“Guess?”
“Bless me, I couldn’t possibly.”
“Oh, please.” In Polly’s gentlest, most persuasive tone.
“I haven’t the remotest idea who it could be.”
“Then you have to pay a forfeit.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then slipped into the seat beside him.
“Admiral grandfather darling, listen to me.” It was Polly’s regular way of opening up a serious discussion. “The girls are coming to-morrow, no, day after to-morrow, Saturday. There are seven of us altogether, Sue Warner, Ruth Brooks, Kate Julian, ‘Ted’ Moore, Isabel Lee, ‘Crullers’ Adams and my own self. Do you think Aunt Milly will mind my bringing so many?”
The Admiral chuckled.
“So many? Seven girls, with Welcome and an old chap like myself to look in on you once in a while to keep you out of hot water,—that’s not many, Polly.”
Polly’s face brightened.
“I’m so glad you think so. I was half afraid we should be too many. And it wouldn’t do to ask one or two or three, and leave out any, because we are all mates. You understand, don’t you, dear?”