“And I can’t see it!” mourned Grissel.
Russell sprang to his feet, but Benedicta was ahead of him. Taking the child in her strong arms she descended the steps and faced the veranda.
“That looks nice,” commented the little girl, wagging her head happily. “Now take me to see the others,” she demanded.
“Why, Grissel!” reproved Polly.
“Well, I want to see ’em,” she explained.
“That isn’t the way to ask. Besides, you are too heavy for Benedicta.”
“Pshaw, she ain’t weightier ’n a hummin’-bird,” scorned the woman. She was already marching off across the lawn.
Polly shook her head. “If she lets them impose upon her this way,” she said in a soft tone, “she’ll have her hands full.”
“Suppose we follow on,” Russell suggested. “Can’t any of your kids walk?”
“Some of them a short distance; but I can’t go now.”