Part 50 (1/2)

”Oh dear, don't!” cried Polly in dismay, trying her best to stop her, ”oh, Phronsie, do stop!” she implored, pointing into the next room whence the sound of happy voices issued, ”they'll all hear you!”

But Phronsie in her grief didn't care, but wailed on steadily.

”Who is it anyway?” cried Joel, tired of admiring his precious shoes, and getting up to hear them squeak, ”that great big man, you know, Polly, that came in with you?”

”Why, I thought I told you,” said Polly, at her wit's end over Phronsie.

”It's Percy and Van's father, Joey!”

”Whockey!” cried Joel, completely stunned, ”really and truly, Polly Pepper?”

”Really and truly,” cried Polly, bundling Phronsie up in her arms to lay the little wet cheek against hers.

”Then I'm going to peek,” cried Joel, squeaking across the floor to carry his threat into execution.

”Oh, you mustn't, Joe!” cried Polly, frightened lest he should. ”Come right back, or I'll tell mamsie!”

”They're all comin' in, anyway,” cried little Davie, delightedly, and scuttling over to Polly's side.

”And here are the little friends I've heard so much about!” cried Mr. Whitney coming in amongst them. ”Oh, you needn't introduce me to Polly--she brought me home!”

”They're all Pepperses,” said Percy, waving his hand, and doing the business up at one stroke.

”Only the best of 'em isn't here,” observed Van, rather ungallantly, ”he draws perfectly elegant, papa!”

”I like Polly best, I do!” cried little d.i.c.k, tumbling after. ”Peppers!”

again repeated Mr. Whitney in a puzzled way.

”And here is Mrs. Pepper,” said old Mr. King, pompously drawing her forward, ”the children's mother, and--”

But here Mrs. Pepper began to act in a very queer way, rubbing her eyes and twisting one corner of her black ap.r.o.n in a decidedly nervous manner that, as the old gentleman looked up, he saw with astonishment presently communicated itself to the gentleman opposite.

”Is it,” said Mr. Whitney, putting out his hand and grasping the hard, toil-worn one in the folds of the ap.r.o.n, ”is it cousin Mary?”

”And aren't you cousin John?” she asked, the tears in her bright black eyes.

”Of all things in this world!” cried the old gentleman, waving his head helplessly from one to the other. ”Will somebody have the extreme goodness to tell us what all this means?”

At this the little Peppers crowded around their mother, and into all the vacant places they could find, to get near the fascinating scene.

”Well,” said Mr. Whitney, sitting down and drawing his wife to his side, ”it's a long story. You see, when I was a little youngster, and--”

”You were John Whitney then,” put in Mrs. Pepper, slyly. ”That's the reason I never knew when they were all talking of Mason Whitney.”

”John Whitney I was,” said Mr. Whitney, laughing, ”or rather, Johnny and Jack. But Grandmother Mason, when I grew older, wanted me called by my middle name to please grandfather. But to go back--when I was a little shaver, about as big as Percy here--”

”Oh, papa!” began Percy, deprecatingly. To be called ”a little shaver”

before all the others!

”He means, dearie,” said his mamma, rea.s.suringly, ”when he was a boy like you. Now hear what papa is going to say.”