"
"I know it," said Polly, laughing too; "well, that's what I always used
to do in the little brown house,--drum on the table."
"In the little brown where?" demanded Adela in astonishment.
"The little brown house," answered Polly, and her eyes lightened as she
seemed to see it before her. "That's where we used to live, Adela--oh,
the sweetest place, you can't think!" Polly's fingers stopped drumming
now, and the colour flew up to her cheek; she forgot all about Adela.
"Oh, I suppose it had everything beautiful about it," said Adela,
delighted to make Polly talk, "big gardens, and terraces, and--"
"Oh, no," said Polly, "it didn't have gardens at all, Adela, only a
little bit of a green grass-plot in front. But there was an apple tree
at the back."
"Apple tree at the back?" echoed Adela, faintly.
"Yes, and we had beautiful plays under it," cried Polly, rushing on in
remembrance; "and sometimes when all the work was finished, Mamsie
would let us spend the whole afternoon out there. You can't think what
perfectly splendid times we had there, Adela Gray!"
Adela by this time was beyond words, but stared up at Polly's face
speechlessly. "And what fun it was on baking days, Polly," cried
Jasper, unable to keep quiet any longer; "do you remember when I burnt
all my cakes around the edges?"
"Well, that was because the old stove acted so," said Polly; "one
minute it wouldn't bake at all, and the next it burnt things black.
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