Mother Fisher's hands kept on at their task, but she said nothing, and at last Polly's sobs grew quieter. "Mamsie," she said faintly.
"Yes, dear."
"I'm so sorry."
"I know you are, child; but, Polly, there is no 'must' unless mother says so. And to fly into a passion—why, then you ought not to go at all."
"Oh, I don't want to go now, Mamsie," cried Polly, flying up to sit straight on the floor, and brushing away the tears with a hasty hand, "I really don't, Mamsie."
"Well, then you see you'll just keep the children at home," said Mrs. Fisher; "for I can't let Ben have all the care alone, and they'll be so disappointed."
Polly gave a groan and wriggled on the carpet in distress.
"You see, Polly, that's the trouble when we give way to our passion; it hurts more than ourselves," said Mother Fisher, "so I can't see but that you have got to go."
"Oh, I don't want to, Mamsie; don't make me," cried Polly, squeezing her mother's hands tightly in both of her own. "I can't go now!"
"Tut, tut, Polly," said Mrs. Fisher, reprovingly; "'can't' isn't the thing to say any more than 'must.'" And her black eyes had such a look in them that Polly ducked her head, taking refuge in the lap again.