've never had a little brown house; never in all theirlives."

  "Oh, yes, they had, child," said Mrs. Pepper briskly; "places don'tmake any difference. It's people's duty to be good wherever they are."

  But Phronsie's face expressed great incredulity.

  "I'm always going to live here when I am a big, grown-up woman," shedeclared, slowly gazing around the kitchen, "and I shall never, nevergo out of Badgertown."

  "Oh, Phronsie!" exclaimed Polly, turning around in dismay, "why, youcouldn't do that. Just think, child, whatever in the world wouldGrandpapa do, or any of us, pray tell?"

  "Grandpapa would come here," declared Phronsie decidedly, and shakingher yellow head to enforce her statement. "Of course Grandpapa wouldcome here, Polly. We couldn't live without him."

  "That's it," said Polly, with a corresponding shake of her brown head,"of course we couldn't live without Grandpapa; and just as 'of course'he couldn't leave his own dear home. He never would be happy, Phronsie,to do that."

  Phronsie took a step or two into the sunshine lying on the middle ofthe old kitchen floor. "Then I'd rather not come, Polly," she said. Butshe sighed and Polly was just about saying, "We'll run down now andthen perhaps, Phronsie, as we have done now," when the door was thrownopen suddenly, and Joel burst in, his face as white as a sheet, andworking fearfully.

  "Oh, Polly! you must tell Mrs. Whitney--I can't."

  Polly sprang to her feet; Mrs. Pepper, who had just stepped into thepantry, was saying, "I think, Polly, I'll make some apple dumplings,the boys like them so much."

  "What is it, Joe?" cried Polly hoarsely, and standing quite still.Phronsie, with wide eyes, went up and took the boy's cold hand, andgazed into his face as he leaned against the door.

  "Dick!" groaned Joel; "oh! oh! I can't bear it," and covering his facewith one hand, he would have pulled the other from Phronsie's warmlittle palm, but she held it fast.

  "Tell me at once, Joe," commanded Polly. "Hush!--mother"--but Mrs.Pepper was already out of the pantry.

  "Joel," said Mrs. Pepper, "whatever it is, tell us immediately."

  The look in her black eyes forced him to gasp in one breath, "Dick felloff the double ripper, and both of his legs are broken--may be not," headded in a loud scream.

  Phronsie still held the boy's hand. He was conscious of it, and thatshe uttered no word, and then he knew no more.

  "Leave him to me, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, through drawn lips, "andthen do you run as you have never run before, to the parsonage. Oh! ifthey should bring him there before the mother hears."

  Phronsie dropped the hand she held, and running on unsteady little feetinto the bedroom, came back with Polly's hood and coat.

  "Let me go," cried Polly wildly, rushing away from the detaining handto the door, "I don't want those things on. Let me go, Phronsie!"

  "You'll be cold," said Phronsie. With all her care, her little whitelips were quivering as she held out the things. "Please, Polly," shesaid piteously.

  "The child is right; put them on," commanded Mrs. Pepper, for oneinstant taking her thought from her boy; and Polly obeyed, and was gone.

  In the parsonage "best room" sat Mrs. Whitney. Her rocking-chair wasnone of the easiest, being a hair-cloth affair, its cushion very muchelevated in the world just where it should have been depressed, so thatone was in constant danger of slipping off its surface; moreover, thearms and back of the chair were covered with indescribable arrangementsmade and presented by loving parishioners and demanding unceasingattention from the occupant. But the chair was drawn up in the sunshinepouring into the window, and Mrs. Whitney's thoughts were sunny, too;for she smiled now and then as she drew her needle busily in and outthrough the bright wools.

  "How restful it all is here, and so quaint and simple." She glanced upnow to the high-backed mantel with its wealth of daguerreotypes, andsurprising collection of dried leaves in tall china vases; and over thewalls, adorned with pine-cone framed pictures, to the center tableloaded with "Annuals," and one or two volumes of English poetry, andthen her gaze took in the little paths the winter sunshine was makingfor itself along the red and green ingrain carpet. "I am so glad fatherthought to bring us all. Dear father, it is making a new man of him,this winter frolic. Why"--

  She was looking out of the window now, and her hands fell to her lap asPolly Pepper came running breathlessly down the village street, herhood untied, and the coat grasped with one hand and held togetheracross her breast. But it was the face that terrified Mrs. Whitney, andhurrying out of her chair, she ran out to the veranda as the girlrushed through the gateway.

  "Polly, child," cried Mrs. Whitney, seizing her with loving arms anddrawing her on the steps--"oh! what is it, dear?"

  Polly's lips moved, but no words came.

  "Oh!" at last, "don't hate us for--bringing you to the--little--brownhouse. Why did we come!" And convulsively she threw her young armsaround the kind neck. "Oh, Auntie! Dicky is hurt--but we don't know howmuch--his legs, Joel says, but it may not be as bad as we think; dearAuntie."

  Mrs. Whitney trembled so that she could scarcely stand. Around themstreamed the same winter sunshine that had been so bright a momentsince. How long ago it seemed. And out of gathering clouds in her heartshe was saying, "Polly dear, God is good. We will trust him." She didnot know her own voice, nor realize when Polly led her mercifullywithin, as a farmer's wagon came slowly down the street, to stop at theparsonage gate; nor even when Dick was brought in, white and still,could she think of him as her boy. It was some other little figure, andshe must go and help them care for him. Her boy would come bounding inpresently, happy and ruddy, with a kiss for mamma, and a world of happynonsense, just as usual. It was only when Mrs. Henderson came in, andtook her hand to lead her into the next room, that it all came to her.

  "Oh, Dick!" and she sprang to the side of the sofa where he lay. "Mychild--my child!"

  And then came Dr. Fisher, and the truth was known. One of Dick's legswas broken below the knee; the other badly bruised. Only Jasper and themother remained in the room while the little doctor set the limb; andafter what seemed an age to the watchers, the boy came out.

  "He bore it like a Trojan," declared Jasper, wiping his forehead. "Itell you, Dick's our hero, after this."

  "Now I should like to know how all this happened," demanded Mr. King.The old gentleman had remained at the parsonage to get a good morningnap while the snow frolic was in progress. And he had been awakened bythe unusual bustle below stairs in time to hear the welcome news thatDicky was all right since Dr. Fisher was taking care of him. He nowpresented himself in his dressing-gown, with his sleeping cap awry,over
a face in which anger, distress and impatience strove for themastery. "Speak up, my boy," to Jasper, "and tell us what you knowabout it."

  "Well, the first thing I knew of any danger ahead," said Jasper, "washearing Dick sing out 'Hold up!' I supposed the double ripper allright; didn't you, Ben?"

  "Yes," said Ben sturdily, "and it was all right; just exactly as weused to make them, we boys; there wasn't a weak spot anywhere in her,sir."

  "Who was steering?" demanded old Mr. King almost fiercely.

  "I was," said Van, beginning boldly enough, to let his voice die out ina tremulous effort.

  "Humph--humph," responded Mr. King grimly. "A bad business," shakinghis head.

  "Van would"--began Percy, but his eye meeting Polly's he added, "We'dnone of us done any better, I don't believe, sir, than Van."

  Van was now choking so badly that the greatest kindness seemed to benot to look at him. Accordingly the little company turned their eyesaway, and regarded each other instead.

  "Well, so Dick rolled off?" proceeded the old gentleman.

  "Oh! no, he didn't," said all three boys together; "he stuck fast tothe double ripper; we ran into a tree, and Dick was pitched offhead-first."

  "But honestly and truly, father," said Jasper, "I do not think that itwas the fault of the steerer."

  "Indeed it was not," declared Ben stoutly; "there was an ugly littlegully that we hadn't seen under the snow. We'd been down four or fivetimes all right, but only missed it by a hair-breadth; this time theripper struck into it; I suppose Dick felt it bump, as it was on hisside, and sang out, and as quick as lightning we were against thattree. It was as much my fault as any one's, and more, because I oughtto have known that old hill thoroughly."

  "I share the blame, Ben," broke in Jasper, "old fellow, if you pitchinto yourself, you'll have to knock me over too."

  "Come here, Vanny," said old Mr. King, holding out his hand. "Why, youneedn't be afraid, my boy," aghast at the tears that no power on earthcould keep back. "Now all leave the room, please."

  "Where's Polly?" asked Ben, on the other side of the door.

  "She's run home," said David, "I guess. She isn't here."

  "And that's where I must be too," cried Ben, bounding off.

  When Van was next seen he was with old Mr. King, and wearing all signsof having received his full share of comfort. Phronsie, just tying onher little hood, to go down to the parsonage to ask after Dicky, lookedout of the window to exclaim in pleased surprise, "Why, here comes dearGrandpapa," and then she rushed out to meet him.

  "Here's my little girl," cried the old gentleman, opening his arms,when she immediately ran into them. "Now we're all right."

  "Is Dicky all right?" asked Phronsie anxiously, as she fell into stepby his side.

  "Yes, indeed; as well as a youngster can be, who's broken his leg."

  Phronsie shivered. "But then, that's nothing," Mr. King hastened toadd; "I broke my own when I was a small shaver no bigger than Dick, andI was none the worse for it. Boys always have some such triflingmishaps, Phronsie."

  "Ben never broke his leg, nor Joel, nor Davie," said Phronsie. "Mustthey yet, Grandpapa?"

  "O dear, no," declared Mr. King hastily; "that isn't necessary. I onlymeant they must have something. Now you see, Ben had the measles, youknow."

  "Yes, he did," said Phronsie, quite relieved to think that this trialcould take the place of the usual leg-breaking episode in a boy'scareer. "And so did Joel, and Davie--all of them, Grandpapa dear."

  "Exactly; well, and then Ben had to work hard, and Joel and Davie too,for that matter. So, you see, it wasn't as essential that they shouldbreak their legs, child."

  "But Jasper and Percy and Van don't have to work hard; oh! I don't wantthem to break their legs," said Phronsie, in a worried tone. "You don'tthink they will, Grandpapa dear, do you? Please say they won't."

  "I don't think there is the least danger of it," said Mr. King,"especially as I shall put an end to this double-ripper business,though not because this upset was anybody's fault; remember that,Phronsie." Van's head which had dropped a bit at the last words, cameup proudly. "Van, here, has acted nobly"--he put his hand on the boy'sshoulder--"and would have saved Dicky if he could. It was a pureaccident that nobody could help except by keeping off from theabominable thing. Well, here we are at the little brown house; andthere's your mother, Phronsie, waiting for us in the doorway."

  "Halloo!" cried Van, rushing over the flat stone, and past Mrs. Pepper,"where's Joel? Oh--here, you old chap!"

  "Well, Mrs. Pepper," said the old gentleman, coming up to the step,Phronsie hanging to his hand, "this looks like starting for townto-morrow, doesn't it?"

  "Oh! what shall we do, sir?" cried Mrs. Pepper, in distress. "To thinkyou have come down here in the goodness of your heart, to be met withsuch an accident as this. What shall we do?" she repeated.

  "Goodness of my heart," repeated Mr. King, nevertheless well pleased atthe tribute. "I've had as much pleasure out of it all as you or theyoung people. I want you to realize that."

  "So does any one who does a kind act," replied Mrs. Pepper, wiping hereyes; "well, sir, now how shall we manage about going back?"

  "That remains to be seen," said Mr. King slowly, and he took a longlook at the winter sky, and the distant landscape before he venturedmore. "It very much looks as if we all should remain for a few days, tosee how Dick is to get on, all but the four boys; they must pack off toschool to-morrow, and then probably Mrs. Whitney will stay over withthe boy till he can be moved. Dr. Fisher will do the right thing byhim. Oh! everything is all right, Mrs. Pepper."

  Mrs. Pepper sighed and led the way into the house. She knew in spite ofthe reassuring words that the extreme limit of the "outing" ought to bepassed on the morrow.