“Heia! Hoia! Together! Round Robin!” hailed the Club; Anne alone standing silent. The old man straightened up, glanced about, then whirled his hat in the air, shouting in return:
“Hi there! Hi yourselves!”
All the girls but Anne raced up and danced around him in a merry ring, hand in hand.
“Glad to see ye, glad to see ye!” he cried. “Hello! There’s another one comin’ along. Why, it’s Anne, ain’t it? I thought so!” A glow of pleasure lit up his weather-beaten face as Anne walked slowly in his direction, and he advanced to take her not-too-ready hand. “Why, how you’ve grown!” he said delightedly. “And how fine you’re dressed! Comin’ to make a call? Come right up to the house, the hull of ye, and see Aunt Polly. She and Nelly will be tickled to death to see ye all.”
Nothing loth, the Club raced up the path to the house with its trim lilac bushes on either side of the door. Aunt Polly, plump and motherly, was waiting for them, with Nelly grinning over her shoulder.
“Come in! Come in!” said Aunt Polly hospitably. “I’m right glad to see you. I’ve been expecting you before this; but we know how fast the time goes with young folks who have so many nice things to do. Now, isn’t it lucky I’ve just made some fresh cookies? Nelly, you run into the pantry and bring a pan of those cookies for the girls.”
Off scampered Nelly. And the girls followed Aunt Polly through the spick-and-span kitchen into the sitting room. It was a dear little room. About the walls were old-fashioned pictures of ships and shipwrecks. On the mantel and what-nots were curious shells and branches of coral, bits of carving and queer treasures that the Captain had picked up in his many voyages. Great bowls of nasturtiums stood on the table and on the top of the little parlor organ. There were shelves of books between the windows, and books lay about here and there. The walls looked pleased, like the walls of a room in which people read aloud.
“Here’s Anne, Polly!” said Cap’n Sackett, calling his sister’s attention to the last of the party who came in while the cookies were being passed. He spoke gravely, and Aunt Polly as gravely replied, turning to greet the girl.
“Why Anne! How do you do, my dear?” Nelly’s mother gazed at Anne as the old man had done, with an eagerness that seemed to embarrass her. “Well, how you have grown this year!” continued Aunt Polly softly. “I suppose I ought to call you Miss Poole, now you are almost a young lady. But it doesn’t come natural.”
“It really doesn’t matter what you call me,” said Anne pertly. “I’m just a member of the Round Robin this summer. Next summer it will be different, perhaps.”