"Did you go with boys then?" Muriel still smiled. She felt quite sure that the answer would be "no."
"Why, yes, I did," Janet confessed, "and, you see, they liked to play ball and to go sailing or canoeing,"—she thought of Peter Gibbs, and the thought of him made the color come back to her cheeks—natural color this time.
"We coasted a lot in the winter and then of course there was always fishing," she finished lamely. How could she explain the hundred and one things that went to make up her days in Old Chester?
"Oh, well, I suppose you will find it very strange here." It was a chastened Muriel that spoke.
"Now, my Aunt Jane's poll parrot, I ask you, why under the sun should she?" Sally broke the silence that followed angrily.
Eleanor laughed at Janet.
"Have you been properly introduced to Sally's Aunt Jane's poll parrot?" she asked to change the subject.
"He's a very wise bird, and we all consult him when our own reason fails,"—Rosamond took up the explanation.
"Sally consults him oftener than any of the rest of us, because you see, Sally's reason fails her oftener. Excuse my breaking into the conversation, but no one has had the manners to introduce me. My name is Daphne Hillis, but no one ever calls me anything but Taffy on account of my hair." It was a long speech, but the speaker took twice as long as was necessary to say it; her slow drawl held a hint of laughter, and her voice sounded warm and furry.
Janet looked at her and laughed without meaning to.