“I didn’t mean to,” cried Joel, with a very red face. Then he threw down his bits of cloth, and raced off to where Polly now sat on the grass with Phronsie on her lap. “Oh, Polly, I didn’t mean to—” and he burst into a loud sob.
When Phronsie found that any one else could feel badly, she lifted her yellow head, and two tears that had made up their minds they were coming out, concluded after all they wouldn’t. “Are you sick, Joey?” she asked, patting his old jacket.
“Now I tell you what, Joel,” said Polly, briskly, “you take hold of Phron’s hand. No—no, Phronsie, Joel isn’t sick. He’s going to take you over to the bag, so you can help him pick them up. And that will be helping good Mr. Beggs, too. You must, Joey,” she whispered in his ear.
Every one of the four pairs of hands was gathering up the pieces, oh, so fast!—Page [73].
So Joel lifted his stubby black head, and when he saw Phronsie with a happy smile and heard her exclaim joyfully, “I’m going to help you, Joey, and good Mr. Beggs, too,” he smiled too, and seized her hand and raced her over to the big bag. And before long with all those brisk little hands, why, how could those snips and bits of Em’line’s wedding gowns do anything but hop back into their bag again. And it was tied tightly together with the old strings, each of the children having a turn at pulling the knot fast, and then Mr. Beggs tossed it up to the top of his red cart. “There, I guess ye won’t come down agin, till I take ye down,” he said.
“Now you’re all safe,” exclaimed Polly, happily, looking up at it, and bobbing her head at the big bump where it had settled, “and you can’t come down again.”
“You can’t come down again,” shouted Joel, dancing a jig around the red cart.
“You can’t come down again,” sang little Davie, flying away after him, and then Phronsie had to pipe it out, as she picked up her red gown to make a cheese in the road.
“And I’m sure I’m obleeged to all ye children,” said Mr. Beggs.