"Oh, Polly, Polly!" exclaimed Alexia, seizing her with both hands to draw her down the hall; her head sank on Polly's shoulder and she began to cry as hard as she could.
"Ow!" said Polly, as the tears ran down her neck; "O dear me, Alexia, do stop!"
"Oh, I can't," said Alexia, "and do take me away, Polly, for it's too dreadful here, and we're just going out to tea, and I never can live through it. O dear!"
"Well, I'm going to," said Polly, as soon as she could be heard.
"What!" exclaimed Alexia, bounding away to look at her.
"Yes, if your Aunt will let you come," said Polly, with happy little thrills.
"Oh, Aunt will let me quick enough," said Alexia; "but do you really mean it? O dear, it'll be 'most as bad at your house, for there's Mrs. Whitney, and I tore that lace,—oh, I can't go!"
"You must come; Aunty Whitney is out in the carriage, and we've come for you, and you are to stay all night," explained Polly; "don't you see, Alexia, she wants you?"
"Does she? Oh, goody," and, "O dear, how can she?" was jumbled all up by Alexia, who was now hugging and kissing Polly at a great rate.
"Tea is ready." A thin little woman, who was alternately feeling of her brooch and smoothing down her plaid silk gown as she came along the hall, announced it so suddenly that both girls jumped.