Joel's knife, with the tip of one blade broken, and the other
all gone, was his dearest treasure.

It had been given to him by Deacon Brown, and its possession had
made him very proud and boastful. It was the one thing Davie
longed for, above all others.

"Oh, no, Joe, not your knife!" he cried, aghast, and shrinking
back.

"Yes, you may have it," said Joel, decidedly, and running out
into the entry to hurry into the woodshed to the wooden box
where he kept his treasures.

"Yes, Davie, I would take it," said Mrs. Pepper. "Joel feels
very sorry he's taken any of your cake, and he'd rather you had
the knife."

"But it's Joel's knife," said Davie, "and he loves it."

"Not so much as he does to grow up a good boy," said Mother
Pepper, proudly, as Joel came running in and laid the knife on
the table in front of David. "It's yours, and I'm sorry I et
your cake," he said in one burst.

Polly hopped out of her seat, and ran around the table to take
Joel's black stubby head in her two hands. "Oh, Joel! I'm so
glad!" she cried, in a happy little gust.