“James. I shall call my doll Jamie. Come on, let’s go down to the grotto. I wish now I hadn’t asked for a boy-doll; if it had been a girl one I could have called it Wendy instead of the paper one. Do you know, Jessie, Miss Eloise says that Peter Pan’s house was in the tree tops.”
“So it was,” Jessie remembered.
“But I like the grotto better,” declared Adele. “Aren’t you ready to go?”
“We can’t go yet; the grass is too wet. We’ll have to wait till the sun dries it a little. We can play in here for a while.”
Jessie had not been very enthusiastic over the new doll though she was relieved that it was not exactly like her own, and that Adele had decided to call it Jamie. The doll wore a scarlet coat with tiny brass buttons upon it, white trousers and a little red cap. He was quite a pretty little fellow, and Jessie admired him, though she did not say so. When the sun had dried the grass enough the children set forth, Ebon hopping behind them, sometimes taking a short flight with flapping wings. It was a bright autumn morning, the sky very blue and the air pleasant.
“I’m so glad it isn’t raining,” remarked Adele, “for it is our last morning.”
“Except Saturday. We shall not study on Saturdays, shall we?”
“Oh, no, of course not.”
They had reached the foot of the hill, and Adele made straight for the grotto, but Jessie stopped in front of the little Polly Willow. “Good-morning, Polly,” she said, gently patting the rough bark.
Adele watched her, and then said mockingly, “Good-morning, old Polly.” Then she exclaimed, “I know what I’m going to do; I’m going to have a house for my Peter Pan, and I am going to build it on Polly’s head.”