XXI.THE LITTLE SNOW-HOUSE.
“Dear me, how we have all run!” exclaimed Polly, sitting down and wiping her hot face.
“And I beat, I beat!” whooped Joel excitedly. “I got to the big gate first of all.”
“That’s because I didn’t hear Ben say ‘three’ in time to begin with you,” said Percy, his face growing unpleasantly red, and wishing he hadn’t run at all.
“Ho, ho!” screamed Van, “that’s a good one; just hear Percy. Well, I stubbed my toe, so I didn’t beat.”
“You’ve won the prize, Joe,” said Jasper, coming up and drawing a long breath. “Well, that was a race, to be sure.”
“You said you’d let the one who beat have a wish, and you’d do it if it was a possible thing,” cried Joel with a crow of delight.“Well, I choose for Polly to tell us a story now;” and he flung himself down on the grassy terrace by her side.
“O Joel Pepper!” exclaimed Jasper in dismay, “we none of us thought you’d choose that, because we knew you wanted so many things.”
“Well, I do choose that,” declared Joel obstinately, and shaking his stubby black hair; “and I don’t want anything else. So begin, Polly, do;” and he drummed impatiently against the green bank with his heels.
“Ben,” said Jasper in despair, rushing up to that individual, “isn’t there anything we can do to bring Joe to his senses? Polly’s tired to death. Oh! why did we promise?”
“No,” said Ben with a long face, “not when Joe makes up his mind. And we did promise. But I’ll tell the story.” And he drew a long breath, and his face dropped longer yet.
“Ben’s going to tell the story,” announced Jasper, rushing back cheerily. “Now all sit down,” as Phronsie pattered back along the winding road through the shrubbery, having run a race with herself quite contentedly. “Here, child;” and he sat down on the grass, and drew her into his lap.
“But I don’t want Ben to tell the story,” cried Joel coolly. “I want Polly; and you promised you’d give me my wish if ’twas a possible thing,” he asserted in a loud and positive tone.
“Well, ’tisn’t a possible thing; Polly’s tired to death,” said Jasper shortly. “Here, Ben, come along, and dash a story at this persistent chap.”
“Polly isn’t tired,” contradicted Joel, looking in surprise at Polly’s blooming cheeks. “She’s never tired; and you’ve promised,” he repeated in an injured tone.
“And I’m quite rested now,” exclaimed Polly, tossing back the damp rings of hair away from her brow, “so I can tell it just as well. But what in the world shall it be about?” and she broke into a merry laugh.
“Don’t try to think,” said Ben, who threw himself on the grass by her side. “Joe’s a mean little beggar to ask it, Polly,” he whispered in her ear.
But Polly tossed him a scrap of a whisper back again, and then she began. “Now, it’s so hot to-day, and the middle of summer, it doesn’t seem as if it ever had been winterwith the snow on the ground; and it will make us cool, with nice little creeps all down our backs, if I tell you about our little snow-house, and”—
Joel jumped to his feet with howls of delight. “O Polly!” he screamed, “do tell about it. That’s the most splendid story of all!” Then he suddenly became very grave, and stood quite still.
“Come along and sit down, then, Joel,” said Polly, “and I’ll begin.” But Joel didn’t move.
“Come along,” cried Ben, quite out of sorts, “and get into your seat, and don’t stand there like a stick.” But still Joel stood very still. “I don’t want any story,” he blurted out suddenly.
“Don’t want any story,” repeated Percy and Van in surprise; while little Dick began to cry piteously, and laid his head in Polly’s lap.
“Polly doesn’t want to tell it,” began Joel in a gasp, and wishing very much that he had stayed at the big gate where he won the race.
“Oh, yes I do!” cried Polly brightly. “I want to tell it, Joey, I do truly; so sit down like a good boy, and I’ll begin right off.”
“Do you really?” asked Joel, edging up, with both black eyes fixed on her face.
“Yes, indeed; I’m all rested now,” declared Polly; “and if I don’t tell that story I shall feel very badly indeed, Joey Pepper.”
So Joel, feeling that it was quite right to be glad that the story was to be told, since Polly had said that she should feel badly if she didn’t tell it, gave another whoop of delight, and scuttled back to crowd in next to Polly, while the others settled down in great satisfaction, and Polly began in her cheeriest fashion.
“Well, you must know, boys, that we used to have just the best times in The Little Brown House the minute it began to be winter, and the snow commenced to fall, and we could look out and see it all, and plan what we could do.”
“And you could get your sleds out,” burst in Van—“And go sleighing too,” said Percy.
“Oh, we didn’t have sleds!” said Polly quickly; “at least, only one that Ben made us.”
“Didn’t have sleds!” exclaimed the Whitney boys.
“I helped,” said Joel sturdily; “and so did Dave.”
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t have been much of a sled unless Ben had made it,” said Polly,looking up at Ben affectionately. “But you two boys did help, though,” she made haste to add, as she saw their faces.
“And we couldn’t go coasting only when we had all our work done,” Polly went on, “because, you see, we were poor, and that was play.”
There was silence for the space of a moment, it being quite beyond the power of the Whitney boys to say anything. “But when Mamsie did let us go, oh, it was perfectly splendid!” and Polly’s cheeks grew rosy red, and her eyes kindled in delight at the remembrance.
“Tell us, tell us,” begged Percy and Van, coming out of their deep reflection.
“Well, maybe, some time,” said Polly; “but now I’m going to tell you about our little snow-house. You see, it had been awfully cold one winter,” here Polly hurried on with all her speed, after a glance at Ben’s face, “and we hadn’t had much snow, because it was ’most too cold to snow, and we children had been hoping that we might have some; and every day Joel would come shouting in that he guessed it would snow before night, and”—
“And we had to fill the wood-box and chopkindlings all the time, I remember,” grumbled Joel; “and our fingers most froze, didn’t they, Dave.”
“Maybe,” said David, with a glance at Polly’s face, and very much wishing that the question had not been asked.
“Never mind,” said Ben; “don’t bother to tell any more about the cold, Polly, but get along to the story.”
“And so I will,” she said briskly, with another look at his face. “Well, and one day—oh! I remember it as well as could be, for Joel had said the same thing about the snow coming, over and over, and”—
“And it did come,” interrupted Joel triumphantly, “so, there”—
“You mustn’t tell before I get to it,” said Polly.
“That’s a fact,” said Ben. “If Polly tells this story, she must be let alone. Now, Joe, don’t you say another word.”
Joel, at this, subsided, and folded his chubby hands tightly together, and Polly went on. “Well, and pretty soon, do you know, down came the white flakes of snow, so soft and pretty and white; and Mamsie said we mightstop our work for five minutes, and watch it from the window. We’d wanted it so, you know, for days and days.
“And then David and Joel began to scream how they were going to take the sled Ben had made, out that afternoon, as soon as the ground was covered, and have a fine time coasting; and then Mamsie told us to look around at the clock; and we did, and then our time was up, and we had to fly at our work again.”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed the Whitney boys with one voice.
“Well, in the middle of the afternoon the snow was pretty deep; it had been falling just as thick and fast as could be, and Joel came stamping in from the woodshed, where he had been cutting kindlings, and he pulled on his mittens, and said, ‘Now, Mamsie, may we?’ and ‘Come on, David’ all at the same time.”
“Just as he says two thing together now,” said Ben, bursting into a laugh, in which all joined at Joel’s expense, until he laughed too.
“But Mamsie shook her head. ‘Not until I’ve gone into the Provision Room and seen how many potatoes, and how much Indian meal we have left, Joey,’ she said. And then off shewent, and Joel pounded his heels on the kitchen floor, and slapped his hands in the mittens together, and kept calling on David to hurry and be ready when Mamsie came back. Oh! I remember just as well as can be,—just everything about that afternoon;” and Polly came to a sudden stop, lost in thought.
“Polly Pepper! Polly Pepper!” cried Van, shaking her elbow, “do tell us the story.”
“And did she let Joel and David go coasting?” begged Percy, trying to conceal the eagerness he felt in the recital.
“You’ll see,” said Polly, waking out of her revery. “Well, at last Mamsie came back from the Provision Room, and the very first look that we had of her face we knew that Joel and David couldn’t go.”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed the Whitney children, horribly disappointed.
“‘Boys,’ said Mamsie, ‘there isn’t very much Indian meal ahead, and the stock of potatoes is getting low; now I could let you off this afternoon, but it’s wiser not to live from hand to mouth, so we must lay in another supply now.’ And that’s all she said, but she just looked.”
“And I didn’t want to go to the store after that old meal and those old potatoes,” blurted out Joel suddenly, not looking at any one.
“But you did go, Joel,” cried Polly immediately. “Oh, yes he did, boys!” she repeated emphatically; “he went real good, and Mamsie was pleased.”
Joel brightened up at that, and brought down his gaze from the tip of one of the tallest trees on the opposite terrace, as he drew a sigh of relief.
“‘Yes,’ said Mamsie, and I remember just exactly how she looked as she said it; ‘it is always the right thing to get what will be needed, before it is needed.’ And then the boys ran off, and dragged the sled out of the woodshed, and away they ran off down the road pulling it after them.”
“And couldn’t they go coasting as soon as they got the potatoes?” demanded Percy.
“And the meal?” begged Van anxiously.
“Why, you see, Mr. Atkins, the man who kept the store, you know, had a great deal to do that afternoon; and it took so long to wait on all his customers thatit was dark before the boys got home, and they had to fill the wood-box forthe next morning, and so Mamsie said they must wait until to-morrow.”
The boys bringing home the meal and potatoes.
The boys bringing home the meal and potatoes.
“Oh!” exclaimed the two Whitneys.
“Well, we all went to bed early that night. Joel and David meant to get up as soon as it was light and go out and coast, they said. It was snowing beautifully when Mamsie looked out the last thing, and it was dreadfully deep,and Ben said he’d be sure to find time to give Phronsie a ride on the sled. And the first thing we knew it was morning, only we didn’t know it was morning,” said Polly, with a funny little laugh.
“What do you mean,—that you didn’t know it was morning?” asked Van.
“Oh! I mean—never mind, you’ll see when I get to it,” said Polly, who never liked to be pushed ahead of her story. “Well, the first thing I knew Mamsie was calling me, ‘Polly,’ in such a funny voice, that I hopped right up into the middle of the big bed.
“‘Get on your clothes as quickly as possible and come out here,’ said Mamsie. And I flew out of bed. Oh! how I wanted to just peep into the kitchen and see what was the matter, but I knew Mamsie wouldn’t like it; so I got dressed as fast as ever I could, and ran out. There was Mamsie in the middle of the floor. ‘Polly, child,’ she said, ‘we’re snowed in!’”
There was a breathless silence for a minute, that nobody seemed able to break. “Yes,” said Polly; “and don’t you think, there we were buried up in our Little Brown House.”
“O Polly!” cried Van in a horrified tone; “didn’t you ever get out?”
“Why, yes,” said Polly; “of course, or else we wouldn’t be here. Don’t feel so, Van,” as she saw his face; “it didn’t hurt us any, you know, because we all got out in good time. And we had some fun while being shut up in our little snow-house.”
“Is that what you mean by the little snow-house the story is about?” asked Percy, who was so bound up in the story he had lost sight of the opportunity to laugh at Van.
“Yes,” said Polly gayly, “it was, and our Little Brown House was made intoa little snow-house; and now I’m going to tell you about it. Well, when Mamsie said that, I just put my arms around her, and she held me close for a minute, for, you see, we didn’t know what to do. And then I said ‘I’m going to call Ben.’”
The little snow-house.
The little snow-house.
“But Polly didn’t call us then,” said Joel in an injured tone; “and Dave and I slept over till ever so late.”
“And so did Phronsie,” said Ben. “And I wish we could have kept you all in bed the rest of that day.”
“But you couldn’t,” said Joel, bobbing hishead; “and just as soon as we did wake up, we found out all about it.”
“Well keep still now, Joe,” said Ben, “and let Polly finish the story.”
“It was just as dark,” Polly was saying, “oh! you can’t think how dreadfully dark it was, till Mamsie lighted her candle; for when we tried to look out of the window, why we couldn’t, because, you see, there was the white snow piled up against it tight; and we couldn’t open the door.”
“Why not?” asked little Dick.
“Because we’d go right into a big snowbank if we did, oh! ever and ever so much higher than our heads; and, besides, the snow would tumble in the house, and then we couldn’t shut the door again; so Mamsie told us not to touch it. Oh, dear, dear, it was perfectly dreadful!”
A shiver passed over the group that made the “nice little creeps” run down each back, as Polly began again, “Well, and there we were, shut up in our Little Brown House, and we didn’t know when any one would come to dig us out.”
“Why didn’t you run up-stairs, and lookout?” cried Van, thrusting himself forward excitedly.
“Dear me, we did that the first thing,” said Polly; “I mean, Ben did. He tried to look out of the window in the loft, because, you know, we didn’t have any up-stairs, but a little place in the loft where the boys slept; and all he could see was the top of the snow where it had blown all up everywhere, and then he ran down and told Mamsie and me in the kitchen. Oh! you can’t think how perfectly dreadful it was those first few minutes; we were so glad the children were fast asleep in their beds.”
“Well, we weren’t,” grumbled Joel, who always felt defrauded out of every one of those dreadful minutes. “Dave and I wanted to be down in the kitchen with Mamsie and you.”
“Why, you didn’t know anything of it,” said Ben with a little laugh.
“Well, we wanted to be there if we didn’t,” said Joel, not minding the laugh in which the others joined.
“And Mamsie said we were not to worry, for God would take care of us,” said Polly gravely. “And then she asked Him to do it, and to send some one to dig us out; and then she said,—andI’ll never forget it,—‘Now, children, we must set ourselves to think what we ought to do, and go to work, because God doesn’t help people who do not help themselves.’ And then we all sat down to think up the best thing to do. And Ben said he thought we ought to tie something to a long stick, and run it out the window, and maybe”—
“No, that was Polly’s idea,” said Ben quickly; “she thought of it first.”
“O Ben! you surely said so,” cried Polly, with rosy cheeks.
“Well, you spoke of it first, and so I said I’ddo it,” declared Ben positively. “It was Polly who thought it all out.”
“Well, you got the red blanket, and tied it on the broom,” said Polly; “so you did it, anyway.”
“That’s nothing,” said Ben; “we all thought of the blanket because it was red, and would show against the snow. And after that there was nothing we could do; so we all three sat down in the kitchen, and looked at each other.”
“Yes,” said Polly, shaking her head very mournfully, “that was the hardest part of it all; there wasn’t anything to do. Oh, dear me! it was perfectly dreadful; you can’t think how dreadful it all was.”
“And pretty soon Mamsie said, ‘Now, children, we’ll get breakfast the same as usual. Thank God that we have got a large supply of meal and potatoes in the Provision Room, so we sha’n’t starve. Look at the clock, Polly, child.’
“And there, don’t you think,” said Polly, “the old clock in the corner was ticking away the minutes as fast as it could; and it was half-past eight, and we always used to get up at six o’clock—in winter, I mean.”
“Six o’clock in winter!” cried Percy in amazement, who dearly loved his bed of amorning. “Oh, dear me! that’s the middle of the night.”
“Well, if you think that’s early, what do you think of five o’clock,” said Ben under his breath.
“And just think of Ben,” Polly was saying, with a little pat on Ben’s back; “he used to have all his chores done by six o’clock, because he had to go and help other people, and earn money.”
Percy tumbled right over on the green bank, quite overcome by this, and lay there lost in thought.
“Yes, it was half-past eight,” said Polly impressively. “And when I looked at the clock, I jumped up, glad of something to do; for I’d been twisting my hands together, trying not to cry,” she confessed, drooping her brown head in a shamedfaced way.
“But you didn’t cry,” declared Ben stoutly. “Polly didn’t let a single tear come out of her eyes; she was just splendid all the time.”
“No, I wasn’t splendid,” said Polly; but the color ran over her cheek again, and up to the little waves of hair on her brow, as she smiled at Ben. “And when Mamsie told us to getbreakfast, why, Ben and I were glad enough to hop up and set to work. So he ran and kindled the fire; and pretty soon there it was blazing away, right merrily, because, you see, we had our new stove then. What we should have done with our old one, I’m sure I don’t know,” said Polly, holding up both hands.
“And I said, it was lucky we had such a splendid lot of wood all cut in the woodshed,” said Ben, “when I came back to fill up the wood-box again, after I had made the fire. And Mamsie said ‘Never say “lucky” again, Ben, but say “faithful work provides for the future.”’ I’ve thought of it ever since.”
“‘And that’s the reason you’ve got plenty of wood now,’ said Mamsie.” Polly took up the story quickly. “And she said that Ben had been plucky, instead of lucky, to stick to it when he wanted to rest. Well, then we heard an awful noise up in the loft.”
“What was it?” cried Van, getting involuntarily nearer to Polly and Ben. “Was it bears?”
“Worse than bears,” said Ben decidedly.
“Worse than bears?” Van was quite delighted; but he drew still farther within thecentre of the group, and cast a glance over his shoulder as if he expected something to jump from behind the trees.
“Yes,” said Ben, nodding his head.
“Was it a snake?” asked little Dick, huddling up close to Polly to lay his head in her lap again.
“Worse than a snake,” said Ben.
“Oh, dear, dear! what was it?” cried Van and Dick together, while Percy got up quickly, and pushed in between the others. “What was it?” he asked too.
“Those two boys,” said Ben, pointing to Joel and Davie; “they made more noise than a dozen bears, as soon as they woke up and found out how things were. I tell you, it was pretty lively then down in the kitchen.”
“And we hadn’t seen Ben run out the stick with the red blanket on,” said Joel in a dudgeon, flinging himself flat on the grass, to drum his heels on the green sward. “It was mean not to wake us up.”
“Well, you saw it afterward,” said Ben coolly. “And if you’d had your way, Joe, the old broom would have rattled down a dozen times, you wanted to shake it so hard.”
“That was to make folks see it, and come and dig us out,” said Joel, squinting up at the sky.
“Well, let Polly tell the story,” said Jasper, who had been quiet all this time. “And then just think what Mamsie said to those two boys.” Here Polly jumped up to her feet. “Oh, it was so splendid!” and her eyes kindled, and the color came and went in her cheeks; “she said, and these are just her words, ‘Boys, you’ve maybe saved all our lives, by giving up your play yesterday, and getting that meal and those potatoes.’ Just think of that,” cried Polly again, clasping her hands; “Mamsie said that toourtwo boys. Oh, I’m so proud of them!” With that Polly ran back to the green bank, and in a minute she had her two arms around Joel and David. And Jasper proposed three cheers; and Van led them off, Percy coming in in time for the end, as Phronsie gave a delighted little gurgle.
“’Twasn’t anything,” said Joel, red and shining in his efforts to escape all praise. “Dave and I didn’t do anything.”
“’Twas meal and potatoes,” cried little Dick, stumbling up and down the path, and gettingin everybody’s way. And then they all laughed, and settled down for the end of the story.
“Well,” said Polly with a long breath, and beginning again, “you can’t think how glad we were to have work to do on that dreadful day. We washed every dish in the house, over and over, and cleaned and tidied up; and then, when we hadn’t any more work, we sat round and told stories.”
“Oh! will you tell us some of those stories you told in the little snow-house, Polly Pepper?” cried Van in a shout.
“Some time,” said Polly.
“Go on, Polly,” said Ben, “and tell about sitting around the stove.”
“Oh, yes!” said Polly briskly; “you see, children, we couldn’t burn our candles all day because Mamsie hadn’t such a very great many. And so after Phronsie woke up, and our work was done up, we sat around the stove, and told stories in the dark.”
“Oh! oh!” exclaimed the Whitney boys.
“Yes; and then,” said Ben, “Polly asked Mamsie if we might play Blindman’s-Buff; she said yes—and so we did.”
“Yes; and we played Puss-in-the-Corner,and all sorts of things we never had the time to play on other days; we played in our little snow-house. Oh, we had a lovely time, after all!”
“And didn’t anybody come to dig you out?” asked Percy, feeling as if the delights of such a frolic wouldn’t pay him for being shut up in a little snow-house; and he shivered as he spoke.
“No,” said Polly; “at least not till the next day. And then all of a sudden some one screamed, ‘Hallo, there!’ and don’t you think we heard Deacon Brown’s voice through the snow; they’d dug quite a piece towards us, and they were shouting to let us know they were coming.”
“And didn’t you scream back, Polly Pepper, didn’t you? didn’t you?” cried all the Whitneys together in intense excitement.
“I rather guess we did,” said Ben, with shining eyes; “it’s a wonder the roof of The Little Brown House didn’t fly off with the noise we Peppers made.”