"
"Oh, I can't, Mamsie," protested Davie, in horror, and burrowing in her
arms, "they'll see I've been crying."
"That's the trouble with crying," observed Mother Fisher wisely; "it makes
you twice sorry--once when you're doing it, and the next time when it
shows. You can't help it now, Davie, so run along. Mother wants you to."
If Mother wanted them to, that was always enough for each of the "Five
Little Peppers," so Davie slid slowly down from her lap, and went out and
down the hall.
Meantime Miss Mary had taken Polly's arm in the procession to Jasper's den.
"Oh, Polly, how cheery you have made them!" she exclaimed. "We expected to
see you all perhaps drowned in tears."
"Oh, I haven't done it--anything to make them happy," cried Polly, the wave
of color again flooding her cheeks; "indeed I haven't, Miss Mary. I've been
bad and wicked and horrid," she said penitently, her head drooping.
"Oh, no, Polly," protested Miss Mary, her arm around Polly's waist.
"Yes I have, Miss Mary, I----"
"Well, don't let us talk now about it; we will look at the letters." Miss
Mary drew her within the den. There stood Jasper behind the table perfectly
overflowing with epistles of every sort and size, while little packages,
and some not so very little, either, filled up all the receptacles possible
for mail matter.
"Oh, my, what a lot!" exclaimed everybody, as Joel with a dash precipitated
his handfuls on the already long-suffering pile.
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