At mention of Polly’s name Joel left pursuit of Van, and plunged up to old Mr. King. “I won’t touch either of them,” he cried; “I don’t care if they pound me; I’ll let them.”
“And I’m not going to pound him,” declared Van with a positive air.
“I am,” announced little Dick magnificently. “I shall knock Joel flat;” and he beat the air with his fists.
At this old Mr. King burst into such a laugh, in which Percy and Van and Joel joined, that the tears forgot to roll down Phronsie’s cheeks, and David got off from the lowest stair, and came up to add himself to the group.
“Well, now,” said Grandpapa cheerfully, “seeing everything is so nice and comfortable, you would all do well to come into my room and see what I’ve got for you. Put up your fists in your pocket, Dickybird, and save them for next time.” With that he marched the whole bunch of children before him into his own writing-room. And there, behind the table and waiting for them, was Polly Pepper.
The children all stared at her a moment; then Phronsie piped out, rushing tumultuously over behind the table to get into Polly’s lap. “It is Polly. She’s got back.”
“Yes, Polly has got back,” said the old gentleman. “Now, Polly,” before any one had a chance to say a word, “I think you would better set right to work about that story.” And he bustled about in such a lively manner, getting everybody into chairs, that almost before the children knew it, there was Polly in the very midst of—
THE GREEN UMBRELLA.
And it began like this:—