Polly Jane spoke up again—she never could bear the Hassels, and always said they were the greatest braggarts in our county: 'That would be great fun, for you and Dimpey to get ahead of all the company! I thought [picnickers] always kept together.'
Ned colored up and looked angry, but he only said, 'Will you engage to ride with me, Dimpey?'
If Polly Jane had not been there, I should have told Ned to ask father if I might go; but I couldn't bear to have her think I wanted Ned for a beau; so I answered, 'I don't know yet whether I can go or not; I'll see what our folks say.'
'Well, Dimpey, I'll come over to your house to-morrow night; I guess you'll go; good evening,' and away he galloped.
'Guess you'll go, indeed!' said Polly Jane, as soon as he was out of hearing. 'I guess she won't go with you, Mr. Impudence! You're not going to make a fool of our Dimpey, and break her neck besides, not if her father knows it, I can tell you.'
It isn't often that Polly Jane speaks out so spunky, but I expect she was vexed because he didn't answer her; as for me, I could have cried to think that things happened so, and I felt almost angry with poor Widow Burt for being sick, and taking me away from home that evening. It was awful wicked, but I was well punished for it afterward.
'It's too bad in you to talk so, Polly,' said I, 'as if I was a child six years old! I wonder why it's impudent in Ned to ask me to ride with him; you wouldn't say so if it was any one else; but you hate poor Ned—you know you do,' and here I broke down and really cried; but they were spiteful tears, after all.
'There, now, Dimpey,' said Polly Jane—she was over her pet in a minute—'don't feel bad; I didn't mean to be cross to Ned; but he has such a bold way of talking, as if he thought nobody could refuse him, that he always makes me angry, and I can't help it. But you shall go to the picnic, dear, whether he takes you or not; there will be plenty glad to ask you; so kiss me, Dimpey, and I won't tease you again.'
I let her kiss me, and then walked on sullen enough till we came to Mrs. Burt's. The house was a forlorn old place, with only one room and a bedroom, and a garret next the roof, where Jim slept. The door of the living room opened out into a shed, where Mrs. Burt did her work in summer time. The trees grew close up to the shed, and the well was under it; and as we came up, who should I see but Race Miller, drawing a bucket of water to fill the teakettle, while Jim kindled a fire in the stove. There did seem to be no end of vexations that day, and I wished myself a hundred miles off.
'Why, Polly Jane! is that you? I didn't think of seeing you down here to-night—and Dimpey, too! We heard that Mrs. Burt was very sick, and mother had tea early, and we came over to see how the poor soul was.'