There was another pause, a long one this time. Polly broke it, for she saw that both Molly and Alan were on the point of laughing.
"It is a beautiful day," she began. "We were going to ride this morning with Job, but—" She paused abruptly. Job had done conspicuous duty in Mrs. Baxter's funeral procession, in fact, he had helped to bear the disconsolate widower and his children to her grave. Polly felt that further mention of him would be ill- timed. Mr. Baxter appeared to be pursuing his own train of thought. "Is Miss Roberts well?" he asked, after another interval.
"Very," answered Polly.
"Not given to being sick much?"
"No, she is very strong."
"Well," said Mr. Baxter, rising with an air of relief, "I must be going. Just tell your aunt, sissy, that I called on her. Where's my hat?"
He had mislaid it somewhere, and while he charged up and down the parlor looking for it, Alan and Molly prudently withdrew, to laugh unseen. At length he discovered it in the hall, and went away, leaving the children to speculate vainly on the cause of his visit.
"Sissy!" exclaimed Polly violently. "Sissy! I wonder how he'd like me to call him bubby! I'll try it, the next time he comes. But he stayed so forever that we shan't have time to cook any potatoes for dinner."
They surely would not, for the fire was out and the stove was cold.
"Your poor father!" groaned Molly. "And we weren't going to let him know that anything was wrong."