“Here we are!” cried Van, jumping out almost before the carriage door was open. “Mamma; mamma,” he shouted to Mrs. Whitney in the doorway, “the Peppers are coming, and the little brown house too!—everything and everybody!”
“They are!” said Percy, as wild as his brother; “and everything's just splendid! Jappy said so.”
“Everything's coming,” said little Dick, tumbling up the steps—“and the bird—and—and—”
“And mamsie!” finished Phronsie, impatient to add her part—while Polly didn't say anything—only looked.
Three weeks! “I can't wait!” thought Polly at first, in counting over the many hours before the happy day would come. But on Jasper's suggesting that they should all do something to get ready for the visitors, and have a general trimming up with vines and flowers beside—the time passed away much more rapidly than was feared.
Polly chose a new and more difficult piece of music to learn to surprise mamsie. Phronsie had aspired to an elaborate pin-cushion, that was nearly done, made of bits of worsted and canvas, over whose surface she had wandered according to her own sweet will, in a way charming to behold.
“I don't know what to do,” said Van in despair, “cause I don't know what she'd like.”
“Can't you draw her a little picture?” asked Polly. “She'd like that.”
“Does she like pictures?” asked Van with the greatest interest.
“Yes indeed!” said Polly, “I guess you'd think so if you could see her!”