“Come f’r a walk, did ye!” sniffed Cornelius. “Wal, ye’ve had it sure! Now, see here! I’ve got to go over on North Second Street to git a receipt f’r some cake Cousin Ellen give my mother, or I’ll ketch it when the show’s out—that’s where my mother is now! She says, the last thing, ‘Cornelius, mind yer don’t forgit to go up after that receipt, f’r I want to make th’ cake in th’ mornin’!’ I says, ‘Sure I won’t!’—and I never thought of it again till just as I was goin’ up to bed! It happened to pop into my head, and if I didn’t hustle down those stairs! An’ here I be! Now ye just sit down and wait, and I’ll go ’long back wid ye.”
The boy darted into the shadows and was lost. Polly and David felt more alone than before.
“Queer, we should meet him ’way out here, at this time!” David had lowered his voice, as if fearful of being overheard.
“He came just to find us,” purred Polly. “What a nice boy he is!”
“Don’t talk so loud!” cautioned David.
“He can’t hear. He’s too far away.”
“Somebody might.”
“There isn’t anybody,” she laughed, yet involuntarily she was obeying David’s injunction.
They sat there on the bench what seemed a very long time, still Cornelius did not appear.