“She says I may,” Joel was already working his way over the rows. He turned to send a delighted smile back, and Mrs. Pepper nodded. “I can trust you,” she said again.
“All them children yours?” asked the little woman presently, craning her neck to see the row of heads the other side of Mrs. Pepper.
“All but one,” said Mrs. Pepper, “and he is a Badgertown boy.”
“My sakes! hain’t you had a sight o’ trouble though, to bring up such a lot o’ young ones.”
Mother Pepper turned clear around in her seat. “Trouble?” she repeated, and her black eyes shone, “why I never should think of such a thing! Why, they are my children.”
“Yes, that’s jest what I say—and such a lot o’ them,” affirmed the little old woman, bobbing her poke bonnet with emphasis, as Joel came rushing back swinging a big bag of peanuts.
“You see I thought I’d get peanuts. There’s a sight o’ nourishment in chewin’ of ’em,” she said, taking the bag, “so I didn’t bring nothin’ to eat.” She emptied out a small handful into her lap. “There, boy,” and she handed the bag back to Joel, “you an’ your folks can have th’ rest, an’ we can sit an’ chew on ’em together.”
“And we have a great deal of luncheon,” said Mrs. Pepper, “and it will be very nice to have you eat with us.”
And just then the band marched in, smart in bright red coats and gilt helmets—with a blare of trumpets, to announce the approach of the grand procession.