“Come on,” shouted Van at the bottom of the stairs, “Polly Pepper is going to tell the story of ‘The Green Umbrella and the Queer Little Man.’ Come on!” and in two minutes the bunch of the youngest Peppers, with Percy and little Dick, precipitated themselves over the stairs, and raced along at his heels until they all brought up in Jasper’s den.

“Now, that’s fine!” exclaimed Jasper, jumping out of his chair behind the writing-table, as they all plunged in, Van having made the appointment in advance; “but where’s Polly?”

“Oh, she’s coming!” cried Van, rushing around and tumbling over everybody else in his eagerness to draw up the seats; “she’s up in Ben’s room, and they’re both coming in a minute or two. Here, you fellows,” to Percy and Dick, “help along with these chairs, will you?”

Percy, who didn’t like to move quickly at anything that was like work, slowly managed to draw up one chair, into which he planted himself drawing a long sigh as he sat down.

“That’s nice,” growled Van, quite red in the face from his exertions; “you feel smart, don’t you, to leave us to do all the work as usual.”

Percy pretended not to hear, which so enraged Van that he ran up and planted a smart rap on Percy’s back as he leaned back composedly in his chair.

“Do that again, will you?” he cried, whirling around to glare at Van; “I’ll knock your head off, if you do.”

“Here, here!” exclaimed Jasper, looking up quickly from the corner where he was piling away his school-books till it was time to fly to work on them again. “You’ll march out of this room if you carry on like that, I can tell you. Up and apologize to each other, now, both of you chaps.”

“He’s always pitching into me,” cried Percy, his face getting a lively red, for he hated above all things to miss Jasper’s approval; “and I’m tired of it.”

“Apologize, I say,” commanded Jasper, with a bob of his head that Percy knew meant business, “or out you go. While as for you, Van, I don’t know but what I much better pitch you out neck and heels, as it seems you begun it.”

“Oh! I’ll apologize; I’ll say anything you want, Jappy,” cried Van in alarm; for invitations to Jasper’s den didn’t come often enough to be lightly regarded; and not waiting for a reply, he ran around Percy’s chair, and stuck out his hand. “I’m sorry; but I wish somebody else would pitch into you, for you’re so mean and lazy.”

“Hold on!” roared Jasper at him; “that’s no apology.”

“I don’t mind it,” said Percy carelessly; and he extended his hand with a patronizing air that made Van furious, and sent him back to his work over the seats in anything but a sweet frame of mind.

“How Polly Pepper ever gets along with you, I don’t see,” said Jasper in despair, as he retreated to his corner.

“Oh! we don’t act so before her,” observed Van pleasantly, pulling and pushing some refractory chairs into place.

“Well, I should be ashamed to act worse when she is not by,” retorted Jasper scornfully; “think how dreadfully she would feel to see you chaps going on so.”

Percy hung his head; and Van cried out in alarm, “Oh, don’t tell her, Jappy, don’t tell her!”

“As if I’d want to tell her,” exclaimed Jasper in greater scorn than ever.

Meantime Polly, who had taken her recreation hour the day before to plan out this story of “The Green Umbrella and the Queer Little Man,” was sitting down on the floor, her head in Mother Pepper’s lap, while Mamsie’s hands softly smoothed the brown hair.

“I don’t see how I came to say it,” she mourned for about the fortieth time; “the words seemed to slip out, Mamsie, without my saying them; and then I couldn’t stop.”

“No, that is generally the way,” observed Mother Pepper; “when any one lets ill temper say the first word, good-by to all peace of mind. So watch the first word, Polly.”

Down went Polly’s head lower than ever in Mother Pepper’s lap.

“I know you were tired of telling stories to the children,” went on Mrs. Pepper, “but that’s no excuse; and besides, you had promised.”

“I know it,” mumbled poor Polly into Mother Pepper’s stuff gown.

“And if a body is going to do a kindness for another, it’s best to do it cheerfully, remember that, Polly.”

Polly didn’t say anything, and the kind hands kept up their stroking of the brown hair, and the clock on the shelf ticked away busily as much as to say, “Remember that, Polly.”

“And now,” said Mrs. Pepper at last, quite cheerily, “I wouldn’t ever say anything more about this. We’ve talked it over, you and I, a good many times, and you’ve told Mr. King, so it’s no good to keep it alive. Just do the best you can now, Polly. Only remember never to let it happen again.”

“Mamsie!” exclaimed Polly, lifting her head from Mrs. Pepper’s lap suddenly, and sitting quite straight on the floor, her brown eyes shining through her tears, “I just hope there’ll be, oh! lots and lots to do for those boys. I love to tell them stories, and I’m going to do everything else I can think of for them too.”

“There’ll be enough you can do for them, I guess, Polly,” observed her mother wisely; “and that’s the better way to show you’re sorry than talking about it. There, here comes one of them now for you,” as Van bounded in, holding out both hands, much as if Polly Pepper were a parcel, and he was to bear her down to the waiting group below.

“O Polly! we’re ready,” he began; but she sprang to her feet and interrupted him. “Oh! for the story, Van? All right, I’ll go;” and she ran to the door, but she came flying back. “Good-by, Mamsie;” and she tried to set a kiss on the smoothly banded black hair, but Mrs. Pepper lifted her head quickly, so the soft little kiss dropped on the end of her nose, which made them all laugh merrily.

“Here she is!” cried Van, throwing open the door of Jasper’s den, and handing Polly Pepper in with a flourish; “and Polly wasn’t in Ben’s room after all; I had the greatest time to find her.”

“No,” said Polly, her cheeks as red as a rose, “I was in Mamsie’s room.”

“Well, where is Ben?” cried Percy from the depths of his comfortable chair.

“Go and find him for yourself,” Van was on the point of saying, but a glance at Jasper made him send the words back.

“Sit here, Polly,” Jasper was saying, conducting Polly to the big chair back of the table.

“O Jasper! that looks as if I was going to give a lecture,” laughed Polly; “dear me, how pompous!”

“Well, you must sit there,” declared Jasper, clearing a better space on the table. “Dear me, I make no end of a mess with my papers.”

“Never mind,” said Polly brightly, “I’ll help you, Jasper.” So together they piled the papers up neatly, and Jasper crammed the whole budget into the table-drawer; then he rapped with the paper-weight.

“The meeting will come to order. Does anybody know anything about Ben?” when the door opened, and in stalked that individual.

“Had to go down town to carry my boots to be mended,” he said. “Whew, didn’t I run home, though! Nearly knocked over an old woman with a basket coming around the corner.”

“Did you knock her over, Bensie?” asked Phronsie, leaving the chair she was tugging at to draw it closer to Polly, and coming up to look at him gravely.

“No, I didn’t,” said Ben, getting into the nearest chair. “I put out both arms, and I screamed, ‘Hi, there!’ and the old woman and basket and all walked right into them.”

“That was nice,” observed Phronsie in great satisfaction, “then she didn’t tumble;” and she went back to her chair, and mounted it to fold her hands in her lap.

“Polly Pepper is to tell a special story by request,” announced Jasper with a grandiloquent air as if addressing a large assembly, “and if the audience will be so good as to come to order, she will begin it at once. If you don’t stop talking and be quiet, I’ll pitch you all out of the window,” he added in his natural voice.

“That’s a great way to address an audience, I should think,” said Ben in pretended indignation.

“I can’t help it,” said Jasper recklessly. “Now then, Polly, they’re still for just a minute, so you would better begin.”

“I promised to tell you the story,” began Polly brightly, “of the Green Umbrella and the Queer Little Man, and how it danced away with him.”

“Yes, yes!” cried all the roomful. Phronsie smoothed down her white apron in great satisfaction.

“Well, so here it is. Now, you know Araminta Sophia got the green umbrella all safely back again when the man with the big gun”—

“Scared the old woman in the”—began Joel, but Ben plucked him by the jacket collar. “Go on, Polly,” he said coolly; “I’ll hold this chap still through this story.”

“Well, she hung it up on the big golden key when she got home,” ran on Polly; “you know she had to buy the fish for her father’s breakfast before she could go home, and”—

“What was in the basket, Polly?” asked Phronsie suddenly, stopping the smoothing process to look at Polly.

“Why, the fish,” said Polly, “of course. I just told you that, child.”

“No, no,” said Phronsie, shaking her head, “I don’t mean the fish. I mean the other thing, Polly.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Phronsie,” said Polly, looking around on the group in a puzzled way.

“The other thing,” persisted Phronsie, clambering down from her chair to come to Polly’s side. “What the old woman said she put in, Polly.”

“Oh!” said Polly; then she burst into a merry laugh. “None of you boys remembered to ask me that, and I forgot it myself. Oh! ’twas just her fingers, Phronsie; that was all.”

“Whose fingers?” asked Phronsie very much mystified.

“Why, the long skinny ones that belonged to the old woman,” said Polly. “She put them in the basket, and just pulled them out again.”

“But she said she put in a gift for Ara—what did you call her, Polly?” said Phronsie.

“Araminta Sophia,” said Polly; “well, she said that because she was a naughty old woman, Phronsie. There wasn’t any gift at all. Now go and sit in your chair again, that’s a good girl, then I’ll go on with the story.”

So Phronsie clambered into her chair, and laid her hands in her lap. But her mind was busy over the naughty old woman, and the absence of the gift in the little basket that was to bring home the fish.

“Well, where was I?” began Polly again. “Oh! I know. Araminta Sophia was hanging up the green umbrella on the golden hook, when suddenly the door of the shed opened wide, and in came her father, the queer little man. ‘What a time you have been away, daughter,’ he squeaked out.

“‘I couldn’t help it, father,’ said Araminta Sophia; and then she told him the reason why and all about it; but the queer little man only said, ‘What a tiresome story; tell me some other time.’”

“I don’t think that was very polite,” began Joel, but Ben took another hold of his jacket collar.

“He was more polite than you are,” whispered Ben.

“‘And you needn’t take the trouble to hang up that green umbrella, daughter,’ said the queer little old man; ‘for I am going out to walk with it myself.’

“‘Father!’ exclaimed Araminta Sophia, turning pale with fright, ‘why, you’ve never done such a thing in all your life;’ and she clasped her hands tightly together around the green umbrella.

“‘Silly chit!’ cried the queer little old man in a terrible passion, ‘do you think you are going to tell me what to do? Give me that umbrella this very second.’

“Araminta Sophia tumbled down to her knees, holding on to the green umbrella, and besought him that he wouldn’t take it from her, but would let her hang it in its place on the golden hook.

“‘The man out there with his gun will shoot you,’ at last she said. ‘He’s most dreadfully big too,’ which was the very worst thing she could have said; for the queer little man always fancied that he was as strong as a lion, and it made him very angry to hear of anybody bigger than he was. So now he squeaked out in what he fancied was a terrible voice, ‘Give me that umbrella this instant, or I’ll put you up in the corner with your face to the wall.’

“After this terrible threat, Araminta Sophia handed him the green umbrella without a word; and then she tumbled over on the floor in a dead faint, and the old white cat, who caught all the spiders and mice in the perfectly funny little house, crept in and licked her face, until she came to and sat up straight.”

“That was nice of the old white cat,” said Phronsie to herself, smoothing down her apron again in satisfaction.

“But by that time the queer little old man was gone, and the green umbrella with him. At first he walked along quite fiercely, taking what he thought were very big steps, but they were little bits of mincing steps like”—

“Show us, Polly, do,” begged Van. So Polly hopped out from her seat behind the table, and amid peals of laughter she minced up and down like a tiny, queer little man, until she nearly tumbled over on her nose.

“Dear me!” she exclaimed, as she hopped into her seat again, “it’s perfectly dreadful to be so little. Well, where was I? Oh, well! off he stepped, holding up the green umbrella as proudly as possible, and wishing there was somebody to see how nice he looked; but there wasn’t, only a pig behind a fence looking out through the holes, and he didn’t care in the least, for he was grunting for something to eat, so you see the queer little old man had to go mincing and nipping on quite alone.

“Well, and before he knew it, he was stepping off very briskly. ‘Dear me, how young I feel!’ he exclaimed to himself. ‘It all comes of carrying this green umbrella; now I mean to take it out to walk every day.’ And as he finished the last word, he found himself running.

“‘This is perfectly splendid!’ he cried joyfully; ‘I don’t know when I’ve had such a good run. Now I’ll enjoy it till I get to that tree yonder; then I must stop, for I shall be quite tired.’

“And in a minute he was close to the big tree; but just as swiftly, before he could draw another breath, he was whisked by. He stuck out his arm, the one that wasn’t carrying the green umbrella, you know, and he tried to catch hold of the tree; but alas! he was running by at the top of his speed, and now the big tree was clear way behind, and”—

“And couldn’t he stop?” cried Phronsie with wide eyes. “Do make him stop, Polly.”

“I can’t,” said Polly, “because this is the story, you know, of how the green umbrella ran away with the queer little old man.”

“This queer little old man has got to run, Phronsie,” said Jasper, “so we shall have to let him.”

But Phronsie sighed as she folded her hands.

“And the queer little old man knew, too, by this time that he had got to run,” Polly was saying; “and he began to sigh and to groan, ‘Oh, I wish I hadn’t taken this green umbrella;’ and all the while he was going faster and faster, till his head began to spin, and he thought he should drop down in the road; but he couldn’t, you see, for his little bits of feet kept hopping and skipping along, so of course there was no time for him to tumble flat. And in a minute he came to a great big pond and”—

“Like what you said Cherry Brook was?” cried Van, breaking in.

“Dear me, no,” said Polly with a little laugh; “this was ever and ever so many times bigger, like”—

“Oh! I know,” declared Joel in an important way, quite delighted to show Van his superior knowledge; “it was like Spot Pond, Polly, over by Badgertown woods.”

“Yes,” said Polly with shining eyes, “it was, Joel, just like dear old Spot Pond by Badgertown woods;” and she leaned her cheeks on her two hands and her elbows on the table, lost in delightful reminiscence over Joel’s words.

Van got out of his chair, and slipping away from the reach of Jasper’s fingers, he plucked Polly’s sleeve. “You said the queer little old man and the green umbrella came to a big place just like Spot Pond,” he whispered in her ear.

“What—oh!” said Polly, lifting her head up suddenly. “Yes, so I did. ‘Well now,’ said the poor little queer old man to himself, ‘I shall surely stop; I am so glad to see this water, for I am really almost run to death.’ But the green umbrella made him hop clear across the pond; and there he was on the other side, running for dear life through a brambly wood, and up the side of a mountain.”

Van ran back to his seat, hugging himself joyfully at this entrancing stage of the story. “Now, there were some people living on the top of that mountain,” said Polly quite impressively, “who were very funny people indeed. They were thin and tall—oh! just as thin as bean-poles, and as high; and when they went out they always pulled on seven-league boots, and”—

“What are those boots, Polly?” asked Phronsie quickly.

“Oh! let me tell her,” cried Van eagerly, delighted to think there was something he could show off in to advantage. “I know; my fairy book tells all about it.”

“Well, I shall tell,” declared Percy for the same reason. “You see, Phronsie”—

“No, indeed you shall not,” exclaimed Van in a dudgeon; and forgetting all about Polly Pepper being there, “I began first;” and deserting his chair again, he ran over to Phronsie’s side, and tried to take her hand; but she kept it folded over the other one in her lap, and looked gravely at him.

“And I say I shall,” cried Percy in a passion and forgetting the same thing; “and as for your beginning first, you are always crowding in, so that’s nothing.”

Polly leaned back in her big chair, and looked at them in dismay.

“And I think you would both better go out of my den,” said Jasper coldly.

“O Jasper!” exclaimed Polly quickly. At the sound of her voice both boys turned and looked at her. “I didn’t mean to!” exclaimed Van, wilting miserably. “And I didn’t either,” cried Percy, wishing he wasn’t so big, and could creep into a corner.

“And please don’t,” cried Polly at them; and she clasped her hands, and her cheeks got rosy red again.

“We won’t! we won’t!” they both promised; and Van slipped back to his seat, and Percy said, “You may tell Phronsie, Van, if you want to.”

“No, I don’t,” said Van, getting down as small in his chair as he could, feeling Polly’s brown eyes looking him through.

“I would rather have Polly tell me,” said Phronsie with grave eyes for both of the boys.

“Yes, you tell her, Polly, do,” said Jasper; “that is best.”

So Polly told Phronsie all about what seven-league boots were, and how the people who wore them could take great big steps, longer than anybody else in all the world, and how they could jump from the top of a mountain to another one just as easily as anything, and nothing could catch them. “And so you see,” said Polly, winding up her description, “when these tall, thin people heard the little queer man with the green umbrella coming up, they all burst out laughing. ‘We’ll show him what running is. Get on your boots,’ said every one to each other.

“And every single one of them hurried and pulled on his seven-league boots.”

“Oh, goody!” howled Joel, slipping away from Ben’s hand.

“Now, the queer little old man tried to stop when he got up to them; but instead of that he whisked along by them, and there he was way ahead, and going at a perfectly dreadful rate.

“‘Ho, ho!’ cried the seven-league boot-men, ‘you little upstart, you, what do you mean by going by us without a word;’ for you see they didn’t like it to see such a very little person treat them so coolly, and there he was way off ahead of them. ‘We’ll teach you better manners;’ and off after him they raced.”

“And did they catch him?” cried Van. “And what did they do to him?” asked Percy. Little Dick, who hadn’t spoken, but had been lost in thought, now got out of his chair, and stumbled into the centre of the group.

“Ha, ha, ha!” he screamed suddenly, as loud as he could.

“Goodness me, Dicky, how you scared me!” exclaimed Polly with a jump.

“He scared us all, I guess,” said Ben.

“And you would better get back into that chair of yours,” said Jasper, “if you don’t want the house to come down on our heads after that noise.”

Little Dick, thus adjured, plunged back as suddenly as he had come, and climbed into his chair.

“But step as long and as high as they could, the seven-league boot-men couldn’t come up to the queer little man with the green umbrella; for just as soon as he flew out of one city over the church-spires, and the big houses, they would just be coming in, and so all they could see of him would be the green umbrella, flying along, and a little twinkling thing, with tiny sticks of legs and arms, under it. And at last, besides being very angry, they were very much puzzled. ‘We’ve never had anything beat us before,’ they called to each other as they stepped along.

“And all the while, don’t you think, the queer little old man was calling and screaming back at them, ‘Oh! you dear big boot-men,’ for he didn’t know anything about seven-league boots, ‘do stop me, for I’m running away, and I can’t stop myself.’

“And at last the seven-league boot-men stopped in surprise, unable to take another step, they were so much astonished.

“‘Let’s talk it over,’ they said, ‘and then when we’ve come to a conclusion what the matter is, why we’ll start again after him.’

“So they all stopped on the tip of the nearest mountain, and sat down and put their chins in their hands.

“‘It’s something about that umbrella,’ at last said one boot-man, suddenly lifting his head.

“‘Sure enough,’ cried another, slapping him on the back; ‘that’s the brightest thing that has been said yet. Think some more.’

“‘I believe it’s because it’s green,’ said another, who wanted to be just as bright too.

“‘Sure enough,’ said the boot-man who had said so before. ‘Now we must get him to throw away that dreadful green umbrella, for we can’t be beaten you know.’

“‘We must get him to throw away that dreadful green umbrella,’ repeated every one of the boot-men. Then they all got up, and”—

“And did they get the queer little man to throw away the green umbrella?” cried little Davie impulsively. “Oh! I didn’t mean to interrupt, Polly,” he cried as soon as he thought.

“I know, Davie, you’ve been real good,” said Polly, smiling approvingly at him. “Well, now you’ll see; so off they all stepped, with their dreadfully long steps, after the queer little old man with the green umbrella, and pretty soon one of the boot-men, who was a little ahead, called out, ‘I spy him; he isn’t more than seven miles off.’”

“Oh, my!” screamed Joel.

“And sure enough; there he was—running along—the green umbrella just flying through the air, and the little sticks of arms and legs under it twinkling in and out.

“‘Hurry! hurry! hurry now for your lives!’ roared all the boot-men at each other; and they raced as they had never in all their lives raced before. And at last when they were nearly ready to drop, they came so near to the queer little man that they could hear him faintly squeal out, ‘Oh, do stop me! I’m running away, and I can’t stop.’

“‘Throw down that dreadful green umbrella,’ roared all the boot-men at him together.

“‘I can’t,’ squealed the queer little man, running on faster than ever. ‘It won’t let go of my neck;’ for you must know, I forgot to tell you, that the crooked handle that used to hang on the golden peg in the woodshed, where Araminta Sophia hung it up, had hooked itself, after he got to running fast, around the neck of the queer little old man, and there he was fast and tight.”

“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed ever so many voices.

“Did it hurt him?” asked Phronsie piteously.

“Oh, no! I guess not, Pet,” answered Polly; “he was running so fast I don’t believe he felt it much. Anyway, he couldn’t get it off, try as hard as he would. And so on he ran, worse than ever.”

“Can’t he ever stop?” asked little Dick suddenly, in great excitement.

“You’ll see, Dicky,” said Polly with a smile, while the others begged her not to stop but to hurry on. “‘Shut up that dreadful green umbrella, then,’ screamed out one of the boot-men with the first thing that came in his head; and in a minute, before they could take another step, flap! went the green umbrella; snap! went the green umbrella; and stop! the poor little legs and arms of the queer little man came to a standstill.

“‘How very queer!’ he gasped. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’ he snapped out as the boot-men all came up, for he was very cross by this time. ‘Why didn’t you think of it yourself instead of making us chase you all over the world?’ they snapped back; for you see they were very cross too.”

“O Polly! had they been all over the world?” cried Percy in astonishment.

“Pretty much,” said Polly; “and you see they were very tired; and besides they didn’t like it, for they never had been obliged to take such a chase before.”

“I should like to ask,” said Ben, “what this queer little man happened to be standing on when the green umbrella got shut up? You stopped him in the air, you know, Polly.”

“Oh! I forgot to say,” Polly answered briskly, with a little laugh, “that they happened to be just running over a very high mountain. So when the green umbrella got shut up, why, of course, all he had to do was to stand still on the top of it.”

“Oh!” said Ben.