"You shall just take that back, Percy Whitney," declared Van, hopping out
of his chair, and doubling up his small fists. "I'm not a snapping-turtle."
Percy edged off, with a sharp lookout for the fists.
"I didn't say so."
"Yes, you did," said Van crossly; "you said just that very thing, Percy
Whitney, and I'm not a snapping-turtle."
"I said you were as cross as one," said Percy, wishing he hadn't been quite
as free with his comparisons, and moving off to a convenient corner.
"Well, that's just the same," said Van, advancing, "and Polly----"
[Transcriber's note: This page in our print copy was obscured by an
ink blot. The words in brackets are those that we have supplied based
on context and those letters that were visible.]
At the mention of Polly, Percy stopped suddenly, drew a long breath, and
never thought of the [corner] again.
"[Why,] we promised her," he gasped; "I forgot all about it."
Down [went Van's] little fist.
"So we [did]," [he] said gloomily, and both boys crept off [together to]
the same corner Percy had selected for [himself].
"Whatever shall [we] do [now]?" breathed Percy, quite lost in his dismal
reflections.
"We stopped," said Van, as something to be offered with a grain of hope.
"But we did a lot before we stopped," said Percy. A deep gloom had settled
over his countenance, and he wouldn't look at Van.
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