“And we'll have a frolic in the Provision Room afterwards,” finished Polly; “oh! ooh!”
And so the weeks flew by—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight! till only the three days remained, and to think the fun that Polly and Ben had had already!
“It's better'n a Christmas,” they told their mother, “to get ready for it!”
“It's too bad you can't hang up your stockings,” said Mrs. Pepper, looking keenly at their flushed faces and bright eyes; “you've never hung 'em up.”
“That isn't any matter, mamsie,” they both said, cheerily; “it's a great deal better to have the children have a nice time—oh, won't it be elegant! p'r'aps we'll have ours next year!”
For two days before, the house was turned upside down for Joel to find the biggest stocking he could; but on Polly telling him it must be his own, he stopped his search, and bringing down his well-worn one, hung it by the corner of the chimney to be ready.
“You put yours up the other side, Dave,” he advised.
“There isn't any nail,” cried David, investigating.
“I'll drive one,” said Joel, so he ran out to the tool-house, as one corner of the wood-shed was called, and brought in the hammer and one or two nails.
“Phronsie's a-goin' in the middle,” he said, with a nail in his mouth.