Part 44 (1/2)

”Why not?” asked Percy.

”Cause there was things to do,” said Polly. ”But sometimes when it rained, and he couldn't go out and work, and there wasn't anything to do in the house--then we'd have--oh!” and she drew a long breath at the memory, ”such a time, you can't think!”

”Didn't you wish it would always rain?” asked Van, still gazing at the picture.

”Dear, no!” began Polly.

”I didn't,” broke in Joel, in horror. ”I wouldn't a-had it rain for anything!--only once in a while,” he added, as he thought of the good times that Polly had spoken of.

”'Twas nice outdoors,” said little Davie, reflectively; ”and nice inside, too.” And then he glanced over to his mother, who gave him a smile in return. ”And 'twas nice always.”

”Well,” said Van, returning to the picture, ”I do wish you'd tell me how to draw, Ben. I can't do anything but flowers,” he said in a discouraged way.

”Flowers aren't anything,” said Percy, pleasantly. ”That's girls' work; but dogs and horses and cars--those are just good!”

”Will you, Ben?” asked Van, looking down into the big blue eyes, so kindly turned up to his.

”Yes, indeed I will,” cried Ben, ”that is, all I know; 'tisn't much, but everything I can, I'll tell you.”

”Then I can learn, can't I?” cried Van joyfully.

”Oh, tell me too, Ben,” cried Percy, ”will you? I want to learn too.”

”And me!” cried d.i.c.k, bending forward, nearly upsetting Phronsie as he did so. ”Yes, say I may, Ben, do!”

”You're too little,” began Percy. But Ben nodded his head at d.i.c.k, which caused him to clap his hands and return to his original position, satisfied.

”Well, I guess we're going to, too,” said Joel. ”Dave an' me; there isn't anybody goin' to learn without us.”

”Of course not,” said Polly, ”Ben wouldn't leave you out, Joey.”

Phronsie sat quite still all this time, on the corner of the table, her feet tucked up under her, and her hands clasped in her lap, and never said a word. But Ben looking up, saw the most grieved expression settling on her face, as the large eyes were fixed in wonder on the faces before her.

”And there's my pet,” he cried in enthusiasm, and reaching over the table, he caught hold of one of the little fat hands. ”Why we couldn't think of getting along without her! She shall learn to draw--she shall!”

”Really, Bensie?” said Phronsie, the sunlight breaking all over the gloomy little visage, and setting the brown eyes to dancing. ”Real, true, splendid pictures?”

”Yes, the splendidest,” said Ben, ”the very splendidest pictures, Phronsie Pepper, you ever saw!”

”Oh!” cried Phronsie; and before any one knew what she was about, she tripped right into the middle of the table, over the papers and everything, and gave a happy little whirl!

”Dear me, Phronsie!” cried Polly catching her up and hugging her; ”you mustn't dance on the table.”

”I'm going to learn,” said Phronsie, coming out of Polly's embrace, ”to draw whole pictures, all alone by myself--Ben said so!”

”I know it,” said Polly, ”and then you shall draw one for mamsie--you shall!”

”I will,” said Phronsie, dreadfully excited; ”I'll draw her a cow, and two chickens, Polly, just like Grandma Bascom's!”

”Yes,” whispered Polly, ”but don't you tell her yet till you get it done, Phronsie.”