“But you didn’t cry,” declared Ben stoutly. “Polly didn’t let a single tear come out of her eyes; she was just splendid all the time.”
“No, I wasn’t splendid,” said Polly; but the color ran over her cheek again, and up to the little waves of hair on her brow, as she smiled at Ben. “And when Mamsie told us to get breakfast, why, Ben and I were glad enough to hop up and set to work. So he ran and kindled the fire; and pretty soon there it was blazing away, right merrily, because, you see, we had our new stove then. What we should have done with our old one, I’m sure I don’t know,” said Polly, holding up both hands.
“And I said, it was lucky we had such a splendid lot of wood all cut in the woodshed,” said Ben, “when I came back to fill up the wood-box again, after I had made the fire. And Mamsie said ‘Never say “lucky” again, Ben, but say “faithful work provides for the future.”’ I’ve thought of it ever since.”
“‘And that’s the reason you’ve got plenty of wood now,’ said Mamsie.” Polly took up the story quickly. “And she said that Ben had been plucky, instead of lucky, to stick to it when he wanted to rest. Well, then we heard an awful noise up in the loft.”
“What was it?” cried Van, getting involuntarily nearer to Polly and Ben. “Was it bears?”
“Worse than bears,” said Ben decidedly.
“Worse than bears?” Van was quite delighted; but he drew still farther within the centre of the group, and cast a glance over his shoulder as if he expected something to jump from behind the trees.
“Yes,” said Ben, nodding his head.
“Was it a snake?” asked little Dick, huddling up close to Polly to lay his head in her lap again.
“Worse than a snake,” said Ben.