“Pollio led Posy into the Parlor, and was affectionately drying her Eyes with the Lace Curtain.”
“How many p’licemen s’pose you could lick?” For he thought Mr. Lane looked pretty strong. Posy blushed; and so did Mrs. Pitcher, who was just entering the room.
But Mr. Lane only smiled. He knew a good deal about children; for he had three little boys of his own, and they did not always talk properly.
He could not stay very long. He had called to invite all the family to a sail to-morrow on the Lake of Lilies. The whole sabbath school was to go in the cars to a steamboat, and spend the day on the water.
On hearing this, Pollio shouted. The Lake of Lilies!—he knew no more about it than he did about the hanging-gardens of Babylon; but that was all the better, “Hurrah! Going to the Lake of Lilies!”
He was so happy that his mother was obliged to send him out of the room. Of course she couldn’t let him turn somersets before an entire stranger. Posy was just as happy as he was, but she didn’t make so much noise about it.
“What dear little creatures!” thought Mr. Lane, as they both left the room. “The boy is slightly rough, but his love for his sister atones for every thing.”
Pollio hadn’t known so long a day since his lameness. Have you ever observed how long the day always seems when something pleasant is going to happen to-morrow?