“Yes, of course,” said Polly decidedly. “Now, Davie, it’s your turn, as Joel doesn’t want any.”
“Oh, I do—I do!” screamed Joel. “I do want a peppermint, Polly Pepper.”
“All right, then give Joel a white one, Phronsie, and then one to Davie. There, now isn’t that too splendid for anything!” as the two boys began at once to crunch their peppermints.
David suddenly stopped. “You haven’t any, Polly.”
“Oh, Phronsie is going to put a white one in my mouth,” said Polly gayly, and opening her mouth very wide.
“I’m going to put one in your mouth, Polly,” laughed Phronsie. So Polly bent her head down, and in went a white peppermint drop.
“Now says I—in goes one in your own mouth, Phronsie,—a pink one,” and in it went.
There was such a crunching of peppermint drops going on that no one heard the big green door open, until Mrs. Pepper said, “Why, how do you do?” Then they all whirled around. There was Mr. Tisbett, the stage-driver, whip in hand.
Immediately he was surrounded by all the four children, Joel howling, “Oh, I know you’ve come to take us in the stage-coach,” and trying to get the whip.
“No, I hain’t, not this time. You let my whip be, Joel,” and in the midst of the clamor, he marched over to Mrs. Pepper. “I’ve come for you, ma’am.”