"Tag--you're it!" she cried, and then dashed out the back door,
pursued by the laughing, screaming youngsters. Mandy followed
the children to the porch and stood looking after them, as the
mad, little band scurried about the back yard, darted in and out
amongst the trees, then up the side of the wooded hill, just
beyond the church.
The leaves once more were red and yellow on the trees, but to-day
the air was warm, and the children were wearing their summer
dresses. Polly's lithe, girlish figure looked almost tall by
comparison with the children about her. She wore a plain, simple
gown of white, which Mandy had helped her to make. It had been
cut ankle- length, for Polly was now seventeen. Her quaint,
old-fashioned manner, her serious eyes, and her trick of knotting
her heavy, brown hair low on her neck, made her seem older.
Mandy waited until the children had disappeared over the hill,
then began bustling about looking for the step-ladder which Hasty
had left under the vines of the porch. It had been a busy day at
the parsonage. A social always meant perturbation for Mandy.
She called sharply to Hasty, as he came down the path which made
a short cut to the village:
"So's you'se back, is you?" she asked, sarcastically.
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