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"Don't let me look oh! don't let me look," cried Polly in the old gig, and twisting around, she hid her face against the faded green cloth side. "I ought not to see the little brown house before Mamsie and the others do."
"It's too bad you can't hang up your stockings," said Mrs. Pepper, looking keenly at their flushed faces and bright eyes; "you've never hung 'em up." "That isn't any matter, mamsie," they both said, cheerily; "it's a great deal better to have the children have a nice time oh, won't it be elegant! p'r'aps we'll have ours next year!"
How long she stayed there she never knew. But at last, realizing that every moment there was only making matters worse, she dragged herself up from the little heap on the floor, and trying to put a bit of cheerfulness into a face she knew must frighten Mamsie, she went slowly out, and down the stairs. But no one looked long enough at her face to notice its change of expression.
Mamsie!" and she sobbed as if her heart would break, and covered her face with her hands. "Don't cry, Polly," and Phronsie's little hand crept softly up to her neck. But Polly couldn't stop.
"You are right, Mrs. Pepper," cried Jasper with a laugh, and seating himself before the piano. "Come, Polly!" "Mamsie is always right, isn't she, Jasper?" cried Polly with pride, putting her hands down for the first chords. "Indeed she is," responded the boy heartily. "Here now, Polly, remember, you slipped up a bit on that first bar. Now!"
When Mamsie spoke like that, the five little Peppers always knew that she meant to be obeyed, so they drew off from her and tumbled into their chairs; all but Phronsie. "I'll take you into my lap," said Mother Pepper, so Phronsie snuggled, well-contented, in her usual nest, and folded her small hands. "Now, then," said Mrs. Pepper, "as it is quiet enough so I can think, I'll hear the story.
And that night he came down to sleep in Mamsie's big bed, and Polly had a little shake-down on the floor. "I wish I could ever be sick!" said Joel, when he saw the preparations for the night. "Oh, Joel, don't wish such perfectly dreadful things," said Polly. "Well, I never sleep with Mamsie," said Joel, in an injured tone. "And Davie gets all the good times." "Now, Joel," said Mrs.
And Mamsie came across the hall, and into the reading room, and sat there a bit, while Polly tossed off a letter to Alexia Rhys, that had been worrying her for days. And there was a funny little smile tucked away in the corners of Mother Fisher's mouth, and Polly thought that things were getting queerer than ever. "I am glad you are writing that letter," said Mrs.
She could get no more, for Mamsie never had things charged, although Mr. Atkins was quite willing to do so. "'Tisn't safe," Mrs. Pepper always said; "if I do it once, I may again, so I'll pay as I go." Parson Henderson looked off the road over his spectacles and saw the rye flour all sprinkled on every side, just where it had flown. "Now that's too bad!" he said.
And she clambered into her little white bed, after saying her old prayer; then she lay in the moonlight again, watching Helen's house. "The light is out, Mamsie," she called, "in Helen's room. But I suppose she is asleep." And presently Mrs. Fisher, stealing in, with unshed tears in her eyes, found her own child safe folded in restful slumber, her hand tucked under her cheek.
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