So Pip slowly got off from the window-seat, and, with many a backward glance at Ben, he crept upstairs.
"Go ahead, old snail," sang out Joel beneath. "O dear me! He'll never be ready, Ben," and now he beat his woollen mittens together as he pranced up and down the hall.
"Oh, yes, he will," said Ben, soothingly. "Don't rage so, Joel."
"And he's such a muff," said Joel, but he said it under his breath and with one eye on Ben.
"Hush up, Joe," said Ben, "there's no use in talking that way. And what are you in such a hurry to get to Madam Van Ruypen's for? Why, she doesn't expect you till three o'clock, and its only"—Ben pulled out his silver watch—"twenty-five minutes past two. What a silly thing you are, Joe!"
Joel dug the toes of his shoes into the rug. "Larry'll get there first if I don't," he whined; "you know he will."
"Nonsense! And what if he does; you aren't invited till three o'clock. Wait and go with Polly."
"Oh, I'm not going with a lot of girls," cried Joel, in a dudgeon, and extricating his toes from the rug. "You know they're always coming for her, Ben Pepper."
"Well, go with Percy and Van," said Ben. "Don't fly off in such a tangent."
But this suggestion only added fresh fuel to Joel's fire to be off.