Polly hugged herself with sudden joy. Miss Pomeroy evidently liked birds, or she would never have spoken in that way. “Probably she’ll leave the windows open, so I can hear them when I’m reading and sewing and doing quiet things, like Eleanor,” she thought, happily; but all she said was, “Oh, yes’m; isn’t he glad spring has come, don’t you believe?” “I believe he is, my dear,” said Miss Pomeroy; “and now, if you look ahead, you can see through the trees the roof of the house where you are going to live for a little while, at any rate.” “For always,” said Polly, firmly, to herself. “Miss Pomeroy’s good as she can be, and there’s Grandma Manser’s ear trumpet, and Mrs. Manser’s poor health, and all I’ve got to do is to learn to like to sew and read better than to play, and to stay in the house and be quiet instead of running wild outdoors. That isn’t much,” said Polly, scornfully, to herself, “for a big girl like me.” Past the rich meadows through which ran the little brook that joined Ashdon River, over the wooden bridge that rumbled under her feet, along the brook road beneath the arching willows, up the easy hill, and into the avenue of stately oaks that gave Miss Pomeroy’s home its name, trotted Daisy, carrying her mistress with the grave, kind eyes and little, eager-faced Polly. The child gazed with awe and excitement at the flying panorama, and gave quick, short breaths as the pretty mare made a skillful turn and stopped before a porch over which was trained an old grape vine. In the porch stood Arctura Green, Miss Pomeroy’s faithful helper, and at the foot of the steps Hiram, Arctura’s brother, waited to take Daisy, who rubbed her nose against his rough hand and gave a little whinny of pleasure before she crunched the lump of sugar which Hiram slipped into her mouth. “Here we are, my dear,” said Miss Pomeroy, briskly, and Polly, feeling as if she were sound asleep and wide awake all together, jumped out of the wagon. CHAPTER V AT POMEROY OAKS “This is little Mary Prentiss,” said Miss Pomeroy to Arctura Green, who stood beaming down on Polly. “Well, I’m glad enough to see you,” said Arctura, heartily, reaching out her long arm and drawing the little girl close to her side; “something young is just what we need here. We’re all growing old, Miss Hetty and Hiram and I, and Daisy and the cows and all hands; we’ve got a couple of kittens, to be sure, but they’re always busy about their own affairs and don’t talk much, so they’re no great company.” “Why, Arctura, I don’t know when I’ve heard you make such a long speech,” said Miss Pomeroy. “I hope you have something good for dinner, for Mary and I have had a long drive and a great deal of excitement, and we shall be hungry pretty soon.” “It’s only just turned half-past eleven,” said Arctura, releasing Polly after a good squeeze against her big checked apron, “so there’ll be an hour to wait. Where’s the little girl’s baggage, Miss Hetty?”