David, without much breath to spare, said nothing, as he climbed up on the sugar-barrel, his usual place when there was a chance to sit down, and folded his hands to wait for orders.
But before these came, the door was swung violently open, and in rushed Joel.
“What made you run off?” he demanded. “Mamsie says you can go,” and he plunged across the store to David on his barrel.
“Hulloa!” cried Mr. Atkins, “hain’t you no time to say good morning? Your ma wouldn’t like you to lose your manners.”
Joel, very much ashamed, deserted David and ran over to the counter. “I’m sorry,” he began, his face very red, and his black stubby head bobbing. “I didn’t mean to forget.”
“All right,” said Mr. Atkins. “Well now, what’s the rumpus, pray tell, Joel?”
“He can go,” said Joel, pounding one fist on the counter; “Mamsie says he can.”
“Who, Davie?”
“Yes, he can go. Mamsie says so, if you don’t want him.” Then Joel, fearing that one fist was not enough to emphasize his statement, now began with the other till the pieces of paper on the counter were all in a flutter.
“Hold on there, Joe,” said Mr. Atkins, “or, first you know, you’ll have us all a-blowing out the door.”