HE 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.
“Well, he must have something right away,” said Mrs. Pepper, decidedly. “That's certain.”
“I'll run right down to Fletcher's and get it,” cried Polly. “'Twon't take me but a minute, mamsie; Jasper's gone, and Thomas, too, so I've got to go,” she added, as she saw her mother hesitate.
“If you could wait till Ben gets home,” said Mrs. Pepper, slowly. “I'm most afraid it will rain, Polly.”
“Oh, no, mamsie,” cried Polly, feeling as if she could fly to the ends of the earth to atone, and longing beside for the brisk walk down town. Going up to the window she pointed triumphantly to the little bit of blue sky still visible. “There, now, see, it can't rain yet awhile.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Pepper, while Phronsie, standing in a chair with her face pressed close to the cage, was telling Cherry through the bars “not to be hungry, please don't!” which he didn't seem to mind in the least, but went on screaming harder than ever! “And besides, 'tisn't much use to wait for Ben. Nobody knows where he'll get shoes to fit himself and Joe and Davie, in one afternoon! But be sure, Polly, to hurry, for it's getting late, and I shall be worried about you.
“Oh, mamsie,” said Polly, turning back just a minute, “I know the way to Fletcher's just as easy as anything. I couldn't get lost.”
“I know you do,” said Mrs. Pepper, “but it'll be dark early on account of the shower. Well,” she said, pulling out her well-worn purse from her pocket, “if it does sprinkle, you get into a car, Polly, remember.”
“Oh, yes, I will,” she cried, taking the purse.
“And there's ten cents for your bird seed in that pocket,” said Mrs. Pepper, pointing to a coin racing away into a corner by itself.
“Yes'm,” said Polly, wild to be off.
“And there's a five-cent piece in that one for you to ride up with,” said her mother, tying up the purse carefully. “Remember, for you to ride up with. Well, I guess you better ride up anyway, Polly, come to think, and then you'll get home all the quicker.”
“Where you going?” asked Phronsie, who on seeing the purse knew there was some expedition on foot, and beginning to clamber down out of the chair. “Oh, I want to go too, I do. Take me, Polly!”