But only a robin, hopping nimbly across the driveway, heard her complaint, and as he did not seem to sympathize with her, she felt it was of no use to say any more. She gathered herself up with a pettish sigh and set out to follow Polly across the lawn.
“Hello!” said Polly as she came in sight.
“Hello,” returned Priscilla.
“Didn’t you bring your child with you? The seashore will do her a lot of good. My Ruthie Carter’s almost well already.”
Priscilla shook her head.
“Don’t you want to go and fetch your baby?” inquired Polly. “Let’s play you came to visit me and didn’t bring her along, ’cause you were afraid she’d be a bother, and I said: ‘No, indeed, I’d be pleased to have her!’”
“I don’t want to,” returned Priscilla. “My feet hurt. You go.”
“My feet hurt, too, and so do my arms and all the rest of me.”
“I don’t think you’re very polite, Polly Carter, so there! Your head doesn’t feel half as bad as mine does.”
Polly jumped up and laid Priscilla’s hand on the big bump that was throbbing beneath her hair. “There!” she said, triumphantly, “what do you think of that? Doesn’t that thump? And it aches like anything.”