The Adventures of Joel Pepper | Page 4

of the parcels of
coats and sacks Mrs. Pepper had taken to sew.
"Won't it be most beautiful when we can write on the white paper,
Polly?" he cried, as he ran back into the kitchen, waving the brown
paper at her.
Polly set the precious copy along the top of the white foolscap, straight
on the table.
"Oh, that will be a long time, Davie," she said, gazing in an awe-struck
way at the array of wonderful letters Parson Henderson had made for
them. "Mamsie won't ever let us try until we can make 'em good and
straight. O dear me, I don't s'pose I'll ever get a chance." She sighed;
for writing bothered Polly dreadfully. "The old pen twists all up
whenever I get it in my hand, and everything goes crooked."
"Oh, Polly, you're going to write real nice, by and by," said little Davie,
setting down the brown paper, and smoothing out the creases. "Now
where's the ink-bottle? Let me get it, Polly, do," he begged, running
over to the corner cupboard.
"No, you mustn't, Dave," said Polly in alarm, "you'll spill it. I'll get it,"
hurrying after him.
"I won't spill it, Polly"--but Polly was already on her tiptoes, and lifting
down the old black ink-horn that had been Father Pepper's. "Isn't it nice
that Mrs. Henderson filled it up for us so good?" she said, carrying it
over carefully to set on the table. "You can get the pen, Davie."
So David ran over to the shelf where, in a corner behind the little china

mug given to Phronsie when she was a baby, lay the pen in its long
black holder. Getting up on a chair, he seized it.
"If Phronsie hadn't gone with Mamsie, she'd want to write," he said,
"wouldn't she, Polly?" as he hopped down again.
"Yes, indeed," said Polly, drawing up the inkstand into the best place,
and sighing. "Well, dear me, I'd ever so much rather hold her hand
while she writes, than to do it myself." And she gave a long stretch.
"Then you wouldn't ever learn yourself," said little Davie, wisely, and
putting the pen down carefully.
"No," said Polly, with a little laugh, "I s'pose I shouldn't, Davie." O
dear me, she thought, I ought not to laugh when Joel's in there all alone
in the provision room. "Well, now we're all ready. I'm just going to
peek and see if he's all right. You stay here, Davie."
With that she hopped off down the little steps to look through the big
crack in the old door of the provision room.
"Why--where--" she started back and rubbed her eyes, and stared again.
"Oh! Davie," she screamed. Then she clapped her hands over her
mouth. "It never'd do to scare him," she said. And she opened the
provision room door and rushed in. The old stool stood in the middle of
the floor, but there was no Joel to be seen.
Polly ran here and there. "Joel--_Joel_!" she cried, peering into every
corner, and looking into the potato bag and behind some boxes that the
storekeeper had given the boys to make things out of, and that were
kept as great treasures. "O dear me, what shall I do? I must tell Davie
now, so he can help me find him--" when she heard a funny noise, and
rushing outside, she heard Joel say, "Don't come, Polly, he's 'most
dead."
Polly gave a gasp, and bounded to his side, as Joel flopped around on
the ground, his back toward her, his black eyes fastened on something
doubled up in his fists.
"O dear me, Joel, what is it?" cried Polly, bending over him.
"Ow--go way!" roared Joel, twisting worse than ever, and squeezing his
brown hands together tightly; "he'll get away, maybe, and bite you."
"Oh, he'll bite you, Joe," cried Polly, in great alarm. "O dear me, let me
see what it is! I can help, Joel, I can help."
She flung herself down on the ground close to his side. Just then out
rushed Davie from the provision room.

"Keep him away, keep him away," screamed Joel, trying to turn his
back on both of them. But Polly caught sight of a dangling thing
hanging from his clenched hands.
"Oh, Joel!" She gave one scream, "It's a snake!"
"I know it," said Joel, trying to twitch back again; "it's an ugly mean
old adder, Polly, but he's most dead. I've squeezed his neck."
"Let me see him," cried Polly. "Turn around, Joel. I'll help you. O dear
me!" as Joel whirled back, the long body of the snake flopping from
one side to the other. "If he'd keep still, I could cut off his tail high up.
I'll go and get the hatchet--" and she ran