"You must not say so of my Polly,"
she said gravely, shaking her head.
Joel's black hair ducked beneath the window. "I didn't mean--"
he mumbled. "Polly, I didn't, truly." Then he flung himself on
the grass and burst into tears, kicking over the pail. The
angleworms wriggled along till they got to the edge, then
quietly took themselves off.
David drew a long sigh and folded his hands. "I'm not a bit
tired, and I should like to go, Polly," he said.
"No, Davie dear," said Polly, kindly, "you'd be tired before
you'd gone halfway. And Mamsie wouldn't like it. Do go back
and lie down again on the bed."
"Oh, I can't," said little David, shrugging his shoulders, "it's
all alone in there, Polly."
"Well, I can't leave my sewing, and you must have it dark, or
else you won't go to sleep. Do try, Davie, that's a good boy."
But little Davie still shrugged his shoulders, and wouldn't even
look at the bedroom door, but kept his back toward it.
"Dear me, Phronsie," cried Polly, in despair. "Now, if you'd go
in and lie down by his side and hold his hand, maybe he'd go to
sleep. He's half sick, and I don't want Mamsie to come home and
find him so."
"I've got to sew, Polly," said Phronsie, with an important air,
and holding up her mangy bit of calico, where all but one corner
was in a pucker, "so I must stay right here and finish it.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93