“Don’t let us talk about it, Jerusha,” said the parson’s wife, trying to get by.
“Talk about it! It’s time for some one to talk.” Miss Jerusha’s angular figure successfully blocked the way. “Such goings on! Adoniram,” as her brother came up, “what on earth did you put such a notion into that girl’s head for! The idea of her going into those rich folks’ house! She’ll be snubbed to death—that’s one comfort,” and Miss Jerusha gave an unpleasant little cackle.
“Polly Pepper will never be snubbed, Jerusha,” declared the parson decidedly. “On the contrary—”
Miss Jerusha interrupted him, “We’ll see,” she cried, the cackle becoming a shrill laugh. Mrs. Henderson stepped off into the grass, and hurried up into the attic, leaving the parson to get away as best he could.
And now all Badgertown knew that Polly Pepper was going to the City on a visit to Mr. King’s house.
Mr. Atkins took down a roll of gingham from his shelf of dry goods. “I’ll give her enough for two dresses,” he said. “Land o’ Goshen! she needs somethin’ to help her out. I wouldn’t be in th’ same house, with that old Mr. King for a hundred dollars,—no, not by a long shot.”
And the little shoemaker called Davie in one day, as he was running by. “You tell Polly that I’ve got a splendid pair o’ shoes waiting for her,” and then he turned to old Mrs. Beebe. “She’ll set by those shoes when she’s in th’ City,” he said complacently, “an’ goes a-walkin’ with Mr. King.”
And Mrs. Beebe shuddered again, and said, “I can’t never imagine her walkin’ with him, Pa.”
And then one day Mr. Tisbett drove his stage up with a great flourish to the little brown house and Polly’s hair trunk was strapped on—and she was almost off—when out she sprang.
“I can’t go!” she cried, “oh, I can’t!” and dashing between them all, she flew back through the kitchen to throw herself down in a torrent of tears by Mamsie’s bed.