Part 8 (1/2)

”Oh no, I'm not,” responded Ben, cheerfully, who knew what measles were; ”wipe up, Polly; I'm all right; only my head aches, and my eyes feel funny.”

But Polly, only half-rea.s.sured, controlled her sobs; and the sorrowful trio repaired to mother.

”Oh, dear!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Pepper, sinking in a chair in dismay, at sight of Ben's red face; ”whatever'll we do now!”

The prop and stay of her life would be taken away if Ben should be laid aside. No more stray half or quarter dollars would come to help her out when she didn't know where to turn.

Polly cleared off the deserted table--for once Joel had all the bread and b.u.t.ter he wanted. Ben took some of Phronsie's medicine, and crawled up into the loft, to bed; and quiet settled down on the little household.

”Polly,” whispered Ben, as she tucked him in, ”it'll be hard buckling-to now, for you, but I guess you'll do it.”

MORE TROUBLE

”Oh, dear,” said Polly to herself, the next morning, trying to get a breakfast for the sick ones out of the inevitable mush; ”everything's just as bad as it can be! they can't ever eat this; I wish I had an ocean of toast!”

”Toast some of the bread in the pail, Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper.

She looked worn and worried; she had been up nearly all night, back and forth from Ben's bed in the loft to restless, fretful little Phronsie in the big four-poster in the bedroom; for Phronsie wouldn't get into the crib. Polly had tried her best to help her, and had rubbed her eyes diligently to keep awake, but she was wholly unaccustomed to it, and her healthy, tired little body succ.u.mbed--and then when she awoke, shame and remorse filled her very heart.

”That isn't nice, ma,” she said, glancing at the poor old pail, which she had brought out of the ”Provision Room.” ”Old brown bread! I want to fix 'em something nice.”

”Well, you can't, you know,” said Mrs. Pepper, with a sigh; ”but you've got b.u.t.ter now; that'll be splendid!”

”I know it,” said Polly, running to the corner cupboard where the precious morsel in the blue bowl remained; ”whatever should we do without it, mammy?”

”Do without it!” said Mrs. Pepper; ”same's we have done.”

”Well, 'twas splendid in Mrs. Henderson to give it to us, anyway,” said Polly, longing for just one taste; ”seems as if 'twas a year since I was there--oh, ma!” and here Polly took up the thread that had been so rudely snapped; ”don't you think, she's got ten of the prettiest--yes, the sweetest little chickens you ever saw! Why can't we have some, mammy?”

”Costs money,” replied Mrs. Pepper. ”We've got too many in the house to have any outside.”

”Oh, dear,” said Polly, with a red face that was toasting about as much as the bread she was holding on the point of an old fork; ”we never have had anything. There,” she added at last; ”that's the best I can do; now I'll put the b.u.t.ter on this little blue plate; ain't that cunning, ma?”

”Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, approvingly; ”it takes you, Polly.” So Polly trotted first to Ben, up the crooked, low stairs to the loft; and while she regaled him with the brown toast and b.u.t.ter, she kept her tongue flying on the subject of the little chicks, and all that she saw on the famous Henderson visit. Poor Ben pretended hard to eat, but ate nothing really; and Polly saw it all, and it cut her to the heart--so she talked faster than ever.

”Now,” she said, starting to go back to Phronsie; ”Ben Pepper, just as soon as you get well, we'll have some chickens--so there!”

”Guess we sha'n't get 'em very soon,” said Ben, despondently, ”if I've got to lie here; and, besides, Polly, you know every bit we can save has got to go for the new stove.”

”Oh, dear,” said Polly, ”I forgot that; so it has; seems to me everything's giving out!”

”You can't bake any longer in the old thing,” said Ben, turning over and looking at her; ”poor girl, I don't see how you've stood it so long.”

”And we've been stuffing it,” cried Polly merrily, ”till 'twon't stuff any more.”

”No,” said Ben, turning back again, ”that's all worn out.”

”Well, you must go to sleep,” said Polly, ”or mammy'll be up here; and Phronsie hasn't had her breakfast either.”