But in a breath the long-legged Polly was after her and Roxy ran her best, resolved not to be overtaken. But Roxy’s eyes were clouded by angry tears, and she stumbled over a trailing vine and went headlong, her basket flying in one direction and her hat in another, as the prickly vines caught at her cotton dress and her outstretched hands were scratched and hurt by their thorns.
“Oh, Roxy! Roxy! I am so sorry,” exclaimed Polly, endeavoring to pull away the clutching vines and lift the little girl to her feet; but Roxy struggled against her, sobbing with pain and anger: “Go away! Go away!” until Polly could only stand back and let her alone.
“I am so sorry, Roxy! Do let me help you!” she pleaded, as Roxy now scrambled to her feet and looked about for her hat and basket. For the moment she did not notice her scratched hands and the long tear in her skirt.
Polly picked up the basket, whose contents had been saved by its cover from being spilled, and Roxy grabbed it from her before Polly could offer it, seized her hat from the thick growth of wild rose bushes where it had landed, and without a word or look toward Polly rushed down the path.
Polly stood watching her for a moment, and then with a little sigh turned toward home. She told herself that she was the one to blame; that she had been unfair to Roxy, and that Roxy was right in resenting her words.
“Roxy is only a little girl; I forget that I am nearly five years older than she is,” she thought, and resolved that in future she would be more careful and patient toward this little girl from far-off New England.
While Polly was making these resolutions Roxy had run down the path bordering the brook, hardly noticing the direction she had taken until she found herself beside a quiet pool where the brook widened. On the further side there was a thick growth of hazel-bushes, while the path ended at the edge of the pool, and just along the water’s edge beyond the path grew tall water-weeds and waving grass.
A willow-tree leaned over the water, and Roxy, hot, tired and angry, sat down in its shade and leaned her head against its rough trunk.
“Polly spoils everything!” she thought. “She spoiled my ride yesterday, and now she has spoiled to-day! Oh, dear,” and the little girl began to whimper unhappily.
But after she had bathed her hot face and scratched hands in the cool water, she began to feel less unhappy; and as she noticed her lunch basket a little smile crept over her face.