“O Joel Pepper!” exclaimed Jasper in dismay, “we none of us thought you’d choose that, because we knew you wanted so many things.”
“Well, I do choose that,” declared Joel obstinately, and shaking his stubby black hair; “and I don’t want anything else. So begin, Polly, do;” and he drummed impatiently against the green bank with his heels.
“Ben,” said Jasper in despair, rushing up to that individual, “isn’t there anything we can do to bring Joe to his senses? Polly’s tired to death. Oh! why did we promise?”
“No,” said Ben with a long face, “not when Joe makes up his mind. And we did promise. But I’ll tell the story.” And he drew a long breath, and his face dropped longer yet.
“Ben’s going to tell the story,” announced Jasper, rushing back cheerily. “Now all sit down,” as Phronsie pattered back along the winding road through the shrubbery, having run a race with herself quite contentedly. “Here, child;” and he sat down on the grass, and drew her into his lap.
“But I don’t want Ben to tell the story,” cried Joel coolly. “I want Polly; and you promised you’d give me my wish if ’twas a possible thing,” he asserted in a loud and positive tone.
“Well, ’tisn’t a possible thing; Polly’s tired to death,” said Jasper shortly. “Here, Ben, come along, and dash a story at this persistent chap.”
“Polly isn’t tired,” contradicted Joel, looking in surprise at Polly’s blooming cheeks. “She’s never tired; and you’ve promised,” he repeated in an injured tone.
“And I’m quite rested now,” exclaimed Polly, tossing back the damp rings of hair away from her brow, “so I can tell it just as well. But what in the world shall it be about?” and she broke into a merry laugh.