Five Little Peppers And How They Grew | Page 6

said Polly, with a comfortable little feeling at her heart at
Ben's praise, "why, we can have it all out of the way splendidly, you
know, when she comes home--and besides, Grandma Bascom'll tell me
how. You know we've only got brown flour, Ben; I mean to go right
over and ask her now."
"Oh, no, you mustn't," cried Ben, catching hold of her arm as she was
preparing to fly off. "Mammy'll find it out; better wait till to-morrow;
and besides Polly--" And Ben stopped, unwilling to dampen this
propitious beginning. "The stove'll act like everything, to-morrow! I
know 'twill; then what'll you do!"
"It sha'n't!" said Polly, running up to look it in the face; "if it does, I'll
shake it; the mean old thing!"
The idea of Polly's shaking the lumbering old black affair, sent Ben
into such a peal of laughter that it brought all the other children running
to the spot; and nothing would do but they must one and all, be told the
reason. So Polly and Ben took them into confidence, which so elated
them that half an hour after, when long past her bedtime, Phronsie
declared, "I'm not going to bed! I want to sit up like Polly!"
"Don't tease her," whispered Polly to Ben, who thought she ought to go;
so she sat straight up on her little stool, winking like everything to keep
awake.
At last, as Polly was in the midst of one of her liveliest sallies, over
tumbled Phronsie, a sleepy little heap, upon the floor.

"I want--to go--to bed!" she said; "take me--Polly!"
"I thought so," laughed Polly, and bundled her off into the bedroom.
MAKING HAPPINESS FOR MAMSIE
And so, the minute her mother had departed for the minister's house
next morning, and Ben had gone to his day's work, chopping wood for
Deacon Blodgett, Polly assembled her force around the old stove, and
proceeded to business. She and the children had been up betimes that
morning to get through with the work; and now, as they glanced around
with a look of pride on the neatly swept floor, the dishes all done, and
everything in order, the moment their mother's back was turned they
began to implore Polly to huny and begin.
"It's most 'leven o'clock," said Joel, who, having no work to do outside,
that day, was prancing around, wild to help along the festivities; "it's
most 'leven o'clock, Polly Pepper! you won't have it done."
"Oh, no; 'tisn't either, Joe;" said Polly, with a very flushed face, and her
arms full of kindlings, glancing up at the old clock as she spoke; "tisn't
but quarter of nine; there, take care, Phronsie! you can't lift off the
cover; do help her, Davie."
"No; let me!" cried Joel, springing forward; "it's my turn; Dave got the
shingles; it's my turn, Polly."
"So 'tis," said Polly; "I forgot; there," as she flung in the wood, and
poked it all up in a nice little heap coaxingly. "It can't help but burn;
what a cake we'll have for mamsie!"
"It'll be so big," cried Phronsie, hopping around on one set of toes, "that
mamsie won't know what to do, will she, Polly?"
"No, I don't believe she will," said Polly, gayly, stuffing in more wood;
"Oh, dear! there goes Ben's putty; it's all come out!"
"So it has," said Joel, going around back of the stove to explore; and

then he added cheerfully, "it's bigger'n ever; oh! it's an awful big hole,
Polly!"
"Now, whatever shall we do!" said Polly, in great distress; "that hateful
old crack! and Ben's clear off to Deacon Blodgett's!"
"I'll run and get him," cried Joel, briskly; "I'll bring him right home in
ten minutes."
"Oh, no, you must not, Joe," cried Polly in alarm; "it wouldn't ever be
right to take him off from his work; manisie wouldn't like it."
"What will you do, then?" asked Joel, pausing on his way to the door.
"I'm sure I don't know," said Polly, getting down on her knees to
examine the crack; "I shall have to stuff it with paper, I s'pose."
"'Twon't stay in," said Joel, scornfully; "don't you know you stuffed it
before, last week?"
"I know," said Polly, with a small sigh; and sitting down on the floor,
she remained quite still for a minute, with her two black hands thrust
out straight before her.
"Can't you fix it?" asked Davie, soberly, coming up; "then we can't
have the cake."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Polly, springing up quickly; "don't be afraid;
we're going to have that cake! There, you ugly old thing, you!" (this to
the stove) "see what you've done!" as two big tears flew out of
Phronsie's brown eyes at the direful prospect; and the sorrowful faces
of the two boys