Down fell Davie’s snarl of shoe-strings to his lap. “Oh, Joel,” he cried, slipping from the old settee to the floor beside him, “don’t, don’t tell Mamsie.”
“I will,” said Joel, seeing his advantage with great delight and cocking one black eye at him. “I’ll tell her Mr. Beebe told you one—two—ten—’leven times to stop those old strings, and you wouldn’t mind him—so there!”
“Joel,” cried little David, in the greatest distress and clasping both hands; “I’ll stop this very minute. I will, Joel, truly I will.”
“Won’t you go at ’em again?” demanded Joel, thinking it just as well to have it settled definitely.
“No, I won’t,” said Davie, swallowing hard, “not till dear Mr. Beebe lets me, if you only won’t tell Mamsie.”
“Then, I won’t tell Mamsie,” promised Joel, springing to his feet. “Come on, Dave. Now, what’ll we do, Mr. Beebe?” he cried.
“Well now, I tell you,” said the old gentleman, wrinkling up his forehead in thought; “you’ve got to stretch your legs outdoors else you’ll be sick. S’posin’ you run down to th’ butcher’s shop an’ tell Mr. Hanks I may want, in th’ mornin’, a slice o’ ham. Don’t say as I will, remember, but I may. An’ then come right back, an’ you can set in th’ window, an’ see th’ passin’, an’ watch fer Polly an’ Ben.”
“All right,” shouted Joel, and seizing Davie’s hand, he bore him off, and the two little figures clattered off over the cobblestones. Presently there they were back again, and crowded up in among the dangling shoes and slippers, their faces pressed against the small-paned window.
But it seemed as if Polly would never come, although they knew she would get through her work first; it always took Ben a good while when he was tackling any work at Deacon Blodgett’s, and they were nearly turning away in despair when, “Hooray!”—Joel spied her first, and he jumped so quickly he knocked down one of the strings and away flew a whole lot of rubbers into the middle of the floor.
“’Tain’t hurt ’em a mite,” said old Mr. Beebe, as Joel paused in his mad career. So off the two boys dashed to meet Polly, flying up over the cobblestones, her cheeks as rosy as anything and her brown eyes dancing.