Part 7 (1/2)

”Why, you might make a violet _glove_ case,” said Polly, in a burst.

Then she began to dance around the arbor. ”Oh, Clem, how perfectly lovely!”

”I don't see,” began Clem dismally, ”and I don't know how to make a glove case.”

”Why, make it just like my handkerchief case, only long,” flung Polly over her shoulder, as she danced away.

”But I don't want to copy yours,” protested Clem, ”for it really would be mean.”

”But this would make a set, yours and mine,” said Polly breathlessly, and coming up to shake the downcast shoulders, ”don't you see? Oh, you goosie!

and I've been another, not to think of it before. And oh, such a set! Why, it would sell for a lot of money. And I'll ask Jasper to draw you the same kind of bunch of violets on your glove case, and we'll go right down-town, now. I can make Phronsie's bag when I get home. Come on!”

When Clem once had the idea in her mind, she got off from the bench, and Phronsie, watching anxiously from Polly's window for her return, saw the two girls hurrying across the lawn, their arms around each other and talking busily. And it wasn't but a moment or two, and she was flying over the gra.s.s to meet them. Polly had explained that the little ribbon bag was to be made just as soon as the materials for the new glove case were bought. Polly had run up for her hat, and to get her little purse, for she just remembered that her green silk for the violet stems was nearly out, and Phronsie had said good-bye and gone back to the house on happy feet, to tell Clorinda and watch at the window till Polly should come again.

And just after luncheon, for they must start early in order to have a good long afternoon at Miss Mary's, Polly and Phronsie set forth, the new little bag hanging from Phronsie's arm. Jasper went with them as far as the corner, where he turned off to go to Jack Rutherford's, for the boys were to meet there to write letters for the post office. They had promised to be there bright and early.

”Oh, Jasper, it was so good of you to draw that dear bunch of violets for Clem,” said Polly for about the fiftieth time; ”it was too sweet for anything.”

”Too sweet for anything,” hummed Phronsie, all her eyes on her bag, dangling as she walked.

”Take care, you came near falling on your nose, Phronsie.” Jasper put out a warning hand.

”I think it's so nice there's a pink stripe in it, Polly,” said Phronsie, patting her bag affectionately.

”Yes, isn't it, Pet!” cried Polly, glad she hadn't snipped up that very ribbon for little sachet bags. ”And the green stripe, too, is pretty, Phronsie.”

”It's pretty,” cooed Phronsie, ”and my cus.h.i.+on-pin is inside, j.a.pser,” she announced.

”Is it really?” said Jasper.

”Yes, it is really and truly, j.a.pser, and I'm going to work on it,” she added, with a very important air.

”You don't say so, Pet!” he cried. ”Why, you are going to a working bee just the same as the big girls, aren't you?”

”I'm very big,” said Phronsie, stepping so high she nearly fell into a mud-puddle. Whereat Jasper picked her up, bag and all, and marched off, laughing, not to set her down till they reached the corner.

”Well, good-bye. Take care now, Phronsie,” and he gave her a kiss.

”Good-bye, Polly, and good luck to your bee.”

”And I do hope you'll have splendid success with the letters, Jasper,”

Polly craned her neck around the corner to say, the last thing. Then she took Phronsie's hand and hurried along to meet a throng of girls, all bound for Miss Mary's.

There on the big stone steps was Mr. Hamilton Dyce.

”I heard there was to be a bee here this afternoon,” he said, looking down at them all with a smile, ”so I thought I'd come.”

”I'm coming,” announced Phronsie, breaking away from Polly and holding up her bag; and she began to mount the steps.

”So I perceive,” said Mr. Dyce, running down to meet her. ”Well, Phronsie, I must tell you I came partly to see you.”