"What perfect nonsense!" exclaimed Polly, recovering herself, and trying to laugh, "well, Phronsie, child, didn't you know better than to believe any story that Mrs. Cabot might tell? How in the world could she know of Jasper's affairs, pray tell?" and she laughed again, this time quite gaily.
"Ah, but," said Phronsie, shaking her head, "she had a letter from Mr. Cabot; it came in this morning's mail; she opened it and said out loud this dreadful thing about Jasper, and then she saw me, and she said I was not to tell you."
Polly dropped Phronsie's arm and rushed down the hall.
"Where are you going?" cried Phronsie, hurrying after—"Oh, Polly!"
"I am going to make Mrs. Cabot tell me everything she knows," said Polly hoarsely, and not looking back; "she shall let me have every syllable. It can't be true!" She threw wide the door of Mrs. Higby's "keeping-room" where that lady was engaged in putting a patch on the chintz-covered sofa, and talking gossip with a neighbor at the same time.
"I thought as this was a-going so fast, Mr. Higby sets it out so, and we were all so comfortable to-day, I'd get at it kinder early," said Mrs. Higby apologetically; "anything I can do, Miss Polly?" she asked, flying away from her patch, and dropping her scissors on the floor.
"No," said Polly, turning back hastily. "Never mind, Mrs. Higby."
"Now 'twas something you wanted me for," cried Mrs. Higby, ambling toward the door, "I ain't a mite busy, Miss Polly; that old patch can wait. La! I can tell Mr. Higby to set on the other end till I get time to attend to it. What was it, Miss Polly?"
Polly turned back, Mrs. Higby's tone was so full of entreaty. "Oh, nothing, only if it isn't too much trouble, would you ask Mrs. Cabot to come down stairs a moment, I want to see her."
"Oh, cert'in," cried Mrs. Higby, ambling off toward the stairs. And presently Mrs. Cabot in a pink morning gown came down the hall toward Polly, and put both arms around her.