“If you don’t want me, I s’pose I’ll have to,” plaintively.
Nothing further came to Polly’s ears, except the patter of small footsteps, which told her of Clementina’s retreat.
Why did Benedicta allow them to bother her and resent it almost as interference when Polly remonstrated?
Now Clementina’s thin voice was piping out again.
“Say, how soon will the cocoa gingerbread be done?”
“Oh, not for a good bit!”
“Say, don’t you think Dolly Merrifield’s brother is an awful lovely gentleman?”
“I guess so.”
“He’s beautifuller than any of the other gentlemen, isn’t he?”
“Yere.”