The next morning, as soon as it was light enough to see them, Joel picked up all his crickets. It was no easy matter, for they made him an awful piece of work, hopping and jumping into all the corners; and, just as soon as his thumb and fingers were on them--away they were off again. But Ben had said every one must go. So at it Joel kept, until the perspiration just rolled from his tired, hot face.
"I don't like 'em, Polly," he confided, when the last one was escorted out of doors, "and I ain't ever goin' to bring one in again."
"I wouldn't, Joe," said Polly, "and it isn't nice to scare folks, I think."
"I think so, too," said Phronsie, with a wise nod of her yellow head, as she sat on the floor, playing with David.
"Think what, Phronsie?" cried Joel, suddenly.
"What Polly said," replied Phronsie, patting Seraphina, who was being shown the pictures in a bit of old newspaper that David was pretending to read.
"Hoh! Hoh!" cried Joel, bursting into a laugh. "You don't know whatever you're talking about, Phron. Does she, Polly?"
"Don't tease her," said Polly; but Phronsie didn't hear, being absorbed in correcting Seraphina, who had wobbled over on her back instead of sitting up elegantly to view the pictures.
Joel ran down the next day to see Mrs. Beebe, Mother Pepper giving the long-desired permission. Davie had a little sore throat, and he much preferred to stay near Mamsie's chair.
"Now, Joe, remember to be good," warned Mother Pepper, the last thing, when he had been washed and dressed and brushed and declared quite prepared.