"So you would," assented Alexia's aunt, wondering whether the bunch of grapes should be filled in solid, or worked with the mixed stitch that she had seen in a shop. "Well, then, I think on her way back she was going to see you, Polly." "Then, I am going to run down and meet her," declared Polly, with a long breath. "Was it Pennsey's where she was going for the sugar, Miss Rhys?" pausing a moment.
Polly went the whole length of North Street to the great establishment of Pennsey's, where the avenue people traded. But search as she might, up one aisle and down another, there was no trace of Alexia; and inquiring of a clerk at the sugar department, if she had been there, he whipped his pencil out from behind his ear, and picked up his order pad before he stopped to think.