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Updated: July 14, 2025
"She ain't hurt, Polly ain't," said Peletiah, stoutly defending himself. "They're going to have a garden party." "A what?" screamed Grandma. "A garden party." "Oh, then she fell in the garding, an' you said cellar stairs," she cried reproachfully. Peletiah looked at her long; then he got out of his chair and leaned over her. "My Aunt Jerusha fell," he screamed, so loud that Grandma started.
"Why, where ?" as she saw his empty hands. "I lost the butter-pat," said Peletiah. "I've been telling you so." "No, you haven't," contradicted Rachel flatly. "Yes, I have," said Peletiah stolidly. "No such thing." Rachel squared up to him, her black eyes flashing. "You haven't said a single word, you bad, wicked boy."
"I don't like lessons," said Peletiah, when they were left alone. "Don't you?" exclaimed Rachel, in astonishment, and resting her soapy hands on the edge of the dishpan. "No, I don't," declared Peletiah, with great deliberation, "like them at all." "Well, I shall, I know." Rachel twitched off her hands and slapped the mop down smartly among the cups in the hot water.
"Is old Miss Bedlow dead, Ma?" asked Peletiah, pausing in the act of getting some gravy to his mouth. "Yes, dear. Take care, Peletiah, and pay attention to your dinner." Peletiah set down the mouthful on his plate. "I hain't got to go, have I, Ma?" he asked, in trepidation. "No, dear; now go on with your dinner, and don't say 'hain't."
"Well, what does she say?" "Ma" a light-haired, serious boy appeared in the doorway "Pa wants you," he announced. "Oh, Peletiah!" exclaimed the parson's wife, in consternation, at his unlooked-for appearance, and, "Oh, Grandma!" in the same breath, "I'm so sorry I must go." "So sorry? What's ben a happenin' that Polly's sorry?" said Grandma, supposing that was in the letter.
And now she was down in the parsonage kitchen, in a calico gown and checked apron; her own new brown ribbons having been taken off from her braids, rolled up carefully, and laid in the top drawer, the common, every-day ones taking their places. Peletiah and Ezekiel were each in a corner of the kitchen, with their pale blue eyes riveted on her. "Well, dear," Mrs.
When Grandma really got this letter by heart, she laughed and said it had done her good, and she wished Joel was there this minute, in which Peletiah hardly concurred, being unable to satisfy Joel's athletic demands. And then she looked over at the little mahogany stand, and the tears rolled down her withered old cheeks.
And Peletiah solemnly determined within himself to get up a circus the very next week. And the excited animals thrilled with delight when it came the monkey's time to perform and jump through the big paper rings.
Rachel whirled around and stamped her foot impatiently. "And 'twill come past our house," contributed Ezekiel, gaining her side, "so let's sit on the doorstep till it comes." "And you can tell us about the funerals you've seen in the city," suggested Peletiah, who had been thinking about them ever since. "All right," said Rachel, seeing she was not to lose sight of the parade she so dearly loved.
"I guess Grandma's got some wormwood the stuff she made for Phronsie's toe when 'twas pounded," suggested Joel, quite oblivious to the black looks which Peletiah was constantly casting on him. "You may run over and see," said Polly. "O dear me, no, you can't, Joe, just look at your hand!" as she happened to glance up. Joel looked down quickly at the big white bundle in the sling.
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