“Da—vid!” called a voice over the attic stairs, “come, child, to dinner. You must be hungry, working so hard.”
David crouched down by the side of the box. “I haven’t worked,” he said, “and I can’t have any dinner.”
“My mother says—”
“Yes, come, child,” called the voice over the attic stairs, “and, Peletiah, you must come down, too.” Peletiah, considering the last command to come to dinner much more to his taste and more binding than the message he was sent up to the attic to deliver, shut his mouth as he was just going to begin on his message once more, and went down the stairs.
David looked wildly around as he was left alone, with no one but the big spider now in her home web once more. To get to the little brown house and to Polly was now his only thought! He would be carrying disgrace there—but he must go. Then jumping to his feet, he ran as fast as he could down the attic stairs to the back entry. The knives and forks were going pretty fast as he dashed past the dining-room. Oh, how jolly it all sounded, and a most enticing smell of all things good was in the air, as he dashed past and out into the parsonage yard.
“What’s that?” asked Parson Henderson, and he laid down the big carving knife and fork just as Mrs. Henderson was saying, “I wonder why Davie Pepper doesn’t come down to dinner. I’ve neglected the poor child, for when Mrs. Jones came to see me about the Sewing Society, I couldn’t get back to the attic.”
Peletiah got out of his chair and went to the window, followed by Ezekiel. “There’s David Pepper,” he said, pointing with a slow finger to a small boy running blindly on across the parsonage yard.
CHAPTER X
MARY POTE HELPS
DAVID rushed into the old kitchen in a whirlwind of distress. There was no one there, and stumbling over to Mamsie’s big calico-covered chair, he flung himself down and buried his head on the cushion.
“Now, Phronsie,” said Polly, running in, “you’ve been such a good girl, I’m going to give you a piece of that gingerbread dear Mrs. Beebe gave us the other day. Shut the door, child.”