“She is Polly Jarley, and she is my friend,” responded Wynifred, quietly. “And I believe her to be as good as she is beautiful.”
“Then there are wings sprouting under her blouse,” laughed Frank; “for there’s no girl I ever saw who could hold a candle to Polly for right down beauty.”
“She looks so sad,” said Mina, softly.
“Why shouldn’t she be sad?” Wyn demanded, “with everybody talking about her father the way they do?”
“Come, girls!” commanded Mrs. Havel. “Don’t gossip. Find some other topic of conversation.”
“Ha! quite so,” cried Frank, with a grimace upon her own homely face. “A girl may be as pretty as a picture and spoil it all by an ugly frame of mind. How’s that for a spark thrown from the wheel?”
“Stand back, audience!” exclaimed Dave. “Something like that is likely to happen any minute.”
“I don’t really see how the old professor gets on with you boys at all,” remarked Bessie Lavine, with a sigh. “You’d worry the life out of an angel.”
“But Professor Skillings is not an angel–thanks be!” exclaimed Dave.
“He’s a good old scout!” drawled Tubby.