“I want to hear—” began his mother in terrible disappointment. But he was already half-way down Fletcher Road.
“No,” said the farmer, just getting up from his supper, “you’re too late. Them rocks was all picked, an’ I’m plowin’ th’ field.”
“Tell him about Badger’s land,” said his wife, gathering up the remains of the supper.
“Oh, yes, see here,” called the farmer, “Badger wants th’ rocks picked from his land. I guess you can get a job there.”
When Jimmy dragged himself back from “Badger’s,” the lamps and candles had been lighted for some time in the cottages along the road. He looked for Mrs. Pepper’s as he passed the little brown house. There she was over by the table sewing. Jimmy had a pang as he thought how many stitches she would have to set before Davie’s loss could be made good. He didn’t know that a brand-new cap had been handed in, and that after the jollification over it had spent itself, Davie had taken it up into the loft to hang by the side of the shake-down, the first thing his eyes would rest upon the next morning.
That next morning, the old kitchen was just the jolliest place, full of the circus and its delightful memories. Davie, with his new cap on his head, was prancing around, the center of observation.
“It’s a perfectly beautiful cap!” declared Polly, for nobody knows how many times, and stopping on her way for the broom to sweep up.
“I wish the monkey had eaten mine up,” said Joel discontentedly.
“You may wear mine.” David stopped prancing, and twitched off his cap.
“No, no, Davie,” said Polly, “Miss Parrott sent you that cap, and she wouldn’t like you not to wear it.”