"Run down and get the cinnamon, will you, Joey?" said Polly; "it's in the 'Provision Room."The "Provision Room" was a little shed that was tacked on to the main house, and reached by a short ffight of rickety steps; so called, because as Polly said, "'twas a good place to keep provisions in, even if we haven't any; and besides," she always finished, "it sounds nice!""Come on, Dave! then we'll get something to eat!"So the cinnamon was handed up, and then Joel flew back to Davie.
And now, Polly's cake was done, and ready for the oven. With many admiring glances from herself, and Phronsie, who with Seraphina, an extremely old but greatly revered doll, tightly hugged in her arms was watching everything with the biggest of eyes from the depths of the old chair, it was placed in the oven, the door shut to with a happy little bang, then Polly gathered Phronsie up in her arms, and sat down in the chair to have a good time with her and to watch the process of cooking.
There was a bumping noise that came from the "Provision Room"that sounded ominous, and then a smothered sound of words, followed by a scuffling over the old floor.
"Boys!" called Polly. No answer; everything was just as still as a mouse. "Joel and David!" called Polly again, in her loudest tones.
"Yes," came up the crooked stairs, in Davie's voice.
"Come up here, right away!" went back again from Polly. So up the stairs trudged the two boys, and presented themselves rather sheepishly before the big chair.
"What was that noise?" she asked; "what have you been doing?""Twasn't anything but the pail," answered Joel, not looking at her.
"We had something to eat," said Davie, by way of explanation;"you always let us."
"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!""Why, Davie," said Polly, turning to him sorrowfully, "I shouldn't have thought you would!""Well, I'm tired of hanging it up," said little Davie, vehemently;"and I said I wasn't a-goin' to; Joel always makes me; I've done it for two million times, I guess!""Oh, dear," said Polly, sinking back into the chair, "I don't know what I ever shall do; here's Phronsie hurt; and we want to celebrate to-morrow; and you two boys are bumping and banging out the bread pail, and"-- "Oh! we won't!" cried both of the children, perfectly overwhelined with remorse; "we'll hang it right up.""I'll hang it," said Davie, clattering off down the stairs with a will.
"No, I will!" shouted Joel, going after him at double pace; and presently both came up with shining faces, and reported it nicely done.
"And now," said Polly, after they had all sat around the stove another half-hour, watching and sniffing expectantly, "the cake's done!--dear me! it's turning black!"And quickly as possible Polly twitched it out with energy, and set it on the table.
Oh, dear; of all things in the world! The beautiful cake over which so many hopes had been formed, that was to have given so much happiness on the morrow to the dear mother, presented a forlorn appearance as it stood there in anything but holiday attire. It was quite black on the top, in the center of which was a depressing little dump, as if to say, "My feelings wouldn't allow me to rise to the occasion.""Now," said Polly, turning away with a little ffing, and looking at the stove, "I hope you're satisfied, you old thing; you've spoiled our mamsie's birthday!" and without a bit of warning, she sat right down in the middle of the floor and began to cry as hard as she could.
"Well, I never!" said a cheery voice, that made the children skip.
"It's Mrs. Beebe; oh, it's Mrs. Beebe!" cried Davie; "see, Polly."Polly scrambled up to her feet, ashamed to be caught thus, and whisked away the tears; the others explaining to their new visitor the sad disappointment that had befallen them; and she was soon oh-ing, and ah-ing enough to suit even their distressed little souls.
"You poor creeters, you!" she exclaimed at last, for about the fiftieth time. "Here, Polly, here's some posies for you, and"-- "Oh, thank you!" cried Polly, with a radiant face, "why, Mrs. Beebe, we can put them in here, can't we? the very thing!"And she set the little knot of flowers in the hollow of the cake, and there they stood and nodded away to the delighted children, like brave little comforters, as they were.
"The very thing!" echoed Mrs. Beebe, tickled to death to see their delight; "it looks beautiful, I declare! and now, I must run right along, or pa'll be worrying;" and so the good woman trotted out to her waiting husband, who was impatient to be off. Mr. Beebe kept a little shoe shop in town; and always being of the impression if he left it for ten minutes that crowds of customers would visit it. He was the most restless of companions on any pleasure excursion.
