"But doesn't it tire you dreadfully? The girls in India stand still a great deal more and just sway about. They come in and dance for you."
"Tire you! Oh, no. That's the great fun, to do it yourself. Bella said it was—ex—something, and the word is in the spelling-book, but I never can remember the long words. Oh, I just wish I was fifteen and wasn't going to school any more. And then there's keeping company and getting married, and having your setting out. School seems stupid. There were two boys who wanted to come home with me, but mother said Ben must. Then I wished—well, I wished he was in college. He wants to go. Father says Mr. Leverett has infected him with the craze."
"If I was a boy, I'd like to go. Cousin Leverett is going to take me to Harvard next summer when they have their grand closing time."
"I'd rather be a girl and have a nice beau."
Plainly Polly had been saturated with dissipation.
Spring was suggesting her advent. The days were longer. The snow was disappearing.
"Oh, Cousin Leverett, look—there are some buds on the trees!" she cried.
"Yes. You can see them at intervals through the winter. They are wise little things, and swell and then shrink back in the cold."
"I'm so glad. I can soon go out. I get very tired some days. I like summer best."
"Yes. I do hope we shall have an early spring."