“His mother works so hard—it would please her,” began Mrs. Pepper.
“That’s true enough, but the boy, no, he ain’t worth doing things for. I shouldn’t think you’d want him along with your children, Mrs. Pepper.” She regarded her curiously.
“Jimmy thinks a great deal of his mother,” said Mrs. Pepper. She fastened her black eyes on the little woman’s face. “That’s enough to save any boy. Won’t you ask Miss Parrott to let him go?”
“What? Me ask her? Oh, I couldn’t.” Mary Pote started back and put up both hands. “I’ll do anything to oblige you, Mrs. Pepper, but I couldn’t do that. Besides, she’d only say ‘No.’”
“Well, good-by,” said Mrs. Pepper. She turned and went rapidly back to the big stone, picked up her bundle, and sped home.
Polly ran out to meet her, and take the bundle of coats. “I’m going on an errand, child,” said her mother, “and I may be home a little late, so don’t worry.”
Polly’s brown eyes looked questions, but Mrs. Pepper only smiled, as she turned off.
She didn’t give herself much time to reflect all the way to the Parrott estate. And at last Hooper was ushering her into the solemn drawing-room with its rich furniture and heavy brocaded hangings, and presently Miss Parrott was before her,—and the thing was to be done.
“Now, Mrs. Pepper, do take off your bonnet, you look so tired, and I will give you some tea.” And Miss Parrott’s heavy black silk gown was trailing across the room to the bell-cord.
“Oh, no, please,” Mrs. Pepper put up a protesting hand. “I must speak to you—please, Miss Parrott.”