“It was such hard work to make the fire burn that morning,” said Polly. “Something was the matter with the old stove worse than usual. The big cracks seemed bigger than ever, although Ben had stuffed them up with putty the week before, and”—

“What had he stuffed them up for?” demanded little Dick, plunging into the centre of the group.

“Hush!” said Van, laying a violent hand on his jacket, “do be still; you crowd so, and ask questions.”

“I don’t ‘crowd so and ask questions,’” said little Dick tartly; and he turned a very red face to Polly. “What did he do so for, Polly?”

“Why, we were very poor, you know,” said Polly; “and the old stove was all tired out, it had been baking so long—oh! for years and years; and it had big holes and cracks come in it that let the air through, and then that put the fire out.”

“Oh!” said little Dick.

“We weren’t so very poor,” said Joel uneasily, who never could bear to be pitied.

“No, not when our ships came in,” said Ben soberly; but his eyes twinkled, at which Polly laughed merrily.

“Oh, dear me!” she cried, wiping her eyes; “Joel’s ships were always coming in.”

“What do you mean, Polly Pepper?” cried Van quickly. “You say so many funny things. What were Joel’s ships? and when did they come in?”

“Now, see here,” said Jasper, “if you ask so many questions, Polly never can get to the story how Phronsie got her new shoes. And to think how you three chaps have been teasing her to tell it! If I were Polly, I wouldn’t give you a single scrap of it.”

But Polly tossed him a bright smile over her shoulder, and dashed off again as fast as she could.

“You see, boys, when the putty that Ben had stuffed into the old stove tumbled out that morning, I was just going to put my pans of bread into the oven. Think of that!”

“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed the Whitney boys.

“Well, there wasn’t any more putty. Oh! I forgot to tell you that Ben was away at his work, so he couldn’t fix it, and besides, there wasn’t any.”

“Why didn’t you take some cotton wool?” cried Van.

“Dear me!” exclaimed Polly with a little laugh, “we never had cotton wool. That would have been splendid—most as good as having a new stove. But sometimes Davie used to give us a boot-top, and”—

“A boot-top!” cried both of the Whitney boys together.

“Yes, when anybody gave him an old boot-top, he’d save it for the stove; the bits of leather stuffed it up just finely, and”—

“I’d have given a boot-top too, if I’d had it,” said Joel grimly; and his chubby face lengthened.

“Oh! Joel was splendid too,” said Polly, turning a radiant face on him; “he gave things too, and helped to do the stuffing. I don’t know what I should ever have done in all this world without those two boys;” and she beamed at them. “Well, I must hurry, or you never will hear about Phronsie’s new shoes. Oh! where was I?”

“Why, you were stuffing up the old stove to make it burn,” said all the Whitney boys together. “Don’t you know, Polly Pepper?”

“Oh, yes! Well, and I was in the midst of it, when Phronsie came out of the bedroom and said, ‘Oh! I am so hungry, Polly.’ Dear me, and there I was; my hands were just as black as could be, and Joel and David were away, you know, and so Phronsie begged to go to the Provision Room herself to the bread-pail that always hung under the steps, and I told her she might.

“Well, when she went along,” said Polly, hurrying over this part of it, as she thought she saw Phronsie’s head droop a bit, “she took the big bread-knife out of the cupboard; she thought, you know, it would help me; and the first thing anybody knew, down she rolled over those dreadful old rickety steps!”

Every one in the group sat perfectly still, as if not daring to breathe; and little Dick threw his arms around Phronsie, while his mouth worked dreadfully as he tried not to cry.

“And I cut my thumb,” said Phronsie, holding it up.

“Yes,” said Polly, hurrying on; “it was only her thumb she cut, but how it did scare me! I don’t know how I ever got down over those stairs; and there she was in a little heap at the bottom, and that dreadful old bread-knife lying down on the floor a little way off. Oh, dear me! I can’t bear to think of it even now; and there were little dabs of blood on her pink apron, and all over her face. But she said it was only her thumb.”

“Yes,” said Phronsie gravely; “it was only my thumb.”

“And so it was surely, as I soon found out,” said Polly, drawing a long breath. “Well, we soon got Phronsie up-stairs, all right.”

“Yes,” said Joel; “and the first thing Polly did, she said to the old stove, ‘Oh! you old naughty thing, now think what you’ve done this morning’—that’s what she told us.”

“And then I had to get some court-plaster to stick the cut together with,” said Polly; “so Phronsie sat in Mamsie’s old rocking-chair, while I ran over to Grandma Bascom’s for it; for you know, of course, that if any of us got into any trouble, why, the first thing we did was to get into Mamsie’s chair, if she wasn’t home.”

Phronsie put one soft little hand on Mother Pepper’s lap, and patted it.

“And she had cake,” said Joel; “Mamsie’s chair, and a piece of cake too.”

“Yes, there was a piece that had been given Mamsie, and we were saving it up for a treat that we were to have had that very night; but when Phronsie got hurt, why, of course she must have it. Well, I thought Grandma Bascom never would find that court-plaster. She wanted so to hear all about how Phronsie got hurt in the first place, and then she didn’t know where she had put the court-plaster; and, oh, dear me! I thought I should fly, to think of poor Phronsie curled up in the big chair waiting for me; but at last Grandma found it in the cupboard drawer; and she cut off a piece, and then it wasn’t but a minute or two and the cut was stuck together and tied up in an old handkerchief, and Phronsie’s pink apron was taken off, and she had a clean one on, and I brushed her curls, and everything was getting all right again; and then in popped Ben!”

“And Ben whistled ‘Whew!’” said little Davie, “just as loud as he could. Polly told us he did.”

“And they both kissed Phronsie all around again, and Ben kissed her the most, because he hadn’t been there at the first,” said Joel; “Polly told us—oh! and then Polly said”—

“Oh! let me tell,” begged David in great excitement.

“No, I began first,” said Joel; “I want to myself, Dave.”

“Yes, he did begin first, Davie,” said Polly, smiling into his little eager face. “Joel ought to tell.” So Joel began again triumphantly, in a loud voice, “Well, Polly said—oh! I’d rather Dave told—you may,” he broke off suddenly, and looking over at David.

“No,” said Davie. “You began first; you tell”—

“But Joel wants you to, Davie,” said Polly, smiling over at Joel in a way to make the color fly up on his round cheeks in his delight, “so I would.”

“Let Phronsie tell,” said Joel, “that’s best. Go on, Phron; tell what Polly said.”

“She said,” began Phronsie, “right in Bensie’s ear, she told me so, that I ought to have my new shoes. Yes, she did”—

“Just think of that!” exclaimed old Mr. King, who hadn’t spoken a word, but had sat quite still, holding Phronsie cuddled up in his arms. “I should say so too; it was just the time for those new shoes to be bought.”

“But Polly didn’t tell me then,” said Phronsie, twisting around to look into his face; “she whispered to Bensie, and he whispered in her ear, and they told me to wait.”

“Just think of that,” said Grandpapa, patting her small hand, as it lay confidingly in his big palm.

“Yes,” said Phronsie, “they did; and Polly said, ‘Sh, sh! if Mamsie will only say yes.’”

“Well, and at dinner-time in flew Joel and Davie hungry as bears—they were always hungry,” said Polly, laughing, “and the bread was not done, and”—

“And we had to eat the old crusts in the pail; we always had to,” grumbled Joel.

“And Joel said he could have rolled down the stairs without getting hurt,” said David; “and he was going to take the bread-knife, and try it.”

“But I got that away from you, sir,” said Ben; “we’d had enough cuts for that day.”

“And I showed them my thumb,” said Phronsie with an important air.

“Yes, and Polly took off the handkerchief; but she wouldn’t let us peek under the court-plaster,” said David.

“Well, I guess not,” said Polly.

“And then she told us lots and lots of stories,” said Joel.

“Oh! will you tell them to us, Polly Pepper, when you get through about Phronsie’s new shoes?” begged the Whitney boys all together.

“Oh! not to-day,” said Polly. “I will some other time, maybe.”

“They’ve got to be lots and lots of them,” declared all three together.

“Well, do let Polly finish this one first,” cried Jasper. “Father, can’t you stop these chaps from interrupting her every minute,” appealing to old Mr. King.

Instead of this, the old gentleman leaned back in his chair, and laughed so long and so heartily that every one in the room joined; and when they sobered down, Polly was saying, “And then Mamsie came home, and everything was all right.”

“And Mamsie said I could have my new shoes, all-to-myself shoes,” declared Phronsie, very much excited, and sitting very straight in old Mr. King’s lap; “she did, Grandpapa.”

“So she did,” assented the old gentleman, bowing his stately head gravely.

“That’s nothing,” said Percy Whitney in a dissatisfied way, “to have a pair of shoes given you. Why didn’t they give you something better than that?”

Phronsie opened her eyes very wide. “I never had a pair whole mine before,” she said simply.

“Never had a pair of shoes before,” screamed Percy and Van together, while little Dick made a big O of his mouth in utter astonishment.

Jasper leaned forward and tried to pull all three jackets together.

“Gently, boys,” said Mrs. Whitney, laying a soft hand on the shoulder nearest to her.

“Don’t you understand,” said Polly, “that we were very poor, very poor indeed; and Phronsie had never had a pair of shoes all to herself before.”

The Whitney boys had no words to offer at that, but sat quite speechless.

“And Mamsie had promised them just as soon as she could get the money.”

“And I never had any new shoes,” said Phronsie, shaking her yellow head. “No, I never did.”

“And one day I heard her asking Seraphina her doll, ‘Do you suppose I’ll ever get my new shoes? Not till I get to be a big woman, I guess.’”

“And did you say ‘Yes’, Mrs. Pepper—did you—did you?” cried Van, jumping out from the centre of the group to precipitate himself at Mother Pepper’s elbow.

“Yes, I did,” said Mrs. Pepper, smiling at him; “I thought, seeing Phronsie had got hurt, it was just the right time for those new shoes to be bought.”

“She did—she did say ‘Yes,’” proclaimed Van, flying back again, as if bearing a wholly new fact.

“And I should say so too,” declared old Mr. King positively, and gathering Phronsie up closely in his arms again.

“Well, and so it was all ‘really and truly,’ as Phronsie said, settled,” ran on Polly once more; “and now, just think, Phronsie was to have her new shoes, and all to herself!”

It was impossible to describe the effect of this announcement upon her auditors as Polly made this statement most impressively, and she rushed on, “and Ben was to run over and ask Deacon Brown if we couldn’t have his green wagon, and”—

“And we were to sit in behind,” shouted Joel—“Dave and me. Oh, g’lang! didn’t we have fun, though!” cracking an imaginary whip.

“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Van discontentedly, and rolling over on the library rug; “why couldn’t we ever have lived in a little brown house and sat in behind in a green wagon.”

“Mamma,” screamed little Dick, with cheeks all aflame, and plunging up to Mrs. Whitney’s side, “can’t we? can’t we?”

“What, dear?” asked Mrs. Whitney.

“Sit in behind in a green wagon? Can’t we, mamma, just like Polly and Phronsie, and”—

“Ha, ha! Polly and Phronsie didn’t sit in behind,” shouted Joel, “they sat on the seat with Ben; Dave and me sat”—

“I sat with Polly and Bensie,” announced Phronsie, clasping her hands in delight, and drawing a long sigh of satisfaction; “and I could see the horse, and we were going to get red-topped shoes.”

“Yes, she wanted them,” said Ben, nodding to the others. “Oh! it just scared me, for I was afraid we couldn’t get them.”

“But we did,” declared Phronsie, shaking her yellow head positively—“oh! beautiful red-topped ones, Grandpapa;” and she turned to him confidingly.

“Bless your heart!” exclaimed old Mr. King suddenly, and patting her little hands, “so you did; dear me, yes, to be sure.”

“Well, it was such a time to get Phronsie ready the next day,” said Polly with a long sigh; “dear me, I thought I never should get through. And then she had to sit in her little chair and wait for the rest of us, and for Ben to bring the horse and the green wagon from Deacon Brown’s. Oh! and we were so afraid it would rain—just suppose it had!” and she brought up suddenly at the direful prospect.

“And did it? did it rain?” cried Percy anxiously, pulling her sleeve.

“No; it was clear as a bell,” said Polly. “Oh, you can’t think how beautiful that day was! Seems to me I never saw the sun shine any brighter; ’twas just as if it were made for us. And Mamsie stood on the door-step to see us go; and the last thing she said was, ‘Be sure not to get them rights and lefts, they’ll wear longer,’ and ‘Get them plenty broad;’ and I had her purse with the money in it.”

“And Joe and David were just dreadful,” said Ben, as Polly stopped a minute to take breath; “they dangled their legs out the back of the wagon, and they screamed and made an awful racket—we couldn’t keep them still. They scared the old horse most to death.”

“Well, he wouldn’t go unless he was scared,” said Joel, “would he, Dave?”

“No,” laughed Davie; “and then Ben said he’d turn around and drive home again if we didn’t stop, so that scared us; and then Polly thought she’d lost Mamsie’s purse with all the money in it, and that was worse than ever.”

“Yes,” said Polly with a long breath; “how frightened we all were. That was perfectly dreadful.”

“But she didn’t lose it—Polly didn’t,” cried Phronsie, shaking her yellow head positively at them all. “No, she truly didn’t; and I had my new shoes, and they were red-topped ones,” she brought up triumphantly.

“Yes,” said Ben, “that was the hardest part of it all. Phronsie wanted red-topped ones, and that scared Polly and me dreadfully; for there was only a little bit of a chance that Mr. Beebe would have any, you know, and”—

“But he did,” interrupted Phronsie eagerly, and leaning forward to look into old Mr. King’s face. “My dear Mr. Beebe did have red-topped shoes; he did, Grandpapa.”

The only answer the old gentleman gave was to clasp her closer to his breast, while Polly hurried on.

“Well, such a time as we had getting into old Mr. Beebe’s shop,” she cried, holding up both hands; “dear me! I thought we never should begin to try on those shoes, and then”—

“And there were, oh, so many shoes!” cried Phronsie, clasping her hands, “hanging up in the window, and”—

“Yes, and rubber boots,” broke in Joel; “I always wanted them, Dave and I did. But we never got them,” he added under his breath.

“Yes, just lots and lots of shoes,” Polly was saying; “but that wasn’t anything to the ones inside. Why, they hung up all around the shop, just every place a shoe could hang. Oh! and there were ever so many in boxes too; and old Mr. Beebe keep pulling out one after another, and he had them tucked under the shelves and everywhere else. And it did smell so nice and lovely of beautiful leather;” she sighed in delight at the remembrance.

“Tell about the pink-and-white sticks, Polly,” begged Davie, pulling gently at her sleeve.

“And the doughnuts,” said Joel; “I liked them best.”

“Well, I didn’t,” said David decidedly; “I liked the pink-and-white sticks best.”

“So did I,” said Joel, “when I was eating them; but the doughnuts lasted longer, so I liked those best.”

“And of course we couldn’t get rights and lefts,” said Polly, “because, you know, Mamsie told us they wouldn’t wear as good; so it seemed as if we never could get Phronsie fitted in all this world.”

“And I couldn’t see any red-topped shoes in all that shop,” declared Ben to the group hanging on every word, “although I walked around and around, and stared at everything with all my eyes.”

“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed all the auditors in great distress.

“No, I couldn’t; and I was just going to give it up, and make up my mind to go home without getting Phronsie any, when don’t you think old Mr. Beebe said—you tell them, Polly, what he said;” and Ben stopped quite tired out.

“No, you tell,” said Polly, delighted to get Ben to talking; and she leaned back and folded her hands restfully.

“Well, he said,” began Ben, seeing that Polly was not really to tell it, “‘I made a pair once for the squire’s little daughter down to the Point; but her ma didn’t take them, ’cause they were too small.’ Well, you can just think how we didn’t dare breathe, for fear they wouldn’t fit.”

“But they did,” cried Phronsie greatly excited; “my dear Mr. Beebe made them fit me, he did.”

“Yes,” said Ben, drawing a long breath, “on the shoe went just as nice, and he buttoned it up as snug as could be; and he said, ‘But perhaps you’ll object to ’em, ’cause they’re red-topped.’ Just think of that!”

The Whitney boys screamed right out at this stage of affairs, and even Jasper shared in the general excitement, until Phronsie’s red-topped shoes seemed to be the same little specks of color before their eyes as when she danced around the old kitchen to show them to Mrs. Pepper.

“Well, now,” said old Mr. King at last, in a lull, “we must let Polly tell the rest of it. Go on, Polly my girl, what next?”

“Well, then Phronsie had to get off from the little wooden chair old Mr. Beebe made her sit down in, and stamp in the red-topped shoes real hard, to see if they really were a good fit; and then I paid him out of the money in Mamsie’s purse, and he rolled up the old ones in a newspaper; and then he gave her—don’t you think—the most beautiful button-hook—oh! you can’t think, it shone just like silver, and—”

“And was it silver?” demanded Van, who, seeing the story on the wane, was jealous of every bit of statistic by which to spin it out; “was it really silver, Polly Pepper?”

“Sh—be still, Van,” said Jasper with a little nudge; “Polly cannot possibly get on if you interrupt her all the time.”

“No, it wasn’t really and truly silver,” said Polly, with a bright smile for Jasper; “but it was just as good. Oh! and then dear old Mrs. Beebe gave us another doughnut apiece out of the big stone pot; and then we came out of the shop, and climbed into the old green wagon and drove home.”

“And I had my new shoes on, Grandpapa,” announced Phronsie, turning to the old gentleman as if a wholly new fact were to be stated; “and they were red-topped, they were!”

“Yes, she kept sticking her feet out from under the shawl Mamsie had told me to tuck her up in every minute, to be sure the shoes were really there,” laughed Polly. “Oh, dear! such a time as I had to get her home, and it was most night too.”

“She stuck them out just like this,” declared Joel, running out his feet spasmodically, regardless of his neighbors.

“Look out, Joe,” said Ben, “and keep your feet to yourself. Goodness me! there’s some difference between them and Phronsie’s.”

“I think she put them out like this,” said little Davie, making gentle thrusts with his shoes; “and she didn’t knock folks over.”

“Well, I don’t care,” declared Joel, pulling in his feet as suddenly as he had sent them out, “the doughnuts were good, anyway,” veering off to safe ground.

“So they were,” said Ben, smacking his lips.

“And it was nice to get home to mother,” said Polly with dancing eyes—“and she had two candles lighted in the kitchen. I don’t know when we’d had more than one at a time before; and she said she couldn’t have done better about Phronsie’s shoes if she had gone herself—I always remembered that;” and Polly turned a beaming face over at Mother Pepper, busy darning the Whitney boys’ stockings.

Mrs. Pepper looked up and sent her a bright smile in return—“and Phronsie said she was going to take her shoes to bed with her.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the Whitney boys.

Jasper tried to pull all the three jackets, but only succeeded in reaching Van, who was nearest. “Be still, can’t you?” he said under his breath, with a glance at Phronsie sitting dewy-eyed and radiant in Grandpapa’s lap.

“Yes,” said Polly, dashing on quickly; “and what do you think I saw when I went to bed with Mamsie?”

“What—what?” cried the boys.

“Why Phronsie in the trundle-bed; one shoe was held tightly in her well hand, but the other, she couldn’t hold it very well, you know, because of the cut thumb, and there it was, tumbled right down over her nose.”