“Hop-clover” spread it out then on her desk, looking ashamed as she did so; for it was nothing but dry bread and very dried apple-pie. Posy thought that was what came of having such a queer mother that wasn’t a mother; and offered her new friend an orange.
“Oh, thank you ever so much!” said Hop-clover, her sad eyes sparkling. “I’ve seen oranges lots of times, but I never ate one before.”
Posy looked up in surprise.
“What a baby that is!” thought Jimmy Cushing, spying Posy’s innocent face just then as he came along, swinging his arms, and whistling. “Guess I’ll plague her a little.”
“Oh! is that you, Posy Pitcher?” said he aloud. “Well, I’ve got something for you.”
She blushed and smiled.
“Put out your hand,” said he, offering her a clam. “There, just feel of that: isn’t it smooth? Put your fingers inside.”
She knew no better than to do as he said; and the clam, which was alive, knew no better than to seize her little hand with a dreadful grip. Dear little Posy screamed fearfully, and some of the larger boys had to come in and break the clam-shell with a hammer before her hand was set free.
Pollio knew nothing about it till it was all over, and he found her drying her eyes on Addie Thatcher’s neck.