“It was a good inspiraton,” thought Mrs. Whitney to herself; “this little girl is going to be a comfort, I know.” And then she set herself to conduct successfully her three boys into friendliness and good fellowship with Polly, for each of them was following his own sweet will in the capacity of host, and besides staring at her with all his might, was determined to do the whole of the entertaining, a state of things which might become unpleasant. However, Polly stood it like a veteran.
“This little girl must be very tired,” said Mrs. Whitney, at last with a bright smile. “Besides I am going to have her to myself now.”
“Oh, no, no,” cried little Dick in alarm; “why, she's just come; we want to see her.”
“For shame, Dick!” said Percy, the eldest, a boy of ten years, who took every opportunity to reprove Dick in public; “she's come a great ways, so she ought to rest, you know.”
“You wanted her to come out to the greenhouse yourself, you know you did,” put in Van, the next to Percy, who never would be reproved or patronized, “only she wouldn't go.”
“You'll come down to dinner,” said Percy, politely, ignoring Van. “Then you won't be tired, perhaps.”
“Oh, I'm not very tired now,” said Polly, brightly, with a merry little laugh, “only I've never been in the cars before, and—”
“Never been in the cars before!” exclaimed Van, crowding up, while Percy made a big round O with his mouth, and little Dick's eyes stretched to their widest extent.
“No,” said Polly simply, “never in all my life.”
“Come, dear,” said sister Marian, rising quickly, and taking Polly's hand; while Jasper, showing unmistakable symptoms of pitching into all the three boys, followed with the bag.