Ben Pepper Part 8

"IT'S JOEL'S OLD LADY"

So a pen was bought, and a lovely gold-mounted black handle, all the children hanging over the purchase in rapt attention. And it was left to be marked with Grandpapa's initials and to be sent to Ben in two days, in order to be actually sure to be on hand in time for Christmas, which now was only a week away. "For suppose it shouldn't be there in time!"

breathed Polly. At which the rest of the Pepper children took alarm.

"Oh, won't it?" gasped Joel, in distress, trying to fly back to the counter, as the whole bunch moved away in great delight at this momentous undertaking accomplished.

"Here, you!" Ben seized his jacket and pulled him back, then he slipped away himself, while Polly rea.s.sured Joel that she was only supposing that if they hadn't bought Grandpapa's present this very day what might have happened, so that she didn't see Ben go, until, as he hurried back, "Why, where--" she began, looking around.

"Nothing," said Ben, answering her question, and his face grew red, "only I thought you'd better have the parcel sent to you," for he remembered just in time how dearly Polly loved to receive bundles addressed to her own self.

"Oh, Ben!" exclaimed Polly, in dismay, "you shouldn't have done so. I'm going back to tell them to change it."

"Indeed you won't," declared Ben, bursting into a laugh, "I guess changing it once is enough. Come on, Polly."

But once outside they couldn't get along for the throng.

"What is it?" cried David, who happened to be first, Joel hanging back to look at the things on the last counter. "A fire. Oh, Polly, it must be!"

"A fire!" Joel caught the last word. "Oh, good, that's prime!" He cleared the steps with a bound. But Ben was after him and had him fast.

It was impossible to see what the commotion was about, the people pressing up to the curbstone in such a throng.

"It isn't any fire at all," declared Joel, with a sniff, quite willing to be led back by Ben. "There aren't any fire-engines or anything! Come on, let's go to Gallagher's."

"Gallagher's" was the best all-round shop in town, and it was the children's perfect delight whenever allowed to go there.

"But something has happened," said Polly, standing on her tiptoes, and craning her neck to look up the street where the group was the thickest.

"O dear me! It's a woman, and she's hurt!"

"Tried to go across the street and got knocked down," volunteered a man, who, having seen all he wanted to, kindly made way for Polly to take his place.

"O dear me!" she began, then she caught sight of the face. "Ben," she clutched his sleeve, "it's Joel's old lady!"

Sure enough, the face, now as white as the big puffs of hair above it, came into view as two men lifted the owner, a big, stately woman, to the sidewalk. They came close to the little Peppers, so that the stiff black silk coat, now plentifully besprinkled with mud, brushed them as it pa.s.sed. Joel gave a howl as she was carried by. "It's that cross old woman!" he exclaimed.

"Hush, Joel!" Polly pulled his arm.

"Get out of the way!" said the men, pus.h.i.+ng with their burden into the drug store, two doors off.

The bystanders, having seen all that satisfied their curiosity, rushed off to the delayed Christmas shopping. Only the Pepper children were left.

"Polly," said Ben, hoa.r.s.ely, and his blue eyes shone, "just think, supposing she belonged to us."

"She couldn't," said Joel, decidedly, "she's awful cross."

"For shame, Joel," said Ben, sternly. "I'm going in to see." He hurried after just as the men laid down the old woman on the marble floor.

"Blest if I know who she is!" said one of them, wiping his forehead as the perspiration rushed off.

"She run right in front of the wagon, I seen her myself," said the other.

"Well, I guess she's dead," said the first man. Ben pushed up nearer, motioning for the rest of the children who had followed to keep back.

Meantime the proprietor ran to the telephone. "I would thank you to call my carriage," said the old lady, the eyes in the white face flying open.

The two men who had brought her in, and the little fringe of spectators, princ.i.p.ally composed of the druggist's clerks and the little group of Peppers, tumbled back suddenly.

"She's out of her head," said one of the men behind his hand. "She didn't have no carriage." Ben pushed by him, the old woman's eyes closing again, when Polly knelt down by her side, and forgetting how scared she had been by that face the last time she saw it, she seized the poor stiff hand in its black glove. "Oh, ma'am," she cried, "can't you tell me who you are, and we will get you home?"

The eyes flew wide open again, and the face was quite as terrible, where she lay on the floor of the druggist's shop; the Roman nose and the big white puffs stood up in such a formidable way.

"Oh!" the keen black eyes bored into Polly's face; but "lift me up, and call my carriage," was all she said.

Ben heard, as did the others, and he rushed up to the proprietor just as the doctor, a dapper little man with a very big instrument case, came importantly in.

"I don't want anything done to me," said the old lady, viewing the new arrival from head to foot. She was now sitting up, having made Polly help her to that position. "And see here, boy," she glanced around for Ben, "I'd thank you to give me a hand," and disdaining the proffered a.s.sistance of the young medical man, she was on her feet, and proceeding, though somewhat unsteadily, toward the door.

"There he is," she raised one of her black gloves, "there's Carson,"

pointing to a coachman driving a spirited pair of bays down the street, anxiety written all over his florid face, as he looked to right and to left. "Here, stop him."

Which was easy to do, as Ben rushed tumultuously out, for the coachman turned when down at the corner, driving slowly back to scan once more every shop door, and the pa.s.sers-by on either side.

"I thought I'd walk over to Summer Street," said the old lady, "and I told Carson to wait there, when the wagon knocked me down." Meanwhile she clung to Polly's hand.

"Are you sure, madam, that you are not hurt?" the young physician pushed up. "Such an accident as yours should be attended to."

"When I require your services I can inform you," said the old lady, turning on him with so much vigor that he fell back involuntarily. "I shall call my own physician when I reach home. That's right, girl, help me to my carriage," and clinging to Polly's hand she went down the drug-shop steps, Carson e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. "O Lord!" in great relief at seeing her, and nervously slapping his knee, though it had been all her own fault that she was in such a plight.

"Um!" She wouldn't groan, but it was perilously near it as she got into the carriage with Polly's and Ben's help and settled back on the cus.h.i.+ons with a grimace.

"Oh, you _are_ hurt!" cried Polly, the color dying from her cheek, and looking in the window in great concern.

"Nonsense!" said the old woman, in her sharpest tone. Then she drew her breath hard. "Your name, girl, and your brother?" She looked inquiringly at Ben.

"Yes," said Polly, with a glad little smile up at him; "he's Ben."

"What's the last name?"

"Pepper." Ben and Polly said it together, and the three others crowded up to the carriage door, crying out, "We're all Peppers."

"Um!" said the old woman, looking them all over, but her gaze rested the longest on Joel.

"I'm sorry you got hurt," he blurted out with a very red face, and wis.h.i.+ng he had remained in the background.

"And where do you live?" asked the old woman, without the slightest attention to his remark.

"At Mr. King's," said Ben. "He's my own dear Grandpapa," announced Phronsie, pressing up closely, "and I've bought him a dear little cat,"

holding it as high as she could.

"Drive home, Carson," was all the old woman said. So Carson, almost beside himself with delight that she was safely inside, went off at his best pace, and the carriage was soon lost to view around the corner.