"Of course. You know I have always liked you better than any other boy!"
"You like me, but you love Doodles," he mused.
Polly laughed softly. "Oh, dear!" she sighed, "will nothing satisfy you? Well, then,"—she was blushing almost to tears,—"I love you, David! I—I think it's mean for you to make me say it!—I—love you better than any other boy I ever saw!" She flung the last words at him with a show of vexation that David could not withstand.
He grinned.
"And now—you laugh at me!" She sprang up and started past him; but he caught her in his arms.
"Polly! Polly! Dear Polly!" he said tenderly. "Forgive me! I am a pig! But to tell me I was mean and that you loved me—all in the same breath! Now say I'm contemptible—or anything! I'll agree to it!"
"Well, you ought to—you are!" she half sobbed, half laughed. Her face was hidden on his shoulder.
Suddenly she threw up her head and started back. "Let me go!" she whispered. "It is ridiculous to stand here like this." She pulled away from him and retreated to her chair.
"I don't see why we can't be engaged," said David. "Promise that you'll marry me, Polly!"
"Oh!" she cried, "I thirteen, and you just fifteen! What a pair of ninnies we should be! David, if you want to keep me, you must let me go free! I shall be sixteen when I'm through high school, and there'll be four years of college. Then—perhaps—! Time enough for that sort of thing after we're twenty!"