Prev | Current Page 119 | Next

Roy, Lillian Elizabeth, 1868-1932

"Polly of Pebbly Pit"

Feeling
dissatisfied with her appearance made Barbara irritable, but she
remained in the room criticizing everything the two other girls did or
said. Then just before the horn sounded for supper, a knock came at the
door.
"Come in!" called Anne, buttoning her white suede boots.
"'S onny me. Ah jes' wanta ast you-all ef it is right in city sassiety,
fur a widder of six months' standin' t' go t' a party whar onny old
frien's will be. Thar won't be no sky-larkin' er high-jinks, yo' know!"
Sary's anxious tone expressed her eagerness for a favorable reply to
her query on widowhood. Eleanor looked at Anne to answer, so she took
the initiative.
"Certainly, Sary--come right along and enjoy yourself."
Barbara was shocked. "The help's not going--surely!"
"Humph! Miss Halsey ast me afore she mentioned you-all!" snapped Sary,
quite able to defend herself against Barbara's pride.
"Oh, Bob doesn't mean it that way, Sary," said Eleanor, giving her
sister a backward kick for silence.
"Of course not! Bob means that your mourning might prevent your
attending the dance. But seeing we are all old friends from ranches
round about, it will be like meeting your family," added Anne, the
pacifist.
"Wall, then, Ah'll go," sighed Sary, as if loath to join a merry
throng. "But Ah hez t' have a smitch of somethin' like-ez-how Miss Bob
hez fer her shoulders, cuz my neck's gettin' scrawny now."
Barbara had draped chiffon over her neck and dress, and at Sary's
request, she turned angrily.


Pages:
107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131