“We’re just sitting here,” said Percy, who was the only one to find his tongue, and looking up sidewise.
“So I perceive,” said the old gentleman.
“Joel was pitching into Van, Grandpapa,” cried little Dick in the most cheerful of tones, and scrambling up-stairs at a very rapid rate, “and Polly”—
“Ugh!” screamed Joel after him, “don’t let him tell, Grandpapa,” he begged, bounding over the steps to rush past Dick and reach the old gentleman’s side first.
“You pushed me,” cried little Dick savagely, and coming up red-faced and shining. “He pushed me, Grandpapa;” and he doubled up his fists at Joel.
“Hoity-toity!” exclaimed the old gentleman again. “You mustn’t be so free with your fists, my boy.”
“It’s my fault,” said Joel; “I was going to pitch into Van. Don’t let Dick say anything, Grandpapa,” he begged anxiously.
“Polly said”—began Dick; but Joel clapped his hand over his mouth—and there were the two boys whirling round and round, the old gentleman in the centre looking at them helplessly.
Meantime Phronsie had come over the stairs to put her hand into the old gentleman’s. “Please stop them, Grandpapa,” she begged piteously.