“Tell truth, Polly, there was so much to think about and so much to do, over the buildings and mines, that Ah clean forgot there ever was such a day, until I got your card. Then I felt sorry.”
“Well, thank goodness, John remembered!” sighed Polly. And Eleanor noticed that she smiled again in forgiveness of her brother’s shortcomings.
When the wagon stopped at the porch of the ranch-house, Eleanor laughed: “Just as we drove up last year—but oh, how different this year!”
Mrs. Brewster hurried out to welcome her dear girls, and laughed at Eleanor’s remark. “Still making Irish bulls, Nolla!”
They all laughed merrily, and then Sary rushed from her kitchen, and clasped Polly to her ample bosom. Eleanor came in for her share of the maid’s embrace before she had to hurry back to the dinner.
“Ah’se cookin’ cabbige soup, Miss Nolla,” she explained.
“Why, Sary, that first night we were here last summer, you had ‘cabbidge’ soup, too!”
“We-all has to hev it once a week reg’ler now, ’cause Jeb loves it, an’ he is a foreman, you know.” Sary’s pride in her spouse’s promotion was most evident.
While Polly and her mother cozily sat together on the porch and smiled happily to be in each other’s company, once more, Eleanor walked to the barns with Mr. Brewster. She had an object in view, and she never delayed in finding out what she wanted to know, should the opportunity come and offer itself to her.
“Mr. Brewster, do tell me honestly—did you send the roses, or do you know who did send them to Polly?”