"Don't she drink awfully, mammy?" asked Polly, after one of these excursions out to the kitchen after the necessary draught.

"Yes," said Mrs. Pepper; "and she mustn't have any more; 'twill hurt her." But Phronsie fell into a delicious sleep after that, and didn't want any more, luckily.

"Here, Joe," said Mrs. Pepper, the next morning, "take this coat up to Mr. Peterses; and be sure you get the money for it."

"How'll I get it?" asked Joe, who didn't relish the long, hot walk.

"Why, tell 'em we're sick--Ben's sick," added Mrs. Pepper, as the most decisive thing; "and we must have it; and then wait for it."

"Tisn't pleasant up at the Peterses," grumbled Joel, taking the parcel and moving slowly off.

"No, no, Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, "you needn't do that," seeing Polly take up some sewing after doing up the room and finishing the semi-weekly bake; "you're all beat out with that tussle over the stove; that sack'll have to go till next week."

"It can't, mammy," said Polly, snipping off a basting thread; "we've got to have the money; how much'll he give you for it?"

"Thirty cents," replied Mrs. Pepper.

"Well," said Polly, "we've got to get all the thirty centses we can, mammy dear; and I know I can do it, truly--try me once," she implored.

"Well." Mrs. Pepper relented, slowly.

"Don't feel bad, mammy dear," comforted Polly, sewing away briskly; "Ben'll get well pretty soon, and then we'll be all right."

"Maybe," said Mrs. Pepper; and went back to Phronsie, who could scarcely let her out of her sight.

Polly st.i.tched away bravely. "Now if I do this good, mammy'll let me do it other times," she said to herself.

Davie, too, worked patiently out of doors, trying to do Ben's ch.o.r.es.

The little fellow blundered over things that Ben would have accomplished in half the time, and he had to sit down often on the steps of the little old shed where the tools were kept, to wipe his hot face and rest.

"Polly," said Mrs. Pepper, "hadn't you better stop a little? Dear me!

how fast you sew, child!"

Polly gave a delighted little hum at her mother's evident approval.

"I'm going to do 'em all next week, mammy," she said; "then Mr. Atkins won't take 'em away from us, I guess."

Mr. Atkins kept the store, and gave out coats and sacks of coa.r.s.e linen and homespun to Mrs. Pepper to make; and it was the fear of losing the work that had made the mother's heart sink.

"I don't believe anybody's got such children as I have," she said; and she gave Polly a motherly little pat that the little daughter felt clear to the tips of her toes with a thrill of delight.

About half-past two, long after dinner, Joe came walking in, hungry as a beaver, but flushed and triumphant.

"Why, where have you been all this time?" asked his mother.

"Oh, Joe, you didn't stop to play?" asked Polly, from her perch where she sat sewing, giving him a reproachful glance.

"Stop to play!" retorted Joe, indignantly; "no, I guess I didn't! I've been to Old Peterses."

"Not all this time!" exclaimed Mrs. Pepper.

"Yes, I have too," replied Joel, st.u.r.dily marching up to her. "And there's your money, mother;" and he counted out a quarter of a dollar in silver pieces and pennies, which he took from a dingy wad of paper, stowed away in the depths of his pocket.

"Oh, Joe," said Mrs. Pepper, sinking back in her chair and looking at him; "what do you mean?"

Polly put her work in her lap, and waited to hear.

"Where's my dinner, Polly?" asked Joel; "I hope it's a big one.

"Yes, 'tis," said Polly; "you've got lots to-day, it's in the corner of the cupboard, covered up with the plate--so tell on, Joe."

"That's elegant!" said Joel, coming back with the well-filled plate, Ben's and his own share.

"Do tell us, Joey," implored Polly; "mother's waiting."

"Well," said Joel, his mouth half full, "I waited--and he said the coat was all right;--and--and--Mrs. Peters said 'twas all right;--and Mirandy Peters said 'twas all right; but they didn't any of 'em say anythin'

about payin', so I didn't think 'twas all right--and--and--can't I have some more b.u.t.ter, Polly?"

"No," said Polly, sorry to refuse him, he'd been so good about the money; "the b.u.t.ter's got to be saved for Ben and Phronsie."

"Oh," said Joe, "I wish Miss Henderson would send us some more, I do! I think she might!"

"For shame, Joe," said Mrs. Pepper; "she was very good to send this, I think; now what else did you say?" she asked.

"Well," said Joel, taking another mouthful of bread, "so I waited; you told me to, mother, you know--and they all went to work; and they didn't mind me at all, and--there wasn't anything to look at, so I sat--and sat--Polly, can't I have some gingerbread?"

"No," said Polly, "it's all gone; I gave the last piece to Phronsie the day she was taken sick."

"Oh, dear," said Joel, "everything's gone."

"Well, do go on, Joe, do."

"And--then they had dinner; and Mr. Peters said, 'Hasn't that boy gone home yet?' and Mrs. Peters said, 'no'--and he called me in, and asked me why I didn't run along home; and I said, Phronsie was sick, and Ben had the squeezles--"

"The what?" said Polly.

"The squeezles," repeated Joel, irritably; "that's what you said."

"It's measles, Joey," corrected Mrs. Pepper; "never mind, I wouldn't feel bad."

"Well, they all laughed, and laughed, and then I said you told me to wait till I did get the money."

"Oh, Joe," began Mrs. Pepper, "you shouldn't have told 'em so--what did he say?"

"Well, he laughed, and said I was a smart boy, and he'd see; and Mirandy said, 'do pay him, pa, he must be tired to death'--and don't you think, he went to a big desk in the corner, and took out a box, and 'twas full most of money--lots! oh! and he gave me mine--and--that's all; and I'm tired to death." And Joel flung himself down on the floor, expanded his legs as only Joel could, and took a comfortable roll.

"So you must be," said Polly, pityingly, "waiting at those Peterses."