"And Phronsie's got hurt," said Mrs. Beebe, telling him the news, as he finished tucking her up, and started the old horse.
"Ho? you don't say so!" he cried; "whoa!"
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Beebe; "how you scat me, pal what's the matter?""What?--the little girl that bought the shoes?" asked her husband.
"Yes," replied his wife, "she's hurt her foot.""Sho, now," said the old gentleman; "that's too bad," and he began to feel in all his pockets industriously; "there, can you get out again, and take her that?" and he laid a small piece of peppermint candy, thick and white, in his wife's lap.
"Oh, yes," cried Mrs. Beebe, good-naturedly, beginning to clamber over the wheel.
So the candy was handed in to Phronsie, who insisted that Polly should hold her up to the window to thank Mr. Beebe. So amid nods, and shakings of hands, the Beebes drove off, and quiet settled down over the little brown house again.
"Now, children," said Polly, after Phronsie had made them take a bite of her candy all around, "let's get the cake put away safe, for mamsie may come home early.
"Where'll you put it?" asked Joel, wishing the world was all peppermint candy.
"Oh--in the cupboard," said Polly, taking it up; "there, Joe, you can climb up, and put it clear back in the corner, oh! wait; I must take the posies off, and keep them fresh in water;" so the cake was finally deposited in a place of safety, followed by the eyes of all the children.
"Now," said Polly, as they shut the door tight, "don't you go to looking at the cupboard, Joey, or mammy'll guess something.""Can't I just open it a little crack, and take one smell when she isn't looking?" asked Joel; "I should think you might, Polly; just one.""No," said Polly, firmly; "not one, Joe; she'll guess if you do." But Mrs. Pepper was so utterly engrossed with her baby when she came home and heard the account of the accident, that she wouldn't have guessed if there'd been a dozen cakes in the cupboard. Joel was consoled, as his mother assured him in a satisfactory way that she never should think of blaming him; and Phronsie was comforted and coddled to her heart's content. And so the evening passed rapidly and happily away; Ben smuggling Phronsie off into a corner, where she told him all the doings of the day--the disappointment of the cake, and how it was finally crowned with flowers; all of which Phronsie, with no small pride in being the narrator, related gravely to her absorbed listener. "And don't you think, Bensie," she said, clasping her little hand in a convincing way over his two bigger, stronger ones, "that Polly's stove was very naughty to make poor Polly cry?""Yes, I do," said Ben, and he shut his lips tightly together.
To have Polly cry, hurt him more than he cared to have Phronsie see.
"What are you staring at, Joe?" asked Polly, a few minutes later, as her eyes fell upon Joel, who sat with his back to the cupboard, persistently gazing at the opposite wall.
"Why, you told me yourself not to look at the cupboard," said Joel, in the loudest of stage whispers.
"Dear me; that'll make mammy suspect worse'n anything else if you look like that," said Polly.
"What did you say about the cupboard?" asked Mrs. Pepper, who caught Joe's last word.
"We can't tell," said Phronsie, shaking her head at her mother;"cause there's a ca"-- "Ugh!" and Polly clapped her hand on the child's mouth; "don't you want Ben to tell us a stoty?""Oh, yes!" cried little Phronsie, in which all the others joined with a whoop of delight; so a most wonderful story, drawn up in Ben's best style, followed till bedtime.
The first thing Polly did in the morning, was to run to the old cupboard, followed by all the others, to see if the cake was safe;and then it had to be drawn out, and dressed anew with the flowers, for they had decided to have it on the breakfast table.
"It looks better," whispered Polly to Ben, "than it did yesterday;and aren't the flowers pretty?"
"It looks good enough to eat, anyway," said Ben, smacking his lips.
"Well, we tried," said Polly, stilling a sigh; "now, boys, call marnsie; everything's ready."Oh! how surprised their mother appeared when she was ushered out to the feast, and the full glory of the table burst upon her. Her delight in the cake was fully enough to satisfy the most exacting mind. She admired and admired it on every side, protesting that she shouldn't have supposed Polly could possibly have baked it as good in the old stove; and then she cut it, and gave a piece to every child, with a little posy on top. Wasn't it good, though! for like many other things, the cake proved better on trial than it looked, and so turned out to be really quite a good surprise all around.
"Why can't I ever have a birthday?" asked Joel, finishing the last crumb of his piece; "I should think I might," he added, reflectively.
"Why, you have, Joe," said Ben; "eight of 'em.""What a story!" ejaculated Joel; "when did I have 'em? I never had a cake; did I, Polly?""Not a cake-birthday, Joel," said his mother; "you haven't got to that yet.""When's it coming?" asked Joel, who was decidedly of a matter-of-fact turn of mind.
"I don't know," said Mrs. Pepper, laughing; "but there's plenty of time ahead."
