"Oh, snapped it," answered Polly, "quick as ever he could, I tell
you; but 'twasn't good like this, Phronsie."

"Did he have two bugs?" asked Phronsie, eying suspiciously the
second morsel of dry toast that Polly was conveying to her mouth.

"Well, he would have had," replied Polly, "if there'd been bugs
enough; but there were nine other chicks, Phronsie."

"Poor chickies," said Phronsie, and looked lovingly at the rest of
the toast and butter on the plate; and while Polly fed it to her,
listened with absorbed interest to all the particulars concerning
each and every chick in the Henderson hen-coop.

"Mother," said Polly, towards evening, "I'm going to sit up with
Ben to-night; say I may, do, mother."

"Oh no, you can't," replied Mrs. Pepper; "you'll get worn out; and
then what shall I do? Joel can hand him his medicine."

"Oh, Joe would tumble to sleep, mammy," said Polly, "the first
thing--let me."

"Perhaps Phronsie'll let me go to-night," said Mrs. Pepper,
reflectively.

"Oh, no she won't, I know," replied Polly, decisively; "she wants
you all the time."