She did not want to tell Bessie that she had given Polly Jarley money; but she did not believe that the boatman’s daughter would be in need as she was if Mr. Jarley were guilty of the crime of which he had been so recently accused.
“Well, I haven’t a mite of sympathy for them,” declared Bessie.
“Perhaps you cannot be expected to have sympathy for the Jarleys,” admitted Wyn, in her wholesome way. “But you won’t mind, will you, dear, if I have a little for poor Polly?” and she hugged Bessie, who had sat down, close to her. “Come on, Bessie–don’t be mad at me.”
“Oh, dear! nobody can be mad at you, Wyn Mallory. You do blarney so.”
“Ah, now, my dear; it isn’t blarneying at all!” laughed Wyn. “It’s just showing you the sensible way. We girls don’t want to be flighty, and have ‘mads on,’ as Frank says, for no real reason. And this poor girl will never trouble you in the world—”
“I wish she wasn’t up at that lake,” declared Bessie.
“Why, Bess! the lake’s plenty big enough,” said Wyn, chuckling. “We won’t have to see much of the Jarleys. Although—”
“I sha’n’t go if she is to be on hand,” asserted Bessie, with vehemence.
“One would think poor Polly Jarley had an infectious disease. She won’t hurt you, Bess.”
“I don’t care. I feel just as papa does about it. He and Jarley were closer than brothers. But he wouldn’t speak to Jarley now–no, sir! And I don’t want anything to do with that girl.”