"Oh!" said Polly.

"Here we are!" cried Van, jumping out almost before the carriage door was open. "Mamma; mamma," he shouted to Mrs. Whitney in the doorway, "the Peppers are coming, and the little brown house too!--everything and everybody!"

"They are!" said Percy, as wild as his brother; "and everything's just splendid! j.a.ppy said so."

"Everything's coming," said little d.i.c.k, tumbling up the steps--"and the bird--and--and--"

"And mamsie!" finished Phronsie, impatient to add her part--while Polly didn't say anything--only looked.

Three weeks! "I can't wait!" thought Polly at first, in counting over the many hours before the happy day would come. But on Jasper's suggesting that they should all do something to get ready for the visitors, and have a general tr.i.m.m.i.n.g up with vines and flowers beside--the time pa.s.sed away much more rapidly than was feared.

Polly chose a new and more difficult piece of music to learn to surprise mamsie. Phronsie had aspired to an elaborate pin-cushion, that was nearly done, made of bits of worsted and canvas, over whose surface she had wandered according to her own sweet will, in a way charming to behold.

"I don't know what to do," said Van in despair, "cause I don't know what she'd like."

"Can't you draw her a little picture?" asked Polly. "She'd like that."

"Does she like pictures?" asked Van with the greatest interest.

"Yes indeed!" said Polly, "I guess you'd think so if you could see her!"

"I know what I shall do," with a dignified air said Percy, who couldn't draw, and therefore looked down on all Van's attempts with the greatest scorn. "And it won't be any old pictures either," he added.

"What is it, old fellow?" asked Jasper, "tell on, now, your grand plan."

"No, I'm not going to tell," said Percy, with the greatest secrecy, "until the very day."

"What will you do, sir?" asked Jasper, pulling one of d.i.c.k's ears, who stood waiting to speak, as if his mind was made up, and wouldn't be changed for anyone!

"I shall give Ben one of my kitties--the littlest and the best!" he said, with heroic self-sacrifice.

A perfect shout greeted this announcement.

"Fancy Ben going round with one of those awful little things," whispered j.a.ppy to Polly, who shook at the very thought.

"Don't laugh! oh, it's dreadful to laugh at him, j.a.ppy," she said, when she could get voice enough.

"No, I sha'n't tell," said Percy, when the fun had subsided; who, finding that no one teased him to divulge his wonderful plan, kept trying to harrow up their feelings by parading it.

"You needn't then," screamed Van, who was nearly dying to know. "I don't believe it's so very dreadful much, anyway."

"What's yours, j.a.ppy?" asked Polly, "I know yours will be just splendid."

"Oh, no, it isn't," said Jasper, smiling brightly, "but as I didn't know what better I could do, I'm going to get a little stand, and then beg some flowers of Turner to fill it, and--"

"Why, that's mine!" screamed Percy, in the greatest disappointment.

"That's just what I was going to do!"

"Hoh, hoh!" shouted Van; "I thought you wouldn't tell, Mr. Percy! hoh, hoh!"

"Hoh, hoh!" echoed d.i.c.k.

"Hush," said j.a.ppy. "Why, Percy, I didn't know as you had thought of that," he said kindly. "Well, then, you do it, and I'll take something else. I don't care as long as Mrs. Pepper gets 'em."

"I didn't exactly mean that," began Percy; "mine was roots and little flowers growing."

"He means what he gets in the woods," said Polly, explaining; "don't you, Percy?"

"Yes," said the boy. "And then I was going to put stones and things in among them to make them look pretty."

"And they will," cried Jasper. "Go ahead, Percy, they'll look real pretty, and then Turner will give you some flowers for the stand, I know; I'll ask him to-morrow."

"Will you?" cried Percy, "that'll be fine!"

"Mine is the best," said Van, just at this juncture; but it was said a little anxiously, as he saw how things were prospering with Percy; "for my flowers in the picture will always be there, and your old roots and things will die."

"What will yours be, then, j.a.ppy?" asked Polly very soberly. "The stand of flowers would have been just lovely! and you do fix them so nice,"

she added sorrowfully.

"Oh, I'll find something else," said j.a.ppy, cheerfully, who had quite set his heart on giving the flowers. "Let me see--I might carve her a bracket."

"Do," cried Polly, clapping her hands enthusiastically. "And do carve a little bird, like the one you did on your father's."

"I will," said Jasper, "just exactly like it. Now, we've got something to do, before we welcome the 'little brown house' people--so let's fly at it, and the time won't seem so long."

And at last the day came when they could all say--To-morrow they'll be here!

Well, the vines were all up; and pots of lovely climbing ferns, and all manner of pretty green things had been arranged and re-arranged a dozen times till everything was p.r.o.nounced perfect; and a big green "Welcome"

over the library door, made of laurel leaves, by the patient fingers of all the children, stared down into their admiring eyes as much as to say, "I'll do my part!"

"Oh, dear," said Phronsie, when evening came, and the children were, as usual, a.s.sembled on the rug before the fire, their tongues running wild with antic.i.p.ation and excitement, "I don't mean to go to bed at all, Polly; I don't truly."

"Oh, yes, you do," said Polly laughing; "then you'll be all fresh and rested to see mammy when she does come."

"Oh, no," said Phronsie, shaking her head soberly, and speaking in an injured tone. "I'm not one bit tired, Polly; not one bit."

"You needn't go yet, Phronsie," said Polly. "You can sit up half an hour yet, if you want to."

"But I don't want to go to bed at all," said the child anxiously, "for then I may be asleep when mamsie comes, Polly."

"She's afraid she won't wake up," said Percy, laughing. "Oh, there'll be oceans of time before they come, Phronsie."

"What is oceans," asked Phronsie, coming up and looking at him, doubtfully.

"He means mamsie won't get here till afternoon," said Polly, catching her up and kissing her; "then I guess you'll be awake, Phronsie, pet."

So Phronsie allowed herself to be persuaded, at the proper time, to be carried off and inducted into her little nightgown. And when Polly went up to bed, she found the little pin-cushion, with its hieroglyphics, that she had insisted on taking to bed with her, still tightly grasped in the little fat hand.

"She'll roll over and muss it," thought Polly; "and then she'll feel bad in the morning. I guess I'd better lay it on the bureau."