"Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Mr. King, leaning back in dismay, "whatever
can you mean, my boy?"
"Grandpapa"--Joel laid a brown hand on the velvet morning-jacket, and
brought his black eyes very close to the gentleman's face--"I've got to
earn that ten dollars; I've got to, Grandpapa, 'cause I lost it." Joel's
voice broke here, but he recovered it and dashed on, "And I can't do it
unless you will let me sell tin. _Please,_ Grandpapa dear. Mr. Biggs
used to, in Badgertown, you know, and he took me with him sometimes on his
cart, so I know how; and I can sell a lot. I can wheel it in my express
wagon, and--" Joel by this time was running on so glibly, under the
impression that if he didn't stop, Mr. King would be induced to say yes,
that the old gentleman was forced to put up his hand peremptorily.
"There, there, Joey, my boy," he said, settling his glasses that had
slipped to the end of his nose, and taking Joel's hand. "Now, then, let's
hear all about the matter."
And in a minute or two Joel was perched on the old gentleman's knee, and
they were having the most sociable time possible. And before long Joel
forgot he hadn't laughed for oh, such a long while, and lo and behold!
Grandpapa said something so very funny that they both burst out into a
merry peal, that rang out into the wide hall beyond.
"Joel is actually laughing," exclaimed Polly, coming soberly down the
stairs; and she was so overcome by the joyful sound that she sat right down
on the step.
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