“It’s perfectly awful to keep time to her,” said Polly, who dearly loved to be exact about things, especially with a tune.
“I know it,” said Jasper, sympathetically, “but oh, she’s so sweet!”
“Isn’t she?” cried Polly, with shining eyes, and beginning to play away with new vigor.
But at last Phronsie must be stopped, for Mamsie would surely say so if she were home. And then Polly had to hold her, as with flushed cheeks she begged to be taken up into her lap, and then the music-stool was taken away and the grand piano became an old kitchen table once more.
“And now,” said Polly, “if Ben would only come, we could have our baking, Jasper. O dear, I wish he would!”
“I’m going to watch outside,” said Joel, prancing off to the door.
“That won’t make him come any quicker,” said Jasper. “Can’t we help about something, Polly?” He wrinkled his brows and gazed around the old kitchen.
“No,” said Polly, following his gaze, “there isn’t anything to do, but—” then she stopped.
“Oh, what?” cried Jasper, eagerly, and hanging over her chair where she sat with Phronsie.
“Oh, you can’t do it,” said Polly, wishing she had bitten the end of her tongue before she had spoken.