The Adventures of Joel Pepper

Excerpt

JOEL AND THE SNAKE

"Come on, Dave!"

It was Joel's voice, and Polly pricked up her ears. "'Tisn't going to hurt you. Hoh! you're a 'fraid-cat—old 'fraid-cat!"

"No, I'm not 'fraid-cat," declared little Davie, trying to speak stoutly; "I'm coming, Joel," and his little rusty shoes pattered unevenly down the rickety board walk.

"Jo-el!" called Polly, thinking it quite time now to interfere.

Joel scuttled behind the old woodshed, and several smothered grunts proclaimed his disapproval at the interruption.

"Now I know you're up to some mischief," declared Polly, "so you just come into the house, Joel Pepper, and tell me what it is."

"'Tisn't," said Joel, loudly insisting. "Don't go, Dave," in a loud whisper. Thereupon ensued a lively scuffle, evidently, by the noise they made.

"I must," said little Davie; "Polly called us."

"No, she didn't call you," declared Joel. "You stay here.
She said 'Joel.'"

"Bo-oys!" sang out Polly's voice, not to have any doubt in the matter.

"There, she did call me," cried Davie, wriggling to get free from Joel's clutch; "she said 'boys!'"

"She's always calling us," said Joel, in an injured voice, dragging himself away from the charms of the woodshed to straggle slowly back to the house.

There sat Polly on the big stone that served as a step for the back door, with her hands folded in her lap. Little Davie skipped by Joel, and ran up to her, with a flushed face.

"Now I should like to know what you've been up to, Joey Pepper?" said Polly, her brown eyes full on him.

"Haven't been up to anything," mumbled Joel, hanging his chubby face.

"Yes, you have, I know," declared Polly, in her most positive fashion; "now tell me what it is, and right straight off, Joel. Begin." She kept her hands still folded in her lap. "What were you going to do?"

Joel squirmed all over the little patch of ground before the flat doorstone, and dug the toes of his shoes into the dirt.

"Don't do so," cried Polly. "You'll get bigger holes in 'em. Oh,
Joel, to think how naughty you are, and Mamsie away!"

At that Joel gave a loud howl, nearly upsetting Polly from her stone; then, digging his two fists into his eyes, he plunged forward and thrust his black head on the folded hands in her lap. "I ain't naughty," he screamed. "I ain't, and Mamsie won't care. O dear—ooh—ooh!"

"Tell me what you were going to do, before I can say you are not naughty," said Polly, dreadfully frightened at his outburst, but not unfolding her hands.

"I was only going to—going to—going to—" mumbled Joel, trying to burrow past her hands, and get into the comforting lap.

"Going to do what?" demanded Polly, still not moving.

"I was going to—going to—" said Joel, in smothered tones.

"Stop saying you were going to," commanded Polly, in her firmest tones.

"You told me to tell you," said Joel. "O dear! I was going to—"

"Well, tell then, at once; what were you going to do? Hurry up,
Joe; now go on."

"I was going to—" began Joel again. "O dear me! I was going to—" he mumbled, burrowing deeper yet....