For the first moment Polly had wild thoughts of flying off after her. Then, remembering what Mamsie had once said, "If you want to help, Polly, take time to think what would be the best way," and that Mamsie would say now, in this trouble, "Don't go, for the boys are just home,"—"O dear me!" she cried as Joel rushed in and up to the window, and without a bit of warning seized her about the waist and spun her into the middle of the floor.
"Oh, Joey, what is it?" she gasped when she could get her breath.
"He's going to bring Pip," cried Joel, bobbing his black head at her. "Come on, Polly, whoopity la!" and he held out his hands for another war dance.
"Oh, Joel,"—Polly seized his hands and stood quite still,—"you don't mean Jasper is coming soon?" The color flew into her cheeks till they were rosy red.
"Yes, I do, too," said Joel, prancing off by himself, since Polly wouldn't dance; "he's coming to-morrow; no, I guess next week—anyway, he's coming." With that he executed some remarkable steps as only Joel could.
"How did you know, Joel? Stop and tell me." Polly flew after him around and around the room.
"A letter," said Joel; "whoopity la! and he's going to bring Pip."
"A letter?" Now she must find Mamsie or Aunty Whitney, and Polly left Joel dancing away and got over the stairs with her best speed to find Mrs. Whitney just coming to call her. She held in her hand an open letter, scraps of which she was reading aloud to the two boys hanging on either arm, little Dick, unable to attract attention to his torn lace, pulling at her gown impatiently.
"Is it true—is Jasper coming home?" cried Polly, breathlessly rushing up.
"Yes, dear," Mrs. Whitney tore off her gaze from the letter, and turned shining eyes on her. "Oh, Polly, this has just come and I was going to find you. Yes, yes, Dick, Mamma will attend to you presently; he is really coming home."