“I am glad you do,” returned the tot, “for Oscarlucy was so afraid you wouldn’t. She wants me to have something, you know, to make up for the other. I guess God hadn’t the heart to make me so I couldn’t walk and then give me straight black hair and green eyes—like our kitten.”
Polly smiled, and somehow managed to give a satisfactory response. What manner of five-year-old was this who talked with such charming unconsciousness about her own beauty and gave voice to original opinions respecting her Creator? Adroitly she led the conversation to other topics.
Throughout that long afternoon Benedicta was not in sight; but Lilith whispered to Polly that the housekeeper was preparing a most delicious-looking luncheon, which in due time appeared on the veranda,—“a truly party tea” Grissel confided to Jozy. And Grissel knew.
Rosalind and her sister enjoyed the afternoon to the utmost, if glad faces and spontaneous laughter were true signs; and Polly and Lilith were kept in a state of expectancy, wondering what their wee visitor would say next.
“It must have taken God an awfully long time to make me,” she remarked over the cup-cakes.
“Why?” asked Lilith.
“Because I came so late. ’Most everybody got here before I did. And He took so much pains with me. Look at my curls! Oscarlucy has tried and tried to curl her hair so it will stay, and she never can. But God curled my hair so it stays. I think it must have taken Him a long time.”
The little patients stared at the small girl in big-eyed perplexity. Here was reasoning beyond their thought.
“Is Dr. Dudley coming pretty soon?” she asked, when the goodies had gone their way of delight.
“Yes,” answered Polly.