“Oh, I’m so glad to get here!” she exclaimed, seizing them both. “O dear me, I thought I should never get through my work. Where’s Phronsie?”
“She’s asleep,” said Joel, “and you’ve been awful slow;” all the while he clung to her hand tightly.
“I know it,” laughed Polly, “but I’m so glad dear Mrs. Beebe made her take her nap. Well, Mamsie sent you her love, and she knew you’d been good children.”
Little David hung his head. That affair about the shoe-strings still troubled him, and he meant to tell Mamsie as soon as he got home, but Joel saved him all words at present.
“We’ve been as good as pie,” he declared. That made him think of that delightful dinner. “We had some, Polly,” he cried, “little ones,” and he smacked his lips.
“And they were all juice,” said little Davie, reflectively, from the other side.
“Yes, and Mrs. Beebe has saved one for you and one for Ben ’cause you couldn’t come to dinner,” said Joel.
“Has she?” cried Polly, radiantly. “Oh, isn’t that too good of her! And Ben does so love little pies.”
“I wish she’d saved me one,” said Joel. “So do I love ’em.”
“Why, you ate yours up, Joey,” said little Davie, craning his neck around Polly to regard him with surprise.