When he reached the play-room Polly was sitting in the swing, saying, very earnestly, “I always told you it was nice up in grandma's room, and now you see it is. I wish you'd go oftener; she admires to have you, and likes to tell stories and do pleasant things, only she thinks you don't care for her quiet sort of fun. I do, anyway, and I think she's the kindest, best old lady that ever lived, and I love her dearly!”
“I did n't say she was n't, only old people are sort of tedious and fussy, so I keep out of their way,” said Fanny.
“Well, you ought not to, and you miss lots of pleasant times. My mother says we ought to be kind and patient and respectful to all old folks just because they are old, and I always mean to be.”
“Your mother's everlastingly preaching,” muttered Fan, nettled by the consciousness of her own shortcomings with regard to grandma.
“She don't preach!” cried Polly, firing up like a flash; “she only explains things to us, and helps us be good, and never scolds, and I'd rather have her than any other mother in the world, though she don't wear velvet cloaks and splendid bonnets, so now!”
“Go it, Polly!” called Tom, who was gracefully hanging head downward from the bar put up for his special benefit.
“Polly's mad! Polly's mad!” sung Maud, skipping rope round the room.
“If Mr. Sydney could see you now he would n't think you such an angel any more,” added Fanny, tossing a bean-bag and her head at the same time.
Polly was mad, her face was very red, her eyes very bright and her lips twitched, but she held her tongue and began to swing as hard as she could, fearing to say something she would be sorry for afterward. For a few minutes no one spoke, Tom whistled and Maud hummed but Fan and Polly were each soberly thinking of something, for they had reached an age when children, girls especially, begin to observe, contrast, and speculate upon the words, acts, manners, and looks of those about them. A good deal of thinking goes on in the heads of these shrewd little folks, and the elders should mind their ways, for they get criticised pretty sharply and imitated very closely.
Two little things had happened that day, and the influence of a few words, a careless action, was still working in the active minds of the girls.