“But her cunning little duck has hurt his leg,” cried Phronsie, with clasped hands flying over to Mrs. Beebe, “and Polly is going to fix it right away.”
“Yes,” said Polly at sight of her face. “I must. Boys, go and tell dear Mrs. Beebe all about it, while I take her in my lap and fix that duck’s leg.” So Joel and David, very important at the piece of work set them, ran over and poured the whole recital into good Mrs. Beebe’s ear, how Polly was playing grandmother, and they hadn’t anything to make a cap of but an old piece of brown paper that came around the sacks from the store that Mrs. Pepper brought home to sew, and how the old thing kept tumbling over Polly’s nose, so that she sewed up the seam wrong; and she was trying to pick it out, because, you see, she had to get it done before Mamsie got home, who had gone to the minister’s to help Mrs. Henderson make her soft soap; and how Phronsie almost cried because Polly said the little duck’s leg was bent in the grass, because maybe the cat stepped on it; and how that was the reason Polly was talking to her now, and fixing the leg up. And, oh, dear me! all this and much more; good Mrs. Beebe oh—ing and ah—ing at just the right times. “And that’s all,” announced little David at last, flushed and important.
Joel hung his head, “No, it isn’t,” he blurted out; “I was bad.”
“You were bad?” echoed Mrs. Beebe. “Oh, no! I guess not,” she said soothingly.
“Yes, I was,” said Joel stoutly. “I scuffled Davie, and got the string-bag first.”
David shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “He put it back,” he said.
“Polly made me,” said Joel, twisting his mouth not to cry, and with an eye to the big basket, which was not for naughty boys. “Oh, dear me!”
Old Mrs. Beebe cast a puzzled glance at him, but was saved the necessity of replying; for old Mr. Beebe came in just then, rubbing his hands. “Well, how are you all, my pretty dears? I can’t stay a minute, for my shop’s all alone, an’ folks’ll be knocking on the door an’ can’t get in. Come, Ma, give ’em the things in the basket, and then come out an’ get in the wagon.”
Mrs. Beebe gave a sigh. “Dear me,” she said, “I wish I could set awhile; but then, there’s the shop.” So she got out of her chair, and began to undo the basket. And Polly, with Phronsie radiant, and hanging to her hand, came running up, and they all crowded around the good woman. And old Mr. Beebe laughed, and shook his fat sides, and rubbed his hands together worse than ever. And at last all the things were out and on the table ready to surprise Mamsie with when she came home.