"Tisn't nice a bit to go without Joel, Mamsie," said Polly, disconsolately.

"You can't help it, Polly," replied her mother, "and it won't do to keep Abram's mother waiting. So go on, and take care of the children, and see that they behave nicely. And don't let Phronsie eat more than one doughnut. And be careful to tie the shawl over her when she comes home."

"I'll remember, Mamsie," said Polly, and wishing there wasn't such a thing in the world as a party, she put Phronsie into the wagon, and climbed up beside her. Davie, with a very sober face at thought of leaving Joel behind, craned his neck and watched for him as long as the little brown house was in sight.

"You see," said Abram's mother, twitching the reins, when at last the old horse decided to start, "I had to hurry away an'

get in. I sh'd a-liked to a' set an' pa.s.sed the time o' day longer with your Ma, but I didn't darst to. It's dretful to have a horse run. I couldn't never a-catched him in all this world, stout as I be. Land! I hain't run a step for ten years, 'cept last spring I was to Sister Jane's, an' her cow took after me, an' I had to."

"O dear," breathed Phronsie, turning her face up as she sat squeezed in between Abram's mother and Polly, "did he hurt you?"

"Bless your heart!" exclaimed the woman, beaming at her, "no, for he didn't catch me. You see I had on a red shawl, an' the critter didn't like it."

"Oh!" said Phronsie.

"No; sho there, easy, you!" cried Abram's mother, holding the old leather reins as tightly as possible, and bracing back; "I guess he won't run, bein's I'm so strong in my hands. Well, you see Jane she hollered out o' th' window, 'Throw away your shawl, M'rinthy, he'll kill you.'"

"O dear me!" exclaimed Phronsie. "An' did he kill you, Mrs. Big Woman?" she asked anxiously.

"No; why here I be," said Abram's mother, with a hearty laugh.

"Well, how could I throw off my shawl an' me a-runnin' so, an'

'twas all pinned across me, an' my brother'd brought it from over seas. So I had to run."

Phronsie sighed, and kept her troubled eyes raised to the big face above her.

"An' the first thing't ever I knew, I went down kerslump into a big compost heap, an'--"

"What's a compost heap?" asked Davie, getting up to stand in the wagon back of them.

"Oh, manure an' sich, all gone to rot," said Abram's mother.

"O dear me!" said Davie.

"An' that cow--'twas a bull, I forgot to tell you, Jane's husban' told me afterwards--he kept right on over my head, couldn't stop, you know, an' he went bang up against a tree on t'other side, an' it knocked him flat."

"Did it hurt him?" asked Phronsie, in a sorry tone.

"I s'pose so," said Abram's mother, "for he didn't know nothin', an' th' men folks came who'd seen me runnin' an' heard Jane hollerin' an' took him off before he came to, which he did after a spell, as lively as a cricket. An' they dragged me up, more dead'n alive, an' I hain't run a step since."

Phronsie drew a long breath of relief that no one was killed.

Davie gazed at Abram's mother in great satisfaction. "Tell us some more," he said.

"An' I might as well have flung off that red shawl," she went on, ignoring his request, "if I could a' got out that pin, for it was all s.m.u.tched up, fallin' in that mess, an' I couldn't put it on my back. It beats all how you never know what's best to do; but then, says I, you've no call to worry afterwards, if you decide in a hurry. Sho now, go easy, you!" And at last they drew up at Mrs. Beebe's door.

There she stood in the doorway, in a cap with new pink ribbons, and old Mr. Beebe just a little back, smiling and rubbing his hands, and in the little window where the shoes and rubbers and slippers were hanging was a big round face plastered up against the small panes of gla.s.s.

"There's Ab'm, now," exclaimed his mother, proudly. "I guess when you see him you'll say there never was sech a boy. Well, I'm glad we're here safe an' sound, an' this horse hain't run nor nothin'. Now, hop out,"--which injunction was not needed.

Good Mrs. Beebe ran her eye over the little bunch of Peppers as they jumped down over the wheel. "Why, where's Joel?" she cried.

"In the bottom o' th' wagon, I s'pose," she added, laughing and shaking her fat sides.

"Yes, where's Joel?" cried Mr. Beebe, rubbing his hands together harder than ever. "I want him to tell me all about how he ketched them robbers."

Polly was just going to tell all about Joel, and why he couldn't come, when the big woman shouted out, "They couldn't find him, for he warn't to home."

"Sho, now, that's too bad!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Beebe, dreadfully disappointed. Mrs. Beebe already had Phronsie in her arms, and was whispering to her some of the delights to come. "Well, well, well, come right in, all of you, and make yourselves to home.

I'll take care of the horse, Marinthy; go in an' set down."

"I'm sure I'm glad to," said Marinthy, getting over the little steps quickly after the Pepper children, and nearly knocking down David, who came last. "Ab'm, come here an' make your manners," she called. Ab'm got down from the pile of boxes where he had been looking out of the window, and slouched forward, his finger in his mouth.

"Speak up pretty, now," said his mother, pulling his jacket down with a twitch, and looking at him admiringly; "these children's come to your party. Say how do you do, an' you're glad to see 'em."

"How do you do, an' you're glad to see 'em--"

"Land sakes alive!" cried his mother, with a shake; "hain't you no more manners'n that? Do say it right."

"You told me to say it so," said Ab'm, doggedly.

"No, I didn't," retorted his mother with another shake. The little bunch of Peppers turned quite pale, and scarcely breathed.

"Did anybody ever see sech a boy, an' he that's had no pains spared 'n his bringin' up? Well, he's ten to-day, thank fortune, an' he'll soon be a-takin' care o' himself."

Phronsie crept closer to Polly. "Take me home," she said. "I want my Mammy."

"O dear me," thought Polly, "whatever shall I do! It will make dear Mr. and Mrs. Beebe feel so badly if I don't stop her. Phronsie,"

and she drew her off one side of the shop, old Mrs. Beebe having gone into the inner room, "you know Mamsie told us all to be good."

"Yes," said Phronsie, her lips quivering, and the tears beginning to come in her blue eyes.

"Well, it would just about make dear Mrs. Beebe and dear Mr.

Beebe sick to have you feel badly and go home."

"Would it?" asked Phronsie, swallowing hard.

"Yes," said Polly, decidedly, "it would. People never go to a party, and then say they must go home."

"Don't they, Polly?" asked the little girl.

"No," said Polly, decidedly, "I never heard of such a thing. And just think, Phronsie Pepper, how Mamsie would look! Oh, you can't mean to be a naughty girl."

"I--won't--be a naughty--girl, Polly," promised Phronsie, battling with her tears, "an' I won't look at the big woman, nor the boy. Then I'll stay."

So Polly kissed her, and pretty soon Mrs. Beebe bustled in, her round face quite red with the exertions she had been making, and Mr. Beebe having seen to his horse, came in rubbing his hands worse than ever, saying, "Now, if we only had Joel, we'd be all right."

"Now, my dears,"--began Mrs. Beebe. "Why, you haven't laid off your things yet!" to the Peppers.

"No'm," said Polly, "but we will now, thank you, Mrs. Beebe,"

and she untied Phronsie's sun-bonnet and took off the shawl, David putting his cap down on the counter, keeping a sharp, disapproving eye on Ab'm every minute.

"When are you coming for a new pair of shoes?" whispered Mr.