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Ben Pepper

<h2>XX</h2> <h3>REPAIRING DAMAGES</h3> And that afternoon Jasper was sleeping (nobody had told him, of course, of the result of Jocko's pranks), so Polly and Ben could steal off for a bit of Christmas shopping on their own account. "I shall pay for the Shakespeare, for it's all my fault that Jocko did those bad things," said Polly, as they hurried along. "No, it isn't, any more than mine," said Ben. "I oughtn't to have let him up there." "But you said we better not, all the time," said Polly, truthfully. "Well, and then I let him up," said Ben, "so I'm just as bad as you, Polly." "Well, you did it because Jasper wanted Jocko so much," persisted Polly. "That's the only reason, Ben." "Yes," said Ben, "but never mind what the reason is; I let him up all the same, so I'm going to pay for 'As You Like It.' You've got to buy a new pincushion, Polly." "I know it," said Polly. "O dear me! How I wish there was time to make another one before Christmas." "Well, there isn't. The very idea!" exclaimed Ben; "why, that is to-morrow. Besides, Jasper will want a new pincushion right away." "I know," cried Polly, with a little sigh. "Well, let's buy that first. Candace has some little cushions, so I'll get one of her," and they turned into Temple Place and ran into the small shop. There was a bell over the door that jingled smartly whenever a customer stepped in. This had the effect now to bring Candace waddling in from the little room beyond, which was bedroom, kitchen, and all. She had been dressing a rag doll, and her blue checked apron still had some wisps of wool sticking to it, while she raised her black hands, one of the fingers still retaining its big horn thimble. "Fer de lan's sakes, Miss Polly—an' Mas'r Ben—I'm glad youse home again." "Oh, Candace," cried Polly, beginning to unburden her woes, when the two were seated on some stools before the counter that ran along one side of the room, "you can't think what trouble we're in." Candace, just reaching down from a shelf above a jar of peppermint and cinnamon sticks, with which she meant to regale her visitors and celebrate Ben's return, started so she nearly let the big glass jar fall. "Fer de lan's sakes!" She could get no further as she turned to them a frightened face that seemed to suddenly grow gray. "Don't scare her, Polly," whispered Ben. "Tell her at once what has happened." "You know Jocko—" "Hey?" said Candace, setting the jar down with a thump to rest both shaking hands on the counter. "Jocko, our monkey. Oh, I forgot, Candace, you don't know about our present that Mr. Cabot gave to us all. Well, it's a monkey—the dearest, yes, he is the dearest thing, even if he has been bad," said Polly, decidedly. "A monkey!" screamed Candace, lifting both black hands. "An' Mr. Cabot gib you dat did he, fer a present?" "Yes," said Polly. "Wasn't he kind, Candace?" "Well, I dunno," said Candace, slowly. "Mr. Cabot's a bery nice gemman—a bery nice gemman indeed. He comes in here an' buys tings offen an' offen. But I should a-thought he'd gib ye a leetle purtier ting dan a monkey. Jus' a grain purtier," she added, unwilling to criticise any more sharply. "Well, he couldn't have given us anything that was nicer," said Polly, loyal to both Mr. Cabot and to the monkey, "only you see, Jocko didn't know quite how to behave." "I shouldn't think he did," observed Ben. "He's only just come from India," said Polly, feeling that a little more explanation was necessary before stating just how bad the monkey had been. "Whar's dat?" asked Candace, in wonder. "Oh, the other side of the world," said Polly, hastily; "and so you see—" "De oder side ob de worl'," cried Candace. "My lan' o' Goshen, how you know dat? Who brung him?" "Oh, the sailors; he came in a ship, and so you see, perhaps he learned some naughty tricks," said Polly, hoping that now the recital of the bad deeds would be softened enough to state her errand at the shop. "And so he didn't know any better, maybe, than to chew up Jasper's little cushion." "He ain't gone an' chewed up dat ar pincushion you made Mas'r Jasper?" cried the old woman. "Yes, he has," said Polly, sorrowfully, her brown head drooping; "that is, he's bitten a hole in one corner, and got it all soiled and wet." "An' you worked an' worked on dat ar pincushion," cried Candace, in a loud, wrathful tone. "I can see you now, honey. Don' you 'member how you brung it down here for Candace to match you some pink cord to go right round de aidge?" "Yes," said Polly, "I remember, Candace." "An' don' you 'member how I matched dat pink ribbin? Laws, you'd 'a' thought it was jus' made for it, wouldn't you now, Miss Polly?" "Yes," said Polly, drawing a long sigh, "I should, Candace." "An' dat orful ole brack monkey has done gone an' chewed up dat nice little pincushion you made all alone by yourself, 'xcept such as I helped you." Candace drew herself up to her full height. "Well, he ought to hab eb'ry single one ob his teef pulled out," she declared, with a bob of her head that nearly unsettled her turban. "Oh, no, Candace," protested Polly, in a tone of horror. "Yes, he had, honey," declared Candace, decidedly, "'cause don' you see, he'll be a-chewin' up oder tings, like enough some o' Miss Phronsie's dolls." With that the same scared look swept over her fat face, till it looked quite gray again. "Oh, Candace, we wouldn't ever let him do that!" cried Polly. And Ben hastened to say, "See here, Candace, don't you be afraid; we'll look out for those dolls." "Will you for shore, Mas'r Ben?" cried Candace, grasping his arm with both sets of black fingers, which sent the big horn thimble flying off under the counter. "It would be mos' drefful if anyting should eber happen to dem, 'specially to der ones I made fer de little miss. Why, dey've got har jus' like my bery own." And she lifted one hand to point to her gay turban with pride, then clutched his arm again, "An' I made eb'ry stitch ob der cloes." "You needn't worry, Candace," said Ben, quietly, "for I'll look out that Jocko doesn't disturb those dolls." "Shore?" cried Candace, surveying him with anxious eyes. "Sure," said Ben, not taking off the gaze of his blue ones. Candace's arms fell away to her sides. "Well, if yer promises me, Mas'r Ben, I know it's all right. Now you mus' hab some candy sticks," and she lifted off the cover of the big glass jar. "I'll find your thimble first," said Ben, getting down on his knees to lift the gay flowered calico curtain that hung from the counter-edge. This was easier said than done, for the big horn thimble, now that it had gotten away from Candace's black finger, decided to take a holiday. So although Ben prowled and peered around amid the boxes and bundles beneath the counter, he couldn't lay his hand on the runaway. Seeing which, Polly decided to begin the trade by which she could be the possessor of another little pincushion to take the place of the one just spoiled by Jocko. So Candace handed down the box containing them, and together they searched through it for something that would fit the need. "I'm going to make Jasper another one, you know," said Polly, "but I must buy him something to use right away." "Well, I got some perfec' beauties," said Candace, lifting out a flaming yellow one with great delight. "See dar now, Miss Polly, did you eber know I had dat in my shop?" "No," said Polly. Then she searched the corner of the box and pulled out another, but it was a faded green one, very dismal, and quite tired looking. "Now dat was made out o' one ob my ole missus's bunnet strings," said Candace, raising it with a quick hand. "It's a bery special ribbin. Ain' dat fine, dough?" She balanced it on her black hand, lost in admiration. "I don't believe I want a green one," said Polly. "Don' you?" said Candace. "Well, now let's see, honey," but she was very much disappointed, and set down the little green pincushion slowly by the side of her yellow treasure. Polly glanced up at her over the box-edge. "Candace," she said, "I thought you had some little cushions. You showed them to Phronsie once for her dolls, don't you remember?" "Oh, dem?" said Candace, wrinkling up her black face. "Why, they were teeny little bits o' tings." "Well, I've just thought I could sew two or three of them together," cried Polly, the color flying up into her cheeks, "and don't you see, they'd be just as cunning. Oh, do look and see if you have any pink ones." So Candace, delighted to see that Polly could look so, waddled off to a farther corner, and presently came back with another box, which when opened showed three or four little cushions racing along at play inside. "Dey ain' pink," said Candace; "I 'member I sold all o' dem." "O dear me!" exclaimed Polly, dreadfully disappointed, and seizing one end of the box. "Let me look," and suiting the action to the word. "Oh, yes, they are, as sure as anything, Candace; you have some pink ones." "Shore, I hab," said Candace, quite as delighted. "At least you have one, anyway," said Polly, her tone dropping some of her elation. "Oh, how I do wish—why, there's another—pick it out, Candace," she concluded in great excitement. So the second little pink cushion was brought out and set on the counter alongside of the first. "Well now, how I do wish there was just one more, Candace," said Polly, pushing up the damp rings of hair from her forehead, for it was pretty anxious work, "for I can get along with three so nicely. But you haven't another single one," she mourned. "No, I hain'," said Candace, "an' dat am a fac'. But why couldn' you take a white one, honey? Dat would look real nice," she added, holding one up persuasively. "Oh, I want a pink one," said Polly, not looking at the little white one. "I did want three pink ones fastened together, Candace, they would be so pretty." "But if you hain' got 'em, why you hain'," said Candace, with decision; "so what's de nex' bes' ting to do?" "Oh, I suppose to take the white one," said Polly, turning away from the box with a sigh. "But the pink one would be so nice." "An' you better not tink about de pink ones," said Candace, opening a drawer to get out some soft paper, "but be glad you could get a white one to mix in. S'posin' I hadn't had nothin' but green ones." "Dear me!" exclaimed Polly. "Yes, I know, that would have been dreadful, wouldn't it, Candace?" "Dat's so," said Candace, smoothing out a wad of paper, "as long as you don' like de green ones. But I tink dat one I made out o' ole missus's bunnet strings is a perfec' beauty. Ole missus al'ays had de bery bes' o' ribbin." "Oh, I want some pink ribbon to tie the little cushions together with," said Polly, at the mention of ribbon. "And I must have some narrow white, too, Candace, please." "Well, I'm glad I found that thimble," said Ben, lifting a very red face to the counter-edge, and presently getting up to his feet. "Here, Candace, now don't let that run away from you again, that's my advice." "Oh, Ben, how hot you are!" exclaimed Polly, as Candace received her horn thimble, which she put on her black finger with great delight. "I sh'd think I was. Never felt so hot in my life," said Ben, in such a tone that Candace, who was rummaging for the narrow ribbon, could not hear. "Whew!" and he began to walk up and down the small shop, stretching his legs in great satisfaction. "Dear me, that feels good." "An' now you mus' hab de candy sticks," said Candace, setting down the little rolls of ribbon before Polly, then uncovering the glass jar again. "That's fine," said Ben, taking a cinnamon stick and crunching it in a way to make Candace's round face beam with satisfaction. "You do have such nice candy sticks, Candace." "Don' I?" she said, wriggling in delight. "Well, now, take another, Mas'r Ben." "No, no," said Ben, "I've this big one," holding it up. "Yes, you mus' take another," she urged, handing out the biggest stick the jar contained. "No," said Ben, much distressed, "not unless you'll let me pay you for it, Candace." But her black eyes fell so at the very thought of this, that he hastened to add, "Oh, well, then I will take it and thank you, Candace," meantime running his eyes over the little show case to see if there was anything he wanted to buy. "An' you must take a piece to Miss Phronsie, dat bressed chile," said Candace, doing up another stick with Polly's, which there was no time to eat in the shop, with such important business going on. And presently Polly and Ben hurried out, Polly carrying her little cushions and the ribbon, while a big bundle of a ball of twine and some pencils stuck out of Ben's pocket. "Well now, Polly Pepper, you and I must just hurry," said Ben, striding off. "There's that Shakespeare book to get, and that red necktie." "I know it," said Polly, setting quick little steps beside his long ones, "and we mustn't be out late, because Jasper will wake up and might want us." "I don't believe Papa Doctor will let us up there to see Jasper again to-day," said Ben, grimly, as he strode on. "Why, we didn't hurt Jasper, being up there this morning," said Polly, in a surprised tone; "Papa Fisher said so; you know he did, Ben." "That may be," said Ben, "but all the same I don't believe we'll be allowed up there again this afternoon." "You know Papa Fisher said we had done Jasper good," persisted Polly, trotting along briskly by Ben's side, "so there, Ben Pepper." "I know that," said Ben, with a nod. "But Papa Fisher always lets well enough alone. And you and I won't be invited up there again this afternoon, I tell you that, Polly Pepper. All the same, we must hurry, because Mamsie wants us home early." "So she does," said Polly, almost breaking into a run. "Hold on," said Ben, catching her sleeve, "don't race like that through the streets; it isn't proper." "I do so wish," said Polly, flourishing her little bundles, "that it was ever proper to run in the street." "Well, it isn't," said Ben, with a sharp eye for the bookstore they wanted. "Well, here we are, Polly. Now for that Shakespeare book!" When they marched home an hour later, Joel ran out of the big stone gateway with Pip at his heels. The two Whitney boys and Davie were making good time down the winding driveway. "Whoop!" screamed Joel, "where've you been?" and beginning to swarm all over them and seize their bundles, while Pip ran up to Ben and slipped his thin little hand into the firm, big one. "Hands off," cried Ben, "from those bundles, Joe!" "Where've you been, and what've you got?" demanded Joel. Then, without waiting for an answer, as the other boys were hurrying up and would let out the news, he screamed, "All those mountain children are coming to supper!" "What?" cried Polly, standing quite still. "Yes, and the old lady," cried Joel. "Every single one of them. You needn't try to tell anything," to Percy and Van and David, as they plunged up, all out of breath. "I told it all long ago." <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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