"All the birds have lots of themselves to play with," grumbled Joel, idly slinging a stone at a pack of chattering young ones who could not contain their pride at being able to fly so finely, but kept screaming every minute, "Look at me. Chee-chee-chee. See-me-chee-chee-chee!"
Now they cocked their little heads and stared down with their black beady eyes at Joel; when they saw it was he, they chirped and twittered worse than ever. "See me. Chee-chee-chee! Look-at-me-chee-chee-chee!"
"Stop it!" cried Joel, crossly, looking up at them; "Davie's abed, an' I haven't any one to play with, an' you have, lots an' lots." Then a smile broke out and ran all over his chubby face, and he flung another stone he had picked off as far as he could into the grass.
The little birds, glad to see him smile, fluttered their wings and flew off, screaming proudly, "See-me-chee-chee-chee!"
"I'm going fishing down to Cherry Brook," said Joel, left alone with not a bird in sight. Even the squirrels seemed to have business at a distance that afternoon; so he hopped off from his stone and ran to get his old tin pail and the remnant of an iron spoon that Polly had given the boys to dig worms with; and very soon he had a good quantity wriggling and squirming away, and he came shouting, flushed and happy, by the window where she sat sewing.
"I'm goin' fishin', Polly," he said, slinging his birch pole over his shoulder.
"All right," said Polly, nodding and smiling away at him. "Sh, Joel, don't make such a noise. You'll wake up Davie."
"Then he could go with me," declared Joel, on the edge of another whoop.
"No, indeed, Mister Joel," said Polly, with a decisive nod of her brown head, "you needn't think it. Davie's legs aren't so strong as yours, and he's all tired out."
"My legs are dreadful strong, Polly," said Joel, well pleased at Polly's words. And he set down his pail of angleworms, and the pole carefully beside it. "See, Polly," and he flopped over suddenly, turning two or three somersaults, to stand still on his head.