“All right, Polly?” asked Mr. Larue, hurrying up. “Yes, you seem to be. Well, that certainly was a novel way to persuade a horse, but it seems to have given us results.”
Polly had to laugh when she heard that her tumble had made old Tom change his mind. She said she wasn’t willing to fall over all the rest of the way home, though; but her father said he didn’t think it would be necessary.
They climbed into the sleigh again, warm and rosy from their tramping in the drifts, and old Tom started off as though he had made up his mind to do his best without further protest.
This time Mr. Larue drove, for Mr. Marley’s hands were stiff from the cold. Though old Tom was willing, they could not drive fast, and before they reached the stretch of state road that would take them to River Bend, the heat had gone from the bricks provided by Mrs. Wicks and Margy was crying with cold. Polly and Jess were far from comfortable, but they and the boys were determined to “stick it out.”
“Say, Larue, these youngsters are purple with cold,” said Mr. Marley, suddenly. “We’ll have to stop for a moment and give them some exercise.”
Margy didn’t want to move, but Mr. Marley lifted her out and put her down in the road. The rest followed, and Mr. Larue tied old Tom to a tree.
“Now we have to run,” said Mr. Marley. “From the sleigh to that big maple tree and back, six times. No one can beg off, and the sooner you get through with it, the quicker we’ll be home.”
Margy’s feet were like lead and Polly was sure she had no feet at all. The tree was some distance from the sleigh, and the prospect of running there and back six times loomed like an impossible task. However, Mr. Marley started off, and they could do no less than follow.
“I know my feet are broken off!” thought Polly, limping along. “I won’t look, but I know they’re gone. My mother will be sorry if I come home without any feet.”
Behind her, Margy was still crying, wiping her eyes on her glove as she tried to run. The boys kept at it doggedly, their eyes on the ground.