Now she smoothed down her front breadth, and folded her hands in a company
way. The parson's wife drew up a kitchen chair close to her side and
unfolded the first letter.
"Who writ that?" asked Grandma eagerly.
"That's from Polly," said Mrs. Henderson.
"Bless her heart!" cried Grandma. "Well, what does she say?"
"Ma"--a light-haired, serious boy appeared in the doorway--"Pa wants you,"
he announced.
"Oh, Peletiah!" exclaimed the parson's wife, in consternation, at his
unlooked-for appearance, and, "Oh, Grandma!" in the same breath, "I'm so
sorry I must go."
"So sorry? What's ben a happenin' that Polly's sorry?" said Grandma,
supposing that was in the letter. "Now I know that blessed little creeter
has got hurt, an' they wouldn't let me know afore the rest."
"It isn't in the letter," declared Mrs. Henderson, in a loud, hasty tone,
hurrying out of her chair. "Peletiah, what does your father want, do you
know?"
"I don't know exactly," said Peletiah deliberately, "only Aunt Jerusha
tumbled down the cellar stairs; maybe that's it."
"Oh, dear me! dear me!" cried the parson's wife, in a great fright.
"Peletiah, here are the letters from the Pepper children"--thrusting them
into his hand--"do you stay and read them to Grandma. And be sure to tell
her why I went home," and she actually ran out of the kitchen, and down the
lilac-bordered path.
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