“What’s she here for in all this rain?” questioned Mrs. Ramsdell, sharply. “Why, it’s almost stopped raining,” said Polly stroking Ebenezer, who stretched out one paw and curved it round her finger without opening his eyes. “She drove up to the shed to ask Uncle Blodgett to put her horse in the barn. Then I showed her the way to the sitting-room and, she said she had an errand with Mrs. Manser, and I’d better run away soon as I’d called her. I should have, anyway,” said Polly, nodding at each of her old friends in turn, “for I was anxious to hurry up here, and tell you about the things Uncle Blodgett’s been telling me.” Polly’s quick eyes had seen a half-frightened glance exchanged between Mrs. Ramsdell and Aunty Peebles when she spoke of Miss Hetty’s errand, but as neither of the old ladies seemed disposed to speak when she paused, Polly went on, thinking “it’s just one of their mysteries, I suppose.” “First, he recited me a poem,” said Polly; “at least, he really recited it to himself, ‘just to keep his hand in.’ I’m not very good about remembering poems, but this was by Dr. Goldsmith, Uncle Blodgett said, and it was all about a Madam Blaize. I asked him the name twice, to be sure.” “Never heard of either of ’em,” said Mrs. Ramsdell. “Must both be fictitious persons. I wonder Samu’l Blodgett never recites poems to us of an evening. I must say.” “’Twas only because I happened to be there, picking up the chips,” exclaimed Polly; “and I don’t know whether Dr. Goldsmith and Madam Blaize were fick--the kind of persons you said--but she was a grand lady in the poem. It’s funny, too,” said Polly, showing her dimples; “in one place it says ‘The king himself has followed her when she has walked before.’ Of course, he’d have to; isn’t that funny?” “What else did he recite?” demanded Mrs. Ramsdell. “He didn’t recite anything else,” said Polly, releasing her fingers from Ebenezer’s clasp, and springing to her feet, “but he told me a very exciting adventure he had once, and I can act it all out for you. You see, he was going home through some thick woods to his log-hut. We’ll play the bureau is the hut, and just on the edge of the woods. If you and Aunty Peebles will move your rocking chairs a little farther apart you’ll make a splendid edge of the woods,” said Polly to Mrs. Ramsdell, in a coaxing tone, “then I can come through between.” [Illustration: I CAN ACT IT ALL OUT FOR YOU.] “Anything to help out,” said the old lady, quickly hitching her chair away from Aunty Peebles. “Now I think,” said Polly, squinting up her eyes, “that Grandma Manser is in just about the right place for the panther.” “Mercy on us, it’s a wild beast tale,” chuckled Mrs. Ramsdell. “Grandma Manser, can you snarl like a panther?” asked Polly, bending over the quiet knitter, whose soft eyes had been following the little girl’s movements. “It’s in Uncle Blodgett’s adventure, and I’m going to act it all out, and speak so slow and clear, you’ll hear everything.”