“I am afraid we shall be considered wrong in doing this,” Mrs. Pennington said, nervously.
Polly’s eyes flashed fire.
“Who is going to interfere with us?” she demanded. “Who has the right to interfere, I should like to know?”
Mrs. Pennington smiled faintly.
“People don’t always stop to consider if they have the right to speak, Polly,” she said, then she paused a moment. “I heard from your Grandmother Pennington this morning. Oh! it is a very kind letter.”
Polly’s lip curled, and there was still anger in her eyes.
“I know the sort of ‘kind’ letter Grannie Pennington can write. May I see this letter, mother, dear?”
Mrs. Pennington at once gave it to the girl.
“We have no secrets, you and I, have we?” she said, and she rubbed her hand softly up and down the girl’s arm. “How could I ever have imagined that my wild little Polly could have grown up into such a wise and clever person?”
Polly crouched down at her mother’s knees.