"You told me to tell you," said Joel. "O dear! I was going to--"
"Well, tell then, at once; what were you going to do? Hurry up, Joe; now go on."
"I was going to--" began Joel again. "O dear me! I was going to--" he mumbled, burrowing deeper yet.
"Joel Pepper!" cried Polly, in a tone that brought him bolt upright, his round face streaked with tears that his dirty little hands had tried to wipe off, the rest of them trailing over his round nose. "O dear me! Now you must go into the 'provision room' and stay. Don't you remember Mamsie said you'd have to go there the next time you wouldn't tell what you'd done?" And Polly looked as if she were going to cry at once.
"Oh, no--no!" screamed Joel, in the greatest distress, and clutching Polly's arm. "I'll tell you, Polly; I'll tell." And he began to rattle off a lot of words, but Polly stopped him.
"No, it's too late now. I've said it, and you must go; for Mamsie wouldn't like it if you didn't."
Thereupon Joel gave a terrible howl. Little Davie, in distress, clapped his hands to his ears. "Oh, Polly, don't make him," he was saying, when heavy steps came around the corner of the house. "Any ra-ags to sell?" sang out the voice of a very big man.
Joel took one black eye away from his brown hands, and shot a sharp look at him. Then he howled worse than ever.
"No," said Polly, "not to-day, Mr. Biggs. There was a bagful Mamsie said I might sell, but I can't get it now."
"Sho! that's too bad," ejaculated Mr. Biggs. "What's the matter with him?" pointing a square, dingy thumb at Joel. "Stomach-ache?"