"Hush!" cried Polly, with a look at Phronsie. But her eyes were closed, and her head was bobbing sleepily on Polly's breast.
"Better lay her on my bed now, Polly," said her mother, "and she'll doze off, most likely."
"Yes, the cow has gone with the rest of the tools and wagons," said Ben, mixing things up inextricably. "O dear me!" And he rested his streaked face on his grimy hands.
"Oh, Ben," cried Joel, "you're as black as you can be! How I wish I could 'a' gone!" he added, feeling it the highest state of bliss to come home looking like that from working in a fire. "Well, I feel black," said Ben, and down went his head lower yet in his hands.
His mother went swiftly over to him and pressed her hand gently on his hair. "You couldn't help it, Ben," she said, "you'd 'a' saved it, if you'd been able."
"Yes," said Ben, brokenly, "I would, Mamsie."
[XV]
OLD MAN PETERS' CENT
Joel was walking along the road very slowly, swinging on his arm the tin pail that was to bring home the molasses. "I wish some one would come along who'd give me a ride," he thought, feeling hot, and wishing he were home, to lie on the cool grass in the orchard, after he had first drunk all he wanted to at the well.
"I could drink the whole bucketful," he declared. "My, ain't I thirsty! Oh, goody, I hear a wagon!" and he hopped to one side of the road. "Ugh--it's old man Peters!"