face, as it fell at her words. "I'm sorry, Davie, but you were
real tired, an' Mamsie wouldn't like you to go off any this
afternoon."

"It's only to Cherry Brook," cried Joel, loudly.

"Now, Polly Pepper, I think you're real mean to keep him in, an'
we'd catch a whole lot o' fish, an' maybe have some for supper."

It was always Joel's ambition to catch a fish big enough to cook,
but as the brook, a little tumbling stream over a few ragged
rocks, on the edge of Deacon Brown's meadow lot, only held
minnows, with an occasional turtle and frog, this had never as
yet happened.

Phronsie laid down the bit of calico she was puckering up by
drawing through it a needle to which a coarse thread was tied,
and looked gravely at Joel. "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