Last of all came Grandma Manser, who smoothed Polly’s curls with her trembling hands and could hardly bear to say good-by at all.
“If you get adopted, my lamb,” she whispered in Polly’s ear, “daughter Sarah says it’s likely she can buy me something to hear with, and Uncle Sam Blodgett’s promised to read to us now you’re going. But if you aren’t happy at Miss Hetty’s, dear, you come back, and nobody will be better pleased than I to see you; ’twill joy me more than an ear-trumpet!”
Polly swallowed hard, and dashed something from her eyes as she ran into the house. She said a hasty good-by to Father Manser, who was washing his hands at the kitchen sink for the third time since breakfast, and hurried out of doors with the big enamel cloth bag which contained her wardrobe.
She courtesied to Miss Pomeroy, and gave a faint “good-morning, ma’am,” in response to the cheery salutation from her new friend. Mrs. Manser gave her a peck on the lips and a forlorn “Good-by, child, and be as little trouble as you can to Miss Pomeroy,” and then Polly climbed into the wagon.
In another minute the wagon was rolling quickly down the road, the chorus of good-bys from old, familiar voices had hushed into silence, and Polly, stealing a glance at the gray eyes so far above the brim of her Sunday hat, felt that old things had passed away, and a new, strange life stretched out before her.
“Let me see, Mary, you are ten years old, aren’t you? When does your birthday come?” Miss Hetty asked suddenly, when they had gone a little way down the hill toward the village. The voice was kind and friendly, but the unwonted “Mary” which she must expect always to hear now, gave Polly a homesick twinge.
“It’s come,” she answered, glancing timidly up at Miss Hetty. “I had my birthday two weeks ago, and I was ten—if you please,” added the little girl, hastily.
“I guess I was just as polite as Eleanor that time,” she thought, and the idea that she had made a fair start cheered Polly, so that she smiled confidingly at Miss Pomeroy, who smiled at her in return.
“You don’t look as old as that,” she said, kindly, but her voice had a sober sound at which Polly took alarm.
“Yes’m. I’m small for my age,” she said, slowly, “but I’m real strong. I’ve never been sick, not one single day.” And then she thought, “Oh, dear! probably Eleanor was tall! I’m going to see if I can’t stretch myself out the way Ebenezer did when he was little. I can lie down on the floor in my room and reach my arms and legs as far as they’ll go—What, ma’am?” said Polly, quickly, as she realized that Miss Pomeroy was speaking.