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It makes me think of the little brown house, Mamsie, whenever you smooth my hair. What good times we used to have there!" Mrs. Fisher's hand trembled a bit, but the black eyes were as serene as ever. "You used to work pretty hard, Polly," she said. "Oh, but it was fun!" said Polly, merrily, "only I didn't like the old stove when it acted badly. But then came my new stove.
"I know," said Polly; "that's right, you can have as much bread as you want to; but what you been doing with the pail?" "Nothing," said Joel; "'twouldn't hangup, that's all." "And you've been bumping it," said Polly; "oh! Joel, how could you! You might have broken it; then what would mamsie say?" "I didn't," said Joel, stoutly, with his hands in his pockets, "bump it worse'n Davie, so there!"
"But it's the very thing; and oh! thank you, sir, for thinking of it. The boys won't be so homesick for us when they get the box. And it will be the best thing in the world for us to keep busy, so we can't worry about them." "Mamsie has said 'yes'!" exclaimed Polly, flying off to dance around and around in the middle of the room.
"Now, whatever shall we do!" said Polly, in great distress; "that hateful old crack! and Ben's clear off to Deacon Blodgett's!" "I'll run and get him," cried Joel, briskly; "I'll bring him right home in ten minutes." "Oh, no, you must not, Joe," cried Polly in alarm; "it wouldn't ever be right to take him off from his work; mamsie wouldn't like it."
King full of raisins, Phronsie; won't that be lovely!" and Polly began to fill a little scalloped tin with some of the cake mixture. "N-no," said the child, eying it suspiciously; "that isn't like a 'gingerbread boy, Polly; he'll like that best." "Mamsie," said Polly, "we can't let her make a dreadful, horrid 'gingerbread boy' to send Mr. King! he never'll let Jasper come here again."
And Polly looked as if she were going to cry at once. "Oh, no no!" screamed Joel, in the greatest distress, and clutching Polly's arm. "I'll tell you, Polly; I'll tell." And he began to rattle off a lot of words, but Polly stopped him. "No, it's too late now. I've said it, and you must go; for Mamsie wouldn't like it if you didn't." Thereupon Joel gave a terrible howl.
"She's coming right back, little girl," said old Mr. King kindly. He even smiled. But the girl had hung her head, so she didn't see it, and she blubbered on. "I'll bring Mamsie to see my poor little girl," Phronsie kept saying to herself over and over, as she scuttled off, and in a very few minutes Mother Fisher was out on the veranda in obedience to old Mr. King's summons.
Mamsie " and he turned a troubled face to her "do you suppose God's going to let good Mr. Blodgett's barn burn up?" "No," said Mrs. Pepper, "I don't b'lieve God had anything to do with it, Davie. Like enough it's some man been in there with a pipe, but we'll hope the fire'll be put out. And don't you be troubled; God wouldn't let any one be hurt, least of all a good man like Deacon Blodgett."
Polly, quite broken down by this, deserted her door-knob, and rushed into the bedroom. "O, Mamsie, it's about about other people, and I didn't know as I ought to tell. Need I?" cried Polly imploringly, seizing her mother's gown just as Phronsie would.
And she began to flap out a long white piece of cotton cloth on the table to trim into just the desired shape. "That isn't the way," said Percy, crowding up, the brightness that had flashed over his face at Polly's appearance beginning to fade. "Hoh! those won't be good for anything those ain't sails." "I haven't finished," said Polly, snipping away vigorously, and longing to get back to mamsie.
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