“It's in Wakefield—en' nex' month it's a-comin' here.”
“Here?” Polly gasped.
“I thought you'd want ter know,” said Hasty, little surprised at her lack of enthusiasm.
“Yes, of course.” She turned away and pretended to look at the flowers.
“Don' yous tell Mandy I been talkin' 'bout dat circus,” said Hasty, uneasily. He was beginning to fear that he had made a mistake; but before Polly could answer, Mandy came out of the house, carrying baskets and food, which Hasty was to take to the Sunday-school-room. She looked at the girl's troubled face and drooping shoulders in surprise.
“What make you look so serious, Honey?”
“Just thinking,” said Polly absently.
“My! Don' you look fine in your new dress!” She was anxious to draw the girl out of her reverie.
“Do you like it?” Polly asked eagerly, forgetting her depression of a moment before. “Do you think Mr. John will like it?”
“Masse John? Mercy me! He nebber takes no notice ob dem things. I done got a bran', spankin' new allapaca, one time, an' do you think HE ebber seed it? Lawsy, no! We might jes' well be goin' roun' like Mudder Eve for all dat man know.” Polly looked disappointed. “But udder folks sees,” Mandy continued, comfortingly, “an' you certainly look mighty fine. Why, you's just as good now as you was afore you got hurled!”