POLLY and Jasper and the children were home once more, and everything was back in the old ways, with Joel in his parish, and David in his instructor’s chair at the college. And now an intense excitement filled all the minds of the “Peppers” and their friends over the approaching “Welcome-Home” they were to give Phronsie.

“It shall be just as splendid as the wedding would have been!” declared Alexia positively. “Just as bride-y and stunning as it can possibly be!” she would cry, on one of her rushing-in-and-out visits to “The Oaks.”

“Do tell me, are the Dunraven Home children surely to be here?” she asked one day, bursting into Polly’s room, to find her surrounded by a cloud of white muslin, and clashing her scissors in and out of little skirt breadths. “Oh, my goodness me! what are you doing, Polly Pepper?”

“Yes,” cried Polly happily, and sending her scissors down another breadth; “and these are their dresses, Alexia. Don’t you want to get another pair of scissors, and help cut off the skirts? Miss Bangs down in the village is going to make them.”

“Yes, indeed!” cried Alexia, plunging over to Polly’s neat work-basket. “Oh, dear!” as she rummaged it; “I can’t find another pair, Polly!”

“In the sewing-room,” said Polly, fluttering the cloud busily, to measure another breadth.

“I’ll set that basket to rights when I come back, for I’ve messed it up dreadfully,” cried Alexia, flying off, to return with a pair which she brandished high. “Oh, dear me, Polly Pepper, will you ever in this world get through with all you’ve on your hands, I wonder! How many Dunraven youngsters are coming?”

“Twenty,” said Polly, her head on one side, calculating; “that is, Mrs. Henderson thinks that it is safe to plan to bring as many. And Susan is really to sing a Welcome-Home song, as they march around Phronsie and Roslyn.”

“Oh, how perfectly sweet!” breathed Alexia, already deep in the cutting-off process. “Dear me, how do you keep yours straight? Mine all skews up.”

“You better draw a thread, then,” advised Polly; “unless you can follow your eye.”

“My eye is as crooked as can be,” declared Alexia; “I’m in such a twitter. Well, isn’t it just too lovely that Susan is really to sing. Phronsie will be delighted. Dear me, don’t you remember how Susan roared that first day she came, and how she looked—little black image, I can see her now, sitting up there on a cricket on the platform. I was frightened to death, and expected she’d break the whole thing up; and now how good she is, and quite the pride of Phronsie’s heart.”

“Oh! it will be a perfect surprise, I think,” hummed Polly ecstatically. “Oh! and the village children are going to be at the station when the trains gets in, with baskets of flowers, and throw blossoms in Phronsie’s path.”

“Are they?” cried Alexia in delight; “oh, my!”

“Yes, they’ve begged to,” said Polly; “and we are going to let them do whatever they wish. Phronsie belongs to them too, Alexia, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” said Alexia.

“Polly!” called Jasper, over the stairs.

So Polly threw down the muslin cloud, and ran to meet him.

“Here’s Mr. Tisbett wants to say something,” said Jasper with a smile. “Now, then,” to the stage-driver, “say just what is on your mind, Mr. Tisbett.”

“I want to know,” began Mr. Tisbett, shuffling uneasily from one foot to the other, “’hem—if you’ll let me drive Miss Phronsie an’ her husband home here from the deepo?”

“I don’t understand,” began Polly.

“In the stage, ye know,” said Mr. Tisbett. “If ye could now let me, I’d be ’bleeged to ye. Seems if ’twould set me up fer th’ rest o’ my life. I want to do somethin’ fer that blessed child I’ve seen grow up from a baby;” and he covered his face with his big hand.

“And so you shall!” cried Polly, seizing his other horny palm, and ashamed of herself for the dismay that swept over her at this plan, that would deprive Jasper and her from driving Phronsie and Roslyn up to “The Oaks.” “Indeed, it is lovely of you, Mr. Tisbett, to think of it;” which thrilled the honest stage-driver with delight to his finger-tips.

“An’ I want to hev the priv’lege to drive yer par up too,” said Mr. Tisbett, turning to Jasper a face covered with confusion. “Land, but when I think how I shook him up that fust time he ever come here,—an’ I can’t never forget it,—I want to do somethin’ fer him too.”

“Father forgot all about that a long time ago, Mr. Tisbett,” said Jasper simply, “and so must you.”

“Land, but you can fergit a thing teetotally when you’re the one it’s done to,” said Mr. Tisbett, scratching his head awkwardly. “Well, if he’ll only fergive me enough to let me drive him up too, I’ll be mortally obleeged.” He peered anxiously into Jasper’s face.

“I can answer for father,” cried Jasper heartily; “that he’ll be glad to have you drive him up here, and it’s very kind of you to think of it;” and he shook the honest stage-driver’s hand so cordially that Mr. Tisbett shambled off delightedly.

And the old church where Phronsie had gone since babyhood, and Mr. Henderson had preached so long, was to peal its new chimes for the first time when she came back to Badgertown again. This the people had begged. The meeting-house was still standing it is true; but it had been Mr. King’s work, when he gave up his old home to be with Polly and Jasper, to make it just such a church as Badgertown had longed for.

Oh, and Grandma Bascom was to be brought over in a chair, and have the seat of honor on the lawn: for this was to be an out-of-door fête for Phronsie, when the day after the arrival the wedding-party at “The Oaks” would take place, to which all Badgertown was invited, in addition to the hosts and hosts of other friends.

And the Beebes and Mr. and Mrs. Babbidge and the “Scrannage girls,” all had very especial invitations; Miss Sally composing a neat little piece that would tell Mr. King how thankful they were for the old home saved to them, and that would supplement nicely Miss Belinda’s stiff note, written after the first shock of finding the check was over. For the old Scrannage pride had somehow melted away, in a fashion that probably would have surprised the old squire, who had not much else to hand down to them but his crotchety disposition and the mortgage. And Bella Drysdale was invited to stay a few days with Grace, who was in the seventh heaven of delight that Phronsie Pepper was now really her cousin.

And dear Mrs. Beebe had a pretty new cap that had a great deal of pink ribbon about it, that Phronsie had bought abroad for her, and sent home by Polly. Barby and Elyot begged so hard to carry the box containing it down to the little shoe-shop, that they were bundled into the pony-cart one fine morning, and Johnson took them down, each holding fast to the box between them. And old Mr. Beebe protested, at the trying on that began at once, that he never had seen a cap in all his life that was so beautiful nor so becoming—oh! and the shops in the village were all to be closed on the day of the fête, so that everybody, old as well as young, could be at “The Oaks.” And the long supper-tables were to be set on the upper lawn, and the lower as well, where the terraces ended; and the little brown house, filled like a very bower of flowers, would be open from morning till night to guests—for was not this to be Phronsie’s own dear, sweet home?

Oh! and the ground was broken a little distance off in the beautiful old meadow, where the “Five Little Peppers” used to play when any moments in their busy childhood allowed; and there, near the old apple-tree, was to be laid the corner-stone—a beautiful block of marble from Roslyn’s Roman studio—of the new studio that was to rise very soon. And this was to be put in place on the fête day.

Was there anything that was beautiful and bright and joyful that was not to be crowded into that blessed day?

And Johnny Fargo, his burns all well, after many repentant talks cuddled up in Polly’s lap, was comforted. And one day he tugged in a poor, lean cat, found nobody knew where. “She’ll like it,” he said stoutly, “when she comes home; and I shall give it to her.”

And every farmhouse dotted here and there around the hill that overtopped Badgertown Centre had letters from city folk for the next two weeks, to know if they would take boarders about that time, and there wasn’t a farmer’s wife who said “No.” And the hotel in Hingham had all it could do to get ready for the friends who were going there. And the steamer was hurrying over the sea, that was bringing Phronsie and her husband, Grandpapa, Mamsie, little Doctor Fisher, Charlotte Chatterton, and Ben.

At last the day arrived, one of September’s most golden ones, when Mr. Marlowe telegraphed, “Steamer in. Take the 12.10 train for Badgertown.” And all the good old town, in waiting for this same beautiful message, hurried to the little station, at the signal from the church chimes.

The schoolma’am down at the little schoolhouse on the road to Spot Pond dismissed her scholars instantly on the first note, and tied on her bonnet, locked her door, and put the key in her pocket, to hurry off with the rest.

Over the roads to the little station they came by twos and threes, and in wagons and carryalls, and everything that could be drawn by a horse. And down around the hill wound an ox-team or two; and every child held a little nosegay—and then there were the flower maidens, gay with their baskets of blooms. Oh, old Badgertown was in its gala dress! While as for the small station, when they arrived it looked like a flower-garden indeed!

“How can we ever wait, Jasper?” cried Polly, the color flying in and out of her cheeks, as they found their way out, from among the groups of waiting people, to the end of the platform; “isn’t it almost time they should be here?”

“Almost,” said Jasper with shining eyes, and looking at his watch for the fiftieth time; “only ten more minutes, Polly, and the train will be due.”

“Ten horrible minutes!” cried Polly, wrinkling her brows. “O Jasper! keep me off here, or I shall disgrace myself before Barby and Elyot. They are so patient,” with a glance in their direction.

“Good reason why,” said Jasper with a laugh; “they’ve all those flower-girls and nosegay children to supervise. See! they are in the very thickest of the crowd, Polly.”

“Well, they must come with us,” said Polly in a tremor, “or they’ll lose the first sight. Oh, do bring them, Jasper!”

“And Johnny and King,” cried Jasper, flying off. “Here, you children, the whole bunch of you, this way!”

But Barby and Elyot, deep in the charms of the Badgertown children, were so excited that they did not hear. “I’ll get ’em,” said Johnny running up; and immediately he dashed off and flushed and triumphant, brought the two little Kings.

“Children,” said Polly with a happy ring in her voice, “you’ll lose seeing Aunt Phronsie and Uncle Roslyn come in if you do not stand close by papa and me. Thank you, Johnny,” with a bright smile to him “for telling them.”

“And I’ll get King now,” cried Johnny, his little heart bumping with pleasure that he had helped Mrs. King. “Hooray, here, King!” and he flashed off at a sight of him in one of the groups, while Barby and Elyot, aghast at what they might have missed, clung close to Polly’s hand.

Just then up stepped the first selectman, and touched his hat, “We’ve arranged a place for you, Mr. King and Mrs. King and family,” he said, “if you’ll come this way.” And he led off importantly through the groups of townspeople, to whom Polly nodded happily and Jasper raised his hat, to the other end of the platform. And there, on a staging a little higher than the platform, and trimmed about with evergreens and flowers, was a little waiting-place reserved for them.

“Oh, how perfectly lovely, Mr. Bunce,” cried Polly, “for you to do all this for us!”

“It is so good of you,” said Jasper heartily.

“Ye can see the train come in around the curve,” said Mr. Bunce straightening up, with conscious pride in every feature of his face. “And the conductor’s goin’ to stop it right at this pint. Glad you like it all, Mr. King,” he said; “th’ s’lectmen’ll be pleased.”

“Indeed, how could we help it!” cried Jasper with feeling. “We shall never forget all that you have done this day, Mr. Bunce.”

“When’ll the train come!” begged Barby, pulling the first selectman by the arm; “say, when will it? I want it very much, I do.”

“Oh, you’ll see her a-comin’ around that curve pretty soon,” said Mr. Bunce, taking her soft little palm in his stubby one. “Look sharp, now!”

So Barby stood on tiptoe, and Elyot and the other boys did the same.

“I’ll get you a chair to stand on,” said Mr. Bunce, hurrying into the station to bring one out; then he put Barby on it. “And now I’ll get Rev. Mr. Pepper and Mr. David, for you want to be all together;” and he shambled off, Elyot and King and Johnny swarming upon the chair to look over Barby’s fat little shoulders.

“I don’t believe it will ever come,” began Barby, as Joel rushed up and swung her to his broad shoulder with Elyot on the other, and David hoisted King. Johnny stuck to the chair, when—“Here it comes! Here it comes!” and all the white handkerchiefs came fluttering out, as the country folk hurried up; the children with the flower-baskets, drawn up in two lines, gathered their hands full of pretty blossoms; the old stage, decked with garlands and festoons, with Mr. Tisbett resplendent in his Sunday clothes on the box, drove up around a waiting corner with a flourish, to the platform front. And there was Phronsie and Roslyn! and old Mr. King, his handsome white head bared to the sun, was bowing to right and to left, while Mamsie and little Doctor Fisher, with Ben and Charlotte Chatterton brought up the rear.

And then arose a mighty cheer from the throats of the village people! And the flowers were strewn, and the little nosegays were thrown, and the whole bunch of Peppers, big and little, passed up through the blossom-covered path. And Phronsie was helped into the old flower-decked stage right gallantly by Grandpapa, who turned, and bowed low to the Badgertown people. “I thank you, my dear friends,” he said, “for this tribute to the one whom we all love.” And then Jasper said something to him in a low voice. “And thank you, Mr. Tisbett,” said old Mr. King, his hat still in his hand, and he put up his other palm to grasp that of the stage-driver’s, “for asking me to drive up too.”

Mr. Tisbett thought he should fall off from the driver’s box with pride and delight after that.

And then away—Phronsie smiling into the faces of the village people, and Roslyn, tall and handsome beside her, bowing his thanks for this tribute to her. Was there ever such a home-coming before?

“Now, if it won’t rain,” gasped Alexia, on the edge of it all, “to-morrow, O Pickering!” as they ran for their dog-cart, and drove off to “The Oaks,” by a short cut.

“Never you fear, Alexia,” said Pickering; “and if it does, nothing can spoil this Badgertown welcome. It was the finest thing possible.”

“That may be,” said Alexia; “but ‘The Oaks’ fête to-morrow—that will be absolutely perfect. Do hurry, Pickering; we must get there to see them drive up.”

And it not only did not rain on the morrow, but was another golden day for Phronsie. The arches were all up on the lawns at an early hour, and so was the marriage-bell of white orchids; while the Dunraven children were in readiness to march, to be followed by Susan’s “Welcome-Home” song. The rose-trimmed tables couldn’t take on another blossom; while as for the little brown house—well, it was a bower of roses, from the old front door clear through to the “Provision Room.”

And Phronsie, in her soft white gown trimmed with white orchids, and her tall young husband, destined to be so soon famous, moved around with old Mr. King to all the groups, welcoming and making happy every one—for it was to be an all-day fête, with music and games for the little ones, and flowers, collation, supper, and wedding-cake for everybody.

And Jasper was toast-master when everybody was seated at the long rose-trimmed tables, and right royally did he manage that ceremony. And Mr. Bunce, the first selectman, responded for the town of Badgertown, covering himself with glory; and Grandpapa responded for Phronsie right gallantly. And then she rose in her place by her husband, in the centre of the table, and Roslyn stood by her side. “I thank you all very much,” said Phronsie in a clear voice, “for all you have done for us. We shall never forget it. And we love you very much indeed, and we are glad to make our home here with you in dear old Badgertown.”

And then everybody got out of their chairs, and waved their handkerchiefs,—a white, fluttering cloud,—and tears of joy were on many cheeks; and then Roslyn May was called on for a speech, and a splendid one it was too, that all the village folk cheered mightily. And Mr. Mason Whitney and Mr. Marlowe spoke, and Ben and David, and there were many calls for Joel. And Pickering Dodge had a word or two to say; and Rev. Mr. Henderson, oh!—“it was a goodly wedding-breakfast, and,” as Alexia said, “just absolutely perfect.”

“Oh, dear, dear, dear!” she gasped to Mrs. Fargo, after the feast was over, “it seems as if I couldn’t bear any more bliss. But do look at Charlotte Chatterton and Ben. Now will you tell me there is nothing in it?”

“I didn’t say there was nothing in it,” said Mrs. Fargo with a keen glance at the two.

“But you were cool as an oyster when I tried to tell you about it long ago,” retorted Alexia. “Oh, dear me!—well, we mustn’t stand here talking; they are going to dedicate the studio now, and lay the corner-stone.”

And when this was over, and the block of marble from Roslyn’s studio from across the sea was laid in place on the old Badgertown meadow, to be made famous over two continents, then, at a signal from Rev. Mr. Henderson, the little children from the Dunraven Home marched around Phronsie and her husband, each giving her a white rose as they passed. And Susan sent all her young heart into her “Welcome-Home” song; and everybody applauded her, but she saw only Phronsie’s smile.

“Whoever would have thought that little black creature, that terrorized us all so that Christmas Day at Dunraven, would turn out such a beautiful singer?” said David.

“A good many things turn out differently from what we expect,” said Mamsie with a smile, “and that’s the best of it.”

Joel looked into Amy Loughead’s blue eyes, “Yes, that’s the best of it,” he said.

Well, the best of all this beautiful fête was yet to come. It was at sundown, when some of the people, those who had far to drive, were beginning to talk of going home, and were gathering up their little children and saying “good-by.” Jasper called “Attention!” and announced that his brother, Mr. Roslyn May, had something to say to them all. So they turned back where he stood with Phronsie by his side in the centre of the lawn; and when the large circle was formed, and all was quite still, he said in a strong, clear voice,—

“My wife wishes me to tell you that she desires to mark this beautiful day by a gift to the people of Badgertown, to show her love for you all. She has therefore asked her brother Jasper to buy for her the Peters homestead, and all the land belonging to it, and to keep this purchase a secret until to-day. Added to this, she presents to the town this check,” he held it aloft,—those who were nearest could see that there were several figures upon its face,—“that a free library may be built and maintained, imposing only one condition, and that is, that the name of the library shall be the ‘Horatio King Library of Badgertown.’ Mr. Bunce, as first selectman, will you take charge of this bit of paper?”

Didn’t the people cheer then! The echo of it seemed to reach to Badgertown’s very centre. And some one ran down and set the church-bell to ringing again, a merry peal. And with those joyful notes in their ears, the country folk drove home to their farmhouses, casting many a backward glance at the “Five Little Peppers,” and the little brown house, over which the golden gleams of the setting sun were falling.