Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team.
FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS MIDWAY
By MARGARET SIDNEY
To MY LITTLE MARGARET Who Is Phronsie Pepper to All Who Know HerThis Book Is Lovingly Inscribed
CONTENTS
1 Phronsie's Pie 2 Cousin Eunice Chatterton 3 The Rehearsal 4 Welcome Home! 5 After the Play 6 The Little Brown House 7 Old Times Again 8 Some Badgertown Calls 9 A Sudden Blow 10 The Party Separates 11 Poor Polly! 12 New Work for Polly 13 A Piece of News 14 Mamsie's Wedding 15 Mrs. Chatterton Has a New Plan 16 Where Is Phronsie? 17 Phronsie Is Found 18 The Girls Have Polly Again 19 Phronsie Is Well Again 20 The Secret 21 The Whitneys' Little Plan 22 Joel 23 Of Many Things 24 Away
I
PHRONSIE'S PIE
"Jefferson," said Phronsie, with a grave uplifting of her eyebrows, "Ithink I will go down into the kitchen and bake a pie; a very littlepie, Jefferson."
"Bless you, Miss," replied the cook, showing his white teeth in glee,"it is the making of the kitchen when you come it."
"Yes, Jefferson," said Phronsie slowly, "I think I will go down makeone. It must be very, very full of plums, you know," looking up at himanxiously, "for Polly dearly loves plums."
"It shall be that plummy," said Jefferson convincingly, "that you'dthink you never saw such a one for richness. Oh, my! what a pie thatshall be!" exclaimed the cook, shutting up one eye to look through theother in a spasm of delight at an imaginary pie; "so it's for MissMary, is it?"
"Yes," said Phronsie, "it is. Oh, Jefferson, I'm so glad you like tohave me make one," she clasped her hands in silent rapture, and satdown on the lowest stair to think it over a bit, Jefferson looking ather, forgetful that the under cook was fuming in the deserted domainsover his delay to return. At last he said, bowing respectfully, "If youplease, Miss, it's about time to begin. Such a pie ain't done without adeal of care, and we'd best have it a-baking as soon as may be."
"Yes," said Phronsie, getting off from her stair, and surrendering herhand to his big black palm, "we ought to go right this very minute. ButI must get my apron on;" she stopped and looked down at her red dress.
"Oh! you can take one of my aprons," said the cook, "they're as fine,and big, and white, and I'll just put you in one of 'em and tie you upas snug; you'll come out as clean and sweet when we're through, as youare now, Miss."
"Tie me up?" laughed Phronsie in glee. "Oh! how nice, Jefferson. Do youknow I love you very much, Jefferson, you're so very good to me?"
The big fellow drew a long breath. "No, Miss, I'm big and black, andjust fit to stay downstairs," he managed to say.
"But I love you better because you are black, Jefferson," insistedPhronsie, "a great deal better. You are not like everybody else, butyou are just yourself," clinging to his hand.
"Well, Miss, I ain't just fit for a lily to touch and that's thetruth," looking down at his palm that the small white hand graspedclosely. "It's clean, Miss," he added with pardonable pride, "but it'sawful black."
"I like it better black, Jefferson," said Phronsie again, "really andtruly I do, because then it's your very, very own," in a tone thatthrilled him much as if a queen had knighted him on the spot.
This important declaration over, the two set forth on their way towardthe kitchen, Phronsie clinging to his hand, and chatting merrily overthe particular pie in prospect, with varied remarks on pies in general,that by and by would be ventured upon if this present one were asuccess--and very soon tied up in one of the cook's whitest aprons shewas seated with due solemnity at the end of the baking table, theproper utensils and materials in delightful confusion before her, andthe lower order of kitchen satellites revolving around her, andJefferson the lesser sphere.
"Now all go back to your work," said that functionary when heconsidered the staring and muttered admiration had been indulged inlong enough, "and leave us."
"I want you," said his assistant, touching his elbow.
"Clear out," said Jefferson angrily, his face turned quite fromPhronsie.
But she caught the tone and immediately laid down the bit of dough shewas moulding.
"Do go," she begged, "and come back quickly," smiling up into his face."See, I'm going to pat and pat and pat, oh! ever so much before youcome back."
So Jefferson followed the under cook, the scullery boy went back tocleaning the knives, Susan, the parlor maid who was going through thekitchen with her dustpan and broom, hurried off with a backward glanceor two, and Phronsie was left quite alone to hum her way along in herblissful culinary attempt.
"Bless me!" exclaimed a voice close to her small ear, as she wasattempting for the fifth time to roll out the paste quite as thin asshe had seen Jefferson do, "what is this? Bless my soul! it's Phronsie!"
Phronsie set down the heavy rolling-pin and turned in her chair with agleeful laugh.
"Dear, dear Grandpapa!" she cried, clasping her floury hands, "oh! I'mso glad you've come to see me make a pie all by myself. It's for Polly,and it's to be full of plums; Jefferson let me make it."
"Jefferson? And where is he, pray?" cried Mr. King irately. "Prettyfellow, to bring you down to these apartments, and then go off andforget you. Jefferson!" he called sharply, "here, where are you?"
"Oh, Grandpapa!" exclaimed Phronsie in dire distress, "I sent him;Jefferson didn't want to go, Grandpapa dear, really and truly, he wentbecause I asked him."
"If you please, sir," began Jefferson, hurrying up, "I only stepped offa bit to the cellar. Bassett sent down a lot of turnips, they ain'tfirst-rate, and"--
"All right," said Mr. King, cutting him short with a wave of his hand,"if Miss Phronsie sent you off, it's all right; I don't want to hearany more elaborate explanations."
"Little Miss hasn't been alone but a few minutes," said Jefferson in aworried way.
"And see," said Phronsie, turning back to her efforts, while one handgrasped the old gentleman's palm, "I've almost got it to look likeJefferson's. Almost, haven't I?" she asked, regarding it anxiously.
"It will be the most beautiful pie," cried Mr. King, a heartyenthusiasm succeeding his irritability, "that ever was baked. I wishyou'd make me one sometime, Phronsie."
"Do you?" she cried in a tremor of delight, "and will you really haveit on the table, and cut it with Aunt Whitney's big silver knife?"
"That I will," declared Mr. King solemnly.
"Then some day I'll come down here again, Jefferson," cried Phronsie ina transport, "and bake one for my dear Grandpapa. That is, if this oneis good. Oh! you do suppose it will be good, don't you?" appealingly athim.
"It shall," said Jefferson stoutly, and seizing the rolling-pin withextreme determination. "You want a bit more butter worked in, here," adab with skillful fingers, and a little manipulation with the flour, aroll now and then most deftly, and the paste was laid out beforePhronsie. "Now, Miss, you can put it in the dish."
"But is isn't my pie," said Phronsie, and, big girl as she felt herselfto be, she sat back in her chair, her lower lip quivering.
"Not your pie?" repeated the cook, bringing himself up straight to gazeat her.
"No," said Phronsie, shaking her yellow head gravely, "it isn't my pienow, Jefferson. You put in the things, and rolled it."
"Leave your fingers off from it, can't you?" cried Mr. King sharply."Goodness! this pie isn't to have a professional touch about it. Getsome more flour and stuff, whatever it is you make a pie of, and lether begin again. There, I'll sit down and watch you; then there'll besome chance of having things straight." So he drew up a chair to theside of the table, first calling off Pete, the scullery boy, from hisknives to come and wipe it of
f for him, and Mrs. Tucker who was inkitchen dialect "Tucker," to see that the boy did his work well.
"Lor' bless you, sir," said Tucker, bestowing a final polish with herapron, "'twas like satin before, sir--not a wisp of dust."
"I don't want any observations from you," said the old gentleman,depositing himself in the chair. "There, you can go back to your work,Mrs. Tucker, and you too, Pete. Now I'll see that this pie is to yourliking, Phronsie."
But Phronsie still sat back in her chair, thoughtfully surveyingJefferson.
"Grandpapa," she said at last slowly, "I think I'd rather have thefirst pie, I really would, Grandpapa, may I?" She brought her yellowhead forward by a sudden movement, and looked deep into his keen eyes.
"Bless my soul! Rather have the first pie?" repeated the old gentlemanin astonishment, "why, I thought you wanted to make one all yourself."
"I think I'd rather do part of it," said Phronsie with greatdeliberateness, "then Polly'll like it, and eat it, and I'll do yours,Grandpapa dear, just as Jefferson fixed mine, all alone. Please letme." She held him fast with her eyes, and waited for his answer.
"So you shall!" cried Mr. King in great satisfaction, "make mine allalone. This one would better go as it is. Put away the flour andthings, Jefferson; Miss Phronsie doesn't want them."
Phronsie gave a relieved little sigh. "And, Jefferson, if you hadn'tshowed me how, I couldn't ever in all this world make Grandpapa's. Nowgive me the little plate, do."
"Here 'tis, Miss," said the cook, all his tremor over the blunder hehad made, disappearing, since, after all, things were quitesatisfactory. And the little plate forthcoming, Phronsie tucked awaythe paste lovingly in its depths, and began the important work ofconcocting the mixture with which the pie was to be filled, Mr. Kingsitting by with the gravity of a statue, even to the deliberate placingof each plum.
"Where's Phronsie?" called a voice above in one of the upper halls.
"Oh! she's coming, Polly is!" cried Phronsie, deserting a plum thrustin endwise in the middle of the pie, to throw her little sticky fingersaround Jefferson's neck; "oh! do take off my apron; and let me go.She'll see my pie!"
"Stop!" cried Mr. King, getting up somewhat stiffly to his feet, "I'lltake off the apron myself. There, Phronsie, there you are. Whew! howhot you keep your kitchen, Jefferson," and he wiped his face.
"Now we'll run," said Phronsie softly, "and not make a bit of noise,Grandpapa dear, and, Jefferson, please put on my top to the pie, anddon't let it burn, and I'll come down very, very soon again, and bakeone all alone by myself for Grandpapa."
The old gentleman kept up very well with the soft patter of her feettill they reached the foot of the staircase. "There, there, child," hesaid, "there's not the least need of hurry now."
"But she will come down," said Phronsie, in gentle haste pulling at hishand, "then if she should see it, Grandpapa!"
"To be sure; that would indeed be dreadful," said Mr. King, gettingover the stairs very creditably. "There, here we are now. Whew! it'sterribly warm in this house!"
But there was no danger from Polly; she was at this very instant, notbeing able to find Phronsie, hurrying off toward the library in searchof Mrs. Whitney.
"We want to do the very loveliest thing!" she cried, rushing in, hercheeks aflame. "Oh! pray excuse me." She stopped short, blushingscarlet.
"Don't feel badly, Polly dear," said Mrs. Whitney, over in the dimlight, where the divan was drawn up in the east window, and she heldout her hand and smiled; the other lady whose tete-a-tete was thussummarily disturbed was elderly and very tall and angular. She put upher eyeglass at the intrusion and murmured "Ah?"
"This is Polly Pepper," said Mrs. Whitney, as Polly, feeling unusuallyawkward and shy, stumbled across the library to get within the kindarms awaiting her.
"One of the children that your kindness received in this house?" saidthe tall lady, making good use of the eyeglass. The color mountedsteadily on Polly's already rosy cheek, at the scrutiny now going onwith the greatest freedom.
"One of the dear children who make this house a sunny place for usall," said Mrs. Whitney distinctly.
"Ah? I see. You are extremely good to put it in that way." A low,well-bred laugh followed this speech. Its sound irritated the younggirl's ear unspeakably, and the brown eyes flashed, and though therewas really no occasion to feel what was not addressed to her, Polly wasquite sure she utterly disliked the lady before her.
"My dear Mrs. Chatterton," said Mrs. Whitney in the gentlest ofaccents, "you do not comprehend; it is not possible for you tounderstand how very happy we all are here. The house is quite anotherplace, I assure you, from the abode you saw last before you wentabroad."
Mrs. Chatterton gave another low, unpleasant laugh, and this timeshrugged her shoulders.
"Polly dear," said Mrs. Whitney with a smile, "say good-morning to Mrs.Chatterton, and then run away. I will hear your wonderful plan by andby. I shall be glad to, child," she was guilty of whispering in thesmall ear.
"Good-morning, Mrs. Chatterton," said Polly slowly, the brown eyeslooking steadily into the traveled and somewhat seamed countenancebefore her.
"Good-morning," and Polly found herself once more across the floor, andsafely out in the hall, the door closed between them.
"Who is she?" she cried in an indignant spasm to Jasper, who ran up,and she lifted her eyes brimming over with something quite new to him.He stopped aghast.
"Who?" he cried. "Oh, Polly! what has happened?"
"Mrs. Chatterton. And she looked at me--oh! I can't tell you how shelooked; as if I were a bug, or a hateful worm beneath her," criedPolly, quite as much aghast at herself. "It makes me feel horridly,Jasper--you can't think. Oh! that old"--He stopped, pulling himself upwith quite an effort. "Has she come back--what brought her, pray tell,so soon?"
"I don't know, I am sure," said Polly, laughing at his face. "I wasonly in the room a moment, I think, but it seemed an age with thateyeglass, and that hateful little laugh."
"Oh! she always sticks up that thing in her eye," said Jasper coolly,"and she's everlastingly ventilating that laugh on everybody. Shethinks it high-bred and elegant, but it makes people want to kill herfor it." He looked and spoke annoyed. "To think you fell into herclutches!" he added.
"Well, who is she?" cried Polly, smoothing down her ruffled feathers,when she saw the effect of her news on him. "I should dearly love toknow."
"Cousin Algernon's wife," said Jasper briefly.
"And who is he?" cried Polly, again experiencing a shock that thisdreadful person was a relative to whom due respect must be shown.
"Oh! a cousin of father's," said Jasper. "He was nice, but he's dead."
"Oh!" said Polly.
"She's been abroad for a good half-dozen years, and why she doesn'tstay there when everybody supposed she was going to, astonishes me,"said Jasper, after a moment. "Well, it will not be for long, I presume,that we shall have the honor; she'll be easily tired of America, andtake herself off again."
"She doesn't stay in this house, does she, Jasper?" cried Polly in atone of horror.
"No; that is, unless she chooses to, then we can't turn her off. She'sa relative, you know."
"Hasn't she any home?" asked Polly, "or any children?"
"Home? Yes, an estate down in Bedford County?-Dunraven Lodge; but it'sall shut up, and in the hands of agents who have been trying for thehalf-dozen years she was abroad, to sell it for her. She may have comeback to settle down there again, there's no telling what she will do.In the meantime, I fancy she'll make her headquarters here," he saidgloomily.
"Oh, Jasper!" exclaimed Polly, seizing his arm, feeling that here wasneed of comfort indeed, "how very dreadful! Don't you suppose somethingwill happen to take her away?"
"I don't see what can," said Jasper, prolonging the gloom to feel thecomfort it brought. "You see she has nobody who wants her, to step inand relieve us. She has two nephews, but oh! you ought to see themfight!"
"Fight?" repeated Polly aghast.
&
nbsp; "Yes; you can't dignify their skirmishes by any other name," saidJasper, in disgust. "So you see our chances for keeping her as long asshe condescends to stay are really very good."
Polly clung to his arm in speechless dismay. Meanwhile conversationfast and brisk was going on between the two shut up in the library.
"It is greatly to your discredit, Marian," said Mrs. Chatterton in ahigh, cold voice, "that you didn't stop all this nonsense on yourfather's part, before the thing got to such a pass as to install themin this house."
"On the contrary," said Mrs. Whitney with a little laugh, "I dideverything I could to further the plan that father wisely made."
"Wisely!" cried Mrs. Chatterton in scorn. "Oh, you silly child! don'tyou see what it will all tend to?"
"I see that it has made us all very happy for five years," said Mrs.Whitney, preserving her composure, "so I presume the future doesn'thold much to dread on that score."
"The future is all you have to dread," declared Mrs. Chattertonharshly. "The present may be well enough; though I should thinkexistence with that low, underbred family here, would be a"?
"You may pause just where you are, Mrs. Chatterton," said Marian, stillwith the gentlest of accents, but with a determination that made theother look down at her in astonishment, "not another word shall youutter in that strain, nor will I listen to it." And with fine temperundisturbed in her blue eyes, she regarded her relative.
"Dear me, Marian! I begin to notice your age more now. You shouldn'tfly into such rages; they wear on one fearfully; and especially for astranger too, and against your own people--how can you?"
Mrs. Chatterton drew out a vinaigrette, then a fan from a silken bag,with clasps that she was always glad to reflect were heirlooms. "It'strying, I must confess," she declared, alternately applying theinvigorating salts and waving the combination of gauze and sandalwood,"to come home to such a reception. But," and a heavy sigh, "I must bearit."
"You ought to see father," cried Mrs. Whitney, rising. "I must go atonce and tell him of your arrival."
"Oh! I don't know that I care about seeing Cousin Horatio yet," saidMrs. Chatterton carelessly. "He will probably fall into one of hisrages, and my nerves have been upset quite enough by you. I think I'llgo directly to my apartments." She rose also.
"Father must at once be informed of your arrival," repeated Marianquietly. "I'll send him in to see you."
"And I shall go to my apartments," declared Mrs. Chattertondeterminedly.
"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed Mr. King's voice, and in he came, withPhronsie, fresh from the kitchen, clinging to his hand.