Five Little Peppers and How They Grew - Margaret Sidney (chromebook ebook reader .txt) 📗

pick up worms in the grass beside the carriage drive. And then came Mrs. Pepper with the big mending basket, and ensconced herself opposite by the table; and nothing was to be heard but the “tick, tick” of the clock, and an occasional dropping of a spool of thread, or scissors, from the busy hands flying in and out among the stockings.

All of a sudden there was a great rustling in Cherry's cage that swung in the big window on the other side of the room. And then he set up a loud and angry chirping, flying up and down, and opening his mouth as if he wanted to express his mind, but couldn't, and otherwise acting in a very strange and unaccountable manner.

“Dear me!” said Mrs. Pepper, “what's that?”

“It's Cherry,” said Polly, lifting up her head from “Fasquelle,” “and—oh, dear me!” and flinging down the pile of books in her lap on a chair, she rushed across the room and flew up to the cage and began to wildly gesticulate and explain and shower down on him every endearing name she could think of.

“What is the matter?” asked her mother, turning around in her chair in perfect astonishment. “What upon earth, Polly!”

“How could I!” cried Polly, in accents of despair, not heeding her mother's question. “Oh, mamsie, will he die, do you think?”

“I guess not,” said Mrs. Pepper, laying down her work and coming up to the cage, while Phronsie scrambled off from her chair and hurried to the scene. “Why, he does act queer, don't he? P'raps he's been eating too much?”

“Eating!” said Polly, “oh mamsie, he hasn't had anything.” And she pointed with shame and remorse to the seed-cup with only a few dried husks in the very bottom.

“Oh, Polly,” began Mrs. Pepper; but seeing the look on her face, she changed her tone for one more cheerful. “Well, hurry and get him some now; he'll be all right, poor little thing, in a minute. There, there,” she said, nodding persuasively at the cage, “you pretty creature you! so you sha'n't be starved.”

At the word “starved,” Polly winced as though a pin had been pointed at her.

“There isn't any, mamsie, in the house,” she stammered; “he had the last yesterday.”

“And you forgot him to-day?” asked Mrs. Pepper, with a look in her black eyes Polly didn't like.

“Yes'm,” said poor Polly in a low voice.

“Well, he must have something right away,” said Mrs. Pepper, decidedly. “That's certain.”

“I'll run right down to Fletcher's and get it,” cried Polly.

“Twon't take me but a minute, mamsie; Jasper's gone, and Thomas, too, so I've got to go,” she added, as she saw her mother hesitate.

“If you could wait till Ben gets home,” said Mrs. Pepper, slowly. “I'm most afraid it will rain, Polly.”

“Oh, no, mamsie,” cried Polly, feeling as if she could fly to the ends of the earth to atone, and longing beside for the brisk walk down town. Going up to the window she pointed triumphantly to the little bit of blue sky still visible. “There, now, see, it can't rain yet awhile.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Pepper, while Phronsie, standing in a chair with her face pressed close to the cage, was telling Cherry through the bars “not to be hungry, please don't!” which he didn't seem to mind in the least, but went on screaming harder than ever! “And besides, 'tisn't much use to wait for Ben. Nobody knows where he'll get shoes to fit himself and Joe and Davie, in one afternoon! But be sure, Polly, to hurry, for it's getting late, and I shall be worried about you.

“Oh, mamsie,” said Polly, turning back just a minute, “I know the way to Fletcher's just as easy as anything. I couldn't get lost.”

“I know you do,” said Mrs. Pepper, “but it'll be dark early on account of the shower. Well,” she said, pulling out her well-worn purse from her pocket, “if it does sprinkle, you get into a car, Polly, remember.”

“Oh, yes, I will,” she cried, taking the purse.

“And there's ten cents for your bird seed in that pocket,” said Mrs. Pepper, pointing to a coin racing away into a corner by itself.

“Yes'm,” said Polly, wild to be off.

“And there's a five-cent piece in that one for you to ride up with,” said her mother, tying up the purse carefully. “Remember, for you to ride up with. Well, I guess you better ride up anyway, Polly, come to think, and then you'll get home all the quicker.”

“Where you going?” asked Phronsie, who on seeing the purse knew there was some expedition on foot, and beginning to clamber down out of the chair. “Oh, I want to go too, I do. Take me, Polly!”

“Oh, no. Pet, I can't,” cried Polly, “I've got to hurry like everything!”

“I can hurry too,” cried Phronsie, drawing her small figure to its utmost height, “oh, so fast, Polly!”

“And it's ever so far,” cried Polly, in despair, as she saw the small under lip of the child begin to quiver. “Oh, dear me, mamsie, what shall I do!”

“Run right along,” said Mrs. Pepper, briskly. “Now, Phronsie, you and I ought to take care of Cherry, poor thing.”

At this Phronsie turned and wiped away two big tears, while she gazed up at the cage in extreme commiseration.

“I guess I'll give him a piece of bread,” said Mrs. Pepper to herself. At this word “bread,” Polly, who was half way down the hall, came running back.

“Oh, mamsie, don't,” she said. “It made him sick before, don't you know it did—so fat and stuffy.”

“Well, hurry along then,” said Mrs. Pepper, and Polly was off.

Over the ground she sped, only intent on reaching the bird store, her speed heightened by the dark and rolling bank of cloud that seemed to shut right down suddenly over her and envelop her warningly.

“It's good I've got the money to ride up with,” she thought to herself, hurrying along through the busy streets, filled now with anxious crowds homeward rushing to avoid the threatening shower. “Well, here I am,” she said with a sigh of relief, as she at last reached Mr. Fletcher's big bird store.

Here she steadily resisted all temptations to stop and look at the new arrivals of birds, and to feed the carrier-pigeons who seemed to be expecting her, and who turned their soft eyes up at her reproachfully when she failed to pay her respects to them. Even the cunning blandishments of a very attractive monkey that always had entertained the children on their numerous visits, failed to interest her now. Mamsie would be worrying, she knew; and besides, the sight of so many birds eating their suppers out of generously full seed-cups, only filled her heart with remorse as she thought of poor Cherry and his empty one.

So she put down her ten cents silently on the counter, and took up the little package of seed, and went out.

But what a change! The cloud that had seemed but a cloud when she went in, was now fast descending in big ominous sprinkles that told of a heavy shower to follow. Quick and fast they came, making everybody fly to the nearest shelter.

“I don't care,” said Polly to herself, holding fast her little package. “I'll run and get in the car—then I'll be all right.”

So she went on with nimble footsteps, dodging the crowd, and soon came to the corner. A car was just in sight—that was fine! Polly put her hand in her pocket for her purse, to have it all ready—but as quickly drew it out again and stared wildly at the car, which she allowed to pass by. Her pocket was empty!

“Oh, dear,” she said to herself, as a sudden gust of wind blew around the corner, and warned her to move on, “now what shall I do! Well, I must hurry. Nothing for it but to run now!”

And secretly glad at the chance for a good hearty run along the hard pavements, a thing she had been longing to do ever since she came to the city, Polly gathered her bundle of seed up under her arm, and set out for a jolly race. She was enjoying it hugely, when—a sudden turn of the corner brought her up against a gentleman, who, having his umbrella down to protect his face, hadn't seen her till it was too late.

Polly never could tell how it was done; but the first thing she knew she was being helped up from the wet, slippery pavement by a kind hand; and a gentleman's voice said in the deepest concern:

“I beg your pardon; it was extremely careless in me.”

“It's no matter,” said Polly, hopping up with a little laugh, and straightening her hat. “Only—” and she began to look for her parcel that had been sent spinning.

“What is it?” said the gentleman, bending down and beginning to explore, too, in the darkness.

“My bundle,” began Polly. “Oh, dear!”

No need to ask for it now! There lay the paper wet and torn, down at their feet. The seed lay all over the pavement, scattered far and wide even out to the puddles in the street. And not a cent of money to get any more with! The rain that was falling around them as they stood there sent with the sound of every drop such a flood of misery into Polly's heart!

“What was it, child?” asked the gentleman, peering sharply to find out what the little shiny things were.

“Bird-seed,” gasped Polly.

“Is that all?” said the gentleman with a happy laugh. “I'm very glad.”

“All!” Polly's heart stood still as she thought of Cherry, stark and stiff in the bottom of his cage, if he didn't get it soon. “Now,” said the kind tones, briskly, “come, little girl, we'll make this all right speedily. Let's see—here's a bird store. Now, then.”

“But, sir—” began Polly, holding back.

Even Cherry had better die than to do anything her mother wouldn't like. But the gentleman already had her in the shop, and was delighting the heart of the shop-keeper by ordering him to do up a big package of all kinds of seed. And then he added a cunning arrangement for birds to swing in, and two or three other things that didn't have anything to do with birds at all. And then they came out on the wet, slippery street again.

“Now, then, little girl,” said the gentleman, tucking the bundle under his arm, and opening the umbrella; then he took hold of Polly's hand, who by this time was glad of a protector. “Where do you live? For I'm going to take you safely home this time where umbrellas can't run into you.”

“Oh!” said Polly, with a little skip. “Thank you sir! It's up to Mr. King's; and—”

“What!” said the gentleman, stopping short in the midst of an immense puddle, and staring at her, “Mr. Jasper King's?”

“I don't know sir,” said Polly, “what his other name is. Yes it must be Jasper; that's what Jappy's is, anyway,” she added with a little laugh, wishing very much that she could see Jappy at that identical moment.

“Jappy!” said the stranger, still standing as if petrified. “And are there little Whitney children in the same house!”

“Oh, yes,” said Polly, raising her clear, brown eyes up at him. The gas lighter was just beginning his rounds, and the light from a neighboring lamp flashed full on Polly's face as she spoke, showing just how clear and brown the eyes were. “There's Percy, and Van, and little Dick—oh, he's so cunning!” she cried, impulsively.

The gentleman's face looked very queer just then; but he merely said:

“Why, you must be Polly?”

“Yes, sir, I am,” said Polly, pleased to think he knew her. And then she told him how she'd forgotten Cherry's seed, and all about it. “And oh, sir,” she said, and her voice began to tremble, “Mamsie'll be so frightened if I don't get there soon!”

“I'm going up there myself, so that it all happens very nicely,” said the gentleman, commencing to start off briskly, and