“Are they all off?” asked Phronsie, pulling herself up out of a little heap in the middle of the bed, and leaning over the side, where she viewed Polly sorrowfully. “Every one, Polly?”
“No,” said Polly, “but I wish they were, mean old things; when I was going down to play a duet with Jasper! We should have had a good long time before breakfast. Oh, mayn't I go just once, mamsie? Nobody'll see me if I tuck my foot under the piano; and I can sew 'em on afterwards—there'll be plenty of time. Do, just once, mamsie!”
“No,” said Mrs. Pepper firmly, “there isn't any time but now. And piano playing isn't very nice when you've got to stick your toes under it to keep your shoes on.”
“Well then,” grumbled Polly, hopping around in her stocking-feet, “where is the work-basket, mamsie? Oh—here it is on the window-seat.” A rattle of spools, scissors and necessary utensils showed plainly that Polly had found it, followed by a jumble of words and despairing ejaculations as she groped hurriedly under chairs and tables to collect the scattered contents.
When she got back with a very red face, she found Phronsie, who had crawled out of bed, sitting down on the floor in her little nightgown and examining the boot with profound interest.
“I can sew 'em, Polly,” she said, holding up her hand for the big needle that Polly was trying to thread—“I can now truly; let me, Polly, do!”
“Dear no!” said Polly with a little laugh, beginning to be very much ashamed. “What could you do with your little mites of hands pulling this big thread through that old leather? There, scamper into bed again; you'll catch cold out here.
“Tisn't very cold,” said Phronsie, tucking up her toes under the night-gown, but Polly hurried her into bed, where she curled herself up under the clothes, watching her make a big knot. But the knot didn't stay; for when Polly drew up the long thread triumphantly to the end—out it flew, and away the button hopped again as if glad to be released. And then the thread kinked horribly, and got all twisted up in disagreeable little snarls that took all Polly's patience to unravel.
“It's because you're in such a hurry,” said Mrs. Pepper, who was getting Phronsie's clothes. And coming over across the room she got down on one knee, and looked over Polly's shoulder. “There now, let mother see what's the matter.”
“Oh dear,” said Polly, resigning the needle with a big sigh, and leaning back to take a good stretch, followed by Phronsie's sympathizing eyes; “they never'll be on! And there goes the first bell!” as the loud sounds under Jane's vigorous ringing pealed up over the stairs. “There won't be time anyway, now! I wish there wasn't such a thing as shoes in the world!” And she gave a flounce and sat up straight in front of her mother.