“Well, we can, mother, truly,” put in Ben. “I'll tell you how, and you'll say it'll be splendid. You see Deacon Blodgett's goin' over to Hingham, to-morrow; I heard him tell Miss Blodgett so; and he goes right past the hotel; and we can do it up real nice—and it'll please Jasper so—do, mammy!”
“And it's real dull there, Jasper says,” put in Polly, persuasively; “and just think, mammy, no brothers and sisters!” And Polly looked around on the others.
After that there was no need to say anything more; her mother would have consented to almost any plan then.
“Well, go on, children,” she said; “you may do it; I don't see but what you can get 'em there well enough; but I'm sure I don't know what you can make.”
“Can't we,” said Polly—and she knelt down by her mother's side and put her face in between the sewing in Mrs. Pepper's lap, and the eyes bent kindly down on her—“make some little cakes, real cakes I mean? now don't say no, mammy!” she said, alarmed, for she saw a “no” slowly coming in the eyes above her, as Mrs. Pepper began to shake her head.
“But we haven't any white flour, Polly,” began her mother. “I know,” said Polly; “but we'll make 'em of brown, it'll do, if you'll give us some raisins—you know there's some in the bowl, mammy.”
“I was saving them for a nest egg,” said Mrs. Pepper; meaning at some future time to indulge in another plum-pudding that the children so loved.
“Well, do give 'em to us,” cried Polly; “do, ma!”
“I want 'em for a plum-pudding sometime,” said Mrs. Pepper.
“Ow!—” and Joel with a howl sprung up from the floor where he had been trying to make a cart for “Baby” out of an old box, and joined Mrs. Pepper and Polly. “No, don't give 'em away, ma!” he screamed; “let's have our plum-pudding—now, Polly Pepper, you're a-goin' to bake up all our raisins in nasty little cakes—and—”