“There,” said Ben, grasping Polly, bandage and all; “now we're all right; and say, Polly, you're a brick!”
“Mammy told me not to say that the other day,” said Joel, with a very virtuous air.
“Can't help it,” said Ben, who was a little wild over Polly, and besides, he had been sick himself, and had borne a good deal too.
“Now,” said Mrs. Pepper, after the first excitement was over, “you're so comfortable together, and Phronsie don't want me now, I'll go to the store; I must get some more work if Mr. Atkins'll give it to me.”
“I'll be all right now, mammy, that Ben's here,” cried Polly, settling back into her chair, with Phronsie on the stool at her feet.
“I'm goin' to tell her stories, ma,” cried Ben, “so you needn't worry about us.”
“Isn't it funny, Ben,” said Polly, as the gate clicked after the mother, “to be sitting still, and telling stories in the daytime?”
“Rather funny!” replied Ben.
“Well, do go on,” said Joel, as usual, rolling on the floor, in a dreadful hurry for the story to begin. Little David looked up quietly, as he sat on Ben's other side, his hands clasped tight together, just as eager, though he said nothing.
“Well; once upon a time,” began Ben delightfully, and launched into one of the stories that the children thought perfectly lovely.