“Never’ll do so again,” hummed Barby, playing with her mother’s rings.
“To think that when Mamsie is away, and she trusts us all,” said Polly, when she could find her voice, “that we should do such dreadful things.”
The boys wriggled and twisted, and hid their faces.
“And then, when Phronsie has had to go off with Grandpapa—oh, it quite breaks me down,” said Polly, and there was a tremble in her voice.
At this, both boys precipitated themselves into her lap, where they burrowed in speechless misery, Barby yielding herself to it all with a happy little crow as if part of the play.
“No, no, Barby,” said Polly gently, and shaking her head at her; “mamma is not playing now. We have been very naughty. Go and get your little chairs, boys, and sit down quietly.”
So the two boys went out and dragged in their two little cane-seat chairs, and planted themselves down in them, Barby being put on a corner of the lounge. And Polly took Grace out into another room and heard all about it.
“Sister Polly!” called King presently, “oh, do come here!” There was such a cry in his voice that Polly hurried in, and found him sobbing as if his heart would break. “I can’t sit here any longer—don’t make me,” and he hid his face on her neck. “I think of everything bad I ever did. O sister Polly! I’m so sorry.”
“Then that is as long as I want you to sit here,” said Polly, helping him out.
“I’ve got to sit longer,” said Elyot gloomily, “because I’m not sorry,” as King rushed to kiss him. “I wanted to hear about the bears too.”