Gibbons, at this unwonted sound, popped her head in from the adjoining room where she was busy with her sewing, to gaze in astonishment at her mistress.
“I am not surprised at your face, Gibbons,” said Mrs. Sterling cheerily, “for you have not heard me laugh for many a day.”
“No, madam, I haven't,” said Gibbons, “but I can't help saying I'm rejoiced to hear it now,” with a glance of approval on Polly Pepper.
“So, Polly, you see there is no danger of your bringing me any fatigue, and I should be only too happy to see you at your next rehearsal.”
“We can come, I am almost sure,” said Polly, “those of us who want to rehearse at all. Some of us, you see, are quite sure of our pieces: Pickering Dodge is, for one; he spoke at his last school exhibition. But I'll tell the others. Oh, thank you for asking us, Mrs. Sterling.”
“Thank you for giving your time, dear, to a dull old woman,” said Mrs. Sterling. “Oh, must you go?” She clung to her hand. “I suppose you ought, child.”
“Yes,” said Polly, “I really ought to go, Mrs. Sterling. And you are not dull, one single bit, and I like you very much,” she added as simply as Phronsie would have said it.
“Kiss me good-bye, Polly,” said Mrs. Sterling. So Polly laid her fresh young cheek against the poor, tired, wasted one; hopped into her jacket, and was off on happy feet.
And the others said “Yes,” when they saw Polly's enthusiasm over the plan of holding a rehearsal at Mrs. Sterling's; and Jasper proposed, “Why couldn't we repeat the whole thing after our grand performance, for her sometime?” and, before any one could quite tell how, a warm sympathy had been set in motion for the rich, lonely old lady in the big, gloomy stone mansion most of them passed daily on their way to school.
Well, the grand affair was over now, and a greater success than was ever hoped for. Now came the enjoyment of presenting the money!