“No—hush, Polly!” with a glance over at Joel, coming out from the pantry where he had put the molasses jug. “Ben’s gone somewhere with Deacon Blodgett. Now hurry and get on Phronsie’s eating-apron.”
“Joel was awfully good—he took the molasses jug from me,” said Polly, tying on Phronsie’s checked eating-apron.
“I’m glad he thought to do it,” said Mother Pepper, with a smile. “Now sit down, children, the potatoes are done.”
“And Mr. Atkins gave Phronsie a whole lot of peppermints,” said Polly, when the meal was half over, and the plates were scraped clean from all trace of potato slices.
“Yes, he did,” said Phronsie, bobbing her yellow head, and taking off her gaze from the dish where the delightfully brown crackly things had been. When she had been obliged to relinquish her little paper bag, after the eating apron was on, she had insisted that it should be kept in her lap. So now she patted it lovingly.
“Oo! Peppermints!” screamed Joel. “Let’s see, Phronsie,” and he hopped out of his seat.
“No, no, Joey,” reproved Mother Pepper.
“She said peppermints,” said Joel, slipping into his chair.
“I will give you some,” said Phronsie, with another little pat on the paper bag, “and Davie too,” beaming across the table at him.
“Oh, now—give ’em now,” cried Joel, thrusting out his hand, his black eyes sparkling.