“Goody!” said Joel, immensely relieved; for now he could quite enjoy his to see a pair on Davie's hands, also. “Look at Phron,” he cried, “she hasn't got only half of her things out!”
To tell the truth, Phronsie was so bewildered by her riches that she sat on the floor with the little red stocking in her lap, laughing and cooing to herself amid the few things she had drawn out. When she came to Seraphina's bonnet she was quite overcome. She turned it over and over, and smoothed out the little white feather that had once adorned one of Grandma Bascom's chickens, until the two boys with their stockings, and the others sitting around in a group on the floor watching them, laughed in glee to see her enjoyment.
“Oh, dear,” said Joel, at last, shaking his stocking; “I've got all there is. I wish there were forty Christmases coming!”
“I haven't!” screamed Davie; “there's some thing in the toe.”
“It's an apple, I guess,” said Joel; “turn it up, Dave.”
“'Tisn't an apple,” exclaimed Davie, “tisn't round—it's long and thin; here 'tis.” And he pulled out a splendid long whistle on which he blew a blast long and terrible, and Joel immediately following, all quiet was broken up, and the wildest hilarity reigned.
“I don't know as you'll want any breakfast,” at last said Mrs. Pepper, when she had got Phronsie a little sobered down.
“I do, I do!” cried Joel.
“Dear me! after your candy?” said Polly.
“That's all gone,” said Joel, tooting around the table on his whistle. “What are we going to have for breakfast?”