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                             BEN PEPPER

                         BY MARGARET SIDNEY

AUTHOR OF "FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AND THEIR FRIENDS," "A LITTLE MAID
OF CONCORD TOWN," "OLD CONCORD," "HESTER, AND OTHER NEW ENGLAND
STORIES," ETC.


    _ILLUSTRATED BY
    EUGENIE M. WIREMAN_

    BOSTON:
    LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.

    PEPPER
    TRADE MARK
    Registered in U. S. Patent Office.

    COPYRIGHT, 1905,
    BY HARRIETT M. LOTHROP.

    PUBLISHED, AUGUST, 1905.

    _Twentieth Thousand_

    Norwood Press:
    Berwick & Smith Co., Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.




[Illustration: THEN SHE HOPPED AWAY FROM POLLY AND MADE A LITTLE CHEESE
RIGHT ON THE SIDEWALK.]




PREFACE


It was quite impossible that the detailed records presented through the
later Pepper books, of the doings and sayings of the "Little Brown
House" family, should omit Ben. He, the eldest-born of Mother Pepper's
brood, and her mainstay after the father died, the quiet,
"steady-as-a-rock boy," as the Badgertown people all called him, with
lots of fun in him too, because he could not help it, being a Pepper,
was worthy of a book to himself.

So the hosts of readers of the Pepper Series decided, and many of them
accordingly be-sought the author to give Ben a chance to be better
known. He was always so ready to efface himself, that it was Margaret
Sidney's responsibility, after all, to bring him more to the front, to
be understood by all who loved his life in the earlier records.

So Margaret Sidney, despite Ben's wishes, has written this latest
volume. To do it, Polly and Joel and David and Phronsie have told her
most lovingly the facts with which it is strewn. Most of all, Mother
Pepper-Fisher contributed to the new book, out of a heart full of
gratitude and love for her Ben.

MARGARET SIDNEY.




CONTENTS


I. THE CHRISTMAS SHOPPING EXPEDITION

II. BEN'S PLAN

III. HAPS AND MISHAPS

IV. "IT'S JOEL'S OLD LADY"

V. "THE PRESENTS ALL GO FROM SANTA CLAUS"

VI. BEN GOES SHOPPING WITH MADAM VAN RUYPEN

VII. "WHERE'S PIP?" AND JASPER TURNED BACK

VIII. "ANY ONE WHO WANTS TO PLEASE JASPER," SAID BEN, "HAD BETTER TAKE
UP THIS CHAP"

IX. WHAT A HOME-COMING

X. "I'LL LOVE HER JUST FOREVER!"

XI. AN AFTERNOON CALL

XII. VAN

XIII. THE BIG BOX

XIV. THE CHILDREN IN THE MOUNTAIN CABIN

XV. THE MINISTER LOOKS AFTER HIS PARISHIONERS

XVI. WHO WILL HELP?

XVII. "NOW WE CAN HAVE OUR CHRISTMAS!"

XVIII. TELLING ALL THE NEWS

XIX. JOCKO

XX. REPAIRING DAMAGES

XXI. THE POSTPONED CHRISTMAS MORNING

XXII. AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE

XXIII. THE SLEIGHING PARTY

XXIV. JASPER AND BEN

XXV. IT WAS POLLY WHO HEARD IT FIRST

XXVI. "COULD YOU TAKE HIM, BEN?"

XXVII. "MR. KING, WHO IS THAT PIP YOU HAVE HERE?"

XXVIII. BEN DECIDES THE MATTER FOR HIMSELF




ILLUSTRATIONS


Then she hopped away from Polly and made a little cheese right on the
sidewalk

"O dear me," wailed Polly, burrowing deeper within the folds of the
black alpaca apron

And the first person he ran up against was a small boy, his hands full
of little wads of paper bundles

"See what you've done; that's castor oil"

There was an awful pause, every one staring at the smooth layer of brown
paper

"Did you ever see such sweet little fingers?" said Polly




Ben Pepper




I

THE CHRISTMAS SHOPPING EXPEDITION


"Oh, yes, the children can go as long as Ben and Polly are with them,"
said Mother Fisher, with pride. "I'll trust them anywhere," her face
said as plainly as if she had put it all into words.

"I wish I could go with them." Mrs. Whitney took her gaze from the busy
fingers sorting the pile of small stockings Jane had brought up from the
laundry, and went abruptly over to the window with a troubled face.

"But you can't," said Mrs. Fisher, cheerfully, nowise dismayed at the
number of holes staring up at her, "so don't let us think any more of
it. And Ben's big enough to take them anywhere, I'm sure. And Polly can
look after their manners," she thought, but didn't finish aloud.

"You see father didn't know about this picture exhibit till Mr. Cabot's
note came a half hour ago, begging him not to miss it. And if I told him
of the children's plans, he'd give the whole thing up and stay at home
rather than have them disappointed. He mustn't do that."

"Indeed he mustn't!" echoed Mrs. Fisher, in her most decided fashion,
and putting the last stocking into place on top of the big pile on the
table. "Hush! Here comes Polly!"

"Oh, Mamsie!" Polly rushed up to the work-table. "Just think what
splendid fun!" She threw her arms around Mrs. Fisher's neck and gave her
a big hug. "Isn't Aunty Whitney too lovely for anything to take us out
to buy our Christmas presents? Dear me! What richness!"

"Polly, see here, child," Mother Fisher brought her face around to look
into the rosy one; "Mrs. Whitney cannot--"

Polly tore herself away with a gasp, and stood quite still, her brown
eyes fixed on Mother Fisher's face, and the color dying out of her
cheek. "Do you mean we are not to go, Mamsie?" she cried, her hands
working nervously; "we must!" she brought up passionately.

"You see, Polly," Mrs. Whitney came quickly away from the window. Polly
at that turned and stared in dismay. O dear! To think Aunty Whitney was
there, and now she would be so distressed. "It is just this way," Mrs.
Whitney was hurrying on in quite as unhappy a state as Polly had feared:
"Father has received word that there is a picture exhibit this
afternoon, and I must go with him. I'm sorry, dear, but it can't be
helped." She bent to kiss Polly's cheek where the color had rushed this
time up to the brown hair.

"I'm so sorry, too," Polly burst out, clinging to Mrs. Whitney's hand.
Oh, why had she given way to her passion? The tears were running down
her cheeks now, "I didn't mean--" she murmured.

"Why, you are going, Polly," said Mrs. Whitney, comfortingly, and
patting the brown hair.

"What?" exclaimed Polly, bringing up her head suddenly to stare into the
kind face.

"Yes," laughed Mrs. Whitney, "the Christmas shopping isn't to be given
up. Mrs. Fisher is going to let you and Ben take the children. Just
think, Polly, that's much better than to go with me," she finished
gayly.

All this time Mother Fisher had sat quite still, her black eyes fastened
on Polly's face. "I don't know," she said slowly, "about their going
now."

"Oh, Mrs. Fisher," cried Mrs. Whitney, in dismay, "you can't think of--"
but she didn't finish, on seeing Mrs. Fisher's face. Instead, she went
softly out and closed the door.

"I didn't mean--" mumbled Polly again, and then she tumbled down on her
knees and hid her face on Mamsie's lap, and sobbed as hard as she could.

"Yes, that's the trouble, Polly," Mother Fisher's hands were busy
smoothing the brown hair; "you didn't mean to, but you said it just the
same; and that's the mischief of it, not to mean to say a thing, and yet
say it."

"O dear me!" wailed Polly, burrowing deeper within the folds of the
black alpaca apron. "Why did I? O dear!"

[Illustration: "O DEAR ME," WAILED POLLY, BURROWING DEEPER WITHIN THE
FOLDS OF THE BLACK ALPACA APRON.]

Mother Fisher's hands kept on at their task, but she said nothing, and
at last Polly's sobs grew quieter. "Mamsie," she said faintly.

"Yes, dear."

"I'm so sorry."

"I know you are, child; but, Polly, there is no'must' unless mother
says so. And to fly into a passion--why, then you ought not to go at
all."

"Oh, I don't want to go now, Mamsie," cried Polly, flying up to sit
straight on the floor, and brushing away the tears with a hasty hand, "I
really don't, Mamsie."

"Well, then you see you'll just keep the children at home," said Mrs.
Fisher; "for I can't let Ben have all the care alone, and they'll be so
disappointed."

Polly gave a groan and wriggled on the carpet in distress.

"You see, Polly, that's the trouble when we give way to our passion; it
hurts more than ourselves," said Mother Fisher, "so I can't see but that
you have got to go."

"Oh, I don't want to, Mamsie; don't make me," cried Polly, squeezing her
mother's hands tightly in both of her own. "I can't go now!"

"Tut, tut, Polly," said Mrs. Fisher, reprovingly; "'can't' isn't the
thing to say any more than'must.'" And her black eyes had such a look
in them that Polly ducked her head, taking refuge in the lap again.

"And now you must get up," said Mother Fisher, "and get ready, for I am
going to let you and Ben take the children; that's decided."

"Oh, Mamsie!" Polly found her feet somehow, and flung her arms again
around her mother's neck; "you won't trust me ever again. O dear me!"

"Yes, I will," said Mrs. Fisher, quickly, and, seizing Polly's hands,
she made the brown eyes look at her; "why, Polly child, did you suppose
Mother would let you go and help Ben take care of the children if she
didn't know you would do everything just right? Never say such a word as
that again, Polly!" and the black eyes shone with love and pride. "And
now hurry, child, for here's Ben coming," as steps sounded in the hall,
and then his voice asking, "Where's Mamsie?"

Polly flew up to her feet and stumbled over to the washstand. "O dear
me!" she gasped, catching sight of her face in the long mirror on the
way, "I can't--oh, I mean my eyes are so red, and my nose, Mamsie! Just
look at it!"

"That's the trouble of crying and giving way to fits of passion,"
observed Mrs. Fisher, quietly; "it makes a good deal of trouble, first
and last," as Ben came hurrying in.

Polly splashed the water all over her hot face with such a hasty hand
that a little stream ran down the pretty brown waist, which only served
to increase her dismay.

"Oh, Mamsie!" Ben was saying, "we're not to go, after all. What a pity!
Polly'll be so sorry." His blue eyes looked very much troubled. To have
anything make Polly sorry hurt him dreadfully.

"Oh, yes, you are going, Ben," Mrs. Fisher made haste to say.

"Why, Aunty Whitney can't go," said Ben, in surprise. "Grandpapa just
said she is going out with him."

"You didn't say anything of the shopping plan, Ben?" ejaculated Mrs.
Fisher, involuntarily, yet she knew she didn't need to ask the question.

"Why, no," said Ben, in amazement; "of course not, Mamsie."

"Of course not, too," said his mother, with a little laugh; "and why I
asked such a stupid question, I'm sure I don't know, Ben."

All this gave Polly time to sop her face quite cool, and she had buried
her red cheeks in the towel to dry them off, when Mother Fisher, having
made Ben acquainted with the joyful news, called, "Come, Polly, it's
time to get on your hat and coat."

"Halloo, Polly, you there?" cried Ben, whirling round, as Polly hurried
into the little room next to get her out-of-door things.

"Yes," called back Polly, on her way, "I'll be ready in a minute, Ben."

"Isn't it no end jolly that we're going, Polly?" he cried, deserting his
mother to hurry over to the doorway where he could stand and see Polly
get ready. His blue eyes shone and his head was held very high. To think
that Polly and he were to be allowed to take the children out shopping
amid all the excitement of Christmas week! It was almost too good to be
true! "Say, Polly, did you ever know anything like it?" He came in and
pressed close to the bureau where Polly was putting on her hat.

"Yes, yes, I know. Ugh!" Polly, with all her eyes on the red-rimmed ones
looking out at her from the mirror, beside what she saw of the poor
swollen nose, jammed on the hat over her face and jumped away from the
bureau.

"You needn't hurry so," said Ben, "'tisn't any matter if we don't start
right away. Besides, I don't suppose Jane has Phronsie ready yet. But
isn't it perfectly splendid that we can go alone, you and I, and, just
think, Polly Pepper, can take the children?" He was quite overcome again
at the idea and leaned against the bureau to think it all out.

"Yes," said Polly, in a muffled voice. But she was in the closet now,
getting into her coat, because if she stayed out in the room Ben would
help her into it, and then he would be sure to see her face! So Ben,
although he thought it funny that Polly, who was generally bubbling over
with joy at the prospect of any pleasant expedition, should be very
quiet and dull in the light of such an extraordinary one, set it down to
the hurry she was in getting ready.

"Oh, Polly, don't hurry so!" he cried, going over to the closet. "Here,
come out here, and let me help you with that."

"Ugh, no, go right away, Ben," cried Polly, wriggling off frantically,
and only succeeding in flopping up one sleeve to knock her hat farther
down over her nose. "O dear me! where _is_ the other armhole?"

"Do come out," cried Ben; "whoever heard of trying to put on a coat in a
closet? Whatever makes you, Polly?"

"And I do wish you'd go away," cried Polly, quite exasperated, and
setting her hat straight, forgetting all about her face.

But instead, Ben, after a good look, took hold of her two shoulders and
marched her out into the room. And before Polly knew it, her other arm
was in its sleeve, and he was trying to button up her coat.

"Oh, Bensie," she mumbled; "I'm so sorry I was cross."

"Never mind," said Ben, giving her a comforting pat. "Well, come on, now
you're ready, Polly."

And Joel and David plunging in tumultuously into Mamsie's room, followed
by Jane ushering in Phronsie all attired for the trip, the whole bunch
gathered around Mother Fisher's chair for final instructions.

"See, Mamsie," piped Phronsie, crowding up closely, to hold up the
little money-bag dangling by its chain from her arm; "my own purse, and
I'm going to buy things."

"Don't, Phron," said Joel, "push so," and he tried to get past her to
stand nearest to Mother Fisher.

"What are you doing yourself," said Ben, "I sh'd like to know, Joel
Pepper?"

"Well, that was my place," said Joel, loudly, and not yielding an inch.

"Joel!" said Mrs. Fisher.

"It was my place," he grumbled. But he hung his head and wouldn't look
up into Mamsie's face.

"It's my very own purse," cried Phronsie, in a joyful little key, "and
I'm going to buy things, I am. See, Mamsie!" She held it up before Mrs.
Fisher, and patted it lovingly, while she crowded in worse than ever.

"Yes, I see," said Mrs. Fisher, smiling down into her face, but there
was no smile for Joel, and looking up he caught her black eyes resting
on him in a way he didn't like.

"You may have it, Phron!" he exclaimed, tumbling back against David
suddenly, who was nearly knocked over by his sudden rebound. "I'd just
as lief you would. Here, get in next to Mamsie."

"And I'm going to buy you something, Mamsie," said Phronsie, standing on
her tiptoes to whisper confidentially into Mother Fisher's ear.

"You are, dear?" Mrs. Fisher leaned over to catch the whisper, but not
before she sent a smile over to Joel that seemed to drop right down into
the farthest corner of his heart. "Now Mother'll like that very much
indeed."

"And you must be s'prised," said Phronsie, bobbing her head in its big,
fur-trimmed bonnet, and fastening a grave look of great importance on
Mrs. Fisher's face.

"Hoh--hoh!" began Joel, who had recovered his composure. Then he
thought, and stopped. And again Mother Fisher smiled at him.

"Now, children, you understand this is the first time you have ever been
out shopping without Mr. King or Mrs. Whitney or me," began Mrs. Fisher,
looking around on them all. "Well, it's quite time that you should make
the trial, for I can trust you all." She lifted her head proudly and her
black eyes shone. "I'm sure you'll all be good."

"Oh, we will, we will, Mamsie," declared all the little Peppers
together. And their heads went up, too, in pride.

"So I am going to let Ben and Polly take you about in the shops. And
whatever they tell you, you are to do. And remember one thing, you are
not to crowd and push."

"We can't see if the big people all get in front," said Joel,
grumblingly.

"Then you must go without seeing," said Mrs. Fisher, decidedly. "At any
rate, you are not to crowd and push. Remember, Joel, and all of you."

"I won't," said Joel, "crowd and push. Now may we go, Mamsie?" and he
began to prance to the door impatiently.

"One thing more. Come back, Joel." Mrs. Fisher waited until the group
was once more quiet around her chair. "And you are none of you to handle
things."

"Not when we are going to buy them?" cried Joel, in an injured tone.
"Oh, Mamsie, I sh'd think we might when we are out shopping. And I've
got such lots of money in my pocket-book." He swung it high, clenched in
his hot little fist.

"Take care or you'll lose it if you show it like that, Joe," said Ben.

"How am I going to lose it?" demanded Joel, squaring around at Ben.

"Somebody'll pick it out of your hand if you don't look out," warned
Ben.

"I guess there won't anybody pick my pocket-book. I'm going to get a
pin," and he raced off to the big mahogany bureau in the corner.

"What for?" asked David, who always followed Joel's movements with
attention; "what are you going to do with a pin, Joel?"

"I'm going to pin up my pocket so no old picker can get my purse,"
declared Joel, with energy, and running back with the biggest pin he
could find on the cushion, the one Mrs. Fisher fastened her shawl with.

"Yes, and likely enough you'll forget all about it and stick your own
hand in," said Ben, "then, says I, what'll you do, Joel?"

"Humph--I won't forget," snorted Joel, puckering up the pocket edge and
jamming the pin through the folds; "there, I guess the pickers will let
my pocket alone. Yes-sir-ee," he cried triumphantly.

"Now you remember you are not to touch things on the counters," Mrs.
Fisher was saying. "I don't want my children to be picking and handling
at such a time. You can look all you want to; but when you see what you
would really like to buy, why, Polly and Ben must ask the saleswoman to
show it to you."

"I've got my money-purse," said Phronsie, exactly as if the fact had not
been announced before; "see, Mamsie," and she held it up with an
important air.

"I see," said Mother Fisher, "it's the one Grandpapa gave you last
birthday, isn't it, Phronsie?"

"Yes," she said, patting it lovingly. "My dear Grandpapa gave it to me,
and it's my very own, and I'm going to buy things, I am."

"So you shall," said Mrs. Fisher, approvingly. All the while Joel was
screaming, "Come on, Phron, we'll be late," as he pranced out into the
hall and down the stairs.

"Oh, Mamsie," Polly flung her arms around Mrs. Fisher's neck, "I wish
you were going too."

"Well, Mother can't go," said Mrs. Fisher, patting Polly's shoulder;
"and take care, Phronsie will hear you."

"And I want to kiss my Mamsie good-by, too," said Phronsie, clambering
up into Mrs. Fisher's lap, as well as she could for the fur-trimmed
coat. So Mother Fisher took her up, and Phronsie cooed and hummed her
satisfaction, and was kissed and set down again. And then David had to
say good-by too, and Ben as well; and then Polly made up her mind she
would have the last kiss, so it was some minutes before the four
children got out of Mamsie's room and ran down the stairs. And there
they found Joel hanging on to the newel post and howling: "You've been
an awful long time. Come on!"

"We wanted to bid Mamsie good-by," said Polly, twitching Phronsie's coat
straight. "Well, we're all ready now; come on, children."

Joel had thrown the big front door open with a flourish and was rushing
out. When Polly said that about Mamsie, he stopped suddenly, then
plunged back, nearly upsetting Phronsie, and ran over the steps as fast
as he could. "Oh, Mamsie," he cried, flying up to her. Mrs. Fisher had
gotten out of her chair, and was now over by the window to see her
little brood go off so happy and important. "Why, Joel!" she exclaimed,
"what's the matter?" as he precipitated himself into her arms.

"I want to kiss you good-by, too," howled Joel, burrowing within them;
"good-by, Mamsie!"

"So you shall, Mother's boy," said Mrs. Fisher, cuddling him. "Well now,
Joel, you remember all I said."

"I'll remember," said Joel, lifting a radiant face; "I'll be good all
the time."

"Yes, you must, else Mother'll feel badly. Well, good-by."

Joel's good-by floated back as he raced down the stairs and overtook the
group waiting for him out on the big stone steps.

"Who's keeping us waiting now, I wonder?" said Ben, as he came up
panting.

"Well, I guess I'm going to bid my Mamsie good-by, too," said Joel,
importantly. "Come on, Dave, let's race to the big gate!"




II

BEN'S PLAN


When Phronsie saw the two boys racing away, she wanted to run too, and
started to patter off after them.

"No, no, Phronsie," said Polly, calling her back. "She'll get all tired
out to begin with," she said to Ben, "then what should we do?"

"Oh, I want to race to the big gate with Joel and David," said Phronsie,
coming back slowly. "Can't I, Polly? Do let me," she begged.

"No," said Polly, decidedly, "you'll get all tired out, Phronsie."

"I won't be tired," said Phronsie, drawing herself up very straight; "I
won't be, Polly."

"You will be if you run and race to begin with," declared Polly, very
much wishing she could join the boys herself. But she was holding
Phronsie's hand by this time, and it never would do to leave her. "So we
must walk till we reach the car."

Phronsie heaved a sigh, but she kept tight hold of Polly's hand, and
walked obediently on.

"You see," said Polly, who never could bear to hear Phronsie sigh,
"we're going shopping, Phronsie, and there's a good deal of walking we
have before us, and--"

"And I have my money-bag," cried Phronsie, breaking in jubilantly, and
not waiting for Polly to finish, and lifting it high as it dangled from
her arm. "See, Polly, and dear Grandpapa gave it to me, he did."

"I know, pet," said Polly; "take care, now, or you'll tumble on your
nose."

"And I'm going to buy my dear Grandpapa something," declared Phronsie,
with a bob of her fur-trimmed bonnet; "I am, Polly."

"So you shall," cried Polly, radiantly; "now that'll be fine."

"Polly," said Ben, on her other side, "I've been thinking of something
that perhaps it would be good to do."

"Oh, Ben, what is it?" she cried, all in a twitter to know, for Ben's
plans, if sometimes slow, were always so good to follow.

"Why, let's us all put our money together instead of buying little
things for Grandpapa, for of course we are all going to give him
something, and buy one good present." It was a long speech for Ben, and
he was quite glad when it was all out.

"Let's," said Polly, quite enchanted. "Oh, Ben, you do think of just the
right things."

"No," said Ben, "I don't think up such nice things as you do, Polly,"
and he looked at her admiringly; "I can't."

"Well, your things are always best in the end, anyway," said Polly,
unwilling to take