“My senses!” cried Polly, “what is the matter?” She wanted to rub her eyes to see if it really was Davie who stood before her. “Wait! Mamsie’s coming home in a few minutes. Why, here she is now!” glancing out of the window.
David sprang out. “Oh, Mamsie,” he precipitated himself upon Mother Pepper half-way up the path. “He wants me to help him, and I’m going to learn to tie up bundles, and he said he thought some time I could fill molasses jugs, if you’d say yes. Can’t I, Mamsie?”
“Dear me!” Mrs. Pepper held him by both little shoulders. “What is it all about, Davie? No, no, don’t try to speak now,” she added, seeing his face. “Come in and tell Mother.”
And pretty soon, over by her big old calico-covered rocker, the story got out, Polly hanging over them both, and Phronsie, who had dropped Seraphina on the way, leaning, perfectly absorbed, against Mother Pepper’s knee.
“To think of my boy being wanted to help Mr. Atkins!” cried Mrs. Pepper with shining eyes. “Oh, Davie!”
“Can I—can I?” cried David, feeling as if he couldn’t wait another minute for the “yes” that all his hopes were hanging upon.
“Can you? Yes, yes, Davie.” Mrs. Pepper gathered him up into her lap. “Oh, what a help you’ll be to Mother, if you are a good boy and learn to do everything in the store that Mr. Atkins tells you!”
Polly ran down the road a good piece to meet Ben when he came home from Deacon Blodgett’s. Joel had scampered on ahead. “Where are you going?” he had screamed as Polly flew past.
“Going to walk home with Ben,” she had shouted, flying along.
“My goodness, Polly,” cried Ben, as she rushed up to him, “is the house afire?”