“O dear me!” grunted Joel. “I don’t want to sit down, Mamsie.”
“Go and sit down at once, Joe,” said Mrs. Pepper, firmly.
“Can’t I take the chair into the bedroom and sit next to Phronsie?” asked Joel, who always tried for some alleviation of his punishments, and he began to drag it into the bedroom.
“Yes, you may do that,” said Mrs. Pepper, “but you must sit down on it and keep still.” Then she went back to her work.
“And just think how you’ve spoilt your hair,” said Polly, in exasperation, “and it did look so nice.” She heaved a great sigh. Little David ducked under the brush swiftly going over his own head, to peer into her face. “Never mind, Davie,” she said, smiling at him. “Dear Mrs. Beebe will think you look good anyway.”
“Won’t she think Joel looks good, too?” asked Davie, anxiously.
“Oh, yes, maybe,” said Polly, stifling the sigh. “Well, hold still, dear. I’ll brush him again before he puts on his cap.”
Joel, who luckily hadn’t heard this, now crowded up as closely as possible to Phronsie, and sat up on his chair as stiff as a ramrod. And at last everything was pronounced by Polly all ready for the children to set forth on the visit; “Except this,” said Polly, flying over to Joel and giving his stubby black hair the final attention amid his violent protests. And then they were hurried out to Mother Pepper in the kitchen to see how nice they all looked, as they stood in a row, and for her to give them their final charge before setting forth.
“You know, children,” she said, running her black eyes over the line in satisfaction; “that you are to be very good, for Polly and Ben can’t go to Mrs. Beebe’s till afternoon. Just think, this is the first time you have ever been out in company alone!” She surveyed them proudly,—“But Mother trusts you, and I know you will be good.”
“I’ll be good,” said Joel, promptly. “I’m always good.”