"Oh, mammy, I couldn't help it," said Polly; "she said"-- and in
spite of all she could do, the rain of tears began again, which bade
fair to be as uncontrolled as before. But Mrs. Pepper took her up
firmly in her arms, as if she were Phronsie, and sat down in the old
rocking-chair and just patted her back.

"There, there," she whispered, soothingly, "don't think of it, Polly;
mother's got home."

"Oh, mammy," said Polly, crawling up to the comfortable neck for
protection, "I ought not to mind; but 'twas Miss Jerusha
Henderson; and she said--"

"What did she say?" asked Mrs. Pepper, thinking perhaps it to be
the wiser thing to let Polly free her mind.

"Oh, she said that we ought to be doing something; and I ought to
knit, and"-- "Go on," said her mother.

"And then Joel got naughty; oh, mammy, he never did so before;
and I couldn't stop him," cried Polly, in great distress; "I really
couldn't, mammy--and he talked to her; and he told her she wasn't
ever coming here again."

"Joel shouldn't have said that," said Mrs. Pepper, and under her
breath something was added that Polly even failed to hear--"but no
more she isn't!"

"And, mammy," cried Polly--and she flung her arms around her
mother's neck and gave her a grasp that nearly choked Mrs.