“I said ‘Maybe.’” The hot color rushed over Polly’s face at the remembrance.
“Well, that’s the same thing,” declared Joel with another twitch.
“Joel,” said Polly, and she threw down the broom. “Come outdoors—” and still holding his sleeve, she hurried him out and into the woodshed. “Now see here, I was a bad girl to want to go.”
“I’m not a bad boy to want to go,” contradicted Joel stoutly.
“Yes, you are; we’re both bad,” declared Polly; “don’t you see, it’s naughty to want something that Mamsie can’t get for us, and just think how she would feel if she knew it.”
Polly drew a long breath, and her hand shook that held to the sleeve.
Joel scrubbed his rusty little shoe on the woodshed floor. “Mrs. Brown is bad,” he said. “She ought to have asked us.”
“Stop saying that,” said Polly. “And when you have company, you can ask any one you want to.”
“I shall ask everybody,” declared Joel with a generous sweep of his hands, “just every single bit of folks.” His face brightened, “Polly, can’t I ever have company?”
“Goodness, no!” cried Polly, and she burst into a laugh; “the idea of our having company in the little brown house—Joey Pepper!”