“Yes, he will,” said Ben, who knew Joel's hearing faculties much better. “We'll have to wait till they're a-bed.”
So after that, when nightfall first began to make its appearance, Polly would hint mildly about bedtime.
“You hustle us so!” said Joel, after he had been sent off to bed for two or three nights unusually early.
“Oh, Joey, it's good for you to get to bed,” said Polly, coaxingly; “it'll make you grow, you know, real fast.”
“Well, I don't grow a-bed,” grumbled Joel, who thought something was in the wind. “You and Ben are going to talk, I know, and wink your eyes, as soon as we're gone.”
“Well, go along, Joe, that's a good boy,” said Polly, laughing, “and you'll know some day.”
“What'll you give me?” asked Joel, seeing a bargain, his foot on the lowest stair leading to the loft, “say, Polly?”
“Oh, I haven't got much to give,” she said, cheerily; “but I'll tell you what, Joey—I'll tell you a story every day that you go to bed.”
“Will you?” cried Joe, hopping back into the room. “Begin now, Polly, begin now!”
“Why, you haven't been to bed yet,” said Polly, “so I can't till to-morrow.”