Then the child put her head in her mamma's
lap, and sobbed from pure nervousness. But she had kept her promise, the
loyal little soul. In years to come, she made and kept another promise,
that the first one led to, as links in a chain.
In the muddy back yard Polly was strutting, proud as a peacock, in her
scarlet sash. The ends swept the ground, and she glanced back over her
shoulder at them every step. Roberta burst out laughing, Polly looked so
ridiculous.
"O, Mamma!" she said, "do call Polly in and sing to her about--
"The little girl that was so vain,
Strutting up a dirty lane,
With mamma's best dress for a train,
O, fie, fie, fie! O, fie, fie, fie!
She'd better sweep cob-webs from the sky;
She'd better bake, she'd better stew,
She'd better knit, she'd better sew;
O, fie, fie, fie! O, fie, fie, fie!
The little girl put her finger in her eye,
Looked down at her shoe, and said 'boo-oo.'"
Now I am going to tell you how the soldier boy kept his promise.
Old Squire had loaded a wagon with pumpkins, golden-brown russet apples,
and splendid potatoes to take into town, a few miles off. He promised to
give the children a lift as far as the forks of the road.
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