ONE LAST GLIMPSE
CHAPTER I.
THE ADAMS FAMILY.
"'There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl,
And it hung right down over her forehead;
And when she was good,
She was very, very good,
And when she was bad, _she was horrid_!'"
"And that's you!" chanted Polly Adams in a vigorous crescendo, as
she watched the retreating figure of her guest. Then climbing down
from her perch on the front gate, she added to herself, "Mean old
thing! I s'pose she thinks I care because she's gone home; but I'm
glad of it, so there!" And with an emphatic shake of her curly
head, she ran into the house.
Up-stairs, in the large front room, sat her mother and her aunt,
busy with their sewing. The blinds were closed, to keep out the
warm sun of a sultry July day, and only an occasional breath of
air found its way in between their tightly turned slats. The whir
of the locust outside, and the regular creak, creak of Aunt Jane's
tall rocking-chair were the only sounds to break the stillness.
This peaceful scene was ruthlessly disturbed by Polly, who came
flying into the room and dropped into a chair at her mother's
side.
"Oh, how warm you are here!" she exclaimed, as she pushed back the
short red-gold hair that curled in little, soft rings about her
forehead.
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