"No'm," said Joel, all his misery returning, and hanging his head again.
"Well, you see, I was in great trouble."
Joel looked up quickly. Then his head fell again, to think how he had acted—and she, the rich old Madam Van Ruypen, in trouble! In the first place he couldn't believe his ears; but worse than ever it was for him that he had been bad at such a time.
"The greatest trouble," said the old lady, whereat Joel's chin went lower yet, and his hands twisted together miserably.
"You see Ben, who is the really sensible one among you Peppers," said Madam Van Ruypen, bluntly, "and the one I rely on, wasn't at home. And to think I had gotten myself into such a scrape. Joel, you can't think, I was just about frantic!" She leaned forward, resting both hands on her knees.
"Oh, what was it? What was it?" cried Joel, forgetting all else except this dreadful thing that had happened to her, and, hopping off from his chair, he ran over to her, clutching her morning gown with excited fingers.
Madam Van Ruypen put both strong hands on his shoulders. "I'd gone and written to that washerwoman up in the country to send down some of her children for a visit here. Think of that, Joel Pepper; I must have been crazy!"
Joel drew a long breath, his black eyes fastened on her face.
"And I don't know any more what to do with children, nor what to say to them, for that matter," declared the old lady, dropping her hands in her lap, "than—" she cast her eyes about the apartment, "that table there," bringing them up to the nearest article.
"So I went for you in my trouble," she continued—Joel, not thinking of anything to say, wisely keeping still. "You understand, Joel," with a keen glance at him, "you aren't anyway to be compared with Ben, but seeing I couldn't get him, and two of the three children that are coming are boys, why, I had to make you do to help me out."