“Well—O dear me!” Mrs. Henderson wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. “I do believe the first thing is to make Polly happy after this—this afternoon. Supposing I set up the attic, Adoniram, to-morrow, and get her to help me,” she brought up brightly.
“I thought that attic was in a perennial state of order,” said the minister, bursting into another laugh. “I’m sure, Almira, you never have even a ladies’ prayer-meeting here without you first overhaul things up there, and sweep down the attic stairs.”
Mrs. Henderson gave a merry little laugh, it was so good to see him cheery once more.
“Well, I’m going to set it up to-morrow, anyway,” she declared. “There’s a chest that isn’t looked over, and ever so many things up there that ought to be seen to. And I’ll ask Polly to come over and help, and then she can stay to dinner. You know Jerusha goes early in the stage—” she brought up with satisfaction.
“And why not ask her to bring Phronsie?” said the Parson. “The child can play around, and she can be with us at dinner, too.”
“Now, how nice it is that you always think of the best things!” cried his wife, in delight. “Yes, that will be fine for to-morrow, and make Polly forget everything that wasn’t pleasant, and we’ll all enjoy it as much as those two blessed children. Why can’t Peletiah run down now to the Little Brown House and invite them?”
“Well, he can start,” said the minister, grimly, with a vivid remembrance of Peletiah’s usual rate of speed; “that’s a good idea, wife.” So Mrs. Henderson hurried out of the study. “Well, if Peletiah is slow, it’s a comfort he’s so steady; we can always find him when wanted,” she reflected. And after many repetitions of the message to be delivered to Mrs. Pepper had at last fixed it in his mind, he set forth at a stolid pace for the Little Brown House.
“Somebody’s coming!” cried Davie, hearing crunching on the gravel. “Joey, wait a minute!”
Joel, kneeling on the floor and pounding the cover on an old wooden box he was going to try to catch rabbits in, didn’t hear, and gave a lusty blow with his hammer. “Gee—whickets!” as the nail,—a crooked one,—went in all askew.