Phronsie, all intent now on the race, forgot about Polly’s face. When they came back and ran into the little brown house, Polly’s cheeks were as rosy as ever, and Phronsie was laughing gleefully.
When the “lovely little path in the woods” was reached, Joel dashed ahead and Ezekiel at his heels.
“You’re so slow,” Joel said, looking back at Peletiah. So David had to hold back his feet, longing for a run, to keep pace with the parson’s eldest son.
The consequence was, as they came up to the deep pool in the silvery little brook, Joel was fixing his best hook on the line hanging from his new pole. Ezekiel, too lost in admiration to do anything to get his own made ready, was hanging over him.
Peletiah sat down and calmly looked around. “My father says you mustn’t splash the water when you fish,” he said, as Joel made frantic flings with his fish-line on which a long worm made curves in the air.
“I can fish,” shouted Joel, standing on a big stone in the middle of the pool. “See— Come on, Dave!”
David, who never could bear to stick a worm on the hook, put his hand into the tin can, then drew it back again. “Perhaps a fish will bite without it,” he said to himself. Then he went farther down the pool and behind some bushes, and cast in his line.
“Come here!” shouted Joel, from his big stone, and splashing the silvery surface on all sides. “Come, Dave!”
“My father says you mustn’t splash the water when you fish,” said Peletiah, beginning slowly to choose a worm from the tin can.
Joel turned a cold shoulder to the parson’s son and continued to beat the water to right and to left. Ezekiel seeing there was more fun to be gained than to stay with Peletiah, who was having difficulty with his worm, stepped gingerly across the stepping-stones, holding his pole carefully aloft.