Somehow, that evening Roberta’s strategy did not seem to have accomplished its object, judging from Polly’s expression.  Still she hoped for the best.  Polly was the biggest, so she always begun with her.

“Who made you, Polly?”

No answer immediately; then,

“Dunno fur sarten, spec’ ’t wuz Gord.”

A lump gathered in the child’s throat.  Her bump of reverence was so largely developed it distressed her to see a want of it in others; she said “it hurt her feelings.”

She passed it by, however, and ventured on another.

“What else did God make?”

“Dunno fur sarten, never seed ’im wuken’.”

“For shame, Polly!  God made all things.  Say ‘God made all things.’”

“No, never.  Never made Dilsy thar.  Dilsy nuffin’ but er scrap he throw’d erway when he got fru cutten’ out de grow’d-up ones.”

“For shame, Polly!  Don’t you know everybody has to be little and grow up.”

“No, never!  Adam and Eve wuz born’d grow’d up.”

“Well, that was because they were the first people on earth, and there was nobody to be papa and mamma for ’em, and take care of ’em, when they were little.”

“Dat’s like Dilsy thar.  Dilsy never had no daddy.”

“Well, Polly, you haven’t answered my question yet.  Say ’God made all things.’”

“No, never!  God never made mammy’s twins—­no mo’ dan he made Dilsy thar.  Dey iz prezak like dem monkeys I seed de time I went en town ter de circus.”

Now Polly was not an impartial judge of the twins, for she had been installed as their nurse, and she hated to nurse.

“For shame, Polly!  Those nice little babies.  And then, besides, as God made all things, he made monkeys too, of course.”

“No, never!  You can’t make me berleeve dat.  Gord nerver wase hees valerbel time maken’ monkeys.”

That was the “last straw that broke the camel’s back.”  After trying so hard to be patient, and especially as she knew it was nothing but pure contrariness in Polly, for only the Sunday before she had answered every question correctly, and added some pious interpolations exceedingly gratifying to her young teacher.

So she got up, went to her refractory pupil, and lifted her forefinger by way of giving emphasis to her words.

But Polly, recognizing that her little mistress’s temperature was rising, felt a proportionate rise in her own, rolled her eyes till nothing but the whites were visible, and stuck her lower lip out.

It would be impossible to conceive of a creature uglier or more aggravating looking than Polly, when she did that way.

In a flash, down came Roberta’s little soft pink palm on her cheek.

Mrs. Marsden happened to be passing on her way to the quarters to visit a sick servant, and witnessed the performance.  She was amused, but worried too, that Roberta had allowed herself to be so provoked, for it almost made a farce of the whole thing; and she knew how much in earnest her little daughter really was.  The child’s flushed cheeks and flashing eyes brought back, O so vividly! another face and another pair of flashing orbs so like hers.  There were tears in Mrs. Marsden’s eyes when she went in the summer-house and took her seat on the bench that circled around it.