Dear me! there was no time to think of cooking clubs!
And then after luncheon came a little note from Mrs. Sterling, brought by
no less a person than Mrs. Gibson herself, who, in her staid little black
bonnet and gray dress and white apron, waited for Polly's answer.
"No, Miss, I'll not sit down, if you please, as my mistress expects me back
at once."
"Dear Polly" (so the note ran), "will you run down this afternoon to talk
over a little plan for the Comfort committee. I suppose the boys have told
you about it. Bring Joel, too, for he couldn't come this morning when it
was proposed. Your friend, Pamela Sterling."
"Oh, goody!" exclaimed Polly, vastly pleased, and springing off. "Yes, I'll
come, Mrs. Gibson, please tell her, and right away; that is, when I find
Joel."
"I hope you'll be there soon," said Mrs. Gibson, the light of pleasure at
Polly's first words dying down a bit when she saw that Joel was to be
waited for. "Couldn't you come first?" she asked anxiously.
"Oh, I must find Joel," said Polly, "but I almost know where he is, and
we'll be over soon. Please tell her so."
She was already out in the hall, and Mrs. Gibson having obtained the best
she was likely to receive, departed to carry back the word to her mistress.
And Polly raced here and there without avail, for Joel was not so easily
found after all.
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