“Come, Phronsie,” Polly held out her hand. She tried to make the sad little smile a brighter one, but it was a sorrowful face, after all, that she carried off.
“Oh, no, no,” cried Phronsie, in distress. “My child hasn’t her nightie on,” and she ran back to the chair where Seraphina waited to be gotten ready for bed.
“I’ll help you,” said Polly, “for you must get into your own nightie. There, you run back and kiss Mamsie, and I’ll get Seraphina ready.”
So Phronsie, well pleased to be cuddled by Mamsie, ran back and scrambled into Mother Pepper’s lap.
“Be a good girl, Phronsie, and don’t trouble Polly, but hop right into bed,” said Mrs. Pepper.
“I’ll be a good girl,” cooed Phronsie, her lips against Mother Pepper’s neck. Then she slid off from Mamsie’s lap, and was soon fast asleep in the trundle-bed, Seraphina huddled up in her arms.
And Polly, down on her knees by the big old bed, her head on the gay patchwork quilt, was saying, “I’ll go.”
CHAPTER XXXI
WORKING HARD TO KEEP CHEERY
PARSON HENDERSON walked slowly between the hollyhocks, his hands folded behind his back. His wife hurried down the narrow path to join him.
“Oh,” she said breathlessly, “we are all going to feel dreadfully when Polly has really gone.”