“It’s Grandma Bascom,” said Polly. “I hate to leave her. Mrs. Higby will look after her splendidly; it isn’t that; but she wants somebody to go in just as we have every day, and talk to her, and read to her, and cheer her up.”
“Oh, dear me!” cried Alexia gustily, and falling back. “I can’t take all your old women, Polly Pepper—and they wouldn’t like me, either. They’d tell me to go out of the house.”
“Oh, no, they wouldn’t, Alexia!” said Polly with troubled eyes.
“Yes, they would,” contradicted Alexia before she could stop herself; “they’d want to fling things at me. I don’t know how to talk to horrible old women, Polly; you know I don’t.”
“And I’m not much better,” said Mrs. Fargo, wrinkling her forehead in perplexity.
Polly stood quite still, her hand on the top of the oaken chair.
“Well, don’t look like that,” exclaimed Alexia, taking one glance at the troubled face, “and I’ll go there every day; I’ll sit on the front door-step from morning to night. I’ll do anything, Polly Pepper—Polly, did you hear?” running up to shake her arm.
“You might take Baby in with you,” said Polly, turning a brightening face.
“So I could,” cried Alexia radiantly. “I never thought of that. Oh! I’ll go in every single day. Don’t you worry about that, Polly. Promise, now.”
She put her two hands on Polly’s shoulders, and kissed her till Polly’s cheeks were as red as two roses; then she spun her around till they both were quite out of breath.