Part 36

“Well, we call him Ben,” said Polly; “it don't ever seem as if there was any Ebenezer about it.”

“I should think not,” laughed Jasper.

“Well, I must get Phronsie,” again said Polly, running back into the bedroom, where that small damsel was busily engaged in washing “Baby” in the basin of water that she had with extreme difficulty succeeded in getting down on the floor. She had then, by means of a handful of soft soap, taken from Polly's soap-bowl during the dish-washing, and a bit of old cotton, plastered both herself and “Baby” to a comfortable degree of stickiness.

“Phronsie,” said Polly--“dear me! what you doing? the big dog's out there, you know, that scared the naughty organ-man; and the boy--” but before the words were half out, Phronsie had slipped from under her hands, and to Polly's extreme dismay, clattered out into the kitchen.

“Here she is!” cried Jasper, meeting her at the door. The little soapy hands were grasped, and kissing her--“Ugh!” he said, as the soft soap plentifully spread on her face met his mouth.

“Oh, Phronsie! you shouldn't,” cried Polly, and then they all burst out into a peal of laughter at Jasper's funny grimaces.

“She's been washing 'Baby,” explained Polly, wiping her eyes, and looking at Phronsie who was hanging over Prince in extreme affection. Evidently Prince still regarded her as his especial property.

“Have you got a baby?” asked Jasper. “I thought she was the baby,” pointing to Phronsie.

“Oh, I mean her littlest dolly; she always calls her 'Baby,” said Polly. “Come, Phronsie, and have your face washed, and a clean apron on.”

When Phronsie could be fairly persuaded that Prince would not run away during her absence, she allowed herself to be taken off; and soon re-appeared, her own, dainty little self. Ben, in the meantime, had been initiating Jasper into the mysteries of cutting the wood, the tool-house, and all the surroundings of the “little brown house.” They had received a re-inforcement in the advent of Joel and David, who stared delightedly at Phronsie's protector, made friends with the dog, and altogether had had such a thoroughly good time, that Phronsie, coming back, clapped her hands in glee to hear them.

“I wish mammy was home,” said Polly, polishing up the last cup carefully.

“Let me put it up,” said Jasper, taking it from her, “it goes up here, don't it, with the rest?” reaching up to the upper-shelf of the old cupboard.

“Yes,” said Polly.

“Oh, I should think you'd have real good times!” said the boy, enviously. “I haven't a single sister or brother.”

“Haven't you?” said Polly, looking at him in extreme pity. “Yes, we do have real fun,” she added, answering his questioning look; “the house is just brimful sometimes, even if we are poor.”

“We aren't poor,” said Joel, who never could bear to be pitied. Then, with a very proud air, he said in a grand way, “At any rate, we aren't going to be, long, for something's coming!”

“What do you mean, Joey?” asked Ben, while the rest looked equally amazed.

“Our ships,” said Joel confidently, as if they were right before their eyes; at which they all screamed!

“See Polly's stove!” cried Phronsie, wishing to entertain in her turn. “Here 'tis,” running up to it, and pointing with her fat little finger.

“Yes, I see,” cried Jasper, pretending to be greatly surprised; “it's new, isn't it?”

“Yes,” said the child; “it's very all new; four yesterdays ago!”

And then Polly stopped in sweeping up and related, with many additions and explanations from the others, the history of the stove, and good Dr. Fisher (upon whom they all dilated at great length), and the dreadful measles, and everything. And Jasper sympathized, and rejoiced with them to their hearts content, and altogether got so very home-like, that they all felt as if they had known him for a year. Ben neglected his work a little, but then visitors didn't come every day to the Peppers; so while Polly worked away at her bread, which she was “going to make like biscuits,” she said, the audience gathered in the little old kitchen was in the merriest mood, and enjoyed everything to the fullest extent.

“Do put in another stick, Bensie dear,” said Polly; “this bread won't be fit for anything!”

“Isn't this fun, though!” cried Jasper, running up to try the oven; “I wish I could ever bake,” and he looked longingly at the little brown biscuits waiting their turn out on the table.

“You come out some day,” said Polly, sociably, “and we'll all try baking--mammy'd like to have you, I know,” feeling sure that nothing would be too much for Mrs. Pepper to do for the protector of little Phronsie.

“I will!” cried Jasper, perfectly delighted. “You can't think how awfully dull it is out in Hingham!”

“Don't you live there?” asked Polly, with a gasp, almost dropping a tin full of little brown lumps of dough she was carrying to the oven.

“Live there!” cried Jasper; and then he burst out into a merry laugh. “No, indeed! I hope not! Why, we're only spending the summer there, father and I, in the hotel.”