XIV
DEACON BLODGETT'S BONFIRE
But that afternoon it began to rain smartly, so nobody went tothe bonfire after all. "P'r'aps," Polly had kept saying toherself, "all Mr. Atkins' sacks will be sewed up by the nexttime Mr. Blodgett tries to burn up his rubbish, and then I cango," but she didn't speak a word to her mother, for then Mrs.Pepper would find out how dreadfully disappointed Polly had beenat the thought of not seeing the grand spectacle. So she workedon busily, expecting every day to hear Ben say, "Now we're goin'to set it off to-day," for he was at work pretty steadily now,for Farmer Blodgett. But he never did.
At last one day, Ben came home very late to supper, so late thatPolly ran to the window ever so many times, exclaiming, "Bensienever was so late before." Phronsie had long been in bed, andthe boys were anxiously looking up at the clock to see if itwere anywhere near half-past seven, when Ben came in.
"Why, Ben Pepper!" exclaimed Polly, aghast, "whatever is thematter?"
"I should ask so, too," said Mother Pepper, "only I know Benwill tell when he is rested. Let him eat his supper, Polly, anddon't bother him with questions."
So Polly took off the clean towel that had covered Ben's supperon the table, and hovered over him, watching every mouthful. Butshe didn't say a word.
"You see," said Ben, when he had appeased his appetite somewhat,and eating more slowly, "I really couldn't help it, for thebonfire was such a big one."
"The bonfire?" screamed Polly. "What do you mean, Ben?"
"Why, Mr. Blodgett's bonfire, to be sure," said Ben. "Whateverelse could I mean, Polly?" leaning back to look over hisshoulder at her.
"You haven't gone and had that bonfire without telling us, BenPepper!" cried Polly, in amazement. "Oh, how could you do such adreadful mean thing!" she added passionately.
"Polly--Polly!" cried Mother Pepper, in dismay.
"Well, I don't care," said Polly, recklessly, "it was perfectlyawfully mean, Mamsie, to go and have that bonfire without tellingus a single thing about it. Now we can't one of us ever see it,"she mourned.
"Better not judge Ben till you hear the reason, Polly," advisedMother Pepper, gravely. "I'll warrant he had some good one."
"So I have," cried Ben, with a dreadful feeling at his heartthat his comrade Polly blamed him. "Mr. Blodgett told me Imustn't run home and tell you, though I begged him as hard as Icould to let me."
"Then he is a very mean man," exploded Polly, with flashing eyesand a little red spot on either cheek.
"Take care, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper.
"I don't think so," said Ben, decidedly, shaking his head indisapproval of Polly; "he's been as good as gold to me, and--"
"So he has, Ben," Mother Pepper was guilty of interrupting.
"And he's been bothered to death to get the right time to workon that old bonfire, and today the men said the rubbish ought tobe got off, 'cause two of 'em can come only a day more, and theywant to get the ground ready for planting. So all of a sudden Mr.Blodgett comes over to the south meadow and calls out, 'Come,boys, we're going to set to on that bonfire!' And then I beggedhim to let me just run home and tell you all, and he couldn't,and that's all," said Ben, calmly finishing the account.
"I don't see how you could help it, Ben," said his mother, "norMr. Blodgett either, for that matter."
Polly stood quite still, the waves of color spreading over herface. Then she took a step forward, and threw her arms aroundBen's neck.
"Oh, Ben!" she cried convulsively, "I'm so sorry I was cross."
"All right, Polly," said Ben, reassuringly, and patting hercheek, "and I guess next time you'll wait and hear aboutthings."
"I surely will," promised poor Polly.
So no one saw the wonderful Blodgett bonfire, after all, exceptPeletiah Henderson, who was going past that farm when theexcitement was at its height. But Ben comforted them all, andPolly helped out wonderfully, by repeating everything he said."Now, children, I'll watch; there'll be other bonfires, I expect.Maybe before long; so I shouldn't wonder if we got another chanceto see a big fire." It came sooner than they expected, but it wasn'ta bonfire.
It was one night about a week after. The little brown house wasas still as a mouse, everybody abed and asleep. SuddenlyPhronsie woke up with a fretful little cry. "I want a drink ofwater," she wailed, sitting straight in the trundle bed.
"Oh, no, you don't," said Polly, sleepily. "Hush, Phronsie, andlie down again. You'll wake Mamsie."
Phronsie's little lips quivered. In the darkness Polly couldn'tsee the small face and its sorrowful eyes, so she turned overagain on her pillow. "Go to sleep, like a good girl," she said,almost asleep.
"I can't, Polly," said Phronsie, almost ready to cry out, "and Iam truly thirsty. Please, Polly, a drink of water." She put outher little hand to feel for Polly's, but in a minute the regularbreathing told her that Polly had fallen asleep. So Phronsie satstill in the middle of the trundle bed, and choked back thetears.
But her little throat was parched and dry, and at last the tearsrolled over the round cheeks.
"I won't wake poor Polly up," she said; "I can get it myself,"and she crawled out of the trundle bed, having some difficultyin getting over the side, and made her way out into the kitchen.It was very bright there, at which Phronsie stared wonderingly,as there was no candle lighted, so she easily found her way tothe pail of water which Ben always got the last thing at nightand set on the bench by the window.
"I can reach the dipper," said Phronsie, standing on tiptoes,and seizing it, she thrust it into the pail. How it happened,she didn't know, and there was no one else there to see, butover with a great clatter came the pail and the dipper to thefloor.
Polly started up in bed. Mamsie, who was very tired, still slepton. "Phronsie," cried Polly, remembering in a flash about thedrink of water, "I'll get it for you," and she put out her handto pat the little figure in the trundle bed. There was noPhronsie there!
Polly hopped wildly out into the kitchen, to hear Phronsiegurgling out her distress, as she stood in her little white nightie,her hands stuck straight out, and the water dripping from herevery pore. The pail and dipper were rolling away at their ownsweet wills across the old kitchen floor. And over all shone agreat light as bright as day, only it was tinged with red.
"Phronsie Pepper!" exclaimed Polly, and "What's this light?" allin the same breath. And huddling Phronsie up in her arms, Pollyraced along to the window. A great burst of light, red andglaring, shot across the sky, and lighted up the whole heavens.
"Oh, we're burning up! Something's afire! Grandma Bascom!"screamed Polly. "Ben--Ben--wake up! Mamsie! Fire--fire!" shecalled.
She could hear Ben spring out of bed, and Mrs. Pepper was in thekitchen in a minute, and Joel and David were tumbling downstairsat Ben's heels, and they all threw on their clothes and rushedout of doors. But it wasn't Grandma Bascom's. Her little cottagestood peaceful and quiet, with only the dreadful red lightplaying over it.
"I can't think where it is," said Ben. "It seems so near, and weknow it isn't, 'cause Grandma's is the only house for more'n halfa mile." Meanwhile, the smoke was pouring into the sky, and whenit cleared there was that dreadful red light glare again."Oh, Ben!" exclaimed Polly, with clasped hands, as they allstood in front of the little brown house, breathlessly watching,"it must be Parson Henderson's."
"No," said Ben, "that isn't the right direction."
"It's nice Mrs. Beebe's, I know," said Joel, racing aroundexcitedly. "And now it will burn up all those boots and shoes,"which, luckily, Phronsie didn't hear.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ben, "it isn't anywhere near Mr. Beebe'sshop. It's ever so far off. And a barn, I guess, 'cause it burnslike hay."
"I hope there aren't any horses in it," sighed Polly, with ashiver, sitting down on the doorstone, and holding Phronsie veryclosely in her arms.
"Wherever it is, you ought to go and help, Ben," said his mother.
"I was thinking so myself, now I know 'tisn't near here, and I canleave you all," said Ben, hurrying
off.
"I'm goin', I'm goin'," cried Joel, wildly darting off.
"No--no, Joel," said Mrs. Pepper, "you're too little to go to a fire."
"I'd pass buckets," said Joel, "and climb the ladders--and--"
"No," said his mother, firmly.
He was afraid to cry, lest she should send him in the house, sohe ran out into the road and watched impatiently to see ifanybody was coming along to go to the fire. Presently they allheard wagon wheels.
"Somebody's comin'!" screamed Joel, running back into the yard."Oh, Mammy, mayn't I ride with 'em and just see the fire? Iwon't get out of the wagon; truly, I won't."
"No," said Mrs. Pepper, "it's no use to ask it, Joel," and heknew it wasn't. "It's hard enough to let Ben go, though that'shis duty. You can ask the people in the wagon if they know wherethe fire is." And Joel, delighted that there was some part inthe excitement for him, tore madly down to the roadside anddemanded this of the people in the team.
"It's Deacon Blodgett's barn," they screamed at him as the oldhorse spun by, raising a cloud of dust.
"What did he say?" asked Mrs. Pepper, as Joel raced backbreathlessly.
"It's Deacon Blodgett's barn," screamed Joel, quite overcome. "Odear me! So we are seeing his bonfire, ain't we, Mammy?"
"Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, her face looking ghastly in the redlight, "this is perfectly dreadful for poor Mrs. Blodgett andthe good deacon. Oh, if we could only help them!" She looked offat the clouds of smoke now obscuring the red glare, and herhands usually so quiet were wringing each other.
"Ben's there by this time," said Polly, feeling that nothing washopeless with Ben close by. "Think of that, Mamsie."
"I'm so glad of that," breathed Mrs. Pepper, thankfully. "Nowhe'll have a chance to show his gratitude for what DeaconBlodgett's done for him."
"Polly," said Phronsie, suddenly raising her head where she hadhidden it on Polly's arm, "do you suppose Mr. Blodgett's nicemooly cow is going to burn up?" She clasped her fat hands asshe brought out the question fearfully.
"No, I hope not, Pet," said Polly, soothingly. "Don't let'sthink of it," but her heart ached, nevertheless. How good Mrs.Blodgett had been to send down that sweet, rich milk, once in awhile, for Phronsie.
"See! Oh, ain't it a buster!" shouted Joel out in the road,hoping some other team would come by.
"Joel," called Mrs. Pepper, even in her anxiety over goodfriends' trouble, unwilling to let the word pass, "what did yousay?"
"Well, it's a big fire, anyway," said Joel. "Come on, Dave, outhere and see it," for Dave, at the first glimpse, had slunk downon the grass silently to watch the sky.
"No," said little David, "I don't want to go, Joel. Mamsie--"and he turned a troubled face to her--"do you suppose God'sgoing to let good Mr. Blodgett's barn burn up?"
"No," said Mrs. Pepper, "I don't b'lieve God had anything to dowith it, Davie. Like enough it's some man been in there with apipe, but we'll hope the fire'll be put out. And don't you betroubled; God wouldn't let any one be hurt, least of all a good manlike Deacon Blodgett."
"Oh," said little David, quite relieved.
And when Ben came home in the early dawn--Mamsie and the rest ofthe bunch of the little Peppers sitting up for him, for Phronsiewouldn't go to bed, so Polly held her in her arms--they foundthis was just the case.
"And they've caught the tramp who was smoking the pipe," criedBen, excitedly, "but that won't save the barn, and the horseand--"
"Hush!" cried Polly, with a look at Phronsie. But her eyes wereclosed, and her head was bobbing sleepily on Polly's breast.
"Better lay her on my bed now, Polly," said her mother, "andshe'll doze off, most likely."
"Yes, the cow has gone with the rest of the tools and wagons,"said Ben, mixing things up inextricably. "O dear me!" And herested his streaked face on his grimy hands.
"Oh, Ben," cried Joel, "you're as black as you can be! How Iwish I could 'a' gone!" he added, feeling it the highest stateof bliss to come home looking like that from working in a fire."Well, I feel black," said Ben, and down went his head lower yetin his hands.
His mother went swiftly over to him and pressed her hand gentlyon his hair. "You couldn't help it, Ben," she said, "you'd 'a'saved it, if you'd been able."
"Yes," said Ben, brokenly, "I would, Mamsie."