Polly had turned her back at the sound of Mandy's voice and
crossed to the elm tree, drying her tears of happiness and trying
to control her newly awakened emotions. Douglas felt intuitively
that she needed this moment for recovery, so he piled the leaves
and garlands high in Mandy's arms, then ran into the house with
the light step of a boy.
"I got the set-sit-settin' room all tidied up," said Mandy as she
shot a sly glance at Polly.
"That's good," Polly answered, facing Mandy at last and dimpling
and blushing guiltily.
"Mos' de sociable folks will mos' likely be hangin' roun' de
parsonage to-night, 'stead ob stayin' in de Sunday-school-room,
whar dey belongs. Las' time dat ere Widow Willoughby done set
aroun' all ebenin' a-tellin' de parson as how folks could jes'
eat off'n her kitchen floor, an' I ups an' tells her as how folks
could pick up a good, squar' meal off'n MANDY'S floor, too.
Guess she'll be mighty careful what she says afore Mandy
to-night." She chuckled as she disappeared down the walk to the
Sunday-school- room.
Polly stood motionless where Mandy had left her. She hardly knew
which way to turn. She was happy, yet afraid. She felt like
sinking upon her knees and begging God to be good to her, to help
her.
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