“Do, will you, Phronsie?” begged Joel in a wheedling way.
“I think you ought to take Amy all the more because you did speak so, Joel,” said Phronsie quietly, “so I cannot speak for you, dear.”
Joel turned off, and ground his boot into the gravel. “All right, Phronsie,” he said, turning around.
But just here Grandpapa came around the curve in the path. “Phronsie, you will drive me in your cart,” he said.
“Shall I, Grandpapa?”
“Yes, dear; and tell Johnson to put my bay in.”
“Yes, Grandpapa.” Phronsie looked at Joel. His black eyes said, just as when a boy he had been delighted at anything, “Oh, goody! now I sha’n’t have to drive that girl to Hingham.”
Phronsie answered the look by, “O Joel! now it will help to make up for what you said; as you can take Amy Loughead over alone, and that’ll show her you are sorry.”
Joel’s face lengthened. “Really, Phronsie?”
“I would,” said Phronsie; then she ran off to get ready.