“What was it?” asked Phronsie fearfully.
“Oh! now I know it is the chicken-pie coming back; and those three boys can take it to their grandmother,” exclaimed little David joyfully.
“Hoh—hoh—a chicken-pie can’t come back like that,” said Joel, with a snort.
“And the little thin man came skurrying out of the bushes, and dragging after him his big black dog,” said Polly with a fine flourish, “who smelt of chicken-pie all over his face; and he wouldn’t look at anybody, and especially the three boys sitting on their stones by the roadside; but he rolled his eyes up like this,” Polly looked off sideways, and up at an imaginary sky; “and his master, the thin little man, said, and he dragged him by his collar up in front of those boys, ‘Now, sir, say you’re sorry you’ve eaten up all that pie;’ and that dog said, ‘Bark—bark!’ just as loud, oh, you can’t think!”
Phronsie screamed in great excitement, and clapped her hands together to think of the big dog. Then she grew very sober. “But what will the boys do, Polly?”
“And the grandmother?” finished Joel and David together.
“Oh! the little thin man said, ‘Hold your hands, boys;’ and then he dropped one—two—three—four—five—six gold pieces into them.”
“Gold?” screamed Joel excitedly.
“Yes, real, true shiny gold,” cried Polly, nodding away; “enough to buy two dozen chicken-pies, all richer and juicier and better than the one the boys were carrying to their grandmother.”