“It can't rain,” cried Polly Pepper, “and it isn't going to. Don't think it, girls.”
“But it looks just like it,” said Alexia obstinately, and wrinkling up her brows; “see those awful, horrid clouds, girls.” She pointed tragically up to the sky.
“Don't look at them,” advised Polly. “Come on, girls. I challenge you to a race as far as the wicket gate.”
Away she dashed, with a bevy at her heels. Alexia, not to be left behind staring at the sky, went racing after.
“Wait,” she screamed. The racers, however, spent no time attending to laggards, but ran on.
Polly dashed ahead, and touched the green wicket gate. “Oh, Polly got there first!” Almost immediately came another girl's fingers on it.
“No—I don't think so,” panted Polly. “Philena got there just about as soon.”
“No, you were first,” said the girl who plunged up next; “I saw it distinctly.”
“Well, it was so near that we ought to have another race to decide it,” declared Polly, with a little laugh, pushing back the damp rings of hair from her forehead. “Girls, isn't it lovely that we have this splendid place where we can run, and nobody see us?”
“Yes,” said Alexia, throwing herself down on the grass; which example was immediately followed by all the other girls. “I just love this avenue down to the wicket gate, Polly Pepper.”