"Wait till he is in a teasing mood, and you'll see," Polly answered. "Oh, Molly, I am perfectly wild to think I am to see the ocean. I have lived among the mountains all my life, and I am wild to get to the sea."
"You will love it," Molly assured her. "Won't we have a fine time all summer together?" She looked admiringly at Polly's curling locks, her dimples, and her pretty fresh white frock. Here was a cousin of whom she need not be ashamed. Why had Uncle Dick called her as wild as a March hare? Why had he given Molly the impression that an Indian was a tame creature beside Polly Perrine?
Polly was thinking much the same thing. Why had Uncle Dick given her the idea that she would find her cousin a fair, doll-like creature? To be sure she had seen a photograph of Molly, but she had worn a hat and coat when it was taken and one could easily get a wrong impression from it.
"Let's go down," proposed Molly; "I have lots of things to show you; besides I want to see Uncle Dick." She felt a little jealous of her cousin's claim to their uncle, and she felt sure her father would appropriate him if he happened to come in before she reached the porch where her mother was sitting with her brother.
Her father had not arrived, having gone to some business meeting which was sure to keep him late. Uncle Dick was lolling back in a porch chair. "Hello, youngsters," he cried as he caught sight of his nieces. "How are you getting along? What do you think of each other?"
Polly ran to him, and perching herself upon the arm of the chair, turned up his nose with an impertinent finger. "Badness," she said, "why did you tell me that Molly looked like a wax doll?"
"Did I tell you that? Well, if I were a maker of wax dolls, I could make one just like her, I think, if I had some of old Doc's tail for hair and two pieces of coal for eyes."
"Her eyes aren't black; they're like two pieces of brown velvet," objected Polly, "and her hair isn't a bit like Doc's tail; it is as soft as silk. Your nose must go up higher for that, sir." She gave his nose an extra tilt while he squirmed under the process.
"There, there, Polly, that is high enough!" he exclaimed; "it will never come down again if you turn it up too high."
"I hope it will not," said Polly; "I hope it will stay turned up like Dicky-pig's."