Ben Pepper Part 2

"I guess there won't anybody pick my pocket-book. I'm going to get a pin," and he raced off to the big mahogany bureau in the corner.

"What for?" asked David, who always followed Joel's movements with attention; "what are you going to do with a pin, Joel?"

"I'm going to pin up my pocket so no old picker can get my purse,"

declared Joel, with energy, and running back with the biggest pin he could find on the cus.h.i.+on, the one Mrs. Fisher fastened her shawl with.

"Yes, and likely enough you'll forget all about it and stick your own hand in," said Ben, "then, says I, what'll you do, Joel?"

"Humph--I won't forget," snorted Joel, puckering up the pocket edge and jamming the pin through the folds; "there, I guess the pickers will let my pocket alone. Yes-sir-ee," he cried triumphantly.

"Now you remember you are not to touch things on the counters," Mrs.

Fisher was saying. "I don't want my children to be picking and handling at such a time. You can look all you want to; but when you see what you would really like to buy, why, Polly and Ben must ask the saleswoman to show it to you."

"I've got my money-purse," said Phronsie, exactly as if the fact had not been announced before; "see, Mamsie," and she held it up with an important air.

"I see," said Mother Fisher, "it's the one Grandpapa gave you last birthday, isn't it, Phronsie?"

"Yes," she said, patting it lovingly. "My dear Grandpapa gave it to me, and it's my very own, and I'm going to buy things, I am."

"So you shall," said Mrs. Fisher, approvingly. All the while Joel was screaming, "Come on, Phron, we'll be late," as he pranced out into the hall and down the stairs.

"Oh, Mamsie," Polly flung her arms around Mrs. Fisher's neck, "I wish you were going too."

"Well, Mother can't go," said Mrs. Fisher, patting Polly's shoulder; "and take care, Phronsie will hear you."

"And I want to kiss my Mamsie good-by, too," said Phronsie, clambering up into Mrs. Fisher's lap, as well as she could for the fur-trimmed coat. So Mother Fisher took her up, and Phronsie cooed and hummed her satisfaction, and was kissed and set down again. And then David had to say good-by too, and Ben as well; and then Polly made up her mind she would have the last kiss, so it was some minutes before the four children got out of Mamsie's room and ran down the stairs. And there they found Joel hanging on to the newel post and howling: "You've been an awful long time. Come on!"

"We wanted to bid Mamsie good-by," said Polly, twitching Phronsie's coat straight. "Well, we're all ready now; come on, children."

Joel had thrown the big front door open with a flourish and was rus.h.i.+ng out. When Polly said that about Mamsie, he stopped suddenly, then plunged back, nearly upsetting Phronsie, and ran over the steps as fast as he could. "Oh, Mamsie," he cried, flying up to her. Mrs. Fisher had gotten out of her chair, and was now over by the window to see her little brood go off so happy and important. "Why, Joel!" she exclaimed, "what's the matter?" as he precipitated himself into her arms.

"I want to kiss you good-by, too," howled Joel, burrowing within them; "good-by, Mamsie!"

"So you shall, Mother's boy," said Mrs. Fisher, cuddling him. "Well now, Joel, you remember all I said."

"I'll remember," said Joel, lifting a radiant face; "I'll be good all the time."

"Yes, you must, else Mother'll feel badly. Well, good-by."

Joel's good-by floated back as he raced down the stairs and overtook the group waiting for him out on the big stone steps.

"Who's keeping us waiting now, I wonder?" said Ben, as he came up panting.

"Well, I guess I'm going to bid my Mamsie good-by, too," said Joel, importantly. "Come on, Dave, let's race to the big gate!"

II

BEN'S PLAN

When Phronsie saw the two boys racing away, she wanted to run too, and started to patter off after them.

"No, no, Phronsie," said Polly, calling her back. "She'll get all tired out to begin with," she said to Ben, "then what should we do?"

"Oh, I want to race to the big gate with Joel and David," said Phronsie, coming back slowly. "Can't I, Polly? Do let me," she begged.

"No," said Polly, decidedly, "you'll get all tired out, Phronsie."

"I won't be tired," said Phronsie, drawing herself up very straight; "I won't be, Polly."

"You will be if you run and race to begin with," declared Polly, very much wis.h.i.+ng she could join the boys herself. But she was holding Phronsie's hand by this time, and it never would do to leave her. "So we must walk till we reach the car."

Phronsie heaved a sigh, but she kept tight hold of Polly's hand, and walked obediently on.

"You see," said Polly, who never could bear to hear Phronsie sigh, "we're going shopping, Phronsie, and there's a good deal of walking we have before us, and--"

"And I have my money-bag," cried Phronsie, breaking in jubilantly, and not waiting for Polly to finish, and lifting it high as it dangled from her arm. "See, Polly, and dear Grandpapa gave it to me, he did."

"I know, pet," said Polly; "take care, now, or you'll tumble on your nose."

"And I'm going to buy my dear Grandpapa something," declared Phronsie, with a bob of her fur-trimmed bonnet; "I am, Polly."

"So you shall," cried Polly, radiantly; "now that'll be fine."

"Polly," said Ben, on her other side, "I've been thinking of something that perhaps it would be good to do."

"Oh, Ben, what is it?" she cried, all in a twitter to know, for Ben's plans, if sometimes slow, were always so good to follow.

"Why, let's us all put our money together instead of buying little things for Grandpapa, for of course we are all going to give him something, and buy one good present." It was a long speech for Ben, and he was quite glad when it was all out.

"Let's," said Polly, quite enchanted. "Oh, Ben, you do think of just the right things."

"No," said Ben, "I don't think up such nice things as you do, Polly,"

and he looked at her admiringly; "I can't."

"Well, your things are always best in the end, anyway," said Polly, unwilling to take so much praise, and preferring that Ben should have it.

"O dear me!" Joel, with David at his heels, came tumbling up. "You are so slow, just like snails," he grumbled.

"Just like snails," echoed Phronsie, with very pink cheeks, stepping very high, all her attention on the money-bag dangling from her wrist.

"Well, we can't go any faster, Joe," said Ben, "so you must make up your mind to be satisfied."

"Well, I'm not satisfied," declared Joel, in a dudgeon.