“Well, she didn’t promise she’d tell it now,” said Jasper. “You two boys would tire her to death, if you had your way. Polly, I wouldn’t oblige them; they’re perfect tyrants.”
“Well, she did promise,” repeated Van positively, and shaking his brown head; “and when she says she’ll do anything, Polly Pepper always does it,” he brought up triumphantly.
“Yes, I did promise them, Jasper,” said Polly, stifling a sigh, as she thought of the hole in her time that the story would cut. “So I’ll do it, boys.”
“Oh, goody!” exclaimed Percy, who had kept still through fear of not standing well in Jasper’s eyes. Van turned a somersault in the middle of the library floor, and came up bright and smiling, but speechless.
“Let her off, boys,” begged Jasper, seeing Polly’s face; “she’ll tell you just as good a one some other time.”
“No, no,” howled Van in alarm; “it’s got to be now. You said so, Polly, this very morning at breakfast,—that you’d tell it just as soon as you got through with your music-lesson, so there!”
“And so I will, Vanny,” said Polly brightly. “I’m going to begin it this very minute; that is, as soon as you’ve called Joel and David and Phronsie and Ben. We couldn’t ever in all this world have a story without them.”
“We might without Joel,” said Van, making lively progress toward the door, having certain reasons of his own for a cooling off toward that individual since the contest in strength with the fists of the little country lad.
“For shame!” cried Jasper after him; “we all want Joel.”
“Van doesn’t like Joel since Joe beat him,” said Percy pleasantly, who dearly loved to take Van down.