"Oh, Polly is all right," said Mrs. Fisher cheerfully.
"Is, she, Mamsie?" asked David doubtfully.
"Yes, indeed, and you must see that you keep yourself right. That's all any of us can do," said Mother Fisher. "Now, Davie, my boy, hop down and run into Jasper's den with the others."
"Oh, I can't, Mamsie," protested Davie, in horror, and burrowing in her arms, "they'll see I've been crying."
"That's the trouble with crying," observed Mother Fisher wisely; "it makes you twice sorry—once when you're doing it, and the next time when it shows. You can't help it now, Davie, so run along. Mother wants you to."
If Mother wanted them to, that was always enough for each of the "Five Little Peppers," so Davie slid slowly down from her lap, and went out and down the hall.
Meantime Miss Mary had taken Polly's arm in the procession to Jasper's den.
"Oh, Polly, how cheery you have made them!" she exclaimed. "We expected to see you all perhaps drowned in tears."
"Oh, I haven't done it—anything to make them happy," cried Polly, the wave of color again flooding her cheeks; "indeed I haven't, Miss Mary. I've been bad and wicked and horrid," she said penitently, her head drooping.
"Oh, no, Polly," protested Miss Mary, her arm around Polly's waist.