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Polly - A New-Fashioned Girl by L. T. Meade
page 8 of 310 (02%)
you were to go in at once. Why, what is the matter, Poll Parrot?"

"Nothing," said Polly, "only you might have told me about Helen crying
before. Helen never cries unless there's something perfectly awful going
to happen. Stay out in the garden, you two boys--make yourselves sick
with gooseberries, if you like, only don't come near the house, and
don't make the tiniest bit of noise. A new baby--and Helen crying! But
mother--I'll find out what it means from mother!"

Polly had long legs, and they bore her quickly in a swift race or canter
to the house. When she approached the porch the dogs all got up in a
body to meet her; there were seven or eight dogs, and they surrounded
her, impeding her progress.

"Not a bark out of one of you," she said, sternly, "lie down--go to
sleep. If you even give a yelp I'll come out by and by and beat you. Oh,
Alice, what is it? What's the matter?"

A maid servant was standing in the wide, square hall.

"What is it, Alice? What is wrong? There's a new baby--I'm delighted at
that. But why is Helen crying, and--oh!--oh!--what does it mean--you
are crying, too, Alice."

"It's--Miss Polly, I can't tell you," began the girl. She threw her
apron over her head, and sobbed loudly. "We didn't know where you was,
miss--it's, it's--We have been looking for you everywhere, miss. Why,
Miss Polly, you're as white, as white--Don't take on now, miss, dear."

"You needn't say any more," gasped Polly, sinking down into a garden
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