The gentleman's face looked very queer just then; but he merely said:
“Why, you must be Polly?”
“Yes, sir, I am,” said Polly, pleased to think he knew her. And then she told him how she'd forgotten Cherry's seed, and all about it. “And oh, sir,” she said, and her voice began to tremble, “Mamsie'll be so frightened if I don't get there soon!”
“I'm going up there myself, so that it all happens very nicely,” said the gentleman, commencing to start off briskly, and grasping her hand tighter. “Now, then, Polly.”
So off they went at a very fast pace; she, skipping through the puddles that his long, even strides carried him safely over, chattered away by his side under the umbrella, and answered his many questions, and altogether got so very well acquainted that by the time they turned in at the old stone gateway, she felt as if she had known him for years.
And there, the first thing they either of them saw, down in a little corner back of the tall evergreens, was a small heap that rose as they splashed up the carriage-drive, and resolved itself into a very red dress and a very white apron, as it rushed impulsively up and flung itself into Polly's wet arms:
“And I was so tired waiting, Polly!”
“Oh dear me, Phronsie!” cried Polly, huddling her up from the dark, wet ground. “You'll catch your death! What will mamsie say!”
The stranger, amazed at this new stage of the proceedings, was vainly trying to hold the umbrella over both, till the procession could move on again.
“Oh!” cried Phronsie, shaking her yellow head decidedly, “they're all looking for you, Polly.” She pointed one finger solemnly up to the big carved door as she spoke. At that Polly gathered her up close and began to walk with rapid footsteps up the path.