"Who?"
"Madam—Madam—"
"Madam Van Ruypen?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, what does she want? Out with it. You're not to do it if you don't wish to, of course, so what's the use in feeling so? What does she want you to do, Joe?"
"She wants me to go over to see those—those boys," said Joel, in a burst.
"What boys, pray tell?" demanded Grandpapa, a trifle impatiently.
"Those boys who've just come," said Joel, "the washerwoman's boys. O dear!" He had great difficulty now in keeping the tears back; still, he managed it after a fashion.
"Whatever in the world are you talking of?" cried the old gentleman, helplessly. "Polly, come here, my child, and see if you can make any sense of what this boy is saying. I'm sure it is beyond me."
"Now, Joel," Polly was saying, and she had her hands on the ones hanging to the chair-arm, "you must just tell the whole thing so that we can understand what it is about, for you are making Grandpapa sick, and he has just come home," she added, reproachfully.