The parson’s face fell gloomily.
“There’s Ben,—it will come desperately hard on him,” he said.
“Ben will make up his mind to bear it—he is the oldest—and he is such a strong boy,” said Mrs. Henderson quickly. “The one I am worrying about the most is Davie.”
“Poor Davie will take it pretty hard, I am afraid.”
“And he will keep it all in on account of Mrs. Pepper, and it will wear on him terribly. O dear me!” Mrs. Henderson now looked so very miserable that her husband lost thought of the Peppers and turned to comfort her.
“See here, Almira,” he cried, “we are acting badly, both of us. What sort of example, pray tell, are we to the little-brown-house people. We’ve simply got to cheer up.”
“So I will,” cried his wife, trying to smile; “I’m ashamed of myself. And now that Polly is really going, I mustn’t stay here talking any longer, when I could help to get her ready. There’s that old brown merino dress of mine; it’s been up in the attic for I don’t know how long, I shall make it over for her.” She drew her hand away from his arm and ran down the path ahead of him. “I’ve a fine chance to get the pattern of Polly’s calico gown, now that the children are all away in the woods to-day.”
“The children all away in the woods!” repeated the parson in surprise.
“Yes, Mrs. Pepper told me yesterday that she was going to let them have that treat. Polly has been wanting it so long. And it would help to cheer things up. Oh, I am so glad I took over that little pat of butter. O dear!” for a sudden turn in the path, and there was Miss Jerusha, a scowl on her face.
“Of all things on this earth,” she exclaimed, lifting her long hands, “the silliest is to send that Pepper girl to the City.”