“It’s time to make Grandma some tea, Polly,” she said.
“O dear me, so it is,” said Polly, setting up the broom neatly and drawing a long breath. “Mamsie, it wouldn’t be near so hard to get this floor clean if these old hens wouldn’t keep coming in. There’s one now!” and Polly flew for the broom again to brandish it wildly after the marauder. “They get the feathers all over everything.”
“Shut the door then, Polly,” said Mrs. Pepper.
“Oh, they come in just as easily in that hole over by the corner.” Polly pointed to it with her broom.
“Is there a hole there, Polly?” asked Mrs. Pepper, in surprise.
“Yes, Mamsie,” said Polly, “there is. I’m going to put that box up against it,” which was no sooner said than done, Polly dragging up an empty soap box for the purpose. “There, now, old hens, I guess you won’t get in,” she cried, rubbing her hands in satisfaction.
“Ben must mend that hole just as soon as he has a chance,” said Mrs. Pepper, snipping off her thread, while Polly set back the broom and ran over to the stove to get Grandma’s tea.
“Isn’t it good that Phronsie sleeps so long, Mamsie?” said Polly at last, while she was waiting for the old kettle to boil, and coming up to her mother’s chair.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper. She looked tired and worried, but she smiled. “She’ll be all right, I think,” she hastened to say.
“I guess she’s better because you brought her over to Grandma’s,” said Polly, with a happy little laugh, and balancing herself first on one set of toes and then on the other. “Isn’t she, Mamsie?”