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Updated: May 14, 2025
There was a wide window which faced west, a davenport in deep rose velvet, some chairs to match, and there were always roses in an old blue bowl. Jean knew the dress she was going to wear in this room of blue to match the bowl, with silver lace, and a girdle of pink brocade. Alone in her room with Polly-Ann to watch proceedings, she got out the lovely gown.
She could offer no help, but she served as a peg upon which Jean could hang her eloquence. She stretched herself luxuriously and purred. "But it is true, Polly-Ann," Jean said, "and I am going to church with him wasn't it beautiful that he should think of going to church with me on Thanksgiving morning, Polly-Ann?"
She kissed him and clung to him and then went upstairs. She undressed and said her prayers, put Polly-Ann on her cushion, turned off the light, and got into bed. Then she lay in the dark, facing it squarely. The things she had said to her father were not true. She didn't want him to go to France. She didn't want Derry to go. She was glad that Derry's mother had made him promise.
She had carried down her little scissors the night before, and had snipped it, and here it was an omen for her own rose-colored future! Starry-eyed she lay back among her pillows. "Oh, Polly-Ann, Polly-Ann," she said tensely, to the small cat on the cushions, "if I should ever wake up and find that it wasn't true " Polly-Ann stared at her with mystical green orbs.
"Oh, I do want to be pretty, Polly-Ann," she said with much wistfulness. Yet when she was all hooked and snapped into it, she surveyed herself with some dissatisfaction in the mirror. "Why not?" she asked the mirror. "Why shouldn't I wear it?"
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