Five Little Peppers Abroad - Margaret Sidney (books for 6 year olds to read themselves .TXT) 📗
- Author: Margaret Sidney
Book online «Five Little Peppers Abroad - Margaret Sidney (books for 6 year olds to read themselves .TXT) 📗». Author Margaret Sidney
Tom, who was the only one of the party to be collected on such short notice, had joined them, and they were bowling along in a big carriage, Jasper as guide, to the spot where the man was waiting.
"You see it was just this way," Jasper was rapidly telling off. "I was going down by the Madeleine, and I thought I would bring Phronsie some flowers; so I stopped at the market, and I couldn't find a little pot of primroses I wanted, though I went the whole length; and at last, when I had given up, I saw just one in front of a woman who sat at the very end."
"Do hurry, Jasper, and get to the conclusion," said his father, impatiently.
Polly dearly loved to have the story go on in just this way, as she leaned forward, her eyes on Jasper's face, but she said nothing, only sighed.
"Well," said Jasper, "I'll tell it as quickly as I can, father. And there were a lot of children, father, all round the woman where she sat on a box, and she was tying in a bunch some flowers that were huddled in her lap, and the children were picking out the good ones for her; and just then a man, who was bending over back of them all, breaking off some little branches from a big green one, straightened up suddenly, and, father, as true as you live," cried Jasper, in intense excitement, "it was your poor man!"
"The children?" asked Mr. King, as soon as he could be heard for the excitement.
"Are all his," cried Jasper, "and he took the money you gave him, and set his wife up in the flower business down in front of the Madeleine. Oh! and Phronsie, the doll you gave him was sitting up on another box, and every once in a while the littlest girl would stop picking out the flowers in her mother's lap, and would run over and wipe its face with her apron."
XXVIII
"WELL, I GOT HIM HERE," SAID THE LITTLE EARL
They were really on their way to see the little old earl, after all! How it came about, Mr. King, even days after it had all been decided, couldn't exactly remember. He recalled several conversations in Paris with Tom's mother, who showed him bits of letters, and one in particular that somehow seemed to be a very potent factor in the plan that, almost before he knew it, came to be made. And when he held out, as hold out he did against the acceptance of the invitation, he found to his utmost surprise that every one, Mother Fisher and all, was decidedly against him.
"Oh, well," he had declared when that came out, "I might as well give in gracefully first as last." And he sat down at once and wrote a very handsome note to the little old earl, and that clinched the whole business.
And after the week of this visit should be over, for old Mr. King was firmness itself on not accepting a day more, they were to bid good-by to Mrs. Selwyn and Tom, and jaunt about a bit to show a little of Old England to the Hendersons, and then run down to Liverpool to see them off, and at last turn their faces toward Dresden, their winter home - "and to my work!" said Polly to herself in delight.
So now here they were, actually driving up to the entrance of the park, and stopping at the lodge-gate.
An old woman, in an immaculate cap and a stiff white apron over her best linsey-woolsey gown which she had donned for the occasion, came out of the lodge and courtesied low to the madam, and held open the big gate.
"How have you been, Mrs. Bell?" asked Mrs. Selwyn, with a kind smile, as the carriage paused a bit.
"Very well, my lady," said Mrs. Bell, her round face glowing with pride. "And the earl is well, bless him! and we are glad to welcome you home again, and Master Tom."
"And I'm glad enough to get here, Mrs. Bell," cried Tom. "Now drive on at your fastest, Hobson."
Hobson, who knew very well what Master Tom's fastest gait was, preferred to drive through the park at what he considered the dignified pace. So they rolled on under the stately trees, going miles, it seemed to Polly, who sat on the back seat with Tom.
He turned to her, unable to conceal his impatience. "Anybody would think this pair were worn out old cobs," he fumed. "Polly, you have no idea how they can go, when Hobson lets them out. What are you wasting all this time for, crawling along in this fashion, Hobson, when you know we want to get on?"
Thus publicly addressed, Hobson let the handsome bays "go" as Tom expressed it, and they were bowled along in a way that made Polly turn in delight to Tom.
"There - that's something like!" declared Tom. "Don't you like it, Polly?" looking into her rosy face.
"Like it!" cried Polly, "why, Tom Selwyn, it's beautiful. And these splendid trees - " she looked up and around. "Oh, I never saw any so fine."
"They're not half bad," assented Tom, "these oaks aren't, and we have some more, on the other end of the park, about five miles off, that - "
"Five miles off!" cried Polly, with wide eyes. "Is the park as big as that, Tom?"
He laughed. "That isn't much. But you'll see it all for yourself," he added. Then he rushed off into wondering how his dogs were. "And, oh, you'll ride with the hounds, Polly!"
Just then some rabbits scurried across the wood, followed by several more pattering and leaping through the grass.
"Oh, Tom, see those rabbits!" cried Polly, excitedly.
"Yes, the warrens are over yonder," said Tom, bobbing his head in the right direction.
"What?" asked Polly, in perplexity.
"Rabbit-warrens; oh, I forgot, you haven't lived in England. You seem so much like an English girl, though," said Tom, paying the highest compliment he knew of.
"Well, what are they?" asked Polly, quite overcome by the compliment coming from Tom.
"Oh, they are preserves, you know, where the rabbits live, and they are not allowed to be hunted here."
"Oh, do you ever hunt rabbits?" cried Polly, in horror, leaning out of her side of the big coach to see the scurrying little animals.
"Not often," said Tom, "we mostly ride after the fox. You'll ride with the hounds, Polly," he cried with enthusiasm. "We'll have a hunt while you're here, and we always wind up with a breakfast, you know. Oh, we'll have no end of sport." He hugged his long arms in huge satisfaction.
And away - and away over the winding road and underneath the stately trees, rolled the big coach, to be followed by the other carriages, like a dream it seemed to Polly, and more than ever, when at last they stopped in front of a massive pile of buildings with towers and arches and wings.
And the little old earl was kissing her rosy cheek in the most courtly fashion, and saying while he shook her hand in his long fingers, "And how do you do, my dear?" And Mrs. Selwyn was by his other side. And Tom was screeching out, "How do you do, Granddaddy!" And then, "Oh, Elinor and Mary!" to two quiet, plain-looking girls standing in the background. And "Ah, how d'ye kids!" as the faces of his two small brothers appeared. And Polly forgot all about the fact that she was in an earl's house, and she laughed and chatted; and in two minutes one of Tom's sisters was on either side of her, and the small boys in front, and the little groups were moving in and out of the old hall, as Grandpapa and the rest came in, and the head housekeeper in a black silk gown that seemed quite able to stand alone, and a perfect relay of stiff figures in livery were drawn up underneath the armour hanging on the wall.
And the little old earl worked his way up to her, and he had Grandpapa on his arm. "Well, I got him here," he said with twinkling eyes, and a chuckle.
But the next morning - oh, the next morning! - when Polly tried to compass as much of the thronging attractions as she could, and Jasper was at his wits' end whenever he was appealed to, to decide what he wanted to do first - "cricket," or "punting on the river," that ran through the estate, or "riding through the park, and to the village owned by his grandfather"? "I always go see the tenantry as soon as I get home," said Tom, simply.
"Oh, then, let us go there by all means," said Jasper, quickly.
"I mean - oh, I'm no end awkward," exclaimed Tom, breaking off, his face covered with confusion. "It's not necessary to go at once; we can fetch up there to-morrow."
"Oh, do let us go, Tom," begged Polly, clasping her hands. "I should dearly love most of all to see the tenantry and those dear little cottages." And so that was decided upon.
And Tom had his beloved hunt, several of the gentry being asked. And Polly rode a special horse selected by the little old earl himself.
"It's perfectly safe; he has an excellent disposition," he declared to old Mr. King, "and he'll carry her all right."
"I'm not afraid," said Mr. King, "the child rides well."
"So she must - so she must, I was sure of it," cried the little old earl, with a series of chuckles. And he busied himself especially with seeing her mounted properly when the party gathered on the lawn in front of the old hall. The hounds were baying and straining at the leashes, impatient to be off; the pink hunting-coats gave dashes of colour as their owners moved about over the broad green sward, - under the oaks, - and Polly felt her heart beat rapidly with the exhilarating sights and sounds. It was only when they were off, and Tom riding up by her side expatiated on the glory of running down the fox and "being in at the death," that the colour died down on her cheek.
"Oh, Tom!" she said, reining in her horse. If he hadn't been the possessor of a good disposition, he certainly would have bolted in his disappointment at being pulled up so abruptly. "It's so cruel to kill the poor fox in that way."
"Eh - what!" exclaimed Tom, not hearing the words, falling back to her side, consternation all over his face. "Why, I never knew Meteor to break in this way before."
"Oh, it isn't his fault," said Polly, hastily, and patting her horse's neck. "I pulled him up. Oh, Tom, it's all so very cruel."
"Eh?" said Tom, in a puzzled way.
"To kill the fox in this way," said Polly, her heart sinking as she thought how dreadful it was for her to object, when visiting, to anything her host might plan. "O dear me!" and she looked so distressed that Tom turned comforter at once.
"We all do it," he was saying, as Jasper rode up.
"Anything the matter?" he asked in great concern. "What's happened?"
"Nothing," said Tom, "only Polly doesn't like the fox-hunt."
"It's so cruel," cried Polly, turning to Jasper, with a little pink spot coming in either cheek. "I ought to have thought
"You see it was just this way," Jasper was rapidly telling off. "I was going down by the Madeleine, and I thought I would bring Phronsie some flowers; so I stopped at the market, and I couldn't find a little pot of primroses I wanted, though I went the whole length; and at last, when I had given up, I saw just one in front of a woman who sat at the very end."
"Do hurry, Jasper, and get to the conclusion," said his father, impatiently.
Polly dearly loved to have the story go on in just this way, as she leaned forward, her eyes on Jasper's face, but she said nothing, only sighed.
"Well," said Jasper, "I'll tell it as quickly as I can, father. And there were a lot of children, father, all round the woman where she sat on a box, and she was tying in a bunch some flowers that were huddled in her lap, and the children were picking out the good ones for her; and just then a man, who was bending over back of them all, breaking off some little branches from a big green one, straightened up suddenly, and, father, as true as you live," cried Jasper, in intense excitement, "it was your poor man!"
"The children?" asked Mr. King, as soon as he could be heard for the excitement.
"Are all his," cried Jasper, "and he took the money you gave him, and set his wife up in the flower business down in front of the Madeleine. Oh! and Phronsie, the doll you gave him was sitting up on another box, and every once in a while the littlest girl would stop picking out the flowers in her mother's lap, and would run over and wipe its face with her apron."
XXVIII
"WELL, I GOT HIM HERE," SAID THE LITTLE EARL
They were really on their way to see the little old earl, after all! How it came about, Mr. King, even days after it had all been decided, couldn't exactly remember. He recalled several conversations in Paris with Tom's mother, who showed him bits of letters, and one in particular that somehow seemed to be a very potent factor in the plan that, almost before he knew it, came to be made. And when he held out, as hold out he did against the acceptance of the invitation, he found to his utmost surprise that every one, Mother Fisher and all, was decidedly against him.
"Oh, well," he had declared when that came out, "I might as well give in gracefully first as last." And he sat down at once and wrote a very handsome note to the little old earl, and that clinched the whole business.
And after the week of this visit should be over, for old Mr. King was firmness itself on not accepting a day more, they were to bid good-by to Mrs. Selwyn and Tom, and jaunt about a bit to show a little of Old England to the Hendersons, and then run down to Liverpool to see them off, and at last turn their faces toward Dresden, their winter home - "and to my work!" said Polly to herself in delight.
So now here they were, actually driving up to the entrance of the park, and stopping at the lodge-gate.
An old woman, in an immaculate cap and a stiff white apron over her best linsey-woolsey gown which she had donned for the occasion, came out of the lodge and courtesied low to the madam, and held open the big gate.
"How have you been, Mrs. Bell?" asked Mrs. Selwyn, with a kind smile, as the carriage paused a bit.
"Very well, my lady," said Mrs. Bell, her round face glowing with pride. "And the earl is well, bless him! and we are glad to welcome you home again, and Master Tom."
"And I'm glad enough to get here, Mrs. Bell," cried Tom. "Now drive on at your fastest, Hobson."
Hobson, who knew very well what Master Tom's fastest gait was, preferred to drive through the park at what he considered the dignified pace. So they rolled on under the stately trees, going miles, it seemed to Polly, who sat on the back seat with Tom.
He turned to her, unable to conceal his impatience. "Anybody would think this pair were worn out old cobs," he fumed. "Polly, you have no idea how they can go, when Hobson lets them out. What are you wasting all this time for, crawling along in this fashion, Hobson, when you know we want to get on?"
Thus publicly addressed, Hobson let the handsome bays "go" as Tom expressed it, and they were bowled along in a way that made Polly turn in delight to Tom.
"There - that's something like!" declared Tom. "Don't you like it, Polly?" looking into her rosy face.
"Like it!" cried Polly, "why, Tom Selwyn, it's beautiful. And these splendid trees - " she looked up and around. "Oh, I never saw any so fine."
"They're not half bad," assented Tom, "these oaks aren't, and we have some more, on the other end of the park, about five miles off, that - "
"Five miles off!" cried Polly, with wide eyes. "Is the park as big as that, Tom?"
He laughed. "That isn't much. But you'll see it all for yourself," he added. Then he rushed off into wondering how his dogs were. "And, oh, you'll ride with the hounds, Polly!"
Just then some rabbits scurried across the wood, followed by several more pattering and leaping through the grass.
"Oh, Tom, see those rabbits!" cried Polly, excitedly.
"Yes, the warrens are over yonder," said Tom, bobbing his head in the right direction.
"What?" asked Polly, in perplexity.
"Rabbit-warrens; oh, I forgot, you haven't lived in England. You seem so much like an English girl, though," said Tom, paying the highest compliment he knew of.
"Well, what are they?" asked Polly, quite overcome by the compliment coming from Tom.
"Oh, they are preserves, you know, where the rabbits live, and they are not allowed to be hunted here."
"Oh, do you ever hunt rabbits?" cried Polly, in horror, leaning out of her side of the big coach to see the scurrying little animals.
"Not often," said Tom, "we mostly ride after the fox. You'll ride with the hounds, Polly," he cried with enthusiasm. "We'll have a hunt while you're here, and we always wind up with a breakfast, you know. Oh, we'll have no end of sport." He hugged his long arms in huge satisfaction.
And away - and away over the winding road and underneath the stately trees, rolled the big coach, to be followed by the other carriages, like a dream it seemed to Polly, and more than ever, when at last they stopped in front of a massive pile of buildings with towers and arches and wings.
And the little old earl was kissing her rosy cheek in the most courtly fashion, and saying while he shook her hand in his long fingers, "And how do you do, my dear?" And Mrs. Selwyn was by his other side. And Tom was screeching out, "How do you do, Granddaddy!" And then, "Oh, Elinor and Mary!" to two quiet, plain-looking girls standing in the background. And "Ah, how d'ye kids!" as the faces of his two small brothers appeared. And Polly forgot all about the fact that she was in an earl's house, and she laughed and chatted; and in two minutes one of Tom's sisters was on either side of her, and the small boys in front, and the little groups were moving in and out of the old hall, as Grandpapa and the rest came in, and the head housekeeper in a black silk gown that seemed quite able to stand alone, and a perfect relay of stiff figures in livery were drawn up underneath the armour hanging on the wall.
And the little old earl worked his way up to her, and he had Grandpapa on his arm. "Well, I got him here," he said with twinkling eyes, and a chuckle.
But the next morning - oh, the next morning! - when Polly tried to compass as much of the thronging attractions as she could, and Jasper was at his wits' end whenever he was appealed to, to decide what he wanted to do first - "cricket," or "punting on the river," that ran through the estate, or "riding through the park, and to the village owned by his grandfather"? "I always go see the tenantry as soon as I get home," said Tom, simply.
"Oh, then, let us go there by all means," said Jasper, quickly.
"I mean - oh, I'm no end awkward," exclaimed Tom, breaking off, his face covered with confusion. "It's not necessary to go at once; we can fetch up there to-morrow."
"Oh, do let us go, Tom," begged Polly, clasping her hands. "I should dearly love most of all to see the tenantry and those dear little cottages." And so that was decided upon.
And Tom had his beloved hunt, several of the gentry being asked. And Polly rode a special horse selected by the little old earl himself.
"It's perfectly safe; he has an excellent disposition," he declared to old Mr. King, "and he'll carry her all right."
"I'm not afraid," said Mr. King, "the child rides well."
"So she must - so she must, I was sure of it," cried the little old earl, with a series of chuckles. And he busied himself especially with seeing her mounted properly when the party gathered on the lawn in front of the old hall. The hounds were baying and straining at the leashes, impatient to be off; the pink hunting-coats gave dashes of colour as their owners moved about over the broad green sward, - under the oaks, - and Polly felt her heart beat rapidly with the exhilarating sights and sounds. It was only when they were off, and Tom riding up by her side expatiated on the glory of running down the fox and "being in at the death," that the colour died down on her cheek.
"Oh, Tom!" she said, reining in her horse. If he hadn't been the possessor of a good disposition, he certainly would have bolted in his disappointment at being pulled up so abruptly. "It's so cruel to kill the poor fox in that way."
"Eh - what!" exclaimed Tom, not hearing the words, falling back to her side, consternation all over his face. "Why, I never knew Meteor to break in this way before."
"Oh, it isn't his fault," said Polly, hastily, and patting her horse's neck. "I pulled him up. Oh, Tom, it's all so very cruel."
"Eh?" said Tom, in a puzzled way.
"To kill the fox in this way," said Polly, her heart sinking as she thought how dreadful it was for her to object, when visiting, to anything her host might plan. "O dear me!" and she looked so distressed that Tom turned comforter at once.
"We all do it," he was saying, as Jasper rode up.
"Anything the matter?" he asked in great concern. "What's happened?"
"Nothing," said Tom, "only Polly doesn't like the fox-hunt."
"It's so cruel," cried Polly, turning to Jasper, with a little pink spot coming in either cheek. "I ought to have thought
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