“It’s just a bully pile!” cried Joel, running over to regard it affectionately, and kicking a stray stick with his foot.
“Joel, what did you say?” cried Polly, in dismay.
Joel hung his black head, and dug the toe of his old shoe into the woodshed floor.
“Mamsie wouldn’t like that,” said Polly, soberly, “so you must never, never, as long as you live and breathe, Joel Pepper, say it again.”
“Oh, I won’t, I won’t,” promised Joel, eagerly. “Polly, I won’t, truly.”
“That’s right,” said Polly. “Now run along and get your bread and mush, and then come right back here.” And off the boys clattered.
And as soon as Phronsie woke up, then she was hungry, so Polly took her hand and raced down the lane, for Mother Pepper had told the children to come home for anything to eat, and there Polly found the two boys sitting by the kitchen table busy over their mush-bowls.
“It’s good,” declared Joel, just putting in a big spoonful, and he smacked his lips.
“O misery, what a face, Joe!” exclaimed Polly, with a grimace; “the molasses is all up to your ear.”
“That’s because Dave jogged my arm,” said Joel, composedly, and going on with his consumption of mush.