"Polly, Polly!" The tears were rolling fast now, and Phronsie could
scarcely see to stumble back across the room to her side.

"And you don't know anything about it, child. To think of making a violet
handkerchief case, and mine is almost done, and none of the girls would
copy mine! And Jasper drew the flowers on purpose." She was going on so
fast now that she couldn't stop herself.

"Mamsie wouldn't like it," wailed Phronsie, clear gone in distress now, and
hiding her face in Polly's gown.

"Mamsie would say--" began Polly decidedly. Then she stopped suddenly. "Oh,
what have I said!" she cried. "Oh, what can I do!" She clasped her hands
tightly together. She was now in as much distress as Phronsie, and, seeing
this, Phronsie came out of her tears at once.

"You might run after her," she said. "Oh, Polly, do."

"She won't speak to me," said Polly, with a little shiver, and covering her
eyes. "Oh, dear, dear, how could I!"

"Yes, she will, I do believe," said Phronsie, putting down a terrible
feeling at her throat. Not speak to Polly?--such a thing could never be!
"Do run after her, Polly," she begged.

Polly took down her hands and went off with wavering steps to the door.

"I'll get your hat," cried Phronsie, running to the closet.