“Now, Joel, I can’t tell any story if you’re going to say such naughty words.”
“I won’t—I won’t,” cried Joel in alarm at losing the story. “Were there really fifty bears, Polly?” He crowded up close to her.
“Yes,” said Polly, bobbing her brown head. “And the circus man said he was thinking of buying two more.”
“O dear me!” cried Joel, quite overcome and snuggling down against her arm. “Well, go on.”
“Well, there was a hip-hip-pot-amus,” Polly finally brought the whole out with great pride.
“Yes, yes,” said Joel.
David clasped his hands in silent rapture, and kept his gaze on the black stove that was a crackling fire on the hearth.
“And a rho-do-den-dron,” added Polly, “and—”
“What’s a rho-rho-do—what you said?” interrupted Joel, his head bobbing up again.
“Oh, a great big creature,” said Polly.