"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."