“Have they, indeed! It is a good thing to be marketable,” with a whimsical glance towards the Doctor.
“I don’t like it,” returned Polly.
“Well, you won’t have any more such trouble after you come to New York.”
Polly was silent, but her lips were set, and her eyes grew ominously dark.
“Now, in the first place, you shall have anything in the world you wish,—dolls, toys, and a playroom to keep them in, and a whole library of story-books. Then parties—whew, you ought to see what parties Julian and Harold have! They’d make you open your eyes with envy!”
“Mrs. Jocelyn gave me a beautiful birthday party,” responded Polly with dignity.
“Ah? But it wasn’t a New York party. You don’t know what kind of parties we get up in New York. Why, the flowers for the boys’ last affair cost two hundred dollars!”
Polly gazed down at the rug, and followed the intricate lines of the pattern.
“Then you shall have the handsomest pink silk party dress we can find in the city, all fixed up with white lace—real lace, mind you! What do you think of that?”