“Do,” cried Polly. “Dear me! that was a good spin, Phronsie!”
“I should think it was,” said Ben. “Goodness me! Polly, Phronsie and you made such a breeze!”
“Didn't we, Pet!” cried Polly, with a last kiss. “Oh Ben and Jasper, to think those boys will be here for our entertainment!”
“I know Tom is made of the right stuff,” Mamsie said proudly to Father Fisher, “else my boy would not choose him.”
“That's a fact, wife,” the little doctor responded heartily. “Joel is all right; may be a bit heedless, but he has a good head on his shoulders.”
The five boys bounded into the wide hall that evening—Joel first; and in his arms, a yellow dog, by no means handsome, with small, beady eyes, and a stubby tail that he was violently endeavoring to wag, under the impression that he had a good deal of it.
“Mamsie!” shouted Joel, his black eyes glowing, and precipitating himself into her arms, dog and all, “See Sinbad! See, Mamsie!”
“It's impossible not to see him,” said Ben. “Goodness me, Joe, what a dog!” which luckily Joel did not hear for the babel going on around. Besides, there was Phronsie trying to put her arms around the dog, and telling him about the pink ribbon which she held in her hand.
“Joe,” said Dr. Fisher, who had been here, there, and everywhere in the group, and coming up to nip Joel's jacket, “introduce your friend. You're a pretty one, to bring a boy home, and—”
“I forgot you, Tom,” shouted Joel, starting off, still hanging to his dog; “oh, there you are!” seeing Tom in the midst of the circle, and talking away to Grandpapa and Polly.