"No, of course not," said Polly; "at least not until I get this hook out of your hair. There—oh, dear me! I thought it was quite free. Well, anyway, now it is!" She held up the blue silk waist with a triumphant little flourish, over her own head. "It must be awful to have something fastened to you like that," she said, sympathetically, as she placed the waist on the bed with a sigh of relief.
"Well, I guess you'd think so," assented Alexia decidedly; "it's too perfectly awful for anything. It pulls like a big vulture with his talons holding your hair." She hopped to her feet and shook herself in delight, her long, light braids flying out gayly. "Well, I am glad that Aunt has gone"—looking around the room, and drawing a long breath.
Polly Pepper stood quite still over by the bed.
"Well—heigh-ho—come on," cried Alexia, dancing over to seize her arm; "let's have a spin." But Polly didn't move.
"Come on, Polly," cried Alexia, with another tug at her arm.
"No," said Polly, "I can't, Alexia."
"What in the world is the matter?" cried Alexia, dropping her arm to stare at her.
"I think your aunt—" began Polly.
"Oh, Aunt!" interrupted Alexia impatiently. "You're always talking about her, Polly Pepper, and she's everlastingly picking at me, so I have a perfectly dreadful time, between you two."
"Well, she is your aunt," said Polly, not offering to stir.