The Adventures of Joel Pepper | Page 3

can't," said Davie, slowly, and turning his
back to the red rag-wagon waiting out in the road. He twisted his
fingers hard, and kept saying, "No, I don't want to go, Polly, if Joel
can't."
"All right, Davie," said Polly, beginning to cuddle him; "only you must
remember, Mr. Biggs won't go again this summer out to Mrs.
Pettingill's, most likely."
Davie shook his head again, and twisted his fingers worse than ever. "I
don't want to go if Joel can't," he said, while Joel roared harder still, if
that were possible. So Polly had to run down the grassy slope to
overtake Mr. Biggs, who was now getting up into his red cart, in front
of the dangling tin dishes, brooms, and pails with which it was filled.
"If you please, sir," she said, the rosy color all over her cheek, "there
can't either of the boys go."
"Hey? What's the matter with the littlest one," cried Mr. Biggs, turning
around with one foot on the shaft. "Is he took sick, too?"
"No--no," said Polly, clasping her hands in distress, "but he won't go
unless Joel goes. Oh, I do thank you so much, Mr. Biggs, for asking
them."

"Sho now! that's too bad," said the rag-man, his foot still on the shaft,
and his big face wrinkled perplexedly. "Beats all, how suddint they're
took. Now you better give 'em a dose o' pep'mint, marm, both on 'em."
But Polly shook her head as she ran back up the grassy slope again. So
Mr. Biggs had nothing to do but to drive off, which he did, staring hard
at them; and every little while he turned back, to gaze in astonishment
over his shoulder, until the big red wagon went round the slope of the
hill and was lost to view.
"Now, Joel," said Polly, firmly, "you must just stop making such a
noise, and go right into the provision room, and get the stool, and sit
down till I tell you to get up."
To sit down on the old wooden stool in the middle of the provision
room, with the door shut, was one of the worst punishments that Mrs.
Pepper inflicted; and Polly's cheek got quite white. Little Davie, on
seeing this, untwisted his fingers and went up to her. "Don't cry, Polly,"
he said suddenly, as he saw her face, and laid his hand in hers.
Joel stopped roaring, and looked up at her through his tears.
"I'm not going to cry," said Polly, "because I know Joel will be good
now, and go at once and get on his stool in the provision room."
Joel swallowed hard and stumbled up to his feet, wiping his cheeks
with the back of one grimy hand.
"That's right," said Polly; "now go right in and shut the door."
"O dear me," said little Davie, hiding his face in Polly's gown, as Joel
went slowly off. They could hear the provision room door shut. Then
Polly turned. "Oh, Davie," she cried. Then she stopped, at the sight of
his face.
"Now you and I must go in the house and think of something to do for
Mamsie before she gets home," she cried in a cheery burst. So they
both hurried in over the old flat stone.
"Now what will it be, Davie?" asked Polly, with another glance at his
pale little face. "Let's think," she wrinkled her brows in perplexity.
"We can't wash the dishes," said Davie, slowly, standing quite still in
the middle of the old kitchen, "'cause they're all done, Polly."
"No, and we can't wash the floor, 'cause that's all done," said Polly,
wrinkling her forehead worse than ever. "Dear me, we must think of
something, Davie. O dear me, what can it be?"
"We might," said little David, slowly, "try to write some letters, Polly.

That would make Mamsie glad, I guess."
"O dear me," exclaimed Polly, in dismay, "I suppose it would, Davie."
She sighed, and stood quite still.
"I s'pose Mamsie would say, 'How nice,'" said little David, reflectively.
"And you and I ought to get right at it this very minute," declared Polly,
all her energy returning to her after that one dreadful pause, "so come
on." And presently the two had the old table against the wall pulled out
into the middle of the kitchen floor, and Polly ran and got the big piece
of foolscap paper laid away carefully in the upper bureau drawer in the
bedroom. Across the top ran the letters set there by the minister in
obedience to Mrs. Pepper's request.
"I'll get the brown paper--let me, Polly," cried David, quite in his usual
spirits now. And he clambered up, and got out a carefully folded piece
laid away after it had come home wrapped around one