“Come over here, and I’ll let you have part,” said Alexia sweetly; and seating herself on a divan, she was soon reading as excitedly as Polly.
“Oh! where has she gone?” she cried at last, jumping up, and dashing the newspaper to the floor. “Where’s Polly gone?”
“And Jasper too,” said Ben. “Goodness me!” as the door opened, and in came Polly and the two children, Elyot hanging to his father’s hand.
“I want these blessed dears to hear it—all about their Uncle Joel now, just as soon as we read it,” said Polly with shining eyes. So everybody had to go all over it again, the children hanging on every word.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE REST OF THE PEPPERS ARE OFF.
“I OUGHT not to say anything,” cried Alexia, twisting around a very damp handkerchief in her nervous fingers.
“No,” said Mrs. Fargo; “I don’t think you had, Alexia.”
“But what shall we do when this great place is empty of Peppers?” Alexia rolled her eyes up to the vaulted ceiling. They were in the music-room waiting for Polly, who had gone up-stairs for a list of people to whom notes must be written announcing her sudden departure.
“I don’t want to think of it,” said Mrs. Fargo helplessly; “but we ought not to say one word to let Polly see how sorry we are they must go.”
“Dear me, I haven’t said a word!” cried Alexia in a very injured way. “Here I’ve been just killing myself to keep it all in, Mrs. Fargo. I should think you’d compliment me. But no one ever does. And to think that Grace is going too. Dear me, I shall just rattle around in my old pumpkin-shell too lonely for anything.”