“Polly, child, come here.” Mrs. Pepper was already folding up her work.
“What is it, Mamsie?” as the group made way for her, the stage-driver regarding them all with a relieved air as if responsibility of the whole affair was now off his mind.
“Do you think that you could get along without Mother for a little while?”
“For over night?” asked Polly, in an awe-struck tone.
“Yes,—can you do it, Polly? Poor old Miss Babbitt needs me; but I won’t go if you can’t manage without me.” She rested her black eyes on Polly’s flushed cheeks.
“You’ve never been away all night,” began Polly, her cheeks going very white.
“I know it,” said Mrs. Pepper, a little white line coming around her mouth. “It hasn’t been necessary before. But now, it seems as if the poor old woman needs me. And you’re a big girl, Polly, and then there’s Ben to help you. Well, what do you say, child?”
“She’s an awful cross old woman,” said Polly grudgingly, not being able to look into her mother’s face.
“That doesn’t make any difference,” said Mrs. Pepper. “She needs me.”
Polly drew her shoe back and forth across the floor, still not looking into her mother’s face.