"It's only to Cherry Brook," cried Joel, loudly.
"Now, Polly Pepper, I think you're real mean to keep him in, an' we'd catch a whole lot o' fish, an' maybe have some for supper."
It was always Joel's ambition to catch a fish big enough to cook, but as the brook, a little tumbling stream over a few ragged rocks, on the edge of Deacon Brown's meadow lot, only held minnows, with an occasional turtle and frog, this had never as yet happened.
Phronsie laid down the bit of calico she was puckering up by drawing through it a needle to which a coarse thread was tied, and looked gravely at Joel. "You must not say so of my Polly," she said gravely, shaking her head.
Joel's black hair ducked beneath the window. "I didn't mean--" he mumbled. "Polly, I didn't, truly." Then he flung himself on the grass and burst into tears, kicking over the pail. The angleworms wriggled along till they got to the edge, then quietly took themselves off.
David drew a long sigh and folded his hands. "I'm not a bit tired, and I should like to go, Polly," he said.
"No, Davie dear," said Polly, kindly, "you'd be tired before you'd gone halfway. And Mamsie wouldn't like it. Do go back and lie down again on the bed."
"Oh, I can't," said little David, shrugging his shoulders, "it's all alone in there, Polly."
"Well, I can't leave my sewing, and you must have it dark, or else you won't go to sleep. Do try, Davie, that's a good boy."
But little Davie still shrugged his shoulders, and wouldn't even look at the bedroom door, but kept his back toward it.