sick--boneset's good for colds."

"Oh, Ben!" said Mrs. Pepper, "I guess his father knows what to
give him."

"And oh! the bitter stuff!" cried Polly, with a wry face. "Well, it's
hard work to write," said Ben, yawning. "I'd rather chop wood."

"I wish I knew how," exclaimed Joel, longingly.

"Just you try every day; Ben'll teach you, Joe," said his mother,
eagerly, "and then I'll let you write."

"I will!" cried Joe; "then, Dave, you'll see how I'll write-- I tell
you!"

"And I'm goin' to--ma, can't I?" said Davie, unwilling to be
outdone.

"Yes, you may, be sure," said Mrs. Pepper, delighted; "that'll make
a man of you fast."

"Oh, boys," said Polly, lifting a very red face, "you joggle the table
so I can't do anything."

"I wasn't jogglin'," said Joel; "the old thing tipped. Look!" he
whispered to Davie, "see Pofly, she's writing crooked."

So while the others hung around her and looked over her shoulder
while they made their various comments, Polly finished her part,