Part 16 (1/2)

Little Davie, back of the sofa, poked up his head.

”Are they all gone, Mamsie?” he asked fearfully.

”Why, Davie, my boy!” exclaimed Mother Fisher, much startled, and laying down her needle, stuck in a stocking-heel, ”I thought you were upstairs with Ben.”

”I haven't been with Ben.” said David, working his way out, to run and lay his swollen little face in his mother's lap. She cleared away her work, and took him up, to gather him close in her arms.

”There, there, Davie, mother's boy, it's all right”--smoothing the hair away from the hot brow--”we can have the garden party another day, and then perhaps there'll be all the more pleasure and good time.”

”Tisn't that,” said little Davie, wriggling around to look up at her, ”but Polly--” and for a moment it seemed as if the floods were to descend again.

”Oh, Polly is all right,” said Mrs. Fisher cheerfully.

”Is, she, Mamsie?” asked David doubtfully.

”Yes, indeed, and you must see that you keep yourself right. That's all any of us can do,” said Mother Fisher. ”Now, Davie, my boy, hop down and run into Jasper's den with the others.”

”Oh, I can't, Mamsie,” protested Davie, in horror, and burrowing in her arms, ”they'll see I've been crying.”

”That's the trouble with crying,” observed Mother Fisher wisely; ”it makes you twice sorry--once when you're doing it, and the next time when it shows. You can't help it now, Davie, so run along. Mother wants you to.”

If Mother wanted them to, that was always enough for each of the ”Five Little Peppers,” so Davie slid slowly down from her lap, and went out and down the hall.

Meantime Miss Mary had taken Polly's arm in the procession to Jasper's den.

”Oh, Polly, how cheery you have made them!” she exclaimed. ”We expected to see you all perhaps drowned in tears.”

”Oh, I haven't done it--anything to make them happy,” cried Polly, the wave of color again flooding her cheeks; ”indeed I haven't, Miss Mary. I've been bad and wicked and horrid,” she said penitently, her head drooping.

”Oh, no, Polly,” protested Miss Mary, her arm around Polly's waist.

”Yes I have, Miss Mary, I----”

”Well, don't let us talk now about it; we will look at the letters.” Miss Mary drew her within the den. There stood Jasper behind the table perfectly overflowing with epistles of every sort and size, while little packages, and some not so very little, either, filled up all the receptacles possible for mail matter.

”Oh, my, what a lot!” exclaimed everybody, as Joel with a dash precipitated his handfuls on the already long-suffering pile.

”This is only the beginning,” laughed Jasper, waving his arms over, to compa.s.s the whole den. ”Just look on the top of the bookcase, will you?”

Everybody whirled around.

”Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Grandpapa, at the sight. Letters were scattered here and there in the thickest of piles all along the surface, while the Chinese vase had a whole handful poking up their faces as if to say, ”Here we are, all the way from China.”

”Dear me,” exclaimed old Mr. King again, ”when do you ever expect to sell all those, Jasper?”

”Mine is in there,” announced Phronsie, hanging to his hand and pointing to the vase. ”Grandpapa, it really is; j.a.pser put it there.”

”Did he, Pet?” cried the old gentleman, immensely interested.

”Yes, he did truly,” said Phronsie, bobbing her head emphatically. ”I saw him my own self, Grandpapa. _And it's to you_.” She stood on her tiptoes and whispered the last bit of information.