Five Little Peppers Grown Up | Page 7

employment," said Jasper
sotto voce, on the rug before the fire.
"Never mind; it'll be just as good fun again," said Polly.
"And not a bit of work--oh, no!"
"Don't throw cold water on it," begged Polly under her breath, while
the baby scrambled all over her, "don't, Jasper; Phronsie has set her
heart on it."
"All right; but I thought you wanted every bit of time to get ready for
your Recital, and the other things; and then, besides, there's Phronsie's
performance down at Dunraven."
"Well, so I did," confessed Polly, with a sigh, "but I can get the time
some way."
"Out of 'the other things,'" said Jasper grimly. "Polly, you'll have no fun

from the holidays. It isn't too late to stop this now." He darted over
toward his father.
"Jasper!" cried Polly imploringly.
"What is it, my boy?" asked Mr. King, quite deep in the plans for the
Tree, Joel having added himself to their company.
"Oh, nothing; Polly wants it, and we must make it a good one," said
Jasper, rather incoherently, and beginning to retreat.
"Of course it will be a good one," said his father, a trifle testily, "if we
have it at all. When did we ever get up a poor Tree, pray tell?"
Polly drew a relieved breath, and gathering the baby up in her arms, she
hurried over to the old gentleman's chair with a "Now when do you
want to have the Tree, Phronsie?"
"Must we have it Christmas Day?" asked Phronsie, looking at her
anxiously.
"Christmas Day? Dear me, no! Why, what would the Dunraven
children do, Phronsie, if you took that day away from them?" cried old
Mr. King in astonishment.
Phronsie turned slowly back to him. "I thought perhaps we ought to let
Baby have the Tree Christmas Day," she said.
"No, indeed," again said Mr. King. "Come here, you little scamp,"
catching the baby out of Polly's hand, to set him on his other knee;
"there now, speak up like a man, and tell your sister that you are not
particular about the time you have your Tree."
"Ar--goo!" said the Fisher baby.
"That's it," said the old gentleman with approval, while the others
shouted. "So now, as long as your brother says so, Phronsie, why, I
should have your Tree the day before Christmas."

"Oh, Polly wants to go"--began Jasper.
"Ugh!" cried Polly warningly to him. "Yes, Phronsie; you much better
have it the day before, as Grandpapa says."
"And you don't suppose Baby will feel badly afterwards when he gets
bigger, and cry because we didn't give him Christmas Day," said
Phronsie, "do you, Grandpapa?"
"Indeed, I don't," declared the old gentleman, pinching the set of pink
toes nearest to his hand; "if he does, why, we'll all let him know what
we think of such conduct."
"Then," said Phronsie, clasping her hands, "I should very much rather
not take Christmas Day from the Dunraven children, because you know,
Grandpapa, they expect it."
"Of course they do," said old Mr. King. "Bless me! why, we shouldn't
know it was Christmas at all, if we didn't go down to Bedford and carry
it; and as for those children"--
The picture that this brought up, of Dunraven without a Christmas,
threw such a shadow over Phronsie's face, that Polly hastened to say
reassuringly:
"Oh, Grandpapa! we wouldn't ever think of not carrying a Christmas to
Dunraven, would we, Pet?" and she threw her arms around Phronsie.
"Of course not," chimed in Jasper and Joel, in a way to bring back the
smiles to the little downcast face.
And the baby crowed, and seized Phronsie's floating yellow hair with
both hands, and they all got in one another's way to rescue it; and Mrs.
Pepper hurried in again, this time for Baby; and he was kissed all
around, Phronsie giving him two for fear he might think she was hurt;
and one of the maids popped in with "There is a gentleman in the
reception room to see Miss Mary."

Jasper turned off with an impatient gesture.
"I do suppose it is Mr. Loughead," said Polly, "for he wanted to come
some time and talk about Amy. O, dear! I hope I shall say the right
thing."
"Doesn't the fellow know better than to come when we are home for the
Christmas holidays?" grumbled Joel. Jasper looked as if he could say as
much, but instead, walked to the window, and looked out silently.
"He's very anxious about Amy," said Polly, running off to the door,
where she paused and looked back for sympathy toward her little
protege.
"I should think he would be," grunted Joel; "she's a goose, and beside
that, she doesn't know anything."
"O, Joe! she hasn't any father nor mother," cried Polly in distress.
Joel