“Is it for me? Oh, is it, Mr. Atkins?” screamed Joel, and he tumbled the fish-hooks into David’s hand and scrambled up on the counter.
“I wouldn’t wonder,” said the storekeeper over his shoulder.
“Oh—oh!” Joel hopped up and down on the counter, his black eyes shining in anticipation. “Dave, he’s going to give me one, too—he is—he is!” he screamed.
David, both hands full of his treasures, gave a long blissful sigh, then hugged them to his breast, and he laughed aloud in glee.
“Mercy sakes! Get down off th’ counter, Joe,” said Mr. Atkins. “There,” as Joel slid to the floor, putting a fish-pole, just the size for a boy to swing, into the eager brown hand, “an’ there’s th’ hooks. Be careful not to git ’em stuck into you.”
“They’re goin’ to be stuck into the fishes,” cried Joel, seizing fish-pole and hooks. “I’m going to catch lots and lots. Come on, Dave,” beginning to march to the door in great excitement. Then he remembered and ran back. “I thank you,” he said, then dashed out.
“Now, run along, Davie,” said Mr. Atkins, “or Joe will be down to th’ brook an’ catch every single fish before you have a chance to get up with him.”
David stood quite still clasping his treasures, as he tried to speak. His blue eyes shone, but he couldn’t say a word.
“I know,” said the storekeeper kindly. “Now you run along. I shall need you to-morrow, for you are a great help to me, David.”
David’s happy feet scarcely seemed to touch the ground, as he hurried after Joel, almost catching up with him turning into the gateway of the little brown house.