"Yes," said Polly, gleefully, "you can't think, Jasper; it's such a beautiful monkey."
"That's a fact," declared Ben, "or rather, I should say, the very ugliest beast you can think of, Jasper."
"Ben!" exclaimed Polly, reproachfully.
"When did it come? Did Mr. Cabot really give it to you?" cried Jasper, all in one breath, and deserting his pillows at once.
"Oh, he didn't give it to me," said Polly. "It's a present to all of us; it's yours, Jasper, just as much as any one's."
"Dear me!" cried Jasper, quite overwhelmed at being part owner in the Christmas gift of a monkey. "Well, when did it come, Polly?"
"Just two days ago," said Polly, trying to remember all the fun they had enjoyed with their new acquisition, "though it seems—oh, ages; and he's been so cunning."
"How I do want to see him!" cried Jasper, eagerly. "Where is he? I should think Joel would worry the life out of him."
"Well, for once I guess Joe has got his match," said Ben, bursting into a laugh. "I asked him to come along with us and show Jocko off this morning, and he said, 'No,' and showed a lively pair of heels."
"Jocko? Is that his name?" asked Jasper, with the liveliest interest.
"Yes," said Polly.
"That's what the sailors named him, Mr. Cabot said," added Ben,—"so you told me, Polly," turning to her.
"Yes, I did," said Polly. "You see, Jasper, Mr. Cabot was having some things brought out from India, and he thought he'd send for a monkey for a surprise to us. And the sailors petted him all the way over, and—"
"Who, Mr. Cabot?" interrupted Ben, mischievously.
"No; aren't you ashamed of yourself," cried Jasper, in a pretended rage. "Go on, Polly. If I weren't tied to this old chair I'd pommel this chap for you. Well, where is the monkey now?"
"Oh, Thomas has him in a little room in the stable," said Polly. "He's chained up, you know. But by and by we're going to have him in the house, when he's tame and nice."
"O dear me! How I should like to see him," said Jasper, with a long breath, and sinking back against the pillows.
"Dear me! Well, I wish you could," breathed Polly, wistfully, and a regretful look swept over her face. Why had she told Jasper about the monkey? Better to have waited for the surprise to come out to-morrow. And her head drooped sorrowfully.
"Never mind, Polly," said Ben, who never could bear to have Polly look sorry over anything. "Jasper would rather have the fun of hearing about the monkey to-day than to wait to see him."
"But why should I wait before I see him?" said Jasper. "There's no reason he can't come up here to see me." He looked first at Polly, then at Ben.
"What?" cried Polly, coming out of her sorry little fit to stare at him.
"Whew!" whistled Ben, and he stuck his hands in his pockets and stared too.
"Yes, there isn't any earthly reason why the monkey couldn't come up here," said Jasper, persistently, "and I really need him. He'd cheer me up," he added.
"Yes, there's no doubt of that," said Ben, with a chuckle.
"Well, then bring him. Do, there's a good chap," said Jasper, leaning forward to bestow a resounding clap on Ben's shoulder.
"Goodness me," said Ben, backing away, "if Doctor Fisher could only feel you he'd let you downstairs fast enough. There'd be no need of bringing monkeys or anything else up to you."
"Well, Doctor Fisher isn't here," said Jasper, laughing, "and I am made to stay up here. And just think how dull it is," he added artfully.
"That's a compliment, now," said Ben, "when we've tried to entertain you as hard as we can."
"Well, I didn't mean that; you know I didn't," said Jasper, coming out of his laugh to look very much distressed. "You know I didn't, Polly, don't you?" he begged, appealing to her.
"Yes, I do," said Polly, "know you didn't mean it at all, Jasper."
"All right, now tease away," said Ben.
"But I do want to see that monkey dreadfully," said Jasper, returning to the charge with renewed effort when he saw that his last unfortunate remark was perfectly understood; "it would be just the way to make me entirely well."
"I do believe it would, Ben," said Polly, whirling around to him, "be the very best thing, as Jasper says. Oh, do let's bring him up." She flew off from her hassock to rush to the door.
"Well, I can fetch him, as far as that goes," said Ben, getting up slowly from his hassock. "If that monkey has got to come, why, I'll bring him."
"Good for you!" shouted Jasper, in huge delight, and clapping his hands together.
"But I warn you, he's a perfect—tempest," said Ben, moving off to join Polly. "You don't need to go, Polly," he said; "I'll bring him."
"But I can do it much better," said Polly, "because he knows me, Ben, and you've only seen him once."
"And that was quite enough for both the monkey and me," said Ben, with a little laugh. "Well, prepare yourself to receive Jocko," he tossed back over his shoulder to Jasper; "and don't blame me if he's too much for you."
"I won't blame you," promised Jasper, in huge delight; then he doubled up one of his pillows and tossed it across the room, to give vent to his feelings, as Polly and Ben ran off downstairs to do his bidding.
It was all he could do to wait with even a show of patience, yet they did it very quickly, considering the distance that had to be run over, and the little formality to be gone through with of detaching Jocko from a plate of cake bits that one of the maids had just left with him.
"Oh, he oughtn't to have that anyway," said Polly, twitching his chain. "Come away from it, Jocko, it's bad for you to have so many sweets."
But Jocko, not thinking so, chattered and scolded, wrinkling up his eyelids and showing all his teeth at her.
"Polly, the beggar will bite you," said Ben, laying a hand on the chain.
"Oh, no, he won't," said Polly. "Now, Jocko, you arenotgoing to have all that plate of cake. Come away," for Jocko had scrabbled all he possibly could of the sweet bits into both cheeks, spreading his paws over the remainder in the dish to protect it. And Polly gave such a jerk that Jocko was twitched clear away from the tempting morsels.
"Polly, Polly," remonstrated Ben in alarm, "he surely will bite you; give me the chain."
"Oh, no, he can't," said Polly. "See, his mouth is full," which was quite true, Jocko's cheeks being puffed out to that degree that he couldn't very well use his teeth to attack with.
"Well, he will as soon as he has swallowed that mouthful, the greedy thing," said Ben. "Here, you," and Ben picked up a stick from the corner. Jocko viewed it with the air of acquaintance, as if Thomas had showed it to him before, and immediately spit out all the cake, rolled up his eyes beseechingly, and folded his paws.
"Oh, you cunning thing!" exclaimed Polly, throwing her arms around him, while Jocko seized her gown and huddled and snivelled into it, getting away from Ben as far as possible.
"Polly, how can you?" cried Ben, in disgust.
"Well, he's just as sweet as can be," said Polly. "O dear, do put down that stick, he's so afraid of it."
"Indeed, I shan't," declared Ben, brandishing it wildly, whereat Jocko danced a perfect waltz around Polly, clinging to her brown gown and gibbering at every step.
"I do hope Thomas doesn't whip him with it," said Polly, whirling around uncertainly with the monkey's antics. "Oh, you don't suppose he does, Ben, do you?"
"Nonsense; you know Thomas wouldn't hurt a fly," said Ben. "But Jocko has probably tasted a stick on board ship, Polly, or a rope-end, or something worse. And it's just as well to show him something now that he will respect." It was a long speech for Ben.
"Well, we ought to hurry," said Polly, "for it's so hard for Jasper to wait." So away they ran, Jocko getting between their feet at every chance he could find. And then, "Well, here we are!" announced Ben, as they all three dashed, or rather tumbled, into Jasper's room together. For Jocko, seeing here a grand opportunity, plunged in suddenly, dragging the chain before them so that Polly promptly fell over it. And in trying to save her, Ben lost his balance.
"Well, I should think so!" exclaimed Jasper, starting forward. "My goodness! What an entrée."
"Well, you ought to be thankful that we've got here at all," retorted Ben, extricating himself and helping Polly up; "and if you don't get enough of this beast, I miss my guess."
"Oh, isn't he perfectly lovely!" cried Polly, racing up and pulling Jocko along to Jasper's chair. "Did you ever see—" she couldn't finish, for Jocko, not considering it necessary to wait for any further introduction, leaped up to Jasper's shoulder and laid his little black, cold, slippery nose against the nearest cheek.
"I told you you'd get enough of him," cried Ben, bursting into a laugh. "Oh, your face, Jasper!" as Polly twitched the chain so that the monkey sprawled at once on the floor.
"Oh, well, that's all right," said Jasper, recovering himself and wiping his face dry with his handkerchief.
"Is it?" laughed Ben. "I'm glad you like it."
"There, Polly, bring him a little nearer. I don't want him on my shoulder, you know," Jasper was saying.
"Oh, don't you?" said Ben. "I thought he was all right up there."
"Let me take the chain," said Jasper, paying no attention to Ben.
"Oh, Jasper, I'm afraid you're not strong enough," said Polly, fearfully. "Hadn't I better hold it?"
"Oh, I'm strong enough," said Jasper.
So Polly, although with many misgivings, handed the chain to Jasper, who pretty soon had the monkey on his knee, examining all his fine points, and becoming acquainted with his exceedingly expressive countenance.
"Now, isn't he a dear?" cried Polly, dancing in front of Jasper's chair, and regarding the new pet with affection.
"He certainly is," said Jasper, making Jocko give him his paw, then teaching him to feel in his pockets.
"Oh, Polly, get me a lump of sugar, do; there on the tray." So Polly ran to the little silver bowl and came back with two sweet blocks in her hand.
At sight of them Jocko gave a greedy little cry and tried to spring off from Jasper's lap.
"Oh, no you don't, sir," said Jasper, holding him fast by the collar; "you must hunt for them. Give them to me, Polly."
So Polly put the sugar lumps into Jasper's hands, and he dropped one into each pocket. "There now, hunt, sir," which Jocko, wrinkling up his flat nose, was glad to do.
"Did you ever see such sweet little fingers?" said Polly, dropping to her knees by the side of the big chair, as Jocko, finding one sweet lump, dragged it forth triumphantly, to set sharp little teeth in it.
"Fingers! Oh, Polly!" exclaimed Ben, coming up, stick in hand.
Jocko grunted and chattered, one eye on the stick, while he nibbled away.
"Oh, Ben, do put it down," begged Polly.
"All right," said Ben, depositing the stick on the table. "Lie there, but see that you behave, Mr. Jocko."
"He says he will," said Polly, with a laugh, as Jocko gave a little scream, his sugar being all gone. Then he began to hunt for more, puckering up his forehead in the search. He was quite sure there were two pieces, and he must hurry and get the last one. So he pulled and pawed and scratched and scrabbled over Jasper in his efforts to reach all his pockets that might be possible, Ben laughing as much as the other two in the process.
At last Polly looked up, "Oh, you are getting tired, Jasper," she exclaimed in dismay.
"I believe I am," confessed Jasper; "my sides fairly ache with the laughing. But don't take Jocko away," he said, clinging to him.
"Well, we ought to," said Ben, "for you are tired, and my sides ache, too."
"We might tie Jocko up for a while," suggested Polly, who hadn't the heart to go against Jasper's wish.
"That's it, tie him up till I'm a bit rested," said Jasper, eagerly. "Here, Jocko, go with your mistress," and he put the chain in Polly's hand.
"Well, where is a good place?" asked Polly, twitching Jocko off from Jasper's knee. "Come on, Ben, where shall we tie him?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Ben, looking about him doubtfully. "Why, to the door-knob, perhaps."
"Wouldn't the bureau handle be better?" asked Polly.
"The table leg, Polly," suggested Jasper.
"The table leg, oh, yes," cried Polly. "Now then, Jocko, you must be very good," and she knelt down by the table, dragging the monkey up to her.
"Let me fasten it for you," said Ben, coming up.
"Oh, I can do it," said Polly, pulling the chain around the table leg and taking a little loop in it. "There, sir! Now you're fast!" as she jumped up and brushed her brown gown with both hands.
"He's mussed you all up," cried Ben; "and see, his hair's all over your dress."
"Never mind," said Polly, who always liked everything very nice, "they'll come off," and she brushed away smartly. "There, that's all right now, Bensie. Oh, let's talk over what we are going to do to-morrow, our real Christmas," and she flew back to Jasper's chair.
"Yes, do," said Jasper. "Come on, Ben."
"You know, of course, there's the tree," began Polly, as the two pulled their hassocks and sat down again, on either side of Jasper's chair.
"Yes, of course," said Jasper. "Christmas wouldn't be Christmas, would it, Polly, without our tree."
"No, I should think not," laughed Polly. And Ben saying the same thing they immediately launched into an animated recital of all the plans for this particular tree, and the comparison with all the other trees of the past Christmases, till they forgot Jocko and everything else in the charms of this belated holiday.
"What's that funny noise?" at last asked Ben in a lull, when all three had paused to rest.
"What? I don't hear anything," said Jasper, pricking up his ears.
"Nor I," said Polly. "Oh, yes, I do." She sprang off from her hassock and ran around to the table.
"Why, Jocko, where—" she cried.
Ben got off from his hassock. "Well, that explains the noise fast enough," he said grimly. "Why, where is the whip?" going over to the table.
"Dear me, I don't know," said Polly. "I haven't touched it," and she began to fly all about the room. "Jocko, Jocko dear," she cried coaxingly.
"The little scamp has taken the whip," said Ben, too vexed to smile. "How you can laugh, Jasper, I don't see. Now then, we must find that beast. My goodness me!" He dashed off. As Ben seldom took any but deliberate steps, Jasper stopped laughing to see him go. The next instant, "Come, Polly!" called Ben.
"Where?" She was over by one of the long windows, shaking the curtain, fully expecting to see the runaway hiding within its folds.
"In the bath-room," shouted Ben. So down the little passageway, tiled and wainscoted, clattered Polly on hasty feet, to find Ben holding Jocko by the collar, and the bath-tub running over with water, both faucets being turned on, and several articles, the broken whip among the rest, floating on the top.
Jocko was grinning and cringing, with sharp, sudden squeals for pity when he saw Polly.
"Take care, you'll wet your feet," warned Ben. "The water's all over the floor." Which Polly soon found out the moment she stepped on the tiled surface.
"O dear me!" she gasped, stepping gingerly in.
Squeal! Squeal! Jocko set up more elaborate attempts to attract her attention.
"Do turn off the faucets, Ben," said Polly, hurrying over to peer into the tub.
"Oh, I have, long ago," said Ben, "but I can't let the water out."
"Why, Ben Pepper, there is Jasper's 'As You Like It,'" said Polly, in anguish, hanging over the bath-tub.
"I know it," said Ben. "Hush, Polly, Jasper'll hear you."
"O dear! And I 'most know there are his sleeve buttons."
"Yes, and lots of things more," said Ben, grimly, "so I can't let the water off, for they'd all run down."
"And, and,—why, Ben Pepper!" Polly forgot the wet floor and she splashed up and down in great distress. "Oh, I must bale it out," she cried. "I see Jasper's watch and chain down at the bottom."
"Stop, Polly, you're getting as wet as anything and splashing all over me," said Ben. "Now then, you little scoundrel," to Jocko, "I'll tie you up so that you won't get loose again in a hurry," and he fastened the chain, in a way that no one but Ben could do, to the door-knob, then he came back and rolled up his sleeves, Jocko beginning to sob and whimper, since Polly wouldn't look at him.
"Do you run out in the hall and call down the tube for Jane," said Ben. "Jasper can't hear, for his door is shut."
"But I must tell him what is the matter," said Polly, in great distress. "Listen, he's calling."
"Pol-ly." Evidently Jasperwascalling. "Ben, what in the world is the matter?" came from Jasper's room.
"I'll tell Jasper," said Ben. "You get Jane up here to clear this water out; do, Polly."
"Well, don't tell Jasper about his Shakespeare," said Polly, hurrying off on her wet feet, "nor the watch."
"No, I won't," promised Ben.
"Oh, nothing much, old chap." He went down the passage, and put his head in at Jasper's door, "It's Jocko, you know; we've found him."
"Oh, that's good," cried Jasper; "and nothing has happened to him, I hope?"
"No," said Ben, "there hasn't."
"That's good," said Jasper again.
So Ben went back and Jane came up with her pail and mop and cloths, and presently a fine array of articles was brought to view on the bottom of the bath-tub, to add to those floating on top.
"Oh, Ben, did you ever in all the world!" said Polly, aghast, as they fished for the things. "I don't see how he had time to do it."
"Well, he used it pretty well," said Ben. "See there, Polly Pepper," holding up what had once been a necktie.
"And it's quite, quite ruined," said Polly, choking off a little sob. Then she deserted the bath-tub, to fly over to the monkey. "Oh, you naughty, naughty—Oh, Ben, what has Jocko got in his mouth? He's choking!"
"Nonsense, he wouldn't choke," said Ben; yet he left fishing in the bath-tub for more articles of Jocko's depositing and went over to investigate.
Jocko, when he saw Ben coming, spit out a mouthful which proved to be pins, while he tucked with one paw a small article underneath him, and blinked up in Ben's face.
"Spit out the rest," commanded Ben, "or I'll get another switch. Do you hear?"
"Oh, he'll choke, he'll choke," cried Polly, in great alarm. "What shall we do? He has ever so many more in his cheeks. Oh, you bad Jocko!"
Jocko spit out a few more pins, then wrinkled up his eyebrows and grinned and chattered.
"Get the rest out, sir," said Ben, "or the switch, you know."
Fretting dismally, Jocko stuck his paw clear into his cheeks, and poked the pins out until none seemed to remain. Then he sat up quite straight, scolding frightfully.
"Where did he get the pins?" exclaimed Polly, wonderingly.
"Where did he get anything," said Ben, "you might as well ask."
"But he didn't have them when we found him," she went on.
"Oh, yes, he did; he must have," said Ben; "and he's hidden more somewhere about him now, you may depend. Get up there, Jocko!"
But Jocko, seeing no fun ahead of him if he lost that little cushion, sat still and glared, showing all his teeth at Ben.
"O mercy me!" exclaimed Jane, with her gown tucked up, busy with her mop and pail over the tub, "he'll bite you, Master Ben."
"Yes, he will," said Polly, in a terror. "Oh, Ben, do let him alone."
"I'll let him alone for a minute," said Ben, hurrying off. Presently back he appeared, flourishing Jasper's riding crop. At sight of this Jocko drew his teeth in, and slunk down into a little heap of abject misery.
"Get up," said Ben, flourishing the whip threateningly.
"Oh, Ben, don't strike him," pleaded Polly.
"And if you do, he'll jump at me, most likely," said Jane, with only a thought for her unprotected ankles. "Please don't, Master Ben."
"I'm not going to," said Ben, "only he must get up. He's sitting on something he's hiding. Now, then, will you get up?" he cried, swinging the whip in the air.
Jocko, who saw the riding crop going up, supposed naturally it was coming down. Not desiring to receive it on his body, he made a quick movement and leaped. Jane, who had followed all proceedings with extreme anxiety, saw no reason why he shouldn't come her way. And to leave the space she had been occupying she decided without delay. But forgetting the pail, half full of water she had mopped up from the tub, she promptly fell over it, into the pool on the floor.
"What is it?" cried Polly, picking up a small object where Jocko had been sitting. "Why, Ben Pepper, it's Jasper's little pincushion, the one I made for him last Christmas!"
And that afternoon Jasper was sleeping (nobody had told him, of course, of the result of Jocko's pranks), so Polly and Ben could steal off for a bit of Christmas shopping on their own account.
"I shall pay for the Shakespeare, for it's all my fault that Jocko did those bad things," said Polly, as they hurried along.
"No, it isn't, any more than mine," said Ben. "I oughtn't to have let him up there."
"But you said we better not, all the time," said Polly, truthfully.
"Well, and then I let him up," said Ben, "so I'm just as bad as you, Polly."
"Well, you did it because Jasper wanted Jocko so much," persisted Polly. "That's the only reason, Ben."
"Yes," said Ben, "but never mind what the reason is; I let him up all the same, so I'm going to pay for 'As You Like It.' You've got to buy a new pincushion, Polly."
"I know it," said Polly. "O dear me! How I wish there was time to make another one before Christmas."
"Well, there isn't. The very idea!" exclaimed Ben; "why, that is to-morrow. Besides, Jasper will want a new pincushion right away."
"I know," cried Polly, with a little sigh. "Well, let's buy that first. Candace has some little cushions, so I'll get one of her," and they turned into Temple Place and ran into the small shop.
There was a bell over the door that jingled smartly whenever a customer stepped in. This had the effect now to bring Candace waddling in from the little room beyond, which was bedroom, kitchen, and all. She had been dressing a rag doll, and her blue checked apron still had some wisps of wool sticking to it, while she raised her black hands, one of the fingers still retaining its big horn thimble. "Fer de lan's sakes, Miss Polly—an' Mas'r Ben—I'm glad youse home again."
"Oh, Candace," cried Polly, beginning to unburden her woes, when the two were seated on some stools before the counter that ran along one side of the room, "you can't think what trouble we're in."
Candace, just reaching down from a shelf above a jar of peppermint and cinnamon sticks, with which she meant to regale her visitors and celebrate Ben's return, started so she nearly let the big glass jar fall.
"Fer de lan's sakes!" She could get no further as she turned to them a frightened face that seemed to suddenly grow gray.
"Don't scare her, Polly," whispered Ben. "Tell her at once what has happened."
"You know Jocko—"
"Hey?" said Candace, setting the jar down with a thump to rest both shaking hands on the counter.
"Jocko, our monkey. Oh, I forgot, Candace, you don't know about our present that Mr. Cabot gave to us all. Well, it's a monkey—the dearest, yes, heisthe dearest thing, even if he has been bad," said Polly, decidedly.
"A monkey!" screamed Candace, lifting both black hands. "An' Mr. Cabot gib you dat did he, fer a present?"
"Yes," said Polly. "Wasn't he kind, Candace?"
"Well, I dunno," said Candace, slowly. "Mr. Cabot's a bery nice gemman—a bery nicegemman indeed. He comes in here an' buys tings offen an' offen. But I should a-thought he'd gib ye a leetle purtier ting dan a monkey. Jus' a grain purtier," she added, unwilling to criticise any more sharply.
"Well, he couldn't have given us anything that was nicer," said Polly, loyal to both Mr. Cabot and to the monkey, "only you see, Jocko didn't know quite how to behave."
"I shouldn't think he did," observed Ben.
"He's only just come from India," said Polly, feeling that a little more explanation was necessary before stating just how bad the monkey had been.
"Whar's dat?" asked Candace, in wonder.
"Oh, the other side of the world," said Polly, hastily; "and so you see—"
"De oder side ob de worl'," cried Candace. "My lan' o' Goshen, how you know dat? Who brung him?"
"Oh, the sailors; he came in a ship, and so you see, perhaps he learned some naughty tricks," said Polly, hoping that now the recital of the bad deeds would be softened enough to state her errand at the shop. "And so he didn't know any better, maybe, than to chew up Jasper's little cushion."
"He ain't gone an' chewed up dat ar pincushion you made Mas'r Jasper?" cried the old woman.
"Yes, he has," said Polly, sorrowfully, her brown head drooping; "that is, he's bitten a hole in one corner, and got it all soiled and wet."
"An' you worked an' worked on dat ar pincushion," cried Candace, in a loud, wrathful tone. "I can see you now, honey. Don' you 'member how you brung it down here for Candace to match you some pink cord to go right round de aidge?"
"Yes," said Polly, "I remember, Candace."
"An' don' you 'member how I matched dat pink ribbin? Laws, you'd 'a' thought it was jus' made for it, wouldn't you now, Miss Polly?"
"Yes," said Polly, drawing a long sigh, "I should, Candace."
"An' dat orful ole brack monkey has done gone an' chewed up dat nice little pincushion you made all alone by yourself, 'xcept such as I helped you." Candace drew herself up to her full height. "Well, he ought to hab eb'ry single one ob his teef pulled out," she declared, with a bob of her head that nearly unsettled her turban.
"Oh, no, Candace," protested Polly, in a tone of horror.
"Yes, he had, honey," declared Candace, decidedly, "'cause don' you see, he'll be a-chewin' up oder tings, like enough some o' Miss Phronsie's dolls." With that the same scared look swept over her fat face, till it looked quite gray again.
"Oh, Candace, we wouldn't ever let him dothat!" cried Polly. And Ben hastened to say, "See here, Candace, don't you be afraid; we'll look out for those dolls."
"Will you for shore, Mas'r Ben?" cried Candace, grasping his arm with both sets of black fingers, which sent the big horn thimble flying off under the counter. "It would be mos' drefful if anyting should eber happen to dem, 'specially to der ones I made fer de little miss. Why, dey've got har jus' like my bery own." And she lifted one hand to point to her gay turban with pride, then clutched his arm again, "An' I made eb'ry stitch ob der cloes."
"You needn't worry, Candace," said Ben, quietly, "for I'll look out that Jocko doesn't disturb those dolls."
"Shore?" cried Candace, surveying him with anxious eyes.
"Sure," said Ben, not taking off the gaze of his blue ones.
Candace's arms fell away to her sides. "Well, if yer promises me, Mas'r Ben, I know it's all right. Now you mus' hab some candy sticks," and she lifted off the cover of the big glass jar.
"I'll find your thimble first," said Ben, getting down on his knees to lift the gay flowered calico curtain that hung from the counter-edge.
This was easier said than done, for the big horn thimble, now that it had gotten away from Candace's black finger, decided to take a holiday. So although Ben prowled and peered around amid the boxes and bundles beneath the counter, he couldn't lay his hand on the runaway. Seeing which, Polly decided to begin the trade by which she could be the possessor of another little pincushion to take the place of the one just spoiled by Jocko. So Candace handed down the box containing them, and together they searched through it for something that would fit the need.
"I'm going to make Jasper another one, you know," said Polly, "but I must buy him something to use right away."
"Well, I got some perfec' beauties," said Candace, lifting out a flaming yellow one with great delight. "See dar now, Miss Polly, did you eber know I had dat in my shop?"
"No," said Polly. Then she searched the corner of the box and pulled out another, but it was a faded green one, very dismal, and quite tired looking.
"Now dat was made out o' one ob my ole missus's bunnet strings," said Candace, raising it with a quick hand. "It's a bery special ribbin. Ain' dat fine, dough?" She balanced it on her black hand, lost in admiration.
"I don't believe I want a green one," said Polly.
"Don' you?" said Candace. "Well, now let's see, honey," but she was very much disappointed, and set down the little green pincushion slowly by the side of her yellow treasure.
Polly glanced up at her over the box-edge. "Candace," she said, "I thought you had somelittlecushions. You showed them to Phronsie once for her dolls, don't you remember?"
"Oh, dem?" said Candace, wrinkling up her black face. "Why, they were teeny little bits o' tings."
"Well, I've just thought I could sew two or three of them together," cried Polly, the color flying up into her cheeks, "and don't you see, they'd be just as cunning. Oh, do look and see if you have any pink ones."
So Candace, delighted to see that Polly could look so, waddled off to a farther corner, and presently came back with another box, which when opened showed three or four little cushions racing along at play inside.
"Dey ain' pink," said Candace; "I 'member I sold all o' dem."
"O dear me!" exclaimed Polly, dreadfully disappointed, and seizing one end of the box. "Let me look," and suiting the action to the word. "Oh, yes, they are, as sure as anything, Candace; you have some pink ones."
"Shore, I hab," said Candace, quite as delighted.
"At least you have one, anyway," said Polly, her tone dropping some of her elation. "Oh, how I do wish—why, there's another—pick it out, Candace," she concluded in great excitement.
So the second little pink cushion was brought out and set on the counter alongside of the first.
"Well now, how I do wish there was justone more, Candace," said Polly, pushing up the damp rings of hair from her forehead, for it was pretty anxious work, "for I can get along with three so nicely. But you haven't another single one," she mourned.
"No, I hain'," said Candace, "an' dat am a fac'. But why couldn' you take a white one, honey? Dat would look real nice," she added, holding one up persuasively.
"Oh, I want a pink one," said Polly, not looking at the little white one. "I did want three pink ones fastened together, Candace, they would be so pretty."
"But if you hain' got 'em, why you hain'," said Candace, with decision; "so what's de nex' bes' ting to do?"
"Oh, I suppose to take the white one," said Polly, turning away from the box with a sigh. "But the pink one would besonice."
"An' you better not tink about de pink ones," said Candace, opening a drawer to get out some soft paper, "but be glad you could get a white one to mix in. S'posin' I hadn't had nothin' but green ones."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Polly. "Yes, I know, that would have been dreadful, wouldn't it, Candace?"
"Dat's so," said Candace, smoothing out a wad of paper, "as long as you don' like de green ones. But I tink dat one I made out o' ole missus's bunnet strings is a perfec' beauty. Ole missus al'ays had de bery bes' o' ribbin."
"Oh, I want some pink ribbon to tie the little cushions together with," said Polly, at the mention of ribbon. "And I must have some narrow white, too, Candace, please."
"Well, I'm glad I found that thimble," said Ben, lifting a very red face to the counter-edge, and presently getting up to his feet. "Here, Candace, now don't let that run away from you again, that's my advice."
"Oh, Ben, how hot you are!" exclaimed Polly, as Candace received her horn thimble, which she put on her black finger with great delight.
"I sh'd think I was. Never felt so hot in my life," said Ben, in such a tone that Candace, who was rummaging for the narrow ribbon, could not hear. "Whew!" and he began to walk up and down the small shop, stretching his legs in great satisfaction. "Dear me, that feels good."
"An' now you mus' hab de candy sticks," said Candace, setting down the little rolls of ribbon before Polly, then uncovering the glass jar again.
"That's fine," said Ben, taking a cinnamon stick and crunching it in a way to make Candace's round face beam with satisfaction. "You do have such nice candy sticks, Candace."
"Don' I?" she said, wriggling in delight. "Well, now, take another, Mas'r Ben."
"No, no," said Ben, "I've this big one," holding it up.
"Yes, you mus' take another," she urged, handing out the biggest stick the jar contained.
"No," said Ben, much distressed, "not unless you'll let me pay you for it, Candace."
But her black eyes fell so at the very thought of this, that he hastened to add, "Oh, well, then I will take it and thank you, Candace," meantime running his eyes over the little show case to see if there was anything he wanted to buy.
"An' you must take a piece to Miss Phronsie, dat bressed chile," said Candace, doing up another stick with Polly's, which there was no time to eat in the shop, with such important business going on. And presently Polly and Ben hurried out, Polly carrying her little cushions and the ribbon, while a big bundle of a ball of twine and some pencils stuck out of Ben's pocket.
"Well now, Polly Pepper, you and I must just hurry," said Ben, striding off. "There's that Shakespeare book to get, and that red necktie."
"I know it," said Polly, setting quick little steps beside his long ones, "and we mustn't be out late, because Jasper will wake up and might want us."
"I don't believe Papa Doctor will let us up there to see Jasper again to-day," said Ben, grimly, as he strode on.
"Why, we didn't hurt Jasper, being up there this morning," said Polly, in a surprised tone; "Papa Fisher said so; you know he did, Ben."
"That may be," said Ben, "but all the same I don't believe we'll be allowed up there again this afternoon."
"You know Papa Fisher said we had done Jasper good," persisted Polly, trotting along briskly by Ben's side, "so there, Ben Pepper."
"I know that," said Ben, with a nod. "But Papa Fisher always lets well enough alone. And you and I won't be invited up there again this afternoon, I tell you that, Polly Pepper. All the same, we must hurry, because Mamsie wants us home early."
"So she does," said Polly, almost breaking into a run.
"Hold on," said Ben, catching her sleeve, "don't race like that through the streets; it isn't proper."
"I do so wish," said Polly, flourishing her little bundles, "that it was ever proper to run in the street."
"Well, it isn't," said Ben, with a sharp eye for the bookstore they wanted. "Well, here we are, Polly. Now for that Shakespeare book!"
When they marched home an hour later, Joel ran out of the big stone gateway with Pip at his heels. The two Whitney boys and Davie were making good time down the winding driveway.
"Whoop!" screamed Joel, "where've you been?" and beginning to swarm all over them and seize their bundles, while Pip ran up to Ben and slipped his thin little hand into the firm, big one.
"Hands off," cried Ben, "from those bundles, Joe!"
"Where've you been, and what've you got?" demanded Joel. Then, without waiting for an answer, as the other boys were hurrying up and would let out the news, he screamed, "All those mountain children are coming to supper!"
"What?" cried Polly, standing quite still.
"Yes, and the old lady," cried Joel. "Every single one of them. You needn't try to tell anything," to Percy and Van and David, as they plunged up, all out of breath. "I told it all long ago."
Well, the next day, what a Christmas it was to be sure! Jasper was to come down in the morning to see all the fun of the last preparations, go upstairs after luncheon to be a prisoner in his room and rest for the grand dinner and tree in the evening!
All the boys in his set crowded in, pretty soon after breakfast, to the big library.
"O me!" cried Alexia, running in and raising her long hands, "whatdidmake you come so early—the very idea!"
"Well, it seems you are here, Alexia," said Pickering, coolly, lounging in one of the big easy-chairs.
"Oh, that's quite different," said Alexia, nowise abashed, "and you know it, Pickering. Why, Polly needs me!"
"Does she?" said Pickering.
"Yes, of course; so I had to come."
Whereat Clare laughed, and one or two of the other boys joining in, Alexia turned on them. "You've no idea how much work girls have to do. Now, you boys don't lift a finger at any such a time as this."
"Don't we?" exclaimed Pickering. "Well, that's a fine thing to say."
"When we've been over here, at least Pick has, every day for a week, and the rest of us ever so many times, helping Polly," cried Clare, in a dudgeon.
"Oh, well, that was such a tiny little bit you could do, anyway," said Alexia, airily, and tossing her long light braids. "The important parts all have to be done by us girls. Boys are in the way!"
"Indeed! Well, why don't you go back and help Polly," retorted Clare, "instead of staying here with us."
"Oh, I'm going," said Alexia. "I only came in to see what did make you all come so early. Why, it's hardly after breakfast."
"Pick—oh, you here," Ben hurried in, and gave the long figure sprawling in the easy-chair a clap on the back. "You're the very one Polly and I want; and come on, you chaps," addressing the other boys, "there's a job waiting for you all."
Pickering got out of his chair with a little laugh, while the other boys roared.
"What's the matter?" asked Ben, in a puzzle.
"Oh, nothing," said Pickering, as he went out, "only Alexia is glad to see us set to work."
"Yes, I am," said Alexia. Then she laughed, and ran ahead to get first to Polly.
"There is always one good thing about her," said Clare, as the whole group of boys tumbled promiscuously after, "she never minds when the joke is against her."
"That's so," they nodded.
There, sure enough, was quite sufficient to do for all the hands that appeared, as they soon found when they reached the busy playroom, where the tree, all shrouded in white, was awaiting them. And pretty soon the happy babel of voices kept time to the swift fingers as each boy took up the piece of work that Ben or Polly gave to him.
Alexia seemed to be quite busy flying here and there, doing a little of everything. "I'm glad you did come so early, Clare, after all," she condescended to say, coming up to him in one of those flights, as he was tying an extra rope of laurel.
"Thanks," said Clare. "Well, now, don't you suppose, seeing that you are here, that you can hold that other end for me? 'Twould be a sight easier to tie the thing."
"The very idea!" exclaimed Alexia, backing off. "Now that's just like a boy. Why don't I ask you to come and help me tie laurel strips?"
"Because you never tie them, I've observed," said Clare, composedly.
"Well, it's because I have so many more important things to do," said Alexia. "Anybody can tie a laurel string."
"Can they?" said Clare, laboring away slowly.
"Yes, indeed," and Alexia skipped off, turned, and flew back. "O dear, do give me that old rope," seized the end, and flounced down on the window-seat beside Clare.
"You needn't if you don't want to, Alexia," yet his face brightened. If there was anything Clare hated to do it was to tie festoons.
"Oh, yes, I will," said Alexia. "You boys do anything without asking the girls to help. Here, let me tie for a while, and you hold."
"Oh, you don't want to do that," said Clare, in amazement.
"Yes, I do; it's stupid to hang on to an old rope and sit still. Besides, I can tie ever so much better than you," said Alexia, possessing herself of Clare's handful.
"I don't doubt it," said Clare, bursting into a laugh, "though I never saw you tie one in my life."
"Oh, that's because we have to leave something for you boys to do," said Alexia, nowise put out, but tying away at a great rate. "Polly and I have much more important things to do, as I've always told you. Here, why don't you bunch for me?"
"But I've seen Polly tie wreaths and ropes ever so many times—oh, a hundred, I guess," said Clare, beginning to bunch for the long fingers.
"Oh, well, Polly does everything," said Alexia, easily. "O dear me! Here's Cathie—and—all the other girls!" With that down went the green festoon to the floor, while she rushed to the door.
Clare picked up the dangling thing, made a grimace, and set to work again, while the bustle and happy hum of voices became quite a babel.
"Now isn't that fine that you have come!" cried Polly, affectionately, and flying around the bevy of girls. "You see we've got to hurry so much because we want to get the new wreaths and festoons up before Jasper comes down."
"So we'd better set about it," said Ben, in his practical fashion. "Now then, Cathie, suppose you help Polly, she's—"
"Oh, no, I'm going to help Polly," cried Alexia, edging up between the two girls.
"Why, I thought you were helping Clare a minute ago, and he hasn't finished," said Ben, in surprise.
"Oh, that stupid boy," cried Alexia, running her arm through Polly's, "he never will be done."
"Well, that's all the more reason why you should help him out then," said Ben, with a laugh. "Now, Cathie, you're to help Polly," he finished, just as if the most agreeable thing were being said for all hands.
Alexia gave him a long look, then drew her arm slowly away from Polly's and went back to Clare.
"I don't see how Ben Pepper always makes us do what he wants us to," she grumbled, throwing herself into a seat beside Clare. "Do give me that horrid old thing and let's get through with it."
"Oh, are you back again?" said Clare.
"Yes, but I shouldn't be," declared Alexia, positively, and beginning to bunch furiously, "if Ben hadn't made me. You are so stupid and slow, Clare."
"Thanks," said Clare, tying slowly. "Well, don't throw the bunches at me, they get all mixed up that way."
"And you are so cross," said Alexia, breaking off little twigs of the laurel with nervous fingers, "that I can't suit you any way, and here I am working my fingers to the bone for you."
"Would you rather tie?" asked Clare, trying not to laugh at her face.
Alexia eyed the long festoon with a dubious gaze. "No, I shouldn't. Oh, I'll keep on at this if it kills me."
"Oh, Jasper!" It was Ben who shouted it, and sprang to welcome him. And then, for the space of a minute, there was no more work done, while everybody crowded around to see Jasper fixed in a big easy-chair at the side of the long room, where he could get the best view of everything. Suddenly a small figure emerged from a heap of greens in the corner, where some thin little fingers had been picking out sprigs for the busy hands to weave into wreaths.
"Hullo, Pip!" cried Jasper, putting out a warm hand, as Pip sidled up, "now that's good to see you," throwing his arm around the thin shoulders. "Having a good time, Pip?" and he bent his head for the reply.
"Yes," said Pip, "I am."
"Now that's fine," declared Jasper, again. "Well, fly back to work," and he gave him a pat on the back.
Pip sidled off again and lost himself in the pile of greens.
"Miss Polly, they've come," announced Jane, opening the playroom door, and advancing to Polly.
"Who?" asked Polly, holding a wreath for Ben to nail up over the little window—"not that way, a little more this other side," she said, as Ben placed the nail in. "Who, Jane?"
"Why, those poor children at Mrs. Van Ruypen's," said Jane.
"What? Oh, you don't mean they've come this morning!" exclaimed Polly, quite aghast, and dropping the wreath.
"Now something has happened," cried Alexia, dropping the little bunch of laurel. "I must see what it is," and she sprang off.
"Polly, don't look so," she begged. "What is it?"
Ben sat down on the step-ladder, having heard Polly's exclamation, but missing Jane's words. "What is it?" he asked.
"Oh, Ben, those dreadful children have come over this morning," cried Polly, aghast and quite swept along, "to spoil all our fun."
Ben stepped down quickly. "Is that so, Jane?" he asked.
"They shan't come in," cried Alexia, vindictively, and running over to slam the playroom door.
"Alexia," called Ben, "come right straight back here."
"Well, Polly doesn't want them," grumbled Alexia, yet she came back.
"Never mind if they do come in," said Ben, laying a soothing hand on Polly's shoulder. "What harm will they do, Polly?"
"They'll spoil every bit of our fun," said Polly, with flashing brown eyes—"every single bit; you know they will, Ben, and that Elvira—oh, theycan'tcome in!"
"There, you see," said Alexia, beginning to wring her hands. "You'd much better let me shut the door and keep them out, Ben Pepper."
"Polly," said Ben, and he turned her off to a quiet corner, "perhaps they have never seen a Christmas tree. Why, what am I talking about?—weknowthey haven't."
"Well, they are coming to it to-night," said Polly, the flash dying down a bit, "and that's enough, I'm sure," she added obstinately.
"But the fun of getting ready! Oh, Polly, supposing—supposing somebody had come into the little brown house and asked us to come to help get a tree ready. Just think, Polly!"
Polly dug the toe of her shoe into a heap of greens, then she suddenly threw her arms around Ben's neck. "Oh, I'm a selfish pig, Ben," she cried. "Do let them come in."
Ben gave her an approving pat. "Now you're fine!" he said. "Come on, we'll call them in," taking her hand.
"Oh, now you've gone and made Polly let those dreadful children in," cried Alexia, nervously, envious that she was not to go too, as they ran by her.
"Jasper," said Ben, as they passed his chair, "it's the mountain children; they're waiting outside now. We're going to have them in to help us."
"Whew!" whistled Jasper. Then he added in delight, "The very thing I wanted most of all was to see those mountain children. Do hurry and fetch them."
Which urging was not in the least necessary as soon appeared—Elvira, in her smart blue gown, clear in advance of either Polly or Ben. She pushed her straight locks out of her eyes and gazed around, wholly unabashed.
"Hulloa, Viry!" called Joel, in delight, from the other end of the room. But she paid no attention to him, as she had not completed her gaze to suit her.
"I'm awful glad you've come," said Joel, springing off the chair on which he was standing, holding a festoon for Pickering to nail in place.
"Here, come back, you beggar," cried Pickering.
"We're having awful fun," announced Joel, coming up to her and sticking out a grimy little paw, all resin and pitch from the branches of pine he had been breaking. His face was smeared as well.
"You're awful dirty," said Elvira, picking the blue gown away as if she feared contamination.
"Well, it's fun, I tell you," said Joel, not a whit nonplussed. "Come on with me," attempting to draw her off to Pickering and the deserted chair.
"I ain't a-goin'," said Elvira, twitching off. "An' I'll slap you if you don't go 'way."
Meantime Ben had charge of the two boys. Matthew wore his overcoat and beloved red tippet (which Madam Van Ruypen had hard work to make him discard in the house) wound around his head and ears. "Now, Jasper," and Ben led them up to the big easy-chair, "this is Matthew and this is Mark Hansell."
"Oh, how do you do?" said Jasper, sociably. "I'm glad to see you."
Matthew bobbed his head, bound up in the red tippet, solemnly, but Mark was too far gone in amazement at the scene before him to do anything but stare.
"Now, Elvira," said Polly, going up to her, where she stood glaring at Joel, who still persisted in his sociable advances, "you come with me," and she put out her hand.
"I ain't a-goin' to," declared Elvira, stubbornly, and putting her hands back of her.
"Oh, you bad, wicked, awful girl!" cried Alexia, hovering near.
"Elvira," said Polly, and there was a little white line coming around her mouth, "you will come with me, or else you must go home."
"Not to stay with that great big lady," said Elvira, in dismay, her hands falling to her side and her face filling with terror.
"Yes, you surely must," said Polly, decidedly, "go right back and stay with Madam Van Ruypen, unless you do as I say."
"Oh, then I'll go with you." Elvira slipped her hand into Polly's, made a final grimace at Joel, who, dreadfully disappointed, went back alone to Pickering.
"So this is Elvira," said Jasper, looking at her kindly. She didn't seem to see the hand he put forth.
"What you sittin' there for?" she demanded abruptly.
"Oh—well—they make me," said Jasper, with a little laugh.
"He's been sick, Elvira," Polly made haste to say. "Now come, child, you can help me."
"I don't want to. I'm goin' to stay here," said Elvira, laying a hand on Jasper's chair.
"Elvira!" Polly got no further, but it really wasn't necessary, for she went without further words.
"Polly, make her come over and help me," called Joel, from his chair.
"No, she is going to stay with me," said Polly, but she gave a sigh.
Pip, who had raised his head at entrance of the visitors, ducked it behind the pile of greens at sight of Elvira. And now he shivered as her thin, high voice piped out, "Where's that other boy?"
"The boys are all here," said Polly, absently, as indeed they were, even little Dick, who was happy with Phronsie in a quiet corner, tying little wreaths for one of her doll houses.
"Oh, I don't mean these boys," said Elvira, waving her thin arms scornfully around the roomful. "They're no good. Where's that other boy that was at supper last night?" she craned her neck to catch the sight she desired.
"She means Pip," said Alexia. Pip, at hearing his name, unguardedly raised his head.
"There he is! There he is!" exclaimed Elvira, joyfully. And, deserting Polly, she rushed over to the pile of greens. "I'm goin' to play with you," she said.
But Pip slipped nimbly out and was over by the step-ladder and scrambling up.
"Take her away," he howled, burrowing up to Ben. "Ow! Take her away!"
Polly rushed over to the pile of greens.
"He ran away," cried Elvira, with flashing eyes, "an' I had come to play with him."
"Elvira," said Polly, getting down on her knees to look into the angry eyes, "what did I tell you? Either you will mind what I say or Ben will take you right over to Madam Van Ruypen's. Which shall it be?"
For answer Elvira seized Polly's brown gown with both hands and sniffled into it, "Oh, don't send me to that big old woman. Don't, don't, don't!"
"Then will you let Pip alone?" said Polly, sternly.
"Yes, yes," mumbled Elvira.
"Very well, then come back with me," and Polly led her over to the work with Ben.
But as Pip would not come down from the step-ladder unless Ben brought him, and even then he had eyes of terror for Elvira, there was some delay before the wreath over the lattice window could be hung up. Meantime, Jasper was getting on famously with Matthew and Mark, who were soon tying wreaths, one on either side of him.
"You'd better take off your tippet, Matthew," said Jasper at length, seeing the drops of perspiration roll down the red cheeks.
"Oh, I ain't hot," said Matthew, pulling the green string tight with strong fingers.
"Dear me," said a voice, strong-lunged and hearty, "this looks very comfortable."
"Oh, she's come!" Elvira dropped a green sprig she was holding for Polly and seized her gown. There stood Madam Van Ruypen surveying the roomful with an air of the greatest satisfaction on her face.
"Get her a chair, Ben," cried Polly. "Elvira," shaking herself free, "if you don't behave, you remember," and she hurried off to greet the visitor.
"Well, this is quite comfortable," repeated the old lady, first going up to speak to Jasper, and then sitting down in the chair that Ben brought, wiping it off carefully on the way.
"She looks like a big polar bear," said Alexia, in a whisper to Clare, to whom she had flown up again, and was now bunching rapidly. "Dear me, I don't see how she can stand so many furs and things."
"Well, she's taking them off, now," said Clare. "See, Ben's helping her."
"She thinks there's nobody like Ben," said Alexia, diving on the floor for a specially nice green bit.
"Well, there isn't," said Clare, holding up his festoon to squint along its outline. "I do believe this is almost done, Alexia."
"Well, I should think it was quite time," said Alexia, stretching her long arms restfully back of her head. "You've been so awfully slow over it, Clare."
"Yes, I do believe it is," repeated Clare, in a joyous tone.
"And if that old woman is going to stay here all the morning," said Alexia, "I shall just die. 'Twould be too awful for anything, Clare."
"She wouldn't hurt you," said Clare, tying away with redoubled vigor at the delightful prospect of soon having it through; "and if Polly and Ben can stand it, I guess you and I can."
"Well, I'm going to turn my back on her," said Alexia, whirling around so that her light braids flew out, "then I shan't have to see her every minute."
"Yes," Madam Van Ruypen was saying, "I thought I'd bring over a few things that were forgotten for the tree, you know," pointing to its white shrouded outline with her long black glove. "They're out in the carriage, Ben. Will you tell Carson to bring them in?"
"What's she saying? Oh, what's she saying?" cried Alexia, wildly, and whirling about again till her braids flew out the other way like pump handles.
"I thought you didn't want to see her," Clare burst out into a laugh.
"Oh, this is different; she's telling something, and she doesn't sit up like a great, stiff I-don't-know-what," said Alexia. Then she hopped up from her seat and ran over to the old lady's chair.
"Yes, and I have something I'm going to bring over to-night," Madam Van Ruypen was announcing, as Ben and Carson, the coachman, came in, their arms laden with bundles of all shapes and sizes, all carefully wrapped from curious eyes.
"Ow!" howled Joel, taking a flying leap from his chair. "Come on, Pip, she's got things!"
"I sent for that minister, Mr. What's-his-name—oh, St. John," the old lady was saying. "It will be a good thing for him to have a bit of city life, and he can help to manage these children," she waved her black gloves over to the two boys, but gave the most attention to Elvira after all, "till I get a little accustomed to them. And he's to get here this afternoon; so I'll bring him over to the tree to-night, Ben."