"But you helped to bring 'em in," said Polly. "How could you, Davie?" she added reproachfully.
"Dave didn't 'xactly help," said Joel, uneasily. "I told him he'd got to, Polly," he added honestly.
"Oh, I see," said Polly. "Well, now, Davie, you're going downstairs to get into Mamsie's bed."
"Oh, goody!" cried Davie, smiling through his tears; and stepping gingerly out of bed on the tips of his toes, lest he should meet a black cricket unawares, he skipped to the head of the stairs.
"Shake your clothes," called Polly, in a smothered voice, fearful lest Mamsie and Phronsie should wake up. Thereupon she began to shake the old wrapper violently. "We mustn't carry any of 'em downstairs," she said, while Joel set up a howl.
"Oh, I don't want Dave to go downstairs and leave me," he whined.
"Yes, you can stay up here with your crickets," said Polly, coolly, having shaken off any possibility of one remaining on Mamsie's wrapper.
"And to-morrow morning you just step around lively and pick 'em all up and carry 'em out doors," said Ben, before turning over for another nap. "Good night, Polly."
"Good night, Ben," said Polly, softly, going downstairs after Davie, who was pattering ahead, "and good night, Joey."
"Good night," snivelled Joel. "O dear me, I don't want Dave to go. Well, anyway, he ain't goin' away ever again, Polly Pepper--so there!"