Without any more ado they rushed into Mrs. Pepper's big, sunny room, there to see, seated at the square table between the two large windows, the two lost ones bending over what seemed to be an object of the greatest importance, for Polly was hanging over Ben's shoulder with intense pride and delight, which she couldn't possibly conceal, and Davie was crowded as near as he could get to Percy's elbow.
Phronsie and little Dick were perched comfortably on the corner of the table, surveying the whole scene in quiet rapture; and Mrs. Pepper with her big mending basket, was ensconced over by the deep window seat just on the other side of the room, underneath Cherry's cage, and looking up between quick energetic stitches, over at the busy group, with the most placid expression on her face.
“Oh!—what you doin'?” cried Joel, flying up to them. “Let us see, do Ben!”
“What is it?” exclaimed Van, squeezing in between Percy and Ben.
“Don't—” began Percy. “There, see, you've knocked his elbow and spoilt it!”
“Oh no, he hasn't,” said Ben, putting down his pencil, and taking up a piece of rubber. “There, see it all comes out—as good as ever.”
“Isn't it just elegant?” said Percy in the most pleased tone, and wriggling his toes under the table to express his satisfaction.
“Yes,” said Van, craning his neck to get a better view of the picture, now nearly completed, “It's perfectly splendid. How'd you do it, Ben?”
“I don't know,” replied Ben with a smile, carefully shading in a few last touches. “It just drew itself.”
“Tisn't anything to what he can do,” said Polly, standing up as tall as she could, and beaming at Ben, “He used to draw most beautiful at home.”