Polly didn’t say anything, and the kind hands kept up their stroking of the brown hair, and the clock on the shelf ticked away busily as much as to say, “Remember that, Polly.”
“And now,” said Mrs. Pepper at last, quite cheerily, “I wouldn’t ever say anything more about this. We’ve talked it over, you and I, a good many times, and you’ve told Mr. King, so it’s no good to keep it alive. Just do the best you can now, Polly. Only remember never to let it happen again.”
“Mamsie!” exclaimed Polly, lifting her head from Mrs. Pepper’s lap suddenly, and sitting quite straight on the floor, her brown eyes shining through her tears, “I just hope there’ll be, oh! lots and lots to do for those boys. I love to tell them stories, and I’m going to do everything else I can think of for them too.”
“There’ll be enough you can do for them, I guess, Polly,” observed her mother wisely; “and that’s the better way to show you’re sorry than talking about it. There, here comes one of them now for you,” as Van bounded in, holding out both hands, much as if Polly Pepper were a parcel, and he was to bear her down to the waiting group below.
“O Polly! we’re ready,” he began; but she sprang to her feet and interrupted him. “Oh! for the story, Van? All right, I’ll go;” and she ran to the door, but she came flying back. “Good-by, Mamsie;” and she tried to set a kiss on the smoothly banded black hair, but Mrs. Pepper lifted her head quickly, so the soft little kiss dropped on the end of her nose, which made them all laugh merrily.
[“Here she is!” cried Van, throwing open the door of Jasper’s den], and handing Polly Pepper in with a flourish; “and Polly wasn’t in Ben’s room after all; I had the greatest time to find her.”
[“Here she is!” cried Van, throwing open the door of Jasper’s den.]
“No,” said Polly, her cheeks as red as a rose, “I was in Mamsie’s room.”