The old farmer, not hearing this, or indeed much of the talk, kept saying at intervals, "'Twarn't my fault. I ain't to blame," till Mrs. Pepper carried David into the little brown house, and the others, following mournfully enough, the door was shut.
David was laid up with a sprained ankle, that was all, after the upset. But Joel found it dismal enough to play out in the snow alone, and he kept pretty close to the window, so that he could look up and sing out once in a while to Dave seated by it in Mamsie's big rocking chair. And pretty soon, one day, Ben brought Davie out, all bundled up, and set him carefully on the big sled.
"There you are!" cried Ben, depositing his burden, "as fine as can be," all the rest of the family flocking around to tuck David in tighter, and to pull his tippet closer, and to be sure that he had his mittens on.
"Don't go very far, Joe," cautioned Mrs. Pepper.
"I won't, Mamsie," said Joe, proudly enough, marching off, while the big sled, with Davie sitting upon it as happy as a king, came sliding along behind.
"Hooray!" cried a harsh voice, when they had proceeded in this way for a good distance down the road, David joyfully exclaiming every minute, "Oh, Joey, it's so good to get out doors again."
"Hooray!" screamed the voice again, and Joel, staring as hard as he could, saw two boys pop up from behind a stone wall, and come rushing down toward him, each with a large snowball in his hand. And the next thing, the snowballs flew through the air, and one hit David in the neck, and burst all over his tippet. Joel didn't care that the other one gave him a whack on the head.
"You stop that!" commanded Joel, with a face as red as fire. "Don't you hit Dave again," and his black eyes flashed.
"We're bigger'n you," sneered one boy, and he picked up some more snow, and began to roll it into a hard ball.
"No, you ain't, either," contradicted Joel, who never would acknowledge any one to be bigger than himself. "And you let Dave alone, I say."