"If they're away, who's keeping house?"
"We are, Molly Hapgood and I," answered Polly, a little surprised
at the question.
"A good girl?"
Polly looked up in astonishment, thinking that he had taken that
way of praising her. On the contrary, she discovered that this was
intended as a question.
"What was it you said," she asked.
"Have you a good girl?"
"We haven't any," replied Polly meekly; "ours went away this
morning."
"Just like them! They're the greatest plague in the world!" said
Mr. Baxter explosively, and so rapidly that his words appeared to
be tumbling over each other, in their haste to escape from his
lips. "They haven't any honor; mine went off yesterday, and I
haven't any to-day. She was a splendid girl with a great trunk
full of real nice clothes, and such refined tastes, she always
drank English breakfast tea. But she wouldn't stay, because I
would not let her have all the soap she wanted. Extravagant
things!" Mr. Baxter suddenly reined in his tongue; then added
abruptly, "Who's housekeeper generally, your mother or your aunt?"
"Mamma is," replied Polly.
"Oh!" Mr. Baxter's tone was rather annoyed. There was a prolonged
pause, while Polly watched the clock and reflected that it was
time to put on the potatoes.
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