Davie at that turned to him in a worried way. “Oh, do say it, Joe,” he begged.
“What is it?” asked Mrs. Pepper, coming out from the bedroom and looking from one to the other.
“Oh, I will,” cried Joel, swallowing very hard. “I will, Polly. It is awfly; Polly, it is.”
He got out of his chair, and ran around to her side.
“Polly,” he whispered, pulling her ear down to his mouth, “it is awfly.”
“All right.” Polly turned, and set a little kiss on his red cheek.
“Well, now, children,” Mrs. Pepper was saying, with a happy smile over at the two, “I don’t want any of you to go back to Grandma’s, for I am going myself.”
“Oh, Mamsie!” exclaimed Polly, in dismay, “do let us. Really and truly, Mamsie, we want to.”
“No, I don’t think it’s best,” said Mother Pepper, decidedly. “You’ve all been good children I know, and—”
“We’ve made the biggest pile of kindlings, Dave and me,” cried Joel, excitedly flying over to her; “look in the woodshed, Mammy.”