“Maybe you’ll be more persuadable when you hear where I want you to go.”
Polly looked at him questioningly.
“Do you remember Sally Robinson?”
“How could I forget Sally! She was one of the dearest girls in our class.”
“She was—and she is. And she is home from Texas—”
“Here?” cried Polly.
“No, at Overlook—up on the mountain.”
“Where is that?”
“In Vermont, just beyond the line. Kate had a letter from her this morning. She has invited mother and you and Kate and me—and she says as many more of the girls as we can pile into our car—to come up on Saturday to stay until Monday, longer if we can.”
Polly’s face had grown bright and grave by turns. “You going?” she asked wistfully.