No matter how they feel.”
She scrambled to her feet in a twinkling, brushed away her tears and returned to the nursery where she busied herself setting her writing-desk in order and rearranging the articles upon her table. She put the fragments of her shattered bank into the table-drawer after vainly trying to fit them together again. It was the first bank she had ever owned and she reflected sadly that it would probably be the last. For surely what Mrs. Duer had meant a little while ago was that she did not wish Priscilla to play with her any more. And if Priscilla was not to play with her any more then—then—why then she would be sent away. She wondered what sister would say; and dear Miss Cicely! how grieved and disappointed she would be. And yet, if Miss Cicely were here Polly felt she could make her understand the things she could not explain to Mrs. Duer—the things that would show she was not so entirely blamable as she seemed. Yes, Miss Cicely would certainly understand. As for Hannah——
Good Hannah found an opportunity, in the midst of all her hurry and worry, to run up-stairs to the nursery for a minute, just before bedtime and to say in a confidential whisper:
“There now, Polly, don’t you go to fretting yourself to skin and bone over this. Just you keep still and be good and it will all come out right in the end.”
“But Hannah, oh, Hannah,” Polly groaned. “Priscilla’s angry at me, and she stays angry. And Mrs. Duer said she couldn’t trust me any more.”
“Well, well, it’s hard, I know, but all the same, be a good girl and I warrant things will come out right in the end. We won’t be gone so very long and when we come back who knows what may happen.”
So Polly went to sleep with a more hopeful heart than she had carried for many hours and the next morning she watched the travelers depart with what was almost a smile of contentment, for was she not going to be the best and most obedient of girls while they were gone, so that when they came back—who knew what might happen?