Five Little Peppers and their Friends

  XIII

  "SHE'S GOING TO STAY HERE FOREVER"

  It was dreadful; and after she had said it, Rachel stood overwhelmed withdistress. "Don't you tell your father." She whirled around and clutchedPeletiah's sleeve.

  "We must," he said; "he's the minister, and we have to tell himeverything."

  "Well, don't tell your mother, anyway," she begged anxiously.

  "We must," said Peletiah again, "because we tell her everything, too."

  "Then she'll send me back." Rachel, quite gone in despair, gave a loud cryand threw herself face downward on the grass, where she sobbed as if herheart would break.

  This was so much worse than he had imagined, as any possible effect fromhis words, that Peletiah couldn't speak, but stood over her in silentmisery. Seeing this, Ezekiel took matters into his own hands.

  "I'm going to run after the funeral and get Ma to come home; she'll be atthe top of the procession," and he moved off toward the gateway.

  "Stop!" Rachel squealed; then she sprang to her feet. "Don't you stir astep, you!" she commanded.

  "They're all hearing you," observed Peletiah, who, seeing Rachel upon herfeet, found his spirits reviving, and he pointed to the line of buggies andchaises. "See 'em looking back; my father won't like it."

  "Oh, dear me!" Rachel struggled with her sobs. "You shouldn't 'a' told meyou had 'em. That ain't a funeral."

  "It is, too," declared Peletiah; "it's Miss Bedlow's funeral, and my Pa isgoing to bury her."

  "It ain't, either; an' that's a baker's cart," said Rachel, pointing to thedeparting hearse with scorn.

  "Oh, oh, what a story!" exclaimed Ezekiel, who was just on the point ofreproving his brother for contradicting, and he pointed his brown finger ather. "That's got Miss Bedlow in, and they're taking her to theburying-ground, and it's her funeral."

  "Well, I don't want to go back to the city," said Rachel hastily,dismissing Miss Bedlow and her funeral and all discussion thereonsummarily, and she dug the toe of her shoe into the gravel; "don't let yourmother send me back."

  "You said you wished you were back there," observed Peletiah severely,fixing his pale eyes on her distressed face, along which the tears weremaking little paths.

  "Well, I don't care. I don't want to go. Don't let her!" She seized his armand shook it smartly.

  "You're shaking me!" said Peletiah, in astonishment.

  "I know it, an' I'm goin' to," said Rachel, stamping her foot.

  "You ain't going to shake my brother," declared Ezekiel loudly, "and we'llmake you go back if you shake us," he added vindictively.

  "Oh, dear, dear!" Rachel dropped Peletiah's arm, and she hid her face inher hands. "Don't make me go back," she wailed. "It's too dreadful there,for Mrs. Fisher won't have me if you send me away, 'n' Gran 'll get hold ofme somehow--she'll--she'll find me, I know she will," and she shivered allover.

  "Who's Gran?" Peletiah drew quite near.

  "She's Gran," said Rachel, shivering again. "Oh, dear! don't ask me; andshe beat me dreadful, an'--" her voice broke.

  "She beat you?" cried Peletiah.

  "Awful," said Rachel, cramming her fingers into her mouth to keep fromcrying. "Oh, dear, dear! don't send me back."

  Peletiah took two or three steps off, then came back.

  "You may shake me if you want to," he said generously, "and you ain't goingback."

  "Well, she isn't going to shake me," said Ezekiel stoutly, "and my Ma willsend her back if she shakes me, so there!"

  "I hain't shook you yet," said Rachel, disclosing her black eyes betweenher fingers and viewing him with cold disdain.

  "Well, you ain't going to," repeated Ezekiel, with decision.

  "Her Gran beat her." Peletiah went over to his brother. "She beat Rachel."He kept repeating it, over and over; meanwhile Ezekiel moved about inconfusion, digging the toes of his shoes into the gravel to hide it.

  "Well, she ain't going to shake me," he said, but it was in a faintervoice, and he didn't look at Rachel's eyes.

  "And you mustn't ask Mother to send her back," said Peletiah stubbornly.

  "She ain't going to shake me." It was now so low that scarcely any onecould hear it.

  "And you mustn't ask Mother to send her back," said Peletiah again. "She'sgoing to stay here just for ever and ever."

  There was something in his tone that made Ezekiel hasten to say:

  "Oh, I won't."

  "And I won't shake you," said Rachel, flying out from behind her hands andup to him, "if you'll only let me stay here; just let me stay," she cried,hungrily.

  "Well," said Ezekiel, with a great deal of condescension, "if you won'tshake me, you may stay at our house."

  So the children went back to the flat door-stone to talk it over, Peletiahsaying:

  "Maybe you can go to school with us next fall."

  "Oh, my!" exclaimed Rachel, with wide eyes, and clasping her hands, "I'vegot to learn a lot first."

  "Yes, my father's got to teach you first," said Peletiah.

  "Where's he going to do it?" Rachel leaned over to get a comprehensive viewof his face.

  "In his study," answered Peletiah.

  "Where's that?"

  "That's where he writes his sermons in, that he preaches at peopleSundays," said Ezekiel, finding it very pleasant to be communicative, nowthat he was quite sure the new girl would not shake him.

  "Oh, how nice!" breathed Rachel. "That's scrumptious!"

  "That's what?" asked Peletiah critically.

  "Scrumptious. Haven't you ever heard that? Oh, what a nin--I mean, oh, howfunny!"

  "And it ain't nice at all to have my father teach you," said Peletiah, withvery doleful ideas of that study.

  "Why?" asked Rachel, with gathering dread.

  "Oh, he makes you learn things," said Peletiah dismally, drawing a longsigh at the remembrance.

  "But that's just what I want to do," cried Rachel, with sparkling eyes;"I'm goin' to learn an' learn, till I can't learn no more."

  Peletiah was so occupied in edging off from her that he forgot to correcther speech.

  "Yes, I'm goin' to learn," exclaimed Rachel, in a glad little shout, and,springing to her feet, she swung her arms over her head. "I'm goin' to readan' I'm goin' to write, an' then I can write a letter to my Phronsie."

  She ended up with a cheese, plunging down on the grass and puffing out hergown like a small balloon.

  "You can't do that," she said, nodding triumphantly up at the two boys.

  "I don't want to," said Peletiah, sitting still on the door-stone.

  "Well, you can't, anyway, 'cause you haven't got a frock. Well, now, let'splay," and she hopped to her feet. "Come on. What'll it be?"

  "I'll show you the brook," volunteered Ezekiel, getting up.

  "What's a brook?" asked Rachel.

  "Hoh--hoh!" Ezekiel really laughed, it was so funny. "She doesn't know whata brook is," he said, and he laughed again.

  "Well, what is it?" demanded Rachel, laughing good-naturedly.

  "It's water."

  "I don't want to see any water," said Rachel, turning off disdainfully;"there's nothing pretty in that."

  "But it's awfully pretty," said Peletiah; "it runs all down over thestones, and under the trees and----"

  "Where is it?" cried Rachel, running up to him in great excitement. "Oh,take me to it."

  "It's just back of the house," said Ezekiel; "I'll show you the way."

  But Rachel, once directed, got there first, and was down on her knees onthe bank, dabbling her hands in the purling little stream, half wild withdelight.

  And when the parson and his wife got home from Miss Bedlow's funeral, theyfound the three children there, perfectly absorbed in the labor of sailingboats of cabbage leaves, and guiding their uncertain craft in and out theshimmering pools and down through the tiny rapids. And they watched themunobserved.

  "But I dread to-morrow, when I give her the first lesson," said the parson,as they stood unperceived in the shadow of the trees; "everything
else is asplendid success."

  "Let us hope the lessons will be, too, husband," said Mrs. Henderson, ahappy light in her eyes.

  "I hope so, but I'm afraid the child is all for play, and will be hard toteach," he said, with a sigh.

  But on the morrow--well, the minister came out of his study when the lessonhour was over, with a flush on his face that betokened pleasure as well ashard work. And Rachel began to skip around for very joy. She was really tobe a little student, Mr. Henderson had said. Not that Rachel really knewwhat that meant exactly, but the master was pleased, and that was enough,and all of a sudden, when she was putting up some dishes in thekeeping-room closet, she began to sing.

  Mrs. Henderson nearly dropped the dish she was wiping.

  "Why, my child!" she exclaimed, then stopped, but Rachel didn't hear her,and sang on. It was a wild little thing that she had heard from the handorgans and the people singing it in the streets of the big city.

  Just then old Miss Parrott's stately, ancestral coach drove up. Theparson's wife hurried to the front door, which was seldom opened except forspecial company like the present.

  "I heard," said Miss Parrott, as Mrs. Henderson ushered her in, "that you'dtaken a little girl out of charity, and I want to see you and your husbandabout it."

  "Will you come into his study, then?" said Mrs. Henderson. "Husband hasgone out to work in his garden, and I will call him in."

  Miss Parrott stepped into the apartment in stately fashion, her black silkgown crackling pleasantly as she walked, and seated herself very primly, asbefitted her ancestry and bringing-up, in one of the stiff, high-backedchairs. And presently the parson, his garden clothes off and his best coaton, came in hurriedly to know his honored parishioner's bidding.

  "I will come to the point at once," said Miss Parrott, with dignifiedprecision, as he sat beside her, and she drew herself up stiffer yet, inthe pleasing confidence that what she was about to say would strike both ofher hearers as the most proper thing to do. "You have taken this littlegirl, I hear, to educate and bring up."

  "For a time," said the minister, hurriedly.

  "Very true, for a period of time," said Miss Parrott throwing herblack-figured lace veil, worn by her mother before her, away from her face."Well, now, Pastor, it is not appropriate for you to do this work, withyour hands already overburdened. Neither should you bear the expense----"

  "But I don't," cried Parson Henderson, guilty now of interrupting. "Mr.King pays me, and well, for teaching the little girl until she will beready for the district school. You see, she has never been in a schoolroomin her life, and it would be cruel to put her with children of her own age,when she is so ignorant. But she is singularly bright, and I have thegreatest hopes of her, madam, for she is far above and beyond most childrenin many ways."

  But Miss Parrott hadn't come to hear all this, so she gave a stately bow.

  "No doubt, Pastor, but I must say what is on my mind. It is that I have forsome time wanted to do a bit of charity like this, and Providence now seemsto point the way for it. I would like to take the child and do for her. Lether come to you here, for lessons, but let me bring her up in my house."

  There was an awful pause. Parson Henderson looked at his wife, but saidnever a word, helplessly leaving it to her.

  "Dear Miss Parrott," said Mrs. Henderson, and she so far forgot her fear ofthe stately, reserved parishioner as to lay her hand on the black-mittedone of the visitor, "we were given the care of the child by Mr. King, whorescued her from her terrible surroundings, and we couldn't possiblysurrender this charge to another. But I will tell you what we might do,husband," and her eyes sought his face. "Rachel might go down now and thento spend the day with Miss Parrott. Oh, your beautiful house!" she brokeoff like a child in her enthusiasm. "I do so want her to be in itsometimes." She turned suddenly to the visitor.

  Miss Parrott's old face glowed, and a smile lingered among the wrinkles.

  "And she must pass the night occasionally," she said. There was a world ofentreaty in her eyes. "I think so," said Mrs. Henderson, "but we must leavethat to Rachel."

  And Rachel, in the keeping-room closet, was trilling up and down some ofthe jigs her feet had kept time to when she, with the other tenement-housechildren, had run out to dance on the corner when the organ man came round,all unconscious of what was going on in the study.

  "What's that?" cried Miss Parrott, starting. The conference was over andshe was coming out of the pastor's study, to get into her ancestralcarriage.

  "That's Rachel singing," said Mrs. Henderson.

  Old Miss Parrott gasped:

  "Why, my dear Pastor, and Mrs. Henderson, can the child sing like that?"

  "This is the first time she has tried it," said the parson, who had no earfor music and was sorely tried when expected to admire any specimens of it."But I dare say she will do very well. She is a very teachable child."

  "Very well!" repeated Miss Parrott quickly. "I should say so indeed. Well,I will send for the child on Saturday to pass the day and night with me,and then we shall see what we shall see."

  With which enigmatical expression, she mounted her ancestral carriage; thesolemn coachman, who had served considerably more than a generation in thefamily, gathered up the reins, and the coach rumbled off.

  "Oh, what an awful old carriage!" exclaimed Rachel, running to the window."It looks as if its bones would stick out."

  "It hasn't got any bones," said Peletiah, viewing it with awe, "and she'sawful rich, Miss Parrott is."

  "I don't care," said Rachel, running back to her work and beginning to singagain, "her carriage is all bones, anyway."