Jasper seized his hat, rushed down stairs two steps at a time, nearly overturning Buttons leaning on the post at the foot.
"Oh! beg pardon," said Jasper, quite as if it had been a gentleman he had run against.
"You hain't hurt me none," said Buttons, staggering back to his support, where he craned his neck in curiosity to watch young Mr. King's impatience.
Once out in the park, a half-mile away, his hands thrust in their pockets, Jasper slackened his pace, and breathed freer. Before him seemed to be the little brown house; it was the first time he had seen Mrs. Pepper—and they had just finished their long talk, when the mother had thanked him for rescuing Phronsie from the organ-grinder. The five little Peppers were begging him to come over again to see them, but Mrs. Pepper laid her hand on his arm. "Be sure, Jasper," she warned, "that your father is willing." He could see her black eyes looking down into his face. What would she say now?
Jasper threw himself down on one of the seats under a friendly tree. "At least, Polly, you sha'n't be ashamed of me," he said in a moment or two, "and dear Mrs. Fisher," then he walked quietly off to make the last preparations that his father had ordered.
* * * * *
"Well, now, Charlotte," said Mrs. Fisher, "you needn't worry, not a single bit," and she went on calmly sorting out the small flannel petticoats in her lap. "That is rather thin," she said, holding up one between her eyes and the light; "King Fisher, how you do kick things out!"
"Mrs. Fisher!" exclaimed Charlotte Chatterton in amazement, "how can you sit picking over flannel petticoats, when perhaps Polly will—oh, do excuse me," she broke off hastily, "for speaking so."
"Polly? I'd trust my girl to know what was sense, and what was nonsense," declared Mother Fisher crisply, and not taking off her attention in the slightest from Baby's petticoats.
"Ar-goo—ar-goo!" screamed little King.