It was not the fault of the twins if the family did not hear what had happened to Hop-clover. Posy ran to tell Jane, Jane told Eliza, and Eliza told Ike. Then Nunky came home from sketching in the glen; and Pollio met him with the glad news before he had turned the street-corner.
There was a great time of rejoicing. Mrs. Pitcher set out the best china for supper, and everybody drank Friend Littlefield’s health in a cup of broma. After that, all the windows were lighted in both parlors, and the judge wheeled up the best chair for the Quaker, while Nunky played “The Shepherd’s Pipe upon the Mountain.”
A gay fire burned in the grate, for the evening was chill: the pictures on the walls seemed to smile, and so did the flowers in the vases, and the flowers in the carpet. Posy thought the room smiled all over, as she sat on her papa’s knee, and listened to the music, and thought of Hop-clover.
“I think it’s nice for little girls to live in a home,” said she to herself, pressing her cheek against her papa’s whiskers.
I could begin to-morrow morning, and tell you ever so much more about her and Pollio,—how new things happened to them day after day, and year after year: but the printer thinks my book is long enough already; so I must stop this very evening, before the fire burns low in the grate. If you really care to hear more about Pollio and Posy, perhaps, by and by, I will write another book; but now we will drop a courtsey, make a bow, and say,—
“Good-night, little Pitchers.”
SOPHIE MAY’S “LITTLE-FOLKS” BOOKS.