“But just as soon as they stop a bit, oh, please, Jasper, tell him that we aren’t going to have any ships coming in,” begged Polly, clasping her hands; “it’s so very dreadful for him to be expecting them.”
“I’ll try,” nodded Jasper at her. “Don’t you be afraid, Polly, and perhaps you will sometime have new things,” and he sat down on the floor by her side.
“No,” said Polly, shaking her brown head, “we’re ever and always going to live in this Little Brown House, Jasper King, and we don’t want new things, only—” and her face fell.
“Well, you’ve got a new stove,” nodding over at it, said Jasper, cheerfully; “that’s good, Polly.”
“Isn’t it?” cried Polly, radiantly, and her cheeks grew rosy again; “dear Doctor Fisher gave us that, you know, Jasper.”
“Yes, I know,” said Jasper, who had heard the story many times, the Pepper children never tiring of telling it over. “Well, and perhaps some more things will come, Polly.”
“Oh, no,” said Polly, heaving a sigh, “they won’t, Jasper, and we don’t want them, only—” she paused again.
“Only what, Polly?” begged Jasper, quickly; “tell me, Polly, do.”
He looked so very unhappy that she hurried to say, “Mamsie ought to have a new chair to sew in.”
“I thought you were going to say, a piano,” said Jasper, abruptly.