[II.]
THE PRINCESS ESMERALDA’S BALL.
“It was a most beautiful place,” cried Polly. “Oh! you can’t think, children, how perfectly beautiful it all was;” and she clasped her hands and sighed.
“Tell us,” they all begged in one breath, crowding around her chair.
“Well, I can’t till Ben gets back, because you know he wanted to hear this story;” and Polly flew out of her rapture, and picked up her needle again. “Dear me!” she exclaimed, and a wave of remorse sent the color flying over her cheek, “I didn’t mean to stop even for a minute;” and she glanced up at the old clock.
“Ben never’ll come,” grumbled Joel, racing to the window with Davie at his heels; “he’s so awful slow.”
“Well, it’s slow work,” said Polly, stitching away briskly, “to carry a great heavy molasses jug and a bag of Indian meal way up here from the store. Now, if you two boys wanted to go and meet him, you could help ever so much.”
“I went last time down to that old store,” said Joel, kicking his toes against the wall as he stared out of the window; “it’s Dave’s turn now, Polly.”
“Oh, oh!” cried little Davie, “I’ve been ever and ever so many more times, Polly; truly I have.”
“And we’ve just got through doing all our work,” went on Joel, ignoring David’s remarks; “and we had such a lot to do to-day Polly,” he added in an injured tone.
“You needn’t go if you don’t want to,” said Polly, with a fine scorn; “I said if you wanted to go.”