“Who was it that you’ve been talking to all this time? I looked and listened for ever so long and I couldn’t see anybody.”
“I was talking to my doll, Charity, part of the time,” said Jessie, after a little hesitation. She did not want to tell her secrets to a stranger.
“Who is Polly Somebody? You kept saying Polly this and Polly that. Hare you a parrot over there?”
“Dear me, no,” returned Jessie. “I was talking to a make-believe friend of mine.”
“What kind of friend? Can’t you see her truly?”
“Yes, I can see her. She’s this tree.” Jessie laid her hand affectionately on Playmate Polly’s rough bark.
Adele laughed. “That’s a mighty funny sort of friend. I’m coming over to you. Where can I get across?”
“There’s a log higher up,” Jessie told her. “I cross that way sometimes, and in summer when the brook is very low I can cross on the stones.”
“It isn’t so very low now.”
“No, and so you’d better try the log. I’ll show you where it is.” She took the path on one side the brook, Adele following that on the other, and pretty soon they came to a log thrown across the stream.