"
"I should think so, indeed," assented Mrs. Bubb. "Don't give way, my
dear. Whativer you do, don't give way. I'm sure I feel for you. It's
fair crool, it is."
Mrs. Clover said nothing, and made a great effort to command
herself. Her friends escorted her to the foot of the stairs. Mr. and
Mrs. Cheeseman had their door ajar, knowing well what was in
progress, for the landlady had not been able to keep her counsel at
such a dramatic crisis; but fortunately Mrs. Clover was unaware of
this. With light, quick foot she mounted the flight of stairs and
knocked softly at Polly's door.
"Well? Who's that?" sounded in a careless voice.
"It's me, Polly--your Aunt Louisa. Will you let me come in?"
"What do you want?"
The tone of the inquiry was not encouraging, and Mrs. Clover delayed
a moment before she spoke again.
"I want to speak to you, Polly," she said at length, with firmness.
"You know what it's about. Let me come in, please."
"I've got nothing to say to you about anything," answered Polly, in
a tone of unmistakable decision.
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