“It’s so good of her,” began Mrs. Pepper. Oh, to have Polly see the animals that she was always making up into stories to keep the children quiet, and Phronsie—only think of her delight over the monkeys. And there was Joel—well, Mrs. Pepper by this time was so excited that she turned a face on which two red spots were coming in her cheeks. Mary Pote had the good sense to let the thing work itself out, and kept quiet.
And Davie, could Mother Pepper ever forget his face when the circus came to Cherryville last, and almost all Badgertown folks went over but the little-brown-house people? And Davie, his eyes on her, had tried to smile when Joel howled in his distress at missing it. And there was good, faithful Ben, who wouldn’t even show that above all things he had longed to see a circus.
“I would like to have the children see it,” she said slowly—her eyes alight.
“Well, if I was you—I wouldn’t sit on that stone considering it any longer,” said Mary Pote. “Miss Parrott is one to speak her mind, and if she asks you, you might take it for granted that she wants you. Well, I must get back—she took me off from that black silk basque I was finishing, to come down. Simmons is going to pick me up at Mr. Beebe’s shoe-shop, so I must get there as soon as I can.” Mary Pote rose from her end of the big stone and shook her front breadth free of the grass bits. “Well, is it yes or no?” she said.
“It is yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, her voice trembling with happiness, “and oh, Mary Pote, will you tell her how I thank her. She is so good to ask us.”
“I’ll tell her.” Mary Pote pushed back her little corkscrew curls on either side of her round face and clapped on her leghorn hat.
“Oh,” turning back, “she said, ‘tell Mrs. Pepper to be ready at eleven o’clock.’”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper, scarcely realizing the bliss that was actually in her grasp.
“And one thing more,” Mary Pote looked over her shoulder. “She said you’d find the lunch-basket in the carriage.”
Mrs. Pepper tried to say something; but Mary Pote was moving off intent on reaching old Mr. Beebe’s shoe-shop, for Simmons didn’t like to wait for any one sent on errands, and he could make it very unpleasant for days if thus detained.