To make Mamsie sorry was as much worse than the loss of any cake could possibly be, and Davie saying, “Yes, come, Phronsie,” and taking her fat little hand, the two children went over to the spot indicated, and climbed up to the chairs just as Polly had told them to; little David with an awful feeling at his heart that Joel was in trouble.
“Now, Joel,” said Polly, mustering up as much cheer as she could, “you and I will go to the ‘Provision Room’ and—”
The two children over on their chairs with their ears pricked up for every word, heard “Provision Room,” and Davie screamed out, “Oh, don’t make him go there, Polly!”
“Oh, we’re going together,” said Polly, cheerfully, getting hold of Joel’s hand. “Joey has something he is going to tell me.”
“Ow!” exclaimed Joel, shrinking deeper into the apron.
“So come along, Joey.” And away they went, Joel wiping off the tears on the back of one grimy hand while Polly held fast to the other.
“There, now.” Polly sat down on the little stool in the middle of the old “Provision Room,” where, whenever the children were very naughty, Mother Pepper always had them sit alone until such time as she considered the punishment should be over. “You must tell me all about it, Joey.” He had flung himself down on the earth floor, and buried his head in her lap.
“I tell you I’ve eat it,” said Joel, in smothered gasps. “O dear me, boo—hoo!”
“Eat what?” asked Polly, still not understanding.
“The cake! I didn’t know it was Phronsie’s,” mumbled Joel, in a fresh burst. “Oh! And it was on the floor, and—and— O dear me! I was Mrs. Henderson’s— O dear me.”