But they
might have put their time to a pleasanter use: by talking of themselves,
or their friends, or how further to improve their home, or what the
store was doing.
Mahony saw her smiling to herself one evening; and after assuring
himself that there was nothing on the page before him to call that
pleased look to her young face, he laid the book down and offered her a
penny for her thoughts. But Polly was loath to confess to wool-gathering.
"I haven't succeeded in interesting you, have I, Pollikins?"
She made haste to contradict him. Oh, it was very nice, and she loved to
hear him read.
"Come, honestly now, little woman!"
She faced him squarely at that, though with pink cheeks. "Well, not
much, Richard."
He took her on his knee. "And what were you smiling at?"
"Me? Oh, I was just thinking of something that happened yesterday"--and
Polly sat up, agog to tell.
It appeared that the day before, while he was out, the digger's wife who
did Polly's rough work for her had rushed in, crying that her youngest
was choking. Bonnetless, Polly had flown across to the woman's hut.
There she discovered the child, a fat youngster of a year or so, purple
in the face, with a button wedged in its throat. Taking it by the heels
she shook the child vigorously, upside-down; and, lo and behold! this
had the opposite effect to what she intended. When they straightened the
child out again the button was found to have passed the danger-point and
gone down.
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