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Ben Pepper

<h2>X</h2> <h3>"I'LL LOVE HER JUST FOREVER!"</h3> "I'm going home," cried Alexia, hoarsely, and rushing blindly down the hall. "Alexia!" Polly deserted Phronsie and raced after her. "You can't mean it; do come back. It isn't any matter that lace was torn," she added breathlessly, as she gained her side. "Polly Pepper," gasped Alexia, "how can you say so? It's the most dreadful thing!" and she turned wide eyes of amazement at her. "I mean it isn't near as bad as for you to run home," said Polly, hastily; "that would make Mrs. Whitney feel ever so much worse." At the mention of Mrs. Whitney's name, Alexia's long figure shook all over. "Horrors! I can't ever see her again!" and she buried her face in her hands. "Now, Alexia, aren't you ashamed to act so?" said Polly. "Dear me, over a bit of lace that can be mended, I most know; and we've had so much trouble," and she sighed. "And I've made a mess of it ever since those boys came home, and now I've gone and torn that lace," mumbled Alexia, between her fingers, the sigh making her nearly frantic. "Polly Pepper, I shall go home,"—with that she sprang away from Polly, and ran upstairs to Polly's room to get her things. Polly, with only one thought to get Mamsie, who alone seemed to be the person to manage this new trouble, hurried off to find her. But Mrs. Fisher, happy in the success of the little luncheon party, had disappeared to some unknown house duty, and couldn't at this very moment be found. So Polly had the distress to hear, before she could run over the stairs herself, the big front door bang, and, hurrying to the window, she saw Alexia running down the driveway and pulling her coat around her as she ran. For the first moment Polly had wild thoughts of flying off after her. Then, remembering what Mamsie had once said, "If you want to help, Polly, take time to think what would be the best way," and that Mamsie would say now, in this trouble, "Don't go, for the boys are just home,"—"O dear me!" she cried as Joel rushed in and up to the window, and without a bit of warning seized her about the waist and spun her into the middle of the floor. "Oh, Joey, what is it?" she gasped when she could get her breath. "He's going to bring Pip," cried Joel, bobbing his black head at her. "Come on, Polly, whoopity la!" and he held out his hands for another war dance. "Oh, Joel,"—Polly seized his hands and stood quite still,—"you don't mean Jasper is coming soon?" The color flew into her cheeks till they were rosy red. "Yes, I do, too," said Joel, prancing off by himself, since Polly wouldn't dance; "he's coming to-morrow; no, I guess next week—anyway, he's coming." With that he executed some remarkable steps as only Joel could. "How did you know, Joel? Stop and tell me." Polly flew after him around and around the room. "A letter," said Joel; "whoopity la! and he's going to bring Pip." "A letter?" Now she must find Mamsie or Aunty Whitney, and Polly left Joel dancing away and got over the stairs with her best speed to find Mrs. Whitney just coming to call her. She held in her hand an open letter, scraps of which she was reading aloud to the two boys hanging on either arm, little Dick, unable to attract attention to his torn lace, pulling at her gown impatiently. "Is it true—is Jasper coming home?" cried Polly, breathlessly rushing up. "Yes, dear," Mrs. Whitney tore off her gaze from the letter, and turned shining eyes on her. "Oh, Polly, this has just come and I was going to find you. Yes, yes, Dick, Mamma will attend to you presently; he is really coming home." "When is he coming?" asked Polly, clasping her hands impatiently. "Oh, not until next week, but it is, oh, so much, to have the doctor set a time. Just think, Polly," and she turned her face, now almost as rosy as Polly's own, upon her affectionately. "She tore my lace," said little Dick, thinking it a good time to begin again on the announcement he had been trying to make ever since he had arrived, and he held up the frayed end. "Yes, yes, dear," said Mrs. Whitney, indifferently without even a glance at it; "and he is to bring Pip, and he wants us all to make him have the best time in the world. Oh, won't we, children! for it will please Jasper." Her eyes glowed as she looked around at them all. At this little Dick deserted his lace. "Oh, I will, Mamma," he promised, "and he shall have my rocking-horse, and that'll please Jasper, I guess," and he began to march up and down the hall in great importance. "And now, Polly," said Mrs. Whitney, "and, boys, we must think up what we are to do for the real Christmas, when Jasper and father and Ben get home; oh, and Pip—we mustn't forget Pip." "Oh, no, we won't forget Pip," they cried, as they all hurried downstairs to bring the good news to Mother Fisher and the others. And so, although Polly did not forget about Alexia, it was some time before she could get Mrs. Whitney's ear to tell her about it. "Now I'll tell you what we'll do, Polly," said Mrs. Whitney, when she had heard it all; "I'll have the carriage right away, and you and I will drive over and get Alexia to come back to dinner." "Oh, and can't she stay over night, Aunty?" cried Polly, hopping up and down in great excitement. "Yes, indeed, if her Aunt will let her," said Mrs. Whitney, delighted to have everything coming out so nicely; "so now run off and get on your things, child." No need to tell Polly that. She was soon ready, and before long there they were, Aunty Whitney and she, driving off to bring Alexia home and comfort her up. "She isn't home," said the maid, who answered the door-bell of Mrs. Cummings's aristocratic boarding-house on the Avenue. "Isn't home?" repeated Polly, faintly. "No'm." "What is it, Polly?" asked Mrs. Whitney, from the carriage. "Alexia isn't home," said Polly, disconsolately, and feeling as if the whole world were out of joint. "Miss Rhys took her away," said the maid, who, beginning to be communicative, saw no reason why she shouldn't tell the whole, "and she didn't want to go, either." "O dear me!" exclaimed Polly. "No, she didn't; but Miss Rhys wouldn't leave her alone 'cause she was crying so, and she was going to Miss Barnard's to tea, and so she made her go, too." "Aunty,"—Polly flew down the steps,—"oh, can't we," she cried desperately, "go over and get Alexia; can't we, Aunty?" "At Miss Barnard's, is she?" asked Mrs. Whitney, who had heard only part of the maid's information. "Yes, and Alexia does hate to go there," said Polly, in a burst, "and she was crying. Oh, Aunty!" That "Oh, Aunty!" settled it. "Yes, child, tell Thomas to drive to Miss Barnard's, and get in." So Polly, seeing a little light on what had been so dark and miserable, hopped into the carriage, and off they went to Miss Barnard's. Miss Hetty Barnard was a maiden lady upon whose company Miss Rhys placed herself whenever the dull routine of boarding-house life, or a new stitch in knitting or crochet, gave her a desire for the society of her friend. All such visits Alexia carefully avoided if a possible thing. And Polly, knowing full well the details of those enforced upon her by her aunt, as Alexia, the day after, poured the miseries of each in her ear, sat forward on the green leather seat and clasped her hands, impatient to get there. "Oh, if they only haven't gone in to tea," she breathed. "It's early yet, child," said Mrs. Whitney, reassuringly, "scarcely half after five o'clock," glancing at the little silver watch in the carriage pocket before her; "so don't worry, Polly." "But Miss Barnard has tea so very early," said Polly, in a small panic. "Oh, here we are!" she brought up gleefully, as the carriage rolled up to the Barnard door and stopped. "Yes, here we are," laughed Mrs. Whitney, just as well pleased, as Polly jumped out and ran up the steps. Polly hadn't half finished, "Is Alexia Rhys here, and can I see her?" before a rustle began in the stuffy little parlor, and out rushed the object of her search. "Oh, Polly, Polly!" exclaimed Alexia, seizing her with both hands to draw her down the hall; her head sank on Polly's shoulder and she began to cry as hard as she could. "Ow!" said Polly, as the tears ran down her neck; "O dear me, Alexia, do stop!" "Oh, I can't," said Alexia, "and do take me away, Polly, for it's too dreadful here, and we're just going out to tea, and I never can live through it. O dear!" "Well, I'm going to," said Polly, as soon as she could be heard. "What!" exclaimed Alexia, bounding away to look at her. "Yes, if your Aunt will let you come," said Polly, with happy little thrills. "Oh, Aunt will let me quick enough," said Alexia; "but do you really mean it? O dear, it'll be 'most as bad at your house, for there's Mrs. Whitney, and I tore that lace,—oh, I can't go!" "You must come; Aunty Whitney is out in the carriage, and we've come for you, and you are to stay all night," explained Polly; "don't you see, Alexia, she wants you?" "Does she? Oh, goody," and, "O dear, how can she?" was jumbled all up by Alexia, who was now hugging and kissing Polly at a great rate. "Tea is ready." A thin little woman, who was alternately feeling of her brooch and smoothing down her plaid silk gown as she came along the hall, announced it so suddenly that both girls jumped. "Oh, I can't stay, Miss Barnard," said Alexia, recovering herself; "I'm going home with Polly Pepper," and without another word she ran back into the stuffy little parlor to announce that fact to her Aunt. "And whom have we here?" demanded little Miss Barnard, who hadn't half heard Alexia, and peering out of small, near-sighted eyes into the corner where Polly stood. "It's Polly Pepper," said Polly, coming out into the light, "and I've come for Alexia; that is—" "To be sure, to be sure, now I know you," Miss Barnard raised her hands, "and how you grow, Polly,"—a remark the little maiden lady never failed to make when seeing any of the young folks at close enough, range to speak to. "Well, and do you want to take Alexia away? Why can't you stay to tea with her? I wish you would; my maid has quite enough prepared. Quite enough, indeed," and Miss Barnard waved her hands to indicate the extent of her larder. "Oh, I can't, indeed, Miss Barnard," cried Polly, hastily. "And Aunty Whitney is waiting out in the carriage. Would you please tell Alexia to hurry?" "Is Mrs. Whitney out in the carriage?" cried Miss Barnard, catching at this desirable information and letting everything else slip. "Oh, then, I must speak to her; surely I must, for I wouldn't be so rude as to let her be at my door without a word from me. Elvira," she thrust her head into the small parlor to throw a word over to Miss Rhys, who was just saying "Yes" to Alexia, "I'll be with you in a bit; I must first speak to my dear friend, Mrs. Whitney." "It's very cold," said Polly, as the little maiden lady laid her hand on the knob of the front door. Alexia was frantically throwing on her hat and coat in the dim recesses of the back hall. "That may be, but I wouldn't neglect my duty," said Miss Barnard, with the air of knowing what was required of her; "but perhaps I had best be careful," pausing with her hand on the knob, "so would you mind, my dear, handing my shawl; you will find it on the hat-rack at the end of the hall." So Polly had nothing to do but to go down after it. "The very idea," exclaimed Alexia, in smothered wrath, "to ask you to get her old shawl!" "Hush!" begged Polly, with a warning pinch. "And just think of her going out to see Mrs. Whitney! Come on, Polly, I know the way to the back door," and she seized Polly's arm. But Polly got away, and carried the shawl down to Miss Barnard and laid it over the wiry little shoulders; and at last the front door was opened. "My dear Mrs. Whitney," exclaimed the little maiden lady, skipping out to the carriage step, and holding out both hands, "you don't know how very glad I am to see you here; now do get out and have tea with Miss Rhys and me." "Oh, it is quite impossible, Miss Barnard," said Mrs. Whitney, "thank you. Now, girlies," with a smile over the little maiden lady's head to Polly and Alexia, "step in, both of you, for we must hurry home." "O dear, I am so sorry," cried Miss Barnard, as the girls rushed to obey; then she gave a little cackle, intended to be very winning, "perhaps some time you will come, my dear Mrs. Whitney, I should so admire to have you—hee-hee." "How Aunt can—" began Alexia, as the good-bys were said and the carriage door slammed and away they went. "Polly Pepper, I've just killed your foot, I know, but I couldn't help stepping all over you, for that dreadful woman fluttered me so. O dear, and I haven't said anything to Mrs. Whitney," and Alexia could feel her sallow cheek grow hot and red. "I'll forgive you," said Mrs. Whitney, with a little laugh. "And how Aunt can take up with her," finished Alexia in vexation, "O dear me, I can't see." "She has some good qualities," said Mrs. Whitney, kindly; "we must remember that." "Well, I don't know where they are," fumed Alexia. "She's quite the most odious person I ever saw, and I'm so tired of her everlastingly coming to see Aunt. Oh, Polly!" She gave such a cry of distress that both Polly and Mrs. Whitney turned in dismay. "I can't go, I can't go; I forgot my nose and eyes. I cried so, see how they look!" She leaned forward in the carriage to display them the better. "Is that all?" exclaimed Mrs. Whitney, with a sigh of relief; while Polly cried, "Oh, Alexia, that's no matter," comfortingly, "and they don't show so very much; really they don't." "And then that lace." Alexia, now that she was really on the way to be comforted, began to feel all the first distress of the accident over-whelming her again. "O dear, I am so sorry, Mrs. Whitney!" she mumbled shamefacedly. "Now, Alexia," and Mrs. Whitney leaned over and put both hands on the anxious face, then she drew it down and set a kiss where a stream of tears had run, "do you know, dear, you will make me feel badly if you ever speak of that lace again, or worry about it, child." She turned the other cheek, and dropped a soft kiss on it. "Promise now, say you will not." "I won't," mumbled Alexia, looking up into the blue eyes, and she didn't speak another word till safe up in Polly's room. Then she shut the door and marched up to her. "She kissed me, she really did, and twice, and just as if she really wanted to! And no one has ever done that but you, Polly Pepper, and I'll love her just forever!" <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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