“Will you ask him not to?”
“Why, yes, if you like; but why not ask him yourself?”
“I don’t like to talk to any one but you about Polly,” said Jessie after a pause. “Even Adele never could understand.”
Mrs. Loomis kissed the rather woe-be-gone little face. “Then, my darling,” she said, “I am very sorry you have lost your Polly, and you may rest assured that she shall stay just as she lies as long as you wish. I am very glad to get back the spoons, though I am sorry they could not have been discovered in another place.”
“I am glad to get back Adele’s doll, too. Here she comes now, mother, and she has her lovely dog with her.”
Adele came in with a rush, her dog, which she had named Rob, frisking after her. “Go out, Rob,” cried Adele. “Aunt Betty said I could bring him if I promised he shouldn’t come in the house. His feet are all wet.” She closed the door after Rob, shutting him out on the porch, where he lay down to wait for her. “Why, where did you find my Peter Pan?” asked Adele whose quick eyes spied the doll first thing.
“Sam found it and the spoons in a hollow tree. It was Eb who took it and the spoons, too. He hid them with some other things.”
“I knew it was Polly,” said Adele with a laugh. “I always said she had them.”
“Oh, Adele, don’t talk that way,” returned Jessie in a distressed voice. “Polly is dead.”
Adele looked at her for a minute to see if she really were in earnest. “What do you mean?” she said.