“They shall go,” said Mrs. Pepper, with a bright smile. “And Phronsie will never forget you, dear Mrs. —”
“Brown,” said the farmer promptly, seeing his wife couldn’t speak.
“No, she will never forget you, dear Mrs. Brown.” Mother Pepper got hold of the big hand, twisting its mate.
The farmer’s wife clutched it. “You see I always wanted a little gal,” she whispered close to Mrs. Pepper’s ear.
Then Mother Pepper did a thing the children had never seen before. She leaned forward and kissed the large face.
“We must be goin’,” declared Farmer Brown, whipping out his big red handkerchief to blow his nose loudly. “Hem! Come, Ma.”
“Did Mamsie cry when we didn’t come home?” asked David anxiously, as they all filed off toward the little brown house.
“No. Oh, I’m so sorry you worried, Davie,” cried Polly. “You see I ran down to Deacon Blodgett’s to tell Mamsie, and Mr. Atkins saw me go by, and he called out that a Mr. Hubbard had you in that very buggy you came home in.”
“Yes, he did,” said David.
“And he said he knew you were going after Phronsie.”