MAKING HAPPINESS FOR MAMSIE

And so, the minute her mother had departed for the minister's
house next morning, and Ben had gone to his day's work, chopping
wood for Deacon Blodgett, Polly assembled her force around the
old stove, and proceeded to business. She and the children had
been up betimes that morning to get through with the work; and
now, as they glanced around with a look of pride on the neatly
swept floor, the dishes all done, and everything in order, the
moment their mother's back was turned they began to implore
Polly to huny and begin.

"It's most 'leven o'clock," said Joel, who, having no work to do
outside, that day, was prancing around, wild to help along the
festivities; "it's most 'leven o'clock, Polly Pepper! you won't have it
done."

"Oh, no; 'tisn't either, Joe;" said Polly, with a very flushed face,
and her arms full of kindlings, glancing up at the old clock as she
spoke; "tisn't but quarter of nine; there, take care, Phronsie! you
can't lift off the cover; do help her, Davie."

"No; let me!" cried Joel, springing forward; "it's my turn; Dave got
the shingles; it's my turn, Polly."

"So 'tis," said Polly; "I forgot; there," as she flung in the wood, and
poked it all up in a nice little heap coaxingly. "It can't help but
burn; what a cake we'll have for mamsie!"

"It'll be so big," cried Phronsie, hopping around on one set of toes,