“It seems years and years since I lived next door to them,” remarked Dodo. “I always played with Paul Stewart.”
“Deary, it can’t be years and years, because I am not so old as you try to make me appear,” corrected Mrs. Alexander.
Polly, understanding from the words, saw how vain the woman was and stood looking at her in surprise. But Eleanor heard only Dodo’s speech.
“Did you say you always played with Paul Stewart when you were neighbors?”
“Yes indeed!” laughed Dodo, as she remembered various incidents of that childhood.
“We always played we were married, and Paul’s Irish Terrier and my kitten were our children. We dressed them up in old dust-cloths and tried to make them behave, but no parents ever had such trials with their children as we had when Terry and Kitty got to scrapping!”
Eleanor was deeply interested and Polly smiled at what she saw expressed in her friend’s face. Dodo continued her reminiscences.
“Paul used to draw me on his sled when we went to school, and he always saved a bite of his apple for me at noon-time. I gave him half of my cake in exchange. Oh, we had such fun—we two, in those days!” the girl sighed and looked out over the billowy sea.
“Then Pa struck that vein of gold down at Cripple Creek and everything changed. Ma got the social bug, so bad, we had to leave all our old friends, and move to a strange neighborhood where Pa never spoke to a soul and I felt out of place. But Ma said it had to be done to establish our position.
“The Stewarts rented their house and I heard that Paul went to Chicago to college, while Anne went to teach a school in New York. Then I never heard again, of any of them, until Ma met you-all at the Denver railroad station.” Dodo smiled at that crumb of comfort.