“It’s Mr. Tisbett’s stage-coach,” announced Joel with a flourish, and cracking his whip. “Hooray, there—get out of the way or you’ll be run over! Any passengers?—want to get in, ma’am?”—with a bow to Polly.
“No,” said Polly; “thank you, I’m not going away anywhere to-day, Mr. Tisbett.”
“G’lang then!” and away they swept off rattling and lumbering along, and Polly was left in peace to get supper; for Mamsie would come home tired and hungry before long.
But at last everything was ready; and the children, tired of play, began to tease Polly for the story she had promised them; and Joel drove Mr. Tisbett’s big stage-coach into the corner, and tied the horses fast.
So Polly had to begin it right away. “Well, you know I told you it was a big stage-coach.”
“Yes, yes, we know,” said Joel, flopping down on a cricket, and folding his chubby hands. “Now go on.”
“You see, there were four horses to this stage-coach,” announced Polly, watching to see the effect of this on Joel.
“Whickets!” cried Joel, springing off from his cricket. “O Polly—four horses!”
“Yes, there were,” declared Polly, “four horses,—two black ones and two white ones.”
Joel stood perfectly still, and did not speak a word for several minutes, quite overcome at this. So Polly seized the opportunity to rush along as fast as she could in the story. “Well, and there was a funny old man who drove the stage-coach. He wasn’t in the least like our Mr. Tisbett; he was little and round, and he had a squeaky voice; and he always said, ‘Pay me your money before you get in, ma’am,’ like this,” said Polly, her voice going up in a funny little squeal, “which isn’t the leastest bit in the world like our nice, good Mr. Tisbett.”