there when needed. But they never were. The little black things
seemed to be invested with a special spite, for one by one they
would hop off on the slightest provocation, and go rolling over the
floor, just when she was in her most terrible hurry, compelling her
to fly for needle and thread on the instant. For one thing Mrs.
Pepper was very strict about--and that was, Polly should do
nothing else till the buttons were all on again, and the boots
buttoned up firm and snug.

"Oh dear!" said Polly, sitting down on the floor, and pulling on her
stockings. "There now, see that hateful old shoe, mamsie!" And
she thrust out one foot in dismay.

"What's the matter with it?" said Mrs. Pepper straightening the
things on the bureau. "You haven't worn it out already, Polly?"

"Oh no," said Polly, with a little laugh. "I hope not yet, but it's
these dreadful hateful old buttons!" And she twitched the boot off
from her foot with such an impatient little pull, that three or four
more went flying under the bed. "There now--there's a lot more. I
don't care! I wish they'd all go; they might as well!" she cried,
tossing that boot on the floor in intense scorn, while she
investigated the state of the other one.

"Are they all off?" asked Phronsie, pulling herself up out of a little
heap in the middle of the bed, and leaning over the side, where she
viewed Polly sorrowfully. "Every one, Polly?"

"No," said Polly, "but I wish they were, mean old things; when I
was going down to play a duet with Jasper! We should have had a