CHAPTER XXXTHE LETTER
THE little wrinkled face of a monkey appeared, dragging a chain at the end of which came his master. He had set the organ up against the little shop.
Mrs. Goodsell, not knowing how she got there, was standing on the bench, her calico gown whipped tightly around her, the shawl-ends wound over that, and screaming loudly. Old Mrs. Beebe hurried in with both hands raised, while the little shoemaker, trying to drive out both the monkey and the man, didn’t succeed in doing either, but got tangled up with the chain.
“Pa—Pa, let him go!” cried Mrs. Beebe, wringing her hands. “I’ll get th’ broom,” disappearing to come back with it, when she found things in a much worse state. For the monkey, shaking the chain free from both thelittle shoemaker and his master, was now on the upper shelf in the row that occupied one side of the shop, twitching off the covers of the boxes, and throwing down the shoes and rubbers and slippers in a heap to the floor.
In the midst of all this confusion, David Pepper opened the door.
“O my senses!” screamed Mrs. Goodsell from the bench, where she was constantly hopping from one foot to the other in terrified distress, “here’s that boy again—ah—oof!” as the monkey stopped his work a second to fasten his little eyes on her.
Davie quickly closed the door and stood on the big flat stone, his heart beating wildly. Then he opened it again. “I’ll help you,” he said, going in.
“Davie, he’ll bite you!” screamed old Mrs. Beebe, waving her broom.
Davie shut his eyes, as he thought so, too. Then he opened them and began to climb the lowest shelf to reach the end of the dangling chain. The monkey stopped regarding the screaming woman on the bench, whom he had almost made up his mind he would leap for, and peered over at the boy, and as quick aslightning, he twitched up the chain and grinned in Davie’s face.
“Now, you’ve done it,” exclaimed the organ man, with a word that wasn’t pretty at all, and he glared at Davie.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Davie, sliding to the floor. His face was very red, and his blue eyes went down in shame.
“Don’t feel bad,” old Mr. Beebe gasped out the words, and leaned, quite spent, against the counter where he did up his bundles for customers.
“Get something to eat,” the organ man growled it out at the shoemaker’s wife, “then he’ll come down and I’ll lick him ’most to death.”
“Oh, you mustn’t,” cried Davie, forgetting his shame to rush over to the organ man.
“Mustn’t, hey? You stand out of th’ way, you beggar-boy, you,” looking down contemptuously at Davie’s little patched shoes, and he pushed him roughly off.
“You let that boy alone,” commanded old Mr. Beebe, puffing up. The man laughed in the fat little shoemaker’s face. “Get somethin’ to eat, I tell you,” he roared.
“Oh, I will—I will,” old Mrs. Beebe trotted off, and came back with two doughnuts in her trembling hands.
“You hold ’em up,” said the organ man. “He won’t come down for me.”
“Oh, I can’t,” Mrs. Beebe shook all over.
“Let th’ boy hold ’em,” said the man; “he butted in there an’ lost us th’ chain, and now he can git him down.”
David cast a wild look up at the little beast, whose sharp eyes were roving from his master to the small boy that had interfered with the chain.
“No, no, Davie,” began the little shoemaker—but intent only on the organ man’s charge that he was to blame, Davie took the doughnuts out of old Mrs. Beebe’s hands, before she realized it.
“You mustn’t whip him,” he said, looking back at the man, before he held them up.
But he didn’t need to, for there was a sudden leap from the high shelf, the end of the chain rattled off, and the monkey came down on Davie’s little shoulder, knocking him to the floor in among the shoes and slippers and rubbers scattered about.
They never knew quite how it all ended, but when Davie picked himself up, the organ man was dragging the monkey, swallowing the last piece of the second doughnut, out of the shop.
“He mustn’t whip him,” cried Davie, gasping from his fright, and darting after.
“You come back,” commanded the little shoemaker. “See!” and David having nothing to do but to obey, he was led over to look out of the window. There was the monkey perched on the organ slung on the back of the man, who was getting over the cobble-stones at a lively rate. “Now you can help me to pick up these,” added old Mr. Beebe, pointing to the havoc made in his merchandise sprawled over the floor.
Old Mrs. Beebe had sunk down in a chair, and clasped her hands.
“I’ll help you,” cried Davie, springing to the work, yet with a heavy heart as he thought of the monkey.
Mrs. Goodsell stood quite still on the bench, her surprise not allowing her to take her eyes off from Davie. Now she peered down at him, gathering up the shoes, rubbers, andslippers. “I thought you was scared of monkeys,” she said slowly. Then she put one large foot down and began to descend to the floor.
“Did you go home, Davie?” asked the little shoemaker quickly.
“Yes,” said Davie, handing him two or three rubbers; “I did, and Mamsie sent me back to ask you to please finish mending my shoe.”
“So I will,” said old Mr. Beebe, “as soon as we get these things gathered up. Your Ma will look after Phronsie, I s’pose she told you.”
“Yes,” said Davie, “she did.”
“Well now, I’m glad you went home an’ told your ma there was an organ man in Badgertown ’cause there ain’t no Jasper here now, with his big dog. Heard anythin’ from him lately?”
“Yes,” said Davie, “Mr. Atkins gave Mamsie a letter yesterday.”
“Sho now!” exclaimed Mr. Beebe, much gratified. He ached to ask what was in it, but for all the world he couldn’t bring himself to such a thing.
“What did the letter say?” demanded Mrs. Goodsell.
Davie turned his blue eyes up to her. “It was Mamsie’s letter,” he said simply.
“Yes, yes, I heerd you. Well, what did itsay? I ain’t cur’ous, but I jest thought I’d ask. Hey?”
But she got no answer, David being busy handing the shoes, slippers, and rubbers up to old Mr. Beebe’s waiting hands.
“Well, of all the impident boys I ever see!” exclaimed Mrs. Goodsell, slapping the shawl-ends indignantly around her big figure, “you beat ’em all!”
“There—there—” declared the little shoemaker, straightening up, “my shop ain’t big enough to hold folks who talk against th’ Peppers. So, good mornin’ to you, Mis Goodsell.”
“An’ I shake th’ dust off from my feet,” cried Mrs. Goodsell, shaking her shawl-ends instead, “an’ I wouldn’t demean myself by stayin’, Mr. Beebe,—what with your Pepperses an’ monkeys an’ letters.” She slammed the door, and disdaining the flat stone, strode over the cobble-stones.
Davie, to whom her words brought a memory he was trying to put in the background, sighed.
“Now you’re gettin’ all tired out,” said Mrs. Beebe, in a worried way. “Don’t let him work any more, Pa.”
“Oh, no, I’m not tired,” said Davie, raising his flushed face. “I want to put all the things back. Do let me, Mr. Beebe,” he begged. He longed to say that it was old Mr. King’s letter to Mamsie that was bothering him. But that belonged to Mamsie.
How could they ever let Polly go from the little brown house to visit in the city! Mamsie had written “No” twice before to Mr. King; but yesterday after reading this particular letter, Mother Pepper had looked very sober. “She must think about it,” she had told the children. Think about it! Davie didn’t imagine that it needed a second thought. They couldn’t let Polly go! even if Jasper was sick, and the doctor said there must be some little friend invited to cheer things up. Oh, no, they couldn’t!
When the shoes and rubbers and slippers were all neatly put back in their respectiveboxes, and on the shelf once more, old Mrs. Beebe, who had gone off into the kitchen, came back with a blue plate on which were two doughnuts. “Now while Pa is a-mendin’ your shoe, you can set an’ eat ’em,” she said.
Davie, well pleased, curled up on the bench and munched the sugary things slowly to make them last. He wanted to ask if he couldn’t take one home for Phronsie, but then that was as good as begging one—for old Mrs. Beebe would trot out to her big stone pot, and get him another. So he watched his shoe having the finishing touches put to its repairs, while he ate.
“Now says I,” the little shoemaker held up the completed work, as David swallowed the last crumb of the doughnuts, “that job is done as good as th’ next one, if I do say it. Now, Davie, that will last you a long spell.”
“I am so glad.” Davie hopped off from the bench, and sitting down on the floor, he pulled on the shoe with great satisfaction.
“That string ain’t very strong,” said Mr. Beebe, “I guess I better get you another.” He went across the shop and pulled out a drawer.
Davie stopped trying to tie the shoestring. “Mamsie didn’t say that I was to get a new string,” he said.
“Oh, you ain’t goin’ to buy this,” said old Mr. Beebe, coming back. “I’m goin’ to give it to you. Give me the shoe, Davie, and we’ll see about that string.”
So Davie pulled off his shoe, and old Mr. Beebe sat down and pretty soon there was a brand-new shoestring in it, and the old one lay on the floor.
“I think th’ mate to that string is pretty poor,” said the little old shoemaker, peering at Davie’s other foot critically; “give me that shoe, Davie,” and when it was in his hand, he pulled out the shoestring. “Yes, it’s wore in spots,” he declared.
At last Davie was on his way home. Didn’t the shoes feel good though; the mended one all strong and just as good as ever, and with new shoestrings, too! He wanted to dance—but stopped suddenly. There was Polly—was she going away for a visit to the city? He went slowly up the path leading to the little brown house, and opened the green door. There were Mamsie and the others, andDavid knew by her face what she was going to say.
“Children,” she began, “you know how good Jasper has been to us! And think of Phronsie!” She gathered her up in her arms to hold her tightly to her breast, and her voice broke. “What can we ever do for him!”
“But, Mamsie,” began Ben, “Polly—we can’t—” He couldn’t get any farther, and his head went down to hide his face on his knees.
“Oh, I’m not going!” cried Polly passionately, a little red spot coming on either cheek. “You needn’t think of it, Ben,” and she threw her arms around his shoulders—while Joel roared, “She isn’t going—she isn’t!” and he ran over to throw his arms across Polly’s—till Ben was nearly smothered. David longed to add himself to them, and he started, but catching Mother Pepper’s eye, he settled back and held his hands tightly together in dread of what was coming, for Mrs. Pepper was speaking.
“Don’t say that, Polly,” she said reprovingly. “You must think, child, before you speak.”
“Oh, I don’t want to think, Mamsie!” cried Polly, wildly, and deserting Ben, she plunged over to Mrs. Pepper’s chair and threw herself on her knees. “Mamsie, don’t make me go!” she begged, burying her face on Phronsie’s small feet.
“I never shouldmakeyou go, Polly,” Mrs. Pepper stroked the brown hair. “Mother feels badly enough to think of your going. It must be as you say, Polly.”
So there it was left. And every now and then Polly would break away from whatever she was doing, even if setting the supper-table, and rush up in a torrent of tears. “Oh, I can’t go—Mamsie, Ican’t!” And then she would fly back to her work to creep up presently with “Jasper saved Phronsie for us, Mamsie!”
“I know, Polly,” Mother Pepper would say softly, and Polly would know that all Mamsie’s objections to the visit had not only flown away, but that instead, there would be an approval of it if Polly should decide to go.
“Now, children,” after the supper dishes were cleared away, and everything was “spick and span” again, and Mother Pepper had satdown to get a little more of the waning light to sew by before the evening really set in, “I think,” she said, “you better have that day in the woods to-morrow, for you have been waiting for it so long.”
“Mamsie,” cried Davie, looking up at his mother with shining eyes, “can wereallygo to the woods to-morrow?”
“I think so, Davie.” Mrs. Pepper smiled at him. “Don’t scream so, Joel. Yes, you may all go to-morrow.” She looked around for Polly—who had drawn off in a corner with Ben, their heads together and filled with sad thoughts, as she very well knew. The day in the woods was the only thing she could plan by which she might divert the sadness, at least for a time.
“Mamsie,” Davie crowded up to her chair, “can we stay when we get there in the woods—can we?” he asked, dreadfully excited.
“Yes indeed—a whole long day if you want to,” said Mother Pepper decidedly. “Now run over and tell Polly and Ben how glad you are about it.”
“And can we carry things to eat?” demanded Joel, precipitating himself upon her,his black eyes waiting impatiently for her answer.
“Of course, you can take your dinner,” and Mother Pepper laughed. “Who ever heard of spending a day in the woods without anything to eat! And I expect you’ll be very hungry, Joel.”
“I’m hungry now,” said Joel reflectively.
“Oh, Joey—you’ve only just finished your supper,” said Mrs. Pepper. At his words, she began to sew away brisker than ever.
“There wasn’t half enough,” said Joel, looking over his shoulder at the cleared table set up against the wall. “Why isn’t there ever any more to eat, Mamsie?”
“Never mind,” said Mrs. Pepper, stitching fast. “Well, now, to-morrow you shall have a good deal. You will like the basket I shall pack for you,” she added cheerily.
“What’s to be in it?” cried Joel, smacking his lips, “candy, and a pie?”
“O dear me! Joe—not those things,” said Mrs. Pepper.
“Then some cake,” said Joel, hanging over her knee, so that his small elbows dragged her work down.
“No indeed,” she slipped the sewing away, but let the elbows remain, “cake isn’t the best thing for children to eat in the woods. But, Joel, just think, Mother is going to give you some nice thick slices of bread and—butter.”
“Not butter?” cried Joel, quite overcome.
“Yes,” Mrs. Pepper nodded.
“And spread it thick, do, Mamsie,” cried Joel, dreadfully excited, “as thick as that.” He took off his elbows to put his little brown hands a good distance apart.
Mrs. Pepper laughed. “You never would relish butter again if you had it as thick as that, Joey,” she said. “Now run over and tell Ben and Polly all about it.”
Her work fell down for a minute, as he dashed off—and a shadow swept across her face; but it was gone as quickly, and the needle flew all the faster.
Joel rushed up to the two in the corner. “We are going to have butter to-morrow, Polly Pepper,” he announced.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Ben, pulling himself out of his gloom. “You’ve been dreaming, Joe.”
“I haven’t, either,” retorted Joel indignantly.“Mamsie said so.” He darted across the kitchen. “Didn’t you, Mamsie?” he cried, plunging up to her chair. “Ben says I’ve been dreaming.”
“Didn’t I do what, Joel?”
“Didn’t you say you were going to give us butter to-morrow to eat in the woods?”
“I certainly did, Joey,” said Mrs. Pepper. She looked over his head and nodded to the three in the corner. “Come over here, children. Wait a minute; Phronsie.”
Phronsie, who had been undressing Seraphina for bed, always a slow process, laid the rag doll on a chair, and came up wonderingly to her mother’s knee.
“Now it’s just this way,” began Mrs. Pepper, looking at them all, “to-morrow must be the very happiest day of the whole year. And in order to get ready for it and make it happy—why, we must all begin to-night. Now, Joel and Davie, you’d better run off to bed, so that you can hop up bright and early in the morning.”
“I don’t want to,” Joel grumbled. But seeing his mother’s face, he finished, “All right—come on, Dave.” Then he ran back whenhalf-way up the loft stairs. “Please spread it thick, Mamsie,” he begged.
“Come, Phronsie,” Polly held out her hand. She tried to make the sad little smile a brighter one, but it was a sorrowful face, after all, that she carried off.
“Oh, no, no,” cried Phronsie, in distress. “My child hasn’t her nightie on,” and she ran back to the chair where Seraphina waited to be gotten ready for bed.
“I’ll help you,” said Polly, “for you must get into your own nightie. There, you run back and kiss Mamsie, and I’ll get Seraphina ready.”
So Phronsie, well pleased to be cuddled by Mamsie, ran back and scrambled into Mother Pepper’s lap.
“Be a good girl, Phronsie, and don’t trouble Polly, but hop right into bed,” said Mrs. Pepper.
“I’ll be a good girl,” cooed Phronsie, her lips against Mother Pepper’s neck. Then she slid off from Mamsie’s lap, and was soon fast asleep in the trundle-bed, Seraphina huddled up in her arms.
And Polly, down on her knees by the big old bed, her head on the gay patchwork quilt, was saying, “I’ll go.”