Part 82

“Never mind, Van,” said Jasper consolingly, getting off from the sofa and coming up to the table.

“They're done and done beautifully, aren't they?” he said, holding up one.

But this only proved fresh fuel for the fire of Van's indignation.

“And you shan't have 'em, so!” he cried, making a lunge at the one on the table, “for I made most of the boat, there!”

“Oh no, you didn't!” cried Percy in the greatest alarm, hanging on to the boat in his hand. “I cut--all the keel--and the bow--and--”

“Oh dear!” said Polly, in extreme dismay, looking at Jasper. “Come, I'll tell you what I'll do, boys.”

“What?” said Van, cooling off a little, and allowing Percy to edge into a corner with the beloved boat and one sail. “What will you, Polly?”

“I'll make you another pair of sails,” said Polly groaning within herself as she thought of the wasted minutes, “and then you can see me cut 'em, Van.”

“Will you really,” he said, delight coming all over his flushed face.

“Yes, I will,” cried Polly, “wait a minute till I get some more cloth.” And she started for the door.

“Oh now, that's too bad!” said Jasper. “To have to cut more of those tiresome old things! Van, let her off!”

“Oh no, I won't! I won't!” he cried in the greatest alarm, running up to her as she stood by the door. “You did say so, Polly! You know you did!”

“Of course I did, Vanny,” said Polly, smiling down into his eager face, “and we'll have a splendid pair in just--one--minute!” she sang.

And so the sails were cut out, and the hems turned down and basted, and tucked away into Polly's little work-basket ready for the sewing on the morrow. And then Mr. King came in and took Jasper off with him; and the two Whitney boys went up to mamma for a story; and Polly sat down in mamsie's room to tackle her French exercise.

POLLY'S BIG BUNDLE

The room was very quiet; but presently Phronsie strayed in, and seeing Polly studying, climbed up in a chair by the window to watch the birds hop over the veranda and pick up worms in the grass beside the carriage drive. And then came Mrs. Pepper with the big mending basket, and ensconced herself opposite by the table; and nothing was to be heard but the “tick, tick” of the clock, and an occasional dropping of a spool of thread, or scissors, from the busy hands flying in and out among the stockings.

All of a sudden there was a great rustling in Cherry's cage that swung in the big window on the other side of the room. And then he set up a loud and angry chirping, flying up and down, and opening his mouth as if he wanted to express his mind, but couldn't, and otherwise acting in a very strange and unaccountable manner.

“Dear me!” said Mrs. Pepper, “what's that?”

“It's Cherry,” said Polly, lifting up her head from “Fasquelle,” “and--oh, dear me!” and flinging down the pile of books in her lap on a chair, she rushed across the room and flew up to the cage and began to wildly gesticulate and explain and shower down on him every endearing name she could think of.

“What is the matter?” asked her mother, turning around in her chair in perfect astonishment. “What upon earth, Polly!”

“How could I!” cried Polly, in accents of despair, not heeding her mother's question. “Oh, mamsie, will he die, do you think?”

“I guess not,” said Mrs. Pepper, laying down her work and coming up to the cage, while Phronsie scrambled off from her chair and hurried to the scene. “Why, he does act queer, don't he? P'raps he's been eating too much?”

“Eating!” said Polly, “oh mamsie, he hasn't had anything.” And she pointed with shame and remorse to the seed-cup with only a few dried husks in the very bottom.

“Oh, Polly,” began Mrs. Pepper; but seeing the look on her face, she changed her tone for one more cheerful. “Well, hurry and get him some now; he'll be all right, poor little thing, in a minute. There, there,” she said, nodding persuasively at the cage, “you pretty creature you! so you sha'n't be starved.”

At the word “starved,” Polly winced as though a pin had been pointed at her.

“There isn't any, mamsie, in the house,” she stammered; “he had the last yesterday.”

“And you forgot him to-day?” asked Mrs. Pepper, with a look in her black eyes Polly didn't like.

“Yes'm,” said poor Polly in a low voice.