“Better than this?” asked Van, with great respect and taking up the picture, after some demur on Percy's part, and examining it critically. “I don't believe it, Polly.”
“Phooh; he did!” exclaimed Joel, looking over his shoulder at a wonderful view of a dog in an extremely excited state of mind running down an interminable hill to bark at a locomotive and train of cars whizzing along a curve in the foreground. “Lots better'n that! Ben can do anything!” he added, in an utterly convincing way.
“Now give it back,” cried Percy, holding out his hand in alarm. “I'm going to ask mamma to have it framed; and then I'm going to hang it right over my bed,” he finished, as Van reluctantly gave up the treasure.
“Did you draw all the time in the little brown house?” asked Van, lost in thought. “How I wish I'd been there!”
“Dear, no!” cried Polly with a little skip, turning away to laugh. “He didn't have hardly any time, and—”
“Why not?” asked Percy.
“Cause there was things to do,” said Polly. “But sometimes when it rained, and he couldn't go out and work, and there wasn't anything to do in the house—then we'd have—oh!” and she drew a long breath at the memory, “such a time, you can't think!”
“Didn't you wish it would always rain?” asked Van, still gazing at the picture.
“Dear, no!” began Polly.
“I didn't,” broke in Joel, in horror. “I wouldn't a-had it rain for anything!—only once in a while,” he added, as he thought of the good times that Polly had spoken of.