"Take mine." Polly put a wet little wad into her hand. "Oh, Clem, if you don't let me go down-town with you and buy that handkerchief case!"
"Let you!" cried Clem. "You won't want to go with me, Polly. But I'm not going to work a handkerchief case."
"Oh, yes, you are," declared Polly positively. "If you don't, Clem
Forsythe!"
"It was mean in me to choose it," said Clem, beginning to sniffle again, now that she had a handkerchief.
"Oh, no, no!" said Polly in alarm. "Now I know you won't forgive me when you say such things. For it was all my fault; I was stingy mean to want to keep it to myself."
"You aren't ever mean, Polly Pepper!" Clem hugged her so tightly by the neck that the neat little ruffle Mamsie sewed in that very morning was quite crushed. When she saw that, Clem was in worse distress than ever.
"See here! Why, Clem Forsythe!" Polly Pepper flew up to her feet so suddenly, that Clem started in amazement, and stared at her as well as she could with her eyes full of tears.
"Why, can't you see? Haven't we been two goosies—geese, I mean—not to think of it before!"
"What?" asked Clem helplessly.
"Why, you might make a violet glove case," said Polly, in a burst.
Then she began to dance around the arbor. "Oh, Clem, how perfectly lovely!"