“’Tis,” said Mr. Beggs, gloomily. “I got to go all down round about here, an’ over to the Hollow.”
Polly couldn’t say anything. To go “all down round about here and over to the Hollow” on top of the red cart was such an enchanting thing, and now the boys must lose it all!
“An’ I ain’t comin’ this way agin this summer,” said Mr. Beggs, as if the other statement was not as bad as it possibly could be.
“O dear me!” said Polly again.
“I s’pose you an’ th’ little gal wouldn’t go, now.” The ragman pointed a dingy thumb into the kitchen to indicate Phronsie.
For one wild moment Polly thought, “Oh, Mamsie wouldn’t care, and I never get the chance if the boys are home.” And she took one rapturous step to get Phronsie from the bedroom where she was washing “Baby”; then she turned and stood quite still. “No,” she said.
“Well, you come right along,” said Mr. Beggs, well pleased to see her start for Phronsie. “I’ll wait for ye an’ th’ little gal,” and he was already slouching down to the old gate.
“I can’t go,” called Polly after him.
“Yes, come right along,” the ragman kept saying, so of course he couldn’t hear any one else talk.
“I can’t go, and Phronsie can’t either.” Polly panted it out as she went flying down the path after him, and she took hold of the end of his old brown linen coat as he had one foot on the trace preparing to jump up to his seat.