"I don't believe it's so very dreadful much, anyway.""What's yours, Jappy?" asked Polly, "I know yours will be just splendid.""Oh, no, it isn't," said Jasper, smiling brightly, "but as I didn't know what better I could do, I'm going to get a little stand, and then beg some flowers of Turner to fill it, and--""Why, that's mine!" screamed Percy, in the greatest disappointment. "That's just what I was going to do!""Hoh, hoh!" shouted Van; "I thought you wouldn't tell, Mr. Percy! hoh, hoh!"
"Hoh, hoh!" echoed Dick.
"Hush," said Jappy. "Why, Percy, I didn't know as you had thought of that," he said kindly. "Well, then, you do it, and I'll take something else. I don't care as long as Mrs. Pepper gets 'em.""I didn't exactly mean that," began Percy; "mine was roots and little flowers growing.""He means what he gets in the woods," said Polly, explaining;"don't you, Percy?"
"Yes," said the boy. "And then I was going to put stones and things in among them to make them look pretty.""And they will," cried Jasper. "Go ahead, Percy, they'll look real pretty, and then Turner will give you some flowers for the stand, Iknow; I'll ask him to-morrow."
"Will you?" cried Percy, "that'll be fine!"
"Mine is the best," said Van, just at this juncture; but it was said a little anxiously, as he saw how things were prospering with Percy;"for my flowers in the picture will always be there, and your old roots and things will die.""What will yours be, then, Jappy?" asked Polly very soberly. "The stand of flowers would have been just lovely! and you do fix them so nice," she added sorrowfully.
"Oh, I'll find something else," said Jappy, cheerfully, who had quite set his heart on giving the flowers. "Let me see--I might carve her a bracket.""Do," cried Polly, clapping her hands enthusiastically. "And do carve a little bird, like the one you did on your father's.""I will," said Jasper, "just exactly like it. Now, we've got something to do, before we welcome the 'little brown house' people--so let's fly at it, and the time won't seem so long."And at last the day came when they could all say--To-morrow they'll be here!
Well, the vines were all up; and pots of lovely climbing ferns, and all manner of pretty green things had been arranged and re-arranged a dozen times till everything was pronounced perfect;and a big green "Welcome" over the library door, made of laurel leaves, by the patient fingers of all the children, stared down into their admiring eyes as much as to say, "I'll do my part!""Oh, dear," said Phronsie, when evening came, and the children were, as usual, assembled on the rug before the fire, their tongues running wild with anticipation and excitement, "I don't mean to go to bed at all, Polly; I don't truly.""Oh, yes, you do," said Polly laughing; "then you'll be all fresh and rested to see mammy when she does come.""Oh, no," said Phronsie, shaking her head soberly, and speaking in an injured tone. "I'm not one bit tired, Polly; not one bit.""You needn't go yet, Phronsie," said Polly. "You can sit up half an hour yet, if you want to.""But I don't want to go to bed at all," said the child anxiously, "for then I may be asleep when mamsie comes, Polly.""She's afraid she won't wake up," said Fercy, laughing. "Oh, there'll be oceans of time before they come, Phronsie.""What is oceans," asked Phronsie, coming up and looking at him, doubtfully.
"He means mamsie won't get here till afternoon," said Polly, catching her up and kissing her; "then I guess you'll be awake, Phronsie, pet."So Phronsie allowed herself to be persuaded, at the proper time, to be carried off and inducted into her little nightgown. And when Polly went up to bed, she found the little pin-cushion, with its hieroglyphics, that she had insisted on taking to bed with her, still tightly grasped in the little fat hand.
"She'll roll over and muss it," thought Polly; "and then she'll feel bad in the morning. I guess I'd better lay it on the bureau."So she drew it carefully away, without awaking the little sleeper, and placed it where she knew Phronsie's eyes would rest on it the first thing in the morning.
It was going on towards the middle of the night when Phronsie, whose exciting dreams of mamsie and the boys wouldn't let her rest quietly, woke up; and in the very first flash she thought of her cushion.
"Why, where--" she said, in the softest little tones, only half awake, "why, Polly, where is it?" and she began to feel all around her pillow to see if it had fallen down there.
But Polly's brown head with its crowd of anticipations and busy plans was away off in dreamland, and she breathed on and on perfectly motionless.
