"Plague take it!" He scowled, a black little frown settling on his brow. "Where is it?"—prowling around frantically on the carpet, with hasty hands.
"What is it, Joe?" Old Mr. King, though apparently very busy over at the writing-table, seemed to be quite well aware of everything that went on in the alcove.
"I've lost my pencil," announced Joe, in a dismal voice.
"Oh, well, that's not so bad as it might be," said the old gentleman; "come over and get another, and by and by you can find your own."
Joel advanced to the writing-table and put out a hand for the pencil, which the old gentleman laid within it, but not before he had taken a good look at the chubby face above it.
"So Frick and the boys wanted you, eh?" asked Grandpapa carelessly. "Going somewhere, maybe?"
"Yes," said Joel, not looking up, "they are going to the pond."
"Oh, really?" said old Mr. King. "And you said no, eh, Joel?"
"Yes," said Joel.
"I suppose you didn't want to go, eh, Joel?" said the old gentleman carelessly, and playing with his paper knife.