Polly looked at her with wide eyes.
"It's just this," said Charlotte, plunging on desperately; "Polly, don't let Mrs. Cabot pick at you and talk about duty. Oh! I hate to hear her speak the word," exploded Charlotte, with a volume of wrath in her tone.
"What do you mean, Charlotte?" cried Polly in a puzzled way.
"Oh! she may—never mind how—she's quite peculiar, you know," said
Charlotte, finding her way less clear with each word. "Never mind,
Polly; only just fight her if she begins on what is your duty; if she
does, then fight her tooth and nail."
"But it may be something that I really ought to do," said Polly.
Charlotte turned on her in horror. "O, never!" she cried. "Don't you do it, Polly Pepper. Just as sure as she says you ought to do it, you may know it would be the worst thing in all the world. Promise me, Polly, that you won't do it."
"But, Charlotte, I ought not to promise until I am quite sure that it wouldn't be my duty to do what Mrs. Cabot advises. Don't you see, Charlotte, that I ought not to promise?"
But Charlotte was too far gone in anxiety to see anything, and she could only reiterate, "Do promise, Polly, do; there's Mr. Higby calling us; the carriage is at the door. Do, Polly! I never will ask you anything else if you'll only promise me this."
But Polly could only shake her head, and say, "I ought not," and then Johnny had to be kissed and wrenched from Phronsie, who insisted on carrying him downstairs to set him in the carriage, and Mrs. Cabot came in, and old Mr. King wanted a last word with Charlotte, so that at last she was in Mr. Higby's carryall, shut in on the back seat looking out over Johnny's head, with a pair of very hopeless eyes. But her lips said, "Do, Polly!"
And still Polly, on the flat door-stone, had to shake her head.