



Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.










FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS MIDWAY

By MARGARET SIDNEY




              To
      MY LITTLE MARGARET
 Who Is Phronsie Pepper to All
         Who Know Her
This Book Is Lovingly Inscribed




CONTENTS

  1   Phronsie's Pie
  2   Cousin Eunice Chatterton
  3   The Rehearsal
  4   Welcome Home!
  5   After the Play
  6   The Little Brown House
  7   Old Times Again
  8   Some Badgertown Calls
  9   A Sudden Blow
 10   The Party Separates
 11   Poor Polly!
 12   New Work for Polly
 13   A Piece of News
 14   Mamsie's Wedding
 15   Mrs. Chatterton Has a New Plan
 16   Where Is Phronsie?
 17   Phronsie Is Found
 18   The Girls Have Polly Again
 19   Phronsie Is Well Again
 20   The Secret
 21   The Whitneys' Little Plan
 22   Joel
 23   Of Many Things
 24   Away




I

PHRONSIE'S PIE


"Jefferson," said Phronsie, with a grave uplifting of her eyebrows, "I
think I will go down into the kitchen and bake a pie; a very little
pie, Jefferson."

"Bless you, Miss," replied the cook, showing his white teeth in glee,
"it is the making of the kitchen when you come it."

"Yes, Jefferson," said Phronsie slowly, "I think I will go down make
one. It must be very, very full of plums, you know," looking up at him
anxiously, "for Polly dearly loves plums."

"It shall be that plummy," said Jefferson convincingly, "that you'd
think you never saw such a one for richness. Oh, my! what a pie that
shall be!" exclaimed the cook, shutting up one eye to look through the
other in a spasm of delight at an imaginary pie; "so it's for Miss
Mary, is it?"

"Yes," said Phronsie, "it is. Oh, Jefferson, I'm so glad you like to
have me make one," she clasped her hands in silent rapture, and sat
down on the lowest stair to think it over a bit, Jefferson looking at
her, forgetful that the under cook was fuming in the deserted domains
over his delay to return. At last he said, bowing respectfully, "If you
please, Miss, it's about time to begin. Such a pie ain't done without a
deal of care, and we'd best have it a-baking as soon as may be."

"Yes," said Phronsie, getting off from her stair, and surrendering her
hand to his big black palm, "we ought to go right this very minute. But
I must get my apron on;" she stopped and looked down at her red dress.

"Oh! you can take one of my aprons," said the cook, "they're as fine,
and big, and white, and I'll just put you in one of 'em and tie you up
as snug; you'll come out as clean and sweet when we're through, as you
are now, Miss."

"Tie me up?" laughed Phronsie in glee. "Oh! how nice, Jefferson. Do you
know I love you very much, Jefferson, you're so very good to me?"

The big fellow drew a long breath. "No, Miss, I'm big and black, and
just fit to stay downstairs," he managed to say.

"But I love you better because you are black, Jefferson," insisted
Phronsie, "a great deal better. You are not like everybody else, but
you are just yourself," clinging to his hand.

"Well, Miss, I ain't just fit for a lily to touch and that's the
truth," looking down at his palm that the small white hand grasped
closely. "It's clean, Miss," he added with pardonable pride, "but it's
awful black."

"I like it better black, Jefferson," said Phronsie again, "really and
truly I do, because then it's your very, very own," in a tone that
thrilled him much as if a queen had knighted him on the spot.

This important declaration over, the two set forth on their way toward
the kitchen, Phronsie clinging to his hand, and chatting merrily over
the particular pie in prospect, with varied remarks on pies in general,
that by and by would be ventured upon if this present one were a
success--and very soon tied up in one of the cook's whitest aprons she
was seated with due solemnity at the end of the baking table, the
proper utensils and