“Oh, I’m going sometime,” said Polly, tossing back her brown hair, and trying to speak cheerily.
Ben’s face didn’t lighten a bit, as he took up his saw.
“And it’s too bad you can’t go,” said Polly. “Dear me!” and she clasped her hands tightly.
“Oh, I’m going sometime,” said Ben, repeating her words. Then he burst into a laugh. “But I’ve got to have this wood sawed first.”
“And I’ve got to wash those old breakfast dishes,” said Polly, skipping off to the kitchen door. “Misery me!” for there was Joel in a dreadful state of distress. He couldn’t find his cap; search for it high and low, it was nowhere to be seen.
“Oh, I thought you were all ready, Joel!” cried Polly, in surprise.
“He was—he was,” gasped little Davie, tearfully, and getting in everybody’s way in his efforts to help along the search.
“Here comes the stage,” said Mrs. Pepper, looking out of the window. “Joel, run out and ask Ben to let you take his cap.”
“Oh, Mamsie,” began Polly, in dismay, who dearly loved, whenever any of them were going visiting, to have everything as fine as possible. But seeing Mrs. Pepper’s eyes, she didn’t finish with “Ben’s cap will be ever so much too big for him,” as Joel dashed off to ask him.
“You mustn’t keep Mr. Tisbett waiting,” said Mrs. Pepper, “so run along, boys,” as Joel raced back, cramming Ben’s worn cap on his head as he pranced down the path to be pulled up over the wheel by Mr. Tisbett, who performed the same good office for little David. At last a crack of the whip—and off they went.