“Oh, dear!” said Pollio, “I’d give ten cents to buy some hinges for my legs.”
“Please, darling, don’t you s’pose if you’d get on my back, I could carry you?” said Posy.
It was the first time Pollio had smiled that day; but it was such a funny speech from that mite of a girl! He would as soon have thought of leaning on a good-sized flower, say a honeysuckle.
“Why, Teddy couldn’t hardly carry me: he isn’t big enough,” said the poor boy, feeling suddenly that he was very heavy.
“Well, papa can carry you, and Nunky can carry you, and Dick.”
“Now, you stop! Do you s’pose I want to go pickapack all the time?” whined unhappy Pollio.
To comfort him, Posy took a glass of lemonade from the table, and raised it to his lips, and of course spilled it on his neck.
“Needn’t do that again, miss! Guess I can drink my own self, ’thout you helping!”
Posy was deeply grieved, for this did not sound like Pollio.