Sammy graciously permitted Lydia to feed Snowball and Nig with cabbage leaves, and her admiration of their wiggling pink noses so moved him that he offered to show his cut without asking a favor in return, quite contrary to his usual custom.
Lydia missed two of her old friends. Luley and Lena had gone away to a new home of their own, and Polly and Mary Ellen excitedly told of their call last week at Robin Hill.
“They came in an automobile,” said Polly, much impressed, “and their hair was done in curls, just alike, and they wore beautiful big pink hair-ribbons. And their new mother’s hat was just dripping with feathers. She doesn’t call them Luley and Lena any more at all. Their names are Eloise and Eleanore.” And Polly rolled up her eyes at the thought of her little friends’ grandeur.
“I shouldn’t think they would know who they are, changing their names that way,” said downright Mary Ellen. “And their clothes were so fine they didn’t dare play with us, either. I don’t believe they have any better times than we do.” And Mary Ellen surveyed with complete satisfaction her dark gingham dress and stout little shoes. The children no longer dressed alike in blue-and-white, and Mary Ellen was particularly proud of her blue-and-green Scotch plaid.
“Oh, I do,” said Polly, not at all influenced by this good sense. “I think it’s lovely to change your name. I’d give anything if mine was Edna Muriel. Don’t you think that’s a pretty name, Lydia?”
“Yes, lovely,” answered Lydia absently. She was thinking of her bronze slippers, and wondering what Mary Ellen would say to them. Perhaps she would scorn her for taking such pleasure in them. It was quite true that they were not meant for rough play.
But Nurse Norrie was calling them in to supper, and Lydia could only say in a low voice to Polly as they lagged behind Mary Ellen on their way to the house:
“I’ve a lovely pair of bronze slippers with me, and you shall try them on after supper.”
Polly nodded, her eyes dancing, and as they hurried out on the porch after washing face and hands, she pinched Lydia’s arm gently, by way of reminder of their secret, as she passed her on the way to her seat.
The table was set on the back veranda where it was cool and shady, and each boy and girl stood quietly behind his or her chair until grace was said and Miss Martin had taken her seat. To-night Miss Martin came leading little Roger whose long nap was only just over, and on her other side stood Tom, his heart in a flutter. It was his turn for the first time to say grace. Bravely he started off, but to his great surprise he heard himself saying: