“I—want—to go—to help Bensie,” declared Joel insistently, with a very red face. “O Polly! I do. Let me go.” He was so near to crying that Polly said hastily, “I know, Joey, you do want to help Bensie; there, there,” and she gave him an approving little pat.
“I want to help Bensie,” cried Joel; his smiles all come again to the chubby face, and off he dashed.
“Now, Davie,” said Polly in her briskest fashion, and setting to on the long seam, “I think if I were you, I’d play with Phronsie a bit,” with a glance at the disappointed little face.
“Come on, Phronsie,” said little David, gulping down his disappointment; for now that Joel was fairly on the way to meet Ben, nothing seemed better than to be of the party. But he sat down on the floor, where Phronsie immediately crouched beside him; and in a minute the only sound in the old kitchen was the soft hum of their voices, and Phronsie’s delighted little gurgle as the play went on.
“I better be going over that story again in my mind,” said Polly to herself. “I’ve a good chance now, it’s so quiet and lovely;” and she beamed at Davie when he looked up, in a way to make his little heart glad. And then Polly was lost in the depths of her story till the old kitchen and the little brown house and the children faded away; and she was revelling in the glories of the palace, with retinues of courtiers and servants at her beck and call, and all the paraphernalia of royalty around her. For was she not the Princess Esmeralda herself? And a smile played around Polly’s lips as she stitched on, all unconscious of the task her fingers were performing.
“Hi-hi!” It was Joel shouting close to her chair, and there was Ben coming in the door with a pleased look on his face. “Now for the story,” screamed Joey, setting down the bag of meal with a bang on the table; and down tumbled Polly’s castle all around her ears. “Well, I’m glad I’ve got it fast in my mind so I can tell it good,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Yes, I’m ready;” and she smiled at Ben.
“That’s good,” said Ben heartily, “that you didn’t tell that story until I got home, Polly.”
“Did you suppose I would, Ben?” said Polly with an air of reproach.
“No, I didn’t really,” said Ben, wiping his hot face. “But it was good of you, Polly, to wait for me. And it was good of you Joe, too, to come to meet me, for I had to go around to Parson Henderson’s with a letter.”