"I can't see why it's so warm up here," said Polly, racing over to their bench, followed by the others. "Dear me, it's fairly hot." And she pulled off her jacket.
"Don't do that, Polly," said her mother.
"Oh, Mamsie, it's so very hot," said Polly; but she thrust her arms into the sleeves and pulled it on again.
"I know; but you've been running," said Mrs. Fisher, "and have gotten all heated up."
"Well, it's perfectly splendid to travel to places where we can run and race," said Polly, in satisfaction, throwing herself down on the rocks. The others all doing the same thing, Mr. King and the Parson and Mrs. Henderson found them, and pretty soon the group was a big one. "Well, well, we are all here together, no—where is Mrs. Gray?" asked Mr. King, presently.
"She is resting in the hotel," said Mother Fisher, "fast asleep I think by this time."
"Yes," said Adela, "she is. I just peeked in on her, and she hasn't moved where you tucked her up on the lounge."
"Grandpapa," asked Polly, suddenly, from the centre of the group, "what makes it so very warm up here, when we are all surrounded by snow?"
"You ask me a hard thing," said old Mr. King. "Well, for one thing, we are very near the Italian border; those peaks over there, you know,—follow my walking-stick as I point it,—are in sunny Italy."
"Well, it is just like sunny Italy up here," said Polly, "I think," blinking, and pulling her little cap over her eyes.