In twenty-one minutes the whole kitchen was as far removed from being the scene of a baking exploit as was possible.  Everything was cleared away, and set up primly in its place, leaving only a row of fine little biscuits and cookies, with Phronsie’s gingerbread boy in the midst, to tell the tale of what had been going on.  Outside there was a great commotion.

Deacon Brown’s old wagon stood at the gate, for the Peppers and their friends; and, oh! joy, not the old horse between the shafts, but a newer and much livelier beast.  And on the straw laid in the bottom of the wagon, the seats being removed, disported all the merry group, Mr. King alone having the dignity of a chair.

Deacon Brown, delighted with his scheme of bringing the wagon over as a surprise for the Peppers to take a drive in, was on the side of the narrow foot-path, chuckling and rubbing his hands together.  “You won’t have to drive so easy as you used to, Ben,” he called out, “this fellow’s chirk; give him his head.  Sho! what you goin’ that way for?” as Ben turned off down the lane.

“To Grandma Bascom’s,” shouted two or three voices.

“Joel’s over there,” sang out Polly.

“We couldn’t go without him, you know,” chirped Phronsie, poking a distressed little face up from the straw heap.

“’Twould serve him just right if we did,” said Van.  “He’s a great chap to stay over there like this.”

“No—­no,” cried Dick in terror, “don’t go without Joel; I’d rather have him than any of you,” he added, not over politely.

Phronsie began to cry piteously at the mere thought of Joel’s being left behind.

“He wanted to see Mr. Beebe,” she managed to say, “and dear Mrs. Beebe.  Oh! don’t go without him.”  So Mr. King made them hand her up to him, and at the risk of their both rolling out, he held her in his lap until the wagon, stopping at the door of Grandma Bascom’s cottage, brought Joel bounding out with a whoop.

“Jolly! where’d you get that, and where are you going?” all in one breath, as he swung himself up behind.

“Deacon Brown brought it over just now,” cried Polly.

“As a surprise,” furnished Percy.  “Isn’t he a fine old chap?  Here’s for the very jolliest go!”

“We’re going to see dear Mr. Beebe, and dear Mrs. Beebe,” announced Phronsie, smiling through her tears, and leaning out of the old gentleman’s lap to nod at him.

“Hurrah!” screamed Joel.  “Good-by, Grandma,” to the old lady, whose cap-frills were framed in the small window.  “I’ve had a fine time in there,” he condescended to say, but nothing further as to the details could they extract from him; and so at last they gave it up, and lent their attention to the various things to be seen as the wagon spun along.  And so over and through the town, and to the very door of the little shoe-shop, and there, to be sure, was Mr. Beebe the same as ever, to welcome them; and Joel found to his immense satisfaction that the stone pot was as full of sugary doughnuts as in the old days; and Phronsie had her pink and white sticks, and Mrs. Beebe “Oh-ed” and “Ah-ed” over them all, and couldn’t bear to let them go when at last it was time to say “good-by.”  And at last they all climbed into the old wagon, and were off again on their round of visits.