“Joel!” she said.
When Mother Pepper spoke in that tone, it was not necessary for further reproof. And Joel immediately hung his head and blubbered out something. But Phronsie continued to scream on, and flung her arms around Polly’s shaking figure.
“Now Phronsie’s Mother’s little girl.” Mrs. Pepper drew her off to the side of her chair. “Stop crying and look up here, child.”
Phronsie raised her head obediently and wiped off the tears on her fat little hand. “Polly’s crying,” she announced, her lip still quivering.
“I know it; Mother’ll take care of Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper; “now you go with Joel, and play out of doors till I call you.”
“Dave must go, too,—can’t he, Mamsie?” broke in Joel.
“Yes, Davie can go, too,” Mother Pepper tried to smile over at him where he crouched on the floor. “Now go along and be good children.”
“I want Polly,” said Phronsie, with a lingering glance at the figure still half-hidden in Mamsie’s lap.
“No, Polly must stay with me. Go along, Phronsie, and be Mother’s good child.”
“I will be Mother’s good child,” hummed Phronsie. So Joel took her hand, and somehow little David found his feet, and stumbled out after them, and shut the green door fast.