“Up-stairs,” whispered Polly’s partner.
“I wonder,” ventured Mrs. Duer, “if there is anything particular mother can do for her little girl?”
Priscilla ducked her head quickly.
“What is it you want, darling? Tell mother and, who knows, perhaps she can get it for you.”
Priscilla smiled and swallowed hard.
“What is it, sweetheart? Surely you’re not afraid to speak to mother! What do you want?”
“A fair,” murmured Priscilla with an effort, “We want to make one, Polly and I do, and tie it with ribbons and have Hannah sell it behind a counter. Polly and I will be cash-girls and give the money to the Fresh Air Fun’.”
Mrs. Duer hesitated a moment, for Priscilla’s description of the Sweet P’s plan was not altogether as clear as it might have been. But the anxious, small face, flushing and paling with eagerness, hastened her answer.
“Why, yes, you dear child,” she returned. “If you and Polly want to have a fair I see no reason why you should not have one. In fact, I shall be very glad to help you all I can. You may tell Theresa to give Hannah my piece-bag and silk-boxes and you can choose all the fancy bits you like for pin-balls and needle-cases and book-marks. And when you have shown what you can do I will fit out a table for you myself.”
Priscilla did not wait for more. She pressed her cheek lovingly against her mother’s for an instant and then hurried away to tell Polly the glorious news.