“Oh, splendid old Joel!” breathed Polly, turning with shining eyes.
“Good for Joe!” cried Jasper, beginning afresh on his column.
“Give it to me, Polly! give it to me!” exclaimed Alexia, trying to get hold of the sheet. But Polly only whirled away with it, reading happily on.
“Well, that is too splendid for anything,” cried Jasper, throwing down the newspaper at last, “Oh, hello, you here, Pick?”
“So you’ve waked up, have you,” cried Pickering, pouncing on the journal, and edging off into a corner with it. “Then I’ll have a go at it myself.” Alexia seeing this, deserted Polly, and ran over to him.
“Just one little teenty corner of a scrap,” she said, laying hold of one edge.
“Get away,” said Pickering, holding fast to it. “I can tell you so much quicker, Alexia, than you can read it.”
“I’m going to have one corner,” she begged. “Oh, what a mean shame!” as Pickering turned a cold shoulder to her.
“He’s a shabby little beggar,” said Ben, flying around suddenly to grasp the newspaper; “there, hold your hands, Alexia. I’ll hold him.”
“That’s what I call taking advantage of the defenceless,” said Pickering, defrauded of his paper. “Ben, you’re a nice friend, to turn against me like that.”