"An' you worked an' worked on dat ar pincushion," cried Candace, in a loud, wrathful tone. "I can see you now, honey. Don' you 'member how you brung it down here for Candace to match you some pink cord to go right round de aidge?"
"Yes," said Polly, "I remember, Candace."
"An' don' you 'member how I matched dat pink ribbin? Laws, you'd 'a' thought it was jus' made for it, wouldn't you now, Miss Polly?"
"Yes," said Polly, drawing a long sigh, "I should, Candace."
"An' dat orful ole brack monkey has done gone an' chewed up dat nice little pincushion you made all alone by yourself, 'xcept such as I helped you." Candace drew herself up to her full height. "Well, he ought to hab eb'ry single one ob his teef pulled out," she declared, with a bob of her head that nearly unsettled her turban.
"Oh, no, Candace," protested Polly, in a tone of horror.
"Yes, he had, honey," declared Candace, decidedly, "'cause don' you see, he'll be a-chewin' up oder tings, like enough some o' Miss Phronsie's dolls." With that the same scared look swept over her fat face, till it looked quite gray again.
"Oh, Candace, we wouldn't ever let him do that!" cried Polly. And Ben hastened to say, "See here, Candace, don't you be afraid; we'll look out for those dolls."
"Will you for shore, Mas'r Ben?" cried Candace, grasping his arm with both sets of black fingers, which sent the big horn thimble flying off under the counter. "It would be mos' drefful if anyting should eber happen to dem, 'specially to der ones I made fer de little miss. Why, dey've got har jus' like my bery own." And she lifted one hand to point to her gay turban with pride, then clutched his arm again, "An' I made eb'ry stitch ob der cloes."
"You needn't worry, Candace," said Ben, quietly, "for I'll look out that Jocko doesn't disturb those dolls."