“Never mind, now,” cried Polly, in such a twitter she jumbled up her words, “the ragman—Mr. Beggs—oh, Joe, run after him—”
“Where?” cried Joel, his black eyes roving wildly. To have Mr. Beggs with them was an event not to be missed. “Where, Polly?” twitching her sleeve.
“There,” Polly cried, just as wildly and pointing in the direction in which the ragman had disappeared; “oh, run, Joe,—he’s been here to take you and Davie to ride on his cart.”
It wasn’t necessary to tell Joel to run after that, and even Davie showed a nimble pair of heels, and presently they were lost to view, and Polly was left alone to go in and get the potatoes for dinner.
Joel roared so hard at every step of the road in pursuit of the red cart that when he finally did come up with it, he had little breath left. Mr. Beggs had slackened speed at the beginning of the hill, and was now ruminating sourly over his failure to give pleasure to the Little Brown House people, when he heard a faint piping sound that made him crane his neck to look around the stack of brooms to see where it came from. “We’re going,” gasped Davie, running to the side of Joel, both boys having anxious hands outspread.
“Jerusalem, and th’ natives!” ejaculated the ragman, pulling the old horse up straight. “I thought you was a-diggin’ flag-root.”
“We were,” gasped David. But it wasn’t until they were both fairly on the cart and beside Mr. Beggs on the seat, that breath could be wasted to relate the whole, “Only I forgot the big knife.”
“I’ll drive,” declared Joel, promptly. To talk about digging flag-root was well enough when there was nothing greater as a subject, but now—and he made a dash at the leather reins.
“Not yit,” said the ragman, holding them fast in his horny hand. “Well, I never!” and he slapped his knee with the other fist. “Ain’t this just—well, Jerusalem, an’ th’ natives—’tis!”
“When can I, say?” Joel pounded Mr. Beggs’s knee, and fastened his black eyes pleadingly on the face under the old straw hat. Little Davie had lapsed into a state of silent bliss, and was hanging to the edge of the seat where it turned up on the outside. “Say, Mr. Beggs, when will you let me drive?”