“The mince-pie boy lived in an old stone house,” began Polly, “all overgrown with vines. There were big trees that sent their arms clear across the top of his house, and the vines ran all over them, so that it looked for all the world as if it was a great arbor. Well, and just a little ways off, about as far as from here to Grandma Bascom’s, was a gre—at big cave. And that was all grown over with vines too, and funny dangling trees that looked as if they were upside down.”
“Oh!” laughed Joel, “how funny!” And “How funny!” said little David.
“Yes; but it wasn’t half so funny, as it was inside of the house and the cave,” said Polly, sewing away busily; “because you see the man who was Adolphus’s father owned all the wild beasts that were in the cave. And as he had them all brought out of the cave, and up to the big house sometimes, when he had company, and he wanted to amuse them, why, you know everything was made so they might show off, and the people could have a good time.”
“Tell about it,” cried Joel, crowding up to Polly’s work so closely that she couldn’t see where to set her stitches. “Take care, Joe,” she warned; “I sewed that crooked. Mr. Atkins won’t give Mamsie any more sacks to do if they’re done badly. And I want to learn to sew them all for her.” And Polly’s face was very sad as she picked out the poor work.
Joel huddled out of the way in dismay. “There, that’s all right now,” announced Polly in a minute; “you didn’t do any mischief, Joe. Let me see, where was I?”
“You said Adolphus’s father had all the wild beasts brought out of the cave, and into the house, when he had company,” cried Joel. “Oh, make him bring ’em all in now, Polly, do!”
“So he shall,” nodded Polly. “You see, boys, Adolphus’s father had lots and lots of animals in his cave; but he liked the wolves and the bears and the crocodiles the best.”
“Oh, dear me!” said Davie quite overcome.
“Now, Adolphus liked the best thing in the world,—yes, the very best thing in all the world, mince-pie. And he had it for breakfast, dinner, and supper.”