Five Little Peppers And How They Grew | Page 5

fling some scraps of
reassuring nonsense to the two~ys, who were thoroughly dismayed at
being obliged to remove their traps into a corner.
Phronsie still stood just where Polly left her. Two hundred candles! oh!
what could it mean! She gazed up to the old beams overhead, and
around the dingy walls, and to the old black stove, with the fire nearly
out, and then over everything the kitchen contained, trying to think how
it would seem. To have it bright and winsome and warm! to suit
Polly--"ohl" she screamed.
"Goodness!" said Polly, taking her head out of the old cupboard in the
corner, "how you scared me, Phronsie!"
"Would they ever go out?" asked the child gravely, still standing where
Polly left her.
"What?" asked Polly, stopping with a dish of cold potatoes in her hand.
"What, Phronsie?"
"Why, the candles," said the child, "the ever-an'-ever so many pretty
lights!"

"Oh, my senses!" cried Polly, with a little laugh, "haven't you forgotten
that! Yes--no, that is, Phronsie, if we could have 'em at all, we wouldn't
ever let 'em go out!"
"Not once?" asked Phronsie, coming up to Polly with a little skip, and
nearly upsetting her, potatoes and all--"not once, Polly, truly?"
"No, not forever-an'-ever," said Polly; "take care, Phronsie! there goes
a potato; no, we'd keep 'em always!"
"No, you don't want to," said Mrs. Pepper, coming out of the bedroom
in time to catch the last words; "they won't be good to-morrow; better
have them to-night, Polly."
"Ma'am!" said Polly, setting down her potato-dish on the table, and
staring at her mother with all her might--"have what, mother?"
"Why, the potatoes, to be sure," replied Mrs. Pepper; "didn't you say
you better keep them, child?"
"Twasn't potatoes--at all," said Polly, with a little gasp; "twas--dear me!
here's Ben!" For the door opened, and Phronsie, with a scream of
delight, bounded into Ben's arms.
"It's just jolly," said Ben, coming in, his chubby face all aglow, and his
big blue eyes shining so honest and true; "it's just jolly to get home!
supper ready, Polly?"
"Yes," said Polly; "that is--all but--" and she dashed off for Phronsie's
eating apron.
"Sometime," said Phronsie, with her mouth half full, when the meal
was nearly over, "we're going to be awful rich; we are, Ben, truly!"
"No?" said Ben, affecting the most hearty astonishment; "you don't say
so, Chick!"
"Yes," said Phronsie, shaking her yellow head very wisely at him, and
diving down into her cup of very weak milk and water to see if Polly

had put any sugar in by mistake--a proceeding always expectantly
observed. "Yes, we are really, Bensie, very dreadful rich!"
"I wish we could be rich now, then," said Ben, taking another generous
slice of the brown bread; "in time for mamsic's birthday," and he cast a
sorrowful glance at Polly.
"I know," said Polly; "oh dear! if we only could celebrate it!"
"I don't want any other celebration," said Mrs. Pepper, beaming on
them so that a little flash of sunshine seemed to hop right down on the
table, "than to look round on you all; I'm rich now, and that's a fact!"
"Mamsie don't mind her five bothers," cried Polly, jumping up and
running to hug her mother; thereby producing a like desire in all the
others, who immediately left their seats and followed her example.
"Mother's rich enough," ejaculated Mrs. Pepper; her bright, black eyes
glistening with delight, as the noisy troop filed back to their bread and
potatoes; "if we can only keep together, dears, and grow up good, so
that the little brown house won't be ashamed of us, that's all I ask."
"Well," said Polly, in a burst of confidence to Ben, after the table had
been pushed back against the wall, the dishes nicely washed, wiped,
and set up neatly in the cupboard, and all traces of the meal cleared
away; "I don't care; let's try and get a celebration, somehow, for
mamsie!"
"How are you going to do it?" asked Ben, who was of a decidedly
practical turn of mind, and thus couldn't always follow Polly in her
ffights of imagination.
"I don't know," said Polly; "but we must some way."
"Phohi that's no good," said Ben, disdainfully; then seeing Polly's face,
he added kindly: "let's think, though; and perhaps there'll be some
way."

"Oh, I know," cried Polly, in delight; "I know the very thing, Ben! let's
make her a cake; a big one, you know, and"-- "She'll see you bake it,"
said Ben; "or else she'll smell it, and that'd be just as bad."
"No, she won't either," replied Polly. "Don't you know she's going to
help Mrs. Henderson to-morrow; so there!"
"So she is," said Ben; "good for you, Polly, you always think of
everything!"
"And then,"