“NOW, I have some errands to do,” said Miss Pomeroy; “perhaps you’d like to get out of the wagon at Burcham’s and see the new toys.”
“No, ma’am, thank you; I will stay here and hold the horse,” said Polly, and, after a keen look at her, Miss Pomeroy drove to the butcher shop and alighted, leaving Daisy in her charge.
“I guess that is what Eleanor would have said,” remarked Polly, in a low, confidential tone to the horse, as she carefully flicked an early fly from Daisy’s back; “and, truly, I don’t care a bit about seeing the dolls or anything to-day. Of course, I mustn’t tell stories, trying to be like Eleanor; I’ve just got to stop wanting to do things, so I can tell the truth.”
As she faced this tremendous task, Polly sat so still and erect that she looked like a stern little sentinel, and her motionless figure attracted the attention of a number of people whom she did not see. In a few moments Miss Pomeroy came out of the butcher’s and went across the road to the post office. The butcher brought out a package in brown paper and stowed it carefully in at the back of the wagon. Then he stepped around to pat Daisy and speak to Polly. He was a red-faced, hearty man who had lost two front teeth and talked with a slight lisp. He and Polly had always been on excellent terms.
“How d’ye do, Polly?” he said, reaching up his unoccupied hand to grasp the little girl’s; “thso this is the day you thstart in to live with Miths Pomeroy? Well, you’re going to have a fine home, and she’ths an exthtra good woman, when you get uthsed to her being a mite quick and up-and-coming.”
“Mr. Boggs,” said Polly, anxiously, “you know I’m Mary Prentiss now. You mustn’t please call me by my old name any more—not unless Miss Pomeroy decides not to adopt me. I don’t suppose you ever saw Eleanor, Miss Pomeroy’s niece that died? No, of course you couldn’t have.”
“I thsaw her when thshe came here, a year-older,” said Mr. Boggs, as he turned to greet a customer; “just like mothst children of that age, thshe looked, for all I could thsee. I reckon her qualitieths weren’t what you could call developed then. Well, good-day to you, Miths Mary Prentiths, and the bethst of luck,” he said, with a laugh and a low bow as he gave Polly’s hand a final shake.
Just then Miss Pomeroy came across the road with her hands full of papers and letters, and with a little white bag, which she put in Polly’s lap as she took her seat. The bag had a deliciously lumpy feeling, and Polly’s mind leaped to gum-drops in an instant.
“Open it and let us see what they are like,” said Miss Pomeroy, as she gathered up the reins, which had slackened in Polly’s hands during the interview with Mr. Boggs. “Chocolate creams and gum-drops. I suspect you’ll like the chocolates best, but I am very fond of gum-drops; so I’ll take one of those. One piece of candy is all I allow myself in a day, so you may carry off the bag to your own room when we get there, to keep me from being tempted.”
Polly took one bite of a big chocolate drop after Miss Pomeroy had been served to her taste, and then she gave a little sigh of delight.