“There it is! There it is!” she whispered joyfully, as she saw the white signals fluttering from the attic window of Polly’s home.
“That means that Polly will come over as soon as she can,” Roxy thought happily, and when her mother came in at the usual hour she found Roxy dressed and ready for breakfast.
She had put on a fresh gingham dress, and now remembered the torn pink cambric. For a moment she wondered what her mother would say to the neat stitches that Nonny had set, but the sound of horses’ hoofs in the yard sent her flying to the window and at the sight of Polly on horseback she forgot all about the pink dress and ran down the stairs and out to meet her friend.
Polly smiled down at the little girl and said quickly:
“Everything all right, Roxy? Or did you want me for something special?”
“Just to be friends!” said Roxy soberly. “Can you not come in to breakfast, Polly? Do!” she pleaded, and Polly instantly slipped from the saddle and said:
“I told Mother I might spend the day, for it is cloudy all along the mountains and that means rain; and it will be just the day to work on your circus.”
A negro boy led the brown horse to the stable and Polly and Roxy went in the house.
“Polly’s going to spend the day,” Roxy announced, and her visitor was warmly welcomed, and Dulcie brought in plates of steaming waffles, and Polly declared that Mrs. Miller’s bees made the best honey in Maryland as she accepted a liberal helping.
Before breakfast was over it had begun to rain.