Priscilla’s mother came to visit them soon after the meal was over and she proved so sweet and beautiful a lady that Polly felt there was only one person in the whole world who was more wonderful than she and that Miss Cicely was that one. She talked to Priscilla and Polly for a long time and seemed sorry when some one—the haughty Theresa—came to summon her down-stairs and she had to leave them.
Then hats and coats were brought out and the Sweet P’s made ready for a walk. There was not much fun in pacing slowly up the avenue and around the windy paths of the Park. Before they had gone three blocks Polly was stiff and chilly and poor little Priscilla was having the cold shivers inside her fur coat.
“Let’s play las’-tag,” suggested Polly. “Then we can run, and running makes you warm. Why, I used to get as hot as anything at the store, just with running.”
“What’s las’-tag?” asked Priscilla listlessly.
Polly explained. “And I’ll be ‘It’ if you like,” she said. “Now, you run and I’ll try to catch you. Hannah’ll be ‘Hunk.’ One, two, three! Off goes she!”
In no time at all they were both in a glow, their cheeks ruddy and tingling with warmth and their eyes sparkling with fun. Priscilla was delighted and she and Polly las’-tagged each other merrily all the way home. Certainly the hated morning walk was going to be a different affair after this. James could hardly believe his eyes at the change he saw in Priscilla’s appearance when he opened the door to them at one o’clock.
“Why, she looks like another child,” he said to Theresa who was passing through the hall.
Theresa curled her lip.
“You and Hannah may do as you like,” she snapped pettishly, “but nobody’ll get me to wait on any beggar-child—not if I know it. Why couldn’t they have taken that sweet little Angeline Montague, if they must have some one, and not given the place to a common little thing like this Polly-one. I know Angeline’s mother well. I got her the job at Mrs. Hamilton’s and she’s a lady,—I tell you. And Angeline herself is a little angel! Who knows anything about this child they have taken in?” and Theresa tossed her head spitefully.
James pursed his lips as if he were going to whistle. “I don’t know anything about her, that’s certain,” he admitted, “and if you don’t either, Theresa, why, I guess there ain’t any call for you to clap names on her like what you’ve done. After all, she ain’t harming you. Fair play is a jewel. If she don’t interfere with you, you don’t need to interfere with her!”