polly was working hard to make the fire burn. something was the matter with the old stove that morning. there had been a big crack for some time at the back that let in the air alarmingly; but ben had stuffed this up with putty the week before, and it had done very well; but just as polly had washed up the breakfast dishes this morning, and was going to put her pans of bread into the oven, out tumbled the putty, the old black stove grew cold, and everything came to a standstill. the truth was, the poor old stove was about worn out.
“o dear!” said polly, “now what’s going to be done! why couldn’t it have waited, and ben’s away, too!”
she flew around for something to stop up the hole with; she couldn’t find any putty, of course, but nothing else appeared. so she got down on[23] the floor before it and rattled the dampers, and put in more wood. she was kneeling in front of it, her face very red with her exertions, and trying to push a refractory smouldering log of wood into a more “burnable” position, when phronsie emerged from the bedroom with a very injured expression. “oh, polly, i’m so hungry!”
“why, phronsie,” said polly, giving the log a push, “you can’t be.”
“oh, but i am, polly,” said phronsie, shaking her head decidedly. “i know i am very hungry.”
“well, wait just a bit, dear—oh, why won’t you stay where you ought to! (this to the log). you won’t act so when ben comes, old log! yes, phronsie, in a minute!”
“oh, let me get it, polly,” said the little girl, eagerly. “let me, do!”
“do you think you can?” said polly, resting a minute, her black hands stuck straight out before her as she sat on the floor.
“oh, yes! just as nice,” said phronsie; “it’s only some bread, polly.”
phronsie’s delight was to be thought big enough to help, to go to the bread-pail that hung under the little old steps that ran down into a small shed or provision room where the pepper family[24] always kept their slender stock of eatables. “provision room” was a good name for it, polly had once said, because “there always ’s plenty of room for provisions, even if there are no provisions.” polly knew there were some good bits from breakfast that phronsie could easily get, so she said “yes” rather absently, and phronsie trotted off.
as she passed the cupboard door, she spied the old bread-knife lying on the shelf. “suppose,” thought phronsie, “i should have to cut some bread—i know how—i do truly. i better take the knife, i think.” so she reached up, took the knife, and proceeded to go down the rickety steps. now, why she should have stumbled this particular morning is more than anybody can tell. yet, she certainly did; and the first thing polly heard was a knock, then a rolling, then a sharp and loud cry. “oh, what is the matter, phronsie dear! i’m coming!”
springing up, leaving the stove door wide open, she flew over the old steps, finding phronsie in a little screaming heap at the bottom.
“oh, darling baby! dear little phron! don’t cry!” said polly, gathering her up. “there, there.”
[25]sitting on the lowest step with her in her arms, she saw the knife off at some little distance, where it fell on the floor. “oh, phronsie, you didn’t take the knife! oh!” she added faintly, as she saw a stream of blood roll over phronsie’s pink apron, and great dabs on her face. white as a sheet, polly never knew how she looked phronsie over; but she soon saw the trouble came only from her little fat thumb, which, after the first fright, phronsie protested was the only place that “hurt.”
strange as it may seem, phronsie had rolled over and over the steps, with the knife in her hand, and sustained no injury beyond a rather deep cut in her thumb, which, however, bled enough to have caused greater fears. polly sopped up the tears from the child’s bloody little face, and rolled the poor thumb in her handkerchief. then she set phronsie down, pulled out her feet, felt of her joints, and made her get up and walk back and forth. she drew a long breath. “well,” she said in the greatest relief, “there aren’t any bones broken anyway. oh, phronsie, do you feel bad anywhere else?”
“no,” said little phronsie, “only my thumb.” and she stuck up the little dingy wad, and when she saw it, began to cry again.
[26]“there, there, polly’s darling! now, let’s see what we can do!” polly cooed away as she waddled up the steps with phronsie in her arms.
the first thing that met her view, was the old black stove, now utterly hateful, with the fire all out. “oh, you old ugly thing!” said she, “think what you’ve done this morning!” and then she set herself to work over phronsie.
in the first place, she knew she must get some court-plaster, for the cut was bleeding pretty fast. “now, phronsie, you sit just as still as everything.” polly had put her in mammy’s old rocking-chair. “and, childie, you can have this.” a most magnificent thing it seemed to phronsie, and it stopped her tears at once, for it was a piece of cake, rather hard to be sure, but still beautiful. polly had saved it up, since it had been given them, as a treat, and the children were going to have it this very night.
there wasn’t any court-plaster in the house, but she knew old “grandma bascom” had some. her cottage was just down at the end of the lane; so leaving phronsie munching her cake, she sped over, and rushed in without knocking, for the old lady was deaf, and wouldn’t have heard, anyway. “oh, if you please, grandma,[27] phronsie’s got hurt! may i have some court-plaster?”
“why, for the land’s sake! your ma’s got hurt, did you say?” said the old lady, stopping her sweeping in the middle of the floor, and leaning on the broom.
“no, marm; phronsie!” screamed polly in the old lady’s ear. “mamsie’s away.”
“she is, though?” said grandma, kindly; “now that’s too bad; ’n what did you say you want?”
“court-plaster,” said polly, “and could you hurry?—for her thumb’s bleeding so.”
“yes, yes, to be sure,” said the old lady, laying down her broom, and waddling to the cupboard. she brought a big cracked sugar-bowl to the table, then adjusted her spectacles, and diving down into the depths brought up paper after paper of herbs, salve, etc., till polly thought she would go wild.
“oh, i don’t believe you’ve got any,” she said.
“yes, yes, i have, child; don’t be so fast; i remember where i put it; ’twan’t in this bowl, after all! i give some to jane dusenberry’s folks, when her pa got cut with a scythe. you know jane?” and grandma paused, and rested both[28] hands on the bowl to relate the dreadful accident.
“yes, yes,” said polly, “but i can’t leave phronsie. oh, i can get it for you, if you’ll only tell me where it is.”
“hadn’t you better run right home, and stay along of phronsie, dear, and i’ll step over and bring it soon’s i get on my cap, and,” looking around the room, “get fixed up just a mite!” said the old lady.
“if you please, i must have it now,” said polly, in utter dismay, who knew what grandma’s “settling her cap,” and fixing up, meant.
so mrs. bascom finally produced a roll of ancient court-plaster out of some unseen drawer in the cupboard, the requisite amount was carefully cut off, and polly bounded over to poor little phronsie, whose supply of cake had given out, and who, consequently, as she sat curled up on the old chair, was surveying the poor little bandaged thumb ruefully.
the cut was soon nicely stuck together; her dirty little pink apron taken off; herself washed, and the tangled yellow curls all brushed and stroked by polly’s kind hands. and then polly began to look around. her mother, she knew,[29] wouldn’t be back until night. she had a chance to make some jackets for the minister’s boys, so she was at the parsonage for the day. ben was chopping wood, one of the odd jobs he picked up now and then; he might be in any time, it only depended on the length of the job. where joel and david were, polly, for the life of her, couldn’t have told. their whereabouts were often shrouded in mystery. in the midst of it, just as polly was saying, while she gave the last curl a brush, “there, dearie, you’re all right again; now i must get at my old stove, hateful thing!” the door opened and in walked ben. “oh, ben!” she cried, and she almost burst into tears, “i’m so glad you’ve come!”
and phronsie, with a most important air, began to announce, “i’ve cut my thumb, oh, and it bled; see, bensie, see!” and the child held up the wounded little hand carefully wrapped up in a clean, old handkerchief.
“whew!” whistled ben, as he stood still. “what’s been happening? what is it, polly?”
“oh, ben, such a fall!” answered polly, kissing phronsie tenderly; and she then gave him the whole account, interspersed with phronsie’s corrections, when she considered anything left out.
[30]ben petted phronsie to her heart’s content, patted the poor little hand sympathetically, and tried to think of something he could give her to show his sorrow. but he could think of nothing, till polly leaned over and whispered something in his ear.
“the very thing!” he shouted.
“sh! sh! but isn’t it?” said polly, skipping, “if mammy’ll only say yes!”
“what is it, ben?” said phronsie. “i’m big enough now to know secrets, and besides, i’ve cut my thumb.”
“i know, pet, and you wait a little,” said ben, “and you’ll know. halloa, what’s the matter with your stove, polly?”
“oh, i don’t know,” said polly, despairingly. “it won’t burn! the putty fell out, ben, and i’ve put in wood, but it won’t do anything; and there’s my bread, see! it’ll be spoilt, and what’ll we do, then, i wonder!”
“shan’t we have anything to eat then, polly?” said little phronsie, with big eyes.
“yes,” said ben, quickly, “i’ll go out and bring home lots of chipmunks, phronsie, a hundred, say, and we’ll hang ’em up all round the kitchen, and they’ll last us a year.”
[31]“i don’t think i should like chipmunks, ben,” said the child, gravely.
“oh, ben, do stop laughing,” said polly, “for it is really dreadful if we can’t eat the bread.”
ben was already on his knees before the stove. he fussed and worked over it, and had recourse to his putty again, which polly remarked might stay as long as he was putting it in; and finally the old stove concluded to make the best of it, and try again. so in a short space of time there was a bright, cheerful fire crackling and snapping, the bread was in the oven, and polly was flying around making up for lost time.
about dinner-time, joel and david made their appearance, as hungry as two little beavers. polly’s bread wasn’t done, so they had to content themselves with the old crusts in addition to their hasty-pudding. what a fuss they made over little phronsie! everything had to be gone over again for their benefit, the handkerchief to be taken off, and the thumb exhibited, and joel felt very bad because polly wouldn’t allow him to pull up the court-plaster to see exactly what kind of a cut it was. “just one little end, polly, i should think you might; it’ll stick down again just as easy.” but polly was firm.
[32]phronsie was the pet of the household. anything harming her hurt them all. into each heart she crept, though in a different way, making a place not filled by any other. she was the baby; and to see phronsie hurt, almost took away the boys’ appetites, the most touching way in which they could show their grief. after dinner, joel rehearsed phronsie’s adventure, trying to roll down the old steps, just as she said she did. “phoh! it don’t hurt any,” he said.
“well, but take the knife, joe,” said davie, “take the knife; that’ll hurt, i guess.”
“no,” said ben, “we’ve had enough cuts to-day; don’t let’s make any more trouble for mamsie. what’ll she say now, i wonder?”
nightfall brought mrs. pepper, tired with her toil; but oh! so thankful, while she held her baby in her lap, that the kind father in heaven had watched over the little brown house in her absence.
there was nobody to little phronsie’s mind like her mother. cuddled up there to her warm breast, while polly got the cup of tea that had been kept warm for mamsie by the stove, she told over in childish way the story that polly had already rehearsed so fully to the mother’s anxious[33] ears, not forgetting—and here the child hung her head—the recital of taking the bread-knife and the sad consequences ensuing. and then it all came out—polly’s and ben’s secret—and after its disclosure phronsie was decidedly glad that she had been hurt.
for some time, ever since phronsie could remember, she had been promised a pair of new shoes, very new, for her own; just as soon as the mother could get together money that could be spared for their purchase. she had never had a pair really bought for her. joel’s and david’s were generally so worn and holey, long before there was a chance of their outgrowing them, that there was no hope from that quarter.
once, mrs. pepper had made a mistake in buying a pair for david. they proved to be much shorter than at first supposed, and put him in so much pain when wearing them that they were put by for phronsie; the beauty of them was gone, however, before david complained of them. and once a lady in the village gave mrs. pepper a half-worn pair of her little daughter’s; so that no “new shoes” had ever come to phronsie,—that greatest delight in a child’s life.
for a long time then she had had the promise.[34] it seemed to her interminable, but she waited patiently; only sometimes when she got to thinking of them, it seemed as if she couldn’t wait any longer. and polly caught her one day saying to seraphina, her doll, when she thought no one was near:—
“well, do you suppose i’ll ever get my new shoes? not till i get to be a big woman, i guess!”
polly couldn’t stand that, and she privately told ben that they must contrive some way and get them soon. and now ben’s wood-choppings had helped some, and mrs. pepper had been able to get more work than usual, so that polly, during that dismal morning, had been thinking perhaps now they could do it. and when would they ever want to do more for poor little phronsie! she wouldn’t be able to play for some time, for the cut would be very painful. oh, if mammy would only say yes!
and mrs. pepper had said “yes!” and the children had shouted and shown in different ways their delight; only phronsie, the one most interested, sitting there in her mother’s lap, had just clasped her little hands together as tight as she could for the thumb, and given an ecstatic long sigh.
[35]so it was all settled—“really and truly settled,” as phronsie said. to-morrow polly and ben should take her to the town to be fitted, if mr. brown would let them have his wagon.
“oh, mayn’t we go, too?” cried joel; “we can sit in behind. say, now, mammy, mayn’t we?”
“do, mammy!” said david.
“well, i don’t see why not, i’m sure,” said mrs. pepper; “’twon’t cost anything; the wagon’s going anyway, and the horse is strong—if you’ll be good, joey.”
“oh, won’t i, though!” said joel, giving his mother a hearty kiss, while little david beamed his satisfaction.
ben ran over to deacon brown’s to ask him about the horse and wagon. the answer was all right, for the deacon wanted him to do an errand in town; so the wildest hilarity reigned in the pepper household that night.
“oh, ben, will they be red-tops, do you think?” whispered little phronsie, privately.
“yes, i guess so, puss,” whispered ben, back again, inwardly resolving if there was a pair of “red-topped” shoes in the store, that were otherwise just right, phronsie should have them.
so on the morrow, after they had their early[36] dinner, the old wagon was driven up to the door with a flourish by ben, who guided the ancient but tough old roadster with a dignity befitting a better horse. joel and david had already secured reserved seats, having run over ahead to the deacon’s shed and got in first. and there they sat, dangling their legs over the back of the wagon as they laughed and crowed in utter delight.
phronsie stood in the doorway holding polly’s hand. it was a decidedly solemn undertaking to her, this setting out on this great and weighty expedition, and the child’s heart was about as full as it could hold of anticipation and happiness. oh, the pains that had been taken to get her ready! ben said that polly began before they got up in the morning.
at any rate, everything had been brushed, patted and pulled into place on phronsie a dozen times by each member of the family before they were quite satisfied. but, at last, they had acknowledged that nothing more could be done; and, as polly tied the waves of yellow hair back with a little blue bow, mrs. pepper stepped off, set her head on one side critically, and said:—
“well, i’m sure, child, if you only behave as well as you look, you’ll do!”
[37]and then phronsie was told to go and sit in her little chair and not move till it was time to put on her hood and sack. any other child than phronsie would have hated all this fuss and trouble, but to her it was only part of the extreme delight; so she stuck out the patched, worn little shoes before her, and thought of the new ones.
“oh, ben’s coming, polly!” called mrs. pepper, from the window where she sat sewing. “he’s just driving down the hill! hurry, child! i’ll put on phronsie’s things.”
“yes, mamsie,” said polly, from the bedroom, in a great twitter, “i’m coming.”
and now they were all ready, and mrs. pepper on the steps gave her last injunction to polly, who held tightly the old leather purse, with the precious money, in her hand,—“to be sure and take the right change,” and “to get them plenty broad” (not the change, but the shoes), and “not to let anything happen to phronsie;” “oh! and not to get them ‘rights and lefts,’ you know, but ‘evens,’ polly,”—all of which directions she had given carefully before. all this made great confusion, of course, but it only added to the general delight, while joel and david were[38] screaming in chorus for them to “come or they’d be late!”
but at last they were off, and mrs. pepper from the doorstep shaded her eyes with her hands—perhaps the sun was too bright for them. her precious load of little ones; might she only have more sunshine to put into their lives! well, at least, they should enjoy this, bless them!
merry was the ride to town. once polly was afraid she had dropped the old purse when she leaned over to tie phronsie’s tippet a little tighter, and they were all aghast for a minute at this tremendous fright; but, on ben’s pulling up the old horse, she found it in her lap safe and sound. so they were merrier than ever out of contrast, and deacon brown’s horse so far overcame his usual melancholy manner as to quite enjoy the jolly crowd behind him, and to gallop and plunge in quite a festive manner along the road.
at last they turned into the village street and came in sight of the shops. then it was that phronsie sat straight up and began to look eagerly from one side to the other. they passed the milliner’s, gay with ribbons and spring bonnets, and two or three other stores of various descriptions,[39] until they came to a little unpretending shop, crowded in between two others, over whose green door hung the modest sign of “j. beebe, boots and shoes.”
when phronsie caught sight of the little window strung with shoes of every size, from the littlest wee ones up, she cried out, “oh, there ’tis, ben! there ’tis! oh, do stop!” long before they reached it.
“yes, yes, child,” said polly, “ben’s going to. joe, now you mustn’t! you know you told mamsie you’d be good.” for polly saw premonitory signs of joe’s giving one of his awful whoops to announce their arrival.
the whoop died away in joe’s throat as he reflected he never should get another chance to come “to town” with polly, who was quite fastidious as to manners, if he indulged too boisterously now.
so they bundled out and up the steps, joel quite gallantly opening the door for his sisters, to atone; while ben fastened the horse to the well-worn post.
old mr. beebe, smiling at the thought of customers, came, rubbing his hands, out from his little room at the back that served his old wife and himself as both parlor and kitchen. oh, how[40] magnificent it all looked to phronsie! oh, so many shoes, and such beautiful ones! where did all the people live who could want so many! great green things, that she found afterward were boxes, had shoes and slippers hanging and dangling to them; and then, away up by the top of the shelf were boots,—oh, as big as ben’s!—and all around the little dingy room were rubbers, shoes, and slippers wherever there was a spot big enough to contain them. and, over and above it all, such a lovely smell of leather. well, it was the most delightful place!
“and now, my little dears, what can i do for you to-day?” said old mr. beebe, pleasantly looking from one to another of the happy group, including ben who had now joined them.
“if you please,” said polly, with quite a matronly air, “it’s for phronsie.”
“is it, though?” said the old man, “then we must get her a nice pair, don’t you think?” and he beamed at her so kindly over his old spectacles that he quite won her heart over again, for the pepper children were always delighted when an errand took them to his little shop; he was such a kindly, fresh, little old man.
“now if you’ll sit right down here, my little[41] girl, we’ll see what we can do for you.” and he brought a little wooden chair and placed it in the middle of the room.
obediently, phronsie sat down and confidently put her rusty little patched shoe upon mr. beebe’s knee.
“so, so!” he said, “and you thought you’d have a new pair of shoes this morning, and you thought you’d see what i’d got for you, didn’t you?” he added to make conversation, the others meanwhile encircling phronsie and watching her with the most intense interest.
“oh, i’ve never had a pair for my very own,” said the little girl, simply.
“haven’t you, now?” said the old man, kindly. “well, then, i don’t see but we must make this the best pair you’ve ever bought,” and he laughed and shook his sides till his spectacles nearly tumbled off; and all the children laughed with him, he was so jolly.
then he got up and rummaged among some boxes over in the corner, until he emerged from them with two or three pairs of little shoes hanging over his arm.
“there, now, here’s a pair,” he said, and he proceeded to try on a beautiful shiny shoe over[42] phronsie’s little red stocking. it just fitted; but polly saw to her dismay that it was “rights and lefts.”
“oh, ben,” she whispered to him aside, “they won’t do, and they’re lovely; for mamsie said, you know, we must be sure to get ‘evens.’”
“well, we can try again, then,” said ben, “he’s got plenty more, i s’pose.” and he told mr. beebe the difficulty.
but ben was wrong. it wasn’t so easy to fit phronsie’s little fat foot thus nicely again, and mr. beebe brought forward shoe after shoe until they were almost in despair.
in the meantime, ben kept his own counsel. he walked around the shop to see if he could possibly spy out a pair of “red-topped ones.” if he couldn’t, he wasn’t going to take away phronsie’s pleasure in the plain ones by mentioning it. but no delightful “red-topped ones” appeared, or showed signs of appearing, and he had almost given up the idea, when—
“stay! wait a bit!” said the old man; “now i remember i made a pair once for the squire’s little daughter down to the point, but her ma didn’t take ’em, she thought they were too small. maybe they’ll just fit. i shouldn’t wonder, now.”
[43]and he ambled away to the farther part of the room; there, from underneath a shelf, he produced a pair, saying as he brought them towards the children, “but perhaps you’ll object to them for being red-tops.”
“object to them!” phronsie screamed right out. “oh, ben, he did have them!” and then she was so ashamed she hid her face in polly’s cloak, while ben explained to delighted mr. beebe, who began to try them on.
ben and polly both held their breath. what if they shouldn’t fit! but on the little shoe went; snugly it buttoned up; and then mr. beebe told phronsie to stand up.
“stamp in it, child. why, it looks as if ’twas made for her, don’t it?” he said, pleased almost as the children.
the price, too, was just right. polly didn’t know, as she counted out the money into the old man’s hand, that at least a quarter of their value was deducted. phronsie wouldn’t have the shoe taken off; so the old man cut the string, buttoned on its mate, and rolled up the poor little old ones in a bit of newspaper.
“there, now!”—and then he put into her hand a most beautiful button-hook; it had a bright little[44] handle that looked like silver, and it was just as cunning as it could be,—“that’s from me! and you’ll come and see the old man again, won’t you, dear, and tell him how the shoes go?”
and then mrs. beebe had to come in to see the “pepper children” and to ask after their mother; and to hear all about phronsie’s accident of the day before; and then she must run out and get a doughnut apiece for them all, out of the big stone pot; and for phronsie, a big piece of cinnamon candy extra.
and then they all said “good-by,” and “oh, thank you!” added polly, “ever so much!”
out again and into the old wagon.
“i say,” said joel, “that’s prime! don’t i wish some of us had to get new shoes every day!” and he settled back to a huge bit of his doughnut.
over, back, and away they went home, only stopping to do deacon brown’s errand. phronsie would keep sticking her feet out from under the old shawl to be sure that her shoes were really there, despite polly’s fear that she would take cold; for it was getting towards evening and a little chilly.
such an uproar as they had when they got home. the shoes were admired and admired[45] again, mrs. pepper protesting that she couldn’t have done better if she had gone herself; as indeed she couldn’t. and she praised the children heartily for their good behavior. as for phronsie, she danced around the old kitchen till the “red-tops” seemed only little specks of color.
“i’m going to have ’em to sleep with me anyway, polly,” she declared, as polly insisted on taking them off at last.
so to bed phronsie trudged, grasping the precious shoes tightly to her breast. and when polly went to get into the big bed with her mother, she peeped the last thing at phronsie and laughed right out. one small, red-topped shoe was clasped in the little well hand; the other, tucked up on the pillow, had settled right down over her nose.
