“Rose is coming to see us, and Mortimer, when I say us, that means you and me.  Of course she wants to see her Aunt Judith, and everyone in this town, but most she really wants to see us, that truly is you and me.  Aren’t you glad?”

He arched his neck, and rubbed against her, purring as if to show his delight with the news she had told him.

Polly took him in her arms, and carrying him to the hammock, seated herself, and began to swing very gently.

At another time, Sir Mortimer might have objected, but just now he was rather drowsy, and instead of jumping from the hammock, he curled up in Polly’s lap, and seemed to be preparing for a nap.

“I love little pussy,” sang Princess Polly, gently patting his handsome head.

“Look at her, now,” said the cook, peeping from the kitchen window, and pointing at Polly, “ain’t she the dearest child in the world?”

“Ye’ve no need ter ask,” said the big butler, “fer ye know my answer.  Our little Miss Princess Polly is the finest child I ever saw.”

“And did ye mind that wild little heathen that came up here the other day, a prancin’ all over the place, here one minute, an’ there another?  Sure, I expected ter see her shin up the side of the stable, an’ then jump from the ridge-pole.  She’d make nothin’ of that!” said the maid.

“I think it must be that little Harcourt monkey,” said the butler, “and I’m told her ma likes her wild pranks.  What is it she calls ’em?  Oh, yes, I remember.  She says as how her darling is very VERVASHUS!  What that means I do’no, but one thing I’m sure of.  If her youngster is that, our Miss Polly just ain’t!”

And while Polly petted big Sir Mortimer, she thought of the dear letter, and softly whispered to her pet: 

“Lena is just as glad that Rose is coming as you, and I are, and she said Rob would be glad, too.”

There were other little people beside Polly and Lena who were thinking of the first days of school, and of them all, not one was more interested than wee Dollie Burton.

Indeed, she was both interested, and grieved.  Interested to hear all that her sister, Blanche, and the other children had to say, and grieved because she could not understand why she could not at once begin to be a little school girl.

In vain was she told that she was far too small to think of going to school.  She insisted that she was not so very little, and that she so wished to go.

“Blanche did not go to school until she was much larger than you, dear,” her mother had said, “and I think it would be far better for you to stay at home this Winter.  You can play school at home, and you can be the teacher, and your two little kittens, and your dolls can be your pupils.”

“But I could play it nicer if I had been to school just a little while,” said Dollie, “’cause then I’d know just how.”