Fine Needlework and Embroidery to Order.
Also Ideas
There was something positively dazzling about those two words in flaming scarlet, and Polly and Dan stepped out twice in the course of their early breakfast to have a look at them.
“Don’t you feel scared, Polly?” asked Dan, as he left her at her dish-washing.
“Scared? Not I!” and she walked down the path with him, drying her hands on a dish-towel.
It was a delicious morning in late September; the air dry and sparkling as a jewel, the mountains baring their shoulders to the morning sun. The Peak had already a dash of winter on his crown, but the barren slope of rock below looked like 160 an impregnable fortress. Polly and Dan were never tired of wondering at the changing moods that played so gloriously upon that steadfast front.
“Seems as if they must almost see him from Fieldham this morning, he’s so bright,” said Polly.
“That’s so,” Dan agreed. “I say, Polly, isn’t he enjoying himself, though?”
“Course he is!” Polly answered. “Isn’t everybody?”
Then Polly went back to her splashing water and flopping dish-towels, and was busy for an hour about the house. By and bye she sat herself down in the little porch and proceeded to put good honest stitches into a child’s frock, for the making of which she was to receive twenty-five cents. Not very good pay for a day’s work, but “twenty-five-hundred-million per cent. better than nothing,” as she had assured the doubtful Dan.
Life looked very different to her since those two bright words had been added to the sign. Not that it had looked otherwise than pleasant before; but there was 161 so little originality in the idea of doing needlework that it had scarcely merited success, while this,—of course it must succeed!