Ben Pepper (Musaicum Christmas Specials). Sidney Margaret
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fur on," explained Polly, while the younger boys never took their eyes from the transaction. This was quite one of the most important events of the afternoon for Phronsie to choose her own present. Just at this juncture a stout old lady, with a stiff black silk coat that made her bigger than ever, as it had a trick of flying open, and the sides blowing off seemed ready to engulf all unfortunate passers-by, swept past Phronsie, and she disappeared from view for a moment.
"Stop that!" roared Joel, looking up into the soft white puffs above the woman's nose; "you 'most knocked my sister over."
The stately old woman looked down into the chubby face. "You impertinent boy!" she exclaimed, then set her profile disdainfully in the opposite direction and sailed on.
"Oh, Ben!" cried Polly, in consternation, all the color gone out of her face; "what shall we do?"
"Here, pet," and Ben swung Phronsie up to his shoulder. "Now, that's the best place for you in such a crowd."
"I want a truly cat," Phronsie kept saying from her perch, and, swinging her feet delightedly, she grasped Ben's neck so tightly it seemed as if he could hardly breathe; and his face got very red.
"I tell you we haven't got any live cats," declared the saleswoman, impatiently, and slamming the glass door beneath. "Here's a china one," and she set it on the counter.
"Oh, no!" Phronsie shook her head. Polly meanwhile had been looking after the stately old woman, and clasping and unclasping her hands nervously. It wouldn't take but a minute to go after her, for the big figure had paused in front of the doll counter, and say how sorry she was, for he was her brother, and would she please to excuse it? And without stopping to think, Polly dashed off through the crowd, no one of the little bunch of Peppers seeing her go, as they were lost in the transaction that was to get Phronsie her cat.
She plunged up suddenly to the side of the stiff black silk coat, now wedged in against the overcrowded counter, its owner by no means in the best temper at her failure to attract any saleswoman to wait on her.
"Oh, ma'am," Polly looked up into the impatient face, and everything she had intended to say flew right out of her mind, for the white puffs seemed to stand right out like mountains, and the Roman nose was so very dreadful. "My brother," was all she could manage to say.
"Hey?" The stately old woman laid down a doll and glared at her. "My brother," began Polly, wishing that she was back with the others. If only she could catch a glimpse of Ben, but the intervening crowd surged in waves between her and the spot where she had left them, so that they were swallowed up. Meantime there was that dreadful old woman, with her cold, sharp eyes just like gimlets boring her through and through, and waiting for her to finish what she had to say.
"My brother," began Polly, faintly, and her head dropped, "said something naughty to you."
"Well?" said the old lady, and she turned her back on the doll counter as far as she was able for being wedged in so, and this time Polly felt that she must make herself understood. Besides, the people on either side were beginning to be interested, and were nudging each other not to miss this funny thing.
So she began quite decidedly, determined to be brave and say it all through. "My brother—" But the stately old lady broke in, "I don't know anything about your brother, nor you, girl, and if you speak to me again, I shall call the proprietor," and she shook with indignation till all the jingling jet things, and there seemed to be a great many under her silk coat, made a great commotion.
"I came to ask you to forgive my brother who spoke to you because you brushed against my little sister." Polly was speaking so fast now, a little red spot on either cheek, that the stately old woman had to hear. "It was naughty of him, and Mamsie would be sorry."
"Naughty?" The old lady gasped for breath; it was such a new idea to ask her to forgive a saucy boy; still, she couldn't make any other reply than "It was scandalous, and you are nearly as bad, interrupting me in the midst of my Christmas shopping." Then she turned to the dolls again, leaving Polly to stumble back as best she might to the place where she had left Ben and the children. But they were not there.
III
HAPS AND MISHAPS
"I want Polly," Phronsie was saying, wholly lost now to the fact that the "really truly cat" for Grandpapa had not been found. "Bensie, I do!"
"Yes, Phronsie," Ben made out to say, holding her hand fast; "we'll see her pretty soon."
"She's lost!" cried Joel, wildly, who up to this time had been so diverted by the bewildering array of tin soldiers, drums, and express wagons displayed on all sides as they threaded their way in among the crowds that surrounded the counters and shelves, that he hadn't given his mind to anything else. "She's lost, Polly is!" he ended with a howl.
At this direful announcement Phronsie gave one cry, then she sat right down on the floor and lifted up her voice, "I want Polly!"
It was impossible to quiet her, and everybody in the immediate vicinity turned and stared. A small girl, trying to decide between a woolly dog and a pig, both of whose charms had held her for the past ten minutes, laid them down on the counter and ran over to the place where the cry came from. When she saw the little group she pushed in between them. "O dear me!" she cried to Phronsie, sitting there in a small heap and sobbing pitifully, "how'd she get hurt?"
Little David made way for her instantly, but Joel, who had stopped his wails in surprise at her appearance, stood his ground. "Go away," he said, his black eyes shining through his tears.
The small girl paid no attention to him. "How'd she get hurt?" she kept on asking.
"She isn't hurt," said Ben, not looking up as he knelt on the floor and wiped Phronsie's streaming tears with his handkerchief. "There, there, Phronsie, stop crying."
"O dear me!" exclaimed the girl; "what a little goose to cry!" and she laughed derisively.
"She isn't a goose," cried Joel, in a loud, injured tone; "my sister isn't a goose; so now you just take that back, you girl, you!"
"Joel," commanded Ben, sternly, "stop this moment," just as a floor-walker stalked up. "You're blocking the way," he said with a great deal of official manner, "and you must just take yourselves off out of this aisle."
Little David, who up to this time, clasping and unclasping his hands nervously, had said nothing, now looked up into the cross face. "We've lost Polly," he exclaimed.
The floor-walker, not understanding, repeated to Ben, "You've just got to get out of this aisle."
But the small girl had heard. "O dear me!" she exclaimed again; "now that's perfectly dreadful," and she sat right down by Phronsie's side. "I'll go and find her for you," she said, putting her hands on Phronsie's two small ones, doubled up in the folds of the fur-trimmed coat. "And I'm sorry I called you a goose. Don't cry, I'll bring her back."
Phronsie, astonished out of her grief, and hearing the welcome words, "I'll bring her back," looked up radiantly, the tears trailing off down the round cheeks, while Joel, whose face had become a lively red, blurted out, "And I'm sorry I was bad to you," staring at the girl.
"Oh, I didn't mind you," said the girl, carelessly. "Now, who is Polly?" She looked at Ben as she spoke. Meanwhile, she was helping Phronsie to her feet. "Here she is now, I guess." She gave a sharp, birdlike glance between the crowd, then started off like a flash, winding herself in and out of the throng, and up to a girl a little bigger than herself. "Are you Polly?" she demanded breathlessly.
Polly, rushing along, searching one side and the other frantically for a glimpse of Ben's blue cap and sturdy shoulders (she hadn't much hope of seeing the children, for the crowd was very thick just here), hurried on, scarcely hearing the words.
"Because if you are, she wants you, the little girl does. And I guess they all do," said the girl, rushing after.
"Where are they?" cried Polly, turning