Five Little Peppers And How They Grew [94]
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!"
"1 like Polly best, I do!" cried little Dick, 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 apron 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 apron, "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, reassuringly, "when he was a boy like you. Now hear what papa is going to say."
"Well, I was sent up into Vermont to stay at the old place. There was a little girl there; a bright, black-eyed little girl. She was my cousin, and her name was Mary Bartlett."
"Who's Mary Bartlett?" asked Joel, interrupting.
"There she is, sir," said Mr. Whitney, pointing to Mrs. Pepper, who was laughing and crying together.
"Where?" said Joel, utterly bewildered. "I don't see any Mary Bartlett. What does he mean, Polly?"
"I don't know," said Polly. "Wait, Joey," she whispered, "he's going to tell us all about it."
"Well, this little cousin and I went to the district school, and had many good times together. And then my parents sent for me, and I went to Germany to school; and when I came back I lost sight of her. All I could find out was that she had married an Englishman by the name of Pepper."
"Oh!" cried all the children together.
"And I always supposed she had gone to England for despite all my exertions, I could find no trace of her. Ah, Mary," he said reproachfully, "why didn't you let me know where you were?"
"I heard," said Mrs. Pepper, "that you'd grown awfully rich, and I couldn't."
"You always were a proud little thing," he said laughing. "Well, but," broke in Mr. King, unable to keep silence any longer, "I'd like to inquire, Mason, why you didn't find all this out before, in Marian's letters, when she mentioned Mrs. Pepper?"
"She didn't ever mention her," said Mr. Whitney, turning around to face his questioner, "not as Mrs. Pepper--never once by name. It was always either 'Polly's mother,' or 'Phronsie's mother.' Just like a woman," he added, with a mischievous glance at his wife, "not to be explicit."
"And just like a man," she retorted, with a happy little laugh, "not to ask for explanations."
"I hear Jappy," cried Polly, in a glad voice, "and Ben--oh, good!" as a sound of rushing footsteps was heard over the veranda steps,
"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!"
"1 like Polly best, I do!" cried little Dick, 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 apron 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 apron, "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, reassuringly, "when he was a boy like you. Now hear what papa is going to say."
"Well, I was sent up into Vermont to stay at the old place. There was a little girl there; a bright, black-eyed little girl. She was my cousin, and her name was Mary Bartlett."
"Who's Mary Bartlett?" asked Joel, interrupting.
"There she is, sir," said Mr. Whitney, pointing to Mrs. Pepper, who was laughing and crying together.
"Where?" said Joel, utterly bewildered. "I don't see any Mary Bartlett. What does he mean, Polly?"
"I don't know," said Polly. "Wait, Joey," she whispered, "he's going to tell us all about it."
"Well, this little cousin and I went to the district school, and had many good times together. And then my parents sent for me, and I went to Germany to school; and when I came back I lost sight of her. All I could find out was that she had married an Englishman by the name of Pepper."
"Oh!" cried all the children together.
"And I always supposed she had gone to England for despite all my exertions, I could find no trace of her. Ah, Mary," he said reproachfully, "why didn't you let me know where you were?"
"I heard," said Mrs. Pepper, "that you'd grown awfully rich, and I couldn't."
"You always were a proud little thing," he said laughing. "Well, but," broke in Mr. King, unable to keep silence any longer, "I'd like to inquire, Mason, why you didn't find all this out before, in Marian's letters, when she mentioned Mrs. Pepper?"
"She didn't ever mention her," said Mr. Whitney, turning around to face his questioner, "not as Mrs. Pepper--never once by name. It was always either 'Polly's mother,' or 'Phronsie's mother.' Just like a woman," he added, with a mischievous glance at his wife, "not to be explicit."
"And just like a man," she retorted, with a happy little laugh, "not to ask for explanations."
"I hear Jappy," cried Polly, in a glad voice, "and Ben--oh, good!" as a sound of rushing footsteps was heard over the veranda steps,