“How do you know it is for you?”
“Mother has a little whistle that she blows whenever she wants me to come home.”
“Can’t you just stay long enough to finish the story?” said Adele coaxingly. “Please do.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t. There is a lot more, and mother doesn’t like me to stay out too late.”
“She won’t mind just this once.”
Jessie hesitated and glanced toward the house. Again the whistle sounded.
Hastily gathering up Peter Pan and Charity she made ready to return home.
“I think you are real mean,” cried Adele. “You just get into the most interesting part and then you stop. I don’t like you one bit. I’m just going home and you can talk to your old dumb Polly after this.” She stalked away indignantly while Jessie slowly made her way toward the house, looking back every little while over her shoulder. She knew she was doing right, but she did wish Adele had not gone off in a huff. After all, perhaps Playmate Polly was more satisfactory, for she never quarreled with her. This thought made her turn and run back a few steps to call out: “Good-night, Polly.”
Just then she heard a scream and some one crying out: “Jessie, Jessie!” in tones of distress. For only a second Jessie hesitated and then she rushed to the spot from which the voice came to find Adele splashing about in the brook.
“I slipped off the log,” she cried. “I’m all wet and drownded and there is a cow coming!”