“I know it,” said Joel, bursting into a laugh, “but I wish I had another.”
“Well, if you’ve had one of dear Mrs. Beebe’s little pies, Joe,” said Polly, laughing too, “that’s quite enough,” as they scrambled up to the green door.
And Phronsie opened her eyes the minute they all swarmed into the room back of the little shop, old Mr. and Mrs. Beebe joining the ranks, and sat up quite straight on Pa’s old sofa, and put out her arms with a little crow—“Oh, Polly, take me!” tangled up as she was in the old plaid shawl. And then after they had all sobered down after the delight over Polly’s coming, the old lady exclaimed suddenly, “Dear me, I must set th’ table for supper, so’s to be all ready for Ben.”
“Oh, let me help,” cried Polly, putting Phronsie down and flying after her.
“Let me too,” piped Phronsie, stumbling after.
“And me—and me!” echoed Joel and David.
And old Mrs. Beebe laughing and saying “Yes, come along all of you,” the whole bunch of Peppers rushed here and there quite overcome with delight, all getting hold of the table-cloth at once, so that nobody could pull it straight.
“See here,” said Polly, when she had whirled around and around the table, first pulling one corner and then another straight, to have it immediately whisked away; “we can’t ever do it this way. Now, only one of you must help me, and the others stand still. Take care, Joe, you’ll tear it!”
“It’s all hanging on the floor,” declared Joel.
“Well, that’s because you twitched it so,” said Polly, in vexation, and running around the table again to examine it for herself. “O dear me, so it is. Well now, Joel, you let it alone, and Davie and I will straighten it.”