"You'll see--you'll see," is all that Pollypod says in reply. "I wish it was to-morrow! I wish it was to-morrow!"
But although she wishes it were to-morrow, she looks out for the Captain to-night, and listens to every footfall on the stairs. But the night passes, and to-morrow comes, and still no Captain. As twilight comes on, Pollypod's excitement is so great that Mrs. Podmore declares she is afraid the child will work herself into a fever. So Lily proposes that Pollypod shall come and sit with her and her grandfather, and Mrs. Podmore consents, all the more willingly because she wants to clean up for Sunday. Pollypod is glad to go down to the first-floor, for she will be nearer to the street door. They sit at the window, the three of them, Polly in Lily's lap, with all her heart in her ear. Knocks come, and rings, but not one of them heralds the Captain or the Doll. Lily believes in the Doll, but not in the Captain; Pollypod believes in both.
"If he doesn't come, Polly," says old Wheels, "I'll make you a doll, on wheels."
"He's sure to come! he's sure to come!" exclaims Pollypod.
But twilight deepens, and the hope grows fainter. Pollypod's face is on Lily's neck, and Lily feels the tears welling from the child's eyes. Lily begins to feel sorry, also; sorry for more reasons than one. Mrs. Podmore is busy upstairs, scrubbing the room; Sunday is a day of rare, enjoyment to her and her small family. Old Wheels is on the point of suggesting that they shall light the lamp, when a knock comes at the street-door--a strange knock. Not a single knock for the first-floor, not two deliberate knocks for the second-floor, nor three for the third; but a rat-tat-tat, with a flourish which might be intended for some person in this humble house who has distinguished friends in the upper circles of society. Some one--never mind whom--opens the door and a step that none of them recognises is on the stairs. Pollypod jumps from Lily's lap, but Lily retains her hand. The man lingers on the first landing. It is dark, and he is evidently a stranger.
"Does Mrs. Podmore live here?" he asks of Nobody, in a loud voice.
"Yes," answers Old Wheels, going to the door. "On the third-floor, but she's busy cleaning. What do you want of her?"
"I have brought something for her little girl."
"O, O!" cries Pollypod, and in her excitement Lily rises, and accompanies the child to the door. "Are you a Captain?"
"Yes."