Five Little Peppers And How They Grew [42]
raisin standing up on one end with a festive air, as if to say, "there's lots of us inside, you better believe!"
"I wouldn't," said Davie, "I'd have that--that's cracked so pretty."
"So 'tis," said Mrs. Pepper; "they're all as light as a feather, Polly."
"But my 'gingerbread boy," cried Phronsie, running eagerly along with a particularly ugly looking specimen of a cake figure in her hand, "is the be-yew-tifullest, isn't it, Polly?"
"Oh, dear," groaned Polly, "it looks just awfully, don't it, Ben!"
"Hoh, hoh!" laughed Joel in derision; "his leg is crooked, see Phronsie--you better let Davie an' me have it."
"No, no," screamed the child in terror; "that's my sick man's 'gingerbread boy,' it W"
"Joe, put it down," said Ben. "Yes, Phronsie, you shall have it; there, it's all safe;" and he put it carefully into Phronsie's apron, when she breathed easier.
"And he hasn't but one eye," still laughed Joel, while little Davie giggled too.
"He did have two," said Polly, "but she punched the other in with her thumb; don't, boys," she said, aside, "you'll make her feel bad; do stop laughing. Now, how'll we send the things?"
"Put 'em in a basket," said Ben; "that's nicest."
"But we haven't got any basket," said Polly, "except the potato basket, and they'd be lost in that."
"Can't we take your work-basket, mamsie?" asked Ben; "they'd look so nice in that."
"Oh," said Mrs. Pepper, "that wouldn't do; I couldn't spare it, and besides, it's all broken at the side, Ben; that don't look nice."
"Oh, dear," said Polly, sitting down on one of the hard wooden chairs to think, "I do wish we had things nice to send to sick people." And her forehead puckered up in a little hard knot.
"We'll have to do 'em up in a paper, Polly," said Ben; "there isn't any other way; they'll look nice in anything, 'cause they are nice," he added, comfortingly.
"If we only had some flowers," said Polly, "that would set 'em off."
"You're always a-thinkin' of flowers, Polly," said Ben. "I guess the cakes'll have to go without 'em."
"I suppose they will," said Polly, stifling a little sigh. "Where's the paper?"
"I've got a nice piece up-stairs," said Ben, "just right; I'll get it."
"Fut my 'gingerbread boy' on top," cried Phronsie, handing himup.
So Polly packed the little cakes neatly in two rows, and laid the 'gingerbread boy' in a fascinating attitude across the top.
"He looks as if he'd been struck by lightning!" said Ben, viewing him critically as he came in the door with the paper.
"Be still," said Polly, trying not to laugh; "that's because he baked so funny; it made his feet stick out."
"Children," said Mrs. Pepper, "how'll Jasper know where the cakes come from?"
"Why, he'll know it's us," said Polly, "of course; 'cause it'll make him think of the baking we're going to have when he gets well."
"Well, but you don't say so," said Mrs. Pepper, smiling; "tisn't polite to send it this way."
"Whatever'll we do, mammy!" said all four children in dismay, while Phronsie simply stared. "Can't we send 'em at all?"
"Why yes," said their mother; "I hope so, I'm sure, after you've got 'em baked; but you might answer Jasper's letter I should think, and tell him about 'em, and the 'gingerbread boy'."
"Oh dear," said Polly, ready to fly, "I couldn't mamsie; I never wrote a letter."
"Well, you never had one before, did your said her mother, composedly biting her thread. "Never say you can't, Polly, 'cause you don't know what you can do till you've tried."
"You write, Ben," said Polly, imploringly.
"No," said Ben, "I think the nicest way is for all to say somethin', then 'twon't be hard for any of us."
"Where's the paper," queried Polly, "coming from, I wonder!"
"Joel," said Mrs. Pepper, "run to the bureau in the bedroom, and open the top drawer, and get a green box there."
So Joel, quite important at the errand, departed, and presently put the designated box into his mother's hand.
"There, now I'm going to give you this," and she took out a small sheet of paper slightly yellowed
"I wouldn't," said Davie, "I'd have that--that's cracked so pretty."
"So 'tis," said Mrs. Pepper; "they're all as light as a feather, Polly."
"But my 'gingerbread boy," cried Phronsie, running eagerly along with a particularly ugly looking specimen of a cake figure in her hand, "is the be-yew-tifullest, isn't it, Polly?"
"Oh, dear," groaned Polly, "it looks just awfully, don't it, Ben!"
"Hoh, hoh!" laughed Joel in derision; "his leg is crooked, see Phronsie--you better let Davie an' me have it."
"No, no," screamed the child in terror; "that's my sick man's 'gingerbread boy,' it W"
"Joe, put it down," said Ben. "Yes, Phronsie, you shall have it; there, it's all safe;" and he put it carefully into Phronsie's apron, when she breathed easier.
"And he hasn't but one eye," still laughed Joel, while little Davie giggled too.
"He did have two," said Polly, "but she punched the other in with her thumb; don't, boys," she said, aside, "you'll make her feel bad; do stop laughing. Now, how'll we send the things?"
"Put 'em in a basket," said Ben; "that's nicest."
"But we haven't got any basket," said Polly, "except the potato basket, and they'd be lost in that."
"Can't we take your work-basket, mamsie?" asked Ben; "they'd look so nice in that."
"Oh," said Mrs. Pepper, "that wouldn't do; I couldn't spare it, and besides, it's all broken at the side, Ben; that don't look nice."
"Oh, dear," said Polly, sitting down on one of the hard wooden chairs to think, "I do wish we had things nice to send to sick people." And her forehead puckered up in a little hard knot.
"We'll have to do 'em up in a paper, Polly," said Ben; "there isn't any other way; they'll look nice in anything, 'cause they are nice," he added, comfortingly.
"If we only had some flowers," said Polly, "that would set 'em off."
"You're always a-thinkin' of flowers, Polly," said Ben. "I guess the cakes'll have to go without 'em."
"I suppose they will," said Polly, stifling a little sigh. "Where's the paper?"
"I've got a nice piece up-stairs," said Ben, "just right; I'll get it."
"Fut my 'gingerbread boy' on top," cried Phronsie, handing himup.
So Polly packed the little cakes neatly in two rows, and laid the 'gingerbread boy' in a fascinating attitude across the top.
"He looks as if he'd been struck by lightning!" said Ben, viewing him critically as he came in the door with the paper.
"Be still," said Polly, trying not to laugh; "that's because he baked so funny; it made his feet stick out."
"Children," said Mrs. Pepper, "how'll Jasper know where the cakes come from?"
"Why, he'll know it's us," said Polly, "of course; 'cause it'll make him think of the baking we're going to have when he gets well."
"Well, but you don't say so," said Mrs. Pepper, smiling; "tisn't polite to send it this way."
"Whatever'll we do, mammy!" said all four children in dismay, while Phronsie simply stared. "Can't we send 'em at all?"
"Why yes," said their mother; "I hope so, I'm sure, after you've got 'em baked; but you might answer Jasper's letter I should think, and tell him about 'em, and the 'gingerbread boy'."
"Oh dear," said Polly, ready to fly, "I couldn't mamsie; I never wrote a letter."
"Well, you never had one before, did your said her mother, composedly biting her thread. "Never say you can't, Polly, 'cause you don't know what you can do till you've tried."
"You write, Ben," said Polly, imploringly.
"No," said Ben, "I think the nicest way is for all to say somethin', then 'twon't be hard for any of us."
"Where's the paper," queried Polly, "coming from, I wonder!"
"Joel," said Mrs. Pepper, "run to the bureau in the bedroom, and open the top drawer, and get a green box there."
So Joel, quite important at the errand, departed, and presently put the designated box into his mother's hand.
"There, now I'm going to give you this," and she took out a small sheet of paper slightly yellowed