"I didn't make her cry," denied Joel, stoutly, his face working
badly. "I'll get the spool--I'll get the spool. See, Polly, here
'tis," and he dived under the table, and came up bright and
shining with it in his hand.

"There now, Phronsie; see, Joel's got it for you," said Polly,
beaming at him. "Now, Pet, I'll tell you what, let's put
Mamsie's basket on the floor, and old Mr. Spool in it. There,
Joey, drop him in, then he can't run away again. Now, then!"

"Mr. Spool can't run away again," smiled Phronsie through her
tears, and leaning out of her little wooden chair to see Joel
drop the spool in. "That's nice, Polly, isn't it? Now he can't
run away again," she hummed.

"Indeed, it is," sang Polly, delighted; "he's fast now, so fly
at your snarl, Pet, Mamsie'll be so pleased to think you've
picked out some of it."

"I'm going to pick it all out," declared Phronsie in a tone of
determination. And wiping off the tears on the back of her fat
little hand, she set to work, humming away again to herself.

"Now, whatever keeps David!" cried Polly, dishing out Joel's
mush from the kettle on the stove, and setting the bowl on the
table.

"He's coming," said Joel, hastily. "O dear me, I wish we ever
had anything, Polly Pepper, but mush and molasses for breakfast!"