"So you are," said Polly, glancing approvingly at the bare bowl.
"Well now, I'll tell you, Davie, what you can do. You know that
pile of old nails that Deacon Brown said Ben might have? Well,
'tisn't nice, you know, to play all day, so you may pick over
some of 'em, and get the good ones out. Ben will be so surprised,
even if you don't get but a few ready."

"I'm going to work all the morning at 'em," declared little
Davie, gladly, hopping off toward the door.

"No, I don't want you to work but a little while," said Polly,
decisively, and picking up the breakfast dishes to wash. "You
can have most all to-day to play in. And then some other day,
when there isn't any other work to do, you can pick over some
more; and pretty soon, before you know it, they'll all be done, and
Ben'll be so surprised, for they'll be ready when he wants to mend
the woodshed."

"I don't want to pick over any crooked old nails," proclaimed
Joel, loudly, and knocking his heels against the pantry door. "I
sh'd think Deacon Brown might have given us some good ones."

"For shame, Joel!" said Polly, hurrying across the floor with
the pile of dishes; "it's fine of him to give us these. And
there are lots of good ones amongst 'em."

"You told me not to say 'lots,' the other day," said Joel, with
a sharp look out of his black eyes to see if Polly would relent.