Ben Pepper Part 19

"O dear me!" exclaimed Percy, withdrawing when he saw Van.

"Come in, Percy," called his mother, before he could beat a retreat. It would be some relief to have both of her boys, but what could have happened!

So Percy walked in, and he stood just like Van, only worse, for he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

"Why, what is it? What can it be?" cried their mother. "Oh, do tell me, boys; don't be afraid."

Van turned off on his heel till he got his back to Percy. Then he found his tongue. But it was only to say again, "I was bad."

"Well, so was I," Percy got the words out with great difficulty, staring gloomily at the carpet, and thrusting his hands in his pockets to pull them out as suddenly.

"You must just tell me what you have done," said Mrs. Whitney, looking desperately first at one and then at the other, "or I shall go for Mrs.

Fisher," and she started for the door.

"Oh, no, no, Mamma!" they cried together, and Van whirled around and held her gown.

"I certainly shall," declared their mother, firmly, "unless you tell me at once what is the matter," and she took another step toward the hall.

"I fretted about--" began Van.

"Not having any Christmas," said Percy, coming in as a finish. "O dear!"

"Oh, boys!"

"Don't look so, Mamma, don't!" implored Van, clutching her gown with desperate fingers.

"And I did, too," said Percy. His hands now seemed to have no comfort in his pockets, so he twisted them miserably together.

"You mean when you were coming home in the carriage?" asked Mrs.

Whitney, a sorrowful little droop coming in her pretty mouth.

"Yes," said Van, his head hanging. "O dear me,"--he had hard work not to cry, but he wagged his head from side to side, and somehow kept the tears back,--"I did, anyway."

"Well, I did, too," said Percy, hastily; "that is, on the train. O dear!"

"Well, this is very bad," said their mother. But her voice was quite gentle, and she put her arm around each of them. "When we know how happy we ought to be that Jasper is really better, although he can't come home until after Christmas, how can we think of a holiday, and fret because we lose it?"

"We won't fret," said Percy, eagerly. "Oh, we won't, Mamma, ever again."

"No," said Van, "we won't, truly, Mamma."

While this was going on in Mrs. Whitney's room, there was a small clamor raised downstairs. Where in the world were the two boys just come home from school?

"I know," declared Alexia, who had recovered her spirits. "Polly," and she drew her off into the library, "they went upstairs with Mrs.

Whitney," she said with a loud whisper in her ear.

"I heard you," cried little d.i.c.k, creeping in back of the two girls, "and I shall just go up to Mamma's room," and he began to skip off joyously.

"Oh, no, you mustn't," cried Alexia, deserting Polly to race after him and seize his blouse. "The very idea--Polly, come and help me hold this dreadful boy."

"I shall go up and see my Mamma," said d.i.c.k, in a small fury, and pulling and kicking violently. "She is my very own Mamma, and I _shall_ see her."

"But you mustn't," said Alexia, very red in the face. "O dear me, why did I speak! Polly, do help me," for just then Phronsie had run in between the two girls, and before any one had a chance to hardly breathe, a dreadful sound struck their ears.

"There, see what you have done!" exclaimed little d.i.c.k, in a wrathful key. Alexia's fingers fell away, and he held up a dangling end of lace, all frayed and ragged. "You've torn my blouse, and I _shall_ see my Mamma." With that he set out on a run for the stairs.

X

"I'LL LOVE HER JUST FOREVER!"

"I'm going home," cried Alexia, hoa.r.s.ely, and rus.h.i.+ng blindly down the hall.

"Alexia!" Polly deserted Phronsie and raced after her. "You can't mean it; do come back. It isn't any matter that lace was torn," she added breathlessly, as she gained her side.

"Polly Pepper," gasped Alexia, "how can you say so? It's the most dreadful thing!" and she turned wide eyes of amazement at her.

"I mean it isn't near as bad as for you to run home," said Polly, hastily; "that would make Mrs. Whitney feel ever so much worse."

At the mention of Mrs. Whitney's name, Alexia's long figure shook all over. "Horrors! I can't ever see her again!" and she buried her face in her hands.

"Now, Alexia, aren't you ashamed to act so?" said Polly. "Dear me, over a bit of lace that can be mended, I most know; and we've had so much trouble," and she sighed.

"And I've made a mess of it ever since those boys came home, and now I've gone and torn that lace," mumbled Alexia, between her fingers, the sigh making her nearly frantic. "Polly Pepper, I _shall_ go home,"--with that she sprang away from Polly, and ran upstairs to Polly's room to get her things.

Polly, with only one thought to get Mamsie, who alone seemed to be the person to manage this new trouble, hurried off to find her. But Mrs.

Fisher, happy in the success of the little luncheon party, had disappeared to some unknown house duty, and couldn't at this very moment be found. So Polly had the distress to hear, before she could run over the stairs herself, the big front door bang, and, hurrying to the window, she saw Alexia running down the driveway and pulling her coat around her as she ran.

For the first moment Polly had wild thoughts of flying off after her.

Then, remembering what Mamsie had once said, "If you want to help, Polly, take time to think what would be the best way," and that Mamsie would say now, in this trouble, "Don't go, for the boys are just home,"--"O dear me!" she cried as Joel rushed in and up to the window, and without a bit of warning seized her about the waist and spun her into the middle of the floor.

"Oh, Joey, what is it?" she gasped when she could get her breath.

"He's going to bring Pip," cried Joel, bobbing his black head at her.

"Come on, Polly, whoopity la!" and he held out his hands for another war dance.

"Oh, Joel,"--Polly seized his hands and stood quite still,--"you don't mean Jasper is coming soon?" The color flew into her cheeks till they were rosy red.

"Yes, I do, too," said Joel, prancing off by himself, since Polly wouldn't dance; "he's coming to-morrow; no, I guess next week--anyway, he's coming." With that he executed some remarkable steps as only Joel could.

"How did you know, Joel? Stop and tell me." Polly flew after him around and around the room.

"A letter," said Joel; "whoopity la! and he's going to bring Pip."

"A letter?" Now she must find Mamsie or Aunty Whitney, and Polly left Joel dancing away and got over the stairs with her best speed to find Mrs. Whitney just coming to call her. She held in her hand an open letter, sc.r.a.ps of which she was reading aloud to the two boys hanging on either arm, little d.i.c.k, unable to attract attention to his torn lace, pulling at her gown impatiently.