A youthful-looking, white-haired old lady and gentleman arose solemnly from the far end of the long room, and came forward in a very stately manner, holding a flaxen-braided young person by the hand.
“This is Miss Katie Schorr,” announced Grandmamma Duer, in a voice that trembled a little (though that could hardly have been from age, for her eyes and skin were as young and soft as Polly’s own). “The Superintendent of our Mission Sunday-school was kind enough to introduce us to Miss Katie Schorr. He said she was a good, obedient child, and we believe it.”
Miss Cicely stooped and shook Miss Schorr by the hand in her own cordial way.
“How do you do, Katie dear,” she said. “I’m glad to see you here. I hope you will have a good time. This is Polly Carter. Won’t you two please stand beside me while I receive the other little friends? There, that’s right! Now, Uncle Arthur and Aunt Laura Hamilton, your guest, please.”
The very tall gentleman, Polly had noticed before, sprang up and gallantly assisted a handsome lady from her chair, offering her his arm with a flourish. She refused the arm at once, saying, “Nonsense, Arthur! don’t be absurd!” which Polly thought rather unkind of her. The little girl they brought forward was so pretty that it was delightful to look at her. Her name was pretty, too. Angeline Montague! And she had elegant manners, for when she was introduced to Miss Cissy she curtseyed beautifully, with her right hand upon her heart—or, rather, on the spot where she supposed her heart was.
As she stepped beside Polly and Katie, Polly heard “Aunt Laura” say to Miss Cicely in an undertone:
“Most excellent connections, I assure you. Her mother does my fine sewing. Theresa, up-stairs, recommended her to me. She says they used to have means. But the father—well, he’s in Canada or somewhere. Very pitiful!”
Polly wondered, while “Uncle Robert and Aunt Louise” were bringing up their little guest, why it was pitiful that Angeline’s father was in Canada. She had supposed, from what the “geografy” said about Canada, that it was a real nice place.
“‘One, two, three little Indians!’” hummed Uncle Arthur, as Miss Cicely, with a kind hand on Angeline’s shoulder, placed her next to Polly and Katie. “Now then, next customer!”
“Miss Rosy Hartigan!” announced Uncle Robert, handing forward a very, very shy little girl.