David, seeing Mother Pepper’s smile, brightened up a little, as he sat on the floor at her feet, as the story went on. Phronsie was going about, patting everything with loving little fingers, and humming softly to herself, so she didn’t hear how Joel’s party had been interrupted by an uninvited guest in the bedroom. And how Polly had run out in “Old Father Dubbin’s” rig after Joel in hot chase to catch the visitor, who had jumped out of the window, without any one’s getting a sight of him.
“And then Polly made me go and watch for you, while she went for Ben.” All Joel’s injured feelings now blazed out again. “And she told me not to stir till you came, or she got back. I could have caught him just as easy.” Joel doubled up his little brown fists manfully.
“Polly was just right,” said Mother Pepper, “and you are a good boy, Joel. Mother is so glad she can trust you.”
Joel’s indignation changed to a smile that showed his little white teeth—just as Farmer Brown, having tied “Jingo” to a post in the fence, walked in. “Well, did you have a good party, Joe?” he asked breezily, not knowing anything about burglars or any other trouble.
“And did you like th’ custard pie?” cried Mrs. Brown, gazing about for any evidences of the feast.
Joel ran up to the big chair. “We haven’t had it.”
“Oh, well, you’ve had other things to think about beside custard pie,” said the farmer’s wife. “Well, I s’pose likely that Polly put it away.”
“I know where she’s put it,” Joel pranced over to swing the door of the old cupboard wide open. “Here ’tis!” He stood on his tiptoes, clinging to the upper shelf where the big custard pie, with a pitcher of weak lemonade and some teacups stood, ready to be summoned when Polly should decide that the proper time for refreshments had arrived.
“I’m going to get it down now!” cried Joel, jumping up to reach it with wild little hands.
“No, no, Joel,” said Mrs. Pepper.