“Well, I don't want to know, anyway,” said Clare, taking a sudden interest in the candy. “I believe it is cold, Jasper; let's look.”
“Polly,” Alexia was saying in the library behind the portières, “I know now; because I did it once myself: it was when you first promised you'd be a friend to me, and I went home, and cried for very joy. And I didn't want to see anybody that night.”
“Oh, Alexia!” exclaimed Polly, giving her a hug that satisfied even Alexia.
“No, I didn't; and I remember how I wanted to hold something up to my face. I never thought of a sofa pillow, and I couldn't have gotten it if I had thought, 'cause aunt had it crammed against her back. Oh, my eyes were a sight, Polly, and my nose was all over my face.”
XXIII THE CLEMCY GARDEN PARTY
“You may go on those errands, Hortense, but first send Polly Pepper to me,” commanded Mrs. Chatterton sharply.
The French maid paused in the act of hanging up a gown. “I will re-quest her, Madame. I should not like to send Mees Polly Peppaire.”
“Miss Polly Pepper!” Mrs. Chatterton was guilty of stamping her foot. “Are you mad? I am speaking of Polly Pepper, this country girl, who is as poor and low-born here in this house, as if in her little brown house, wherever that may be.”