deacon blodgett exclaimed, “’tain’t no use, i can’t set myself to work on nothin’,” and then
leaned helplessly against the barn door.
mrs. blodgett sighed. she was far beyond words. at last she threw her apron over her head. when
she did that, the deacon knew she was pretty far gone.
“don’t, ma,” he begged, “take on so. hem!” he swallowed hard and smote one big hand across the
other. “’twouldn’t be so bad ef i c’d jest see david a-runnin’ in to pile wood. land! how smart that
boy works to try to take joel’s place!”
“don’t speak of joel, pa,” said mrs. blodgett in a muffled voice. “mercy me, ef he sh’d die!”
“joel ain’t a-goin’ to die,” declared deacon blodgett, stoutly, “don’t you think it, ma.”
“i d’no,” mrs. blodgett shook her head till the apron flapped dismally. “no mortal man c’d do
more’n doctor fisher. do look down th’ road, pa, an’ see ef his gig is comin’.”
“dr. fisher won’t leave the little brown house to-day till joel’s better,” declared the deacon, not
moving; but his eyes roved anxiously up and down the thoroughfare.
“i wish you’d go over to mis pepper’s, an’ find out how joel is,” mrs. blodgett’s voice came out in a
thin little quaver from behind the apron.
the deacon braced up firmer yet against the barn door. then he said, “you better go yourself,
mother.”
“mercy!” ejaculated his wife with a shiver, “i’m about sick as ’tis now, i couldn’t never face mis
pepper—o dear me!”
“neither can i—an’ all is, i’m goin’ to work.” deacon blodgett brought himself suddenly away from
the barn door and strode off.
“where you goin’, pa?” down fell mrs. blodgett’s apron from her head.
“down to th’ east paster,” said the deacon, not turning his head. “i can’t stand still no longer an’
think o’ nothin’ but that boy.”
“well, i ain’t a-goin’ to stay to home,” declared mrs. blodgett. “nobody to talk to but mary ann, an’
she keeps harpin’ on the pepperses. i’ll go down an’ see grandma bascom.”
so she tied on her bonnet with trembling fingers and hurried off. when she left the main road and
struck the little lane that led down to grandma’s house, she stopped abruptly. “o dear me! that’s
almost as bad as to go to mis pepper’s, for mis bascom’ll take on somethin’ dreadful. my! what’s
that in th’ bushes!”
a little crackling noise struck her ears, and one or two small branches stirred in the shrubbery
alongside the road. there wasn’t any wind to speak of, and mrs. blodgett paused in fright, her fingers
on her lips; but being no coward, she marched up and shook the nearest bush.
“we don’t want no tramps in badgertown,” she began. then she burst out, “why, david pepper!”
there on the ground, his face grubbing into the grass, lay david squirming back and forth, his little
hands clenched.
“you poor little creeter, you!” mrs. blodgett got down on the ground beside him, and fairly gathered
him up to her ample bosom. “you couldn’t cry in the little brown house, an’ so you’ve come out
here. poor lamb!”
“joel!” ’twas all that davie was capable of.
“there—there—now you jest stop!” mrs. blodgett spoke sharply, she was so scared, for the sobs
were shaking david from top to toe; but to stop was beyond him, so she laid him down on the grass.
“now i’m jest goin’ to your house an’ see how things is, davie. then i’ll come back an’ tell you.”
she got up with difficulty and shook her calico gown free from the dirt and mold.
“don’t—don’t!” screamed david, sitting up. “oh, mrs. blodgett, don’t!”
“yes, i’m goin’, davie, an’ you better come along of me.” she held out her hand. “your ma would
want you to.” “’tain’t half so bad as to let him stay here an’ be scared to death in them bushes,” she
reflected.
“would mamsie want me to?” asked davie, blinking at her through the tears that ran down his
cheeks.
“she certainly would,” declared mrs. blodgett. “o my!” she cried, pricking up her ears. “well, you
wait here a minute. i’ll come back for you.”
she darted down the road, if such locomotion as she set up could be called darting, and presently she
saw just ahead dr. fisher’s old gig.
“wait!” she tried to scream, but her tongue flapped up to the roof of her mouth and stuck there, as she
panted on.
a farmer’s boy in an old wagon coming around the corner thrust his fingers in his mouth and gave
such a whistle that the little doctor thrust out his head.
“lady wants you—she’s a-runnin’ fit to split,” said the boy, pointing to the deacon’s wife pounding
the dust up dreadfully at every step.
dr. fisher pulled up the old horse and hopped out of the gig.
“good gracious, is that you, mrs. blodgett!” he exclaimed, hurrying to meet her.
the deacon’s wife was beyond speech, only being able to puff, her hand at her side and her face very
red. so the little doctor began the conversation.
“do you know where david pepper is?” he asked anxiously.
that made mrs. blodgett find her tongue. “he’s in them bushes,” she said, pointing a shaking finger
back down the road.
“get in—get right in,” said dr. fisher joyfully, taking hold of her fat arm, and hurrying her to the
gig, “and we’ll get davie—his mother’s awfully worried about him.”
mrs. blodgett had no chance to speak further until the gig was well under way for david’s bush. “he
don’t look as ef joel was worse,” she said to herself, peering into the little doctor’s face, “but i’m
mortal afraid to ask.”
“and now that joel is going to get well,” said doctor fisher, “why we must get david home to his
mother.”
“joel goin’ to git well,” screamed mrs. blodgett, nipping his arm, and turning her red face toward
him.
“yes, indeed!” declared the little doctor. “praise god—joel is saved to us all!” his face was very
grave, but there was a light in the eyes back of the big spectacles that made the deacon’s wife say
brokenly, “bless th’ lord!”
“you may well say that,” said dr. fisher brokenly.
“an’ you too—i say bless you!” cried the deacon’s wife heartily, “for i guess th’ lord himself can’t
do much ef folks won’t help, too. well, here’s david in that bush there.”
dr. fisher pulled up the old horse sharply, tossed the reins over the dashboard and leaped out over
the wheel.
“hulloa, david!” he cried, pushing back the branches. “well—well!”
davie shivered and shrank back further under the bush.
“oh, joey is going to get well,” said the little doctor cheerily, poking his big spectacles in under the
branches.
david sprang up and threw his arms convulsively around the little doctor’s neck.
“there—there—good gracious, you hug worse’n a bear, dave,” cried dr. fisher, bundling him up in
his arms. “now then, hop in with you!” he deposited him on the old leather seat, and jumped into the
gig beside him. “we must get you home to your mother before you can say jack robinson!”
if david’s legs had a hard time of it when joel was so sick, it was nothing to the way they had to run
now that the dark cloud had passed over the little brown house.
up and down the loft stairs where joel tossed impatiently on the shake-down, davie toiled to suit
joel’s demands, who wanted something every minute. at last mrs. pepper interfered. “you mustn’t,
joey,” she said; “davie will be worn out.”
“i’ve been sick,” declared joel, with an important air, “and dave likes to get things.”
“yes, i do,” said davie eagerly, and lifting a pale face. “do let me, mamsie.”
“there, you see,” said joel triumphantly.
“no,” said mother pepper, “you mustn’t send him over the stairs so much, joey. he’s very tired.”
“i’m not much tired,” said david, wishing that mamsie wouldn’t keep him from waiting on joel.
“yes, you are, davie child. you’ve been mother’s boy all these weeks, and worked so hard.”
a pink flush crept all over david’s pale little face. he folded his hands, and stood quite still.
“i’m mother’s boy, too,” declared joel, “ain’t i, mamsie?” he rolled over in the shake-down, and
fastened his black eyes on her.
“indeed you are,” declared mrs. pepper warmly, “both of you. but, joel, i want you to remember
how hard davie has worked all the time that ben and you have been sick. you must never forget that,
joey.”
“i won’t forget,” said joel, “and i want to get up.” with that he gave his legs a fling, and ran his toes
out of bed.
“oh, joel,” cried mother pepper in alarm, “you mustn’t do that. it is the very worst thing that could
happen to a boy with the measles—to get his feet cold.” and she tucked him in again snug and tight.
“my toes are hot,” said joel, wriggling worse than ever, and making the old comforter bulge up at the
side.
“i’ll sit on it, mamsie, and hold it down,” said davie, getting on the edge of the bed. “there.”
“ow! no, you don’t,” declared joel, bouncing up so suddenly that davie slid off to the floor in a little
heap.
“joel—joel!” reproved mother pepper.
“well, he was sitting all over my toes,” declared joel, throwing his legs about, so that mother pepper
had to tuck him all up again.
“can’t you pin him in, mamsie?” asked davie, picking himself up, to hover over the bed. “i will get
your big shawl-pin,” and he started for the stairs.
“hoh! i ain’t going to be pinned in bed,” cried joel in a dudgeon. “mamsie, make him come back,”
he whimpered. “don’t let him get the pin, i’ll be good.”
“see that you are then, joel,” said mrs. pepper. “come back, davie,” as he was half-way over the
stairs. “joel is going to be a good boy, and keep his feet in bed.”
“o dear,” grumbled joel, flouncing all over the bed as david ran back, “i want polly to come up and
tell me a story.”
“polly can’t come now,” said mrs. pepper. there was a little white line around her mouth; she had
her back to the bed, so that joel could not see her face.
“she never comes,” grumbled joel. “oh, i’m so hot. why can’t she come, mamsie?”
“can’t i tell a story?” said david, coming close. “i will, joey.”
“phoh!” joel bent his black eyes on him. “you can’t tell a story, dave pepper.”
“now i think davie could tell a story very nicely,” said mother pepper with a smile for david.
“i can try,” said davie, his heart beating dreadfully at the mere thought. but something had to be
done to keep joel from finding out that polly’s eyes were so bad.
“all right,” said joel ungraciously, “but i know it won’t be good for anything.”
“now that’s very nice of you, davie, and i know it will be a good story, joel.” mrs. pepper gave a
final tuck-in to the old comforter, and went quickly down-stairs.
“get up on the bed, dave,” said joel, beginning to feel better about the story, since mamsie thought it
would be a good one. so david hopped on the foot of the shake-down and folded his hands, and
wondered how in the world he was ever going to begin.
“well, begin,” said joel impatiently.
“well once,” said david, “there was—”
“yes,” said joel, “go on.”
“there was—”
“you said that before.”
“i know it. well, there was—”
“stop saying there was,” cried joel crossly.
“but there really was,” insisted david, feeling sure that in another moment he should certainly jump
off from the bed, and fly over the stairs.
“well, go on. was what?” roared joel, flinging back the comforter.
“oh, you mustn’t do that,” cried david, sliding along on the bed, still feeling that he would rather do
the tucking up than to tackle the story. “mamsie said you must keep the clothes up,” and he pulled
the comforter up around joel’s neck.
“go away,” cried joel, “and you can’t tell a story any more than—than—an old hopper-toad.”
“i’m not a hopper-toad,” cried david, a little pink flush coming over his face.
“yes, you are, dave pepper, a bad old hopper-toad,” insisted joel vindictively, “and you don’t know
any story, you old hopper-toad, you!”
david’s face worked dreadfully. “i ain’t—and i won’t tell you any story.” he got off from the bed
and marched to the stairs.
“oh, you must,” cried joel in alarm. a bad story was better than none. “you promised, and you’ve
got to, or i’ll call mamsie, and tell her.” he tossed off the old comforter again.
“don’t call mamsie,” cried davie, hurrying back.
“all right,” said joel. then he snuggled down in the bed, and drew the long-suffering bed-clothes up
so that only his ears were sticking out. “go on.”
“well,” said david, climbing on the foot of the bed again and beginning very slowly, “once there
was—”
“don’t say that again,” commanded joel, sticking up his face from the folds of the comforter.
“a boy,” said david hurriedly.
“how big was he?” asked joel with faint interest. but it was just as well to get the age settled on in
the beginning.
“oh, about as big as—” david hesitated.
“have him as big as me,” said joel, “and his arms as big,” he thrust out one, “and his legs just as
exactly as big,” and he stuck out his foot.
“oh, get back, joe,” cried david, frantically pushing up the bed-clothes.
“well, go on,” said joel, huddling down again.
“and this boy was going along one day—”
“what was the boy’s name?” asked joel suddenly.
“i don’t know,” said david helplessly.
“don’t know,” joel gave another kick to the clothes, and snorted, “hoh!—you’re a great one, dave
pepper, to tell a story about a boy and not know his name.”
“well, it was—” david floundered helplessly, “peter,” he brought out finally.
“all right,” said joel, quite satisfied. “now go on.”
“well, one day, he was going to school.”
“oh, don’t have him go to school,” whined joel, dreadfully disappointed that a boy with such a
satisfying name as peter should waste time over books. “make him going to shoot something—go—
bang!” joel threw up his arms, and screwed up one eye over an imaginary gun.
“all right, i will,” said david accommodatingly. “well—but you must put in your arms, joel.”
“go on,” said joel, huddling back in bed again, “go on, dave.”
“well, so peter was going to school, and—”
“no—no,” interrupted joel, “he was going out to shoot something; you said so, dave.”
“so i did,” said davie. “well, peter was going out to shoot something, and—”
“what was he going to shoot?” demanded joel.
“i don’t know,” said davie helplessly.
“o dear,” grumbled joel, “you don’t know any story, and you won’t let peter do anything,” and he
flounced all over the bed.
“oh, i will—i will,” cried davie in great distress. “i’ll let peter shoot anything you want—i will
truly, joel.”
“i’d rather have a bear,” said joel, stopping his tossing about; “no, two bears. make it two bears,
dave,” he cried, very much excited.
“i will,” said david, thinking it just as easy to deal with two bears, as long as he didn’t know in the
least what to do with one. “well, peter was going to school—i mean out to shoot something, and he
went down the road—”
“with his gun over his shoulder,” interrupted joel.
“yes, with his gun over his shoulder, and—and then he turned down the corner.”
“don’t have any corner,” said joel, “he went right straight into the woods, slap bang!”
“oh, yes,” said david, “he went into the woods, and—”
“and have the bear—no, the two bears, come right now this very minute.”
“yes,” said david, “i will. well, peter went into the woods, and he saw a big tree, and—”
“ow! don’t have any tree,” howled joel. “make a big hole for the bears to live in.”
“i won’t have any tree,” said david.
“peter heard an awful noise,” and joel growled fiercely, “and all of a sudden—gee whiz! and peter
looked up at a big pile of stones—no, let’s have it a cave, an awful big cave.”
“yes, let’s,” said david, leaning forward in great delight from his post on the foot of the bed.
“oh, such a big noise!” and joel gave another growl, so much worse than the first that davie gave a
little scream, and a delightful shiver ran up and down his small back, as joel showed all his little
white teeth, “and peter put up his gun, for the two bears were looking out of the cave just like this—”
joel’s black eyes were simply dreadful, they were so big, and he bounced up to sit in the middle of
the bed.
“oh, joey,” exclaimed david in great distress, “do lie down. mamsie won’t like it— oh, joey!”
“o dear!” joel tumbled back. “i can’t shoot the bears lying down.”
“well, you’ve got to,” said davie, tucking him up again, “for mamsie would feel dreadfully to have
you sit up. now go on about the bears.”
“well, the two bears—no, one bear, jumped out of the cave first, and peter put up his gun, and bang!
and over went the bear, and—”
“oh, joey!” cried davie, in his post again on the foot of the shake-down, his blue eyes aflame, “did
peter kill the bear?”
“yes, of course,” said joel, “just as dead as dead could be, and the other one, too—oh, no,” he cried
suddenly, “i’m going to have the other bear chew peter.”
“oh, no, joel,” exclaimed david in horror. it was bad enough for a boy to be kept from school and
turned into the woods, without being chewed up by a bear. “don’t let him, joe,” he begged, clasping
his hands in great distress.
“well, he won’t chew him all up,” said joel unwillingly, “only his legs and—”
“oh, don’t let the bear chew peter’s legs,” cried david, leaning over close to joel’s face; “then peter
can’t run away.”
“i’m not going to have peter run away,” declared joel, bobbing his black head decidedly.
“oh, yes, i will, too,” he cried joyfully, and clapping his hands. “i’ll have the bear chew him a little
on one leg, and then when peter runs, the bear can chase him, and chew him on the other, and—”
“joel,” exclaimed david, with very red cheeks, “i think that bear is a bad old bear, and i don’t like
him.”
“and then he can chew peter all up, every teenty speck,” cried joel, with sparkling eyes. “yes sir!”
smacking his lips.
david tumbled quickly off from the bed, and made for the stairs. “i’m not going to stay here, if you
have peter chewed up,” he declared, his blue eyes flashing.
“dave, don’t go.” up went joel’s head from the pillow, “i won’t let him be chewed up. you can have
that bear for your own. don’t go, dave.”
“can i have him for my very own?” asked david, drawing near the bed.
“yes, you may,” promised joel, swallowing hard, “if you’ll come back.”
“i sha’n’t let peter be chewed up,” said davie, clambering on to his old place on the bed once more,
“and i sha’n’t have him shoot the bear either.”
“what will you do?” cried joel in great astonishment.
“i’m going to have the bear go right into his hole again; and peter is going to school,” said david
with great decision.
“o dear me!” joel rolled over in terrible disappointment.
“he’s my bear,” said david, “you gave him to me, and—”
“well, peter isn’t yours,” said joel, interrupting. “i’m going to have peter, so there!”
“you may have the bear, and i’ll take peter,” said david eagerly.
“you may. i don’t want peter—you won’t let him do anything,” said joel. “i’d a great deal rather
have the bear,” he brought up in great satisfaction.
“well, how nice that is, davie, for you to tell joel a story.” mother pepper coming up the stairs to the
loft, beamed approvingly at him.
david’s cheeks got very hot. “i didn’t tell the story,” he said, and his face fell.
“he had peter,” said joel quickly.
“joel had two bears, and he told all about ’em,” said david; “i didn’t tell any story,” he said again in
a sorry little voice.
“and—and—he told about peter, and he’s going to school,” joel brought up with a wry face.
“well, now,” said mother pepper, “i think that must have been a very good story, and how nice that
you two boys could tell it together.”
