Five Little Peppers and their Friends | Page 2

home, and the big policeman can't get in here, ever."
"Oh, you ninny!" The girl staring at her through the railings stopped a
minute to laugh, covering both hands over her mouth to smother the
sound. "The perlice can go everywheres they want to. I guess some of
'em's in heaven now, spyin' round."
Phronsie dropped the doll she was carrying close to her bosom, to
concentrate all her gaze up toward the sky, in wide-eyed amazement
that allowed her no opportunity to carry on the conversation.
"An' I couldn't no more get into this 'ere garden than I could into
heaven," the girl on the outside said at last, to bring back the blue eyes
to earth, "so don't you think it, you. But, oh, my, don't I wish I could,
though!"
There was so much longing in the voice that Phronsie brought her gaze
down from the policemen in their heavenly work to the eyes staring at
her. And she clasped her hands together tightly, and hurried up to lay
her face against the big iron gate and close to that of the girl.
"He won't hurt you, the big policeman won't," she whispered softly.
"I'll take hold of your hand, and tell him how it is, if he gets in. Come."
"Can't," the girl was going to say, but her gaze rested upon the doll
lying on the grass where it fell from Phronsie's hand. "Lawks! may I
just have one good squint at that?" she burst out.
"You may hold it," said Phronsie, bobbing her head till her yellow hair
fell over her flushed cheeks.

The gate flew open suddenly, nearly overthrowing her; and the girl,
mostly all legs and arms, dashed through, picking up the doll to
squeeze it to her neck so tightly that Phronsie rushed up, quite alarmed.
"Oh, don't," she cried, "you'll frighten her. I'll tell her how it is, and
then she'll like you."
"I'll make her like me," said the girl, with savage thrusts at the doll, and
kissing it all over.
"Oh, my, ain't you sweet!" and she cuddled it fiercely in her scrawny
neck, her tangled black hair falling around its face.
"Oh, dear!" wailed Phronsie, standing quite still, "she's my child, and
she's dreadfully frightened. Oh, please, little girl, don't do so."
"She's been your child forever, and I've never had a child." The girl
raised her black head to look sternly at Phronsie. "I'll give her back; but
she's mine now."
"Haven't you ever had a child?" asked Phronsie, suddenly, two or three
tears trailing off her round cheeks to drop in the grass, and she drew a
long breath and winked very fast to keep the others back.
"Not a smitch of one," declared the other girl decidedly, "an' I'm a-goin'
to hold this one, and pretend I'm its mother."
Phronsie drew a long breath, and drew slowly near.
"You may," she said at last.
The new mother didn't hear, being hungrily engaged in smoothing her
child's cheeks against her own dirty ones, first one side of the face and
then the other, and twitching down the dainty pink gown, gone awry
during the hugging process, and alternately scolding and patting the
little figure. This done, she administered a smart slap, plunged over to
the nearest tree, and set the doll with a thud on the grass to rest against
its trunk.

"Sit up like a lady," she commanded.
"Oh, don't!" cried Phronsie, quite horror-stricken, and running over on
distressed feet. "She's my child," she gasped.
"No, she's mine, an' I'm teachin' her manners. I ain't through pretendin'
yet," said the girl. She put out a long arm and held Phronsie back.
"But you struck her." Phronsie lifted a pale face, and her blue eyes
flashed very much as Polly's brown ones did on occasion.
The new mother whirled around and stared at her.
"Why, I had to, just the same as you're licked when you're bad," she
said, in astonishment.
"What's 'licked'?" asked Phronsie, overcome with curiosity, yet keeping
her eyes on her child, bolt upright against the tree.
"Why, whipped," said the girl, "just the same as you are when you're
bad."
Phronsie drew a long breath.
"I've never been whipped," she said slowly.
"Oh, my Lord!" The girl tumbled down to the grass and rolled over and
over, coming up suddenly to sit straight, wipe her tangled black hair out
of her eyes, and stare at Phronsie. "Well, you are a reg'lar freak, you
are," was all she could say.
"What's a 'freak'?" asked Phronsie, actually turning her back on her
child to give all her attention to this absorbing conversation, with its
most attractive vocabulary.
"It's--oh, Jumbo!" and over she flopped again, to roll and laugh. "Well,
there!" and she jumped to her