“Yes, I must go, girls,” said Polly, turning a blooming countenance on them; “so good night. We won't have the picnic, you know, till Alexia is well,” she added decidedly.
“Oh, that's what Miss Salisbury said,” cried Leslie, turning back. “You see, I saw her after school—went back for my history—and I was to tell you that, Polly; only Sarah spoilt it all.”
“Never mind,” said Polly brightly, “it's all right now, since we are really to have our picnic.” And then she put her hand in old Mr. King's, quite bubbling over with happiness,—Jasper, just as jubilant, since Polly was herself again, on the other side,—to go in and meet the little, thin clerk, scared at his surroundings, and perched on the extreme edge of a library chair.
IX ALL ABOUT THE POOR BRAKEMAN
Mr. Potter was very miserable indeed on the edge of his chair, and twirling his hat dreadfully; and for the first moment after the handsome old gentleman spoke to him, he had nothing to say.
Old Mr. King was asking him for the third time, “You found out all about poor Jim's family, eh?”
At last he emerged from his fit of embarrassment enough to reply, “Yes, sir.”
“Now that is very good,” the old gentleman cried approvingly, and wiped his face vigorously after his effort, “very good indeed, Mr. Potter.”