Read Ebook: Our Davie Pepper by Sidney Margaret Stephens Alice Barber Illustrator

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Ebook has 3120 lines and 88569 words, and 63 pages

"Mustn't," roared Old Man Peters, shaking the stick at him.

"No," said Davie. "You mustn't," and he tried to edge off farther; but the stick came down across his little calico blouse.

"I'll give you somethin' to make you see that you can't say 'mustn't' to me," said Mr. Peters, bringing the stick down again. "There, you take that!"

Davie was whirling around now so fast that Old Man Peters preferred to try the stick on the little legs instead of the small shoulders in the calico blouse, while he roared, "I'll make you dance. Drop that basket, will you!"

"Here--what you doin'?" somebody called out, and a young man leaped the stone wall. "Hulloa, old Peters, you stop that!"

Old Man Peters turned around. He would have dropped the stick, but the young man saved him the trouble by seizing it to break it into two pieces and toss them into the dusty road.

"He's ben a-sassin' me," cried the old man, pointing to David, who had sunk down on the grass by the side of the road, still hanging to the basket.

"Well, you ain't a-goin' to beat up any boy in Badgertown. Now I tell you, Peters! And who wouldn't sass you, I wonder. Here you, get up," he said, going over to David.

But David showing no inclination to get up, the man turned his face over.

"Well, I'll be blowed, ef tain't one o' th' Pepper children," he exclaimed, starting back. "You've got to take somethin' from me, now I tell you, Old Man Peters!" He pushed up his gray cotton shirt-sleeves and advanced on the old man, "for beatin' up one o' Mis Pepper's boys."

"You git away--tain't nothin' to you, Jim Thompson," cried Mr. Peters, "an' I'll have th' law on you, ef you tetch me!" He put up both horny hands and tried to huddle back of the scrub oak.

"Th' law's got to deal with you, Old Peters, first, an' it'll fall pretty heavy for hurtin' one o' them Pepper children," declared Thompson, dragging him by an angry hand back to the road side.

"David--David Pepper!" screamed the old farmer, "you tell him. I 'ain't hurt ye. Tell him, David. Ow! you let me be, Jim Thompson!"

David looked up and tried to speak. Oh, if Mamsie were only here! Then his head fell down on the dusty road.

"Look at that boy, you old scoundrel!" roared Thompson, cuffing Old Man Peters wherever he got a good chance. Then he flung him to the middle of the road. "Lie there till I can 'tend to you." But the old farmer preferred to attend to himself, and without waiting to pick up his hat that had fallen off in the scuffle, he slunk off as fast as he conveniently could.

"Don't hurt him," begged Davie feebly, as Thompson bent over him. "Oh, I want Mamsie!"

"You're a-goin' to her--I'll take you." The young man lifted him up to his shoulder, Davie still clinging to the basket. "Where did he hurt you?" he asked anxiously.

"I'm not hurt much," said Davie, trying not to cry.

Jim Thompson set his teeth hard. "Here, give me that basket," and holding Davie fast by one arm, he strode off, first kicking Old Man Peters's hat into a neighboring field where it landed in a bog.

"Mamsie--somebody's coming, and he's got a big bundle--how funny," cried Polly, looking out of the window.

"A pedlar, most likely," said Mrs. Pepper, over in the window, trying to finish a coat to go back to Mr. Atkins at the store. The measles were making it extra hard to keep the wolf from the door.

"Well, he won't sell anything here," said Polly with a laugh, and running to the old green door. "Why--" as she flung it open.

It was all over in a minute, and Mrs. Pepper had her boy in her arms. Davie trying to say, "I'm not much hurt," and Polly running for the camphor bottle, while Jim Thompson set down the basket on the floor, where it rolled over and out flew the "quince sass" from the protecting folds of the coat.

"Old Man Peters was a-beatin' him up," said the young farmer, working his hands awkwardly together and wishing he could help.

"Mamsie," said Davie, both hands around her neck, and cuddling up to lay his white cheek against her face, "I didn't let him have the basket--and you are to mend the coat. You can do it so much better, she says, than she can."

"Mrs. Peters, Davie?"

"Yes, and Miss Matilda sent the jelly--no, it isn't jelly--but--I forget--"

"Yes, I know, dear. Now let Mother see where you are hurt."

"Oh, Mamsie!" Polly, flying back with the camphor bottle, was aghast as Mrs. Pepper stripped off the calico blouse.

"Put down the camphor, Polly," said Mother Pepper. Her lips were set very tightly together, and a bright spot burned on either cheek. "Bring Mother the oil bottle and get the roll of old cotton in the lower bureau drawer. Be careful not to wake up Phronsie. Thank you, Mr. Thompson, for bringing home my boy," as Polly ran off.

"I guess I'll go back an' lick Old Man Peters," said the young farmer, turning off to the door.

"Oh, no," Mother Pepper spoke quickly. "Say nothing to him. I'll take care of the matter."

"I'd love to," said Mr. Thompson longingly.

"No--No--" Mrs. Pepper shook her head decidedly. And he went off.

"Oh, Mamsie, that wicked Old Man Peters!" Polly clasped her hands, and her brown eyes blazed. "I just want something dreadful to happen to him," and she hovered over David bolstered up in Mamsie's rocking chair, his legs and little shoulders bound up in old cotton bandages.

"Polly," said Mother Pepper sternly, "never let me hear you say anything like that again."

"I can't help it," said Polly, fighting with the tears. Then she gave it up and ran over to throw herself down on the floor and lay her head in Mother Pepper's lap, "to think of Davie being hurt. Oh, Mamsie!"

Mrs. Pepper shut her lips together, but she smoothed Polly's brown head. "Mother will see to it," she said, "and you must never say anything like that again, Polly. Now wipe your eyes; here comes Dr. Fisher."

"Well--well--well--" cried the little Doctor, coming in cheerily. He was very happy as Ben was getting along splendidly, while as for Phronsie, why she just got better and better every day. Oh, the measles wasn't so very bad after all to fight. But now, here was Davie bolstered up in the big calico-covered chair. O dear, that was too bad!

"Well, my boy," the little Doctor got over to the chair and looked down at him with keen eyes behind the big spectacles, "what's the matter with you?"

"I'm not much hurt," said Davie, "only my legs--they feel the worst."

"Eh?" said Dr. Fisher. Then he set down his bag and looked over at Mrs. Pepper. So then the story had to come out. When it was all told and Dr. Fisher became quiet, for he was almost as bad as Polly in his indignation, and Davie's legs and shoulders had been taken care of, "You don't need to do anything, Mrs. Pepper," he said, "I'll take care of that brute of a man."

And Mother Pepper said just as she had told the young farmer, "Oh, no, I will see to the matter myself."

"Oh, goody--I got the wood all piled at Deacon Blodgett's." In rushed Joel. "Come on, Dave," and he was scurrying over to Mamsie's big chair, when he spied the basket on the floor, for nobody had thought or cared about it. And there was the jar of Matilda's "quince sass" that had rolled off by itself. "Oh," he pounced upon it, "may I have some--may I?" He ran with it to Mrs. Pepper, nearly upsetting the little Doctor on the way.

"Look out there," cried Doctor Fisher; "here, don't run me down, Joe," and then Joel saw Davie propped against the pillows. Down went Matilda's "quince sass" on the kitchen floor, and he threw himself into the chair on top of Davie, poor bandaged legs and all.

The little old kitchen then was in a hubbub. It all had to be explained to Joel, who made things so very dreadful that finally Doctor Fisher said, "I'll take him off, Mrs. Pepper. Hold on to that boy, Polly, till I've had a look at Ben up in the loft. If Phronsie is asleep, she's all right. Then, Joel Pepper, you shall hop into my gig."

MRS. PEPPER ATTENDS TO THE MATTER

Parson Henderson shut the gate with a firm hand, and stepped out into the road.

The parsonage door opened, and the minister's wife ran down the path. "Here, Adoniram, take this to Mrs. Pepper." She put a clean folded napkin, from which came a nice smell of something newly baked, into his hand. "Oh, I do hope Mrs. Pepper will let you see that horrible Mr. Peters," she began anxiously.

"Mrs. Pepper always knows her own mind," said the parson, "and if she wants to attend to the matter, it's not for us, Almira, to interfere." He handled the napkin bundle gingerly and moved off.

"It was perfectly dreadful, Jim Thompson said, and you know he tells the truth, husband." She pattered after him. "Do see if you can't persuade her to let you see Mr. Peters. You know you want to."

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