Suddenly Mrs. Pepper started, took a step forward—then another and faster, all her effort being to overtake the little roly-poly figure hurrying over the dusty road.
“Mary—Mary Pote!” Her voice was so clear that it carried well, and her steps so rapid that she soon stood beside the little woman.
“Now you aren’t going to say ‘No.’” Mary Pote regarded her with disfavor.
“I’ve come for something else—to ask you to beg a favor of Miss Parrott.” The color flew suddenly out of Mrs. Pepper’s cheek, but she went on bravely. Mary Pote stared with all her eyes.
“It’s this,” Mrs. Pepper went on rapidly. It was best to get it out as soon as possible. “To beg her to let me take another boy with my children.”
“What boy?” asked Mary Pote abruptly.
“Jimmy Skinner.”
“What—that woman that lives on Fletcher Road—her boy?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pepper.
“He’s an idle, good-for-nothing boy,” declared Mary Pote, shaking her head decidedly till the corkscrew curls flew out. “No, I don’t b’lieve Miss Parrott would ever countenance his going in all this world.”