Aunt Amelia was going to the city, shopping, and Ellen, with Caroline, was to stay at home.
Ellen didn't mind, for she had a busy day before her. She was making a summer house for the Popovers out under the apple tree. She had gathered little stones and pebbles wherever she might find them. She had a whole pailful, a red seashore pail filled to the brim. She meant to fence off a bedroom, a living room, and a kitchen for the Popover family that very morning.
'The Popovers need country air,' said Ellen, 'and this is the best air, under the apple tree.'
Aunt Amelia and Ellen stood on the porch steps saying good-bye.
'Do just what Caroline tells you,' said Aunt Amelia, 'and perhaps there will be something in my bag for a good girl when I come home tonight.'
Ellen put both arms about Aunt Amelia's neck and hugged her close.
'Do you think,' whispered Ellen, "that I could have jam for my luncheon, so that I won't miss you so much? The jam we had yesterday is all gone. Caroline told me so.'
Aunt Amelia nodded with a smile.
'You certainly may have jam for your luncheon,' said she, 'and you may get it from the preserve closet yourself, if you like. Do you know what kind you want?'
'Cherry' answered Ellen promptly. 'It is my favorite. And I will know it on the shelf because I can see the cherries through the jar.'
Ellen waved until Aunt Amelia turned the corner. Then, packing the Popovers into a little brown basket, she carried them out under the apple tree.
She seated them comfortably against the root of the tree and for a long time the Popovers watched Ellen hard at work, building their summer house.
She sorted the pebbles, the large from the small. She laid them in long lines, as straight as a string. She turned the corners nicely, with the greatest of care. And when Ellen had built a bedroom, a living room, and a kitchen, she felt warm and tired and quite ready to stop.
'I think I will go down now to the preserve closet after my jam,' said Ellen to the Popovers. 'And you must come with me, for I am afraid to leave you here. Blinky might get you.'
So into the little brown basket went the Popovers and down into the cellar trudged Ellen, for there stood the preserve closet, as Ellen well knew.
'Do you hear Caroline?' asked Ellen of the Popovers as she climbed slowly down the cellar stairs.
Yes, the Popovers heard a swish, swish, swish from above, though they made Ellen no answer, but stared at her with unwinking eyes.
'That is Caroline sweeping,' said Ellen. 'She is upstairs in Aunt Amelia's room. I can tell. She is busy, so she mustn't be bothered about the jam. Now you sit down on the floor outside the closet, and when I come out you must guess what kind of jam I have.'
The Popovers were ranged in a row along the closet wall, and with a farewell smile Ellen pulled open the door and stepped inside.
The preserve closet was built across one end of the cellar. It was lined with shelves, and on those shelves stood jars of all sizes, filled with all kinds of good things.
There were jars of jelly, currant and crab apple and grape. There were pickled peaches and pickled pears and pickled water melon rind. There was orange marmalade and peach marmalade, and great jars of preserved blackberries and raspberries, too. There was quince preserve and plum preserve. There was jar after jar filled with pickles, too.
But best of all Ellen liked the shelf where stood the jams, strawberry, raspberry, blackberry, peach, and Ellen's favorite, great tall jars of rich red cherry jam.
Straight to this corner went Ellen, and after studying the jars for a moment picked out the tallest jar of cherry jam that she could find.
Then she sat down on the chair Caroline kept in the closet to stand on and held her jar up to the light. Although Aunt Amelia called this cherry jam, the cherries were left in it round and whole and Ellen could see them plainly as the light from the window shone through the jar. The color was a deep ruby red, the cherries looked plump and sweet, and Ellen was so pleased that she hugged the jar, in its neat paper cap, close in her arms as she sat far back in the comfortable old chair. She thought the preserve closet a pleasant place in which to rest a moment, and so it was.
In the first place the room was as neat as a pin, not a speck of dust anywhere. Caroline would not have it otherwise. Then, too, it was cool and shady. Yet it was not lonely in the least, for in at the open window, closely screened, nodded the ivy that covered the side of the house, pink flowers from the Rose of Sharon bush fluttered sociably down on the grass, and a plump brown robin strutted past the window, looking so important that Ellen laughed to see him go by.
Outside the closet door in the quiet of the cellar the Popovers felt sleepy. Inside the closet in her comfortable chair, Ellen felt drowsy, too.
She twisted round in the chair, she put up her arm for a pillow, and with the cherry jam lying snugly in her lap Ellen fell asleep.
Upstairs Caroline finished her sweeping. She dusted and tidied the rooms. She swept her way down the stairs, she swept her way through the hall, and when she stepped into the kitchen Caroline looked at the clock and saw that it was past the hour for luncheon.
'Ellen will be faint with hunger, playing so nicely out under the trees, too,' thought Caroline.
She made haste to prepare luncheon, and presently she stepped out under the apple tree to call Ellen in.
Of course there was no Ellen there, not even a Popover to smile up into Caroline's face. Blinky was there, stretched out asleep in the Popover's dining room, but he didn't know where Ellen was, even if he could have told.
Then Caroline called to Ellen, over and over again, and Ellen, asleep in the preserve closet, heard not a single sound.
Caroline hurried into the house. She looked all round downstairs and upstairs and even in the attic. And she saw no sign of Ellen no matter where she looked.
Then Caroline became frightened. She stood out on the sidewalk, gazing up and down the street. Oh, how she longed to see the figure of a little girl with yellow curls and a blue dress come running toward her! Oh, how she wished Aunt Amelia had not gone away ! Oh, how she wished that Uncle Henry were at home to help! What should she do next? Where should she look for Ellen?
While Caroline stood there, her pleasant face puckered into a hundred anxious wrinkles, across the way there came strolling a tall policeman, swinging his stout stick.
Caroline knew him well. His wife was the aunt of Caroline's cousin. So Caroline eagerly beckoned Mr. James to come over and in less than two minutes' time she had told him how Ellen had disappeared.
'I don't think she has gone down the street,' said Caroline, shaking her head. ' She is a good child. She wouldn't run away.'
'Let us go through the house again,' said Mr. James. 'I think we shall find her there.'
So Caroline and Mr. James went through the house, and Mr. James peered in places where Caroline had not thought to look, behind boxes and in closets and even under beds.
At last the cellar was reached and still no Ellen had been found until the Popover family was seen leaning up against a wall near the cellar closet door. Soon Mr. James, Caroline and a very sleepy Ellen were reunited inside the cellar where jars of jams, pickles and jellies were stacked for the winter.
Caroline hugged Ellen because she was not lost. Then the Popovers were put in their basket and every one went upstairs, Ellen holding fast to her jar of cherry jam.
Mr. James was obliged to go, though Caroline and Ellen invited him to stay to luncheon. And Caroline drank four cups of tea, she was so upset, and Ellen ate all the cherry jam she wanted.
But the Popovers were the happiest of all, for when they were alone and could talk outloud Mr. Popover said:
'If it hadn't been for us, sitting there by the closet door, Mr. James and Caroline might never have found Ellen.'
And so all the Popovers believe to this very day.
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