“Well, you got the red blanket, and tied it on the broom,” said Polly; “so you did it, anyway.”
“That’s nothing,” said Ben; “we all thought of the blanket because it was red, and would show against the snow. And after that there was nothing we could do; so we all three sat down in the kitchen, and looked at each other.”
“Yes,” said Polly, shaking her head very mournfully, “that was the hardest part of it all; there wasn’t anything to do. Oh, dear me! it was perfectly dreadful; you can’t think how dreadful it all was.”
“And pretty soon Mamsie said, ‘Now, children, we’ll get breakfast the same as usual. Thank God that we have got a large supply of meal and potatoes in the Provision Room, so we sha’n’t starve. Look at the clock, Polly, child.’
“And there, don’t you think,” said Polly, “the old clock in the corner was ticking away the minutes as fast as it could; and it was half-past eight, and we always used to get up at six o’clock—in winter, I mean.”
“Six o’clock in winter!” cried Percy in amazement, who dearly loved his bed of a morning. “Oh, dear me! that’s the middle of the night.”
“Well, if you think that’s early, what do you think of five o’clock,” said Ben under his breath.
“And just think of Ben,” Polly was saying, with a little pat on Ben’s back; “he used to have all his chores done by six o’clock, because he had to go and help other people, and earn money.”
Percy tumbled right over on the green bank, quite overcome by this, and lay there lost in thought.
“Yes, it was half-past eight,” said Polly impressively. “And when I looked at the clock, I jumped up, glad of something to do; for I’d been twisting my hands together, trying not to cry,” she confessed, drooping her brown head in a shamedfaced way.