Alice was dressed too nicely to go and play outdoors.
Dressed indeed she was,—starched and cleaned and combed distressingly.
"Perhaps Alice would like to see some of the things in your playroom, Sam,—why don't you take her out there?"
I had expected it. There only remained this final blow, and I knew it would fall. Admit this girl to my inner sanctum,—oh, well, the world was turned upside down this afternoon. What had to be, had to be, and there was an end to it.
"Come on!" I said, in a tone that mingled resignation and gruffness.
Alice did not evince any great amount of eagerness to follow me. Instead, she hung back,—exactly like a girl! Here was I, putting myself out to be pleasant and courteous, giving up my afternoon, in fact, for her amusement, and at my very first invitation she pretended reluctance.
Her mother urged her to accompany me, however, and pretty soon we reached my especial room.
"Do you like polliwogs?" I demanded, walking toward a glass jar in which several hundred of them swam about like animated quotation marks.