"Well, we can't help it," said Polly, with a sigh, who wished very much sometimes that she might be a boy, "so we'd much better keep at work hunting for that ten-dollar bill, Alexia."
"And Joel is so dreadfully careless," said Alexia, determined to grumble at something, and poking aimlessly at the green branches scattered on the floor. "I don't suppose we'll ever find it in all this world, in such a mess."
"We must," said Polly, a little white line coming around her mouth.
"Well, we can't, so what's the use of saying that?" and Alexia gave a restful stretch to her long arms. "Oh, me! oh, my! I'm so tired, Polly Pepper!"
"You know we must find that ten-dollar bill, Alexia," repeated Polly hoarsely, working busily away for dear life.
"Well, we can't; it's perfectly hopeless—so do keep still. Just look at all this." Alexia waved her arms at the green draperies. "I'm going to pull the rest down anyway, though; that'll be fun," and she made a dash at it.
"No, no," said Polly, on her knees on the floor, "we must leave all that till Jasper comes back. Come, Alexia, help me look over these."
"Oh, bother!" cried Alexia, in great disdain, "I don't want to poke over those old things. You know yourself it's no earthly use; we'll never find it in all this world, Polly Pepper."
There was a queer little sound, and Alexia, whirling around, saw Polly
Pepper in a little heap down in the middle of the green branches.
"Oh, misery! what have I done?"—rushing over to her and shaking her arms. "Oh, Polly, do get up, we will find it, I'm positively sure; do get up, Polly." But Polly didn't stir.